Yes, i'm a literature buff hehe

Note on last chapter: Tsukauchi Naomasa's quirk hasn't been officially revealed but it's assumed to be a variation of his sister's (Makoto) polygraph quirk and his codename 'True Man.'

"If we feel for the wretched, enough to do all we can for them, the rest is empty sympathy, only distressing to ourselves."
—Jane Austen, Emma

Chapter 4: Hasty

Izuku rubbed at his wrists. "You know, those handcuffs really hurt. I couldn't even hold the chopsticks without getting some chafing."

"…"

"The food's good, though. I asked for seconds and they gave me an extra helping. Ah, but they wouldn't share the recipe."

"…"

He cleared his throat. "Tsukauchi-san went by me a couple more times. It's cute, you know. How he rushed through the standard ones that others asked before taking out that small notebook of his with more personal ones."

"…"

Izuku moved his hands– they were fiddling with the seatbelt– to his knees, trying and failing to stop them from jumping. He coughed, glancing to his right. "I thought I'd get roughed up a bit more but they were all nice. There were some who gave me the stink eye at the start but it turns out talking about heroes is a universal ice-breaker here."

"…"

Izuku's fingers tapped on his knees before he made to reach over to the radio's buttons–

"Move and you lose your fingers."

–but maybe the seatbelt was more than enough of a distraction and a way to pass the time. His knees stopped jumping, back ramrod straight and strung with tension.

It was a small win– it being one was still negotiable– but at least Katsuki spoke to him. Threat of dismemberment or not, they were still words directed to Izuku and thus acknowledging him so, yes.

Enlivened and motivated, he started up again with a cheery tone. "Don't worry, Kacchan! I may have zero– okay, more like negative– knowledge on cooking, cleaning, or doing the laundry but I'm a quick learner! The tech now's not that different from when I was here before so I think I'll get the hang of it soon. Do you have a, uh– I think the people by the station called it a 'Roomba'? Do you have that, Kaccha–"

Katsuki slammed on the brakes, jostling both of them. Izuku, more so with the seatbelt half-choking him and the headrest making his mind whirl. He blinked, absentmindedly noticing the red stoplight. For a moment, Izuku thought Katsuki did that to make him shut up.

"Shut the fuck up before I end up ramming this goddamn car against a pole on your side, seaweed-hair."

It wasn't every day that Izuku was right, but this instance of being right wasn't as satisfying as he thought it would be.

"Sorry, Kacchan," mumbled Izuku.

The light turned yellow, the engine revving up again. The rumble of the car seemed to share the animosity of its owner, making Izuku's teeth rattle when he leaned too much towards the car door.

"Don't call me that," Katsuki didn't allow Izuku a moment to intercept, bulldozing through everything. "Don't talk. Don't touch anything. Don't even make me hear you breathe or it isn't my place we're going to but to Tartarus."

Izuku didn't need to look at Katsuki to know his charge wasn't even looking his way. Those scarlet eyes were still trained past the windshield and at the cars whizzing across them.

The blonde reached over to turn on the radio, cranking it to the max volume. "Got it?"

Izuku didn't speak, just nodding his head. His knees weren't jumping anymore. That little choke session with the seatbelt made him have an aversion from fiddling with them too.

The light turned green, and they sped away with a pop song Izuku was sure Katsuki hated carrying them all the while.

Contrary to Izuku's expectations– stoked by Katsuki's arrival in his holding cell and subsequently crushed now– he didn't get to talk to his charge until later.

Much, much later.

Arriving in the blonde's apartment was no fairytale-like experience. More of a whirlwind where one moment Izuku was struggling with unbuckling the seatbelt, and the next he was behind another door.

The initial panic of everything up to this point as a convoluted ruse to let Izuku's guard down and lead him to another 'prison' vanished with a simple "don't you fucking dare mess with my shit, seaweed-hair" from behind the bathroom door that didn't have a lock.

The biting cold of the car ride made Izuku lose a bit of hope of reconciliation with Katsuki. But that was quickly mended when he made his way out of the bathroom, humming, smiling, and smelling like the blonde.

Then, of course, expectations of a well-needed talk were squashed once again when he'd padded out and met, well, no one. The snake lounging on a slab of rock in the menacing three-foot-long terrarium didn't count.

Judging by how it– animals deserved proper pronouns too– didn't even flicker its tongue out to acknowledge his presence, Izuku didn't count as 'someone' either. Not as a threat or even just as a bundle of matter that could be considered food.

He'd be offended later. For its information, Izuku's had more than a few offers to be torn limb by limb by some of his demon peers. But that was for later. Now, sitting and dripping water all over Katsuki's hardwood floors, he mulled over the flimsy note left by Katsuki (and now soaked because Izuku did not watch where he sat).

It was curt. Short. Straight to the point of the Do's and Don'ts, some threats of death if he even dared to go out the door or to the veranda, and a phone number. That last one was poorly thought out since, well, Izuku didn't have a phone.

There were many things he didn't have: money, clothes (hence the incredibly soft baby blue bathrobe he had on right now), powers, wings, respect (that snake definitely scoffed at him), and obviously, a phone.

If not for the handwriting that hadn't changed one bit– a bit more refined and sure in doing the complicated strokes– Izuku wouldn't've recognized it as from Katsuki. It was too cold and impersonal.

…Alright, fine. It was too lacking of swear words that'd make a nun want to gouge their eyes out and wash out their sockets with holy water.

He flopped down on the couch, the damp note fluttering from his hand to the quickly drying floor. That was one of the benefits of heated floors in the middle of winter, Izuku thinks.

Izuku wasn't sulking. No, he definitely wasn't. He just had this sudden urge to keep sighing, rolling over on the couch, then have another sigh get muffled into the cushions. And, when he finally found the remote placed right on top of a hanging shelf (which was conveniently placed right above the snake terrarium), Izuku just found it therapeutic to keep pressing the 'change channel' button every few seconds.

So, no, he wasn't sulking. It wasn't like Katsuki was there to tell him he was and threaten bodily harm if Izuku didn't put on some "goddamn clothes instead of smushing your balls on my couch."

Sucks for the blonde; it was now their couch. And, as Izuku finally mustered the willpower to get up from the heavenly-soft cushions (humans really did advance so much) to break open Katsuki's bedroom door, their clothes too.

If his charge was just going to up and dump him like yesterday's trash in this penthouse apartment after promptly declaring that he'll take care of "this slimy seaweed-hair bastard," well, Izuku thinks he had this coming.

'This' being him defrosting a frozen rodent that he may or may not have found in a special fridge below Koro's (the snotty snake) enclosure.

"Do you know why I'm not surprised to see you in Kacchan's apartment?"

"…"

"I'm sure you're curious," Izuku continued as if nothing was wrong with talking to a snake. "I guess most people who come by here for the first time usually freak out, right? Maybe even faint or go really pale. Or, if they're trying hard to be strong, they'll just sit the farthest from you or where they won't see you, right?"

The snake flicked out its tongue, double lids lazily blinking. Izuku puffed out his chest and subjected the poor animal bribed with food to a blinding smile.

"It's 'cause he told me! Well, uh, more like declared when Kacchan was still about–" His brows furrowed, hand going up and down before stopping by his hip. "–this tall? Wow, time really goes fast, huh. I can't believe he's taller than me now."

"…"

Izuku shifted on the pile of cushions and blankets he dumped by the terrarium earlier. Then, fluffing up what looked like a homemade throw pillow, he plopped back onto it. He knew he could've just moved the couch on over instead of going through the trouble of building a complicated structure that did the same as a couch would.

Izuku could've, but humans were big on freedom of choice, right? It was by his respect of that principle– he wasn't anything if not respectful– that the once-pristine apartment was in disarray.

Katsuki's bedroom door hung open, broken hinges barely hanging on. Clothes were haphazardly thrown out from the closet and leading a trail out to the living room. King-sized bed stripped of its cover, blankets, and pillows.

Izuku didn't want to dwell on the knocked-over glass case (that was sturdier than it looked, seeing as it didn't break) of Hawks figurines and what looked like a framed autograph on a napkin.

"I wonder when he got you…" said Izuku with his cheek resting on his hand. He blinked lazily, eyes half-lid as he observed the snake's scales that bristled and moved around the bump of its meal.

The boa constrictor's forked tongue flicked out again, head cocking to the side at the change in Izuku's voice. It– because after hours of turning Katsuki's apartment upside down, he still didn't know what Koro's pronouns were– looked at him curiously.

Izuku chuckled softly. "Do I look that sad? Even to you?"

Koro's tongue flicked out, beady eyes focused on pine ones. His eyes may have been on the snake, but they were far from focusing on how the cream-beige color changed into a reddish hue at its tail. Instead, they were unseeing, hazed over, and lost in thought and memories.

"Don't worry, Koro-chan," Izuku offered a reassuring smile. He'd been doing that a lot since he got here. "I just miss Kacchan."

He looked down and fiddled with one of the blankets propping him up. It was incredibly soft, and a mild fragrance of lavender and meadow-grass erupted at spots he touched. "I don't remember a time where I haven't missed him since I left him."

Izuku's eyes were drawn to his scars again. He wasn't wearing a kimono and haori anymore that had sleeves engulfing even his hands. Just an oversized black Aji Fry shirt that slipped down his shoulder and doing everything but kept his scars hidden from the world.

"But then again," Izuku let go of the blanket and held out his hands in front of him; wrangly, twisted, and scarred. "I don't remember a time before I had Kacchan and he had me."

Izuku looked back at Koro when the snake bumped its head against the glass. The protruding shape of the rodent was gone, and the snake was smooth all over. Its tongue flicked out again, head pulling back to point at the screen covering the top of the terrarium before ducking again to bump against the glass.

Looking around at the apartment– TV playing a cooking show on mute, a dozen wine glasses filled with varying amounts of water on the low coffee table, and a Roomba bumping into a barstool– Izuku shrugged and stood up.

His feet padded on the floor, steps echoing before stopping. Izuku looked down at his reptile companion that looked back at him with a sentient expectance.

He smiled and undid the latch on the screens, pushing them aside. Izuku was sure Katsuki wouldn't mind one more disaster to "take care of."

After spending the whole day literally waiting for Katsuki– he was dragged out of the station before dawn even broke– it was a curious thing for Izuku to not have been attentive to the beep of the lock and turn of the knob.

He expected it'd be him who'd drop everything once his Kacchan senses tingled. Not, well, a three-foot-long (and growing) boa constructor who immediately abandoned Izuku.

At first, he was hurt. Izuku thought he and Koro were already forming a strong bond– it not biting him, and him not trying to remember if this breed was poisonous.

Then the entryway light turned on. Izuku turned away from the game show on the screen and–

"What the fuck did you do to my place, Deku?"

There was a lot to unpack here. Izuku's frustrations from being abandoned and left hanging for the entire day. Awe that naturally came from seeing his charge in his hero uniform– eyes taking in the modifications from the doodles of sunshine youth days. The bubbling irritation from everyone labeling him as a troublemaker when he was anything but. Izuku's elation and giddiness from finally being called "Deku" again by his Kacchan.

But of course, it was too much, and all he could do was mute the TV, set down the wine glass filled with milk on the kotatsu he pulled out (virtue of Koro's directions), and finally turn to Katsuki.

"Our place, Kacchan," said Izuku with a smile.

"Excuse me?"

He tilted his head to the side, watching Katsuki curiously. His question that wasn't really a question was forced from gritted teeth. Izuku saw his scarlet eyes rake all over the apartment, and a protruding vein ticked and threatened to burst with what he saw–

Koro, who was supposed to be in the temperature-regulated enclosure, loose and prodding at Katsuki to be picked up and hung over his broad shoulders. The collection of wine glasses that had actually been gathering dust, now on the coffee table with anything but wine in them. TV on a channel that Katsuki would never let himself waste his time on. Blankets and pillows that Izuku knew that Katsuki recognized as part of the supposedly locked bedroom– the same went for the boxers and shirt he was wearing. Kotatsu, supposedly in storage, whirring alive and warm as if trying to combat the heated floors as its competitor.

Izuku knew it was a mess, but he didn't exactly do it in hopes of pushing Katsuki in a corner to finally acknowledge him. No, he didn't plan anything as convoluted and underhanded as that.

He had simply acted like a person placed in an unfamiliar environment would do– explore, make themselves comfortable, socialize (yes, snakes with an "i am mightier than thou" attitude counted).

What he did next was the start of his plan, though.

Izuku laughed. "Wow… you really do look like a villain this way, Kacchan."

He propped an arm on the kotatsu table, cheek resting on his hand. His left hand was under the cover, fingers clenched into a fist. The sting of pain from nails digging crescents into his palm kept him going.

Izuku made a deliberate show of looking at Katsuki from head to toe, pine green eyes settling on the blonde's face. "Are you sure you're a hero? You don't really look like one, Kacchan."

It had always been so, so easy for Izuku to find Katsuki's buttons. Even now– years for his charge and several millennia for Izuku– he still knew exactly how to press them.

The vein burst, patience snapped, and whatever attempts at cordiality went out the window (in this case, the veranda).

Katsuki took a step forward, eyes blazing. "What the fuck are you on about? If anyone's a villain here, ain't that you–"

"'Hero Dynamight? We always have to make sure to write him down as the captor and not the captive when we do reports'," Izuku's voice went deep before turning nasally and high-pitched. "'Dynamight? Fuck, don't even mention that name here, brat. I heard they named a goddamn hospital ward after him with the number of colleagues I had beaten black and blue and unconscious.'"

"Shut up."

Izuku ignored the blonde. He straightened up in his seat. "'I wouldn't say I agree with your breaking and entering and all, but that attack on Dynamight? No one's really weeping over it.'"

His voice turned soft, lips downturned and lids drooping. Still, he didn't tear his eyes away from Katsuki's. "'If it wasn't him who put me behind bars in the first place… if I was just one of those civilians and saw him? I'd cry in terror, not relief.'"

"Shut the fuck up, Deku!"

Katsuki was shaking. The smell of burnt sugar almost made Izuku gag from how it assaulted his senses. His left hand, still hidden under the kotatsu, curled further in to distract him. Pain was always the best distraction when it came to doing unspeakable things.

Katsuki looked to take another step forward– to land a punch, set off an explosion, throttle Izuku– but changed his mind halfway through the movement. Instead, his charge turned, taking strides towards the bedroom.

"I don't having fucking time for handling whatever fit you're in, spouting all that media bullshit like it's supposed to make me feel bad or something."

"You don't feel bad, I know. But you feel something," said Izuku desperately. He didn't want them tiptoeing around each other on the matter he was really here for. "Why else would you tell me to shut the fuck up–"

"Because your voice is annoying as hell."

"–or why else would you run away?"

"I am not running away," Katsuki growled. The blonde was a couple steps away from the still-creaking bedroom door, now turning to face Izuku again. The moment Katsuki had stepped in the opposite direction, Izuku had already abandoned the kotatsu.

"Strategic retreat, needing to rest after a day's work, annoyed of my voice– whatever else you want to call it Kacchan, it doesn't change how you're running away from this."

"And what exactly is this, Deku?" asked Katsuki sickeningly-sweet. The smell of nitroglycerin got stronger, and not even the bleeding crescents in Izuku's palms could stop him from wincing, feet instinctively taking a couple steps back.

Even with only the couch and some feet between them, it felt more.

"It's," Izuku coughed, eyes tearing up from the overpowering scent. "It's me wanting to know why, Kacchan."

"Why, what?"

"Why everyone I've talked to– police officers, detectives, janitors, criminals and villains, and even heroes– view you as this ticking time bomb that's one day away from turning villain?" It wasn't only the smell of nitroglycerin that was making him choke.

Katsuki's shaking stopped. Abrupt and sudden, the anger was gone. The blonde still kept the snarl and some surface-level frustration, but any deeper, and there was nothing. His words were clinical and curt.

"Heroes and villains are two sides of the same coin, Deku. The ones who toss it are those shitheads you just mentioned."

"It's always a 50-50 chance when you toss a coin, Kacchan."

"It's never 50-50," said Katsuki. The blonde's voice was still clinical as if the words were indisputable facts that weren't stains on his career. "Hero or villain… that shit's always on the fucking extras who push for standards that don't make any sense."

Then Katsuki chuckled. "You want an answer to why, Deku? Go ask those dipshits you've been buddy-buddy with on what they think 'saving' and 'winning' is. Then you'll know why I won't fucking ever be the hero they want."

He moved to turn again– to leave and run again, and Izuku couldn't have that. Won't have that. Not when that unaffected air about Katsuki was nothing more than a veil to hide something deeper in the blonde.

"Is it because you're not a good person?"

Katsuki stopped again. His gloved hand was on the doorknob. When he answered, he didn't turn around this time, and all Izuku could see were the shoulders of a man who would soon be crushed under a mountain of never-ending pebbles. All he could see was Katsuki– his Kacchan– who was due for a hell he entered of his own volition.

"Just because I don't fit into your goddamn definition of a good person– or anyone else's, doesn't mean I'm not one. Every fucking one of you think that 'good' always equates to being 'nice' and crap, but that's bullshit if the intentions aren't in the right place."

Katsuki turned his head slightly, and scarlet eyes smudged with kohl drew in pine ones– to be burned, to be turned to ashes. "Being nice for nice's sake is what pathetic extras do. You think I'm an asshole? Not a good person? See if I give a damn when I keep doing what I think is right."

Izuku was shaking. His nails dug into his palms and felt his brows furrow, voice turning graver. "Your intentions, even when good, always– always depend on how they're understood and received by others, Kacchan."

Katsuki didn't answer him. Izuku was still standing, shaking and with wounds on his palms when the door slammed close.

The door wasn't creaking anymore.

Eventually, his legs gave up on him. Izuku sat on the couch for a while, unseeing. His hands and fingers flexed on their own.

The kotatsu was still whirring. TV showing another program filled with fixed dialogue and forced laughter. Koro's enclosure was still empty, with the snake nowhere within Izuku's sight.

He sighed and rested his head back on the couch. He lifted an arm to block out the ceiling lights and noticed he was still shaking.

"So this is what being angry's like," Izuku let out another sigh, arm resting on his eyes. "I don't like it."

Izuku didn't like how the lights in Katsuki's apartment were blinding. Hated the heated floors that weren't any help in cooling down the searing feeling rushing through him at the moment. He wanted to tear down that door just as he had a while ago.

He didn't like how difficult everything was being.

There was a plan. So simple and easy that thinking about it made Izuku shake more, and his teeth grind against each other.

If only humans were more straightforward– more like dogs that bit the bad and licked the good– then Izuku wouldn't be angry right now. He wouldn't be feeling this frustration from such a simple lesson of 'good' being overturned by the complexities of the human psyche.

Izuku drew his arm away, and the lights hit his eyes again. They went right through his irises, drawing out varying shades of green that shifted with every blink.

He sighed and closed his eyes.

AN:

殺し (koroshi) is the snake's (red-tailed boa) full name. Boa constructors are known for having 'personality.'

Hawks replaces All Might as the Symbol of Peace because why not.

I say dk doesn't have his powers just as he doesn't have wings. That whole ch2 affair was a one-time thing.