Back we are :)
Before Izuku was known as Freckles and his villainous business accidentally boomed, there was only one person who had ever asked to see his notes.
The willowy teen who returns his 8th notebook back to him introduces himself as Tomura Shigaraki. It's the beginning of the end for Izuku, but he doesn't know it yet. At first, it's just fun. It's an addicting opportunity to talk about the one thing Izuku loves most to someone who will listen. His mom tries, but she doesn't really know anything about heroes and Izuku knows she wants him to think of other things, to make friends and stuff. Izuku's just… not good at that. Tomura, on the other hand, is enthralled by each and every single one of Izuku's thoughts. In fact, he offers his own opinions or tidbits of information, places challenges! How would this or that quirk work for a robbery? A disaster rescue? If this and that hero and villain met, what would happen?
My quirk is called Decay, Tomura tells him, shredding a flower into dust with a smile that is all chapped lips and no cheer. His grin stretches at Izuku's surprise, but it isn't happy. Izuku knows that not everyone smiles because they're happy. So, he stares very hard at Tomura's palm, runs his fingers into the little mountain of dust left in their chair, and allows his mind to work at its usual maranthonic pace because he knows - no matter what anyone says - that all quirks are good quirks. He's seen a similar expression before, a kind of dare, judge me it seems to ask.
Izuku refuses. Instead, he smiles up gently at his friend, and mumbles, coming out of deep thought:
It must be terrific for rescue operations.
It's the first time he sees Tomura's features twist into surprise.
Izuku knows it's not the obvious answer.
You're not afraid? This is a villainous quirk! I could kill you.
Izuku thinks of the burn of palms along his collarbone. Of the smell of acrid nitroglycerin and anger. Of broken friendships, disdain, and hate. Of all the unmarred expanse of skin in his forearms. In Kacchan, who runs every morning, meditates in the afternoons and yells himself hoarse day after day and laughs. The strongest person Izuku knows, destined for greatness, surrounded by rumors of deviousness and villainy that fail to take root within him no matter how long they persevere.
No way. Izuku laughs, ecstatic all of a sudden. There is no such thing as villainous quirks.
Tomura was… not gentler, no, but thoughtful after that. Izuku doesn't want to think so, finds it selfish and egotistical, but he can't shake off the feeling that he's done something important, changed something in his friend for the better. As their conversations continue, he grows more confident in his own thoughts and feelings, the more he gets to finally share them. He worries he's talking Tomura's ear off, but the older teen doesn't seem to mind.
Izuku has never had so much fun, enough so that his mother notices when his grades start slipping.
Izuku, I think you're spending too much time playing with Katsuki-kun, I want you home earlier, okay?
For a moment, the young Midoriya freezes, a spoonful of peas halfway to his mouth. When was the last time he spent time with Kacchan? Sure, his childhood friend is still mean, consistently going out of his way to bully Izuku or humiliate him in class. In fact, ever since Izuku spends his time at the park, Kacchan's attitude seems to be getting worse. But… he doesn't follow Kacchan around anymore. His mother, though, hasn't noticed a change; she thinks Izuku is still spending his afternoons trailing after Kacchan.
Here, Izuku becomes an active participant in his fate when he lies to his mother for the first time. It's nothing impressive, not even a real lie. Izuku just fails to correct her assumption. Besides, it doesn't really matter who he's hanging out with, right? Mom just wants him home earlier and better grades, Izuku has no doubt he can do both. A part of him is afraid. He's seen how people look at Tomura sometimes, how they avoid him… what if his mom asks him to stop hanging out with him? She'd given Izuku trouble with Kacchan even though she and Auntie were friends…!
It's because of my quirk.
It's better if Izuku just keeps this one to himself.
Kurogiri stares at the newcomer and then at Tomura Shigaraki. Back to the dark-haired, furiously-blushing child and then the amused teen. The warper repeats the action slowly, meaningfully, more than once. He checks off all the possible reasons for Tomura to bring a child into the bar, the headquarters of plenty of villainous activity. He quickly reaches one that is moderately plausible, but no less jarring. He sets down the glass he was cleaning, finally settling his gaze on the minor.
"Izuku Midoriya, I presume?" The boy squeaks, half-hiding behind Tomura's legs. (And who could ever find comfort in the volatile teen?)
"Y-yes, sir!"
"You're a little young for our operations," because when Tomura described him as 'a kid', Kurogiri wrongfully assumed that it was a derogatory term. Not that Quirk analyst extraordinaire, Izuku Midoriya, was the textbook definition of a child.
"Operation?" he questions "Tomura said we'd play videogames, sir."
"We make plans to take down our... enemies here."
"We'll play video games too," Tomura murmurs, already settling down in his usual seat at the bar. Despite having brought Izuku with him, he seems disconnected, and his discomfort is evident in the persistent scratching up and down his nape. A recent habit and one Kurogiri finds disturbing.
"Enemies?" It's incongruent, the sweet-cheeked, freckled child tilting his head in confusion. He's too mild-mannered to really frown, and he seems almost mystifyingly bright for the darkened, gloomy bar. Kurogiri doesn't answer him, truth be told, he's not aware how much Tomura's told Midoriya or how much the kid truly knows.
"Those who don't care about people like you and me," Tomura tells him, and it is… surprisingly honest or perhaps, devious is more accurate a word. For all their glorification, few heroes show an interest in raising awareness about living conditions surrounding quirkless individuals, quirk discrimination, or harmful quirks. Definitely a stretch, but more cunning than the bartender would've given Shigaraki credit for. "The people who only care about fame and cool quirks, ignoring the quirkless or people with 'evil' quirks."
"I see," Midoriya says, "Like the ones we plan for sometimes? That have hero-like quirks?"
"Yes," Tomura agrees, "exactly."
Kurogiri is puzzled.
He keeps a record of everything Tomura brings from his meetings with Midoriya, some plans are better than others but the bare-boned quirk analysis in them is the real thing. The kid's encyclopedic knowledge of quirks and basic science, coupled with his obsessive eye for detail makes for a good foundation to build upon; their own hero weaknesses library. Alas, at this stage, the League is nowhere near ready to cause much chaos. It'd be dangerous to garner too much attention before they're ready.
"Okay," the child still seems hesitant, unsure, and Kurogiri thinks that bringing him into the fold is a mistake. Villainy will eat this child alive.
"Did Shigaraki tell you why you're here, Midoriya?"
"Video games? He said there'd be a surprise, sir." Small and curled in on himself, Kurogiri wonders just how young Midoriya truly is.
"Very well, know that I've been overviewing some of your work." He signals for Midorita to take a seat, that way Kurogiri doesn't have to bend over the counter to see him. He waits patiently as the child scrambles to do so.
"M-my work, sir?" there's something oddly sharp in the gaze he sends him.
"Yes, your quirk analysis," and whatever solemnity he gathered flies out the window as Midoriya flushes red, blubbering out nonsense that sounds a mixture between self-deprecation and apologies. Kurogiri, who has never enjoyed children or their unnecessary shenanigans, is quick to cut him off. "They're good." It does indeed halt the muttering, because instead, the child goes deadly still, switching wide green eyes to Shigaraki as his lower lip trembles in suppressed emotion. The older teen also stiffens, pointing out an intimidating hand towards the kid.
"Don't you dare," he says, voice grating, but instead of listening, the younger kid assaults him and buries his face in his stomach, bawling. Tomura keeps his hands raised and clenched, uncomfortable and annoyed. He does not touch Midoriya, nor does he move. "Midoriya… Izuku! Stop this, right now. There will be no crybabies here." It takes a couple more sniffles but eventually, the youngest does put some distance between them.
Izuku's ramblings, creative imagination, and tendency to burst into tears become a regular fixture of the bar after this. It should've never been this simple, but at the end of the day, genius-like analysis or not, book knowledge doesn't make up for real-life experience and a lack of morals. Izuku Midoriya doesn't know he's sold his soul to the devil, but Kurogiri's sure he'll figure it out soon.