Chapter Text
Best Jeanist got up with a start. He looked furious, sliding the case files to Deku and walking to the open door.
“Kirishima, now would be a good time for that bathroom break if you need one.” Jeanist called over his shoulder as he walked out slamming the door behind him. Kirishima looked up at Deku who smiled nervously, and got up to follow the older hero.
Kirishima made his way out the back door and down the hall he was brought in as the commotion outside the room grew louder.
In the main office, where Jeanist ran too, stormed and fumed an angry Bakugo, shooting daggers into his denim clad boss.
“Bakugo I told you to stay home.”
“What the fuck is happening here, Jeanist?” Bakugo said grimly, scanning what he could see of Best Jeanist’s face.
“You will find out when the time is right now please, Bakugo, go home.”
“Is it him?”
“What makes you say that?”
Bakugo tried to step past Jeanist to get to the questioning room, but Jeanist got in front of him.
“No one is talking to me. I even asked my best fucking friend who tells me everything without sugar coating it, and she won’t fucking say shit either. This is personal, Jeanist. I know this is. Because you wouldn’t have asked fucking DEKU instead of ME.”
Jeanist didn’t accept or deny Bakugo’s claims. He stood there, keeping a straight face, looking into the face of an irritated, tired, worried fiance. Bakugo wasn’t Ground Zero at this moment. He was Katsuki.
A hot-headed, teary eyed, man in love.
“Come with me, Bakugo.” Jeanist said as he began to walk to an empty office. Bakugo sat down, arms crossed, trying to conceal just how nervous he was.
Jeanist sat on the other side of the big, wooden desk. His legs crossed, arms folded in his lap, trying to formulate his thoughts. Bakugo studied him, growing annoyed with every passing second.
“What, you don’t think I can handle the truth? Tell me Jeanist. I need to hear it.”
Jeanist kept his composure. His eyes shifted to Bakugo, who was trembling, trying to conceal tears in his eyes.
“My anxiety has been through the fucking roof lately, Jeanist. This year hasn’t been easy, and I don’t need my fucking friends ghosting me when I fucking need them. So just fucking rip the bandaid off, I’m tired of waiting.” Bakugo said with a grimness to his voice. It reminded Jeanist of Bakugo’s temperament in high school. He knew the fire was always there, he knew it never left. But it was in this moment that he realized how passionate he felt about this man.
“Are you sure you can handle the truth?” Jeanist asked, keeping his tone as even as possible.
Bakugo wasn’t trying to stop the tears running down his hot cheeks. His palms began to gently smoke, his body was tense. He was trying to brace himself for the worst.
“We found him, Bakugo.” Jeanist said quietly. Bakugo’s head shot up, his eyes wide and confused.
“Wh… why WHAT?!”
“Creati and Shoto found him while in London. They brought him home. They sensed he was in danger. It was very fast. It’s only been just over 24 hours.”
Bakugo was stunned, he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Bakugo tensed more. He wanted to see him. He needed to confirm this for himself. He motioned to get up, but as if Jeanist could read his mind, he grabbed Bakugo’s arm, willing him to stay down.
“He isn’t ready for this, Bakugo. Not yet.”
“What do you mean, not yet?! It’s been over a year!”
“You’re not listening to me, Zero.”
Bakugo furrowed his brow. He was stubborn, but Best never called him Zero if it wasn’t serious. And on the topic of his fiance, everything was serious.
“If you recall the hostage tape, where that figure touched his head and the blinding light emitted from their hand right before he became unconscious?” Best Jeanist said, folding his hands together, searching Bakugo’s face for understanding. The young hero nodded his head, searching his boss’s eyes for a lead.
“Well, we have very good reason to believe that that action actually erased a large portion of his memory.”
Bakugo’s blood ran cold. He shifted in his seat uncomfortably as he tried to connect the dots. Kirishima wasn’t ready to meet him. . . a memory erasing quirk. . .
“How much of his memory is gone, Jeanist?”
Jeanist sighed, his expression involuntarily changing.
“He doesn’t remember attending UA. He doesn’t even remember getting in.” Jeanist said quietly.
“So. . . that means. . .”
“I’m sorry, Katsuki. He doesn’t know who you are. At least not in a romantic sense. He knows you as Ground Zero. But not as his partner.”
Bakugo hadn’t felt a blow to the heart like that since he left Kirishima behind when he packed and left for America. Since his father died. Bakugo felt all of the breath leave his body.
“Zero. Though you’re not on this case, I’m telling you because I would want someone to tell me if the person I loved was in this condition. Please know I didn’t mean to hold this from you in any malicious form, nor was I trying to protect you. The less involved in this case the better, and just as I said to you a year ago, having you as an official part of this case can be detrimental – but as we start to uncover more aspects we will find a purposeful way to have you connected. I promise.” Jeanist said in his most soothing yet authoritative voice. It was as if he were trying to console a wounded citizen. A citizen whose faith in heroes was on it’s last rope.
Bakugo didn’t notice he was crying until he blinked, the tears falling onto his lap. He felt lost. Confused. Conflicted. His friends weren’t trying to hurt him on purpose, but he needed them the most as of recently. They were just doing their jobs. Jeanist was just doing his job. Bakugo was the only one in this situation without a role, yet he was the one affected the most.
Bakugo balled a fist and wiped his tears away, looking up at his commander with a sense of pleading. He tried to keep his voice strong, gruff, unafraid, though every nerve in his body shook.
“So when this is all over, the questioning, the reacquaintance, everything at this stage of the game? Where the hell is he going to go? He clearly can’t come home. Who’s going to keep him company?! Who’s going to watch over him? Can he come home?” Bakugo asked as fast as the words could spill out of his mouth. Best Jeanist just watched in amazement. He would never tell the explosive hero, but in that moment he reminded him a lot of Deku.
“I’m working through some of those details now. Don’t worry, when they get back to me with an answer, and I’m sure they’ll say yes, he’ll be with people he knows and loves. He’ll always be close. Since you’re one of his emergency contacts, you’ll be the first to know any further developments. I’m also working on crafting a small care team, you of course will be included.”
Bakugo felt the tension slowly ease in his shoulders, but he still felt incredibly on edge. At least he would get to be there for him. To help him in some capacity. But, he still needed to make sure he was okay.
“Can I atleast see him?” Bakugo asked, trying to keep eye contact.
They sat together like this for a while. Jeanist feeling every professional bone in his body telling him no, it wasn’t a good idea. But if Jeanist knows one thing to be true, it’s that Bakugo doesn’t cry for anyone. Not even his own ailments.
“Follow me. You are only allowed to look into the double sided glass. You are not to enter the room under any circumstances. Failure to comply with those rules will lead to a suspension, you understand me?”
“Yes, Best Jeanist.”
“Good. Now come with me.”
They both got up and left the empty office. The rest of the agency seemed to suddenly bustle back to work upon their resurgence, as if they were trying to listen in while they were speaking.
Usually, on a good day, no one dared to meet eyes as Ground Zero walked through the halls. But, on this occasion, everyone looked up, studying his face or even worse, trying to give a comforting smile. With a signature ‘tch’ he shoved his hands in his pockets, keeping his eyes down and glued to his boss’s heels, following his steps religiously.
A million thoughts were flowing through his mind. How much had he changed over the course of a year? Would he be unrecognizable? Was he hurt? If Kirishima was hurt who would he have to kill for hurting him? He would look beautiful no matter what he looked like, so why does it matter?
Before he could get too lost in his thoughts, they reached the interrogation room. Jeanist held the first door open for him, where he made Bakugo take a seat.
“Stay here. If things get too heavy, you’re free to go. We’re going to start to fill him in on his life and talk next steps. Feel free to leave whenever you’re ready, understood?” Jeanist said, turning to look at Bakugo before entering the room.
“Yes, Best Jeanist.” Bakugo said softly as he stared at the empty seat with a half filled glass of water on the table at its place. He knew that’s where Kirishima sat. He was so transfixed on the seat that he didn’t notice the figure standing to his side.
“Hey, Kacchan.” a voice said softly next to him, startling the blonde. He looked up to see Deku with a sorry look on his face.
Bakugo wanted to rage at him. To jump at him and tear his hair out and wipe that stupid look off his face. But he also understood. He understood why he didn’t say anything. He understood the direness of it all. He hated that the one time he could be completely justified in beating his face in, Deku was in the right.
Bakugo just huffed and looked back at the empty seat.
“He’s going to be okay. He’s safe now. I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you sooner, but it was an extremely delicate process that we couldn’t mess up. Not that you would have messed it up. . . shit, I’m sorry Kacchan. . . I –”
“Quit your bitching and get back in there. The faster you talk to him is the faster I can.”
“Yes, Kacchan. Understood.”
Deku walked past him and through the door Best Jeanist had gone through, taking a seat in the seat between Jeanist and the intern with the truth detection quirk.
Jeanist made a wave to another intern who sat at the entrance at the back of the room, who opened the door for Kirishima to walk in.
Bakugo stood upon the sight of his fiance. He had a little scruff on his face. His jet-black hair was tied up into his signature manbun, and from the way it was tied, you could see the faded bits of red at the tips. He was a little softer than when he went missing, but he wanted to shove his face into every soft part of his body. He wanted to lose himself in him. He would do anything to break the glass and hold him.
“How was your break, Kirishima?” Jeanist asked with a smile. Kirishima gave a soft smile back, holding the glass of water, moving it around to the water inside sloshed around a little. He was nervous. Bakugo could tell.
“It was okay. Spoke to Creati a little more. She’s really nice.” He said, pulling the glass to his lips to take a drink.
“Yes, she’s quite the kind soul.” Jeanist said, smiling back. “Kirishima, I know the past day has been rough for you, so I want to give you space to express any questions or concerns you may have. It has all been a lot to take in, and the last portion of our day will consist of talking about your life. I want to give you the agency to start this conversation.” Jeanist said in a soft, understanding tone.
Kirishima intently looked at the glass he was holding. Little swishes, watching the waves of the water in the glass like the movements held all of the answers he was looking for.
“I do have a question.” Kirishima spoke up.
“And we’ll try our best to answer.” Jeanist said, sitting up and at attention.
Kirishima took a deep breath before opening his mouth, his lips lingered open, trying to will the words to come out.
“Why me?” Kirishima said, honestly confused with a hint of disbelief in his voice. This wasn’t the tone the three on the other side of the table expected.
“Can you elaborate for us a little, Kirishima?” Deku said in his signature kind voice.
Kirishima looked up at both of them, tears forming in his eyes. The heat of his tears caused him to blink his eyes closed, the drops flowing freely down his cheeks. Deku pushed a tissue box that had been sitting on the other side of the table in front of Kirishima.
“It’s just that. . . this all started from me forgetting my card in a restaurant owned by heroes. Heroes I didn’t know personally. Who took some interest in me. They didn’t need to bring me back to Japan to resolve my problems. It’s hard to wrap my head around being kidnapped. It’s even harder to wrap my head around my memory being erased. But who would care enough to erase my memory? Why me? Some regular dude who had nothing but a drug problem and didn’t even go to high school. I have nothing to offer. I tried my hardest to become more confident. I wanted to make something of myself, but I didn’t. Something isn’t adding up. Who am I? Why have you all taken sudden interest in me?” Kirishima sputtered. His words fought through tears and a throat that felt like it was on fire.
It made sense, he was scared, confused, and for all he knew in a brand new environment. He was being questioned about things he couldn’t recall. His parents weren’t even here to comfort him. He felt lost. Lost in a room full of strangers. Though big sis was heavily protective and somewhat abusive, he found himself missing her in this moment.
Jeanist sat up in his chair, his expression shifting to something more somber. Apologetic. He had nothing to apologize for, but he could feel the hurt in Kirishima’s voice.
“Eijirou. I want to start by saying that everything you want to know will be uncovered in the next few minutes. It’s going to be a lot to take in. But, you meant a lot to a lot of people. And you still do. Your case is a rare one, honestly the first one like this in hero history.” Jeanist started, leaning in over the table, reaching out a hand to pull the glass out of Kirishima’s slowly hardening palm. Kirishima looked up at the hero bewildered, eyes wide.
“. . . Hero history? What does that have to do with me?”
Best Jeanist took a deep breath.
“It has everything to do with you. Because you, Kirishima Eijirou, are a Pro Hero. Welcome home, Red Riot.”