He hates to recommend alcohol, cigarettes, sleeping around and general insanity to anyone, but they 've always worked out well for him. Drowning his thoughts and chain smoking his way out of his own emotions were the sort of escapist vices he 'd refused himself in his last life, when responsibility was a heavy, suffocating demon on his shoulders. Seeing as though he 's dedicated his second life to ignoring all the world 's problems and chilling the fuck out, he makes liberal use of them now.

Gojo had sworn to himself he 'd live his life for himself this time, doing whatever he felt like, and damn everyone else.

But that still doesn 't explain how he ended up like this.

With a kid all round-cheeked and young, all wide smiles and beaming, innocent eyes, a determined and earnest expression across his youthful face. It hurts to look at ' reminds him of a past he keeps locked in a steel trap at the bottom of his heart. It has him wishing he actually had it in him to be a

real

villain. A person cruel enough to turn that face away.

'I mean ' I know you 're probably very busy doing, um, villainous ' stuff ' ' but if you have any time, even just for pointers or something, that would be really great, Dabi-san! ' Midoriya gushes earnestly.

Gojo is left to stare blankly into his sparkling eyes and try to figure out where he went wrong.

It probably started when he 'd carted a giant box of cream puffs to his favorite roof to watch the sunset uninterrupted. He hasn 't been back since he met Midoriya there; not because he was avoiding it or anything, just life getting in the way of things. One of his favorite local bakeries was having a sale on their limited edition sesame cream puffs and he 'd resolutely decided he 'd wait in the god forsaken line for one or die trying. After being squished into an endless row of fellow confectionary enthusiasts, he wanted a spot to relax without having to deal with crowds, but wasn 't quite up to returning to his hotel room yet. He 'd chosen one with a grand view of the ocean from one of the tallest high rises in the city, a luxury suite with a balcony and a swanky living area and all the amenities he could ever want, but for some reason he just wasn 't feeling it.

So he teleports onto the roof, and is nearly mauled by an over-excited teenager.

Apparently Midoriya has come to the roof everyday '

every single day,

what the hell ' in hopes of seeing him again.

He 'd figured out who Gojo was after scouring internet forums for villain sightings, eventually finding a very suspicious thread where people like to report 'Dabi ' sightings. From there, Midoriya had compared what he knew of Gojo 's appearance and what people reported Dabi to look like, and made an educated guess.

For a teenager meeting one of the most dangerous criminals in the city alone on a secluded roof, he 's really not all that concerned about it.

Actually, he 's all but begging Gojo to

teach

him.

Midoriya bows low. 'I followed your advice and joined a martial arts gym ' a few of them, actually, because I originally wanted to try Taekwondo but the dojo master said Judo might be a good addition considering my height ' and I 've been training every day and working out and I just '

'Kid,

breathe, '

Gojo interrupts, as the green-haired boy 's face starts turning an alarming red.

Midoriya cuts himself off abruptly, taking a large, wheezing gulp of air.

Gojo stares at him, then sighs. He shoves his shades into his hair. Midoriya watches him with big eyes.

'You realize I 'm a

villain,

right? ' He clarifies, just to cover his bases.

Midoriya at least has the sense to look a

little

bit cautious at that. 'Well ' yes. '

'And you still went out of your way to try to find me again? '

'... Yes. '

Gojo wonders what he 's done to deserve this.

Then he realizes:

literally everything.

He 's categorically and emphatically the

worst,

no wonder his karma is so bad.

He palms his face. 'And that, at the time, didn 't strike you even slightly as an ill-advised idea? '

Midoriya doesn 't say anything for a long moment. His gaze is deeply focused on his bright red shoes, causing Gojo to stare at them as well. His heart seizes up and he has to look away abruptly, breathing out sharply through his nose. He closes his eyes. They 're just shoes. Red sneakers in a sea of trendy red colored footwear. It 's stupid to get nostalgic about something like that.

Fortunately for Gojo 's internal neurosis, Midoriya chooses that moment to reply. 'You 're the only one who ever ' ' He mumbles, to the ground. 'I mean, no one else has ever looked at me and ' and thought ' that I had a chance. That I could be a hero just like anyone else. That I could have

dreams

for my future like anyone else...And you didn 't even have to think about it. '

The boy 's face twists up painfully. 'Look, I know you 're a villain. But ' you 're still the first person who 's ever acknowledged me. '

I did not mean to be that person,

Gojo thinks, hysterically.

'I know I 'm asking a lot ' ' Midoriya says, crestfallen. 'Sorry. I know it 's not really fair to you, you were just being nice, not, like, trying to be my mentor or something ' '

Mentor?!

He nudges the gravel beneath them with a bright red sneaker. '... Nevermind. I 'm really sorry I wasted your time, I '

Gojo breathes in sharply. God

damnit.

Those puppy eyes are fucking lethal.

'I never said I wouldn 't, ' he interrupts, begrudgingly.

Midoriya 's head snaps up, shining eyes wide with disbelief. 'R ' Really? '

Gojo sighs. 'Really, kid. Why don 't you show me what you 've learned? '

//

@Ru-kun | Ru-Kun ????

Thanks for all the love everyone!! My personality is brought to you by trauma ' and the Simple Life (:

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//

So it 's not as if he went into this thinking he 'd be some kind of

sensei

again. He 's not ready to face something like that, and frankly doesn 't have the emotional bandwidth to deal with his own baggage on that subject. And considering he has the emotional availability of a pet rock on the best of days, probably isn 't going to be dealing with it any time soon either.

Nonetheless, it 's all too easy to fall into the rhythm of it again.

Midoriya is the sort of eager and earnest kid that soaks up everything he says like a sponge. If Gojo gives him an inch, he comes back with a mile. Just an offhand remark about his footwork in one week will have the green-haired boy coming back with an entirely new style. It 's not hard to lose track of time as he sprawls out in his seat (he has since nabbed a bench to put up there) and watch Midoriya work through his forms, occasionally calling out critiques or just nonsense to fuck with him.

He tries to keep it as casual as possible, both for Midoriya 's sake and his own.

Midoriya is just a kid ' he doesn 't need to be caught up in all the danger of Gojo 's criminal lifestyle, not when he 's got a whole future ahead of him. (Gojo 's ruined enough futures of innocent, bright-eyed youths to last him a dozen lifetimes, he doesn 't need to add Midoriya 's to his list of sins.) And Gojo needs to stop accidentally mentally adopting brats he has no business getting attached to. He has plenty of enemies as well; people he personally doesn 't bat an eyelash at, but could ruin Midoriya 's life if they ever found out about him.

So he tells Midoriya to stop by the roof at his own leisure, and Gojo will do the same. If their schedules happen to align and they 're both there at the same time, then that 's just a happy coincidence.

He 's not a mentor.

He 's not even a frequent or predictable presence in the boy 's life.

He has no responsibility to ensure that this child has a safe and happy future.

If anything happens to him, it 's not Gojo 's fault and it 's not his problem.

This is what he tells himself, anyway.

And no, he 's not running away to Tokyo to run from his own feelings, okay. He 's an adult and he can do perfectly normal adult things, like spontaneously decide now would be a good time to check on his friends, all of whom are adults better at handling their responsibilities than him and also happen to be in organized crime, and would never personally consider themselves his friends. But whatever.

It 's nice to get out of Mustafu every once in a while. Not that he doesn 't positively adore living in a city that is ' whether knowingly or not ' named after the Planet of The High Ground ', but Tokyo has it 's charms too.

It 's also the hot bed for criminal activity in Japan, so it 's basically Gojo 's playground.

'Ah, Mos Eisley, a most wretched hive of scum and villainy, ' he sings as he slams open the door to the Cantina. 'How I 've missed you so! '

'Who you callin ' wretched, huh? ' Draken, Toman's vice captain, mutters without looking up, squinting down at his row of mahjong tiles.

Gojo has never played a game of mahjong in his life, so he has no idea if it's a good hand or not. Nonetheless he makes appreciative noises as he peers over the tall gang member 's shoulder, just to fuck with him. Draken swats him away as his opponents trade suspicious looks with each other.

'Notice how you don 't deny the scum or villainy, ' Gojo laughs, as he dodges out of what would have been a vicious strike from the dragon-quirk man. 'Where 's the boss man, mister vice captain? '

'Busy, ' Draken says shortly, as he pulls a tile from the wall and examines it with a squint.

'For how long? '

'Dunno. '

Gojo sighs, then saunters over to the bar before he annoys Draken too much and gets himself kicked out of Toman 's base. In point of fact it is not actually a cantina, but rather a pretty quintessential gambling den full of gang members and wastrels alike. It definitely had a name, at some point, but Gojo has long since corrupted everyone in Toman and beyond into calling it the Cantina just because the opportunity was too good to pass up. Toman owns just about every gambling den, pachinko parlor, and laundromat in Tokyo's Mos Eisley ward, but this is the only one that the leader ever frequents on a regular basis. Fortunately Draken confirmed that Mikey was here, so Gojo doesn 't have to blindly teleport himself around Tokyo in search of him.

He grabs a drink at the bar and casts an idle glance around the room, annoyed that he finds his eyes drawn to what must be the youngest members of the gang and immediately starts wondering what Midoriya is up to. It 's a little ridiculous. He specifically came all the way to Tokyo to stop doing that.

He gets bored of people watching eventually, and decides to wander around the upper floors to see who else is around that he knows.

He ends up on the balcony watching the bustling nightlife below. A neon glow casts striking colors among the laughing crowds, voices loud in the cold night air and every warmly lit window crowded with people.

Gojo 's just about to light up when a shadow falls over him, and he artfully dodges out of the way as a blur stomps right into the spot he 'd just vacated. Toman 's Fourth Division Captain grins up at him wildly as he rises, living up to his nickname.

'Dabiii~ ' The blonde whines, petulantly. 'How do you always know?! No one else can tell when I 'm about to get the drop on them! '

'It 's a sixth sense, ' Gojo replies blithely, reaching for his lighter.

'I thought your quirk was

cremation,

not foresight? '

He just shrugs grandly. 'Why not have both? '

Smiley just sighs. 'That 's not how quirks work, ya know. ' Yeah, Gojo 's well aware. But the truth won 't make any sense to anyone, so it 's just better to turn it into an elaborate joke. Fits better with his reputation too.

Gojo waggles his eyebrows, and rasps in his best Sheev Palpatine voice; 'Or is it?? The Dark Side of the Force is a pathway to many abilities some consider to be ' unnatural. '

Smiley just scoffs, regularly immune to Gojo 's particular brand of insanity (read: prequel references no one else will understand).

Gojo grins, leaning back as he inhales. 'But anyway, do you happen to know why Mikey 's too busy for his favorite consultant? '

Because Gojo is never and will never be part of the gang, which is a bold line to draw in a world where allegiances and loyalty are worth their weight in gold. But he 's worked with Toman for years now, first introduced by Giran years ago while he was still going through his

'the hero we deserve, but not the one we need '

Dark Knight vigilante phase, tearing through the quirk trafficking scene with all the subtlety of a naked Miley Cyrus on a wrecking ball. And he 's proven himself ever since then to be one of the most powerful assets on the streets, and one that 's always good on his word. The mercurial and eccentric Toman leader respects him because of it.

So it 's a bit odd to be kept waiting this long to meet with him. He 'd worry he did something to mortally offend them, but Draken hadn 't tried to take his head off the moment he walked in the door so he thinks he 's alright on that front.

Smiley 's characteristic smile falls away at Gojo 's query. His expression completely deflates.

'Yeah, I guess you haven 't heard, huh? '

'Heard what? '

'Mitsuya 's little sister got caught up in an altercation with the Hero Killer, ' Smiley says, grimly.

Gojo sucks in a breath. 'Is she '? '

He shakes his head sadly. 'She 's in critical condition, it 's still up in the air whether she 'll make it through the week or not. '

Gojo frowns deeply, knuckles white against the railing. 'But she 's not a hero? '

He thinks he remembers someone saying she was in college. Or maybe high school. Either way, she was just a regular civilian not involved at all in heroes or villains, or even the criminal underworld, familial relations to one of Toman's scariest division captains not withstanding.

'Wrong place, wrong time, ' Smiley says. His expression darkens. 'Not that it fucking matters. The fucking bastard knifed her clean through either way. '

Well, fuck. He hasn 't heard much about the Hero Killer, mainly because he just didn 't care enough about heroes to learn more. But this was more than enough to have him sitting up and taking notice.

'Toman 's out for blood, then, ' Gojo surmises.

Smiley runs a ragged hand through his unruly hair. 'Yeah. But it 's tough since he hops all over the country, and he probably knows better than to get anywhere near our territory now. '

'And there 's still all those disputes over Trigger to worry about. '

'Yeah, no kidding, ' Smiley agrees, sounding uncharacteristically glum. 'They say there 's a big time international buyer eager to buy up all the inventory, and it 's causing a huge mess with all the warring gangs. '

So Toman 's probably got too much on their plate right now to launch a full assault on the Hero Killer.

'If I get any word of where he is, I 'll let you know, ' Gojo swears, lowly. 'And if I get the opportunity ' I 'll end him myself. '

Smiley finally breaks his somber expression for a wild, predatory grin. 'Good. Try to bring him back, though. You know Mitsuya will want first dibs. '

Then he shakes his head. 'But I 'm sure you didn 't come here just to talk about the Hero Killer. What 's up? '

'Wanted to ask Mikey what he knows about all these recruitment initiatives. '

Smiley taps his chin. 'Yeah I know what you mean. None of the Tokyo gangs are claiming its their 's. Might even be someone new in town. '

Gojo leans against the railing. 'Heard anything about an 'Emperor '? '

Smiley tilts his head. 'Ya mean the Emperor of Darkness? '

Gojo flicks the end of his cigarette. 'The very same. '

'You think he 's behind this? '

Gojo idly watches the embers as they flicker and die in the wind. Detective Naomasa and Eraserhead seemed to think so. The detective had specifically asked Gojo about that very moniker, 'Emperor of Darkness '. Gojo could honestly say he hadn 't heard anything about it ' Giran had only mentioned an 'Emperor '. By pure technicality that wasn 't a lie. Still he assumed the man Giran wanted him to meet so badly and the man the detective thought was behind this recruiting drive were the same.

'He 's been kind of quiet these last few years, ' Smiley remarks, when Gojo doesn 't say anything in response. 'But it might be. Haven 't heard anything either way. There 's only just talk of this 'League of Villains ' thing. '

Gojo 's head snaps up. He can 't help it; he starts to laugh uncontrollably. He 's almost in tears by the time he 's calmed down, having to shove down his blindfold to wipe at his eyes.

'That 's

what they 're going with? ' He opines, laughing. 'A little originality would have been nice. '

Still, a name is a name, and that 's plenty useful.

A new face in town, huh?

'Thanks for the info Smiley, that 's useful. ' Gojo stubs out his cigarette, fixing his blindfold. 'Tell Mikey I stopped by, won 't you? '

'Yeah, sure, ' Smiley agrees amicably. 'He actually might have a job for you, so try to answer your phone for once. '

Gojo grins. 'I make no promises on that front. ' He throws up a peace sign as Smiley snorts. 'But I 'll be in touch. '

//

@Ru-kun | Ru-Kun ????

I would like to formally reclaim my title as thug queen

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//

'How do you feel about kids, ' he asks Makoto, apropos nothing.

She 's halfway into a sip of her gin and tonic which she promptly almost hacks back out. 'Shit, dude ' warn a girl before you drop a bomb like that, ' she wheezes, thumping her chest. 'What the hell brought this on? '

Gojo peers down into the frosty glaze of his martini ' shaken, not stirred, because he 's actually a tool and he has no shame in admitting that ' with a moue of distaste he refuses to call a pout. His head hurts from the pounding baselines and dizzying array of disco lights, even with his blackout shades on, and he 's had two drinks too many and he 's feeling disgustingly, painfully honest. Hence the question.

Makoto squints at him with something akin to horror. 'You 're not planning on

procreating,

are you? '

Gojo rears back, jolted out of his maudlin musings by the question. The thought is so bewildering he has no idea how to respond. He 's never even thought about it. In either lifetime.

'No, ' he says, because that 's the honest truth of it.

'Oh. Thank god. ' Makoto relaxes. 'One of you is bad enough, I feel like the universe would implode if there were more of you. '

Gojo chuckles. 'Nah, I 'm pretty one of a kind. ' He winks at her over his shades, drawing a groan of disgust from her.

She leans back in her chair, swirling her drink. 'Still, why the question then? Are you planning on adopting or something? '

'Nothing like that, ' he insists.

Makoto just gives him a look of confusion at that, clearly not understanding what he 's trying to achieve with this line of conversation. In her defense, he doesn 't know what he 's doing either. He 's just ' thinking a lot about it. About things like legacy, posterity, destiny ' things too existential to be thinking about when the house music is so loud he can barely make out his own thoughts over the cascading melodies.

This is what he gets for trying to be an adult doing adult things, he digresses.

He 'd made good on his word and asked Makoto out for drinks and was unsurprised to hear the woman was ready to toss her entire life and career into a kerosene fire after the week she 'd had, but was instead going to be a reasonable person and drown her capitalist misery in inadvisable amounts of gin and vodka. The place she 'd picked out reminds him a lot of the hotel bar they 'd met at; in musical taste more than ambiance, he 'll admit. Despite being an excellent bassist for an alt-rock band with a tendency towards grunge and emocore, her actual musical inclinations gravitated towards the groovy beats of funky house. Gojo wouldn 't have guessed it, but then again he was in the same boat. Being the lead singer of an alt band was a dream of his angsty rebellious teenage soul, but adult-Gojo drifted towards the same kind of music as Makoto.

It also occurred to him, during their course of bar-hopping between Mutsafu 's best electrohouse clubs, that Makoto was the closest thing he had to a friend and peer in this world, and that was actually kind of sad.

Gojo had never gone out of his way to make friends in his first life, and by the end of it the majority of them ended up dead anyway, but he 'd always had at least one confidant to complain at when he needed it.

On the one hand, having a collection of individuals he could forge supportive emotional bonds with sounded like a reasonable idea. On the other hand, that would mean opening up about decades of trauma he 's systematically shoved into the corners of his subconscious and addressing his myriad issues that stem from it, which is just way too much effort for him right now. Handling his feelings in a responsible and adult manner just sounded like

way too much work.

Especially when he had dozens of vices on hand to occupy himself with instead.

At any rate, if he was ever going to address this subject with anyone, it was going to be Makoto, and if it was really bothering him that much he may as well get her opinion on it.

'I 'd be a terrible teacher, right? ' He segues abruptly, leaning towards her and nearly spilling his drink in the process. He frowns at it. Why is it so full? He 'll need to rectify that immediately.

'Um, ' Makoto says, as he downs half of his dirty martini without so much as a flinch.

'I 've been told pretty reliably that I am, but I just want confirmation, ' he adds, blithely.

Makoto blinks rapidly. 'I mean, if you say so? ' Her delicate brow furrows. 'You 're pretty good at directing Yui-chan when she needs guidance. '

He waves that off. 'That 's totally different. She 's basically just asking for input. She 's not asking me, to like,

guide

her into adulthood or something. ' He sighs gustily. 'It 's just so much responsibility, y 'know? Teaching, I mean. You don 't think so, 'cause it 's like, they 've got parents and shit right? But then half the time their parents are awful anyway, and suddenly they 're looking to

you

for life advice and career guidance and before you know it their futures and their safety and their health and happiness have all somehow ended up

your

problem. '

Makoto looks a bit bemused. 'I guess so, ' she replies, genially.

'Why would anyone want to do that? ' Gojo continues, really on a roll now. 'Why put yourself through all that pain and suffering? Kids are awful, y 'know, real shit stains. So self-centered and so ignorant of all the dangers they 're surrounded by. How are you supposed to keep them safe? How are you supposed to live with yourself if a mistake you make gets them hurt, or worse? '

How do you live with yourself knowing you dragged them directly into the line of fire?

He shakes he thought vehemently from his head. Fuck. Maybe the alcohol is no longer blinding him from his own pain, but actively exacerbating it.

This doesn 't stop him from hailing the bartender and ordering another.

'Jeez, you 've really been thinking about this pretty hard, huh? ' Makoto remarks. 'It 's kind of unlike you. '

'Isn 't it? ' Gojo agrees, sighing again. 'All this introspection is giving me hives. '

Makoto smiles widely. 'That doesn 't surprise me at all. ' She takes a sip of her drink. 'But if you honestly want my advice ' it sounds like you 've given it a lot of thought. More thought than most teachers would, I think. You see the difficulties and already recognize the level of unforeseen accountability that goes with it. '

Gojo doesn 't know what to say in response to that. Fortunately Makoto 's not looking for an answer, continuing on:

'Isn 't that part of what makes a good teacher? ' She muses. 'That kind of self awareness? '

Fuck it all though, she 's right, isn 't she?

Maybe this life will be different,

an insidious voice whispers in his head.

Maybe.

Maybe.

He can acknowledge that history can be repetitive but life has a propensity for change, if nothing else.

But right now he can 't think anymore on it. And as if heralded by his own abysmal lack of self-control and aggressive willingness to make ill-advised life choices, a guy across the room catches his eye.

Gojo won 't lie ' it 's the wings that catch his eye first. Enormous and crimson red, almost luminous under the lights. Gojo 's spent more than two decades in this world now, and he still does a double take at some of the anthropomorphic traits quirks give humans sometimes. Wings are hardly the most notable he 's ever seen, but they 're rare enough to draw his eye. It doesn 't help that the person they 're attached to happens to be equally attractive. Somewhere around Gojo 's (current) age, with untamed blonde hair and sharp eyes.

Makoto follows his gaze, then gives an amused snort.

'Of course

you get distracted from our very serious conversation that

you

initiated when something new and shiny walks in. '

She 's got a point, but Gojo doesn 't feel remotely guilty for it. He 's in the mood to make bad decisions tonight, and fucking his way out of his own feelings sounds like a great place to start.

'Well, what do you want me to say? He 's hot. '

'Sure, yeah, ' Makoto drawls. 'But not really your usual type. '

Gojo tilts his head consideringly. 'How so? '

Because when he 's in the mood for a one night stand his picks tend to be all over the place.

Makoto snorts. 'I mean,

hello,

he 's a ' ' Then she does a spit take. Gojo drags his eyes away from the sight, peering over at her curiously.

'What? '

Her expression breaks from disbelief into one of pure amusement. 'You know what? It 's nothing. Nevermind. You do you man. Go shoot your shot if you want."

Gojo squints at her, knowing full well there 's a catch in here somewhere but a little too inebriated to care. Anyway, he 's in the mood for a night of debauchery and he 's found a perfect candidate for it and he 's hardly about to let the opportunity slip him by. So with a shrug he finishes off the rest of his martini and raises a brow at her.

'You don 't mind? '

Makoto is still smirking. 'No, no, by all means, if you really think you can pull him, who am I to get in the way? '

Gojo tosses his head back and laughs. 'I don 't think that was ever going to be in question. ' He 's Gojo Satoru, after all.

Makoto just rolls her eyes fondly and continues smirking as he wanders off in the direction of his prey. She keeps smirking, up until the point she sees Gojo totally succeed in pulling the

Number Three Hero

of Japan

,

without being any the wiser as to who the hell he is. Then she breaks down into uncontrollable laughter; that 's going to be a real fun realization to have the morning after.