Set You Free [Angst!] - Chapter 1

This is your official warning that this fic does not have a happy ending

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“He was an amazing police officer, you know! He always wanted to be a hero, growing up, like in the comics he used to read.”

“A hero?” Katsuki prompted.

“I know, I know, it sounds silly now! But he decided at a young age that being a police officer was the closest he could get, so he pursued it with everything he had! Such a lovely boy, it’s such a shame about what happened.”

“A shame?”

“Well, yes! A shame! He was so helpful, such a bright boy, always there to help you out with whatever you needed, to drop everything for you and do it all with a smile on his face! I don’t know what changed, I don’t know what made him do... Well, you know. But it’s a shame, whatever it was that drove him there. He was such an asset to the city, he’s been sorely missed, he always will be.”

With a gruff thanks, Katsuki let the woman go on her way, off to finish her shopping or play bingo or whatever the fuck it was that old ladies did.

It felt like Katsuki had spent his whole day talking to a parrot. No matter who he asked, no matter how much he pushed and poked and prodded, he just seemed to get the same story from everyone in town. Sweet kid who became a cop to help people, took good care of his mother, knew everyone in town and went out of his way to help at every opportunity. Nothing seemed to change, he was the same person as ever, but then suddenly...

There was no explanation for it, if the townspeople were to be believed. Katsuki had hit a brick wall, and like the stubborn asshole he was, he’d just kept bashing his head on that wall, over and over, hoping for a different result.

Maybe it was time to regroup.

Tucking his notebook away in his bag, he headed toward the little inn where he’d stayed the night prior. There were only a handful of rooms, most of them empty, plus an overzealous owner who was much too enthusiastic for his liking, but it was clean and quiet and had good phone reception for him to make calls and connect to the internet.

He’d spent plenty of time researching online and in libraries before he ever decided to visit the town, but there just seemed to be a void in the information. There was nothing about what changed, or when it changed – the guy just went from sweet angel to convicted felon in an instant with apparently no warning. In the past, when he’d worked on similar cases, there was no shortage of people ready to tell him “I knew that boy was trouble” or “we all saw the signs” the moment they were asked. People were so eager to act like they’d seen it coming, even when they clearly had not.

But this guy? Not a single bad word.

Half of them wouldn’t even say the words. Crime, prison, murder. They just didn’t get put in the same sentence as the name Midoriya Izuku.

And despite the bruise growing in his brain from hitting his head on the brick wall repeatedly, Stubborn Asshole Katsuki was determined to find out the truth.

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A buzzer sounded as the door finally opened, and Katsuki sat up straighter, turning his head to look. He was careful not to make any sudden moves, lest he be accused of starting trouble or something, keeping his feet firmly planted on the ground and his butt in the seat so they wouldn’t think he was trying to get up – he’d been given the warnings enough times about keeping a distance between them.

He wasn’t sure exactly what he expected to see when the guards brought Izuku through the door, but he knew the man before him was not it. Maybe he expected someone tired, or haggard, who looked like they’d been beaten up by other inmates, or hadn’t seen a good meal in years, but instead... The guy was strangely normal. He came in with fluffy green hair sticking up at oddangles, bold freckles sprinkled across his cheeks, and weirdest of all, a smile on his face.

“Hi!” he said brightly, rubbing at his wrists a little when the guards uncuffed him. “I’m Izuku! It’s nice to meet you!”

“Katsuki,” he returned, eyes narrowing as he scanned the man over – scars on his arms and hands, probably from his police work, but no open wounds, no new bruises – “um, thanks for agreeing to see me.”

“The pleasure is all mine! It’s always nice to meet someone new, you know?”

“Oh. Yeah, I guess it would be. You um, you’ve been here a long time.”

“Yeah,” Izuku nodded, still smiling as if they were just chatting about the weather. “You mind if I sit?”

“Why would I mind?”

“Closer to you,” he explained, keeping a wide berth as he passed Katsuki to the spare chair, a few metres apart from Katsuki’s and both in clear view of the guards. “Some people want me further away.”

Katsuki raised an eyebrow at him, looking pointedly back at the guards framing their doorway, and Izuku laughed at his disdain.

“I’ll sit, then!” he grinned. “So, Katsuki, right? Tell me about yourself.”

“I thought I was the journalist here.”

“I’ll tell you things too! But I’d like to hear some new things, too. I hear the same seven stories from the same three people every day of my life. So tell me about you, first.”

Katsuki paused, drumming his fingers on his knee and glancing at the notebook close at hand. He’d had to surrender his laptop at reception, much to his frustration. Things would have been a lot easier if he’d had the thing on hand to make notes instead of doing it by hand, but at least he’d had a notebook with him so he didn’t have to do it by memory. Not that he was ever without one.

“I write for newspapers mostly, journals when I get the opportunity. People love all that ‘True Crime’ shit, documentaries and online videos and all that, so I started pitching a kind of newspaper equivalent to a few places. They were popular, obviously, so now I look into interesting convicts and try to find a story there.”

“Awww, you thought I was interesting?” Izuku teased, fluttering his eyelashes playfully. “Well, I’m flattered. What about hobbies? You look like you play sports or something.”

“Used to, at school. Not so much anymore, but I visit the gym pretty regularly. You guys have a gym or something in here? You always hear those stories about people getting jacked in prison.”

“Yeah! Not a proper gym, obviously, but out in the yard there’s a bunch of weight benches and stuff. I wasn’t allowed to use it at first, Maximum Security and all, but it’s been long enough with no incidents that they’ve decided to trust me. I used to read a lot too, I would have loved to read your work! You must read too, if you’re a writer?”

“Not as much as I should,” Katsuki confessed. “I know it’s meant to help improve your writing and all that, but it’s just so hard to make the time.”

“Yeah, I can imagine. When I was working I only ever read comic books, other than when I was in hospital. Things got boring super fast when I was confined to a hospital bed! It gave me time to catch up on some novels though.”

“That happen a lot?”

“Much more than it should’ve,” Izuku laughed, gesturing vaguely with his more mottled-looking arm. “Nothing too serious, but sometimes you get caught by a knife or you hit your head or something, you know? If you’re chasing someone down it isn’t `hard to catch your leg on a fence as you jump it, or scratch yourself up tackling someone, but most of the time it was the ones who fought back that caused the real damage.”

“Yeah, makes sense,” Katsuki nodded awkwardly. “Um, do you want to... Tell me about work? I heard you were good at your job, it would be... Cool to hear some stories, if you have any you want to share.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, of course. Do you mind if I take notes?”

“Be my guest!” Izuku agreed readily. “Okay, so there was this one time I got to hunt down a Serial Killer. That one was reallysurreal, you know? You go in expecting murderers and car chases, then you spend years on paperwork and small cases instead, and just as you’re getting used to it, boom, serial killer! So they called this guy Stain, and he carried – get this – actual swords.”

Izuku’s face lit up as he talked, eyes shining as he shared his stories, and Katsuki found himself oddly surprised by it all. His hand took notes, his head bobbed, his lips occasionally prompted Izuku to continue, but his eyes just stayed locked on those shining emeralds, watching an excitement and enthusiasm he had never seen in anyone else he’d interviewed.

He’d heard that the guy was good at his job, but hearing the actual stories behind it, the people he’d hunted down and apprehended, was oddly surreal. In another life, they could have been sitting in a cafe, sipping on too-sweet coffee as Katsuki plotted out an article about the latest award Izuku had won for his services.

There were domestic abuse cases, where Izuku managed to calm things down and get the victims to safety; kidnappings, where Izuku tracked down the hideouts and got the kids back home; robberies, when whole syndicates of criminals banded together to plan entire heists and Izuku managed to follow their tracks and shut them down; even hostage situations, though Izuku’s voice quieted a little when he talked about those ones, his eyes taking on a far away look when he recounted their tales.

Before he knew it, their time was already up, the guards stepping in to take Izuku back to his cold, quiet cell, and Izuku gave Katsuki an apologetic smile as he offered his hands out for the cuffs.

“I’m sorry,” he said, strangely sincere. “I didn’t give you much for your story, did I?”

“You gave me a lot to think about,” Katsuki assured him, flashing his pages of scribbled notes. “Thanks for your time.”

“My pleasure! It was nice to meet you, Katsuki!”

“You too, Izuku.”

He watched through the window until Izuku was out of sight, giving him one last wave, and then a guard was showing him back to the reception area, like nothing had changed, nothing had happened. He tucked his laptop bag under one arm when they handed it back, and when he stepped outside he took a minute just to breathe. The fresh air felt so good, he hadn’t realised quite how stale it felt inside the prison walls, but his lungs shuddered a little as he sucked it in and relished how clean it tasted.

His previous interviews had never affected him so much. He usually came out feeling tired more than anything else, sick of listening to them preach about how much they regret their actions and made the wrong decision, yada yada, like it might get them out of jail if Katsuki believed them or some shit. But Izuku...

Actually, Izuku hadn’t even mentioned the crime. They’d gotten so caught up in talking about his police work that he had kind of... Forgotten to ask. What a shitty journalist he was, not even asking the most important question.

Maybe he could go for a “the man behind the crime” angle or something, about his background, his life, his history. All about the human, instead of what he did last time he was on the outside.

His editors would hate it for sure, though. Maybe that wasn’t such a good idea.

So back to the research it was, then. To find a way to tell the story, to incorporate the wealth of information Izuku had given him somehow so that the meeting wasn’t all a complete waste of time, but at the same time, not come across too sympathetic toward a murderer. Katsuki hated using that word, for some reason. He didn’t seem like a murderer, and he’d put dozens of other murderers in jail before he ever ended up there himself, but maybe that was all part of the act? Serial killers were usually considered charismatic people, right?

Katsuki’s brain was a mess.

He finally climbed back into his car, taking another minute to just breathe as he got himself belted in and the engine started, taking one last look back at the tall stone walls before he headed for the gates.

It was going to be a long night.

[Next Chapter]