Late into the night, if one were to be looking for him, Deku could be seen – clothed fully in his patrol outfit – leaping across dark rooftops and ducking between narrow alleyways. Months of nightly patrols had engraved Musutafu's layout into Deku's mind. He now knew the streets like the back of his hands. He knew the alleys like the hairs on his head.
Izuku could come home to an apartment at the end of his day, but the night was Deku's home.
Deku stopped and listened, and he felt at one with the city. On the quiet nights, things were uneventful and peaceful. On the more excitable nights, he would be put to work. Not a night went by where it didn't feel right. There was no doubt in Deku's mind that this was where he belonged.
Perched on the corner of a building, Deku let the white noise of the city fall away. He heard a stray cat mewling. He heard a restaurant throwing out the last of their food. He heard a man in a back alley talking quietly into his phone; a conversation no one was meant to hear.
Tonight would be like most others; swaths of silence surrounded by brief bursts of action. Deku felt a grin spread onto his face under his mask. It was time to go meddling.
-=0O0=-
Late in his patrol, he came across two figures far below in an alley.
One was a man with dull bronze hair, who had a lecherous grin on his face. The other was a woman in a small jacket, who looked very uncomfortable.
The man had the woman's back pressed against the wall, and an arm between her and her exit. Their mouths were moving. Deku couldn't make out much of what they were saying, but he heard plenty of "no"'s coming from the girl.
Deku quietly dropped down to the ground around the corner, and, peering around the corner, heard: "c'mon, babe. Just for tonight. You know I'm good for it."
So either this guy didn't know what "no" meant, or he was a jackass.
The man leaned on for a kiss, and the woman ducked it. He reached out and grabbed her jaw, keeping her still despite her struggles.
Deku rounded the corner. "Hey! Lady!"
They both turned to look at him.
"Is that guy being a jackass?"
They both gave him a strange look, but the girl nodded regardless. Deku pointed a finger at the man.
"Hey! Jackass!"
"The fuck do you–"
"I'm gonna kick your ass!"
Deku did not allow the man a moment to compose himself, and sent a flying kick to his face. The man was sent sprawling face-first into a puddle on the alley floor.
The girl wisely took this opportunity to leave.
Deku approached the man who was slowly picking himself out of the puddle.
Suddenly, the man twisted, and something snapped at Deku's face. Deku backpedaled on instinct.
The man got up, and from the palm of his right hand was a rippling translucent tentral. The man reached down and submerged his left hand into the puddle. When it came back up, it too had a tendral coming from the palm.
Deku, who was not a complete fool, recognized the tendrils to be made out of water.
The man spat insults at him. "Oh-oh-ho~ you're as good as dead, kid. Do you even know who you're dealing with? Do you even know who I work for?"
Deku was confused. Was he supposed to know? Oh, well. He could ask questions later.
Two water-whips came at him, one after the other. Deku ducked the first and side-stepped the second. He charged at the man, who sent two more water-whips his way.
From here, it became a fight of attrition. Deku suffered from a few cracks of the whips, but kept pushing on. The man suffered many more blows, and his nose easily gave way to Deku's steel-knuckle gloves. The fight continued this way until the man hit Deku with both whips at once, catching him off guard and sending him flying.
Deku got back up and glared at the man, but paused when he saw him release his whips back to the puddle.
The man hastily took a small vial from his pocket. Deku recognized it instantly. Trigger.
Deku scrambled to his feet and charged at the man. The man uncorked the vial and held it above his mouth.
Deku cocked both fists back. The crimson liquid glimmered in the light as it fell.
Two fists were buried deep into the man's gut, sending him toppling over. The man gulped down the few drops that reached his mouth. The rest splattered on the ground along with the vial. They both looked at the cracked and empty vial. Deku looked at the man. The man looked back.
The man lunged for the puddle. Deku lunged for the man. The man hit his mark first.
Six tendrils burst forth, each one leading back to the man's palms. A look of rage spread across his face.
"You fucker!" His arms flexed from the exertion. Three tendrils came crashing down where Deku stood a moment earlier.
"You spilled it!" He crossed his arms across his chest. Two tendrils came from the side. Two more followed behind them.
"I'll kill you!" He spread his arms out and the tendrils spread out with them. Six tendrils slashed every which way. Deku barely avoided them.
Then Deku had an idea. He charged forwards. The man spread his arms out again, keen to slice him in half at the waist.
Deku dropped, and slid between the man's legs, bringing a cry of surprise from him.
Stopping, standing, and turning around, Deku lunged and grabbed him by the wrist with both hands. He planted a foot firmly on the space between the man's shoulder and pulled.
POP!
The man cried out in pain. His arm dropped limp at his side. He tried to twist around but his other wrist had been seized.
Deku pivoted their weight and slammed the man to the ground. Another foot was planted on his back. Deku pulled.
POP!
The man stifled his scream this time. Water pooled at his palms but he could only accumulate a cup's worth. Not nearly enough to make up for the dislocated shoulders.
Deku flipped him over on his back and dragged him away from the puddle. Through his groans of pain, the man muttered obseinities and threats, almost all of which fell on deaf ears.
Deku stepped back to admire his handiwork. The guy was hard to look at, with his limp arms and bleeding nose. His face wasn't pretty to begin with, but now it was covered in bruising skin. He would definitely be feeling that in the morning.
Deku set one foot on either side of the man's torso and crouched down, resting on his haunches.
"So, you got a name?"
"…Fuck…yourself…"
Well, he wanted to ask some questions anyway, so he may as well go along with it. "Hello, Fuck Yourself. Did you mention you worked for someone earlier?"
-=0O0=-
Hitoshi Shinso was having a bad day. That's not to say that a significant handful of his days weren't already bad, but this one in particular seemed to be out to get him. Between the coffee machine at the agency being broken, his toe getting stubbed twice in a row, and his boss's boss asking him to up his already harsh patrol schedule, Hitoshi was at his wits end.
There was a light at the end of the bleary tunnel, however. His patrol was ending in ten minutes. In ten minutes, he would be able to go back to the agency. In twenty minutes, he would be taking off his outfit and clocking out. In thirty minutes, he would be on the train back home. In forty minutes, he would be at his door, being greeted by his two rescues. In fifty minutes, he would (hopefully) be entering the blissful second stage of sleep.
That's what Hitoshi kept telling himself. Just fifty more minutes, and his worries would be dead to the world. Of course, the world seemed to have it out for Hitoshi tonight, because why wouldn't it?
As he leaped between two buildings, he heard it. Voices, thumps and scraps, and– a growl? Some kind of scuffle. Hitoshi hated scuffles. Especially when he had to be the one to break them up.
He bounded across several rooftops and perched on the edge of one. Below, he saw the scuffle in question. A heap of a man was laying on the alley floor, blood flowing from his crooked nose. His tank-top did nothing to hide the newly-formed bruises covering his head and arms. His shoulders were at odd angles and hung limply at his sides.
Above him was a recognizable image. A short but broad man cloaked in an oversized green hoodie and baggy black pants. His hood was up, and his face was still covered in shadow.
As if his night couldn't get any better.
As the hooded man brought his fist up for a strike, Hitoshi spoke up. "That's enough."
It wasn't his most creative entrance, but he'd rather not sit and watch this guy get his face pummeled in any more than it already had. Hitoshi reached up and flipped an emergency backup-call switch on his mask. If he was lucky, he wouldn't need any, but he hadn't gotten as far as he did in the Hero business by being needlessly reckless.
Plus, this guy may have been around for a month or so, but he was still unknown for the most part. There was no telling what his Quirk was, nor what kind of skill set he had.
Hitoshi jumped down from his perch, using his capture weapon to slow his descent.
The hooded man turned to look at him before turning back to the beaten man. A low growl escaped his lips, like a wolf pulled away from his meal.
Hitoshi took a moment to look him over. The hoodie had gotten even more roughed up, with every piece of damage at least partially repaired. His frame seemed larger than last time, or at least he was wearing something extra under the hoodie.
The hooded man looked into the beaten man's eyes. The beaten man looked back. They both looked at Hitoshi.
"You're not very talkative, are you? First time we met, you ran like you had something to hide." And now the second time they meet, he finds him standing over a beaten and bloodied man. "Look, you're some kind of vigilante, right? Thanks for the help last time, but I still got a job to do, so why don't you come with me quietly and we can get this whole thing sorted out."
Of course they wouldn't come quietly, Hitoshi knew, but a man could dream.
The Hooded man seemed to think for a second, before dropping the other man and planting a foot on his chest, keeping him in place. The hooded man turned towards Hitoshi and started moving his hands.
"I guess we can talk. Sorry for running away last time," he signed.
He fucking signed.
He knew sign language.
Hitoshi bit back a sigh. Of course he did.
"We meet often. We must be becoming friends."
"You and I aren't friends. Now step off the dude or we'll have to do this the hard way."
"So serious," the man signed sassily (somehow) but still stepped off the man, "I would rather not fight you now. You are strong. This guy?" He pointed to the man. He then reached down and picked up a small glass vial from the ground. It was busted, but Hitoshi could make out a bit of red liquid left at the bottom.
"Trigger Mule. He has a deal in a week. Didn't tell me anything else. You take him. Question him. Big drug bust. You get promotion or something. Heroes like those, right?"
Hitoshi noted that the man wasn't the most proficient in sign language. Every now and then he had to pause and spell out a word he didn't know. Hitoshi sighed. He supposed it didn't matter; he just needed to stall until backup arrived or the hooded man showed an opening. "I wouldn't be a very good hero if I did it for the money."
"Then do it because it is the right thing. You are underground, right? You know how bad Trigger is."
Hitoshi knew very well. A villain's threat level increased tenfold the moment they got their hands on even a drop of the stuff. Trigger wouldn't be half the problem it was if it wasn't so easy to overdose, or if an overdose didn't mean a villain adopted the personality of a pissed off badger.
'Alright,' Hitoshi thought, 'I've definitely got to take that guy in, at least for questioning.'
"Well, in that case, I guess I have to thank you again. But I wouldn't want to take your credit for catching him." Hitoshi put his hand on his chin in mock thought, before snapping his fingers. "I know! Why don't you come back to the agency with me. We can both file a report on this whole thing, and we can both go home happy."
Even beneath the shadowed mask, Hitoshi could tell the man was giving him a blank stare. "You are more clever than that."
"Give me a break, man. It's the end of my shift."
"Perfect. You take him. Go back to agency or station or whatever. By the time you get there your shift will be over. You go home. I go home. We both happy."
"Sorry man, now that I've seen you, I've got to file a Vigilante Sighting report. That, like, doubles the amount of paperwork I have to do otherwise."
"That is unfortunate. You should get a secretary."
It was then that the third person with them, who was still lying on the floor, made himself known. "H-hey! You- you're a Hero, yeah? Don't just stand there! Help me out!"
The hooded man looked down at him and gave a swift kick to his side.
Hitoshi saw an opening and took it.
He took hold of his capture weapon and tossed it at the hooded man. He looked back in time to see the scarf in front of his face and threw himself to the side, keeping his feet planted firmly on the ground. He grabbed hold of the scarf and gave it a violent tug. This was the most obvious weakness of having a scarf as a capture weapon, so of course Hitoshi had a plan for it. He grabbed onto the scarf himself and jumped forward, letting the scarf carry his momentum.
Hitoshi had only really faced the hooded man once before, but even from the few stories he heard from other Heroes who spotted him, he knew that the hooded man was a brutal, up-front, in-your-face kind of fighter who got the upperhand by overwhelming his opponents. Ever since their first encounter, Hitoshi had played it over and over in his mind, preparing a capture move to use against the hooded man. He was counting on the fact that the man would meet him head-on.
Hitoshi was surprised when the man did not, in fact, step towards him as he intended, but instead took a bounding leap backward. It surprised Hitoshi so much that he almost didn't realize he was about to slam into the wounded man on the ground.
At the last second, twisted his body to land beside the man. He quickly checked them over to make sure they were okay before turning to look deeper into the alley.
The hooded man had vanished.
He rubbed his temples to assuage the oncoming migraine. He waited a second in silence to see if the man was still around, but it seemed he was getting as good at vanishing as he was being an asshole.
"Welp," he sighed, turning back to the wounded man, "I guess it's just you and me now."
Just then, Hitoshi heard footsteps at the mouth of the alley. Looking up, he saw Shouta Aizawa - Eraserhead - standing there, capture weapon unfurled and ready to act. After a moment of silence, Shouta's shoulders seemed to relax a bit, and he strolled over.
"I got your backup call. You look like you handled it fine," he said, gesturing to the man on the ground. "You may have gone a bit overboard, though," he eyed the damage.
"He was like that when I got here. That vigilante was here, too. The one with the raggedy green hoodie."
"Hm. I take it you weren't able to talk to him?" Aizawa asked as he crouched down to look over the wounded man's injuries.
"Oh, I talked to him. He got around my Quirk by signing. How the hell does he even know what my Quirk is? That shouldn't be public knowledge."
Aizawa stood up and pulled out his phone to follow up the backup call with a false alarm signal. No need for any other Heroes breaking their patrol just to see they weren't needed. "Your Quirk is hidden, not secret. It isn't impossible for anyone to figure it out." He looked up and saw something familiar in Hitoshi's eyes. "Don't feel too bad. There's no Quirk that can't be guessed or assumed. Did you get a name?"
"No. I didn't think of it."
"You mean you forgot."
"...Yeah. Sorry."
He put his phone away and placed a comforting hand on Hitoshi's shoulder. "Don't beat yourself up about it. He's just some kid wanting to get a taste of the vigilante life. We'll get a chance to talk to him again… eventually."
Hitoshi nodded to himself. Right, it wasn't like the guy was some big shot villain or anything. "Oh," he said, just remembering, "the vigilante dude mentioned something about this guy getting involved in some Trigger trade deal." Both Heroes turned to look at the sputtering man, completely at their mercy.
"L-look man, what that guy said- it was- I didn't- I-I wasn't gonna–" the man cut himself off with a gasp of pain as Hitoshi picked him up and slung him over his shoulder.
"Sorry bud. We'll get you medical attention soon, so just hang in there. And, uh… We're gonna look into that whole Trigger thing, too." The wounded man only whimpered.
"I'll come with," said Aizawa, "My patrol's ending soon anyways."
They took off across the rooftops, making a beeline for Hitoshi's agency. As they traveled, Hitoshi let his thoughts stew. "I still kind of feel bad about letting that guy get away."
He didn't look over at Aizawa, but he could tell the man was giving him a look. "Just take it as an opportunity to learn and get better. For as long as humans retain the ability to adapt, Heroes—"
"—will have to adapt as well. Yeah, yeah, you said the same thing at graduation and I've only heard it about a hundred times since."
"…Hero work has made you snarky."
"Hero work has made me tired."
"You're always tired."
The irony was not lost on either of them, but neither had the will nor the energy to comment on it.
-=0O0=-
Naomasa Tsukauchi rubbed his eyes and looked at the file before him again. Another Vigilante Sighting report. He looked up to Tamakawa, who waited patiently in front of his desk. "When did this come in?"
"It's just been put into the database, but you're one of the first to see it, sir," Tamakawa stated professionally.
Naomasa hummed in acknowledgement and looked at the file again. He wasn't sure why they bothered with the folder; the thing was only a few pages long.
Naomasa sighed. "I'll put it with the others. Thank you, Tamakawa." The lieutenant bowed and promptly exited. Naomasa turned to a wall of cabinets and opened a small drawer. He slipped the file in with its new neighbors and closed it.
Apparently the nameless vigilante knew sign language. 'Well,' Naomasa thought, 'at least it's one piece of info they can add to his file… all two pages of it.'
They didn't even know what his Quirk was. Couple that with the complete lack of any leads and you had a perfect concoction for some long, hair-pulling, caffeine-powered nights.
Sighing again, he went back to his work. He wished he could be out there, looking for leads or following patterns, but for now he was stuck in his small office with his greatest mortal enemy: paperwork.
Sometimes he really missed being a lieutenant.