TODOROKI SHOTO

Midoriya was at his desk, hunched over paperwork with the kind of intense focus that looked more like avoidance than productivity. His hero costume jacket was draped over the back of his chair, and his shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. He looked tired—dark circles under his eyes, tension in his shoulders that hadn't been there two months ago.

He looked up when the door opened, and for a split second, Shoto saw naked fear flash across his face before it was replaced by forced casualness.

"Shoto? Kacchan?" Midoriya's voice was too bright, too cheerful. "What are you guys doing here? I thought you were both on patrol today."

"We need to talk," Shoto said quietly, stepping into the office. Bakugo followed, closing the door behind them with a soft click that made Midoriya flinch.

"About what?" Midoriya's smile didn't reach his eyes. "If this is about me being busy lately, I already explained—"

"All Might called us," Shoto interrupted gently. "He told us about the letters."

The color drained from Midoriya's face. His hands gripped the edge of his desk so hard his knuckles went white.

"He—what?" Midoriya's voice was barely a whisper. "He had no right—those are private—"

"Private?" Bakugo's voice was rough. "Someone's been sending you threatening letters for two months and you think that's private?"

"You don't understand." Midoriya stood abruptly, his chair rolling back and hitting the wall. "You can't—you shouldn't be here. You need to leave. Both of you."

"We're not leaving," Shoto said firmly, moving closer. "Not until we talk about this."

"There's nothing to talk about." Midoriya's voice was rising, panic bleeding through. "It's just—it's nothing. Some overzealous fan. I'm handling it. You didn't need to come all the way here—"

"Deku." Bakugo's voice was softer than Shoto had ever heard it. "Stop."

"No, you stop." Midoriya backed away from the desk, putting distance between them. "You can't be involved in this. You can't—if they see you here—"

His breath hitched. Once. Twice.

Then his face crumpled.

"I didn't want you to know," Midoriya whispered, and his voice broke on the last word. "I didn't want—I tried so hard to keep you away—"

Tears spilled down his cheeks, and he brought his hands up to cover his face, his whole body shaking.

"Izuku," Shoto breathed, closing the distance between them in two strides.

"I'm sorry," Midoriya sobbed into his hands. "I'm sorry, I should have—I should have been more careful—All Might shouldn't have found them—you weren't supposed to know—"

Shoto's hands came up to gently pull Midoriya's hands away from his face. "Look at me."

Midoriya's eyes were red and streaming, his face blotchy with tears. He looked devastated. Terrified. Like his worst nightmare had just come true.

"You have nothing to apologize for," Shoto said firmly. "Do you understand? Nothing."

"But I—" Midoriya's voice broke again. "I pushed you away. I stopped answering messages. I avoided you. I made you think—"

"We know why now," Bakugo said, moving to Midoriya's other side. "And we're not mad. We're not leaving. We're here, and we're gonna help you."

"You can't." Fresh tears spilled down Midoriya's cheeks. "You can't help. No one can. This person—they know everything about me. They know where I work, where I live, who I talk to. They've been watching me for months and I didn't even know—"

His breathing was getting faster, more panicked.

"Hey." Bakugo's hand landed on Midoriya's shoulder, firm and grounding. "You need to breathe. Can you do that for me?"

Midoriya shook his head frantically. "I can't—I tried to handle it alone—I thought if I just ignored it, if I kept my distance from everyone—"

"That's not how this works," Shoto said gently, his hands still holding Midoriya's wrists. "Isolation doesn't keep you safe. It just makes you more vulnerable."

"I know that now," Midoriya whispered, more tears streaming down his face. "But I didn't know what else to do. I couldn't go to the police—what would I even say? Someone's sending me letters? They'd tell me to file a report and move on. And I couldn't tell the agency because what if it affected my hero ranking? What if they thought I couldn't handle it?"

"So you handled it alone," Bakugo said, his voice tight.

"I tried." Midoriya's voice was so small, so broken. "I tried so hard. But the letters kept coming. And they got worse. More detailed. More—"

He couldn't finish. His breath hitched again, and he dissolved into sobs.

BAKUGO KATSUKI

Katsuki had seen Deku cry before. Had seen him break down after brutal fights, after losing people, after pushing himself too far.

But he'd never seen him cry like this.

This wasn't the crying of physical pain or exhaustion. This was the crying of someone who'd been carrying an impossible weight for too long. Someone who'd been terrified and alone and desperately trying to protect the people he cared about.

Someone who'd finally been caught.

"Come here," Katsuki said roughly, pulling Deku against his chest.

Deku went willingly, his hands fisting in Katsuki's shirt as he sobbed. His whole body was shaking, trembling with the force of emotions he'd been suppressing for two months.

Shoto moved closer, his hand coming up to rest on the back of Deku's neck. Grounding. Steady.

"We've got you," Shoto murmured. "You're not alone anymore."

"I'm sorry," Deku kept repeating between sobs. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry—"

"Stop apologizing," Katsuki said. "You didn't do anything wrong."

"I pushed you away—"

"To protect us," Shoto finished. "We understand. But you don't have to do that anymore."

They stood like that for several minutes, letting Deku cry himself out. Katsuki's shirt was soaked with tears, but he didn't care. Shoto's hand never left Deku's neck, his thumb moving in small, soothing circles.

Gradually, the sobs began to subside. Deku's breathing started to even out, though he was still shaking.

"I'm sorry," Deku whispered one more time, his voice hoarse.

"If you apologize one more time, I'm gonna lose it," Katsuki said, but his voice was gentle.

Deku let out a wet laugh that was more sob than humor. "Okay. I'll—I'll try to stop."

"Good." Katsuki pulled back slightly, just enough to see Deku's face. His eyes were swollen and red, his cheeks blotchy. He looked exhausted. "You with us?"

Deku nodded weakly. "Yeah. I'm—I'm okay."

"You're not," Shoto said quietly. "But you will be."

Deku took a shaky breath, then another. His hands were still gripping Katsuki's shirt, like he was afraid to let go.

"We need to see the letters," Katsuki said carefully. "We need to know what we're dealing with."

Deku's grip tightened. "They're—they're in my desk. Bottom drawer. There's a folder."

"Okay." Katsuki looked at Shoto. "Can you get them?"

Shoto nodded and moved to the desk. He opened the bottom drawer and pulled out a thick manila folder. Even from across the room, Katsuki could see how many letters were inside.

Two months. Deku had been dealing with this for two months.

"There's something else," Shoto said quietly, his hand still in the drawer. "A package."

Deku's breath hitched. "Don't—please don't open that. I couldn't—I didn't want to see—"

"What is it?" Katsuki asked.

"I don't know." Deku's voice was shaking again. "It came today with the letter. I couldn't bring myself to open it. My danger sense—it kept warning me. Kept telling me not to look."

Katsuki and Shoto exchanged a glance.

"We need to see what's inside," Shoto said gently. "Whatever it is, you don't have to face it alone."

Deku was trembling again, his breathing getting faster. "I don't want to know. I don't want to see—"

"Hey." Katsuki's hands came up to frame Deku's face, forcing him to make eye contact. "Look at me. We're right here. Whatever's in that box, we're gonna deal with it together. You understand?"

Deku's eyes were wide and terrified, but he nodded.

"Okay," Katsuki said. "Okay. Shoto's gonna bring it over here. And we're gonna open it. And you're gonna be okay. Because we're not leaving."

Shoto brought the folder and the small package over to the desk. The package was innocuous—plain brown paper, no return address. Small enough to fit in one hand.

Katsuki kept one hand on Deku's shoulder as Shoto carefully peeled away the wrapping paper.

Underneath was a plain white box.

Shoto lifted the lid.

For a moment, no one moved. No one spoke.

Then Deku made a sound—something between a gasp and a sob—and Katsuki felt his own blood run cold.

MIDORIYA IZUKU

The photographs were the first thing Izuku saw.

Photographs of him. In his apartment.

Sleeping in his bed, his face peaceful and unaware. Standing in his kitchen making coffee, his back to the camera. Sitting on his couch reading a book, completely oblivious to being watched.

Someone had been inside. Had been in his private space. Had watched him in his most vulnerable moments.

"No," Izuku whispered. "No, that's not—they couldn't have—"

But the evidence was right there. Dozens of photographs, all taken from inside his apartment. Some recent, some older. All of them intimate. Invasive.

Violating.

There were other things in the box too. A plastic bag containing strands of dark green hair—his hair, cut while he slept. Pieces of fabric torn from his clothes. A small notebook with dates and times, tracking his movements.

"They were inside," Izuku breathed, his voice hollow. "They were in my apartment. They watched me. They—"

His danger sense flared, sharp and overwhelming. His quirk activated instinctively—green lightning crackling across his skin, spreading through the air.

"Izuku—" Shoto started.

"They were inside," Izuku repeated, his voice rising. "They were in my home. They watched me sleep. They took—they took pieces of me—"

The green lightning was getting stronger, more erratic. Papers on the desk started to flutter. The windows rattled.

"I need—" Izuku couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. "I need to—"

The room was spinning. His chest was too tight. His heart was beating too fast.

They'd been inside. In his apartment. In his safe space. Watching him. Touching his things. Taking pieces of him like trophies.

How many times? How long had they been doing this? What else had they done?

"Can't breathe—" Izuku gasped, his hands coming up to claw at his chest. "Can't—they were inside—they watched me—"

His legs gave out.

Kacchan caught him before he hit the floor, strong arms wrapping around him. "Deku, you need to calm down. You need to get control of your quirk."

"Can't—" The green lightning was everywhere now, crackling through the air, making Izuku's hair stand on end. "Can't stop it—they were inside—"

"Izuku, look at me." Shoto's voice was firm, commanding. His hands came up to frame Izuku's face, forcing eye contact. "You're having a panic attack. You need to breathe."

"They watched me sleep—" Izuku's voice broke. "They took my hair—they were in my home—"

"I know," Shoto said, his voice gentler now. "I know, and that's terrifying. But you're safe right now. You're here with us. Can you focus on my voice?"

Izuku tried. He really tried. But all he could see were those photographs. All he could think about was someone standing over his bed while he slept. Someone going through his things. Someone violating his privacy in the most horrific way possible.

"Gonna be sick—" Izuku gasped suddenly, his stomach lurching.

"Bathroom," Kacchan said immediately, already moving.

But Izuku couldn't wait. He twisted out of Kacchan's arms and stumbled toward the small bathroom attached to his office. He barely made it to the toilet before his stomach heaved.

He vomited violently, his whole body shaking. The green lightning flickered and died as his quirk deactivated, all his energy focused on being sick.

He heard footsteps behind him. Felt a hand on his back, rubbing soothing circles.

"It's okay," Shoto's voice said quietly. "Get it out."

Izuku heaved again, tears streaming down his face. His throat burned. His chest ached. Everything hurt.

When he was finally empty, he slumped against the toilet, too weak to move.

"Come on," Kacchan's voice said. "Let's get you cleaned up."

Strong hands helped him to his feet. Guided him to the sink. Turned on the water.

Izuku rinsed his mouth, splashed water on his face. His hands were shaking so badly he could barely hold onto the sink.

"I've got you," Kacchan said quietly.

Izuku looked up at the mirror and barely recognized himself. His eyes were red and swollen. His face was pale and blotchy. He looked broken.

He felt broken.

"They were in my apartment," he whispered. "I can't go back there. I can't—"

"You're not going back there alone," Shoto said firmly. "We're going with you. You're going to pack a bag, and then you're coming with us."

"Where?"

"Somewhere safe," Kacchan said. "Somewhere they don't know about."

Izuku wanted to argue. Wanted to say he couldn't impose, couldn't put them in danger, couldn't accept their help.

But he had nothing left. No strength to fight. No energy to resist.

He was so tired.

BAKUGO KATSUKI

Deku looked like he was about to collapse.

His face was pale, his eyes unfocused. He was swaying on his feet, barely holding himself upright.

"Okay," Katsuki said, making a decision. "We're leaving. Now."

He shrugged off his hero costume jacket and draped it over Deku's shoulders. It was too big, swallowing his smaller frame, but that was the point. It would hide him. Let him disappear into the fabric.

"What are you—" Deku started.

"You're gonna put your arms around my neck," Katsuki interrupted. "And I'm gonna carry you to the car. And you're gonna hide your face in my shoulder so no one sees you like this. Got it?"

Deku stared at him for a moment, then nodded weakly.

Katsuki crouched slightly. "Come on."

Deku's arms came up around his neck, and Katsuki lifted him easily. Deku was lighter than he should be—had he been eating? Sleeping?

Probably not. Not with this hanging over him.

Deku's legs wrapped around Katsuki's waist, clinging like a koala. His face pressed into Katsuki's shoulder, hidden by the jacket draped over him.

"Shoto, grab the evidence," Katsuki said. "We're taking it with us."

Shoto nodded, carefully placing the photographs and other items back in the box. He grabbed the folder of letters too.

"I'll call Aizawa on the way," Shoto said. "Let him know what we found."

"Good." Katsuki adjusted his grip on Deku, making sure he was secure. "Let's go."

They moved through the agency quickly. A few people looked up as they passed, but Katsuki's expression must have warned them off because no one said anything.

The elevator ride down was silent. Deku's breathing was still uneven, his hands fisted in Katsuki's shirt.

"You're okay," Katsuki murmured. "We've got you."

Deku didn't respond, but his grip tightened slightly.

The parking garage was mostly empty. Shoto's car was parked near the entrance—sleek and black and completely anonymous.

Shoto opened the back door, and Katsuki carefully maneuvered Deku inside. But when he tried to pull away, Deku's grip didn't loosen.

"Deku," Katsuki said gently. "You gotta let go so I can get in."

"Don't leave," Deku whispered, his voice muffled against Katsuki's shoulder.

"I'm not leaving. I'm just getting in the car with you."

Slowly, reluctantly, Deku's arms loosened. Katsuki slid into the back seat, and Deku immediately curled against his side, his head on Katsuki's shoulder.

Shoto got in the driver's seat, placing the box and folder carefully in the passenger seat.

"Where to?" Shoto asked, meeting Katsuki's eyes in the rearview mirror.

"His apartment," Katsuki said. "We need to get his things. Then we're taking him somewhere safe."

Shoto nodded and started the car.

As they pulled out of the parking garage, Katsuki felt Deku shaking against him. Not crying anymore—just trembling with exhaustion and fear and the aftermath of panic.

"It's gonna be okay," Katsuki said quietly, his hand coming up to rest on the back of Deku's neck. "We're gonna figure this out. We're gonna find whoever did this. And we're gonna make sure they can never hurt you again."

Deku didn't respond. Maybe he didn't believe it. Maybe he was too tired to care.

But Katsuki meant every word.

They were going to end this.

Together.

The city lights blurred past the windows as they drove toward Deku's apartment, toward the place that had been violated, toward the next step in keeping him safe.

Katsuki tightened his arm around Deku's shoulders.

They had him now.

And they weren't letting go.