Chapter 1

The first thing Shouto noticed when he woke up was the pounding headache and churning stomach that nearly made him vomit right then and there. He managed to hold down the gross feeling and he rubbed his face, his palms pressing into his eyes so hard he saw stars.

After a moment, the nausea passed and he dropped his hands from his face to stare up at a bland-colored, popcorned ceiling with several glow-in-the-dark plastic stars splattered here and there.

Wait… plastic stars?

Shouto felt his heart jump and he jolted up in the small bed—whose bed is this?!—and glanced around the room.

The room was covered from head to toe in posters and figurines of the famous idol, All Might. Even the bed covers had his face plastered right on top, his white teeth almost sparkling in the dim room.

Where… Where in the world was he?

He had no recollection of the night before. Did he really get so drunk that he passed out in someone's bed?

Shouto felt sweat run down the side of his neck and he tried to swallow, but his dry throat prevented him. He had to get out of here as quickly as possible.

He went to move out of the bed when his foot got caught in the sheets. He stumbled to the ground in a painful thud, landing hard on his elbows and bare knees.

Bare… knees?

Shouto glanced down at himself and choked on his own spit.

He was naked.

Why in the world was he naked?!

Suddenly, there were hurried footsteps heading towards the door of the bedroom.

Shouto scrambled to his feet, trying to gain some sense of decency, but before he could even think of an escape plan, the door flung open, sending light from the hallway inside and making Shouto's headache worse.

"Hey, I heard a crash! Are you okay?!"

Shouto grabbed the sheet that had wrapped around his leg and immediately covered his crotch, looking up at the man who stood in the doorway.

He was shorter, with pretty green eyes and dark hair. The light from the hallway touched his tanned face, and Shouto could see the freckles that adorned his cheeks.

He was… cute.

And… familiar?

Where had Shouto seen him before?

"Kacchan just leave him alone! I'll let him sleep in my room, okay?"

Ah, that's right. He was at a dumb work party that his coworker forced him to go to at his loft. He had tried to lay low, make dumb pleasantries for the sake of his job, and then go home when the opportunity arose.

So, he had water all evening, but it was obvious that his drink was spiked. He remembered a lot of laughter happening when he took a particular sip, and he wondered if that was the plan from his coworkers all along.

After all, he hadn't been invited to any of the other office parties. It was only a matter of time before they tried to get rid of him for good.

Shouto sighed, reaching up to rub his head. The nausea was back.

"Ah, hey…"

The man hurried to his side and helped him sit back down on the bed, making sure the covers stayed respectively over his lap.

"You're probably super hungover," he said. "Here, have some water."

Shouto dropped his hand from his face and sent a weak glare in the guy's direction. But he was persistent, holding out a glass towards Shouto's face until he relented and took the water from his grasp.

"Thanks," Shouto said, very reluctantly. Everything this guy was doing was screaming suspicion. He needed to stay on his guard but didn't know how to with the pain that was currently throbbing against his skull. It was like an itch he couldn't reach.

"Mmn," the guy hummed. "You should feel better after some rest."

After downing the glass, Shouto glanced around the room again, the harsh colors making his head spin.

He felt ashamed at even bringing up the question.

"Where… am I?" he asked.

The guy chuckled softly, the noise tickling Shouto's ears. He rubbed the back of his head, seemingly nervous.

"Sorry, you're probably really confused, huh?" he stuttered. "You're in my room. I-I just moved into this loft a few days ago."

Shouto narrowed his eyes in question and the guy looked away, his finger reaching up to scratch his cheek.

"Ah, well… I mean. I share the loft with Kacchan, er, Bakugou Katsuki, and Kirishima Eijiro," he said.

As soon as the names left his mouth, his brain was flooded with memories of the night before—how everyone was acting so cold towards him and ignoring his presence if he was near. Kirishima, his coworker, had invited him to the party that resided in his humble abode, and Shouto was certain that it was out of the pleasantness of his own heart that Kirishima invited him.

But as the party went on, Shouto realized that Kirishima's invitation was only to save face with their boss. And not only that, but Bakugou saw it as an opportunity to get his revenge on the robber they caught last week.

It was technically Bakugou's case, but Shouto jumped in and injured the thief right before Bakugou got the jump on him and handcuffed him right on the spot. Bakugou ended up getting all the glory and awards.

But he was also pissed.

Shouto sighed, rubbing his eyes. Working in the police force was so draining. Especially with these clowns.

"Ugh," Shouto groaned, putting a hand to his left eye. It was feeling sensitive to the light filtering into the room. "So... what happened? Were you at the party?"

"Ah, well, I had a meeting with my new boss so I couldn't go," the man said. "And by the time I got back, you were hammered."

Shouto frowned, dropping his hand. He remembered not purposely drinking any alcohol, so that meant that his assumptions were true. His drink really was spiked.

He sighed and glanced down at his appearance, wanting nothing more than to high-tail it out of there. But without his clothes...

Ah, speaking of which...

"Where are my clothes?" Shouto asked, giving the guy a wary look.

The guy blinked at him for a moment, and his eyes trailed down his bare chest.

Then, his face flushed deep red and he backed away from Shouto, breaking out into nervous babblings.

"A-A-Ah! R-Right, your c-clothes!" he stuttered. "I washed them, but they should be dry by now! I-I'll go get them!"

He scurried out of the room, not daring to look at Shouto, and then quickly returned with a stack of neatly folded clothes. He averted his eyes as he handed them to Shouto.

"Y-You spilled a lot of beer on them. And then you threw up all over yourself," he said. "I tried to clean you up as best as I could, but you were unconscious so…"

Shouto sighed, hanging his head. He quickly took the clothes from the guy, his insides just about to explode. How embarrassing—mortifying. He felt angry and violated, and his emotions were about to snap like a brittle twig.

But he took a deep breath and remembered the manners his mother oh so desperately tried to teach him, and then he bowed his head to the guy. Some of it was out of politeness, but most of it was just from sheer embarrassment.

"Well, thanks for your help, I guess," Shouto said, hurrying to throw his shirt over his head. "I'll get out of your hair now."

The guy finally turned his head back towards him and looked him in the eye, his face twisting into concern.

"What? But you're still so hungover," he said.

Shouto waved him off as he shoved his boxer-briefs onto his body, trying to ignore any lingering eyes. He yanked his pants on and fumbled with the button and zipper, his nausea starting to make his insides crawl up his throat.

"I have work to do," Shouto answered, thinking about the case the station was just assigned recently. He was taking the lead with someone new, so he had to meet with Lieutenant Aizawa about it before the new guy showed up.

"Ah—on a Sunday?" the guy said incredulously. "I mean, I have work later today, too, but do you really have to work all day? And this early?"

Shouto sighed. Isn't that what he just said? He didn't have time for this.

"Yeah," Shouto said.

He felt his phone in the pocket of his jeans and pulled it out. He pressed the button on the side and saw the time, noting that it was almost seven in the morning. Good. He still had time to go home and change into his uniform before heading to the station.

He stuffed the phone back into his pocket and gave the man a solid nod.

"Thanks for… whatever this was," Shouto said, turning towards the door. "See you."

He rushed out of the bedroom and out of the loft as quickly as possible. He didn't dare look back into that awful place again.

When Shouto finally freshened up via a quick sponge bath and several layers of deodorant, he changed into his uniform and rushed down to the station. He would've been more excited to discuss the case if he didn't have his coworkers to deal with.

It didn't matter, Shouto told himself. He wasn't there to make friends. He was there to save lives. Friends would only get in the way.

His head still pounded from the hangover as he entered the nearly empty police station and dragged himself to his desk. He was about to plop down in his chair when he noticed something amiss that caused him to stop short.

His desk was a mess.

Pencil cup turned over, his paperwork scattered and bent, and not to mention the random pieces of trash that rested across his keyboard. He really hoped there wasn't chewed gum on those keys.

Shouto gave an aggravated sigh and started picking up the fallen papers, trying to organize them the best he could. Once he cleared up the trash and put his stuff back in place, he finally sat down in his uncomfortable chair and slumped forward, his hands massaging his temples.

His phone buzzed in his pocket and he wanted to throw it across the room. The vibration function was driving him nuts these days, and with the added irritation of the morning's events, he wanted nothing to do with it.

But, like a civilized human being, Shouto pulled it out of his pocket gently and saw that he had nearly 15 unread messages.

All from his father.

Now he really wanted to throw his phone.

"Ah, good morning, Todoroki!"

Shouto nearly jumped out of his skin, which wasn't typical for him. Being raised in a household where his father was the Chief of Police for the city of Tokyo, he was used to loud noises. It had to have been the alcohol. It was making his nerves sensitive.

He put his phone in his pocket and then glanced up to see Kirishima leaning over the cubicle wall, smiling toothily at him.

"Wow, you look horrible," he said, his smile falling. "You okay?"

Shouto blinked at him, feeling annoyance slip in between his ribs and wring his heart. It was making him burn.

"'m Fine," Shouto said, closing his eyes when he heard how much his words slurred.

Kirishima blinked at him. "Are you hungover?"

Shouto frowned and sighed. "Apparently."

"But I thought you told me when you came over that you weren't drinking since you had to come in early," Kirishima said.

"I didn't," Shouto said, rubbing his eyes. "At least, not on purpose."

Kirishima winced and rubbed the back of his head, seeming to understand the meaning behind Shouto's statement. "Aw, geez. Sorry about that, Todo."

Shouto waved him off and sighed again. He really needed some aspirin. Maybe Shinsou would be willing to cooperate today and give him some.

"So why're you here so early?" 'And not as miserable as me?' was on the tip of his tongue but Shouto chose to bite it down and swallow it.

Kirishima smiled sheepishly, eyes cast down slightly. "Well, actually—"

"Who're you talking to, Shitty hair?"

Shouto's groaned internally. Of course, he wasn't the only one here this early.

Bakugou popped his head above the cubicle wall and sneered, frowning harshly at Shouto.

"Tch, stupid Candy Cane. Why're you here so early, hah?!" he scoffed.

"Same reason as you," Shouto said, annoyed.

Bakugou rolled his eyes and turned away. "Well, don't expect to get the glory this time, asshole! Stay out of my way!"

Bakugou stomped away, back to his own cubicle on the opposite end of the office.

Kirishima sighed and shook his head, his hand continuing to rub at the red hairs on the back of his neck.

"He doesn't mean to be so…" Kirishima paused and then made a vague gesture with his fist, but Shouto seemed to understand. "Anyway. I'll try to find out who spiked your drink at the party."

Shouto eyed the direction where Bakugou had sauntered off in and then back to Kirishima, who was frantically waving his hands.

"No, no! Katsuki is a tough guy, but he'd never do that to someone!" Kirishima said. When Shouto gave him a flat, unconvinced look, Kirishima sighed. "Well, I know it looks like he did, but it was most likely one of the other officers who came to the party."

Shouto sighed and closed his eyes, pressing his thumbs to his temples again. Kirishima, as frustrating as it was for Shouto to admit, was right. Bakugou liked to win fair and square.

"You're probably right," Shouto said, making Kirishima's shoulders sag slightly in relief. But Shouto then looked at Kirishima sharply. "But, you know the other officers are influenced by his hatred towards me, right?"

Kirishima wilted, nodding pitifully. "I know. I'll try to talk to the rest of them, okay?"

Shouto fiddled with the stack of papers on his desk, his thumb gently grazing the stack. Kirishima was probably the only person in this precinct that would actually talk to him like he was normal. Everyone else either treated him like trash or simply ignored him altogether. He would eat lunch with the guy if it weren't for Bakugou giving him death glares all the time.

Oh well. Friends weren't needed, anyway.

"Thank you, Kirishima," Shouto said.

Kirishima gave him a nod and then also walked off in the same direction as Bakugou's desk.

Shouto released a sigh and then slowly lowered his head to the desk. Maybe a quick nap would be okay. He made it there before Lieutenant Aizawa arrived, so it would probably be fine.

He closed his eyes and let out a deep breath, feeling his shoulders sag and relax.

Just five minutes…

"Todoroki."

Shouto resisted the temptation to bang his skull against his desk. He turned his head to peer up at Aizawa, who stood in front of him with bags under his eyes and a steaming cup of coffee in his hand. While his face screamed disarray, his hair was pulled back and his suit was crisp and pressed. He nodded towards his office.

"Need to speak with you," he said.

Shouto pushed himself up into a sitting position. "Yes, sir."

He followed Aizawa to his office, biting back a yawn, and closed the door behind him.

Aizawa sat on his desk and grabbed a file, handing it over to Shouto. He grabbed it from him and looked at it blearily. He was suddenly wide awake.

It was the case about the long string of murders in the area. All of Tokyo had been on full-alert, gripped with fear. And the killer was still out there, preaching some nonsense about a world without violence and a world with peace.

And the most unsettling thing about it was that 90% of the victims were police officers.

This case file was gold to Shouto. So why had Aizawa given it to him?

"You already know about this case, but these are the details," Aizawa said. "I'm planning to give the same file to a few others, but only to the more experienced."

Shouto felt his chest swell. Aizawa thought him worthy enough to be on the case.

"But I'm not letting you work solo this time," Aizawa said.

Shouto frowned, hand tightening on the file and almost bending it. "Did I… do something wrong?"

He wondered if his father had spoken to Aizawa about anything.

But Aizawa shook his head. "It's not that. You are highly qualified to take on a case by yourself."

Shouto narrowed his eyes. "Then, why?"

Aizawa folded his arms across his chest. "This case is extremely dangerous. Anyone I assign this to is required to work with a partner."

Partner?

Shouto pouted slightly. He's tried to work with people from this precinct before, but it never ended well. All of his previous partners either requested a new one or transferred to a different station altogether.

"Since your relationship with the other officers has been… strained lately," Aizawa began, "I'm assigning you to work with the new transfer."

Shouto perked up, eyes a little wide. "New transfer?"

"Yeah. From Shinagawa station," Aizawa said. "He's the same ranking as you are, although you've had more experience than him."

Shouto twisted his lips, feeling a bit peeved about working with someone new. He wasn't in the mood to be made fun of or given a hard time. He would have to establish his dominance early so that he wouldn't be the victim of more tormenting.

His thoughts were disrupted by three soft raps on Aizawa's door.

"Ah, that must him," Aizawa said. "Come in!"

The doorknob jiggled slightly and then the door cracked opened.

"A-Ah, am I late?"

The familiar voice sent a rock plummeting straight into Shouto's stomach. He whipped his head around and watched as a dark-haired, green-eyed man walked inside—fully clothed in a police uniform. His name on the left side of his chest read "Midoriya."

"Todoroki, this is Midoriya Izuku. He will be your new partner on the case," Aizawa said, gesturing for Midoriya to enter.

Midoriya entered through and then finally locked eyes with Shouto.

"Ah, it's nice to meet…" Midoriya started, and then his voice trailed off as his eyes widened. He pointed at Shouto and blinked rapidly. "Y-You're…!"

Then, Midoriya's cheeks burned red.

Shouto's own face felt hot, and he had to turn his gaze away.

How mortifying.

"I see you guys already know each other," Aizawa said, ignoring the strange tension in the room. "Good. Then once you guys are more acquainted, you can get started on investigations."

Aizawa pressed an identical file to Midoriya's chest and he flinched, scrambling to catch it before it fell to the ground.

"I have a meeting with the chief, so I'll be back in the afternoon," Aizawa said. "I'm hoping you'll come up with some good leads by then."

With those parting words, Aizawa exited his office, leaving Shouto alone with this man who, only a few hours ago, saw his white, pasty, hungover, and naked body. Up close. Shouto rubbed his hand down his face. He wanted to sink through the floor.

"Ah, s-so… You're also a police officer, huh?" Midoriya asked nervously.

Shouto sighed and dropped his hand from his face. He sent yet another weak glare in his direction and then turned away from him, heading to the door.

"Let's just get this started," Shouto said with a gruff in his voice.

"Started?" Midoriya repeated, blinking at him. But Shouto ignored him and left the room, hearing Midoriya squeak and shout a panicked, "Ah! Wait for me!"

Shouto kept going, heading straight to his desk.

"S-So, should we discuss the case together, then? I've heard about it before and I've done my research, but with the little information I had access to at my old precinct, it was hard to get all the details," Midoriya rambled.

Shouto sighed and continued on towards his desk, trying to ignore the pounding against his skull. His stomach was twisting uncomfortably, and he just needed a nap. He seriously wanted to go home.

"I, uh… I actually came up with ideas on where to start looking," Midoriya mentioned as they rounded the corner of the cubicles. "Maybe we can start on…"

His voice trailed off as they both reached Shouto's desk. It was once again covered in trash and his files were scattered about.

Shouto's stomach crawled up his throat.

This was complete madness.

"Um, Todoroki…" Midoriya called tentatively. "Are… Are you okay?"

Shouto whirled around to face him, making the room spin slightly. He could still clearly see Midoriya's pretty eyes and the concerned crease in his brows. But he tried to ignore his looks and he barreled onward.

"Listen here," Shouto began. He felt sweat forming on his brow. "I'm not here to play at friendship or companionship. I'm here to solve this case and put a criminal behind bars." He took a deep breath and loomed over Midoriya, the room still spinning.

"Even though we're partners in this c-case, it doesn't mean you can be all buddy-buddy with me," Shouto continued. "I'm trying to work on my p-promotion, so don't get in my way."

Midoriya blinked up at him, the concern not dissipating. Instead, his hands reached out, lightly touching his shoulders. It reminded him of the light touch just earlier that morning when Midoriya's rough hands touched his bare skin. It was just as warm and just as comforting.

"Todoroki, you don't look so good," Midoriya commented. "Maybe you should sit."

He knew he only meant it out of concern, but Shouto took it as a jab at his pride. He wanted to shove Midoriya off but the swirling sensation in his stomach made him freeze.

Midoriya must have noticed the change because he blinked up at Todoroki strangely.

"Todoroki?" he called.

"Trash can," Shouto strained.

Midoriya tilted his head. "Huh?"

Shouto put a hand to his mouth. "T-Trash…"

Midoriya's eyes widened in realization and he lunged for the nearby trash can. He shoved it to Shouto's chest and he took it with fervor, vomiting up the rest of what was in his stomach. Shouto could hear faint sounds of people gagging and chuckling in the background, and his ears burned hotter.

"Nice one, Candy Cane!" Bakugou's voice called.

"K-Kacchan!" Midoriya yelled in response.

Shouto coughed into the trashcan, all of his dignity gone.

This was going to be a long case.

"H-Hey, man… Let's just talk this out, yeah? We can come up with a deal."

"Sigh, how troublesome."

"I won't tell anyone at the station! I promise!"

"Hah. That's a good one. Where I come from, promises are never kept. They're only lies."

"Please! Please, just let me go! I won't tell anyone where you are! Please. Please!"

"Geez, man. You're being so noisy."

"H-Hey, wait… What are you doing with that? Is that gasoline?!"

"Ah, so you're at least that smart."

"No, wait! Plea—cough! Cough!"

"There. That's perfect."

"Cough, w-wait! Is that a match? No, don't do this! N-No, please don't! Please just let me go! I'm begging you!"

"Funny. I've said those same words to people like you. And you know what…

…No one ever listened."