Chapter 6
[101] Switching Protocols
She supposes that out of everything that's been going on in her day, it isn't that terrible of a thing to have to take forty minutes out of it to meet Detective Tsukauchi at the coffeeshop. Part of that is because she's scheduled (forced) him to meet her at the end of her day. She'd put him off as long as she could, and thankfully didn't have anything else to relay to him other than the failed raid last week.
Today hadn't been too hectic either. Her patrol with Fro-…. Tsuyu… had been eventful, but only in the minimal way. They'd caught a handful of robbers, stopped two muggings, and had discussed Ochako's accent, Tsuyu's weird croaking laugh, and the majority of their high school years.
Ochako came to the conclusion that if they had met in high school it would have been a lasting friendship- if not an eternal one. There was just something cheery about their discussion, and how natural their conversation flowed.
It had been a good day.
But Ochako had had a few bad days last week- getting soaked through by a crook with a water Quirk, getting rained on, and a few more things- and she figured it balanced out. The only thing out of place was the suspicious silence from [.ku]. Ever since he ordered Ryukyu's agency dinner, he'd been silent.
A trace on the cash he'd used to pay had come up empty. No one knew who placed the order, only that it showed up in their online order system. The account the payment came from was an offshore one that apparently opened yesterday, and had exact change for their dinner.
Ochako was sure that was just clever hacking and back tracking on [.ku]'s part.
But it made her wonder what else the man could do.
She pushes open the coffeeshop door, meeting the eyes of the green-haired barista on duty. He hums as she walks in and moves from his laptop to the counter.
"Vanilla latte?" She requests, counting out the change in her belt.
She hopes she has enough.
If not, she'll just make Detective Tsukauchi pay for it.
He watches her for a bit longer than needed, and from this close she can see that his eyes are just as vibrant as his hair. He drums his fingers on the counter once, then abruptly pulls away.
"Don't worry about paying," he offers, and she stops to frown at him.
"I think I have the change for it," she protests as he picks up a cup, scribbling her name 'Uravity' on the cup's outside edge.
"I assume you're here to see the Detective?" The barista guesses, and Ochako can only huff and purse her lips in response.
"How'd you…?" She prods as he moves down the bar, forcing her to follow him.
"You've only come in twice; today, and when the detective pulled you in. And yet most evenings I see you pass by the door. So you probably aren't here of your own volition," the barista replies, and her jaw hits the floor but she can't even rebuke the line of thought because he's right. And-
Shoot.
She forgot his name.
M?
Damn.
He glances at her, cocking a singular eyebrow at her. There's an awkward pause before he steps over and adds the flavoring to her latte and then the milk.
"Seems that I'm in the ballpark," he says, reaching over the bar and holding the drink out to her. "Your latte, Miss."
She takes it, and he immediately slides back a step, scooping up a pair of dark rimmed glasses and slipping them on as he walks down to the end of the counter to lean over his laptop.
She follows him, partially because of his interesting interjection and assumption, partially because Detective Tsukauchi isn't here yet. He glances at her, the green of his eyes reflecting in the anti-blue-light tint of his glasses and turning it almost yellow, before returning his gaze to his screen.
"Something wrong with your coffee?" The man asks.
"No." She sips it to make a point and remains lingering at the counter. He doesn't seem particularly inclined to make small talk, so she makes it herself. "Do you like to analyze people's schedules?"
She thought it would be rude- and a bit presumptuous- if she assumed it was his Quirk.
"It's a hobby," he replies.
His fingers dance across the keys, but his screen remains a dull buzz of light. It occurs to her from only a few moments of watching it that he has a screen protector on it, and that the glasses are likely used to read it and protect against blue light.
"You work on the computer a lot?"
He jolts a little, as if surprised she's remained, but his reaction is controlled. He slides his glasses just a hair lower on his nose and stares at her over the top of them. His silence is long and drawn out, but Ochako has gotten the same look from crooks and criminals that left her cut and bruised. A look from a feisty college barista didn't intimidate her too much.
She flashes him a smile, and he hums in response.
"I manage the books here, do online course work, and run a blog," the barista explains. "So, I'm usually balancing supplies, ordering, or working on my classes. That's why the manager lets me keep my laptop up."
She hums, and if it would benefit her she feels like she would lean over the counter to look at his screen. Instead she just leans against it and turns her gaze to the door to wait for the Detective.
The clack of his fingers on the keys returns and she finds it to be a surprisingly soothing cadence to listen to. His typing is fairly consistent, breaking only momentarily for him to swing his thumb across the touchpad to change mouse position, or for him to slap the enter key.
She has absolutely no idea what he's writing or working on though.
She thinks it's an essay at first, but his 'enter' key has a specific click-thunk and it doesn't sound enough for her to think it's an essay with normal paragraph spacings. And it definitely isn't a story. She might not have had the time to read a good novel, but she knows that dialogue is required, and dialogue demands new paragraphs. So, unless he's writing a textbook, she doubts he's writing something on a word document.
Which leaves her wondering and humming to herself.
"What's your major?"
"Accounting." He doesn't further or explain his choice, and it forces her to ask another question to pry information.
"That's a bit selective, any reason you're going into it?" She leans back against the counter fully, feeling her shoulder blades hitch against the counter.
Her hero suit is concealed beneath a hoodie, but she still feels the material stretch as she allows her bones to support her and her shoulder blades to hold her in place. It wasn't a terribly comfortable position, but it was one that allowed her to focus on her warm latte and the dull heat that was soaking into her fingers.
"Why did you become a Hero?"
The question startles her- not because it's new, but because he sidelines her own question for his. She turns to consider him and finds those strangely intense green eyes burning into hers, waiting for an answer.
She turns away, unwilling to subject herself to his continued gaze. Instead she moves it to her latte, taking a long swig of it to steel herself before responding.
"My parents run a construction company," she begins, and the story is familiar since she has already relayed it to Yaomomo and Tsuyu earlier this week. "They used to always struggle with money, getting new clothes, new appliances." She hesitates, then commits to the full story and produces her phone. "Money's always been tight, but when I went to Hero school, they got me a cell phone to keep in touch. I couldn't… afford to pay them back, and still can't. Not yet, but I… I want to pay them back." She sets the phone on the counter, her thumb tracing over the cracks on the screen.
She's memorized them by now, the way they cross and intersect- a web of cracked glass and chipped plastic that spoke to years of getting dropped or hit in practice and now on duty- but it was still precious to her. It housed years of photos for her parents, dozens of texts between her and now it held texts between her and her new friends.
"I just wanted to pay them back." Ochako shrugs, doing her best to instill the sum of her story into that one phrase.
The barista shifts, the clacking of his fingers on the keys halting as he reaches over the counter, taking the phone in his hands. Ochako watches him, a spark of fear in her heart as he flips it back and forth in his hands. Finally, he hands it back, one green eyebrow raised as he considers her.
"You know replacing the screen is a grand total of, like, two thousand yen. Right?"
Ochako huffs, snatching her phone back and shoving it in her belt. "Look, I've been busy. Lot of things have happened recently. Haven't had the mind." Plus she's gotten used to the scratches. It almost felt like… blasphemy to replace it.
Like she'd be cheating on her parents if she tried to… replace or upgrade what they'd given to her.
The barista huffs and straightens up, and finally she has the presence of mind to actually look at his nametag instead of blundering around his name.
Midoriya is printed neatly on his name tag. The corner of the black tag is chipped, but Ochako snaps her eyes back up to meet his and hopes he didn't notice that.
He does.
His eyes are locked with hers. One eyebrow is cocked again.
She has never felt so judged in her life.
Her mouth cracks open, but instead he speaks first.
"If you leave it here, I'll replace the screen for free," he offers with another exasperated huff. "I've done it for Detective Tsukauchi before, it's not an issue at this point. These screens are so much easier to do than his smartphone."
He sticks one hand out, his lips pursed as he waits for her decision.
She hesitates, staring at him for just a moment, before shaking her head. "No- it's alright, really." She presses a hand over her phone, thumb racing along the cracks. "I don't mind it."
Midoriya shrugs, taking his hand back and placing them both back on his keyboard. "Have it your way, Uravity." He pauses, then hums as if shrugging something off and resumes typing.
She wants to ask what he thought of, but the door chimes as it opens, and her opportunity is lost as Detective Tsukauchi walks in. The detective smiles as he walks in, and Ochako offers him a faint wave in response. Midoriya pulls away from his laptop, flicking his glasses up to the top of his head as he picks up another cup and gets started on the man's order.
"Beat me here I see," he offers, a smile gracing the police officer's lips. "Hope I didn't keep you waiting long. I didn't mean to take too much of your time."
She purses her lips and takes a sip of her coffee instead of answering. When she does, it's measured. "Not too long. But I had planned on cooking dinner instead of ordering out today."
Which isn't a lie.
Technically she planned on cooking every night.
The takeout boxes in her fridge argued with that, but she at least planned on it.
"Hadn't planned on keeping you long," the Detective assures. "Ah- thanks, Midoriya," he says as the barista hands him a steaming cup of coffee.
"I'll put it on your tab."
The detective pulls them back around to the table they occupied last time, depositing a backpack on the floor before dropping into his seat with a loud huff. He sets his coffee down and immediately stretches, several pops coming from his back before he relaxes and sits up in the chair. Ochako grimaces but joins him.
It's not that she dislikes the Detective either. He's doing his job and he's doing his job well. But it's the fact that it's the end of her day, she has other things to do- and she really wants to start saving money by cooking her own meals instead of being too tired to do anything but collapse on the floor and order out.
"So, what am I here for?" Ochako asks, cutting straight to the point.
Her latte is almost finished at this point and she genuinely has other things to do with her day. Plus, she now has the added task of debating with herself on if it's actually worth it to fix her phone screen.
"Have you had any contact from .ku?"
She shakes her head, leaning back in her chair as she takes another sip of her coffee. It's mostly down to the milk and flavoring now, but it's sweet and it has caffeine so it's at the minimum enjoyable even if it's not healthy.
Detective Tsukauchi purses his lips, and the frown that had appeared on his lips earlier deepens. "That's what I was afraid of."
She cocks an eyebrow at him as he digs into the backpack, producing a stack of manilla folders that he deposits on the desk. The first stack is followed by a second, and then a third, before a new stack is made on the table. The book bag is emptied, and when it is there are two stacks at least a foot tall sitting on the table between them.
"What am I looking at?"
".ku cases we don't have the authority or political pull to close," Detective Tsukauchi replies. "There are forty-seven files in total; this is the first fifteen."
Ochako pulls the first folder off the pile, flipping it open and perusing the contents. She doesn't recognize the woman on the front sheet, but that's not surprising given she's a CFO from some corporation that manages water waste. She flips through the files. Most of them look to be email correspondents, a dozen of them look like spreadsheets or financial records, with photographs threads between them that have pictures of this woman at assorted events. Sticky notes are attached here and there at random- small handwriting indicating 'payoff' or 'political bride- see Page 147 of information packet'. She closes the file, measuring it against the other folders on the desk.
"Is there this much attention to detail in every single one of these?" She asks, a little perturbed.
How much time did this man have to dig through these people's lives? There were camera photos pulled from months ago, finance reports from years back- hell, she doubted that half of this stuff existed on anything other than secure private servers.
And yet he had it.
One way or another [.ku] had obtained thousands- if not millions- of documents that exposed and compromised all of these individuals. And he'd complied and sorted the information so neatly and linearly. It was incredible.
And scary.
How much did he know about her?
She paused at that thought, setting the file Detective Tsukauchi gave her back on that stack. Did she really want to know the answer to that?
"We kept getting updates to these files, almost weekly for some, for the duration of our knowledge of .ku's existence. We keep them sorted and updated as best we can, confirming information and sorting it into usable files but…" The detective trails off.
She can see where he's going though.
It's one thing if the person in question is a villain, or assumed to be a villain. There are limits that can be ignored and steps that can be shortcut. Warrants for arrest don't need to be submitted because it's an active arrest, and the court accepts Hero arrest as special cases. With civil cases, it was more…
It was dicey.
Politics and money influenced the court just as much, if not more, than actual crimes committed.
"You can't do anything with this," Ochako guesses, and in response Tsukauchi hangs his head and sighs. "These politicians and businessmen have their hands deep in someone's pocket, huh?"
"You have no idea."
She drums her fingers on the desk, and the silence that weighs between them is as thick and heavy as the folders that reside there too. It's only when Ochako teases open the next file does she realize he was leading somewhere with this information.
"What does this have to do with my contact with .ku?"
Her latte is forgotten. She has another thing to worry about. [.ku] is doing something shady in the background again, and if he's not keeping her in the loop- despite his involvement with the Dead's Hand Gang, then it's something serious, and something he wants to hide.
"Typically, he sends updates to these files. This week we haven't gotten anything." Ochako frowns and in response the Detective shrugs. "It makes us worry. If he's no longer looking to police to solve these issues, what other steps has he decided to take?"
Ochako purses her lips, and the unwelcome thought of last week's discussion on Stain resurfaced.
"What ever happened to the Hero Killer?" She asks.
Detective Tsukauchi frowns, but entertains her train of thought, nonetheless. "Stain was caught during the Overhaul trial. His activity dropped after Native's death, and a uh…" He grimaces, then shrugs, "another related travesty. But Eraserhead made the official arrest- it's probably the only arrest he's ever officially made being an underground Hero. Why?"
Ochako hums, draining the last of her latte and setting the now empty cup aside. "Last time I talked with .ku he mentioned he shared Stain's ideology, but he found it childish."
Detective Tsukauchi frowned, reclining in his chair. There was a long pause, and Ochako nearly thought they were finished when the Detective sat back up suddenly.
"Stain was imprisoned in Tartarus," the detective says suddenly.
"Was?" Ochako frowns.
Tsukauchi is already standing at this point, dialing and shoving his phone to his ear. "He was getting transferred yesterday. There was a power outage at the facility he was getting transferred to, and according to records he was checked in without issue."
"So he's there, right?" The Detective considers the files on the table, then throws them all into his bag and drops the entirety of it on the desk as if it's for her.
"I'm going to double check. There's no telling if .ku is involved." And then her coffee meet ends just as suddenly as it starts.
She is left with a backpack full of information, and no idea what's going on. More accurately, she's left with a bag full of old case files she's not even sure she's supposed to have, an empty coffee cup, and a sudden surge of anxiety at what is [.ku] doing?
"He leaves like that quite often, don't worry."
She startles at the voice, but finds it's just the green haired boy walking over, a damp rag in his hands and a bored expression on his face.
He picks up her cup, tossing it into the nearest trash can before wiping down the table. He stops abruptly, nearly finished as he realizes she has remained seated.
"I assumed you were finished," he says slowly. "Are… you… not?"
"O-Oh!" She stands, grabbing the bag from the ground and pulling it to her chest. "Y-Yes. I'm sorry!"
He shrugs in indifference, wiping the table down and draping the rag over his wrist before holding out his hand for her. It's a foreign gesture, and one that takes her a moment to even comprehend.
He's holding his hand out to her.
Like a gentleman.
As an…
Offer?
For her to stand?
With his… help?
She blinks, then takes his hand. His fingers are a tiny bit cold and just a hair damp from the rag, but he pulls her to her feet despite his thin and lanky frame. She steps away, pulling her hand back as he surveys the table and then her.
"Thank you!" Ochako offers, slipping her arms through the bag. She pulls it onto her back, unsure of what she'll be doing with the files now that she has them.
She supposes she'll probably spend a portion of tonight studying them to see what all [.ku] has unearthed and what all he's found. Likely over a good crime TV show and whatever meal she finally decides to cook, but at this point it's mostly for background noise anyway.
"See you later," Midoriya offers casually as she leaves.
She waves back to him, smiling as she considers the boy.
He's probably not even a boy, given how serious he is. He might be a year or two shy of her age, but she's basing that off how he skirts around tables awkwardly and slips around the room or behind the counter instead of interacting. He was taking university classes though, but she knew people from her graduating class that had enrolled in online classes for an assortment of things.
Ochako meanders down the sidewalk, stewing in her thoughts as she goes. Her boots thump against the concrete, but her thoughts are focused on the heavy files in the bag and on the questions rushing around her mind. What did it all mean?
[.ku]'s routines didn't have to be routine, though the man seemed to show an inclination to have certain choices in order. He liked neat responses, he liked orderly files (as he had rearranged Ochako's desktop twice now, and no one could stop him). He was partial to his beliefs, but also seemed to have an excess of knowledge on Heroes.
All Heroes.
He had no issue informing them what Heroes were patrolling any given area when asked, and while that was concerning on several levels, it was also interesting to note that he didn't just know of those Heroes. He knew them. He rattled off Quirk related information, personal preferences and agendas. He rattled off trivia and merch sales. He rattled off details he had no right to know.
Ochako manages the steps to her apartment in a daze. Thirteen steps, cold concrete before a landing. Turn, up thirteen more steps to the next floor. Her keys find their way to her hand and she slips off her backpack as she trudges down the hallway to her door. She unlocks it and pushes the door open.
Her empty living room greets her; no pet, no additional company. She should probably get a fish or something if nothing else. Something to provide some form of companionship in the gloom of her house.
Instead, she kicks off her boots, tosses the bag full of important confidential documents onto her loveseat and strips. Her clothes go into the hamper, her boots hit the wall by her front door. And she is in the shower before the backpack has time enough to roll off onto the floor.
Hot water soothes the dull aches and pains accrued from a good busy day at work. Her soap smells floral and sweet and vaguely reminds her of a Dreamsicle pop she had once when she was younger. She got it from a local soap shop yesterday, and it's been a scent she's loved from discovery. Once she's rinsed again, and slightly before she starts worrying about her water bill for this month, she gets out and wraps herself up in a towel.
She lets her hair air dry as she wipes dry her limbs and dresses in a loose pair of soffe shorts and a basketball tank top that Joke gave her one year as a Christmas present. It's not really her thing, but it's at least a soft cotton one and it's not that sticky polyester. So, it feels nice to wear as a sleep shirt. It is especially nice to wear without a bra.
Cereal is her dinner because actual cooking requires effort and effort ended as soon as Ochako's bra hit the hamper. She has a bowl of corn flakes, milk and makes the questionable decision to mix protein powder in with her milk like Shindo used to.
It's not bad.
Not a decision she'd repeat.
But it's not bad.
Kinda gritty. But so are corn flakes.
She chews and swallows, flicks on a crime TV show and lets out a sigh or relief as she curls up on her loveseat. The bag rests by the foot of the chair, but that can wait until she's finished dinner and she's enjoyed at least half an episode.
Maybe a full episode.
Or two.
Did she have tomorrow off? No? Mmm… One all nighter to catch up on the newest season couldn't hurt toooooo bad. Right? She spoons another scoop of flakey sugary goodness into her mouth as her phone chirps form somewhere in the room.
She wants to ignore it and focus on the investigating special agent going through the victim's house. Her phone apparently doesn't like this idea, and instead chirps again. She growls at it, as if attempting to intimidate the device into silence.
And either because it has been constructed back when phones didn't understand the 'silence, I kill you!' look, or because her phone is just not so easily cowed, it chirps again.
"Fuck," she growls.
She unsettles herself, which is really just her setting her bowl of cereal aside and getting up. It also involves her fighting with her remote in order to turn down the volume, because if some asshole is texting her at this hour it's important and she can't think with a coroner determining cause of death in the background.
She swipes her phone off the floor and flicks it open to examine the text she's gotten. Three of them.
Two from Detective Tsukauchi.
One from [.ku].
She stares at it for a time, lingering on the feeling that as soon as she opens them then her plans for the evening will change. And that means, if nothing else, then she'll be required to go out and check something, or make a few dozen calls or maybe even just get dressed again. She winces at that, pursing her lips as she tries to determine what her best course of action is.
She opens [.ku]'s text first.
It's vague.
They left me no choice. This isn't my preferred method. But don't get in my way Uravity. I don't want you hurt.
But Detective Tsukauchi's texts give her all the context she needs to understand.
Stain never made it to his transport. System Error.
I think .ku just released the Hero Killer.
Ochako feels a shiver roll down her spine at that. The Hero Killer is back on the streets. And [.ku] released him. A supposedly "friendly" hacker just unleashed one of a few people this century that had a body count that included Hero's.
For what purpose?
For what reason would [.ku] stoop to this level?
What did he have to gain? What was the point of this act?
What-
Ochako rushes from her spot and pries open the backpack on her floor. The files are a little disturbed and messy, but they're more or less in their correct folders as she pulls them out.
She flips through all of them, noting names and faces, careers and political opinions and affiliations. There're dozens of officials, a handful of professional Heroes in the mix. There are paper trails going all the way back to before she was born for some of them.
She hits 'Dial' before she can question it. Not on Detective Tsukauchi's number. Not on Yaomomo's or Ryukyu's or Tsuyu's or any other contact she can actually assign a number to.
She calls Him.
And he answers.
"I'm sorry," he replies, his voice is breathy and soft on the line. But it doesn't sound real, it sounds like someone else's, a false voice interposed over the line. "But if I want to fix the system, I can't allow the roots of corruption to fester and bleed into what I'm working on cleansing."
"You released a murderer," Ochako snarls back into the line.
"I did, but he's not free. His leash is just a bit longer than he's used to. He has specific targets, and specific people."
"And what happens when he deviates!" Ochako shouts into the line, stamping her foot. "You're smart enough to know he's not going to listen to everything you tell him!"
"And I'm smart enough to know how to stop him too," [.ku] replies, and it frustrates her that even this does not sound real, but controlled and impersonal.
He released a murderer, and he doesn't even have the courage to answer her questions with his own voice.
"If there is blood, it will be on your hands," she hisses.
"There will always be blood," [.ku] mutters. "In this case, it will just be blood that needs to be split, as opposed to that of the innocent."
The line clicks dead, and Ochako screams and hurls her phone across the room.
It hits her front door and shatters. The metal outside snaps off and clatters across the room, the delicate electronic innards smash into her door and drop to the floor. Her chest heaves.
He released a murderer.
[.ku] set free a man that had crippled one of Yaomomo and Tsuyu's classmates.
And she was supposed to be okay with that?
She was supposed to accept that and stay out of his way?
Ochako buries her fingers in her hair, twisting the brown locks up and squeezing and pulling them until it hurts. The pain grounds her slightly, but it does nothing to lessen the heat boiling in her chest. It does nothing to quell the fire lit in her soul.
And it does nothing to stop the roar that escapes her throat.
She doesn't consider her actions. She doesn't stop to question what she's doing.
She just does.
Her tank top is ripped off, her spare costume pulled out, another compression bra put on, her costume wriggled back into. Her dinner is left forgotten on her floor, the crime TV show still playing in the background as she storms out the door.
If he wants to change the game, then so is she.
And she won't be playing it by His rules anymore, either.