"What were you thinking?"

He wasn't. He was already running before he knew what was happening.

"You could've gotten yourself killed!"

Oh, he knew. This was the fifth person to tell him in the last 2 days.

"You're just a kid!"

Yes, thank you for noticing.

"The fighting should be left to the real heroes."

Right.

Real heroes. Not like the kid staring back at Izuku on the black screen of the TV in the upper corner of the room. A hero would never look like him, with his frail frame and his arm in a cast that looked far too big on him. Almost like a puppy with a broken paw. The sight, pitiful enough in its own right, forced his eyes out the window in his little hospital room.

The world outside looked unfazed. Untouched. Like there hadn't been a murderous sludge-like villain destroying the city mere days ago. Like if two kids hadn't almost died while being watched by a giant crowd. The only evidence of any trouble was a burned plaza, Izuku's broken left arm, and a news report that only bothered mentioning the dangers of a "child" running into a battle without thinking, and how heroic All Might had been jumping in after them. A news report that Izuku had already been forced to watch more than once in absolute misery, unable to change the channel in his shared room. At least he was getting discharged that day; he would not miss the two boys that had been staying with up until that morning.

As if on cue, his mother came into the room with a calm smile plastered on her plump face. If Izuku hadn't known any better, he would have almost believed it.

"Are you ready, Izuku? I just have to sign the last papers and we can go home." She sounded sickeningly cheerful and he had to force a smile at her. He got up from the bed, grabbing the change of clothes offered to him with clammy hands. He noticed how his mom's eyes focused painfully on his cast for the briefest of moments. When she'd first seen it she'd cried like a baby for about three hours.

"I'm just gonna change, ok?"

"Sure, sweetie."

The bathroom door clicked behind him quietly and Izuku sighed heavily, leaning his head back on the wooden surface. He focused his eyes on the small emergency button on one on the walls and felt like if he pressed it, his mom would bust down the door far before any doctors could arrive on the scene. Every time his mother looked at his wounds, his bruised face, her eyes would gloss over and her expression would change into one of sadness. The night he'd arrived at the hospital his mother had stayed at his bedside and held onto him like he would disappear, begging with him in a broken voice.

"Please, Izuku, never do that again! I know you want to help, I do! But, you can't! What would I do if you…"

She hadn't finished the thought, But the way she held onto his good arm and wept told him more than enough. He could have died. Hell, he was unsure as to how he had gotten away with just a broken arm and a bruise on his cheek. She was terrified, and at some point in her mumbling he had even heard her mention something about him just "picking a normal career". He had pretended not to hear her, if only for his own sanity at the time.

He avoided his reflection in the mirror and silently changed into the clothes his mom had brought him. Of course she'd brought him an All Might shirt. He sighed and roughly covered his chest with a plain hoodie. He gave himself one brief look in the mirror and stepped out of the small space.

"You can't be a hero."

Yeah. He was more than aware of that, now.

His three-day stay at the hospital gave too little time for the scandal die down and by the time he turned up for school in his regular uniform, everyone knew who he was and what he'd done. Scratch that, what he had stupidly attempted to do without any success. The looks that he was used to receiving in the hallways turned into harsh whispering and more than once he was forced to step outside the school to recover his backpack from under whatever window it had been tossed out of.

He'd heard about a dozen different versions of what had happened by the time lunch was done, but Kacchan's was the most painful by far. Not because of the way he spoke of Izuku as a useless, in-over-his-head, quirkless pain in the ass. Oh no. He was used to that. The worst of it was the accuracy with which he described Deku flying through the air after attempting to get Bakugou free from the villain, and how every single hero on the scene had taken time out of their day to tell Deku how reckless and stupid he had been.

"You should have seen him. He was crying in the ambulance by the end of it all."

Izuku tried to ignore him for as long as he could, he really did. He turned the other cheek for hours but at the end of the day, he still got surrounded at his desk right before the final bell. He felt like a circus attraction. Bakugou leaned over him and everyone snickered. Izuku wished he could disappear right then and there, feeling tears already stinging at his eyes. But crying would make it worse. He knew that.

"Hey, Deku," One kid started, dragging out the words and making their classmates giggle all around them. "What's it like to finally get noticed by All Might?"

Izuku visibly flinched, and another kid grabbed his shoulder rather forcefully, "Yeah, tell us, what was it like to finally meet him?"

"What was it like to be on TV?!"

"You're online now, too!"

The laughter only stopped when Bakugou slammed his hand down on the desk and leaned forward to look Izuku in the eye. Time itself seemed to stop and everyone around them disappeared. Bakugou had a tendency to do that, to dominate the scene and somehow make Izuku feel even smaller than he already was. The green-haired boy could feel his skin itching under his cast. They stared at each other for mere seconds but Izuku had to look away to stop himself from sinking even lower in his chair.

"If you have even the tiniest bit of brains in that dumb head of yours, you'll listen to All Might and stop insisting on impossible crap," Bakugou stated coldly, not a hint of sarcasm in his voice. He sounded more serious than Izuku had ever heard him before. Someone gave a funny little gasp behind him, but Izuku had his eyes glued to his desk. "Just leave the fighting to the real heroes and stay the hell out of it, useless Deku."

With that Bakugou stormed off and the others left soon after. Izuku kept his eyes on his desk until the afternoon shadows told him that it was getting late. He grabbed his stuff and headed home in silence.

The ride home had been as awful as the rest of his day at school. The news report about the incident had been played on the train, and even without the audio Izuku could hear it perfectly in his mind. He could see All Might on the screen, looking tired and uncomfortable as reporters pestered him with all sorts of questions and statements. One reporter asked for his opinion on the quirkless kid that had gotten involved in the fight, shoving a microphone towards the pro-hero's face.

All Might frowned, turning to look at the ambulance where Izuku was being treated at the moment. The heroes face seemed to go through several emotions before it settled on something unreadable. He looked straight at the camera as he spoke.

"It was terribly irresponsible, as well-intended as it was. I have to beg others not to do as he did. He endangered himself and complicated the situation even further. The real fighting should be left to the real heroes. That is all."

They'd been more questions, but the No.1 hero had simply left the scene after his words. But the damage was already done. The few that hadn't been watching the broadcast live had by now seen one of the multiple reuploads that were being shared all over the internet. Izuku wouldn't be surprised if the whole of Japan had heard All Might calling him irresponsible. He had said it with such a harsh tone as well like he didn't want to leave any room for a misunderstanding. Izuku had done wrong, and he was not to do it again. He was not to be an example of what a real hero was.

Every stare that lingered upon him on his walk home made his skin sting under his cast.

At home, his mother tried desperately to act like nothing had happened, asking Izuku about his day at school and what he'd learned. Ever since they'd left the hospital she'd been in an odd state of denial. He would make an effort to be cheery around her, telling her about who he'd had lunch with and what he'd seen on the train ride home, but the moment he was on his own he deflated. The first night he'd returned home he had taken down every single hero-related thing from his room, leaving him with four empty walls, a plain bed, and three big trash bags filled to the brim with stuff he no longer wished to see. The bags were like a mortal reminder of everything he had ever dared to dream, and he was forced to shove them in his closet to be able to sleep. Not that it would do him any favors, with nightmares waking him up every couple of hours.

His next couple of days in school were surprisingly silent. Everyone had decided that Deku was better left ignored. What was there left to say, when his greatest inspiration had already squashed his hopes on live television. They would still whisper and point at him, but thankfully no one approached him. He might as well have gotten killed by that villain that day, he thought bitterly.

After a week of not knowing what to do with himself, let alone the bags, he settled on taking them out of the house. It felt like at least a small step in the right direction, he thought. He told his mother he would be out for a while to take the bags to a children's hospital downtown and she only agreed to let him go when he said he had to do it himself to move on from his "silly dreams". He left his mother with teary eyes and quickly made his way to the bus station. He waited for the one that would take him in the opposite direction of the hospital and got on quietly.

He rode the same bus for almost an hour before making it far away from the busy part of town as he dared. He got off the bus, struggling with the bags, and looked around. This was the part of town parents usually told their kids to stay away from. It was gloomy, with most buildings and houses made of pure brick. Most street lights were broken and the only people visible on the streets were mostly homeless people. A woman gave Izuku a strange look, which he tried to ignore to the best of his abilities. He picked a random direction and started walking, passing by groups of people who, thankfully, didn't pay him or his trash bags any mind.

He was looking for an empty enough alleyway when he noticed two homeless men rudely being asked to get out of a konbini by a random police officer. It had to be the only convenience store around for blocks, Izuku guessed. The police officer had his hand on his belt, the wings on his back making him look far bigger than he actually was. Both men grumbled and insulted the officer, but did as told, walking for a few blocks before disappearing down a small alley. Izuku stood where he was, shifting on his feet. He was following them before he had thought his next move through.

The entrance of the alley was narrow, with trash cans and piles of rubbish decorating the sides. There was a magnitude of posters pasted one on top of the other, to the point where one didn't know where one began and another ended. The alley became wider the further in you went but it also got darker, the air somehow becoming harder to breathe. A few feet away was a small group of men sitting on crates and a single, very broken chair. They were all wearing various layers of tattered clothes, one of them with a bandage over half of his face. A small fire shone it's way out of a dumpster nearby. Izuku walked towards the group, regretting each step more than the other but finding himself unable to stop. One of the men saw him and spit on the ground.

"You lost, kid?" He had the voice of someone who had been smoking for years.

"I… no, I…" Izuku stuttered, sweating like crazy and suddenly feeling like the bags on his hands were too heavy for him.

"You here to throw out your trash?" Another man asked, his yellow eyes narrowing towards the trash bags. Izuku immediately raised his arms as innocently as he could, shaking his head.

"No! No, I just, I saw you getting kicked out of that store and… well, I," He leaned down and opened one of the bags up, pulling out an All Might action figure still inside its original box. The little figure smiled widely back at him. "These are collectibles. I was thinking maybe you guys could sell them or something. They're worth a good amount, and they'd probably be more useful with you guys than in the dumpster."

Two of the men looked at him suspiciously, but the other two came forward and started inspecting the contents of the bag. Once they found some of the price tags they were all quick to pull out everything in that bag and the other, utterly ignoring the one that was full of paper and drawings.

"Why would you throw out all this stuff, kid? It's worth a pretty penny."

"Aren't most kids your age obsessed with all this hero stuff?" Added the man with the bandaged face. He was older than the other three.

Izuku smiled, kicking a small pebble on the ground, "Not me, I guess. At least not anymore. You think these might help you?"

One of the men, younger and with a horn sticking out of his head, laughed loudly and patted Izuku on the back several times.

"I think I know where to sell them. Won't make back your money, but it'll get us by for a while."

Izuku was happy with that and excused himself right after. All four men bid him goodbye over their shoulders and the teen made his way down another random alley. He walked, changing directions every so often until he felt like he had found a place he liked and put the bag down. The alley here widened just enough that he didn't feel like the walls would fall on top of him. The back of an old abandoned building towered over on one side, it's falling fire escape clinging to the wall for dear life, and the humble side of a closed shop on the other. The paint on the walls was mostly gone, graffiti here and there, but the ground was mostly clear with the exception of a few wooden planks and a few trash bags not unlike his own. In the corner was a metal trash can without its lid. The inside revealed cardboard and paper, and Izuku threw some pieces of the wood inside until he was confident that there was enough fuel to start a small fire.

From his backpack, he pulled a box of matches and got a little flame going. He had to use multiple matches and blow on the fire, but he had it going before long. He stared at the flames in satisfaction, enjoying the warmth for a moment with his eyes closed. He could almost pretend the last week and a half hadn't happened at all, here by his lonesome. But the sounds of the city soon brought him back to bitter reality. He opened the trash bag at his feet and reached in, grabbing one of the papers that were at the top and pulling it out. A childish drawing of All Might stared back at him and Izuku had to fight back both the urge to go home and to smile. He let the page flutter down into the fire and watched it get consumed by the flames. He wasn't sure if this made him feel any better, but he'd made it this far; he might as well get it done. He stood next to the fire, selecting and scanning each piece of paper carefully before throwing it into the light. The crackling of the fire was the only thing filling the silence.

He thought he was doing fine, that he might actually be able to do this like an adult, when his hand closed around something thinker than just a piece of paper. He pulled out one of his 13 notebooks filled with quirk analysis. The colorful cover and childlike handwriting hit Izuku like a truck. He could remember buying all of the notebooks in a bulk and filling the first five within the week of getting them. He could almost see himself, young and naive, asking his mother to give him feedback on his hero name. His vision faltered, and all too suddenly he realized that not only was it already past sunset but that he was crying. How long had he been shedding tears?

Ever since he'd gotten home, he had refused to cry. The few times he'd allowed himself to do so was either in the shower or with his face firmly pressed against his pillow so his mother wouldn't hear. He had held it all back for as long as he could. But now, all alone and with most of his childhood memories getting destroyed before his eyes, he couldn't. For the first time in days, he allowed himself to cry freely, sinking to the floor and curling in on himself. He screamed until his throat felt raw and he cried until his eyes hurt and his muscles ached, and he stayed down long after that. He had no idea for how long he sobbed but by the time he found the strength to stand back up, the only source of visible light has his dying fire. He sniffed, wiping his nose with his sleeve and taking a shaky breath. He had to get this over with before it got too dark and the buses stopped running.

He swallowed, taking the thin notebook numbered No.1 in his hand and staring at it. The word "future" on the cover seemed to mock him and had he not been crying to the point of exhaustion already he might have cried more. He forced himself to swallow his dreams, to throw away the endless hours of futile research that was only reminding him of everything he would never be. He extended his hand until the paper was right over the fire, his hand feeling the heat rising from the trash can, but Izuku froze suddenly.

A loud noise came from somewhere down the alley where he was, a sound that was very quickly heading in his direction a sounded like one of the buildings was getting knocked down by an angry bull. He hastily let go of the notebook when he heard a scream and hid behind a dumpster in the hopes that whatever was coming his way would pass him by. He did not want to deal with more problems at the time. From his spot, he could see the opposite wall illuminated by his little fire, giving the place an odd aura.

All of a sudden, two figures came crashing in, fighting tooth and nail against each other. Their shadows danced upon the wall like nightmarish monsters and Izuku could feel his eyes widening as he watched them send blow after to blow at one another like wild animals. Something metallic was thrown against the trash can, making a horrible, hollow sound and threatening to send the fire into the ground. The metal container almost toppled over but spun back with another loud thud and landed back in its place. Izuku would have jumped out of his skin in any other circumstance, but he didn't dare move a muscle. The biggest of the two shadows grabbed the other figure and threw him straight into the dumpster with enough force that the heavy metal container skidded back and hit Izuku roughly on the shoulder. His eyes had shut tight on impact, but after a moment of silence, he opened one of them.

The teen stared in horror at the limp figure mere feet from him, his arm twisted in an odd angle and blood pooling around him. He covered his mouth in a futile attempt to not make a sound, but he was on the verge of hyperventilating. Was this person dead? Had he just witnessed a murder?

A dark pair of combat boots, adorned with metal spikes and clearly stained with blood, stepped into Izuku's view slowly.

"Come out. I can hear you." Izuku's eyes widened in terror and he tensed, unable to move. He was a witness now, he was going to get killed for sure. His mind was racing and he had the feeling that he was about to throw up. A blade came into view, glinting in the light of the fire and dripping a few drops of blood steadily into the ground. "I'm talking to you." The voice repeated, the blade was thrust into Izuzku's little hiding place, just missing his face. The boy swallowed and forced himself to move, crawling out from behind the dumpster.

The man in front of him was at least a head taller than him, the blade -which Izuku now recognized as a katana- still in one of his big hands. The man's whole appearance seemed to be filled with edges, daggers, and spikes everywhere the teen dared lay his eyes. He only looked at his face when the point of the katana forced his head upwards. Izuku was met by a pair of small, dark eyes behind a white mask, wild dark hair on top. He could feel his legs getting weaker.

"This is no place for a kid," said the man in a dry voice, "Go home."

The man stepped aside and lowered his katana, opening a path to let Izuku pass. The teen stared at the figure in front of him, unsure of what to do. Was he really going to let him go like that? The man raised a brow and made an expectant movement with his hand. He was not very patient, it seemed.

Izuku tried to take the first step away from this maybe-killer, but his shoe collided with the limp body on the ground. The figure on the floor had a suit and mask, and a deep cut on his leg that continued to form a pool of blood around him; a wounded hero. The boy hesitated.

"I'm not gonna tell you again," The man said forcefully, narrowing his eyes at Izuku, "Get. Out."

Izuku stepped forward stiffly, making it just to the edge of where the fire illuminated the dark space and stopped abruptly. He could hear the hero grunting on the ground.

"Are you…" He tried to focus on his silhouette on the wall, dancing along with the fire. "Are you going to kill him?"

There was a silence, long and tense, before a simple "Yes" reached him.

Izuku turned around, unable to even control his own body. The hero was still on the floor, eyes wide open now, the other man towering over him even in his hunched stance.

"Why?"

The man lifted a brow and scoffed, turning away from Izuku.

"That has nothing to do with you, kid."

Izuku froze. It was as if the world itself had started moving in slow motion. He could see the fire moving slowly, suddenly illuminating the scene far more than it had just moments before. He felt his heart in his throat, violently beating and could hear every little breath that came out of his mouth, quick and shallow. He felt the skin under his uncomfortable cast burning as if it was in the fire, burning along with his drawings and writings. The glint of the sword even seemed to blind him as the blade was raised up high, ready to strike.

"You better leave the fighting to the real heroes."

The sound of the metal pipe hitting the killer's back was dry and low, like a rock hitting a sack of flour. Time started moving at normal speed once more. Izuku took two steps back, the pipe clutched tightly in his trembling hands and a shocked expression on his face. Had he just attacked this man, in the middle of nowhere and with a broken arm to boot? Was he insane? The man sure seemed to believe so, turning around slowly to look at the boy with an almost confused look in his eyes. Izuku could somehow tell that they were red in color. Even the wounded hero seemed at a loss, staring at Izuku like he had shot himself in the head.

In a sense, he might as well have.

"What do you think you're doing, you brat?" The man took a step towards Izuku, the fire casting ominous shadows on his face, blade pointed at him. Izuku felt like he might pass out at any second but he still did not let go of his pipe nor did he drop his defensive stance.

"You… You can't just kill him like that. I-I won't let you."

"Let me?" The villain's grave tone sent shivers down the teen's spine.

When the man took another step, the hero on the ground finally spoke up, "Don't you dare hurt him, Hero Killer! He's just a defenseless kid! His arm is broken, he doesn't even have a quirk!" and then, at Izuku himself, "Get out of here, kid! Now!"

For a second Izuku could only focus on the words "Hero Killer". Was this terrifying presence before him really the one that had been hurting heroes left and right without getting caught?

And had he just hit him with a metal pipe?

"Get out of here, kid! This isn't your fight!" The hero yelled again and Izuku was finally able to recognize him; he was one of the heroes that had been at the Sludge Villain's attack a few days ago. He was almost sure he had been one of the heroes that had dragged him to the ambulance. Izuku could feel his vision blurring and before he knew it he was yelling back at the only person present that was probably speaking with any semblance of common sense.

"I know that!" He spat back, tears streaming down his face without any sort of control, "I know it's none of my business, I know I should go home! But I can't just leave you here to die! I can't just walk away when someone needs help! Even if I'm quirkless, I just want to save someone for once! I want to be a hero too!"

He started shaking with anger and frustration, the pipe held tightly above his head as if ready to strike at anything that came close to him. His tears wouldn't let him see anything but he didn't care anymore. He was done caring about what he could and couldn't do. He was only thinking about what he should do, and this, as dangerous and suicidal as it was, felt right.

He waited for the Hero Killer to live up to his name and slice him in half, but the strike never came. Instead, Izuku saw a shadow cross his field of vision and heard the rustling of pages. He blinked away his tears as fast as he can, rubbing his face with his unbroken arm and seeing the dark-haired villain looking through one of his notebooks nonchalantly as if there wasn't a hysterical boy and a dying hero on either side of him.

"Midoriya Izuku," He read off the cover, turning his gaze towards the boy "That you?"

Izuku just stared at the man in front of him dumbly, mouth hanging open. He's even too confused to keep producing tears at this point.

"You're that kid that was on TV a few days ago, right?" The villain asked, going back to eyeing the notebook.

Izuku swallowed with great effort. He tightened his grip on the metal rod and stood up as straight as he's able to, even if it looked like he's holding back a pitiful pout. "Yes. That was me."

"You're quirkless."

"...Yes"

"And yet you still want to be a hero?"

"Yes!" Izuku wasn't even sure if this man was trying to mock him at this point, but the answer tumbled out of how mouth before he can think about it. "I do." He whispered with as much determination as he could muster.

"You know All Might was right." The villain said, arrow eyes darkened by the shadows of the dying fire "You're not like them."

Izuku was about ready to crumble. He's even glad when the man stepped forward, even if he raised the pipe in front of him in a defensive way. Maybe he'll kill him quickly.

Instead, the man knocked the pipe down and carefully offered back Izuku's 7th notebook, pushing it closer when the kid simply stares at him. Neither of them moves, both staring at each other with drastically different expressions for what feels like an eternity.

The man on the ground attempted to speak up again but swiftly gets a katana pointed straight at his right eye and keeps quiet. Still, the Hero Killer would not take his eyes off Izuku's own.

"Do you want to be a real hero, Midoriya?" He asked after a long pause, his voice serious and deep.

The tears spill down without permission once more and Izuku choked a small "Yes."

"Then don't even think about being like him. The likes of him are just a fake bunch of cowards, disgracing the word "hero" with their selfishness. None of them care about anything other than themselves. You saw them first hand, hesitant to jump in to save a child because they were scared. " He hissed out the last word like it was poison, "Not until All Might showed up."

As scared as he is, Izuku couldn't look away from this man's eyes. There was a passion shining in them, noticeable even in the faint light, and the conviction in his voice left little room for argument.

"And he was right, you can never be like them…"

He pushed the notebook towards Izuku and the boy took it, his body moving on autopilot.

"...But you don't want to be like them."

With that, the villain picked up the hero over his shoulder and climbed up the rusted fire escape like it was nothing, the metal groaning under the weight, leaving Izuku behind in a stunned stupor.