Notes:

This is a Leverage fusion fic, but you don't need to know what that is to read this.

Also, this is a no quirks au as well as a soulmate au in which soulmates make eye contact and they hear music - a specific song, unique to their relationship

Thank you to all the lovely people from the Discord server who helped me get this thing finished! Especially you two, MaybeIfITalk and LittleMissHeartfillia

Note: some people in this au have slightly different appearances, since this is a no quirks au. I promise that this is intentional.

...

Izuku is sitting in a bar, because it's the only place open at this time of night - or maybe morning? It's hard to tell - and even if he'd rather be in a gym, it's not like an airport has one tucked away in a corner somewhere.

He's just come back to the US from visiting his mom in Japan. It had been an excruciatingly long twelve-hour flight, and he feels like he needs to move but, well, there isn't a gym. He would have to make do with squeezing his grip strengthener while he waits for the nice bartender to finish pouring him a half-pint of beer. He's ordered whatever was on tap, mostly because he doesn't really drink often - and when he does it's usually sake, which they don't have - but he doesn't want to be the guy who orders water at a mostly empty bar because that would mean no tip for the server, and he needs to remember that in America, servers' wages are mostly comprised of tips - which seems kind of backwards to him, but, well, he chalks it up to cultural differences.

The bartender is pretty quick, like the dyed-black lightning bolt in his hair suggests, so Izuku has a drink in his hand within moments. He sips at it idly with the elbow of his prosthetic arm on the bar countertop supporting his head as he stares at nothing in particular. That's when they approach him.

A somewhat portly man, likely in his early fifties, slides him a manila folder. He says, "please help me," while his companion stands just out of earshot but still close enough to be intimidating - which is a very specific distance that suggests he's most likely a bodyguard, even if he does have a few more piercings than stereotypical. Well, at least his employer doesn't discriminate based on looks. That's a point in Izuku's books.

The boss man doesn't technically say anything remotely like 'help me,' but he doesn't really have to when his body language is all but screaming a cry for help, and, well, Izuku's never really been able to resist a call for help.

Izuku doesn't touch the folder, but he levels his gaze at the man, taking him in.

He's wearing a grey suit, relatively high grade but not quite the highest (the probably-bodyguard's suit is just a few grades below that in all black), with a white button-down undershirt and no tie, like he had just slipped out of the office for lunch, despite the fact that it's probably about three in the morning. His shoes are black and shiny and look pretty uncomfortable, which speaks to some kind of dress code - his socks, on the other hand, are dark blue with a pattern that he can't quite make out without being obvious about it, which strikes Izuku as slightly odd but not overly so. That probably means he's upper-level management, high up enough that he can get away with minute dress code violations. The man's hair is mostly dark brown, fading to grey at the roots where his decent dye job is growing out. He's shaking, sweating nervously and wringing his hands.

Izuku, in contrast, is wearing a hoodie that says 'sweatshirt' on it in katakana, leggings, and his pretty much ubiquitous red sneakers - comfortable traveling clothes - and hasn't moved a muscle.

Strangely, this juxtaposition seems to intimidate the man, not put him at ease.

Their eyes meet, and the man's pale eyes flick downward habitually for a moment like he's disappointed but not surprised - resigned, perhaps - that he doesn't hear the music people gush about hearing when they find their soulmates. Every song is different, one that fits your relationship, and one that no one but you will ever hear. It's pretty obvious when it happens.

Izuku gives him a dry smile, knowing that pity would be unwelcome. The man is getting on in years, and he hasn't managed to stumble across his soulmate yet - every person he meets is a spark of hope, quickly extinguished - and no one wants to be pitied for something beyond their control.

Not that Izuku has any experience with that feeling, of course.

He's known who his soulmate is since he was six months old.

The man takes a deep breath like he's about to start speaking, then another. Three breaths later, he actually starts talking.

"Hello, Mr. Izuku, or is it Mr. Midoriya? Apologies, I always get Asian name orders mixed up - "

"You can call me Midoriya," Izuku puts in, because otherwise it just sounds weird. Not that his name doesn't sound weird in an American accent period, because, well, it does. But it's especially weird to hear his first name from a complete stranger, particularly one who hasn't even bothered to introduce himself yet.

The man blinks rapidly, like he isn't used to being interrupted. "Thank you, Mr. Midoriya. My name is Franklin, Franklin Petersen, and I've read all about you and your, um, your cases. The fake Fabergé egg in Poland, the, the, the Van Gogh you recovered in Egypt, even the letters from one of the Queens of England - why, you must have saved your insurance company, what, millions of dollars?"

"Billions," Izuku corrects softly, not without a hint of bitterness sneaking in. He takes another sip of his beer and finds that it isn't quite as good as he'd first thought. It's a little too dark - unfortunately.

Petersen hesitates, wringing his hands almost violently before saying, "And - well, everyone's heard - that is to say, concerning you former mentor - "

Izuku sets his glass decisively on the bar, picking up his grip strengthener again. The bodyguard takes a step towards them casually, pretending to be perusing the wine list, even though he doesn't exactly look like the kind of guy who likes wine.

"Is there something I can help you with, Mr. Petersen?" he asks pleasantly, because this conversation seems to be leading to something he really does not want to talk about.

Petersen gulps and starts nodding. "Yes, well, um, Mr. Midoriya, I was wondering - that is, what do you know about prosthetics?"

Izuku blinks because, well. It's kind of obvious.

Petersen follows his incredulous look to where his prosthetic hand is lying on the bar and flushes. "I - sorry, I meant d- design , um, specifically. Prosthetics design."

Izuku shrugs gamely. "Well, I'm sure I could come up with something if you have a spare pen." He's pretty sure that's not what the guy is aiming for, though.

Sure enough, Petersen shakes his head violently, somehow managing to flush and blanche at the same time. Talented man. "No, no, you don't understand - someone's stolen my designs."

Izuku sighs. He knows where this is going, and he isn't particularly interested. Honestly, all he really wants to do is go back to his apartment in New York and collapse into his mattress, maybe take a shower to wash off all the airport grime he can feel sinking into his skin - not in that order, though, probably. "And I suppose you want me to find them. I'm sorry to break it to you, Mr. Petersen, but I no longer work in that area. I can refer you to my previous partner, if you'd like - "

"No," Petersen interrupts, the stumbling over his words suddenly absent and replaced with determination. "I know exactly where they are. I'd like to hire you to help me get them back."

Izuku eyes him warily, then his gaze - almost of its own accord - slides down to the folder between them. "...Who has the designs?"

Petersen winces. "My competitor. Rockwell."

"...You're absolutely certain?" Izuku blinks, surprised. Rockwell Prosthetics has an incredibly clean, family-friendly image. He knows as well as anyone that public images are usually hiding something...not necessarily sinister , per se, but perhaps...less savory. Rockwell, though - they seemed to be fairly straightforward. Very little in the way of scandal, except for that one time that the head of R&D started arguing with her husband over the phone on camera which the media had blown out of proportion - it was more like friendly bickering-slash-flirting than an actual argument, and it didn't really have anything to do with the company itself, anyway.

"Absolutely, completely." Petersen insists, leaning forward and pushing the folder towards Izuku. He's lost his stutter now that he hasn't been turned down immediately. "Open the folder, please, Mr. Midoriya, and you'll see - they've announced a project that's exactly the same as the one that I've been working on for the past seven years, just a week after one of my engineers disappeared with all of my files."

Izuku opens the file, probably against his better judgement.

Inside, there are sheets upon sheets of paper that prove what Petersen is claiming. Project reports, internal emails, meeting transcripts, even a few watermarked schematics from the early days of the project - no recent ones, though, which is understandable given the circumstances. At a quick glance, it seems legitimate. There's even a printed copy of an article about one of Petersen's top engineers taking a job at Rockwell Prosthetics last week.

He's still a little skeptical, though. Izuku doesn't exactly want to get back into the realm of investigating insurance claims, or anywhere remotely close to it, if he can help it. Sure, it's something he's good at, but, well, the whole thing's been tainted at this point by the company he'd been previously employed by. He's not particularly eager to return.

Petersen seems to realize where his thought process is heading, and just as Izuku opens his mouth to decline, he starts stuttering incoherently.

Izuku pauses and closes his mouth, allowing Petersen to get himself under control enough to wrangle his words into submission because, one, it's polite, and, two, he also has a tendency to stutter when he's nervous. He knows how it feels to get stuck on a word and be unable to get past it, especially when whatever he's trying to say is time sensitive and ugh. It's a terrible feeling, one that he knows intimately, and if he can make it a little easier for someone with a similar issue then of course he's going to do whatever he can.

Petersen pauses, takes a deep breath, then delivers his words in a cadence similar to the one Izuku uses when he's chosen his words so that he can skip the sounds he has trouble with. It's slower than his normal speaking voice, more articulate, and each word is pronounced precisely, but that doesn't mean it's at all lacking desperation. "P-please, Mr. Midoriya, please. I'm begging you - there's a meeting on, on Friday - this Friday, that is, um, it's a shareholder's meeting, and if I don't have anything to show for the past seven years, especially after I promised them something revolutionary, I'm going to be out of a job and I'll never be able to find work again- "

Izuku's fingers dance around the bottom of his glass, his expression disinterested. He feels for the guy, he really, really does, but it isn't like there's anything he can do for him unless he expects Izuku to somehow infiltrate one of the best secured facilities in the US (all by himself, no less) and ask politely for them to return the plans.

Yeah, Izuku's not going to be doing anything like that anytime soon.

Petersen sighs. "Look, Mr. Midoriya, if I don't get those plans back, I will be dead . Money isn't an object at this point - I'm that desperate. Could you - would you at least take a look at the team I've put together before you decide anything? Please."

Izuku shrugs, because why not? It's not like he has anywhere else to be, other than his bed, and that particular appointment can always be postponed if necessary. He does feel the need to point out a more logical solution though. "You do know that there are plenty of legal ways to get your plans back? Robbing your company's rival seems a little...much. Maybe a tad too risky?"

Unfortunately, Petersen's ignoring his halfhearted protests and is already slipping another file towards him from the messenger bag/briefcase hybrid the probably-bodyguard is holding - this one is grey instead of the typical beige. In it are three sheets of paper, all of which appear to be dossiers on people who surprise him, considering they mostly work alone and very rarely appear on the same continent all at once, much less the same city.

The first is Kirishima Eijirou, a hitter. Izuku's run into him a few times on jobs (by which he mostly means that he stopped Kirishima from stealing something that Izuku's former employer had insured), and he seems nice enough - for a thief, at least. He's open and friendly, and Izuku thinks that they probably could've been close friends if they weren't on opposite sides of the law. Even in his headshot on the dossier, he's smiling brightly and flashing a peace sign at the camera.

His hair is a distinctive bright red and spiked up almost obnoxiously, making him look like your typical punk-rocker, while his sharply-filed teeth betray his ferocity. Izuku knows for certain that he wears colored contacts, but he's not exactly sure what his original eye color is - not bright green, though, that's for certain. Izuku's kind of curious about their real color, but he pushes that aside.

Kirishima is definitely former military and almost certainly special ops. He can single-handedly take out at least four armed men in less than fifteen seconds, walking away with barely a scratch on him - Izuku's seen him do it. His preferred jobs are usually bodyguarding or retrieval, but he does occasionally branch out into assassination and what the mob calls 'enforcing,' not that anyone can prove it.

Izuku's even heard the testimonial of someone who claimed that they'd seen a bullet bounce off of Kirishima, that he'd kind of just looked down at where the entry wound should have been and shrugged, grinning with blood in his teeth as he charged at the woman who'd tried to kill him. But, obviously, that was impossible.

Izuku flips to the next page, feeling his eyebrows creep slowly higher without his consent as he reads.

The second dossier is on Tsuyu. No one's entirely sure if that's her first name or a code name, or maybe even something else entirely. She's a thief - a brilliant one with no discernible pattern. One week she goes after a jewel in Australia, the next a bank in Chile, then nothing for a couple weeks until she pops back up in Egypt for some sort of manuscript. She's a globe-hopper - it's almost as if she throws a dart at a map and finds her next target close to wherever it lands. The only thing connecting her targets is that they're all outrageously expensive and usually appear on the black market within approximately a month.

Izuku's caught her a couple times, but she's always managed to escape - just barely. He's pretty sure she has managed to climb up walls with no apparent handholds and possibly even hang from the ceiling to escape from guards or whatever security system was in place, though she had slipped him some kind of sleeping pill, so the memory's a bit fuzzy and it's entirely possible that that had been a hallucination. That's probably the closest anyone's ever come to actually catching her, really.

Somehow, Petersen's managed to find a picture of her, as well. It looks like it's from some kind of security footage, since it's in grey scale and so blurry that it takes a moment to recognize her. She's wearing goggles and her signature jumpsuit, sticking to the wall like a frog and scuttling along towards something off-camera. It's not a great picture, and it probably wouldn't hold up in a court of law, but the fact that Petersen managed to get a picture at all is impressive.

The third dossier makes his eyes fly wide open because what.

It's...well, it's about the person who only goes by the screen name sh0Ut0 and is quite possibly the best hacker in the world. To the best of Izuku's knowledge, no one's ever actually seen him in person - only a blank screen and a not-particularly-distinctive avatar. It's the same stock profile picture that Skype uses, except one half of the silhouette is red and the other is blue. Izuku only has a guess at his gender, because he's heard his unaltered voice before. He's pretty sure he's unique in that. It's a lot more information than anyone in law enforcement has, anyway.

(The only thing Interpol has on file as evidence for him is a green sticky note folded into a crane with something written on it in some sort of code that they haven't been able to crack in five years.)

And the only reason Izuku's heard his unaltered voice is because his life had been in immediate danger and apparently sh0Ut0's taken a liking to him? Or at least wants him alive for some reason.

A couple of years ago, sh0Ut0 had stolen some sort of sword Izuku's company had insured (he wasn't too clear on the details, and his company hadn't been particularly keen on providing him with a description beyond 'a mid-length stabby thing from the Crusades'), and Izuku had been tasked with recovering the item. He'd managed to trace sh0Ut0 (granted, after a number of false starts and wrong turns, but eventually he'd managed to find such a convoluted way of getting to his goal that he'd managed to trick sh0Ut0's computer into giving him a location) to what he'd thought had been an abandoned warehouse in Maine. sh0Ut0 had apparently thought it was abandoned too, given that he'd lured Izuku there with the location signal (which had turned out to be fake, of course - he doesn't know why he'd ever thought that he could outdo sh0Ut0, of all people, on a computer), but they'd both been very, very wrong.

Somehow, Izuku had managed to wander into some sort of drug deal between the Mexican cartel and the Irish mob. Their accents had been pretty easy to identify, even for someone whose first language wasn't English.

It had taken him a couple seconds to figure out what the hell was going on. Then, his bluetooth earpiece had crackled to life (despite the fact he was pretty sure that it had been out of battery when he'd entered the building).

"Shit - get the hell out of there."

Izuku hadn't recognized the voice, but he also hadn't needed to be told twice. Contrary to popular belief, he did in fact have some semblance of self preservation, even if it was basically vestigial at this point. It was enough for him to realize that a witness to a deal like that, involving multiple factions and a half dozen briefcases full of money, was as good as dead if they found out someone was there.

"Damn it, that building was supposed to be empty - " the voice from his earpiece had muttered, accompanied by the sound of someone typing rapidly on a keyboard. Izuku hadn't been paying all that much attention to it, though, because he had been a little busy absconding the hell out of there.

Izuku had managed to get himself just barely clear of the building when the entire warehouse had exploded, taking a good portion of the ones on either side of it as well. He, as any law-abiding citizen would, had immediately called emergency services. It took them about ten minutes to show up, and then he was stuck there giving his statement to the police for another two hours because he was the only one who had survived the blast and wasn't en route to a hospital in critical condition. He was pretty sure that the bomb had been set by a third party - probably the Chileans, from what he'd been able to pick up from the profanity-filled rantings of the criminals who'd managed to survive the blast as they'd been wheeled past him to the ambulance.

(When he'd returned to his hotel room later that night, the sword had been lying in the middle of his bed. There was no note or anything similar, but it was pretty clear who it was from. Izuku still wasn't sure what to feel about that.)

Anyway, his point is that sh0Ut0 has hacked into every major law enforcement agency in the world with little to no problem. He's allegedly siphoned billions, if not trillions, of dollars from major corporations. He's stolen physical objects without setting foot into the buildings where they're kept. He could have anything in the world if he typed a few lines of code.

So why the hell would he - would any of them - agree to this job?

Petersen's voice, anxious and increasingly strident, breaks him from his thoughts. "It's a good team, right? The best of the best?"

Izuku considers the question. Petersen's got a hitter, a hacker, and a thief, which should be plenty for a job like the one he's suggesting. Well, as far as Izuku knows - he hasn't seen the building blueprints or security setup yet, so obviously he can't say anything for certain yet.

He's a little surprised that Petersen didn't hire a grifter - but, then again, the best grifter would probably be Hagakure Tooru, and this doesn't seem like the type of thing she'd get out of bed for, no matter how much she'd been offered for the job. Petersen most likely put the word out that he was looking for her, she'd taken a glance at his proposition, then vanished. If she wasn't interested, she disappeared, and no one could ever find her when she didn't want to be found. It was almost as if she could turn herself invisible. No one could contact her when she didn't want to be contacted, and most of the time no one knew she was pulling a heist until it was over -

Izuku realizes he's muttering and clears his throat deliberately to stop himself. "It's an impressive team, to be sure, but...I'm not sure how to put this..."

Petersen gestures at him impatiently.

Izuku coughs. "It's just that...these people work alone. Always. No exceptions. There's absolutely no way that they'll work for you - "

"They will if I offer them five hundred thousand dollars each."

" - and even if they did, they're thieves . It's not like they're exactly...reliable."

"And that's why I need you," Petersen says, which makes the hairs on the back of Izuku's neck stand straight up. He's not entirely sure whether it's because those words in particular resonate with him or because they sound kind of ominous. Either way, it's giving him chills.

"I'm sorry. I don't follow," he says mildly.

Petersen's hands start trembling minutely where he's clasped them together in his lap. He clenches his fingers together so tightly that his muscles are twitching involuntarily. His eyes dart over to his bodyguard before he says, "I need an honest man to hold the team together. And I want - I'd like it very much to be you."

Izuku freezes in his seat. His heart stops for a solid thirty seconds. His walls slam down, wiping any semblance of emotion from his face and body language.

The pause is long enough that Petersen gets worried at the lack of response and starts rambling in an attempt to persuade him: "Of course, you'll be paid double what they get - one million dollars - " but Izuku can't hear him. He isn't listening. The sound is muffled through the roaring in his ears, so he couldn't hear what Petersen's saying even if he wanted to. Because.

Because .

They're almost exactly the same words that All Might had said to him ten years ago, when it had all started.

Similar to when it had all ended.

" - Look, it'll be completely off the books, no need to report it to the IRS if you don't want to. Please, Mr. Midoriya, I'm desperate. You have to be able to tell. If I don't have those plans, I'll be fired, and everyone in my division will be under review, on half-pay, and most of them really can't afford that in this economy. Especially not Charlie Sagan, my right-hand man - he and his wife just had triplets unexpectedly a few months ago. And S-Sally Reiner, her aunt's just been diagnosed with stage two breast cancer - " Petersen is still rambling. His persuasion skills could use some work.

Izuku is about to break in and refuse the offer when he hears something that just barely tips the balance:

" - and did I mention that - I must've mentioned it - those plans are insured by your old company, or maybe Rockwell itself is. I'm not too sure on the details, but I do know that if you do this your old insurance company will have to pay sixty million dollars on an intellectual property rights policy. Please, at least consider my offer - I am begging you - "

Izuku cuts the guy a break and considers it.

It's not like there aren't plenty of reasons to return stolen property, but adding in the opportunity to stick it to the company who as good as killed his mentor? Iida might have rubbed off on him a little more than he'd thought, because he's actually contemplating this for that reason alone.

It's a noble cause, he tries to convince himself, and it is. He's never really been all that great at refusing when someone asks him for help, anyway, but he realizes that it's also extremely petty of him.

...He can live with that. Can't he?

...Actually, no. He really, really couldn't live with himself if he stole something mainly just to stick it to his previous employers.

"Okay, Mr. Petersen," Izuku breaks in, fully intending to decline the offer. Petersen holds his breath, startled enough to inhale quickly. He looks so, so hopeful, eyes shining like he might actually cry if Izuku refuses.

Izuku hesitates. He's never been great with tears. Especially not ones coming from other people.

The silence stretches on, and Petersen's eyes dart towards his bodyguard as his lip starts to tremble violently. He looks like he's about to have a nervous breakdown.

...Damn it.

"I'll take the job," Izuku says, already regretting everything.

And that's how Izuku finds himself in an abandoned building across the street from Rockwell Prosthetics, planning a break-in to retrieve previously stolen property. Because he's a pushover sometimes and this is his life now, apparently.

The other three had met up on the roof of the target building because, understandably, they probably didn't want to be in the same room as the guy who'd been tasked with catching them for most of their careers.

Which is fair, although he's a little disappointed that he hasn't had the chance to find out what sh0Ut0 looks like - there are two figures on the roof, but they're too far away to make out any details.

Shoving down his burning curiosity, Izuku pulls the envelope he'd found slipped under the door to his hotel room earlier that morning (which was still pretty creepy, sh0Ut0 , just saying). He opens it carefully, because he wouldn't put it past any of them to booby-trap the envelope - not lethally, obviously, since they're all working the same job, but maybe with glitter or something equally petty.

Surprisingly, the only thing in the envelope is some sort of high-tech earbud, probably better than anything that's available on the market. It doesn't look like something of sh0Ut0 's - Izuku knows that he likes to make his own equipment. To be fair, though, he hasn't actually seen one of his earbuds before, assuming he has any at all. Izuku puts it in his ear immediately, just in time to hear the tail-end of a conversation.

" - bone-conduction earpiece mic, bro," Kirishima is saying carefully, stumbling over the words slightly. "It works - actually, I dunno how it works, exactly, but it's something to do with the vibrations in your jaw. I got them from one of my old military buddies. Neat, huh?"

Well, that answers the question of where they came from, at least. Though he's still kind of confused as to why sh0Ut0, the tech guy to defeat all tech guys, hadn't made them.

"You can hear everything." That's - wow, that - that's sh0Ut0 's unaltered voice. It's only Izuku's second time hearing it and - wow. "Interesting. You're not as useless as you look."

There's a barely discernible note of surprise in his voice, and Izuku is still not over the fact that he's hearing sh0Ut0's voice because he's been notoriously meticulous about things that might help someone identify him up until this point.

Kirishima laughs, and Izuku can see one of the figures reach out to clap the other on the shoulder. sh0Ut0 is apparently not having that, because he moves just slightly out of reach. Kirishima laughs again but doesn't make a big deal about it. "Dude, I don't even know what you do if you didn't make the earbuds."

"I work alone. Earbuds are unnecessary."

Which is true. To the best of Izuku's knowledge, sh0Ut0 tries to limit his contact with the general population as much as logistically possible. Working with a partner is out of character for him, so he wouldn't typically need an earbud. A headset, maybe, but an earbud would be redundant.

Kirishima laughs again. "Sure, man. Hey, Tsuyu, where'd you go? You need one, too."

Izuku blinks and suddenly there's a third figure on the roof, much shorter than the other two. Moments later, he can hear Tsuyu's croaky voice through his earbud, saying, "Thanks, Kirishima-chan."

Izuku coughs, just now realizing that he hasn't made any noise on the comms yet, so they probably haven't realized he can hear them. "That's everyone, then," Izuku says.

They're too professional to jump, but Izuku's pretty sure he can feel at least one of them glaring at him from across the street. He shivers, feeling the intensity, and suddenly he's really, unspeakably glad that looks can't actually kill.

He clears his throat. "Are we ready? Kirishima, sh0Ut0 , Tsuyu?"

He cringes a little because he just said 'sh0Ut0' the way it sounds in his head and he doesn't know if sh0Ut0 himself pronounces it differently. When sh0Ut0 doesn't say anything to correct him, Izuku breathes a silent sigh of relief.

"Yes."

"Yes, Midoriya-chan."

"Yeah - wait, Tsuyu, dude, do you really think that can hold me?" Izuku can see Kirishima gesturing at - Tsuyu's rig, for some reason, which doesn't make any sense at all.

Tsuyu answers calmly - Izuku's pretty sure that it would take a category five hurricane to even ruffle her composure. "Kirishima-chan, the last time I used this rig, I carried one of the Terracotta Warriors out a skylight. Trust me, it would hold you, but you're not the one using it anyway."

Izuku makes a strangled noise. "Ts-tsuyu, the heist in Bangladesh three years ago - that was you?" He hadn't been working the case, but had heard about it in painstaking detail. They'd never figured out who had done it, so they'd eventually chalked it up to Hagakure. His partner - now ex-partner, since the whole All Might thing had pushed him into creating his own firm with a couple co-workers and Izuku out of the insurance business entirely - had not been pleased.

"It was, Midoriya-chan," Tsuyu confirms. "Also, Kirishima-chan, I would prefer that you not call me 'dude.' Call me Tsuyu."

Kirishima responds belatedly: "Oh, right, sorry, Tsuyu. Usually I'm the guy who has to rappel down the building, so you can understand why I was being cautious. I'm glad you're on the team, because I hate that part! It always feels like the cord is going to snap."

"Then you're not using the right equipment," Tsuyu says bluntly.

"I'd like to get done sometime tonight, if you don't mind," sh0Ut0 says passive-aggressively.

Izuku agrees, but wow that was a lot of salt. "On my count, please, and if you could all refrain from freelancing, that would be great."

Kirishima laughs again. "Relax, man! We know what we're doing."

"We're professionals," Tsuyu agrees.

sh0Ut0 doesn't say anything, but he somehow manages to project the impression of mild offense directly into Izuku's soul. Izuku shudders. It's an incredibly disconcerting feeling.

"Alright, then. Five...four...three - "

Tsuyu dives off the side of the building and Izuku kind of wants to cry, just a little. He sighs, because, well, what did he expect from a group of thieves used to working on their own? He adjusts his expectations accordingly.

"She's gone," sh0Ut0 reports, as if Izuku didn't see her rappel down the building.

Kirishima whistles. "Wow. She's five pounds of crazy in a ten pound bag," he says, voice full of admiration.

Izuku sighs again. He thinks this is probably when any other person would start wondering just what they'd gotten themselves into, except he'd known exactly what he was signing up for when he agreed to take the job, so he doesn't have any excuses. "Tsuyu, are you okay?"

"Perfectly fine, Midoriya-chan." Good. He hadn't really expected her to go splat on the pavement, but it was always a distinct possibility when one made a habit of jumping off buildings. "The vibration detectors are on."

"You'll have to use the cutting agent, then, but no actual cutting - "

"I have my own personal acid compound, Midoriya-chan. I know what to do."

"Yes, sorry, Tsuyu."

Across the street, Kirishima and sh0Ut0 heft their equipment bags over their shoulders and disappear into the building. Izuku's not entirely sure which is which - one figure is slightly taller and the second more broad. Neither of them are what he would expect of a hacker, since hackers - at least in his experience, which, granted, isn't all that extensive - are either stick-thin or really packing on the pounds, since hacking doesn't seem to leave much time for exercise or physical activity. But both the figures on the roof look like the kind of body type who could easily fit in with hitters - or at least the military. Which is...odd, but not really any of his business, is it.

"I'm in, kero ." Ribbit? What? Why - "This man should really secure his pencils better." Um - okay?

"Tsuyu, you do realize that I don't have eyes in there. I have literally no idea what's happening if you don't tell me."

"Right. Sorry, Midoriya-chan. I'm in the maintenance room now." But how did she get past the motion sensors on the floor of the bigwig's office? Did she...stick to the ceiling or something? Izuku has so many questions.

"And we're on the elevator." Okay, apparently they were just going to ignore that. Fine. Okay. Whatever.

"That was fast," says Izuku, mostly managing to hide his surprise. According to the initial plan, Kirishima and sh0Ut0 were supposed to enter the building through a hatch on the roof that connected to the air vents and use those to make their way down into the elevator shaft. Their goal was to land on top of the elevator, if at all possible, and not dent it and/or die. Izuku knew they were professionals, had chased them all at one point or another, but he knew for a fact that Kirishima was weighed more than 90 kg and sh0Ut0 apparently couldn't be all that much lighter. It just seemed improbable that they could land almost silently on top of an elevator after a significant drop down the shaft it was occupying, but somehow they had managed it.

"You said to cross the green and blue wires, then strip the red one and hold it at the connection until it sparks, right, Todo-chan?"'

"Don't call me that, Tsuyu." sh0Ut0 's voice was as disinterested as ever, but there was a distinctly frosty edge to his words. "You know I prefer sh0Ut0 . And yes, that should be correct. When it sparks, you're going to have to drop that connection and quickly attach it to the purple wire I gave you, then plug the other end of it into a computer."

Wow. That was, like, the third personal fact he'd learned about sh0Ut0 on this job, and the job had only lasted about five minutes so far. Was this why he worked alone? Because he had basically no filter?

….Understandable.

"Sorry, sh0Ut0 -chan," Tsuyu says. She sounds contrite, but also exasperated, which is kind of a weird combination. There's also something about the way she's saying it that makes Izuku think...

...No.

No Way.

"Wait, is your real name Shouto? Like your screen name?" Izuku blurts, because he also has no filter.

There's a pause.

"...No." It sounds pretty monotonous, but since Izuku's listening closely and with baited breath for the answer, he can hear the faintest hint of embarrassment.

"At least three of his passports list it as his given name," says Tsuyu, because of course she's pick-pocketed all of them at some point or another.

While Izuku's having a minor mental breakdown because he's apparently been calling sh0Ut0 by his given name the entire time they've known each other, Kirishima laughs (because of course he laughs - does he ever do anything else?) and says, "Well, we are in America, aren't we? You may as well call me Eijirou, then!"

"...Izuku," Izuku manages to choke out, because he would not be able to handle being so familiar with three people if they weren't just as familiar with him. It's...mitigation. Or something.

"Right, so now that we're all on a first-name basis with each other, can we get the elevator moving? I do have other things to do tonight," Shouto says, bringing them all back into focus.

Izuku chokes on a laugh, mostly because he's very close to hyperventilating, but also because of all the salt Shouto is throwing around, like it's candy on Halloween.

And, actually - now that he's thinking about it, Shouto using his given name as his handle isn't a bad idea. Who would expect one of the most formidable hackers in the world to sign every job he did with his real name?

Izuku isn't sure that that had been Shouto's thought process, though. He doesn't really seem like the kind of person to put that much thought into a username.

"I have control of your elevator," Tsuyu croaks, breaking Izuku from his musings. "I can't help but feel like Shouto-chan would have been better at this part."

Izuku's face heats up, though he's trying not to picture it. With shoulders that broad, it would be almost impossible… "Somehow, I don't think Sh-Shouto is flexible enough to get in the same way that you did, Tsuyu." He shivers a little. Damn, who would have thought that an abandoned building would be cold in the autumn? He should've brought a jacket. Instead, he does a few jumping jacks to get his blood moving.

There's a pause on the line while Shouto considers the logistics. "...probably not, no. I'd almost definitely sprain something trying to maneuver my way through the hole in the window without setting off the motion sensors."

"Besides," Eijirou chimes in. "Don't you need to do some computer thing when we get to the basement?"

"And here I thought you didn't know my purpose," Shouto replies, drier than the desert.

"A-anyway," Izuku breaks in, because they really should get back to breaking into the building before the guards catch on. "Ts-Tsuyu, you have control of the cameras, too, right?"

"Yes, Izuku-chan."

"Then, if you're ready, would you get the other two down to the eighth floor?"

There's a pause, then - "Whoa!" Eijirou exclaims, presumably because the elevator beneath his feet suddenly started descending. The sound nearly masks Shouto's sharp intake of breath.

"Sorry, Eijirou-chan." Tsuyu doesn't actually sound apologetic, but Izuku guesses that it's the thought that counts? "I put the cameras facing the elevators on a loop, so anyone watching them won't be able to see us. As long as they stick to their patrol schedule, we should be fine."

Izuku groans internally. Why. Why did she have to say that. Now they're jinxed.

...He doesn't realize that he's saying this out loud until someone - probably Shouto, he thinks, but he can't be sure - huffs an almost silent laugh, which grinds his mutterings to a stuttering halt.

He pauses, giving himself a chance to collect his thoughts, then says, "Ts-Tsuyu, is there any chance you can patch me into the security cameras?"

"If Shouto-chan walks me through it, yes."

Shouto acquiesces and less than a minute later, Izuku can actually see what's happening inside of the building, instead of waiting for someone to narrate it to him. It's a significant load off of his shoulders and a definite improvement, because now he can take control of the operation like he's being paid to do. He's glad he brought his laptop with him to this old abandoned office building, and is trying not to think too hard about the fact that Shouto had apparently installed some sort of remote-control function into his laptop sometime in the past eighteen hours.

(Look, Izuku may be halfway decent at hacking, but that doesn't actually mean he understands most of what Shouto does, okay.)

"Okay, I've got them. Thanks, you two." There aren't any cameras inside the elevator shaft, so Izuku can only actually see Tsuyu right now - she's crouched over her laptop in the maintenance room, watching the elevator numbers tick down as she manipulates the wiring while simultaneously keeping an eye on the guards in the security booth.

The elevator doors open on the eighth floor and Eijirou and Shouto have to jump through them and roll to break the landing because Tsuyu doesn't actually stop the elevator. Izuku's pretty impressed that they both managed to stick the landing.

" - the hell was that, Tsuyu?" Shouto asks mildly, but the kind of mild that means imminent bodily harm if you answer wrong.

"What do you mean?" she replies, unaffected by the potential threat.

"You could've stopped the elevator so that we could get off it without potentially breaking something."

"Don't be a baby. You were fine. Besides, it's not fun that way."

Izuku can just barely hear Shouto's aggrieved and pointed sigh over the comms because suddenly he's more focused on the security room. It's a typical set up, possibly a little better than the average corporation's - multiple guards in a room full of computer monitors, some sitting, some standing, all watching the split-screen displays of camera feeds.

Except...

The guards inside seem...a little too focused on one screen in particular? It's not any of the ones that Tsuyu, Shouto, or Eijirou would show up on, since Izuku can see those on the wall to the right of the guards and the feeds are still on loop. So, whatever it is that's bugging him probably isn't actually a problem right this minute, but it does look like something he needs to keep an eye on, because it's...strange. It's something that's going to keep niggling at him until he can figure out why it's bothering him.

"Dude, you're really good at this!" Eijirou's voice derails Izuku's train of thought, unfortunately before he can follow it to its conclusion. He glances at the part of his screen that's displaying the footage from the security camera facing the server room. Shouto and Eijirou have made their way to the door and they're working on unlocking it.

Petersen had somehow managed to get them the blueprints from the building, security plans, guard schedules, and even a suggestion for the loose outline of a plan to get them to the apparently revolutionary prosthetics innovations (Izuku kind of wants to take a look at those), but hadn't been able to get them passwords or anything like that. So that means that Shouto has to hook up some fancy device that he'd built at some point or another to a very heavily secured door to even see what the actual measures protecting the door are. It's pretty finicky work, and this is why sh0Ut0 is with Eijirou and not in Tsuyu's place controlling the camera feeds and motion sensors.

Shouto doesn't deign Eijirou with a reply, instead stating blandly, "There's a ten digit password here, which will take maybe...five to ten minutes to crack, but that's just about the only thing of note. There's the motion sensors on the floor, of course, on a different system than the rest of the building, which is why we couldn't just drill through the floor. I'm slightly disappointed."

Izuku's pretty sure that's the most Shouto's spoken in quite some time - his voice is a little hoarse by the end of it.

Eijirou cracks his knuckles. "There's still another hour and a half until the next patrol, right?"

Izuku's eyes dart back to the security booth and - shit. That's what was bothering him. One of the people sitting in front of the screens has shifted slightly, just enough for Izuku to see what's playing on the screen in front of them. It's a football game.

And it's halftime.

"Tsuyu," Izuku says, and he can actually see the way the others stiffen when they register the way his tone has changed. "Are you hearing any chatter over the company's radios?"

There's a hesitant pause, then, "...no? Why?"

There are eight names on the duty roster for the night.

"There are only four people in the security booth."

They all react differently.

Shouto goes silent, focusing on the gadget Izuku had been a little too nervous to ask about.

Eijirou shrugs and starts stretching out his arms. "Guess it's time for me to earn my keep."

Tsuyu asks how, because she's squinting at her computer screen and apparently can't figure out the difference between the figures in the security booth. "How can you tell?"

Izuku's busy thinking up a plan, but he answers her distractedly: "Count the hair styles."

Tsuyu says something under her breath, her tone surprised, but Izuku doesn't quite catch it.

"What?" He shakes his head. "Nevermind, I found them - Eijirou, Shouto, they're on the seventh floor and approaching the stairs; they'll be right on top of you in two minutes. They must be doing their sweep during halftime so they don't miss the rest of the game."

"I need at least seven minutes to finish getting the password," Shouto says tersely.

"No problem, man! I've got it. Might need to use you as bait for a minute, though - sorry in advance," Eijirou replies brightly, bouncing on the balls of his feet, then he - somehow disappears from the camera feed?

His voice still comes through the comms, not as loud as before. "You know, I've never really understood the appeal of football. Baseball, sure, I get that - it's practically our national pastime and Koushien's always great to watch, but football? No clue."

"In football, you can score on defense," Izuku mutters under his breath distractedly, not intending for his words to actually reach Kirishima.

Kirishima's "Huh. Really?" lets Izuku know that these comms are way better to any of the ones he's used before. He's not sure that's a good thing. He has a tendency to...ramble, mutter, whatever. He's been told that it's incredibly annoying.

Before he can apologize, though, the guards emerge from the stairwell and almost immediately spot Shouto standing in front of the server room looking incredibly suspicious in his black clothes, sweatshirt hood drawn up over his head to hide his face.

Shouto takes advantage of their shock and uses it as an opportunity to wave and blandly say, "Hey." You know, instead of doing anything actually useful.

Because of course he does.

This, rather understandably, causes the guards to pause for a moment just so they can radiate disbelief that this is a thing that is actually happening in their lives, which allows Eijirou to ambush them from behind. Shouto, apparently, is a great distraction.

Izuku really hopes that Eijirou doesn't find his soulmate in the middle of this fight - that would be pretty awkward.

Wait. Is that the reason that he wears colored contacts on jobs?

Soulmate bonds have been, understandably, widely researched - because, well, as technology improves, there's more to research. For example: Skype.

When Skype - or video chatting, more generally - first became popularized, people thought that it would be a great way to meet soulmates. There had been this whole craze about logging on to speed-dating sites that matched each user to another one and then turned on their webcams in an attempt to find soulmates. It didn't work - not that anyone really expected them to, of course, because the sites were very hastily coded and just matched users randomly regardless of culture, language, etc. But those sites didn't work for anyone , which prompted research.

(As did the rising global suicide rates.)

Eventually, a group of grad students in Sweden found statistically significant results regarding soulmate bonds - the soulmates must be physically within eyesight, with little to no obstruction, for the music to play. They tested multiple sets of soulmates with various mediums between them, including computer screens, mirrored contacts, mirrored sunglasses, and frosted glass. All of them prohibited a bond from forming.

The paper's authors hypothesized that it was similar to looking at pictures; it had been well-documented by then that looking into the eyes of a picture of your soulmate would not make the music that marked them as yours play, building upon one of the more popular theories for how soulmates existed at all - that eyes are the windows to the soul, and when the eyes of soulmates meet, their souls sing out to each other and harmonize, creating the soulmate bond's song.

(Reportedly, most soulmate pairs from the experiment were emotionally distraught by the time testing was over, because looking in the eyes of the person you know is your soulmate and not hearing your song is - taxing, to say the least.)

Their research had been widely publicized very quickly, and it's still brought up in the news every so often when another study confirms or adds to their findings. So it's not unreasonable to think that Eijirou is, in fact, aware of this and deliberately wears colored contacts to prevent himself from finding his soulmate in the middle of a job - and Izuku should probably stop thinking about this before he starts mumbling again, huh.

The fight is over by the time Izuku tunes back in - it looks like it took Eijirou about thirty seconds to knock out or incapacitate all four guards. It looks like - probably two throat punches, a knock on the head, and a hit to the diaphragm followed by a choke hold, according to how the bodies fell. It's not a particularly elegant solution, but it works. None of the guards even had the chance to sound the alarm.

Which is good, for now, but that means that there's probably a limited amount of time until the alarm sounds anyway, since Petersen's dossier says that the guards do periodic check-ins throughout their patrols. Unfortunately, Tsuyu hadn't been recording their radio lines, so they don't know how long they have until the other guards notice something's wrong. They could probably add a few minutes by way of distraction re: the game, though.

"G-good job, Kiri - um, E-Eijirou." And of course his stutter returns the minute no one's in imminent danger. Of course. "Sh-Shouto, how's the lock coming?"

"I have seven of the ten digits. Give me another...ninety-seven seconds. Sixty-three for the passcode, thirty-four to take care of the motion sensors."

"Just enough time for me to truss up these four," Eijirou says brightly. He takes a handful of what look like zip ties from the pocket of his baggy black sweatpants and walks over to where the guards are lying unconscious on the ground. He strips them of their weapons and starts binding their wrists and ankles together.

Tsuyu's silent over the line, so Izuku assumes that she's likely listening in on the guards' radio channel. Izuku tries not to distract her by rambling, so he clamps his lips tightly closed and focuses on the footage of the security booth. The game's just starting up again, which means they'll probably be busy watching it rather than keeping an eye on the time. Good.

"Done," says Shouto almost exactly ninety-seven seconds later. That was...almost scarily accurate. He's somehow managed to get into the room and hook up his computer to the main server's monitor without triggering the motion sensors. "I have control of the motion sensors - they're not off, but they won't register anything," he adds, almost as if he can read Izuku's mind.

"Great! That means we can stick these guys in there while your thing is downloading," Eijirou replies as he grabs two of the guards by their belts and hefts one over each of his shoulders. Shouto gives the impression that he's rolling his eyes, despite his eyes not actually being visible under his hood, and copies Eijirou. He hoists the other two guards over his shoulders, displaying approximately the same amount of effort that Eijirou had, then drops them none-too-gently on the tile of the server room floor. He makes his way through the unconscious bodies back to his laptop, leaving Eijirou to rearrange them into slightly more comfortable positions, probably for lack of anything better to do. Shouto taps a few more keys rapidly, then the entire screen of his laptop flashes a different color - Izuku can't tell which, since the security cameras are in black and white.

"I have all the files, including the back-ups and the back-ups for the back-ups," Shouto says belatedly, as if just realizing that not everyone knows what his screen flashing means.

Good. Izuku breathes a mostly silent sigh of relief, because once this is over he can go back to his regular, much less stressful life. Even if he doesn't exactly know what he's going to do with himself now that he's quite firmly refused his old boss's pleas for his return. "Okay. Okay, great. And the virus?"

Shouto taps the enter key and immediately the monitor screen turns to the blue screen of death. Izuku's seen it enough on his own screen to wince in recognition, even without a color image. "They won't be able to get much of anything from the wreckage," he says, with a hint of what might be vindictiveness. Izuku decides not to read too far into it, just for the sake of his mental health.

Just as he thinks things are going fine, Tsuyu says, "Uh-oh."

Because of course she does.

Izuku bites down a screech, turning it into a short puff of air. "Tsuyu, what uh-oh," he asks - more as a statement then anything else - in a moment of obvious eloquence.

"The alarms on the roof have been reset. Plus the motion sensors on the top floors."

"Ah." That would qualify for an 'uh-oh.'

"How are we going to get out, then?" asks Eijirou, which is not at all what Izuku was expecting. These three are renowned for working alone, and over the course of one job they've decided that it's one for all? That's...strange. It hasn't even been twenty minutes yet. And it...kind of implies that they're perhaps not working alone by choice. Which is just a weird thought, okay, because Izuku's been preventing them from stealing or chasing after them to retrieve whatever they've stolen for the past five years and he's never noticed it before and - it's just bizarre.

Shouto doesn't say anything, which is implying agreement - he would've spoken up otherwise.

Tsuyu says, "The motion sensors are only on the floor, so I can move around easily enough, but our original exit plan is a bust. Izuku-chan, you're the mastermind - any ideas?"

Izuku doesn't think twice about saying, curtly, "Head to the elevator and change into civilian clothing. Tsuyu, you too." His mind is in overdrive, flitting through the multitude of back up plans he'd come up with, because of course the original plan would fall through. His luck is just that great. It's times like this when his overpreparation is actually useful.

The others must notice the way his cadence changes, or that his stutter's gone, or maybe it's just because they don't have a better option that they decide to follow his plan even if they don't actually know what it is yet.

The doors close behind Eijirou and Shouto, and Izuku glances back at the security booth to grant them some semblance of privacy as they quickly change into casual suits - and, in Shouto's case, some sort of fancy hat with a wide brim. A few seconds later, the hatch at the top of the elevator opens and Tsuyu - who's somehow managed to change her clothes already - drops through it to land in the center of the car.

The elevator starts to move almost immediately, since Izuku's taken control of Tsuyu's laptop remotely via screen share.

"So, what now?"

And apparently Izuku is silent for a few seconds too long because they start debating the best escape route.

"What's the plan? Tokyo Drift? Bro, I've always wanted to do that one!"

"Where would we even get a lizard. Unless you managed to smuggle one into the building somehow, I prefer the Mad House."

"You would, bro, you would - but wouldn't you need colored lights?"

Shouto shrugs. "I can make do without."

"What about the watermelon, kero."

"Ah."

"How about the burn scam?" Tsuyu asks, with a significant look at Shouto, for some reason. Probably. She probably has a reason, but Izuku can't really see much detail through the shitty elevator security cam and Shouto's facing away from him anyway.

"No, no, that's not going to work - they're a prosthetics company," Izuku breaks in once he finally has a decent enough variation of one of his back-ups - Plan K, to be precise. "They've had plenty of sensitivity training and - you know what, please don't argue with me; just follow my directions. I promise I know what I'm talking about. I've caught most of you multiple times, so trust that I know what I'm doing and we should all get out of here safely."

"...Fine. But, Izuku-chan, we only have fifteen seconds before the doors open," Tsuyu says in warning.

"You'll only need two if you do the Atlanta Two-Step."

A beat. "Why didn't we think of that?" Shouto mutters under his breath, so faint that the comms only just barely manage to pick him up.

"I refuse to be the one who goes down just because I'm a woman," Tsuyu says bluntly.

Eijirou shrugs. "Okay." And he falls like a sack of potatoes, hitting the ground with a thump that reverberates through the entire elevator.

"Help. He's fainted," Shouto says, as monotonously as possible. Because of course he does.

Izuku groans. "Shouto. Would you please take this seriously."

Shouto sighs heavily, like he's being asked to move a mountain without a lever.

Izuku watches the scene unfold through the security cameras in the lobby from where he's sitting in a nondescript car, idling in front of the Rockbell building. The elevator doors open and the three of them spill out, Shouto and Tsuyu appearing to struggle to support a limp Eijirou.

The guards at the front desk don't seem to have been notified about the break in yet, since they rush to help Shouto and Tsuyu with Eijirou's weight before their knees buckle and they accidentally drop him. Not that that would actually happen, because apparently Shouto is strong enough to deadlift two ex-marines and Tsuyu lifts her body weight (plus equipment) through air ducts for a living, so Eijirou probably isn't that much of a hassle.

They pretend to struggle anyway, so one of the guards tries to help out while the other asks worried questions. "What happened? Oh my God, is he dead? Are we liable for this?"

Shouto reassures them with, "Don't worry, I'm a paramedic, and I've called an ambulance; it'll be here soon."

(They're in the middle of the city - there's always at least one siren in earshot.)

The guard's just making it harder to carry Eijirou, so Tsuyu directs him to hold the door for them instead. He cooperates with what looks like a sigh of relief - Izuku doesn't blame him; Eijirou is heavy - while the second guard has to sprint back to the reception desk when the internal phone line starts ringing. She motions the first guard over as soon as they're through the first door, but he considerately presses the automatic button for the second set of doors before jogging back to hear what his colleague has to say.

As soon as they're out of the building, Eijirou immediately drops the act - Izuku wants to berate him, but this is the one and only job they'll do together and he'll probably have to go back to catching thieves after this - and they all sprint towards the car. Izuku shifts it into Drive as Eijirou almost rips the rear passenger door from its hinges in an effort to get it open quickly. He and Tsuyu pile into the back seats, while Shouto slips into the passenger seat with considerably less property damage.

Izuku drops his laptop into Shouto's lap, makes sure that the doors are all closed and that everyone has their seatbelts on before merging carefully back into traffic. He drives just below the speed limit, despite Eijirou and Tsuyu urging him to go faster - they're eager to get away from the scene of the crime as quickly as possible, which is understandable. However, it's entirely possible that the company doesn't actually know that there's been a break in yet; it's been less than ten minutes since Eijirou knocked the guards out, which means they probably haven't woken up yet. The guards in the security booth were paying more attention to the football game than they were their compatriots, so they probably wouldn't notice their absence until the next time-out or quarter change, if at all. But, then again, time is sort of nebulous during football games, from what Izuku's been told (read: ranted at about by his ex-girlfriend), so it's definitely good that they got out of there quickly.

Besides. If you have a dead body in the trunk of your car, you're going to drive the speed limit so you aren't pulled over.

This is also why the car that Izuku's driving is a nondescript rental, under a name that Shouto had emailed him (probably fake, not that some car rental place looking into it would know), and paid for with cash.

"So," Izuku says once he hits the highway and the others calm down a little (even Shouto, whose shoulders had been getting increasingly more tense in direct relation to how long Izuku was taking to abscond the hell out of there). "Who's up for some good Japanese food? There's a place about ten minutes away that my friend told me about - she says it actually tastes like stuff we could get at home. It's in the middle of a bunch of businesses and residential buildings, so Shouto should be able to piggyback off a decent signal."

There's silence in the car, but Izuku doesn't turn to look at their expressions because he's a good driver and there's a traffic light in a weird place coming up soon. Luckily, it's green - he doesn't have to worry about the cars in front of him slamming on the breaks unexpectedly. This intersection probably causes three or four accidents a week - they should really put up signs.

Then Shouto breaks the silence with a little huff of what's probably laughter. "Yeah, okay, why not," he says, kind of bemusedly.

"...I could eat," Eijirou agrees brightly.

"You can always eat," Tsuyu says bluntly, but she doesn't voice any objections, so Izuku takes the exit that will lead him to the restaurant Ochako had mentioned going to the last time she'd been in the US.

It's a small place, a couple of blocks away from the bustling main streets, and so Izuku manages to park right in front of the doors. He resists the urge to do a dorky little fist-pump at his luck being actually good for once.

There's no clear name on the outside, just a couple of kanji so artistically rendered that he can't actually read them - or maybe they're written backwards? It's hard to tell - which doesn't really seem like a point in favor of authentic Japanese food, unfortunately. But he trusts Ochako's word, so he turns off the car and gets out, gesturing for his passengers to do the same despite their skeptical expressions. It doesn't look very busy for eight at night, and that's probably for the best if they're going to be doing something questionably legal.

The inside of the restaurant somehow manages to look bigger than the storefront outside would suggest. The floors and walls are wooden, or at least covered with wood, and the only seating options are on the floor around the kotatsu. Izuku feels a smile creeping onto his face, and it widens when a waitress greets them in Japanese and tells them to sit wherever they want.

Shouto immediately beelines for the table in the back corner, and the rest of them follow without complaint. Having got there first, Shouto chooses the seat that puts his back to the corner and gives him a good view of the rest of the restaurant, then starts setting up his laptop. Eijirou's eyebrow twitches like he wants to say something - that's the spot someone incredibly paranoid about their surroundings would take, and usually no one wants to fight him for it - but settles for sitting next to Shouto with his back against the side wall, which has the next best visibility. Izuku sits across from him, and Tsuyu across from Shouto. At some point when Izuku wasn't looking, Shouto had switched his blazer out for the sweatshirt again and has the hood pulled up over his head.

Shouto barely glances at the menu, apparently having decided he's in the mood for cold soba, which he announces to the table at large before opening his laptop and disappearing into a haze of coding. The others take a little longer to decide, making light conversation about their options and what might taste good even if it didn't end up being authentic. Eijirou ends up choosing some sort of spicy curry, since he claims that no one can get that wrong. At least, no more wrong than the English did. Izuku's not so sure about that, but he doesn't argue. Tsuyu decides on tempura, which seems like kind of an odd choice for someone who crawls through vents for a living, but that's none of his business. Izuku waffles between a couple of different options, but finally decides on katsudon.

Izuku ends up having to order for Shouto when the waitress comes back, because he's still lost to the world of coding, and, well, it's probably best not to pull him out of there if they can help it. He's the one responsible for actually getting the plans securely to Petersen, after all.

Six minutes exactly after the waitress collects their menus and assures them in Japanese that their meals will be out shortly, Shouto's fingers stop moving so fast it's hard to track them and he reclines against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Are you - " Eijirou starts to ask, but Shouto holds up a finger to silence him, still watching something intently on his screen.

Eijirou shuts his mouth, bemused. They all watch as Shouto holds that position until their food comes, for lack of anything better to do.

Just as their waitress appears from the kitchen, Shouto's mouth twitches into a slight grin. He packs up his computer set-up so quickly that by the time the waitress is ready to set down their food, the table is clear. She smiles pleasantly, and says she hopes they enjoy their food.

It's the moment of truth: authentic or not?

The others watch Izuku as he takes in the appearance of his katsudon warily. It... looks right, so he's cautiously optimistic.

Izuku takes a bite and - damn. It's really good. It's almost like he's eating his mother's katsudon, actually. He digs in, and the rest of them relax a little as they do the same, making small noises of surprise at the taste. Because, well...it tastes like home.

He's definitely coming back to this restaurant. All hail Ochako for finding it. And telling him about it as an icebreaker after they broke up.

Somehow, they manage to eat half their food before it occurs to Tsuyu to inquire about the plans. "Shouto-chan, is it done?"

"Oh." Shouto stops slurping his soba for a moment to respond, though he doesn't seem particularly happy about it, sending long looks at his meal whenever it wasn't being ferried to his mouth. "Yes, it's been sent. It was a big file, so I had to piece together enough bandwidth from several signals, plus some extra security - even then, it still took a while to go through. But it's done now."

"Good," says Tsuyu, then goes back to her tempura.

They make some light conversation about the food - because it is really good - and try to avoid giving away too much about their respective backgrounds. It's kind of weird to have to watch what he's saying - Izuku's never really had to do that before. The others seem similarly off balance, though in their case it's more likely because they've never had the urge to chat about themselves. It's...odd, how quickly they've clicked together.

When the bills arrive, Izuku says, "This was fun. Let's never do it again."

He thinks he sees a flash of disappointment out of the corner of his eye, but when he looks up from signing his bill, they're all as stone-faced as usual.

"Yes, you're a terrible get-away driver," Shouto comments lightly.

Izuku shrugs. "Yes, well, I'm not usually a get-away driver."

"But you actually did have fun, didn't you," Tsuyu says bluntly.

Izuku winces internally, because while the heist had really been more anxiety-inducing than anything else, he had enjoyed himself and he really thought he was doing a good job at keeping that hidden. Because while what they'd just done wasn't technically illegal, it wasn't really all that legal either. It was the sort of grey area where he could convince himself that the law didn't really apply - after all, re-stealing stolen artifacts had been a big part of his job as an insurance investigator, and that hadn't been against the law.

(At least, no one had told him it was.)

Izuku keeps his mouth shut, since he doesn't want to incriminate himself.

Eijirou lets out a raucous laugh and leans over the table to slap Izuku on the shoulder companionably. "C'mon, dude, you have to admit that it feels good to be the white knight instead of the king this time!"

Izuku blinks. "I...don't think that means what you think it means."

Eijirou shrugs. "Maybe not, but you get the gist, right?"

"K-kind of?" Not really. Izuku is...pretty sure that he has the pieces flipped. He wonders if Eijirou has ever actually played chess before.

"Even so," Shouto cuts in, "this was a one-time thing, wasn't it." His voice goes up a tiny bit at the end, just hinting at a question.

Izuku's shoulders relax and he lets out a silent sigh of relief. He hadn't even noticed how tense he was getting until the tension was gone. "Yes," he says, more confidently.

That confidence leaves him rather abruptly when he realizes that since he's the one who drove them to the restaurant, they're going to be stuck in an uncomfortable silence for an extended period of time if he offers to drive them anywhere.

He does it anyway, because his mother raised him to be polite.

"D-does anyone need a ride somewhere?" he asks awkwardly.

Luckily, Eijirou takes pity on him. "Nah, I've got it from here! See you when I see you!" Then he disappears into the crowd somehow, despite being taller and a good 23% beefier than the majority of the incredibly sparse scattering of people that could only be charitably called a 'crowd.'

Tsuyu studies him intently for a moment, then says, "No, thank you, Izuku-chan." He blinks and during that time she somehow hops up onto the top of the building they'd just exited. There's no drainpipe or anything she could've used as a springboard. How.

She waves at them from the top of the building, and then she's gone.

Which just leaves him and Shouto.

Staring at each other awkwardly.

At least, presumably - Izuku can't actually see enough of his face to definitively guess where he's looking, since his hood and the shadow it provides cover just about everything except his mouth. Which opens and says, "Your hotel is in the opposite direction of where I'm going."

Izuku stares at his mouth him a moment longer than he probably should have. "It's still creepy that you know that," he informs the hacker dazedly.

Shouto shrugs, then vanishes into the surrounding foot traffic in almost exactly the same way as Eijirou.

Izuku gets into his rental car, then leans back against the headrest with a long sigh and literally every cringey thing he's ever done that could be even slightly related to the awkwardness that had just happened runs through his head unwillingly. Which is just fantastic.

"Thanks, brain," he mutters under his breath, and then he starts the drive back to his hotel.

It's a shame he probably won't be seeing them again anytime soon, because, yeah. That had been kind of fun.

Not that he would ever admit it to them, of course.

...

Notes:

This is approximately 97% finished and *should* be updated weekly until it's done

(the chapters only get longer from here)

(also I apologize to all the people who read my detective conan fics for going on hiatus to finish this monster)