Chapter 4: Born and Raised in da Hood

Izuku woke to the sun streaming into his room. Yawning, he peered over at his nightstand to check the time before remembering that he had destroyed his clock. Muttering to himself, he reluctantly left the comfort of his bed and went over to his computer. The monitor told him that it was almost eleven in the morning.

Geez, I must have been exhausted.

Stretching, he did his morning routine. After a quick shower and a late breakfast, he returned to his computer and went to his favourite website, the Hero Board. On this forum like minded nerds such as himself compiled anything and everything hero related, from Endeavour's latest battle to Mt. Lady's latest wardrobe malfunction.

Scrolling, he looked over the top-rated posts.

All Might's battle against the Sludge Villain…Hawks broke up a street gang…hmm, what's this?

The post was titled "Unknown Hero: Plz ID"

He clicked on the post and examined the image. His monitor displayed a somewhat blurry photo of a man wearing a heavy grey duster. A ski mask was pulled over his face to his mouth revealing a scarred chin peppered with stubble. In one hand he was pushing a terrified looking man up against the wall while in the other he was readying a punch.

He frowned at the picture before browsing through the comments. The consensus was that the image was of a vigilante, not a pro hero and he agreed. Almost every hero nowadays marketed themselves to the public in some way with glamour shots, revealing or flashy costumes or the like. Intentional anonymity amongst heroes was very uncommon. So whenever a picture of some unknown masked man or woman showed up it was always either a villain or a vigilante.

He backed out of the page. Vigilantes weren't his thing. There was this episode of All Might's cartoon where he remembered All Might say that people should trust in the justice system to sort out society's problems, not unaccountable vigilantes. Ever since then he had avoided the vigilante scene. Most of those people were crazy anyway. Every so often a villain would declare he had reformed and was a vigilante now or vice versa. There was too much drama.

After going through all the posts, he stood up. Normally in his free time he would watch YouTube, play computer games, or go hunting for more quirk information, but all that felt pointless now that he had quirks of his own.

I want to go outside and do something. I still don't know the extent of my powers and I need to figure out exactly how they work so I can better control myself. God knows I can't turn to the government for help. Maybe I should go for a walk...

On the rare occasions when he left his apartment, he would usually take a walk down by the beach. Hardly anyone ever went there. Grabbing his phone, wallet, and keys, he left his apartment and caught the bus.

'Man, what a dump.' Izuku muttered to himself softly as he surveyed the waterfront. The beach looked like a landfill. Rusted out appliances, bleached plastics, and rotting furniture was strewn across the sand, far as the eye could see. Besides the eyesore, the stinking air was filled with the sounds of hundreds of seagulls picking through the trash.

No wonder the beach is deserted. He mused, stepping forward. As he walked, he suddenly felt the small of his back start tingling. Stopping in mid step, he looked at the sand where he was about to drop his foot. Barely visible, he saw something poking out. Curious, he wiped away the sand to reveal a sharp, rusty, piece of metal.

He reached down and pulled it out.

How did I know this was buried there? He thought as he turned the jagged shard over in his hands. Come to think of it, my back has been tingling whenever I've been in danger. Almost like a sixth sense or something. Weird. I've never heard of an intuition quirk before.

He tossed the cutting hazard into a half-buried freezer nearby.

I wonder how strong I am?

Walking over to the freezer, he awkwardly grabbed the appliance. Where the half filled sand and water clogged freezer had come from was a mystery, but he doubted anybody would mind if he messed with it. Getting as good a grip as he could, he lifted, pushing with his legs. To his amazement the freezer felt practically weightless in his arms. Lifting it higher, he was able to rest the giant wreck on his shoulder easily.

This thing must weigh over five hundred kilograms! This is incredible!

His astonishment was cut short as the bottom of the freezer gave way, unleashing a torrent of water and wet trash. Leaping backwards, he tossed the freezer aside before he could get his shorts dirty and it fell to the ground with a loud, dull thud.

Clapping away the sand, he eagerly searched for the heaviest thing at the beach. At the boundary of the sand and the grassy ledge adjoining the shore he spotted a burnt-out, four door sedan. It must have been driven out to the water then torched by some joy riders. Walking up to the car, he looked around excitedly to make sure he alone. Apart from the gulls, there was no sign of anyone.

Turning back to the car, he reached underneath the trim and gripped the frame by the wheel well. Gritting his teeth, he lifted. Again, he was able to manage the weight with almost impossible ease. In shocked disbelief, he started laughing, the car held aloft in his hands.

I must be dreaming! This thing must weigh over two and a half tonnes!

With reckless abandon he tossed the car away from him and back towards the beach. With a crash, it slammed into the sand, causing his feet to vibrate as the ground shook.

'Yeah!' Izuku yelled, pumping his fist. He looked around at all the debris and trash surrounding him.

If I wanted to, I bet I could toss any of this stuff all the way to the ocean!

Taking a deep breath, he tried to calm himself, but he couldn't stop his mind from racing.

Assuming this is my maximum strength, which I doubt but just supposing, I would place myself at the high end of heroes purely on my physical strength alone! And to think the school was fawning over Bakugo all these years. Hah!

Thinking back to his fight against Bakugo, his smile disappeared and a cold sweat came over his body.

What if I had hit him with that punch? I really put everything I had in that swing. I would have killed him!

Shaking his head, he tried to get the image of his fist connecting with Bakugo's face out of his mind. Feeling slightly nauseous, he spat. The stench of wet garbage wasn't doing him any favours either.

Walking up the beach towards the road, he thought about his speed.

If my whole body is physically enhanced then I likely have enhanced speed as well. I should do a test.

He remembered that parallel to the beachfront along the street there was a small bicycle path. Walking back to the roadway, he was surprised to see a thin, blonde man in a blue tracksuit running down towards him.

As soon as this guy is gone, I'll go for a run.

As the thin man slowly made his way down the trail, Izuku pulled out his phone. It was almost two o'clock in the afternoon, plenty of time for some more experiments.

When I saved that kid yesterday, I was able to jump pretty high too. After I'm done here, I'll find a deserted alley somewhere and see how high I can jump. At least my jumping height should be pretty easy to quantify.

Izuku smiled to himself as he remembered how he used to fantasize about how he'd test his quirk when he inevitably got one. He had come up with all sorts of plans and methods to categorize his powers and he would spend hours lecturing his mother on all his criteria and arbitrary ranking systems. Now that he finally had a quirk, it seemed as though he couldn't actually put any of his plans into practice.

'Hello there young man. Pleasant day isn't it?' wheezed the thin blonde man as he trotted by.

'Sure is!' Izuku returned enthusiastically, still smiling.

Out of the corner of his eye he watched the man slowly disappear down the path. Once he was sufficiently far away, Izuku put away his phone and started off in the opposite direction.

I'll start slow.

Beginning at a light jog, he slowly built up speed until he was running at what he used to consider a fast pace. The sea air felt great rushing through his hair.

Not bad. Let's try a little faster.

He accelerated, running faster and faster. His ears became filled with the sound of rushing air as he tore along the uneven dirt trail. Looking to his side, he saw the buildings along the waterfront rapidly move past.

I can't really tell how fast I'm running. Wait, this is stupid. I can do better…

Gradually slowing himself to a halt, he pulled out his phone again. Selecting his map app, he zoomed in on his location.

Let's see, what's a landmark an even distance away? Ah. Here we go. Restaurant Yukihira. It's about one kilometer from here.

Switching to the stopwatch on his phone, he crouched down and readied himself just like he had been taught in gym class. He took a few breaths and focused on the path in front of him.

Go!

Taking off, he pumped his arms to match his sprint. The ground rushed beneath him and he felt the earth pounding beneath his feet. Shooting a glance to his side, he saw the buildings blur past. Before he knew it he came up on the dingy restaurant. Skidding to a halt, he quickly pressed the stop button on his cell phone.

And time! Let's see…17.5! So, if I traveled one kilometer in 17.5 seconds…60 divided by 17.5 is 3.42, I think? Divide that by 60 and multiply by 1,000… that should be around 57 m/s? That's damn fast! That's over 200 kilometers per hour!

His excitement was interrupted by the sensation of coarse sand on his skin. His feet felt dirty. Puzzled, he looked down and nearly fainted at what he saw. His prized red runners, arguably the most important part of his entire persona, were simply gone. In a panic, he retraced his steps. Every couple meters he came across a scrap of red fabric, or a piece of shoe string. It was like he was walking through a gruesome crime scene. Each step led him to a fresh horror. At last he returned to where he had started his foolish test, the tattered scraps of his shoes cradled in his arms. There was no saving them.

With a mournful sigh, he dropped the remains in a garbage container. Throwing his hands in his pockets, he did some accounting as he walked bare foot down the hot city street.

Collectors clock, 20,000 yen. New phone screen, 1,000 yen. New shoes…60,000 yen. He gulped. If this keeps up I'll be bankrupt by the time Kacchan's suspension is over.

Izuku muttered angrily to himself as he pattered bare foot down the sidewalk. When he had went to catch his bus, the driver had refused him at the door.

'No shoes no service…Typical. My feet are cleaner than the floors of his bus...'

With mass transit closed to him he was forced to walk the long trip back home. He had stepped on gum twice now, and he was feeling less "Huckleberry Finn" and more "Impoverished Crackhead".

My whole life I've wanted a quirk. And now that I've get one I've only ever experienced misery. First my clock, then my phone, and now my trademark red shoes. There's nothing left to take! Oh, I have to live the rest of my life in fear of the government. That sucks too I guess…But my shoes though!

As he sulked, a yellow ribbon fluttered in front of him and he stopped. Looking over, he saw he was standing in front of a crumbing apartment building, police tape draped haphazardly across its blasted off doors. From its scorched walls and destroyed windows, he could taste the acrid smell of burnt plastic and foul asbestos. Whatever had happened here, it must have been recent as there were faint plumes of smoke raising from some exposed wiring in the wall.

Suddenly he heard a loud bang, followed by shouting. Startled, he turned his head to a distant apartment. He couldn't help but overhear a screaming argument between two neighbours, each promising the other bloody retribution if they didn't respect their privacy.

As the pair screeched their lungs out, he became aware of the steepening shadows around him. Slowly he looked up. Looming above him were four, grey unfinished towers. Their heights stretching far above the surrounding tenements and small shops. At their peak he could see their rusting ribs, a corroded network of half assembled steel left bare above a mottled grey, concrete skin.

Those unfinished behemoths had many names; the Grey Towers, the Eyesores, Bones. Any name would do really, so long as it was depressing and communicated some element of disdain. Carefully omitted from post cards and commercials, they were the perpetual embarrassment of Musutafu. A tumor on its otherwise flawless steel and glass skyline.

Stretching around them in vast swathes of crumbling infrastructure, garbage choked alleys, brothels, drug houses, graffiti covered vacants, and run-down stores, was the crime infested slums. There were no hero agencies in the slums, none that Izuku knew of anyway, and very few heroes would even enter the no-man's-land surrounding the Grey Towers.

There was no prestige to be found here, no marketable victories, no glory. There was only filth, disease, and worst of all: squalor. What hero wanted to pose for the news over a gang of fourteen-year-old drug addicts he had pummelled for stealing soft drinks and candy from a convenience store? What hero agency wanted to tie their name to suffocated prostitutes and vagrant murders?

It would be career suicide, assuming you could even draw the media out to the ghetto in the first place. Whether through some secret instruction or pure economics, the press avoided reporting on the crimes in the slums. It would call attention to some of the more shameful issues about their quirk focused social hierarchy. And so, the area was left to the understaffed and underfunded police force.

Though Izuku idolized heroes, he recognized that many of the criticisms leveled at pro hero culture was valid. They did care too much about their image and spent far too much time worried about their popularity instead of helping people. But he had always reasoned that it was the governments responsibility to fight systemic issues that gave rise to crime, not the heroes themselves. Not that he had much faith in the government anymore.

'Oh, jeez.' he breathed as he looked up at the Grey Towers, 'How'd I find himself here of all places?'

Dropping his chin, he cast his eyes low and resumed walking at a deliberate pace. Though he had spent his whole life in Musutafu, he had never strayed far from his own quiet residential neighbourhood. Occasionally he would go downtown to shop or see a movie, but that was it.

From what he remembered the slums weren't too dangerous during the day. Occasionally you would hear about a violent mugging or a robbery gone wrong, but most violent crimes occurred at night. It was said that gangs of petty thugs would fight over their meagre territory while powerful villains were rumoured to hold secret meetings in diplidated apartments and business, planning their next attack.

As he walked down the sidewalk, he noticed a group of older teenagers a block up the street. They were laughing and jostling each other roughly. He felt his sixth sense tingle and without thinking he turned down a side alley.

Discretion is the better part of valour. I just hope I don't cut my feet down here and get some sort of disease. He thought as he hopped over a broken bottle.

As he cautiously made his way down the alley, he looked up at the tall high-rises that seemed to be pressing down around him. The grid of alleyways and side passages was laid out like a maze.

Stopping beside an overflowing dumpster, he looked over his shoulder back the way he had came. Maybe I should just wait here until those guys move on. I don't want to get lost in here.

As he hesitated, he thought he heard furtive voices coming from around the corner. Perking up his ears, he focused on the faint sounds.

'Come on guys, what's a little money between friends?' said a panicked man's voice.

'Shut up.' growled a deep voice.

'We warned you, Weasel. You got money for bookies, but not for us?' said a third man.

Izuku heard a smacking sound followed by a yelp of pain.

'Come're! There's no where to run off to now...' rumbled the deep voice again.

Ignoring the warning signals his body was sending him, Izuku crept forward towards the corner of the building, peering around the chipped concrete wall, he spotted two burly men bodily hauling a third skinny man off around the opposite corner.

Something tells me these guys aren't heading out for lunch. He thought nervously.

Moving as quickly as he dared down the alleyway, he stopped at the corner and took a peek. He saw that the two goons were marching a protesting, smaller man down towards a dead end. Biting his lip, he hesitated before tiptoeing forward.

'End of the line, Weasel.'

'G-Guys, at least let my bets ride out. I-I-I've got a lock!'

'Uh-huh, we've heard that one be-'

'Hey!' Izuku shouted.

The two thugs whirled around, Izuku's eyes widened as he saw that one of the two was holding a gun.

'What the hell-' started one of the two thugs. Seeing his chance, Weasel sprang out, trying in vain to push past the two leather jacketed gangsters.

With a snarl the gunman pushed the thin man back and raised his weapon.

'No!' Izuku yelled, running forward.

Startled at the sudden shout, the gunman whipped around and leveled the pistol at Izuku. As the gun pointed at him, he felt a twitch in his gut. Without thinking, he bent at the knees, flipping backwards for a millisecond. In that instant, a gunshot rang out and he saw a shiny, brass coated bullet fly past his face. As the bullet sailed by, he snapped back up and dashed forward.

Without stopping to think, Izuku attacked. Before the thug realized what was happening, Izuku pushed into him with both hands, sending him flying down the alleyway and into a massive heap of black trash bags.

Swearing violently, the second thug raised his hand and slashed down at Izuku. As the man's hand fell, it transformed in mid air into a clawed talon before Izuku's very eyes. With a yelp, Izuku reacted.

Before the clawed hand could come down, Izuku flailed out, slapping the man's cheek with the palm of his hand. The blow produced a sound like a bull whip cracking. Pirouetting like a ballerina, the man spun round before collapsing against the wall of the alley.

Izuku stood there motionless, completely overwhelmed at what he had just done. Chest heaving and ears ringing, he tried and failed to process what had just happened. Blinking he suddenly became aware of the thin man pulling on his arm.

'Hey kid! Kid!' shouted the thin man he had just saved, 'Unless you want to be around when the rest of em' show up, you'd better get moving!'

Nodding, Izuku turned and jogged alongside the man. As he and the man retreated down the alley, he heard the groaning thugs start to stir, groggily shouting after them.

After crossing a few blocks, the thin man stopped. While Izuku looked back fearfully for sign of pursuit, the man slouched over against the front of a pawn shop, gasping in sharp breaths. With shaking hands, he reached into his cheap suit jacket and produced a pack of cigarettes. Pulling one out, he held it out for Izuku who shook his head mutely.

Shrugging the man took out a lighter, lit up the cigarette, and took a long drag. Coughing, he exhaled and shook his head in disbelief.

'I owe you one kid.' he rasped, 'I thought my goose was cooked that time. The name's Weasel. What's yours?'

'Uh, Izuku.'

'Well thanks Izuku. You've got some balls, what's your quirk? You on Trigger or something?'

'W-What? No!' Izuku said in shock, shaking his head in vehement denial, ' I-I would never! B-Besides I don't even have a quirk anyways.'

'Really?' Weasel eyed him appraisingly before shrugging again, 'Huh, could have fooled me. So, you spend your Saturdays running around alleys?

'Um, not really. It's a long story. I sort of…got lost back there. I was looking for a way out when I heard you getting attacked by those men. Who were they?'

'Oh, just some loan sharks.' Weasel said off-handily. Puffing out a cloud of smoke with relish, he looked at his cigarette appreciatively before turning back to him. 'So, you tryin' to be a hero or something?'

Izuku laughed and ran his hand through his hair.

'No. Not anymore. I used to want to but…I never got a quirk so…'

The man nodded.

'Shame. You never see those costumed idiots down here where the real victims are. You know what? I say fuck it, you could be a hero if you wanted to. Quirk or no.'

The man spoke with no real conviction and Izuku couldn't tell how serious he was, but he felt himself blush regardless.

'T-Thanks.'

The pair were silent for a minute as the man finished his cigarette. After smoking it down to the filter, he tossed it aside and stomped it down. Running his hand around the edges of his small mustache he looked back to Izuku.

'Listen: Despite what you may have heard back there, Weasel always repays his debts. You ever need a line on free cable or a hot tip, I'm your man.' he said proudly. Reaching into his suit jacket, he pulled out a small business card. Izuku took it and read the cover.

"Jack Hammer: discrete cable installation, plumbing expropriator, and professional legal counsel."

Jack Hammer? Is this guy for real?

'S-sure. I'll keep that in mind.' Izuku said politely, tucking the card into his wallet.

'See ya' around kid.'

Pushing himself off against the graffiti covered shop front, the man straightened his stained suit jacket before stepping away. As the man left, Izuku looked around the streets for some street signs.

Where am I?

'Oh, and kid?' Weasel called out.

Izuku faced the man.

'They'll be lookin' for you now. Shocker and his boys. You want my advice? Go down towards 88th Street and head towards Mill's Bar. Then walk up to Tourney Avenue. You'll be in Speed Demon's territory. They won't follow you there.'

'Um, okay. So Tourney, is that over-' Izuku started to point but Weasel interrupted him.

'Alright, remember to keep your head down.'

Izuku watched helplessly as the man hastily walked away. Before he could decide whether or not to ask for him for directions, Weasel disappeared into another alley.

With a sigh, he pulled out his phone and looked up Mill's Bar. Walking down the street, he attempted to process what he had just done.

If I keep acting out like this then the government will track me down for sure! But what choice did I have? I couldn't just let a man die.

He kept down the street, occasionally glancing around him to make sure he wasn't being followed.

Besides it's not like any police or heroes come down here anyway. I bet you nobody would even notice I was here. I'm sure these people need all the help they can get…

Izuku caught himself and shook his head.

Don't even think about it Midoriya! Those two guys were about to kill you. You got lucky!

As he started across an intersection, he suddenly heard the sound of peeling tires on pavement. Whipping his head around, he saw a crowded SUV driving straight at him. The man sitting in the passenger side seat was the man with the claw hand from the alley. Izuku saw a red hand print on the side of his face. He looked murderous.

With a yelp, Izuku ran across the street and into an alleyway. Ignoring the alarmed screeches of rats and the disgusting puddles of filth in his path, he fled. Jumping over trash bins and hissing steam vents he followed the filth encrusted passage as the sounds of pursuit neared. Rounding a corner, he found that the alley abruptly ended. Whirling around, he looked back the way he had come. From around the corner, he heard the vehicle screech to a halt and car doors open and slam shut.

'Crap!' Izuku hissed, wildly scanning his surroundings for some way of escape.

I could hide in some trash bags! Or maybe the dumpster? Maybe if I run now-

'Oh, little boy? Yoo-hoo!' called out a gravelly voice in as high a note as it could. Footsteps echoed around the stained concrete walls. They were coming.

Izuku looked up. He was surrounded by towering, windowless high rises on all sides.

I jumped pretty high the other day. Maybe if I wall jump from side to side I can make it!

As he studied the wall for the best place to jump to, the thug yelled out again, sounding much angrier than before.

'We know you're here you little shit! I swear if you make us dig through trash to get you…' echoed a harsh voice down the alley. Izuku heard what sounded like five or six people walking down the wet pavement, slowly drawing closer.

Snapping his eyes on a distant ledge, he aimed his body. After tensing his legs, he leapt as hard as he could. Soaring upwards, he travelled far faster than he had anticipated. With a smack he collided with the concrete wall, flat as a pancake.

'Oof!' he huffed as he struck the wall, arms and legs splayed out against the cool, smooth concrete surface.

Shaking his head, he looked down. He was clinging to the wall about thirty feet in the air! Rather than slide down the featureless concrete, he found that he was gripping it effortlessly.

Izuku looked around at his hands and feet in utter amazement. His toes and fingers seemed to be providing him with excellent grip. Tentatively he reached upward and gripped the wall. His hand stuck easily to the damp, smooth surface. Mouth falling open in incredulity, he started to crawl up the vertical wall as easily as crawling on the floor. Increasing his speed, he started to rush upwards. He was dimly aware of the voices of the thugs beneath him but they were quickly fading.

Clambering over the edge of the apartment building, he looked down at the bumbling goons below. They were violently searching through the trash of the alley, shouting angry epithets as they threw trash bags into the air.

A sharp bark of laughter burst from his throat as he watched them scurry to and fro, vainly tearing into the stinking garbage bags.