Chapter Text
Dabi entered the room without so much as knocking. He held a plain folder above his head. “Brought my report.”
Katsuki’s penthouse office at the top of what once was a tower belonging to the Meta Liberation Army was sleek, bright, the abundance of glass paneling and open, minimalist floorplan letting the sunlight pour in and saturate the room. Toga said it was fancy. Katsuki argued that it was practical. The only furniture in the room was his desk and chair, on a rug so as not to damage the hardwood floor, and some cabinets for organization. He needed a place, away from his apartment, where he could work alone without distractions.
Being the head of the League of Villains was different from what he was used to. It involved a lot less doing and a lot more talking, which certainly wasn’t his style. But as hands-on as he liked to be, there was only so much he could do without either stretching himself thin or compromising himself. And by whatever force was pulling the strings in this fucked up universe, and admittedly Katsuki’s own contempt for sit-down meetings, it often came in the form of paperwork.
The other reports were spread out across his desk, one from each district in Japan that was totally under League control—no rogue villain gangs. Katsuki liked to check up on them when he was able to, to be sure that the reports were accurate, but this was a good way for him to keep on top of things. Discreetly delivered and destroyed once he’d made coded notes.
Katsuki regarded Dabi with a frown. His black hair had faded to a muddy gray color that was coming in white at the roots. The stench of burnt flesh forever clung to him. “You could have handed that to Kurogiri.”
The entire point of the reports was to limit the amount of time that Katsuki had to spend in social interactions. Dabi approached the desk, propping his ass on the edge of it as if he owned the damn thing. His reason for being there was made clear after Katsuki took the folder from his hand and it remained outstretched.
“Again? Exactly how much practice do you need? Endeavor’s a big fucking guy, pretty hard to miss.”
The child whose DNA went into making the quirk-destroying drug was either long dead or being well protected. She hadn’t been spotted in years. Not to Katsuki’s knowledge, anyway. And even if she was found, Katsuki was hesitant to add unsanctioned quirk experimentation and mutilation of a minor to his rap sheet. He had heard some talk of the Hero Union, the organization that sprouted from the ashes of the defunct HPSC, looking into the possibility of a similar quirk, if one could be found, being used to create a similar drug to essentially castrate convicted felons, but it was only conjecture at this point. So, the quirk-destroying drug would remain, for the foreseeable future, a finite supply.
Katsuki was reluctant to waste it for Dabi’s revenge quest. Unfortunately, he was given little option.
“That wasn’t practice, I was doing you a favor.”
“Favor?” Katsuki huffed. “Yeah, no thanks, I’m still in trouble from the last favor you did me.”
“The heroes and the police believed the League had the drug. But now they don’t know who’s behind these attacks, or for what reason. Did you want them to pin the death of another number one hero on the League now, while you’re in charge?”
Katsuki furrowed his brow. Dabi had been deliberately confusing law enforcement, this whole time? If he didn’t know any better, he might have thought that Dabi actually gave a shit.
“Don’t worry your pretty blond head. This time it’ll be finished.”
Katsuki pulled out a key to unlock the center drawer of his desk, grabbing a few of the special bullets, already loaded with the drug, from the small supply he kept there. He held Dabi’s gaze as he put the bullets in his hand. “You’re really gonna do it? You’re gonna kill him?”
Dabi didn’t say anything more. He took the bullets with a subtle, but distinctly self-assured smirk and a wink that made Katsuki’s stomach churn and turned towards the door.
Hard-pressed as he’d be to say he felt anything at the thought of Endeavor dying, Katsuki did take a moment to ruminate on how, for a second time, the number one hero in the country was going to be murdered. While he never quite reached the level of esteem that All Might had with his rough image, Endeavor had just as much fame and success. And if All Might’s death had wrecked the world, one that was still trying to recover, Endeavor’s…might be the killing blow for hero society.
Things were about to change, that much was certain. The only thing to do about it was ride that wave.
Kurogiri entered the office shortly after Dabi had gone. On good days, he was content to act more like a secretary than anything else. (He dressed like a secretary, too. Katsuki had never seen him outside of his stuffy formal attire. He preferred that look, for whatever reason, and Katsuki had given up trying to tell him to knock it off.) The look on his face now, barely perceptible as it was, told Katsuki that this was a bad day, where Kurogiri assumed a confidante role—something that Katsuki had never asked for, and that was often more badgering than it ever was helpful.
“Do you have a moment, Bakusatsuou?”
“What is it?”
“I’d like to express some of my concerns.”
“What about?”
He folded his hands together. His glowing eyes bored into Katsuki’s. “Do you think that was the wisest move?”
“Were you eavesdropping?” Katsuki questioned, his voice a low rumble. He hadn't said anything particularly damning he wouldn't want Kurogiri to know, but he couldn’t account for other conversations he and Dabi might have had, if this was something that had been going on for a while, and it set up a worrying precedent.
“I couldn’t help but overhear.”
“What exactly are you concerned about?”
“I would advise you to not rock the boat, so to speak. Not any further than you already have.”
Katsuki was sure he didn’t know the meaning of the phrase. By his very existence, he’d only ever rocked the boat. Being born quirkless, wanting to be a hero in spite of it, becoming a villain, then being elected to his current position. Just by being who he was, people questioned him. His capabilties, his strength. Besides, Katsuki didn’t want to do things the same way Shigaraki had. He couldn’t. And neither could he keep everyone in the world happy; there was no point in even trying. So, Katsuki did what he thought was best, and under his leadership the League implemented new policies for dealing with heroes and villains.
Heroes now, with Katsuki’s League, had to be much more careful about sticking to the ol’ straight and narrow. If Dabi’s personal revenge wasn’t a factor, Katsuki probably would have already gotten rid of Endeavor by now.
“Who gives a shit if Endeavor dies?”
“You probably should,” Kurogiri said, “considering he is a large source of revenue for the League.”
“He ain’t much good to us now, not since he lost his agency after Dabi blabbed his secrets on a national broadcast. Besides, I already have a plan to make up for the loss of funds.”
“Do you care to share what those might be?”
No, he did not. Katsuki didn’t trust Kurogiri too much in general, just based on the fact that he’d been given his position by All For One, and right now he definitely didn’t trust him, what with all this invasive bullshit. He flashed a big, fake smile. “I’ll let you know, how about that?”
“I have more concerns.”
“And what are they?” he growled.
“I’m concerned that your policies are alienating to some of our people.”
“I don’t care.”
“I’m concerned that many in the League find you unapproachable.”
“They can approach me all they want, but I can’t guarantee they’ll like what I have to say.”
“Well, that’s the issue, isn’t it,” Kurogiri sighed. “Maybe you should consider more constructive ways of phrasing your remarks.”
“I don’t give a shit if people like me or not.”
“It would be better if you did. There are countless things you can get away with if people simply like you. On the other hand, if people don’t like you, everything you do is considered offensive.” He spoke deliberately, taking careful, long pauses with each new thought. “I’ve heard whispers. Of an unsavory rumor.”
Katsuki had a hunch where this conversation was headed. He steeled himself before asking, “What rumor?”
“That you played a role in Shigaraki’s death.”
He kept his expression deliberately neutral. “That so?”
“The battle where he lost his life took place in Rusan, where you were operating. It’s an unfortunate coincidence that has caused some speculation.”
“And what do you make of these rumors?”
He hesitated before answering. “Endeavor was the only other person found on site when the battle ended, and he admitted to killing Shigaraki by his own hand. It is most unlikely that a quirkless underling could have killed Shigaraki at the height of his power. It all seems circumstantial to me.”
Katsuki took a moment, scrutinizing Kurogiri’s words and the practiced way in which he delivered them. He was fucking lying.
“Bet Shigaraki is rolling in his grave at this quirkless underling sitting on his throne.” Katsuki laughed a little. “How’s that feel for you?”
“I never agreed with the way Shigaraki acted towards you. I always thought you were a valuable asset, and the way Shigaraki treated you was childish, I’ll be the first to admit. But…it has been an adjustment. No matter what you do, just having you be in the role that only ever belonged to Shigaraki is an adjustment. And you should be aware that you are in a dangerous position.”
Katsuki turned his eyes back to the work in front of him. “People talk shit all the time. Let ‘em say whatever they want. If it becomes a bigger issue, then we’ll deal with it.”
He restlessly sorted through the papers on his desk, too frazzled to really absorb what was written on them. Reluctantly, Kurogiri turned to leave.
Before he was gone, Katsuki said, “I know how devoted you were to Shigaraki. I’m not expecting that much from you. But let me just ask you: Are you willing to follow me, and my plans for the League?”
Kurogiri took another long, pensive pause. “I have been and only ever will be loyal to All For One and Shigaraki’s vision for the League of Villains. But Shigaraki is dead, and All For One is imprisoned in Tartarus. You are a good leader, and I respect you. And…you’re what we have right now.”
“Touching,” Katsuki said dryly. “So, you’re saying I don’t need to worry about you knifing me when my back is turned?”
“A ship without a captain will only sink.”
“Can you just fucking say no?” For his own piece of mind, Katsuki needed to hear him say it.
“No, you do not have to worry about me knifing you when your back is turned.”
At least then, he seemed to be telling the truth. Katsuki nodded his head. “Good to know.”
Coming home to someone else was still a new experience for Katsuki, but something that he never really grew tired of, not when that someone was Izuku. His heart still raced as he climbed the steps to his apartment, knowing that he'd be there, and when Izuku smiled and welcomed him home, a soothing warmth bloomed from his chest.
“There’s food ready, if you’re hungry,” Izuku said, grabbing plates for both of them.
Katsuki sat close to Izuku at the table, feeding off his presence as greedily as the rice and grilled beef and vegetables Izuku had prepared. In between mouthfuls, he asked, “So, what happened today?”
“Well, that drug ring I told you about is getting some new product from their supplier later this month.”
Katsuki eyed him warily. “You gonna go jumping in by yourself?”
“I’m just planning to take out the supplier. I’ll be careful.”
“I can always send people with you.”
Izuku smiled in a placating way. They’d had this conversation before. “I don’t want any League villains with me, but thank you. I promise I’ll be careful.”
“I’ll kill you if you’re not.”
“I know,” he sang.
Katsuki leaned into his chair, throwing an arm over the back. “Speaking of drugs, I have an idea to get more money for the League.”
“Oh?”
“You know the quirk-destroying drug? People will pay out the ass for that shit on the black market.”
Izuku raised an eyebrow. “Is it a good idea to just flood the streets with that stuff?”
“That’s where you come in.” Katsuki grinned devilishly. “The League will sell the drug, and then you, someone unaffiliated with the League, will steal it back. We keep their money, we never run out of supply, and nobody actually gets a chance to use it. Win-win-win.”
Izuku chuckled. “You’re really proud of that one, aren’t you?”
“Hell yeah, it’s genius.”
“Well, I’d be happy to help. Just let me know. Oh! I just remembered,” Izuku said, whipping out a hero almanac that Katsuki hadn’t noticed he had on him. “There’s this hero in Setagaya named Combustible.”
He came to a certain page in the almanac and pointed to a small photograph of the man, under his professional name and beside a short bio, along with his strengths and weaknesses. Katsuki couldn’t help finding it funny. With how public heroes were, all this information was easy to attain if you wanted it, but someone decided to go even further and publish all these details on every licensed hero still working in Japan in a convenient little paperback book. Heroes really did have it rough.
“He’s been siphoning money from his agency, including from the paychecks of the other heroes who work under him.”
“I mean, that’s definitely illegal, but is that really something to kill this guy over?” Katsuki asked.
“Maybe not. But he’s been using that money for some pretty illicit stuff, apparently.”
“What kind of stuff?”
“Cocaine. Prostitutes.”
“Eh,” Katsuki waffled, “that’s just bad PR shit. Not really morally reprehensible.”
“Well…he’s what I’ve got right now,” Izuku said, closing the book. “Seems like a lot of heroes, the ones that are still alive and in active duty, are cleaning up. Or just getting better at hiding the skeletons in their closets.”
Katsuki rested his hand on Izuku’s. “Hey, listen, if you want me to kill this guy, I’ll kill him. I just don’t think you actually want him dead.”
Izuku softly smiled. “Maybe we can just figure out something that’ll scare him straight.”
“Yeah.” Katsuki reflected on what Dabi had told him that morning. If something good could come in the wake of Endeavor’s death, this could be it. “Maybe.”