Chapter Text
When Kirishima first stepped on to the scene as a pro, his head was filled with visions of grandeur for the heroics he might finally achieve. Sure, he knew that going pro was dangerous and the job was not to be taken lightly, but ever since he got accepted into UA he couldn’t help the rush of optimism that followed. Suddenly his life was filled with purpose. That scared teen on the street corner had finally grown into a man that he could be proud of when he looked in the mirror each day. He was saving lives, protecting the innocent, becoming a symbol for the people-
-and yet one thing he neglected to think about was that hero work could be boring.
He wished he had more patience for all the paperwork and meetings a hero had to endure, and now he had a special dislike for the stakeouts as well. Some heroes preferred to sit in a dark vehicle at night, waiting for a distress signal or any kind of suspicious movement, but after hours of fidgeting Kirishima decided that he was not one of them. He was meant for fighting villains in the light of day, patrolling the streets, and going head-to-head with any fool dumb enough to challenge his strength; a far cry from where he currently sat slumped over in the passenger seat of a dark van. His back was sore and if he sat any longer, he feared his legs might go numb. A small twinge in the back of his neck warned of a future migraine.
Kaminari’s not-so-quiet rambling from the back of the van wasn’t particularly easing his oncoming headache. The loud blonde was locked in heated debate with Sero, both mumbling and arguing between rounds of stuffing their faces with the fast food they’d smuggled on the mission. Kirishima wasn’t really paying attention to the garbled sounds coming from his best friends downing cheeseburger after cheeseburger, but if he had to guess it was another conversation of one of two topics: music taste, or hot chicks. Specifically of the hero variety. If Kirishima had to sit through one more session of debating ‘who the biggest catch on the hero ranking was’, he just might decide to retire early. As much as he wanted to appreciate his friends’ company on this assignment, he was starting to regret the partnership he’d requested when Fatgum suggested they bring in more heroes.
A sudden crackle in his ear alerted Kirishima of someone over the comms reaching out to him. Amajiki’s voice filtered through with a routine check-in.
“This is Suneater. All clear on your end, Red Riot?”
Kirishima let out a sigh and wearily put a hand to his ear to respond. “West entrance all clear. No changes since we last spoke.”
“Copy that. Heard anything from Dynamight?”
Kirishima perked up a bit in interest at Suneater’s question. “No. He hasn’t checked in with you? He’s been gone for an hour.”
“I just checked with channel three, his team hasn’t contacted anyone. I know we said keep the lines quiet unless there’s an emergency, but I suppose I didn’t expect him to take recon so seriously.”
“Beats me, man.” Kirishima glanced at the empty driver’s seat where Bakugou had been an hour ago, then peered out the window at the dark office building ahead of them. “Maybe he’s taking this seriously for once and not blasting ahead on his own.”
As if to spite him, the universe chose this precise moment to disrupt the quiet of the night. Harsh crackling interrupted the line and warbled sounds of fighting could be heard from somewhere in the background. Amajiki’s voice was drowned in the noise and Kirishima could only guess what kind of chaos was happening on the other end of the line.
“Shitty Hair!”
The nickname he was oh-so-fond of came bellowing from his earpiece, leaving him to wince at the volume.
“Bakubro! What’s going on?” He spoke loudly, which alerted Kaminari and Sero to switch their comms to his channel to try and figure out what was happening. The line kept crackling with feedback, Bakugou’s voice jumbled and clearly pissed from somewhere inside the building.
“Damn vill-…itty League…team’s been compromised! …catch the damn stragglers!” He growled.
The waiting heroes needed no further prompting to spring into action. Kirishima barreled out of the vehicle and slammed the sliding door open for his partners. Kaminari tripped over himself trying to scramble out of the back, but Sero was much more graceful as he bounded over his friend’s prone figure on the pavement.
“Cellophane, can you get to the roof and be our eyes? I need you to feed directions of any villains that try to escape.” Kirishima fell into a leadership role with ease, thanks to many hours of Fatgum’s training.
“I’m on it!” Sero was quick to release his quirk and swing out of sight as soon as he’d given a signature grin and two finger salute. Now upright, Kaminari was all bright eyes and excitement.
“You with me, Chargebolt?” Kirishima held out his fist, his usual confident smile melting back into place. Denki returned the fist bump and grinned from ear to ear.
“Hell yeah! Let’s kick some ass, Red Riot!”
╌──────────═❁═──────────╌
“Bakugou, can you hear me?” Kirishima tried the comms again as he and Denki raced through the darkened halls. No answer came, just more frustrating staticky silence. Over the other channel, Sero was apparently fighting off a villain with some sort of flight quirk, shouting orders for the rest of the team to cover the south side where a horde of villains had appeared. Left to their own devices with no other options, the pair of heroes forged ahead blindly in the hopes of discovering a friendly face- or at least a villain or two to get the party going.
Damn, Kirishima really had been spending too much time around Bakugou.
“Dude, this place gives me the heebie-jeebies. What is it with villains and not turning the lights on?” Kaminari grimaced as they rounded another bend. The blonde was blowing on his hands for warmth, his gloves’ fingerless design doing him no favors against the chill in the air. With no lights and no heat, Kirishima figured the power must have been cut throughout the building. Its offices were abandoned years ago from what intelligence told them, so what exactly were the villains up to in this empty space?
“Maybe for the aesthetic?” Kirishima mindlessly replied. He was busy checking his wrist for any green dots that might appear in the vicinity. This was the new touchscreen tech for operations like this; Kirishima had to admit it was pretty sweet. Trackers in each of the heroes’ suits linked them with GPS, using private satellites so they would work even without getting any signal. Apparently, some up-and-coming support technician had designed them for search and rescue heroes, but the Hero Commission had signed a contract to issue them out for recon and infiltration missions too.
The blinking screen remained dark, no green dots for allies within the nearest hundred feet of them.
“Damn it,” Kirishima muttered. “Bakugou where the hell are you?”
“You hear that?” Kaminari paused, his arm braced against the metal wall. Kirishima stopped and strained his ears. A faint clanging sound echoed from somewhere to the right, like metal scraping against metal.
“Villains?” Kirishima questioned.
“Hold on, give me a sec.” Kaminari switched on his vizor, and a faint bl light illuminated his concentrated face. After a moment of scanning, he pointed towards the hall where the sound was coming from. “They’ve got hostages.”
“What?” Kirishima hissed. “This was a surveillance mission! We were only assigned this to collect intel, there were no possible hostages in the briefing! Are you certain?”
“I’m sure of it,” Kaminari nodded seriously. “The heat signatures show a few seated people, their arms above their heads. I think they’re handcuffed to a handrail. I read four on the ground. There’re two guards pacing the room, armed. Heavily.”
“Okay, we can take two,” Kirishima rolled his shoulders out. “Easy peazy. I’ll lead, their bullets won’t be able to break my hardening. You got my six?”
“You know it, man.” Kaminari looked more confident now, and the red-haired hero felt a swell of pride. Hardening his arms, he led the way down the next dark corridor.
The hallways were narrower down this side of the building, so Kaminari quickly fell in step behind his partner. Back-to-back, they soundlessly approached what seemed to be the entrance to a conference room. The room appeared larger than most of the other rooms they passed, and Kirishima was relieved to know there would be more space to move around during the fight. There would be less of a chance that the hostages got caught up in the scuffle. He needed to end this quickly, and Kaminari would be a walking target if he followed him in, as his costume wasn’t armored to deflect bullets. Raising a hand to halt their movements, he signaled he was going in solo.
Kaminari nodded and flattened against the wall, poised to electroshock anyone that might try to flee the fight. Kirishima faced the large double doors, hardened his skin, and fell into a fighting stance. Mustering all the strength he could in his leg, he kicked the door down with a bang! and he charged forward without hesitation.
Kaminari’s eyes widened as the sounds from the room escalated into shouts. He didn’t dare peek his head around the corner, he liked his face too much to risk getting a bullet through the eye, thank you very much. He could only stand there frozen as shouts echoed from the guards and the loud noise of machine-gun clips emptying bounced off the walls. Various grunts and a shriek of pain seemed like good signs, followed by an absolutely terrifying roar from Kirishima. The next moment, a body was flying through the air and the unconscious figure of a masked guard slumped against the wall across from Kaminari. It would’ve been comical, like one of those off camera action scenes in movies, if only he could pick his jaw up off the floor and hold back the sudden urge to piss his pants. The second guard’s body didn’t take long to join the heap on the floor outside the conference room.
Kaminari slowly turned his head around the corner to see his friend deactivating his quirk. Kirishima was bouncing on his heels a bit, greeting his partner with the brightest toothy grin Kaminari had ever seen. A thumbs up looked horribly out of place considering he was standing in an utterly trashed room with flipped tables, walls Swiss-cheesed from bullet holes, and papers scattered on every surface in sight. Holy shit. His friend was a beast.
“Dude, remind me not to piss you off.” Kaminari chuckled nervously.
Kirishima laughed heartily and brushed a few stray strands of red from his eyes. “No worries, man. Good thing I don’t have Bakubro’s temperament, right?”
Kaminari did not look reassured by his words.
“Yeah, heh, just don’t let him hear you say that, okay?”
Kirishima shook his head in mild amusement. Turning back to the hostages, he was met with four pairs of wide eyes. Their mouths were gagged with raggedy strips of cloth, but otherwise they looked unharmed, save for one woman who was sporting a head injury. Overall, it looked like a hasty job, although the handcuffs looked to be of professional grade, he noticed. The four of them were huddled relatively close together, another sign of amateur work; Serious villains were pretty diligent about separating hostages, so these guys either weren’t very bright, or they weren’t getting paid enough to deal with this. In Kirishima’s experience, sometimes it was both.
“We should get them out of here.” Kirishima looked to his partner. Kaminari started to nod in agreement, but suddenly jolted in his place, like his quirk had zapped him with a thought.
“Wait, what about Bakugou?”
Kirishima frowned. He didn’t like the thought of leaving his best friend somewhere in this labyrinth without backup, but their priority should definitely be getting these people to safety. Besides, Kirishima was certain that Bakugou would be able to meet whatever was thrown his way with some kind of crazed smile on his face, just like always.
A high-pitched ping startled the two heroes, coming from their wrist-monitors. They locked eyes for a brief second in confusion, then raised their forearms to investigate the update. A single green dot was pulsating on the very edge of both of their screens.
“Oh yeah, that’s gotta be him!” Kaminari pumped his fist triumphantly in the air.
“That means we’re closer now.” Kirishima pinched his fingers on the screen to inspect the distance. “He’s gotta be close to the other end of the facility.”
“You go on ahead,” Kaminari encouraged. “I’ll get the hostages out of here. Dynamight probably needs the backup whether he’d admit it or not.”
Kirishima half laughed and half sighed for their explosive friend. “Yeah, you’re probably right. Try to contact Amajiki if you can, or Fatgum. They’ll help cover you on the way out if you need it.”
“Are you kidding?” Kaminari snickered. “You kinda took care of the only guys in our way. Remember, tossing them like ragdolls? They’re sitting right out there if you want a refresher- “
“Alright, alright!” He laughed fully, “Just go.” Kirishima then offered a parting nod. “Good luck Chargebolt.”
His friend returned the nod, a determined glint in his eye.
“Give em’ hell, Red Riot.”
And with that, he continued deeper into the darkness of the building.
The pulsating green light on his screen spurred him onwards, a renewed vigor filling his veins. His adrenaline hadn’t fully subsided since his fight with the two armed-guards, and the back of his mind still buzzed with unanswered questions. Why hostages were here in the first place was a total mystery to him. And even if he’d known that information, why only two people were guarding them was stranger still. They hadn’t even used quirks on him, at least not that he was aware of. If this really was a base of operations for the League after all, then why the hell did they have newbies with machine guns pacing around as their security?
A pervasive sense of unease prickled at his skin. Kirishima just hoped he could find Bakugou quickly, and deal with whatever immediate threat he was facing right now. Maybe they’d start getting some answers once this operation was done and over with.
At least, if Bakugou didn’t blow the whole place up in the process.
The familiar sound of Bakugou’s explosive quirk rattled the walls, and Kirishima could start to make out shouting coming from nearby. He was closing in on the green dot still flickering on his screen. Just at the other end of this hallway…
He picked up some speed, activated his quirk across the entire front of his body, and came barreling through the thick metal doorway in his path. Once cleared, Kirishima almost stumbled in surprise at the sight before him. The whole floor was blown out, crumbling concrete raining down on what appeared to be a basement floor below him. The space was vast, and sounds echoed easily leading him to believe it must have been a parking garage before the building’s shutdown. Broken pipes and electrical wires jutted out from the floor, exposing support beams and making the place seem like he was inside the jagged skeleton of some kind of mechanical beast. A soft blue luminescence filtered in from the gaping hole in the roof, offering some light for Kirishima to safely jump to the level below.
“Bakugou?” The crimson hero called out. He didn’t hear shouting anymore, and the basement quickly faded to pitch black where the moons light could not reach. “Bakugou are you there?”
He was so close to the blinking green light on his monitor now. A muffled series of grunts sounded as his answer, until Kirishima finally laid eyes on the familiar orange and green costume of his best friend. In the darkened corner of the basement, Bakugou squirmed on his side, arms tightly bound with thick cable and his mouth gagged by another raggedy cloth. Kirishima saw light reflecting off of some sort of syringe buried in the skin of his neck, as his friend’s head lolled and whipped around in an effort to angrily jostle it out. He didn’t seem hurt…just majorly pissed off.
“Oh shit, Bakugou are you okay?” Kirishima’s eyes widened in shock, and he raced towards his friend’s body. Bakugou continued making animalistic noises behind his gag, and Kirishima noticed he wasn’t making eye contact with him at all. He followed the line of his sight to whip around and track a shadowed movement behind him. Approaching from the gloom came a tall figure in a trench coat, clapping slowly and strolling as if he were out for a leisurely walk in the park. As light washed over his frame, familiar purple skin and glinting staples clued Kirishima in on just who had managed to bind the great Katsuki Bakugou.
“Dabi.” Kirishima growled.
“That’d be my name,” The villain quipped in a decidedly unconcerned tone. He didn’t sound frustrated that he’d been discovered, or particularly emotional at all. In fact, if Kirishima had to guess, he just sounded downright bored. A few of the staples at the corner of his mouth were missing, blood slowly trickling down his chin and on to the floor, but that didn’t stop the villain from letting a lazy smile stretch his face.
“He put up quite the fight you know. A little angry, but hey, everyone needs a motivator.” Dabi nodded his head towards Bakugou’s bound figure. “It certainly works for me but I suppose some people lack the control necessary to use it.”
“What did you do to him?” Kirishima gritted out. He could feel a burning rage seeping into his bones. He’d never seen anyone able to get the drop on Bakugou, and the thought alone equally terrified and enraged him. His arms were shaking but he forced himself to breathe deeply. Carefully he inhaled and exhaled, refusing to break eye contact with the grisly looking man. He needed to stay calm for both his and Bakugou’s sakes, or else neither one of them were getting out of here unscathed.
“Oh, I haven’t done anything to him. I thought you’d be more observant, hero, he’s perfectly unharmed.” The way Dabi spat his title at him, Kirishima could practically feel the hatred seeping out of the villain. “Now this, on the other hand…”
Dabi pulled one hand out from his pocket to reveal a syringe with amber liquid sloshing around inside, identical to the one buried in Bakugou’s neck.
“This is what you should be worried about.” The villain held the syringe up to the light and turned it over in fascination. “A real stroke of genius, this one. Our very own doctor cooked this up for us to deal with you heroes. Blocks the quirk genome from working properly, something about DNA or enzymes or whatever the hell else he said. All I know is his quirk is gonna be gone for a while.” A sadistic smile pulled his lips back even further, the lack of staples on his cheek creating a disgustingly wide grin.
“You took his quirk?” Kirishima breathed in disbelief.
Dabi chuckled, “Oh now now, no need to look so grim. He’ll get it back…at some point. But I’d be shaking in my boots if I were you. He’s probably the last trial we’re going to need to perfect the serum. Although, I suppose if we overshot the dosage then there’s a possibility that he’s going to be quirkless for good. My my, now wouldn’t that be a shame…”
At this point Bakugou was thrashing around on the concrete, spitting God-knows-what through his gag. His crimson eyes blazed in fury which only made Dabi’s smile grow.
“A quirkless, washed-up, liability.”
Kirishima was milliseconds away from lunging at him when a flicker of movement caught his eye. It was barely noticeable, there for a split-second and gone the next. It looked like a person leaping from the broken rafters, landing silently, and disappearing back into the shadows. Dabi clearly hadn’t noticed it, being too busy mocking Bakugou who looked close to giving himself a concussion with how hard he was struggling against his restraints. Kirishima’s eyes flickered back to the movement and this time he was certain a person was looking back at him. They were too far away to make out much, but the masked face held up a hand that signaled Kirishima to be silent.
Kirishima returned a near-imperceptible nod. In a flash the figure was gone again, creeping through the murk where the red-clad hero could not see. This was probably another pro who was trying to ambush Dabi while he gloated, Kirishima presumed hopefully. If that was the case, then he was going to do his best to help them out. Now he just had to keep the villain talking…
“You seem awfully certain this is going to work.” Kirishima narrowed his eyes at Dabi. The villain’s eyes snapped back to him, his turquoise irises glimmering with glee.
“We’ve seen nothing but good results thus far. I don’t see why the League can’t continue its winning streak.”
“Winning streak? This is the first I’ve heard of the League using quirk-erasing technology. How successful can you really be?”
Kirishima’s question caused him to release a full maniacal laugh, wracking his frame and causing tears to escape from the corners of his eyes.
“Oh, how narcissistic can you heroes BE?” He howled. “What, just because you don’t hear about it means it doesn’t exist? You think your precious Hero Commission tells you everything? Let’s see, what is it they call you? Red Riot?” Dabi sneered. Before Kirishima could answer he was rambling on with newfound passion. ‘Well let me tell you something, Red Riot. All of this is bigger than you think. It’s bigger than you, bigger than the famous Dynamight, hell, it’s bigger than me. Society needs to wake up from the fantasy they’ve created. You’re all living in this little bubble that idolizes heroes! Can’t you see that you’re the problem? You and your little friend represent everything that’s wrong with the world. Once the League has finished, everyone will see you for what you really are.”
Just as Kirishima was going to ask what exactly he meant by that, a green blur slammed into Dabi with incredible force. The villain momentarily lost balance, rolling several feet away from Kirishima, but he quickly recovered, and a plume of cerulean flames billowed from his palms towards his attacker. His assailant was dressed in dark clothing and moved impossibly fast. They made it look like nothing as they vaulted away from the flames, dodging and weaving around Dabi’s attacks with grace.
Dabi was angrily throwing out blaze after blaze, lighting the entire underground level with an eerie blue glow. Kirishima quickly lost sight of the mysterious person as they fought, dark clouds of smoke and ash beginning to swirl all around. It was all Kirishima could do to shield his face from the intense heat and try not to breathe in to make the burning in his lungs worse. Dabi was shouting in rage and pain, but he couldn’t hear any noise coming from the newcomer. The back of Kirishima’s mind berated him for failing to help whoever it was fighting on his behalf. It was so not manly of him to leave this entirely to someone else just because he’d been too caught off guard to move.
There came a particularly sharp cry from Dabi somewhere in all the chaos, and suddenly his onslaught of blue fire ceased completely. The smoke was slow to dissipate, making it impossible for Kirishima to tell what was going on in the fight. Complete silence fell over the space, and he waited with bated breath for the small draft to lift the lingering clouds from the air. Wisps of black smoke licked at his clothes, and slowly they curled away into nothingness. He coughed whatever he could of the fumes out of his lungs, and when he raised his head again, he was met with the gaze of the fight’s victor.
He kept his mask on, which hid away most of his facial features from recognition. What Kirishima could see, though, was enough to give him pause. An unruly mop of green curls sat atop his head, the ends furled and sticking to his forehead with the sweat on his skin. Two well-shaped eyebrows were perched almost delicately on his brow, sloping over his rounded eyes and creasing when he would narrow them. And God, those eyes. Viridian. Clear and bright and alert they searched his face, which he absently thought looked something like a dumbstruck schoolgirl. They were a forest green, the kind where the dawn breaks the darkness, and the shaded foliage slowly transitions into a verdant paradise. He’d never seen eyes like that. They were so utterly beautiful-
-and they were staring expectantly at him.
“You’re welcome.” His voice was light, more tender than Kirishima expected it to be. Granted, the guy had every right to sound like a gruff asshole considering he’d done Kirishima’s job for him, but he detected no malice in the stranger’s tone.
“Oh, uh… thanks,” He answered lamely. He’d been so busy making eyes at the guy that he’d failed to notice Dabi was securely tied to one of the concrete pillars holding the ground level up. What seemed to be a thick nylon cable was wrapped around his arms and torso, his feet dangling mere inches from the floor, which was enough height to make him look like a child’s limp discarded ragdoll. If that wasn’t enough, the syringe he’d been flaunting earlier was now lodged in his own neck, Kirishima saw with surprise. If what he said earlier about Bakugou’s quirk was true, they could expect no fiery retaliations for the next- well, he didn’t know how long.
The green eyes flicked beyond Kirishima for a moment and saw Bakugou still lying helplessly on the ground. The explosive blonde had somehow managed to worm his way into an upright sitting position, still squirming and gnashing his teeth angrily. When he saw who had come to Kirishima’s aid, something undecipherable flashed across his crimson eyes, and if it was even possible, he started grunting even angrier sounds.
Something akin to- was that amusement? – simmered in the green gaze of their savior. At this point Kirishima was awestruck, confused, and in desperate need of some aspirin.
“Wow, uh…” Kirishima started, trying to shake himself out of his stupor. His efforts turned out to be fruitless, seeing as the green-haired mystery hero started stripping his jacket off. Underneath the heavy protective fabric of his coat was a simple black shirt, seemingly sleek athletic material. And of course, to Kirishima’s chagrin (more like absolute pleasure), it was sleeveless. Unblemished skin was stretched across attractively taut muscles, his shoulders and biceps sculpted from who knows how many hours of physical training. He tied his jacket around his waist- slim, lean, small enough that Kiri could hold it with two hands- no, he was not following that line of thought.
His mask was the next piece of his outfit to fall away. He unlatched some kind of mechanism near his jawbones, and the facial covering sprung free with a hushed hiss of steam. He revealed tiny freckles that were dashed across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose, like little constellations or splatters of brown paint against the ivory canvas of his skin. His nose was turned up ever so slightly, it’s button shape entirely too endearing to be real. If God was real, he certainly was trying to kill Kirishima in this moment. The final blow came when he smirked, and the most adorable dimples appeared at the edges of his mouth.
“Midoriya,” he introduced himself promptly, reaching a gloved hand out to greet him. He was much closer now, and their hands were touching, and oh god this could not be happening…
“My friends call me ‘Deku’, at least they would if I had any friends.” Kirishima failed to see the enraged thrashing of Bakugou behind him following Midoriya’s quip. “So. Did they give you a name along with all those…rippling pectorals?”
“Umm…uhh…I’m uh…” Kirishima’s face was suddenly the same shade as his costume. Not a single coherent word would escape his mouth, just dumb broken fragments of attempted communication. His brain short circuited trying to comprehend the fact that the really hot guy who’d just saved his ass was flirting with him.
“Are you always this articulate?” Midoriya’s lips quirked upwards in an amused smile.
“Red Riot!” His suddenly found his voice and unintentionally shouted his hero name. Internally he was cringing and trying to figure out if it would be possible to launch himself right into the sun after this exchange. Sheepishly, he cleared his throat. “My, uh…my name is Red Riot.”
The guy supposedly called ‘Deku’ unabashedly looked him up and down, appraising him with a smirk still plastered on his face. “Red riot, huh? I think I prefer Mr. Midoriya.”
A muffled feral scream sounded behind him. He ignored it.
“So…how-how’d you get mixed up with this mission? And, uh, the league you know, with- “
Midoriya held eye contact with him and slightly nodded his head in Dabi’s direction.
“Staple face with the flames? Well, you know how villains are, they think ‘no’ means ‘yes’ and ‘vigilante’ means ‘take me, I’m all yours.’” He laughed slightly at his own joke and Kirishima resigned himself to the fact that he’d jump off a building just to hear that again. By now, Bakugou was absolutely losing his shit in the background and Kirishima could no longer ignore his captured friend. Midoriya’s gaze followed him back to Katsuki and he simply nodded.
“Don’t worry, Kacchan here can explain it to you later.” He winked and Kirishima was sure his heart stopped. His brain almost failed to register the fact that he’d said vigilante and for some reason referred to Bakugou as ‘kacchan’.
“W-wait!” He shouted helplessly after Midoriya, who was standing in the middle of the space, securing a grappling hook to the next floor through the hole in the ceiling. He turned his gorgeous eyes back to Kirishima and smiled brightly.
“See you around, Red Riot.”
With no more fanfare, his harness was pulled up the two floors and he disappeared into the night. Kirishima’s heart was pounding harder than his head, and he felt his cheeks still hotly flushed from his encounter with the green-haired man. Distantly, he registered sirens closing in and heroes flooding the basement to wrap up the arrests and investigation. At some point Sero and Kaminari had arrived, celebrating their heroics and clapping him on the back. All Kirishima could do was try to will his heart back to a normal pace as he stared lamely up at the moonlight filtering in through the chasm in the ceiling. His mouth was bone-dry, and it was like all his confusion was piling up to suffocate him.
He turned dazed back to where Bakugou was being lifted and cut-loose by some police officers. Just before he opened his mouth to rampage without obstruction, Kirishima fixed him with a hard stare. Two pairs of red eyes met unwavering, and shockingly the blonde didn’t yell. He looked emotionless, and then he moved to brush past his best friend. Leaning in close to Kirishima’s ear, he muttered four words that would soon change his life completely.
“We need to talk.”
To Be Continued…