A new notebook.
Two hundred blank, lined pages.
A new life, with two hundred opportunities to improve.
His pencil tapped on the first page, the sheet completely empty short of the title. Training goals.
Izuku knew that he wasn't a lot of things; he wasn't particularly fast, nor strong, nor flexible. He couldn't lift massive amounts of weight, nor hit things from a distance. He had no idea how to restrain an opponent, or rescue a civilian.
He didn't just lack a quirk; he lacked almost all of the characteristics needed for a hero. His heart sunk, thinking about it. For years, he had been working under the assumption that, so long as he understood heroes, he could become one. That was wrong. He was wrong. A person could study artists their entire life, but that didn't mean they could paint. The only way to do that was to study and practice art itself.
But that's why he needed a plan. He had ten months. Ten months to become hero material. Or, at least, heroic enough to get into U.A. And that meant he didn't have a day to waste.
He'll be competing with people who have powerful quirks. People who have been training and perfecting them since childhood. People who see these ten months as the final stretch of training, not the start of it. He clenched his jaw, and held back a whimper.
It was… terrifying. Just thinking about it made his nerves tingle, a bundle of electric circuits pushed far past their maximum voltage. He bit his lip, and stared weakly at the paper, as though the answer would reveal itself out of sympathy for the boy.
No, he couldn't wait for the answer. His stare shifted into a glare, and he shuffled in his seat. He had a ten month time span to become strong enough not just to compete, but to win. And he didn't have the advantage of a quirk.
He clenched his pen, and attempted to focus. He was afraid. He wasn't sure he could do it. No, actually, he was pretty sure he couldn't. But he couldn't let that hold him back.
Ok, so what could he do without a quirk? What tools did he have at his disposal? What could he reasonably improve?
Endurance. Even if he wasn't the fastest person there, and there wasn't a doubt in his mind that he wouldn't be, he should be able to improve his endurance significantly if he started training now. A jogging schedule made the most sense. But how far, and at what speed? At what rate should increase the distance? Alternatively, he could add a time limit to force his to speed up, but that was just an idea. He would have to look online for reference; he'd never checked before, but there was bound to be plenty of resources.
His thoughts practically spilled out of his hand as he hunched over the notebook, the pencil moving in jerky, practiced movements as he recorded dozens of ideas and dozens more questions. The words splattered across the paper without any restraint, a tsunami of graphite, but despite the chaos, it was all perfectly organized. Bullet points, symbols, shorthand and haphazardly scribbled diagrams, creating a language and message only Izuku himself could decipher.
Strength training? Where, how, how much? What muscle groups? What about a workout schedule? Muscles took time to recover, and an injury would completely devastated any semblance of a chance he had of getting into U.A. And what about his diet? That was half the battle, he'd heard. He'd at the very least, have to increase his caloric input, probably proteins in particular, as well as-
"Midoriya?"
"Y-y-yes sir?" Izuku shot out of his chair at the sound of his teacher's bemused voice, standing as straight and stiff as a piece of brittle drywood. "What is it sir?"
"You're doing that thing again." His teacher had a soft, if obviously forced, smile, halfway through writing a sentence on the blackboard. "With the muttering."
Izuku simply stood there, still as a statue. His face felt like an overripe cherry, bright red and about to pop. What… What was he supposed to say? He couldn't just sit down without responding! The room was a vacuum of sound, no one daring to make the first peep.
And then one girl giggled. The entire class exploded with laughter, even the teacher giving a few uncomfortable chuckles.
"I'm, uh… I'm sorry, sir." Izuku felt like he was doing brain surgery with his tongue, his face blushing so much it hurt. He silently sat down, and tried to disappear into the folds of his coal-colored uniform. The class was, for the most part, settling down, satisfied with the clown's daily performance, though there was one boy who let loose a distinct sneer.
"God," Kacchan growled, glaring at the green-haired boy. "What the hell are you even babbling about? It better not be some shit about heroes."
Izuku set his head down on the desk, hiding behind his arms and trying his hardest to spontaneously develop an invisibility quirk. His mouth was sealed shut, as to prevent a flood of nonsense from falling out, and his eyes actively avoided looking at anything other than the one tile near his desk with a gray stain on it.
Izuku could feel Kacchan's eyes linger. He didn't need to see them to know. His gaze was hot and painful, a set of smoldering coals held against his skin. Just don't look. Just don't look.
The stronger boy grunted, a blunt, crude sound. "Of course you were. Fuckin' Deku."
Izuku grit his teeth. Don't look. Just don't. It won't end well.
"How hard is it for you to understand you don't even have a chance?"
He didn't have a chance? He grit his teeth, but kept his eyes firmly on the ground. What did Kacchan know? What did Kacchan know about being a hero? He sure as hell didn't act like one. He wanted to scream. He want to just tell him to shut up. To stop being like this, and to take him seriously. But-
But he couldn't.
His heart screamed to fight back, but his mind squashed any movement to, leaving him to squeeze his eyes shut and drown in his own self loathing.
"Ok, class, everybody calm down. As I was saying, when doing this equation…"
The teacher's continued to drone on, but Izuku was barely present. He couldn't hear anything through his mind's quiet, apathetic mumbling.
How could he get into U.A.? He couldn't even stand up to Kacchan, for god's sake. He'd probably piss his pants if he faced a villain. He wasn't brave enough to be a hero.
And besides, was Kacchan wrong? No, he wasn't. It hurt to admit, but Izuku knew Kacchan wasn't wrong. After all, All Might had said the same thing.
It's not bad to dream, but you have to face reality, young man.
Face reality? What did that mean? He had to be realistic with his goals? He had to realize how hard it was being a hero? He had to recognize his limits?
No.
It had a really simple meaning.
All Might should've just said 'give up,' like everyone else. It's easier to cope with bluntness. It's easier when everyone give the same message, with no room for stupid fantasies or pointless dreams.
Give up, Kacchan said, a cruel grimace on his face.
Give up, his mom said, hiding behind her quiet smile.
Give up, All Might said, his normally shining smile replaced by a skeletal grimace.
Why was he trying? There wasn't a point. No one believed in him.
... Well, one person did. She seemed to, at least. She said as much. And she didn't seem like the type to lie. That's what was so unnerving about her.
Of all of the things about her, her hair, her makeup, her teeth, the one thing that stood out most in Izuku's mind was, oddly enough, her eyes. They were hardly her most distinctive feature, at least statistically speaking; The guy sitting to Izuku's left had yellow eyes too, and apparently there was a girl in class 3-2 with slit pupils. But, when he tried to remember her face, the eyes were always the most clear. Fenced in on both sides by her messy hair, they were the color of burning leaves in autumn, the fresh yet crunchy sort that had just drifted down from their perch in the tree canopy.
They seemed alive, boundless energy and excitement contained within glass marble. He felt jealous, almost. Not angry, or truly envious, but jealous in the wistful way. Jealous in the sad way.
What was the world like from her eyes?
Was reality worth being that happy about?
Why did her eyes sparkle in the dark?
Why was she so lively, and, at the same time, why did she become so cold last night after seeing the note?
He…
He wanted to know. He really did.
Izuku felt a blush coming on. But this one didn't feel quite so bad.
)ooOoo(
"Thank you for your cooperation, and I'm sorry for your loss." The Augur bowed slightly, and closed the door behind him. He paused just as it clicked behind him, and sighed. It was a tired, but heartfelt sound. The sound of someone who had done this far too many times.
He could hear sobbing through the door, and his heart ached. He'd never had a kid, but he'd had family. He knew that pain, and it killed him a little bit inside every time he saw it in someone else.
He shook his head, hoping to shake himself loose from his sinking thoughts, and began down the stairs with a new energy. He couldn't bring their son back, but he could find his killer. That might give the family some closure, at least.
It had been a dead end. He wasn't surprised, but it was still annoying. Considering that this was a string of murders that stretched from Osaka to here, it was unlikely it was someone they knew. None of the victims seemed to have known each other, or have any other relationship to each other. It was as though they had simply picked at random off the street. But, he had to make sure. The Augur was known in his department for many things, but being sloppy was not one of them.
He made his way down the stairs, quickly exiting the apartment complex through the main entrance. It was a sunny day, a few clouds dotting the sky, and the noon sun beat down on him mercilessly. Lord, it had been a long time since he had been in Musutafu. Lots of suburbs, good schools, low crime rate. The hero agencies were top notch, and violent crime was basically unheard of. Great place to raise a family.
That would explain why his team rarely ended up here.
He swung open the passenger's door to a bulky white minivan, and dropped himself into the seat. "Kid, I'm back."
"Hey Aug. Anything worth writing to H.Q. about?" A woman in her late twenties, with stringy raven hair tied into loose ponytail and a disheveled white button-down, sat in the driver's seat, hunched over the steering wheel. She didn't even glance at him as he entered the call, turning the key and starting the car with a subdued thrrrm.
"No." The Augur buckled his seatbelt, and leaned back against the seat, resting his eyes. "Just a set of parents mourning the death of their child. You've seen it all before."
The woman chuckled in the dry, not-really-funny way, and began following the map on the car dashboard. "You get colder with every case, you know that?"
"I don't get colder." He rubbed his temples, and reached for his coffee, only to realize it wasn't there. He held back a frustrated grunt. "I just stop getting so worked up."
She rolled her eyes, and smiled sourly. "That's what 'cold' means."
"... Then I suppose I am getting colder."
They sat in a comfortable silence, the sort that only came about between two people when they'd been together for so long that they don't feel the need to fill the air with empty words. The Augur appreciated it, really. He just wanted a few minutes to think.
Of course he was getting colder. He knew he was. But it wasn't because he didn't feel anything.
He was, deep down, a very emotional person. He knew it, and wasn't ashamed of it. But he also was awful at communicating. Always too blunt, too direct. And so he couldn't show those emotions to others, because he knew that, if he were to start, it would all come pouring out of him like an overflowing dam in deep disrepair. And that would get in the way of his work. So, was he cold? Yes, he was, because he had to be.
After all, who could watch a father break down in tears, crumbling under the weight of his own sobs, and not want to comfort him? Or watch a mother sit in complete silence, her hands in her lap and a hollow look in her eyes. A shattered look. He knew that look. He'd had that look.
Every time he saw it, it felt like his soul was being torn apart. It felt like a golden-hot firebrand was being plunged into his heart, and there was nothing he could do about it. After all, he wasn't a hero. He was just the clean up crew. He wasn't there to save people, he was there to catch those whose victims were already too far gone.
"We're here." The car pulled into a nearly empty parking lot, the woman easily navigating into a parking space.
The Augur pried his eyes open, and forced himself to get out of the car. He hadn't gotten enough sleep last night, and he was feeling it. Then again, when did he ever get enough sleep?
He had wanted to get in a late night practice at the boxing gym, and had accidentally stayed until the early morning. He wasn't sure if it was the lack of sleep or the hours he spent boxing, but every part of his body felt slow and heavy, the physical incarnation of lethargy. He groaned, his joints feeling like rusty hinges.
"Come on, Aug, you sound like an old man!" The woman teased, an energetic smile on her face as she brushed off her dress pants and rolled up her sleeves. "We got a murder to solve."
He stretched his back, and walked to join her near the entrance to the dull gray building, quirking an eyebrow. "And you call me cold? You're the one joking about it."
She grinned impishly, her eyes glowing with cynical laughter, and pushed the glass double doors open. "It's all about energy, Aug. you're always so sad and moppy, ya know? I, on the other hand, have a spring in my step."
The Augur shrugged, and nodded, revealing a yielding smile. "I suppose that's true. Well then, I hope you're this energetic when they pull out the body. I think I'm going to take a break from looking at the dead today."
"Yeah, no." She chuckled. "Dead bodies are your thing. You're the autopsy guy. I'll handle everything else."
"Heh, you're just squeamish."
"No, you're just more used to dead people than living ones."
"Uh, can I help you?" Their banter was interrupted by a young man behind a desk, shuffling through papers and tapping away at a computer that looked at least a decade older than him.
"Ah, yes," The Augur's partner stepped forward, a much more friendly smile than before plastered onto her face. "My name is Sasaki Tsuruko, and this is The Augur. We're here from the Criminal Affairs Bureau to view a body related to a recent case."
"Oh, of course." The man nodded, and threw open one of the many filing cabinets in his small deskspace, rifling through it and pulling out several sheets of necessary paperwork. "I'll need to see your I.D.'s, and you'll have to fill out these."
The two investigators complied, showing the secretary their identification and filling out the paperwork as quickly as possible. The Augur was not going to pretend to like paperwork; it took up his time, and was generally tedious. But, he didn't despise it either. It did not waste his time, after all; it was all important information that kept him and his team accountable. And if they weren't accountable, then none of the work he did mattered. Justice required an even hand, after all, and that's what the paperwork was there to make sure of.
Though, he did wish the pen he had been given worked. They never seemed to, and he had no idea why. He swore under his breath as he shook the pen, trying to get the ink to the nib.
Tsuruko reached for the Augur's finished papers, but he waved her off, taking her's and placing it with his own instead. "I'll take care of this. You can go start looking over the victim's personal belongings."
Tsuruko paused, giving him a surprised look, but then nodded, an understanding smile on her face. "Sure." She gathered her things, and followed the secretary to the elevator, disappearing into the metal box after a moment.
He stood in front of the desk for a few minutes, simply gathering his thoughts. Normally, he wouldn't hesitate to look at a dead body. He'd been an investigator for years, after all. Few things would phase him, especially considering all of the cases he'd worked on. Whatever bodily mutilation had happened to the victim, the boy, it was unlikely to shock him.
No, bodies didn't scare him. But people did. And right now, in his mind, that boy was still a person. The Augur might call him 'the victim' or 'the body,' but deep down, it was still Hashimoto Rin.
A few hours ago, he had been in the boy's house. He had met the boy's parents. He had seen the boy's baseball trophies, and the pile of incomplete homework on his desk. He saw the mangas the boy had read, stacked in his bookshelf, and the pictures from around the house of the boy's life.
Of Rin's life.
Seeing a person cry hurt. Seeing the Hashimoto's pain and despair teared at his heart. But that would never be able to compare to seeing a person's life, all of the intimate and human details, just in time to slice open their cadaver on a cold metal table.
He sighed, for seemingly the millionth time that day, and set the papers on the desk, before taking the stairs to the fourth floor. He just had to do it. It wasn't any more complicated than that.
The stairs didn't take long, or, at least, they didn't seem to. He wasn't counting the minutes, to be honest. But when he finally reached his destination and exited the staircase, Tsuruko and the secretary were waiting for him outside the cold chamber.
"Ah, you finally got here, old man." Tsuruko waved him over. "I was worried you died on the way up. That would be a problem, because then I'd actually get stuck on body duty!" She laughed far too loudly for someone in a morgue, and the secretary fidgeted at the boisterous woman's mannerisms, but the Augur couldn't resist a small smile.
"Nope, you're lucky today. I still got a few more days, at least."
"Ooh, never took you for a gambling man!"
"It's just an educated guess." The Augur shrugged, and pulled off his black leather gloves, replacing them with a pair of rubber medical gloves. "Did you gather up the victim's belongings?"
Tsuruko took to the change in topic seamlessly. "Yeah, I gave them an initial look over, but they're packed and ready to go to the lab. Nothing out of the ordinary. Now we just gotta take a look at the body."
The Augur nodded curtly, and nonchalantly glanced towards the secretary. "What coldbox is the body in?"
The man quickly looked over a spreadsheet in his hand, and pointed to one of the small rectangular doors on the wall. "Hashimoto Rin, number twenty-three."
"Thank you." The Augur opened the small door, revealing a set of feet sticking out from under an aquamarine medical cloth. "We'll return him to the box when we're finished, and inform you when we leave."
"Of course. Good luck with your investigation." The secretary nodded, and left the cold chamber, leaving the two investigators to their business.
Tsuruko rolled a cart over to the coldbox, and the two of them slid the body tray onto the cart, before pushing it over to one of the tables. Cold chambers were odd, because they were simultaneously one of the most and least comfortable areas for the Augur. The room was chilly enough to make it uncomfortable for most, but not so much as to make the Augur's breath visible. Hard ceramic tiles were painted a soft blue, with the exception of the occasional brown or black stain. The natural order was stillness, and any movement or sound was a heretical disruption. It was empty. Devoid of life. The Augur liked it like that.
But the vacuum of life had its drawbacks, mostly that it was filled with the dead. As relaxing as it was to be alone and in silence, being with a dead body was still being with a dead body, and the Augur couldn't imaging many people growing used to it. Sadly, he was one of them.
They placed the body tray on the table, and Tsuruko went to fetch a set of tools. Scalpel, magnifying glass, things of the like. The Augur removed the cloth from the boy's body, carefully folding it and setting it to the side. He reached to remove his rubber gloves, but paused, uncertainty creeping into the back of his mind. As an investigator, he shouldn't hesitate. But as a person… he felt he couldn't do it.
The body looked as expected; a young man almost identical to the one he saw in the pictures. Lean muscles, strong shoulders, dark hair. A face that looked wrong without a smile. The Augur's heart ached, sinking like a stone in a pool of inky black water.
Look past who he was. Don't write his eulogy. He's just a victim.
He's just a piece of evidence.
He removed the medical glove, and pressed his fingers against the boy's cheek. It was cold, and stiff, more like a frozen steak than a human face. It was a texture he was far past the point of even acknowledging.
"I'm just asking for a friend!" A voice, high pitched and off balance, burned his ears. "Why do you look so afraid?"
Everything was blurry. He could see a human, but he couldn't make out any features. His heart was pounding, and his limbs burned. His chest felt like a giant was pressing it with its massive hands, making it impossible to breath deep breaths, and every square centimeter of him felt like it had been carefully traced over with a dozen razors.
So much pain. So much. Why was he here? He had been coming back from practice when… Oh god, his head hurt. It all blurred together. He couldn't think at all.
Not even the girl's voice made any sense.
"Hm, you're really fragile. But you look a lot like my friend, you know? She was really cute! All covered in cuts like this!" He thought he saw the girl's maniac smile contort into a frown. "Too bad I had to leave after that.
The Augur's eyes snapped open, and he heard his own labored breathing. He needed to write all of that down later. His head was still spinning, trying to reorient itself. That was far more vivid than he had been expecting. And he wasn't sure that was a good thing.
He leaned against the metal table, his knuckles white as he tried to recover his balance. His breathing slowed, and he glanced back towards the boy. Focus. Finish the autopsy. Focus. He gingerly let go of the table, and stood back up. Ok, injury report.
Dozens of minor cuts were spread across his chest and arms, along with bruises and a few laceration wounds. It appeared that he had been stabbed in the biceps and thighs, tearing the muscles in such a manner that the limbs wouldn't move properly without excruciating pain. In a manner that made it difficult to struggle against an attacker. The Augur's mouth twitched, twisting into a grimace. From the reports, he had been operating under the assumption that the killer had been drawing out the person's death, but this was practically confirmation.
The sheer amount of minor wounds, along with the few major, non-lethal ones, led the Augur to the conclusion that the murderer was trying to make the pain last for as long as possible. But for what reason? The killer had no relation to the boy, so it wasn't a personal vendetta. And, while some of the victims had mutation quirks, this boy didn't, meaning that it was unlikely to be a hate crime of some sort.
"Anything of note?" Tsuruko reentered the room, a plastic case in her hands and her hair wrapped into a neat bun.
"A few things." The Augur took the case from her hands and set it on the cart beside him, while Tsuruko flipped open a notepad and clicked her pen. "Surface cuts and bruises are similar to the other reports; several dozen spread across the arms and upper chest area. Of more importance is these," he gestures to the thighs and biceps, "which appear to be non-lethal, but painful and disabling. More than likely used by the killer to try and stop him from struggling."
Tsuruko nodded, and wrote the notes down in a practiced, almost mechanical fashion. "And the neck?"
The Augur took a small magnifying glass from the case, and tilted the boy's chin, getting a better angle to observe the large gash across the right side of the neck. It was jagged, and extremely deep; not a clean cut in the slightest. The boy must've been jerking around as the killer sliced it open. He grabbed a pair of tweezers, and began inspecting the inside of the wound.
"Definitely the cause of death. The only wound on the body that could be considered lethal." He adjusted the angle of the head again, and looked through the magnifying glass. "It completely sliced through the external carotid, and punctured the internal one, just above the carotid sinus."
Tsuruko continued to jot things down on the notepad, but the Augur paused, and narrowed his eyes.
That was odd.
Extremely odd.
It most certainly wasn't from an animal, that much was obvious.
But the idea that it came from a human?
His gut twisted in disgust, guilt and pity for the boy clawing at his heart. Whatever lord there was, please bless this boy's soul. His last few moments must not have been pleasant ones.
"The killer could possibly have Renfield's Syndrome. Make sure to check the database for known criminals with it."
"Huh?" Tsuruko glanced up, confused. "What do you mean?"
"Come here." He waved Tsuruko over, and directed her gaze towards a series of indentations around the carotid artery wound. "These are bite marks. Human bite marks."
Tsuruko looked at the marks, and then at the Augur, abject horror in her eyes. "Wait, are you saying that the killer bit him?"
"Indeed." His frown deepened, and he placed the tweezers down on the table, his mind concocting dozens of possibly situations. "It seems our killer was out for a meal."
God, the shit this job put him through.
)ooOoo(
Himiko suddenly felt hungry. The special type of hungry.
The sort that made her cheeks flush, and her heart flutter. It was the type that couldn't be satisfied by a can of lemon soda, or one of the microwaveable ramen bowls from the 7/11. Those were special treats for special occasions, but not even they could fill the craving in her stomach, or the yearning in her chest.
Of course, she knew exactly why she felt this way. She knew exactly how to fill it.
Ah, she saw how, right in front of her. But she couldn't. She knew she couldn't, at least not today. It would be embarrassing. They'd only known each other for a day, after all. And she wanted to get to know him before she did that.
Because he was special. The others were cute, but they didn't understand her. Couldn't understand her. But him? He could, because they were the same. She saw that last night. She saw his soul poured out in red ink.
"Izu-kuuuun!" She shouted through the gate, waving to get his attention. Even from the other side of the school yard, she saw him jump at the sound of his name, as though the word was something to be scared of. "I'm over here!"
He whipped his head around, searching for the voice's origin like a man who had just heard a gunshot, before quickly catching sight of her. She saw the embarrassed blush spread across his face as he realized that a dozen other students were staring at them, and quietly rushed over to greet her.
Himiko smiled like a lynx, her toxic yellow eyes aglow.
Today was going to be fun.
A/N: Good evening, all! I present to you the next chapter, hopefully of decent quality! It's feels like I'm burning though this at a much faster rate than I should be able to, but then again, I suppose sleep is optional when inspiration is flowing.
So, for those of you who don't want to be on an NRA watchlist like me, Renfield's Syndrome is the medical term for clinical vampirism, a form of paraphilia (or sometimes schizophrenia) that specifically refers to people who become excited, usually sexually, by the consumption of blood. So, in layman's terms… something that feels very uncomfortable to read about on the bus. Use that information how you will.
I suppose I should mention this, too: I've been using Japanese naming conventions, mostly out of convenience. So it's Midoriya Izuku, Toga Himiko, Uraraka Ochako, and so on. You guys probably noticed already, but I felt the need to point it out, just in case.
With only the worst of intentions,
Imp the Nefarious
Nonyaarb: I have good news and bad news for you. First, the good news: Here's the next slice of the story! Bad news: it's only the next slice, and I refuse to tell you what's happening. Will Deku become a villain? Vigilante? Hero? Who knows? I WON'T TELL *evil laughing*
Some Asshole: Ok, first off, wiseguy, no fucking swearing on my good christian website, let alone in your username! God, some people. Ok, I'm kidding, I'm kidding. Thanks so much for the compliment! I hope to turn this into a long-running, and emotionally fulfilling, story, so to know that the characters are well written is a weight off my chest. And, talking about the transition… Looking back, I'd agree. Formatting is weird on this site. Though, the idea of the grizzly detective type Augur sitting in on a Midoriya household dinner is a fun thought.
ChildishGuestino: Thanks for your concern, but don't worry. By the time I published the last chapter, I was already feeling at least reasonably better. I would ask for thoughts and prayers, but considering that I'm an imp, that might have the opposite of intended effect. And thanks for pointing those things out about Himiko! I was experimenting just a tad with her characterization, and considering your reaction, I'll mark it down as a success!
Sewrtyuiop: Toga really did save him; the boy can't lie to save his life. So, the upside, Izuku got to sidestep the question and avoid some harsh topics! Bad news… He now is unlikely to get the needed therapy. He, uh, he could've used it. Too late though!
Healthcare: Spelling and grammar is still an… issue for me. I had to literally print this sucker out and go at it with a red pen. And yet, the moment I post it, I start seeing all of the mistakes I missed…. *sigh* Oh well. I'm just thankful they're not too noticeable. I'm glad you enjoyed seeing Little Ms. Hematophage and her one true love/one true victim, Mr. Evergreen Scrub!