A/N: Heya readers! Sorry this chapter is a little short, I wanted to adda bit more but thought it might take too long. So here's an introduction I think you'll like! Warnings for mentions of suicide/suicidal thoughts. Also, I will go back and edit the first few chapters later, since I know there are a few holes/errors in continuity and details, but that'll be whenever I have time.
Stay safe and enjoy!
Shinso Hitoshi knew he could be a hero. A great one, even. With his quirk, he could work underground and fuck shit up. Beat up some crusty ass villain networks with just a sentence. Of course, nobody he knew ever told him that. In fact, nobody seemed to want that. So he did the next best thing.
He pulled a dark green knitted cap over his vibrant purple locks and tucked a few of the rebellious tufts into the stretchy band. A neck gaiter was next, all black, pulled up over his nose. Gloves with fingers cut out were pulled over his calloused hands that still had a few scrapes from the night before. He patted his left pocket, confirming that his, yeah. Still there.
The room, his bedroom, was bare. A bed with plain black sheets, a few clothes piled up in a corner, a poster of some old shit he'd never heard of.
He snapped the window lock off and pulled the pane up and open. No screen. He climbed out with a practiced ease and shut it again. He didn't need to be careful. No one was home. And if they ever were, they didn't care if he stayed or went. Maybe preferred it if he was gone. Definitely preferred it when he was gone.
This was his routine, for a year or so now. Exit the house, climb down, sometimes up, and make a difference in the world.
Alright, maybe no difference was made. But it made him feel good, so fuck it. If he couldn't be a hero, why not be a vigilante?
The purple-haired teen dropped to the alley below, a soft, sweaty drizzle tickling the small portion of his face that was left uncovered. The city felt hard to hide in sometimes. Light pollution lit the sky a dark, smoky grey color on most nights. The streets were distressed with potholes as big as the rips in high schoolers' jeans, and gravel and trash were tossed about everywhere.
It certainly took a few weeks for him to be quieter than a fork in a blender.
Now though, the teen had a practiced gait, movements refined by time and experience. His shoes barely made a gritty sound over the rocky pavement as he made his way into the armpit of the alleyway. His stash of snacks was gone. Good.
He knew fighting wasn't the only way to help people. And if the makeshift tarp tents and bent syringe needles were anything to go by, some people just needed a little help that maybe someone like All Might couldn't (or wouldn't) give. He didn't exactly have extra cash, but his home did have plenty of snacks for his foster siblings who maybe didn't need it all.
With a mental note to put some more food out the next evening, he scaled the nearest building and began his patrol.
It was the same every night. Hitoshi knew that it was risky enough to get out and about with such trash for gear and an unreliable hidden identity. No one really seemed too concerned with him yet, but he was on both villains' and the police's radars.
He scoffed mid-leap, one leg out and one tucked to the side, as if mid-hurdle. Saving people could land you jail time. Because of course it did.
At least they couldn't prove he used his quirk unless they caught him and he talked. Which he wouldn't. Unless the opportunity showed itself. It's not like Hitoshi liked to break rules. It's just that most of them were a bit stupid, and didn't deserve to exist anyway.
And saving people was exhilarating. It felt good to see people smile in his direction, to speak to him, even thank him. It was during these nights, on his patrols, that he discovered what it felt like to be human, to be liked and respected and wanted.
So after his first night, when he stopped some harassment outside a bar and plopped on his bed with a huge smile on his face and a light, light feeling in his chest, he vowed to do it every night he could for the rest of his goddamn life.
Hitoshi stopped at a lookout point in the okay part of town and took a seat on the ledge. He kicked his feet, knowing that there weren't likely any criminals eyeing him up here. Once he got past the old park, he'd have to stick to stealth.
It was nice up here. It had taken some getting used to (heights weren't really his forte, fight him) but the appeal sunk in over time. He could breathe, he could keep an eye out, and he didn't feel so crowded. And there were fewer stalkers up here. Most of the shitbrained criminals and villains that he could take down couldn't climb a set of stairs, let alone ten to a roof access. His back was safer up here.
He pulled the collapsed baton from his pocket and released it with a satisfying series of clicks. He twirled it in his hands, eyes still darting over the streets and intersections below, briefly checking the rooftops now and then.
It was on a scan of a nearby roof that he caught it. He'd never seen one before, but he'd be damned if he didn't help.
Hitoshi stood and ran toward the other building, as quiet as he possibly could. Controlled breaths, light feet. He cleared an alleyway, but with nothing fancy. He hadn't learned how to tuck and roll without shouting expletives and garnering a few nasty scrapes and bruises.
He made it to the building in no time at all, and he stood hidden in the shadows of an air conditioning unit. He wanted to catch his breath but.
He couldn't hesitate.
"You about to kill yourself or something?"
A shriek, then the figure turned around, hands up and waving in dismissal.
"AH! N-no it's not what it-"
Bingo. Hitoshi felt a knot release in his chest as the green-haired kid drooped and stilled. He'd never felt so relieved to feel the tight pinch in his temples, the pressure in his sinuses.
"Walk to me and sit down. Carefully."
Hitoshi quickly untied the kid's shoes, (red, obnoxiously so) and tied them together. He was young, plain-looking. Absolutely massive green eyes. He couldn't be older than 11.
He released his grip on the boy, who immediately blinked hard and rubbed his eyes.
"Shoot, then, Mr. I-Like-Rooftops."
The boy looked up and looked thoroughly apologetic. In a weird, frightened kind of way.
"I-I do, actually! B-but I wasn't doing that."
"Uh-huh. Not helping your case, little man."
Hitoshi hardly held in a chuckle at the minute change in demeanor from the green-haired boy. It was kind of endearing how indignant he got. And at least he was distracted from 'not-killing-himself.'
"I j-just have to g-gather information, okay?" The boy watched his shoes intently, not showing that he noticed or cared about having his feet bound.
"Yeah? About how to die? I think it's pretty easy to figure out, bean sprout."
He narrowed his eyes at Hitoshi. "Did you c-come here j-just to make fun of m-me? I have en-nough people in my life who d-do that already."
The purple-haired teen shrugged. "Yeah? What's one more?"
The boy scowled but stared at his feet silently. Hitoshi meant no harm, but the kid didn't know that. Especially with the whole 'haha you're short' nickname thing he had going on.
He wasn't great with kids, who knew.
"Sorry. What's your name?"
"I g-guess it's bean sprout, now." The boy shrugged back. And suddenly his eyes burst with a fire that Hitoshi, upon seeing, knew belonged on the kid's face. "B-but I know you. Recent vigilante. No name yet. A-amazing success rate, and your quirk! It's b-been nice having someone care for my n-n-neighborhood."
That was new. Hitoshi rubbed the nape of his neck through the gaiter.
"Uh, thanks?"
"You're t-tall enough to be a-an adult, but your build is a b-bit lanky, so I'd say you haven't had enough time to f-fix that. H-high school, then? B-but why not UA?"
Hitoshi hesitated. He was smart, and a bit oblivious, at the same time. He sighed and narrowed his eyes at the kid. "I'm gonna' pretend that you didn't just call me a wimp. But you're close I guess. Late middle school. I'll apply next year."
"Me too!"
Huh. Hitoshi stared at the boy for a minute, which seemed to make him squirm, a light blush forming on his freckled cheeks.
"Shut up. You look like you're fucking ten."
The blush grew, but the kid otherwise didn't react. He must get that pretty often then. Not surprising.
"I get that p-pretty often, actually."
Hitoshi softened. He reached his hand out, palm up.
"Alright, give me your phone, bean sprout."
The boy rested his hand protectively over his left pocket, but made no move to pull it out. He looked suspicious all of a sudden, although a bit more uncertain if anything. Like he was afraid to say no.
"I'm not gonna' steal your phone. Here-" Hitoshi pulled his shitty flip phone from his own right pocket and tossed it to the boy, who caught it a little haphazardly, "do mine instead. Give me your number."
The boy looked confused. "W-why?"
"Because you're cool. And I want to make sure you're safe. And don't try to fucking kill yourself anytime soon."
"Of c-course I won't, I want to b-be a hero!" The boy sputtered out, hands out placatingly again. Hitoshi wanted to believe him, and the sudden fire in his eyes looked promising. But hey, trust was hard.
"Me too. Your number, green bean-" Hitoshi pointed at the phone, "-I don't have all night."
"O-oh, right." The boy opened the phone and went to work adding his contact. At least he knew how to type with the ancient fucking technology. Actually, kinda weird. The kid handed the phone back to him. Hitoshi opened it up and texted the number. A quiet moment, then a single ding came from the boy's pocket.
Cool. He actually gave his number.
"What's your quirk?"
Oh. That seemed to be the wrong question because the kid suddenly paled and looked really, really uncomfortable. But Hitoshi was good at recovery, because he followed with,
"You look like you're too inexperienced to do much hero work. And I could teach you a few things if you wanted to patrol with me. It's a one-time offer, though, because you might be absolute shit at it."
The boy hesitated. Though he relaxed somewhat, which seemed like a good sign.
"Can I think about it?"
Hitoshi snorted. "You can do whatever the fuck you want."
"Except kill myself, you mean?"
Hitoshi narrowed his eyes at the boy again. "Yes. Now I'm going to walk you home because I don't trust you."
The boy picked up his backpack at that, and stood. "I would really rather-"
Hitoshi raised an eyebrow.
"I can't say no. Okay."
The purple-haired vigilante smirked and turned, and goddamn it he missed it when behind him he heard a quick yelp and a nasty crack as the green-haired boy faceplanted. Hitoshi would deny laughing at the blushing boy (because that was decidedly un-heroic) for a solid minute as he untied his shoes from one another, then quickly tied them normally.
The trip home was decidedly less eventful.
Hitoshi continued his patrol once he watched the boy make his way into the apartment he shared with his mother. And if he couldn't sleep as he fell into his bed after a few hours of fighting and scouting, he didn't mind for once.
He might have met his first friend.