Chapter Text
The muzzle made Hitoshi’s neck strain to lift his head. The shock collar didn’t help either. However, he’d had enough practice in tilting his head up at his holding officer, Sikai, to silently convey his thoughts. Eight years of practice.
He jutted his chin towards the cuffs that were being secured to the table, cocking up a brow to convey his question. Sikai chuckle.
“What’s with the look, Haze? You know this is protocol for visitors.”
He furrowed his brows, tilting his head.
“Oh, come on, you’ve had plenty of visitors. All those journalists trying to get your story?”
He growled, yanking against his restraints.
“I already told you, it isn’t a reporter. Trust me, you’ll like this one.”
He rolled his eyes, leaning back in his stiff folding chair. Sikai hummed. He approached the door just as it started opening. Sikai sputtered, trying to rush forward.
“Sir, you’re not supposed to-”
“Please,” a smooth voice scoffed.
Hitoshi felt his blood run cold, like a sheet of ice had been poured down his spine.
“I think I can handle one man. Believe me, I’ve had practice.”
His ears had to be deceiving him. He was confused, had gone senile in his years off the street. There was no possible way that the buttery soft voice could have made his stomach do somersaults. The only person that was possible of that had sworn to never forgive him.
From behind the door, a towering figure glided in, fixing his gray suit with sunkissed hands and brushing green curls out of his emerald eyes.
Those piercing eyes locked on to Hitoshi, reaching out and clenching his heart to near bursting.
Midoriya Izuku grinned. “Nice to see you. Haze.” He looked to Sikai, his purring tone shifting to a commanding one. “Remove his restraints. Cuffs and Mask.”
“Sir, he’s-”
“I am fully aware of who I’m dealing with,” He scoffed, slipping his hands into his pockets. He leaned over Sikai’s stouter stature with a towering aura. “I was not asking you, officer, I was giving you an order.”
Sikai grimaced, but still walked over and began undoing the cuffs. While he did, Izuku settled down into the seat across from Hitoshi. Despite his suave attitude, Hitoshi could see the tension in his shoulders. How he fought not to stare too long. How he kept running his ring and middle finger across the cool metal table.
When his muzzle was removed, Hitoshi couldn’t help the gasp he took, rubbing a freed hand against his jaw. He looked up at Sakai as he panted, grinning. The officer set his jaw, placing the restraints on the table and looking back to Izuku.
“If he acts out, the mask comes back on and this whole thing is over.”
“Of course, officer. I believe that’s all, thank you for your assistance,” Izuku announced, waving him off as he placed his elbows on the table and rested his chin in his palm. Hitoshi watched Sikai leave the room and, only after the door shut, allowed himself to look back at Izuku.
“So. Mr. Midoriya. You’re back.”
“Why so surprised?” Izuku purred, his voice once again heavy and sweet. “ I’m not the one that left.”
“You’re the one who said you regretted ever meeting me.”
Izuku winced, dropping his hands to hug his elbows. “I said some things I shouldn’t have. I was young, and hurt, and… I shouldn’t have taken that out on you. You were trying to protect me. I recognize that.”
“So you’ve come to repent?” Hitoshi, accused, leaning back in his chair, “To clear your conscience with your little fling?”
Izuku’s gaze hardened, composer cracking. “You were not- ” He stopped himself, taking a deep breath. “No. I’ve come with an offer.” He pulled a pamphlet out of his jacket, sliding it across the table. Hitoshi glanced at the heading and his face soured.
“Midoriya, I told you, you can’t-”
“This is my work. I get to decide who comes into it.” He slid the pamphlet closer, the bold “Reforment for the Forgotten, Program for the Redeemable” weighing heavily on the paper. “And I already have a case for you to help on.”
Shinsou chuckled humorlessly, running a hand through his hair. He regretted it after realizing how tangled and messy it was. If he had known Izuku was coming, he would have been more presentable, more put together, more… Like he was before. Still, he tilted his head and raised a brow as he mused, “And what exactly would that case be?”
Izuku winced, as if he was expecting the question but hoping it wouldn’t come up. “Well… The case isn’t what’s important, let’s focus on what the program could do for you. You’d be out of this stuffy prison, back in normal society, eating normal food,”
“Midoriya,” Hitoshi warned, leaning back forward as Izuku dodged his eye.
“-And after completing the course with helping enough cases, you can choose to go into an approved profession,”
“ Midoriya. ”
“-Or you could even stay in hero work!-”
“Izuku!”
That made him stop. Or maybe it was the fact that Hitoshi had grabbed his wrist and was practically halfway over the table. Those cursed green eyes finally met his, and at their closer proximity he could get a whiff of that intoxicating smell of old parchment and campfires. Izuku didn’t seem fazed with the convicted villain holding his wrist. But then again, Hitoshi wasn’t just any villain.
“What. Is. The case?”
He sighed, slumping back into the chair and taking his hand back from Hitoshi’s grip. “You… You remember that group? The one that… Kept attacking me?”
Hitoshi felt something lurch in his chest. “They’re gone.”
“Not as much as you would like.”
“ No, because they have to be gone, I-” He cut himself off, scrubbing a hand over his face. “I worked too hard to get rid of them. More than you would ever know. They can’t be back, because that would mean that I gave up everything for nothing. So no, I don’t remember the group, because they. Are. Gone.”
His eyes flashed, reading into those words far too much than Hitoshi wanted. However, he didn’t say anything that he picked up on. Instead, correcting his posture and fixing his suit. “Well, they’re back. And I want your help putting them back in their place.”
Hitoshi scoffed, crossing his arms. “No you don’t. If I help you, they go in body bags. If you’re picketing for redemption then I’m not your bet.”
“That might be true but…” Izuku leaned over the table, lowering his voice so he couldn’t be heard from the cameras. “There’s no one else I want, Hitoshi. I want you, and this is how I can have you.”
His stomach flipped and his throat went dry. He couldn’t help how his eyes flicked down to Izuku’s lips for a moment before snapping back up. He licked his lips, a smirk growing across them. “Midoriya Izuku, you are going to be the death of me.”
Izuku returned the smirk, his own eyes flicking down as he lowered his voice even more.“Is that a yes?”
“It’s whatever you want it to be, Loverboy,” He purred, as lowly as he could. The fuckers behind the glass didn’t deserve to hear that name. That was meant for one person and one person only.
And he was chuckling that same concentrated sunshine laugh.