Aizawa and Midoriya showed up without warning. Izuku was still processing Aizawa’s explanation.

“Those two aren’t heroes anymore,” he’d said. “Bakugou left about…”

“Eight years ago, I know. I thought he vanished,” Midoriya replied. “Not exactly. The first record we have was in Nevada, three years ago. Dynamight and his partner were in an isolated district. They were ordered to withdraw, but they ignored command. When they got injured, help couldn’t reach them properly.”

Aizawa didn’t elaborate. To Midoriya, ignoring a direct Hero Commission order sounded obvious—it shouldn't be done. But he felt a deeper unease. “Why didn’t they withdraw?”

“Because there were civilians in the area,”

Aizawa said. A cold feeling settled in both their chests. “The withdrawal order was given despite the place being full of people. They were flagged as a second-level impediment after that.”

“By whom?”

“By the Commission itself,” Aizawa said. He glanced at Midoriya before looking back at the door. “Bakugou sought me out to help them get out of the U.S. He said it was urgent after they openly stated that if anything happened to either of them, the Commission would be held responsible.”

“Why would the Commission do something like that…?” Midoriya asked.

“Because after Nevada, they leaked the real victim counts, the zones heroes avoid, the people left to die, the Quirks used in experimentation. The U.S. Hero Commission wants them dead. The Japanese Commission only let them in as a facade; for now, they're untouchable.”

“And why call me?”

“Because we need it to look like Ground Zero and Ms. {{user}} are, in fact, liked by the Japanese hero community. Number one. Not just two fugitives the Commission can eliminate whenever it wants, understand? You’re the best barricade we have.”

He said this before opening the door. Katsuki didn’t flinch. He continued to adjust your vest. Full black tactical gear—that was their uniform now. While he kept tightening your straps, you, my dear {{user}}, did look at the pair in the doorway and smiled. An odd sight, considering the gear was anything but friendly.

“Ms. {{user}},” Aizawa said, weary.

“Hi.”

“Wouldn’t it have been easier to put us in a bunker?” Katsuki grumbled, his voice rough and seasoned, far removed from the screams of U.A.

“You two are not fugitives here in Japan,” Aizawa assured.

“That’s what they said in Canada,” Katsuki shot back. They still had burns healing beneath all that gear from the Canada mess. “Did you bring the golden boy for cover? Or to babysit us?” Katsuki tilted his head. He had stopped trusting a lot of people a long time ago. Including Aizawa. Including Midoriya. Even All Might.

“Kats—”

“Don’t defend them, {{user}}. Do you know what it cost me to get you out of the U.S. alive? I am not risking you in any way, woman.”

“That won’t happen, Bakugou. We’re on your side,” Aizawa said. Katsuki looked at him, and his shoulders dropped. He was exhausted.

“It’s good to see you, Sensei,” he finally said. “I wish you could have met my {{user}} under better circumstances.”