Last time: Izuku grows more and more comfortable in his new consultancy work, while Katsuki ponders upon his dislike for Deku as he also notices his newfound absence.
Pen scribbles on paper at careless speed, Izuku's sprawling kanji inking the page. For once, it is not heroes, villains or the bars for his little hustle at the bar that possesses his hand but something much more mundane: Izuku is really bad at math. If he's been honest, he's always been bad at it, but, being a good student is one of the few untarnished links he gets to have with Kacchan. He doesn't spend his days following his childhood friend anymore, but for all that's happened, Izuku misses him -envies his resolve still.
He'd love to tell Kacchan just how hard he's working too. That he's found people who teach him and accept him, that maybe, Izuku can do some good in the world too. Tomura and Kurogiri have forbidden him from whispering a word about it. Izuku is only 11 after all and he's doing much too important work, without getting quirk discrimination on the mix. Besides, he's blabbering could get one of his clients in trouble, and that's the last thing he wants.
Whenever he catches Katsuki's fuming glances, a spectrum between deep-seated annoyance or indifference depending on the day; he likes to daydream that if Kacchan knew what Izuku is doing (helping people!), he'd like him a little more. (Maybe.)
The issue is, Izuku spends so much time at the bar or hunched over his desk - trying to not make his mother suspicious - planning and replanning how he can help his clients, that homework becomes an echoing figure in his life. Before he knows it, he's falling behind at an alarming rate.
He looks down at his practice, the current topic builds upon the previous one, which Izuku failed. Everything made sense when the teacher resolved example after example upon the board, Izuku nodding along with a resounding 'yes' whenever the man asked for confirmation that the class was following.
When it became Izuku's turn to work the equations out, it feels like he'd never taken the class. His mind felt too wide and empty, bits and pieces of formula and tips spinning around and not coalescing into anything. He's in the middle of a game of chess with Tomura, after begging the older teen to play with him, and he knows he needs a strategy figured out by the time he gets back. Kurogiri is holding another assignment meeting for him today, and despite working at this for three months already, meeting someone who needs his help fills him with a nervous, electric energy every time. He also needs an excuse for staying out overnight on Friday for his mom, Tomura is finally letting Izuku within distance of his game console, something Izuku hasn't even thought of since Kacchan stopped inviting him over. Games are too much of a luxury for the Midoriya Household.
...But he can't fail math again, he told his mom he'd just gotten nervous on the past exam, blanked a little. His mother hadn't been happy, but Izuku's grades had always been excellent, she seemed reluctant to make a big deal of a one-off, uncharacteristic failure. It wouldn't work a second time. If Izuku doesn't figure this topic out, the next one will be just as hard and he cannot have that. What if…?
"You really don't know how to think inside your head, do you? For God's sake." Izuku's entire body freezes. He slowly lifts his head, with the care of prey before a predator. Kacchan hasn't talked to him in over a month, steadily ignoring Izuku, but now, he's twisted back on his seat and something tells Izuku the blonde has been staring for a while. It's like the entire world stops, but around them, the homeroom keeps on as if nothing's happened. A few people break out into gossip, but Izuku has long stopped trying to pin down if someone is mocking him or not. (Anxiety always says yes.)
How much of his murmuring did Kacchan pay attention to? How much did Izuku say?!
Vermillion eyes bore holes into Izuku, and the black-haired boy does his best to not huddle into himself -a habit Kurogiri very much disapproves of (though the warper has never met Kacchan and that might be it). Kacchan looks down from Izuku's gaze to sneering at Izuku's mess of papers.
"You're using the last topic's formula, they're similar but not the same, that's why it keeps giving you the wrong answer."
Izuku's mouth falls open, and he has to clutch his hands together lest he pinches himself.
Did Kacchan just give him advice?
His childhood friend's brows narrow dangerously.
"And what if I did, you shitty nerd? Your fucking break down mumbling is grating."
He's asked out loud.
He immediately thinks that it's the most uncharacteristic thing Kacchan has done in a while, even when it warms his chest. He smiles, feeling a lot more relaxed now.
"Nothing. Thank you so much." Kacchan huffs, and turns around. Izuku's eyes dim a little at the abrupt end to their interaction, but not before catching Kacchan's angry muttering.
"Don't make being number one so fucking easy, you fucking Deku."
Izuku should definitely not find the whole thing as endearing as he does.
Izuku skips his way to the bar. Always a little nervous, warily making his way to the seedier parts of town. Not even the periphery danger can dampen his mood. After Kacchan's advice, a simple thing Izuku's cluttered mind had no hopes of noticing, his homework finally started making some sense. An absolute relief. He grins widely as he arrives at the bar, Tomura is -surprisingly- not absorbed in his TV, but rather, sitting moodily at the bar. Izuku knows he must be having a bad day, because his nails are stuck to his neck despite Kurogiri's reproachful gaze.
He climbs on top of the chair next to him, and reaches for his hand.
He is very afraid of this, it still sends his heart beating wildly in his ribcage. Anyway, Izuku cannot stand by. Tomura is his friend, a very precious person to Izuku, and the younger child doesn't like it when he hurts himself. Allergies, the older teen had reluctantly deflected once. Allergic to what? Izuku pressed.
This cursed world, probably.
Izuku thinks his friend needs a doctor, but that's a very hard battle to wage.
Tomura's cold eyes narrow down on him, but the feeling is nothing like Izuku's previous encounter with Kacchan. For all his bravado, Izuku sometimes thinks Tomura is more sad than angry.
"He arrives," he comments unenthusiastically, "don't start your shit." He's referring to Izuku's ongoing battle against his scratching, the younger's mouth pulling down on a frown.
"Good afternoon, Izuku," Kurogiri doesn't bother turning around to greet him, but his voice is polite as always.
"What happened?"
Tomura grabs the drink Izuku hadn't noticed before, gives him a baleful glare and leaves for the couch. Izuku's heart twinges. That bad, huh? His eyes burn a little, but Izuku is mostly used to Tomura's mood swings.
"Your client will be here in half an hour, I have to brief you." Kurogiri's voice is much closer this time, startling the child. Izuku does his best to not fall off his chair and drags his eyes away from Tomura's shooter game.
"Uhh, yes, of course."
"Also, your trial period is ending next week, we need to start talking about reimbursement."
"Reim-reimbursement?" Izuku echoes, puzzled.
"Money, Izuku. It's time that you get paid for your services."
"Really?" Izuku gasps. "Like… like a real job?" Like heroes?!
Kurogiri sighs.
"Yes, like a real job."
Most of Izuku's clients are thoroughly vetted before ever meeting with him, but some of them, well, some of them slip through the cracks. Izuku is not yet 12 when he sees a man die. He's angry at Izuku's assessment, enraged. A child? He thunders, Kurogiri did warn him the man was known for having a bit of a temper, to which Izuku had answered confidently in his ability to handle moody men. He does not expect the man to get physically aggressive, when the six feet of muscle swings his fist at Deku, it starts crumbling away. Through the growing hole of his shoulder, Tomura's figure is framed by hell, a single wide, ringed eye visible through shaggy light-blue hair. His hand is gripping the man firmly, intentionally.
Izuku sees it all in slow motion.
(Tomura was already having a bad day.)
He knows that Tomura has some level of control over his quirk, it doesn't necessarily disintegrate everything, but this time, stepping forward to grab the hand frozen a foot away from Izuku's face, it doesn't let go. Tomura's hair covers most of his expression, but his red eyes do not waver from the horrified expression of the man he's dissolving into nothing. The client screams and convulses and pulls at the grip. He only accomplishes in separating the extremity clean off. (A bad day indeed.)
Decay is unhindered.
The man falls back onto the floor, curling around his disappearing limb. His screams are freezing the blood in Izuku's veins, and the sight of flaky remains hanging in the air like a dreary snowfall brings Izuku to his knees. He's dead, he thinks, a part of his mind -reason- informs him. Izuku's throat convulses one, twice and he pukes at Tomura's feet. The bile burns inside him and it tastes even worse. Tomura still stands between the man and him, and even though some of the corpse is still decaying, the only sound left is blood rushing through Izuku's ears.
(The dead do not scream.)
Tomura turns around, meeting the eyes of no one but also everyone else hanging in the corners of the bar. Cigarettes are frozen halfway to their mouths, and more than one bottle got dropped in surprise. An older, dark-skinned man has also puked all over his table, and his companion, a blue-haired woman with antlers seems deeply unhappy about it. Not everyone is comfortable, but no one is surprised. The whole thing cannot have taken more than a minute, but Izuku feels like he's just relieved his entire life. He watches over the dusty remains that used to be a person, barely aware of Tomura's gravelly voice.
"I hope this serves as enough warning to anyone who wants to try stupid shit with what's mine."
we back :D