Vigil
The U.A. Campus sprawled out in all directions, safely nestling its students within the security wall. During the day, the paths and narrow streets crawled with students and faculty keeping the school running, but at night, only the occasional teacher passed by en route to their own quarters, held late by meetings and government visits. Viewed from the dorms, the grounds were dark, lit by regularly placed streetlamps and garden lights that provided a steady glow that wouldn't disturb the students. Outside the wall, the city burned bright and pulsed with traffic and noise, but in his dorm room, Izuku only heard the wind blowing across his window, the soft susurration of the radio.
He sat at his desk, scribbling into a notebook half in the circle of light of his desk lamp. Although he had several notebooks lined up along his desk—math, science, heroes, villains, four for All Might alone—this particular notebook was more of a diary.
Not that anyone would notice that the writing had a point. Entries were made at random, all neatly noted but on topics that didn't seem to mesh. He'd jotted down ideas about the local news, crime statistics, global disasters that caught his eye—a wildfire on the American east coast had given him new ideas of how to use energy blasts to smother flames—but every entry formed a point of a larger web.
"Sharp Quill Journals are for recipes, appointments, and daily thoughts—but I use them to strategize and work with other heroes. Your friendly hero Ink-Blast here. Why, I couldn't fight crime without my journal! And I only take notes in my Sharp Quill Journal, now available in over a thousand colorful designs and kevlar finish."
His mouth quirking slightly, Izuku turned off the radio and leaned back, sighing deeply. He made a point of finishing each day with a final note in this journal—a Sharp Quill—simply to settle his thoughts and wind down for the evening. By his bed, the red numbers of his clock glared back. Too late. He'd stayed up too late again and tomorrow he would pay for it, but he didn't feel tired.
Instead he flipped through the pages, looking back over the past several weeks. Bullet points about small villain flare-ups in nearby cities, the death of a sidekick Rochelle, an opinion piece on the effect of All Might's retirement...the defense force trying to form a hero squad of their own, drawing from the many former would-be heroes who had been expelled. A newly drafted law, soon to be voted on, to ban the sale of alcohol to heroes. Present Mic's scream had echoed across campus.
With All Might gone, the world had retreated back into fear, scrabbling at solutions, desperate to feel safe again. They'd looked to Endeavor, but he was too dour and grandstanding to inspire trust. Other heroes tried, sensing the void to be filled and potential riches, but no one seemed primed to leap into the limelight with the same confidence and proud grin.
And so the villains crept back from the shadows, resurfacing as they began to recruit, gathering influence and greater numbers. Stain's performance had emboldened anyone dissatisfied with the current state of affairs, and anyone who could put on a mask felt the opportunity to go out into the street and destroy a little piece of the world.
If anything, the world was fine. Still at peace, still eager to keep the cities calm and life moving along as always. Izuku tapped his pen on the page, thinking. It was the villains, the thieves and killers, who needed a symbol. Something to fear, a vision if not of peace, then of overwhelming terror. Not a hero for the people but a villain to villains.
His head tilted. A hero would never be allowed to do so by the very government and society he fought to protect.
A vigilante.
He frowned, opened his notebook...
"—vigilante, but he'd have to be powerful enough to not only fight the villains but to push back against the heroes who would be mounted against him. He would need some way of healing himself, a headquarters of some kind, well hidden—"
His desk lamp burned for a long time into the night.