Third person pov

Toshinori had never experienced a fever dream before, but he had a feeling this was exactly what it happened to be like. Their car had broken down and he'd watched Chad pull a broken toaster out of the trunk and use that to fix it. The vehicle had been making weird little popping noises since then and Toshinori swore on his life he smelt smoke, but Chad showed absolutely no reaction to any of these things and looked strangely enough like he'd done this before. Thus, he wasn't going to question too far into that. Or anything, really. He'd learned keeping to himself was the best. Saved tons of confusion. 

"Why aren't we going back to UA?" Toshinori asked hesitantly, fidgeting as Chad let the car creep around the corner like it was on the prowl. They weren't terribly far from the school all things considered. A few prefectures over or so-- nothing a couple hours on a train couldn't breach. They were still dressed in their matching shirts too. The hideous thing was starting to grow on the retired pro, and he wasn't sure that was a good thing. What did this say about his character? He didn't want to think too hard about it, just like he didn't want to think too hard about what this Taco Bell Nacho Fry box was going to do to his nonexistent stomach.

"We're bitch hunting, bro." Chad said, as though Toshinori had any idea what context to take that in. Was this a hooker situation? Wait, wasn't Chad married to the guy who looked like a piece of charred buffalo jerky? "Besides, they're totally expecting us shawtys to roll up at the club. We can't walk into their waiting hands! We gotta like, take the fight to them or whatever."

"You have a broken foot." Toshinori pointed out as the car made the painstakingly slow turn. The headlights were off despite how dark it was outside which instilled Toshinori with no confidence whatsoever. They were in a sketchy looking area, and he could feel his nerves beginning to spike. He could already tell whatever was about to happen was going to involve a lot of gunfire, knives, and reliance on what little luck they had to their name. "Shouldn't we go get it healed? Check on the students and Young Eri?" 

"Bro, that's predictable. We have to be creative thinkers." Chad recited it like he was a kid in grade school. Toshinori gave him a hard side-eye, shoving another fry in his mouth and chewing slowly. Would it be rude to ask for the quirk back? He was having some doubts all of a sudden. No reason why. Not related to this situation at all, of course.

"You're right. You spontaneously developing a quirk, high-jacking a truck, hotwiring a car, and then driving across Japan in a massive looping route with no pattern or real direction wasn't creative enough to throw them off our trail." Toshinori's voice came out drenched in more sarcasm than he'd used in years. His existence was becoming more burdensome by the second, and he was not super sure this situation was helping. Was it freeing? Absolutely. Maybe a little too freeing. Toshinori needed more structure than this!

"Bro, I'm glad you agree. I knew we were on the same wavelength." They completely made it around the corner, Chad missing Toshinori's tone entirely. Ahead of them, centered in the street, was a rather large building. It was built in a U shape, the courtyard that would've been in the middle of it all fenced off by tall concrete walls. The large wooden gate that stood at the forefront of it all looked sturdy enough to keep just about anything unwanted out. The car came to a stop, Chad's head tilting in a considering manner that made Toshinori incredibly nervous for no particular reason whatsoever. "Besides, they would've called if there was a problem!" 

And there it was. This was it, wasn't it? This was what was going to end Toshinori's life. The guy just about had a heart attack when Chad pulled a flip phone out of god knows where, holding it up like it was a grand prize he'd just proudly won. It was an actual, functioning phone. He could see the time displayed on it from here. Chad had a phone-- he'd had a phone this entire time! Since when?! Toshinori absolutely couldn't do this. Or maybe he could. Should he be mad right now? He should be a lot angrier than he actually is.

"Why didn't we use that to call someone?" Toshinori's voice came out a lot calmer than he thought it would. Shoutout to him for that. Leave the anger issues to Endeavor, who yes, was still in prison. Toshinori refused to admit how amusing it was to watch his legal team slowly sink and drown to death. Proverbially, of course! He wonders if the case has had any updates since he got kidnapped.

"Um, because I have limited minutes, duh." Chad scoffed as though it were obvious. It was in fact not. "Bro, if they need some shit I've gotta be able to like, answer! You know how it works!" 

"Do I?" Toshinori hummed, voice distant. He has given up. Chad once again didn't seem to notice. Was that a social oversight on his part or a conscious choice? Rhetorical question, by the way. Toshinori doesn't actually want an answer to that. 

"Anyway, no need to worry about that now." Chad's reassuring tone made Toshinori even more suspicious. Especially when he flipped the headlights on. "We can head back to UA after this! They'll be so focused on the property damage they won't have any time to come grab us on our way there!" 

Toshinori nodded. Yeah, that made sense. If the Yakuza's focus could be drawn elsewhere, they'd probably have to pull their men from where they were undoubtedly circling UA. This would give them a much better chance at getting i- Wait. Wait, wait. Property damage? What did Chad mean when he said property damage? Was he talking about this building? It looked perfectly fine to him. Very structurally sound and quite clean despite the older design. But Chad seemed to have his sights trained on it nonetheless, and that-- oh. Oh, no. Toshinori didn't have enough organs left for this.

The tires squealed as Chad's foot slammed down on the gas. Toshinori didn't even have time to scream.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I sincerely regret this." Aizawa said in a genuine tone as Neito Monoma attacked the crowd of reporters like a cat gone rabid. He was hissing and screaming something about trauma and gesturing to his own neck. He'd also just pulled someone's tie so tight they were choking. Could he get away with arresting the kid for that? At least then he wouldn't have to deal with him.

The underground pro hadn't really left campus since his rise to the Number One spot, but reporters had been in a frenzy trying to catch him despite this. His lack of a public appearance made him all the more mysterious. He'd hoped his popularity would go down a little if he laid low, but the opposite seemed to be true. In fact, his appeal had risen if nothing else. He even had merchandise now, courtesy of his agency. According to Mic, seeing people napping in yellow sleeping bags around and about was a lot more common these days. And you could find various versions of his goggles laying around too. He wasn't sure he was a fan of that, really. At least Lillian thought it was funny. 

"We're going to need all hands on deck to handle this." Hitoshi agreed, earning him a distinctly disappointed look. He held up his stump anyway, waving it for emphasis. "On one hand, I don't want to force the public's hand. On the other, I can list how much we're going to get done at this rate and luckily not need more than five fingers to do so. I was hoping for some hands-on experience with the Yakuza case but it looks like you'll be giving us first hand lessons with the PR part of being a hero. I'm sure you've got a good grip on things, but I have to point out that cutting these guys off probably isn't going to go as smoothly as--"

"If you make another amputee joke I'm taking the other hand." Aizawa hissed out lowly, gritting his teeth as another camera flashed. He'd strangle this brat if he weren't so scared of what Mihoko Shinso would do to him in retaliation. He already lost one appendage, however, so what was one more? She possibly couldn't stay mad about that, right? 

"Double the ammo." Hitoshi countered, and god, Aizawa fucking hated these kids. He was going to take his daughter and go live on a very, very rural farm. They'd have two goats and one of those mini pigs that destroyed furniture and they would do absolutely nothing exciting ever. And Lillian's only friends would be wild birds and horses, and there wouldn't be a single angry blonde or squad of internet-lingo-spouting teenagers in sight. It would be blissfully silent and stress-free. They'd commit tax evasion and only come into town for jelly packets and Twix bars. 

"I literally JUST told you to go AWAY!" Neito screamed, ruining Aizawa's day. The reporter he was in the process of harassing now stumbled away, her eyes wide with mild terror and great confusion. "What? Are you some sort of pervert? Do you have an amputee fetish?! My friend just lost his hand, he doesn't want you taking weird ass photos of him and his stump!"

"Stumpy is sensitive." Hitoshi agreed in a solemn yet simultaneously fond tone, stroking the stump with his existing hand as though it were sentient. Aizawa took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to keep his tears at bay and telling himself he was doing this for Lillian and Lillian only. He could handle this. He'd been a teacher for how long now? He'd dealt with worse. At least it wasn't Bakugo.

"We could care less about your friend, brat! It's Eraserhead we want to talk to!" One of the reporters-- a man who sort of looked like the ice age baby mixed with a Minecraft pig-- shouted. He shook his fist at Neito, and the blonde boy gasped in the loudest, most dramatic manner possible.

"And now you're mocking him?!" Neito shrieked, swatting his fist. "If you don't care about him, why're you taking photos?! If you post this shit I'll know and I'll sue you. You hear that?! You do NOT have our permission to use our names or faces! My dad is a lawyer! A very, very rich and good lawyer!"

"You've been estranged from your shit family for ages. Haven't you like, not talked to them in months?" Hitoshi rose an eyebrow. Aizawa was just glad he'd managed to say something without a single pun in it. Aizawa needed to think happy thoughts. Lillian and Bakugo were separated right now. That was a good-- no, a great thing. If dealing with these two idiots for a week or so meant his daughter got away from that explosive rat, he'd do it. He could power through.

"Then I'll un-estrange myself!" Neito looked positively frazzled. He whipped around, thrusting a finger at Aizawa. Aizawa took it all back. Fuck powering through it. "And you! Why aren't you doing anything?! This is discrimination! A hate crime against amputees and gays!" 

Aizawa, in a moment of weakness, flashed his quirk at the boy. It had been a long time since he'd done so but the result was the same. Neito Monoma crumbled like a puppet with his string's cut, earning a sharp, scolding elbow in his side from Hitoshi. The reporters hopped away with shrieks of terror, and Aizawa snorted. Hitoshi gave him a weird look at his morbid amusement seeing as he'd just effectively killed-killed Neito. For a second. He'd come back eventually... or something.

"Oh my god!" Hitoshi said in a very loud, very overexaggerated tone. "One of you killed him!" 

It didn't take very long for the press to disperse in a panic after that.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Katsuki says he doesn't like this, he means it with every blithering ounce of his fucking being. He's going to launch himself into the sun and the speed of light itself and no one is going to be able to stop him. 

So he and Lillian had been attached at the hip since the kidnapping shit. Big deal! There wasn't anything wrong with that. Sue him for being a little paranoid. They'd both almost died-- Lillian coming even closer to death than he ever had, and he yeah, that fucking bothers him. You can't fault him for wanting to keep nearby! Being apart from her made him nervous. Who knows when that warp fucker could show up again and swallow one of them! The other idiots stuck close to her too, so it's not like he was the only one anyway.

He'd been perfectly fucking fine staying on UA's campus. Leaving would give The League another chance to grab them, and personally, he really wasn't a big fan of that idea. So they'd stayed, and it had been great. But... But now the time had come to move again, and though he'd known well and good that it was coming, that didn't mean he was head over heels for the whole thing. Lillian was miles away, interning with some second-rate hero who probably wasn't strong enough to protect her. He knew why she was doing it, just like he knew why he was interning here with this Nightfucker dude. Still didn't mean he had to like that shit.

They'd both prepared themselves. They'd sat down and talked about it, and agreed to stay in close contact. They had a plan-- a drive, a purpose, something to get done. Lillian was going to fight past her anxieties to do her part, so you can sure as shit believe Katsuki was going to do the same. Like hell he'd sit back and let fucking Sparky and Half-and-Half show him up with that bird fuck! Bakugo was the one who'd interned with Chad, and that meant he knew the most about the Yakuza out of all of them. It made sense for him to cover this base. Just like it made sense for Lillian to go with Fatgum, to cover that base. He kept telling himself this in an attempt to quell the nervous shake in his hands.

She was fine. He was fine. They were both perfectly fucking fine. He was being pathetic. Super duper definitely very pathetic. He could totally handle this without having some sort of mental break. Bakugo Katsuki didn't do mental breaks. He did mental... mental... put... togethers. Or something. Point was, his emotions were structurally sound and he was fine! Perfectly, totally, definitely fine!

"So you're the student Mirio was telling me about." Nighteye was a tall, imposing man with sharp yellow eyes and the ugliest hair Katsuki had ever seen in his entire goddamn life. He glowered down at Katsuki like he was somehow less, which was about as irritating as it sounded. The teen clenched and unclenched his fists, brow twitching. Blowing up this guy's face wouldn't go well, right? Yeah, no, he really had to do this shit. They were counting on him to land this work study. He wasn't leaving with anything less than a sure acceptance. 

"That's right! He asked specifically to intern with you. Apparently he and some friends are after the Shie Hassaikai for whatever reason. Pretty cool, right?!" The ungodly embodiment of the damn sun was also another fun little character Katsuki was going to be forced against his will to deal with. "His name is Bakugo Katsuki. He's one of UA's first years!" 

Nighteye frowned, arms crossed over his chest. Katsuki arched a brow and kept his comments to himself. Was blondie for real when he said this guy appreciated good humor? Maybe he'd just hand the guy a mirror and tell him to look at it. Would that be funny enough for him? God fucking dammit. He fucking hated this. Where was Lillian? What was she doing? Was she safe? Would she be okay on patrols? Was the League still after her, or had that been an aborted attempt they weren't going to second?

"And what would you know about the Yakuza, Bakugo?" Nightfuck's voice was condescending, and Katsuki felt the very thin cord of self control he'd held onto for the past two minutes or so finally snap. He'd held onto it a very, very long time to be fair. A new record.

"More than you, you egotistical fuck." Katsuki snapped, teeth clenching so hard he felt his jaw creak. He watched the man's expression flash into something colder and wondered vaguely if he'd already fucked up. He felt rage flood through his veins too quickly for him to actually care. Again, he wasn't leaving with a no. "Sign me and we'll compare notes."

"The Shie Hassaikai case is highly classified. Quite frankly, I'm surprised someone like you even knows that name." Nightbitch drawled it out in an annoying lilt that made Katsuki genuinely consider homicide not for the first time in his entire life. He took a very deep breath. Flasher the stripping genius was starting to look a little nervous next to him, beady little rat eyes glancing between the pair in an unsure manner. You know what? He could see how someone like Sparky could be scared of this fucker. Were Katsuki a lesser man, he also might be intimidated by his TinTin looking ass.

"Yeah, well, I guess you can say that I got firsthand experience with the fuckers on my first internship." Bakugo griped irritably. "And now they're messing with Eri and shit and coming where they don't fucking belong, so we're going to bite them in the ass before they can get us first. Lillian and the extras already have their spots secured, now I just need mine. Here." 

Katsuki made sure to keep his gaze steady and sure despite how fast his heart was beating. The thought of disappointing those who were counting on him was suffocating. It would put him even further from Lillian and completely out of the operation. Nighteye was the kingpin of the entire Shie Hassaikai case. If he lost them this in they were sort of fucked. He knew the most about the Yakuza out of all of them, and Nighteye knew the most about them right back. He had to know what Nightfuck already knew.

"He and his friends are all interning with different heroes with sway in the cases." Mirage Man said with an obnoxious smile, butting in and trying to be positive. Katsuki's skin crawled as the guy clapped him on the shoulder. "It's actually really well organized! Lillian went with Fatgum, two of them are with Eraserhead, and I think a couple even went to Hawks!" 

"Hawks doesn't know anything about the case. He isn't involved at all." Nighteye noted, though he did look notably more curious than before. Bakugo barked out a sharp laugh.

"Isn't involved." Katsuki muttered, more to himself than to Nightbitch. He cleared his throat a bit, trying to gather himself and press his temper down. "Look. You have information I need, I have shit you need. We want to end these fuckers for good. Do you?" 

Nighteye spun a stamp through his long fingers contemplatively, and Bakugo grinned.