-VII-
There's a house, on a quiet street, a few streets over by the park. In it, lives a shapechanger.
Izuku finds them easily, the lists, the people inside, the suspects… he finds them, easily, just a few clicks. It's… disturbing how easy it is to find it all, what they leave behind on the internet. At the same time, however, he just as easily finds other things. People who know them well, events and days off, locations impossible to traverse from.
People leave trails behind, little bits of themselves that are so easy to find if one knows where to look… if one wants to look. People rarely ever want to look, want to see how much of the reaching grasp of the internet has grabbed onto them never to let go - for once it is sent into here, it can never be reclaimed. Not that very many people want to reclaim it either, they love to be seen. Love to exist, to be remembered, even if it's just at three am in the morning with someone looking for the killer who wears his face.
These trails that they leave, they wind and they weave, taking him further down the rabbit hole, through places he never had thought he would go. Part of him feels like a stalker, but the rest of him tells him it's for a good cause. Besides, it's not all that different from what he's done before, it just went online instead of in person… less accidental as well. There's a purpose, a call that won't go out. Through pages and photos, tags and pieces, he dives deep. Far deeper than he ever thought he'd want to go.
Just as easily as he finds them, they are removed from the pile - a bit of background here, a complaint about a manager there, a bit too far on that one. There's a lot of them, but the list goes down and down and down… it wasn't all that large to begin with or he'd have been here forever, but then… it's a lot longer than one would expect. You don't think that someone can do what they did, but then they haven't gotten caught yet, now have they?
He remembers a report, a segment about a serial killer who was caught almost on accident - who everyone they had interviewed had thought that they'd never have been capable of such a thing, that they were an angel in public, that they were a perfectly fine person, how they'd never have known! No one ever thinks badly, ever wants to consider that the person next to them could be a killer until it's too late. It's not wrong to think well of another, really, it just means that he has to look closer, has to be careful.
He is careful, in this - in removing them, crossing another name off the list he made. One, two, three four - each one off the list is one confirmed by hard physical evidence, as much as the internet can be called physical evidence… and then he's on to the next one, checking down the list. This most recent one, well… he hasn't found anything for them.
It's almost like they weren't there that day at all, weren't anywhere at all. Their rabbit hole goes down deep, and it's strange that there's nothing at all, not with how the internet works… everything is somewhere, there. Anything that you've said, anything you've done, as long as it's been on the internet at least once, someone will find it… eventually.
Eventually, eventually… there is enough patience in him, to scour the world for answers, enough patience to empty the abyss that is the internet to see what lies beneath it, to see what is hidden. There is not much else for him to do, after all… although, he could always go and check it out himself… people don't see much weight in lying to him, in lying to someone who wouldn't be believed regardless. Even still, it would seem strange to show up with nothing but a singular question if it's just mere coincidence.
He prepares an interview, just in case - reaches out to several people, claiming to have a school project about members of the community, that it would be interesting to talk to them about whatever. After all, students are just as much members of the community as the rest of them, are they not? It helps that several people on his list fit under the requirements, that he can knock several of them out all at once. He receives negative responses from not a small amount of them, but the one he really wanted to meet… they agreed.
He shows up that day, in his school uniform and knocks on the door. They had said to come by whenever after five pm, that since it shouldn't take more than a few minutes it would be fine to just talk on the front lawn or something. If all else failed, well, at least he would have his answers. Good thing is, they answered the door and nothing happened. Bad thing is, nothing happened - it was a dead end as far as they went.
Camie, as she'd like to be called, apparently had just been home sick that day, having overworked herself the last two from training. She'd just ignored the rain and continued on- he had checked it later, and sure thing, she had just gotten sick from the rain. Unfortunate, and yet… a bit of him was happy that it wasn't her, that the hunt hadn't ended yet. He wanted answers… right?
He wants to know, to know exactly what happened there- but there's a part of him that hesitates… what happens after? What happens when all is said and done, when he knows? Will he just… drift again, meaningless, nothing there to guide him, or will this repeat, him throwing himself into things with no end, hoping something will stick, that something will give him more purpose than just… surviving? There's no real commitment to this is there… he knows there is an end, he repeats it to himself day in, day out, but when the time comes… can he really see it through?
No, no… he can. He will see this through, if nothing else. He… he has to do something. Taking a breath, he walks away from the house… away from Camie. She told him to call her anytime, that he was fun to talk to for a little bit, that she hopes his project goes well. It will go well, if he has anything to say about it. He will call her back, or rather text her. The two talk quite often after that, in the middle of the night when there's nothing else but his thoughts, when the recesses of his mind keep him up.
Walking home from her house that day, he sees a flower shop on the way home. He steps on in there and buys a few flowers. Perhaps a bit of Chamomile? Buying a few of them just felt right for some reason… he pauses and buys a small vase as well. He feels like he'll be buying a lot of that soon for some reason. He tells the shopkeeper he'll probably be back as well sometime soon- it's a nice flower shop, and he'll want to get some fresh flowers.
Placing them down, he takes a step back and looks down at his list… onto the next person, then. This is probably going to take a little while, isn't it. Although, it's not like he expected for this to be a short project. Onto the next person, then.