Summary:

Aizawa Shouta arrives at the crime scene and the first thing he sees is Officer Tamakawa Sansa puking up his guts on the other side of his squad car. That's attractive.

-

Aizawa Shouta is tasked with finding and arresting the Shie Hassaikai killer. If he's going to do it, however, he's going to need information, something that seems to be in short supply for this particular case.

Fortunately for him, there's a new face in the underground info business - well, a new face in the sense that somebody's been supplying good info to both sides. Tentatively given the name 'Harbinger', this broker supposedly knows more than the internet.

Unfortunately for him, Harbinger doesn't seem to want to help him out. Go figure. More work for him.

Chapter 1

Aizawa Shouta arrives at the crime scene and the first thing he sees is Officer Tamakawa Sansa puking up his guts on the other side of his squad car. That's attractive.

He turns away and searches the crowd of law-enforcement personnel for Detective Tsukauchi, the one who called him here - a request to his agency as a friend.

It's not incredibly difficult to spot the familiar trench coat and fedora, so he slips past officers and taps the man on the shoulder. Tsukauchi turns around and sighs in what seems to be relief.

"Eraserhead."

"Detective." He pauses. "Why am I here?"

Tsukauchi sighs again, noticeably heavier this time. Well fuck - this is going to be a fun playdate, isn't it?

"I'm not going to lie." Good. "It's a bloodbath in there." Tsukauchi gestures to the minka. Huh. Not fun then. "We have next to no clue what happened," he continues, "other than that everyone who lived here is dead and someone ransacked the main lab." Ah. "We need your expertise. You know the underground, you might be able to help us with this."

Aizawa doesn't hesitate much. In his field, a second can equal a life. Hesitance kills.

He doesn't hesitate now.

"Absolutely. Give me a second here to notify my agency that I'm taking this, and then I'll be right there." He doesn't wait for Tsukauchi to respond as he pulls out his phone, shooting off a text to his patrol coordinator. She'll make sure his routes are covered and his schedule cleared. He shoves his phone back in his pocket.

Shouta looks back up at Tsukauchi through his goggles and nods.

"Show me what we've got."

-

Tsukauchi wasn't fucking around when he said that it was a bloodbath. Shit, Sansa wasn't even overreacting when he heaved up whatever was left of his last meal next to the squad car. But what really hits him, what really unnerves him, isn't the blood. It's the fatal blows.

One bullet per person. All kill shots. All guns are illegal in Japan, so they have connections to the underground. He keeps a running commentary for Tsukauchi, who nods at appropriate intervals but otherwise stays quiet.

One bullet per person, with two notable exceptions: Chisaki Kai and Kurono Hari, who both have puncture wounds through their right eyes, right into their brains.

Whoever did this had a serious fucking issue with these two, and they weren't afraid to show it up close and personal. What a shitshow.

"Detective," he calls. Tsukauchi looks over at him with curious eyes. "These are the Shie Hassaikai guys you were investigating, right?"

Tsukauchi purses his lips and turns away from him.

"Yes," he answers tersely. "That's what they called themselves; the 'Eight Precepts of Death'. The only reason we didn't get them ourselves is the lack of a paper trail. Nothing on the books we could catch them with, and we can't file for search warrants without proof.

Aizawa snorts. "I don't think whoever did this was super concerned with things like 'paper trails' and 'proof'."

Tsukauchi hums his agreement. "I'm inclined to agree."

Shouta looks around the room of Chisaki Kai with disdain gritting against him like sand in his mouth. It's in a near clinical state of sterility, with no pictures or personal affects in sight. It screams paranoia and that one personality disorder he can never remember the name of.

And then there's the fact that there's almost no sign of anyone but them entering the room, save for the smudge of blood on Chisaki's cheek. Unfortunately for them, the perp had been wearing gloves - news given to them by an officer who had come up from the lab - so no fingerprints.

In fact, there's almost no sign of any damage from a break in, which is unusual. In cases like this, there's almost always some sort of property damage, but here there isn't so much as a broken lock or a window pane out of place.

Shit, there isn't even any CCTV, because everything around the compound is low-security residential.

Well.

Was low-security residential; any sane person is either gonna go doomsday or pack up their shit and scram. He knows damn well Hizashi would be boxing up the apartment in a second if something like this happened near their apartment.

"Detective!"

A familiar voice from the hall startles them both.

"Sansa," Tsukauchi calls back, "what is it?"

Officer Tamakawa's head pokes in, ears up and fur puffed in what looks like irritation, if what Shouta knows from his own cats holds true.

"The guy who called us called the vultures too, and they're outside the line." Tamakawa's face twists up in displeasure. "They're asking for a statement." He looks over at Shouta and visibly brightens. "Hey, Eraserhead! Didn't know you were here! Glad to see you're working with us!" His head disappears back through the door.

Shouta looks over to Tsukauchi, who's pinching the bridge of his nose. He hears a soft, "Fuck," and snorts.

"Well," Shouta mutters, "it seems that the 'vultures' have arrived. You wanna hear what I've got before you go make your official statement?"

Tsukauchi nods, not lifting his face, and Shouta clears his throat.

"Alright. Well, I don't think they've got a transformation quirk, or a mutation. I think it's most likely an emitter. Based on the lack of residue, it doesn't produce anything - so it's probably mental or physical, but I'd say there's a better chance of it being physical. Maybe an enhancer, solely based on how many people were killed within the window.

"There's clearly some sort of emotional connection, seeing as Chisaki and Kurono were paid special attention. A grudge, maybe, or revenge for something. But this wasn't blind anger. It wasn't a rampage." Shouta pauses, trying to figure out a tactful way to say 'yeah, this perp planned and executed the murder of more than 150 people; people who were criminals, sure, but were still people, and I've got no fucking clue why.'

"This was premeditated mass murder without an immediately visible motive," he says. "The only thing I can say with confidence is that this person got exactly what they wanted, and that they covered their tracks incredibly well."

Tsukauchi, who probably already knows this, hisses through his teeth as he looks up at the ceiling.

"Dammit," he whispers, loud enough for Shouta to hear.

"Yeah," Shouta responds. "Dammit is right. I'll start looking around tomorrow with my underground contacts to see if they know anything. If I can't find anything with them, there's a new guy in the area. I'll call you if I find anything."

Tsukauchi doesn't look at him as he leaves the room, ready to head home for the night. Damn.

He hopes he can find something before this guy hits again.

He hopes, a little bit quieter, that he can find something before this guy disappears.

-

Shouta watches from his couch as Tsukauchi gives his statement to the news. Twisting his words about the perp's quirk is a good idea, he notes blandly. Make the killer feel confident that their quirk won't be identified, make them feel confident enough to slip up, leave something behind.

He looks over at Hizashi and sighs. His husband is sleeping on the cushion next to him, one leg in his lap and the other over the back of the couch. His arms are askew and his hair is down, half of it lying over his face and the other half spread behind his head. Hitoshi's already in bed, so it's just him that's awake.

He sighs again and switches off the TV, standing - gently lifting Hizashi's leg and setting it down on the couch - and stretching. His back pops and he huffs; he's going to have to drag his dumbass husband all the way to their room, hope the cat hasn't eaten his pillowcase again, and find some way to fall asleep.

He slides his arms under Hizashi and gently lifts him, princess style, trying not to wake him up. He grunts over the not insignificant weight of his husband as he makes his way to their room - though he's lanky, Hizashi is mostly muscle and muscle is heavy.

He nudges the door open with his foot and fucking dammit, Bastard's shredded his pillowcase again.

"Fucking asshole cat," he grumbles under his breath, laying Hizashi down on the sheets. He's already in his pyjamas - has been since around noon - so Shouta doesn't have to worry about changing and just throws the duvet over him.

Aizawa himself is still in his work clothes, so he strips - shirt, socks, pants, boxers - and heads to the master bathroom to shower. He needs to get a handle on how he's going to approach this. A mass murder with only one clue: whatever was taken from the compound.

If they can find what's missing, they can trace it. They'll have their killer behind bars.

If they can't find what's missing, they can't trace it and they'll have the killer out in the streets.

Aizawa stands under the hot water, letting it beat down on him.

Fuck. What a mess.