Chapter Text
It has to be you, Kirishima.
Visions of hopeful, scarlet eyes smiling at Eijirou as they soared through the sky, filled his mind; only for that smile to immediately falter. Black goop burst forth from Bakugou’s mouth as he coughed and gagged. The hand that had reached for Eijirou’s slipped; fingertips brushed against his palm. Bakugou's cheeks flushed red, tears leaked from the corners of his eyes. He clawed at his throat as he fell out of the air towards the ground, out of Eijirou’s reach, until the black goop of the teleportation quirk consumed him. At the same time, the villains disappeared into the warp gate forced open by All for One on the ground. All hope for the future hero erased right before their eyes. Bakugou was gone, their rescue mission a failure, and Eijirou screamed.
His throat was hoarse as he was jolted awake from his slumber. The shout hadn’t just been something concocted from his imagination, it seemed. Eijirou reached for the glass of water on the nightstand, downing however much was left in a single gulp. He had the dream again. It was like a bad omen, meant to warn him of the impending doom. Every time Eijirou had that dream, he had a run-in with the source of his nightmares, almost like a premonition, but his quirk wasn’t clairvoyance, it was hardening. And no matter how much he hardened his skin, it couldn’t ease the thoughts that plagued his mind. He could take a punch. He couldn’t take the psychological warfare that was his guilty conscience.
Eijirou swung his legs out of bed with a groan, scrubbing at his face with his hand in an attempt to wipe away the horrible nightmare. It had been years, and that day still haunted him – a permanent reminder of his greatest failure. Eijirou had strived to be better. He wouldn't lose anyone else the way they had lost Bakugou, and for the most part, he had accomplished that. Even through the war they had minimal casualties, but lives were still lost, and many were gravely injured. They had all been scarred over time.
Pale white lines wove against skin, disfiguring the ones who bore them. Years of therapy could never undo the trauma that had befallen Eijirou’s classmates. Some had it more difficult than others. Midoriya had taken things especially hard. He lost his childhood friend, his rival, his motivation to make himself stronger, but he also lost his mentor. Back then, no one knew the secret All Might and Midoriya shared, so they didn’t understand just how bad off he was. When Bakugou was taken away, so was All Might.
The number one hero’s attention had been pulled away from the fight. He had let his emotions get the best of him when his student was taken for a second time. Anger clouded his judgement, and his life was lost. All for One had been stopped, but at the cost of the Symbol of Peace. All Might held his fist up into the air, and he fell forward into the ground. Midoriya mourned the loss of his friend and teacher for months. Eijirou felt terrible, but he couldn't relate to Midoriya’s pain.
That small ball of green fluff went from the happy-go-lucky kid that he was, to one hell-bent on vengeance. Deku was no longer the name of a hero, but an antihero. Midoriya got the job done, but he was no longer the type to consider how another person felt. He was ruthless, and Eijirou blamed himself. If he had just done a better job at saving Bakugou, then he wouldn't have lost so many lives that night. If they had listened to the others and stayed put as instructed, then maybe the heroes could have saved his friend after all. The what-ifs were endless.
Now, no one would ever know. Instead, he was forced to rise every morning, put on his hero costume, and pray no one else got hurt. He would not be the source of yet another tragedy. Eijirou ran his hand through his hair, feeling the greasy remnants of the last of the hair gel in his red locks that he hadn't washed out the night before. He would need to shower before work. Eijirou could only hope that the warm water would wash away the feelings of foreboding he found himself waking to.
He used to talk to the others about it – his sense of guilt and the dreams that plagued him – but after so many years, they had all moved on. They didn’t understand his pain, or his guilt. They would tell him it was the villains’ fault things ended up the way they did, and while that may have been true, Eijirou could never truly place the blame on the villains. He had been shouldering it himself for so long. It was his failure to grasp Bakugou’s outstretched hand that caused the destruction of the hero society they once knew. He could never take that back.
Soapy water swirled into the floor drain of his bathroom shower, spinning in circles like a whirlpool threatening to swallow him whole. Sometimes, Eijirou wished he could just disappear like the bathroom soap scum. It would be simple, effortless. He wouldn't have to risk his life fighting villains and he wouldn't feel as shitty as he did anymore. It would be someone else’s problem. Everything would be perfect, at least until the dreams started again. Or would they stop if he no longer put himself in a position to see the cause of his nightmares?
He stepped out of the shower, red hair hanging off his shoulders; water droplets falling off the tips, onto his skin, and down to the floor. Eijirou wrapped a towel around his waist, then grabbed a second one to dry his hair, ruffling the locks between the terrycloth. The shower cleansed him in body, but not mind. Eijirou stood there in the mirror, one hand holding the towel to his head, the other resting on his hip. He looked tired. The bags under his eyes were prominent and the shower did little to help energize him like he had hoped. It would make for a long day of work if he couldn't bring himself to perk up.
Eijirou knew he couldn't dwell on that day forever; years of therapy had instilled the fact that it was okay to move on, but every time he dreamt that dream, his smile would disappear. He spent so much time wondering what their lives would be like if they had succeeded. They had only known each other for a few months, he shouldn't have been so worked up about it, but they had grown close in that short time – close enough for Bakugou to take Eijirou as his plus one on an exclusive island getaway. Like most things, it had been interrupted by villains, but they still had fun, all things considered.
He tossed the towel into the hamper and reached for a comb and his container of hair gel to make up his signature spiked look. Eijirou had been a pro long enough to know how to fake a positive attitude. He couldn’t let the citizens see him with such a sour disposition. When his hair was sufficiently spiked and his teeth were brushed, he slipped on a plain, black tank top and a pair of red jogging short. He would run to his agency. Some early morning fresh air could possibly be the thing he needed to help clear his mind. If not, then at least he would get his cardio in for the day.
Eijirou slipped his phone, wallet, and keys into his shorts pocket and kicked on his shoes, locking his apartment door as he left. He shivered slightly, goosebumps causing his skin to pucker, and he rubbed at his arms before starting his run. Spring mornings in Tokyo were always kind of chilly, but the cold never really bothered him too much. He would manage dressed as is, until he got to his agency. Eijirou had picked a medium-priced apartment complex only a few blocks from where he set up shop, so that he could quickly get to work in the event of an emergency. He was always on call, even with the others at his agency would yell at him to take a day off.
He couldn’t rest, not when lives were at stake. Eijirou waved to an old woman out walking her dog first thing in the morning. She was there every day. One morning, he had stopped and offered to walk the dog for her, but she said her walks were the only time she ever got out of her house anymore. Now when he has free time, he joins her. This morning however, he just gave her a small wave as he made his way to the brick building up the street. He was in no mood for small talk. She waved back with a gentle smile and the little white dog barked enthusiastically after him. So maybe the run was helping at least a little bit. Eijirou found himself chuckling at the dog’s excitement.
“Morning,” he greeted the young sidekick sitting behind the reception desk as he walked into the office.
“Mr. Red Riot, sir, I wasn’t expecting you here for another two hours!” The sidekick, Tatsuya, jumped to his feet.
Eijirou waved for him to return to his seat and the newbie sidekick obliged. He was a fresh recruit from Shiketsu Academy, and they were always so eager to please this early into their hero careers. Eijirou was reminded of his time with Fat Gum. Recruiting new sidekicks was always his favorite part about spring. The newly graduated students were always ready to take on the world and he was there to watch them grow. “I couldn’t sleep,” he simply told Tatsuya, patting the young hero on the head as he went. The fledgling hero nodded in reply.
Tatsuya was a diligent worker, and a strong young hero, with a highly sought after Quirk. Eijirou knew recruiting the kid was a battle. He had been given dozens of offers for agencies to join, but the Sturdy Hero held strong in the end.
Eijirou made his way to his office, shutting the door behind him as he walked in. He had a personal closet in his office where his hero costume was kept rather than using the communal locker room. His costume hadn’t changed much over the years, just some resizing for his increased stature. Eijirou secured the face mask around his head and slid the protective sleeves over his arms. As he laced up his boots, his stomach grumbled, and he regretted not stopping for breakfast on the way in.
He leaned over his desk, pressing the call button on his office phone to reach reception. Tatsuya picked up on the first ring. “Mr. Red Riot, sir?”
Eijirou shook his head with a smile, wondering when the kid would stop being so formal. “Hey Tatsuya, I’m getting hungry.”
“What can I get you sir? Do you want food from the bakery down the street? I can be there and back in fifteen minutes.”
He laughed. “No, no, no. I’ll go. I just wanted to see if you wanted anything while I was out.” Eijirou finished lacing the other boot and rose to his feet, scooping up the clothes he had worn to work and folding them to place in the closet.
“You can’t do that! I’m the sidekick. I should be getting you food.”
Eijirou rolled his eyes and pressed the red button on the phone, ending the call. He walked out of his office and leaned against the wall in the hall, arms crossed. “Kid, relax. I want to get you breakfast. You’ve been here all night.”
Tatsuya hesitated, but finally, green eyes looked up at Eijirou and he nodded. “Melon bread? And iced coffee?”
Eijirou smirked. “You got it.” He ruffled the boy’s sandy brown hair as he walked by, heading for the exit.
As Eijirou walked outside, he turned to stare at the giant red letters that read: Riot Agency. Even after two years of running his own agency, it still felt strange. Someone thought it would be okay to let him, Kirishima Eijirou, be in charge – mind boggling. Every time he looked at the logo, it reinvigorated him to do his best. Today would be no different. He would get breakfast for Tatsuya and himself, then send the kid home and route the agency calls to his cell phone so that he could go out on patrols. The other two sidekicks Eijirou employed would be in in the afternoon. Riot Agency was still small, but in the last two years, he had already climbed the hero ranks to secure the twenty-fourth spot.
His former classmates were all doing well in their respective careers as well. If only – he shook his head. Don’t think about it. Eijirou was trying to make his day better, not worse. He crossed the street and headed in the direction of the bakery. Eijirou could smell the scent of freshly baked bread coming from the shop before he even opened the door.
The baker was a kind old man that Eijirou had grown to know quite well over the last few years. His wife had passed some time ago, so his grandson helped out in the shop. It was too much work for one person, and try as he might, he could never figure out how to work the espresso machine. “Coffee shouldn’t be so complicated,” he would always grumble. It reminded Eijirou of someone else that had always insisted on only drinking black, drip coffee.
He wandered through the small aisles of the bakery and picked up a set of tongs. There was a tray by one of the displays and Eijirou set the melon bread Tatsuya requested on it. His crimson eyes roamed over all the sweet treats until he decided on a couple slices of cinnamon pound cake. With his tray of food in hand, Eijirou set the tongs in a wash bin and carried the bread to the counter. “Morning, Mr. Yagima,” he greeted with a smile.
Mr. Yagima turned around from his spot behind the counter and squinted his wrinkled eyes at Eijirou. “You should really wear a shirt, young man,” he chided, “you’ll catch cold.” That was routine with them. Mr. Yagima would always treat Eijirou like one of his own children, and Eijirou would laugh off whatever remark he made.
“I need a cappuccino and an iced coffee with extra cream today!”
Mr. Yagima grunted in reply. “I’ll get you rang up. Kenma is out back sorting the recycling. He should be back in a minute. He’ll get you your drinks.”
Eijirou smiled fondly and pulled his wallet out of the pants pocket of his costume. He rifled through for a thousand yen note and placed it in the weathered hand outstretched before him. “Things fairing okay? Those kids from the middle school not bothering you anymore?”
“I told you I could handle it on my own. Bunch of no-good punks,” Mr. Yagima muttered as he placed the money in the register.
“Grandpa, you would have literally started them on fire if it wasn't for Red Riot intervening.” Kenma appeared through a door behind the counter, carrying a tray of freshly baked loaves of bread in his arms. He was about the same age as Eijirou, but when he spoke, his voice held a wisdom that was beyond his years.
“It would have taught them a lesson!”
“It would have gotten you arrested,” Eijirou corrected with a chuckle. “Morning, Kenma.”
“Morning,” said Kenma. “Cappuccino and iced coffee?” he asked, knowing the drink order by heart.
“You got it!”
Kenma smiled, set the tray of bread down on a stainless-steel table, then made his way to the machine to begin the drinks. When they were done, he set them on the counter in front of Eijirou. “Be careful out there.”
“Always,” replied Eijirou fondly, then he took the drinks and the bag of food and headed out the door back to his agency.
Tatsuya was still behind the desk when Eijirou returned. He jumped to his feet and took the offered iced coffee when Eijirou handed it to him, then the melon bread. “Thank you, sir.”
Eijirou nodded. “No problem, kid. You can head home. I've got things covered until the others get here.”
“You sure?” asked Tatsuya tentatively.
“Mhm,” Eijirou hummed with a nod. “Go home. Get some rest. You’ve been on all night.”
“Thank you, sir.” Tatsuya gathered his things and made a beeline for the locker room.
Concurrently, Eijirou headed for his office to eat his breakfast. He would head out on patrol when he was done.
Patrols almost always started the same way. He would wander the streets with no real direction in mind, just making his presence known to all that were about. It was a deterrent for anyone considering causing trouble. It also gave the civilians peace of mind, which was something they needed after everything they had been through. The citizens of Japan arguably suffered worse than any of the heroes did from the war. The League of Villains might have been gone, but they left a permanent stain on the nation.
His quiet morning turned into an afternoon of chaos when Eijirou heard the all too familiar sound of explosions in the distance and his heart clenched. Much like his former classmates, he spent years chasing the sound of explosions only to come up empty every time. His attention was pulled to a cloud of smoke rising high above the buildings down the street. Those damn dreams really were bad omens. He knew the source of the destruction without even seeing it. The haunting image of angry red eyes, a smug grin, and fair blond hair plagued his thoughts every time he was out on patrol.
For years, the explosive villain eluded him and the other heroes, and Eijirou knew it was because they couldn’t bring themselves to lock him up. Try as they might, the moment they laid eyes on the villain known as C4, their attacks would falter. The villain was a constant reminder of Eijirou’s biggest failure. As he rounded the corner, a head of grimy blond hair came into view. He sucked in a breath. His heart thrummed wildly in his chest and his muscles tensed, body going rigid as he hardened his skin.
Sensing his approach, the villain turned to face him. “You gonna fight me, hero?” C4 spat, hands poised in front of his body defensively. There were shouts from other heroes on the scene and despite his loud antics, C4 had managed to escape his pursuers with ease.
Blood pounded in Eijirou’s ears, and he wasn’t sure what was louder, his heart or the shouts of injured citizens screaming for help. C4 needed to be stopped at all costs. They had let him get away with his terrorism for far too long. He faced the person he used to call a friend – the person he failed to save. The memory of Bakugou’s hand slipping through his as they were hundreds of feet in the air played on loop every time his eyes shut. Like a tattoo, the memory was etched into the forefront of his mind. The hope in those scarlet eyes disappeared before Eijirou’s as Bakugou coughed up the black goop that All for One used to teleport the league of Villains. He was gone, left to the mercy of the League and brainwashed for years to come.
If only there was a way to stop him without having to fight. If he could reason with C4, that would be the best outcome. Bakugou was loud and abrasive, but he was not without reason. Eijirou had always hoped a part of him was still in there somewhere, but there was no life left in those red eyes, devoid of all emotion. Emptiness stared back at him. “I won’t fight you, Bakugou.” He had tried talking to him so many times, but Eijirou’s words always seemed to fall on deaf ears.
C4 furrowed his brows, unamused by Eijirou’s refusal to battle. Fighting was the only thing the villain liked to do. It was the only thing he knew how to do. That part of Bakugou was unchanged after all these years. “What kind of fucking hero won’t fight a villain?” He spat at the ground, digging the front of his boot into the dirt, and letting off a small warning pop from his hand. “Guess I’ll have to kill you then.” C4 lunged forward.
Fighting the villain never seemed to work. He always flew away as soon as it looked like he might be at a disadvantage. Eijirou needed a tactical advantage in which he could suppress the villain so that he couldn’t escape. He was so tired of fighting his former friend. Every time they encountered one another, another tiny piece of him died inside. Eijirou bit his lip and sighed, taking a step forward. “Okay,” he said. He relaxed his arms, spreading them wide, and shut his eyes.
C4 stopped in his tracks, palms heated to attack. “What do you mean, okay? Is this some kind of shitty fucking trick?”
Eijirou cracked open one eye and gulped. He needed to go for broke. He only hoped that a bit of sincerity could break through the villain’s hardened shell. “No. No trick. If I’m going to die in a villain attack, I’d rather it be from you, for failing to save you. I’m sorry.”
C4 stared at him – sizing up Eijirou. “What the fuck are you apologizing for?”
He opened his other eye, looking the villain straight in the eye. Eijirou pressed his lips together into a sad smile. “For failing to be the hero you needed all those years ago. Midoriya was wrong. It shouldn’t have been me. It was never me.”
A blond brow ticked up and C4 twisted his face into a snarl. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Kamino,” Eijirou breathed.
Unrecognizable red eyes stared back at him, as if trying to put splinters of broken glass back together. There were pieces scattered about, but too small and shattered to reattach in the puzzle of C4’s mind. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said.
Eijirou swallowed, his chest tight and his breathing labored. “You remember, don’t you? You have to remember. We came to save you that night, your friends – I came to save you. The League of Villains kidnapped you.”
“I was never kidnapped.” C4 cut in. “I joined the League of Villains of my own volition. They were recruiting people with strong Quirks, and I have a strong Quirk.” The lines coming from his mouth sounded prerecorded, as if they had been recited a thousand times.
Eijirou curled his hands into fists, nails digging half-moons into his palms. His knuckles were turning white, but he fought the urge to grab C4 by the shoulders and shake him until he remembered. “No,” Eijirou corrected. “You weren’t recruited. They kidnapped you. They brainwashed you. That bastard Aoyama told them where we would be – where you would be.” When the news came out that Aoyama was the mole, their entire class had been shaken. Midoriya beat the man bloody. It wasn’t until the teachers stopped him that he relented. Aoyama betrayed their class, their friendship, and got Bakugou kidnapped.
“I don’t know anyone by that name. You’re making shit up.” The villain’s hands began to crackle as he set up small explosions in warning.
“What about Midoriya? You have to remember him!” Eijirou was desperate to make a connection. Anything. If there was even the slightest flicker of hope that the old Bakugou was still in there somewhere, maybe he could still be saved.
“Midoriya.” C4 looked as if he was mulling the name over, still trying to fit those splinters together. “Deku.”
“Yes!” Eijirou clapped his hands together. “Deku! That’s his hero name now.”
“Deku is the wielder of One for All. The hero Deku is at the top of the kill list.” The small explosions coming from C4’s hands grew in size. They were no longer a warning, but the start of an attack.
No! No, no, no! That’s not what Eijirou wanted. All he had done was remind the villain of his mission. “Bakugou, please! You have to remember. They couldn’t have taken everything from you. You’re too strong for that. You wanted to be the number one hero more than anyone else.”
“That was a fantasy. Being a villain is reality. It’s what I’m most suited for.”
Eijirou shook his head in dismay. “You can’t believe that! We fought villains together, side by side. The two of us.” C4 grimaced and Eijirou decided to give it one last push. He could hear the sirens wailing. Police would be on them soon and he would never get through to the villain once that happened. His voice was much softer now, barely audible with the sounds of destruction going on around them. “Did the I-Expo mean nothing?”
They never talked about what happened between them. As soon as they returned to Japan, they had to pack their bags for the training camp. It all went by so fast. But there was a moment before the villains attacked the island and they were wrenched into another battle, when it was just the two of them, alone in an elevator ascending the floors of the tower to a botanical garden Eijirou had read about on the plane. Time seemed to stand still in that small box, and they shared a moment that was never spoken of again.
“Did that kiss mean nothing?” he asked, a little louder.
The heat radiating off the villain’s hands dissipated, and he furrowed his brows. His lips were pursed in frustration as he tried to understand the question. Slowly, Eijirou could see the gears beginning to turn behind those dark, scarlet eyes. “It… it wasn’t… it didn’t –”
Before C4 could get out whatever it was he was trying to say, a squad of police officers came marching down the street, guns aimed on the villain. “Freeze! Put your hands up.”
C4 spun around, facing them, and shook his head. He pointed his palms down so that they were facing the pavement, and a large blast propelled him into the air. He was gone in a flash; just like always. Eijirou fell to his knees and a hardened fist slammed into the ground, cracking the asphalt. Son of a bitch! He had finally said something to get through to his old friend, and it was gone in the blink of an eye. Eijirou doubted the villain would allow him another chance like that again.
“You let him go.”
Eijirou slammed his fist down on the interrogation table, staring across the metal surface at Detective Tsukauchi. “I did not let him go! I connected with him. It’s the first time anyone has managed to do that in years!”
Detective Tsukauchi rubbed at his eyes between pinched brows. “Red Riot, please calm down. I understand how difficult this must be for you, but apprehending the villain is the fastest way we can go about helping him.”
“You mean locking him up in Tartarus for the rest of his life.”
The detective sighed, shaking his head. “Brainwashed or not, Bakugou Katsuki is responsible for the loss of hundreds of lives and countless destruction. There’s no guarantee the effects of the brainwashing can be reversed after such a long time. He needs to be detained. Only then can we attempt to help him, but he still has to pay for the crimes he has committed.”
Eijirou’s mouth felt dry, his tongue too thick to form words. He felt sick, like he might vomit at any second. He covered his mouth with his hand, breathing slowly through his nostrils. “Can I get you some water?” asked Detective Tsukauchi. Eijirou shook his head.
“Is there anything else that you need? Or can I head back to my agency?”
The detective grimaced but nodded in the direction of the security camera overhead and the door to the interrogation room opened from the outside. “You’re free to go. But please, Kirishima, remember that this villain is not the same person you knew almost a decade ago.”
Eijirou locked eyes with Detective Tsukauchi and nodded once before rising to his feet. “I know.” He knew better than anyone that Bakugou wasn’t the same person anymore. The others had run into him a number of times over the years, but no one more than Eijirou. He walked out the door of the interrogation room and followed an officer that escorted him to the exit. Eijirou gave the officer a small wave before leaving the police station and heading back in the direction of the Riot Agency.
He was sure to find his young sidekicks in a frenzy when he returned, but Eijirou decided to take the long way back. He needed a breather after the day’s events. Today’s encounter had been unlike any before and there was a lot to process. He made progress, small as it may have been, it was still progress. That meant there was the potential for him to get through to Bakugou. How many tries would it take? Could he even manage to convince the blond to listen to him a second time? Eijirou was lucky enough to breakthrough once. Twice would be a miracle.
Eijirou walked past a small park and took a seat on an isolated bench. He rested his head in his hands, propping his elbows on his knees. He had to think about what he could do differently in the future. If only they could figure out where C4 was hiding. The rest of the League had been done away with during the war. Only C4 remained. His friend was a puppet without a master. He acted on instinct and programming, nothing more. C4 was like a feral dog, abandoned by its owner.
Nobody knew how the villain got by on a day-to-day basis. Did he have an apartment? Pay bills? Go grocery shopping? C4 always looked filthy whenever Eijirou encountered him, but he wasn’t sure if that was from a lack of hygiene or just the throws of battle. “I wish I could follow him,” he said out loud, leaning back against the park bench. If only I had some sort of mobility quirk.