A few things to preface with this. This past month has just been draining on me in a lot of places, so my desire to write something for New Starting Point or Metal Bat wasn't there, and I didn't want to work on the next chapter for the former knowing it would just take me forever to write without giving anything here until I felt it was good. I basically wrote this because people brought it up on the genre, and I put the idea in my mind and chose to put it on paper. It's rough, very much so, but I might do things like this and even come back to this in times where I just need the energy back to put my heart into my writing.
Secondly, despite doing this, I knowing next to nothing about Superman outside of Superman Returns, Man of Steel and what other people have to say about him. I only know so little about the guy and his world so if this does go on, don't expect much outside of the man himself blended with good ol' Midoriya here, the iconic weakness and his basic powers, while trying to keep a good portrayal of the hero I barely know as is. Gonna try my best to keep him forever optimistic and friendly, since that's my image of him in his purest form.
Edit 3/2/2020: changed to present tense, to match the newest chapter.
Izuku Midoriya likes his job; he would go as far to say he loves what he does. Heroes always held a special place in his heart, growing up. He would watch every news report when it was live and the recordings he missed when he was at school. He checked the news on his phone religiously, nearly once every waking hour to see if something new had arisen in the world. He has cataloged the name, hometown, quirk and recorded history of every hero he can in his Journals for the Future, growing his stack to a whopping seventy-four before he had to stop the constant logging of information. He still has the stack sitting in a box, neatly organized by number, back in his apartment.
Only problem was that he could not exactly become a hero like all the other kids. He lived alone with his mother in a more rural part of Japan than most heroes originated from, and they weren't exactly living a life of luxury out in the "boonies," as his coworkers had called it (they meant no harm by it; they liked him still, and he liked them too.) His father worked overseas in the Americas providing money from his job as a university professor in the center of the country and for Izuku and his mother in their home in Japan; his mother worked as a clerk in a shopping center not too far from their home; together they made enough money to get by with a single kid in the family, that being Izuku himself, and hero schools were costly, especially in Japan. Even with what extra they saved up, it would be run close to dry by sending Izuku to any one of the schools across the country and Izuku didn't want to do that to them.
He did not complain having to go to a normal high school and be a normal Japanese student like the rest of his peers. A few of them could be quite rude, and were towards him when he refused to show off his quirk like the rest of the boys trying to boast their splendor to their classmates, but Izuku could pay them no mind. Their words were only words, and the teachers were smart enough to keep themselves from having laws broken on their campuses.
He passed through high school just fine with his grades and his inherent strength and was set to go to college, had the opportunity of a lifetime not made it his way; a chance to work at All-Might's agency. There wasn't a hero better known across the world than the number one from Japan. The blond and muscular pro was someone Izuku kept an eye on as he grew up more than anyone around him did, and more than he did for any other hero. Izuku wanted to be like the man when he grew up, and what better an opportunity to learn from the man than work at his agency?
For better or for worse, the position up for grabs was a desk job more than it was a field job. Pushing papers, cracking numbers, writing reports and filing old data of All-Might's daily sightings and paperwork from his to-do meetings, but it was a flurry of tasks he was all too familiar with in schoolwork and personal work combined. Izuku was quick to apply when he found the opening, convincing his mother to let him go out for an interview and a chance to prove himself. One trip, a face-to-face with the employers, and a subtle show of his capabilities thanks to his enhanced sight and hearing, and the job was his. Thank the stars it was cheaper to rent a place to stay than it was to go to U.A. or college.
Izuku keeps a picture of him and his mother – taken from the day he left for Tokyo to his new apartment – right on his desk, beside his computer. The most prominent parental figure in his life was hesitant to send her only child away so quickly out of high school knowing his destination was not for a college degree, but the woman was always supportive of him and his dreams and he knew his choice to skip out on a hero school for her sake had almost made it for naught. It took time and conviction, but Izuku was able to earn her blessing for his new future residing in the number one hero's hometown and headquarters for his first start in the real world. It was hard for them both to separate, and Izuku blesses the technology he had to call her weekly and video chat with her almost as often.
Four years in the number one hero's agency grew on Izuku, and the comfort and consistency of his new lifestyle has proven quite relaxing to ease in to. He has upgraded from a desk in a cubicle to a desk in his own office. He has gone from pencil pusher to one of the agency's most efficient editors of the agency's affiliates and their documents, reports and resumes. He previously thought he would never wear glasses, but the pair he owns now completed his look better than he likes to admit. He had never met a pro hero before in his life, and in two years' time has familiarized himself with near 50 different heroes, including the number one man he honored. And that dream of a being a hero slowly became a reality, too.
Izuku cherishes the office he was given. It is a mostly boarded-off room from the rest of the floor, leaving him with windows that only led to the cityscape behind him and the rest of Japan breathing down his shoulders as he types away on his computer; they are not wall-sized windows either, just two by two meters of glass behind his left or right side. For the most part, the walls were soundproof, which left the green-haired teen the privacy to play music to help him work and chat aloud to himself with the habit he has never grown out of. He is honest about the cluttered mess the room was from his assortment of paperwork and personal flourishing, but it makes the room feel less lonely so he probably will not be cleaning it anytime soon.
It is the privacy Izuku adores second most, after years of living in Tokyo surrounded by new age and old age heroes and the bustling inner city and a world he had only ever seen on T.V. growing up. Little people in the building can hear him; little people outside can see him. He gets to control the temperature of his room more manually with plug-in fans to make up for the two suits he wears, one over the other. With his own workspace provided to him by All-Might himself, he has control of the windows too, meaning he can leave them open whenever he feels like it. He can listen to the streets fifteen stories below him bustling with the every-day traffic and civilian crowds. He can hear the planes and helicopters flying overhead and the pilots in them reporting condition and the news. He can hear where other heroes are on the job and how successful they are at their job, and he can hear the places they are not in but need to be.
Even more than the privacy of his office, does Izuku appreciate the times he gets to hang up his coat and throw on his cape.
Robbing a bank in the modern day and age was preposterous to a lot of people, but the process is easier for some depending on their means of transportation. For the L.A. Villains, it was Aoijin's quirk to enlarge himself as a ride for his partner. For more common thugs it is a six-wheeler truck or van. For Doko Toro, it is a super-boosted and rocket-wearing motorcycle.
Toro had stolen the bike before he got anywhere near a bank, knowing full well there were so little heroes who would be able to keep up with the prototype tech before he disappeared north with the money in pocket. That bike could move, and move it did when he jumped out the bank window with a sack of cash over each shoulder. The thing is built with a self-drive interface, having a complete G.P.S. in its system to map out routes and control speed output, which helps Toro immensely when taking it for a drive at twice the speed of the bullet trains.
A quick hop into the place and using his quirk to get what he demands for faster and he is racing down the road at a breakneck pace. He can barely see the civilians and heroes he passes in a heartbeat, but the pace of his own and the adrenaline fueling it is enough for him to enjoy the thrill of the heist now that he can feasibly get away with it. Under a minute's time and he is already halfway across the district before even one person can try to stop him.
And then someone does.
Right on the high of victory does Toro nearly jolt off the bike as it comes to a halt. The world around him goes from a blur of color to solid images, with civilians all around stopping nearby and looking towards him from the sidewalks. The horned man is quick to catch himself from flying away and dropping face first into the road but he is a bit slower to notice the bike angled off the ground, its front wheel the only one touching down. Turing in his seat Toro finds the problem at hand: floating behind him, dressed in skin-tight blue with a red flapping cape, holding the back tire in his hand and smiling down at the thief, is a hero he has seen on the news.
"Where the hell did you come from?" Toro shouts, flaring his quirk and glowing his horns, but the hero's smile does not waver.
"A bit south from here," the hero replies, throwing a thumb over his shoulder back the way he came. "Heard the alarm of the bank ringing and thought I'd step in to see what all the ruckus was about. Guess my hunch was correct. And I'm guessing those horns of yours had something to do with it? You look underdressed to rob a bank if your quirk wasn't playing a part in the job."
Toro scoffs and the glow from his horns subsides. If he isn't able to make the hero afraid of him, then his quirk is completely useless against the hero. But he has a plan B, throwing his hands back on the throttle and revving on the rockets that had been boosting him from the bank. The engines shoot to life, flames bursting out at the hero and blasting his arm and chest with fire. The criminal laughs with victory in mind, but shortly thereafter finds his laughter caught in his throat when the hero reaches forward and crushes both engines closed in his free hand.
"I'm sorry to tell you that isn't going to work on me," the hero tells him, sincerity in his voice. "Probably should have warned you when you turned around. I wasn't quite sure what you were going to do, but if you're going to still fight back, I might as well make it quick." Before the criminal can even panic, the hero's hand comes chopping down on the back of his head, knocking him out cold and slumping him over the handlebars of the enhanced motorcycle.
The hero lowers the back of the bike back down and is courteous to kick out the stand so it can stay up with the criminal unconscious and limp over it. The civilians and people around him clap and cheer at the display, and he smiles and waves back to them as another hero approaches among the crowd. "Good morning, Kamui," the caped hero greets his wood-bodied coworker. "It's been a while since we last talked. I have seen you on the news, though; good to know someone of your heart is still on the scene."
"We're even luckier to have you," Kamui Woods responds, looking over the collapsed criminal. "I doubt I would have been able to catch a bike like this in time after hearing it pass me by. Thank you for being able to stop him."
"Someone would have caught him all the same, if not here then down the line when he had to stop. He wouldn't have been able to drive this forever. I'm just happy to catch him when—" The hero's head snaps to the side, his small ponytail flicking over his shoulder and his body rising in the air as his voice cut off suddenly. His face contorts a moment to a serious expression before it lightens as he faces the wooden hero again. "Do you mind brining in this man for me? Duty calls due west. Credit's all yours for the apprehension and return of stolen property and money."
"No problem at all, but I'm still dropping your name when they ask what happened," Kamui agrees, his arm expanding to an amalgamation of branches and wrapping around the criminal and bike. "Do your best, Superman."
The dark-haired hero nods as he wipes dust off the diamond symbol on his chest and salutes with his other hand. "As always. Same to you, Kamui." Without a moment to hesitate, he crouches where he floats before shooting off into the sky and curving around the buildings, leaving behind only a wave of wind and the clap of the sound barrier.