Chapter 2: Enough

Izuku woke to the smell of fresh sheets and something that reminded him of band-aid packages. Warm and slightly sweaty hands squeezed his arm, sniffles came from his left. He stirred.

"Izuku?"

Mom? Opening his eyes was harder than it usually already was. His lids stuck, his eyes felt dry, just like his throat. He was thirsty.

"Oh, Izuku!" Fingers brushed a few strands of hair out of his face.

White, so much white, at first he thought he had gone blind, until he spotted a small stain on the ceiling above. A ceiling? He blinked a few more times - so, his eyes were in fact open - when he heard a chirp coming from outside. The teen let his head fall to the left, where a clear, highly saturated blue rectangle caught his attention. A soft breeze let the equally white curtains sway in the wind and tugged at his hair.

"Izuku?" The voice called him again.

"Mom?" He croaked, finding the familiar round face of his mother hovering at his other side. Fresh tears glistened on her cheeks, she looked so full of worry, an expression he had tried to save her from for so many years…

His mother hiccupped. "Oh, Izuku, I'm so glad you're awake! I was so worried! How are you feeling? Do you need something? Does anything hurt?"

Nothing hurt, so he shook his head, but he couldn't feel much either. He could move his limbs, but they felt numb, even his brain was working at a much slower pace than usual.

"Wha… What…?"

His mother ruffled his hair before sitting back into her chair. Too tired to move, Izuku only followed her with his eyes. She squeezed his hand.

"I woke up in the middle of the night because I heard sirens and footsteps, then I saw paramedics running up to the roof but didn't think much of it, but when I went checking on you, you were, you…" She wiped her eyes with a tissue and had to take a deep breath before she was able to continue, "You weren't there! I ran outside and then I saw them carrying you downstairs, I was so scared Izuku! And then, I just… I…" Another sob. More wiping.

"They said someone called an ambulance with your phone, but they didn't get a name. You had thrown up and passed out and that you had a high fever, and they didn't know what was causing it and… I-I told them you had b-been att-tacked by a villain, you said it was the same tha-that attacked Katsuki-kun, so they guessed you suffered from the same complications…"

Kacchan. Izuku closed his eyes.

If you're so desperate to get a quirk, why don't you take a swan dive off the roof and hope for one in your next life?

"... zuku! Izuku, are you alright? Do I need to call the doctor?"

He vehemently shook his head. Kacchan had said that. He surely didn't mean it, at least Izuku hoped he didn't. He was just being mean as always. The fact that Izuku almost followed his advice had nothing to do with Kacchan, it was all his own fault, because he was so weak and useless-

"We c-can talk later, you sh-should get more rest…"

Wait, was he in a hospital? And was Kacchan here, too?!

"What happened to Kacchan?" He wanted to know, voice so raw he immediately fell into a coughing fit. His mother quickly grabbed a glass from the nightstand and helped him take a few sips. Then she made sure he lay back down.

"Katsuki-kun was admitted with a few burns after the incident… He later developed the same symptoms as you, it must have been from the sludge," she went on describing the situation to him, but Izuku's mind was slipping.

Huh, so he was sick from the sludge. He had been attacked. He remembered All Might, then the roof, where he almost...

Izuku closed his eyes again. This time, he had no tears left to cry.

At least mom didn't ask what he had been doing up there past midnight.

...

They kept him for four days. One more day than Kacchan, because he hadn't received immediate treatment. The antibiotics showed effect and another two days later, on Monday, he was allowed to return to school.

He rather wouldn't go.

Izuku's room felt empty. The posters had been taken down, the rolls and two whole moving boxes of merch were now gathering dust in the small compartment in the basement that belonged to their apartment. His mom had only reluctantly given him the keys. He knew she was worried, but she hadn't asked about it yet. It was obvious something had happened, but Izuku didn't have the heart to tell her. Not after he saw how hard she had been crying at his bedside. He couldn't do this to her.

No one spared him a glance when he entered the classroom that Monday. It was better than being made fun of, Izuku consoled himself and slumped down at his desk. He didn't even dare to look at Kacchan, but he could feel the other's glare resting on him. It was a miracle the blond hadn't tried to explode anything yet.

Did he know Izuku had been attacked, too? Their moms were still friends, albeit not as close as they used to be. Maybe they met at the hospital and talked? He hoped they hadn't.

He would find out soon enough.

When the bell rang for the final time that day, Izuku had no energy left. Still a bit lethargic from his medication he slowly grabbed his textbook, loose enough it almost slipped from his fingers. Maybe his classmates would get bored in the meantime and leave, he wasn't worth wasting their time, was he?

The hallways grew empty. The freckled teen was tempted to wait until sunset, dwell on the happenings of the past week some more, but that would further worry mom. Instead, he chose to sneak out of the school as quietly as possible, hoping to stay undetected by always walking right at the edge of the path leading to the gate, ready to jump into the bushes at any given moment. He couldn't deal with his bullies, not today.

Part of the weight resting on his shoulders disappeared as soon as he was out on the street. As long as he didn't get near any small alleys, he should be safe. They wouldn't attack him out in the open.

"Deku."

Izuku had never suffered a real panic attack before - he had been close to, many times - but he guessed this was the closest he'd get to one. He hitched a breath. His whole body went rigid, rendering him unable to move. He was looking, but he couldn't see anything, he couldn't feel anything, couldn't breathe-

"Oi, fucking nerd!"

As if a flip switched in his brain, his body rebooted. He managed to lift his foot, placed it on the grey asphalt, then he was running as fast as his sluggish body would carry him. It wasn't fast enough. Something grabbed hold of his collar and yanked him back. Izuku slammed into a wall, backpack painfully digging into his backbone. He yelped.

"Don't you dare to fucking run from me, you useless waste of oxygen!" Fiery red eyes glared at him. Izuku made himself even smaller, but Kacchan stepped closer, cutting off any escape route. He was so done for.

"Is it true what my old hag said?" His childhood friend - no, they weren't friends anymore, friends don't tell each other to kill themselves - his childhood acquaintance, as wrong as it sounded, barked, "did you get slimed before me?!"

So, their mothers had talked. Izuku would appreciate a warning next time. He averted his eyes and ignored the hot tears that dreaded to fall, not willing to admit anything to his classmate.

"How the fuck did you get away from it?!"

"Was s-sa-saved b-by A-all All Mi-mi…"

"I can't fucking understand your muttering, useless Deku!"

"IwassavedbyAllMight!" Izuku screeched and raised his arms to shield his face. He could hide any bruises and burns, there were too many to keep track of already anyway, except for those on his face. The freckled teen waited, braced himself for the impact, but… Nothing came. Too scared to be tricked he didn't let his arms fall, not until the shadow looming over him disappeared. Kacchan stepped back.

"Of course," the blond laughed drily, "of course you weak shit had to be saved, what else." An explosion rang in his ears and Izuku could see the smoke rise from the other's hands. Kacchan pierced him with his gaze, he seemed to separate his skin from his bones. Izuku practically felt the anger boil beneath the flushed skin of the other boy.

"Why the hell did it have to be All Might, huh?! Where was All Might when I nee- When I was there?! You don't deserve to meet the number one, you useless relic!" Kacchan closed in again, ready to do something horrible, too angry to control himself. Izuku took one last breath and-

Pushed him away.

He didn't know what came over him, but at the mention of All Might, something inside him snapped. Kacchan stumbled back and froze as soon as he found his balance. He stared at Izuku, eyes wide in disbelief. This couldn't be happening. The quirkless teen had given up fighting for himself years ago. But today, Izuku clenched his trembling fists, and pressed his eyes shut.

All Might hadn't been there when Kacchan was attacked. If he had been, he might have told Kacchan how strong and amazing his quirk was, what a great hero he would become. A great hero like All Might himself who had no qualms squashing the dreams of a helpless, hopeless, devastated teen. Because that's what Kacchan had been doing all this time, these past ten years. Telling him the same All Might did yesterday.

Izuku had enough. That wasn't how heroes were supposed to act. They should be helping, encouraging, giving hope, not taking it. Yes, Kacchan had an amazing quirk, he was smart, he knew what he was doing but…

But…

He wasn't going to be an amazing hero. An amazing hero didn't bully weaker kids, helpless kids. Not any kids or anyone at all. For the first time in his life, Izuku realized that.

He had enough. Not waiting for the other's reaction Izuku pushed himself off the wall and turned on his heels. He quickened his pace, soon he was running, he heard an explosion and Kacchan's screams in the distance, but he only sped up more.

He didn't want to be a hero like All Might. He wasn't even sure if he wanted to be a hero anymore. But he wanted to help. He didn't want anyone else to suffer the way he did. No one deserved to be treated like dirt only because they weren't born with a special trait. No one, not even him. He may have been quirkless, small, useless and weak, but not all of those were permanent. He couldn't do anything about his quirklessness, but one day, he would grow. Maybe not as tall as the other boys, but he would become taller than he was now. If that was the case, maybe he could become less useless as well. Even if he couldn't be a hero in the traditional sense, there were still ways for him to help people. Remembering the yellow sticky note on his notebook, Izuku clutched the straps of his backpack harder.

Your analysis is good, it would be a shame to lose such a bright mind.

They all said it was creepy. No one liked to have their weaknesses pointed out, he understood that better than anyone else, but he had notes on their strengths, too. And how to improve their quirks, even how to make up for those mentioned weaknesses or how to get rid of them all together. Maybe someone who was looking for constructive criticism would find his notes interesting?

Izuku stopped in his tracks. An angry businessman muttered some profanities at him as he almost bumped into the young teen, but Izuku didn't really hear them, too stunned by his own train of thoughts. Whoever brought back his things thought he was smart. They believed his analysis to be good. Maybe they would appreciate his advice? If only he knew who it was… He couldn't even ask anyone for help to find them, no one would listen to a quirkless, useless, weak child-

Weak, Izuku pondered and pulled at his lower lip, the thoughts escaping his mouth as a low, incomprehensible hum. His weakness wasn't set in stone either, was it? He could do something about that as well, the doctor at the hospital even urged him to take better care of his body...

The young teen slapped his front audibly, earning more concerned glances from people passing by. He felt so stupid. Always screaming about becoming a hero but beyond taking his notes, he never actually did anything to get closer to his goal. He never considered working on his physique, not since being quirkless had rendered him unable to win any fight since he was five years old. All those years of defeat and loss had engrained themselves into his brain, stopping him from considering his body a tool altogether. But that wasn't true, was it?

There were enough heroes whose quirks weren't suited for combat, yet they still saved people and fought off the occasional villain. They often specialized in other fields like rescue operations, evacuations, they reassured the general safety of the public and there were also underground heroes doing covert operations and all that, and none of them could change the weather with a punch. But they could break a nose and stop a mugging from happening, which could be done by anyone who trained hard and long enough.

Anyone, huh? Izuku mused. Even by him? Well, underground heroes were also known to be incredible at stealth stuff, sneaking into secret hideouts and such. And Izuku was already rather good at sneaking. Maybe he should dive into that? He couldn't be a hero like All Might with a quirk, but he could take care of smaller crimes, like protecting other students from their bullies so they wouldn't end up like him…

After a deep breath, Izuku's mumbling came to a halt. He raised his foot. He had pushed Kacchan away today. That had to amount to something because no one dared to push Kacchan. Not even their teachers. But he, weak, quirkless Deku had done so, and survived it. For some reason, he felt kind of good. Not simply good, more like, really great? A tingling sensation spread underneath his skin. It had been some time since he last felt that excited.

Too bad that feeling didn't last long. As soon as Izuku realized how furious Kacchan would be tomorrow and registered the consequences he would have to suffer, it vanished into thin air. He should put some ice packs into the freezer and sneak the medical kit into his room when he got home. Preparing for the explosive boy's outbreaks and taking care of the aftermath was something he had gotten good at as well.

...

Dishes clanked. The kids of their upstairs neighbour were throwing another tantrum. Their meals had grown so quiet, Izuku could even hear the faint noises coming from the street behind the next apartment block. His mother tried to hide the frown, but he could clearly spot the wrinkle between her brows as she stared into her bowl. It was only a matter of seconds until…

"Izuku?"

Despite expecting it, he almost dropped his chopsticks.

"Would you like to redecorate your room?" It was a simple question. One meant to show her concern about his strange behaviour without directly asking about it, as she tried not to make him feel uncomfortable or pressure him into saying too much. She was such a kind woman, Izuku didn't know how he deserved such a loving, caring mother.

And besides, his room did feel quite empty and a bit cold. Shoving the rice around in his bowl he took a moment to sort his thoughts before answering with, "I'd like to get a new alarm clock, if that's okay. Oh, and uh, a, uh, a yoga mat?"

His mom blinked rapidly, obviously irritated by the last request, so he elaborated, "It's just, uh, the d-doctor said that I, uhm, my body is very w-weak and that's why I took so much longer than Kacchan to heal, so I thought I might, maybe, you know, do something about it? No-nothing serious! I was just thinking about following some workout videos and uh, pick up jogging, maybe? Start by taking a few laps around the complex, nothing big, really, it's just that-"

"Izuku." A cold hand was placed on his arm. His mother smiled softly at him. "I think that is a wonderful idea. I still have an old mat in my closet, but we could get you some new running shoes? Or workout clothes. We can just go to the mall and see if there's something else you would like for your room, we can get that, okay?"

"I, I don't want to-"

"It's okay, you've been through a traumatic experience. I know I can't offer you much, but at least allow me to treat yourself this time. You can look at it as an early birthday gift if you want."

Mom was too good. Feeling his tear ducts readying themselves, Izuku lowered his head.

"Th-thanks, mom. I'd like that."

...

The following week, Izuku asked his homeroom teacher to get the form for the high school applications back. He crossed all his choices - all schools known to produce the worthiest candidates to be chosen to attend U.A. Academy, the one university most of Japan's top-ranking heroes graduated from. It had been his dream to attend U.A. for as long as he could remember. Instead, the quirkless teen wrote the names of three mediocre high schools he knew were close by and most likely ignored by all his classmates. He still had almost a year to choose, ten months until the entrance exams started.

His homeroom teacher looked pleased when he accepted the form back.

The night was coming to a close. Clouds covered the sky; No comfort came from the usually twinkling stars. The underground hero waited high up on the fire escape, but apparently not high enough. He didn't even hear the vigilante approach until one of the bars rattled thanks to some loose screws.

"I could see your phone screen light up from a mile."

What did he do to deserve this? He was a teacher, he knew a lot about rebellious teens, even though many of them were out of that phase by the time they started in his class, at the latest when they went pro, but he would never get used to that cockiness.

"Good."

"Are you saying you wanted me to find you?" The muffled voice questioned. The vigilante stayed where they were, not willing to come down to his level, or get into range of his capture weapon. Smart.

"You were the one requesting to meet up," he grumbled back at the stranger. It had been a long night and he had classes to teach in a few hours. He missed his precious sleeping bag.

"Oh, right, I guess… Thanks for coming." As quickly as it appeared, the teasing tone was replaced by genuine gratitude. "Things have been getting more… Rough around this part of town."

"And what does that have to do with me?"

"The smugglers we left for you last week, they weren't working alone. We ambushed one of their meetings a few hours ago but some got away." The rustling of cloth could be heard, making Eraserhead believe the vigilante was rubbing one of their limbs.

"Do you need medical attention?" Damn kids these days.

"Thanks for your concern, but I'm fine. We have professionals. And you should see the other guys."

He'd rather not. "If they were professionals, they wouldn't send in a kid."

"I'm not a kid. And maybe they just know that I'm the least likely to be arrested because you have a soft spot for said kids," the vigilante chuckled, only to return to serious business a second later. "The reason they sent me here." More rustling. "Catch."

The pro flung his capture weapon at the object. It was a small plastic container. Inside lay a vial, padded by regular tissues, a neon yellow liquid shone through the glass.

"We don't quite know if it's another enhancer or something else, but they called it Trade. Seems to be something new. I thought you'd like to know what you'll be dealing with in the future."

A heavy sigh escaped him. They just got rid of the Trigger gang, he didn't need more drugs circulating on the streets. The pro closed the lid and pocketed the small container. Seems like he would need to pay the police department a visit, further reducing the few hours of sleep he desperately needed.

"Thanks for the heads up." He didn't like being indebted to anyone, especially not people acting outside of the law. That never turned out well. But he couldn't deny this chance, not when damage could be prevented if they analysed the contents of that vial in time.

"I feel honoured, your thanks are appreciated," the vigilante spoke in a tone that, aided by the voice changer, made him question whether it was a serious statement or meant to mock him.

"Good night, Eraser."

"Try not to die, kid." Eraserhead meant it. Most vigilantes were never sentenced, but only because they either disappeared one day to never be seen again, or their bodies were found in a ditch before they could be apprehended. He had only stumbled upon two of their kind in his entire career as a pro, but those messes had been enough. He still sometimes saw their bodies, or what was left of them, in his nightmares.

"Won't make promises I can't keep," with those words the stranger, who wasn't so strange anymore, disappeared.

Eraserhead sighed once more.

A/N: Thanks so much for the follows and favourites! Also thank you PasiveNox for the reviews!