A/N
I wanted to give the MHA fandom a try, so here's a tropey little fic. It should only end up being five chapters. If Bakugou/Female OC isn't your ship, move along. Otherwise, feel free to share your thoughts with me. Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy :)


Dubious Morality


Seven years after graduating from U.A. High School, Bakugou Katsuki hadn't become the number one hero in Japan like he so often proclaimed to the other members of his class. He wasn't even in the top ten. On the national Hero Billboard Chart, Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight ranked seventeenth. He'd been upset about it for a few years, ranting and raving to anyone who'd listen about how he deserved to be in the upper echelons, but now that he had entered his mid-twenties, he cared more about earning a living than some popularity contest. And that was the thing holding him back, his notoriety. He never hesitated to leap into action, but outside of U.A., the real world wasn't as tolerant of his irascible, rude, and arrogant personality. Although he never failed to get the job done, it didn't take long for Dynamight to garner a negative public opinion; there was a strong positive correlation between his activities and the increasing prefectural infrastructure budget. Endeavor himself sat Katsuki down one day to dispense a hard truth: a metropolis was not the right setting in which to use his abilities so liberally.

As an adult, he'd mellowed out a little. He no longer flew into an impotent rage whenever he saw Deku receiving praise, honors, or awards on TV. The nerd was all right; selfless, determined, and even stronger than he had been in school. They ran in different circles and had matured into different people, so there was no point comparing themselves any longer. Deku took care of Tokyo and Dynamight watched over Yokohama where there were fewer buildings to topple. But if they really had to make it a contest, Katsuki had the superior view of Fujiyama.

He was out on patrol, lending a helping hand here and there as expected of a hero, when he got a funny feeling in his feet like the ground was simmering. Katsuki halted on the sidewalk and looked straight down but it was still as stone… for the next five seconds. The street swelled before erupting in a shower of asphalt, dirt, and water. Instant panic came over the populace as people scattered in all directions. He darted over to an elderly couple hobbling to safety and blasted the incoming hail of debris into harmless pieces. Immediately after carrying them away from the explosion site, similar eruptions occurred throughout the waterfront district, one after the other as if in an intentional sequence. That led him to assume this was a premeditated attack. He ran back to the gaping hole in the road fully intending to track the villain down, but then he skidded to a stop at the edge. Pungent fumes irritated his nose; the explosions were caused by some kind of gas. And as most gases were flammable, he was obviously not the best hero to investigate belowground. Katsuki relayed this information to his fellow agency members and mostly tuned out Endeavor's instructions about how they should proceed, focused on ensuring no civilians were in peril.

Katsuki boosted himself up to a high-rise apartment complex to survey the skyline. The explosions had stopped but the blasts had a domino effect. The building he stood on suddenly shook and began to collapse, leaning toward its neighbor. A nearby scream of terror made him peer over the edge, finding a man in a suit dangling from the handrail of a balcony over the pitted street below. Katsuki dropped straight down, snagged the man, then landed on a dock in the harbor. "Stay here," he ordered. He turned to leave but was caught in an unexpected embrace.

"Oh my god, thank you! You saved my life!"

American? It took Katsuki a moment to process the English words. "No problem," he grunted, and managed to extricate himself from the man's long arms to resume his duty.

After the situation had been handled and the heroes reconvened at the agency, Endeavor informed them that the explosions were not caused by a villain, rather, a small offshore earthquake had made the old, outdated gas lines burst. The disaster was completely natural, but it was still smart thinking on Dynamight's part not to head underground in attack mode and potentially cause more damage. Katsuki rolled his eyes at the praise. He did possess common sense.

The following day, he fully expected to resume his boring patrol while construction companies put the city back together. He entered the agency lobby to see the man he had rescued yesterday speaking with Shoto. Katsuki eavesdropped as they conversed in English. The man had an unusual accent and reminded him of the old-school Hollywood gangster archetype. He wore an expensive black suit with a deep red silk tie, and a silver ring with a crest adorned his left middle finger. His leather shoes appeared premium as well. Shoto and the stranger faced him simultaneously. "Perfect timing– here he is now," the former said. "Would you like me to translate for you?"

"Huh? I speak English too, numbskull." Katsuki glared at the American. "Can I help you?"

He smiled broadly. "Hi there, I'm Carmine Gabriele. I wanted to thank you again for saving me!"

Katsuki waved dismissively. "Just doing my job." The government literally paid him to prevent people from dying.

"You're called Dynamight, right?"

"Actually, I'm—"

"Yes, he is," Shoto cut in before Katsuki could rattle off his full ridiculous hero name. They scowled at one another.

"Mr. Dynamight, I know this probably goes against your code of conduct or something, but you must allow my family to reward you. I'm kind of important back home, and if you'd ignored me like most American heroes, it would've been very bad for the family business." Carmine bowed at the waist. "My father is in Tokyo right now. Please let me take you to meet him."

"Uhh…" Instances in which he had no idea how to respond were few and far between. It was against the hero code of conduct to request more than they already received. Saving lives was their civic duty, not a manner in which to accrue wealth. Katsuki exercised frugal spending habits so he didn't need this American's reward, but he also didn't want to be rude. He'd just donate the money to the city to help with the reconstruction effort.

Carmine grinned when he nodded in acceptance, which Katsuki determined to be his default facial expression. "Great! My car's outside– let's go now!"

"No time like the present," Shoto amicably said, waving at the two men. "Safe travels."

Katsuki watched Carmine get into a black limousine. The driver holding the door regarded him passively, prompting him to follow suit in lieu of attracting extra attention from passersby. He sat in a slight daze until Carmine piped up again. "That's quite a costume you've got. What exactly is your quirk?"

"Explosion," he answered.

"You blow things up? Seems more like something a villain would do."

He frowned, holding up a gloved hand. "My sweat is like nitroglycerin. That's how I control the explosions."

"Ah, I see. It's good that you can manage them, then." Carmine stared out the window, smiling to himself.

Katsuki should probably make small talk to not come off as an asshole. "Where in America are you from?"

"New York City!" the man exclaimed. "The City of Dreams, the Big Apple, the City that Never Sleeps!"

"What kind of business does your family do?"

"Oh, a little of everything. Real estate, shipping, import-export, investments, things like that."

"So you and your father came to Tokyo on business?" Carmine nodded. "Then why were you in Yokohama?"

"To divide and conquer. Some of our associates operate here."

Katsuki hummed, suspicious of the vague responses. "Mind me asking what your quirk is?"

"I do mind, actually. Family secret." But he did have one. Carmine waved off his apology and a semi-awkward silence grew between them until they arrived in the Roppongi neighborhood. The driver parked in front of a shady restaurant and let them out. Katsuki's keen ears caught utterances from people loitering nearby.

"Is that Dynamight? What's he doing here?"

"Look who Carmine's with…"

"Bet he fucked up negotiations."

"They must be reporting to the big boss."

Katsuki's intuition was validated as soon as they entered the establishment. Any appeal that the fusion of Japanese and Italian cuisine might've had was ruined by a haze of tobacco smoke. The low lighting and dark furnishings made it difficult to see people, putting him on high alert as they shot him suspicious or downright hostile glances. Most of the patrons were men dressed like Carmine, but some of them were accompanied by glitzy women. He didn't spot a single child.

Carmine led him through a curtain at the rear of the dining room. "VIP section," he explained, and Katsuki still didn't appreciate the dim lighting or cigar stink. It layered with a spicy, woody cologne wafting off an elderly man seated at a booth lined with red leather. He was tall, hunched forward to rest his elbows on the table. His deeply tanned visage showed minimal signs of aging as he studied his son and guest with hooded hazel eyes, and a single platinum streak cut through his dark hair. He too wore a black suit with a red tie and a signet ring around his left middle finger. He met Katsuki's gaze as he and Carmine came to a stop. "Here's the hero who saved my ass after that earthquake," the latter announced. "Dynamight."

"I like your style," the older man praised. He didn't stand but extended his hand across the table, which Katsuki shook. "I'm Angiolo, patriarch of the Gabriele family. Thank you for rescuing my son. I'd like to offer you a reward based on his life insurance policy."

The hero raised an eyebrow. "How much is that?"

"Five-hundred thousand US dollars," Angiolo replied. "Over seventy million yen based on the current conversion rate."

Katsuki reeled. It wasn't that it was an exorbitant sum of money, it was that someone wanted to give him that much money for doing his job. He'd merely been in the right place at the right time. He shouldn't accept it; his conscience urged him to refuse. But that reward money could go a long way in bettering the lives of the people he had pledged to protect. The two men watched him waver with knowing smirks. "Let me be clear, Dynamight– I'm not giving this money to your agency. I want you to spend it on yourself. You earned it."

"I… I don't," Katsuki stammered. "I can't…"

"You can and you will."

The patriarch's stern tone briefly made his head spin. Katsuki frowned. He now thought it was a good idea to spend 70 million yen on himself. New clothes, new TV, fancy dinners. He'd commission some upgrades for his hero costume. He'd buy a car, never mind that he didn't have a license or even know how to drive, it was the fact that he could have one. He could have anything he wanted! Hell, he hadn't gotten laid in so long that he was willing to drop a couple thousand yen on a female companion, or maybe more than one…

Angiolo's smug chuckle pulled him from his greedy fantasies. Katsuki shook his head; that wasn't him, those were not his thoughts. Or were they? He'd always harbored a desire to be the best, to become Japan's number one hero. 70 million was enough to bribe the Hero Billboard Chart committee into putting him in the top ten. Once there, everyone would see how capable he was, how powerful, and he'd rise in popularity until taking the number one spot from Deku, that insignificant little insect…

"What… the hell?" He glared at Angiolo from between his fingers. "I don't… think this way anymore. I'm not like this!"

"Like what?" Carmine queried. "Covetous? Self-serving? Maybe just… ambitious?" He grinned. "It's not wrong to use the money to achieve your personal goals. What is it that you really want, Dynamight? Tell us."

Another dizzy spell came over him. Katsuki felt his mouth form the words without consciously speaking them. "I want… to be… the best hero in Japan. Better than All Might was in his day, better than Deku is now. Better than everyone. I want the whole world to know my name." He couldn't be that selfish. He was a hero, dammit! A good one! But he wanted to be great, not just good, no longer mediocre. He was sick of watching his peers receive accolades for their feats of heroism while he slid further into obscurity, outshone by the likes of Deku, Shoto, Creati, Red Riot, Uravity…

"That's what you want, eh? We can make it happen." Angiolo laced his fingers beneath his chin. "Sit." Katsuki remained upright, a bit preoccupied with his internal struggle. "We're a powerful family. The Gabriele name carries a lot of weight, especially in New York. We can use our connections to get you recognition there first."

Suddenly, Katsuki realized his initial impression of Carmine wasn't far off the mark. "You guys are mobsters or some shit, aren't you?"

Angiolo sighed lightly and stood, looming over Katsuki by almost a foot, but the hero was not intimidated. "The Gabriele's are one of the four great Mafia families."

"Knew it. I'm out." He made a beeline for the archway. "Keep your dirty money."

"Hey, hold up!" Carmine reached for his arm, earning a death glare. He let go and raised his hands in surrender. "We may be Mafia, but we live by a code of honor. We owe you for saving my life. Since you don't want the money, we'll help you get on that Hero Chart or whatever else you want. We can't let a debt go unpaid."

Katsuki opened his mouth to refuse him again, then closed it, shaking his head. Cultural dissonance was at work here; they just didn't understand what it meant for him to be a hero. "Fine, whatever, I accept your reward. But deposit it in my agency's account. Are we done here?" He started to leave again.

"Not quite," Angiolo spoke. "What if I told you the earthquake that caused the gas leaks yesterday actually wasn't natural?"

Katsuki froze, looking over his shoulder. "I'd tell you to keep talking."

"Sit back down with us." Grunting in frustration, the hero obliged, sprawled out in the booth to take up as much space as possible. Carmine sat on the edge beside his father. "There are four great gangster factions of the world– the Italian Mafia, the Irish Mob, the Chinese Triad, and the Japanese Yakuza. All of us operate freely in our respective regions of the globe but America is disputed territory, has been for over two centuries. Alliances are formed and wars are fought in the shadows of society. When humans began developing superpowers or quirks, the balance between the factions started to shift, sliding dangerously in one or the other's favor. Things have evened out within the last fifty years. Recently, however, the Mob and Triad decided to work together to eradicate the rest of us. My son and I came to Tokyo to form a similar alliance with the Yakuza."

Katsuki regarded them narrowly. "So half my city was blown up because other gangsters were trying to kill Carmine to stop your negotiations?"

"Precisely. We know someone with a seismic quirk caused the earthquake and the rest was a calculated chain reaction."

"Hmm." This was big, too big for a single hero to handle on his own. A gang war of this scale would require multiple agencies working together to keep everyone safe and minimize collateral damage. But it didn't sound like an issue that would be resolved anytime soon, perhaps taking years to die down. If two of the factions successfully eliminated the others, what was to stop them from then turning on each other? These kinds of people desired absolute power, and too many innocents would be hurt or dragged into it over the course of the conflict. Katsuki studied the two men. "Why tell me all this? What do you want me to do about it?"

They shared a look, smiling. "Since it's clearly too dangerous to stay here, we'd like someone to return to New York with us and liaison with the Yakuza lieutenants there. Someone trustworthy who'll convince them to ally with the Mafia. Someone like a national hero." Angiolo leaned forward into Katsuki's personal space. "We want to collaborate with you specifically because you're not in the limelight. You might be surprised by which of the top heroes in this country have Yakuza backing." That gave Katsuki pause for thought. Several of them were people he'd graduated with. "You would be fully accommodated while assisting us," Angiolo went on, "and we will, of course, provide financial compensation for temporarily removing you from your national civic duty."

The man was good with words. He knew Katsuki had no income if he didn't operate in Japan. But was it worth it to get involved with the Mafia, even for a limited time, in exchange for cold, hard cash? Maybe. If other heroes didn't question where their sponsors' money came from, why should he? Why take the moral high ground? Katsuki maintained a selfish, prideful streak. He'd always wanted to be recognized as one of Japan's best heroes. And if some of his peers had their backers buy their positions on the Hero Billboard Chart… Well, they could hardly criticize him for getting in on the game, right? Not without suffering severe public backlash and risking the hero industry as a whole.

The more he thought about it, the more it seemed he'd been presented with a win-win situation. Either he helped the Yakuza and Mafia form an alliance and they both supported his rise on the Hero Chart, or he simply spent the Gabriele's generous donations on improving his public image and reputation. He could jump ship at any time, and since he now had a bit of insider information on what the organized crime factions were doing, he could easily incite public outrage if they tried screwing him over.

Whether he rose up or went down it'd be in a blaze of glory, perfectly fitting for Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight.


Katsuki flew first class with Angiolo and Carmine, revealing his civilian identity for the first time in a long while. He'd never left the country so it was an interesting new experience. The flight attendants kept asking if he wanted cocktails or wine which he refused until it came time to choose a dinner meal, and then he had a Tequila Sunrise with his basil coconut chicken curry on Carmine's recommendation. He found it difficult to sleep due to turbulence as they traversed the Pacific Ocean, and it was weird to think he'd flown into the past after crossing the International Date Line. They landed in Seattle before taking a second flight to New York City, finally touching down at JFK International Airport. By that point Katsuki was too exhausted to pay his surroundings much attention; he took a micro nap in the limo before Carmine woke him up outside of a residential building. "Hey, we're here! This is where you'll be staying for the duration of the negotiations."

Katsuki craned his neck and still couldn't see the top of the skyscraper. "It's huge," he said, groggy. They went inside with his single suitcase in tow and got on an elevator, ascending to the fiftieth floor. Carmine led him to the end of the hall and unlocked an unassuming steel door, revealing the spacious living area beyond. Katsuki's jaw dropped. "Damn, what kind of hotel is this?"

"Hotel?" Carmine repeated, snorting. "It's a condominium. As if we'd let our all-important hero stay in a hotel!" He laughed at the notion. "It's all yours. Just don't trash the place or we'll have to spend some of your allowance on cleaning services." Katsuki grunted in understanding. "We have to arrange meetings with the Yakuza, so you're on standby until then. You've got a car and driver to take you wherever you want to go, and we can assign you a personal assistant if you want."

"Why would I need one of those?" he wondered.

"So you don't have to navigate the city to go shopping and stuff. We have public transport systems but they're not as good as Japan's. It's pretty easy to get lost here." With that, Carmine backed out the door, closing it behind him. Katsuki took another look around at his sleek, modern-industrial abode. It was certainly a lot different than his living quarters at the agency. He located a king-sized bed beyond a partial wall sectioning it off from the rest of the apartment, and the attached bathroom was way too large and lavish for one person. He fell asleep as soon as he hit the mattress.

After resting for about thirteen hours, Katsuki awoke to afternoon sunshine beaming through the huge windows, groaning and wincing at the light. His first instinct was to draw the curtains but there were none. Muttering a string of expletives, he ransacked drawers and cabinets until locating a small remote that closed the mechanical blinds. Blessed darkness fell over the condo. He took a shower, put on clean clothes, and checked his phone, finding a few missed calls and texts from Carmine.

Are you awake?

You up yet?

Lmk when you're up.

Most recently: We're having a family dinner tonight. Dad invited you as well. 18:30 at 1619 3rd Ave.

He tapped the address to open it in his map app. It was only two miles northeast, a forty-minute estimated walk. He didn't need the driver to bring him that short distance. As a jeans and T-shirt kind of guy, he wondered if the Gabriele's expected him to show up in less casual attire; the Mafia characters in movies always ate meals in nice clothes. What should I wear? he texted back.

Hey, you're finally awake! Dinner's in an hour! Check the hallway.

Katsuki unlocked the front door and found a clothing rack bearing a few garment bags and a shoebox. A little notecard had his name and room number on it. Inside it read Looking forward to meeting you –F.M.G. He brought everything inside and messaged Carmine again. Who's FMG?

My sister-in-law. You'll meet her and my brother tonight.

It sure was presumptuous of a woman he'd never met to send him an outfit for a dinner he hadn't even agreed to attend. The Gabriele's didn't have to keep courting him to this extent when he'd already agreed to act as their intermediary. But who was he to deny free food and clothing? Katsuki was surprised that everything fit him correctly, wondering how the sister-in-law got his sizing so accurate. He studied his reflection after putting on an orange silk shirt, black slacks, and a black blazer, finishing the ensemble with short brown leather boots. He couldn't lie and say it wasn't comfortable, although the last time he wore something remotely as fancy was when his class went out to dinner after graduating from U.A. He hadn't really accomplished anything since then, and it felt like the Gabriele's were celebrating too early when he had yet to meet the Yakuza thugs. They might not give a shit about what he had to say and refuse to ally with the Mafia, then the Gabriele's would've spent all that money on a hero for no reason.

Ah, well. It was no skin off his nose.

Katsuki stuck his passport, phone, and house key in his pockets before heading to the lobby. He'd only made it a few feet down the sidewalk when a car pulled up alongside him and the window lowered. "Mr. Dynamight! I'm supposed to give you a ride when you leave your condo!"

"I'm only going two miles. Don't need a ride for that."

The man at the wheel looked apprehensive. "Are you sure? Mr. Gabriele said—"

"I'm sure." Katsuki waved him off. "My legs work fine. You're dismissed or whatever." Still uncertain, the chauffeur slowly drove away. Katsuki sighed. He hadn't grown up wealthy or privileged and would never understand rich people's proclivity to pay for things they were perfectly capable of doing themselves. Case in point, walking. He jogged ten miles every other day to stay in shape so this was just a little jaunt by comparison. The temperature was a comfortable 68 degrees Fahrenheit, and there was plenty to capture his attention during the trek. Boutiques, eateries, schools, architecture. But New York City was no Yokohama. It was loud, dirty, and the air carried an unpleasant stench of refuse mixed with food exhaust. The locals were probably used to it, but Katsuki preferred the scent of saltwater on the breeze. Funny… He never thought he'd miss his boring jurisdiction but here he was reminiscing. He wondered how many other Japanese heroes had come to New York. All Might and Deku were the only two he could name off the top of his head.

When he reached the address Carmine provided, he stood in front of the wrought-iron gate and stared. The building must have previously been an apartment complex due to the uniform windows, but now it was a multistory mansion in the middle of an upscale neighborhood. A footman approached from within the courtyard. "Mr. Dynamight?" he inquired in a haughty tone.

"Yeah, that's me," Katsuki answered.

"The family is expecting you." He unlocked the gate and pulled it inward.

"No shit. Why else would I be here?" The two men shot each other disdainful looks until Katsuki entered the foyer, which was excessively opulent. He stood between beige marble pillars streaked with black and grey. Trailing plants spilled out of wall-mounted pots. A sculpture of a nude woman holding a pitcher poured water into an ornately-tiled basin, reflecting light from the crystal chandelier overhead. Beyond the fountain, a wide spiral staircase granted access to the first three floors. The walls were painted a rust-red color, completing the illusion that he'd been transported to Europe.

Footsteps overhead earned his focus. Carmine leaned over the banister and waved. "Hey, great timing! Come on up, I'll show you the house!"

"This isn't it?"

"These lower levels are for hosting events," he replied. "You can only reach our family home by using the elevator up here." Of course there was an elevator. Katsuki joined Carmine on the third floor where the lift opened after he keyed in a code and scanned his retina. It deposited them in an inconspicuous hallway that led to a great room. Dark wood, gilded ceilings, handcrafted furniture, and exquisite artwork all vied for attention. "Dining room's this way," Carmine pointed. Katsuki followed, soon standing by a chair at a twenty-person table. Angiolo sat at the head in front of an unlit fireplace. To his right was a couple who rose to greet their guest. Carmine took the liberty of making introductions. "This is my brother Rosso and his wife, Fiammetta. She did a great job with your outfit."

"It suits you perfectly," the woman gushed, hands clasped. "All I had to go on was your hero costume, but orange is definitely your color!"

"Uhh, thanks." She didn't offer her hand so he ducked his head instead.

Carmine clapped him on the shoulder. "Rossini, Fifi, this is Katsuki Bakugou, better known as the hero Dynamight."

"Great to meet you!" Rosso shook his hand exuberantly, then they all sat at the table with Carmine to Angiolo's left followed by Katsuki. "So what's it like being a bonafide hero? In Japan you have an entire culture based around heroes and villains, don't you? What do you do on the daily?"

Why'd he have to spring so many questions on Katsuki right out of the gate? He tried his best to articulate in English. "Heroes are classified as civil servants, like police and firefighters. We require licenses to operate in public. I work with others in an agency managed by a veteran named Endeavor."

"Yeah yeah, the flame hero! I've heard of him!" Rosso's eyes sparkled with wonder, like a kid gazing at Christmas presents. "I'm a firefighter myself, actually! My quirk, Flameward, makes me totally impervious to fire."

Katsuki's brow rose with interest. "Never heard of that one. Must be rare."

"It's unique," Carmine chimed in, and Angiolo cleared his throat. "And even though he doesn't act like it, Rosso is my older brother."

Truly, Rosso's countenance and attitude were more youthful than Carmine's. The utter lack of scars helped, but his dark brown hair also made his green eyes pop, and there were no wrinkles on his face. Fiammetta looked older than him, too, with her auburn hair pinned up in a matronly manner. She coolly regarded Katsuki through blue-grey irises. Being surrounded by people sporting Mediterranean tans made him self-conscious of his fair skin, his unruly blond hair, and his abnormal red eye color. He was like a stray dog this prestigious family had decided to pamper with treats.

Rosso did not stop chatting his ear off even after dinner and wine were served, speaking around forkfuls of veal piccata, pasta, and salad. Fiammetta interrupted her husband to ask, "You're not lactose intolerant, are you?"

Katsuki mulled it over. He often snacked on cheese and crackers as a kid, and his parents used to give him warm milk to calm him down before bed. He couldn't recall having any adverse gastrointestinal effects after consuming such things. The veal cutlets were topped with shaved asiago but it was such a nominal amount that he'd probably be fine even if he was intolerant. "Not sure," he answered.

"I made panna cotta for dessert," she explained. "It's heavy on cream, and I wouldn't want to upset your stomach on your first night in New York…"

"I'm sure he'll be fine." Carmine's head swiveled toward him. "Right?" Katsuki nodded. He was not one to be laid low by dairy.

Once the dishes were cleared away, Fiammetta served everyone her panna cotta topped with fresh berries. "I hope you like it, Katsuki." She waited while he took a bite, humming in approval. "I'm so glad! Since you'll be sticking around for a while, I'd like to invite you to dinner at our place next weekend."

Next weekend? How long did they expect him to stay in New York? Katsuki held his tongue until everyone finished dessert and migrated to the great room. There, he noticed a large family portrait of Angiolo with Rosso, Carmine, and a fair-haired, light-eyed young woman. "Who's this?" he asked, pointing.

"Oh, that's Bianca, our little sister," Carmine answered. "She lives in Firenze with her husband, Vittorio."

"What's her quirk?"

"She doesn't have one." He half-smiled. "Dad got what he wanted with me and Rosso. Bianca was just a happy addition to the family."

Katsuki peered across the room. "What's Fiammetta's quirk?"

"Spitfire– she causes things to combust with her voice. You know how opera singers can shatter glasses with the right tone? It's like that but with fire. She's a teacher at La Scuola d' Italia. Kids call her Signora Drago, the Dragon Lady."

So Rosso and Fiammetta had complementary quirks. Had they been matched up on purpose? He watched them converse with Angiolo, laughing and sipping wine, before addressing Carmine. "You never told me your quirk."

He turned away. "I told you it's a family secret."

"I don't work with people who withhold information," Katsuki stated.

Carmine shifted his weight while glancing at his father a few times. "Hey guys, we're going to head home. I'm taking Dynamight since he's on the way."

"Bye! It was great meeting you!" Rosso waved.

"See you next weekend!" Fiammetta called. Angiolo simply lifted his wine glass in silent appreciation for services yet rendered.

Katsuki bowed at the waist. "Thanks for having me." He and Carmine didn't speak as they descended to the first floor. The footman paged his driver and they got into a black Mercedes. Carmine took the front as Katsuki reclined in the backseat, his gaze boring into the man's head. "Seriously, how long do you expect me to stay here?"

"A few months, at least."

"Three months?!" Katsuki roared. "How long does it take to arrange a meeting with stupid Yakuza?!"

"You don't understand how any of this works," Carmine refuted. "They don't trust us and we don't trust them, so the first step is to build a bridge we can both stand on. That means doing business together, helping one another overcome obstacles, and making mutual investments as a show of good faith. Going to Japan was a mistake– their boss hunkered down as soon as the Mob and Triad started acting in tandem. He refused to meet with us and told his foremost lieutenants to do the same. But this is the wild west and the leaders here mostly act on their own authority. I just need to win over one of them, then they'll talk to you, and you'll vouch for us."

"Why does it sound like you're doing all the work to form this alliance? What about the other Mafia families?"

Carmine sighed. "America is Gabriele territory. The three other families, Michela, Raffaello, and Uriele, operate within Europe and South America. Although all four of the bosses voted for a truce with the Yakuza, they're primarily based on the West Coast, so it falls to us –to me, really– to organize everything."

Katsuki groaned in exasperation. "If I were you, I'd go to California or wherever and demand to meet with the head honcho."

"And you'd most certainly die," Carmine returned. "There's no other way to go about this than building trust. I hope they'll come around sooner when they see a Japanese hero on our side."

He folded his arms and fumed. Dangling from a string as someone else's reward was not his style. "If I'm supposed to convince the Yakuza to trust you…" he spoke after a lengthy pause, "I need to trust you. I need to know the strengths and weaknesses of everyone I'm working with."

"Our weakness…" Carmine sighed again. "Well, the main one is that the Gabriele family is small. It's just the… four of us, currently. As much as we love Bianca, she can't contribute because she's quirkless. Vittorio has a strong quirk, so hopefully their kids will inherit it."

An unpleasant feeling unfurled in Katsuki's gut. "You participate in quirk marriages?"

"Yes. Does that bother you?" Carmine rotated to look him in the eye, his visage passive. Katsuki's brow furrowed. "My father intended to keep having kids until one of them inherited his ability, but luckily it only took him two tries. Even though Rosso is his firstborn son, I'm his second-in-command because I got the quirk our family is known for." He faced forward once more. "Our name is from Archangel Gabriel, the left hand of God. Gabriel is supposed to sound the horn preceding the Final Judgment. The quirk my father and I share is aptly called Clarion. It forces people to listen to us and answer questions truthfully."

So Carmine and Angiolo both used their quirk on him during their initial meeting. Even though Katsuki had buried his ambition to become the best hero in Japan in order to eke out a living, he still desired it. He was still arrogant enough to believe he should be number one. No one else was supposed to know that, to find out how unsatisfied he was with his lot in life. What kind of hero resented his peers? They all chose to contribute to the greater good instead of using their quirks to serve themselves.

Maybe Katsuki chose wrong. Maybe he was better suited for villainy like Carmine had said. He could've gotten everything he wanted a long time ago.