There's a knock at his door before it creaks open, light filtering in the darkness. Blankets rustle at the intrusion but no more sound is made.
"I cooked your favourite meal, Izuku," his mother's soft voice fills the silence. "I'll put it down on your desk, alright?"
Midoriya Inko places the katsudon bowl and chopsticks beside his computer. She lingers on the threshold in hopes of receiving an answer but her son doesn't react. From what she can discern in the darkness, he's underneath the huddle of blankets in the corner of his room. He doesn't seem bothered by the hard ground or by the fact that he didn't move from his room for an entire day.
"If you need anything, just call. I'll be on the other side and I'm here if you want to talk."
The door clicks shut behind her, plunging the bedroom in complete pitch black. Midoriya tightens the blankets around him, lips biting his lower lip enough to draw pearls of blood.
Midoriya doesn't need to talk. He doesn't need to eat. He doesn't need to go out.
He doesn't need anything.
He doesn't deserve anything.
"What do you mean he's not feeling well?"
Tsukauchi shrugs, "Apparently he's ill and refuses to get out of his room."
Todoroki scoffs, stapling his report with more force than necessary, "Of course he decided to take a break on such a critical day."
They're alone in the office, the other members scattered to accomplish diverse tasks all related to investigating the apparent murder of Tozawa Anri. The story that came out in the press in the morning goes like this: her apartment block was set afire as a distraction so the Judge wouldn't be disturbed as he killed Pro Hero Knowledge. The media, of course, didn't mention the lack of 'guilty' signs on the crime scene, now nothing more than fuming ruins.
"He couldn't have known there'd be another murder today."
"Why are you defending him, Detective Tsukauchi?" Todoroki's face is severe as he gazes at the older man, eyes narrowed down. "He's the one who made that little speech on devoting oneself to solving the case."
"I'd rather have my men take care of themselves at home than die in the office because they neglected their health."
"Strange how this perspective of yours changed in so little time."
"We don't give enough credit to Midoriya-kun. Like everyone on the team, he deserves to be heard and I realised recently that we hurt him with our ignorance. If he has to take time for himself, then I'll give it to him."
Todoroki stares at him, emotionless. "How kind of you."
Tsukauchi kneads his forehead, sighing trough his nose. He remains standing for a few moments before sitting on the chair beside Todoroki, examining him.
"You don't approve of him."
"I don't trust him."
Tsukauchi doesn't seem fazed by his words, as if he expected them. "Is it because he acts like All Might sometimes?"
None of the Pro Hero's muscles shudder and betray him, but Tsukauchi's living consists of remarking body language and inferring using what sparse information he can find.
"Midoriya-kun is not All Might."
"I know."
But the detective notes the acerbic undertone tainting Todoroki's voice before his Quirk even warns him of a lie being spoken to him.
"Todoroki-san, Midoriya-kun isn't your sensei. Both have qualities they share like selflessness and perseverance but they're their own unique being."
"I know," Todoroki replies, and had it not been Tsukauchi he was talking to then there isn't a doubt Todoroki would've snapped.
"It's not his fault."
Todoroki doesn't have to ask the detective who he was talking about between the Symbol of Peace and their colleague.
"If he knew about your situation, what would he have done?"
Todoroki's temper's slipping up, Tsukauchi remarks as he catches the tremor in his fingers. It's no coincidence that his left side's trembling more.
"Todoroki-san, I'm not asking you to forgive All Might or to erase your part. I'm asking you to accept it."
"Did you know Midoriya asked me if I would avenge my mother if I had the power to? I said no but I'm not sure I really believed it."
Tsukauchi offers him a lopsided smile, "The challenge isn't to refuse to acknowledge our desires but not to yield to them."
Todoroki's sigh reminds him how young the Pro Hero is. Yet the scar marring his face, the heavy bags under his eyes and the lines wrinkling his forehead don't belong to a young man. Tsukauchi's seen them on hardened police officers and even if Todoroki's half his age, he can't help but considering the Pro Hero as his equal.
"You should reserve this speech for Midoriya," Todoroki mutters. "I'm not sure he understands the difference between justice and revenge."
"I'll tell him if it can ease your mind but don't change the subject. We were talking about you."
"We're not anymore," Todoroki declares, rolling his eyes, and Tsukauchi can almost believe he's twenty. "You don't have to worry about me. I'm fine on my own."
"You're not on your own."
This time Todoroki looks like he's a seasoned enforcer of the law who's always been a lone wolf, surprised to be offered partnership. According to All Might, the Pro Hero's a solo player capable of holding his own, but he can cooperate with others if needed. Otherwise, Tsukauchi doesn't know much about the Pro Hero. There's an entire file on Todoroki, about his skills, his education, his past, but it lies untouched in one of Tsukauchi's shelves.
It's one of the lines Tsukauchi doesn't dare to cross.
Todoroki doesn't answer him, his back facing him. Tsukauchi's head pounding and he fights back against reaching out for him, rather sinking in his chair. If Todoroki's a seasoned enforcer, then what does it make him? A century-old disillusioned and weary investigator? He can't be far from the truth since he feels like one when he speaks.
"Don't let the past swallow you."
"I won't."
Tsukauchi's nose is tingling. He's not being lied to, but he wonders if Todoroki's lying to himself. He watches the Pro Hero walking away, somehow also distinguishing Midoriya's form running away from him in the cafeteria. Their silhouettes merge together as they leave him alone, the door shutting behind the both of them.
Tsukauchi sighs, allowing himself to bend forward, elbows on his knees and clasped hands placed above his head. He's slipping up, or perhaps it's always been this way and he's been ignoring it. As a leader, he's supposed to unite his teammates and guide them on the perilous path they took. It appears to him that he did a poor job since the youngest distance themselves from him and that they didn't budge from square one with the Judge case.
He glances at the documents on his desk. They know Tozawa Anri's death wasn't accidental, but they can't be certain that her murderer's the Judge. The lack of 'guilty' sign which links the previous murders infuriates him. Why would the Judge, if the Judge it was, change his pattern all of sudden?
Tsukauchi groans, straightening. An empty office stares back at him. In the very back, on Midoriya's desk, the dried plant loses a leaf. Tsukauchi's eyes follow its fall as if hypnotised. It drifts in the air before touching the desk, stilling. It's alone since it's detached from the stem yet it's so near and once belonged there.
Is that how Midoriya-kun felt?
No, he's not asking the good question: Is this how Midoriya-kun feels, right now?
With a heavy heart, Tsukauchi picks the leaf and sticks it back to the stem using tape. It's messy. It doesn't remove the fact that the leaf once fell, abandoned.
But now Tsukauchi knows what to do.
The newspaper rustles before crumbling to dust, Tomura's fingers opening and closing sporadically. He watches the headline disintegrate, pages about Pro Hero Knowledge's murder and the whole apartment block that flared like a gigantic bonfire in the middle of Shibuya decaying.
"You're cleaning the mess," Kurogiri calls from the counter.
"Of all the Heroes to root out, he had to kill one we were dealing with," Tomura growls, ignoring the other villain's comment. "That brat's nothing but trouble…"
"So he killed Tozawa?"
As an answer Tomura kicks the table with his foot, sending it careening across the room. Kurogiri sighs yet doesn't move from his spot. As long as Tomura doesn't calm down, he's bound to lash at more furniture and create a bigger mess.
"But Tomura-san, aren't you happy that Midoriya did his first kill?"
"He didn't. He may have killed Tozawa but he didn't accept it and we had to act as the cleaning crew. This kill's worth nothing."
"Why are you complaining about cleaning when I was the only one who did it?"
Tomura doesn't answer. He's glowering the computer at the back of the room, as if his glare can make it light up. It remains idle, pitch black, and Tomura eventually abandons his staring contest.
"I don't understand why Sensei's going to such lengths to watch the brat."
"He has resolve," Kurogiri notes. "Just like you."
He shouldn't have spoken because the other villain grabs a cushion, activating his Quirk until nothing's left in his hand. Kurogiri shakes his head, estimating this action as Tomura's hundredth aggressive incident for the current month. And they're not even halfway through October.
"Tomura-san, please refrain from destroying more furniture. At this rate, we'll have to buy another couch and we've yet to pay Giran for his services."
"And what sort of services was it? That blond brat and the rude guy are a downgrade. They piss me off."
"They share an ideal similar to ours and Midoriya's. We already saw what they were capable of when they killed Midoriya's first victims. It would be absurd to let them go now."
"Why don't you become the leader since you're so knowledgeable?" Tomura snarls.
Kurogiri watches his comrade storm out of the room, slamming the door behind him. Tomura may rant about how he dislikes brats but he acts like one himself. Numb, Kurogiri observes the damages left in Tomura's wake, as if a hurricane had wrecked the room.
Perhaps he should call him like this. Hurricane Tomura.
Kurogiri sighs and prepares himself for another cleaning session.
There's a knock at his door before it creaks open, light filtering in the darkness. Midoriya expects his mother to check the food he didn't touch and take the bowl back but instead she remains outside.
"Izuku, Tsukauchi-san's here to check up on you."
What...? His mind goes blank for a blessed instant where he even forgets about Tozawa's murder but soon he remembers why he's secluded in his room, quaking under blankets.
"He's waiting in the living room, but I'm sure it won't bother him to come in your room if you don't feel well enough to move..."
Tsukauchi shouldn't be here. Tsukauchi can't be here. He forces himself to breathe but any protestations he has die in his throat.
"I'll tell him to come."
As simple as that, his mother sealed his fate. She scurries away, leaving his door open for everyone to see his pitiful state. There may be only two people in the house other than him, but Midoriya feels like he's being watched. He's being glared at by Todoroki's smouldering eyes, challenged by Tomura's arrogant ones and observed by Tozawa's lifeless orbs.
There's a knock at his door, but it's already open and Tsukauchi's tall shadow looms over him. The detective shuts the door behind him and crouched, keeping his distance. Midoriya distinguishes his silhouette in the darkness, alert.
But Midoriya would be even more grateful if Tsukauchi disappeared.
"Midoriya-kun, it's me."
I know. I'm not stupid.
"If you're anything like me, you probably don't want me to see you like this but I'm here to listen to whatever you have to say."
What are you talking about? Is this a joke? You're wasting my time.
"I'm aware that trust goes both ways, so I'm ready to answer your questions beforehand to make you at ease."
This time, Midoriya's interest is piqued. Apart from Tsukauchi's academic accomplishments and the notable criminal cases he solved, Midoriya has little to no information on his superior. Still, he doesn't know why he's so excited. It's not like Tsukauchi has something to be ashamed of, is it? After all, he's the perfect, selfless detective who will save the day.
Tsukauchi shifts and Midoriya tenses, ready to bolt out of the room, but the detective simply changes position to be more comfortable. He sits across Midoriya, crossed-legged, hands wrapped around his knees.
"You wanted to know why I kept you in my team. In my opinion, your observing and deducting skills are unmatched in the Police Force, making you a crucial member to uncover and stop the Judge. With your astuteness, you're able to predict what will happen and to decide which course of action is preferable. I respect those skills, Midoriya-kun, and this is one of the many reasons I chose you. I see myself in you, sometimes."
Midoriya wants to laugh. This situation he's been thrust into is most ridiculous. He doesn't mind being compared to Tsukauchi since it's been like this since he discovered he doesn't have a Quirk, but Tsukauchi comparing himself to him? Doesn't the detective have a shred of self-consciousness? The two of them evolved in different universe even if they both live in the same town, and Midoriya knows their paths will continue diverging.
Hasn't it already started with Tozawa's murder?
Midoriya clutches his stomach, grimacing. As annoying as Tsukauchi is, he managed to clear Midoriya's mind for a few seconds. However, the image of Tozawa's doll-like body, so easily crushed despite having a Quirk, invades his mind twice forcefully. Midoriya clasps one hand in front of his mouth as he resists the urge to vomit, the bile scorching his throat.
"My Quirk is subtle. I can detect when I'm being lied to, and if I concentrate I can use my Quirk to analyse a nearby conversation. Still, I thought it was an instinct, a gut feeling, and I considered myself Quirkless. I listened to my childhood friends boasting about their abilities and showing off at every opportunity. I remember dreaming of having a Quirk like them, but at the age of seven I was too old to dream. I didn't understand I had a Quirk until I first attended Yuuei."
But you have a Quirk and went to Yuuei, two things I can only dream of realising.
"I didn't enrol in the Hero program. I didn't think I'd be useful there. After all, my Quirk's nothing fantastic compared to the other students who possess enhanced speed, endurance, resilience, strength… I was known as the Bullshit Detector among my comrades, which isn't glorifying. It isn't until I met Toshinori, that you know as All Might, that I realised I was more than what I thought."
Midoriya curls on himself, screwing his eyes shut. The very bedroom in which they were standing had once been filled with All Might paraphernalia. He once had every collection figurine, once memorised every interview in which the Pro Hero participated, once spent his time dreaming that he would fight alongside him, that he could fight alongside him.
Yet when he met All Might, he realised he's less than what he thought in society's eyes.
"Toshinori was Yuuei's greatest expectation and he carried his role superbly. He's everything a Hero has to be: he's benevolent, charismatic, confident and strong. When I met him, I wondered how such a being can exist. When he was standing next to me, I was an insect staring at a god. But that's because I was staring at the Hero and not at the man. I admit both are extremely close, almost impossible to dissociate, but they're not the same."
What are you trying to tell me? What does All Might have to do with this?
"All Might always smiles, even in the darkest of times. He laughs and jokes when he rescues citizens. On the other side, Toshinori has a drooping posture and sighs a lot. He thinks a lot about the people he couldn't save. It doesn't make him any less admirable. It makes him human." Tsukauchi pauses, releasing a nervous laugh. "This is getting long, isn't it? What I want to say is that you may see me as your superior, Midoriya-kun, as the flawless detective who can't err, but I'm human as well. I have my bad days too."
Can this consider as one of my bad days? Midoriya wonders.
"You may have the greatest Quirk like All Might, or a boring one like mine, or none at all, it doesn't make you less human. It doesn't make you less… anything."
It seems even Tsukauchi's eloquence has its limit.
"Tsukauchi-san."
The detective perks up at hearing his name, trying not to look too eager but utterly failing. Midoriya doesn't remove the blankets but lets them fall on his shoulders. He has no idea if Tsukauchi can see his features so he sets them in stone.
"How many people have you killed?"
Tsukauchi's straight posture crumbles in surprise. "I… Thirteen people."
"Were they all guilty?"
"I presume they were. They either refused to be arrested or ignored our orders not to stand down, so we had to incapacitate them. I always target their legs first, but sometimes I have to shoot to kill."
"So you decided to kill them?"
"It's not an easy decision to make. Taking a life is horrible, even in the name of justice. It may be a small consolation that they were criminals but it doesn't erase the fact that you killed someone who may have people caring for them."
"And what about the people who were killed by this criminal? Would you spare the criminal because people care for him and ignore the victims' relatives?"
"I can't kill someone who surrenders. Some may wish I kill but it isn't my duty. It isn't justice."
"Then what is?"
Silence, than a sigh.
"Everyone has rights we have to abide with. Respecting them is justice. Violating them is a crime. Condemning those who violated them is justice when it's proven they were responsible. However, killing the criminal isn't justice since one violates the criminal's own rights. This is revenge."
"I understand," Midoriya whispers.
And he does. He has proofs Tozawa Anri sold information to the yakuza and participated in many illegal trades. Through her actions at the top of the chain, Tozawa violated many people's rights who got involved with the yakuza. Condemning her therefore was justice.
"Is there something on your mind, Midoriya-kun."
Midoriya has no trouble reading between the lines Tsukauchi's true interrogation: Why would you ask me those questions? For once, Midoriya settles for the truth.
"Killing will be part of my routine. I wanted to know about your experiences."
"Let's no hope it doesn't become a routine because these experiences aren't pleasant."
As a police officer, let's hope not, but I wasn't talking as a police officer…
"Midoriya-kun, did you understand what I said? I'm human and so are you. You can blunder, hesitate, refuse. Don't believe I'll demote you because of this. You gave me no reason to."
Midoriya tightens the blankets around himself, sniffing. Tsukauchi's words mean that he either doesn't know about Midoriya's involvement with Tozawa's murder or tries to make him spit out a confession.
"According to your mother, you didn't eat since you came back yesterday. How about I treat you to lunch? There's an udon food stall a few streets from here that's quite good."
"I have to decline, Tsukauchi-san. You spent enough time talking to me—"
"What did I tell you, Midoriya-kun? Spending time with you isn't a waste. Now get up, I decided we're going to eat dinner together."
Tsukauchi opens the door, light blinding him. Midoriya squints, blinking to find the detective extending his hand. He shrugs himself out of his cocoon without taking it, standing firm. He didn't think there'd be a time where he would stand up beside the detective and feel steady on his feet instead of on his knees.
His mother is so overjoyed to see him out of his room that she melts in a puddle of tears, clinging to Midoriya's shirt. He's sheepish as he apologies for worrying her. He should know, now, that even criminals have people who care for them. His mother's a prime example.
The walk to the udon place takes less than ten minutes but it's enough for the sky to cloud and for rain to pour. The street clears of any lingering pedestrians, and soon Tsukauchi and Midoriya find themselves alone outside, running to their destination although mindful of slipping. The food stall's located in a perpendicular lane from the main street, an entrance to a maze of crisscrossing alleys leading to the neighbourhood's next suburb. The two of them sit at the counter that can welcome up to five customers, thankful for the small roof sheltering them from the rain.
"Hey," an elderly man greets them, his smile sincere even if it's a missing a few teeth. "What do I get for ya two?"
"You should be hungry, Midoriya-kun. How about we take the bucket for two?"
The man's grin widens, "Ya ain't the first to try to empty it, lads. Let's see if ya can do it."
Midoriya jolts when the man puts a bucket overflowing with udon pasta in front of the two, the rim reaching Midoriya's nose from where he sits. They're given chopsticks, bowls and a handful of napkins, the cook's eyes twinkling as he retreats inside the kitchen. Midoriya eyes the udon, unsure. Beside him, Tsukauchi's laughing, ready to dig in. As soon as they attack the mountain of pasta, both men fall quiet.
It's strangely peaceful, Midoriya realises as he slurps his noodles, listening to the rainfall.
"You know, Midoriya-kun, you're a little like my son."
Midoriya startles, almost choking on his mouthful. After swallowing, he examines at Tsukauchi's open face. He's smiling but his eyes are full of fog threatening to crash down and submerge him.
"I know you have a father but… as your mentor, I feel like you're the son I never had."
Midoriya wipes the corners of his mouth, silent. He rises to serve himself in the bucket. It's three quarters done, but Tsukauchi's stopped eating for a moment now.
"I've known you since you applied to the Police Force. It's been four years, hasn't it?"
Midoriya nods, busying himself with eating. His stomach's crying at him to stop, threatening to burst, but eating's the sole way he found not to answer the detective.
"You've grown, Midoriya-kun. You may not see it but I do. I'm proud of you."
Tsukauchi's hand finds its way through his curls, patting his head. Midoriya's paralysed at the foreign sensation. He's seen many fathers doing the same gesture with their children, or even friends with friends. Midoriya would've thought they were both too far old for this, but perhaps Tsukauchi didn't find another way to express his…
Fatherly affection.
"Tsukauchi-san…?" Midoriya asks as the detective removes his hand.
"Don't mention this to anyone. I might be accused of favouritism," he jokes.
It's Tsukauchi to eat even if he's already full, avoiding any questions Midoriya wants to bombard him with. His throat constricted, Midoriya also reaches for the bucket and eats.
They end up finishing the bucket, earning the cook's praise and a free meal to his food stall the next time they come around. They linger under the shelter, watching the rain fall.
"Should I walk you back home?" The detective whispers just above the rain's patter.
"I'm fine."
Tsukauchi removes his detective coat in three wide gestures, handing it to him. "Use this to protect yourself from the rain."
"It's just rain," Midoriya replies but he takes it nonetheless.
"I want you in top shape tomorrow at the office, so that means no cold caught from that rain."
Midoriya nods and for a second, he's convinced Tsukauchi will pat his head again. Instead, the detective waves at him before dashing under the rain. Midoriya remains for an entire minute near the food stall, his superior's coat wrapped around him. He's forgotten something, much to his shock.
He doesn't remember when he stopped thinking about Tozawa's murder.
(He knows exactly when he stopped thinking about her because his head's still tingling.)