Chapter Text
Now that he’s thinking about it, Izuku has never been to Tony’s Pizzeria this early. It’s around three o’clock in the afternoon, an hour or so before Kacchan gets out of school.
He doesn’t know why he’s keeping tabs on his friend all of a sudden, but the words of his bullies are still ringing in his ears, and he wants to make sure Kacchan is alright, even though he knows he most definitely is.
The explosive teen won’t let anything get him down, a trait that Izuku both envies and hates at the same time.
Anyway, Izuku usually only goes to Tony’s in the evening time, when it’s already dark outside and he’s about to go on patrol or head home. But since he's passing by, he figures it's time to break that cycle.
While he waits for his order of one Dr. Pepper and a side of breadsticks, Izuku pulls out his damaged notebook, along with a brand new one he bought at the department store after getting some supplies to fix his costume.
It comes with two pens and some sticky notes, making it perfect for his analyses. And what makes it even better is that it was only a few dollars! The manager gave him a discount since he has a surplus of them in storage.
Izuku thinks it might also be because he looks a little homeless, but that's beside the point.
He opens both notebooks and sets them beside each other, comparing the pages. It's safe to say that his original journal is destroyed beyond repair—the paper has dried pretty much completely, leaving streaks of black and red ink from where he'd written notes and theories. He can read a little bit of it, as the puddle was only so deep, but his sketches are all mostly ruined, along with his analyses of the more recent pro heroes and villains.
It's a good thing he doesn’t care much about those. He's already memorized everything in those sections, after all. Every time he studies a new person or group, the information gets lodged inside his brain. It's more like common knowledge to him now.
The only thing he’s worrying about is the notes he had on himself. Or, more specifically, on his quirks. He’s still adding on to those sections little by little, sometimes every day and sometimes every other day. It just depends on his findings.
The thing about his quirks is that he doesn't know everything about them yet, so he still has to have a baseline down for them in his notebook. He can add on to them easily that way. That's why he's prioritizing copying those sections over from his old journal to his new one rather than his other, less important stuff.
He titles the notebook #15-2, in honor of its original, and doesn't waste any time in transferring the information. The only good thing about this is that he now has the chance to sort through his scribbled notes and make a more detailed, neater version. He uncaps his blue ballpoint pen and gets to work, humming under his breath.
Property of Midoriya Izuku. If found, please return to the nearest police station :)
That's all he's going to write on the first page. It's not like he's going to put down his phone number or address—what address, he thinks sourly, the abandoned building I've taken claim to?
Izuku has a criminal record, albeit not a terribly violent one, so if he loses it and it gets turned into a police station, it'll most likely come back around to Tsukauchi. The detective will hold it for him. At least, Izuku thinks he will.
He makes sure to write in code in case someone gets their hands on it and plans to use this information against him. Other than that, it takes a relatively small amount of time for him to get through the different sections. It's a little bit tedious, but he prefers handwritten notes since he has a very rational fear of someone being able to uncover all of his digital documents on his computer.
Ms. Hanako brings him his Dr. Pepper sometime in the middle of his furious jotting, and she doesn't look the least bit surprised at the cat bandaid on his forehead. She has the good sense not to mention it, and Izuku makes a mental note to give her a good tip (he’ll just have to run fast so she doesn’t try to give it back). Speaking of, how much money does he have left? He might just have to cash in his checks later on at the club.
But that's a matter for later. At the moment, Izuku is enjoying his soda and finishing his writing. The pen is smooth when he drags it on the paper, so he's having a little more fun than he probably should be.
Extract (M): activation requires both hands; exclusively skin-to-skin contact, gloves or fabric blocks usage; effects are permanent, cannot give back or away; steals original, does not take a copy; mutation of quirk from the paternal side, offspring quirk cannot steal parent quirk or vice versa
Izuku grimaces as he continues writing.
Cons: painful, leaves burn marks, immoral; Pros: could save a person dying due to quirk, more quirks = more versatile in combat; Use: villains, last resort only
It's admittedly a little bare for his liking, but it’s only a rough outline for now. He makes sure to leave a lot of room between sections.
Force: f orced quirk activation; skin-to-skin, brief touches work; c an be used on two at once since one touch of a hand is required for each person; no cooldown, no limit to how many can be affected by it at a time; cannot control input or output; pushes victim to limit, often to the point of exhaustion or fainting
The last note makes Izuku shudder when he remembers heavy liquid filling up his nose and bubbles racing one another to break the surface far above him. Cold enters his veins, and he shakes himself to get rid of the feeling.
Cons: extremely painful depending on the quirk of the user, expels a lot of energy, may be counterproductive; Pros: a quick way to get someone out of the way permanently
Technically, Extract has the same benefit, but Izuku isn't going to write that down for fear of spiraling again. He always likes to get the worst ones out of the way.
Deflect: similar to transparent shield; could be better described as invisible glass; shatters at around 350 pounds of force or pressure; activated when arms are crossed in an x shape—must be held there for the entire duration; can successfully block bullets, knives, other variations of sharp weapons, blunt force trauma, gases, and more to add; unsuccessfully blocks attacks that are above 350 pounds of sheer force and repeated hits that bypass the regenerative aspects
Yeah, Izuku isn't about to forget about that one dreadful night a villain with a bodybuilder quirk kept hitting the shield over and over and over, adding up to about three hundred hits in ten seconds, and broke the shield to send Izuku flying through the concrete wall behind him.
He won't ever make that mistake again.
Cons: limited time to hold, current max time is seven and a quarter seconds; causes bloody nose and chronic migraines; Pros: solid defensive tool; blocks both long-range and close-range attacks; allows for mobility while shield is up
Izuku hasn’t trained with this quirk a lot, honestly. He’s used it before as Rabbit, but only a few times when it was necessary and also dark out, so no one could see it. It's more of an instinctive thing than anything.
If he trains more with it, the boy is sure he’ll be able to increase the time limit.
Boost: basic enhancements; provides an incredible supply of energy; increased strength, stamina, speed, hearing, and sight (will need to conduct more tests); used daily, almost always active
In fact, that's the excuse Izuku always gives: I can't help it, it's just always on! You can't arrest me for public quirk usage, that's not fair!
Cons: higher metabolism means normal med doses will need to be tripled, along with food consumption; Pros: useful in nearly all situations, offensive and defensive means, great opportunities for escaping situations
He’s starting on the last section when Ms. Hanako comes back over and places two orders of breadsticks on the table. “Sorry for the wait, dearie. Ouki burnt the first batch, which should frankly be impossible with the setup we have back there. He managed to do it, though, so here’s an extra bag.”
Izuku dips his head at her in thanks, suddenly struck with that same uncomfortably warm feeling he gets in his chest when people are being kind to him. “I appreciate it! Today’s been rough.”
The older lady nods, putting her hands on her hips. “Got a new journal, huh?”
“Yep! I kinda ruined the first one, but I don’t mind.”
“Hm.” She looks like she doesn’t believe him, but instead of calling him out on it, she pats him twice on the head and walks away. “If you need me, just holler.”
He munches on the breadsticks, sprinkling them with an ungodly amount of parmesan cheese and dipping them in marinara as he continues his work. He's glad for the food's timing, as he needs a slight distraction when it comes to this upcoming quirk.
Pull: weak form of telekinesis that allows objects to be pulled towards the body as long as nothing is blocking the way; to activate, hold out one palm, have the object in sight, and imagine an invisible string attaching to it; can control how much force and speed to pull at, however, requires more concentration
It's also not always reliable.
Cons: can only pull a max of 300 pounds currently; Pros: beneficial in both long-range and close-range attacks, good for retrieving weapons or providing distractions
Now that he’s finished with those sections, he can throw away his old notebook since he has no use for the old information. He can start anew with different theories and such in this one.
He makes sure to throw a few extra bills on the table before leaving, calling out a goodbye to Ms. Hanako and the only other person working. He’s not full by any means, but at least the breadsticks will make sure he’s not starving.
Izuku has a few choices. He can go home and get his dirty clothes to go to the nearest laundromat, or he can go home and get his Rabbit costume to get an early start on his patrol. He’s a little calmer than before, thanks to the food and the easy note-taking, so either of those options will suffice.
Well, he might as well do the cleaning today.
The air is cool outside. It may be the afternoon, close to evening, but it’s not nearly as hot as it could be. The streets are bustling with people, some of them in suits and some of them in casual clothing. Izuku spots a few heroes in the crowds, too. They look like they’re off duty.
He’ll go by the house, drop off his stuff from the stores, and get his laundry to go out again and clean it.
People give him strange looks as he weaves through the crowds, but it doesn’t really make him upset. Again, he’s used to it.
It is kind of annoying, but what can you do about it?
Izuku pulls out his notebook and writes little stuff down along the way. He passes by a few undercover cops and heroes, which serves as perfect practice for him to try and get out a quick analysis on people before they disappear.
It’s more of a hobby now more than anything. Come to think of it, his note-taking is kind of stalker-ish.
He decides to go down the tunnel he takes sometimes on the way to his building. It offers him more privacy than the usual streets do, and it also helps Izuku get more ideas for weapons and support gear.
The bridge is quiet around this time—no cars or people passing by. It’s nice. It causes a certain kind of comfort to settle of his freckled skin.
And this is where Izuku makes mistake number one: he lets his guard down.
He’s so focused on sketching a prototype of a bōstaff that doubles as a katana that he doesn’t hear what’s going on behind him until it’s too late. Usually he's more alert than this, but it's like the universe wants to stack every odd against him.
There’s a shift in the air, and a squelching noise is heard a few yards back. Izuku whips around, only to freeze in his tracks at the sight before him.
A large, slimy creature is crawling out of the sewer hole, and as Izuku watches, it creates more of its sludge out of thin air. That must be a quirk, Izuku thinks quickly. Which means this is a villain.
His thinking is proven correct once a face appears in the middle of the sludge, along with sharp, jagged teeth that send shivers down Izuku’s spine. Yellow eyes meet Izuku's green ones, and the boy suppresses a groan of pure frustration.
“You’ll make a perfect skinsuit for me to hide in, kid,” the creature grounds out, the words watery and dark.
And the next moment happens too fast for Izuku to process. He just barely manages to dodge out of the way when the sludge makes a swipe at him, crossing the yards between them in less than a second. He doesn’t get a chance to breathe, though, as brown and green tendrils shoot from the side of the creature's body and wrap around Izuku quicker than lightning. He’s being pulled in before he can do anything about it, quickly being enveloped whole by the disgusting slime. As a last-minute decision, he throws his notebook and bag full of supplies somewhere out of view so his hard work won't get ruined once more and prepares himself.
What in the ass is happening right now? Oh, fuck, it's—
Izuku feels like he’s floating. His body is being held up by the smelly sludge, and it slides down his throat like cold lava once the tendrils pry his jaws open. He gags, his lungs trying to draw in air, but it’s no use. It clogs his ears and nose, cutting off his senses.
He's drowning, but it’s a weird sensation, as he feels closer to flying right now.
Izuku can barely hear what the villain is gloating about now. Something about how he has to leave soon, how he didn't expect him to be in town, whoever he is.
He’s choking, and it’s slow and weightless, but his lungs burn so badly that he feels like he’s being torn apart from the inside out. And for a moment, a very brief moment, he wants to close his eyes and sleep. He suddenly remembers what that bully said to him before fleeing out of the alley, and everything hurts ten times worse than before.
Surely there’s a reason the boy said what he did. A reason for why he brought something up from their elementary school days. But Izuku can’t really think of one with the way his brain is reacting in this situation. Perhaps this isn't the best time to be thinking of Tsubasa and the others.
Izuku is trying his best to move around to dislodge the villain, but the sludge is sticking to his skin and attempting to peel it right off his bones, and he’s completely surrounded. It all happened so fast that Izuku is just annoyed now! Can his luck get any worse, for real?
Losing his patience, Izuku calls upon Boost and uses up some of the energy from his store to send his fist cracking forward through the slime. The sheer speed and force of the movement cause it to split apart with one easy line, freeing Izuku. The gunk splatters against the ground and walls of the nearby tunnel, but some of it lands on his feet and sticks him to the floor. He performs another superpowered kick to dislodge himself, but soon more tendrils shoot out from the base of the body to capture him again.
"Woah, woah, now! Stop being difficult, you brat!" The face in the ball before him warns. "I just wanna use you for a little while! That's all!"
His main body is somewhere inside all of that, Izuku thinks, face shadowed as sludge races up his legs to regain control. The stench clouds his senses. He's certain there must be some chemical reagents in the fluids since they are making him feel so queasy. I just have to send another blow directly through the middle without him dodging, and it'll split him in half. Then I—
His thinking cost him too much time. In a split second, a tendril erupts from the creature's abdomen and wraps around Izuku's throat, dragging him in once more and tightening around him like a noose. This time, Izuku is suffocating for real. His vision blurs and no sound comes out of his mouth when he tries to speak.
This stuff is not warm and comforting and safe like one might think slime to be—it’s cold and scary, and it fucking burns. He's even more certain there are some kinds of acidic substances making the man up.
He feels like the words the bullies spewed at him, funnily enough.
He musters up the last bit of his strength as black dots begin to corner his vision, because dammit this villain wants to end things quickly, doesn't he? And Izuku does not want to fucking die at the hands of this sewer rat, of all things! He uses Boost one last time to reach for the knife in his boot, hoping he can send the sharp side sailing through the sludge like it's butter for it to slice the physical body of the man and get the quirk to deactivate. He calls on all of his quirks to do something, anything against the goo suffocating him. He ignores the man's jeering words, and right now it feels like his lungs are about to shred themselves.
Izuku feels the first patch of skin begin to rip from his flesh to be replaced by thick sludge, and he swallows down a scream in favor of yanking his knife out of his shoe and taking blind aim. He can't see the main body, but he can vaguely sense it using Extract, so he can do it. The moment Boost invades his body and sends the knife flying forward, headed towards its mark, the cold suddenly vanishes, and Izuku is dropped unceremoniously to the ground.
The sky swims, and he swears he sees stars behind his eyelids as he lies on the grass, as still as death.
He doesn’t bother getting up; his body is already trying to restore its reserves of energy, so he can’t delay that. He should probably take a nap. Or would it be weird, seeing as he’s literally in the middle of a pathway?
To be fair, he's in front of a tunnel nobody really uses. He’s slept in worse places before. He may as well—
A hand starts lightly slapping his cheek sometime after he comes to this conclusion, rapidly and in quick succession. A hushed voice reaches his ears, and it sounds a little rough around the edges—or maybe Izuku is losing it.
“Hey, wake up! Hey!”
Izuku blinks against the sun in his eyes, staring at the shadowed figure above him. He frowns. Who the hell has awakened me from—?
“Oh, good! Thought I’d lost you there!”
Izuku’s vision clears, and for a moment he wonders if he did die, for why else would there be a steaming giant that looks suspiciously like the number one pro hero hovering above him, crouching awkwardly? Perhaps he is imagining things; there is no way that All Might is standing three feet above him. All Might patrols this part of town four times a day: early in the morning, again at noon, then at around three in the afternoon, and finally at seven at night. It is not any of those times, so why would All Might be here? Granted, certain villain fights may have led him astray, a little outside of his normal routes, but what are the odds he was searching for the very villain Izuku was fighting?
The more Izuku stares, the more Extract responds. He feels something nasty bubbling up in his stomach, and he has just enough time to duck his head and twist his neck to throw up somewhere that is not on All Might's face. Bile drips from Izuku's lips as he heaves, and he shudders anxiously, chills wracking his frame.
His first thought afterward is oh, so it is All Might, and his second is oh, fuck, it’s All Might.
Izuku has been in All Might's presence before, but never has he talked to him or gotten closer than ten feet from him. Mostly because Izuku is well aware of who he is to his father. He also knows everything that the hero in front of him stands for—and that is everything Izuku is not. To say they're mortal opposites would be an understatement; simply put, Izuku can't be here right now.
He should leave. If Father finds out he got within even a mile of All Might, he’ll—
There's a hand on Izuku's back, which makes sense, as the boy is still hunched over, contorted in a weird position on the harsh concrete. He stares at the vomit in front of his face, now extremely embarrassed.
“Oh, looks like you’re moving around all right!” All Might says, and Izuku realizes with a start that he's spending too much time thinking. "You've thrown up the slime, so that's a good thing!"
Beneath his terror and trepidation lies excitement. Two idols. He’s met two of his idols in just the past couple of weeks alone. Izuku is about to have a stroke.
Despite this realization, the boy shrugs the very large hand off and scrambles away, eyes wide as saucers. “I'm sorry, I need to—!" Izuku's mind goes blank, because what exactly is he looking at? There, lodged into a very wide shoulder, is a sleek black and red knife that has Izuku's initials engraved on the side. This means one thing: when Izuku threw his knife in an attempt to slice the main body of the villain, he hit All Might instead, who likely jumped in the way.
Somewhere, he thinks Father is laughing maniacally.
"Um," Izuku starts, throat dry. "I think that's my knife."
The hero jerks at the reminder. "Oh, yes! I forgot about that." All Might glances at the weapon and pushes a little on the handle, testing its give, before smiling widely at Izuku. More steam radiates off his body at the motion. "It's quite deep! Forgive me, young man, but I may have to keep it so I can get it removed in a more sterile environment. Though I don't think you'll end up getting it back, unfortunately; it seems a little big for state standards."
Izuku grabs his discarded journal and holds it to his chest, not worried about that in the slightest. At least the knife isn't one of his Rabbit ones. "Oh my God, I'm so sorry," he says numbly. "I just stabbed you."
"Not to worry!" All Might assures, standing to his full height and glory. His shadow casts over Izuku. "I don't even feel it! Besides, I should have seen it coming, honestly! You throw very fast and hard for your size—you should be proud!"
The boy averts his gaze, his cheeks reddening from the unexpected praise. He expected a lecture about not paying attention to his surroundings or being able to find a way out quickly, but he gets neither of those things. Why did he ever think All Might would be like that?
“Now, are you feeling alright? Any dizziness or lingering nausea?” The hero coughs a little into his hand.
"No, I'm fine, sir." Izuku jerks his head up when the man begins to walk swiftly away after tightening the lid of a bottle stuffed in his cargo pants. He must be keeping the villain in there. This proves Izuku's theory that it is like slime; one just has to contain it in an object that will prevent it from expanding. If only Izuku had one of his bombs on him when he got attacked—things would've been easy!
“Good! If you can, I advise you to be checked at an urgent care facility just in case of concussion, but for now, I must get going, my boy!” The hero crouches down as if preparing for a leap, the smoke coming off of him in waves now. Extract is rippling inside Izuku, warning him of something, but he doesn't pay any attention to it.
Izuku, who was momentarily stunned by my boy, jerks forward. "No, wait, please!"
His hand shoots up without really thinking about the consequences of doing so, palm facing outwards, and this is mistake number two.
Pull activates on its own accord, tingling at his fingertips, and Izuku is yanked forward a few feet, as the sheer force of All Might's jump was much greater than the maximum he can counter. To Pull's credit, the man glitches mid-air, freezing in place for a fraction of a section, before losing the momentum he needed. And then the behemoth of a hero is falling back down to the Earth several yards away from Izuku, landing sloppily in front of the tunnel's entrance. He darts inside the shadows the moment he finds his footing, and Izuku is prepared to turn around and run (did he actually just use his quirk on fucking All Might, right after stabbing him?) when a cloud of smoke explodes within the tunnel and fans out to greet him. It feels slightly moist, kind of like rainclouds, and Izuku shivers, pausing in his plans to escape. The mist clears then, revealing a tall, lanky man with blond hair and piercing blue eyes.
And that’s not All Might.
Well, it is. It’s just the man in his deflated form. Kind of like a balloon, if you think about it. That’s how Father explained it to him, anyhow. Izuku always called him Small Might, as it was easier to remember.
All Might never really had a time limit for how long he could stay in his muscle form until he fought Izuku's father, and this reminder lodges a lump in Izuku's throat. It seems the hero's time limit is getting shorter with each passing day. Izuku doesn’t think the hero would let everyone know this secret of his willingly, so this must’ve been an unhappy accident.
Oh, that explains all the smoke. That's my fault.
“You’re... not freaking out?” Small Might’s astonished voice brings him out of his thoughts. “Are you sure you don't have a concussion? Why are you not surprised?”
That’s right. Izuku shouldn’t know about this; no one should. He needs to at least act like he’s shocked. Should he scream? No, that’ll look fake.
Honestly, fuck it. Izuku can just lie through his teeth like all the other times. He’s incredibly done with this entire day, so this may as well just happen. He walks closer, checking his surroundings just in case there are any cameras or people walking around.
"Honestly, I already sort of guessed this, sir.” Izuku rubs the back of his head. “I’m a fan, so I studied your moves, the time of your appearances, and the average duration of your fights back to back. At that point, I made the connection that you must have some kind of time limit."
Small Might’s mouth drops open, blood spewing from between his teeth, and Izuku hurries to correct himself.
“Not in a creepy way! I didn’t know about your other form, exactly! It just seemed plausible!” He wrings his hands together, hoping he looks nervous enough to be believable.
Once the hero stops coughing up a scarlet waterfall, he gives Izuku a grim look. “Young man, you must know that this is a very important, very dangerous secret. Have you told anyone else about this?”
Izuku doesn’t know why he feels a little insulted at the accusation; he has no right to be. “Of course not. Even I know that it would ruin the whole of hero society if word got out. Plus, you'd be in even more danger, as you wouldn't be able to walk around without being recognized anymore."
After a minute of contemplation, he gets a small, slightly confused thank you from the number one hero, and after another few moments of awkward silence—well, probably awkward to Small Might, not so much to Izuku—the man speaks up. “When I was attempting my jump, what did you do to me?"
The question, though edged, has no anger in it. Izuku is careful anyway.
He stares directly into Small Might's shadowed blue eyes and forces his body to quit trembling. "I did nothing, sir."
"Really?" Small Might searches his gaze in disbelief, but he must not find anything, as he shakes his head and retreats further into the shadows when the smoke clears completely. "I admit, I'm off my game today. First the knife, and now this.”
Izuku swallows dryly and forces what little courage he has to aid him. “Well, now that you're here, I have a question I've been wanting to ask you if that's okay."
"A question?"
"It’s not for me. It’s for a friend of mine.”
“Go on.”
He takes a deep breath. Just go for it. What’s the worst that can happen? On second thought, don’t answer that.
“He, uh, well... He wanted to ask if—if someone with a bad quirk can become a hero."
There’s a pause. The universe's eyes are on the pair of them.
“A bad quirk?” Small Might repeats. "As in, one that may not be very useful in heroics?"
Izuku shuffles, gaze on his feet. He kicks some of the gravel below him. “No, sir. Like... a quirk that’s thought to be more useful for villains than heroes.”
“Ah, so a 'villain' quirk?” Small Might clears his throat, and Izuku is suddenly aware of how different his voice is in this form, how much lower. His hands rub the cover of his notebook. “Before I can answer that, I must ask: Why does your friend want to be a hero?"
Just tell him the truth, the wind whispers. Tell him it all.
“To help people, I think?" Izuku says softly. "To be someone that the people can look up to. So, when he's around, everyone knows they’re not in danger anymore." His eyes narrow some. "And... maybe to prove that he's not all bad like everyone says."
Small Might studies him silently, his eyes glazing over briefly, thinking about something Izuku is not privy to. “I believe anyone can be a hero if they try hard enough. A quirk does not make you who you are.”
Izuku’s stomach does this weird, swooping thing that makes his heart jump out of his chest, because that’s way better than he—
“Though, it's worth mentioning that it is very hard to deal with the discrimination that comes with having 'villain' quirks. Sometimes it may be better to look into another profession entirely because of it.” He tips his head in thought. “Police work or even a doctor would do. Those are very important jobs, and you'd still be connected to heroics. There are hundreds of other ways to be a hero, young man.”
What you're telling me is to go for something easier? But how can I do that with who I am?
“To answer your question, yes, I do think it’s possible. However, I don't think it should be your friend's goal, as oftentimes these aspiring heroes face terrible struggles from those around them—even from other pros, unfortunately. With that in mind, it may be better if they went for something else, for everyone involved.”
It’s the way the man says they that has Izuku’s mouth running dry. “Oh,” he says quietly. “that, uh, makes sense. Thanks.”
Why is Izuku surprised?
He doesn’t know how long he stands there for, eyes focused on nothing, really, but when he comes to, All Might is gone, just like that, leaving Izuku alone at the mouth of a dark tunnel.
Izuku doesn’t know what to think. He didn’t expect any sort of real answer when he first asked the number one hero the question. But he also never thought he’d get this sort of reaction.
He’s right, though, isn’t he? You’ve known it yourself, all this time. You just never wanted to admit it. There's a reason suicide rates for those with villain quirks are higher than any other.
Something heavy settles in his stomach, making the boy regret eating those breadsticks. He wants to throw up again.
Hearing those words from his favorite hero? It’s just strengthened the walls around his mind and heart. He shouldn’t care so much. Why is he so upset? And why is he so sad? So angry?
Izuku asked. All Might answered. So who’s really at fault?
Great. He started out having a shitty day and had breadsticks to try and make it better, only to have those efforts ruined just a few minutes later. That’s just his luck, right?
The walk home is short. It takes him only a few minutes to get there from where All Might left him. He retrieves the bag of supplies he left by the bridge and trudges up the various flights of stairs—it’s broad daylight; he can’t climb up it this time.
When he opens his notebook, he is surprised to find All Might’s signature scrawled across two whole pages in black ink. It's something that Izuku never thought he would ever get the chance to have, and if it were any other time, he'd be delighted, but now he only feels subdued.
He feels too upset to do laundry now, so he puts on his Rabbit costume and turns right back out the door.
Going on patrol makes everything better. He can forget everything for a few hours, at least.
That last part was a lie.
Izuku’s fantastic luck strikes again only twenty minutes into his patrol.
By this point, he’s already stopped two muggings and helped an older man cross the street, so that’s cool. Now, however, he’s gliding across rooftops and relishing in the feeling of cool air hitting his face, unaware of what’s to come
There’s commotion a little ways away. He extends his senses and finds various quirks grouped together near an open alleyway, making him frown. A villain fight, huh?
It takes him less than a minute to have a bird’s eye view of the scene. The first thing he notices is, well, the star of the show: the villain.
The villain that All Might should have brought to the fucking police station. The one that Izuku nearly suffocated in not even an hour before.
That green and brown sludge is unmistakable. It’s definitely the same guy.
Oh, shit, Izuku thinks with horror making an home out of his skin. Did he drop it when I yanked him out of the air? Did he not see it? How didn’t I see it!
The more Izuku thinks about it, the faster he comes to the conclusion. The jar probably dropped and rolled right back into the storm drain that the villain first came out of—which would’ve broken the bottle if it hadn’t been already, freeing the monster.
Arrogant and stupid. That’s what Izuku is. He should’ve seen it. He should’ve known that the villain wouldn’t give up so easily! He’s been trained for this kind of stuff, and yet he still somehow missed it!
If he had only checked for the villain’s quirk signature and not let himself be distracted by All Might, it wouldn’t have escaped.
The second thing Izuku notices is that quite a few heroes are already on the scene. Except they’re not exactly doing much of anything. The heroes are standing there. Does the villain have a hostage or something? Why are the heroes trying to keep back the press and civilians instead of trying to take down the fool and minimize property damage? He is, as a matter of fact, standing between two apartment buildings where families reside. This is a high risk situation!
Aren’t they going to help?
The idea of a hostage becomes a little more realistic once he catches sight of a figure near the front of the goo. Izuku hops onto the corner of the roof to get a better look.
And that’s when he sees it: a tuft of spiky blond hair peeking out from the sludge, along with a familiar school-issued uniform.
Kacchan?
School’s been out for half an hour. They’re a few blocks away from the Bakugou household, which is around thirty minutes from Aldera Middle School.
The time stamps match up. It could very well be him. And the heroes still aren’t doing anything.
Izuku is moving before he can stop himself, his muscles burning from the sudden use of his enhancements. Suspended in midair for a fraction of a second after his jump, Izuku hikes up his knee and digs a knife out of his boot—this one with his Rabbit initials on the side.
His precision is deadly, and light reflects off polished metal as the blade soars through the air and hits the villain’s exposed eye.
The sludge recedes briefly, just enough for Izuku to see more of Kacchan’s body and skin.
He’s suffocating!
When he flies close enough, the vigilante brings his leg down on an outer piece of the sludge, tearing a large chunk off of it and sending it far away from the villain’s grasp.
He hits the ground running, hand already reaching for his friend’s exposed forearm. Wide, panicked crimson eyes meet his, and Izuku yanks. Kacchan is almost fully out of the sludge now; his leg and torso are the only things still stuck.
Izuku rears back with a grunt and aims another kick at the floating face, shoving the knife further into its eye. Juice sprays out, splattering both Izuku and Kacchan.
The screech he gets in reply grates on his ears, but he feels a tiny bit of satisfaction at the noise.
He uses Pull on his friend again in tandem with his yanking, knowing that his back will obscure what his hands are doing from the cameras. Kacchan is jerked forward slightly, and he frantically lets off a few large explosions to try and break the rest of the way free.
What can I do, what can I do—?
Izuku fumbles for the small grenade in his belt, nearly dropping it as he pulls the pin and chucks it at the far side of the villain, as far away from Kacchan as possible.
This grenade isn’t like his pink bomb, which is made for detaining smaller criminals and heroes who are chasing him. No, this is the grenade Izuku uses for the Big Boys.
This is his last one, too. It cost him a hell of a lot to make.
The sludge absorbs it immediately, just as Izuku hoped, and the boy can see the moment the villain realizes his mistake, as he lets out an ear-splitting screech.
It’s too late, though, as the sludge explodes from the inside, effectively destroying the base and causing some of the slime to dissipate. Thank fuck for physics!
Kacchan slips free, stumbling to the ground and coughing up black liquid. Izuku tries to drag him away, only for a furious roar to make him look up.
The sludge has expanded to twice its original size in just under a second, and it’s now looming over the two boys, bearing down on them monstrously.
Oh, fuck you! You’re gonna make me use one of my other quirks, you sack of—
His desperation and fear wins over all his other emotions; Izuku crouches over Kacchan and throws his arms up in an x, eyes squeezed shut.
Deflect comes to him naturally, and Izuku waits for the blow, waits for the sludge to envelope them both. He’s aware of the heroes and crowd screaming something behind him. They must’ve been screaming the entire time, he just never realized it.
But the blow never comes.
The ground shakes. Izuku doesn’t risk letting go of Deflect even as a large shadow washes over them—not even when, a moment later, a familiar, booming voice shouts out, “Wyoming Smash!”
All Might.
Izuku is left with a striking feeling of déjà vu when the sludge villain is reduced to a million pieces, and it’s only by instinct that he grabs Kacchan before they both go flying. The shockwave is large, and chunks of sludge smack Izuku in the face like the ultimate bitch slap. The two of them land with a hard thud on the concrete, rolling forward a few feet.
Izuku covers Kacchan with his body again until the wind dies down, and he can’t help but sigh in relief at the realization that Kacchan is safe, he’s not dead, thank God! He flops onto his back once the commotion dies down, still a little dazed.
Fuck, All Might. I knew I needed you, but holy shit. I love you, sir. All homo.
His euphoria is interrupted by Kacchan socking him in the shoulder. “Why the hell did you do that?” The blond barks, eyes flaming. “We would’ve both been dead, dumbass!”
Izuku sits up and chuckles, making sure his mask and hood are still in place. The last thing I need is an impromptu face reveal.
“Glad you’re still alive,” he says quietly, making sure no one else can hear them.
“Shitty nerd, I’ll kill you!” Kacchan reaches for him again, but Izuku dodges out of the way, already on his feet.
The explosive teen would’ve chased after him had a hero not run forward and grabbed the boy’s arm, directing him to the nearest medic. Everyone starts to crowd around him, some asking if he’s alright and others just telling him how brave he was, staying calm under the circumstances he was in.
Good. At least they’re doing something now. After the fact.
Izuku glances around and notices that All Might has already given the villain to the police, and he’s answering questions from the press with an awkward hand rubbing at the nape of his neck. There is a slight sheen of steam coming off of his back, but it’s much less than it was before.
Now it’s time for me to leave.
He picks up his discarded knife from the ground and wipes the remaining sludge on his costume, figuring that he might as well seeing as he’s going to wash it later.
He’s about to leave when a hero calls to him from beside a police officer, stepping forward pointedly. He’s obviously hesitant to capture the boy after what he just did but also isn’t willing to let him go.
Izuku holds his knife threateningly and turns on him, his voice icy as that righteous anger comes back to him in full force. “Are you fucking blind or something?”
Everything comes to a standstill. The chatter from the heroes and press stops at once when everyone snaps around to stare at the vigilante.
“He was suffocating!” Izuku gestures in the air with his blade, pointing at the man now restrained in the police car. “That bastard over there was going to kill him, and you all just sat there and did jack shit!”
He’s breathing heavily now, and he vaguely notices all of the cameras being turned on him and the reporters holding out their microphones. All Might has disappeared from view, though Izuku can still feel his quirk nearby.
A woman to the far right of him shifts on her feet, jutting her chin out defiantly. “None of our quirks were suited for the job. We would’ve made the situation much worse—”
“Worse? What situation is worse than letting someone die because your quirks weren’t suited for saving him?” Izuku walks forward, flipping the knife repeatedly in the air out of nervousness. “Is that what heroes do? Let people die?”
Another one with hoses for hands shakes his head. “Of course not! We had a plan.”
Izuku ignores him, not wanting to waste his breath on a walking fire hydrant. “Unless your plan was waiting around for someone stronger to show up, I doubt that. How useless are you guys, really? I’m not suited for dealing with a villain like that either, but that didn’t stop me! You guys were okay with doing nothing as he tried to use a civilian as a skin suit, huh?”
No one interrupts him this time. Most of the heroes and policemen look ashamed, uncomfortably moving around and looking at the ground. It’s kind of funny, Izuku thinks, how they all look like they’ve just gotten scolded by their parents.
He’s only a little surprised that no one is trying to capture him. He just helped save a boy—not just anyone, Kacchan—from a villain, and the cameras most likely captured it all. If they were to arrest him now, there’d probably be some sort of protest.
Izuku crosses his arms, the knife held tightly in his grip. “Did hero school teach you guys nothing? Or the police academy? You’re supposed to help people. Not wait around for someone like All Might to save the day, though I guess that’s the easier thing to do, right?” He has to wrap this up. He can see Kacchan glaring at him from the corner of his eye. “I can’t believe how shitty the system is these days. It doesn’t matter what kind of quirk you have, or lack thereof. You could be quirkless or a mutant for fuck’s sake—it doesn’t matter! What matters is your brain and how you use it. You guys obviously never realized that.”
Izuku doesn’t know why he’s ranting like this. Maybe it’s because All Might’s words are still fresh in his mind, along with his bullies’. He’s getting too passionate about this. It’s time to go, for real this time!
He lets the silence after hang in the air for a few moments, as if to let what he said sink in, before blowing out an annoyed breath. “Pussies,” he spits, ignoring the surprised murmur from the crowd.
Shakily, Izuku lets some extra energy flow to his legs and jumps onto the nearby café, running along the rooftops until he’s out of sight, not answer the calls of his vigilante name behind him.
Fuck. He said too much. Stupid, stupid!
His phone is buzzing nonstop as he runs, but Izuku is too angry to answer the texts.
It’s probably Kacchan. He heard the blond’s voice among the others calling after him. He probably wants to yell at him again. Or maybe it’s Tsukauchi, as Izuku might’ve just been on the news again.
This time was purely accidental, though. Well, sort of.
Doesn’t matter. He can’t do anything about it now. All he knows is that it’s time to hurt some bad guys.
Whenever Izuku is upset, he sleeps on the floor.
It’s completely ridiculous and totally irrational to an outside person, but it’s a habit he picked up after his mother left him. The first night with his supposed father, Izuku laid on that hard mattress and stared up at the clean ceiling with tired eyes.
And it was at that moment that everything changed. Nothing felt certain after that.
Even these days, nothing ever feels right.
Izuku just needs something concrete to hang onto every now and then, so he curls up on the floor and sleeps.
He used to do it all the time under the care of his father, used to require the comfort of a hard floor beneath himself, something sure to cling onto in the midst of his spiraling thoughts and splintering words, as he’d surely never be given that comfort by anyone else.
It doesn’t make sense, but these things never really do. They just are.
And so Izuku paces the run-down kitchen on the top floor of his building, his head pounding. This building hasn’t had anyone live in it (legally, at least) in two decades, so the boy doesn’t know why he’s stressing so much. It’s not like anyone is going to waltz in here and demand he leaves.
Maybe because he’s just put himself under All Might’s radar, both as Midoriya Izuku and as Rabbit.
Why can’t I just keep my mouth shut? Everything would be so much easier.
But no, Izuku just had to start ranting about a flawed system of heroes and police. How having a certain quirk defines your worth and your duty.
He was only able to patrol until midnight before his thoughts took over. He could barely concentrate the entire night, earning him a few more bruises than he honestly should’ve earned, skillfully speaking.
Kacchan could have died. Died.
Every time Izuku thinks about it, he starts to shake a little more. His only friend, the person who has stayed by his side for far longer than his own mother and father had.
He could have died. Would have, if not for Izuku’s small distraction and All Might’s quick save.
Izuku should have been faster. Should have realized the sludge villain still posed a threat to civilians even when he thought the Symbol of Peace was holding it. If he’d been even a minute late, Kacchan would have suffocated.
And those heroes just stood by and did nothing. They watched. They kept back the reporters and tried to calm everyone down, which would’ve made Izuku a little less angry had Kacchan not been in immediate danger with no one willing to help.
It’d be foolish to blame those heroes personally, though. Rather, Izuku points the blame at the system that allowed this to happen.
And he said as much, in front of everyone and the cameras. He spewed out his distaste, aware that if he didn’t leave soon, the heroes would try to capture him.
He was stupid. He should’ve left when All Might took care of the situation. He should’ve disappeared as soon as he made sure Kacchan was okay.
But he didn’t, and there’s nothing he can do about it now. His alter ego is trending on four different social media platforms. He’s in the public eye.
Izuku can’t tell if that’s good or bad. The only reason he’s kept his identity a secret so far is because he’s avoided cameras. The more he talks and acts out in front of people, the more chance there is of someone connecting Rabbit to Midoriya Izuku.
The chance is slim, but it’s still there. And it’s enough to make Izuku panic even more.
So many things have happened today; he ran into some of his old bullies, met All Might, then the same man in his deflated form, and then helped save Kacchan from the same sludge villain that tried to wear his skin as a suit.
It makes Izuku’s head spin, and that’s how he finds himself lying on the cold ground next to his couch. He doesn’t have a bed right now since he sold his previous one for extra cash, and he’d rather not pick one out of the garbage just yet. The couch is where he usually sleeps, but sometimes it gets too soft for him. Like now.
It’s one of those days where he needs to have something hard beneath him. Something concrete.
He probably won’t be able to fall asleep, though, but that’s the least of his worries.
There’s a slight, gnawing pain in his stomach all of a sudden. Now that he’s thinking about it, he’s felt it ever since the sludge villain attacked him, just not this bad.
That’s right. I haven’t eaten since those breadsticks. And they barely filled me up.
He should probably make himself some of that instant ramen. It’d just be cold.
Well. He could put iced coffee into the ramen to give it more flavor. Maybe to distract him from the fact that it’s cold and not cooked.
Huh. Maybe when I’m more awake.
He stares at the dusty ceiling and thinks about how this day could’ve been better. The only highlight was the food.
“This sucks,” he says aloud, to no one in particular.
The silence he gets in return drapes over him like a blanket, and Izuku closes his eyes to continue pretending to sleep until the next morning, hoping tomorrow will prove to be a little better.