Quirk Thief - janazza - 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia (2024)

Chapter 1: A Humble Beginning

Chapter Text

“I want to be like All Might!”

“He’s so cool!”

“And strong!”

“He saves people with a smile!”

“He beats up bad guys like it’s nothin’!”

At age four Izuku received his first All Might figurine. It was also when Kacchan started marching in the front of their little group of friends leading expeditions in the woods for villains. Izuku would follow devotedly with figurine in hand, the paint peeling from a little roughhousing, and the other at Kacchan’s sleeve. The same figurine entered the doctor’s office with him and his uncaring, blunt paediatrician who delivered the news of an extra joint.

It was like the doctor tore the figurine from his hands.

Quirkless. A death sentence to any fantastical dream Izuku’s mind could muster.

He was four when that same figurine suffered its paint charring from between Kacchan’s hands.

At age five whatever semblance of a friendship Izuku held on for with his grip around Kacchan’s wrist ended in sparks and explosions that burnt his palms.

“That hurts, stupid Deku. You trying to rip my arm off?”

“Need your mommy to hold your hand?”

He didn’t want to be left behind again but Izuku went home with blistered palms he hid from his mother no matter how much he wanted to be held.

No All Might and no Kacchan. It was like having everything ripped from him. Quirkless and friendless, his hopes scattering with the people he called friends, now mocking him from the background for his stupidity.

Posters torn from magazines littered the walls of his room.

He didn’t want to let go.

At age eleven he told himself things would be different and he wouldn’t be this floating, Quirkless speck in a crowd drifting alone. Maybe the maturity, the new setting, something, would change his situation. Maybe Kacchan wouldn’t ignore him half of the time and the other pushing him down like the dirt on his shoe.

He thought that every new school year until the eighth grade.

At Christmas mom bought him a new comforter to match his curtains.

And every year he ignored Kacchan’s and everyone else’s persistence that he was helpless.

His All Might posters still hung from the walls of his room and action figures lined his dresser and desk.

Izuku wouldn’t be helpless.

His bed was All Might.

Izuku wouldn’t be the one needing saving.

His only bookmarked page on his laptop was a video of All Might’s debut.

He could be a hero.

(He held on only by a thread)

He was fourteen when this was solidified, whatever he had hung on to - that last string - was torn from his hands in the words of a deflated hero, one who wheezed with every breath with blood dripping from the corners of his mouth. Spite filtered in every word for the system he helped build no matter how much of an idol he was to Izuku, no matter how much his words meant to Izuku.

Because Izuku did everything - everything - for his approval. He stood up to bullies only for the victims to ignore, to push his helpful hands away, for this. He dealt with hands holding him back as others rifled through his backpack, scattering his homework and ruining his analysis journal. He hid and ran from the persistent ones into the city if it meant a blow wouldn’t be dealt to the other kid again. He accepted Kacchan’s anger, his beatings and burns, if it meant he could help someone else, no matter how much his shoulders shook and legs trembled.

Because if Izuku could meet a fairy, a wizard or genie, he would waste his wish to be a hero to someone else.

But not all men are created equal, as one would say.

“Stupid Deku!”

Especially in an age of Quirks, equality meant little. 80% of the world population had Quirks, ranging from the ability to reach the darkest depths of the ocean to the chance to fly, to read people like books or to control their minds. To not have a Quirk was a disability. To have all your toe joints was a disability.

“Where did he go?”

The other 20%, however, sought refuge somewhere in between, simply swept by the tales of the Quirked. Vulnerable to villains and the perfect colateral, they were defenseless damsels for heros to save. Never were they the heroes.

“He couldn’t have gotten that far!”

Izuku Midoriya was four years old when he learnt he would never be a hero, when his best friend became his bully and others chased him. It was when he learnt he would never be equal.

“Coward won’t even finish a fight?”

But Izuku always fought, always wanted to be more. It was why he stood up to his bullies with shaking knees and stood between them and the younger classmen they picked on. It was why he distracted them until booking it down the street and into dark alleys like a coward.

“Bakugo, let’s go! He’s long gone.”

“Probably still running a city over!”

“f*cking Deku thinks he can make a fool out of me!”

Izuku held his breath, stock still. He was far into the alleyway, the only reason he could hear Kacchan was for his constant yelling being his “talking” voice.

“He’s still thinking U.A. after that attack right?” a boy asked. “Just because All Might saved his ass once doesn’t mean he’s blessed.”

No. Far from.

Even from the beginning, as young as when his peers turned against him, from the moment Kaachan assigned his name as Deku, from the doctor’s office, Izuku was anything but blessed.

It ate at him slowly, sickly, like a poison that entered his veins and consumed his being. The issue with an illness is that the body automatically fights back, and that’s what he did. No matter the jibes and purposeful trips and shoves on the playground and in the hall, Izuku would smile and give them the doubt.

Because of course there was more to them and same for him. Of course they were more than the violence directed at him and he was more than a body with no Quirk.

He wasn’t really a Deku.

It was a mantra for him, one he repeated in the mirror despite answering to it, despite the name occasionally slipping from the teacher’s lips. He told himself he could become a hero without a Quirk in spite of Kaachan’s scoffing and the class’ eyeroll. He told himself he could make it if he tried hard enough after long nights of writing in his journals.

When he watched heroes at work, smiling for the press and taking down petty criminals, he saw himself in their place, grinning for the public as a beacon of hope as he took down another goon. And Izuku had followed the beacon of hope religiously, hoping one day that basking in his glow would give him what he always wanted.

But what was the final straw for him came from the lips of his beacon.

“You can’t become a hero.”

It didn’t matter how hard he tried, no matter how long he smiled or asked or pleaded , Izuku Midoriya, the Quirkless Deku, would never become a hero.

It was months later and the words still hadn’t stuck.

“Hey, Bakugo was there, too.”

“Stupid Deku doesn’t learn.”

“Relax, we’ll find him on Monday. Let’s go for ramen!”

Elementary school was rough, as was middle school. With high school around the corner, Izuku could only hope things would be different.

But if Izuku knew anything about himself, it was that he had the worst luck.

Some minutes after their voices had long faded, Izuku slumped against the trash bins he hid behind, finally catching his breath. He had run further than he hoped and would be needing to catch the tram to get home at this point. The U.A. entrance exam was still a month away, and he knew he had little chance, especially in this shape. Never had a Quirkless student made it into a hero school, let alone a top hero school, let alone an inactive Quirkless student .

But for as long as he could remember, Izuku wanted to be a hero, someone others looked up to and when they saw his smile would be filled with hope, like All Might.

But All Might crushed that dream pretty quickly. Even after the fight with the sludge villain, a man who held Kaachan, suffocating him nearly to death and Izuku stepping in the only way he could, All Might said nothing and Izuku went home to his panicking mother and fretted about not putting himself in danger ever again.

It wasn’t that Izuku sought trouble, it just seemed attracted to him. From Kaachan to the slime villain, Izuku was an easy target.

That had been the catalyst to what would become Izuku’s life.

Izuku knew he had run rather far if the burning at his knees had anything to say about it, but what he hadn’t known is what district he was in or the nickname it held.

Felony Flats. A corner of Musutafu and the neighboring cities brimming with activity in its backstreets and an abnormally high rate of homeless. Not far from the Red Light District where back dealings were the norm. In a society of heroes, even these types of neighborhoods still sprouted.

He had caught his breath when he finally poked his head over the trashes he hid behind, searching for any lingering bullies. Dirt and grime dusted his pant legs where he knelt and -ew, he put his hand on old gum stuck to the surface of a trash can. He had sought refuge far from the main road in a back alley that laid in the shadow of the neighboring buildings, unobservant of the occupant who had been following another target minutes before only to notice the short middle school kid alone deep in the alleyway from prying eyes with a very full backpack.

Izuku had only just gotten to his feet when a force kicked him back onto his knees and something sharp jabbed at the back of his neck, between the vertebrae but holding back just enough to not break skin.

“Easy kid. Empty your pockets.”

The breath he had only just gotten under control left him once more and his mind went blank.

“Now!” The villain jerked him and he pricked the skin of Izuku’s neck. Their breath tickled the hairs on the back of his neck and he smelt alcohol on their breath.

His hands shook uncontrollably as they went to his pockets to the phone and pocket change for the tram.

It was happening again.

They kicked his phone away.

“Where’s your wallet?” Voice low and scruffed like a chronic smoker.

His hands came to fist, his knuckles white and shaking.

“You’re a little young to be in this part of town.” The villain pressed on his neck further. “Wallet?”

“Backp-pack.”

The backpack still strapped around his shoulders. Izuku jerked with the force of the man trying to unzip the front pocket of his backpack to begin his search. It pulled his body to the side and he nearly tipped over.

“You’re pretty far from home, aren’t you? It’s getting pretty late, too.” Their breath tousled his hair. He didn’t want to know what that note implied.

Izuku thought if he could knock the knife out of the man’s hand, he could make a break for it. The alley was only so long, so far from the road where someone will see him. And he wanted to do something, didn’t want to sit back and watch himself be robbed. Izuku was more than the quirkless damsel.

“Does mom know you’re not home?”

He wanted to be a hero. That’s all he ever wanted.

He didn’t want to be the Quirkless damsel.

He wanted to save.

A hint of glee trickled in their voice. “You’re shaking. Are you nervous?” They pressed closer and Izuku felt the knife wedge just a little deeper. Blood trickled from the back of his neck like sweat.

But he couldn’t even save himself from a petty thief.

It was just like the sludge villain.

It was infuriating, cruel. It left his numb fingers pushed so hard against his palms he could break skin. The prick at the back of his neck swayed as the thief distracted himself rummaging through Izuku’s backpack, taking their time. It was extremely thin, the tip barely touching his skin. The end of the alley was a good twenty feet. The trash cans he had been hiding behind were shorter than himself, easy to turn over. His backpack was heavy being filled with his textbooks and journals. He could drop it, leaving it with the villain. Or he could, could-

The villain removed the knife from the back of his neck for only a second.

And Izuku, squatting and pulling the straps of his backpack up to bring the pack up to cover his neck, suddenly shoved back into the villain with everything he could muster and the two went sprawling.

He lost his balance, but he heard the man grunt in surprise as they fell back likely getting the wind knocked out of him. He could do this.

Quickly getting to his feet with backpack still around his shoulders, he pulled the trash bins he had been hiding behind down, the trash sprawling across the narrow alley. And for a moment he saw the villain, starting to get up on the other side of the fallen trash bins, and the red eyes and furrowed brow and stress lines forever etched in his face, and his arms.

From his arms grew thick quills, or better worded as spikes, inches long and varying in size. That was his quirk he had felt at the back of his neck, not a knife.

He needed to run. Turning from the villain he dashed for the mouth of the ally. He just had to get to the road and someone will see him. He just had to-

Then he lost all momentum, his head whipping forward as the villain grabbed him by his backpack. The straps held strong. Izuku turned his head just enough to see the angry sneer of the villain and the dirt that caked his face.

He had to let it go.

But not without sending his foot back into the man’s shin. As the man howled, Izuku slipped his arms out of the straps and sprinted for the exit.

He hears it before seeing it, thick slivers swishing past his head before one pierced fleshed.

Izuku screamed. His left leg flamed with pain and he stumbled to his knees and he gripped his wrist just above the thorn protruding through his palm.

“Gotcha!”

His leg pulsed in pain, throbbing and stinging and nearly retched at the sight of his leg. The same thick quills from the man’s arms were in his calf. The villain was just lowering his arms from in front of him before running towards him.

“You thought you could run!?”

Izuku attempted to scramble to his feet before his leg gave out. He wanted to scream.

He was on his back when the villain surged on top of him and holding him in place with needlepoint quills pointed at his throat, but Izuku didn’t stop trying to escape. He shoved at the villain who had him at the throat.

“f*cking dumbass! This could have been quick!” He said it with a grin that stretched too far across his face.

Izuku was crying now. Humiliating tears streamed from his reddened cheeks and inspite of death in his face, he had the inkling of a thought to feel stupid.

The man said something else, something about going ahead and crying. He could barely hear over the rush in his ears.

He pushed on the man’s chest, scared and angry and wanting to do something, anything, and he felt his throat constrict with unshed tears welling up and a need to stop this. His heart pounded in an iron cage at a deafening strength unmatched to his scrawny arms. And for a moment he had the capacity to feel ridiculous, that he was the quirkless hostage his mother always warned him to never become. It was the slime villain all over again, trapped and afraid and feeling as if he would suffocate.

And the anger rushed through him, scalding and twitching in his fingers that now grasped at the man’s throat, pressing on his uncovered windpipe He felt cold and empty, like his chest was hollow as if his heart was in his throat and he wished to be anything else but himself as the man tried to jerk out of his grasp.

His hands ached and stung, bloody from where his own nails pierced the skin. They were hot from the coated blood and throbbed like he’d placed his palm in a fryer.

The man shouted at him, yet nothing registered as he finally yanked the man sideways off of him.

For a moment, the only thought that registered was “run,” and he did just that, stumbling to his feet and running back toward the main road the villain had dragged him further away from, only looking back to see the man, seemingly normal with the spikes that had protruded from his arms back in his body shout, “Give it back!”

With everything he had Izuku ran, but it was only seconds for the man to rush into him and knock them both down, Izuku losing his breath and cheek aching from impacting with the ground.

“Give it back now!”

His heart clenched and burned in his chest, his veins like fire. His arms itched and burned, and Izuku turned to elbow the villain off of him only to-

Needles.

The villain howled.

Like the villain, needles protruded from Izuku’s arm and implanted themselves, though thinner, weaker, like the hair of his arm had grown thick and sharp, in the face of the villain, who in his pained disarray jerked back with a cry and knelt off of Izuku.

The boy, in a daze, stared at his arm and the thin spikes that protruded from it but didn’t hurt, then back to the villain who’s own arms were bare, the only spikes being those in his face from Izuku. When Izuku looked back, with a slight hitch of pain, the spikes receded back into his skin.

The man cradled his right eye, as he seethed through his teeth. He lifted his head to stare Izuku in the eye, with the one good eye. “My Quirk. Give me back my Quirk.”

Izuku didn’t take another second to ask what he meant as the man attempted to lunge forward. The villain stumbled as Izuku scrambled to his feet and hesitantly went back to the mouth of the alley, leaving the injured villain behind.

The man shouted after him, his voice echoing off the tall alley walls, the shadows chasing his feet. But he kept running, not stopping when falling daylight warmed his skin, not when the shouts had long silenced. He kept running even after tripping on a pedestrian, didn’t halt to apologize because shouts still echoed in his head.

It felt like nothing could stop him, not even when his throat swelled from strain it had not felt in years.

And he found himself alone with a heat choking him, like a furnace, and expanding his chest and the iron cage. He looked to his arms and ruined uniform, the sleeves littered with holes where thorns had protruded during his escape.

God how was he going explain that to mom?

His leg still stung, burned fiery from the needles that pierced at his right calf. Though thin, it left him nearly retching by the bench he found refuge at and as his body shook off the adrenaline rush as the awaiting pain filtered through.

It took several minutes before he found his composure and took a look at his surroundings.

An empty park, one he hadn’t seen before. It was getting late and the sun was finally just dropping beneath the horizon. It felt as if he had booked across the entire city once more and he wondered if the man had even left the alley.

“My Quirk. Give me back my Quirk.”

A chill went down Izuku’s spine, the absolute lividity of the man’s one-eyed glare, blood seeping between his fingers as his own quirk was used against him.

Had he really?

Izuku’s arms itched, and he felt the thin needle tips poke the pads of his fingers at the touch.

Had he taken his Quirk?

The man hadn’t used it once Izuku managed to pull the guy off of him, and he vaguely remembered the quills receded back into his body before he asked for Izuku to “give it back.”

Izuku’s chest felt sickly warm, like something was there that hadn’t and his body couldn’t wait to rid of it.

After so long of wanting a Quirk, because nothing else could explain the sudden ability - unless the man has a Quirk that allows him to give others an ability for a duration? But for how long? Is that even logical? - Izuku had expected a jolt of excitement to shake him, but now it left him with dread.

Perhaps it was a copy Quirk that would wear off in a few hours, in which everything would go back to normal.

He thought of the man holding his eye unseeing in the alley.

He needed to call someone. The police, or paramedics, but--

A lump built in his throat. He used a Quirk. He didn’t know how, but he used a Quirk on someone. That’s illegal, a fine and juvy time.

But he was going to die if he didn’t do something. He didn’t want to die, and he didn’t know he had a Quirk.

What did he do?

His thoughts were spiralling and he wanted to puke. He hurt someone, maybe blinded them and left them in an alley for someone to find him on trash day. He should go back, but his legs wouldn’t stop shaking. He should call someone, but his lungs felt like they would burst, and the building headache left him sick.

Maybe it was all a fevered dream, a hallucination from the fear that had coursed through his whole being, or maybe Kaachan really had caught up to him and gave him a good hit to the head.

But-- Izuku focused on his arms, and the little flimsy spikes that made them itch-- he had a Quirk.

A Quirk that if anyone knew about would make everything so much worse.

Izuku couldn’t dwell on it now though, he had blood seeping through his pants and coating his fingers to deal with. Izuku began his trudge home while favoring his right leg, passing those who barely gave him a second glance.

Midoriya in the Alley

Chapter 2: Realizations

Chapter Text

Izuku stood in front of the bathroom mirror early the next day, feeling his skin stretch and open to accommodate the quills, as Izuku had come to call them, protruding like hair then retracting. Though they were less like quills when short, more like thorns from their cone shape, but forcing them to elongate mimicked that of a porcupine, especially with how flimsy they became. They were not the spikes that had lodged into his leg only the day before.

It had been over twelve hours, and the Quirk still worked, still reacted when he sneezed and would have ruined his uniform even further if he hadn’t already switched to a t-shirt.

He already checked the news for anything on the villain that targeted him with nothing to place a quill Quirk in the area that night. Even searches for petty theft failed to match the description, nothing involving the needle-like spikes that brought him to his knees.

Maybe none of the heroes knew who he was and simply took him to the hospital. Izuku groomed those news sites in search of information only to be disappointed. It wouldn’t be serious news, and so very few would even mention such an incident.

He knew he should tell his Mom. Hiding the fact his leg had been torn open wasn’t possible and his only fortune came from an unexpected source, as he came up to his apartment only an hour after it all went down.

He didn’t like how her voice quivered when he had walked in the door, his mother standing in front of the TV with the volume boomed too loudly, wringing her hands for she already fretted from his late arrival home.

“-investigation is underway. Meanwhile, pro hero Kamui Wood denied any interview-”

As soon as the door shut she turned on him, eyes catching the torn sleeves and stopping at the seeping pant leg.

“Zuku?!”

He had panicked, afraid to tell her the truth, or the possible tales that swirled in his head. I tripped leaving school. I fell in a bush.

Kaachan kicked me ass.

A crazy guy jumped me and I fought back using his own Quirk and, surprise, I can use a Quirk, too! I think.

She rushed to him and enveloped him into a tight hold, his aching lungs being squeezed out. “You were there weren’t you?”

What? “Wait, where?”

“Downtown, Izuku, you were there when Mount Lady fell on that building, weren’t you? And they let you walk home like that?”

She knew where he had been? Did she - did she know about the mugger? Did she know he left him there with a thorn in his eye? “What? How-”

“It’s already all over the news. Mount Lady’s agency is covering the cost for all casualties, too, for it.”

Wait, now what?

He looked to the TV with its volume blasted. Across the bottom of the screen it boldly read “3 CRITICALLY INJURED 7 MILD INJURIES.” Izuku recognized the street the rest of the screen zoomed on, and the newscaster stood in front of the ruins of a damaged car and the flashes of an ambulance. “Police lines are expected to be pushed back by at least another twenty meters for the safety of onlookers of hero work for now on.”

“Is it really hero work when the hero themselves did more damage than the villain?” A co-anchor asked inside the booth, the camera cutting to him.

That’s when it started clicking together. An attack downtown turned ugly. Mount Lady was the hero on site. Civilians were injured. Mom thought he was there.

For a long time, Izuku would wonder about the next words that came from his mouth how different his life could have been if he had only told the truth.

“Ah-y-yeah. It was insane. I left as soon as possible, so. Here I am.” School uniform ruined and a limp, in fact- ow, it really smarted.

His mother fretted over him, holding his arm as she led him to the kitchen. “Here, sit down. God, I can’t believe they just let you leave like that. You’re still bleeding!” She rolled up his pantleg to look at the pierced flesh. She searched through the drawers for a towel.

He thought of the man who could still be bleeding in the alley.

“I sort of didn’t talk to anyone? I just got out of there.” The lies tasted bitter on his tongue.

She sighed to herself, applying pressure with a kitchen towel and- he seethed through his teeth- that didn’t feel good. “We need to go to the hospital. C’mon, up.” The beginning of a headache thrummed at his temples as he put an arm around his mother. “We can’t keep doing this, Izuku.”

That made him pause but he had nothing to say back. This was a talk already brought up after the incident with Kaachan.

“First that water-sludge monster, then this. I thought I told you: no more getting hurt.” Her defeat was real, the way her shoulders sagged and lip quivered. “You aren’t looking out for yourself.”

He lent away to try to walk on his own. He knew how this went. It wasn’t like the first time he’s come home with bruises and burns. “Mom, I’m always-”

Mom talked over him. “You always want to be up close and in first row, Zuku, but all you’re going to do is get hurt.” She began to ramble. “If something were to happen to you, that you were under that rubble, I don’t know—“ she broke off in a choked back sob.

From her perspective he could understand her reaction, but she would calm down. This didn’t feel any different to when the sludge villain lecture. He thought of explaining the truth just to convince her, but the thought of her look to know he— he hurt someone. And broke the law. He didn’t think he could take it. So instead he attempted damage control. “Okay, but this is the first time that this sort of thing happened, and Mount Lady is still new-”

Her voice was stern and sliced through his comments. “I don’t want you anywhere near a fight again. I don’t want you watching them, looking for them, anything.” Something in her tone had a finality to it that Izuku was afraid to continue. His mother wasn’t an angry woman. She was often shy and soft spoken. But when she puts her foot down, she was as stubborn as a bull, her convictions true. But it wasn’t one of those times either. It was like when she sat him down to explain why they couldn’t afford new shoes for school, not what she wanted to have to admit but could not give in to. It felt like when she had cried in the car ride home from his paediatrician at four years old.

His mother dragged him to the hospital where none of the staff questioned him after hearing he was in the radius of the Mount Lady fight that day.

Which was why Izuku kept his mouth shut. His mom believed him to be the Quirkless weakling and maybe she wasn’t wrong on one of those things. Besides, the thought of worrying her kept his voice mute and what she would think of what laid dormant beneath his skin shut down any thoughts of telling her because if his hypothesis was right he may have done something very horrible. While she may not be outright scared to know a Quirk had manifested, explaining to her how he got it was another thing. The attack, the aching and scalding heat in his hands when he held onto his attacker who raged at him, someone he left in the alley to bleed to de— he couldn’t tell if she would be scared for him or scared of him.

He had a theory that she would never like.

So he kept his mouth shut.

Yesterday he had smashed the quills on his forearm into the man’s face, and they tore through flesh, piercing the man’s eye, he knew, and he got off with only a few punctures in his leg that needed nothing more than a few stitches and some healing time. The doctor’s prescribed ibuprofen for his headache and nothing more.

He should think himself lucky.

By the next day the headache had faded, but the Quirk persisted.

He waited as long as he could before heading down the hall of his home the next morning in a hoodie and his hands in his pockets, focusing on walking straight from the minor aches still leftover. Before he had even opened his bedroom door, he could smell the frying bacon and sickenly sweet syrup already poured onto the awaiting freshly made pancakes.

“Izuku, breakfast is ready!” His mother called not turning her back from the sizzling bacon still frying on the stove.

Inko was a humble mother who sought refuge in her humble kitchen whenever home. Though working full time, his mother always tried to make time to sit with him for breakfast, as she was never sure if she would leave the office on time for dinner. And despite the dispute from yesterday, nothing would stop her from making breakfast for the two of them. The pancakes themselves were unusual and a sure sign of apology.

His stomach turned at the thought of bacon and syrup. But his hands still itched where the quills had cut his fingers and the ever light scent of antiseptic for his leg left him reeling.

Plus he still had errands to run.

He rushed past the kitchen in hopes she wouldn’t turn around. “Ah, sorry mom! I gotta go!”

He could hear the soft click of the stove being turned off just as he reached the door and found his shoes. “Go? Go where? It’s Saturday.”

“I uh, I’m meeting a friend for a project?” He slipped his shoes on. “I’m gonna be a few hours!”

“Can it wait? The doctor said light activity until your leg fully heals.” There was a soft clatter of plastic and cutlery from the kitchen and then a pause. “No hero hunting, right?”

“No, mom, I actually have a school project. And I gotta get going-”

He turned as his mother’s hand tugged him around and shoved a plastic container into his awaiting hands. She held him there, searching his eyes for something with a pointed look and he felt heat spread to his cheeks. Of course, she could read him. She was his mother. The heat spread to his sweaty hands his heart was in his ears. When she didn’t find what she wanted she sighed.

She let go.

But the heat in his hands didn’t go away.

“Share with your friend, then. I trust you to stay out of trouble, okay?”

The words left a sickening feeling in his gut. Trust. After his lie from yesterday, she would have anything but trust if she knew. He wondered if the man was still there, having not been able to navigate out of the alley. He wanted to reach out to take her wrist but didn’t.

“Don’t be out too late, okay? Call me if you need me.”

Izuku smiles, gripping the tupperware full of bacon and pancakes as his stomach grumbled.

“Thanks, love you.”

“I love you, too,” she replied warmly, and as he finished slipping on his other shoe and twisted the cool knob of the front door she added, “And be safe.”

She had come to say that after the sludge villain attack. Her first actions had been worry and dote and nag for his hazardous approach, little reminders that he couldn’t put up a fight.

And as always he smiled to her earnestly before stepping out the door.

He sighed with relief as he favored one leg, the heat slowly dulling to a mild throb in his hands to an itchiness.

It took some wandering and dead ends to retrace his steps to the alley where it all happened. Trash bins still turned over spilling their contents created a grim reminder of how close he was. His plan had been half-baked and would have ended much worse if the villain’s words were anything to go by.

He was lucky he hadn’t bruised around his neck.

But further into the alley where he hid still laid his bag, the mustard yellow easy to spot and upon closer inspection fortunately still held together in one piece if not a bit torn. Spikes imbedded themselves in the front, what would have been Izuku’s neck if he hadn’t pulled it up higher getting away from the villain, and certainly ruining a notebook once he looked inside.

There was no sign of his attacker.

Well, he had all weekend to copy his notes into a new composition. But for now, he had an idea.

Izuku took to the trash piles of Dagobah Beach, a secluded shore front littered, or rather piled in heaps, of garbage. Mountains of junk smothered the shores, turning away any who planned a sunny, relaxing beach day. It was quiet and isolated enough for Izuku to spend a few hours without interruption or someone walking up on him.

A small part of him stirred in excitement, filled with anticipation at the idea of feeling the use of a Quirk. Yesterday he had been brimming with fear, but today the adrenaline was something kinder, still leaving him shaky but setting a skip in his step for anticipation.

As expected, the beach was empty. With trash piles like walls closing off the shore front from anyone passing by, he would have the privacy for someone with a brand new, unknown Quirk.

Izuku stood in the center of piles of garbage and closed his eyes, the stench of rotten food and sea salt invading his nose. The villain had spikes of varying lengths, and Izuku had managed to plunge tiny thin quills into the villain’s eye, an extremely soft tissue, unlike the spikes that pierced his leg.

He had less than a month before the U.A. exam. The talk with All Might had left him hollow and unmotivated, but now he had a goal and the tools to start.

Izuku breathed deeply.

He could do this.

Monday arrived far too quickly and he sat in his seat just moments before class would start to avoid any students wanting to have a “chat.” Kacchan had nearly glared holes into his skull, but Izuku would argue he was doing pretty fine despite the room being stuffy.

He watched the teacher step in seconds later to begin their lecture preparing for finals. Memorize memorize memorize. Pencils dragged lazily over notebooks, others spun in students hands. Aoi stretching his fingers to tap on a neighboring students teacher to pass on notes.

Ino, who sat in the front filed her claw like nails and Izuku’s thumb brushed over his own.

“Entrance exams should be coming up for everyone soon! Surely you’ve all finished your applications?”

He felt the students perk up, their attention heightened and he watched Choji’s eyes pop out of their socket and he felt happy for him. His heart thrummed with Kisagari’s pulsing muscles as they built from nothing.

The students broke out in conversation and Izuku thought of how many isolated strands of hair Rin could control of her hair at any time. Could her focus give her enough control of every strand like they were legs to a centipede? The thought made his head hurt.

Something shoved him and his skin flushed as he nearly fell out of his seat. Looking around spotted the culprit Aoi’s stretched arm receding back to him. He almost reached out to it.

His mind hummed with the cacophony of Quirks and their smiling teacher. It’s like he felt with them, felt their happiness and excitement to show off their Quirks, and he couldn’t help but watch in awe at Aoi’s stretching arms like laffy taffy and wonder the limits. Is it like a muscle? If stretched enough, could his arms encircle the school? The thought made him fidget. He could feel how the Quirk would numb his arms as his cells stretched and multiplied to accommodate the mutation.

He wanted to reach out, knowing it’d quench the itchiness like a balm--

Oh.

He pulled back because it was starting to make a little too much sense. It was the same burning ache he felt back in the alley when he— he.

He wanted to puke.

Before Kacchan had even finished getting out of his chair, at the bell Izuku darted from the room and into the hall where every door opened to the swarm of students. Students with Quirks. Quirks just out of reach, only inches a way that buzzed in his head like locust. A girl bumped into him and his skin tingled like getting the feeling back in a limb. His hands felt like they’d been held up to a fire.

He slipped into the boys bathroom and barely dodging from running into someone locked himself in a stall and sat. He breathed heavily against the backpack he clinged to. The fiber mesh itches his palms.

No. No it all makes too much sense. His hypothesis was correct.

That day in the alley?

He took their Quirk.

And his body longed for it.

The month passed over in a flash and Izuku was not ready.

A part of him felt gross to step onto a hero campus.

The stress had bundled and knotted so deeply in his stomach he could have puked on the girl who saved him from falling in front of U.A. She was kind and soft, light-hearted to the fact he could barely speak, felt like he couldn’t breathe because her Quirk was suffocating to be near as it cancelled his gravity.

But her name was Uraraka and she wished him luck that he would never be granted. And as soon as she had appeared she vanished through U.A.’s front doors. And watching everyone else enter without second thoughts, he swallowed his fear along with bile.

And then he made a fool of himself inside the auditorium among all the other students with auras that threatened to swallow him and Quirks that could.

Then the tall, looming, and loud boy with glasses had scolded him once more in front of the other students for wanting to thank the girl from earlier. He was stiff and robotic and deaf to anything Izuku had to say and he just wanted to be nice to Uraraka. He poked Izuku’s chest and the tingling sensation felt like someone stuffed his head with cotton despite the multitude of layers he wore. The others in front of him turned to stare and his face heated up and the leather gloves weren’t helping to cool down, and he wished he’d been lucky enough to have a Quirk to make him disappear.

And with every incident what little esteem he had gained in the last month seeped from him steadily like an hourglass until there was nothing left before the physical exam even begun.

Really, Izuku had no chance.

He hadn’t even been ready when the city’s barriers opened and all the other contestants ran ahead of his weighted feet.

He watched them run ahead of him, his legs barely carrying him. He knew from the get go this wouldn’t end well. So when the Quills failed to penetrate the protective shell of the robot’s armor, some barely scratching the paint as doubt plagued him, Izuku’s heart sank to his feet.

The facility had been gorgeous. Sums of money Izuku could hardly imagine went into the fake city designed for the test. With metallic robots able to detect and follow targets swiftly, all for the soon to be students to tear to shreds for only an entrance exam, the prestigious nature of the school was beyond anything he could imagine. It was like walking into a fairytale where for a moment he was the center of attention and for once for something good. Or that’s how it felt, preparing outside of the fake city, surrounded by students with Quirks and mutations from birth, a promise for something great, a birthright. And for a moment Izuku thought himself entering this prestigious group, a whimsical dream that the robots instantly waved away like smoke.

Izuku knew how the quills worked. From hours and hours of working with makeshift targets of Dagobah beach, Izuku knew they could pierce cloth and soft materials, could wedge into wood like darts and knew it could pierce skin from personal experience. But never had he ever managed to wedge the quills into sheets of metal. And neither had he managed to lodge the quills as projectiles. They were thin and weak if not head on contact, nothing like the thug who had attacked him.

Thus, Izuku never had a chance.

He was forced to dodge and run, pathetically hiding as the clock ticked down. He watched longingly as students took down robot after robot, some with sheer strength, others by projectiles or mental Quirks. And he watched running in circles unable to do anything worthwhile, the observers of the test having likely already crossed out his name.

Then the earth shook and came the zero pointer, a goliath in its own right, but Izuku wasn’t David. As students pushed past to avoid its thundering steps, he soon followed suit.

But before following the escaping crowd he noticed among the falling debris the girl pinned down by a fallen beam. The girl he had met on the steps, Uraraka, had been trapped, her body nearly crushed from the fallen beams of the crumbling buildings. And despite the scolding from the pro heroes, from the agitation of Kaachan, and the silence of All Might, Izuku did the same exact thing as he had with the sludge villain: without thinking, he ran straight toward it to Uraraka.

The tall student with glasses had scolded him as he passed by. He could hardly lift the debris once he reached it. And it was only after Uraraka had made the debris float off her own foot that he could carry her, when the giant bot nearly stomped on them.

She had thanked him when it was all over but it didn’t fill the hollowness in his chest.

He went home with slouched shoulders and an air to him that left his mother quiet when he past her in the hall to his room.

It was far past sunset and mom had gone to bed hours ago, yet he stared at his ceiling as his digital clock turned from midnight, to one, to two until he rose from bed at the mark of three in the morning.

Finding a dirty sweatshirt and jeans, he found his house keys and for the first time snuck out of the house.

And he wandered.

He wandered the vacant streets and ghostly alleys that smelt of booze. Sirens echoed in the distance and he wondered if his mother had noticed him gone. Nah. Though she slept lightly his mother shouldn’t worry about his disappearance. Hell, she should be glad. For what was he but a failure? A not so Quirkless failure, but a failure all the same.

Ten years. For ten years his only thought, his only plan, had been to become a hero. He left no room for anything like being an accountant or doctor. He never thought, how in spite his whole school, online forums, the whole media telling him no, U.A. wouldn’t. That All Might wouldn’t.

He stopped, eyeing the piles of trash that surrounded him, suffocating him, and glared at the makeshift targets he built himself from the junk lying around. Pillows and fabrics taped to driftwood and metal poles. All were littered with pierced spots where the quills of his— not his— Quirk sunk in, though the entry thin and pathetic.

Pathetic.

U.A. attracted the best of the best, students with the grades and the Quirk to match, the raw power that could be molded, sculpted, into the next generation’s top heroes. Many trained from the moment their Quirk arose, some with tutors and others honing their skill on their own. They were at the top of their classes, the pride of their schools.

And what was Izuku except for his grades?

There were dozens, hundreds, thousands of Quirk living children that dreamed of being heroes and heroines, breathed the hero culture and thrived being the brightest stars of hundreds of millions.

What is Izuku beyond a small, dying star?

It was quiet and still, the only disturbance being the incoming tide. The beach reeked of soiled food from thrown takeout containers and in the sand was shattered glass and plastic bags. The remainings of his target dummies he’d practiced with still stood.

It left a sinking feeling in his gut.

He remembered when he had been a child coming to the beach, not Dagobah, but one that was clean with soft grains of sand between his feet and the sun shining down. He kicked his feet in the water and built sandcastles with his mom until his skin turned pink.

And now he kicked garbage just like those unstable sandcastles, and watched it fly with satisfaction.

He felt hopeless, useless, pathetic, and broken and angry and he wanted it all to stop.

How could he ever think he had a chance? Why did he ever think that he could be the hero of the story, be anything like All Might as he is?

What if they ever found out?

He shoved at the target he had made, bringing it tumbling down.

Why did he ever feel like he could be something more?

He kicked again at the fallen cans.

He felt so stupid. How could he be so dumb and negligent that fourteen years Quirkless and pathetic meant nothing?

The quills had come out but he didn’t care as he elbowed a makeshift target and embedding the quills into the soft pillow taped to it.

Even his mother couldn’t truly believe him. She never did, never had she said anything. The night after learning he was Quirkless, she apologized, believing he never had a chance to be a hero. She never believed in him -- just like everyone else. How would a stolen Quirk change anything?

His breath was quick and his lungs ached as tears streamed down his face. His throat ached and his arms burned. He was in a frenzy, seeing nothing and blindly taking shots at whatever was in reach.

He felt blood on his hands, his palms burning. He heard the man’s cry of pain begging for him to give it back.

And he aimed at nothing and everything.

He didn’t know how.

And his momentum stopped at the trash didn’t give and instead off-balancing him until he fell. It’s funny how slowly the pain registered from the glass he fell into. It dug into his arm and knees and he slammed his hand down onto it accepting the pain and anger.

So this is the truth, he thought as he wiped at the snot beneath his nose. This reality: not everyone is a hero. Some are always the bystanders, their story uninteresting even to their own ears. Some are less than that. Some are nothing more than useless Dekus.

But he looked to his arm that stung like he put it in a wasp nest with glass and quills embedded in his skin. He would have to clean it up before mom saw.

And so he stood to begin the trek home only for something to catch his eye.

He looked to his bleeding arm and to the side of the washing machine across from him where thick Quills stuck into its sheet of metal. They were not there before and he had not gone towards that machine.

A thought struck him too late for the U.A. exam.

Anger was the key to power.

Chapter 3: Interlude: Toshinori Yagi

Chapter Text

Toshinori didn’t know what to think of young Midoriya, the boy who seemed like any other fan that in his determination held on to dear life to All Might to ask one question.

Something that Toshinori had come to notice in himself, when he walked down the streets of Musutafu and saw from the corner of his eye in the pitying looks, was that he had become a bitter man. He was spiteful of his predicament, angry at his own shortcomings and saddened at his loss of independence.

And perhaps that was why he answered the Midoriya boy as he did, stern and to the point, factual and apathetic as Midoriya’s breath hitched.

But at the time he saw it as a truth that needed to get in his stubborn skull.

It was something he had been telling himself for years now.

Of course, he knew it was harsh and his words left an ache in his own chest, but he rationalized that it was for young Midoriya’s own safety. After all, never had there been a hero without a Quirk.

And then he realized his foolish mistake during their encounter, that the frustration and bitterness to get his message across left him unguarded, unaware of his surroundings or the lack of a bottle of sludge in his pocket. And it was until the blast from blocks over displaced the air and echoed the explosion that Toshinori recognize his own error.

And what did he do? He threw his own pity party. He beat his fist in the back of the crowd and mentally kicked himself for his weakness. He watched as the boy held in the grasp of the villain have his Quirk used to burn the surrounding structures as he drowned in sludge.

He blamed his body and told himself there was nothing he could do.

Then a young boy darted out of the crowd with the familiar yellow backpack towards the chaos, without a Quirk, without the physique, without a plan except to throw his backpack at the villain’s eye, but he at least did something.

And for a moment Toshinori had the audacity to feel jealous, jealous that he wasn’t as brave, or perhaps stubborn, as the middle schooler who quivered when talking to All Might.

Though Quirkless, young Midoriya was more of a hero than he’d been for the last few years.

But it was over in a flash, the surge of energy coursing like scalding fire in his veins, his bones and muscles twisting and stretching to accommodate for paper skin that thickened and glowed with youth.

And it pained him the entire time to extend his limit as he did. A single smash was all it took but it left his chest burning. He couldn’t sit back and watch a child fight for him.

And after the civilians and other heroes cheered, young Midoriya, still holding the other student, stared in awe but did nothing. Perhaps that hurt worse, that after everything Midoriya had no words for All Might or Toshinori.

That was why Toshinori never approached Midoriya, only watched in his own sort of awe as the boy dragged himself home with his eyes downcast, never noticing Toshinori watching him.

Toshinori admired Midoriya and the hero he was without a Quirk. And a thought inkling in the back of his mind almost led the older man to approach, but at the last second he recoiled.

And maybe he should be glad he did. Because the next time he saw young Midoriya, some months later at the UA entrance exam, he had a Quirk.

A Quirk he lied about.

The quills, thin and hard to see on the distant camera angles, scraped against the armor of the training bots. It wasn’t enough to cause harm, as it barely scraped the metal surface, but Toshinori didn’t stop his jaw from dropping.

Midoriya had lied.

It left him confused, angry, maybe upset that for a moment, or rather the past months, he had thought of giving Midoriya a chance.

“And Midoriya? Student one-twenty three with the Quirk: Porcupine?”

Toshinori turned to Nedzu, who sat across from the teachers evaluating the students scores, or in particular those who were below the requirements but piqued the interest of particular exam proctors.

“Though zero villain points, his quick and heroic action to rescue a fellow student provided him twenty points.”

Kayama perked up, getting to her feet and nearly knocking over a water glass. “Though his score is below our usual criteria, he acted selflessly when everyone took off running. That says enough about his heart.”

“He’s clumsy with his Quirk,” Aizawa commented as he rifled through the papers in his hands, his eyes a bloodshot beyond any remedy. He sat just beside Toshinori, the only teacher to not have reacted when the staff was let in on to his secret. He spoke monotonously but with a glare that bore into Nedzu. “It’s like watching a newborn fawn with how little control he has.”

“Doesn’t mean he doesn’t have potential,” Kayama argued.

Kan scratched at his chin, reading over the boy's file. “But if he really expects to come in here at elementary level, what kind of work ethic does he really have?”

Toshinori had already thought of that. Even when facing the villain in Musutafu, Midorya had not used a Quirk. Was it because of a lack of practice? Or had it been scheming? True, the Quirk was weak as it stood, especially in such a situation, but a quill - or spike, whatever - to the eye would have saved Izuku’s textbooks that day.

Nedzu hummed. “I can agree. Perhaps not heroics department as he applied. But he can be waitlisted for the general education program.”

Toshinori had kept quiet in his sieving anger and hurt knowing the lies that he must have spurred to get where he was. Was his running into All Might really just a lazy kid seeking an easy ticket into the heroics department?

He clenched his fist.

Nedzu cleared his throat. “Now onto Hitoshi Shinso, candidate one-forty eight, Quirk: Brainwash.”

Chapter 4: Blink And You Miss It

Chapter Text

With his only chance to get into heroics gone, Izuku’s last weeks of school were fairly boring. Kacchan gloated for having top scores in both the written and practical exams and not without shooting knowing smirks at Izuku. Smug asshole.

The teasing never stopped, of course, from the other students as well. Jabs were made about his possible performance as the Quirkless Deku, which meant no one from his testing arena had been familiar with him. None of his classmates knew that he wasn’t so Quirkless.

Why hide it?

Izuku shook the thought from his head. He had all the reason to hide. Even just showing off the quills would mean questions he didn’t know how to answer. Why did it show so late? Which parent is it from? While his father breathed fire, his mother could draw small objects towards her. Explaining what he believed to be his real Quirk would make more sense with so much worse consequences.

It would also be a threat to the already set power dynamic. The Quirkless Deku being not so Quirkless and working to be not such a Deku would be a threat to his bullies, especially Kacchan.

Plus his other Quirk, his true Quirk if he’s right to believe, left him itchy, like his hands burned and blistered. The sensation came and went, sometimes it left him dazed staring at his ceiling in the early hours of the morning with a buzzing in his head. Being in public for too long made them hurt.

He hadn’t been back to the beach since the day of the exams and his revelation.

Rather he kept himself occupied with his notes and aiding around the house. Mom thought him crazy when he offered to dust and vacuum every weekend then locking himself in his room for the rest of the day. She wrung her hands out in front of her when Izuku asked if he could sell his action figures, a box full of them already in his hands. She eyed him when he came back with the week’s groceries and some sweets for her then proceeded to look up youtube videos on how to fix the dishwasher as he sat on the kitchen floor. He did things with a blankness he assumed she hadn’t been used to. Maybe he was done pretending.

It gave him something to focus on that wasn’t the fact he lost his last chance to become a hero. He hadn’t touched his notebook since, and his mom grew wary of him. She hadn’t mentioned heroes or All Might except to tell him he should put his merchandise away under his bed in case he changed his mind and offer to go with him to pick out a new comforter. For her sake, he at least kept up a poster or two, if only to keep her from confronting him. If she thought he just wanted to have a more “grown up” look to his room, then he would let her continue to think that. It had a better outcome for the both of them.

“Honey, why don’t we just call someone?” She asked leaning over him and the pulled out dishwasher.

His eyes didn’t leave the video he watched but he felt her worry bore into him. It laced her voice. “It doesn’t look too hard. It’s just a small leak.”

She hummed but watched the video over his shoulder. She waited for it to finish before saying, “Zuku, we also need to talk about high schools soon, figure out what you want to do and where to go from there, maybe talk to a school advisor.”

“Yeah.” It wasn’t the first time she had brought it up and it wouldn’t be the last. “I need to get a sealant. I’m heading out.” As he got off the floor and the mess he had made, his mother sighed but moved out of the way for him.

“Be careful out there. It’s getting late.”

“I know.”

It surely worried her how quiet Izuku had become after failing the U.A. exam. Though offered the opportunity to transfer if any of the general education classes were to dwindle, Izuku recognized it for what it was: a pity apology. He didn’t meet the basic standards, showed off nothing interesting about Izuku Midoriya except possibly his written scores. Hell, that was likely the only reason they bothered writing to him.

He made his way through town for a hardware store.

It didn’t help that Kacchan had become smug, bolder than ever before. He didn’t approach Deku, no, Deku was beneath him with no doubt, not even worth his time. His grins that showed wicked teeth got the message through with no issue. It was an action Izuku hadn’t expected. He would have thought the moment he received his acceptance letter, a hologram that announced in All Might’s voice, he would grind Izuku’s nose in the gravel behind the school, tell him off and laugh in his face at the ultimate victory over stupid little Deku. But Kacchan had always been unpredictable, not that he was complaining. He enjoyed going home with fewer bruises this last month of middle school.

He entered the quiet supply store, a bored clerk with a hamster-like face at the register that didn’t look up from his magazine and aisles vacant due to it closing within the hour.

Yet at the same time it left him in a sort of limbo. Hero school was out of the picture. Now what? His childhood bully was quiet in a way that left Izuku wondering if he had a plan lying in wait. Mom wanted him to apply to another high school but for what? He guessed he wasn’t too behind for a trade school, had zero care for medicine or business, accounting, anything.

There was never a Plan B. For as much his mother praised him for his scores, he hadn’t thought so practically.

It was why he stood alone searching for a sealant, no schools lined up, and the stress of lies weighing him down. This isn’t what his mother ever wanted for a son.

The front door chimed as Izuku wandered the aisles for other things. A can of spray paint stood out to him. Maybe it was time to get rid of the All Might colored furniture. Brown, maybe black considering his baran white walls. He always found those respirators for spray painting a little unnerving. They’re big and bulky but he didn’t want the fumes to get to him. He liked a black one until he saw the price tag.

But what could he even do? Stigma alone kept him out of any high paying job, the newest glass ceiling made bulletproof.

“Do it now!”

Speaking of bullets.

Izuku ducked behind the aisle when he heard the first shot.

“I’m warning you, open the register!”

He heard the clerk he passed squeak and he started to panic. That was a woman shouting demands, and there was a gun, and the store was supposed to close in just a few minutes. And he had only seconds before things got worse.

He looked around him and the shelf he hid behind, at the wrenches and paint cans and a tire iron and jumper cables. The gas mask still hung around his neck and he settled it over his nose. This was really stupid but the police wouldn’t be here on time. So Izuku did what Izuku always did that seemed to piss off Kacchan.

The clerk squealed when another shot went over his head and their fingers stumbled opening the register until the thief screamed at the pitiful bills.

The woman, her features hidden in her navy hoodie and dark shades with a bandana over her mouth, nudged the clerk towards a door in the opposite direction of the entrance. “You’re going to go into the office and open the safe, got it?”

But the clerk stupidly tried for the door only for- she appeared in front of him, in front of the door that had been zip-tied closed and pointed the gun back at their temple.

A speed quirk?

“Silly mouse.” The small glee in her voice quickly vanished, replaced with agitation. “The safe. Now!”

She pushed the clerk towards a door that must have led to the office. She shot at their feet and laughed as they jumped.

The clerk was no longer held by the criminal and it was Izuku’s chance. He lent out of his hiding spot, his arm ready for a pitch and sent the wrench right for her head.

His aim was true.

Except the thief suddenly wasn’t there. It felt like a glitch of his receptors. Once the hooded thief stood with a pistol pointed at the clerk then not.

Then the whistling of air near his head kicked in his instincts and he ducked just before a tire iron could smack into the metal aisle shelf behind him. And he got the first look at the thief as he stepped away from another swipe at him.

Though hood drawn, red locks, just reaching her collarbone, shaped her scaled skin and emerald eyes, her tinted glasses having fallen low on her nose. The rest covered by a ragged handkerchief, it still required Izuku to look up to make eye contact.

And in a second she had vanished again.

Then he heard the click of the safety by his ear and went to whack it away with one arm and the other brought the can of spray paint. He watched as yellow paint coated across her front and across her shaded glasses. While he had her blinded, he grabbed the arm with the gun and the finger on the trigger.

It went off beside his ear and all he knew was white static..

The shot left him reeling, the blearing white noise messing with his focus but he didn’t let go of the gun. He swore he heard the clerk squeal and out of the corner of his eye, saw them run.

And she vanished again, but not with the gun. It was still in his hands and her painted glasses clattered to the floor. He whirled around blindly expecting her to be behind him, only to see her pinning down the clerk which brought him to a halt. There was blood softening the fur at their temple from the scuffle and the thief eyed Izuku as if to dare him.

He paused.

She planned to kill him.

“What’s it gonna be, little hero?”

He didn’t want to hurt her, not really. But she didn’t care who died tonight.

The gun was still in his hand but she held a knife. He aimed another wrench at her head and this time he was ready when she warped behind him, a quilled arm poised for her and he ejected them.

She had warped again and for a moment he thought he missed until she cried out in pain before closing in on him once more.

He spun around ready to shoot his quills again as she attempted to reach around him for the gun. As she fell into him reaching for the weapon in his right hand, he threw a poor man’s punch but it connected with her jaw. It sent a shock down his arm.

She lost her balance and began to fall then disappear again, knocking instead into his back and the two went sprawling and the gun clattered across the floor feet away from them. It took him moments to read the situation and her milliseconds. She was already scrambling, on hands and knees, her feet bare having lost her socks and shoes somewhere in the scuffle, over him to reach for the gun. He’d been outclassed from the start. This wasn’t the first time she’s fought hand to hand or the first time she’d pointed a gun at someone.

He heard the slam of the office door and the clerk squeak, locking the door behind him and hopefully calling the police. But if something didn’t change right then it wasn’t going to end well.

A ringing still persisted where the gun had gone off inches from his head and a pulsing in his arm from the untrained punch. He was lucky to be standing.

And it made him angry-- angry that she was experienced in beating and taking, that she hadn’t blinked twice to pointing the gun at the clerk, that she found a sick joy in cutting off the clerk’s escape, playing with her food. She kept hurting and hurting and Izuku was going to die trying to stop someone from opening a safe.

All for a little safe.

The itching was back at full force.

She put a hand out to reach the gun as Izuku pulled her back by her bare ankle. She had lost the shoe and sock but Izuku didn’t have time to think on it. She yelled at him to get off and shook her foot as the seiring burn began in his palms and undoubtedly in her exposed ankle.

He couldn’t let this happen again, let her harm another innocent life, take a life .

He held on as she pummeled at his head, but he didn’t let go-- couldn’t let go-- not when she had planned to kill him, had pointed the gun at the clerk with the threat to end him for a single misstep. They were going to die if he didn’t stop her, her blocking the exit with every warp treating them like mice in her cage.

She kicked his head.

She wouldn’t make anyone feel like that ever again.

He let go when she slumped and his palms pulsed like they were burned then suddenly tingling like they’d fallen asleep. It’d only last a second, like knocking the wind out of her, but it was a second he could use to grab the gun. He stumbled over her and picked it up, the cool metal soothing the aftershock of his palms, and aimed without the knowledge of how to even hold it.

She stared at him, having already picked herself off the floor, having physically scrambled towards the door. She was distraught, he could see it in her eyes and labored breathing. Her sunglasses had laid covered in yellow paint on the floor between them.

“Why isn’t my Quirk working?!” she demanded at him in spite having nothing over him.

He didn’t answer. She tried the door, waiting to see what Izuku would do. When he didn’t say anything or pull the trigger, she took the wrench he had thrown at her, unsure where her knife had clattered off to in their scuffle, and yanked the zip-tie she’d put there until it tore and booked it.

He had only gotten through the door when she rounded the street corner, taking off in the night. For someone who had a warping Quirk, they were in shape.

He put the gun down, carefully settling it as if it would go off at any moment.

Izuku let out a shaky breath, the adrenaline coming down and the ringing ever present despite the quiet of the street. Or maybe that was actual sirens in the distance?

That was too close. At least he left without a new cut this time, though he would bruise where she made contact. Nothing a night off of it wouldn’t fix, he thought as ebbing adrenaline left him trembling.

He survived but just barely, luck saving him and not wits or skill. Hell, the spikes in his arms were barely a help.

But the warmed palm reminded him of what he did. Just like the guy in the alley, he took her Quirk. And for a moment he felt disgusted in himself, thinking of what it meant to be Quirkless.

But didn’t she deserve it?

Nonetheless, this wasn’t the thief's first job. It was obvious in their preparedness. Still a small time robber, but they chose to attack just before closing when it would be empty except for the single closing staff member of a shop this small. But then again, they lost both their shoes and the gun? That couldn’t have been a part of the plan. Either way, they almost got away with robbing the store. That’s hundreds if not thousands of dollars lost. For a small business, that’s detrimental. And here was this girl ruining their livelihood, the only thing putting food on the table.

People think they can just walk all over each other without consequence.

He looked down at his palms as the sensation was gone and instead bloomed a dull headache.

If not for him, the clerk would have lost thousands of dollars at the least and his life being the worst outcome. The thief that used their Quirk to treat their victims like a cat playing with their food, playing with their hopes and fears before taking everything they had. It disgusted him and left a satisfying warmth in his chest that he stole the one thing she had used over others.

A thought procured that he tried to swipe away only for it stick even harder and the more it stuck the more enticing it sounded.

He began his walk home, phone in hand typing in various searches of robberies similar to that night’s, forgetting the sealant still in his hoodie pocket and the mask over his mouth.

The silence of his room made the scratching of his pencil deafening and did nothing for his ringing headache.

Chapter 5: Hoops

Chapter Text

After the start of his pet project life quieted down. He completed middle school with a perfect 4.0 GPA and didn’t ask for anyone to sign his yearbook. Though one of Kacchan’s lackeys snatched it from his hands and wrote boldly across the back page before shoving it back at him.

“KYS,” it read.

Thanks.

Other than that, he was feeling pretty good, like a rubber band stretched and stretched until finally slipping off someone’s fingers. It was relieving having all the tension gone with school ending, though he still felt thin.

There wouldn’t be a party except his mother making katsudon, which she texted to remind him not to be late. Instead of discussing break plans with his non-existent friends, Izuku hunched over a new notebook as he copied articles and tuned in to different police scanners. Funny how the police never evolved because an app is all it took to follow some very interesting incidents. It’s why Izuku and so many other hero enthusiast easily came across fights, and they’re drawn to them like a moth to a flame, fanatics who can’t be heroes themselves.

He once sought refuge in such forums, but all it took to force him to delete his profile was to label his Quirklessness. That’s how they set up profiles. Name, birthdate, Quirk. He kept it blank for so long, even after uploading some of his own videos of hero fights until other users kept asking.

Now, he read through forums without signing in, not commenting on their incorrect assumptions to how Bubble Girl’s Quirk worked and how “Cente-pedo” wasn’t funny.

Instead of laughing and joking with his classmates in the final hours of his middle school career, he spent it scrolling through forums on his phone, particularly those that covered the almost robbery of a local hardware store.

Female. Anywhere between 17 and late 20s based on size, weight, and voice, though she had never been caught on camera. Apparently, she cuts the feed hours or minutes before the assault including the stores phone lines. Quirk: personal warping. She herself is the warpgate. Signifier: a navy bandana. Blue hood and the rest dark. Vibrant red wing-like hair and orange skin. Other notes: has left anything from shoes to weapons at the crime scene. Wears size 8. Quirk possibly unstable.

Could it be that warping more than just herself is too much stress? A warping Quirk would be strong in a fight. Drop a civilian over ten feet in the air, disarm them by warping away with their weapon—

He thought of how the thief left the gun in his hands, her weapon. She lost her shoes after he managed to hit her, like her focus had been lost. None of it could be voluntary, he thought as he collected his bag for the last time and stepped out of the school. The sun shone overhead blindingly as it chased away the last of winter chill, welcoming the encroaching spring. He told Mom he’d be out with friends until dinner to give him time to visit Dagobah.

He remembered when he had been a child and he thought playing the-floor-is-lava in the living room was the highlight of his day. Kacchan liked to push people off the furniture as sacrifices which meant Izuku always lost first. And so he played alone at home for practice, bouncing from couch to chair, balancing on the coffee table. It wasn’t long before mom walked in on him and shrieked like a banshee only distracting him into losing his balance. If not for her reaching out for him, her Quirk accidentally activating, his head would have met the corner of the coffee table.

Involuntary actions with a Quirk did occur. Too much force in a strength or mental Quirk could be dangerous. Other times it lacked the power to be efficient, possibly like with the warp Quirk.

First step was testing it where no one would walk up on him. He’d already snuck a small first aid kit in his bag just in case, including something to hide the bruise that bloomed too high to hide with his shirt collar.

He was already across the bridge where he and Kacchan would play. He didn’t like thinking about it.

“You f*cking ignoring me now?”

Izuku froze, the voice as familiar as his mother’s, one that he once anticipated and now dreaded. It made him stop in his tracks. He should have known Kacchan would make his move eventually. He wasn’t one to not rub it in someone’s face, shoving their face down in the dirt until they molded into the earth.

Izuku didn’t respond. He hadn’t even realized he had stopped at the center of the bridge or that Kacchan had started going off. In his left pocket he carried his hologram of his test results like a trophy, always on him, and even now he flipped the small disc like a coin. Izuku watched it bob up and down each time he flipped and caught it.

He knew without looking that a pissed off sneer painted his face.

“Yo, sh*t for brains, I’m talking to you.”

He sometimes wondered if Kacchan had hit his head on the way down that day. Falling off the bridge especially for their age could have been worse than it ended as. Is that what led Kacchan to this: going from prideful and stubborn to egotistically and dangerous?

“You think you’re f*cking better than me even after I made it into U.A.? You made a fool out of me and this school!” Izuku knew where this was going and turned to continue walking. He felt the eyes on the back of his head, sharp and always seeing through him.

If it had been the other way around, if Izuku had fallen that day, would Kacchan have even cared?

Izuku smelt it before feeling the heat and pressure at his shoulder, holding him in place. Kacchan placed his open palm on Izuku and it reminded him of his own singed hands. Kacchan growled. “Don’t ignore me — ever —again. f*cking rejects like you don’t get to ignore number ones.”

Izuku was shaking as he always did. But he tried to speak with a bite to his word even though it came out shaky. “Congrats.”

Kacchan must have been taken back because his voice raised an octave. “You being smart with me?” He shook his shoulder and Izuku smelt sulfur. “After you went and made a f*cking fool of yourself?”

His heart seized in panic. He knew he knew.

“Someone told me you f*cking tripped in the first seconds of the match. I’m surprised you even got any points with your lousy Quirkless body. You’d make a good punching bag for all these extras though.”

To Kacchan, no one could win but him. Yet he breathed out in relief. But why does it matter? Why not let him in on his little Quirk?

“This little game of yours? You couldn’t even pick up the controller.”

Does he ever stop talking?

Izuku grabbed the arm holding his shoulder, feeling the tense muscle underneath that had time and time before beat him down.

He’d ruined his life for the past ten years, purpling and scarring his skin as students watched, some in fear that as time passed came to laughter. They laughed at the punching bag. Kacchan isolated him, turning his class against him, outing his Quirklessness to anyone in listening distance. His classmates didn’t, couldn’t, even remember his real name.

But Izuku didn’t want to be a punching bag, not anymore.

Izuku didn’t shake with fear.

He shook from rage.

Izuku had been a happy child, excited to learn and meet people and liked to play games with the neighborhood kids. They played tag that led to Kacchan shoving him to the ground leaving bruises at the elbows and scraped knees.

He liked to play hide and seek in the forest until Kacchan and the others left him in his hiding spot as they went back home hours ago. The sun had begun to set by the time he dragged himself home to his frantic mother.

He wanted to be just like All Might even though Kacchan scoffed at him and tore him down pressing every button Izuku admitted to or Kacchan placed there.

Quirkless.

Deku.

Pathetic.

Helpless.

Deku.

Izuku could see the alleyway where his backpack laid and trash bins thrown over and his palms stung like they had been asleep.

Was Bakugo any different? Had he not stolen from Izuku— his action figures and notebooks, his self-esteem and courage? Had he not made Izuku afraid to go to school? Afraid to get a higher grade than Kacchan in fear of what would happen after school? Made him afraid to walk the same path home everyday to be cornered at the edge of campus so he could let out some steam?

Because he felt that same sense of fear and helplessness just weeks before, when a gun was pointed at the clerk’s head and the ringing in Izuku’s ears deafened his senses and for just a split second he thought he had been hit and help wasn’t going to arrive in time. He felt that when a man complained about how much he fought back.

And Izuku dealt with it because no else would— no one could. He took the Quirk that the thief held over their heads and the thug used to hold him hostage. He stopped them from ever being able to use their Quirks to torment another victim, from parading it over those with non-combative Quirks or the Quirkless.

He did that.

His hands ached and he reached his other hand to meet the exposed flesh of Bakugo’s hand, for the calloused knuckles—

—So why not do the same?—

Then Izuku blinked.

And blinked again.

For the first time, Izuku turned to stare at the glaring confused and irritated eyes. They had been filled with fear when the street had been ablazed and drowning in a villain’s Quirk. Even when Izuku had reached for him, scooping sludge in his cupped hands to remove his torturer of years from the villain’s grasp, he looked like Izuku. Izuku had reached out to save him.

Today he had reached out with the intention to hurt.

He shook off the arm and bolted.

“Hey— get back here, Deku!”

He kept running.

“f*cking coward!”

He kept running.

His voice became smaller the further he ran, just like the airway to his lungs.

He thought of it. He thought of taking Kacchan’s Quirk. He wanted him to feel defeated, helpless—

To feel Quirkless.

Trash crumbled beneath his shifting feet like how he wanted Kacchan to feel. He was back at Dagobah, his refuge away from anyone and the noise of the city, or a protection against him.

The aching in his hands had ebbed, but he couldn’t forget what he had planned.

Though his phone chimed at him of a text, Izuku ignored it in favor of settling in his sanctuary of plastic bags and shattered glass bottles, sifting his hands through the sand filled with plastic bits chipped in colorful pieces.

He needed to set parameters. He— he didn’t regret taking that girl’s Quirk, not anymore.

There were villains who wouldn’t think twice of using a bystander to get what they want. There were horrible people walking free, from too little evidence, to silencing their witnesses and victims— but he could do something no one else could. Only he do something about it, so why shouldn’t he?

But Bak— Kacchan didn’t deserve that.

He closed his eyes.

No. No he didn’t deserve that.

The man in the alley, he’d looked thin, right? Maybe starved. Maybe desperate. Maybe had been a Kacchan.

What makes him think he has any right to pass judgement?

Someone’s class was based on their Quirk as much as their salary. To be Quirkless, he knew from personal experience, meant bullying and ostracization. It cut him off from so many jobs too. Nursing programs expected applicants to get a license to use their Quirk on the job, actors gained their reputation through the jaw-dropping Quirks making them able to do their own stunts or evoke strong emotions if their Quirk relied on subjects simply viewing the person.

Taking their Quirk when all they would get is a few months of prison for theft was a much vaster extreme.

He couldn’t just take any Quirks that pleased him. There were moments where he had no choice, but who was he to take a Quirk of someone who just bullied him? When he knew nothing about them?

He couldn’t give back the Quirks he’d stolen. He didn’t even know where to start looking, but he could use what he had so situations that had him backed in a corner could never happen again.

Only then did he call his mother back with an excuse that the end of the year party was running late, promising there were no drugs or alcohol and he would be home soon. Katsudon for tomorrow then.

The lie left a sour taste in his mouth.

He didn’t like lying to her, not when she had been his confidant, the only person to ever listen to his hero rambling without scoffing and telling him off, someone who stood in line with him for new merchandise and especially paid for said merchandise in spite of their tight budget. He loved her and that’s why, he justified, he lied to her. She would never handle it well.

He dusted off his uniform as he found a clearing in the hills of garbage, finding two hula hoops, though cracked and grimy, and thought of the Quirk he’d taken. Should he have really taken her Quirk? There were other options, other things he could have done to stop her that didn’t require him taking a part of her identity. He wondered if she had been caught yet with one of her major advantages gone.

But he had no idea who she was or where she’d gone even if he wanted to give it back.

Now he had spikes that protrude from his skin and the ability to warp. Maybe. The quills had come to him in a fit of anger and desperation, their durability increasing with the more energy and aggression he put into it. For warping, the thief had made it seem so fluid, so at ease like they were in constant control until they lost their hold of the gun, when they began to worry.

He used that as his base point. Standing in the clearing inside one hoop he thought of moving just two steps forward to the other, imagining his body in that place.

He closed his eyes.

He thought of his body and the space between himself and his target location.

There was nothing but the crashing of waves and the smell of rot and two feet of distance.

Then he felt the tug at his stomach and felt nothing. Nothing, as in he didn’t exist, as if he had stepped out of earth and was watching from afar. It was ethereal, blissful, for not even a second, but for that moment he felt free.

Then he lent in the sand vomiting.

His head pounded and the taste of bile coated his tongue and dripped down his chin. His body shook with a chill he couldn’t control.

Landing could be better. The drawback for his first time left him sick and shaking like a leaf, like he’d been doused in the ocean and fought to climb back up.

Then he felt the breeze nip at his legs, how the sand seeped the warmth at his bare knees and arms. He looked down at himself then the disheveled pile of clothes only feet away.

Now he knew why she lost her shoes.

He did as Mom asked: applied to high schools a little too late but his grades should make him a higher pick.

He also did what Mom told him not to do, but there were plenty of fanatics like himself who would pay well for limited edition merchandise and the longer the box sat under the bed the more he thought of simply throwing it out the apartment window.

He felt the All Might poster mocking him.

Nonetheless, he grew sick of his action figures and posters and they sold nicely. It left him with pocket change to shop, which was nice considering he would later that day scour the mall for the things on his lists, both for school and his pet project.

The pleasant thing about a hero society in which said heroes and Quirks alike were praised was that costume and sports related businesses skyrocketed. Halloween costumes portrayed iconic heroes, while Nike and others developed specialized clothes to handle Quirks, like fireproofing and a stretch that could accommodate those like Fatgum. Custom designers skyrocketed and big businesses diversified to compete.

It also meant that materials similarly used by heroes were purchasable at local malls if not knockoff and moderately high priced. Jumpsuits, belts, headpieces, and minor tools made up entire aisles. Some of it was mock or half the power, like little smoke bombs that were equivalent to a cheap firework.

But nonetheless, it took no time for Izuku to find something that fit, something flexible and durable, thin enough to avoid the drawbacks of warping but shouldn’t tear scraping against the ground once or twice. A belt that would stay on his waist was another story, but he liked the color.

When the cashier asked him with a smile what he needed the utility belt for, he told her it was for a school assignment. Design a hero!

Even though school hadn’t started.

When he bought weights he told them it was for self improvement. They suggested a gym in Musutafu and pointed him to the protein powder they had on sale. While he declined, he did look up the different classes for the gym. Self-defense basics, boxing, karate, endurance and strength courses. With what he had left over he could afford a few months of something. Plus most high schools had some sort of weight course.

He eyed the red shoes, vibrant and large like skater shoes. They stood out among the black and white standard running shoes with a saturation that screamed to be noticed. But one look at the price was enough to deter him to the clearance, buying a much cheaper though less appealing red pair. Besides, lugging those through warps would be a hassle.

He ensured to arrive home before mom to hide his purchases and find the sewing kit for later. He hid his things with the gas mask in the same toy box that once held his merch and there was something poetic about it.

It was all coming together.

Now it was just a matter of executing it.

Chapter 6: New School, New You

Chapter Text

He stumbled in his landing still. Warping was fun, exhilarating, but it wasn’t perfect. After days at Dagobah while the vomiting never occurred after the first blind attempt, perfect landings were difficult. It felt like running almost, like when he warps it’s him moving at an intense speed then coming to a standstill all of a sudden. It was easier if he starts at a run, warps, then keeps going to keep his balance. On top of that not focusing on his clothes led to leaving them behind, which that in itself refrained any thought of using it outside of Dagobah until he looked into spandex. It wasn’t perfect, he still lost his shoes sometimes and even his belt, but more practice meant better focus.

He also found it had a limit. 8 meters. Not bad at all but it wouldn’t be covering his bus fare. He also tested out his gadgets on the beach. Nothing was overtly special but a test run ensured nothing would blow up in his face. If he could just get a hold of something stronger, his idea may work.

The new semester started quicker than he anticipated, but no matter. He chose his high school for several reasons. For one, he was rather late for the deadline. Most prestigious high schools had closed their doors before Izuku came out of his slump. Another reason was to get away from people who knew him. His middle school hadn’t been big, but it was better to start fresh without someone coming in and speaking for him. And finally, a reason he couldn’t explain to his mother, it required him to take the tram through a more active area. Musutafu wasn’t known for its crimes, not like big cities, but it had its streets that tend to be hit more than others. It provided the perfect opportunity to scout vulnerable spots in his “held up by traffic” rides after school.

The distance and location provided him breathing room to scout without being recognized. While it meant more check-ins with Mom, the worry that she’ll spot him dipping into an alley mostly dissipated.

The long ride also gave him time to put on his headphones and listen to police scanners.

That didn’t mean it was smooth sailing. Not by any means.

Names past by in a blur as students rose quickly. Some snickered at the boy’s whose spit could grow fungi and his demonstration in the chemistry lab.

A boy popped his gum before standing and Izuku noticed the extra hair poking out from the sleeves of his uniform. “Hideyoshi Ishida. Animal like strength. I’m captain of the baseball team and there’s a few openings left if anyone’s interested in joining.” He grinned cheekily and sat as his friend smacked his side, the two laughing.

“I’m Kokoro Haruka. I can read plant’s emotions.” That got a chuckle out of the boy next to Ishida.

They had wonderful Quirks, Quirks that were odd and unique to them with a range he couldn’t comprehend. They hummed and sang in a tune just out of reach. He could be among them. He could stand at their level, be a part of something.

And yet.

He stood hesitantly from his school desk when they teacher called on him, keeping his head down and avoiding eye contact. The boy before him, Ishida, had an arm strengthening Quirk with a bonus of fur like some werewolf, twins whose names were after flowers could manipulate any organic matter, while others could breath frost and read emotions. Izuku stood on his own two legs, his voice too quiet that the teacher asked him to repeat his introduction.

“I’m Izuku Midoriya. I came from Aldera Middle School and I’m Quirkless.”

He quickly sat and held back the tremor in his hands. He heard nothing and everything. Faint whispers coated behind the next student to introduce herself. He knew what they were saying. Other Quirks were shared from snot like glue, brainwashing, and metamorphosis. He didn’t hear it. Not really. The Ishida boy had twisted around to watch him, he and his buddy gossiping something and he knew.

Izuku thought things would be different, believed in his peers.

They weren’t.

Izuku didn’t hate school. He loved to learn. It’s in his courses where he flourishes the most because no strengthening or fire-breathing Quirk is going to help on a math test.

It was the people that ruined school for him. It brought up old habits, like the fanboying nature for Quirks with unknown limits. In some instances it made him semi-acquainted with his classmates, but otherwise it made him the oddity of people who ranged from being able to crush his skull with their tail alone to mentally melting his brain.

The high school itself wasn’t anything. It sat on the edge of a busy town and small forest that brimmed a cliff which simply led into the neighborhood. Long hallways and large classrooms with standard desk unlike the clean and business like desk of UA’s brochures. The winding road into the campus meant walking to the actual main building took some time, and in these hundreds of feet left plenty of space for students to get up to what they please. In his third week of the semester, Izuku was introduced to the ballsy rulebreakers who smoked at the edge of campus at the treeline. He reported it.

Izuku decided fairly early into the semester that he didn’t like high school. Sure the first weeks are always rough. On the first day for every class he learnt he was the only one who was Quirkless once more. While sure, yah, he isn’t so Quirkless and he could have used it as the perfect chance to reinvent himself, announcing his latent Quirk, he didn’t. Of course, that meant changing his school documents, something his mom would have access to and in truth the thought of telling her left his stomach churning.

But why? Telling her would excuse the tears in some of his clothes. And her believing he now had a line of defense always with him would get her to act more lenient.

Nonetheless, Izuku found himself once more the outsider among his peers in more ways than one. Not that he let it get to him before, but listening to his classmates plan a party instead of working on their assignments reminded him how isolated he was. But it was for a good cause, he told himself. Sitting by himself at lunch gave him the time to go over his notes, both from school and his maps of the city’s activity.

But Quirklessness could be the greatest crime for a high schooler.

His true first target arose one dreary night long after his mother had gone to bed and himself still rubbing his thigh from tripping while climbing out his window. He wished he could say the rain made it slick, but the skies have been clear all week and the stars shone through the mild haze of Musutafu. Of course, his eyes weren’t on the sky but rather searching the grounds below, following the flow of the radio’s check-ins and the announcement a suspect left on foot in his direction.

Then he spotted the target.

He slipped into the alley out of the cops’ line of sight, taking every twist and turn that kept him moving forward until he found his sweet ticket to freedom. A fire escape ladder hung just low enough for him to jump and reach. The narrow streets meant he could hop from one building to the next. This was a piece of cake.

He eyed the mouth of the alley behind him before turning back to begin his climb, jumping higher than anyone without a Quirk could reach.

“Going somewhere?”

The man looked up and nearly let go from surprise. At the top of the ladder, sat casually, was someone in teal green, then—

Did he imagine it?

—They vanished. It felt like a glitch to his eyes, because suddenly their presence was gone. He shook his head and began climbing again. He was crazy, the adrenaline kicking in and causing him to jump at shadows. That is until it happened again, this time a foot making impact with his face.

They were gone before he even reached the ground with a thud and the wind knocked out of him. He jumped to his feat, arms raised and ready as backed himself away. “The actual hell?” he shouted, searching for this kid. “Quit messing with me if you know what’s good for ya!”

A tap on his shoulder—

He spun with his fist clenched only to punch at the air—

And a kick to the back of his head dropped him once again.

And again.

And again.

That’s it.

“I’m out of here.” He went to run down the alley, leaving behind this mess until-

A puff of bright pink encased his vision, meaning he failed to notice the thin wire that would trip him or the sudden weight of a kid holding him down. He wouldn’t get his bearings until the zip ties had already been cinched around his wrist and he spotted the dark figure like a ghost if not the patches of pink left behind scaling the building. The sinking feeling of being caught would flood his brain before the familiar blare of red and blue on the alley walls and the enclosing flashlights stood over him and the ugly pink dust mess he got himself into.

And Izuku, hidden above breathing heavily as the police demanded answers the thief could not give, his only thoughts between the pounding in his ears were Holy sh*t, I did it.

Several nights later he did it again.

And again.

And again.

Or maybe Quirklessness was second to being a snitch.

Because the first time that Izuku saw a student from biology smoking on the edge of campus, recognizing the baseball cap for a boy in calculus, and reported it, his locker barely remained on its hinges and its contents covered in. . . slime? He didn’t want to know. Later that day, his teacher pulled him aside to ask if he would be turning in his assignment. It didn’t take much for Izuku to realize the assignment he had already turned in had been removed from the pile. The teacher’s aid, a girl with seashells for hair and skin like red coral (wasn’t she a part of the school’s leadership team?), smiled where she sat at the teacher’s desk.

The next day the group of students were there again and all members accounted for.

But their anger didn’t secede.

Because he found himself shoved against the brick wall by an upper classmen just after gym. P.E. itself was horrendous and maybe a basketball to the gut was more of his fault for never trying in middle school, but still.

Ishida smacked his gum loudly in his face, pressing him further into the side of the school building standing so close Izuku could smell his breath and -- God, is that black licorice? Who chews black licorice gum?? The boy’s gym bag sat neatly by Izuku’s scattered textbooks. “You think telling the school is gonna change anything? You trying to f*ck up my scholarship?” His feet dangled and for a moment he thought of using a Quirk. But it was over as soon as it started “f*ck off.”

Ya, he always learnt the hard way.

The student headed off with his friends, leaving Izuku to pick up his spilt things.

So this was how it was going to be, huh?

Fine. He didn’t think this would be a repeat of middle school but he guessed he’d been wrong. It’s not as though Kacchan’s buddies weren’t doing the same thing and nothing was stolen from his locker if not everything a bit little slicker. He picked up his things with the intention to hide in the library for the lunch period, slipping out the building’s doors to avoid the bulk of students and passing the bike parkade. So many students road bikes that staff kept the parkade locked until the end of the school day.

Except some students liked to hang out in it like it was their own park, leaning on bikes that definitely weren’t theres with the padlock hanging against the nearby chainlink.

“The one that I led a biker gang?”

“No, that your father did and was distributing trigger with the mafia!”

His mind froze.

He jolted back hiding just out of site.

He knew that word. He knew villains took it considering how often it was a plot point in movies.

He leant out of his spot, noticing the two laid back talking to another on a bike, with periwinkle hair and bags under his eyes.

Wasn't that Shinsou, the quiet guy who sat behind him in hero history?

Chapter 7: Interlude: Hitoshi Shinsou

Chapter Text

It pissed him off.

It pissed him off that on the first day the teachers ask the students to go around the room introducing themselves and their Quirks. He thought of lying plenty of times, but he remembered in middle school being pulled into the principal's office, his father arriving soon after, and being told lying could endanger someone else, or rather accusing Hitoshi that he would use his Quirk in secret on the staff and students.

His father pulled him out for the rest of the day, offended and angry that someone would ever accuse his son of using someone like that.

That didn’t stop anyone from assuming the worst of him. It meant when he finally worked up the courage to ask a girl from his year if she’ll go to the school dance with him, she refused to even open her mouth, afraid of even shaking her head and rushing off. It meant simple request like asking to borrow others’ notes were equivalent to threats.

It also meant he attracted the wrong crowd whether he liked it or not. It only seemed to get worse with high school.

Cornered by a pudgy boy and his lackeys who barely followed the dress code, he groaned as they asked all the predictable questions.

“Everyone says you made Kisaragi give you all the answers then forget he even told you.”

He rolled his eyes, remembering being pulled aside just an hour before when it turned out both he and a top student only missed one answer.

And of course it was the same answer.

So it pissed him off that these dumbasses thought he couldn’t pass a sh*tty test, let alone this early in the school year, it was like training wheels.

So when two students approached him as he unlocked his bike, he was more than a little done for the day. “Get lost.”

“Hey,” One with hair that seemed to have zero gravity whined. “it’s not fair you get all these passes while the rest of us squabble.”

“I don’t think you heard me the first time.”

The boys looked to each other before the second one, teeth and mouth a glowing green, explained, “We’re not here about the answer sheet you stole, anyway.”

“Didn’t. f*ck off.”

The first boy groaned before looking around quickly. “We heard you’re the guy to go to for trigger.”

Instantly he flinched.

The calmer one chimed in. “Okumura’s gotten greedy and ain’t sharing anymore. Guess his guy is low or something.”

Okumura? The pitcher of the baseball team? He may not play sports, but he made sure to keep track of assholes.

“Trigger?” he asked casually.

“Yah, Obito was talking how his brother took some and he grew wings! He’s got a lizard Quirk and sprouted wings like a dragon!”

“Yah, yah, cool.”

“So you gonna hook us up?”

“Who told you I had any?”

L’Oréal boy perked up. “Oh, that rumor from last year.”

“The one that I led a biker gang?”

“No, that your father did and was distributing trigger with the mafia!”

The calm one smacked the other. “But everyone knows you got connections, and I’ll make an offer you can’t refuse.”

That sounded familiar. “Is that the Godfather?” Is he really quoting the Godfather at him?

“My uncle works for U.A. If you want I can see if he’ll look at your app again-”

“ Stop .”

The boy shut up and for a moment Shinsou feared he had used his Quirk. He shook his head. This was stupid, a waste of time listening further. He had a name and an idea.

“I’m leaving.”

The first boy from before asked, “So is it true?”

“You think I’d share any with you?” He kicked up his bike stand and made his way to the open street. He had some things to pick up from home before the school day ends. He could eat later.

His phone’s battery would die soon but hopefully it wouldn’t take too long.

The boy in front of him strolled casually with both arms holding the straps of his backpack going in the exact opposite direction of his home, having taken off his baseball cap some blocks back and traded his school uniform for a hoodie. There was nothing else he could be doing than resupplying. Someone would meet him in a hushed whisper and a quiet trade off and Hitoshi will have found the head supplier. Okumura had yet to spot his tail who’d abandoned his bike some blocks back.

It’s just a shame Hitoshi saw flames through a convenience store's window.

He sighed, watching as Okumura rounded a corner. He’d have to follow his peer another day.

He slipped on his sweatshirt and secured the handkerchief. It wasn’t too bulky to muffle his voice too much. .

Hitoshi stepped in less than thirty seconds later but the man had already held a fireball in his hands aimed at the clerk, who had already opened the register placing money in a sack. The fire user instantly prepared to strike at the intruding boy.

Shinsou grinned under the mask. “Hey, Sparky, where’d you get that mask? Looks like it came from your mom’s panty drawer.”

“Get the Fu-“

And it hit. The man went slack jaw, his eyes glazing over.

“ Let the poor guy go. ”

The robber released their grip on the clerk’s vest who scrambled back.

“ Don’t move,” he commanded before turning to the clerk, who squealed at the attention. “Hey dude, call the police. He won’t go anywhere until someone pushes him.” He turned and waved over his shoulder. “Take care.”

And that’s how it went: Another one about to be dragged off to jail while he lazily strolled home, having grabbed his things and taking off the mask. His target was no where to be seen and may get scared off once he sees police are in the area anyway. He would have to try again at another time, so instead he took his time wandering back home.

When his dad had to work late, he took the time to walk down streets he’d once been warned from. There was always something, with there only being so many heroes and the streets’ inhabitants memorizing their routes to avoid them. An outlier always caught them off guard.

And with a Quirk like his, he didn’t even have to fight. They were too dumb to keep their mouths shut, so of course he’d stop them. It was all in a day’s work, as one would say.

The high of those moments always left him warm after, like a nice, manicured middle finger to everyone at school who wanted him to cheat for them, for the teachers who assumed he did, for the peers that feared he’d take advantage of them.

He was so caught in his content he almost walked past the alley before registering the soft cries that came from it.

Chapter 8: Friends in Strange Places Pt. 1

Chapter Text

“You think I’d share any with you?” The clinking of a bike pedal then steps, one of the boys having kicked up their bike stand and heading just past him, and he watched Shinsou receding as he left campus still holding his breath.

Holy sh*t, he almost witnessed a transaction.

They were smuggling trigger into the school, something he’d only seen in movies. And Shinsou— Shinsou was a supplier. Or at least knew where to find one. Is that why he always looked so tired?

Shinsou, who was leaving campus in the middle of the day on a bike that he shouldn’t have been able to reach because of the padlock when there was still a few hours left of class.

He should follow him. He really should, but he was in school for a reason. Letting his grades drop would make him stand out even more than he already did.

Dammit. He went to the library.

He still hid in the library and when his curiosity finally got the best of him, he sat in front of one of the computers and typed “Trigger.”

The first results weren’t anything interesting, just definitions of devices and the famous American horse.

“Trigger drug.”

Drug triggers defined the cue that causes an individual to crave drugs. He thought of Ishida, who he never saw not chewing his gum. Still not what he needed.

Not much either beyond a few movies. Then an add for D.A.R.E. that more or less answered any and all questions with “always say ‘no.’”

Fine. He’d look through forums which showed more promise.

Little things, people asking each other if Trigger was slang for something, others asking if its like juuling.

Another said their sister went to prison for selling.

A Russian Olympic was disqualified when it was found in his system.

Nothing told him what it could do beyond the latest Godzilla film’s interpretation.

A lot of post had been removed.

Great.

He lent back in his chair and sighed. Another deadend. How can you find something when you don’t even know the signs?

He’d have to call it a day. The lunch period would end any moment and he actually liked his next class. He thanked Ms. Nakmanura and avoided the locker room. While he didn’t think Ishida had time to mess with him, it was best to take precautions. None can be too careful.

Okay so maybe it wasn’t solid evidence but it was the best lead he’s got and frankly he’d take it over more questionable searches that if his mom saw would put him in a program.

So instead he casually walked into class and when making eye contact with his target, already seated in the back of the room swiping at his phone, Izuku nearly took out his desk. He shrugged off the professor’s raised eyebrow and kept his head down, three rows in front of Shinsou. He didn’t think the guy would come back to campus.

He didn’t think anything interesting would happen, but he’d like if he could keep an eye on his target.

Mr. Iwa droned on about the Tokyo Earthquaker Riots in a slow, melancholic mumble that would even put him to sleep. Which, don’t get him wrong, it’s one of the coolest cases where several solid matter/earth manipulating Quirked individuals barricaded the streets in protest of the lift on carbon dioxide regulation, but Izuku could teach it better than this man.

He stretched back in his chair, taking a look behind him past a snoring elephant-nosed - is that a snot bubble? - boy and at the tuft of purple who was also lights out, head on the desk and face hidden.

The image his thoughts painted didn’t match with the boy softly snoring. He tried to picture him downtown in a coat too big hiding from police patrols. It didn’t add up. But it’s not like he himself sings vigilante but he stopped two different robberies in the past week. He remembered trying to ask Shinsou about himself at the beginning of the school year. But Shinsou never spoke unless prompted or didn’t at all and walking to and fro with headphones. He couldn’t even remember the boy’s Quirk, what with the cacophony of Quirks the school had to offer.

Extending limbs, chameleon attributes, wings like wasp, telekinesis - each had their advantages and limits but could be obliterating with the right push. Some training and the right strings could put them on the top one hundred hero list in no time. And a part of him couldn’t help but think, as much as it would revolt him moments later, that he would use their Quirks to their fullest extent.

But that wasn’t right and he knew that. Their Quirk was as much a part of them as every other atom in their body. The woman from the hardware store would never be the same again. If Bakugo saw how much he struggled back and forth, he’d have already beat him for being such a coward—

“Midoriya, you’ll be partnered up with Shinsou.”

A groan chorused over the class and Izuku turned back to the whiteboard only to join them.

In ugly Expo Blue marker read, “Group Assignment: Modern Heroes.”

Oh sh*t.

He peered over his shoulder at the student sat up in his chair. He never talked unless called on by the teacher. In fact, Izuku can’t recall hearing his voice except on the first day and at the bike parkade.

So yah, Izuku would be doing this project on his own. Especially after busting him.

When asked to sit with their partners, Izuku moved to the back slowly as if to delay the inevitable.

Shinsou didn’t even look up, having woken from his nap but still swiping at his phone below the desk.

This was not how he expected to interact with his target.

“Please remember to be thorough and provide citation pages. Multiple news outlets and case studies will provide a greater picture than the tantalizing language of fanatics and—”

The bell had rung by then and students packed their bags.

Izuku coughed before looking his target in the eye for the first time. “Hey, so I think we could go to the library today or tomorrow to figure out which hero-”

“I’ll do the project,” Shinsou said over him as he packed up his bag.

“I mean, I can still help-”

“Bye.”

And he was out the door.

Great.

Izuku piled his things in his bag and rushed out the door just as Shinsou turned the corner probably heading to the bike parkade.

And he thought his little investigation would be placed on a silver platter.

Fine. If Shinsou doesn’t want to talk, doesn’t want to meet, he’d get his evidence another way.

He knew there was a good reason to hide his “work” bag on a remote city roof just blocks from the school.

This is boring.

Shinsou was just taking a long time to get home, stopping for a tea and picking up a book.

He was stalking someone doing their grocery shopping. This was Izuku’s life.

And not so conspicuously either, having switched out his school uniform’s blazer for a dark hoodie over his vigilante uniform, his red “work” shoes adorned instead of the standard white.

Izuku slipped off his gas mask on the roof above with a sigh. He forgot how boring tracking a target is. He’d expected Shinsou to contact someone by now with those students questioning him. But so far Shinsou hadn’t done much except refuse to smile at the staff that rung him up.

They’d ended in a quieter part of town, the streets emptier, which is why it was so obvious that a man in black looking over his shoulder paranoidly was up to something. He noticed at the same time as his target the man in black slipping into the corner convenience store with a light already glowing from his hands. A fire Quirk? And for a moment, Izuku thought he would have to give up on his target for today. He wouldn’t be going anywhere, not when they go to the same school, but before he could jump down from the rooftop, he watched Shinsou, already strolling his way towards the door and tying something around his head. And before Izuku could intervene, his target had already turned out of the store opening the shop door once more, and Izuku noticed the black handkerchief, a crude stitching on the front covering the bottom of his face being removed.

He went back to his casual stroll just as the clerk rushed out the door moments later on the phone. Izuku heard something about police and paralysis.

Oh-

He nearly lost his footing.

That means-- is Shinsou like him?

What are the statistics that another vigilante would be in the same school as him? Be the same grade and share a class with? The boys from the bike parkade had asked him if he had trigger, and Shinsou didn’t necessarily say he had any, right?

Okay, so that’s resolved, and his target is already several blocks ahead of him.

God, why can’t he remember his Quirk?

In spite of how often he thought of the girl he stole from, warping from roof to roof was really nice. He focused carefully on the distance between him and the neighboring building’s fire escape, and willed the tightness in his gut before dropping on the other side.

With confidence, he ran towards the end of the building and jumped before letting the will of the Quirk close the gap, landing on the other side, almost letting a laugh escape. He hadn’t felt this free in a long time.

But as he glanced over the edge, searching for a purple bush of hair, he saw none.

Because, of course Izuku wasn’t paying attention and let him--

And then he heard it.

Soft, almost lost to the wind, it echoed between the gaps of the buildings.

It came from the alley

An infant’s cry.

It started off as mere whimpers until it fell into full on cries and everything for him shifted into overdrive because there wasn’t a calming voice to sooth it.

Was it abandoned?

He wasn’t thinking before looking for a way down, warping down the fire escape two landings at a time despite how the speed made him dizzy and stepping into the alley to listen closer. It was dark, the alley narrow, but large trash bins to take out lined the brick wall and a grotesque thought seeped into his head when he believed the source of the crying to come from one of those industrial trashes.

But then it stopped.

No no no.

It needed to keep crying. He needed to find it. He would open every trash looking. Please, please, please.

He felt like he couldn’t breath.

He decided to purposely hold his breath, waiting for a cry, a whine, a rustle of plastic, anything, because he wasn’t leaving here alone.

And there was a rustle. Too low and large for a toddler.

Then he smelt the putrid, rank smell of an unwashed man and copper and felt the intensity of eyes watching him.

Before it even registered, he jolted to the side just before the sledgehammer could crush his skull. The booming of the metal trash bin caving to the weapon had his mind in overdrive and he warped as far he could with it still ringing in his ears.

A man stood at a bulking height in front of him, towering the high school student, with thick muscular arms that made the sledge’s handle alone that was Izuku’s height look like a toothpick. His gaze searched all of Izuku like one appraised their catch.

His voice was soft and monotone and--

Izuku recognized that voice.

From the first day of school, short and irritated. From the bike parkade, annoyed and short.

That’s Shinsou’s voice, more excited than he’d ever heard it. “Another one! Two lil’ heroes in one day, it must be my birthday.”

The image didn’t fit. The hulking man who hadn’t shaved in weeks, combat boots that could squash him like a bug, with the voice of a boy who just finished puberty.

He’d hardly heard the student talk but that was definitely the voice he heard at the bike parkade. What the-

Behind the towering man Izuku glanced a look at the tuft of purple hair sticking out from behind the man, just beside the trash Izuku had been looking through. It wasn’t moving. Shinsou wasn’t moving.

Chapter 9: Friends in Strange Place Pt. 2

Chapter Text

Izuku’s voice shook as he thought the worse. He stared back at the man whose focus only made Izuku feel smaller. “D-did you kill him?”

The man still had Shinsou’s voice. The smile that spread across his face didn’t match the childish tone of a fourteen year old. “Hmm, not yet. But would you like to see? My favorite is seeing the brains splatter like a ripe watermelon. Here, I’ll show you.” The man made to step back.

Izuku rushed him as the man began to turn, but he already expected Izuku to do it, backhanding Izuku with a ringing bang as he hit the metal garbage can. For a moment he saw stars, but he warped before the man could grab him. His head spun like it took one too many hits from Kacchan and it left him unaware of himself.

And the man wasn’t slow. He reached out for Izuku and when he tried to warp behind him for an attack, Izuku barely ducked under the swinging sledge. But he didn’t dodge the kick through his stomach. Not at. Through . It felt like his insides just joined his outsides and he skidded across the alley floor like it was ice. When his body connected with the concrete wall, he only had moments to warp before a second kick could meet, moving to put a smaller metal trashcan between him and the man. But the grinning man only kicked it forward at Izuku, the contents spilling and Izuku almost stepped on a glass bottle.

But that second of infocus was enough for the man to rush him, missing when he swung his sledge but having learnt Izuku’s pattern. As Izuku warped behind the man, he saw stars as the butt end of the sledge met his head, and it took everything in him to warp back, the spot on his head pulsing, growing, spreading, with every warp. He barely realized he had made it to the mouth of the alley.

When he brought himself back up to his feet, around the pulsing he realized the pain in his foot, how bone chilling the ground became and groaned knowing he lost his shoes and in the warp. Just gravel. No cuts yet.

“Cute shoes, kid. What size you wear?” The man reached down for his red running shoes with socks hanging out of them and held them by the laces. “The glass around here’s a little tough for your feet, don’t you think?” He picked up a stray bottle, a beer bottle, from the fallen trash bin and chucked it towards Izuku. It shattered just before his feet as the man crumbled others around him just by stepping in his combat boots.

It was like a minefield. A single misstep and he won’t be able to walk.

This is bad.

He swallowed back his fear and asked, “What’s your name?”

The man grinned. Izuku hadn’t noticed before but his gums were black. When he spoke next, a chill went down the boy’s back, one that would leave his skin crawling for nights to come. Perfectly, with the same shrill and nervousness, the pitch and tone exact, he tells the boy in Izuku’s own voice, “They call me Mimic.”

Mimic.

He used Shinsou’s voice, then Izuku’s. The inflections were perfect.

The crying infant from before.

The words fell from his mouth, a dawning horror plastered over his face. “You’re sick.”

But that hardly deterred the man. “You’re the one who asked.” The man Store forward, the shattered glass giving way beneath his shoes.

“Hey, f*ckface, how's it feel knowing you’re gonna get bested by first years?”

That wasn’t Mimic. Izuku peered around the man as he turned to look at where the shout came from, the boy’s hair dented on one side from being on the ground. He grinned madly at Mimic who matched him.

“Well, look who’s finally awake—“

“Stay where you are and hold out the shoes,” he commanded before running towards the villain—

“Shinsou, don’t!”

The boy pulled the shoes out of the villains hands who didn’t move and ran towards Izuku with his catch in tow. “We need to go now .” He tosses them at Izuku’s feet and adjusted his backpack.

Izuku didn’t have time to think on it. He pulled the socks out of the inside of the shoes and just stuffed his feet in barefoot before Shinsou tugged him towards the mouth of the alley.

“He’ll get out of it soon.” Shinsou could barely wheeze out the words as they sprinted. “We need to call the cops.”

“They’ll know we were up to something.” Even the mass of panic his body had accumulated, he still had the rational thought of Don't get caught.

“Payphone.”

They did just that. Several blocks of running and they called a pay phone, calling with izuku’s gas mask on to help muffle their voices. It was only after they hung up that the two looked at each other, Shinsou very pointedly staring at the uniform Izuku wore.

They continued to leave the area, taking refuge in a coffee shop with a booth in the corner not visible from the entrance.

They sat across from each other, no mask and Izuku changed back into his school uniform, Izuku drinking something too sweet for his churning stomach, and Shinsou visibly shaking when he brought the cup to his lips.

It felt like neither would talk, both with so many questions and both reluctant to reveal anything and their experience hanging over them like a ghost. They’d hardly interacted in school, Izuku literally assuming he was selling drugs only to find out he stops robberies on his way from school. And yet they saved each other.

Finally Izuku spoke the obvious. “You saved us.”

Shinsou must not have expected it because he suddenly looked up. If Izuku knew better, he’d argue he looked more exhausted than usual. But the bags under his eyes had been there since the first day of school.

But Izuku trudged on. “If not for you we’d be dead. Thank you.”

“You could have ran.”

That startled him. Despite his hair still dented on one side from where he laid on the ground, Shinsou’s serious gaze kept him sober. Did Shinsou really think he would have? It wasn’t even an option. “I could, but I wouldn’t. You would have done the same.”

The boy set his cup down a little too harshly. “Oh, and what makes you think that? I’m the no-good future villain.”

“You helped that clerk. I watched you stop that robbery.”

That made him pause. “Wait— how do you know about that?”

“I may have been following you,” Izuku admitted sheepishly twirling his hair between his fingers. “I thought you were selling, uh,” he lowered his voice, “ selling trigger, but I think I was wrong.”

At that the boy scoffed, dragging a hand over his face. “You listened to rumors. What else do you think about me, huh? You think I own a biker gang, too?”

“Now that one was farfetch. Can you even drive?”

“Ha, ha, very funny.” Sarcasm dripped from his lips. He took a sip of his drink then made a face. “I don’t even like coffee.”

He didn’t know how but it bubbled up a laugh out of him. “Same. Mom calls it watered charcoal.”

The tidbit of personal information helped the two of them relax. Small confessions help build up to bigger ones. Izuku sighs but goes first.

“I’m a vigilante, too. I helped catch the guy who robbed 23rd three weeks ago,” he explained in hopes his more flamboyant case would jog the boy’s memory. “The one covered in pink.”

It’s a good think Shinsou had given up on his drink or his literal jolt and gasp would have been a spit take. “That was you? The mess was there for a week until it rained.”

“Yah, composition wasn’t great. I don’t use them anymore. Plus it’s expensive to make.”

“You mean expensive to steal.”

Izuku eyed him. “They’re not pro made if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“No but I’m Mr. Matsuda’s aid for chemistry. He’s always running out of stuff for no reason. Teach wanted to put cameras in there to catch students taking his stuff.”

Guess that avenue was gone. “Okay fine, that was me.”

“Good. It was funny watching him get red-faced but I’d advise taking anymore. School budget won’t cover for much longer.” Shinsou’s face had calmed, the harsher lines on his face smoothing out. “How long you’ve been a vigilante?”

“Just this school year. You?”

Shinsou let out a huff. “Don’t know if you’d really call it that. I just help if I see anything.”

“You have a really strong Quirk,” Izuku complimented.

Shinsou made a face.

Izuku didn’t know why. “Seriously, that clerk or I could have gotten killed today and you saved us both.”

He didn’t look convinced.

So Izuku leaned forward in his seat, eyes level with Shinsou. “I’m telling you thank you.”

He searched Izuku’s face for something. When he didn’t find it, he sighed. “Welcome.” He looked around before asking, “Well, now what?”

He didn’t know. He didn’t expect this to happen. Truthfully Izuku never intended for anyone to find out his real identity, and now his classmate not only knew but saw him use a Quirk.

He could tell the truth: he could take Quirks. Or he could tell a half truth for his safety. He never wanted anyone to know and a part of him was ashamed for how he found out. Would Shinsou push for the answer?

He doesn’t even know if the man lived, if he was blind now with no one to take care of him. He could be lying on a street corner begging for help but everyone saw his tattered clothes from their fight and assumed him a bum. Maybe he was before and really just needed the money.

He felt the ghost of fingers around his throat.

He couldn’t tell the truth.

Izuku let out a breath through his nose. “We can just keep doing what we’re doing. Work on our project and never talk about this again if you like.”

Shinsou studied him. “You’re thinking of finding Mimic.”

He held back a wince at the name. “I am.”

“Then we’re working together.”

Oh no— “Shinsou you almost—“

“Because we didn’t know what we were up against. Now we do. And you have a good Quirk.”

“I don’t— I don’t know what you’re-re talking—“

“You told the school you’re Quirkless because you thought they’d look at you differently, right? You thought they’d think of all the sh*tty things you could do: pop in the girls’ locker rooms or sneak in to locked storage rooms and you chose to hide it so they wouldn’t treat you even worse.”

No. No, it wasn’t anything like that.

Izuku thought of his conclusion. It wasn’t true, not about that Quirk anyway. It wasn’t something he even considered about the other Quirk he took. He almost told his classmates he had a porcupine mutation or something on that first day of school to fit in.

But the more he thought about it, it made sense Shinsou would make such a conclusion. The boy hardly spoke at school and even most teachers avoided calling on him. Everything solidified that his Quirk required verbal responses to work. He either didn’t have control or . . .

He was like him.

So he was not proud of the next word to come out of his mouth. “Yah. . . It’s easier than getting questioned if something goes missing.”

“Well, your secret's safe with me. With one condition.”

Dammit. “Which is?”

“We work on this drug bust together.”

He held back a groan. He should have known. “Shinsou, this is dangerous. We’re talking maybe mafia selling to minors.”

“Oh, it’s definitely mafia selling to minors. This isn’t my first rodeo. Something similar happened at my middle school.” He leant forward in his seat, arms resting on the table. “And you think you can do this alone? Sorry, pal, but you’re stuck with me. This can just be another ‘group project.’ Which, by the way, we should do on Eraserhead.”

“First of all, I’ve been doing it alone. That’s not an issue. Second, there’s, like, only two cases that he’s been publicly known to have been a part of. We’re not gonna find enough info on him.”

“And each of those cases are so in depth we could get away with only talking about one. But not the point— I’m saying you need a partner, someone to watch your back because today would have been a lot worse. You said so yourself.”

“Don’t use my words against me,” he scolded but he knew his fate was sealed. This was happening whether he liked it or not. It wouldn’t matter how he felt, Shinsou felt like he’d become a part of it, that the attack that day was a slight on him. He’d want to settle the score.

“That guy had black gums, so he’s obviously an avid trigger user. Maybe even a seller. Plus, I already have names and trading routes mostly figured out.”

His mind stuttered to a halt. “Come again?”

Shinsou looked at him stone-faced. “You’ve been following me and didn’t see the guy I’d been trailing, did you?”

“Uh, no.”

Shinsou lent back in his chair. “You really are new to this. Which is why you need a partner.”

Dammit. “Okay, but I have conditions, too. Does anyone know you’re a vigilante?”

“You’re the first to know.”

That’s good. “It’s going to stay like that. I’m sure you’re aware I don’t want anyone finding out I have a Quirk or a side job.” He had to put his foot down, cover all his bases. He had more reasons to be cautious than Shinsou.

“As opposing to your day job?”

“You’re snarkier than I expected.” This only made the boy grin. “Nothing is brought up at school aloud unless we can get a study room in the library.” Once Shinsou nodded, he continued. “And,” he paused again, gears whirring his head trying try to gage what kind of reaction Shinsou would have to his words. “If one of us gets caught by police, we don’t follow the other. It’s our own fault.”

Shinsou hesitated, but he never looked away from Izuku. Finally he nodded. “Fine. Don’t get caught. Now, care to share what you got so far?”

Izuku’s inventory:

Quirk theft: physically take quirks via physical touch from targets. Takes several seconds of contact. Causes itchiness.

Quills: spikes protrude from the skin at varying lengths and thickness based on individual’s aggression. Can be shot as projectiles.

Blink: individual may personally warp short distances. Concentration is necessary to bring along items through personal warps. Items with greater volume are proven more difficult.

Shinsou (party member): a sarcastic first year seeking to make a difference.
Quirk: Brainwash: target will follow simple physical commands after responding to individual.

Chapter 10: Tip

Chapter Text

Shinsou plopped down beside him, nearly knocking his textbooks off the table to make room for the food tray. “So, on the days he doesn’t have practice, he meets someone--”

“Shhh!” Izuku hushed him, “And you’re not supposed to eat in the library.”

“Mrs. Nakmanura likes me. I’m her aid for 8th period.” He took a bite out of his apple as if to prove his point. “What's our first step?”

Izuku looked back down at his open textbook and the news articles around him. “Eraserhead has a more quiet approach, using what intelligence he gathered for surprise and basic combat skills since he has to fight basically Quirkless, so I think if we use him for the project we should-“

“I’m not talking about that. I meant the other thing.”

“Shhh!” Izuku shoved his hand over the other boy’s mouth. “I told you never at school.”

“We’re in the library.”

“I said it’s fine in a study room, where it’s private. Anyone can overhear us.”

“You think anyone is paying attention outside of playing fortnite?” He semi-pointed his head towards the computer lab where students cheered. “You’re freaking out over nothing, and you know it.”

Izuku held his tongue. This wasn’t the first time they’d been at odds. Izuku looked around him. He couldn’t get a study room and he watched a student flick a small folded paper between their friend’s hands. “Not here. Besides, I want to make something to immobilize before we do anything.”

“Oh yah, those goo exploidy things are easy to make. I googled it.”

Izuku would be offended if he hadn’t also googled it, but at the public library on a dummy account.

“You just look that stuff up on your personal phone? What if they look at your records?!”

“Don’t give ‘em a reason to look. Anyway,” he said as he tapped away at his phone. “How. To. Make. A. Bom--”

“Okay, enough!”

“Kidding, look.” He showed his phone where a video played of a cat on a leash. It glared at the camera, it’s legs never moving as it was dragged over another cat. “That’s my spirit animal.”

“I thought Eraserhead was your spirit animal?”

“Kin.”

“Gross.”

“Anyway, I think we should be ready by next week, considering the training. He meets someone on Mondays since there’s no practice--”

“I already said not here.”

“Okay, so when?”

Izuku thought of all possible reactions and consequences, then let out a sigh. “You free after school?”

“We’re not meeting at the dump.”

“The beach.”

“The library is so much better.”

“We can put in spar time?”

Shinsou looked ready to get up and leave. “You’re lucky we got a deal going on.”

A deal, yah, that’s what they called it. “After school, then.” The boy grinned ear to ear at getting his way. Yah, they can make this work.

One of the oddest changes for Izuku to get used to was the lost lunch time. The day after the Mimic incident, Izuku sat down with his lunch tray and mystery mush, a notebook poised and headphones playing the morning news he missed. And it was fine. He was used to eating by himself, the same habits from middle school. Sure, he heard his classmates planning parties for the wekend and the stupid things they did on the way to the arcade, but he could turn up the volume a little more to tune them out.

He didn’t even notice the hand waving in front of him.

Izuku startled, nearly dropping a spoonful of mushy lunch onto his notepage.

In front of him stood a sheepish Shinsou who wouldn’t look him in the eye. “Can I sit here?”

“Ah,” he choked out, “sure, yah sure.”

Shinsou took a seat as Izuku left one earbud out, still intently writing.

“Is that for our case?”

Case, he called it. “It is. I’m hoping I can narrow the area down. Based on what you said on the direction where Okumura was going and what known gang activity has been reported, maybe, we could be the first ones there to scope out the place.”

“Not about idea. Let me see you what you have.”

Izuku almost snapped the notebook shut. His mom didn’t even look at his notebooks. But Shinsou was a . . . necessary evil. That’s not the right word. He was curious. He was in on this. Shinsou wouldn’t make fun of him, here. And if he did, Izuku could call the whole thing off.

He slid the notebook over, read thoroughly and gave input. He asked to borrow a pencil, pulling up maps on his phone and taking the other earbud from Izuku. Together, they built a plan.

He remembered taking Shinsou to Dagobah the first time only weeks ago. They barely knew each other, but the school was too packed and Izuku swearing left and right that someone had to be listening in. Someone knew. Someone saw or heard and something would go wrong.

So Shinsou complied when his ally offered somewhere quiet and secure, though how secure a public beach could be was something he wished he never got the answer to.

Because the smell would make anyone turn around.

“A dump.”

“Not a dump.”

“A dump,” Shinsou repeated.

The boy sighed beside him. “I swear. Okay, listen. It’s quiet. No one comes out here.”

“Yah, I can see why.”

“And it’s a good spot for practice.”

Shinsou eyed the makeshift structures. A pole stuck in the ground had pillows zip tied to it like the world’s worst punching bag. “Yah, sure. Compared to a gym?”

“Can you afford that?”

“Good point.” He shook his head. “Okay fine. Let’s just,” he said as he kicked a torn couch cushion, “settle in, I guess.”

“Now, you’re just being annoying.”

“No, no, I love the smell of rotting fish and soiled books.”

“I’m gonna smack you.”

“Could you?”

“I literally stopped that guy from smashing your brains in.”

“And needed me to save your ass.”

“Is that a challenge?”

Shinsou grinned, because surely he’d been thinking about this since they first got into a mini-argument after modern heroes history. “No Quirks. Nothing dirty. You brought different clothes right?”

“I have a back up suit here.”

“Great.”

They stood across from each other, a wobbly circle drawn into the sand. Two boys stood in awkward stances, one more practiced but never had anyone to apply it with, the other surviving on luck. They charged at one another with as much grace as two fourteen-year-olds would.

And a week later, Izuku fell flat on his back losing his breath.

“Another one to me,” Shinsou panted out. “You leave your right side open when you punch. You think you could blink out of the way?” He stood over Izuku, offering a hand.

He took it. “Maybe,” he thought aloud. “It’s harder when going against the momentum.”

“So why not blink behind me?”

“Because now you know my master plan. But not a bad idea.”

“Anything to surprise an opponent bigger than you is a good idea. So,” Shinsou started as he rummaged through his bag, “have you given my idea any thought?” He tossed something at Izuku that he instinctively caught. It wasn’t cold to the touch anymore, but the beverage was well welcomed. It’s obnoxiously loud All-Might colors cued him in to the brand.

He guzzled it down with the All Might logo faced away from him. “It’s not bad, per se.”

“Not Midoriya standards though.”

“We don’t know the Quirks of any of the guys Okumura’s meeting.”

“And we won’t know unless we follow him to their spot.”

“Where we will then disappear until our bodies are found in dumpsters a day too late.”

“I’m not seeing you coming up with anything.”

He bit back from telling the boy about his very lengthy notebook. In the span of a week, Izuku wrote down sixty two different outcomes for their plan, with sixty exactly ending bad for the both of them, with more welling up in his head each night.

Izuku grit his teeth. “This isn’t easy. We shouldn’t be doing this, anyway.”

“We, you say, because you’ll go after them yourself”

“That’s not—”

“That’s it, isn’t it? You think I’m gonna slow you down? Well, guess what: I can handle myself. I just brought you to the ground a minute ago.”

Because he was using only Blink, and not his other Quirk. But he can’t use that either if Shinsou’s around. But there wasn’t any swaying with him. Shinsou unknowingly handicapped him and left him vulnerable. They weren’t stupid. Both of them were sh*t at talking, both not wanting to talk about themselves for reasons they couldn’t explain. Shinsou was quiet in class, silent for most of it and Izuku could count on one hand the number of times his classmate had been called on by a teacher. The only that’s changed is. . .

Izuku didn’t sit alone anymore at lunch. That was nice, in Shinsou’s own oddly endearing way. They didn’t talk much, and Izuku had to put away his more personal notebook, but sometimes he offered an earbud to listen to hero news reports.

He wouldn’t call them friends. The two were both too proud for that. But he trusted Shinsou to have his back.

“Shinsou.”

The boy ignored him.

“Let’s get out of this in one piece.”

His ally snorted. “Sure thing.”

A boy with a purple tuft of hair leant against a building, his phone in hand a coffee he hardly touched in the other. Sunglasses hid his eyes as we watched Okumura slip into the dead end alley. “Don’t see anyone else ,” Shinsou said into his phone.

Izuku set down his binoculars, bringing his phone to his ear as he peered back to where Shinsou stood. “Nothing from my end,” responded Izuku. He was perched on the fire escape, just where it met the roof. Other buildings towered him, but the tightness of the alley meant no one would look up. No one else was on the roof, so Okumura’s “friends” would be arriving from below. “Target acquired,” he said as Okumura came into view. He was alone, as Shinsou said. He hid himself in an oversized Endeavor hoodie, having changed out of his school uniform. If he didn’t know any better, one would assume Okumura to just be a kid heading to the arcade.

“I see movement.”

He brought the binoculars back up and watched as two figures entered the alley. A third, stood just at the mouth across the street from Shinsou. “I can’t move closer without looking suspicious.”

The shortest figure of the bunch looked back, and for a moment, he heard Shinsou’s voice hitch in panic, but the figure turned back around and entered the ally. The tallest of them pushed them harshly to the front of the group.

“Hang on.” Izuku leant forward to get a better look. Okumura stood with arms in his sweatshirt’s pocket. The shortest figure stepped towards them, but whatever they said was too low. Izuku looked back at where his partner would be, then warped one story lower, then another.

“-less than last weeks. You trying to scam me?” That was Okumura. Snarky and bitter.

The short figure shrunk back, but the larger one stepped forward, and for a moment he thought Okumura spoke again, but that’s-- “Ungrateful ass. We told you already prices were going up.”

Mimic.

“He’s here.”

“Mimic?”

Mimic stepped closer to the teenager who took a step back. “And then you go and f*cking accuse yakuza of some petty sh*t like that? And I thought we were growing on you.” He stood so close he stared straight down at Okumura. “Wouldn’t wanna f*ck up your little busines just ‘cause you can’t keep your trap shut blathering bullsh*t.”

He stood so close that Okumura looked straight up to meet his gaze.

So close that he looked straight up at Izuku, and Izuku saw the dread in his eyes, widening only for a moment before focusing back on the man. Mimic kept talking, pressing and Okumura stayed silent.

Izuku phoned into Shinsou. “I got this” before setting it down on the fire escape.

He breathed deeply and thought of the spikes just beneath his skin. He was jittery, his hands shaking where he held onto the fire escape’s rail. The phone clicked off before Shinsou could reply, and he watched as Okumura shoved the man away from him.

Izuku warped just above them and let himself fall.

The shorter figure shouted a warning, and Mimic looked up.

And he warped just fast enough to miss Okumura who became Mimic’s body shield. Just behind him. The landing a bit rough and his knees stung. But he grabbed the loose waterpipe he and Shinsou had placed there the day before and swung with everything he had.

The man grunted, being pushed forward and dropping Okumura as the pipe met his back.

“Hey, the hell are you doing!” he heard Okumura shout beyond Mimic. Or was it Mimic?

The towering man caught his footing and twisted before Izuku could avoid the elbow to the face, but enough to miss the steal meant for his gut. Izuku warped back and saw Okumura, his hair disheveled and eyes barely holding their glare.

Behind him, Izuku heard the pounding footsteps of the third guy. Three to one. Mimic’s bulk was like a bulldozer compared to his smaller companion, the one that gave the warning and he understood why. Ears, large and tall, animal-like, perked towards Izuku. Some sort of heightened hearing, but not much for physical stature. Mimic was obviously the pusher of their team. But the third, he didn’t know . . . He didn’t need a fourth, too.

He kept his voice low behind the mask, staring at Okumura as he said it. “Get out of here.”

“Oh, sure, run to mommy and whoever else you sold us out to,” said Mimic still in the student’s voice.

The boy glanced at Mimic then Izuku with his mouth slightly agape, almost saying something before cutting himself off.

He didn’t have time for this. “Go!”

The boy moved, only for a meaty hand to latch on to him. “And just where do you think you’re--” he started only to let go with a squeal as spikes embedded in his arm.

The boy ran behind Izuku towards the mouth of the ally.

The third guy at the mouth of the alley shouted, but Izuku didn’t have time to look as he used blink to avoid what was surely going to be a punch to the back of the head. Mimic ran forward with fist held up. The sledgehammer was nowhere to be seen and that made things all the more easier.

“You really started without me?”

Everyone looked toward the mouth of the ally, and the third guy stared pointedly. “Hey weren’t you-”

“Shut up and stay still.”

And as a command, the man did so. Or so, Izuku assumed, because he was too busy avoiding getting his head smashed off. A slipped back, and back until his back met the brick wall. Mimic charged forward, and so did he, and before Izuku could impact with an unstoppable force, he willed himself past him, warping straight past and running into--

He and the shortest dealer, who yelped, went sprawling. The package he’d been holding. It sprawled out on the ground surrounding them, little papery packets of . . . gum? The villain booked it, Shinsou shouting at him only for the villain to keep his mouth shut. When Shinsou brought up his fist, the villain didn’t even make eye contact, booking right past.

In the same direction of Okumura.

“Shin, now’s a good time to use them.”

“My thoughts exactly,” he agreed, reaching for the pouch of the utility belt he hid beneath his sweatshirt. Izuku heard the small explosion rather than saw as he warped to catch up with the short villain. He may not be much in fighting prowess, but he was quick. He warped again. The villain ran right into Izuku’s awaiting fist. “Gotcha.” He went down with his hands covering his face.

Still on his back he scrambled away before pleading, “Please, please, I didn’t know. I’m sorry. It’s short because the League wanted it more, okay?”

The hell? “I don’t care the products short.”

That seemed to startle him. His ears twitched. “Aren’t you his buddies? You’re too young to be pros.”

That doesn’t matter. “What does this League want with trigger?”

“The League of Villains. I,I don't— Some big plan. A raid or something. I don’t know, I just, I wasn’t gonna hurt that kid, you know that—“

“Raid where?”

“I don’t know!”

“Izu!”

He turned to see Shinsou running towards. “That pink goo isn’t gonna hold them. The other guy broke out of my Quirk, too. We need to go.”

“What are they after?” Izuku said to the villain.

“I. Don’t. Know. They just bought all our product, okay? There’s a shortage, and we can’t do anything about it." He startled when Shinsou got closer. "I would never hu-hurt anyone. So please--”

“Izu. We gotta go.”

Said boy turned to look, seeing a pink blobby monster leaving the alley and spotting them. Mimic was coated in the science experiment Shinsou and he created for capture, it’s strength nothing more than thick, sticky mud to the bulking man. He spotted the teens. Izuku looked to the dealer beneath him, their eyes wide and terrified watching Mimic. Watching Mimic and not the two vigilantes right in front of him.

Shinsou grabbed his arm. “Let’s go.”

He looked back at the young man still scrambling backward, thinking of the spilt gum packets in the alley, then following Shinsou.

The two ran and ran. They’d planned for this, grabbing the sweatshirts they’d hidden a few blocks up, slipping onto the first bus they could fine and letting it take them away. The held their breaths when their bus passed a trail of pink tracks, Mimic or his lackeys no where to be found.

Shinsou was the first to speak, not looking away from the window away from Izuku. “What happened to sticking with the plan?”

"Mimic was going to hurt him."

"And now he's gonna hurt tons of more people because you jumped the gun."

Izuku shrunk in his seat. “Okumura called the police, didn’t he? They’ll at least know something’s going on.”

“Like he’ll tell them the truth,” he said with a sigh.

Izuku thought of the tall-eared dealer. He never even moved into a fighting stance in that alley, and he ran. “That guy I chased down,” Izuku said, “he said the League of Villains is buying everything.”

Shinsou barely held back a snort. "What kind of name is that?"

“That’s what he said.”

Shinsou seemed to consider this, finally looking at Izuku. "He was probably saying whatever he could to get you to let him go.”

I don’t think so. It would explain why those students tried to go to Shinsou for trigger. Okumura and whoever else can't get a hold of it.

“Anyway, did you see what Okumura was buying?”

“It looked like gum.”

“Gum,” Shinsou repeated.

“I mean, I don’t know. They were small sticks in gum packet size--”

“So they’re just stimulants. Like, study aids, more than anything. It’s not big enough to be anything else.”

“I didn’t even know there were edible versions.” The only way he knew of were the giant needles in B movies.

“Neither did I. Easy to pass around though. I don't know, I thought he'd be selling something stronger considering the hype.”

“Do you think he’ll go back to them?”

“Doubt it. Mimic basically called him a nark. Then he ran for it.”

“I wonder if he did called the police.”

“I guess we’ll see at school tomorrow.”

“But what about the League? I mean, if he was telling the truth. He said, they’re planning a raid using trigger.”

“Name a shadowy underground organization to get you to let him go," said Shinsou matter-of-factly.

“Or we just stumbled onto something big.”

“Izuku, we’re talking about a group that isn't known by the public, if it's legit. Then it's something brand new or something even the police won't touch with a ten foot pole."

“What are we then?”

Shinsou glared at him. “Some stupid kids. “

He felt his face become heated. “No, we are making a difference because we can.”

“We can’t though. You know what happens if we get caught. And you want to get into that with no backup?”

“You’re my backup.”

“I’m a first year with a quirk that isn’t gonna work on a whole room. It didn't even work on two brutes and that bat thing, the one with the big ears. And neither is yours. We couldn’t even do anything today. We just made fools of ourselves and tipped them off. Both this dealing syndicate and maybe the League if that was even real.”

“Okay. Okay fine.”

“Promise me you aren’t gonna do anything stupid?”

“I promise.”

"We don't even know if what the guy said is real. If you go around poking a sleeping bear? That's worse." The bus rolled to a stop. “I’ll see you in class tomorrow,” he said pointedly. And with that, Shinsou stepped away hesitatingly, watching Izuku, searching for something. When he didn’t find it, he turned around heading towards where he hid his book bag. Izuku would have to get his from a roof now a good dozen blocks away.

Things were as quiet as ever after.

For the rest of the night, Izuku waited for the police to knock on his door but such a house call never came. School was quiet. The only oddity was Okumura entering late. Izuku looked to Shinsou who shrugged and the two let it be. It’s not like Izuku expected a medal or anything, but he at least expected to overhear someone talking about his rescue. The morning news reported an attempted mugging in that area, nothing more and Okumura’s name not disclosed for being a minor. Did he mention the vigilante’s to the police?

Shinsou said not to worry about it ‘til something happens. He doubted those idiots were anymore than low-life thugs with nothing better to do. Selling to teenagers to make a quick buck.

“It’s gum. It can’t be that strong. Probably like a study-aid or light steroid at most, ” Shinsou had told him. Don’t worry about it. Don’t worry about it.

Izuku let it go. Izuku had never seen trigger outside of movies and lame TV. For it to be in such a small format, according to Shinsou, couldn’t be all that strong, maybe equivalent to a short high.

He felt a bit stupid for getting so little sleep that night, thinking and pondering and waiting for something. Trigger. Gum. Mimic. The League.

He didn’t realize he stood in front of his locker for over five minutes. The halls were empty as classes started. Cursing to himself, he slammed his locker shut heading to class at almost a sprint. Warping never sounded like a great idea, but Quirk use wasn’t allowed in general, let alone the fact he isn’t supposed to have a Quirk. It’s usefulness would be astounding.

Then he stopped in his tracks.

Because in front of him were the captain of the baseball team and his catcher, Ishida and Okumura, and they were arguing. Did they know? Izuku tried to lower his voice and muffle it behind his mask, but maybe Okumura knew.They whispered harshly to each other, heading straight towards him obliviously, and Izuku slipped into the closest bathroom and to wait for them to pass.

But why, why, was he never so lucky because just as he closed the stall door, the entrance thundered open likely cracking the tiles behind it. And the whispers became actual shouts. Sneakers and hightops stood just outside his stall until high tops came off the floor, the boy being held up by the other.

“This gum isn’t enough. You told me it would be enough to beat the ravens but we got creamed! I swung like sh*t.” Ishida.

The sound of struggle, Okumura gasping for breath. “I- I can’t get more for a- uh few weeks? Okay? My guys are busy with somethin’.” More like indefinitely, if Mimic’s reaction was anything to go by.

“I don’t have a few weeks!” he screamed. “f*ckuoka’s scouts are coming to the next game. If I play like sh*t I could lose my chance,” Izuku held his breath as the high tops feet kicked lamely, “and it’s gonna be your head!”

“Ishida, I can’t do anything-”

A crash of glass. High tops was gone from his view entirely. “Like hell you can’t!” Glass falling to the tiled floor. The boy had been thrown.

He couldn’t stay quiet.

Sneakers moved away, toward their target, and Izuku finally opened the stall door to the mess.

Okumura wasn’t moving, his back to Izuku on the floor and the pitcher moving towards him. And Izuku ready himself only to pause looking at his classmate of months now.

Ishida’s arms, though Izuku never considered him thin, rather muscular and bulky, hardly fit in his long sleeve, the fibers tearing, revealing thick brown fur on arms twice the size he knew Ishida to be.

This wasn’t normal. Izuku had seen him play, passing the practice field after school as Ishida pitched over and over with arms only coated a less than thin coat of hair. He never looked like this.

“Who’s you’re supplier?! I’ll f*cking get it myself!”

Okumura started to move, keeping his face down and using his arms to protect his head. “You can’t just— just go up to them. They have to come to you. That’s how Trigger sales work. They’ll kill you otherwise.”

“Then get me in touch!” The downed boy wheezed as a kick hit his side. “I’ll pay double. I’ll do a job for them. I just need it by Wednesday, is that too much to f*cking ask?! All you f*cking rejects don’t get it, do you? I can get out of here. I can go places.” He lifted the boy by the hood of his sweatshirt, making him cough at the pressure on his throat.

Izuku cleared his throat. “Ishida.”

The boy froze, then slowly his head turned and Izuku saw his bloodshot eyes, the large wad of gum smacking between his teeth. Izuku could guess what it was laced with. Always chewing. How many pieces were in his mouth? Four? Six?

He stood to his full height. “Why is it you’re always meddling in sh*t that doesn’t concern you.” It was said as a statement of fact.

Izuku raised an eyebrow. “Trigger?”

A single word made the drugged student burst. “I already told you to f*ck OFF!” he shouted, and with his mouth wide, baring teeth, Izuku saw the slip of a tongue too gray to be natural. He lunges towards Izuku, with needle like nails aimed for his face.

He ducked but not before the boy could grab his hair and yanked him into hitting the closest wall. He saw stars but before the second impact he called for Blink and fell from the boy’s grasp to behind him, sending a kick to push the boy against the wall.

But that wouldn’t be enough. The captain twisted around and aimed a Quirked punch for Izuku’s face, who warped out of reach, the brute following suit with a left hook, then another and another. He raged, attacking wildly.

But this, Izuku realized in surprise, unlike Bakugo, who trained and perfected his techniques, who knew how to follow through a proper punch and bring Deku to the ground—

This was just a kid with a complex and a drug clouding his judgement.

When the captain tried to bring both pounding fist onto Izuku, he dodged to the side, letting the fist shatter the sink and faucet that suddenly spewed water in every direction, including Ishida’s face.

And as Ishida stumbled back, Izuku swept a leg beneath him and he fell with a hard thud, his skull snapping against the tile floor.

For a second he thought he killed him, but once bleary eyes looked at nothing Izuku let out a sigh of relief just as the other boy slipped out the bathroom door.

How did he not notice?

‘Cause his head kissed the bathroom tiles.

Oh yah.

“Hey, wait!”

He stepped towards the door, just not noticing his missing shoe to follow Okumura out of the bathroom and saw him down the hallway. The boy paused for only a second to grab something on the wall.

“Stop!” But his cry was drowned out by the wales of the school’s fire alarm, lights flashing in the hallway and all the classroom doors barging open, the boy disappearing into the crowd. He could warp over these people with Blink. He could. But then everyone would know.

The boy got lost in a sea of sneakers and high tops.

He headed back into the bathroom, Ishida having not moved from his spot except to try to open a packet of gum.

He kicked it out of the boys hands as the kid growled lowly in his throat. He didn’t get up. He was vulnerable, weak and unable to stop Izuku if he reaches out his hand, pulling his Quirk to the forefront and—

No.

No. He wasn’t like that. Ishida was cruel, made Izuku hate being caught in the halls alone. But, to take his Quirk. . .

Why did he even consider it? Everyone would know if Ishida lost his Quirk.

He went to the closest teacher and told them how he heard shouting in the boys bathroom.

And that’s how the word quickly got around that the school’s varsity captain was found half conscious in the school bathroom with his Quirk definitely activated and insatiable angry.

Upon a drug test, traces of illegal Quirk enhancers were found. His bag was searched.

Some said they found needles and a bomb, but Izuku knew from his eavesdropping while in the stall it likely was just the gum laced with Trigger.

Word travelled faster than any official print. Shinsou texted him that night. When he didn’t respond, calls came in that went ignored.

If that’s what a little pack of gum can do to a teenager, just what can it do to villains with a vendetta?

He'd pay a bat-eared friend a visit, even if Shinsou wouldn't agree.

Chapter 11: Interlude: Koumori

Chapter Text

He didn’t have wings like his father, nor did he have the sensibility of his mother to get out when there was still a chance. Instead, Koumori shut the door to his apartment with nothing to show for. He handed off his syndicate’s supply and Mimic snatched every bill out of his hands the moment they were out of the League’s sight, and their vision ran wide. Especially these days, people he met and even ran with were joining their numbers.

“This could be our only shot,” they’d told him, buddies and enforcers with Quirks that could tear Koumori limb from limb.

When the invitation went to his group in a middle of passing on needles, drinks, gum, and anything else their syndicate had a hold of at the time, Mimic had laughed in their faces.

“Me? Sure, don’t mind roughin’ up some heroes.” Koumori knew plenty of names that Mimic had been acquaintances with that’d gone off to Tartarus, not that the man seemed to care. “But you’d do better grinding them into our last supper than relying on these idiots.” He’d pointed back at where Koumori and the other members stood. Rude.

But the blak mist, with nothing to him but golden eyes that always watched, never blinked, offered him a place. The golden eyes fixated on his elongated ears. “A Quirk like yours would be useful.”

Useful.

It’s all he’s ever been.

The offer still stood, even as Koumori hid in his apartment’s shower thinking gold eyes hid in the hallway’s shadows. He was useful.

Instead, when he got out of the shower, when the drizzling water no longer muffled the outside world, he slipped on the black, bulky headphones, again. His mother bought them just before she left his father.

Hallway empty, no eyes. His roommates were out of town and clueless of who his friends were that he always met up with or whatever job he claimed to be holding at the time. He could hide in his room without question for the next forty-eight hours as hell would rain down. Phone off, TV quiet. Inside the sanctuary of his room, he could relax and hear his own thoughts. And in his silence he could pretend nothing was happening. He wasn’t a runner or dealer or scout or child murderer because he was home in his room ignoring it all.

In the safety of his room, he pulled from his bundle of dirty clothes the taser his handler gave him, not trusting him with a real weapon (not that he’d ever use it), along with the emergency pack.

They were small, packaged as chewing gum that none turned an eye at if pulled out in broad daylight. But he learned a long time ago never to use your own product and even more so to never nick it. Besides, it made everything worse.

And yet he carried his own little pack on himself for when they needed him to scope out a place. Already, Koumori was sensitive to sound, but with a little trigger?

Yet it sold like candy. That high schooler is one of many kids. That day was too close. Mimic already was jittery from a run-in a week before, then the same guys show up? The fire in the warper's eyes. . .

His roommates never entered his room. It was the only rule that everyone upheld: stay out of bedrooms. It became a bit of a blessing when he first started running. First it was just information, sharing meet up locations and the like, sometimes passing along burner phones. Then he remembered the first gun, wrapped in a thin rag, dropped into his 16-year-old hands. It sat under his bed for days and he never left his room, never trusted no one to walk in to find it while he was out. Soon it upgraded to trigger hidden in a gutted textbook that he hid in his closet.

Today he hid the pack of gum and taser in what was once his mother’s jewelry box, her photos stacked on top.

In the safety of his own home, his own room, he let his guard down. The noise cancelling headphones were a blessing, a silencer. His room dampened the noise of the street, the floorboards replaced to reduce creaking.

So it shouldn’t have been surprising to feel something sharp pointed at the nape of his neck.

He didn’t move. Something knocked off the headphones.

“Remember me?”

He did. He slowly turned to match the voice to the face. It was the boy from before, the one with the gas mask. Pointed at Koumori were the thin spikes protruding from his arm, the same that were shot at Mimic.

“I don’t want to hurt you. But I have some questions.”

“Okay.”

“I’m going to put this away,” the boy said, eyeing the protruding spikes. Are you going to run?”

Run where? Who would save him? He shook his head.

And the spikes sank back into the skin, leaving no indication they were ever there. “What’s your name?”

“Koumori,” he answered.

“Koumori. I’m— I’m Deku.” Not a real name, that much was obvious, but it was better than nothing. Deku knelt before him. “You told me something interesting the other day.”

Why is he talking like this is a casual conversation? “Okay.”

“Who are the League of Villains?”

sh*t sh*t sh*t. “I don’t know.”

“I think you do.”

“I don’t— I don’t know anything useful.”

“Okay. You told me the League of Villains are buying trigger from you.”

“Yes. Anything we had in stock.”

“That’s a lot of trigger, right? For a lot of people, I’m guessing. And you said you knew why.”

“I don’t-“

“The raid.”

He was shaking. “They. They’re planning a raid. Make their debut.”

“Do you know where.” It sounded more like a statement than a question.

“A—At,” he started then paused. He felt like he couldn’t breathe. “Are you going to kill me?”

“What—wait, no!” Deku held his arms up in surrender. “No, of course not.” The harsh light in his eyes was gone, and Koumori noticed how round they are. The fat of his cheeks filled the edges of the gas mask. This was just a kid. Maybe, just a little younger than Koumori. “I want your help.”

“Help?”

“You said it’s a raid. And they’re going to be armed with trigger. The damage they’re going to cause. . .” He looked at Koumori, watching him. “And I don’t think you want to be a part of it.”

He thought of illuminated eyes among black mist. Useful.

The boy looked around the room. “Did you set this up yourself?”

He followed Deku’s line of sight. Yah, it looked a bit odd. From floor to ceiling, even coating the ceiling, was black foam. “Sound proofing. It’s, it's loud outside.” His Quirk is loud. He chose this apartment because it was far from any schools, any railways or manufacturing. But it was still, all so loud.

The boy looked at the headphones he knocked off Koumori. “Is it hard?”

Yes. “Sometimes.”

The boy eyed the open jewelry box, his mother’s photo still piled on the ground with the gum packet of trigger. The top photo was before his mom left, when his cheeks had still been plump from baby fat and her eyes still bright. They stood in front of the Hackiko statue in Shibuya, tiny Koumori drowned in his bulky noise-cancelling headphones as his mother smiled at him.

Deku stared at him with eyes softening. “I don’t think you’re a bad guy, Koumori. I think you’ve been dealt a bad hand and don’t know how to get out.”

Koumori said nothing.

“I’m going to give you some options. One, is to turn yourself in to the police. Tell them everything.”

They would never let him out. He’d seen so much, been a part so much, it would be years before a new gang picked him up.

“Two, get out of here. Get out and don’t look back. I don’t mention this to anyone, and you can restart somewhere new.” He paused to watch Koumori, who knew there was more to this offer. Nothing ever came without a price. “On one condition.”

Deku held out his hand as if to shake his.

“Tell me where to find the League, give me the trigger you have left. . . And give me your Quirk.”

His mind reeled. Give. Give a Quirk. Actually give away a Quirk. Make a person Quirkless. “How?” he whispered.

“Don’t worry about that. Koumori, I can’t make you do anything, but I can't let you keep doing this." He paused and carefully chose his words. Deku looked at the photo. "And it won't stop unless, unless you're arrested or lose the ability to work. Without your Quirk, you can’t hurt anyone again. The yakuza won’t have use for you either. It will be your payment for a 'quiet' life." He looked right at Koumori, seeing right through him. "It's eating at you, isn't it? Your Quirk. Tell me what you know about this raid, give me your Quirk, and you walk free able to hear your own thoughts.”

Use. Losing his usefulness. Having no use to yakuza meant you’re dead.

To be Quirkless. He knew what stigma lies in society. He knows he would be ostracized wherever he runs off to. He always thought of running, going somewhere, anywhere, but he knew there would always be someone who saw his potential uses. People were drawn to him, people that never had good intentions.

To be Quirkless.

To be useless.

To never have heard his mother’s screams and his father’s shouts. To have never overheard her call her only son a mistake before walking out of their lives forever. To have never been groomed in high school to join their ranks and hear of the people the yakuza “took care of.” To never have to smile and say he’s fine as he heard a grown man scream in a basem*nt, a man’s whose body would wash up on shore a week later unrecognizable except for his dental records.

To never have to hear just how steady Deku’s heartbeat was, nervous but honest.

It should have made him pause, make him consider all his options and consequences, but his body moved faster than he could think. He placed his hand in Deku’s, his grip tight and desperate.

“Deal.”

Chapter 12: Always Listening

Chapter Text

He turned off his phone as it lit up from another call and stuffed it away blocks away from his target. Between speaking to Koumori to finding the warehouse only gave him a few hours, and he spent most of it making half-assed getaway plans.

It stood at the edge of the city just before the landfills and the smell of them. Plastered with red brick, on the wall facing the main road was a faded company name of some old textile industry. Men played cards on the front steps of the entrance, feigning casualness for guarding against trespassers. They sat bored, but with a hidden intensity, one tapping his foot wildly. Izuku watched this all from a distance.

Walking through the front door was a no go. Checking the back ended in the same result as men stood bored while others wandered the perimeter of the building, side-eyeing any passersby and jokingly trying to hit the lowest bar of the fire escape as they passed by.

The fire escape. The ladder wasn’t down, not that it would bother Izuku. He waited for the patrol to pass before sneaking close enough to warp to the lowest level of the fire escape then quickly scaling to the top. Being broad daylight, it would be obvious to see Izuku climbing, but at the same time the lull of the warming day and security that no one was stupid enough to try to breach the place during the day came to be an advantage. Maybe this League wasn’t really much of anything, if this is their standards.

The roof was empty though cigarette buds and cans of cheap beer littered its ground. The door leading into the building stood propped open.

It was so easy, Izuku would not believe this to be the League that left Koumori shaking. The boy no older than twenty-one warned Izuku of just what he faced. Anyone with trigger was dangerous, but organized crime?

“ They’re a calculated ticking time-bomb with an antsy kid holding the button.”

Surely they were more careful than this?

But in the past year? It had been deadly silent, a prolonged suspense building like air in a balloon. The silence stretched longer like the rubber of the balloon and any agonizing second it could pop in your face.

Though unused to the newest Quirk, Izuku let his ears grow to accommodate the Quirk. At first it was like placing his ear to a conch shell, the swirl of hallways and empty rooms humming their own white noise tune. He’d practiced on the beach, and the thunderous waves forced him to turn it off. It was loud, but manageable in small quantities. He couldn’t imagine such a Quirk being used twenty-four/seven. He heard his own breath, the thrumming of his pulse and the moment his eyelash brushed each other with every eye close.

Then he heard the laughter and cheering and muffled banter like beacons.

Today would be the day someone took a needle to that balloon.

The door led to a series of what had once been offices that now stood empty except for rubble and blotches of mildew. The cacophony of noise from further down the hall had echoed from its distance.

At the end of the hall had been once metal bars maintaining the balcony. Now only a bar or two protruded up, the rest lost. And he could hear the change in pressure, as the room widened and the muffling turned to clear, echoed voices, dozens of them. He peered over the edge of the balcony and Izuku held his breath looking down.

Dozens. There were dozens of them of varying shapes, colors, and sizes, some drinking and others making a circle around two fighting each other. Others fiddled with devices and costumes, one seeming to tune a box with antennas that stood straight up.

Izuku had never seen so many villains in a single place.

“Comrades!”

Izuku ducked falling to his stomach as the chatter halted and heads turned in his direction staring up.

“We gathered here for a purpose and one purpose only!”

It came from just below, perhaps the lower level’s own balcony. He couldn’t lean over to look in fear someone would spot him.

“What is that?”

The crowd roared, “KILL ALL MIGHT!”

Izuku’s heart seized.

“Ready yourselves, the game is about to begin!”

Their roars became cheers, and clanks of metal and sharpening tools and static and teeth grinding that could tear through skin like paper—

They want to kill All Might-

They’re going to kill All Might.

He lent over as men and women gathered their weapons and shuffled excitedly. Though three or four stories up, Izuku noticed fish like villains gathering together just as tall, muscular Quirked men did the same. With his ears morphed to those of a bat, he choked back a sob.

“It’s about time someone taught the bastard a lesson.”

“Symbol of peace, my ass!”

“f*cking twerps won’t see what’s coming!”

“We’ll burn U.A. to the ground!”

“With the League behind us, no one is ever gonna mess with us again!”

Izuku tasted bile.

“Shigaraki, there is no going back.” The voice was soft and deep, melodic like a reverbated purr in the dark. “Once we start we cannot stop.”

The other, Shigaraki, hummed to this. Then he spoke with his voice like a shrill and aches as if parched, “This is a raid I intend to win, do not doubt me, Kurogiri.” His voice grew lower as steps echoed away from the balcony. “Open the gate while I grab the Nomu.”

He had to get out of here. He had to warn All Might, warn U.A., someone, anyone—

A black mass of smoke plumed at the center of the warehouse’s ground floor, between the villains who cheered their bloodthirst.

Scum.

Two others came into view, a man of black mist— was the black mass at the center of the room his Quirk?— and a fair man covered in—

It was like insects burrowed into his skin, leaving him itchy and wanting them off, wanting them out.

—severed hands. Pale and discolored.

One covered his face.

The black mist left the side of his companion, meeting with the man Izuku had seen before fiddling with the box.

“Is the scrambler ready?”

The man grinned at the mist with a thumbs up. “Yep, we’ll have a full hour uninterrupted.”

Like an EMP? That would explain why they were so confident. They’d scramble any communicators blocking radio channels and cells phones.

“How big is this kitty pool?” one of the fish-like Quirked men asked another. The group had huddled together discussing positions.

“The U.S.J. is a full fledged simulator right? So probably a football field worth, maybe Olympic. Plus, it’s hero course students, the school doesn’t hold back in training.”

“Just remember not to drown them. Shigaraki wants hostages in case All Might tries to pull a fast one.”

The mist, Kurogiri appeared on the ground floor and stood beside the villain carrying the scrambler. “Turn it on now. We will depart in just a moment.”

The antenna began to glow a faint blue and its screen a faint orange, the villain pressing a button and—

He almost yelped covering his ear and letting go of the hearing Quirk. The piercing, sonorous ringing stopped. His stomach and chest felt funny for only a moment as his balance waiverred. It hadn’t been high pitch and screeching, but deep and guttural, so deep he couldn’t hear it with natural human ears but it had hurt nonetheless.

In the time it took him to compose himself, the man covered in severed hands had moved to the center of the room and lifted his own above his head. The villains went silent, all of them.

He was the leader, Shigaraki.

“Nomu, follow.”

Even with his hearing Quirk off, the footsteps thundered like a brewing storm, its screech painful enough like the EMP. The villains all paused in awe as it came into view and Izuku himself felt he could not look away.

Towering in such a way it would have had to duck to enter the offices. Skin a deep purple, almost black like bruises. It stood on hind legs but it wasn’t- it didn’t feel human. It’s eyes were devoid of intelligence just above a beak and below an exposed pink mesh of brain matter. That Thing couldn’t be human.

It followed close behind the man covered in hands, not caring that it nearly barreled over a villain standing too close. It followed until it met Shigaraki at the center of the condensed smoke and vanished, the other villains just behind them.

A teleportation Quirk.

It wouldn’t set off U.A.’s perimeter defense if no one actually has to walk through the gates. And no one would know they were there if the EMP took out all the cameras and sensors.

They were going to get into U.A. and were going to kill All Might and whoever else stood in their way. There weren’t enough villains to take on the whole school, not against a group of pros. Is he going after a single class? One All Might would be teaching? With so many of them, there’s no way a lonely pro teacher could protect all their panicking students, even if it is All Might.

His feet moved before he could think what a bad idea it was. Jumping straight off the fourth story he warped to land on the lower balcony. Then again and again until reaching the ground floor as the last of the villains seeped through. He was running, preparing to face whatever was on the other side with little thought that there were dozens of villains willing to kill children for a shot at All Might.

He reached for the portal hand, awaiting to grasp the back of the first villain he ran into, his right pulled back in a fist—

At first it didn’t register. The smoke vanished and he stumbled to the floor. He stood alone in an empty warehouse.

He hit his fist on the cement floor.

“Dammit!”

They were in, the villains were in U.A. and people were going to die— All Might was going to—

He ran for the entrance of the warehouse and used Blink to get through the doors, startling the guards still outside the door as their playing cards scattered. He didn’t stop when they called out of him realizing he wasn’t supposed to be there. He didn’t stop when they chased him and he didn’t stop until he knew he’d have enough time, reaching a payphone and sliding whatever pocket change he kept on him and dialing.

With every ring his heart leapt higher in his throat and his stomach bottoming out. He’ll think later on the fact he had the office number memorized from the times they called and asked him if there had been a typo when he registered as Quirkless for the admission exam.

A cheerful receptionist answered unknowingly. “U.A.’s business office, how can I help you?”

“U.A. is under attack! They’re going to kill All Might!”

“Whoa, calm-”

“You need to tell the teachers. They’re going to-”

“Kid-”

“They can teleport and they’re in the school right now!”

“I don’t appreciate prank calls.”

“I— I’m not— just listen. They’re going to attack All Might’s—”

The glaring tone of an ended call sounded all too close to a hospital’s heart monitor.

He choked back a sob, slamming the phone back into place before sprinting once more. He couldn’t break down, not now, not when he knew what was happening. If they got to All Might or if a student was hurt as he stood stupidly trying to work a payphone, he would never forgive himself. So he ran tripping with how many times in sequence he warped. Sweat bled down his neck and seeped into his costume.

It must have been an interesting look, to see a fully costumed hero or villain— no one could be sure these days— barreling down the street and teleporting past cars before they could hit him. His mask limited his vision, leaving too many close calls until nearly losing it in one of his warps. He lost his right glove too, the thing swept somewhere under the awed pedestrians’ feet.

It felt like it would never be fast enough. He needed to tell someone, scream inside U.A. for someone to take him seriously. Call the police, call Shinsou— but his phone was in the opposite direction on a lonely roof.

Yet he was across the city in record time, his palms against the concrete wall of U.A. As his chest heaved, the looming of the tower-like building casting a mocking shadow over him, daring him to execute his plan.

If he passes the barrier, Izuku would be committing a crime in broad daylight against citizens and heroes. There was no going back.

Izuku warped through U.A.’s defense wall.

In its own way it was therapeutic to step into U.A., sort of a middle finger to something he dreamed— prayed— to enter by their invitation, and now he forcefully let himself in.

Then the alarm went off.

And he had to get going once again.

U.S.J. It had to be somewhere. Was it a classroom? A name of a field? Facility? Perhaps U.S.J. was the initials of the founder. A donator! Ulysses Scott Johnson? Underground Service of Japan? Didn’t he read about it from the U.A. official history book? It could be a name of one of the several mock cities. It would take hours to check all of U.A. Not only did he have to deal with acres upon acres of land, but the sub-basem*nts hid labs for testing equipment and dangerous Quirks. U.S.J. U.S.J. He could find a teacher?—

“You there! Stop!”

When the lasso licked at his feet he knew getting them to listen wasn’t going to work. Using Blink, he warped out of its reach and held his hands up until the R-rated hero Midnight paused at the other end of the courtyard he’d entered.

In any other situation, he would be fanboying his heart out, but instead he held his hands in front of him in surrender. “I—I’m not here to hurt anyone, I swear!”

She eyed him, then held her whip out in front of her. Wow her outfit was something in real life. “What class are you from?”

“Uh— 1-B?”

Blink barely pulled him out of the lasso’s reach.

“Trespassing is illegal. Who are you really? Get back here!”

God, she was fast, and she was wearing heels! He had to lose her. She wasn’t going to listen. He had been running at the perimeter of U.A.’s main building and he let Blink guide him pass the building’s concrete wall and into a—

A classroom.

“Wait-“

Students screamed and he screamed too. The teacher— is that Ectoplasm?— shouted at him to halt but Izuku weaved past the students and their desk (or those that weren’t being used to barricade the doors) and warped into the hallway.

A shot at his feet made him freeze.

Snipe aimed their gun at him.

“I don’t miss. Stay where you are.”

“I’m not the enemy here!” He tried to explain with his hands held up once again. “There’s villains here and they’re going to kill All-Might!”

“On your knees and keep your hands up.”

Dammit dammit dammit. No one was going to listen to him. As a kid or an intruder, he wasn’t credible. He’d have to just find the villains himself.

He thought of how thick the ceiling would have to be then warped up a level. He let his ears grow and listened for the incoming footsteps as snipe searched for him and ran in the opposite direction a floor below. He’d be going towards the staircase if he realized Izuku had went up.

This is crazy! He’s being chased by heroes, and not just any heroes but the literal people who could have been his teachers. In any other situation he would have been bouncing with joy.

Instead, students blocked the doors with furniture, if the scraping was anything to go by, students whispering to keep quiet as others claimed it all to be a drill. The buzzing of a fly made his ear twitch.

No not a fly. It was faint, but it was a ringing to his ears he quickly recognized. It wasn’t so loud and nearly painful as it had been in that warehouse but it was here somewhere, the EMP that villain had carried into the misty warp gate. He thought he imagined it.

So it was on campus? But where? What if this is just noise from the other electric systems in the building? It was a sort of low echoing ring below the blaring alarms and the cacophony made having his morphed ears hurt.

He decided to look out the tall panes of glass for windows, waiting to see if there were any roaming teachers before warping to the other side to be outdoors once again.

That’s when he landed on the speeding suit of armor. Like a literal, walking suit of armor.

The two fell onto the grass and groaned before realizing who they’d run into.

Why was Ingenium on campus of all days?

The hero looked to him, and Izuku saw the wideness of his jaw and glasses Ingenium he’d never seen worn before.

The said hero quickly stood and held his fist out ready to attack demanding answers instantly, but Izuku had to try one more time. “Please, I don't want to fight.” He raised his hands for what felt the final time and he expected the same answer. “There’s villains here after All Might. I’m just trying to warn you!”

“Wait you know?” Ingenium paused speaking in a voice too high for a licensed hero and that’s when Izuku really looked at his face, saw the red framed glasses and the engines in his legs. Ingenium’s are in his arms. This is not Ingenium. Maybe a sibling? The resemblance was too close to just be a similar Quirk.

Nonetheless, this guy was listening to him. He couldn’t be a villain but he wasn’t one of the hero professors. Is he a part of the class being attacked?

Then he rose his fists again. “How do I know you’re not working with them?” He spoke strongly and almost robotically, each syllable the same length. “I haven’t seen you before.”

The best way to get him to listen was tell the truth. “I scouted the villains’ hideout? And I set off the campus alarms on purpose.” Maybe that’s a little too blunt.

The blaring tone still rang around them, a recorded voice from the speakers still telling students to find shelter and hide.

He tried again. “Where is the U.S.J.?”

“It’s on the edge of the property, but— hey wait!”

Izuku used Blink to avoid the hands that grabbed at him, ignoring the pounding in his head at the number of warps. He called over his shoulder, “Get the teachers there now! They’ll listen to you!”

He didn’t have time to explain. The scrambler. The Nomu. They were key items Izuku knew about and they didn’t, but taking the time to explain it all would be precious seconds. And he wasn’t fast enough. He wasn’t Ingenium. He wasn’t a hero in training or someone naturally gifted. He didn’t even know what direction he was going!

But—

He knew what the whirring sound of the EMP was like, just not where. Too far to pinpoint with how the Quirk is now. Too slow to check the whole property of U.A.

But—

He felt it in the simple utility belt around his waist.

He had a trump card.

Izuku would worry about the consequences later. He knew this could happen, and instead held back every ugly thought about himself and pulled the stick of gum from its packet and chewed.

Izuku In the Warehouse

I should note this artwork is actually really old, and before I decided to give Izuku a mask.

Chapter 13: But Do Not Speak Ill

Chapter Text

He thought it was a scam, that Koumori tricked him like the gullible kid he is, because all he tasted was black licorice. Like, who eats that? He nearly spit it out but forced himself to chew and chew.

God, this was stupid. He didn’t know how long such a drug would take to impact or what it would even feel like. All he knew was Ishida and his feeling tongue and the oozing black in films. Ishida was tough, but nothing like Mimic, who he didn’t even know if he had been on trigger.

But at some point while lost in thought, his vision brightened. Like the sky had taken on a new hue and there was a jitteriness to his already exhausted body running across town and U.A. The Quirk came naturally, his ears elongating to that like a bat, so sensitive the piercing trespasser alarm like it were just next to his ear. He heard himself swallow, and the way his shoelaces slapped against his shoes. He could narrow in, focus. He thought he heard Ingenium junior running at Quirk like speeds. It felt like his ears were bleeding, like someone was literally beating his eardrums. The EMP was like a beacon now, it’s noise like a thunder drum but fuzzier, warning him.

But he dropped the Quirk and let Blink drive him across the fields, his warps longer, than any he tested. It still took minutes. The property stretched on unbelievably that the students must have taken a bus.

The moment he came up on the building he felt stupid. The letters were bold and lit up like that of an amusem*nt park on the outside of a large dome. From the outside he could imagine a stadium with one on one fights in the center of an arena.

The doors were closed but that had yet to stop him. Even before entering, he could— he could feel the abundance of Quirks, swarming and dancing and singing hymns sweetly for him, demanding he come closer. The made his skin itch, his tongue tingle. It was like never before, the thought dizzying him.

And once warping inside he came to a sight of utter chaos.

It was not a stadium, but a simulation like the false cities, except it had themed areas like a park. This school even has a theme park, this is so unfair.

There were clusters of people and the group closest to him facing off a purple shadow with their backs to him. Kurogiri. A beautiful Quirk spread wide threateningly, but there was a source. There was always a source, a body to tear that Quirk—

What was he thinking?

In his stupor, a boy turned to him all in yellow. “Is Iida already back?” But when they locked eyes— tall with a mask like a pro wrestler— he immediately aimed a fist towards him. Blink made maneuvering easy, except for the tape that wrapped around his wrist ruining his concentration. When he landed, his sweaty palm cooled from the lost glove. Great. Trigger didn’t help in that part.

“Reinforcements? They just won’t let up!”

That was—

It felt like some dropped ice water over him then through the bucket for good measure. He recognized her voice under the pink helmet. That girl from the exams made it into U.A., too.

And she might know him.

The Ingenium boy, Iida. Was he—

Then tape guy shot at him again, and when it missed, tape guy used it to launch himself forward feet first but the movements were slow and untrained. Warping easily got him out of the way though the sickening feeling in his gut meant he’d have to take a break from it very soon. Warping through the whole city with no breaks wasn’t the best thing on any person’s stomach. And the trigger— it felt as if the world was draining of color. He was coming down. How long had it lasted? He had the sticky foul gum tucked in the corner of his cheek, but its flavor was long gone.

He didn’t have time for this. He zipped past the girl’s reaching hands and sprouted the bat ears again to pinpoint the ringing. It made him sick but he could hear it like a ting of a bell and it did nothing good for his already building headache from all the warping.

He expected the wrestler to launch himself at him again which was why he dodged all the same, dropping the bat ears to warp. What he didn’t expect was the small hand to press into his back, the tingling sensation focused right at his back and the thin piece of fabric between him and a Quirk, and the loss of gravity almost bringing his breakfast back up.

As he floated— holy sh*t, he was floating— he saw the girl from the exam and took in her costume. Bubbly, space themed. She had removed the debris off her own leg at the entrance exam. Anti-gravity Quirk. To weigh nothing, to be nothing. He was already out of reach to grab onto anything and he heard more than saw the wrestler pounding towards him just as he felt the body slam into his floating form before registering any of it happening. And while it sure as hell knocked the wind out of him, it also pushed him across the U.S.J. spinning and reeling and the taste of bile definitely was in his mouth.

Then he was falling.

Gravity back on his gut was not good and he was still out of control in his fall.

Until he realized he was falling right towards a building and his body would pancake against the concrete wall.

So, as any teenager way over his head, he squeezed his eyes shut and warped through it, only to be greeted by the unforgiving floor and tumbling across the room.

He landed on something bulky with sharp-edges that squealed and shoved at him.

“Off me, villain, I- I- I’m not afraid to vaporize you!” A soft thud echoed when his body dropped the rest of the way to the ground, and Izuku opened his eyes to the one causing the raucous his body protesting and stomach clenching.

For a second, he thought it was the Iida student again with the Ingenium uniform, but this was much more conquistador and red, with angular shaped glasses toppling off one ear. They must be another student. They hadn’t “vaporized” him yet even after lifting himself off the floor. His head was still reeling and he held up a finger when the conquistador kept talking, moving to a corner and lifting the gas mask to release the contents of his stomach.

He couldn’t do another round. Fighting both the U.A. students and the actual villains— this wasn’t getting anywhere with his sh*t stamina. He had his back turned and he waited for the vaporizing or whatever to happen because there wasn’t any way he’d be catching his breath fast enough to dodge any more onslaughts for the next minute. His forehead slick with sweat glued his hair to the skin. His nose burned and the salty taste in his mouth left him dry-heaving.

So when he finally lent his burning forehead to the cool concrete wall, his stomach empty of anything to bring up, he finally exhaled.

“Uh—uhm, you okay?”

He turned back with a burning throat and headache but the other kid only looked more horrified. “They recruit children?!”

f*ck, the mask.

He thought of placing it back on but what was the point? He already knew what he looked like. Izuku spoke breathlessly, “I’m not with them. I’m trying to—“ god, his head was spinning, “—they have an EMP somewhere and no one’s listening, but they’re going to kill—“

“Hey, is that another classmate?” Another voice called out from beyond the door of the room, echoing down a hall, and Aoyama perked up.

Before Izuku could say anything, the boy ran towards the exit to remove a chair he had used to block the door. “Kirishima, help!”

Izuku began to panic. He couldn’t fight much more the way he was. He used his hearing Quirk to gage how big his opponent would be be except—

Those pounding feet were far too heavy for that voice pitch.

—just as the door slammed open, Izuku was warping and shoved the student to the side before a sledgehammer could indent his skull. Instead, it cracked the concrete floor where the student had just been standing and Izuku’s theory had been confirmed.

Not again.

And instead of another student emerging from the door, a man, bulky and towering, leant the sledgehammer against his shoulder. In a voice unfitting for his size, he said, “Poor boys, separated from their class. Whatever shall they do?”

The student next to him blanched. “W-where’s Kirishima. What did you do to him?!”

“Why, you want to join him?” he asked but this time perfectly mimicking the student who looked at Izuku for guidance, his earlier fear oozing off of him that Mimic would drink up. Not like Izuku fairer any better.

Izuku could barely breathe. This was the serial killer Shinsou had come across, the one that almost killed them both and if not for Shinsou tricking the killer into brainwashing him, Izuku may have left him to die. He’s the one who threatened Okumura, made Ishida’s tongue turn grey and his mind fringed. Shinsou wasn’t here as backup. He was alone, just like in that alley, a man over him choking him as spikes ran through his leg, telling him to cry for his mother because no one was gonna save him.

“ You could have ran.”

He looked at the boy beside him.

He would never run.

He was going to be sick again.

His voice quivered when he asked the blonde next to him, “Hey, can you fight?”

The student turned to him, already getting up and stepping further away from the villain. “My— my belt isn’t working.”

It wasn’t obvious before, but he must have meant the circle of glass at the center of his torso on his uniform.

Izuku stood beside him, watching the villain grin and ready his hammer. He closed his eyes and sighed. “You’re going to run, okay? Go through the door and keep running until you find your friend.”

The boy looked at him. “You’re shaking.”

His legs barely kept him upright.

When the villain came towards them, Izuku met him with a warp, aiming a kick to his face that he easily blocked with the handle of the sledgehammer. “Run!”

“I thought this was the hero course?”

A shiver went down Izuku's spine hearing his own voice come from the villain’s mouth. He shoved him back, and Izuku went sprawling. He warped before the ricochet of the hammer hitting the floor could even register, but it left Izuku reeling. The pain in his gut like fire. The villain hadn’t hit him, but the little bile in his stomach choked him. He couldn’t stand.

“What’s wrong? You need a hero?” The combat boots came into view, inches from his face. Then he was being lifted by the scruff at the back of his uniform, the material threatening to tear and he came face to face with the scarred man. “You hear that? ‘Ba-bump, ba-bump.’ That’s all you.”

Izuku heard his own heart thumping wildly, even without his hearing Quirk.

“I like that sound. But it’s even better when all of a sudden—” the man dropped the sledgehammer, instead gripping at his throat and breaking circulation and Izuku saw black spots. It felt like something would burst. “—it all seems to stop.”

Izuku tugged at the hand at his throat like a child to a parent: weak, so small and defenseless compared to the man.

“C’mon, beg for someone to save you. I want to hear your voice again.”

He was going to die stupidly by a single villain because he went into this with only the vaguest plan and the other kid was going to die, too, once the villain found him—

But isn’t this how it always is?

No hero.

No teachers.

No friends.

No, Izuku has always been alone. No one’s ever watched his back or put him first, and this time is no different.

When it’s just you against everyone else, you have to play dirty

He let his palms heat up until the villain, in a deeper voice Izuku hadn’t heard before, grunted, “What the hell—”

Then hands wrapped around the villain’s head, a hint of blonde hair peaking just behind.

What—

“Unhand him, feign!”

The conquistador.

And Izuku let go of that beef of an arm, letting the quills grow through his skin and sink them into that beef like it was a piece of steak. Instantly, with a roar the man dropped him tried to shake off the kid holding him from behind and a stinging pain from the embedded quills. It took little to grab and throw the student off him, his body skidding across the floor and the man aimed a kick.

The boy choked back a gasp as his body hit against the wall from the force, the metallic armor concaving. He brought his foot back to do so again, but his attention went back to Izuku, who gave up on warping and charged at the villain’s back with a cry. Izuku slammed into his back just like the other kid did, but he focused on where his palms touched the bare skin of the villain’s neck, his arms wrapped around to keep hold as the tingling sensation took over.

The villain was yelling, and he pulled at Izuku just as he did before, but when he reached for the weak arms around him, his hand gripping tightly ready to pull the boy off of him, Izuku dropped from trying to draw out his Quirk and instead let the spikes, thick and sharp, split from his skin and imbed in the villains hand.

He cried out and tried to throw Izuku over him, but he wasn’t letting go. Hands still bleeding, the villain would feel a burning sensation that would take his breath just long enough for the other kid to stand up and find the sledgehammer the villain came in with.

Izuku released, taking something new as the villain took a blow to his upper thigh that brought him to the floor. As the student looked baffled at what he’d done, Izuku took the hammer and with the handle bashed at the villain’s head.

His body dropped to the floor and laid unmoving as two teens breathed heavily over him.

Silence. The two boys looked at each other, with the blonde unsure of what he’d just seen. Hero in training and an outsider. This would probably be this student’s first fight against a villain.

“You okay?” Izuku asked, trying to calm his breath.

The boy looked back between Izuku and the villain. “Did we just win?”

Good, he’s fine. He let himself lean against the concrete wall and focus on his breathing and whirling stomach and the rushing headache. This could only be for a second. He still needed to find the scrambler But it felt like his head was so full it’d burst at nonexistent seams.

“You okay?”

“Yah, fine,” Izuku told him. He looked to the boy who came back for him. Someone came back for him. “Thanks, you saved my life.”

“I didn’t—“

“You didn’t run away. You jumped right in and I wouldn't be here if you hadn’t. So thank you.” Didn’t this feel familiar.

“You’re welcome. I’m Yuga Aoyama.”

Izuku frowns for just a moment before offering a name. “Call me Deku.” The other boy quickly accepted the name, not even blinking at the fact he didn’t give a family name. “You should get back to your classmates. I have to get going, but you’ll be safe together.”

“What? But don’t you need help, too?”

“I’ll be fine, I just need a breather.”

He looked at Izuku credulously. “You were just throwing up.”

“Like a said: a breather. There’s a scrambler somewhere. It’s like a box with prongs coming out of it. It’s messing with all the electronics in here so we can’t call the police in here. Once it’s turned off, you guys can get in contact with the outside. One of your classmates is bringing backup, too.”

“I see, that must be why my belt isn’t working. I need it for my Quirk. . . Do you know where this scrambler is?”

“I can check.” Letting his ears morph for only a moment, the groan of the EMP nearly had him throwing up again. It sounded so close.

It sounded like it was just below him.

Beyond it, though fainter compared to the scrambler, he heard the family voice of what he assumed to be the “Kirishima” the mimicking villain borrowed from and—

And a voice he could never forget. Scratchy from constantly yelling, guttural from all the growling and threats and laughing and mocking

—Kacchan?

Bakugo, he corrected.

Explosion. Yelling for “sh*tty hair” not to get in his way.

Holy sh*t, this is Bakugo’s class.

He couldn’t go out there. Not if Bakugo would see him. He may have a mask, but the curls and color of his hair would surely give him away up close. Opening his mouth would end any career he thought he had.

Aoyama had grabbed his bare arm to keep him from tumbling over, and for a moment Izuku didn't know why he felt confused.

Since his awakening, touch had been hard. His mom's hugs made his skin tingle, bumping into strangers put him on alert.

But he felt nothing.

He looked to the hero course student who watched him with concern, a boy who tried to run away from him and who said without his belt couldn't use his Quirk.

A Quirk he doesn't have. A Quirk he never had.

He didn't have time to think about how if Izuku had the money he might have done the same.

He looked back at Aoyama then to the door the villain had smashed through. He gave Aoyama a name a little too obvious. But the scrambler. A plan clicked into place.

“It’s in this building. We need to get to the lower floor where the other students are. If I tell you the room, can I trust you to handle it?”

The boy paused at the request. Considering what he’d witnessed so far, Izuku didn’t blame him for having second thoughts. It had already crossed his mind that he’d found Aoyama hiding in this room by himself. He had no intentions of fighting the dozens of villains beyond the door. If Izuku hadn’t come across him, he doubted the boy would have even made a peep.

But things had changed and they couldn’t afford to run away. Shigaraki could start an execution at any minute if he grew impatient; he wouldn’t put it past him. “Y’know, you’re the reason my brain isn’t smashed into the concrete. Okay, make that was a little gory, sorry—” Aoyama had made a face “—but I mean it. You didn’t run away when you could have, when I told you to.” He thought of his next words carefully. “You’re more than just your Quirk, because if not, we’d already be dead. I trust you.”

It was something he was beginning to accept about himself, too. If not for Shinsou, he would have been dead. If not for himself, more people would have been hurt. If not for Aoyama, a Quirkless student of UA, he wouldn't be here.

He raised himself back up and headed to the door. “I need you to do a few things for me. I want you and your friends to take out the scrambler. I know you can do it. But no one can know who I am, for my own safety.” When Aoyama gave a look, he added, “I didn’t really ask permission to be here.”

At that the boy’s eyes widened. “You’re a vigilante.”

Izuku nodded. “Do I have your word?”

“Right, I won’t say anything.”

He sighed in relief. “Thank you. Get going. I have a date with handy manny.”

The boy perked up, smiling for the first time since this all started, then it faltered again and he looked around the room. “Uh, without your shoes?”

Izuku finally took the moment to notice his bare feet and gloveless hands, the articles of clothing scattered across the floor from his shaky warping. Off to a corner was his gas mask. “Oops.”

The black mist towered high, with golden eyes of Kurogiri fixated on the students at his metaphorical feet. Unconscious villains littered the middle, scattered like a whirlwind had deposited them or perhaps a single pro hero. One in all black and and a mangled scarf.

And said pro hero cried out in pain as the Thing slammed them into the U.S.J.’s cracking floor from every impact. The booming sound caught the attention of several other fighting groups, both heroes in training and villains alike, but Kurogiri only spread himself further, the trigger he took allowing him to spread further across the park. Shigaraki stared past the hand covering his face with a hint of glee waving through him as he watched the pro be slammed down like a rag doll. And when Shigaraki told the thing to pause the onslot, the hero still worked up the strength to lift his own head, so he told Nomu to break his arms slowly.

There went the first with a held back scream. He’d have to admit to being impressed. He himself had watched many rounds of torture, but the hero kept himself mostly quiet.

Doesn’t want his students to hear.

“Your Quirk is Eraser.”

Nomu raises his own arm, preparing to smash down on the remaining limb.

“It’s wonderful, but useless to me. Nomu—”

Blood coated the hero’s face. It soaked in his hair and an elbow was the color of raw meat. Izuku only knew this because he was warping towards the Thing with renewed focus.

The villain nearly stumbled when the air beside him suddenly displaced and he had instinctively reached out to obliterate whoever thought they could get the jump on him, but there was— nothing there. Was he seeing things? He could have sworn, for only a moment, saw from the corner of his eye something green—

He spun back when the Nomu huffed and shook its head only for a second later, for only a brief moment, a kick by a vibrant red shoe to meet its eye. This time it screeched in irritation at the bother.

So cool.

Then all eyes were on the boy hopping on one foot while cradling the other. “Why are his eyes made of literal stone?” he nearly shouted. His voice broke from the pain. “My dishwasher has more give than this.”

Shigaraki caught his balance and let out a scratchy, pained laugh. “Oh look, Eraserhead, one of your stupid brats is here to rescue you.”

Eraserhead? Izuku swallowed back his whine because the worst stubbed toe did not compare to the image of the man held by his broken arm by the Thing, a clean break leaving his forearm halved— blood soaked his hair- -staring with harshly focused eyes towards the idiot who thought he could hurt what a pro couldn’t. That was pro hero Eraserhead, the underground hero. He stared right through Izuku. There wasn’t even a scratch on the Thing.

It made him feel small and really want to rethink this plan.

The man covered in hands itched at his neck, his voice muffled by the hand cradling his face. His voice was no different to the vigorous digging at the skin of his throat: abused and unkept, neglect hinted in his breath, the scent of blood its vagrance. “I wonder, should I make him watch you bleed out?” It tended to break near the end, like he was out of breath. “Or is it worse to make a teacher watch his student’s skull crack like an egg?” Excitement dripped from every uttered word. “Nomu—”

“ Release him. ”

The thud of Eraserheads body panged in his chest just as the shock set in to the man covered in hands.

“What did you—”

Izuku, in the agonizing tone of the leader of the attack on the U.S.J. commanded the Nomu, “Defeat the black mist: Kurogiri. ”

Before his eyes, the Thing focused elsewhere and launched away towards the entrance of the U.S.J., presumably to the source of Kurogiri.

Shigaraki turned to Izuku and he saw the fuming red eyes between dead fingers. “You little- Nomu! Return!”

“Go swimming.”

There was a scream as the Nomu hopped over the heads of two students hiding among the reeds of the bank. Villains shouted as they were displaced in the water.

“Kill the students!”

“Stop!”

“Shut up!”

“Bite me,” he said, the smile obvious in his voice .

Then when the Nomu came lunging at them he quickly corrected, “N-No!! Open those doors!” He pointed at the main entrance that Kurogiri still protected.

As the Nomu switched directions once again, Shigaraki lunged at him and he stepped out of his reach. He saw what those hands do. But turning off the vocal mimic Quirk might make it reset and he needed Shigaraki’s voice to waive the Nomu’s commands.

He reached out for him with his palm open, and Izuku planned to use the moment to drag him over his head. But the man twisted just as Izuku was about to—

Then he screamed.

For only a moment as the spandex on his upper arm fell away to dust his skin cracked like a birch trees bark revealing the soft pinkish flesh beneath that stung in its exposure. Then it stopped.

Izuku shook himself out of the surprised man’s hands who looked over to Eraserhead. Izuku followed suit, noticing the scarlet red irises.

“Always so cool.” He watched the Hero begin to stand, one arm snapped and limp at his side. His eyes remained scarlet and unblinking.

“Leave him out of it.”

Chapter 14: Thing

Chapter Text

Izuku was panting. His head spun in fear and exhaustion, but the look between them made him freeze.

Eraserhead couldn’t even stand, yet his eyes bore into the villain like he could, like he had the upper hand even though his body laid almost in shreds. He was more blood than clean skin. It matted the man’s hair that floated like some ghost story. Shigaraki breathed heavily beneath the hand, eyes barely visible between the fingers and ratty hair, but Shigaraki too shared those scarlet eyes. Even with his Quirk suppressed, he looked ready to devour Eraserhead.

So in spite of his spinning head, Izuku stepped between them, arm out to block Eraserhead from sight. He felt the man turn his gaze to Izuku, and suddenly all the extra noise stopped. His ears popped satisfyingly and his headache soothed. He felt ready for this.

“Leave him out of it,” he told Shigaraki in his own voice. The Quirk was far from reach with Eraserhead’s attention on him.

At that the man snorted. “You really think you can take on someone your teacher couldn’t handle?”

“You mean the Thing. You didn’t do sh*t. And it’s a good thing I’m not his student either.”

“What?”

Izuku was grinning beneath the gas mask. “I’m just a concerned meddler.” He hoped that would be enough for Eraserhead to trust him. He still couldn’t feel the Quirks, not even his original. His mind was eerily silent.

“I don’t like surprise bosses.”

“Shame. But thanks for thinking I’m a boss.”

Shigaraki braced himself. “Fine. I could use a warm up.” He stepped forward with surprising speed, and Izuku sidestepped, allowing Eraserhead to--

He screamed.

He fell clutching his head.

It felt like Mimic swung at his skull.

His head was too full.

It was splitting.

He looked up through flooding tears at the villain that still ran forward, and Izuku skid back away from him, before desperately reaching for Blink and the recoil bringing him to dry heave feet away.

What the f*ck was that? His head still pounded from all sides.

Eraserhead tried to get to his feet, only to be met with a swift kick at his chin. Shigaraki held the downed hero by his hair before punching straight at those red glowing eyes. “So much for a mini boss.”

He could barely see straight, but he knew he warped, losing his only glove and fell into Shigaraki and both falling back.

“Stupid f*cking kids always putting their nose where it don’t belong.” The man gripped his arm, and this time Izuku was ready. The quills pierced the skin, and the man let go with a wail. He went to grab at Izuku’s front, but the boy brought a left hook to the man’s temple, and the bulky hand that hid his face came away.

He was just as gross as Izuku thought. The scratchy, parched voice matched his skin and chapped lips, like a man left out in a desert. He looked sick. He had to be to think he could take on All Might and win.

Shigaraki wasn’t done. He went to scream. “Nomu--!” he started, but Izuku shoved his hand over the man’s mouth as he tried to reach for Mimic, but he was seeing stars, and only for Shigaraki to bite into it.

He bit him!

Izuku wailed on him to let go, but Shigaraki merely grabbed his wrist knowingly and the vial Quirk singed his skin. The spikes didn’t go that far down his arm, so he forced Blink to pull him back.

“You bit me!”

He spit out blood and cried out. “Nomu, kill him! f*cking kill him!”

He didn’t even have time to think. He activated Mimic too late to catch Shigaraki’s voice. He felt the gust of wind from the speeds of the monsters, and its shadow loomed over him, his back to it. His chest had emptied, and there was a cold acceptance of what would happen today. He knew he could get hurt, he wasn’t stupid. He just wished it wasn’t while Eraserhead laid in a pool of his own blood feet away screaming for him to move. Okay.

He Blinked.

He felt more than heard the Thing’s hand split the earth where he’d just been. From where he stood, Izuku could see the rippling muscles of its back. It gave out an unearthly scream in frustration, so piercing even without a hearing Quirk.

He thought he was running, but he felt so stupidly to it, as it turned and pounded towards him. He changed direction staring straight into the Nomu’s emotionless eyes and warped again just behind it and bringing his arms up.

But it was the entrance exams all over again. The needle like spikes bounced off like its skin was metal. When it turned, if Izuku didn’t know better, he’d say it seemed amused. It unhinged its jaw, it’s mouth wide and ready to swallow Izuku like the prey he was, and Izuku fell to his knees.

He couldn’t outrun it, out warp it. Couldn’t fight it or trick it. Shigaraki was silent. Eraserhead was dying just behind him, and the Nomu would finish him off just after devouring its stupid, stupid prey. Mom wouldn’t have a body to put in the ground, maybe would never know what happened to her Quirkless son who skipped school and disappeared without a trace except for a sh*tty hero analysis book written in code hidden under his bed.

Funny how the world slows when the body and mind come to accept. He was in the alley, with hands grabbing at his neck and a breath too close to his ear that smelt like blood.

It was winding back its fist.

He closed his eyes.

He felt the gust of wind ruffle his hair.

But never felt its fist.

He thought maybe it was already over, until he heard Eraserhead shouting something. He opened his eyes and saw--

Before him, just inches from his face, a thick, muscled arm was held out before him, with the Thing’s jaws wrapped around it making it bleed, but the muscle and bone didn’t snap. The thing stared at him unblinkingly, so close that when it huffed out its nose, Izuku felt it on his face. But the arm still held. And following up, he saw the unbelievably wide torso and ridiculously iconic medium length of blond with two strands stuck straight up.

Before him, leaning around Izuku with his arm in the Nomu’s mouth was All Might.

He wasn’t smiling, but he looked down at Izuku huffing softly.

“Have no fear.”

He got up to his full height, towering all the same as the Nomu remained clamped around the forearm. He looked at his other arm, pulled it back, and slammed it right into Nomu's ungiving face.

“For I am here.”

It displaced the air, shook the earth. It had let go, the punch sending it across the USJ and into the dome wall.

“You still kicking, Eraserhead?”

Izuku barely registered anything he was hearing.

“Peachy. You think I can leave you on cleanup?”

There was a smile to his voice. “Got it.”

He didn’t even see it, barely even felt it, but in a gust of wind and careful hands, he found himself on the floor in front of the USJ’s entrance and slowly surrounded by students similarly disheveled and confused.

“Take Eraserhead outside. Paramedics and heroes are on their way. And relax,” he said, giving the group a thumbs up with his unbloodied hand. “I got this.”

And he was gone, appearing just in front of the recovering Nomu. All the students watched on, only a few moving to Eraserhead. No one was going towards All Might and the Thing almost in a frenzy.

He couldn't just--

A shot rang out.

He barely had the courage to turn his head, seeing Snipe train his weapon not on Izuku, but the Nomu that tried to much on All Might's other hand.

"We're save!" a small purple-headed student cried.

That was his cue to leave. He saw Aoyama who pretended to zip his lips, and Izuku gave him a knowing nod, before working his way out of the group.

“Hold it!”

He didn’t pause when Eraserhead called for him, still calling for him. “Who are you?”

The yellow wrestler shouted at him, too, but Izuku only had minutes now before the heroes arrived and to be frank he didn’t think he had much energy to even get himself home. The school could handle it from here. All Might could handle this. He didn't see Kurogiri and figured the villain would be hiding or escaped. Izuku's job was done. He almost paused when he saw the Uraraka girl, thought he heard Snipe threaten him but never shoot, but once outside the dome, it was a straight shot to the school’s border, and a few warps later he was hidden on a fire escape still in the school’s line of sight but in enough shadow to hide, barely breathing through his hitched cries. In the shade of a beautiful spring day, he shivered, his body coated in sweat and slicking his hair to his skin. He watched the conglomeration of heroes, some arriving by their Quirks and others by vehicle along with paramedics and bundles of people leaving the dome and entering. From where he sat, it was quiet except for Izuku’s soft crying.

His headache had only begun to settle when a hole tore through the top of the dome and a purplish body flung out, the Nomu falling somewhere out of sight.

He won.

Shigaraki would be caught. Nomu would be imprisoned.

He won.

Or so he thought.

His school hummed with the news.

“What if we’re next!?”

“It’s a hero school. Why would they ever come to ours?”

Izuku had read every article covering the story, combing them top to bottom.

The news claimed the group to be the League of Villains, apprehending dozens of small time crooks, drug smugglers, and several who were out on bail all sharing a common interest. Izuku could guess Mimic to be among those picked up. The leader and second hand escaped.

Days into investigation and a receptionist of the school came forward that they received an anonymous tip. Apparently, staff would be put in training on proper procedures in handling obscure calls, tips, and so forth.

A news outlet questioned the lack of speed to reach the USJ when the building’s cameras went down. An inside source claimed there to be another villain terrorizing the main part of the school by teleporting past the front gates.

The school released a statement describing the new measures and security. When it came to the villain at the main building, the school called them an “unknown third party.” One that distracted any mishappenings inside the USJ.

That was it.

They were blaming him.

Shinsou wasn’t in class. He spent lunch alone. No new calls today.

Students buzzed loudly as if it were them inside that building. He heard the twins with floral Quirks laughed at the idea anyone could take on All Might. Another praised the League for creating a distraction at the front gates.

He wasn’t hungry anymore.

Chapter 15: Interlude: Yuuga Aoyama

Chapter Text

So that went better than expected! Sure, it wasn’t the best debut, considering how his belt stopped working before he could use it, and he may have cried more than he liked, and he had to be saved by someone who had no idea who they were or how they got into the school—

But! Considering everything, he was alive. And so were his classmates.

And maybe he was a bit freaked out by all the blood he saw today, but he got to sit with Kirishima who’s super nice even though he doesn’t understand why dying his hair blonde would be way better for his image. Everyone loves a blonde.

And whoa, that kid was something, the one in the green suit and gas mask like a graffiti artist.

Because Yuga genuinely thought he was going to die when he phased through the wall only for him to put up his finger and vomit in a corner. It was odd, and he realized a little later than he should have that this guy was likely his own age and not some old crook that wants to drag him into a creepy van.

The other guy, however— oh, yah, he would have.

They were lucky and he knew that.

So, lo and behold his surprise when he managed to stop a villain from smashing in this stranger’s face.

Wow, what a day. He didn’t really know what was going on until it was all over. Something about a scrambler and Deku needing him to take it out. Lucky for him, Kirishima and Bakugo stood in a room surrounded by downed villains, each dusting off their hands.

And he may have clung to Kirishima a bit. Don’t blame him, he thought that Mimic guy got to him! A little convincing later and the three found the small closet where a villain had set up shop, facing down two incredible heroes in training and a dazzling Aoyama Yuuga carrying a sledgehammer. That villain and EMP were suckers in seconds.

It was only when they made it outside that godforsaken building that the high Yuuga was on came down abruptly. He watched as Deku sat in the dirt as All Might held his arm out in front of him, and a— something — latched onto it.

“He’s bleeding.” Yuuga barely registered Kirishima’s awed words.

He couldn’t feel his legs.

Bakugo seethed beside him, however. “C’mon, extras. Let’s show what happens when you mess with a hero.” Ah, Bakugo was the hero. He could almost laugh from the bizarrity. Did he not see the Number one hero’s arm?

But before they could even think to approach, All Might sent that Thing flying and suddenly they were at the entrance of UA, a purple bubble bundle falling into his lap that he swatted at to get off of him. Gross.

Oh and Deku!

He didn’t look good. In fact he looked really sick and unfocused, but he trained his eyes on Yuuga for a moment. No worries, Yuuga zipped his mouth shut in assurance as his new friend booked it for the front entrance.

Despite bleeding, All Might looked in control as ever, and he heard Sero cheering. Everything would be fine.

From there, the students swapped stories. While being checked over by an EMT, Kaminari described shocking the sh*t out of the villains, where someone else picked up saying they had to carry his dopy butt the rest of the time because he apparently fried his brain.Apparently, Iida had escaped if his eavesdropping was right. Not that Yuuga couldn’t make friends with him or ask, but the boy was a bit dull with no interest in anything with shine or sparkly. How boring. Nonetheless, having a family of heros and a loud voice helped spread the word for why no one knew to check the USJ.

“With some sort of teleporting menace disrupting the order in the classrooms, the teachers' priority was apprehending them and not the lost video feed up the USJ. They didn’t believe me.”

Aoyama had frowned at that. It didn’t sound like the Deku that saved him.

Bakugo and Kirishima told the police about the jammer they (including him) found. Aoyama had waved off Kirishima’s question for why he knew of the EMP in the first place on the state of his belt.

Since the incident with the journalist entering the school, infiltration protocol required students to go into lockdown. Not a swift change and in a hero school meant some didn’t listen and others wanting to still evacuate. Student in the main building reported seeing the villain down a hall or another, spotting him through the outdoor windows or suddenly appearing on their desk. Meanwhile, the League entered the USJ. None of 1-A knew the alarms had gone off because the EMP ruined the equipment and blocked any communication.

If Iida hadn’t escaped to tell someone it may have been too late.

But at the same time, the teachers hardly believed him in the beginning. With all the sightings of the villain, he initially went ignored as All Might went ahead to check on his students until Iida convinced Vlad King that there were more than one villain on campus.

Dark thoughts had stirred, wondering if the boy he saved was who he said he was.

But at some point Tsuyu shook her head. She had managed to slip past the villains in the lake with Mineta in tow to hide in the reeds on the bank. “You mean the one with green hair and jumpsuit? He was distracting the— the Nomu. If he hadn’t Aizawa would be. . .” Ashido rubbed at the girl’s shoulder, and then came the waterworks. “I was so scared. I couldn’t do anything and Aizawa was dying, but he came out of nowhere and got the Nomu to run away.”

“Like, actually just get up and run away!” agreed Mineta. “It was so cool, like he told it to fight Kurogiri and he sounded just like the villain!”

Huh, now that he thought about it, Yuuga saw him teleport, and at one point there were quills coming out of his arms. What kind of Quirk had that sort of range? Maybe a crazy body modifying one?

“So, he saved Aizawa?” someone asked.

Mineta rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, he tried. I think something hurt him and messed him up.”

Someone asked, “What kind of villains turns around and fights the monster they brought in?”

“A moral one?”

“Or a stupid one.”

As the students spoke over each other, Iida scratched his chin in thought. “Now that I think of it, he did say he was trying to warn everyone.”

Aoyama spun around at that. “You talked to him?!”

Always the serious type, Iida didn’t even react to Yuuga’s eavesdropping. “He landed on me, actually. But he said he set off the alarms on purpose.”

“Maybe he thought that would get someone to check up on us.” That was Hagakure. When did she show up?

But venom laced Iida's words. “Or, that was a lie.”

No, not the Deku he met. He’d told Yuuga something similar. If Deku had any ill will, Yuuga would be dead, either by Deku’s hands or Mimic’s. He wanted to tell them that, but that wasn’t what Deku asked of him.

He kept his mouth shut when he went home that day and listened to the automated call to his parents about what happened. He read the letter that arrived to his home, to the news that reported the incident and managed to get statements out of students (none being 1-A students, but some who saw a teleporter at the main building).

Early the next morning, Yayorozu chimed in, her mother being friends with the head office lady, that one of the staff had been investigated and fired for not reporting the seemingly prank call that turned out to be an anonymous tip.

Yuuga thought of the boy that nearly scared him half to death. He spoke desperately wiping the vomit from his lips.

“No one’s listening.”

It was starting to make sense. See, his friend was trying to help. Just, no one knew the whole story. Why would they even check the USJ unless an alarm went off? It would have been too late! He got it. It wasn’t perfect, but it got the staff’s attention that something was wrong and would eventually check in with Mr. Aizawa who wouldn’t be able to answer.

Aizawa himself was silent on the matter, the one man that could make Deku a hero, and Yuuga didn’t know why.

So maybe it’s better he kept his mouth shut, too. The boy saved his life, and turning him in for trespassing, even after explaining how it was for a good cause, might not end too well for his friend. Any mention that Yuuga had run into him, about his Quirk, could get him caught. Besides bringing it up now would look suspicious and he didn’t need people looking into his own background.

He wore a spare belt around his tummy now. It’s tighter and not as pretty as he liked because it was from middle school. The belt hurt more to use the Quirk than the newest one he had imported, but it would have to do until the new model was complete.

It didn’t matter anymore because he needed to prepare for the sports festival. He had a few ideas up his sleeve since encountering the stranger.

He was more than just his Quirk.

They were kind words but not easy to believe. He relied on his navel laser to get into the school. Everyone relied on their own resources. The statement made so little sense but it had calmed him at the time. He’d been vulnerable and— okay, maybe he won against the voice stealer, but that was all just good timing.

But maybe that’s all he needed.

He had a Quirk with a limit. He wouldn’t last long.

So why should he rely on it?

He thought of Uraraka who didn’t have the physique to place well in their Quirk assessment test at the beginning of the year. If not for the ball throw, she could have placed last. Hagakure didn't have much of a chance in any of those with her Quirk but she did decently.

She really couldn’t rely on her Quirk.

But neither were hopeless. Each still held their own in their own way. They may have not been the best at running long distance but they certainly beat Mineta.

But going to them wasn’t a good source for inspiration. He often ate lunch outside on his own, but today he needed a friend. So he looked over to Kirishima who stretched out his leg on the bench seat talking to an annoyed Bakugo and came up with his idea.

Elegantly sliding over and dropping his food tray, he held his hands just below his chin, giving him the best eyes he could muster as he sat across from his startled diamond in the rough. “Teach me your ways, Kirishima-senpai!”

Chapter 16: Forgive and Pursue

Chapter Text

He finds him at Dagobah, sitting on a busted dishwasher and his hands in his hoodie pocket. He knew Izuku would appear and obviously waited. He said nothing as Izuku approached, only leveled his glare.

It’d only been a day but it felt like they were back at square one, on the day they hid in a booth of a cafe wondering how they were still alive.

Except now Izuku’s head was on the chopping block alone.

“I can explain.”

“Oh good,” Shinsou said dryly, “I really wondered why you would get a bunch of people almost killed doing something stupid.”

“It wasn’t—”

“It was stupid.”

“Will you let me talk!?” Izuku blurted.

Shinsou stood in front of him suddenly, a finger to his chest. “Did you sell out to the League? Did they give you money?”

“No!”

“Drugs?”

“It wasn’t like that, just— listen.” Izuku took a step back trying to calm his breath when they were too close to blows. “I need you to listen to me. Give me ten minutes and I’ll explain everything.”

Shinsou looked pissed, but he didn’t surge towards Izuku again. Instead, he sighed deeply and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Someone posted on social media that a villain teleported into their classroom. Was that you?”

“It was. I was avoiding Midnight and the class happened to be on the other side.”

“Someone said you tackled a student.”

“A stu— Oh, I accidentally ran into someone. They were a part of 1-A. Just. Let me explain from the beginning, okay?”

He waited as Shinsou searched his face for something. Whatever he found made him breathe heavily but ultimately he crossed his arms and said, “Fine. Tell me from the very beginning.”

The talk was long and they eventually made their way to a place that sells milkshakes and burgers. All the while, Izuku explained how he followed Komori the day they confronted Mimic (“You followed him home?! Even after I told you to leave it be?!” “You didn’t hear him. What he said sounded serious, so I followed him!”) and eventually met him to learn about the League’s plan taking place that same day (“you had literal hours to find their meeting spot.” “Koumori didn’t get back to his apartment until six in the morning. I still thought I was going to school until he dropped that on me.”). He avoided mentioning the Quirk traded with him, and he admitted to trying to contact the school first.

“You’re the anonymous tip?” Shinsou asked around his shake.

“I told you, I tried. . . I couldn’t just sit back.”

Getting on campus was easy, but no one would listen to him which in hindsight made sense, except just looking at him, even with the mask and vigilante suite, he couldn’t seem any older than their first years. He told him about finding the USJ (sans mentioning trigger) and ultimately taking out the scrambler the League brought with them, just not who actually did it.

“So the Nomu. . . “

A chill ran down his spine. That night, he’d dreamt of it, felt its meaty hands enclose around his head and lift him into its mouth. If not for All Might, things could have been very different. “It didn’t even seem human.”

“. . . You’re lucky to be alive.”

“Yah. . . I thought Eraserhead wasn’t going to make it.”

Eventually, there was nothing to tell that he wanted to share, only that the news painted him as the cause.

“And maybe I was, but no alarms had gone off when I made it to the gate, so the League had already been in there for at least ten minutes without anyone noticing. Who knows what could have happened if— if I just sat back. I dunno. But everyone thinks I was trying to hurt them.”

“See, that doesn’t make sense. Even the news says you were, but unless everyone went deaf, they heard you try to reason with them right?”

Midnight. Snipe. Pseudo-Ingenium. “Right.”

“So why is UA saying you were helping the League?”

It wasn’t a pleasant thought that he’d already figured to be the case, but he voiced it anyway. “They needed a scapegoat.”

Stirring his shake methodically, Shinsou nodded. “They just got caught ignoring a tip, not realizing that sixty criminals were on their property, and you had pros chasing their tails trying to keep up with you but also ignoring every warning you gave them. You made them look like idiots.”

“I hadn’t thought of it that way.”

“You killed their reputation.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“No, I mean you ended up bringing up good points, but they’re scared of bad press and decided shifting it on you would be easier. Not only that, but this is the League of Villains’ debut, and making it sound like the only reason they got so far was because of you makes them seem less threatening, right?”

“That’s one explanation.” Izuku sipped at his milkshake deep in thought. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Easy.” At that, Izuku looked up to Shinsou whose gaze had softened over time into his usual bored look, no longer appearing ready to fillet Izuku like a fish.”You keep doing what you’re doing and eventually it goes away.”

Biting his lip, Izuku asked a loaded question. “Are you mad at me?”

“Yes.”

He sat back in his chair, scolding himself. He should have known. He f*cked up so bad, he wouldn’t be surprised if Shinsou did turn him in.

“Because you didn’t tell me.” He waited to continue until Izuku looked at him. “We’re in this together, right? I didn’t wanna get twisted up in this stuff because I knew bad things can happen. But if you went in there and got hurt? If you disappeared? I don’t know what—” he said but cut himself off. He looked away. “We’re partners. Act like it.”

How very Shinsou. They didn’t know each other well, but Izuku learned early on that Shinsou took care of the things he’s involved in. If not, Izuku probably would have taken a few hits weeks back for the robberies and fights they’d stopped. “Okay.”

“You think they know who you are?”

“No. I wore a mask and used a public phone since mine wasn’t on me.” He did lose his gloves, and they heard him speak. The only video footage would have been at UA’s main building, which he used only Blink. He made sure of that. If they had cameras overlooking the fields, none would have been close enough to see his ears grow to compensate for the hearing Quirk.

. . . The only loose end would be Aoyama.

Because throwing up in a mask from warping more than he had ever tried, taking trigger, and getting knocked in by a couple of UA students meant he wasn’t on his A game and didn’t realize the boy had seen his face over the roaring of his headache. What would Shinsou do if he knew?

Would Shinsou believe him? Let him explain himself?

“Promise me you aren’t gonna do anything stupid?”

That would be another strike. How many did he have? Shinsou’s reaction so far had been to skip school and wait for him, looking ready to deck it out in their hideout or brainwash him to walk down to the police station himself. He was quick to forgive, but that’s because none of the consequence fell onto either of them directly.

“No one saw me.”

“Good. . . y’know, we could help your image for the police with a little work.”

A grin spread in Shinsou’s face, making the other boy worry. “Oh yah?”

“Yah, we go back to what we were doing. Is your contact still around?”

“Shouldn’t be. I told him to leave town or I’d turn him in.” And to avoid his syndicate eating him alive and the fact he no longer had a Quirk.

“That’s fine. But we know about who Okumura was in contact with.”

Izuku frowned. “He hasn't been at school since Ishida had his breakdown.” Another secret Izuku hadn’t shared, not about hiding in the bathroom, being the one to take out Ishida, or that Okumura had even been there and pulled the fire alarm.

“Yah, because while you were out playing the hero, I spotted him trying to buy.”

He nearly spit out his shake. “Seriously?!” After everything?!

“Yep. Apparently Mimic’s crew wasn’t the only one he picked up supply.”

“Isn’t that against some trade agreement? Do drug dealers have that?” And what was Okumura doing that made him think this was a good idea? Was not becoming Mimic’s enemy and getting his ass saved not enough to maybe think about his life decisions?

Shinsou shrugged. “Don’t get caught, I guess. So get this,” he started and Izuku couldn’t help but smile as Shinsou adjusted his seat to lean in closer. For a boy that only speaks when spoken to in the classroom, he sure is animated when it’s just the two of them. “I’m annoyed you’re not answering my calls or my text so I get ice cream while waiting for you to pick up at the park” Izuku winced. “And I see none other than Okumura in the same park talking up the ice cream truck guy. And guess who gave him not ice cream?”

“You’re kidding.”

“I felt like I was in a B-list movie. They were definitely more friendly than Mimic’s crew. I let him go on his merry way because I was waiting for you, but apparently you were dealing with UA stuff.”

Ah. That would be on his trek back across town to find his backpack. There were so many texts and missed calls, he just shut it off and changed back into his school uniform. He told his mom they messed up his attendance when his school’s office eventually called. Otherwise, he went to bed waiting to get arrested.

“I tried seeing if there’s any forums about any ice cream weirdos and got nothin’. At least, nothing over here but definitely Hosu. Guess they’ve stretched out and Okumura’s putting his fingers in more than one pie.” Shinsou watched him carefully, gaging his reaction, when he asked, “Can I trust you with this?”

This was his second chance. How many second chances had ever gotten? It’s been a long time since Kac— Bakugo has spoken to him like . . . like an equal. His mom only ever apologizes that he couldn’t live his dream. Classmate after classmate labeling him the moment the word Quirkless left someone’s mouth. A man who told him to beg for his mother.

Now a boy who had him by a good five inches thought he was worth at least something.

“Let’s finish what we started.”

“You would think after us seeing us, Mimic, and Ishida losing it that he would take a second and find a new hobby.”

“I mean, they switched him schools so it’s sort of a new start for him,” said Shinsou as he cinched the zip tie around the zombified criminal's wrist. Having a brainwasher around certainly made a lot of these stunts easier.

After catching him in the bathroom and seeing what happened to Ishida when he got caught, Izuku thought Okumura would see that as a reason to lay low and maybe give up on those kinds of things. “But I mean doesn’t he feel remorse? Does he know he’s in over his head and Mimic’s crew wouldn’t bat an eye if they got to him?” He said this all the while hauling an unconscious crook, the leader of the robbery before Izuku had landed a well aimed kick, against the brick wall for the police to find.

“Good question. But. It’s not like we didn’t save his ass or anything. Next time, we tie him up and leave him for the police with everyone else— uh, heads up, got a runner.” One man that had originally gone unconscious had managed to get up and bolt down the alley.

“Yah, I got it.”

Izuku made off for the guy, only using blink to appear in front of the man and force him to redirect his path away from the main street and back down another alley, waiting for him to nearly trip before simply shoving him the rest of the way down. Crooks like these were easy to snatch up and leave for police, boring almost, but Izuku would take that over a pipe to the head.

Which is exactly what brought Izuku from leaning over ziptieing the crook’s hands together to falling forward.

“Really? That’s all it took?” The feminine voice leered over him as his mind buzzed and his limbs failed to find purchase. “Thought they said you’d be—”

“Oi, what’s wrong with your hair? Is your hairdresser a woodchipper?”

“Hush and leave, you’re not the one I’m—”

Then came the silence except for the pounding of his head, but Izuku brought himself into a kneeling position as Shinsou commanded the woman to sit against the wall before turning to Izuku.

“You okay?”

There were 2.5 Shinsous for a moment then his vision settled on one, and a woman he didn’t recognize. At first, he thought maybe she’d been at UA, though UA claimed all but the two heads of the operation had escaped. Of course, at this point, Izuku had little reason to believe them. “Peachy. . . She wasn’t with the other guys, was he?”

“Maybe a getaway driver. Or a scout.”

Maybe. Had she been watching him? “My head hurts.”

“Yah, let’s get you home.”

Shinsou cinched the assailant’s hands around a drain pipe for the police to find with the others. Already, sirens blared in the distance, but Izuku couldn’t shake the odd feeling that he was missing something.

Chapter 17: Bounty

Chapter Text

The last time a friend had ever entered his home was before middle school, when Bakugo had long since declared his despise but their parents still forced them into the same room for babysitting. It only ended with his favorite action figures singed and scraped and blamed on playing too hard. He wanted to keep it that way, but considering he almost tipped over on their walk back one too many times, Shinsou wouldn’t leave until they at least got him through the door.

“You really don’t have to do this.”

“What, so you can pass out on the street? I’m more surprised you got out of your costume by yourself.”

“Mmm, it’s still on. Just put my clothes over it.”

“You didn’t—” Shinsou pulled at the boy’s collar and saw the sea green spandex “— Oh my god, you did. Where are your keys?”

Izuku pulled them out himself from the backpack Shinsou carried for him as they walked up to his apartment, feeling better than he did with just a lingering throb. It wasn’t even from the hit to the head. “Let go.”

“You’re going to tip over.” Shinsou readjusted his shoulders under Izuku’s arm, and the Quirk was uncomfortably close.

He shoved himself off his shoulders. “I’m fine. Just let me walk.”

“Okay, fine, whatever.”

“Really, I’m fine.” They made it down the hall and in front of his apartment door. “I’ll just hit the sack then we can figure out when those guys will be back in town. Then we can—”

A call came from down the hall that sent him into panic. “Oh, honey! You’re home just in time!”

Past Shinsou’s shoulder, his mother walked up with groceries in hand and a purse slung over her shoulder. “Uh, hi mom! I thought you were working late.” He quickly moved forward to take the groceries from her hands, which she gave up gladly.

“Our meeting ended early, actually.” She beamed up the lanky teenager, still in his hoodie but mask put away. “Is this a friend of yours?”

sh*t.

The boy offered his hand now that hers were empty. “Hitoshi Shinsou. We have hero history together.”

“It's a pleasure to meet you. Are you staying for dinner?”

Not good. Izuku stood behind his mother shaking his head vigorously. “Oh, actually, he should be getting home. Math homework and stuff.”

“Well, if it’s alright with your parents, you’re welcome to stay. Izuku here has always been a math whizz. You could work on that while I get dinner going!”

Behind his mother, Izuku mocked a finger slicing into his neck.

Shinsou only turned to Inko, eyes dead, and said, “If it’s not a bother, dad won’t mind.”

Goddammit.

Shinsou who had already taken Izuku’s keys from him, unlocked his own front door, Inko nudging the boys first and shoving them towards the bedrooms before either could possibly protest, and the next thing Izuku knew, Shinsou was staring at way too many posters.

“So you like All Might.”

“It was a phase.”

Stepping further into his smothered All Might room, he poked the one All Might plush left on his made bed. “No kidding.”

“Mom bought most of it anyway.”

They sat on his bed, no notebooks or school bags to distract either of them, and it was odd. What do teenage boys even do?

“I, uh, have some video games? We can set something up on my computer?”

“You got Hero Justice?”

Izuku looked around his own room. “Duh.”

“‘Course. Sure, boot it up.”

Izuku moved quick to find his controllers, and push his chair out of the way. With a little maneuvering, they could sit on the bed against the wall to play with a good foot between them to keep the tingling out of his hands. . A simple one-on-one fighting style game held multiple popular heroes.

“Don’t you dare pick All Might.”

Izuku groaned. “Fine.” He chose Kamui Wood as Shinsou sifted through the different characters. “You know, not a single one of them have support items.”

“So weird,” remarked Shinsou. “It’s like they think their Quirk can encompass every scenario. Remember when Kamui Wood caught fire? Rumor has it he packs flame retardant now.”

“Where? He doesn't even wear a utility belt.”

“When dad worked for the fire department, he said a lot of flowers are fire resistant, including roses. And guess what kind of flowers he has?”

Izuku looked to the character model and the small chain of roses hanging at the hip. “I hadn’t thought of that. You need a weapon is what I’m saying. Something for close range just in case.”

“Yah, sure. It just can’t be anything big. No one knows about me except you, so it can’t be something that could be easily found.”

“Baseball bat.”

“Hate baseball. That’s the most conspicuous thing I could bring into my house.”

“Well, you beat me up with a drain pipe on the beach.”

“Don’t say it like that, dude. We were practicing your reaction time, remember?”

“I’m just saying that you have a mean swing. Might as well have thrown the sink at me.”

“Rude.”

“And so true — now, hurry up and pick someone. Is it actually okay you’re here?”

Shinsou shrugged, choosing Endeavor. “Dad’s probably at work now, anyway.”

He bit his tongue but asked anyway. “Where’s your mom?” When the boy simply forced Endeavor into a flurry rush, Izuku admitted, “My dad isn’t around. . . They divorced when I was pretty young and he left for some job in the states.” He’d been so young he hardly remembered the man’s face. There was a time he loved his father, but years of nothing hadn’t replaced it with resentment, just a cool nothingness.

He could see out of the corner of his eye Shinsou nodding his head but didn’t apologize like some people did. Instead, he leant against the bed wall, as Endeavor blocked an attack from Kamui. “Have I told you how my Quirk works?”

“It’s brainwashing. It requires verbal responses to take over and use verbal commands.” Shinsou was well aware Izuku knew this.

“Right. It’s not easy to get unless your parents are that perfect blend.” Izuku avoided the thought of his own strange Quirk. Perhaps his parents were that perfect, bizarre blend. Pull telekinesis and fire breathing. A peculiar mix of elements that blended together can enforce such a strange Quirk he didn’t take notice until years after it should have manifested— now, it took over his whole life, made physical contact difficult, even with his own mother. “Dad’s is simple: he can make anyone freeze in place if they respond to him. But mom— mom’s is where the control comes from. She can make people move how she wants by just saying it. They can fight it, they’re conscious, but it’s not easy right? A true villain Quirk.”

“. . . Not necessarily. There’s plenty of things her Quirk would be useful for.” A room of villains to drop their weapons. Stopping lowly criminals. Pausing aggressive patients. Suicide attempts.

“You’re right, but it always comes down to ethics. She used to be a doctor. Did surgeries and emergency stuff, and if you had the proper medical licensing and Quirk training, you could use your Quirk to help patients. Hell, she didn’t even need her Quirk. She could control a room without it.”

Izuku couldn’t help but smile at the image, thinking of a woman with purple hair tied back ordering nurses about who simply knew she meant business. He sent Kamui right over Endeavor’s head for a back attack.

Yet, even as Izuku tried to knock him off the stage, Endeavor simply blasted back up. “But that didn’t mean the world saw it that way. When I was eight, some angry drunk guy was brought in all banged up and needing surgery and he tried to hit a nurse. Mom made him stop.” Another flurry of attacks between each other kept them busy and Izuku waited for him to find his voice. “And what do you know, the guy’s rich and his dad could pull strings in the hospital, called her unethical and started a whole trial on her against other patients saying how scary it was to not have control of their bodies. Got fined, had her license taken away, some jail time.”

“Winner!” The game called out with only Endeavor standing. Izuku hadn’t even tried to block that last attack.

That’s . . . a lot to take in.

Shinsou set down the controller. “That’s why I became a vigilante. Maybe she does have a villain Quirk, maybe I do too, but it can still do good. My mom didn’t go to school and save lives just so they could call her a threat.”

A Quirk to make people do what you want. He looked down at his own hands that always felt partially numb when sitting in the classroom, waiting in line at the grocer or in the middle of mom’s hugs, choosing to sit in a different chair than the couch with her for movie nights.

But he shook hands with Koumori before accepting his Quirk. He saved a small store from being robbed, saved himself from a man mugging him. Both him and Shinsou had stopped robberies and muggings and fights getting out of hand since ever meeting Mimic, who could never use his Quirk again to trick another person into an alley for whatever he wanted. He did that. His Quirk did that. A Quirk he feared as much as he admired to a point of never telling even his own mother. She wouldn’t get it. No, she loved him, but she’d grown so afraid over the years and given in to the same propaganda that if his mom asked for Shinsou’s Quirk, he knew her sour reaction.

But Shinsou understood.

A part of him wanted to slip the notebook out from under his bed, the one filled with his Quirks and theories, and tell him everything, to finally have someone know what he’s gone through in just the past months. But another piece scolded him. Shinsou knew him as Quirkless then accidentally saw him use Blink. What would admitting he not only has one Quirk, but has the potential to have dozens? To not only be a vigilante, to not only be seen as a villain, but to be a threat to even Shinsou who’s Quirk has always been a safeguard? Nothing could touch Shinsou with a Quirk like his, but Izuku could take it away in seconds.

But is a villain’s Quirk worse than Quirklessness?

Maybe he should tell him. After everything blows over with Okumura, he could tell him. A strange excitement built in his stomach, to get to share his work, his studying and obsessions of Quirks, with someone.

“I think the world’s just not ready for our Quirks.”

Shinsou snorted. “Will it ever be?”

The more he thought about it, the more real it became. “Yah. I mean, more and more different kinds of heroes are moving up the ranks, right? Like Blood King and Gang Orca, and kids think he’s scary! If they can do it, why can’t we?”

“Because it took their whole lives. Face it, we’re no closer than we were a hundred years ago. Mom wouldn’t have gone through that if it wasn’t.”

Oh, right. “Is she . . . Is she still in jail?”

“Nah. That was a long time ago.”

“That’s good. Is she— I mean, is she still around?”

Shinsou smiled hollowly as if what he said had been funny but not mustering up the energy to show it. He picked up the controller again, scrolling through the different characters.. “No.”

Saying sorry would do nothing, and Shinsou didn’t seem the type to enjoy pity. But there was a silent acknowledgement, a quietness as the words sunk in and the two accepted the comfort of not forcing the other any further.

A part of him hated how little he could do for someone sitting next to him. They’d saved countless people at this point, but what could he ever do for someone when the world thought them a danger?

He looked to Shinsou. — Maybe — Izuku liked their unspoken rule of sitting together at lunch now — Maybe make them feel not so alone.

“Kids! Dinner’s ready!”

What a bizarre affair. Izuku sat between his crime fighting partner and his mother, who purposefully added extra broth to each of their bowls.

“You're both growing boys!”

“Thanks, Mrs. Midoriya.”

She perked up at the praise, then said. “Just call me Inko. No need to be so formal.”

Dinner was good, a sort of beef stew that’d baked all day in a crock pot. It would have been leftovers for the next day, but with an extra mouth to feed, it would be gone soon. But Izuku started to realize what he had been missing out never having friends over.

“So, how is Izuku doing in school? Is he staying out of trouble?”

“Mom!”

Shinsou didn’t even hesitate. “Pretty good, but stubborn when it comes to group projects.”

Izuku gave him the stink eye at the innuendo. “More like just moving on ahead.”

He stared back unimpressed. “Then needing someone to bail you out.”

His mom smiled at the bickering boys. “Oh, he’s always been like that: always reading ahead and forgets what unit he’s supposed to be in.”

“Makes sense,” said Shinsou.

Izuku stuck out his tongue. “Rude.”

But his mother was laughing, shaking her head at their antics and Izuku realized he liked seeing her laugh like that. Shinsou often went for sarcasm or deadpan humor, a little rough at first, a little tough, but when Izuku realized Shinsou wouldn’t suddenly leave, it became familiar and fun to bite back.

His mom groaned when the two brought up hero ranking. “Not another one.”

“Guess that’s why we get along so well.” That and convenience.

His mother only shook her head before turning to Shinsou, “Are you watching the Sports Festival this year?”

“Probably. Sort of depends on what’s going on that day.” Shinsou shrugged. “Dad thinks he’ll be working.”

Inko perked up, quickly glancing at Izuku before asking, “Why don’t you come over here then?”

Mom swooped in for the win. Why didn’t he think of that?

“We usually spend the whole day cooking and making bets on the type of commercials and winners. Why don’t you join us?”

Make them feel not alone. “We could use more competition,” said Izuku. “Mom always loses the actual tournament bracket bets.”

Shinsou caught his fork before it could fall to the floor as Inko retorted, “Says the boy who used to sneak out to hero fights.”

“I rest my case.”

The Midoriya’s stared hopefully. Shinsou himself had startled, something Izuku had never seen, like prey realizing it was surrounded. His mother smiled sweetly while her son waited patiently for him to break. Shinsou eyed him oddly, likely remembering the finger slicing earlier about even coming into his apartment, but now Izuku smiled excitedly.

And with that, Shinsou broke. “Sure. I'll see if I can come over.”

The cleverness of using a van is that business could be taken anywhere. It was true that they’d been spotted in Hosu, or at least talked about on forums that could or could not be true, certainly not enough evidence to search any ice cream truck rolling down the avenue. And branching away from that one spotting meant they could make rounds to other counties without worry. As long as they actually had ice cream to sell, why suspect them?

It’d been almost two weeks since Shinsou first saw them with Okumura and they were back on a corner in Musutafu, and staying a little too late to make sense. Sundown was just minutes away, the park’s roadside they set up shop on completely empty except for them and the two vigilantes.

One emerged from their spot, a simple face mask covering his nose and mouth adorning his face, and made his way to the lonely truck and the two men running it. The pudgy one with scales the shade and color of mint chocolate chip and a muzzle long and sharp like a crocodile waved off the approaching boy never looking up from his phone. “Sorry kid, we’re closed.”

“Oh?” Shinsou questioned. “I’m not really looking for ice cream. You have it?”

That peaked the other man’s interest, a lanky figure who had to hunch down when he stood up in their truck. He leant out the small window with a bored expression on his face. “And just what were you hoping for?” When he finished his sentence, his eyes glazed over.

Behind the mask, Shinsou grinned. “Trigger.”

The first man looked up, saying nothing but matching the boy’s grin with a sneer. He held up a finger as he reached down behind the counter. The boy’s hands clammed up. All he needed to do was speak and Shinsou would have them both.

The pudgy man’s smile showed sharpened teeth when he found what he wanted, and Shinsou barely registered the body that slammed into him.

“MOVE!”

But he did register the resounding boom of a single gunshot.

The pudgier one smacked their taller friend’s face who woke from Shinsou’s hold just as the boys dragged themselves up. “Aye, it’s him, the one he warned us about.”

sh*t.

The taller of the two kicked open the door as he slipped on a brass knuckles to his right hand. “Yah, yah, should’ve known. Hey kid,” he said, pointing a fist to Shinsou. “You can walk away, still. I know my friend Mint over here’s a little angsty, but you’re not the one we want.”

The pudgier one, Mint or whatever, stepped out too, weapon still drawn. “It’s just business.”

Shinsou looked to Izuku. “You know ‘em?”

He shook his head. “Never seen them.”

“So what’s it gonna be,” Mint asked.

Shinsou smirked behind his mask. “You picked Mint? Out of all the names in the world, you chose Mint?”

Izuku winced at the reminder of stupidly telling the UA student Deku.

Though he sneered viciously, he kept his mouth shut, and that could mean one thing that both boys instantly realized: They knew Shinsou’s Quirk. Did they know Izuku’s?

Guess they’d find out. Shinsou still held their plan B in his hoodie pocket. Izuku readied himself. “I got Mint, I guess,” he announced with a deep sigh.

“I got scrawny.”

Mint didn’t even have time to pull the trigger, appearing just below and shoving his arm into the air just as the gun went off.

How oddly familiar.

But Izuku was small and obviously lacked the weight even if they were almost the same height. The man kicked at his chest, shoving him backwards just as a hand tried to twist Izuku’s arms behind his back.

“Hey! I already called dibs on you!” Shinsou ran towards them, pulling out the simple weapon he’d gotten just the day before. Before Shinsou could even get close, he slid low to avoid the brass fist aimed at his face then watching the limb retract. Some sort of elongation Quirk. “Is your nickname Laffy Taffy?” This time he let his pocket staff extend and take the brunt force of the punch before coming in to dive the staff straight for the guy’s head.

Izuku Blinked out of the way, heading straight for Mint who trained his gun at Shinsou and barreling into his side and knocking the man down before Blinking past him. When he got up and pointed again, Izuku was already behind him, knocking him to the ground.

“Head ups!”

He side stepped just as a punch would have met the back of his head, but he didn’t expect the extending arm to curl around, and like a lasso dragged the surprised Izuku back around his torso. What an interesting Quirk.

“Shin!”

“Got ‘em!” The arm suddenly loosened and retracted towards the body, but Izuku held on, letting the momentum carry him to the dazed elastic man from Shinsou’s well aimed hit and delivered a drop kick straight at his chest. It sent him straight against the ice cream truck, shaking the entire rig as he felt slumpt.

Which left—

Shinsou shoved him to the pavement as another bullet whizzed by.

“Damn brats!”

But Izuku was already edging towards him, blinking in a zig zag manner as the man tried to aim. He went behind Mint’s back, but this time he was ready, and his jaws were ready for Izuku’s face.

Except a metal staff gagged him. Shinsou reared it across his jaw, keeping his mouth wide as he pulled Mint’s back towards himself in a hold. Izuku knocked the pistol of his hand as he grabbed from his utility belt the simple plastic zip ties. The man grabbled, pushing at Izuku and swing side to side, lifting Shinsou’s entire weight until he knocked the teen off. But Izuku had already blinked behind him and hoped he delivered a kick that'd only daze him or knock him out.

He fell to the pavement just as he sinched his arms together. Shinsou stood up retracting his staff so it would fit in his hoodie. “You think he can bite himself out.”

Izuku looked at the elongated snout and the sharp crocodile teeth that stuck out that made his palms itchy. “Maybe zip tie that, too.” Shinsou knelt down to do so just as scrawny scuffed his feet.

“Hey, stop!”

The lankier man kept his mouth shut when he stretched his limbs to reach the fire escape, yowling as his own shin beat against the metal rings. Still dazed. Izuku sighed, tired but knowing the chase had started. “I’ll get him.” And he trotted after him, ready to Blink up the fire escape similarly. He wondered if having elasticity like that would cause fewer headaches than Blink did. It’s an interesting Quirk, perfect for interesting fights. His back still stung from being dragged against the pavement.

He glanced behind him at Shinsou, who was securing the zip ties still around the gunner.

Would Shinsou notice if he took just a little bit too long? Scrawny was already on the roof, out of sight of Shinsou and had no concerns that his friend pointed and fired a gun at two vigilantes. A surge of anxiousness filled him, excitement to receive a new Quirk and the rush of trying not to be found out. But he deserved it. This man didn't deserve a Quirk.

Did someone selling drugs to kids deserve a Quirk?

But what did he mean by Shinsou wasn’t the one they wanted?

He would never know the answer from him as a sickening thud startled him out of his thoughts, and the sight left his stomach roiling. He hadn’t even blinked to the fire escape yet, slowly turning his head to the body that laid prone.

Izuku spotted the knife protruding through his chest, blood seeping his shirt and pooling into the concrete.

Holding the knife, his knee on the man’s stomach, was someone of lean muscle, coated in body armor and knives at the torso fit for a one man militia, and a crimson scarf that bellowed around him. Through the torn slits of a long strip of cloth, he stared at Izuku, eyes red, another knife, this one longer, thinner, but all the same deadly, pointed at the boy’s throat.

Izuku couldn’t look away, his legs shaking until he collapsed on his back.

And the knife followed him as he pathetically scurried back. All the energy and excitement of another Quirk drained out of him and filled with ice and electricity that left his movements wonky. And the man spoke huskily, “You’re the brat that pissed off Shigaraki?”

Izuku gulped, afraid that whatever response or excuse would end it here. Here at the edge of the park, just at the mouth of an alley, unable to get away, alone, and calling for help that wasn’t there, as someone laughed over—

“Izuku!”

“There wasn’t any mention of an accomplice,” the man said, turning—

His heart clenched. “No!” Was that him? “He has nothing to do with this!” Izuku begged.

The man growled lowly, looking over the stupid vigilante. “So it is you. You’re the teleporter. A kid. You’re the one who meddled with the UA attack? You got some pretty big sharks putting a bounty on you.” There was almost a smile to his voice, and it sent chills down his spine. The knife still sat just under his chin. “You have a name?”

Shinsou had paused, tasting the same malice the choked both of them. The man knelt too close too casually, clearing knowing who owned the room, and Izuku’s hands shook all the more.

Then he sheathed his weapon. “I didn’t think you’d be some kid.”

And suddenly he could breathe again, feel his fingers and think beyond I’m going to die. And of course the first thing out of his mouth is, “I’m fourteen.”

“A kid. A very stupid kid who’s way in over his head.”

He eyed Shinsou just off to the right of the man then turned back to him. “I’m just trying to do the right thing. They were gonna . . . kill us—” he stopped, realizing that his argument might not fit for someone who just killed someone in front of them without batting an eye. “I can’t just watch.”

Though his weapons were put away, Izuku could still feel the sharpness of the blade against his neck when the man’s eyes intensified. Whatever he said, made him grin only to grow serious once more, stepping away from the pooling body.

“Fine. But I need you to listen. You’re young, and you got people who love you. You got a good heart, but there’s people who wouldn’t hesitate to snuff your light.” He stepped back from Izuku, and the boy could feel his fingers again. “So I’m going to give you some advice: Go. Home. I don’t like killing kids but the League doesn’t have that morality, so I’d suggest ghosting while you still can.

“You see this world?” he asked. “It’s run by clowns performing their little acts and waiting for coin and cheers to crash over them. They sit at galas sipping the oldest wine and complain that the people they saved aren’t appreciative enough. They tell the world you’re only worth their time if they’re worshipped and offerings set at their feet.

“But you’re not like that, right? No one knows who you are and you like it like that. You stepped in and pissed off that Shigaraki so bad he put a bounty on you. You meddle and get out. You’re not looking for fame.”

Suddenly he and Shinsou made eye contact, both’s eyes widening at coming to the same conclusion. That woman who came from nowhere weeks ago attacking Izuku— Mint and Laffy Taffy wanting Izuku — It all made sense.

The man shifted to look at Shinsou then. “Which is why I am going to tell you and your friend to stop now. Drop the mask and nightly activities and go home. If you were dealing with anyone with less morale, your head would have been on Shigaraki’s desk hours ago.

“Use that head of yours while you still got it.”

And with that, he stepped over the body, boot thudding loudly as he entered deeper into the alley.

Izuku called out, “What’s your name?”

He hadn’t expected an answer, but the man looked over his shoulder, never stopping as shadows engulfed him. “The news calls me Hero Killer. You can call me Stain. And if you’re smart, you’ll stay out of Hosu.” Turning a corner, he left the two alone in the fading sunlight staring at each other with a dead body between them.

“That was—”

“Izuku, that was—”

The two cut off. Shinsou inhaled rapidly, then quickly rushing forward to tug Izuku to his feet. “We gotta go. We can’t be spotted anywhere near here.”

They scrambled to their feet, each other gripping the other’s hero suits that felt like nothing more than children’s halloween costumes. They didn’t look back, didn’t stop, but Izuku would never forget the suffocating terror that had taken over his entire being.

“Stain?” he asked aloud.

Kemuri Okumura clutched at his chest where he hid, barely gulping down breaths quick enough from the elation of what he just witnessed. When the two vigilantes made their leave, he stepped out. The body still laid there, but so did the unconscious pudgy man too. Upon closer inspection, he found it, just feet away.

He picked up the pistol just as Mint notably twitched.

He couldn’t leave evidence behind.

Chapter 18: Interlude: Yuga Aoyama

Chapter Text

He stood among his peers terrified with the newly shipped belt around his stomach that whirled like he was going to throw up.

Odd things had happened today, like earlier before class even started, Kirishima patted him on the shoulder. “Even if we’re competing, I’ll be rootin’ for yuh!”

Then as Mr. Aizawa dismissed them, Someone who hadn’t spoken to him all semester towered over him. “I know you’ve turned a few heads the past weeks, but that doesn’t change anything. I’ll still beat you.”

Ah, maybe he was angry about when his laser forced Todoroki to dive into a mud pit last week during capture-the-hostage. Or maybe when he pissed off Bakugo to the point he forgot the hostage all together and chased after him until he hid in the locker room’s rafters.

“Let this be a declaration of war.”

He gulped, because having a pro-hero’s son out for your head meant he might end up on a spike.

Oh god, and then the whole class started to look and whisper and he tightened his grip on the belt he always wore under his clothes with nothing to say.

So when the general education course blocked their way and declared war, too, all Aoyama saw in the blond that grinned at him was someone else with a sledgehammer that still made him wake up unable to breathe.

Aoyama smiled back because that’s all he ever knew how to do.

That boy didn’t look away when he passed him.

All he could hope for was that Kaminari accidentally shocking the hell out of Bakugo would be enough to keep his attention on him and not Aoyama. One less enemy to worry about.

He hoped that Deku was watching, because he was going to win.

Or they’d use him to wipe the floor.

It’s not as if Bakugo was helping, not with his speech putting an even bigger target on his class’ back.

But Aoyama has been planning for this. He spent each day after school with Kirishima, going through a routine that left him barely able to walk home to an empty house in a too nice neighborhood for its silence. He’d thrown out his stash of twinkies and followed Iida’s idea of protein shakes and nearly gagged until he decided to stick with rice and chicken, then soaked in a bath while he tried to find any information on the boy who saved him.

He’d been nervous to google the name, but Deku brought up nothing anyway. The news reported finding several criminals who robbed jewelry stores or small businesses with their hands zip tied but no word on who caught him, but those were before the attack on the USJ.

It was when he’d grown desperate that he found an online forum that interested him.

Some were captures he’d already read about, but others were fairly new.

“Why isn’t the news covering this?” Someone wrote.

He typed in the address and searched, checked the local newspaper: nothing.

“4 guys mugged my dad but by the time he called the cops, someone literally dropped his wallet in his hands. Like from the roof! Dad said he looked up and the guy just vanished into thin air 2. And the bad guys that did it? 2 blocks away unconscious, and I can't find a single story on it!”

Someone responded simply, “Cuz police don’t want U 2 kno.”

That’s interesting. He bookmarked the forum and read each new post as they came. This vigilante was busy, turning heads for those they saved but not being recognized.

Could it be him?

Probably. Probably not. Who is to say it’s not just some normal hero or things so petty no news covered it?

But that’s a lot of people. The pages went on and on. Could be multiple vigilantes or something all being talked about here, considering most of the people hadn’t seen their hero, but those that did either said he up and disappeared or saluted them before walking off and throwing up their hood. That can’t be Deku.

The lack of coverage didn’t make sense in his head, not with how he was raised, yet even Aizawa hadn’t brought up Deku even after the news blamed him when he was the one to distract the monster Nomu.

Sato told Kirishima about it when they were on their way to the gym. If not for Deku, he could have been dead. If not for All Might, they’d all be dead.

If not for Deku, he certainly would be. Why not tell someone?

He shook his head trying to throw out those thoughts. That’s not what Deku wanted and he had a sports festival to if not win, make sure Deku sees it wasn’t a waste to save him.

That’s why he stood among however many students in an overcrowded stadium, awaiting for the countdown.

Present Mic called for their attention as all of UA’s first years readied themselves for the small opening to the rest of the obstacle course. Best idea to get past the bulk would be to use his belt. Once he gets through, that’s what he’ll do, then save it for the final push.

“Ready! Set! Go!”

Chaos ensued.

Ice nearly locked him until he shot up with his belt, then once it settled in place he used the smoothe sheet to propel himself forward, only using the belt to propel himself just enough to get slightly queasy from the backlash of it and sliding beneath the giant robots from the entrance exams.

Look how far he’s come.

He only stopped when a sheet of metal nearly speared his head. Seemed Bakugo wanted to take a crack at Big Goliath. Not that it’d bother him much— the guy’s got crazy stamina unlike himself, who’s tummy was roiling.

“You’re more than just your Quirk ”

He’s more than just his Quirk. And if fate wants him to carry a sheet of metal to the finish line? Then so be it. He picked up the horribly sliced hunk and booked it to the awaiting chasms.

He paused as teens balancing on the thin ropes lost their balance and fell while others tried to jump from platform to platform with many faces planting into the rock. He really hoped Cementoss was catching them or that the seemingly bottomless pit was at least filled with millions of bean bags.

He’d been testing out his gear, seeing its limits to its burst and how much he could handle. There was one single pedestal larger than the rest about halfway through. That’s plenty of room for error, right?

Here goes nothing.

The wires caught on the inside of the metal sheet worked perfectly to place it on his back and he prayed he wouldn’t puke at the end of this.

Arms up, he let it activate at 75% power.

And instantly lost his breath.

Yah, this sucks. When he thought he’d made it high enough, he let it shut down, and he braced for impact that left him sprawling until bumping into something.

“Hey!! Whatchit!!! No, no, no!”

Suddenly their voice faded as Aoyama came to a halt and saw just how close he was to the edge of the pedestal, and not even the one he was aiming for. He went further.

He thanked whatever peer he just knocked off and readied for the second jump and this time threw up after landing. Students passed by him, Yaoyorozu even dropping a handkerchief as she passed while his breakfast came up in chunks.

Gross. Kirishima would say it’s unmanly .

Did he already cross the finish line?

Wobbling to stand straight, he looked on to the final part of the obstacle and watched as Iida was launched back by a pink puffed blast right beside him and almost in his puke spot.

“How’s it going?”

He got up and bolted forward again. “Not now, Aoyama.”

Almost down. He jogged forward watching the other students. Some walked at the snail pace watching their feet while others accepted the delay of getting caught off guard. Then there was Uraraka knelt down in the dirt just at the edge of the minefields' perimeter.

He stepped around her to see what she was doing. And he watched as she touched her own arm to float, picking up the mine in both hands just to step on it with boy feet and go flying towards the finish line.

He had an idea. He couldn’t handle another blast of his belt, not for that distance, but he didn’t need it. He had bombs and a trusty toboggan.

“The two are neck and neck, Todoroki shoving at Bakugo and Bakugo preparing a swift explosion for the face, except— what’s this?? Whoa! Step aside everyone, who knew a wingless man could fly! Arriving is 1-A’s Aoyama, coming in hot. He soars, he plummets, he— he’s using his stomach laser to push into first! Ladies and gentlemen, first place for this sports festival’s first event is Aoyama, followed by his classmates Todoroki and Bakugo!!”

He couldn’t breathe through his constipated smile. No one wanted to pair with him. Him, the boy that just dazzled his audience with his final stunt and defeating not only the son of Endeavor, but UA’s very own lunatic.

He could still feel those burning red eyes glaring holes into the back of his head.

Aoyama spotted a familiar face and shouted, “Kirishima!!”

“Sorry, bro, I’m already on a full team!”

If he had stood any closer, Bakugo would have bit it off his head. “Cheap shots aren’t going to get through the competition!”

Great. Great. Well, it looked like Shoji and Mineta had a simple idea. Maybe they’d let him join? But he didn’t really know them and he didn’t think the little purple headed boy liked him very much. They’d make an odd team.

Just as he’s bracing himself up to approach them, a tap came at his shoulder, and the pretty brunette in his class smiled excitedly. “Somethings changed with you, Yuga. Can I call you that?”

“But of course, madmoizelle. Does this mean you were dazzled by my performance?”

“Clearly, you came out of nowhere. We should team up!”

This was perfect. And a girl with pink hair and crazy eyes swarmed him too talking about babies and calling him ten million. Ojiro scratched the back of his head nervously before, too, asking to join them. “No offense, but you could use a strongman to carry you.”

Aoyama rubbed his chin as he studied him, then declared, “You’re hired!”

The girls rolled their eyes, but accepted him nonetheless.

“How perfect, the three musketeers!”

Uraraka grew confused. “But there’s four of us.”

“Ah, but you are unfamiliar with the tale. It follows one man’s travels with the three heroes, that would be our pink support friend here. We’re happy to have you. ” Said student grinned excitedly while dusting off one of her “babies.”

Ojiiro only chuckled and shrugged his shoulders. “Sure. All for one and one for all.”

“No, no, dear friend.” The boy stepped closer and hung an arm around his shoulder. “You need more emphasis, more cheer. Hands in team.” They laughed but indulge him, and a warmth swelled in his chest. “Ready? All for one—”

The four broke out in a cheer that caught the attention of all those around them. “And one for all!”

Teams came from all sides, Yuga shouted, “Now, Uraraka!” and she swiftly placed her hand on each of their teammates, then each carefully gripping on the blond’s legs.

“Pink maiden, go!”

She fired up her “babies,” and they blasted off, and when it ultimately stalled, Aoyama lifted his arms and activated his belt, letting the belt’s force push them to the other side of the arena.

It wasn’t without struggle. Somewhere along the way, Bakugo had aimed for Aoyama’s face making him nearly fall as he stole the headband, but lucky for them, Ojiro wasn’t just their strongman.

“You got it?”

A knowing smirk spread across his feline friend’s face. “I got it.” slung around his tail, sat one of the headbands Bakugo had stolen from other teams, and just enough points to get them through the next round. Enough teams had seen the attack that all their attention would hopefully go to Mr. Explodey. fan

The team cheered as the final cannon sounded the end of the event and the four still stood, just enough points to get them into the one-on-one competition.

Uraraka, someone who’d hardly spoken to him the few times he’d tried to appeal to her, turned to him in excitement. “We did it!”

“Thanks to my babies!” noted Mei.

Ojiro patted her on the back. “Your work is incredible. Is it your Quirk?”

She grins at him. “Nope. I just have good vision. Helps with working on small gadgets at the most. But I’ve always loved to build, and what better budget could I get than a hero’s?! And with today’s sponsors and top heroes scouting the best of the best, they’ll see just how important incredible support gear like my babies--” she drabbled on excitedly.

Ojiro smiled at her antics, but Yuga— Yuga watched her in awe.

She was right. A Quirk like that didn’t get her here. That was all work ethic and passion.

So what if—

He looked down at himself and the bulky belt that left him bruised

You’re more than just your Quirk

— what if he could be more?

He bounced his leg like a nervous cat, his name about to be called as his match would be first against an opponent he didn’t even know. Uraraka wished him luck and Ojiri had bumped his shoulder. Those were nice and for the first time, he felt like a part of the class. Babies lady thanked him too, which was cool.

Maybe he was really meant to be here. Doing last minute maintenance on his belt quickly deflated that feeling, but . . .

He got here on his own. Sure he needed help and support items, but at the end of the day, a Quirk isn’t all any of these students were. Uraraka’s ingenious got her ranked higher in the race. Pink hair’s was in the semi-finals because of her intelligence and creativity.

So why can’t he be here?

A knock came at the door to retrieve him, and he shakily placed his belt back on and marched down the hall for the world to see him. The field now held a simple large slab of raised concrete at the center. On the opposite end stood his opponent with his hands in his pockets, a boy in 1-B he recognized as the loudmouth from this morning: Monoma.

Midnight stood between, explaining the rules before moving off to the side. Monoma didn’t remove his hands as Aoyama readied himself.

Present Mic shouted for them to start.

And neither student moved.

The boy grinned at him. “What, don’t want to make the first move, Aoyama?”

Everyone knew who he was at this point. Everyone knew what his belt could do. Monoma had the upper hand.

“C’mon. Is this really all the top of UA can do? Stand there and look pretty?”

In spite his jitters, he kept smiling and brought his arm just over his head, striking a pose. “Don’t forget sparkle.”

The boy sneered. Suddenly, he rushed forward. “Sure, sure. I guess I could give you a real shiner.”

Aoyama already lifted his arms and activated the belt. Expecting it, Monoma dodged left and continued forward, and Aoyama increased the flow and twisted to skid across to the other side where Monoma once stood.

“Quit running!”

“Keep up!”

He likely had an up close Quirk like Uraraka’s or something like strength like Satou. He blasted up when Monoma came close, falling into a roll and backing up to avoid the enclosing hands. Then again and again. He heard laughs from the audience at their dance while other booed from boredom. The boy grew flustered, his face reddening as he charged at Aoyama. Time to use what Kirishima taught him. He had no idea what the Quirk this boy held, but it wouldn’t matter, because by the time it activated, he would win.

Monoma had grown pissed, rushing forward thinking he’d cornered him.

Kirishima had said that because of his small stature, stopping an impossible force would require him to be an immovable force.

But why stop it when you can use it?

When Monoma outstretched his hand, nearly touching his face, he grabbed the boy’s wrist and let his momentum keep him going, pivoting to the side for Monoma to clearly step out of bounds.

And he did. There was cheering, and excitement and he wanted to pose for his awaiting fans, until a hand gripped his own wrist.

He turned, noticing Monoma had gotten up, and the boy looked mortified. “You. . . “ He let go.

Aoyama still posed for the cheering crowd, making sure to spot his class before Midnight nudged him off towards the exit.

He won.

He actually won.

Of course, Todoroki mopped the floor with him, but at least he put up a good fight.

Did you see that, Deku?

Monoma didn’t rejoin his class after his loss, instead watching Yuga Aoyama’s fight from one of the many TVs around the stadiums biting his thumb.

First year. Class 1-A.

Quirk: Naval Laser. He knew that. Blood King thought it important they know their competition. He checked the entrance exam scores, and the boy had barely made it into 1-A. They could have been classmates.

But why was it that when he finally gripped the idiot’s arm, he felt nothing there?

Despite his loss, Ojiro patted him on the shoulder, having lost to Tokoyami in the first round. “For what’s it’s worth, you put up a good fight.”

He smiled at his classmate as he stood off to the side. “Of course, I couldn’t let him have all the glory!” He said like a man that didn’t almost cry on TV when the glacier completely encased him. He’d only managed to dodge that first intense attack, but eventually, like a cat playing with its food, he’d been cornered and forced out of the ring with fortunately just mildly frostbitten fingers.

Kirishima patted the seat next to him loudly. “Come sit. Uraraka’s is about to start!”

And he did, nestled between classmates rooting for each other’s success. There were kind-hearted bets when classmates were pitted against each other, like Yaoyorozu and Tokoyami.

By the end of it, Todoroki couldn’t keep up, and Bakugo took first place and was still pissed about it.

“For someone reaching glory, you would think it’d satisfy him.”

Asui tapped her chin. “I’m more surprised he hasn’t suggested dueling All Might yet.”

“Knock on wood,” chirped Sero.

Kaminari suddenly looked around worriedly. “There’s no wood! It’s all plastic! Quick, move!” Hopping over Kirishima and Aoyama, the boy dashed to supposedly find wood as the class belched into laughter. Maybe this is where he was supposed to be, among other weirdos like himself. They each had their own little quirks about them(a pun oh so intended), so maybe, just maybe, this could work.

Uraraka had eventually emerged from her absolute beating from Bakugo in the second round, but she looked as cheery as she had in the cavalry battle. And ultimately, their part in the festival was over. The second years would be up next, but to be frank, Aoyama wouldn’t mind taking a nap.

(And take off his belt that kept digging into the bruises underneath).

Uraraka suggested walking around the different pop-up stands and Kirishima has said there were carnival games. A small group had formed when the tallest in their class came to a sudden halt in front of them.

“What gives, Iida?”

He struggled to speak, shoulders hunching until he turned to the ragtag group that followed him. “My brothers in the hospital. Someone attacked him.”

Chapter 19: The Sports Festival on the Couch

Chapter Text

Post the worst encounter in their lives, Izuku found himself hardly aware of his own surroundings but dragged by nervous tightening hands and it wasn’t until he heard the constant waves crashing into loose tins and metals and carrying plastics away to sea that he realized they were in the confines of Dagobah beach. Not that noticing changed anything. He barely felt the change of solid ground to loose sand or felt the sea spray on face.

Shinsou pushed him to take a seat as he stumbled to the torn up stove that hid their backpacks. Hurriedly he dug into his bag until finding what he was looking for and heading back to Izuku who sat with his head in his hands. But he still shoved the water bottle at him. “Drink.”

“We just watched a man get killed.”

“I know. Drink.” He said it desperately and Izuku focused on the tremor in the hands still holding the water bottle out to him. He guzzled it in seconds before Shinsou could even collapse to his knees. “This is bad. We should call the police.”

“Why? He’s dead. That guy is dead and Stain is— I don’t know— gone.”

“What about the other guy? Midoriya, that’s a man that we just left on the street next to his partner. We— if they weren’t after you before, they are now.”

Izuku sighed shakily. “And you, too.” This wasn’t supposed to happen. “Someone had to have heard the gunshots. We’ll read about it tomorrow in the news.” He wondered who would be blamed for it, if anyone. The Hero Killer had kept mostly to Tokyo and recently Hosu, never out towards Masutafu. “If we’re lucky, they’ll find the trigger in the truck and think it was a feud or something. If they get Mint or not.”

“That’s not right.” He could hear the grit of Shinsou’s teeth. “We know who did it. This isn’t defamation this time, we just witnessed a murder—”

“What other choice do we have?” Izuku shouted back. “They’ll blame us before anything else. They sold trigger to minors, and once the police figure that out, they’ll think we got in a shoot out with them for product. Even if they don’t you know what they do to vigilantes. We’ll be watched until we’re adults with a record on our backs.” He held back his own snarl, watching Shinsou who’s eyes had grown puffy.

But Shinsou nodded. “Heads down.”

“Heads down,” Izuku repeated.

Linebreak

It’s a day later that Izuku received a text.

“Guess he came back and finished the job.” Shinsou had already sent the link to the new article, not that he needed to. Izuku sat in the living room watching the morning news. Mom hadn’t even finished the dishes when she knelt against the back of the couch to watch.

“How horrible.”

No known motive. Two men who ran the ice cream truck found dead. Nothing suspicious was reported. Were they even selling trigger?

Was this just a huge misunderstanding?

No weapons found.

Izuku texted back, “You still coming over for the festival?”

A response didn’t come in until later that day when he’d already brushed his teeth and sewn the thin knee pads to his suit.

“Yah. C U then.”

On Monday, Izuku had only taken a bite out of his lunch when Shinsou tapped his shoulder. Instead of taking the seat across from him, he tilted his head out towards the courtyard. “We should talk.” They’d barely made it out the door and away from any other students taking advantage of the warming season and multiple crevices for seclusion when Shinsou breathed deeply. “I don’t like this.”

Izuku still took another bite out of his lunch that he carried with him. Through a mouthful of rice and veggies, he said, “There isn’t anything we can do.”

Warily, Shinsou crossed his arms and asked, “You think it was the Hero Killer?”

“Who else would it be?” It seemed obvious.

“He’s dangerous,” Shinsou notes, as if he had to tell Izuku that.

“Which is why we are laying low, like he said. Like we said.”

He huffed, glaring at Izuku who shovelled rice into his mouth. “You really not bothered by this?”

“Of course I am,” he bit back suddenly, pointing his chopsticks at Shinsou. “There are people looking for me. We barely scraped death and now he knows who we are, what we look like, and can tell whoever he wants who we are. Two people are dead, Shin. But there’s nothing we can do. So please,” he groaned, “can we just eat lunch and pretend everything’s normal for a sec?”

Maybe Shinsou finally noticed the purpling bruises under his eyes, or maybe the slack of his shoulders or that fact his hair curled so ridiculously it knotted going unbrushed not just this morning. “Sorry,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck.

“It’s fine,” he sighed.

“It’s just weird. Why would Stain come back?”

Chopsticks still in hand, he rubbed his eyes. “Your guess is as good as mine. I tried to find anything I could on it and: nothing. Nothing about suspects or even who those guys were. I don’t think they found any trigger.”

“sh*t,” Shinsou hissed.

“Exactly. But we can’t do anything.”

“So laying low. I guess that really is all we can do.”

“Yah. Act normal, move on, but keep an ear out.”

“I get it. Sorry.” Shinsou looked around him before asking, “Are we still on for the festival?”

Izuku quirked an eyebrow. “You thought you were getting out of it? Mom’s making so much food, you’re not leaving me to eat it all alone. Come three days starving.”

He saluted back. “Aye, aye, cap. We should hit the arcade or something soon, since we’re on sabbatical.”

“That suggests we’re getting paid.”

“Yah, in well deserved naps and raising my grades.”

Izuku groaned at the reminder.

“You help me with math and I’ll help you finish your book report?”

He stared up surprised. “You read the Three Musketeers?”

“I read a lot, actually. You should try it sometime.”

“Ha, ha,” Izuku mock laughed, but there was a giddiness to it. They were going to be fine.

“You weren’t kidding.”

“I told you.”

A spread took up every flat table surface, including the table with their brackets and festival predictions. His mom went all out, the house cleaner than it’s been in a long time with reminders of the importance of “presentation” explained to Izuku for just over a week. Poor Shinsou looked ready to bolt.

His mom had answered the door and guided him in with a simple, “I hope there’s enough. Two growing boys can just eat you out the house!”

Shinsou looked at him bizarrely, as if wondering if a fast metabolism was a part of his Quirk. Izuku only shrugged as if to say what can you do.

But then—

The scent of something sugary sweet burning beyond repair.

“Oh no!”

She rushed to the oven too later and opening it only made the smell all the stronger with Izuku instantly moving to open a window.

“The cheesecake!”

Cheesecake is not the word one would use for the black charred mess. His mom pouted with him patting her shoulder. Shinsou still stood awkwardly near the door, before speaking up. “Uh, there’s a bakery on the way over here? I could go grab something.”

And just like that, Inko was back to positive mother figure. “That’s a great idea. Why don’t you and Izuku go pick something out. You’re talking about the one on Oak Road, right? There’s a little coffee shop in there, too.” She said this all the while fiddling digging through her purse. “You boys get something for yourselves while your at it. Izuku knows what I want.” She handed her son the cash then suddenly growing sheepish. “Though, he did just get here. That would be rude to send your friend back out.”

But Shinsou simply smiled at her. “It’s fine, really. We’ll be back soon.”

Izuku waved at her, cash in hand.

They waited to speak until the door completely closed.

“There’s so much food.”

“Yep.”

“I can’t eat all that.”

“Shame.” Izuku said nonchalantly. “Welcome to my world.” He didn’t wait for Shinsou to catch up to shove him, but by the time he did, they both were running down the street.

They step out of a bakery with their hands full from cotton cheesecake, coffees, and an entire loaf of what the clerk called peach cobbler bread, unsliced and smelling divinely.

Izuku tapped at his phone. “Did you grab straws?”

“You said you were!”

“No, I said I’d grab napkins.” Clarified Izuku.

“Which are right next to the straws! It’s not even worth going back now.” Shinsou readjusted their load as they made their way down the street, passing different shops and cars and friendly parents with bustling kids on such a warm weekend. They passed a shop with TVs blasting the beginning of the sports festival, something that had been wishful thinking just days before. Now it was the furthest thing from either or their minds. “You remember what your mom ordered, because these look the same,” He asked half-jokingly, except Izuku wasn’t walking beside him.

He looked back. Izuku stood in front of the TVs and his coffee spilt across the street’s concrete, not that it seemed to bother him. Something had caught his eye. Shinsou returned to him, looking to where Izuku’s did only to fixate on a blond student in front of mic. It’s silent for only a second when he said, “I just wanna say . . . I’m gonna win.” Then came a burst of boos and shouts of the crowd as a hero, Midnight, pulled a teenager off the stage to begin the first competition.

There’s a gutteral noise beside him and he realized it was a snort from Izuku. “Y’know,” he said, “I didn’t really think about anything outside of just getting into U.A.”

Shinsou watched as the race began, half the competition frozen in ice yet Hitoshi found the whole affair rather boring. Few blasted through the ice and those that did had no issue knocking down the huge robots he remembered from his entrance exam, one of them being the same boy that got booed off stage.

But Shinsou gripped the sleeve of Izuku’s sweatshirt, his hero costume just underneath, and dragged the two of them back out of the main road and to a fire escape they used to get on the roof for the times they decided to patrol. It’s quiet with Izuku downcast as they dredged up until placing their goods off to the side and Shinsou suggesting they take a break.

They sat across from each other as Izuku nibbled on one of the muffins they picked out. He wasn’t often quiet, so Shinsou asked, “You wish you were there?”

It’s a simple but loaded question. Each knew that the other tried out and both failed miserably. Hitoshi even sent in a letter to argue the issue around points. Having a Quirk that uses others means that it’s difficult to judge what points should be his and what should go to the student he controlled, and if he even had control of them anyway. All he knew was that one kid tried to give him a black eye when he found out.

While at times it pissed him off, he’d long since moved on. Izuku instead stared at him. “It’s all I ever wanted.” There’s a bitter smile on his face. “Now I get to watch everyone else and they do it ten times better.”

“Was that guy in your test group?” he asked, referring to the blond smartass.

“No, no. But I know him, or I guess, knew him. I haven’t seen him since school started, so.” He noticed Shinsou’s odd look and said, ”Yah, we used to go to school together, but he . . . We didn’t get along.”

“How so?”

“I told you I was a late bloomer, right? So when it seemed I was Quirkless, Kacc— Bakugo didn’t take it very well. I dunno, I thought we could still be friends and I held onto that. We used to talk about being heroes together, but then his Quirk came in and caught everyone’s attention. It was so cool and everyone knew he was going to be an amazing hero, and I just. . .” He shrugged his shoulders. “I kinda faded into the background. Got in a lot of fights, few burns here and there from being stupid. I guess we were too different.” And they were. A Quirkless nobody never had a chance and someone like Bakugo had all the luck in the world. He was everything Izuku wanted to be but could never.

“Well screw him.”

Izuku looked up. Shinsou laid back on his backpack like a pillow as he tore off a piece of their cobbler bread unimpressed.

“You and I both know those tests were rigged. We didn’t get in because that school doesn’t value us or our Quirks, as if a Quirk is all a guy needs to be a hero. They all got an easy ticket in just because of their Quirks, but they’re not heroes. That guy you grew up with?”

Izuku sputtered out, “But he is.” Anger boíled desperately, the sensation raw and leaving a lump in his throat. “Kacchan was always going to be hero—”

“A hero isn’t a bully, Zuku. A hero doesn’t beat others down.” There’s a finality to it that leaves Izuku shocked. He knew this. He knew Bakugo was a bully, at least to him but— No. No, Izuku stepped in so many times when his Quirk spit like little pop rocks but could leave the skin pink. He always did. He always paid for it. But Kacchan had an incredible Quirk that could help so many, and yet. . .

“This little game of yours? You couldn’t even pick up the controller.”

He looked to Hitoshi suddenly a boy without a seeming care in the world and been burned so many times. He looked to Hitoshi realizing that if anyone had ever tried to burn him, he wouldn’t think twice to stop them for good.

Hitoshi took a bite of his bread. “He doesn’t even deserve his Quirk.”

Izuku stared at his hands, as everything snapped into place. He repeated in a whisper, “He doesn’t deserve his Quirk.”

He hadn’t even noticed Hitoshi stood up. “Alright, break times over. I still don’t know which coffee is mine.”

There was a lot to think about, but Izuku followed behind with their desserts.

“— And then he would pop out in his little All Might onesie shouting ‘have no fear!!’”

“Mom!”

But Shinsou could barely breathe. He could barely get out a “Small Might” before losing it all the same.

“I think I have pictures somewhere, definitely in his scrapbook!”

“Mom!” His face felt hot and a hand patted his shoulder.

“Hush, Izuku, you’re mom and I are reminiscing.”

Izuku? That’s the first time he’d heard Shinsou use his first name outside of “Izu” and other variants. And he decided he liked it.

“You got nothing to reminisce, Hitoshi.” It sounded foreign on his tongue.

Hitoshi stuck his tongue out, helping his mom pull the scrapbook from the top shelf of the hallway closet. But he saw that grin before turning away to look through boxes with her.

The three had grown so distracted, none of them watched as Bakugo made third for the obstacle course.

Their stomachs were close to exploding by the time the tournament had started. Izuku had smiled proudly when he recognized that blond hair and ridiculous belt. He’d come a long way, then, going from that terrified boy in the USJ to someone who apparently took first place in the obstacle course and still held his own. Of course, no one could match the number two hero’s son, but it was more progress than he ever expected.

Shinsou groaned when the bird-headed student knocked out Yaoyorozu. “She can create anything and she hesitated!” He had her set on winning.

His mother, who cheered for Bakugo to win just because she knew who he was, had grown giddy at the prospect this could be the year she finally wins. Izuku himself had Todoroki as his pick yet knew at this rate he was more likely to collapse from hypothermia before anyone ever landed a hit on him. Maybe a little explosion would warm him up. The only thing he could wish for at this point would be to freeze Bakugo first. Maybe, if he could just get Bakugo cold enough to chill him, even freeze his sweat, he could make Bakugo docile, but he didn’t think Todoroki had that kind of precisive control to affect the atmosphere like that.

“Ah, Izuku, you’re mumbling again,” his mother warned.

“Sorry!”

“Oh my god, I thought it was just with me.” Shinsou smacked his cheek slightly which made his skin prickle. “You're scary when you go into hyperfocus.”

Yet Izuku squinted suspiciously, leaning back. “Wait, I’ve never done that around you.”

“Literally half out lunches.”

Inko laughed at the prospect, flipping through channels while the festival was on commercial.

“No way,” Izuku snapped back.

Shinsou was grinning now. “Stage one of grief: denial.”

He rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”

“And skipping straight to acceptance. I’m proud.”

“Honestly, it’s not as if— if. . . “ He paused when he lost Hitoshi’s attention to the TV, he too reading the headline of the news channel and whatever stupid comment he had ready lost with the static that filled him.

A woman with deer like antlers described the incident painly just as the bile rose in his throat.

In bold letters across the screen read, “HERO IN CRITICAL CONDITION AFTER TARGETING FROM HERO KILLER.”

He pulled his phone from his pocket, but his fingers shook so badly it slipped from his grip twice. He didn’t even have to search for it. It was the center page of every news site. Hero Ingenium, Tensei Iida, was found alive and is supposedly breathing, but only time would tell.

His mother peaked over his shoulder then and said, “Isn’t his brother in the tournament?”

I met him. Hair just like his brothers with the last of his baby fat slipping off to show a strong jaw. That support student used him for her own gain, but it was fun to watch. Did he know yet? Had anyone told him?

Shinsou stared at him warily, shaking his head slightly.

But this wasn’t about Izuku anymore. This was about a man with incredible power and skill using it to hurt people who swore oaths that they would put others first. It didn't matter that he warned them or spared them, not if this was the price.

Stain didn’t deserve his Quirk.

Chapter 20: Hosu City

Chapter Text

Izuku’s inventory:

Quirk theft: take a target’s Quirk via physical touch. Takes several seconds of contact. Causes itchiness.

Quills: spikes protrude from the skin at varying lengths and thickness based on individual’s aggression. Can be shot as projectiles.

Blink: individual may personally warp short distances. Concentration is necessary to bring along items through personal warps. Items with greater volume are proven more difficult.

Enhanced hearing: intensifies hearing of all sound waves. Too loud of sounds can be painful. Great concentration allows to pick out specific sound waves.

Mimic: Ability to copy one voice at a time after hearing it. Vocal mimic cannot be held if an individual switches to a different Quirk.

Shinsou (party member): a sarcastic first year seeking to make a difference.
Quirk: Brainwash: target will follow simple physical commands after responding to individual.
Additional note: party member is only aware of Blink.

Izuku caught up with Hitoshi after class on his way to grab his bike. “Hey, so I’ve been thinking.”

“When are you not,” he quickly countered. Then looking at Izuku more directly he recognized the slumping exhaustion like a man who saw too much. “How much sleep did you get?” It’d only been two days since he’d spent the day at the Midoriya household, and really he didn’t need anymore reminders of what became a great day soured by the horrible sense of guilt. Even their school ate up the news, some making jokes while others found the first place winner to be akin to a rabid dog (he agreed). But as quickly as it was brought up, people moved on.

Even their modern hero history teacher decided it would be an interesting discussion. As if the fact the man would never walk again wasn’t enough, he became the class’s apropos of when a hero should retire.

And for once in his life, he thought of raising his hand just to shut everyone up.

But as quickly as it came up, everyone moved on, and none saw how his feigned disinterest was anything but.

Hitoshi unlocked his bike as Izuku leant over to get his attention. “No, just listen to me. He’s going to attack when there’s a distraction.”

“Izuku, you’re mom’s probably getting worried, you know.” He saw it in her relief that he showed up at their home and the careful eye on her son at the news report. He must have always been prone to danger. She’d said he used to go out looking for hero fights to watch. Not that Shinsou had been any different once upon a time.

“I know, I know. But listen. He attacked Ingenium in Hosu during the Sports Festival. Every big name was there watching or patrolling because of the League scare. Hell, Endeavor’s son got second place.”

“Okay, and how does that help us?”

“Because, his last victim, King Croc, was killed similarly during a matsuri.” He pushed his phone in Hitoshi’s face. “Everyone was patrolling where the festival was going on, leaving other areas stretched thin.”

“I remember that. Wasn’t he an actor?”

“Yep, which is my next big thing. Why them?”

“Because they’re easy targets?” He suggested, not knowing where Izuku was going with this.

“There’s one thing I found that they have in common: they once worked for huge agencies.”

He thought for a moment. “Like movie deals and stuff.”

“Exactly. Ingenium’s agency isn't in theaters, but they have some pretty big names you’ll probably know. Goliath?”

“Went to jail after stepping on someone while in their car.”

“Charmer?”

“Sex scandal.”

“The Datura?”

“Watergate 2.0. Huh, what a throwback.”

“That agency’s got a long, messy history mostly kept out of the news. Some collateral damage issues and stuff, too. And Stain’s made a point to target people from these kind of agencies, wether they were the bad apples or among those that slipped through.”

“Or the few good in a rotting pot, but I get what you mean. So even though he made his own agency, Stain saw him as a target. Maybe that’s why Stain left him alive, because he’s never been caught doing anything.” He crossed his arms now, leaning gently against the bike parkade. “So you think that’s enough to go after him. Any holidays coming up?”

Izuku turned sheepish. “Well, no.”

“Then we can’t do anything,” he said shortly. “Back to square one. Also, were you planning just to scour all of Hosu?”

“No. Duh, of course not. All of his victims have been found in back alleys where there are no cameras, including those that survived. But, do you remember how he specifically said the league was after me?”

“How could I forget?” It was one of the worse feelings in his life. He felt like someone must have used a numbing Quirk on him because he couldn’t feel his legs or fingers as every muscle fiber tensed, demanding he grab Izuku and run.

“So, do you think he was just curious and overheard, or do you think he’s in contact with them.” He said it like a statement rather than question.

He rubbed his chin. “He called the leader by his name, so maybe.”

“So,” he said, leaning forward. “What if the League can tell us when he’ll attack next?”

That’s when Shinsou realized what he was getting at. “No.” He got on his bike and moved towards the street. “No, this doesn’t change anything. It’s still dangerous and people are still looking for you.”

But Izuku moved to stand in front of him, halting Shinsou and the bike. “I can’t just do nothing, either. Don’t you see? We’re the first people to even have a conversation with him.”

He tried to maneuver around him. “And now Ingenium, who will tell the police everything. There’s gonna be a manhunt.”

“Hitoshi,” he said slowly, standing in front of his bike. “Ingenium’s statement got released this morning.”

And Shinsou groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose and inhaling deeply. “And let me guess: nothing, again. That’s our word now.”

“Stain attacked him from behind. He never saw it coming.” It sent a chill down his spine. In that park, Izuku hadn’t even realized they were being watched. It could have just as easily been him as it was the elastic guy, or even Shinsou. And he didn’t think Stain would be so merciful a second time around.

Shinsou looked ready to pull his hair out. “If we do this, we do this together.”

“Like always.”

“No, not like always.” He stood up, leaning against the handlebars to poke at Izuku’s chest.“No sneaking off and scoping out rumors on your own. No more sneaking into warehouses or slipping onto private property. You do anything stupid, and we go straight back to Dagobah or one of our houses. We spot trouble, anything that could jeopardize you, we stop. That’s my condition.”

He didn’t even hesitate, pulling his yellow backpack off to reach for the gas mask Hitoshi knew to be in there, and he realized dreadingly that Izuku had always expected him to cave. “Deal.”

They sat next to each other on the train ride, each with an earbud listening to the same news report.

“It’s like they’d already moved on,” Izuku commented.

The segment on Ingenium and his attacker wasn’t even a minute long, the following segment watching Mount Lady pull cats out of trees.

“You think she could be next?” Shinsou spun the wire of the earbud between his fingers as he watched. “Considering her dad?”

“Maybe. She was pretty young when Goliath lost his license, and her agency’s probably really careful with what she can do for her contract.”

“Makes sense. . . So,” he pulled out their earbuds saying, “Any ideas on where to start?”

“I mean, it's the edge of Tokyo. I think if we head down the right streets we can find something shady, you know?”

“Something shady,” He repeated. A needle in a haystack the size of a barn. “And what are you going to do if we don’t find anything?”

Izuku rolled his eyes and once again answered how Shinsou wanted. “Go home. Like you said.”

“That’s all I care about.”

But Izuku wasn’t stupid. He recognized that Shinsou only allowed him to go this far because he didn’t think they’d find anything.

And as they stood just outside the train station and in front of some of the tallest buildings Izuku had ever seen in person, he grew worried. In truth, it wasn’t anything impressive like the heart of Tokyo, but they had a lot of groundwork. People bustled past them on their way to work while tourists lagged behind. Being the weekend, his mom thought they were at the arcade then going to Shinsou’s. Instead, they played the worse possible game of hide-and-seek that ranged across multiple square kilometers.

Shinsou flicked through his phone idly as they walked. “There’s a lot of heroes in Hosu, you know.”

“Yep, and only so many that’ll raise red flags.”

“Like?”

“Like him,” Izuku said pointing. In front of them stood the flaming hero, whose aggressive stature split walking and staring pedestrians like the red sea. Izuku and Hitoshi too moved to the side as the man walked alone on his patrol.

Shinsou went back to his phone. “Doubt it. He may have one of the highest rates of collateral damage, but his skill alone makes him untouchable. All confirmed attacks have been heroes that barely touch the top one hundred in polls.” Sometimes he forgets that Shinsou is just as much an informed hero fan as himself. The fact he knew of Eraserhead was enough of a giveaway. “No one knows how Stain’s Quirk works.”

“True,” he admitted, “but don’t you think by now he would have gone after bigger fish?”

“The kid of two pro heroes is pretty big, I think. If he thinks Ingenium’s a threat, maybe he’ll pick off one of his sidekicks.”

“I hope not. They shouldn’t even be working with everything that happened.” The entirety of Iidaten should be able to take a break and recoup after the news, but only a day after paparazzi crowded Bigshot while on his patrol.

“Heroes, Midoriya. They don’t stop for anything.”

“Right, well, downtown is probably the best place to start.”

Shinsou tapped at his phone. “Got it on GPS.”

Great. “Lead the way.”

It required a bus ride and an awkward ask for directions to walk the labyrinth of streets when Izuku suggested they stop.

“Sorry, gotta pee.”

Shinsou only rolled his eyes when they found a large cafe mixed with a gift shop. “You want anything?” Though Izuku shook his head, Hitoshi got in line and would surely come back with two drinks so Izuku wouldn’t mooch off his own. And when the boy was out of sight, he walked right back out the door and down the first stretch of quieted street he could find. Far from empty, but hopefully enough. He braced himself for the wave of sound as his ears morphed to that of a bat yet still grew nauseous. children pointed out toys in the gift shop.The blenders in cafe whirred to life sounding like thunder. A hero chortled at whatever question a kid had asked him a street over.

A hero patted someone’s head just a block over and spoke calmly. “There’s nothing to worry about. There’s only one villain and all of us. We’ll keep you safe!”

He dropped the Quirk as he seethed, gritting his teeth. He wondered if that day in the alley with Mimic and Okumura that Koumori had chose to ignore him and Shinsou until they decided to attack. Then again, the draw of noise could be too much if Izuku chose not to focus on one in particular.

And he chose to focus on a fool. But surely someone in the red light district had what he wanted to hear. It was just a matter of reaching it and finding a moment of peace. The stick of gum in his pocket felt heavier than lead.

He waited in the gift shop and thanked Hitoshi for the tea.

Hitoshi had gone back to ask if Midoriya wanted cream only to have watched him leave through the cafe’s side door. He still grabbed their drinks, feeling stupid, only to find Izuku waiting.

He had a bad feeling about this.

“Well, this isn’t awkward.”

“What? Two teens in the red light district in broad daylight? It’s more likely than you think.”

“Hush.”

Few mewled about. Some walked slumped and ragged, likely suffering from hangovers. But beyond them were clean shop owners setting up displays. Girls Izuku assumed had just started college handed out flyers and especially ignored him and Shinsou.

Izuku made his way to the first clean looking shop he could find. “I think we should split up.”

But he was brought to a halt by the hand gripping his hoodie. “Nope.”

“Shin, we stand out like sore thumbs. At least if we separate we’re less suspicious and can cover more ground. The quicker, the better, right?”

“No. We agreed to stick together, and we’re going to.”

Izuku gave him a questionable look, but Hitoshi grabbed his arm instead and directed them to a lone woman tapping at her phone.

“C’mon. We’re losing daylight.”

His sweatshirt kept their skin apart, but the area still lit up with goosebumps as they walked. This would be a long day.

When Hitoshi chatted up a bored, smoking man, he nonchalantly acted interested in a display, inching away only for a hand to hold his shoulder in place. If he took advantage of Shinsou’s searching, a quick hand would pat his shoulder with a simple “there you are” followed by dragging his reluctant feet towards their next victim to Shinsou’s uncomfortable questioning. He grew restless.

It wasn’t until—

“Hey, Toshi, is that who I think it is?”

His captor hadn’t even expected to see anything, only to widen his eyes ridiculously in a way that reminded Izuku of a fish. Across the way similarly to them, a boy hassled the girls giving out flyers who obviously had no interest, but he wore same suit Izuku remembered back in UA. In the middle of Hosu and recent incidents, it was like seeing a ghost.

Izuku made it blunt as he pulled away from Shinsou. “Ingenium’s brother’s here.”

“Would he recognize you?”

“Yep.” He maybe been wearing a mask, but his voice would give it away. “Gotta go.”

“Hang on.” He grabber Izuku’s arm again as they rounded a corner. “What if he picked up something?”

“He’ll recognize my voice.”

“Then stay here and I’ll talk to him.”

Then he was gone and Izuku stood in a shadowed corner. Alone.

His ears morphed to compensate the distance, and beyond the drowning cacophony of customers and clerks and a hero asking desperately if anyone had seen his charge, he heard the casual address made by Hitoshi.

The Iida boy had inquired him before his friend could even ask. “I am seeking any word on a man called the hero killer. It was near here that a hero was attacked.”

Izuku hadn’t thought about that, the proximity being so close. Shinsou responded easily. “Sorry, I’m actually looking for anything on him, too.”

Izuku tuned them out and stretched his sense further, sound waves bouncing between buildings created a white noise and proved difficult to decipher. He needed to go higher.

It sounded like Shinsou was giving his condolences to the Iida boy and asking why he was out here alone, busy enough that a quick trip to the roofs wouldn’t be a burden. Thankfully, the buildings didn’t tower and acted more like a staircase the further out he went. And in time, sound came from all sides intensely. The sun would set soon, meaning this was his last chance before Shinsou dragged him back on the train homebound.

Secured in his pocket sat a single stick of gum, and now would be his only chance. He popped it into his mouth without a second thought, chewing methodically as below him Shinsou offered some pointless advice to a boy whose brother will never walk again.

This time around, Izuku was ready for the warping of light to an intensified clarity, his focus increased and the white noise blasting like the protective bubble around him had finally popped. And he could feel them, the hundreds of Quirks beneath his feet like ants crawling across his skin. But the distance helped, being on an empty office building stretching over enough stories. To keep the hum of Quirks at bay.

The wind blew like a storm, whistling and carrying stories.

An engagement. A birthday. Dropped ice cream and annoyed parents. Phone calls. Friends joking that they could call on the hero killer like he was nothing more than a boogie man.

But what came to his attention was a voice he hadn’t expected to hear just yet, somewhere close. “It’s almost precious how hard he’s trying.”

Shigaraki.

Someone scolded him, but the leader of the League of Villains continued. “Actually, the cities he’s appeared in have all seen across the board drops in the crime rate. Some theorize that it’s tied to an increase in hero awareness. Well, that’s great! So much for putting a stop to heroism! Hero Killer? More like Hero Breeder!”

Izuku inwardly cheered. He was right. They had to know each other, maybe work the same circle even if Stain seems so isolated. They sounded close, Shigaraki and his sidekick. He let jump take him towards his voice. Maybe even —

He looked to the tallest building, just a mile out, when Shigaraki directed his colleague to bring out the Nomu. The world froze.

But Nomu, the Thing, was defeated and arrested by All Might. So who—

Shinsou. He had to warn Shinsou. But the trigger hadn’t warn off yet, and leaving the roofs would be dangerous. He thought he could control the majority of side effects, but Shinsou— if he grabbed his arm — what if — and yet—

“Which of us can cause more destruction? Let’s see.”

Then he felt it. Having stepped so close, they swirled in abundance, like a swarm. There must be an entire crew on that roof, barely all fitting in their space. It was like the USJ incident all over again. Except, when Shigaraki declared war on Stain, from the roof only jumped or flew a few Things similarly to the one at the USJ.

It hit him far too late as they descended on the crowds below to understand.

There were many Nomu.

Nomu were their own Quirkbanks.

And they were going to be Stain’s next distraction.

And wihtout even seeing it, he knew one was heading straight for Izuku.

And Izuku, with trigger in his veins, was like a moth to a light.

Chapter 21: The Hero Killer

Chapter Text

Izuku’s inventory:

Quirk theft: take a target’s Quirk via physical touch. Takes several seconds of contact. Causes itchiness.

Quills: spikes protrude from the skin at varying lengths and thickness based on individual’s aggression. Can be shot as projectiles.

Blink: individual may personally warp short distances. Concentration is necessary to bring along items through personal warps. Items with greater volume are proven more difficult.

Enhanced hearing: intensifies hearing of all sound waves. Too loud of sounds can be painful. Great concentration allows to pick out specific sound waves.

Mimic: Ability to copy one voice at a time after hearing it. Vocal mimic cannot be held if individual switches to a different Quirk.

Shinsou (party member): a sarcastic first year seeking to make a difference.
Quirk: Brainwash: target will follow simple physical commands after responding to individual.
Additional note: party member is only aware of Blink.

It’s a good thing Izuku always comes prepared. He set his backpack down and had the simple gas mask over his mouth, no gloves and his phone in a small pocket of his belt, before the Nomu even came into sight.

His Quirks sung to his veins as the Nomu screeched, and he tasted the energy that buzzed around him.

As evening grew, it’s silhouette barely showed as its wings brought it towards Izuku until it finally locked eyes with its assumed prey. If only it knew.

It dashed forward until curving it’s taloned feet towards Izuku, and the boy allowed it, the anticipation making it difficult to stay still, until he Blinked.

And it skidded against the roof of the building with a boy on its back.

And he could feel them, swarming like fish in a pond, all curious of his hands that hovered across the surface, ready to grip them between his fingers and pull them out. When they skimmed the surface—

The Nomu spun onto its side, knocking the boy off of it.

With his prize.

It stood, glaring at him with beady eyes, a gas mask adorning its face. Maybe it struggled to breathe properly. But it snarled beyond the mask, before something caught its eye, and suddenly it dove off the edge of the building.

“Not so fast!”

He followed, prize just at his fingertips.

And it thrummed against his skin sung with the excess energy, like a sugar rush. And as he sped down after it, he brought his fist back and aimed directly for its head.

He heard it crash before he used blink to shift his momentum, sending himself directly up enough that by the time his gravity caught up once more, falling meant nothing.

He heard the screams of pedestrians, the scent of smoke, and the Quirks that scattered to hide from the falling beings, but his focus was on the bundle wadded all together in a single breathing vessel.

It barely stood up from its crater in the middle of the street when it lunged for him. And he readied the quills, releasing them and listening to it cry like a wounded animal. It crash landed with quills piercing its shoulder and waist, just above the ragged jeans. It glared at him, hissing behind the gas mask. It’s wings beated, readying to strike and Izuku could barely sit still until —

It flew up and headed deeper into town. “Oh, no you don’t!”

It banked left, twisting between the streets, and Izuku Blinked to reach higher, stepping on signs and lamp posts for the leverage needed, becoming eye level with the flying Nomu and getting closer. It was heading straight for the growing flames of the town hall’s garden.

He Blinked ahead just perfectly so he could land on its back, dipping into that same pool of Quirks— but there came another swell, larger from his right, and—

It barreled into him, knocking the wind from him as he fell, a single Quirk grasped between his fingers. He stood up warily, glaring at the second Nomu, though it had no eyes to glare back with. The Quirk felt like sap coating his skin. The beast ran towards him and Izuku’s thoughts whirred faster. He booked it, letting the first stolen Quirk like a sugar rush let him run quickly when he should be out of breath, acting as the enticing prey, heading towards a wall of the closest building as it gained on him. It would be on him in moments, its jaw opened wide like it could swallow him. He Blinked up and shoved his ungloved palms against the brick surface. It held, sticking him in place and out of reach as the eyeless Nomu slammed into the building.

There was shouting and Izuku took notice of the grounded heroes ducking from the flying Nomu. The second Nomu, its hands strong, embedded into the brick wall and started to climb.

There came shouting, booming and looking up revealed to him the fireball careening towards him and the Nomu. In blind panic, he picked up the first Quirk he could and let the cool coating hold off the heat that should have singed his skin. Heat resistance. Nice. The Nomu screamed, having lost the Quirk to Izuku.

It fell, and Izuku watched as it turned towards the number two hero and the flames engulfing the man’s hands at the ready. Endeavor. He could never mistake a Quirk of such raw power.

“Hey! You could have hit me!”

The old hero warned, “Then get out of the way and the let the pros handle this.” The next wave of heat chased the Nomu, and Izuku took it as his cue to move.

He warped up to the top of the building, letting his hands stick to hold himself in place until the next warp to climb higher. From his vantage point, he could look over the city and the dying light revealing the havoc. Flames. Fires and smoke plumes from different corners.

The city was under attack by the Nomu.

He watched in awe as another Nomu with too many eyes jump across the roofs like they were nothing, heading for the overhead train tracks.

And the train would head just past Izuku’s location and the Nomu’s. Fine. He let Blink carry him across gaps too wide to jump himself and climbed up himself for the incoming train. It was catching speed, heading out of the city, but he just had to time it, get his moment right. He started run as it came towards him, then when it narrowly started to pass him, he Blinked to the top of the train. He rolled on its top as it continued its speed, and it wasn’t until he slammed his palms down that he could hold on. The Nomu had done the same, but unlike his unceremonial climb on, the Thing rammed straight through the side of the train, entering one of the cars. Great, okay.

He picked himself up carefully and teatered towards the new hole and where passengers screamed. He quickly considered the size the train and warped into the car below him, the passengers screaming at the new arrival and the Nomu that leered at a small child and mother.

It showed human teeth and stared with too many eyes until the Quills pierced its skin. “Oi! I’m right here, big guy!” The swell of Quirks glared at him, not hesitating to give chase as Izuku warped atop its back, the thing trying to reach for him as he pulled a Quirk from it before hopping towards the gaping hole in the train. It followed like a cat chasing a mouse, and Izuku jumped out, tucking his feet up to avoid its low swipe. It jumped after him at a moment he didn’t expect, the Thing colliding into him with a readied punch that forced him spinning falling back into Hosu.

For only moments in his free fall Izuku had the thought, This is how I die. Miles away and mom has no idea where I am .

Until his back hit the unforgiving ground of a nearby building’s roof.

The pounding in his head mixed with the thundering of the thing’s own landing. The adrenaline brought him to his feet again and he used Blink to just barely miss the collision with its charging body. He came out of it dizzy and the world spinning. Was he concussed?

The Thing didn’t give him time to ponder it or to let his eyes focus before it barreled into him and knocked him forward onto his face. It tore the wind out of him and his nose trickled blood. He was in a crouch for a second before the Thing swiped at him again and drove him off the edge of the roof. The world spun out of control, but he reached out and made a disoriented warp to just barely the edge of the roof, grasping it with only one hand.

To his side there was another building, one taller and made of concrete and he jumped to its fire escape before climbing. The Nomu squealed behind him and the fire escape shook by its hinges when it too slammed into it and began to climb after its prey. But once he reached the top, Izuku couldn’t help but stop in awe, in horror, as Hosu’s twilight mixed with billowing smoke and the street lamps mixed in with the ever growing fires and winged creatures— Things, Nomu from before with brains exposed and a blankness devoid of awareness of themselves— snatched up civilians.

All of Hosu was under attack. It wasn’t just one or two, they were a zoo on the run.

The Thi— Nomu— screeched behind him and Izuku was on the move.

Izuku got off the ground, jumping from fire escapes to balconies to store roofs with dread filling his stomach.

Each time he jumped, he noted the damages. The train wasn’t the only place to be hit if the busted walls and road debris was anything to say. There were more Nomu, more than just the one that nearly crushed Izuku between its palms on the train and was now chasing after him.

This was a premeditated attack on the whole city.

Izuku tried to move faster, barely reaching the edge of roofs and tripping on his own feet. He was on the top floor of a parking garage when the Nomu caught up. He barely registered his feet leaving the ground as he was slammed into a parked car and went down on his knees. Even with the minor shock absorption Quirk, the blood still pounded in his ears.

The car’s alarm echoed and he tasted copper in his mouth. His lungs ached with the dented cage of his ribs barely held. But Izuku dropped onto his belly painfully and crawled beneath the car, hoping for just a second, only a second to think.

But it was already lifting the car.

There was no chance in running. Nothing would be strong enough to fight it. So he made his last ditch effort.

As it lifted the car, Izuku sprung at it and placed both his hands on the Nomu’s chest.

And he screamed.

It wouldn’t stop. Let go. The Nomu’s themselves were mindless, but they were packed to the brim with Quirks. Izuku could feel it. A plethora of Quirks all screaming for release, too many for such a tiny place. It wasn’t an organized selection of Quirks as Izuku had done. It was dozens packed clumsily on top of each other and shoved into a crevice held together by a burning wire that Izuku yanked on and it burned. Like he was holding onto a hot iron but he couldn't let it go. He couldn't let go.

The Thing screeched in pain with him as all the work to keep it together unraveled for just a moment at Izuku’s touch. It tried to shake the boy off, hitting itself and the boy against a nearby car, shattering the glass which embedded into Izuku’s cheek. His breath ceased as he choked on bubbling blood. It pushed at Izuku until he thought his arms would fall right from their sockets.

Then it stopped, the heat spreading from his hands and pressing at his chest. For a second the world turned white and Izuku fell to the ground. His hands were scalding, he wasn’t sure the skin was still there as his world faded to black.

Chaos arose quickly from nowhere. One minute he’s talking to a relative of one of Stain’s victims, the people screamed and monsters chased people around the city.

The boy is fast, and Hitoshi is reminded exactly what family he belonged to as the distance between them grew. At first, he thought the smaller Ingenium was heading for the suddenly rising smoke, but he didn’t, taking a turn into narrow street. Hitoshi rounded the corner to see how Iida paused at each street corner, each back alley, and each park. He was searching, and Hitoshi could only thank for it so he could keep the boy in his line of sight.

“Iida!”

When he turned suddenly furious, Hitoshi faltered, nearly tripping from the glare aimed at him. He spoke loud and demanding. “Don’t follow me.”

“Iida, I know what you’re trying to do. You don’t have to do this—”

“I do! He will pay for what he’s done, one way or another.”

“Just so your brother, who is very alive, can go to your funeral?”

There was a bitter bite to his words. “I won’t let that happen.”

“That’s what’s going to happen. And you know it. Please, don’t make me stop you.”

“You can’t.”

“Then I have one question: will your brother be proud?”

Wrong thing to say. Iida only looked at him with utter disgust, deciding to not dignify the question with an answer. Hitoshi f*cked up, because Iida was back to running down the street just as the first monster chased civilians shoved past the vigilante to safety.

Save his brainwashing for later then, because the Thing had gnarly teeth like razors and hands akin to claws.

“Nomu!” shouted Iida as he jumped out of range of its swipes. “It attacked my class last month.”

That’s a Nomu? The Thing that almost killed Eraserhead and Izuku? It was huge, taller than All Might.

Okay, fingers crossed it had intelligence.

Hitoshi unfurled his staff, and clanged it against asphalt, drawing the beast’s attention. “Aye, bug eyes! Come and get me!”

It screeched at him then pounded towards him on all fours like a gorilla. Okay, yah, no. This wasn’t working. Hitoshi started running too, because there was no way he could stop something that weighed three times more than him at that velocity. Apparently, it couldn’t really understand Hitoshi, so it couldn’t technically respond, not in a way that his Quirk would work. This was becoming a real pain.

He sprinted as the hurling mass came barreling towards him and Hitoshi could only hope a hero would spot them before it was too late. Probably not, because people wouldn’t be scattering if that was the case. It’s fine.

He swore he could feel its breaths when he heard Iida’s shouting, and the blur swerved just past him, careening as Iida pulled it off course and let its unstoppable momentum force it into a boutique’s glass windows.

He met Iida at the front of the store just as the beast picked itself up. Glass scattered everywhere and shelves knocked over, the monster shook to remove the clothes pierced from its claws.

Iida held a protective arm in front of Hitoshi with a second of peace pulled his simple face mask from his pocket. “Stay back!”

The beast snarled at the same time Hitoshi swatted his hand away. “So how to do you beat these things?”

“I don’t know. I wasn’t even there when All Might fought it.”

“Great.” So that would make Izuku the expert, and guess who wasn’t here. His phone didn’t buzz, and he hoped the boy hadn't been taken by surprise. He stomped his staff against the ground again to get the Thing’s attention again feeling like an unpaid matador. The pink tissue exposed from its skull looked sensitive. He hoped that wasn’t actually its brain, but the stone brick buildings were becoming rather enticing. “Think you can steer it into something hard?”

The smaller Ingenium nodded, and he wondered what had happened to the helmet he’d been carrying around while talking with Shinsou before. Hitoshi banged his staff against the closest still standing light post and the beast snarled. “Here, boy! Come get dinner!”

And it did, speeding towards the two as Hitoshi booked down the sidewalk, crossing the street that had flames spewing out further down and hoping the angle would give Iida the space he needed.

He felt more than heard the the ricochet as bricks chipped and gave away to the monster’s crash, then it squealed. He turned just in time to see the Iida boy aim a punch for the Thing’s head, but Hitoshi saw it’s annoyance. It simpled swatted at the boy as Hitoshi ran closer, the Nomu having knocked Iida on his back and raising its talons. Hitoshi shouted, “Catch!”

If not for his staff, blocking those taloned fingers from reaching his throat, Iida would be dead.

“Unhand him!” a cry came from the flaming street. He didn’t recognize the hero, but suddenly, the much louder, energetic prey became more enticing, and the Nomu ran for the muscular man and his back up.

Hitoshi looked back to find only his staff lying on the ground.

“Oh, come on!”

Once more, he was running. Izuku had some ideas of where to look, where Stain’s hunting grounds might be: someone where with not enough crime to need much patrolling, but lacking enough lighting, cameras, and foot traffic to pick off unsuspecting heroes. Though Hosu was currently in chaos, the same rules applied.

He saw the red cloth from the other end of the alley, hidden in the corner of Hosu. He almost past it, if not for the bright red on the edge of his vision. For a villain wanting to do his work quietly, a flashy red scarf certainly provided mixed messages.

Stain.

In truth he hadn’t expected to find Stain, not with the chaos of Hosu. Criminals were one of thousands living peacefully. Anyone else would book a trip out of town until the destruction was handled, but then again, villains had terf, and an attack from the League was a threat to their territory.

Instead, Hitoshi halted and turned to head down the poorly lit alley, stopping once more when he noticed the second person aiming a kick for the villain’s head. He heard the shouting, saw the blade in Stain’s hands lifting above his head.

Hitoshi didn’t think— just moved.

His staff expanded and he swung for the man’s head just as Iida missed in his kick, the villain stepping back into Shinsou’s wind up attack, but Stain, in an incredible feat, backflipped past the staff. Hitoshi hardly had time for the swipe at his feet that sent him on his back just as Iida launched himself at the villain rapidly spinning in his roundhouse kicks to force the villain further back.

“What are you doing here!” came from Iida.

Hitoshi hardy got onto his feet before shouting back, “You think I’m gonna let you fight the Hero Killer by yourself!” It felt like talking to Midoriya all over again. That idiot showing up right now would be a game changer, but since when had anything in his life gone right?

“You don’t need to be here! This is my mission. Not yours!” The boy ran straight for the Hero Killer that grinned madly.

“Fools,” he said simply. “Caring for nothing but revenge. You’d let a hero die before shedding blood.” He held against Iida, blocking kicks and metallic punches until noticing the vulnerable grooves in the boy’s armour. “Heroes like you deserve the slaughter.”

sh*t sh*t sh*t. “What makes you better, Stainy?!”

He didn’t respond, the man focusing on the weak points of his enemies. He knew. He had to know. sh*t, sh*t. He knew Hitoshi’s Quirk. Did he do his research, or are he and Midoriya more known than he thought?

Shinsou couldn’t let him die. “You’re stupid! Iida, this is stupid!” He laced the words, hoping he was making the right decision.

Iida jumped back from an attack, readying himself to rush back into it. “You don’t get to decide for me—” Iida started, then stopped, staring at Shinsou dully.

Hitoshi held his phone behind his back praying he pressed the right button before commanding, “Run until you find a hero. Quick!” Though eyes glazed, the boy ran back out the alley leaving Shinsou to stare at Stain and the hero leaning against the wall, blood pooling where he sat. He recognized him instantly. Native, a more or less quiet hero who’s costume led to a uniform reform not long after Midnight’s own fiasco. His uniform was much more mellow than it used to be, but the “N” across the chest and fur cape were obvious tropes of the hero.

No, no, no. He didn’t notice him. Why didn’t he notice him!? Even when he was trying to do right, he—

Shinsou looked on at the villain who watched him now coolly. He wouldn’t have let Iida leave so easily if he took his prey with him. This was for the best. The boy readied himself, inching forward to stand between Stain and the hero. He couldn’t carry him out of there, not quick enough without fear being stabbed in the back.

The man spoke first. “It’s not too late to walk away, though I’m growing impatient. Last chance, brat.”

Hitoshi grinned. “If you think I’m gonna let an old man get away twice, you’re going senile.”

The killer didn’t respond, watching the boy begin to sweat. He definitely knew his Quirk. Even if he didn’t know before, the fact Iida so easily turned away couldn’t make it anymore obvious. Fine. Midoriya didn’t run away when the school was attacked, he wouldn’t either.

He launched himself forward.

He dreamed of nothing and everything. He dreamt of forest fires and a space so dark it snuffed any light. He walked endlessly in it, his chest aching for air that did not exist. But there were. . . . sensations. He passed one, one that left a tingling in his arms until the Quills protruded from them and another that teleported him in the dark, pulling at his gut as it always did.

Others mimicked familiar Quirks, ones he stole, his palms cold and sticky like he dipped them in gooey honey. One felt like a shield coating his skin in a stone chill while another made him feel numb.

Until he came across others, propped together in a swirling vortex that at the touch left him feeling close to imploding. No touch, okay. But one he didn’t recognize held taught like a string circling the foreign whirlpool, and it thrummed with scalding light that offered him to touch. It encased his body in warmth, it glowed in its own way in the darkness and then—

He choked at the sharp pain that became his whole world.

Izuku’s eyes opened to the smokey sky of Hosu with aching ribs and head pounding, his cheek on fire. He rubbed at it, feeling nothing, not the glass that had pierced it or the skin tears that should have still been there. Only mild, drying blood was left.

The pain seceded from his side and he slowly sat up to stare at the Nomu at his feet that stared back with too many eyes.

It wasn’t moving.

The hammer that had been pounding in his skull eased and his chest felt warm as the Quirk sewed cuts and bruises.

Had he—

How many Quirks did he pull out? It felt like a swarm of minnows the size of bowling balls clashing around. It was overwhelming, sickening because even as he reached out to the glows his head wanted to be anywhere but on his neck.

Were the Quirks keeping it alive?

The wire around the abundance of Quirks, a single Quirk that knitted his torn skin— did ripping out what binded it. . . Kill it?

With shaky fingers, he touched it’s neck.

Nothing. He killed the Nomu.

Izuku managed to stand and limped to the side of the parking garage. The panic that threatened to drown him would be boxed for until later because Izuku still felt numb from the adrenaline coursing through his veins, though the trigger had long since faded. Flames still decorated the streets and more Nomu rampaged below surrounded by heroes.

He could still feel the cracked ribs when he used Blink to the next rooftop, but it wasn’t the same punctured lung feeling it had been before.

And in the moment of quiet he noticed the vibration from his belt.

He patted at his pocket and sighing in relief to find his phone, the screen cracked but still came to life at his touch. Shinsou texted him with just a location.

His skin finished knitting together, the cracked ribs nothing more than a little bruised. Izuku, though exhausted, headed towards the location while using Energy Boost and Blink back and forth. He felt sick from the amount of warps, but he couldn’t stop now. Calling Shinsou’s phone ended with his voicemail, and the boy’s heart jumped in his throat. He was fine. It was going to be fine. He kept going until something caught his eye.

Izuku had moved down the building’s makeshift staircase back towards the streets but just above the flames and disaster. Nomu rampaged and heroes chased after. It wasn’t until reaching a more quiet corner that the boy caught his eye, the shining metal and red framed glasses of Ingenium’s younger brother.

Izuku went to him and the boy stopped in a daze. “Iida?” Then he grabbed Izuku’s arm and began to pull him in the direction he came. This had to be Shinsou’s doing. “Okay. Take me to him.”

As an Iida, he ran faster than natural, and it felt like the taller boy would rip his arm off if not for Izuku activating Energy Boost, then they stood in front of a dark alley, the closest street light having gone out and not because of any sort of damage. From inside he heard Hitoshi shouting. He slapped Iida upside the head and dashed in without a single plan.

Because Stain stood with a gleaming sword above Htioshi’s head, and Izuku wouldn’t let him die here. Not like this.

The Hero Killer barely brought his sword up quick enough to block the stream of quills aimed for his face, and barely did he keep his balance when Izuku Blinked into him and drop kicking into his chest, forcing the villain backwards and away from Shinsou. Izuku stood over the boy then, glaring just over his gas mask.

“You okay, Shin?”

Hitoshi looked towards where Iida had just gained his bearings. “Don’t let him cut you.”

Stain glared at the newcomer. “I told you once already to stay out of Hosu.”

Izuku noticed the second body slumped against the wall. A tan costume and a feather propped on a headband. Native. Native was his next victim. “You know me: not one keep my nose out of things.”

Iida finally came to his senses and tried to push in front of Izuku. “You need to run! He’s the Hero Killer! Take the boy and get out of here!”

As if his lips could stretch even further, Stain’s grin doubled.

Izuku let out a shaky breath, cooling his nerves. “So what made you go after Native and a kid? With all his charities I thought you’d see him as one of the good guys.”

The killer huffed. “Sure charities. ‘All proceeds go to charity’ my ass. Every third charity he covers, 30% goes missing. And when I offered to cut out the tongue of a clown in a tie rumored for fraud, guess who was on the list of names as a business partner?”

Native sat slumped and barely focused. “You don’t think the guy was stealing from Native without him knowing?”

“I thought you did your homework, kid. Native isn’t even f*cking native. That’s a sham story he’s been selling for years. He’s been living off those donations since he was sponsored in high school because no one did an actual background check. It’s about time someone shown the light on him.”

“You said there’s a list. Native isn’t your only target.”

“Far from. Ingenium was on the list, too.”

“Liar!” A shout came from the hero student.. Stain only seemed to smile more. He turned his head back to the kid, his voice casual.

“He’s young though, so I let him live, let him be an example of what happens when you hide behind a company.”

“You’re wrong!” His voice cracked. Izuku could hear the small shaking of his shoulders in the Ingenium like suit. A spitting image would fall to Stain too if he didn’t do something.

“Rumor has it he won’t be in the field ever again.”

Izuku stepped in, holding the fuming Iida back who only saw red. He had to get him out of here, he wasn’t going to die this way. The USJ had been too close, too raw of what could have happened to any of those students, and there was no doubt in his mind that the man before them could drop a Nomu in seconds. “So you thought fighting a bunch of kids would prove your point?”

“Ah,” Stain pulled a dagger from its strap at his thigh. “Brat wanted revenge, I guess. Came in guns blazing but no care that I had an injured hostage. Pretty pathetic for a hero.”

A hiccup came from the teen, but Izuku couldn’t look at him, not with Stain trained on them and ready to strike.

“The other’s your partner, isn’t he? Tried to play a real hero but still. You know how it goes.”

Two immobilized victims. One was injured and risking shock. The only other mobile member wanted revenge and wouldn’t leave without it. Hosu’s main streets were on fire and all pro heroes were focused on the Nomu targeting civilians and overall wreaking havoc. No one knew where he was and likely neither for the other three.

There was no stalling for backup.

There was no running away.

Izuku Midoriya was up against the 16 confirmed kills and probably more Hero Killer.

The villain eyed the blood that still coated Izuku’s clothes and skin, matted his hair and made him look wild. “This is your last chance to move along, kid. I might not be interested in killing you, but that doesn’t mean you’ll leave with both your legs.”

Shouting came from Iida as he charged at Stain. “No, you need to run! This isn’t your fight. You’re going to get yourself killed— just go!”

Izuku took a step forward to follow and planning not to hold back.

The killer grinned. “Have it your way.”

Stain moved faster than he could register. If he didn’t know it, he’d think the man to be a part of the Iida family, which said boy shoved Izuku to the side to attack first.

He had a dagger out waiting for Iida’s charge, dodging easily and letting the momentum guide the boy past him with a dagger in his shoulder.

But Izuku was quick to follow despite how Shinsou shouted behind him, quills pulled in front of him to force the man to dodge by pressing himself into the wall. Though exhausted, letting Stain rush him next gave him the chance to Blink behind him, switching to Energy Boost to perform a kick straight for the man’s head. But Stain wasn’t one to be snuck up on, the katana blocking the kick and a fist to Izuku’s gut forced him down but Shock Absorption kept it from taking his breath. He fell and rolled into a backwards somersault to miss the blade that penetrated into the ground. The man followed, sword ready and Izuku let Blink push him somewhere the villain couldn’t reach: through the brick wall and into the building. He’d need to leave a note for whoever’s desk he just trashed, but Izuku navigated quickly to the room over that would put him closer to Shinsou, Blinking back into the chilled night to see Iida land a haymaker that forced the villain back from where he licked his bloody fist. Iida followed, pushing the two back, Stain armed with a dagger and the boy blocking every shot he could until Stain threw the blade down straight through the boy’s shoe.

Iida howled, and Stain knocked him down with a kick to his chest. The Hero Killer easily pulled the blade from the boy’s foot who cried out but didn’t move when his tongue touched the blade. Izuku realized too late.

f*ck, f*ck f*ck—

The villain grinned as he fell. “Gotcha.” The man turned to Izuku, having already realized he stood behind him. Iida wasn’t getting up. Shinsou hadn’t gotten up and his injuries looked minor. He could see him now, staring wide eyed at Izuku with only a cut on his wrist. Stain stepped over the Iida boy, stepping forward to glare at Izuku properly, stance ready to pounce at any moment. “Looks like you’ve been hunting, Thief. So it’s true. It’s a shame though, you could make such a good hero if you just stayed in school.”

He could feel Hitoshi’s eyes on him as he spit out, “f*ck you.”

The man only shook his head. “This whole world is rotten, brat. Its education systems, politics, the heroes. They take and take then take some more until they drain the public dry. Then they drop poison in their kids and low-income families and have the audacity to ask why petty crime rates keep growing. But you,” he said with a grin that made Izuku’s skin crawl, “I see it now. You’ve been using your gifts to fix things permanently.”

Everything felt numb except his tongue, his body rigid where he stood. “To stop villian rates you became one?”

“I’m doing the work no one else will with what I have.” Then he came forward at an impossible speed, and all Izuku could think to do was Blink high and unreachable, letting his hands stick him in place out of reach and kick away the knife the knife sent towards him.

But height didn’t stop him, and suddenly, the man had used the narrow alley’s walls to jump back and forth to reach him, and the two fell to the floor, taking Izuku’s breath away as his head cracked loudly against it. He wasn’t out of the fight yet, bringing his hand up with the intent to take , but the older man stopped any thought of it when he slammed his foot onto the boy’s fingers.

He screamed and writhed as the boot was brought up and stomped once more, Izuku bringing his other arm up and letting the Quills fly wildly. It stopped when the man yelped, the needle like points imbedding into his clothes but more importantly the unprotected flesh of his face and fingers that tried to bat them away. He didn’t stop until the dagger ate into his palm, pinning both of his hands down, one by the killer’s foot, the other a blade.

He felt the man’s breath on his face as he lent down to dip his finger into the same cut of the knife, coating it in blood and setting it on his tongue.

Suddenly, Izuku found himself unable to move, his legs and arms that writhed becoming like stone.

The Killed’s bloody face grinned before him, slowly picking each needle out and letting the blood pool over the teen’s face then wrenching the knife from his palm. Already, the wound began to close, the Quirk still reachable even in this state, and Stain watched curiously.

“It’s true. Little Thief. You could be so much more with your skill, and you waste it on boring villains. I met one of yours before. Those spikes look pretty familiar. My only question is: did you like it? The hunt?”

Every fiber of his being demanded he move away, to run, but his body continued to hold still, the fear messing with his control of Regeneration. He thought it could make the paralysis end quicker, but he still laid with a murderer hunched over him too close, too elated at his catch.

He sighed, standing slowly. “You could be a lot more, you know. Petty criminals are just the surface. If you want to stop a disease, you go for the head.”

Stain stepped proudly away from Izuku and towards — no, no. “No one listens to a guy on a soap box, I learnt that the hard way. But this?” Native, who had been silent, head stooping to the side against the alley wall and sweat coating his skin— he’d lost a lot of blood— barely lifted his head and focused on the killer towering over him. Izuku shouted, begging. He heard the other boy too. “This seems to turn some heads.”

Izuku screamed with Native as a katana plunged straight through his chest. To put on a show, Stain lifted the man by the sword stuck in his chest while blood spilled from his lips. The man kicked weakly. And with a simple pull, his hand shoved Native off by the shoulder, the sword unsheathed from Native’s chest as his body fell to the floor. The sickening thud brought bile to his throat.

“Bastard!”

“You may not hear my message now, Quirk Thief, but in time you’ll see. These streets hold secrets you wouldn’t believe. This rotten society is at the brink of collapse and if something doesn’t happen soon, if I don’t do this work, a lot more people will get hurt.”

Then Hitoshi kicked Stain in the face.

He deserved that.

Stain stumbled as Hitoshi followed with his staff and jabbing at the mans shoulder where the skin wasn’t protected. The same staff met with the man’s temple in a blink of a second. Another jab, then the simple swirl of a katana forced the staff out of his hands and flinging it towards where Izuku laid unmoving.

Shinsou stared at the armed man as if they were still evenly matched. “If you think you’re gonna get away with this, think again.”

Silence. Stain knew Shinsou’s Quirk rendering it useless.

Standing in front of Izuku, Iida heaved in his armor, blood still spilling from his open wounds.

“My name is Iida Tenya, and I stand here in Ingenium’s place! Your crimes will not go unpunished!”

There’s a flurry of movements, and Izuku is begging them to get out of there while they can until his fingers finally twitched. It must be a time limit, maybe. Could it be based on blood type? Shinsou had been held still for so long, and Izuku moved his arm under him to get back to his feet. Iida took longer, a minute or two.

It didn’t matter. Native wasn’t moving.

Izuku ran to Native’s side and pressed his hand’s where the blood poured, and this close, his skin touching skin, he felt the Quirk that hummed inside Native. Native was still alive, but he was fading. The Quirk was weak and cried out like it were his very soul in the space that it sat in, like water in a cavern. But it could be taken out, and as he felt the Quirk be drawn to him, he wondered: if he could tear out Quirks, how hard is it to force one in?

The Nomu were a testament of dozens of Quirks squeezed into a space too small, but not impossible. They were bonded carefully and tied together with something to keep it sustainable, but the space inside Native— it wasn’t overflowing like it were for the monsters.

He let go of his Regeneration Quirk and pushed it into that space, bumping into Native’s true Quirk, but each managed to wrap around each other to fit. It was all Izuku could do and he hoped it worked.

At the same time, HItoshi’s body slammed down next to him clutching a wound to his shoulder. Slowly, trying to get back up, his actions failed him as paralysis took hold once more, and leaving Iida as the single soul against his brother’s attacker.

But he had a plan, one that would give them the edge they needed to end this. Hitoshi, his first friend in a long time, looked to him with wild eyes and the possible dozen questions waiting in his mouth. There wasn’t time to coddle. He reached towards him, and inspite the paralysis he swore the boy flinched. Izuku’s hand lightly gripped the back of Shinsou’s neck.

“Use my voice, Shin.” Hitoshi stared back bewildered.

“What are you talking about?”

“ This,” Izuku responded in Shin’s own voice, and then he pushed the same Quirk into the boy, feeling how they unlike his own Quirks blended in their waters and he hoped Shinsou would be able to force each of them to work together. Turning before he could see his reaction, Iida was pressed against the wall just as Izuku picked up the lost staff. And charging forward, he saw the blade embedded in Iida’s arm.

Izuku shouted, startling the man to step back, “What’s next, Stain? What do you really accomplish doing any of this!?”

He bolted for the man, stepping between the villain and student with Hitoshi’s staff in hand. Native was only a local hero. Izuku had only heard the name a few times, and the simplicity of his Quirk made him at least valuable to the Hosu Police Department. So when Izuku sent his Quills straight for the only pathetic streetlight that had bathed the alley with any light into pitch darkness, it would be just the two of them. It would take minutes for the other’s eyes to adjust, but a skilled fighter such as Stain didn’t need it, and with Tracker as his newest Quirk, neither did Izuku.

Izuku spoke again, bringing the staff up to block the katana, the weight forcing Izuku to his knees before Blinking behind the killer and dodging the measured swipes. Suddenly, the man tried to book it, with his goal of slaughtering Native seemingly accomplished and the teenagers only obstacles. But it took little to follow, Blinking just to the side of the man to send a punch that knocked the man to the side hitting the alley wall from his lost balance.

It’s just a shame Tracker can’t warn him of incoming projectiles, since his only indication was tear through flesh. He cried out but ducked down as the katana swiped at the brick wall.

“Do you think the world will claim you as their prophet? Their hero?”

Stain scoffed. “No, I’ll make this world—”

Then he paused mid swing, his eyes glazing over and Izuku realized they had him.

Shinsou’s voice came out shaky but in his natural voice. “Hold your arms out.” The man did, and Izuku pulled the zip ties from his belt. He doubted they would be enough to stop him, but it could at least slow him down should he escape Shinsou’s hold. He used six just on his wrists then held them, feeling the Quirk that left a numbing sensation. He didn’t think twice to rip it out, and Stain didn’t react. The blood that coated Izuku’s arm where the Quills had pierced Stain’s face tasted bitter, but it would keep the villain still should Shinsou’s Quirk falter.

When Iida stepped forward to check on their captive, breathing heavily and with a limp, Izuku past him to kneel before Native, the man’s eyes closed. He pulled back the shirt only to find smooth skin beneath the blood. He pulled out Regeneration and did nothing else.

Shinsou still laid paralyzed and when Izuku came close his eyes widened. There were words on his lips, he knew, but now wasn’t the time. Exhaustion filled him and left him numb. With the ebbing adrenaline came the force of all the Quirks he held, leaving him drained and feeling floaty. Foggy, like things became noticeable a little too slowly.

Iida sat just before the still villain, free again from the paralysis. “We did it. We actually did it.” He pulled out his phone a second later, someone instantly picking up as he told them they needed a medic and police transportation at their location.

Someone would find them soon, and they would come across a bloodbath, too many unlicensed people and especially two who wouldn’t want their identities revealed. Iida was still able to move, checking that Stain was secure before turning to do the same to Izuku and Hitoshi.

It’s why Izuku moved without thinking, why his hand grasped the handle of the villain’s discarded blade, one of several that’d dropped to the side in their encounter. Blood still coated it, dripping just as the wounds still on Iida’s arm and foot.

He brought it to his lips.

And Izuku felt it, like a cool rush like drinking ice water.

He couldn’t hear Iida’s steps anymore, but he did hear the sudden thud as he lost control of his body.

“I’m sorry.”

Shinsou stared past Izuku’s feet to the boy that’d fallen. His lip quivered when Izuku reached for him. “Don’t touch me.”

And then he still put Hitoshi’s arm around him and began to walk out. They had a long ride home, that is if the trains were still running. They’re at the mouth of the alley when suddenly a shove forced Midoriya to the ground.

“I said don't touch me! You.” Izuku wouldn’t look at him. “You lied to me. What—- what even was that!?”

There were many Quirks in his system, and at this point he may throw up. The headache from earlier came back with a vengeance.

“How long have you been able to do that, huh? You shot needles out of our arm. And, and . . . You— what did you do to me?” He spoke frantically.

Izuku didn’t raise his head and he spoke softly. “He knew you could brainwash, right? So I just let you trick him into thinking I was talking so he’d respond.” He should have known this would happen.

“Why can I do that? Midoriya,” he demanded desperately. Izuku thought his voiced sounded wet.

“I stole it at UA from a villain.”

Silence for a moment too long. The next time Shinsou spoke, his voice came further away. “I don’t get it. How? Your Quirk is Teleportation. I know it is. You can’t. I don’t.” The boy trailed off then said, “Your Quirk lets you take. You did what Stain did to Iida just now.”

Midoriya nodded.

The voice came from even further. “Why? How are you— You took people’s Quirks! I can’t even buy suppressants! You lied to me! I. I thought we were—” He stopped as shouting could be heard, people calling for survivors. Izuku looked up then and saw Shinsou had backed up to the other side of the street with a pleading eyes for Izuku to just explain.

But none of Izuku’s answers would be what he wanted. He should have known.

The shouts got closer and Shinsou looked to him and the approaching party, even the casted light he recognized the lead being the Normal Hero Manual. “We weren’t even friends, were we?” Shinsou didn’t look back at Izuku before waving his arms and calling them forward.

No, Izuku couldn’t be found. That was their deal. Don’t get caught. Hide their Quirks. Hide their Identities. What was he doing?

Did he not care?

No, he was hurt.

He knew what they’d do to Izuku. Their stories wouldn’t make sense. They’d find the dead Nomu and blame him. He— Izuku killed someone. Izuku killed something, maybe a once human. But it was self defense. But he used his Quirk without a license. He sought out a fight coming to Hosu.

No.

Izuku didn’t even get to his feet before scrambling back on shaky feet. He vanished from sight with Blink, putting distance between himself and Shinsou who didn’t even call for him to come back.

But he watched from his perch within the shadow, letting his palms keep him in place on the vertical wall as the heroes yelled and Hitoshi responded back.

The next minutes passed in a blur, Izuku’s head aching and the sidekicks realizing just who laid unconscious at their feet.

He recognized one as Endeavor’s sidekick and carried an annoyed Native. The man nudged himself away. “I swear, I’m fine, just tired.”

The sidekick still kept his arms out to catch him. “You’re in shock. You’ve lost a lot of blood.”

Hitoshi and a female sidekick carried Iida between him, the paralysis having yet to wear off, as Native continued to say, “I’m telling you, I’m fine. I— I feel like I’ve just run a mile or five. But,” the man started, suddenly looking to his hands. “I can’t . . . “

He noticed, but he would live. Maybe it was wrong, maybe Stain’s information was all made up, but. . . he knew what agency Native worked for. Izuku moved from his perch to get to the roof when the winged Nomu sweeped just past his hiding spot heading straight for—

“Hitoshi!”

The boy couldn’t turn fast enough, the heroes around them too slow, too relaxed for the circ*mstances, and between the winged Nomu’s talons, lifting above their heads was Hitoshi. Izuku readied himself. Hitoshi was one of the good ones. He— he may have killed one Nomu, but he could. Could he do it again? His stomach churned.

But he didn’t need to, because with a flash of movement like watching a fly pass your vision, one of the heroes’ group took off, leaping similarly to how Izuku had to gain the leverage needed to pounce on the Nomu’s back, swords gleaming—

Stain. The Nomu screeched as they dove, the bounce of flesh on concrete sickening and Shinsou tumbled away from the Nomu and still villain. Izuku watched in awe. Even without his Quirk, the killer still owned the room, and Izuku felt how his body shook from the malice that oozed from the still form. The Hero Killer shook his head with a laugh, squeezing his own palm over and over like his hand had cramped.

“So,” he started, and Izuku leant completely against the wall, “you took it, huh, brat?”

He suddenly spun around searching, Hitoshi scrambling back from his stomping feet as he looked over the boy he just saved and could use a hostage. No, he didn’t need one. He didn’t need a Quirk either. He barely registered Shinsou booking it down an alley when Stain shouted, “If you think I need a Quirk to finish my mission, you’re wrong!”

His heart seized.

“All of you. All of you are sick and brainwashed, pathetic f*cking false heroes!”

The air grew thick like smoke. It was impossible to breathe, and the Quirk that held him in place nearly slipped.

The heroes around him stepped back, choking as he watched them with eyes so cold he thought it would burn. “Just try and stop me, you fakes! I’m not letting just anyone just take me out, not some washed up fakes, brats, or thieves!” He spun around, his eyes manic as his gaze passed Izuku’s hiding spot, but the shadows hid him well. “The only person I would ever let defeat me is All Might.”

Then he laughed.

“Stupid brat. You think you can pass judgement on me!? Well, c’mon, show your f*cking worth!”

He couldn’t breathe, and his body moved beyond his frozen mind. Not towards Stain— No. His throat constricted, choking on the pure malevolence that permeated the air. Everything in him screamed Run. His shoes scuffed, his blood pumped, and suddenly he was running, unsure of how he had even reached the roof or how he reached roofs too far for Blink. And through it all he still heard the echo of venom as the monster behind him cried out:

“You hear that, Quirk Thief!? Show yourself!”

He kept running.

Just like he always did.

Quirk Thief, huh?

Hosu Collection:

Energy boost: activating it will increase energy levels

Heat resistance: allows the skin to avoid burning. Intensity and length of time yet to be measured.

Regeneration/healing: rapid healing. Currently no known drawbacks nor its full extent.

Shock absorption: Impact’s intensity decreases. Currently unmeasured.

Sticky: Palms can stick to surfaces. (The holder of the Quirk will not take any constructive criticism)

Tracker: Ability to track the movements of a single target at a time.

Bloodcurdle: ingesting the blood of target will paralyze said target for a span of several minutes. Blood type of target determines length of time.

Additional note: Incident with Nomu led to mass acquisition of Quirks. However, reaching for said mass induces severe pain.

Edit: Quirk Theft is to be renamed to Quirk Transfer in light of recent events. Quirk is able to not only remove and obtain Quirks but is capable of inserting new Quirks into targets. Analysis yet complete if possible to use multiple Quirks simultaneously.

Party Member Lost: Hitoshi Shinsou

Quirk Lost: Mimic

Chapter 22: Tenya Iida +++

Chapter Text

1.

Hate had soiled him. Some would say it creeped into them, slowly growing and building over them, suffocating them. But for Tenya it was there from the very beginning, the moment he was given the news.

“Your brother is in the hospital.”

A car came for him and all he wanted to do was scream in the back of that car, but he held it in. For others the anger slowly grows, but Tenya felt already filled to the brim, like a kettle on the verge of screaming, on the verge of boiling over.

The anger didn’t cease when saw his brother in a hospital gown or when his eyes first opened. It did not ebb when he went back to school or when his pro hero for the internship tried to distract him.

It drove him forward. It’s what kept his legs moving and filled his thoughts.

He will pay.

Tenya chose the only agency offered to him that would plant him in Hosu. While on patrol he memorized the locations of the darkest of alleys, those furthest from the main road and their cameras, easy to passover. He used his parent’s status as heroes for information not given to the public, such as the likely types of weapons his brother’s attacker used from the injuries sustained by both his brother and fatal victims as well as any hypotheses on the killer’s Quirk.

Yet Tenya couldn’t have been any more unprepared.

He ran in with no plan, only knowing the city’s distraught being an easy cover for the Hero Killer’s business. A spiteful part of him even thought Stain must have orchestrated it all. And with all rage that threatened to boil over on his classmates coerced him in his first attack that was all for naught.

He hardly even registered the hero Native propped up against the alley wall when that boy said something that made his mind go blank and only return to himself when suddenly the boy, the vigilante or villain that gave chase in UA and slowed down Tenya.

In truth, his hatred only masked emotion that started at the beginning of the school year:

Shame.

It started when he failed the girl Uraraka, a classmate that grew into one of his closest friends, and her speaking of the terror she felt during the entrance exams.

“This guy came out of nowhere and tried to get me out. I think he was the only one who saw me.”

Tenya has watched that boy pass by, thinking him a fool as he and other examinees ran, every man for himself.

He felt disgusting to leave his class behind in the USJ. He left them, he left Uraraka again. And even when he went to the first teacher he could fine, being barrelled over by another kid in a jumpsuit claiming good intentions, Midnight didn’t believe him, sending All Might ahead, the one hero those villains wanted in the first place.

He played stupid games in the sports festival trying to prove himself while his brother laid in his own blood, all his efforts still nothing compared to his classmates let alone a real villain.

The shame clouded his every action. It’s why he ignored that boy that said retched words he didn’t want to hear.

“Would your brother be proud?”

That same boy fell at Stain’s feet paralyzed for him.

When he came too from the fog that clouded his mind, Tenya never expected the same boy who tackled him on UA property to be by his side making small talk with his brother’s almost killer. Stalling, he knew, and once again, Tenya proved himself useless, going down in seconds by the killer, proving every terrible thought in his head right.

But.

The others fought valiantly, giving it their all. Shin did something to try to save his life, to get him out of that alley safely but it didn’t exactly work, and he took on Stain alone. The other boy was the reason Shin lived, the reason Stain’s anger shifted away from an avenging brother to something more enticing.

Even when Native’s blood coated the alley and all seemed lost, Shin proved to be the bravest person Tenya had ever met, the other boy too. He realized far too late that the one in a gas mask never tried to hurt anyone in UA, and if not for his actions they would all be dead or at least the killer still walking free.

Then when it was over, Tenya fell to the ground once more.

“I’m sorry.”

And Stain called him Quirk Thief. Who knew what other invisible Quirks he may have had?

He almost single handedly took out the Hero Killer.

He was a vigilante, a kid with no training, and he was on Stain’s level.

“So he left you there? In the alley?”

“Yes,” Tenya confirmed with the officer. “I was paralyzed again, the same way I had been from Stain initially.”

“Did you feel he would hurt you?”

“. . . No. From the moment he came upon us, he tried to move Stain away from Native and me. Even though I watched him take the Hero Killer’s Quirk--”

“That has not been confirmed.”

Maybe. But Tenya knew what he saw, knew how things could have ended. “Either way, I never thought he would approach me for mine.”

“And he checked on Native?”

Tenya counted to ten before answering. “Stain had injured him before and while we were all knocked down. He lost a lot of blood. . . Whatever he did, he saved Native’s life.”

“I see.” The officer sat back in his chair beside Iida’s hospital bed before getting up. “The Chief will be by shortly.”

And Tenya was alone once more to his thoughts, his loud twisted thoughts that convinced him he could take on the Hero Killer on his own, the same man who ambushed his brother and will now never be able to walk again free. Not because of anything he did. If not for the other two and whatever they did, Native wouldn’t be alive. Tenya likely wouldn’t either. Or maybe, he would have become another “example,” unable to become a hero from an injury. His shoulder still ached, but he thought he still had full movement.

Tenya jolted at the Chief’s head, which looked rather similar to a bloodhound. But he could admit liking the Chief’s straightforward nature in spite of what it could mean for him.

“Directly fighting with your Quirk without a license is a crime, even in an instance of defense.”

He did not close his eyes nor bow his head. While ashamed, looking away would be an insult. “I understand. I am at fault. Not only did I seek Stain myself without a license, I failed to put others before my creed.” His grip on the hospital sheets turned his knuckles white. “If I hadn’t been so blinded , Native wouldn’t . . . Wouldn’t—”

“Iida.” Tenya paused but he didn’t look away. Not even when his eyes felt hot. “You and I have no idea if the circ*mstances would have been different. Maybe it wouldn’t, maybe you wouldn’t be here today nor Native— but we cannot dwell on ‘what ifs’ and put blame on anyone other than Stain.”

He told them about the blood. It still laid in the alley in pools. Native should be dead but walked out feeling “I should have done more. His family will never forgive me.”

“You did everything you could. And now, you know what you need to do. Nothing will ever ‘fix’ what happened today, but you can work to make up for it, become a hero so it never happens again. You understand?”

Never leave a dying man for revenge. What kind of making up could he even do? “I do.”

“I know you wish to rest. It’s very early morning now, but I wanted to discuss with you the official statement. Fighting unlicensed may be the story you and I know, but nothing has been told to the public.”

The boy perked up, confused. He thought the chief was being figurative.

“We have two other options to play. Native was mostly fighting with you as someone simply in the wrong place at the wrong time until Manual and other heroes arrived. Second, this fight was only between Stain and this Quirk Thief. You were paralyzed from beginning to end.”

Tenya frowned. “That would launch manhunt for him.”

“Indeed. But he is breaking the law.”

“He saved my life!”

“Of course, I do not wish to downplay that, but an untrained vigilante, and with a Quirk like that?” He didn’t deny the Quirk, not like his colleague. It was true and the police knew it. “It’s unpredictable. It can be dangerous, especially if someone else gets a hold of him and encourages unsavory behavior. After all, even you had said you weren’t sure what side he stood on.”

Yes, but that was when they first encountered each other over a month ago when his name was just the teleporter who got in the way of saving his classmates. “What about the other one? The one that controlled me?”

“We wish to avoid adding to the fire, if possible. He was just a bystander.”

Good. That’s good. That didn’t mean the police wouldn’t look for him, but at least he wasn’t in the spotlight. “Stain’s already announced to the world his existence. Making him the sole fighter against Stain would only make it worse for him. The former option, I believe, would be the best approach. For his sake.”

“This is about you, not him.”

Tenya never looked away. “And I want to pay back the man who saved my life.”

2.

The official story stated by police involving the take down of Stain included Native as the active hero fighting.

An interning student had come across him in the process of evacuating civilians and aided Native until the intern was paralysed. Other heroes arrived as Native finished subduing the villain. Efforts would be put forth to rebuild roads and stores that were targeted by the monsters. Trains going in and out of Hosu shall be postponed until further notice.

Nothing addressed the video caught by both street cameras and a civilian phone, the quality just high enough to catch the obvious silhouette of a man in a red scarf stomping on the downed Nomu. But it was the audio that caught the world’s attention and sent Hosu into a second panic.

Many things would arise from the single incident and the words that plagued many enticed others.

Toshinori sat in Tsukauchi’s office with his arms folded and a cup of something meant to soothe the anxiety rolling off of him in heaps.

“I failed.”

3.

Yuga watched the video over and over. He recognised the same puncture holes that littered the villain’s face and arms to be from the same Quirk of the boy that saved him. What has Deku gotten himself into?

4.

An online forum sprouted theories and questions of every aspect like moths to a single dying flame. A user from Masutafu said his father recognised the boy in the background, the one saved from the Nomu, to be the same boy that got back his dad’s wallet weeks ago. Another said he stopped a mugging with only his voice.

In hours, many forums were taken down.

5.

Okumura watched it religiously as many like him did. Whispers from the underground said a league sought out the restless, calling society sick, and they were led by more than just the boy with the Nomu. He couldn’t say he believed in all that sh*t, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t restless. He reached out to his contacts.

6.

Stain sat in the interrogation room with bound wrist and feet, multiple specialists viewing him from the one sided mirror and single investigator. With every question, he only stared back.

Aizawa Shota stood with his arms crossed, his Quirk alighting his eyes in an unnatural pure red with hair unknowing of gravity.

“So?” asked an officer.

“I can’t sense anything. There’s nothing to grip onto, nothing to turn off.” The hero turned to those in the room unknowing the true weight of his words. “He’s Quirkless.”

7.

The police asked for any information on the vigilantes Quirk Thief and Puppeteer.

8.

Hitoshi called his dad and told him he was staying the night at Midoriya’s before entering the torn up boutique and thankful to find a beanie and different color sweatshirt. Hopefully, he prayed, his distance in the video and his mask would be enough to hide his identity.

9.

Izuku told his mom he was staying at Shinsou’s then went to find the parking garage.

The Nomu was gone.

10.

In a district far from the fight, a man with no eyes grinned behind his ventilator at the news relayed to him, Kurogiri at his side.

“Quirk Thief, huh? My, my— looks like we have some competition.”

Chapter 23: Interlude: Tomura Shigaraki and Inko Midoriya

Chapter Text

“Are you curious, Tomura, of the Quirk Thief?”

Shigaraki held a photo of said vigilante, the unexpected player that managed to single handedly ruin the entire U.S.J. Raid with their presence. The photo came from one of the hidden villain lackeys inside that stupid theme park. Kurogiri wasn’t the only overseer and the scout proved useful in the end because now he had memorized the dollar store gas mask and track suit turned into a costume. Really, this brat was on a budget.

Triggering the alarms and bringing the pro hero employees from campus straight to the building even though they had used a scrambler, taking every precaution to get in undetected— it took one unknown player to ruin everything.

Kurogiri oversaw each villain that joined the raid. All were lowly criminals that should have been able to detain a few prideful wannabe heroes as hostages against All Might, others as a statement with their blood spilt on U.A. property if needed. They were nothing special, and once recruited were required to stay at the warehouse thirteen hours before the Raid in case of a tip-off.

Had a whistleblower truly infiltrated the operation?

He wanted to crumble that blurry picture and smolder it into pieces. The stupid Quirk Thief took out his hunter in Hosu and received more publicity than the League who sicked twelve Nomu on the city and still they focused on a street rat—

Then Giran announced his entrance to the bar. Behind the broker followed three others, the recruits, and lousy ones if judging by their appearances.

He didn’t recognize the small time arson and the patchwork of skin would lead the unknowing citizen to believe his Quirk to be something akin to a scarecrow, not unless they noticed half of him was truly scorched, dead tissue. But he talked short and disrespectfully, everything unfitting for a pawn to use. The little school girl barely contained herself, reverberating on the spot as she stared at the normal looking boy beside her who glared at Shiragaraki like he blew up his house in Minecraft.

Shigaraki had enough with whiny disrespectful brats.

But of course Kurogiri always interfered, knives and spikes and fiery hands along those of decay all missing their targets by the warp gates of black smoke.

Kurogiri thought it a good idea, bringing in these Stain fanatics wanting to fight back a society that didn’t hold their hand through the tutorial and now scrambled for purchase. He wanted him to let three sorry losers soil up the bar because they were easy.

Has the League really stooped so low just months into their debut?

They aren’t even giving him real names.

“So Dabi, cremation. Oh, and I’m guessing you’re Greenie?” He pointed at the other boy who froze during his escape from under the girl’s arm. He stared wide-eyed until mumbling out a name.

“Uh— De—I mean— Cutthroat.”

f*cking sh*tty usernames they can’t even keep straight. “I’m not doing this, Kurogiri.”

Shiragaki stormed off passing the damn broker who let these strays into his bar.

He heard Kurogiri apologize for him. “He will come around in time.”

f*ck them.

Inko figured her boy had finally found his place. Starting high school had been hard for him, like the last threads of normalcy were gone for him, her little Izuku suddenly deciding to throw away hundreds of dollars worth of merchandise. She didn’t know what to do.

Then it got better. He came home one day with a dopey smile on his face and she asked him what’s gotten into him.

“Shinsou and I got an A on our project, the only one in the class.”

She smiled at him lovingly. That project had kept him busy for weeks. It was the first of many times she would hear about Shinsou. They went to the mall together, the arcade. She’d bit her lip debating on letting him stay out so late then gave in when he asked if he could spend the night at the Shinsou residence. She didn’t know this boy, but she did see how her son’s smiles grew more genuine and he left the house excitedly.

Then she met him and all she saw was her own Izuku after Katsuki gave him a black eye in middle school. He was quiet and awkward, but in time he showed witty humor and teased her Izuku with no malice. Watching him and Izuku in the kitchen spitting random hero facts and statistics like they were talking about the weather made her heart sore. He found someone who was just like himself. He found a real, true friend.

Izuku came home later after a sleepover with bags under his eyes and when Inko asked him about their night, he quietly went to his room.

She thought it would be okay. Boys fight and they get over it. Izuku didn’t hold grudges, not really.

It was just like after failing UA’s entrance exams all over again.

Izuku went to school and went to bed early. She often stood in front of his door, her knuckles raised, only to step back and retire to her own room.

It was a long time later that he asked her if he could go on a camping trip with the Shinsou’s. He asked with a fake smile and she wondered if maybe Mr. Shinsou didn’t know his son was fighting with Izuku when he extended the offer. She’d yet to even meet the man, easy excuses spilling from her boy. She told him no.

The next morning she decided to book tickets to Tokyo and take a break with her son. The summer weather would be good for both of them, and leaving the zip code always brought a sparkle of wonder to her homebody son’s eyes.

She let him sleep in, opening his door around eleven to find it empty.