Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Earlier today, All Might was killed in battle with the villain known as All For One.”

When the noise of the press conference has died down, Tsukauchi follows Nighteye back to his office. He’s not supposed to be there, but the hero doesn’t seem to notice him and the sidekicks scurrying around don’t pay him any attention either. He leans against a doorframe and watches Nighteye pace. Neither of them speak. It’s quieter than it should be, especially with everything going on outside of the room. Finally, Nighteye looks Tsukauchi in the eye and asks him three questions.

“Do you want something?” It should have been you, not him. But he can’t say that aloud, not here. 

“Why did you leave him?” is what he says instead, his voice as quiet as he can make it. 

Nighteye knows who he is talking about. There’s only one person it could be, unless Nighteye has a long history of desertion. Tsukauchi wouldn’t be surprised if he did. “Why does it matter to you?”

A spike of anger goes through him, and he doesn’t bother to keep it from showing. “He was my closest friend, now he’s dead, and I want to know what you did.” 

“Who says I did anything?” Nighteye isn’t pacing anymore. He looks calmer than anyone can be naturally, especially not when one’s former boss is dead and the world is in chaos over it. He looks unfazed, and Tsukauchi knows it is all a lie. 

“I do.” One step across the floor, then two, and then he’s in front of the hero. “Tell me, did you see it? His death? Did you know everything six years ago?” The air of forced calm slips, but Nighteye puts it back up almost before Tsukauchi has registered it. So he does care. Interesting. 

He doesn’t deny anything. It’s as good as a confession to the detective. Not one that would hold up in court, but silence speaks louder than words in a situation like this. 

Neither of them move. 

Sir Nighteye is a dangerous man. Tsukauchi knows this well enough, has heard enough rumors to separate the truth from the bullshit, and he would bet his life that half the ones surrounding Nighteye are true. (Then again, his life doesn’t really mean too much to him.) 

Here is a hero with blood on his hands. Here is a man with a past. Here is a killer, a liar, a coward, a weapon. Here is a human who lives on the edge of a knife. 

All Tsukauchi wants is to push him over. 

It’s too soon for that, though. If he is going to pull Nighteye off the edge, he wants to make it hurt as much as he can, even if it means going down alongside him. (And even if it does, it would be worth it.) 

Nighteye breaks the tension with a muttered “get the fuck out of my office,” and that’s that. 

It will be six months before they see each other again. 

All Might’s Legacy: Who is the next Symbol of Peace?

“Geez, that guy really doesn’t like you, does he?” 

Sasaki glances up from the file he’s currently perusing. “Hm?” His gaze follows Kayama’s not-so-subtly pointed finger across the meeting room and lands on Detective Tsukauchi, whose angry stare intensifies. “Oh, him.” 

Kayama leans in closer to him conspiratorially. “So, what? Is he an ex of yours? Was it a bad breakup?” 

Sasaki sighs and returns his attention to the file. The face of Chisaki Kai stares back. “No. Not everyone who hates me is a former partner of mine.” 

“Do you know why he dislikes you?” Damnit Kayama, stop pressing. 

“There are a thousand and one reasons why someone would hate me, Kayama. Go ask him yourself if it’s bothering you that much.” She’ll forgive him for his irritation eventually, but for now she just looks a little hurt. Not enough to make him apologize, but enough to make him feel bad about it. Contrary to public opinion, he does, in fact, have a heart. 

“Alright, alright, is everybody here? Raise your hand if you’re not here!” That earns a few muffled groans from various heroes, and Eraserhead, who had previously been sleeping on the table, raises his hand. Present Mic fakes a pout at the lackluster response. “Aw, tough crowd tonight. Anywayyy, are you ready to get this show on the road?” 

“Mic, we were ready fifteen minutes ago. Stop wasting our time and let me give the briefing, for crying out loud,” Sasaki complains. Kayama elbows him in the ribs. A few people snicker. Tsukauchi is not one of them. 

“Okay, you win. Sir Nighteye, take the stage.” Mic sits, looking dejected for approximately two seconds before perking up again. 

“Right, thank you.” He adjusts his glasses and heads to the front of the room, file in hand. He does not look anywhere near Detective Tsukauchi. 

“We– my agency, that is– have been investigating a yakuza group called the Shie Hassaikai for the past several weeks. Their leader, Chisaki Kai, aka Overhaul, seems to be rebuilding the group’s drug trafficking ring. Up until two days ago, we didn’t have any proof that they were doing anything illegal besides the normal yakuza things– murder, gang wars, etc– but my intern, Lemillion, ran into Chisaki when he was on patrol, and reported that he had a small child with him. The child is named Eri, and we believe that she- or rather her quirk, which is capable of rewinding people to a previous state, as was demonstrated on Lemillion- is being used to create the quirk-erasing drugs that Fatgum encountered last week.” One of the heroes in the back- Rock Lock, if he remembers correctly- growls angrily. A few others gasp in horror. 

“In order to follow up on this theory, I used my quirk on a known member of the Shie Hassaikai and saw Chisaki use his quirk on Eri. His quirk is a form of molecular rearrangement and is also named Overhaul, so I suppose he isn’t very creative. His goal, from what I can gather, is to eradicate all quirks.” 

A few more murmurs. Sasaki ignores the interruption and continues after signaling Bubble Girl to pass out files. “The folders you will be receiving from Bubble Girl have additional information on the members of the Shie Hassaikai, especially Chisaki’s inner circle, the Eight Precepts of Death. If you encounter any of them, arrest them if you are in a position to do so and report it to me if not. There are plans being made for a major strike on the Shie Hassaikai’s main base, but don’t expect it to happen anytime soon. Questions?” 

Predictably, Eraserhead speaks up first. “Why shouldn’t we expect it to happen anytime soon.” 

“Because we need time to gather more evidence of illegal activity and it needs to be a joint operation with the police if it’s to have any real weight behind it. Detective Tsukauchi is here as a police liaison, but we don’t currently have permission from the Chief of Police to conduct a raid. Fatgum?” 

“Why don’t you just use your quirk to gather more evidence? You’ve done it before, why not do it again?” You know why I won’t. 

He keeps his expression passive. “It has a twenty-four-hour cooldown. I can’t use it again until tomorrow night, and even then I most likely won’t.” 

“Why not?” says a soft, familiar voice. Sasaki does not let himself freeze. 

Tsukauchi stares at him from his seat. Sasaki stares back. It’s exactly like the time in his office, six months ago when the detective barged in and practically accused him of being complicit in the death of his best friend. 

Kayama coughs something that sounds like “you sure he’s not an ex?” Present Mic claps his hands in an attempt to diffuse the sudden tension. “Okay, everyone relax for a sec! No murder allowed here!” It’s meant as a joke, but it hits Sasaki hard. Judging by Tsukauchi’s flinch, it struck home for him as well. 

Sasaki closes his eyes for exactly two seconds. He adjusts his glasses again. “Anything else?” 

A few muttered no ’s. The heroes begin to trickle out of the room. Sasaki returns to his seat to grab his coat, and when he looks up again, Tsukauchi is gone. 

Breaking: Shie Hassaikai’s leader arrested in raid by pro heroes, police.

Why am I always called out for things like this? Tsukauchi thinks. Car chases are absolutely not his division, but since he’d apparently been appointed “head vigilante catcher” by the Chief of Police, he was dragged out of his apartment at midnight on a Saturday and unceremoniously thrown into pursuit of the vigilante known as Isotherm and the villain Dabi. 

And of fucking course, Sir Nighteye is involved. He’d been the one to spot Isotherm in conflict with Dabi in a warehouse on the edge of the city, and after attempting to intervene– with minimal success– he called the police, who called Tsukauchi. 

And of course, after noticing the cops swarming the area around the warehouse, Dabi and Isotherm declared a temporary truce in order to escape. Hence the car chase. 

“Turn left here.” 

“I know what I’m doing!” Something about Sir Nighteye that Tsukauchi did not know: he’s a backseat driver. 

“You clearly don’t, since you just turned right.” 

“I’m sorry, would you like to drive?”

Nighteye glares at him over the top of his glasses. “At least I know where I’m going.” His eyes are purple– when did that happen? 

“Are you using your quirk?” Tsukauchi says, momentarily surprised. 

“Unfortunately, yes. That’s why I suggest you listen to me.” So he won’t use his quirk to track the yakuza, who were abusing a small child in order to make drugs, but he’ll use it to find a small-time vigilante and a minor member of the League of Villains? 

“I thought you didn’t like using your quirk.” 

Nighteye is silent in the passenger seat. Tsukauchi can see the hijacked car up ahead, and he speeds up to catch them. 

“When we get to them, let me deal with it.” Why? He couldn’t break them up the first time, why does he think he can do it now? 

“What makes you think you can arrest either of them?” 

Nighteye smirks, looking slightly cocky for the first time. Tsukauchi wants to punch that smug expression right off his face. “Who said anything about an arrest?” 

Before Tsukauchi can ask him “what the ever-loving fuck do you mean by that,” Nighteye opens the door of the still-moving car and jumps out. 

Does he have a death wish? Tsukauchi thinks frantically, stopping the car. The two villains– can Isotherm be classified as a villain? Certainly a criminal, but since there’s no evidence of quirk use he hasn’t been elevated to villain status yet– have pulled their car over to one side of the road. Nighteye is nowhere to be seen. 

Tsukauchi curses the hero under his breath and steps out of the car with two pairs of handcuffs. He shouldn’t hold out any hope for a clean arrest, but hopefully Nighteye will distract them long enough for the rest of the police force to arrive. 

Speaking of Nighteye– where the hell is he? Maybe he got run over after jumping out of a moving vehicle like a maniac. One can only hope. 

Tsukauchi makes his way over to the car. As he approaches, he can see Nighteye speaking to one of the villains through the window. Isotherm– Tsukauchi can tell it’s him by the white hair and face mask– passes him a USB stick. 

What kind of sketchy deal is this? 

“Hey!” he calls out, breaking into a brisk trot. Nighteye looks up and hastily pulls his hand away from the window. “What the hell is this?” 

Nighteye looks only slightly guilty. “Isotherm is an informant of mine.” An informant? Tsukauchi decides he doesn’t have time to unpack all of this before the police get here, and if Isotherm is found helping Nighteye, he’d be considered the key witness if it got to court. And Tsukauchi hates being subpoenaed. 

He sighs and addresses the occupants of the car. “Okay, look. I don’t really care about that right now—” a surprised look from Nighteye that he quickly wipes from his face, “—but you should probably leave before I’m forced to.” Dabi is grinning– or Tsukauchi thinks it’s a grin, he can’t really tell with all of the staples– and Isotherm just looks confused. Nighteye takes a step away from the car, pocketing the USB. Tsukauchi makes a mental note to ask him about it later. 

They both get back in the car. The villain and the informant drive away. Tsukauchi looks at Nighteye suspiciously. “An informant? You planned this whole thing out, didn’t you.” 

The hero shrugs. “I needed an excuse to get close to Isotherm. I had everything going perfectly until you showed up.” From anyone else, Tsukauchi would think that to be an insult, but it’s not phrased as one and Nighteye doesn’t seem annoyed at all. Interesting.

“Why didn’t you just do the exchange when you first saw him?” 

“Dabi tried to kill me.” So Dabi wasn’t part of the plan? Also interesting. 

Tsukauchi looks over at Nighteye. The purple has bled out of his eyes, leaving them a dark golden color that reminds him of the sun. Or snake eyes. He should probably concentrate on the snake eyes part. 

If Tsukauchi didn’t hate him so much he’d probably find him attractive, which is not a thought he wants to entertain for very long. It’s his fault Toshinori is dead. Don’t you dare fall for him. 

Nighteye doesn’t appear to notice that Tsukauchi is staring, which is good. The last thing he wants is to make a fool of himself in front of someone he’s trying so desperately to hate. 

The police arrive. Tsukauchi tells them that they weren’t able to catch up to the duo and that they lost sight of them a few minutes back. Nighteye gives him an appreciative look. Tsukauchi leaves after everything is sorted out, but Nighteye stays. 

Number One Hero Endeavor killed by villain Dabi in a shocking fight that leaves many questioning: Just what kind of a person was our Number One?

They start to see more of each other after that. Late-night run-ins at the police station, getting called out for the same cases, and even meeting accidentally at a cafe once. Little by little, Tsukauchi’s animosity fades until he gets comfortable with having Sasaki around (even though he never gets the chance to ask about the USB drive). And despite himself, Sasaki starts to look forward to seeing Tsukauchi. Of course, their temporary truce is just that: temporary. 

Tsukauchi flashes his police badge and ducks under a barrier of caution tape. The whole riverside is sealed off by now, and anxious civilians and eager journalists crowd along the edge of the cordoned-off area. He’d gotten the alert only ten minutes ago. It had probably been meant for someone else, but he showed up anyway. He’s never been able to resist a challenge. 

“What’s going on here?” Tsukauchi asks an on-duty officer. The policeman points towards the bridge. 

“Bomb in a car. A lil’ old-fashioned if you ask me, but I guess it’s still a thing.”

“Any heroes?”

“Just one.” 

“Which one?” he asks, even though he’s pretty sure he already knows who it’ll be. 

“Sir Nighteye, I think his name is? Green hair, tall, looks like a businessman?” 

Tsukauchi rolls his eyes. “Yeah, that’s him. Anything we can do to help?” 

The policeman shrugs. “You could go up there and see, but it might just make everything worse. Nighteye’s been up there for like, ten minutes trying to talk ‘em down, and nobody has any clue when the damn thing’s going to blow.”

“Negotiating? Are there hostages?” Tsukauchi demands, eyebrows shooting up.

“Nope. I think he’s got it in his head that he can make ‘em disable the bomb or something. I doubt he’ll accomplish anything other than getting himself blown to bits, but nobody was going to stop him from trying.” 

The detective runs a hand through his hair. Of course Nighteye would do something like that. “Shit, okay,” he mutters. “I should probably do something about that.” 

The policeman looks at him like he just said he wanted to jump on top of a grenade, which, he supposes, is what he said, but doesn’t stop him. 

When Tsukauchi gets to the car, he stops. “What the hell are you doing?” 

Nighteye doesn’t look up from tinkering with the mess of wires in the trunk of the car. “I could ask the same of you,” he says absently, switching the positioning of a red wire and a blue wire. “I thought this was outside of your jurisdiction, not to mention your division.” 

“It is.” He doesn’t offer an explanation. It would be a waste of time to try. “Can I help?” 

“Probably not.” Tsukauchi resists the urge to sigh. At least he’s honest about it. 

“Where’s—”

“They jumped in the river.” Nighteye pulls out another wire. “If you send a search party out, you’ll be able to find them without any trouble.” 

“Are you sure I can’t do anything to help you?” There’s really no logical reason for him to be up here anymore, but for some reason, he is reluctant to leave.

“If you really want to, I suggest getting a chemistry degree,” Nighteye says, and it takes Tsukauchi almost ten seconds to realize he just made a joke. A joke. Now, of all times, Nighteye has decided to display a sense of humor. 

“How much time is left until it goes off?” 

“About two minutes.” Only two minutes?! 

“Two minutes?! What are you still doing up here?! Get away from that thing!” 

“Relax, Detective,” Nighteye drawls, far too casually for Tsukauchi’s liking. “If you’re not careful, I might begin to think I matter to you.” (What does that mean? “I might begin to think I matter to you.” Isn’t it already obvious that he does?)

“Then you’re an even bigger idiot than I thought you were.” Tsukauchi snarls, running his hands through his hair for the second time in a few minutes. “Now listen to me, for once in your life, and stop screwing around with that thing! You could set it off by accident!”

“That wouldn’t have been an issue if you hadn’t come up here and started distracting me!” Nighteye snaps back. He looks as startled at his outburst as Tsukauchi is. After a few tense seconds, he turns back to the bomb. “I don’t have time for this.”

“Damn right you don’t,” the detective grumbles. “How much is left?” 

“Less than a minute.” 

Stay calm stay calm stay calm— “How much less?” 

“……..We’ve got about fifteen seconds.” 

“What– why didn’t you– goddamnit, Nighteye!” he shouts. 

For some inexplicable reason, he’s not angry about the fact that he could die like this. He’s more upset that it wouldn’t be entirely his own fault. If only he had more time, he could– 

Oh, I have a terrible idea. 

Tsukauchi grabs hold of Nighteye’s arm, hauls him to his feet despite his protests of “I can still fix it!” and jumps off the bridge.  

It’s not that far of a fall down to the river, only about fifteen meters, but the impact is still a shock. So is the cold water. And the possibly broken ribs. This really was a terrible idea, but at least I can cross “jump off a bridge” off my bucket list. 

Part of the bridge explodes. Actually, maybe it’s not so bad. 

Since the river is fairly narrow, the pair get over to one of the banks without any problems. Once they’re safely on dry land, Nighteye wheezing expletives in what sounds like French and Tsukauchi trying not to laugh at the absurdity of it all, he allows himself to recognize the irony in what he just did. 

“You know, when Toshinori died I convinced myself that it was your fault?” 

Nighteye tries to sit up and winces. “I had a feeling that was the case.” 

Tsukauchi closes his eyes. “Did you know that I might have let you die if this had happened three years ago?” 

Silence. Then, quietly: “I had a feeling.” 

Tsukauchi exhales, eyes still firmly shut against the world. “Yeah.” 

He can hear the sound of Nighteye breathing. He finds it oddly reassuring, as if to say “He’s still here, he’s not going anywhere anytime soon.” And so he allows himself to rest for a moment with the certainty that everything will turn out alright. 

When he wakes up, Nighteye is gone. 

He seems to be rather good at doing that. 

“Traffic warning: Azuma Bridge and connected roadways closed for police activity.” 

I got too attached, is what Sasaki thinks as he runs from rooftop to rooftop. It’s only for his protection. It has been two months, one week, five days, and fourteen hours since Sasaki has seen Detective Tsukauchi. After their little “stunt” at the bridge (which they had both been thoroughly admonished for later), Sasaki had decided that the best course of action for him would be to avoid Tsukauchi until the detective decided that he hated him again. Or forgot about him entirely. Both would be good. 

The unfortunate part for him about avoiding someone who works in law enforcement is that as a hero, he has an obligation to fill out his own arrest reports approximately once per week. He’s been putting off delivering those reports. 

Since he has no idea of Tsukauchi’s actual schedule (doesn’t he typically take the night shifts?) he’s been avoiding the police station entirely. Which means he’s very, very behind on his reports. 

Solution: sneak in the back and hope for the best. 

He drops down off of a rusty fire escape and into the alley behind the station. Quickly hopping over the fence, he lands in the small area where the officers take smoke breaks– and freezes. One of the newer officers– god, she’s so young- stands there gaping, half-smoked cigarette hanging out of her mouth. Nighteye grimaces. 

“I know this probably looks bad, but it’s not what you think,” he tries. The officer gives him a wary look and extinguishes her cigarette on the ground. 

“If it’s not what I think it is, then what is it?” Well, at least she hasn’t pulled a gun on him yet. 

“I just need to deliver some reports.” 

“Then you can go through the front,” she deadpans. “So why are you back here?” 

Why is he back here? Why is it so important that he avoids Tsukauchi? 

Because he’s going to get hurt if he keeps associating with me, and no matter how much I want to apologize for the things I’ve already done to him, I won’t get the chance if he dies. 

“I’m just—” He pauses. “I’m avoiding someone,” he admits. 

The officer perks up with interest. “Is it Detective Tsukauchi?” 

How did she—?! 

“I– well– yes.” He shifts uncomfortably, feeling oddly scrutinized by this girl– and she really is just a girl. (Are they always this young?) “How did you know that?” 

The officer grimaces. “He’s been– off– lately.” 

Sasaki almost stops breathing. “What do you mean by off?” he demands sharply. The detective should not be affected by his avoidance. If he is, then it’s worse than Sasaki thought. 

It means he cares. And that’s fucking terrifying. 

“He’s been sorta… down? And he looks exhausted– like, more than usual. I thought it might be one of his cases, but…” she trails off, giving Sasaki a pointed look. He averts his gaze, feeling almost… ashamed. 

“Now, I don’t know what happened between the two of you, but you need to fix it. Otherwise, he’ll make everyone crazy.” 

“I don’t– I don’t think I can do that,” he mutters. “It’s better for him if I keep my distance.” 

The officer studies him. She looks older, suddenly, than she did a moment before. She has the look of someone who has seen the worst of the world and still come out alive. A bit battered, a bit bruised, but alive. She reminds Sasaki of himself, in a way. 

“And why,” she says slowly, “would something that’s hurting him be better?” 

Sasaki wants to tear his own hair out. “Because I’m dangerous. It’s for his own protection.” 

She smiles toothily and it dawns on him that he has made an awful mistake with his word choice. “So you care about him and want him to be safe, is that it?” 

He almost corrects her with something like “I just don’t want any more blood on my hands,” or “How can I care for someone when everyone I’ve ever loved has died because of me?” or some other dramatic, not-quite-exaggerated statement, but—

That’s it, isn’t it? He cares about Tsukauchi. 

Fuck, that’s not good. That’s really, really not good. 

“Hey, um, Sir? Are you alright?” Sasaki nods unconsciously, then notices that he’s shaking and not quite breathing properly. Maybe he’s not okay, but that’s never stopped him from faking it. 

“Just fine, thank you,” he responds as calmly as he can manage while still reeling from the fact that he may be more emotionally compromised than he thought he was. 

She gives him a skeptical look. “You look like you’re having a panic attack.” No shit, Sherlock. 

“I’m fine,” he emphasizes. All he wants is to get out of this situation. Get the paperwork inside without Tsukauchi seeing him, then go home and panic there where it’s safer, not in front of some random police officer he met in an alley. 

“Sure you are, buddy.” Is that sarcasm? It is, isn’t it. 

“I’m trying my best, okay?! Not to mention the fact that this is kind of your fault.” He doesn’t mean to snap, and by the raised eyebrow the officer gives him she knows he didn’t mean it either. 

“It isn’t my fault, Sir. Whatever this,” she gestures in a way that seems to encompass everything, “is, it’s been a long time coming.” 

“You’re not making me feel much better.” 

“I’m not trying to. I’m trying to get you to understand that whatever is happening with you isn’t going to be the end of the world.” 

“It certainly feels like it,” he mutters. 

“Well, it’s not. So don’t worry, okay? It’ll all turn out fine eventually.” At this, he laughs, because when has anything ever turned out fine for him? 

“The world doesn’t work like that.” 

She shrugs and gives him a half-smile. “Sure it does. I mean, look at me. Failed the UA entrance exam and applied for a police academy instead. Glad I did too because otherwise, I would have been in the Hell Class.” 

UA’s infamous class 1-A. The class that got attacked by the League of Villains three times during their first year, then twice in their second, then four in their third. Surprisingly, only one student ended up dying in their entire time at UA, but countless more were maimed or dropped out. Not to mention how many pros died while protecting them or in the vicinity of them: Hawks, two of the Wild Wild Pussycats, Midnight… and All Might, too. UA’s reputation took a huge hit while they were in school. 

“Originally, I didn’t consider myself lucky– how could I, since I’d spent so long training and hoping to be a hero, only to have it taken away from me? But now I understand that I’m better off.” 

“That’s– I never thought about that.” And why would he? He never thinks about the past if he can help it. Although lately, it hasn’t seemed like he can. 

“Most people don’t.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t apologize. Please. Just… try to see the world from a different perspective every once in a while.” 

“I can do that.” Probably. Maybe. Hopefully. Or is he too set in his ways to change? 

“I know you can.” And isn’t that a nice sentiment? 

“… Thank you.” 

She pulls out another cigarette and lights it. “Don’t. Do you want me to take those in for you?” She gestures to the folder in Sasaki’s hand. He had completely forgotten about them. 

“Sure.” He hands them over. “But didn’t you just tell me not to run from my problems?” 

She snorts and rolls her eyes. “I’m not going to force you to see him, I’m just saying that you should think about why you’re really running.” 

He’s already thought about it too much for his liking in the past few minutes. “I’ll do that.” 

“You’d better. Tsukauchi’s going to drive us all to the brink of insanity if you don’t. Tamakawa’s practically already there, and I’m sure I’ll be next.” 

“… Okay. And thank you. Really.” Not just for delivering the reports, but for forcing him to confront his emotions. 

“I already told you, don’t. Have a nice day, Sir.” She waves her hand in a very clearly dismissive way, taking another pull from her cigarette. Sasaki laughs. 

“I never got your name.” 

“Do you need it? Going to write me up for something?” 

“No. I just want to know who’s responsible for my current problem.” 

“So you want someone to blame.” 

“I want someone to credit.” 

“Uraraka Ochako.” 

“Nice to meet you, Officer Uraraka.” 

“You as well, Sir Nighteye.” He jumps the fence with a wave and doesn’t look back. 

“Sir Nighteye steps back from public view in today’s shocking press conference, where he announced his intention to leave his agency.”

Tsukauchi scrubs his hands over his hair frustratedly. It has been three months, one week, and six hours since he has seen Sir Nighteye, and he thinks he might be starting to lose his mind. 

“Detective!” yells Tamakawa from his desk, slamming the phone down into the receiver. Tsukauchi jolts, nearly spilling his coffee. “They got him!” 

“Who got who?” he asks blearily. He can’t remember what the case is. He can’t remember when he last slept. He can’t remember much of anything. 

“Eraserhead and Sir Nighteye got the Jello guy!” Right, the serial killer who turns people’s bones into gelatin and cuts them up. Normally something like that would go to Homicide, but since the guy uses his quirk so much it got sent to Tsukauchi’s department, Quirk Crimes. 

“Great.” He drinks the dregs of his coffee (cold) and drags himself to his feet. “Can you put me on with Eraser?” 

Tamakawa blinks, but nods and dials a number. It rings twice before Aizawa’s sleepy drawl comes through the speaker. “What now? Didn’t I just call you?” 

Tsukauchi gets straight to the point. “Are you with Nighteye?” 

A beat, then: “Yeah, why? Are you coming to pick up this guy or not?” 

“Put me on with him,” he demands, then amends, “please. And yes, we have people on the way.”

“Okay.” A shuffling on the other side of the phone. Tsukauchi shuts his eyes and waits. 

“… Who is this?” Pull yourself together and breathe, you idiot. This isn’t supposed to be difficult. Did Nighteye always do this to him? When he would vanish for weeks, did it ever affect Tsukauchi this much? Or is it different now? 

“Please don’t hang up,” he says hoarsely. “I need you to listen to what I have to say.” 

There is an undignified yelp from the other end. Tsukauchi wants to laugh about it, but he also sort of feels like he’s about to cry. “Are you still there?” 

No answer. Damn it. He was so close—

“I’m here.” Tsukauchi lets out a shaky breath he didn’t know he was holding. The feeling from after the bridge comes back all at once. He’s here, he’s here, he’s not going anywhere anytime soon. But that’s not entirely true, is it? He can leave any time he wants to, and he probably does want to after what Tsukauchi told him. 

“I know you probably don’t want to see me ever again,” he starts, “but I need to apologize for what I said.” 

“Detective, what—”  

“Damn it, Nighteye, shut up for a minute and listen to me for once in your life!” That’s probably too much. “Look,” he tries again, “I fucked up. Nothing I say will change that. But can we please go back to the way we used to be?” He might be begging a bit, but he’s past the point of caring about how he sounds. “I know we probably can’t, but I—”

“—Tsukauchi, are you crying?” Is he? He hadn’t noticed. 

“That’s not the point,” and yes, he is most definitely crying now, “the point is that I don’t feel like– like that anymore, but I understand if you want to keep your distance.” He takes a deep breath. “That’s– that’s it. You can hang up if you want to.” 

“I won’t,” is the immediate answer. “Because I can’t leave this massive misunderstanding alone.” 

Misunderstanding? What part of this situation could he have possibly misunderstood? It seems as cut-and-dry as possible: Tsukauchi said that he had (no matter how small the amount of time it lasted) hated him at one point, so Nighteye (rightly) took offense and started avoiding him. Simple. 

Apparently not. 

“‘Misunderstanding’?” 

“… you’re an idiot, Detective. I’ll be right over.” Then he hangs up. 

Tsukauchi puts the phone back in the receiver. Tamakawa clears his throat and gives him a pointed look. Uraraka is smiling like a kid on Christmas. Everyone in the bullpen is staring at him. 

“… Get back to work.” 

Twenty minutes later, Nighteye shows up. 

He looks nervous, standing awkwardly in the lobby of the police station. He has blood on his shirt and two scratches on his face, and Tsukauchi has never felt happier to see someone in his entire life. 

He doesn’t say anything, just tilts his head in the direction of the door. His meaning is clear: Let’s take a walk. 

Tsukauchi follows him outside without a word.

He trails after Nighteye until they reach a bench in a small park. Nighteye sits, Tsukauchi follows. It’s quiet. Too quiet for Tsukauchi’s liking. 

“Talk to me. What was I wrong about?” 

Nighteye doesn’t look at him. A gaping hole begins to open in Tsukauchi’s heart. “Nighteye, please.” 

“It wasn’t because you said you would have let me die. It’s because you don’t feel like that anymore.” What does that mean? He’s confused and more than a little afraid of what comes next, but he’s so glad Nighteye is talking to him again. He’s here, he’s here, he’s not going to leave you again.  

“I don’t know what that means.” 

“Of course you don’t,” sighs Nighteye, but he still gives Tsukauchi a smile. The hole begins to close up. “I’m afraid of getting people injured, and it’s easier if they keep their distance. When you said you didn’t hate me anymore…” 

“You panicked.” 

“I did. I shouldn’t have run. I…” He trails off, seemingly unsure of what to say next. “I know that I hurt you. How can I make this right?” 

The question comes completely out of left field. Tsukauchi is left at a loss for how to respond, other than a tentative: “Don’t do it again?” that doesn’t seem like a proper answer.

Nighteye takes it in stride. “I won’t.” Don’t worry, I won’t leave you, is what Tsukauchi wants to take from his answer, but he doubts Nighteye meant it like that.

“…. Can I ask you something?” 

The hero blinks at him. “Fire away.” 

“Why are you so afraid? Is it because of…..” Toshinori?

He seems to understand what Tsukauchi isn’t saying. “Partly, but he wasn’t the first one to get hurt by me. That honor goes to my brother.” 

Something is off about this statement. “You never mentioned you had siblings.” 

Nighteye bites his lip. “Had is the key word.” 

Tsukauchi’s eyes widen and he puts a hand over his mouth. “Shit, Nighteye, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“Relax, Detective, it was a long time ago. Don’t feel bad about asking, you had no way of knowing.” His words are light and supposed to be reassuring, but he looks like he’s somewhere else. A different moment, a different time. 

“Still…” He feels awful for mentioning it. If Makoto had died and he considered it to be his fault, he wouldn’t want to be asked about it. Not if it had been a million years ago.  

Nighteye sighs. “I didn’t come here to make you feel worse, Tsukauchi. Stop apologizing.” 

Tsukauchi nods, but then the hero’s words fully register in his mind. “You know,” he begins, a grin beginning to spread across his face despite a sudden, unexplainable feeling of nervousness, “I think that’s the first time you’ve ever used my name.” 

Nighteye freezes. “Is it?” 

“I’m pretty sure.” 

“Huh,” he says softly, and Tsukauchi wonders what that means. “I guess it is.” 

Serial killer Bone Meal arrested by pro hero Eraserhead

The next time Sasaki sees Tsukauchi, it’s under a very different set of circumstances about three days later. 

“Tsukauchi? Is everything alright?” The detective is standing in the doorway of his apartment, looking like he’s about to collapse. 

“Can I come in? It’s been a very unpleasant day,” he says wearily, with a strained smile on his face. 

Sasaki decides that if Tsukauchi is going to pass out, he’d rather it be on his couch than in his doorway. “Sure.” 

“Thanks.” He makes his way inside and sits on the couch. He looks utterly spent. Sasaki debates in his head for a moment, then sits down next to him.

“So what happened? And does it have something to do with the fact that you smell like smoke?” He prods gently. 

Tsukauchi looks like he’s aged ten years at the question. “… Someone started a fire in my apartment building.” 

Sasaki can’t think of anything other to say than, “Oh.” 

Tsukauchi sighs miserably. “Yeah. Can you–”

“–Do you want to stay here for a bit? I have room,” he blurts, then flushes a deep scarlet. 

Tsukauchi blinks, then gives him the ghost of a grateful smile. “I– yeah, that would be great. Thank you.” 

“… Don’t mention it. Really.”

Easily preventable apartment fire in Musutafu kills one, hospitalizes four: Why are Japan’s fire safety standards so low? 

Sir Nighteye is, as it turns out, a remarkably easy person to share an apartment with. 

….Or at least he would be if Tsukauchi wasn’t beginning to fall for him. 

Really, what kind of bad fanfiction am I living in? “And they were roommates”? Such an unoriginal, overdone trope. 

He can bitch about it in his head all he wants, but the truth of the matter is that it’s kind of nice to live with Nighteye. Or maybe he’s just being selfish. 

“What’re you thinking about?” 

Tsukauchi startles, scattering the stack of papers piled on the coffee table.“Huh? Shit.”

Nighteye raises an eyebrow and grabs a few of the stray papers off the floor. “You’ve got that look.”

“There’s a look?” 

“‘I’m thinking about something that’s bothering me but I’m not going to bring it up since it might be weird’? That look?” 

Tsukauchi blinks slowly. “That’s weirdly specific.” 

“I notice things.” He smirks. “A lot of things.” Tsukauchi has a terrifying moment where he thinks Nighteye might mean his attraction to him, then relaxes. Becoming tense would only make him more suspicious. 

So, he takes the bait. “Tell me some things you’ve noticed about me, then.” 

“Well,” Nighteye starts, “for someone with a registered luck enhancement quirk, you can be pretty unlucky.” Shit shit shit shit shit— 

How can he explain this without giving himself away? “It works both ways”? “It’s more karma than luck”? Or he could just tell the truth. 

Nighteye continues, either oblivious to Tsukauchi’s internal turmoil or ignoring it. “Most people tend to talk about their quirks, too, and you never have. I actually had to look you up in the Registry to figure out what yours was, and even then it doesn’t quite fit, you know?” He does. Because it’s not his real quirk. 

“But then I started thinking– for what reason would you fake a quirk?” Stop. You can’t figure this out. I won’t be able to deal with it if you, of all people, know my one and only secret. I can’t take any more pity, especially not from you. 

“It can only be one of two things: One, your quirk is something dangerous, so you hid it; or two, you don’t have a quirk.” 

He knows. Tsukauchi can’t hear anything over the sound of his own heartbeat and the blood pounding in his ears. He knows. He tries to breathe evenly, pretending everything is fine, but it’s not. It never will be again now that he knows. 

“Tsukauchi? Oh, shit—” A hand settles on his arm. “Fuck, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything.” 

It’s okay, Tsukauchi wants to tell him. Don’t feel bad about it. But the words won’t come. 

“Here, is– is it alright if I—” Tsukauchi nods, and Nighteye wraps his arms around him. “Are you okay with me doing this?” he murmurs, and Tsukauchi is. He leans into the contact and there is a moment where he feels– something. Safe. Warm. 

Like he can trust this man. Be himself around him. Not have to hide and second-guess anymore. (And wow, he’s come a long way from hating him.) 

(Is this what being in love feels like?)

“Tsukauchi…” Please, don’t say something like “I’m sorry you don’t have a quirk.” 

“I’m so sorry for being an asshole.” Tsukauchi laughs. 

New study shows that most quirkless people kill themselves before reaching the age of 16: What can we do to help them? 

The next few days are awkward. Painfully awkward. 

Not because Sasaki now knows Tsukauchi’s quirkless (he’s not Endeavor, for crying out loud), but because he can’t stop thinking about The Hug. That blasted moment where they both had their guard down enough to allow physical contact. At the moment, it seemed like the right thing to do: Tsukauchi looked like he needed a hug, so Sasaki provided one. In hindsight, it was probably a terrible idea, since now that he’s let his guard down around the detective he can’t seem to put it back up. 

It’s beginning to cause problems. Namely the fact that he really, really wants to kiss him, and that’s a really, really terrible idea. 

Why can’t they just go back to how it used to be, back when they were ‘acquaintances,’ but not quite friends, when Tsukauchi would glare at him over the top of a case file or across a meeting room and Sasaki would return it with ease? Before the bridge incident, before the three-month cold shoulder that Sasaki still feels guilty about, before Tsukauchi started living with him (even if it’s only going to be temporary)(does he want it to be temporary? Because Sasaki would be perfectly content with carrying on like this forever if it weren’t for his inability to keep ignoring his emotions), before The Hug. And especially before this disaster of a meeting. 

“Yes, we all know that Magne and Toga Himiko were arrested, but are you sure they’re the original Magne and Toga? Twice is capable of making copies of people, so why hasn’t anyone checked to see if they’re clones?” Chargebolt asks, leaning back in his chair and flipping a pen in the air. 

“Because in order to do that, they’d have to break their bones, and we’re not going that far.” Creati replies, looking like she’s paying attention. Sasaki can tell that she’s not. She’s texting her girlfriend under the table. 

“It still seems sensible to check.” 

“Absolutely not.” 

“Speaking of Twice, Sir Nighteye said he had an update on a possible location.” Sasaki mentally screams at Red Riot for dragging him into the conversation, but decides that bashing his face into a table would probably get him in trouble. 

“Yes, one of my informants tipped me off about someone who looks like Twice being spotted in Hosu.” 

“Which informant was this, again?” Tsukauchi asks, a smile threatening to break on his face. Sasaki resists the urge to throttle him. 

“Not your concern,” he says in a warning tone, and Tsukauchi has the nerve to grin at him. The urge to throttle him is gone, and the urge to lean over the table and kiss him is back. I have to learn how to control this stupid crush of mine before I experience a lapse in control and actually do it. 

“Really? Because it could very easily become my concern if it’s who I think it is.” 

“I’m sorry, I’m a little lost here,” says Red Riot, bless his heart for interrupting. 

“Yeah, care to fill the rest of us in?” The rest of us, meaning the remaining members of the Hell Class, or at least the ones that were able to make it to the meeting. Earphone Jack is out on patrol, Alien Queen is still in physical therapy getting used to a prosthetic hand, and Eraserhead is doing some undercover work, but the rest are here. Unfortunately. 

“It’s—” Tsukauchi hesitates. “A private joke.” A bit of a lame excuse, but one that will certainly work in this situation. 

“Wait, you two know each other?!” Or maybe not. 

Sasaki decides that the best course of action is to put an end to this line of questioning before it gets dangerous. “Yes. Can we please get back on topic?” 

“Yeah, stop pestering them. It ain’t our business.” Thank you, Kacchan, for your impeccable timing. Tsukauchi shoots him a grateful look from across the table. An underground hero named Puppeteer snorts in apparent disbelief. “Like you’d know anything about keeping your nose out of other people’s personal lives, Bakugou.” 

Kacchan bristles. “What the fuck do you mean by that, you purple-haired son of a—”

“Okay, Kacchan, Puppeteer, that’s enough.” Sasaki has rarely seen Tsukauchi angry at someone (other than him, of course), so it’s a bit startling to see him raise his voice. Apparently, it’s startling to everyone else too, as Creati looks up from her phone and Chargebolt drops his pen in surprise. “We are going to take a five-minute break and by the time you both come back in here, you had better be calm. Understand?” The pair nod, Kacchan still clenching his fists and Puppeteer smirking. “Good. Now go take a walk.” It’s not a request, and the two underground heroes comply without another word. 

When they are finally out of the door, Chargebolt sighs and shakes his head sadly. “That’s not going to do anything, bro. They’ve always hated each other.” 

Tsukauchi raises an eyebrow. “I think people who hate each other can still work something out.” He looks over at Sasaki, who knows what he’s going to say. “Don’t you think so, Nighteye?” 

Sasaki adjusts his glasses. “In my personal experience, that is correct.” 

Tsukauchi grins at him again, and he can feel his face warming. He looks away and clears his throat softly. “It just takes time.” 

Prominent League of Villains member Twice arrested in Hosu City

It’s one of those days. 

A day where Tsukauchi wishes he had never gotten out of bed and dragged himself to work, a day where every fucking thing that could go wrong did. A day where he desperately wants to dig out an old pack of cigarettes and his lighter and go up to the roof and maybe throw himself off, but he won’t. Because he still has work to do, and he knows Nighteye would dig up his grave and kill him again if he actually did it. 

He would deserve it, though. Especially after today. 

Tamakawa approaches his desk quietly. Most of the people at the station know to leave Tsukauchi alone when he gets like this unless it’s urgent or requires him specifically. He wonders which one it’ll be this time. 

“You’ve got someone here to see you,” Tamakawa says. “I tried to– well, let’s just say he was very insistent.” Nighteye. There’s no one else it could be, now that Toshinori’s gone. 

“Okay,” he mutters. “Where is he?” 

“The lobby. And– Tsukauchi, maybe you should leave early today.” 

“I still have all this—” he gestures limply to the papers on his desk that he’s been staring at for two hours and not touching, “—to do.” 

Tamakawa purses his lips. “I’ll do it for you. Go home, Detective. Get some rest.” 

Tsukauchi nods in concession, grabs his coat, and heads to the lobby. 

Nighteye is indeed there, but he looks almost as run down as Tsukauchi does, which is concerning, but he still manages a tired “hello” when he sees the detective approach. 

“What’s going on?” 

Nighteye shrugs halfheartedly, then winces. “Not much.” 

“You look a little…” 

“Beaten up? Yeah.” He doesn’t explain any further. “I lost my key.” 

Tsukauchi resists the urge to facepalm. Barely. “You’re joking.”

“Nope. Can I borrow yours?” 

“No, but I’m going home too, so you can tag along with me.” 

“You’re leaving now?” Nighteye sounds surprised, with just a touch of relief. “Great.” He smiles at him, and Tsukauchi wonders what he ever did to deserve it. 

He follows him out the door. 

“So,” Nighteye says as they walk, “did something happen today?” 

Tsukauchi keeps his eyes on the pavement. One step in front of the other. They’ll be home soon. “I don’t want to talk about it.” 

Nighteye gives him a concerned look, but replies “That’s fine” anyway. For a moment, he hates the way Nighteye can read him so easily, hates having someone who might, possibly, care if he dies. 

But—

It’s different with Nighteye. He doesn’t feel useless around him, and even though he knows about his lack of a quirk– something that is practically synonymous with being soulless, subhuman– he doesn’t pity him or treat him any differently at all. It’s refreshing. 

And even though Nighteye will never feel the way Tsukauchi does about him, it’s nice to feel like he matters. 

But there’s still a voice of doubt in his mind that questions if any of it is real. The quirkless aren’t loveable, the voice says. You’re barely worthy of being called human, so why should you be worthy of love?  

“Can I have the key?” 

Tsukauchi hands it to Nighteye silently, who opens the door and makes a beeline for the couch. “I wish I could go to sleep and never wake up,” he says, sprawled exhaustedly on the cushions. 

“So do I,” he says, hanging his coat up and approaching the couch. “Now move over.” Nighteye does. 

They spend the next half an hour in a comfortable silence, with Nighteye (apparently) mostly asleep and Tsukauchi just trying to get his brain to shut down (it doesn’t really work, but it’s the thought that counts, right?). Tsukauchi is the one to break it. 

“Did you mean what you said earlier, about wanting to sleep and never wake up?” 

Nighteye fidgets uncomfortably. “Well, yes. I did.” 

“You do realize that that’s what death is, right?” 

More uncomfortable fidgeting. “Yes?” 

“Okay, just making sure there aren’t any misunderstandings here. One per person per year is my maximum.” 

Nighteye relaxes visibly, then tenses again. “You said ‘So do I.’” 

“I did.” 

“Does that mean for you what it meant for me?” 

“I’m guessing.” 

More silence. Then: “Okay.” 

Tsukauchi has a moment of panic, remembering that the last time Nighteye said okay to him in that tone of voice he avoided him for three months, but Nighteye doesn’t look like he’s going to leave. 

He doesn’t know what that means for them. 

“I make a lot of jokes about it,” says Nighteye unexpectedly, “so will you tell me if any of them bother you?” 

“You won’t, so don’t worry.” 

“That’s a tall order.” 

“I know.” 

The quirkless, lacking more than just a quirk: Study finds that quirkless people are less capable of finding happiness

“You okay?” Tsukauchi doesn’t turn around, just keeps staring out over the city. He’s leaning against the railing on Sasaki’s balcony, holding what looks like a pack of cigarettes.

“I’ve been better. But I’m not going to jump if that’s what you’re asking.” 

“That’s a relief,” Sasaki deadpans, taking a place by his side. “Because I think the maximum number of suicidal people allowed on a balcony at a time is one.” 

Tsukauchi snorts. “We probably shouldn’t be joking about this.” 

“I told you, it’s how I cope.” 

“Hey, to each their own.” 

“Mhm. Speaking of coping…” He eyes the cigarette pack warily. “There are better ways than trying to give yourself lung cancer.” 

“I know, I know. But this is the way I’ve always done it.” He rummages in his pockets for a lighter, then grimaces when he finds it. 

“I didn’t know you smoked.” 

“I try not to. Desperate times, desperate measures, and all that.” He lights a cigarette. “What, do you want one?” 

Sasaki winces. “I spent half my twenties smoking, so no thanks. Lung cancer is at the bottom of my list of ways I’d like to die.” 

“Are you sure it’s okay for me to do this, then? I don’t want…” 

“It’s not a problem, unlike my terrible sense of humor. About half of my repertoire is suicide jokes, which should tell you something about my personality.” His weak attempt to lighten the mood actually works for once, and Tsukauchi laughs softly. 

“We’re both pretty fucked up, aren’t we.” 

Sasaki can’t help but grin. “That means we match.” 

Tsukauchi gives him a look. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he says suspiciously. 

“Nothing important, just something I said on a whim.” Sasaki makes a dismissive gesture and turns to take in the sunset. Hopefully, Tsukauchi won’t notice the color in his face or the sudden deflection.

“I don’t know, it feels a little important.” 

“It’s not. Now can we please change the subject?” 

Tsukauchi pretends to think, taking a drag from his cigarette. “Hmmm, nope. I want answers.” Evidently, deflecting isn’t going to work.

“It’s nothing.” It’s a lot. 

The detective’s tone turns serious. “You don’t say things without meaning.” Sasaki hums, keeping his eyes firmly on the skyline. 

“I know you don’t,” he continues, “but if you don’t want to talk about it, that’s alright with me.” 

Sasaki is no longer focused on the sunset. 

This is why he fell in love with him. Making small talk and bad jokes on a balcony, both of them pretending that they have a chance at normalcy. What would he have done without Tsukauchi at his side, even when they weren’t really friends yet? 

Tsukauchi keeps him firmly in the present. It’s impossible to fixate on the future when you’re with someone who doesn’t ever think about it. 

Also, “fell in love with him”?! When the hell did that happen?

“You’re being awfully quiet over there, Nighteye. What’s up?” 

“N- nothing?” He silently curses himself for stuttering. Hopefully, he won’t lose the ability to act normal around his friend, because that would be terribly inconvenient– especially since they live together now. 

“So you’ve said.” 

The silence is quickly becoming painful. Sasaki hazards a glance at his friend. 

He’s still smiling, staring out over the city with a cigarette in his hand. God, Sasaki thinks, he’s beautiful. How could I have been so stupid? 

On impulse, he moves closer to the detective and places a hand on his arm. 

Tsukauchi stiffens. Sasaki draws back, stammering. 

“I– I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to overstep, I can leave if you want—”

“No,” murmurs Tsukauchi, “you’re not overstepping at all.” 

He steps forward until there is barely any space between them at all. Slowly, he places a hand on Sasaki’s face and closes the gap between them. 

It takes a minute for Sasaki’s brain to catch up, and by then his friend has gently pulled away. Tsukauchi, his best friend and the man he’s just realized he’s in love with, kissed him. And is now apologizing for it. 

“I shouldn’t have done that. I really, really shouldn’t have done that,” he whispers, eyes wide, and Sasaki can’t help the pang of sadness that goes through his heart. 

“If it’s any consolation, if you hadn’t done it I probably would have,” he offers, uncertainty creeping into his tone. 

This only seems to shock Tsukauchi more. “What the hell do you mean, you would’ve?” he blurts, an adorable flush creeping across his face. 

“For a detective, you aren’t very observant.” He can take what he wants from that statement, but Sasaki knows that really only leaves one meaning. 

He pauses and considers for a moment. “No, I suppose I’m not. Neither are you, for the record.” 

The hero shrugs. “That’s fair.” 

“... So… you—”

“Yes, Tsukauchi, now come over here so I can kiss you again,” he says exasperatedly, not bothering to disguise the fondness in his tone. “Please.” 

Tsukauchi obliges. 

Surprisingly, it doesn’t change very much. They already spent most of their time together and, according to several of Tsukauchi’s coworkers, “bickered like an old married couple,” so all this new development truly alters is the ways they show affection to each other. Of course, they have to have several lengthy and slightly uncomfortable conversations about emotions, but it’s nothing they can’t handle together. 

There is a knock at the door. 

In most households, this wouldn’t be a cause for alarm. It would be a pizza delivery, or the mailman, or a neighbor. 

For Sasaki, it means reporters. 

Most of the time they give up before figuring out where he lives, but he’s met some that have been very persistent, typically the ones trying to get an interview about his personal life. This one will probably be no different. 

He opens the door irritably, an angry go away on the tip of his tongue, but— 

His first thought is “a kid?” But that isn’t right. This green-haired, baby-faced young man is most definitely an adult with a press ID from some random news station Sasaki has never heard of in one hand and a (thankfully off) recording device in the other. 

His second thought is “I am not dealing with this shit at eight in the morning.” So he gives the kid his best glare and moves to shut the door.

“W– wait! This is important!” The kid protests. 

Sasaki sighs exaggeratedly, but leaves the door open. “What do you want?” 

“Um– I– I just—”

“Spit it out, kid, I don’t have all day.” 

“Can quirks be passed on in other ways besides genetics?” The kid blurts out, and oh, that’s what this is. 

He knows about One for All. 

“I think you’d better come inside. We have a lot to talk about. ” 

The Origins of the Heroics Industry: The First Heroes and Their Legacies in Today’s Society