"It's nice to meet you," her hair is deep, wine red, and her tongue is forked, barely discernible as she smiles. Immediately, Izuku has about two dozen questions, but he doesn't want to get in trouble. Kurogiri said that most times, the people asking for help aren't going to like his questions. "I didn't think you'd be so little, you look only a couple of years older than my kid."

"You're a mom?" Izuku doesn't know what type of people frequent the bar, but regular parents… that seemed strange for some reason. He tries to imagine his mom coming for help and the image doesn't form itself correctly in his mind. "I have a mom too."

"Most people do, kid," the woman comments, and Izuku flushes in embarrassment. He could argue that everyone has a biological mother, not everyone had a mom, but really, it'd been a dumb thing to say. Izuku's nervous, but the woman softens on him and continues. "That's why I'm here."

"Huh?"

Miss Lara hesitates, her eyes shifting to Kurogiri before settling on Izuku's earnest face. She lets out a long breath before speaking.

"My husband was a pro-hero."

"A hero?!" Izuku whisper-yells, noticing sheepishly that he has exalted the woman, whose eyes narrow suspiciously before darting warily around the bar.

"He passed away six months ago," she continues tightly, "I… I'm a housewife and he wasn't a particularly popular hero. If I don't do something… my daughter."

"Oh, but heroes get p-pensions and stuff? For their families." The woman shakes her head, her hand curling into fists at the table.

"The Hero Commission had me investigated... When I was younger, I was foolish and angry. I have… a brief, stupid criminal record from my high school days. They argued that someone like me was not eligible to receive my husband's pension. He doesn't have any other family to receive it so it's supposed to be donated."

"Someone like you?" Something in the phrase tugs at Izuku's heart.

"I have a poisonous quirk," her fangs, longer than Izuku remembers them being a second ago, flash a dull silver in the downcasted lighting. "...and I used to run with an anti-hero gang. The Hero Commission will collapse before giving me a cent. My husband was a small-time hero in the mountains with no political power, we've lived in a tiny town since we got married… he… he was the best man I have ever known, he saved me…" Izuku's heart aches a little, recognizing a woman trying to conceal her pain. "I don't care what happens to me, but my daughter. If we don't get the money by the end of the month I won't be able to pay our mortgage, we'll be out on the street. I don't know who you are, but word is that you'll help me out for free. I have no idea if there's anything to be done, but I'm begging you…"

Izuku nods, dozens of questions and theories and ideas floating around in his head. He looks down at his notebook, he's taken notes without realizing it: a common occurrence. He bites at his lip, determining what things he needs to ask now and which he needs to research.

"Okay, Miss Lara, I… we're going to help you." Save you, something whispers in the back of his mind. "I need to ask you some more questions and we will meet tomorrow again. The plan is free, but the rest you need to talk to Ku- to the bartender here, okay?"

The woman looks exhausted, more stressed, and tired than when she first came in. Her eyes are a little far away. It's almost like, by explaining it to Izuku, she's realized how hopeless it all is. Izuku strengthens his resolve. Usually, the things he plans for are more direct, dealing with a quirk or exploiting one to make the most of them. What Miss Lara is asking… it doesn't have to do with quirks at all, and it makes Izuku nervous. What if whatever he comes up with doesn't work?

He gives her one more look, and… it's stupid and Izuku doesn't think Tomura would very much like it, but she kind of reminds Izuku of his own mum. She also takes care of Izuku all on her own, and always tries not to cry even when she's sad.

Izuku has no idea what he can do, but there has to be something.

Miss Lara nods.

This is how Izuku learns about power:

In Kurogiri's knowledge about the law and institutions and the people that make rules, more often than not, unfair and cruel ones.

In Giran's annoyed but certain voice over the phone, someone who has seen too much and describes a world too vast for Izuku to comprehend.

In Tomura's passion, someone who people don't like but unlike Izuku, dislikes people right back. Who was going to make room for himself no matter what anyone said.

In client after client after client.

Some are parents, siblings, teachers, writers… varieties of people Izuku couldn't have conjured up in his wildest dreams, all of them with a story to tell. Izuku stops listening to his classmates and feeling envy or comradeship, the world is so much bigger than people in his class know. How can they miss it? All the things happening outside their wall, all the things someone needs to protect. Kacchan keeps training ferociously, and Izuku has a feeling that -for all his privilege- his friend -crass and unsympathetic- do know. Izuku is barely eleven but he stops feeling such at some point.

Growing up in the suspended spaces between a dream, a wish, and reality brought to him one client at a time.

They want happiness, safety, freedom.

Others want money, power, and revenge.

In a way, Kurogiri explains to Izuku that everyone is looking for Justice, but each person has a different idea as to what that is.

Like many complex, difficult things, that piece of wisdom inexplicable makes him think of Kacchan.

It takes Izuku embarrassingly long to notice that not all of his newfound visitors operate inside the law. It starts as a niggling in the back of his mind as an older woman leaves with files on how her quirk should be able to interfere with portable radio equipment. With practice, her range proves to be able to expand and her smile to him is devious but genuine. The suspicion grows a little when a golden pocket watch gets delivered to him two weeks later.

It's an odd gift, but Mariah did tell him the only thing that she valued more than money was time. Puzzled as he is, Izuku has little doubt as to who sent him the reward. As Kurogiri gave him the thank you present, news of an unsolved bank robbery at a jeweler's store from a few days back plays in the background.

"Kurogiri," Izuku asks, the watch reads 4:35 p.m., "are my clients bad people?"

"Do you think so?"

"I mean… do they do bad things?"

"Illegal things?"

"Y-yes."

"So do you."

"Me?"

"You are currently a minor at a bar. That's illegal. Should I ask you to leave?"

"NO!" After that, it's a little scary to bring it up. It's not a threat, not really. Kurogiri wouldn't really kick him out, Izuku tells himself. But behind his lids, notebooks never to be discussed and empty playgrounds flash. Loneliness is much scarier once you've come out of it once, and Izuku… Izuku cannot risk losing the little he has.

Especially not people that seem to like him. He likes the moody Tomura and the strict Kurogiri. Likes his eclectic clientele who always arrive doubtful but leave smiling. Izuku starts realizing that he might not look like much, but it doesn't mean he's worth nothing. Two and a half months into the work, Izuku finally understands just how dangerous everything that's happening is.

I'm feeling odd about the pacing, but I also think it might be just me. What do you think?