Syndicate

by InuKagomeLuver4Eva

The powerful Yakuza clan, Uraraka, has ruled Musutafu with an iron fist for hundreds of years. Now, when the first female heir is born, Ochaco Uraraka must take a stand as rightful ruler of the clan. A fateful encounter with a stranger who saved her life seemed nothing more than a one time event...until he shows up at her door looking for an in. Ochaco x Deku.

1. Chance Encounter

Being a part of a yakuza syndicate meant certain things. One such thing was loyalty. Loyalty, above all else, was crucial for the inner workings of a syndicate to function properly. No loyalty, no syndicate. Though there were a plethora of other rules that one remained at the top of the meticulously inked list. Now, when one breaks the number one rule…well, let's just say it doesn't end very well. Once the rule has been broken, there is no hope of redemption. You're either taken on a very long walk, going to get gardening supplies, or a personal favorite; nighttime fishing by the shore. Many break the rule unwillingly by simply having a drunken talk to another, not realizing their own syndicate affiliation. Some do so willingly out of spite; scorned by another member and their higher skillset or simply just sick of being ordered around.

In the city of Musutafu hid a very well known, dangerous yakuza clan known for extreme torture methods and fierce belief to their sworn oaths. Those who crossed their path often vanished from daily life without a trace. Citizens who owed a hefty sum became enslaved until their debt was paid, or they were cut loose from life. Any who laid eyes on the members in public immediately dispersed from sight, too afraid to risk their lives for an honest mistake. Even the police task force avoided any interaction simply due to the fact that even if chargers were filed, they were dropped the very next morning, and the member was released from jail. An endless cycle of fighting the justice system. Not even the government dared to throw the book at them.

The clan Uraraka reigned supreme for hundreds of years, meticulous bloodlines maintained strictly in order to have the strongest of heirs. All male heirs ruled the syndicate with an iron fist...until the first female successor was born. Many were shocked; the higher-ranking members protested heavily that she, a woman, could not lead such a strong syndicate. Males were the strong back that carried the burdening weight of a large family. Women bore strong, male heirs. For weeks they fought amongst themselves, throwing every reason they could at the Yakuza head, Kenji Uraraka, only to be shut down vehemently with two words.

It's final.

As the future Yakuza leader grew, she learned. To be strong. Confident. Firm-handed. Yet also kind and considerate. Fair with corrections yet authoritative. Young Ochaco Uraraka embraced the lifestyle with her entire being, becoming the perfect epitome of the infamous Uraraka namesake. Some still had their doubts until the young woman inherited the title of leader, yet she strove to prove the naysayers wrong. Day after day she dedicated to studying the Yakuza way to prepare for the blood right of ascension, ignoring the normal leisurely pleasures of a teenage girl.

For as her twenty-first birthday slowly crept closer, an opportunity appeared to step back from clan duties. Her mother, Fumi Uraraka, persuaded Yakuza leader Kenji Uraraka to allow a single day of freedom, a brief taste prior to a lifetime of obligations. A brief contemplation was held. Then…a simple yes. No explanation, no lecture on how to be safe. A single, trusting yes and freedom was gained, albeit fleeting. Twenty-four hours. No restrictions. A handful of members would escort the fierce brunette on her gallivanting around town. For as innocent and gullible as she may seem, Ochaco Uraraka was an expertly trained martial artist. Neither man nor trainer could pin the young woman to the floor, their moves reflected mere milliseconds before their bodies hit the floor. She was a force to be reckoned with.

Yet somehow, as she laid upon the muddy ground in a stunned stupor, rain pouring down over the young woman, she realized how little of the real world she truly knew. A sudden attack by an opposing gang had taken her by surprise, the weather covering the sounds of his heavy footsteps and eager breathing. A large, calloused hand slapped over the lips whistling a happy tune and dragged the Yakuza member down an isolated alleyway. Despite struggling and using every technique Ochaco knew, she was outweighed. Outmatched. Outmuscled. They were a professional at kidnapping, that much she learned from the first few seconds of interaction. Tightly clamped mouth, arm pulled back painfully behind the back, fast, calculated steps; an isolated area where only the rats and starving street cats resided.

Struggling was fruitless. Until another member sent out an alert for her missing appearance, Ochaco was nothing more than another victim for the predator dragging her down a dark, narrow passage to hell. He whispered nasty, vulgar threats while deeply inhaling against her nape. A hard mass pressed against her in hip thrusted intervals. Oh, the dirty things he wheezed about doing to the future head of the Uraraka clan. Revenge, he said, for denied admittance to such a prestigious gang of forgotten Yakuza. Tainted lineage from a pair of tits and lips. No one would belong to a clan led by a woman whose purpose was nothing more than fucking and spawning, he cackled.

Before even a finger could be lifted from the delicate flesh, a loud crack filled the rainy air and sent Ochaco sprawling into the filthy alley water. Spitting out a mouthful of the putrid swamp concoction, she turned to see who had come to her rescue. Auburn eyes widened in shock; it wasn't a clan member. A brawny, dark-haired man stood above the perpetrator with a scarred hand cocked back in preparation to strike again. Another sickening throw concealed the sound as thunder rolled across the stormy skies. Two punches and the attempted rapist was downed. Impressive. If it weren't such a shitty experience, Ochaco would almost commend him for his brave yet reckless action.

Any who crossed the Uraraka clan, especially of higher ranking, would—

"Are you alright, miss?"

Such radiating kindness had the woman blinking from the stupor she'd slipped into, auburn looking over to see a hand extended forward. Trailing further upwards, Ochaco took in his features. A young face just barely hinting at bordering a chiseled outline, vibrant emerald eyes, brows furrowed slightly in concern. Even through the sheets of droplets the freckles adorning each cheek was visible in the clouded light of day. A masculine, brawny body that looked almost hilarious against his slight baby face. If she didn't know any better, he easily outmuscled the unconscious man lying in a heap of garbage with a half-mast pole in saturated pants. Wary, Ochaco reached for his hand.

"I'm fine, thank you."

"You're more than welcome. This isn't the first time he's tried the same thing. His mistake was coming back to the same alley. Are you sure you're alright? Can I call someone for you?" He asked, a silky baritone slipping out. Despite his appearance that would be intimidating to some, not an ounce of immorality seeped out. Cautious, yet tired of sitting in a piss puddle in the very new outfit, Ochaco accepted the offered hand firmly.

"I'll be fine, don't worry about me. I should get going. Thanks again for your help." Ochaco replied evenly. Giving him a reason to stick around longer would only spell disaster for the man. Another member would start ripping him apart the moment they made the correlation of soiled clothing. And for what it was worth, losing another kind soul in this wretched world wasn't something she'd allow. He pulled her up with ease before dropping his hand back to his side.

"Are you sure—"

"Yes. I suggest making yourself scarce. Have a good night." Without another word, Ochaco spun in her sopping wet heels and headed for the alley entrance. Barley fifteen feet away, he called out.

"Will you at least tell me your name? Mine's Izuku Midoriya!" Izuku called out over the rolling storm.

Ochaco faltered, debating. An alias would be suitable for her savior, right? Revealing her full name would shoot a red flag up faster than the now dying erection that thrusted into the swell of her ass. Slowly, she turned back towards him. Not even a spec of maliciousness oozed from his bulky frame, the white button up shirt clinging to every curve and dip of his body. Auburn narrowed slightly in thought. What would the harm be for a stranger she'll never see again? "My name is Ochaco."

"That's a beautiful name. Have a good night, Ochaco, please be safe out there." Izuku beamed brightly, waving a hand prior to turning his attention back to the limp body.

Izuku Midoriya, huh?

Izuku waited until the young woman was gone from sight before pulling out a phone and speed-dialing a heavily used number. It rang once before connecting. "Target acquired. About had another victim to add to his lists. Requesting pickup."

"Roger. She stick around?"

"Negative." Emerald eyes lingered towards the entrance of the alleyway, hoping for a glimpse of the mysterious woman once more. Who was she?

"Good work today…Detective Midoriya."

---

"She could have been—"

"We got separated in a big crowd—"

"It wasn't intentional—"

Over and over they bickered, clamoring to be the last voice in the prolonged argument. Ochaco sat with an impassive face as the men fought over who should've been watching her. Truthfully? She slipped away to get a moment of peace from their daily quarrels. Two of her guards, Seka and Obito, were a constant attention drawing duo when out in public. More eyes than what she deemed comfortable had averted their direction, meaning she became part of the spotlight. Those who rivaled the Uraraka clan always had sentries out for public appearances, and it seemed earlier was no exception.

Arriving home, soaked and smelling grotesque, Ochaco immediately garnered the attention of her mother who pursed her lips in knowing. No lectures, no reacting emotionally, just escorting her one and only child to the bathroom to clean up. Fumi allowed her daughter to open up at her own pace, warming a bath as the freshly bought clothes were tossed in an incinerator. Literally. Both a laundry and incinerator chute resided in the overly spacious granite-lined bathroom. In the event of severely soiled or damaged clothing, they were to become charred pieces of fiber to prevent potential biohazard contamination. People would love to take out the only heir to the Uraraka clan in a heartbeat, by any means necessary.

"Enough." All fighting sharply ceased and the guards immediately dropped to their knees submissively. Kenji loomed over them both with arms crossed across his chest and brown eyes nearly incinerating those quivering before him. While his voice was stable and contained, the underlying tone pierced far harsher. "You've failed in your duties. You had one job; protect my daughter from being attacked, kidnapped, murdered…nearly raped. You know what must be done. Count your blessing there won't be more bloodshed on these floors due to your blatant negligence."

"…yes, Oyabun." Both guards replied solemnly. They began loosening the sleeves of their yukata, tucking them out of the way as two other members arrived with supplies. Ochaco withheld the grimace threatening to surface. While they weren't being outright killed for their heinous actions, this punishment would be a stark reminder to all who saw.

Clean white cloths were laid carefully upon two chabudai table tops. A rolled-up handkerchief stamped with the Uraraka crest, a sakura embraced by a dragon, split in half as the two sides were unfolded to reveal a gleaming Tanto blade. The second blade was revealed as Seka firmly wrapped his fingers around the tsuka. Holding his pinky finger out, curling the others inward, the Tanto came to firmly rest against the skin of the top joint. Once Obito was readied both looked up at their boss with repentance.

"Oyabun, please forgive us for failing to protect your daughter, future heir to the Uraraka name. I offer a section of my finger and beg for your forgiveness." Seka awaited the cue mark yet Kenji just stared him down harder. Swallowing hard, the guard lifted the blade and shifted it down another knuckle. "I offer two sections of my finger and beg your forgiveness for transgressions committed."

"Oyabun, I beg for forgiveness as personal feuds clouded our judgements. The blood heir to the Uraraka clan must be protected at all costs. For my sin, I offer you two portions of my smallest finger." Obito proclaimed strongly as his blade shifted down to match that of Seka. Neither shared a look as Kenji cracked his neck back and forth, contemplating their punishment.

"Stay strong." Fumi murmured to the on-edge daughter watching the unfolding scene with hardened eyes. "You must allow this to happen, Ochaco. Your protection was crucial for the agreement, freedom with shadows always lurking. You may not agree with it, but at least your father is going easy on them. We both understand there could be far worse consequences than missing fingers."

"I was the one who slipped away from them intentionally, mother, too much attention was being drawn and it created a hazardous environment. In doing so, I let my guard down and became attacked." Ochaco replied lowly, quickly glancing over at her mother. Marrying into the Uraraka family wasn't for the weak; while this was gruesome to most, it was the way of life for the Yakuza. Her mother was the strongest person she knew, always remaining calm and collected in the presence of others. Even behind doors she seemed so composed and regal, as should the wife of a Yakuza leader be.

"Your survival instincts saved you from the lashing fire while directing you straight into the pot of boiling oil. Regardless of whose fault it was, this is the price to pay." Fumi motioned for silence with a finger pressed against crimson lips. Ochaco pinched her lips shut and focused on her father.

"For the heinous act you have committed today, two segments shall suffice. The tip of your finger shall remind you that work and personal must remain separated for good reason. The second joint shall remind you to persist in improving yourself to avoid such a close call. Together, they illuminate your blaring failure to protect the one and only heir to the Uraraka clan." Kenji laid down his judgement with a coarse voice, arms seemingly tensing tighter. "Both segments together also serve as a reminder that your punishment could be far, far worse than this. You will both be removed from field duty and put to work scrubbing the grounds from top to bottom. Understood?"

"Yes, Oyabun. Thank you for your generosity!" Both Seka and Obito bobbed their heads then readjusted the Tanto blades.

Ochaco watched with numb indifference as blood splattered onto the pristine cloth. Neither guard flinched, fully accepting their punishments without so much as a facial twitch. Once the blades tapped against the table, signifying their fingers had been severed, both carefully wrapped up the isolated piece in the bloodied cloth. Gruesome as it was, it was a necessary cost. Her life would've easily been snuffed out, meaning the powerful clan no longer had a stable footing in Musutafu. Over the years, countless smaller rivaling clans had attempted to overthrow the mighty group to no avail. Her father remained rooted with iron soles bolted to the very throne he inherited.

"Oyabun, we offer these fingers with wholehearted regret and beg for forgiveness." Both guards bowed before the boss with packaged appendages lifted up for offering. Kenji made a small nod with his head and two other members swooped in to retrieve the gifts before taking them out of sight. He uncrossed his arms, turning away from them both, then headed for his seat.

"You are both dismissed. Learn from your egregious gaffe. I will expect you to begin your duties by morning." Kenji sharply stated with clear dubiety.

Seka and Obito slipped into a dogeza until their leader took his seat, quickly shuffling away with heads down and bleeding hands cupped to prevent staining the tatami mats. Fumi let out a low, strained breath. Even after all these years, the harsh punishment was a stark reminder of the Yakuza lifestyle. Ochaco waited until the mess had been cleaned up prior to shifting a glance at her father. His face was set in a stony expression, brown eyes filled with anger about nearing losing his daughter and justification in serving suitable punishment. While previous leaders would have gone with the harshest of punishments, Kenji Uraraka tried his best to be a more steadfast ruler.

"Ochaco," He spoke roughly.

"Yes, father?"

"I wish for you to learn from this experience as well. The world you were raised in creates many opportunities and targets upon your back. What you witnessed today was just a sampling of what could be done if your guard were to ever drop the slightest notch."

"Understood, father."

"Good." Kenji replied, eyes closing as he leaned back against his chair. Only a few moments passed before he turned a tired gaze back to his daughter. "Knowing what is to come with your twenty-first birthday in a few short months, I wish for you to crack down on studies to become a strong leader. New guards will be found to replace those incompetent enough to allow an attack."

"Yes, father." Ochaco replied softly. New guards meant even stricter guidelines when exploring the city. If that was even permitted after today. "May I speak freely?"

"Later. There are other matters that need attending to on the business side. I promise, my little mochi." Kenji gave a rare smile that slipped quickly from his fatigued features. Fumi tapped the back of her hand, signaling it was time to go. Bowing respectfully, the two women made their way down the slightly elevated platform towards the quarter wing of the mansion.

As they passed, all members stopped their tasks and conversations to pay their respects. Not a single soul dared a hint of disrespect after the yubitsume ceremony. Ochaco barely paid attention to it and shoved her hands into the kimono sleeves a little deeper. Nearly all of the remaining members had grown up with the brunette, nurturing the child to become strong and independent though with a tight link to family. And in a way they were all a part of her family. Often when her parents were busy, she'd turn to them for help or entertainment. Especially a certain man who guided the young woman along the straight pathway.

"Return to your quarters, I will need to attend to some business as well." Fumi spoke up in the silent air between them, earning a curious auburn gaze. "Nothing you need to worry about, Ochaco. We'll meet up again in a few hours for dinner. Go. Try to relax."

"Yes, mother." Ochaco replied lightly with a bow. Waiting until their paths split, the teenager followed the long-memorized hallway back to her room.

Senses honed over an entire lifetime picked up on the discreet footsteps following more than a few paces behind, though within the walls of the Uraraka palace, she was safe. More times than not he followed whenever a punishment ritual occurred, or turbulent thoughts crashed over. Tilting her head the slightest bit to the left and up, Ochaco indicated she was aware of his presence. The footsteps increased pace until the two were walking side-by-side down the spacious corridor.

"You seem to be handling the situation well," He gruffed in a low voice. Ever the observant Yakuza, she thought with a pinch of amusement.

"I'm handling it to the best of my ability. Today was nothing more than a wake-up call that I'm still naïve and inexperienced about the real world. If I hadn't been distracted that man would be lying in a hospital, dying or dead."

"Your skillset doesn't involve the nerve to kill, merely to deflect and subdue. Even if he was the most vile villain on the face of the planet, could you honestly safe you'd kill him?"

"…no." Ochaco replied softly, earning a throat noise of confirmation. Her teacher was right like always; killing wasn't in her heart despite the extensive bloodline that spoke otherwise. A deep breath in and out. "The man who saved me…informed me of his name."

"Oh? And who do we need to pay a visit to for gracious thanks?" The teacher asked with a bare hint of interest peeking through the hard, emotionless exterior. Despite knowing him all her life, Ochaco still didn't know much about the mysterious thug. Often he would go on trips with her father and could be gone for days to weeks at a time. Somehow he always made time for her in between his busy schedule to offer guidance and support.

"Izuku Midoriya."

Ochaco felt the brief change in his demeanor yet by the time she turned to look at him, the mask was covering any display of emotion. His hands were shoved deep into the pockets of the midnight black suit, slightly narrowed gaze locking onto an unseen spot further down the hallway. It wasn't a look she'd seen often, and it burbled a bubble of anxiety into her chest. "You know him."

"In a manner of speaking, yes." He replied tartly, as if the name was a sour piece of candy touching his tastebuds. They didn't seem to have a great relationship based on the reaction and now it evoked a high level of interest. Maybe he'd tell her more about this mysterious savior…or run off to silence him depending on information gathered.

"What do you know of him?"

"Due to my current assignment, I am unable to provide you with further details. Apologies. Though it's for the best if you forget that name completely, it'll bring nothing but trouble to you." A brief glance at her finished the conversation, much to concealed disappointment. Arguing with him would just lead to an endless loop of redirection; one such incident had the man redirecting for nearly an hour straight without so much as moving a muscle.

"Very well, I trust your judgement on the matter, Aizawa. I believe a rest is in order prior to dinner. Thank you for your time and wisdom, you were always the best listener." Ochaco broke the formality to give him an endearing smile.

"Anytime. Don't beat yourself up over today; it was still a valuable lesson to learn." Aizawa tapped a finger against the center of her forehead with a small huff, the tiniest of curling lips appearing. "You've got a good head on your shoulders, one that will lead this clan into a bright new future."

Once they reached her quarters, he bid farewell to return to his normal duties, whatever they were. Not even her father would supply what the top-ranking thug did during the day. Though, she supposed, perhaps it was for the best to not be informed of the work he performed. Between the numerous Uraraka owned businesses and ventures, side errands were plentiful in the debt recovery department. Every day citizens of Japan would seek desperate, last option loans to prevent from sinking fully into the sandpit of debt, yet their oversight of the workings with the deals made only secured them in place with an iron anklet. Those who paid off their debts fully were released with the warning to never reveal any details to the authorities or suffer an unexpected home visit in the middle of the night. Those who didn't return the money were erased from existence.

There was no denying that some of the work done by the Uraraka clan soaked crimson into each and every finger that dipped into it. Compared to hundreds of years ago, when the original Yakuza leader Kujo Uraraka reigned, punishments had become lenient. Records indicated that most crimes against loyalty and the Uraraka name resulted in a beheading or seppuku. Nowadays, with her father leading the mass of nearly fifteen thousand active and non, punishments such as losing fingers was more common. Very rarely had anyone been offed due to their offence, but the last time she recalled was at the young age of six. A thug had revealed imperative information to a rival gang who threatened to blackmail them into submitting. One day nearly all of the members slipped out for what her father called a business meeting. The next? They all returned looking solemn and downcast.

Untying the golden, shimmering silk obi from around her waist, Ochaco stripped the formal attire off for something more comfortable. Official events such as punishments and meetings required formal wear to maintain presentation and professionalism. Becoming the next head demanded to be presentable at all times; no leggings outside the confines of her room, no sweatpants, tank tops, crop tops. Nothing that could be used to slander against her authority and make those beneath believe she was unfit. In public, she was required to wear long dresses, long pants, modest blouses. The rule became lenient in the summer months, but from then onward until spring, coverage was required. With summer finally dying off to become fall, Ochaco couldn't wait to get out of the sweltering weather.

But there was another reason for such strict apparel guidelines. As the sakura patterned kimono slipped down her back, the vibrant ink revealed itself in the mirror. A twisting, fierce dragon with eyes of crimson and scales of steel covered nearly every inch of her back. In its white claws was the sakura symbol, the family crest for nearly three hundred years straight. History had been painstakingly marked into her skin via irezumi, a bamboo stick with needles to traditionally give tattoos, that began at the young age of sixteen. Once Ochaco began delving deeper in the roots and history of her lineage, the markings began. Bit by bit, shorter sessions at first until it became a soothing motion that brought no pain. While there were still a few spots needing completion, they would have to wait until she ascended to the throne. Once she aged into a full adult was when the extensive work would continue down her frontside, leaving only a clear path between her breasts free of ink.

Grabbing a comfortable pair of lounge clothes, Ochaco slipped on the pants and made to throw the shirt on when her reflection stopped the motion. Everything she knew about her life was carved into her back. The very beginnings of the clan, hundreds of years of survival and flourishing, stone written laws fiercely protected and honored. Auburn traced over the drawing with pride swelling her chest. Prestigious lineage…her lineage. This was her family, her life. Others had normal families that went on vacation and took their kids to theme parks. The Uraraka family nurtured, guided, and protected her every step of the way in becoming a strong leader. Ochaco's eyes softened at the sakura centered between the dragons claws. The very essence of life. A crest that carried them through the generations with prosperity and strength.

A gentle smile adorned the teens face as the shirt concealed the tattoo. As long as she had her family by her side, there was nothing to fear.

---

Izuku Midoriya sat absentmindedly at his desk chewing on a pen, pondering over the girl who'd walked away from a near rape without such much as a trembling voice. In fact, the expression he saw through the downpour and thundering skies was that of resilience. Strength. He wouldn't describe her as nonchalant about the whole situation, judging by the surprise littering her face for a few moments, albeit more prepared for such an attack. The brief struggle between them was captured out of the corner of his eye and it seemed like she was definitely fighting back. Maybe it just came down to the fact that she was outmuscled or that he was becoming a pro at isolating unsuspecting women down an alleyway.

Nakai Okura was known as a serial attacker with more than a dozen under his belt, including seven of those incidences with confirmed sexual assaults or rapes. U.A. Special Police Force had been tracking him down for months, ending up with dead-ends or attack patterns that seemed unorthodox. Until today. The sudden onset of rain had deterred Izuku in leaving his favorite coffee shop for his morning brew prior to work. That fateful delay ended up saving another life and throwing a criminal behind bars for years to come. This part of town wasn't the nicest by any means, not ghetto yet not the suburbs, so it was perplexing that a young woman dressed practically to the nines was wandering the streets.

A button up cream blouse with a neck tie and long sleeves, black slacks, white heels, and a pink jacket resting over her shoulders. It wasn't uncommon to see that every now and then, but someone dressed up as formally as that? Out of the ordinary. It could've been why she was targeted in the first place. Women like that tended not to be able to defend themselves. But the woman—Ochaco—managed to fiercely fight back for at least a bit. He didn't even need to know anything about her to see she was a fighter. The wary look she gave as he offered a hand partially raised another red flag. True, he probably looked just as scary as Nakai with the sudden rescue, though it seemed her guard shot all the way up. Even when he asked about calling someone for her, she vehemently denied and suggested he drop it in a warning tone.

Emerald eyes narrowed at the Nakai case pulled up on his monitor. The man acted stranger than his normal behavior. He seemed much more aggressive with Ochaco, more hands on. Definitely more turned on than he'd seen prior. Something about it seemed…personal. But what correlation could the two have? Former partners? Scorned business deal? Declined love confession?

"If you keep staring at your screen it's going to burn onto your eyeballs."

Izuku broke free from the spiraling thought train to look up at the newcomer. "Sorry. There's just something about this latest attack that doesn't make sense to me. Nakai seemed more aggressive this time and the girl, Ochaco, almost seemed unbothered by the whole thing. She was more surprised to see me there, like I wasn't expected. Oh, here. I have a copy of my report for you, Sergeant Aizawa."

"Thanks. I'll get this filed in a bit. Any other information pertaining to the attack?" Aizawa asked with his usual tired tone. Internally he was calculating out how much of a threat Midoriya was to the Uraraka clan. The document in his hand was going to be burned and his computer wiped of the files by end of day. It seems the heiress slipped up and gave her real name, most likely thinking nothing would ever come from it. Luckily, her name wasn't too uncommon so it's possible to link it to someone else as a last resort.

"Not anything that really stands out. The woman seemed to be unaffected by the attack which is why it's sitting odd with me. Ah, but that's probably just me speculating about someone I don't know! It could just be a bit of shock." Young, inquisitive Izuku Midoriya. His fast thinking and logical mindset made him both an asset and danger. Aizawa lazily scratched at his scruffy beard that never grew into more than a fuzzy patch.

"Go ahead and drop it for now, there's a crime scene that needs you downtown. Looks to be an attempted suicide with all the wrong indicators. Possibly a hit."

"Right! I'll get ready and head out." Izuku gave a fast salute before hurrying off to change into different work gear.

Aizawa waited until he was around a corner before sitting heavily in the computer chair, locating the main file in his folders. A phone slipped from his pocket and with a quick dial, the line began to ring as he deleted the file from existence. Wasn't the first time, wasn't going to be the last.

"Yo, Aizawa! Whatcha got for the Micster today?" The obnoxious voice of his best friend blasted through the speaker and the officer pulled it away from his ear to prevent deafness. Dude needed to learn to lower the volume.

"Complete wipe of Midoriya's system. Chaulk it up to an update gone wrong. He's getting a little too involved in the matter, no doubt already planning on digging deeper once he's off." Aizawa spoke lowly. A finger tapped on the keyboard, signaling the file to erase. The small bar across the screen quickly filled up as the data was deleted, flashing quietly once finished.

"Already on it! I can send a virus to that bad boy in three seconds flat! What's the skinny on the slipped info?"

"First name." Aizawa could hear Yamada spewing his drink everywhere, the answer highly unexpected. It took a few moments of coughing and hacking before his friend returned to the receiver with a now scratchy voice.

"By force or willingly? Doesn't she know her name isn't super common? It could easily trace back!"

"That's why we're wiping information. No doubt Nakai Okura was fully aware of her correlation which is why he struck. That problems needs to be handled as well, Hizashi. Tonight."

"…understood. I'll see what I can do about him."

"Let me know when it's done." Shota Aizawa hung up the phone without awaiting an answer.

Hizashi Yamada was one of the best, if not the best, hacker in the country. While managing the police system by day, he controlled the underground networking by night. His experience was imperative to keeping Uraraka clan secrets under wrap and yesterday was no different. After getting word of the incident, Shota immediately got to work in wiping leaks. Cameras on every shop along her path had connection issues while Yamada purged the recordings. It was more difficult to prevent onlookers from gawking, yet that's what the two now incompetent guards were for. They were lucky Kenji was in a gracious mood otherwise they'd be sinking to the bottom of the harbor right about now. Allowing the only heir to the Uraraka name to be attacked in broad daylight was a massive fuck up. If he'd gone with, the body would've been found slumped over a dumpster in an apparent alcohol or drug overdose.

But the problem with working undercover as an officer was the fact that he couldn't risk doing anything to bring shame to the Uraraka name. Every step had to be meticulously planned out. By morning, he was at the police station ready to start the day and by night he was collecting overdue debt loans on top of maintaining information leaks. Ever since aligning with the Yakuza nearly twenty years ago, Shota climbed up through the rankings under the guidance of Kenji in order to become the best that he could be. It was a time in his life that he'd gotten wrapped up in stupid shit, earning him a spotlight from the Yakuza. Though he proved himself in that trapped moment, vowing allegiance in blood and a solemn vow to uphold their values was what solidified the connection. In doing so, he was given the honor of training Kenji's daughter to become the next head of the household. Ochaco Uraraka was smart, that he'd openly admit, and she remained tactful of her choices and mannerisms. No doubt she'd become the next great leader of a powerful clan that'd survived hundreds of years.

So it didn't make sense as to why she responded with her actual first name. Distress could've been a factor though even then she knew better. A lapse in judgement was the number one killer of Yakuza. Assumption the stranger who saved her life would never see her again? Considering Midoriya came to work absolutely drenched, they were out there for more than a few minutes. Something prompted her response, and he was going to get to the bottom of it.

Midoriya's computer let out a low tone as the screen flickered blue with a warning, indicating Hizashi had sent the virus, and it now took control of the system. Satisfied, Aizawa clicked the monitor off and set about getting to the pile of paperwork awaiting on his desk. Despite being Yakuza and protecting the clan at all costs, he still belonged to the police department. Whenever incident reports came in regarding another member, he had to decide who bit the bullet and suffered the time, or who got cut loose to face harsher consequences at base. Most of the time it was rival gangs starting the confrontations and a member got wrapped up in it defending the Uraraka name. While commendable, creating a police report and spending time in jail was generally frowned upon. It took away valuable members that could be used for raids, debt collections, or security details at the mansion and around town.

Apart from the usual fund management, the Uraraka clan offered protection services at a fairly steep pricing scale. Depending on the merchandising, location, staff, business revenue, and the most important part; who was after them. Smaller, localized gangs liked to harass family-owned shops due to being easy targets. Product smashing, sticky fingers, occasionally drawn weapons to intimidate into giving payment for 'protection services'. A few Uraraka men show up when they're there, or track them down to isolate, and rebuke their bluffs by countering they are the only security system needed. All in all, not a bad side venture for the newer Yakuza.

The first few hours of paper handling went fairly well. Only two newbies from the Uraraka clan were arrested for fighting another gang, the lowest he'd seen in a long time, so he figured a bit of jail would straighten them out so they could get their priorities straight. Now that they were apart of something bigger, both men needed to learn their loyalties and laws. Not like their loss would affect much in the daily activities. Tossing the completed files into respective folders, Aizawa made for a long overdue coffee break when a slightly concealed piece of paper caught his eye. Just barely tucked beneath another one he set aside to delve further into.

"What's this?" He muttered to himself, fatigued eyes scanning over the wording. Brows furrowed together as he attempted to comprehend the implication of the letter. It wasn't making much sense; written in a way that the letters could still be readable after some unscrambling, yet not immediately solvable. A dyslexic person could've easily written the singular page, but why? Zero correlation to any of the police reports, yet stuff in there out of sight. Who… "Hawks."

Shota shot out of his chair, flung his office door open, and sprinted for an isolated area where no cameras or lines were wired. People darted out of his way to avoid being run over; Sergeant Aizawa sprinting was never a good thing. The rooftop access was only to be used during emergencies and right now this constituted as one. Hawks, Keigo Takami, was one of the more unseen eyes-in-the-skies informants between the Uraraka's and their biggest rival clan; Shigaraki. Led by a ruthless tyrant who murdered for pleasure and even sent his lackeys to take out contracting clients for an advantage in the business market. Their leader, only known as All for One, had been slowly gaining traction in the competitive market. Not enough to worry about, more than a reason to remain wary.

Slamming a key into the alarm bar to prevent it from evacuating the entire force, the Sergeant twisted it right, waited five seconds, then silently opened the exit. After ensuring it was fully shut behind him, Shota pulled out the letter once more and began skimming through, trying to discombobulate the hidden meaning. A wind picked up as another round of rain threatened to sweep through. Sentence by sentence he went with growing agitation. Hawks really needed to find another way to relay messages.

"All for One…moving…closer…to…" Aizawa stopped mumbling to himself as a certain word struck a deep cord. He didn't even have to know what it spelt. "Uraraka territory. Fuck. He's slipped under the radar. Damnit! I'm going to need to run back and relay this message, can't risk it falling into the wrong hands or calling over an unsecured line."

For years, even around the time he joined up, the Shigaraki clan had remained fairly dormant. Now, nearly twenty years later, it seemed they were making their move. Crumpling the paper and stuffing it deep into his uniform pant pocket, Shota spun on his heels to head back downstairs. He'd chalk it up to heading to a site or an emergency call, something to justify a sudden departure. Yet as he opened the roof access door, a certain pair of emerald eyes met his. Izuku stood with a hand raised to knock on the door, body frozen in place at the sudden opening. Aizawa stared him down for a few seconds before letting out a heavy sigh. Of course he was here. He must've returned from the field job and went around wandering for him.

"S-sorry, Sergeant Aizawa, I wanted to report back on the case I was deployed to. A few people mentioned you running this way, so I figured I'd check…"

"Drop it on my desk, I have an urgent matter to attend to." Short. Simple. Even Midoriya knew not to question any further. Spoken too soon as the green-haired detective opened his mouth to speak.

"Already done. I did also have a question for you, if you have a moment," Izuku started uneasily. A hand habitually rubbed against his nape. "There's something bugging me about the case you sent me to. An odd note was left on scene, and I think it correlates with a local Yakuza gang."

Aizawa froze mid-step on his way past Midoriya. That wasn't a normal death, that much he knew already, but the fact that there's a note left on the body? Slowly, agonizingly so, he turned back to look up at the towering officer. His normal neutral expression was beginning to slip into a hardened exterior to prevent any emotions from slipping out. "Tell me what it said."

"It said; 'We'll be seeing U soon enough. I look forward to some tea.' The letter U was capitalized and bolded, same for tea. The only notes I've seen like that are from a few Yakuza cases I've gone over. Someone's sending a threatening message, right?" Izuku noticed the twisting facial expression of his supervisor and unease settled heavily. That wasn't a look he'd seen before and honestly? It was starting to scare the shit out of him. Heavy moments passed without a response as Aizawa seemed to have gone into a trance. Just when Izuku opened his mouth to speak, a heavy shove forced him against the wall without warning.

"Listen to me very carefully, Midoriya. Do not get yourself delving deeper into the Yakuza world. No more reports, no more file digging, no more even thinking about it. How many others saw that note?" Aizawa demanded lowly, threateningly. When Izuku quietly pulled it from his pocket, sealed in an evidence bag, it was snatched up and intensely scanned over.

"I was the one who found it in his pocket before the coroners took the body. No one else saw it as far as I'm concerned. What's going on, Sergeant Aizawa? I've never seen you this freaked out."

"They were there. Watching. Waiting…for someone to find it." Shota loosened his grip on the terrified subordinate yet kept him up against the wall. The letter he'd gotten earlier could've been days old. If that were the case… "Did anyone approach you? Offer a card? Make a deal? Threaten you?"

"N-no, nothing like that as far as I'm aware." Izuku responded immediately, emerald eyes widened. Now he was really freaked out. There was a growing thought bubble that wanted to pop on the tip of his tongue, but if it were true… "You don't think—"

"Don't finish that thought." Shota snapped harshly. Midoriya was now a target of the Shigaraki gang. He'd have to go into witness protection, move far away from the city, erase his current identity. No. They were smarter than that. They'd just go after him on the way out of the city. Take out his mom, probably already nabbed his father when he was a child based on the coinciding area and cause of death. Clenching the trembling hand a little tighter around the letter, Shota knew there was only one place to keep him safe. Though even that was a gamble; a handful of police undercovers and now adding the detective that saved Kenji's daughter and had a vendetta against Yakuza? "Don't mention anything else about the case. Not to anyone, understood? If I'm understanding what you're about to ask…yes, it's highly possible now."

The color paled from Izuku's face. Endless inquisitiveness and work diligence had earned him a spotlight for a dangerous Yakuza gang. But which one? The one that ruled the area for hundreds of years or a rivalling one? Aizawa seemed to realize he was still holding him up and promptly dropped him to his feet, where he stumbled and caught himself on the opposite wall. He'd messed up. Being so preoccupied in the case and not realizing what the piece of evidence meant, Izuku Midoriya had become tracked under a dangerous gang. Aizawa flexed his hand to ease some of the tension. Like he didn't have enough problems going on right now.

For years he'd taken the young, enthusiastic police academy graduate under his wing to guide him on the correct path in life. Maybe it was to amend his own mistakes that happened around the same age, or the Yakuza was trying to prevent another young, kind soul from winding up dead on the streets. He'd taught Izuku Midoriya everything he knew about the police force. Showed him how to take offenders down. Taught him how to defend himself or de-escalate a situation. Ironically, it was the same way he taught Ochaco. Yet even through meticulous, rigorous training; his student still managed to wind up on the radar of a villainous gang. Pinching the bridge of his nose tightly, there was only one solution to the deadly problem.

"I'll figure something out, just give me a few days to sort things through. In the meantime, Midoriya, you're safest in the building. Don't go wandering out except for necessities. I'll send a few spare officers to check on your mother and monitor the area more heavily, around your apartment as well. Understood?"

"Y-yes, sir." Izuku replied in a strangled murmur. A scarred hand raised to clench tightly in the standard white button up. What could he have done differently? Been less nosey? Ignored the evidence until the hospital submitted it for police records? No…he wasn't the type of person to ignore clues to the crime scene puzzle. It was in his nature after all. A hand plopped heavily onto unruly green locks.

"Don't beat yourself up about it. You were doing your job and unknowingly stumbled upon the note. I doubt it was directed at you. Believe it or not, we find these notes more often than not on deceased civilians as a warning to not get involved." Aizawa looked up at the watery eyes of the distraught officer. Just as he did earlier, a single finger tapped the young man in the center of his forehead. "Take the rest of the day off, spend time with your mother. I'll send a few people out after I'm finished with my errand."

"Sure," Izuku nodded numbly as the commanding officer tightly nodded his head prior to a fast departure. Emerald stared intensely at the faded and peeling stairwell wall.

After his father died years ago in an accident, only he and his mother were left to survive in the rougher part of the city. His mother, bless her heart, did everything she could to ensure Izuku had a somewhat normal childhood. Though despite her best efforts, there would never be anything to fill the void of a father figure. Until Chief Yagi showed up and opened a new page into the world of justice. With his house in a former crime infested area there were plenty of crime scenes to pass by on his way to school. After the first few incidences, Yagi noticed his fascination with the intricate workings and readily explained each question asked. A slip of a business card into the young hand of Izuku Midoriya sealed his future career and fate.

Now it was washing down a storm drain faster than he could comprehend. He should've been more careful. Should've regarded the case with more severity knowing it was a mysterious death. This was the gravest mistake of his life and hell if he wasn't going to fix it. A fist slammed into the wall as the resolve solidified. Moping around wouldn't fix things. What he needed to do was get to work on researching the area Yakuza, track down their alliances and enemies, then put an end to the crime syndicates once and for all. Despite what Sergeant Aizawa ordered; it wouldn't stop the detective from following through.

Izuku Midoriya wouldn't rest until every single Yakuza in Musutafu resided behind bars awaiting their long overdue punishment.

---

Shota walked the streets still donning the mandatory police uniform as a light drizzle sprinkled from above. Considering it was easier to stealth through the city under the illusion of a patrol, the plain black suit would remain untouched for now. It also silently warned any troublemakers to watch themselves, at least in his presence, and considering most of the younger youth knew the familiar scowling face and harsh tone; nearly all obliged to the law. A few times he'd have to call it in though today was different. This was urgent. Urgent situations concealed the public swarming the cramped sidewalks from vision, tunneling in on the goal. It was a good twenty-minute stroll just to reach one of the hidden entrances, a still heavily guarded one, and seeing as he was now more than fifteen minutes in it wouldn't be long before delivering the turbulent news.

For now, at least, there was no point in bringing up another addition to the family. Considering the fragility of the situation it would only be dismissed by Kenji. Higher priorities. But he couldn't delay it for too much longer; Shigaraki could make their move soon enough and strike when they were frazzled and distracted. Midoriya was the last person he ever wanted to get dragged through the thickening mud; the kid was too pure and focused on justice to ever make it as a Yakuza. If he ever found out about the truth behind his father's death…

"Look here, boys, what comes our way. What's a copper doing down in these parts of the ghetto?"

Six thugs stood between Shota and the entrance. Casual clothing, cigarettes dangling from their scowling mouths, sunglasses pulled down. They were trying a bit too hard to be Yakuza, but at least he recognized them. Not entirely newbies, not high up on the chain. Middle grunts as he liked to label them. They mainly did the more dangerous errands and often ended up discarding unwanted property in the middle of the night. Ignoring their puffed up chests and pebble intimidating glares, Shota strolled right past them without so much as a side eye.

"Oy! Where do you think you're going?! We ain't finished with this conversation!" One shouted at his back. He'd give them credit; they were really trying hard to appear intimidating. And they would be to the average citizens, just not a twenty-year veteran. "Bastard—"

"Yo, wait a sec," Another one interjected as Shota stopped to give them an icy stare. At least this one had some common sense. "Forgive us, big brother, we're just doing our jobs."

"I commend you for protecting the path, but next time, tone down the thug act. You're drawing more attention than wanted." Shota replied tartly.

"Yes!" The guards chorused then returned to their leisurely duties of determent.

Without another word Shota continued on his way. Apparently they needed to be exercised more, the boredom was getting to them. Things had been a bit slow lately with higher ups running more errands and fresh faces taking care of the miniscule issues. Once far enough down the pathway the Yakuza abruptly disappeared into a rickety old shed fronted with debris. Though it appeared to be overgrown and cluttered, it was a clever disguise; pulling on the correct set of hidden levers opened the trap doorway to the tunnel. Archaic perhaps. Worked and kept the locals away from it. And considering the local council was under their protection, any complaints were promptly discard in the trash can. Waiting for the lock to reactivate, Shota dropped down into the carved tunnel with flashlight in hand.

This wasn't his preferred method of entering the mansion. Rooftop hatches were easier to slide through and though not as discrete, a few roofing supplies and lower grunts created no questions to those gawking. This was going to be a fun conversation to have, if Kenji wasn't already wrapped up in something else. As far as his schedule was concerned, today was a fairly light load. Voices began filtering in through the door up ahead, a sign that usually meant people were arguing. A heavy sigh slipped past his lips. Seriously. Like he didn't have enough shit on his plate right now? Now he got to play peacemaker?

"How do you expect me to trust anything you say? The funds haven't been received and you're sitting here spinning me around like a dog chasing its tail! Get me that money or else the people you love are going to be disappearing! End of story!" Kenji barked at the cowering businessman saturating the tatami mats with sweat and possibly a bit of piss. Another loaner who failed to come up with the cash. Third one of the day already and it was barely past noon. A flicked hand had the sniveling man dragged away kicking and screaming. Once the nuisance was gone, a tired face fell against an open palm.

"Seems you're a busy man, Oyabun." Aizawa casually remarked as dark eyes stared at the door, waiting for the screaming to die down. Kenji chortled into his hand.

"Shota, you don't understand the half of it today. Of course, you do, regardless. Forgive the ragged appearance. Long day that's only getting longer. What news do you have for me?" Kenji dragged the hand down his face, fingers digging into the skin slightly before falling back to his lap. As soon as the papers slipped from Aizawa's pockets they were itching to dig back into the vulnerable flesh. "I was expecting good news though the graveness of your expression tells me otherwise. Get on with it I suppose."

"I have confirmation from Hawks himself that Shigaraki and his men are closer than expected. They've also left a note on a fresh kill that one of my detectives found. I'm afraid that since they've remained under the radar, their movements are getting stealthier by the day. I'll have some men extend the search area by night to push them back."

"I never doubt Hawks' word. Seems Shigaraki's men are already aware of Ochaco being seen out in public. I'll need to convene with the higher ups in order to redirect a plan of attack. I'm not worried about our defenses right now; every entrance and exit are heavily covered by day, even more so at night. Tell me, this detective of yours, does he seem like an optimal target for the Shigaraki?" Kenji asked without taking his eyes off the threatening note concealed in an evidence bag. They were making a direct threat against his daughter, a grave mistake they would soon find out.

"Possibly. He's a good kid, takes his job to heart." Aizawa kept it short though his boss seemed to notice the lack of more information as he notched a brow.

"Soft spot for him, eh? Just like you have for Ochaco. So, care to divulge deeper into this mysterious underling of yours?"

"Izuku Midoriya. He's the one who saved Ochaco from Nakai Okura. Vehemently hates anything Yakuza related, always studying their patterns and habits though. Incredibly smart and inquisitive, which is how he got under their radar in the first place. He didn't know any better but now he's made himself a target, especially being on the force. I've ordered him to go to and from his mothers house, the store, his apartment, and the station only. Extra guards will be deployed as precaution." Shota studied his boss as he lolled the information around his brain for a minute. There was interest, that much he could see, yet what he couldn't see were the underlying thoughts to that interest. He wanted to avoid bringing up the topic though Kenji, like Midoriya, tended to be inquisitive and prod deeper for more information. It made him a great tactician and strong leader.

"Curious indeed. Hates Yakuza, saves my daughter; from a serial attacker no less, and has now become a target of the Shigaraki clan. Wouldn't you agree, Shota, that he'd make a remarkable addition?" The Yakuza leader knew it would prod a flaring nerve and cause it to twitch violently. Already he could tell the undercover cop was hesitant in agreeing to his decision. It was a risky move; the boy could spill internal secrets, attempt sabotage, straight up decline the offer and tell him to shove it up his ass. "I can see your hesitation about it. While my curiosities brew, your answer has already been made."

"Not necessarily, Kenji. In fact, I was going to bring up the suggestion in a few days, but you beat me to it. I'm pretty sure a rival gang took out his father years ago in a crime spree, so there's possibly a deep sense of injustice he feels the need to rebalance. Earlier, less than twenty-four hours after the attack, he was beginning to dig too deep into the files. Hizashi had to fry his computer and I erased the files. Midoriya is persistent when his mind settles. I believe he's trying to correlate the relationship between Ochaco and Nakai while also researching further who she is."

"Fast learner, a good asset to attain. Though the severity of this sense of justice he has; do you believe it will be an advantage or our downfall?" Kenji asked with a flapping of the evidence bag. Shota shoved his hands deeper into his pockets, contemplating.

"Could go either way. The likelihood of Midoriya joining the clan is slim to none; except with the offer of going undercover in order to better understand the workings of Yakuza gangs. That's the best idea I can come up with, but at the same time I'd have to claim my undercover status as well to avoid suspicions. It might be something he'd buy if I did the same. Chief Yagi is another obstacle. His sense of justice is even higher than Midoriya's. He'd probably consider it too dangerous considering our reputation." He really needed more time to get things sorted out. The main reason was to come here and relay the urgent message. Now he needed to go before the police Chief with the idea he already knew was going to get shot down. Kenji hummed.

"You said he rescued Ochaco?"

"Yes."

"Does he seem capable of offering, let's say…protective services?"

"Kenji…"

"Now," Kenji started, both hands up at the warning tone. "Let's be reasonable here, Shota. If he can protect my daughter and subdue a rampaging serial rapist, then that's one less threat on the streets. And that's one less thing I have to worry about with Ochaco when she wanders into public. She's ascending to the throne soon and rival gangs are beginning to realize there's an actual heir to the Uraraka name. Shigaraki will not hesitate to strike when the day arrives. Give it a few days to think over everything and when you're ready, come back to me with an answer. For now, I'd like you to take Ochaco out for a bit."

While not a completely abnormal request, it seemed risky at best. Though, it wasn't really his place to argue his concerns, was it? "Understood. Where to?"

"Cat café."

"Cat…café?" Shota parroted with a notched brow, earning a defeated sigh in return from the powerful Yakuza lord who slumped forward with both hands covering his worn features. "You're joking…"

"Yes…I know the ridiculousness of it…but she wants to finish her list of visits. Also, she's going to need to replace her new outfit. Seems that one had to go into the incinerator. Nuisance of a thing, really, though necessary at times. She won't be able to go in normal clothing this time, I'm afraid. The car is waiting out front for you both."

"Understood. I'll get my response to you within twenty-four hours, Oyabun." Shota bowed deeply then excused himself from the main hall. Escorting Ochaco around was priority despite the horrendous start to the week already. A hand scratched unruly black locks roughly. Man, what the hell kind of a day was this turning into? Although…the fact that Ochaco was willing to go back out meant it wasn't deterring her from the outside world. One good thing at least. It didn't take long to reach the heiress' room and he rapped against the door three times, just like he always had. A few moments of silence before the door opened. Shota felt his eyebrow twitch at the scene before him. Seriously? This was what she chose?

"You think I look ridiculous," Ochaco bluntly stated after noticing the obvious facial tick from her mentor. It didn't happen too often, but when it did it meant Aizawa was stressed and reaching his limit for the day. The uniformed thug merely pursed his lips in disapproval. "Yeah, you're probably right. Too obvious. And what's with your apparel? Public servant day?"

"Something like that. Lose the sun hat, oversized sweater, sunglasses. A hood is fine, put a mask on and keep it high on your nose. Hair dye would be ideal but obvious for one day, same for colored contacts. You're trying to blend in and not stand out amongst the crowds. I'll call a few others to sweep through for any intruding people on the way. You got five minutes while I switch to something less obvious."

"Fine, fine, I'll try to look like a 'normal' young woman." Ochaco dismissed while taking off the obvious accessories and flapping them his way. Once back in front of the expansive closet, she pursed her lips in thought with slender fingers grazing over the materials. "Normal, huh? What's that even supposed to look like?"

Normal wasn't really in her encyclopedia of apparel. There was ceremonial, professional, loungewear, sleepwear…not to mention business. Business was the only thing she could wear in public to silently assert over the common citizens of Japan. The luxurious fabrics combined with an air of confidence and fuck-around-find-out kept those unaware of her title steering clear from the path, revealing those lurking in the shadows stalking their target. And it felt good to have a boost of superiority; to feel feared. Those who crossed the Uraraka clan would heed well to those walking amongst them. A moment of weakness was a moment of opportunity. A moment she already opened yesterday by getting distracted. Ochaco grasped the pink sleeves of a felted jacket, contemplating.

Concealing everything she knew gave way for uncertainty and unease to seep into every pore, cell, and vulnerable opening. The strong will built up over nearly two decades began to crack; millimeters, centimeters, creeping into incremental inches with each ticking minute. The wall was strong, as it was created, molded, but the heavy pressure of not being who she was born to be strained the weakening barrier. Perturbed auburn turned to the mirror after donning the plain outfit. A plaid, traditionally embroidered dress gifted by her grandmother prior to her passing. Layered beneath was a fitted black long sleeve to conceal even the tiniest colored etching against milky skin. Sheer tights concealed the bare legs with opaque charcoal. Over the dress, still unbuttoned, resided a slightly too large winter button-up coat tinted quartz pink, elongated black buttons creating fashionable contrast. Fingers slowly traced along the felted edge of the hood before pulling it up and over tied back chestnut locks.

It felt so…unnatural to appear so casually. A triple rapping on the door drew auburn from the foreign reflection. This was a small price to pay for the sake of freedom in a world that vehemently denied her family ways. Slipping on a pair of low, black heels, she was ready. Cracking open the ornately decorated bamboo door, Ochaco stepped out as Aizawa waited patiently. In his hand was a sterile mask still in its bag. She stared at it for a moment before lightly slipping it from his grasp. The Yakuza was dressed pretty much head to toe in black; slouchy pants with matching, scuffed up boots. A black, long sleeved shirt with slightly frayed cuffs. A light grey scarf piled around his neck in a sloppy bundle, though she knew it was more than a scarf.

Aizawa never went out in public without three things; his hunting knife, binding cloth scarf, and a hidden pistol with attached silencer. To ordinary citizens, he looked like nothing more than a person who barely left their apartment, a recluse. But he was so much more than that. Shota Aizawa was her personal assassin. Ever since she was young all she could remember was him being there guiding, teaching, protecting. While blissfully unaware of what was going on during the day, what mattered most was his dedication to ensuring the perseverance of the Uraraka bloodline. Not very often she saw him in the shabby apparel and she muffled a laugh behind her hand.

"Something funny?" Shota asked blankly as the heiress began opening the medical facemask. While not the best option for the time of year, he supposed the modest outfit worked. It was beginning to get colder, more people wearing coats as the temperatures dropped to uncomfortable levels. With the additional rain beginning to pick up again, she'd mostly blend in.

"No, no. Merely appreciating the fact that your manbun suits your undercover clothes. Didn't realize you were the type, Aizawa." Ochaco grinned giddily as he retorted with a low grunt and shake of his head, the bun bobbling side to side. The grin never slipped as the mask concealed it, fingers pressing the small metal bracket against the bridge of her nose. While not comfortable, it provided adequate facial coverage.

"You don't understand the amount of suffering you're putting me through right now, Ochaco," Shota grumbled as both hands shoved deep into the pockets.

"Whatever do you mean? Surely you jest!"

"Cat café? Really? You may be able to fool your father with that strange request, but I know the real reason you want to go back out. Regardless of my warnings, you're going to go ahead with it anyways."

Ochaco slowed to a stop as the Yakuza called out the bluff. True, she didn't necessarily have a need to go to a cat café, albeit it seemed a good enough cover to appease her already stressed and worried father. The true reason? Going back to that alleyway. To confront the harsh truth of her failures and how they nearly took twenty years of life away. It never should've happened in the first place; years of honing senses, body and mind, martial arts. A blissful moment tarnished by a vengeful rejected thug. "…it never should've happened."

"Yet it did. There's nothing you can do about it now. It's a lesson learned about situational awareness, a painful one, but you've accepted your mistake. Your bloodline has had thousands, if not tens of thousands, of attempts against it over hundreds of years. This is nothing more than a harsh reminder that even now people thirst for vengeance. Nakai Okura is such an example. Rejected from the Uraraka clan for reckless behavior and unhinged mind. It was only a matter of time before he came around." Shota stopped as well, facing forward with an unchanged expression. Blunt reality was the best medicine for turbulent thoughts. "If you're going out to seek revenge, forget about it. Nakai has already been taken care of."

"You work fast," Ochaco offhandedly mentioned with a guarded tone.

"I have to. He knew who you were and he's a threat to the Uraraka name. Speaking of. Care to tell me why you informed a detective of your actual first name?" Shota shot back as the tension grew between them. She was frustrated, that he understood more than anyone else, and now that Uraraka heritage was slipping through the cheery mask. Finally turning to address the elephant in the room, dark eyes swung on defensive auburn. Good. Instinctively reacting to an interrogation. While he couldn't see her lips through the mask, the subtle shift in her jaw gave away them pursing. "You do realize, Ochaco, that he has now started an investigation into who you are? You should know better than anyone why that's a bad thing. You know the consequences of someone linking back to the clan. I'm going to have to get rid of him."

"You wouldn't…" Ochaco threatened lowly, straightening her posture to reflect authority. "I'm ordering you to leave him alone."

"Unfortunately, Princess, until you've proven to be worthy enough to lead this clan without getting upset over a single failure; I won't be abiding by your demands. Your father is the only one I will respond to." Shota matched the straightened posture with a hardening of eyes.

Anger was brewing within her yet she kept it contained, switching to a cold indifference. Believe it or not, there was a reason for striking her weak points. In three months she would be taking the throne and title of Head of the Uraraka clan. He needed to push beyond the comfort levels to prove she was ready for a heavy responsibility. Tense seconds passed before the brunette finally took in a deep breath, let it out, then promptly strolled past the statuesque bodyguard with head held high. Shota fell in line behind her with a growing hunch of where she was going. Not ideal considering his ties.

"Fine. I'll handle this myself. Your assistance is no longer needed, Aizawa."

"Nice try. What are you going to do, march straight into the police station and demand to see him? Then what? Slay him in a room full of armed officers? You wouldn't kill him. The reason you gave him your real name is because he saved you and something in his actions caused you to pause. Hesitating in the middle of a fight for survival means there's something about Izuku Midoriya that prevents you from seeing him as a target. As a threat."

Ochaco whirled on the taller man with a finger pointed directly at his face. The other hand ripped the mask down and her mouth opened wide to retort when he brushed right on past without a care. Pursing her lips in frustration, the heiress took in a deep breath and let out a muffled yell against her arm. Damn him! He was the best mentor around yet when he sat there stabbing at her insecurities, it drove the brunette mad! Yanking the mask back up harshly, Ochaco sullenly followed behind with quiet grumblings. He was her ticket out of the house and after watching the bloody ceremony, she needed the mental break. Reaching the main entryway, both clan members waited for the doors to open. Aizawa began shuffling around in his pocket for something and by the time Ochaco realized what he was doing, a square package was flying towards her face.

Snatching it expertly, auburn stared down at the mochi square then looked up at the messy black locks of her mentor. "Do you always carry mochi squares with you?"

"Only on days you argue with me." Shota replied with a shrug.

"…how much of your salary are you spending on these?"

"Need to know basis. You don't need to know."

"You're an asshole, Aizawa."

"Just now figuring that out? Congrats. I'll send a card and gift to your room for such a momentous discovery." Shota could feel the slender fingers reaching for his scarf, so he stepped out of the way before chucking another piece of candy at her. It hit with a satisfy smack against her face. He chuckled as she grumbled about nearly getting him before tearing into the wrapper. Mochi was a weak spot that always seemed to extinguish the roiling flames of anger.

All nearby clan members bowed to the two as their movements continued. One followed beside Ochaco with an umbrella in hand to shield from the falling droplets. Their driver, Mashirao Ojiro, waited until they were close then opened the door while simultaneously accepting the umbrella. Aizawa motioned with his head for the heiress to enter first. She did so silently with an averted gaze. Once settled, the door was firmly shut.

"Cat Café, sir?" Ojiro inquired Aizawa.

"That's fine. Keep us away from U.A. Police station. Too hot around there."

"Of course, sir."

_B_

The rain was beginning to pick up again and Izuku wanted nothing more than to get home, shower, change clothes, and eat his katsudon that was made lovingly by his mother. After being dismissed for the day by Sergeant Aizawa, the first thing Izuku did was swing by his mother's house. As always, she knew what was bothering the one and only child of her family, prompting for an answer. He resisted at first. Everyday Inko Midoriya fretted over her child. Explaining that he was now being targeted by a large, rival gang and that she was most likely going to be tracked…didn't go well. Tears. Screaming. Begging. Inko went through every emotion multiple times over before the mother could be remotely calmed. Izuku had to soothingly reassure that everything would be alright. Things were going to change; more officers patrolling the area, restricted visits, office duty. On the slim chance she needed to be moved, the detective had a spare room that would turn into a living space. But until that happened, Izuku Midoriya was going to remain vigilant.

Very few people remained on the streets of Musutafu, due to the rain and sun slipping behind the towering skyscrapers. Crime often increased once darkness fell, something Izuku knew all too well. Countless times he'd been called to crime scenes in the dead of night. Though not uncommon, at least eighty-five percent of the time it was gang related. Skirmishes that often led to at least one person dying on scene or in the hospital. The hardest part was getting them to admit what their affiliation was and who sent the order. Although he hadn't witnessed some of the interrogations, apparently a few thugs killed themselves with hidden cyanide pills to prevent information from leaking out. Were people truly that loyal to a Yakuza clan? Why choose a life of enslavement to a powerful bunch of thugs? Didn't they have families to return home to?

"Yo, Midoriya! Long time no see!"

A deeper voice called out to the detective who promptly snapped his head up at his name. With an arm waving high into the air, a tall, heavily built man caught Izuku's eyes. His lips turned upward into a painfully wide smile. That build and flaming, spiky red hair were unmistakable anywhere. "Kirishima!"

"Damn, you've filled out nicely! What's your PR at? Man, it's crazy meeting you here again! Feels like it's been ages!" Eijiro Kirishima guffawed, latching onto the outstretched hand tightly then shaking it vigorously. "What're you up to these days? I know we lost contact a bit back but damn it's good to see another familiar face!"

"It's great to see you too, Kirishima. Things have been well; I'm working for the U.A. Special Police Forces as a crime organization detective, have been for nearly three years now so right after graduation. What have you been up to? Didn't you get a job working under Toyomitsu Agency?" Izuku replied just as excitedly. Most of his classmates had become engrossed in their newfound careers so hearing or seeing them was rare. And judging by how much his friend had changed, a lot was being missed out on.

"That's amazing! We always knew you'd make it through the academy; it was your biggest dream to work under the famous Chief Yagi, after all. Yeah, things are great there and all, but there's that nostalgic feeling of being back home. Work is dragging as of late since Chief Toyomitsu has been collaborating with other agencies to crack down on crime. Mina and I are actually planning on moving back here," Kirishima flushed with a hand rubbing the back of his neck. "Because we're getting married around the first of the year."

"That's…congratulations! When did this happen? I'm sorry for being so out of touch, I never realized you two got together!"

"Haha, thanks man! We've been together since a bit out of high school, maybe a couple months afterwards. Eventually my charm and ravishing looks wore her down, then she said yes. So, what about you? I heard through the gossip vine you were getting close with Melissa Shield, Chief Yagi's niece."

Izuku blushed at the jest though it quickly turned into a somber feeling in his chest. Sure, he had a bit of a crush on the beautiful blue eyed, blonde department transfer from the United States, but… "Melissa ended up returning to the United States due to a completion of her short-term transfer. She really only came to visit her uncle for a while and to stay busy, requested a temporary transfer. We weren't really anything more than friends to begin with…"

"Uh-huh. Sure. Well, as Mina says, the only way to get over a broken heart is to throw yourself back out there. Guess since we're back in town, we'll find you a girl in no time!" Kirishima laughed while throwing an arm around his shorter friend, the two barely fitting under the umbrella. Izuku chuckled with a head shake. Ashido had really rubbed off on him and the tiniest bit of worry began to build.

Mina Ashido was always a supporter of shipping people together. In high school, it was Momo Yaoyorozu and Shoto Todoroki, the two smartest people in the class. Then it was Kyoka Jiro and Denki Kaminari. The list went on and on, the eclectic young woman targeting everyone within arm's reach. Thankfully he was one of the few spared due to his general awkwardness. By the end of the first month, everyone had been preemptively matched with another.

"Think I'll pass on that for now. I'm dedicated to my job more than anything and honestly, a relationship hasn't really been on my mind. There's a lot of Yakuza activity lately and I'm pretty sure something big is going to happen soon. Since you're moving back to town, what agency will you link up with, Kirishima?" Izuku redirected the conversation to a more comfortable topic. Apparently the redhead felt the opposite as he released the heavy lean against his shoulders and stood tall, hands shoving deep into his pockets.

"There's another reason we're moving back, Midoriya. Since it hasn't been brought up yet, I'm going to assume you aren't aware."

"Aware of what exactly, Kirishima?"

"Ojiro has gone missing. No one's seen him for a couple of weeks now. Rumor has it, he may have become indebted to a Yakuza group since his family has always struggled with finances. Hagakure is absolutely devastated and reached out to Mina as a last resort. Now the rest of the class is flocking back to figure out what's going on."

Izuku stopped abruptly. Kirishima turned his head upwards to the drizzling skies. Their classmate was…missing? In the very city he was supposed to protect? A scarred hand began tightening slowly around the handle to the point it cracked from the pressure, splitting the plastic to pieces. What the hell…he'd never known. No one ever told him, reached out to ask. Emerald began burning a hole into the puddled sidewalk. He never bothered to check in with anyone. Stopped trying to communicate as he threw everything into becoming the best, like Chief Yagi. Had he become so blind in following the steps of his idol that the perfectly illusioned world around him was crumbling?

"When did he go missing?" Izuku asked Kirishima lowly. The vibration in his voice couldn't be disguised.

"Beginning of the month, maybe the end of August. Hagakure figured his annual martial arts training was prolonged by another few days to a week, but when he didn't respond to messages or calls, she got worried. I'm pretty sure she submitted a report to your station, Midoriya. Don't you ever get handed cases like that?" Kirishima asked after finally angling towards the silently fuming detective. A fast jerk of the head was his answer. A deep sigh slipped out as a hand ran through the drooping fiery, gelled locks. "Fuck. I figured you'd know something about this. Is there someone else in the office that would be given something like that? To review and sort?"

"…Sergeant Aizawa. He manages me and a few others. Mostly we handle crime scenes but occasionally we see smaller cases like that. He had to leave the office earlier for an urgent matter, so he won't be back in until tomorrow."

"It's only like, three. Aren't you supposed to be working still or are you on a lunch break?"

"There's a bit of a…situation…if you would call it that. I've been instructed to head home for the day. I'll be at the office early tomorrow if you can swing by, we'll look through the files and see what's going on." Izuku felt his jaw click from the pressure of teeth grinding. He couldn't tell Kirishima that he was now targeted by a rivalling Yakuza gang, especially now that he knew Ojiro was potentially part of the local one. Only his mother knew because a target could be placed on her head. Avoiding unnecessary interactions would be best…at least until he took care of the ongoing rivalry. "I'm actually headed home now. Where are you staying for the night?"

"I was going to find a hotel for the evening—"

"Stay with me! I've got an extra room, though it'll take a few minutes to prep. Besides, I wouldn't want you going in the areas that are prone to attacks." Izuku interjected immediately. Any hotels in the area outside of police protection were filled with prostitutes, drug deals, gang wars, and plenty of bloodshed. While they did their best to protect the streets, it wasn't always possible.

"Seriously? Thanks, Midoriya! You're really saving me," Kirishima beamed, excited. "Mina was planning on staying with Hagakure tonight once she gets in. Work caught her up at the last minute, so she's running behind a bit. I'll let her know I'm hanging with you tonight. This is gonna be awesome! Oh, did you already pick up dinner? Shoot. I was going to offer to take you out as thanks…"

"It's what my mom made me. I can always eat it for lunch tomorrow if you want to grab something. I'm sure it'd be fine under my rest—work guidelines. They've been cracking down lately with so many Yakuza attacks." Izuku quickly corrected himself despite the notched brow of questioning from his friend. "There's actually a great place a block down from my apartment if you want to give it a shot."

"Sure, why not? Anything to get out of this rain. Lead the way, Midoriya, and I'll fill you in on what you've missed all these years."

Kirishima started from the beginning; after high school, when everyone separated to pursue their own careers, he'd chosen to go into the police academy like Midoriya, Bakugo, and a handful of others. While he didn't get a full scholarship to U.A. Police Academy as his friend, he managed to get scooped up by Toyomitsu Agency a few cities over. Mina had begun working as a fashion designer and lately had been collaborating with famous names. Everyone loved her eclectic fabric and prints, resulting in a designer line being produced. Overall, they were both doing well for themselves. Katsuki Bakugo, Midoriya's childhood foe and Kirishima's best friend, managed to become head of the bomb detonation force in Musutafu. Izuku nearly dropped his precious homemade lunch at that. He hadn't realized Kaachan was still lurking in the city after school. True, they'd both gone to the academy, but things parted way as paths diverted. It was odd they never ran into each other…though that may be a blessing more than anything.

Shoto Todoroki followed in his father's footsteps and was working his way up the police rankings in the neighboring town; his father, Enji, was famous as the Chief of Police twenty years running with nearly one hundred percent success rate of capturing lawbreakers. Crime in his city had dropped exponentially during his service. Apparently Shoto was set to surpass his father in a matter of months or years, his record nearly matching. There was also a public rivalry between him and Chief Yagi, the two going way back and even attending U.A. High together. Though the former had his record beat by the thousands; until a crippling injury forced an early desk duty. Now he remained the brains of all Yakuza operations, guiding his colleagues to victory via ingenious tactical maneuvers.

Momo Yaoyorozu led the city council in the same area as Todoroki, collaborating often to renew and reinvigorate the wellness of the citizens and public areas. Mina mentioned them being the perfect pair though that was nothing more than speculation without enough information to back it. Tenya Iida followed the path of his elder brother in the family business of security systems and personalized protection. If it didn't have the Iida name, it wasn't a security system. Down the list Kirishima went and Izuku listened intently with a heavy heart. He'd been missing out on so much of his friends' lives and he realized how much work had taken over his personal life. While the outside was smiling at his enthusiastic friend, the inside was churning with remorse.

Nearly a block from his apartment, something odd struck Izuku Midoriya. A random, back-of-the-mind thought that seemed so out there that it could've easily been a hallucination. Through the now dumping sheets of rain that pummeled them both and any unlucky stragglers, a correlation began to form. Sergeant Aizawa reacted unusually in learning about him becoming a target. It was like it triggered something deep within the old detective. And the fact that he put his hands on him in a somewhat threatening manner…perhaps it was merely speculation, nothing more than misinterpretation. But the deeper Izuku pondered about the strange reaction, the higher the red flag slowly raised. There was something his boss knew, or was involved in, that he didn't want getting out. Suddenly leaving after the rooftop snafu solidified the suspicions. Yet it all sounded so stupid! One of the most proactive detectives in all of Japan possibly having a secret collusion with either the Yakuza or some unknown affiliation?

"Hey, do you see that car over there? Aren't they usually owned by millionaires?" Kirishima knocked the green haired detective from his disturbing thoughts and pointed across the street.

Emerald followed the finger to lock onto a blacked out SUV rolling to a stop outside of a few shops. In fact, they weren't too far from the alleyway where he saved that girl earlier. Nearly right on top of it, in fact. Izuku spotted a partial brick wall behind them and yanked Kirishima behind it, forgoing the soaked umbrella to the nearly empty streets of Musutafu. His friend opened his mouth to protest but a finger molded against lips quickly silenced him. A vehicle like that meant someone high on the chain of society owned it. There were a few selections as to who; politicians, millionaires, high-ranking officials…and Yakuza bosses. While normally choosing stealth over obvious, those with enough power and influence in a territory chose to flaunt.

"What're you thinking? Mafia boss?" Kirishima asked lowly while pressing himself against the wall as much as he could. Being bulky wasn't ideal for stealthy situations such as this; he was designed more for brute strength. A few times he'd seen cars like this driving around town or even in the police evidence lot filled with bullet holes and crimson, chunky remnants covering the seats.

"Possibly. Only a few people in the city own vehicles like that, but they're usually sedans, not SUV's. We won't know for sure until the occupant gets out and shifts into our line of sight. It's possible they know my face which is why we're hiding, sorry about the sudden grab." Izuku apologized quietly without taking his gaze from the vehicle. He needed to know who was in that vehicle and what their Yakuza affiliation was. They could just be some wealthy tourists visiting from out of town, it happened every so often, but on a dreary day like this? Only locals would continue on through the rain.

"Someone's getting out," Kirishima whispered, carefully peeking over Midoriya's head. Not like he really had to strain; he was taller than him. "Argh, it's hard to see through this downpour! It looks like…they're wearing black, a suit most likely. Chauffeur hat. White gloves. Black, shined shoes. Whatever hair he has is tucked up underneath and the hat is pulled lower over his face. He's good, whoever he belongs to. Making it harder to identify which is probably why they're out in the rain."

"Wait," Izuku muttered against his palm, a bad habit learned during childhood. A sense of familiarity washed over him as the driver shifted around the car and he got a partial face identification. Lighter hair, slightly rounded face, obviously muscular beneath the suit; he couldn't quite put his finger on it… "Doesn't that driver seem familiar? Until we get a better look at his face, I can't fully confirm, but…"

"If you're thinking what I think you're thinking…there's no way, right? It's not like we'd just walk right into him in broad daylight after being missing for weeks! The odds are astronomical." Eijiro bit his cheek hard enough to bleed while studying the driver. There was a bit of familiarity, just not enough to confirm what they were both thinking.

"But not impossible. We theorized it was possible to be picked up by a Yakuza clan to repay his debts, right? There's only one family in the area that doesn't go right to chopping off fingers and heads when a debt isn't returned. The Uraraka clan." Izuku replied lowly, taking the risk of shifting his gaze back at his friend. "They've been around for hundreds of years and as the generations go on, their level of violence has dropped to around average compared to other cities. If he's good at what he does, then it's likely they'd give him a task such as personal driver or bodyguard. Ojiro isn't the kind of person to kill even with his high level of martial arts."

"He's walking back around," Kirishima jerked his head forward with visible agitation. As soon as Midoriya snapped his gaze back to the target, the redhead grit his teeth and stood, hands cupping against his mouth. They'd gone long enough worrying about his missing friend; whatever consequences came, he'd take them head-on. "Fuck this! OJIRO MASHIRAO—"

"Don't!" Izuku hissed with a hand latching onto his friends shirt, trying to pull him out of sight. This was bad, really bad. Interfering with a bodyguard of a powerful Yakuza almost certainly led to confrontation! Kirishima easily shook off the hand scrambling to pull him out of sight. "If that's Yakuza then—"

"Midoriya, we have to know!"

Ojiro whirled around with frantic eyes, the hat tilting upward to see who called him out. Flashes of red and dark green caught his wide gaze through the sheets of rain. And those voices…He'd been working for the Uraraka clan for a few weeks now and still in the watchful stage of probation. Joining up wasn't for the reason most thought; his family was desperate for money and on the verge of complete bankruptcy that would leave his family homeless. He'd rather sacrifice himself to prevent his family from ending up that way. Stepping back a few feet to become concealed by the tall vehicle, he pulled the hat back down even further. He knew that bolstering voice anywhere. Ejiro Kirishima. The second one belonged to Izuku Midoriya. Realization dawned. Hagakure most likely reached out to Mina. True, he'd been gone only a few weeks, yet he tried to find a way to send a letter without the clan noticing. Easier said than done; one of their strictest rules was to not contact friends or family during their contracted time. And considering he still had nearly a year on his…

"Someone recognize you?" Came the gruff, spine-tingling voice of Shota Aizawa, the high ranking Yakuza in charge of him. A fast, trembling nod was his answer. A heavy sigh slipped past sneering lips as he turned to the young woman awaiting a foot away. "Do you know who it is?"

"E-Ejiro Kirishima. I can't for sure confirm who the second person is, but it may be a former classmate…Izuku Midoriya."

Aizawa snapped his fingers at the woman who promptly climbed back in out of sight. Grabbing Ojiro by the arm, he swung him around and nearly shoved him into the back with Ochaco. They'd been compromised by none other than his nosey detective and possible unknown accomplice. Jumping into the drivers seat, Shota had barely shut the door before slamming the ignition on while pulling a gun from his waist. The passenger window rolled down and aiming in the general direction where the voice came from, he fired. High enough to graze walls not heads. If his detective was over there then it meant he either got caught up on his way home or was actively looking into the Uraraka clan. One shot after another rang out; pow, pow, pow, pow, pow. He shifted into drive and pressed his boot heavily against the gas pedal. Citizens scattered off the sidewalks to avoid being hit by stray bullets though they were safe. Years of weapons training meant Shota could pinpoint any target.

The window rolled back up with one finger against the button. Shota veered the vehicle around traffic, earning honks and shouts of outcry through the downpour. They'd need to go to the secondary entrance and possibly ditch the vehicle if a plate number was recorded. He knew this was a horrible idea. "Both of you still alive?"

"You're making me…urp…carsick, Aizawa…" Ochaco weakly muttered with a palm sealing the escape route for her stomach.

"Deal with it. Ojiro. Are you positive on the identifications?"

"F-fairly positive—"

"Yes or no."

"Yes. Ejiro Kirishima and Izuku Midoriya." Ojiro swallowed hard as he passed the heiress a bottle of water. How he prayed they wouldn't get involved in the matter yet Kirishima, being strong-headed and straight-forward, blew both of their covers in front of the one person not to do so. He never should've responded in a way that gave away his identity. "Forgive me, I didn't realize they would be nearby! Kirishima doesn't even live in the city! Midoriya I knew lived in the same area I just didn't think—"

"It's not your fault, kid. Shit like this happens all the time, you learn to deal with it. We'll handle it." Shota replied with repressed strain. Midoriya he couldn't do anything about yet; his friend though…if he belonged to another agency outside city limits and was suddenly showing up, it was possible he would transfer over. Most likely the paperwork was on his messy desk. "You'll be taken off driving duties until things cool down. Kenji won't be mad, he's been in the same position before."

"Aizawa," Ochaco started once the erratic driving died down and after a few sips of water. Dark eyes glanced back at her through the rear view mirror. "Why would he be lurking around this area, where the attack happened? Also…why the hell did you shoot at him!"

"Lives in the area, not too far in fact. He's fine. I aimed high enough to avoid any damage."

"Why are you so nonchalant about it?!"

"Decades of experience."

"Not an answer!"

Izuku pushed himself off Kirishima after tackling him into a dirty puddle as soon as the window rolled down. Instinct and experience warned him of incoming gunfire. Glancing around the corner to ensure the coast was clear, the detective pulled out his cell and quickly dialed a number, heart thrumming wildly.

"U.A. Special Police Force, this is—"

"Detective Izuku Midoriya, badge number M-H-A-050518. Shots fired in front of the Musutafu shopping center! Black SUV with tinted windows, high probability of Yakuza connection. Unknown plate number. Headed eastbound away from downtown."

"All available units will be dispatched to your location. Any civilians injured?" The operator replied as more voices picked up in the background. The radio channels were going wild.

"No injuries to report, it was a targeted attack against me and an officer visiting from another precinct. Patch me through to Sergeant Aizawa—"

"Sergeant Aizawa is unavailable at the moment due to an emergent situation. I'll transfer you to the next ranking officer. Please hold."

Unavailable? How in the hell was his direct superior unavailable at a time like this? Cheerful classical music filtered through the phone as the line transferred. Kirishima stood and brushed himself off the best he could, but his clothes were sopping wet and now covered in alley dirt. Pinching the bridge of his nose tightly, Izuku tried to calm down. He understood where his friend was coming from, truly, yet they both just about got mowed down by a powerful gang member. Already he was a target for Shigaraki, would Uraraka be after him as well?

"Sorry, Midoriya, lost my cool there…I should've listened to you in the first place but now we know for sure; Ojiro is under the control of a Yakuza clan. Question is…which one?" Kirishima clasped the back of his neck, ashamed for the outburst that nearly got them both killed. Midoriya stood up as the line continued to try and connect.

"I already know which one," He replied lowly, emerald narrowing at the ebbing phone screen.

"You're talking about the local one, Uraraka, right?"

"Yeah. If that's the case then Ojiro should be safe for the time being. But I wouldn't be surprised if they started sending men after us. You're going to have to stick with me everywhere, including the office in the morning. Are you carrying?" Izuku placed the phone on speaker while turning to his friend. Kirishima nodded tightly and hiked up his shirt to show. "Good. Stay armed at all times. I'll map out areas to avoid since they're known for gang activity. Are you having luggage shipped somewhere?"

"Uh, yeah, my new place. It's probably not too far from here, actually. I made sure to keep it by my parent's house. Here. This is the address." Holding out his phone to see, Kirishima waited until Izuku copied it down before going to lock the screen when a familiar name popped up. "Shit! Forgot to let Mina know I was here!"

"Call her back—"

"Chief Yagi here." Both men startled at the sudden voice. Izuku took the phone off speaker, turning away to speak more privately.

"Chief, it's Midoriya. We've had another gang incident by the Musutafu shopping center. I can almost guarantee it's Uraraka." Izuku relayed to the higher up and personal idol. If anyone would know what to do, it was Chief Yagi. "There's something else…a former classmate of mine has gone missing from the area,"

"Not surprising; their activity has been increasing as of late. Just recently? Was a report filed through the agency?" The tired, slightly slurring words sharpened up at the sound of a missing person. "Tell me all that you know."

"Supposedly one was. I've been meaning to ask Sergeant Aizawa about it, but it seems he's still out on his emergent errand. Here's the thing; we're pretty sure he's been identified just now during the shooting."

"Unharmed, right? That's fantastic if you've found him already, Midoriya. But…I get the feeling you're not telling me everything." Perceptive as always. That's why he remained Chief of Police for so many decades.

"He's linked up with a Yakuza group…more than likely the Uraraka clan. He's unharmed, acting as a driver. Kirishima can confirm since he's involved as well."

"Both of you meet me in my office first thing. There's something we need to discuss anyways with Aizawa. For now, don't leave your apartment. Someone will gather you in the morning."

"Understood, Chief Yagi. We'll see you then." Izuku hung up the call. Whenever the Yakuza were mentioned the Chief became somber. Perhaps a hidden past dealing with them, maybe a personal grudge, but regardless; come morning, it was going to be a serious conversation. "Kirishima, we'll be meeting with the Chief in the morning."

"Understood. Does he get involved a lot in Yakuza shootings?"

"Not normally. But things are starting to get weird in the precinct and I won't rest until I know what it is." Shoving his phone back into the damp pant pocket, the detective made for his discarded umbrella. The handle cover had broken into a dozen pieces, by his own doing, and some of the fabric panels were bent out of shape. It wasn't too much of a loss considering he'd had it for so many years. Flapping the rain out, he closed it back up. No point in using one now. "Let's head back to the apartment. It's going to be safer to order something in at this point. We can't risk a member following back to a home address."

"Sure. So, what's the plan regarding this Yakuza group? Would they be easy to take down?" Ejiro questioned while scooping up the discarded and spilled katsudon, frowning at the soggy homemade meal. "Sorry about your meal, I'll replace it. Argh, I shouldn't have been so careless! Seriously. I just felt the overwhelming urge to confirm whether or not it was him. We're all worried about him, especially Hagakure. Yet now we know he's safe, for the moment at least, and no one got shot."

"Actually, you did the right thing," Izuku started after accepting the ruined homemade dinner. Yes, he thought, it was terrible to lose such a good smelling and tasting dinner, though better that than their brains blown out. Despite the haphazard approach to the situation, it was turning the odds to his favor. "Because now I can calculate out a plan to get him back."

"And that plan is…?"

Izuku turned and grinned widely at his friend.

"We're going to infiltrate the Uraraka clan."