Please read this chapter carefully and see the chapter warnings at the bottom for possible triggers.
Update on 2/17/21: Chapter revamped a little for smoother flow.
CHAPTER 2: Graffiti Warnings
Izuku's head bobbed, dropping over and over as he fought to stay awake. The popular café's usual activity formed a peaceful backdrop, so distant from his bubble in the corner booth.
On top of threatening him the other night the two LOV members had left him stranded so far from the city he'd had to spend the night sleeping in a bus stop until they started running again.
"If you speak of this to anyone, NPC, this'll be you," Shigaraki had warned, picking up a rock. Izuku had watched with terrified eyes as it slowly dissolved in the villain's grip, mentally counting seconds until it was gone and managing to catalogue the number with a few other possible weaknesses he'd observed to examine later. "We'll be watching."
When he tried to imagine how painful that quirk would be all he could think about was the freshly throbbing road rash on his forearm. The classmate who'd put it there was suitably nicknamed 'Road Rage' by his friends, for having a mutant type quirk that allowed him to use portions of his thick hide like a treadmill runway.
The small, underfed analyst had been in the middle of writing up something he liked to call the 'diagnostic' portion of his QAs when something made him jerk awake. Realizing he'd fallen asleep in his notes again he cursed softly and rubbed his face with a groan. All the research he was doing on UA and the League was cutting deep into his sleep time.
Through some of Atsushi's connections Izuku had discovered their plans to storm a UA training exercise off campus. As much as he wanted to tell the police about it he knew they wouldn't take him seriously.
The underground heroes, however, left coded notes for each other disguised as graffiti or hidden in advertisement posters around the city. Izuku understood and recognized the code well enough to write a warning. It was just a matter of including the right information and putting it in the right spots.
The bell at the door jingled as more customers stepped into the café. The analyst looked down to read what he had written about Shigaraki and his weaknesses, used to the sound by now, before admitting defeat and replacing his notebook with some homework.
"Ah, there he is– Deku-kun!"
Izuku registered the name before the honorific with a fearful jolt, smacking the back of his head into the wall behind him. It wasn't until he recognized Uraraka and Iida winding their way to him that he was able to calm down.
"Midoriya-kun! Are you ok?" Iida had a way of making certain questions sound like demands when he was upset. The blue haired boy chopped his hand at Izuku a few times before he sat down, saying, "if you're so tired you should go home and rest!"
"A-ah, sorry," Izuku apologized with an embarrassed flush. He'd met Uraraka and Iida on the train to school a little while back, where he learned it was Uraraka he'd saved during the entrance exam. The two had been upset when they learned he wasn't attending UA, clearly assuming he hadn't passed and he wasn't in any hurry to correct them.
Izuku wondered how they would change when they learned he was quirkless.
He would tell them eventually, of course. It would be wrong not to. He was taking advantage of their ignorance just because he selfishly liked their company…
It's just for a little while, he promised himself.
"Deku-kun," Uraraka groaned after she and Iida had gotten settled, "Aizawa-sensei gave us another logical ruse today in training."
"Wh-what d-di– what did he do?" Izuku asked, trying unsuccessfully to shake himself out of his drowsy stupor.
"He paired us up in teams and told us whoever scored the worst would have to stay and repeat the exercise until morning," Iida answered, "if he keeps this up how are we going to be able to trust him?"
"A-ah. Well m-maybe it's– maybe it's his way of, of encouraging you?" Izuku suggested shyly, staring at the table and feeling stupid. Despite himself he didn't stop, "it's probably- probably beca-because hero work is s-so har- so hard. You have to, uhm, you have to be really d-d-d-dev-devot." He lost control of his stuttering and dropped his face into his notes with a loud thud, clutching his head and switching languages to berate himself for being such an idiot. Normally his stuttering wasn't even half that bad but sleep deprivation always made everything worse.
Why did it have to be so much easier to talk to people who wanted to hurt him?
"You think it's like motivation to get us to try harder?" Uraraka asked as if he hadn't just had a verbal breakdown right in front of her.
All Izuku could do was nod his head pathetically, taking a few deep breaths to calm himself.
"He's testing your de- determination," he said into his arms, "if you're s-serious about being a h-hero you'll have to do, to do w-whatever…" The quirkless analyst stopped to take an especially deep breath, feeling the words flatten his heart as he said them. "If you really want to become a hero you'll have to be willing to do whatever it takes. N-n-no matter what. It isn't meant to be easy."
In the silence that followed Izuku tried to figure out how he could politely dismiss himself from the situation and retreat to his apartment in broad daylight.
"Mi-Midoriya-kun!" Iida barely managed to keep his voice below a shout, startling the younger boy out of his thoughts. "I'm sorry. It looks like I have underestimated you a second time. Please forgive me!" Izuku glanced up to see the taller student bowing respectfully at him.
Unsure of what to say or how to say it, Izuku just gibbered an incomplete sentence of half-spoken consonants and gestured anxiously for Iida to sit.
Iida did so with a determined set about his shoulders and a bit of pushing from Uraraka. "I have so much more to learn," he said.
Uraraka sounded similarly impressed, "I hadn't even thought of it like that. You're really amazing, Deku-kun!"
"Yes, your parents should be proud!" Iida exclaimed, chopping his hand and adjusting his glasses.
The orphaned analyst tried to smile but ended up just pursing his lips together and ducking his head again, curling away. He fought a war with himself and lost, memories of his mother and the way her body had hung from–
"S-sorry, I have to go." Izuku was out of the café before his company had time to process what he'd said.
His day did not improve after that.
The green haired analyst stood on the edge of the sidewalk watching smoke billow into the air as emergency services extinguished the leftover fires from a hero battle he'd missed.
"I hope I'll be able to find videos of it tonight," he mused to himself and continued walking. It seemed like he had less and less time for personal hero analyses lately.
Izuku was using one of his shortcuts to get to his university's library when he ran face first into someone so hard his notebook went flying out of his hands.
"Ah, s-sorry!" the analyst squawked and stumbled back with one hand rubbing his forehead and the other held out as if to do something, "a-a-I didn't see you. Are you o– …oh."
"Deku?!"
Oh no.
Kacchan somehow managed to look more pissed than Izuku had ever seen him. He was about to berate himself for using his nickname again when he was suddenly and aggressively slammed into a wall.
"Looks like I finally found you, you fucking punk! The hell you think you're doing, hah?!" Kacchan sa- Katsuki snarled. He had a sweaty hand wrapped around the back of Izuku's neck, pinning his head to the wall.
As hard as he tried the analyst couldn't speak. He felt frozen, and then, a moment later, blissfully detached. If he was still breathing then he couldn't tell.
"Haah?!" the dangerous blond screeched at him and bounced the quirkless boy's head into the concrete like a basketball, "say something!" Seeming to realize his captive couldn't talk with his face smashed into a wall he yanked Izuku's head back by the hair on his nape.
Disoriented and floating somewhere outside of body, Izuku listened to himself sputter something that sounded like; "b-bakacchan."
The white light that snapped Izuku's vision away shortly after could easily have been mistaken for the final firing of synapses in his brain before death.
He couldn't be sure if the crack he heard was physical or metaphorical.
Izuku woke up alone in the same alley hours later.
The QA couldn't really remember how or when he got home after that. When he blinked back into awareness he found himself standing in his apartment and staring listlessly into the dark.
In the end, Izuku was forced to give himself a clumsy undercut before washing his wounds in the shower. As he watched hair, soot, and blood swirl into the drain he tried to find reasons to stay.
"Atsushi and Bunko-kun. Mom's wish. The mural on 8th street. Katsudon. The smell of summer rain. Flowers."
Even if it all felt empty he kept trying.
THE INFECTION OF POPULARITY STRIKES DOWN ANOTHER BRILLIANT MIND: QUIRK THEORIST MURDERED by Saburo, Fujita
TUESDAY, APRIL 21st, 2XXX — Pᴏᴘᴜʟᴀʀ ᴏɴʟɪɴᴇ ʙᴇᴀᴜᴛʏ ɢᴜʀᴜ Gʀᴀᴘᴇғʀᴜɪᴛ_Pʀɪɴᴄᴇss ᴋɪʟʟᴇᴅ ʜᴇʀ ғɪᴀɴᴄéᴇ, Osᴀᴋɪ Kᴀᴏᴜʀᴜ, ᴀɢᴇᴅ 29, ᴏɴ Mᴏɴᴅᴀʏ ɴɪɢʜᴛ. Oɴɴᴀ Mɪʏᴜᴋɪ, ᴀɢᴇᴅ 31, ᴜsᴇᴅ Oᴋᴀsᴋɪ's ᴀᴄᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ ᴏɴ ǫᴜɪʀǫᴇᴅ.ᴄᴏᴍ, ᴜsᴇʀɴᴀᴍᴇ ᴄʜᴀʀɪᴛʏ-ᴅᴏᴏᴍs-ᴅᴀʏ, ᴛᴏ ᴀsᴋ ᴀ ǫᴜɪʀᴋ ᴀɴᴀʟʏsᴛ ғᴏʀ ʜᴇʟᴘ ᴡʜᴇɴ sʜᴇ sᴜsᴘᴇᴄᴛᴇᴅ ʜᴇʀ ғɪᴀɴᴄéᴇ ᴡᴀs ᴄʜᴇᴀᴛɪɴɢ.
Aᴄᴄᴏʀᴅɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ Ms. Mɪʏᴜᴋɪ, ᴏɴᴇ ᴏғ ʜᴇʀ ғᴏʟʟᴏᴡᴇʀs ʀᴇғᴇʀʀᴇᴅ ʜᴇʀ ᴛᴏ ᴀ ғᴀɪʀʟʏ ᴡᴇʟʟ-ᴋɴᴏᴡɴ ᴀɴᴀʟʏsᴛ ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ sɪᴛᴇ, ᴋɴᴏᴡɴ ᴀs ᴊǫᴀᴏɴʟɪɴᴇ, ғᴏʀᴍᴇʀʟʏ ᴋɴᴏᴡɴ ᴀs Mɪɢʜᴛʏsʜʀᴜʙᴀɢᴇɴᴄʏ, ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴡ ᴅᴜʙʙᴇᴅ JQANON ʙʏ Gʀᴀᴘᴇғʀᴜɪᴛ_Pʀɪɴᴄᴇss's ғᴏʟʟᴏᴡᴇʀs.
Nᴏᴛʜɪɴɢ ɪs ᴋɴᴏᴡɴ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴊǫᴀᴏɴʟɪɴᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ᴘᴇʀsᴏɴᴀʟ ʟɪғᴇ, ᴏɴʟʏ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇʏ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀ ᴛʀᴜᴇ ᴛᴀʟᴇɴᴛ ғᴏʀ ᴘʀᴏғᴇssɪᴏɴᴀʟ ᴀɴᴀʟʏsɪs ᴀɴᴅ ᴘʀᴏᴠɪᴅᴇ ᴀ ᴛɪᴇʀ-sʏsᴛᴇᴍ ᴏғ sᴇʀᴠɪᴄᴇs ᴀɪᴍᴇᴅ ᴀᴛ ᴏɴʟʏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏsᴛ ᴘʀɪᴠɪʟᴇɢᴇᴅ ᴏғ ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ. Aғᴛᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇᴠᴇɴᴛs ᴅᴇsᴄʀɪʙᴇᴅ ɪɴ ᴛʜɪs ᴀʀᴛɪᴄʟᴇ, ʜᴏᴡᴇᴠᴇʀ, ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴍɪɢʜᴛ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴀᴅᴅ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛʙʀᴇᴀᴋᴇʀ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ᴛᴏᴏʟʙᴏx.
Izuku set his phone, still open to the article condemning his QA account, next to him on the ledge, numb. He'd read it at least a dozen times since he was first pinged about it, reading hundreds of comments and bearing the weight of thousands of people who wanted to hold him accountable.
But it didn't make sense. Why hadn't he noticed? Osaki-san had been a regular for months. Even though she often seemed to "forget" to credit him when she shared the analyses he did for her, she'd been good company. Nothing about his last commission for her had seemed odd. But surely this could have been prevented if he'd paid more attention, right?
Izuku sat on the edge of high-rise apartment complex, looking down at the blazing city lights below. Green eyes latched onto the dancing flickers and glazed glow through the low veil of fog, appreciating the view without really looking.
Completely unaware of the invisible dots he'd been connecting, Izuku's commission had revealed an affair had caused a murder. He was responsible for that. It was his fault, wasn't it? He could have prevented it, right?
That was the hot take online by many of the former couple's followers, anyway. One of the drama bloggers that had caught wind of what was happening had mentioned something about a jealous rivalry. Other users were quick to point out that jqaonline and charity-dooms-day had been friendly acquaintances but were reminded by others that charity-dooms-day had often stolen his work. Talented internet sleuths had found all the evidence needed to confirm that Osaki was being unfaithful but it was difficult to convince over a million followers, thousands of whom wanted someone to blame.
Izuku covered his face and hunched forward, bringing his knees up to his chest and balancing freely. He didn't know what to do! So long as he didn't claim to be a professional his freelance work was legal.
What would mom have said? Would she still think I'm amazing, like Uraraka-san said?
Izuku scoffed at the thought.
Somewhere in the back of his head he recognized the sound of footsteps on gravel. It was distant and easily written off as an illusion caused by the beginning rainfall, but the analyst was a rabbit in a city of wolves. Instinctively his mind rushed through the standard spatial awareness check and narrowed down a possible list of people who might find some beat up kid sitting on the tallest building in Hosu worth checking out.
The roof was restricted access only. Izuku was up there simply because he picked the locks.
Any kind of maintenance would wait until daylight hours for safety reasons.
The fire-escape didn't come up this far and Izuku didn't know of any yakuza with flight quirks in this part of Tokyo who would want to conduct their business out in the open.
None of the vigilantes in this area would have benefited from coming up this high on such a night with such low visibility, Stendhal included.
He kept a mental log of every villain, vigilante, agency, and hero in Hosu– which was a lot, considering how close downtown was to Taito City.
By process of elimination that would mean his company was either a new vigilante, an oddly curious villain, or a hero.
"Can I stay a little while longer, Hero-san?" the orphan asked and turned his head. The man behind him was tall and wearing a black jumpsuit. His capture weapon hung around his neck and shoulders like a scarf. Even in the lowlight Izuku could see how pale he was, the color of his face contrasting sharply with his dark attire. He gave no reaction to being called a hero so he probably wasn't a villain.
Tired, bloodshot eyes watched Izuku with a unblinking intensity. His astute and piercing gaze was cleverly masked by the uninterested slackness of his overall expression. Taking in his relaxed posture it'd be easy to underestimate his defenses, but a kid like Deku had learned early how to read people better than most.
Izuku's instincts said his silent companion wasn't a new vigilante, which would make him a hero. But, according to the map he'd memorized he wasn't in the path of a nighttime patrol route.
Raindrops started to sink through his hoodie and the thick road rash shorn down his forearm stung beneath his sleeve.
Hero-san didn't say anything so Izuku took that to mean he had a little more time and went back to admiring the city lights and wandering through his labyrinthine thoughts.
His quiet companion heaved a sigh and Izuku braced himself to be hauled away, thinking he'd been mistaken. But the hero surprised him by making no move to grab him, and, instead, sat down nearby. Thankfully he kept a comfortable distance.
Izuku analyzed the behavior and kept an eye on the stranger in his periphery. Hero-san's capture weapon obviously didn't need to be very close to grab Izuku and was presumably made of something stronger than simple rope – carbon weave, maybe?
There weren't any noticeable deformations or bumps under his jumpsuit that could be indicative of a hidden transformation or mutant type quirk like Heat Seeker's. In 'spotlight' heroes, that tended to eliminate a large pool of supra and sub quirk classes.
But Izuku always tried to take appearances with an extra grain of salt.
Whatever Hero-san's quirk was it required no obvious physical changes to his anatomy. Given the distance between them, as well as what Izuku had already gathered, he had strong evidence to suggest at least an emitter type quirk. From what he'd seen earlier it probably had something to do with his vision or, maybe his skin.
By body size and shape Hero-san likely had an athletic-based quirk factor that allowed him superior agility and strength. From the design of his weapon something like ribbon manipulation would also be a reasonable factor.
If Izuku got caught in it he could run towards the hero, creating slack in the capture weapon that he could drop through. But if his assumptions about the man's versatility were correct escaping through such a maneuver would be hopelessly temporary in an open space like the roof they were on. The next best thing to do would be to run at him and hope he could slip into a blind spot fast enough to disorient his opponent. No doubt Hero-san would know much more advanced hand-to-hand combat so Izuku would have to fight low and dirty. He'd be able to use the man's hair to his advantage…
"That's an impressive analysis," Hero-san's deep, stolid voice cut through the wind in an effortless way. The sound of it startled Izuku so badly he had to catch himself before he could fall. Then, when he looked over and found his companion much closer than before, he almost really did fall.
Luckily, Hero-san was able to steady him before he could. Unluckily, he grabbed Izuku's bad arm, turning the quirkless orphan's squawk into a yelp.
"It hurts!" he gasped. The burning intensity of his raw road rash catching him off-guard. The sound put a grimace on the hero's face as he hauled him back from the edge of the building before changing his grip. But when Hero-san didn't let go Izuku looked up at him and locked eyes with a red glare so strong it was like looking into a laser pointer. Just a year prior he would have been totally starstruck to meet the man crouched over him. Now, he had to remind himself that he hadn't done anything worth prison time. He tried not to think about the fines he'd no doubt be crippled by instead.
According to legal terms Izuku wasn't technically a vigilante and it wasn't as if he went out of his way to fight anyone.
Eraserhead released his quirk with a strange expression on his face, one that did nothing to calm Izuku's racing heart.
"L-Let me go!" Izuku cried but the pro hero didn't seem to be paying attention.
The rain was getting worse when Eraserhead swiftly but gently guided him through the restricted access door and into the stairwell beyond.
The next thing the QA knew he was sat on the top step and his sleeve was being quickly rolled up, exposing the freshly reopened and oozing wound underneath.
"Ah, w-wait!" Izuku snatched his arm back and pulled himself away. The hero narrowed his eyes at the span of skin sloughed off his forearm, shaped suspiciously like a handprint.
"Fuck," Deku muttered in English; cold, hungry, and defeated, but feeling safe in the knowledge that fluent English was beyond the scope of what most Japanese heroes needed to know.
Eraserhead sighed heavily and pulled a small first aid kit from one of his various in-sewn saddlebags and set it down halfway between them like it was some kind of peace offering. When Izuku made no move to grab it he raised a sharp eyebrow at him.
Why is he here? The freckled student wondered, feeling wary and skittish. It couldn't have anything to do with Yuki-san and Osaki-san, the police had ruled his involvement as inconsequential when Yuki-san confessed.
Then, very belatedly, it occurred to Izuku what it must have looked like.
A lone high school student.
Sitting on the edge of a high-rise.
At night.
"N-no! I wasn't going to, wasn't going to do something like that! I-I-I–" fuck his stupid, twittering voice.
All he wanted now was to be left alone. If someone with a permeation quirk could've pushed him through the floor right then Izuku would have paid them.
Closing his eyes and taking the deepest breath his shuddering lungs would allow, he tried again – this time with his head bowed respectively. "I'm v-very sorry for causing you t-trouble. I dih-didn't mean to, to distract you f-from your work. I'm ok now. Th-thank you."
"You can thank me by holding still, kid." Eraserhead's hands were unexpectedly gentle as they extracted Izuku's wounded forearm from the tight bundle of limbs he'd curled into and carefully stretched it out.
"Relax," Eraserhead ordered, intercepting another stuttering protest before it could even begin, "I'm going to patch up your arm." Despite saying this the intimidating man didn't move. Instead, he just stared at Izuku expectantly until the boy suddenly realized he was actually waiting for permission. Blinking in surprise the young QA gave him a hesitant nod.
Eraserhead's calloused palms were somehow comforting as they cleaned his wound.
"Do heroes normally attack you?" The question was almost bland enough to be sarcastic. If not for the unchanged look in Eraserhead's tired eyes Izuku probably would have thought it was a precursor to some kind of joke.
"N-no, sir."
The hero made a noncommittal hum as he pinched a glob of topical amoxicillin onto the center of the oozing hand-shaped road rash.
"Someone's been hurting you," he observed out loud, tone almost accusatory, and smoothed a nonstick gauze pad over the antimicrobial cream.
"No. There's no-one l-like that." The curly haired quirk analyst shook his head and looked away, face starting to heat up. He tried to keep his arm steady but it still shook.
"I suppose you expect me to believe that you're doing this to yourself then," the pro retorted, winding self-adhesive coban wrap around Izuku's arm.
Izuku couldn't find it in himself to reply. He could lie, but there's no way an underground pro would believe him.
A painful silence passed, during which the man finished his first aid and looked him over one more time. His dark eyes briefly fell upon the bandage taped to Izuku's nape.
"Go home to your family, kid," Eraserhead sighed when he'd had enough of it and released the boy's arm, "self-pity doesn't fix anything. If you want something to change you'll have to actually earn it, just like everyone else." He stood and made for the door.
"You're really amazing, Deku-kun" [2]
"Your parents should be [̴͚̻̀̓̐ ̷̦̼͕̒̒]̵͉̿͘ͅ ̷̰̑[̴̯͕͐̐̿ ̴͚̱͊]̷̪̦͔̂͗̇ ̶̥̇́[̵̼̈́̉͌ ̴̺͚͋̀]̴̮̔̉̈́ ̷̹̣̝̉͂̾[̵̲̤̲̂ ̶̗̈́]̶̟̹̺̾͘ ̴̣͕̫͌̒[̷̣͈͋́̒ ̸͙̆͒]̶̻̓!"
"¡¿ɥɐɥ 'ɓuıop ǝɹ'noʎ ʞNıɥʇ noʎ llǝɥ ǝɥT"
̶͓̥̹̿̇̔[̶͕̄͛̍̓ ̵̹͖̰͌̀ͅ]̵̥̅̊͐ ̵̪̈̌̀̿[̷̝̘̰͊̅ ̸̟͖̪̌̄]̶̛̾̿̅ͅ ̷̜̎͜[̴̡͍͖̲̇̐͝͝ ̴͕̜̰̳̍]̶̍̓͝ 's body, grey and cold and 🅷🅸🆂 arms-
̷͎̝̚[̴̻͋͒ ̵̼̳̇]̵̪͖̌͠ ̴̜͐[̷̘̓ ̸̜̅̚]̷̙͖̅ ̵̙̳̈[̶̜̾ ̸͍̀]̵̱̜̑'s sea shanties coalescing and screaming, drowning in his ears.
Q̸̰͉̝͕̇̾͘Ù̵̧̨̪̝̱̌̽͗̄͐I̴̧̜͕̼̝̘̓̅̀̆̇R̵̟̻̰̫͓̙̀̌̕K̴͖̤̙̻͔̠͝ ̷̗̬̬͠ T̵̛̯͛H̶̭̬͈̿̚͘E̸̻̮͈̱̋̓Ǫ̵̫̟̪͗̋͋͂͐R̵̢̡͍͖͑̈̽͘I̷͇̺̥̊̌͗S̴̨̯̟̯̒̎͛Ț̸̫͎̑͛ ̶̧̫̙̔̿̐͋ 🅼🆄🆁🅳🅴🆁🅴🅳 TƧIЯOƎHT kЯIUQ
𝘕𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘴 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘫𝘲𝘢𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦 – the most p̷͕̟̒ȓ̶̖̟i̵͚͛v̸̡̍í̴̢l̷̳̅e̶̱̞̒͊g̸̡̕ę̵̞̆̈́d̸͔͐̈́ of people – add 尉えね –
Worthless Deku. Never going to be good enough. Not trying hard enough. H̸a̸v̶e̵n̴'̴t̷ f̴̰̈́̈̓̉ų̵̫̦̂̈́̚c̶̜͉͙̗̃͗k̴̨̘͗͐i̸͍̍̎͘n̴̞͘g̷̨͎̺̎́̓̚ b̷͉̖̪͉̠̥͈̣̦̰̼̺͖̹̱͌͛̈́̃̋͒͝ͅl̷̛̫͖̥͕̥͇͈̘̜̞̘͉͚̐̀̈́́̎͌̈́ȩ̸̨̢̡̖̼̼̘͇̗̳̭̩̑̆̈́̍̇͗̒̔̍̂̊̏̒̚ḍ̴̛̥̲̫̰̮̖͎̳̬͍̔͑̉̈́̇̽̃͛̃̄̓̊̓͗̅͘ ̶̨̛̛̘͇̠͔̮̲̙̜͓͇̞͕̰̉͛͂̍̽̿̍̓̿̏͗̋̚͘͜͝͠͝ę̴͖̜̜͓͔̲̦̬̦̣̋̂̃͑͐̈́͒̌̓́̈́̃̎̓͘̚͜n̵̛̗̞̅͋͒́̈͆͐̓̀̓̌̑̄͗͋̊̄͑͝o̷̢̡̢̢̭͇̝͖̞̤̱͙̪̘͇̖̻̰̊̂́̿̌́̓̓̍͜͝ͅư̴̡̡̬̭̼͙̬̫͖̜̼̜̩̜̩͕̻͓̭̞͒͆ǵ̶̛̛̪̓̽̆̌̉̌͂̌̈̌h̶̢̛̰͚̳̫̩̪̻̥̓͐͒̈́̃̎͛̕͘͠.̷̜̖̤̼͎͚̖͔̊̓̈́̈̃̏̓͐̃̈́͂̔̋̈́̏̉̒̆͘̕ ̷͔̣̮̗̮̓͒ ̴͓̐ ̸̹͙̉͝ ̷͙̳̈́͠ ̴͓̂̓̕ ̵̞̰̽ ̵̥̆ ̶̅͜ ̸͚ ̵ ̴ ̷ ̶ ̷ ̷ [/2]
Enough.
Izuku could swear he heard something finally snap.
Enough.
"F-fuck you!" He blurted, the words echoing down thirty flights of stairs, body trembling so hard it made his voice shake. Not even All Might had tried to insinuate that Izuku was spoiled, and he'd been the one to finally put Izuku's life-long dream to rest! The boy was only halfway through the week and already he'd been threatened by villains, spent a night sleeping on a bench outside the city, deliberately injured by a bully with a road quirk, blown up by Kacchan, and learned he'd played a part in someone's murder.
Eraserhead didn't say anything. If he was surprised by Izuku's outburst then he didn't show it, expression unchanged.
"What gives you the right to be so convinced about what I'm doing with my life? I saw you use your quirk on me. I know you know I'm anidiotropic after doing that," Izuku saw Eraserhead's eyes widen and watched as the man turned to face him fully. But once he'd started, the analyst couldn't stop. "Every month I have to decide between food and electricity because I can't afford both, just to end up wondering what the rats in my walls might taste like anyway. I can return all the required textbooks I needed this quarter and get enough money back to buy a stick of gum, even though the books themselves cost me upwards of ¥ 9,300 each. My own heart is giving up on me."
Quivering with exhaustion and pain, his energy drained out of him like the frustrated tears streaming down his face. He didn't try to wipe them away, choosing instead to clench his fists, "and somehow I am still trying harder to live than people like you will ever have to. So don't you presume to know what I have and haven't earned. I'm already giving it my best."
The expression on Eraserhead's face was too complicated for the tired analyst to decipher properly but he could at least tell he'd surprised the man. Maybe he really hadn't known Izuku was quirkless after all.
Whatever.
"Sorry for wasting your time, Eraserhead." The boy turned away before his deteriorating condition could be seen, feeling a little warm and lightheaded as he began the long trek to the bottom floor.
It wasn't until he as four flights down that he heard the hero leave.
Izuku was going around leaving coded warnings for the underground heroes and trying not to think too hard about his encounter with Eraserhead the night before, when a gaggle of children ran into his legs screaming about someone who had collapsed.
He wasn't sure what he expected to see when he arrived at the scene, dazed and strangely out of breath despite the short distance, but it hadn't been the sight of Gran Torino lying face first in the smashed remains of a ketchup bottle. This time there were even sausages too.
When the man shot upwards with a scream of "I'm alive!" the kids hanging onto Izuku's legs fled, their terrified cries trailing behind them.
"U-uhm," Izuku began cautiously. Despite yelling at him to 'go away!' as soon as he'd returned Gran Torino's phone he hadn't done anything that was outwardly aggressive last time they'd seen each other. He actually suspected the man had chased him off because he knew the police would hassle him if he'd stayed.
"Pah! You again?" the old man demanded and stood, "what do you want?"
The woozy QA looked at him helplessly and asked, "do you perhaps do this for fun, Gran Torino-san?"
Gran Torino squinted up at Izuku and didn't respond, seeming to think about something. His eyes lingered on the bruises and bandages covering the student's face, landing briefly on the gauze around his nape and neck.
If he was looking for something Izuku hoped he'd finish quickly. His heart thumped heavily in his chest, sudden tachycardia making his head hurt and his body shake. It felt like one of his STA episodes but it had been so long since his last and he was so unfocused right now he could barely think.
Summer was approaching quickly, adding a steadily intensifying humidity that exacerbated his day-to-day exhaustion.
"What's wrong with you?" Gran Torino finally asked, shamelessly direct.
"O-oh, uh. Nothing! I–" Izuku began, "I…"
But the QA's thoughts were very abruptly swept off track before he could finish, leaving him staring at the retired pro hero in confusion and wondering what they'd been talking about.
"Sor-sorry for b-b-bothering you," he eventually mumbled and gave a shallow bow. He felt unnaturally winded and was trying to figure out if he'd somehow triggered an anxiety attack when he turned and gave himself a massive headrush. It was so bad it almost knocked him off his feet.
That's not good.
Izuku needed to find somewhere safe and private to sit down for a bit. In his rush to leave he didn't wait for the winking stars in his vision to fade. He also didn't notice the ground tilting beneath him until his foot caught against a bump in the pavement he couldn't see. Stumbling, he went to correct his step and hopefully catch himself before he could fall on his face only to realize his body was too sluggish to respond.
Oh, well that's really not good, Izuku thought absently as someone suddenly appeared at his side to steady him.
The retired pro helped him to the side of the road where he sat him down and then shoved a granola bar into his hands, grumbling about a generation that couldn't be bothered with their suffering minority. Izuku kept to himself, focusing his attention on eating instead. He wanted to feel better quickly, repay the man, and then get out of there.
"You coming around yet, string bean?"
The QA managed a jerky little nod and hoped it wasn't too obvious he was lying.
"Oi!" a familiar voice growled, low and threatening.
Izuku turned his head and felt his heart start to palpate, dark viridian eyes meeting bright scarlet.
Katsuki was standing in the street with his hands in his pockets and the typical rage in his eyes. He was still in uniform and had his bag hanging off his shoulder. What was he doing here? But wait, where had Izuku ended up…?
He'd been.
He'd been doing something.
Izuku felt his eyes watering and struggled to stand, his heavy body quivering with exertion. He knew Kacchan wouldn't do anything to the old man just like he also knew he needed to run. He couldn't do this right now, he couldn't! It hadn't even been a week since his last encounter with the blonde. All he wanted to do was find somewhere to rest for a little longer.
"K-Kah–"
"The fuck do you think you're doing, huh?!" Katsuki shouted and started storming towards them.
Physically unable to run away, Izuku instinctively tried to make himself a smaller target by curling into a ball and protecting his head with his arms. Because of this he didn't see Gran Torino's eyes widen, taking in the way he linked his hands together over his bandaged nape like it was a movement he'd practiced a thousand times. And it probably was. But truthfully, Izuku wouldn't have been able to quantify the number of times he'd needed to protect his head from this very person even if he'd wanted to.
"Please. Juss g-g-go away." I just want to sleep. Please just let me sleep.
"This guy some kind of bully, string bean?" Gran Torino asked him sternly. Izuku felt too sick to respond. Scalding hot bile was trying to climb up his throat and he desperately didn't want to waste the food he'd been so kindly given.
"What did you just fucking call me, you shitty old pervert?! Die!" The familiar crackle and pop of Kacchan's quirk made the orphan flinch.
Suddenly Izuku was coughing, convulsions tearing through his body as barely digested chunks of granola bar surged out of his mouth. There was a burning in his chest where his heart should have been and a ringing in his ears that would have made him cry if he hadn't been already.
"Get the fuck away from him–" he heard Kacchan roar and wondered who he was talking about. Something must have hit the blonde because he grunted before he could finish. There was the distant sound of a body hitting the ground and the crackle of half-aborted explosions. . . . . .
"–ood, that's good, kid," a familiar voice encouraged him.
Frowning in confusion and feeling more disoriented than he could remember, Izuku pulled himself into a sitting position with a low groan. He fumbled with something shoved into his hands.
"Drink that," Gran Torino ordered, his face coming into slow focus as Izuku's dizzy vision cleared. Looking down he found a clear water bottle in his hands.
"I-I'm sorry," he began, "but what hap–"
"Drink!"
As quickly as his shaking hands would allow Izuku uncapped the bottle and drank. Relief spread through his body, strong enough to completely overwhelm all logical thought as he guzzled. If he hadn't needed to breathe Izuku would have finished the entire thing in seconds.
Gran Torino stood in front of him, staring at him plainly, and asked, "are you some kind of idiot?"
"H-huh?!" Izuku spluttered, his face burning, "w-what did I–. Wh-at d-d-did I d-do? And like I said: Wha-what happened?"
"Calm down," the old hero grumbled and crossed his arms. He nodded at something on the ground, "when you're done drinking eat that too."
Another granola bar had been placed beside him, leaving Izuku to mentally scramble with his uncertain memories. The dots didn't connect! What had happened to him?
Unexpectedly, a shudder swept down his spine.
Izuku pretended to sip from the bottle as he took in his periphery without looking away from Gran Torino.
"Uh-uhm," he started to say when he couldn't find Kacchan, "was there another b–"
"DRINK!" Gran Torino screamed at him, full blast. "You takin advantage of my charity, bean sprout?!"
"N-no, sir!" Izuku did as he was told. This situation was just too weird. I hope he isn't planning anything…
Gran Torino huffed once he was satisfied with his charge and looked up the street, "I chased the angry blonde brat off already, if that's what you're wondering. He was being a nuisance." To himself, he added, "UA must really be falling apart if they're accepting students like that. Bunch of rich brats now a' days."
"Ah." It was as Izuku finished drinking that he realized something important.
He recognized the water bottle he was drinking from. It was a good make, in the way that meant it was designed for people with more destructive quirks…
No. I must really be out of my mind if I think– Izuku turned it around and found his tormentor's name scratched aggressively into the bottle:
'Katsuki Bakugou'
Horrified, he stared at the offending object and wondered how much time he had left before the poison kicked in. Half of him wanted to chuck the bottle across the street and finally book it, but–
"And you!" Gran Torino shouted suddenly and scowled at him, "have you had anything to drink at all today, moron? You expecting strangers on the street to catch you when you faint from heat exhaustion?! Irresponsible! Don't you know how dangerous that is for people like you?!"
Izuku flinched and hung his head but otherwise managed to stay still. He only had vague childhood memories, but he remembered doctor appointments and hospital stays and medications that had made him feel like he was dying. While he did everything he could to stay healthy, Izuku was well aware it wouldn't last. Sure, he'd made it through a big milestone when he reached his tenth birthday but he didn't expect to live to be older than twenty.
The truth was that Izuku wasn't taking any medication anymore.
He hadn't been since his third or fourth foster family.
So it was likely that whatever he'd just experienced wasn't heat exhaustion.
"I'm s-sorry. It wo-wo- It won't happen again, s-sir," the orphan promised.
Gran Torino seemed to scrutinize his assurance for a moment before he scoffed and turned away.
"See that it doesn't, string bean. I'm not going to help you a second time. Got it?!"
"Y-yes!"
A sense of unease fell over Izuku as he watched him go.
As the week ended and Izuku put out more encrypted messages for the underground heroes to find he started catching glimpses of Eraserhead at night.
He decided that was a good thing.
It meant someone was listening to his warnings.
[1] For those with impaired vision or had a difficult time reading it, here's what the article says:
Popular online beauty guru Grapefruit_Princess killed her fiancée, Osaki Kaouru, aged 29, on Monday night. Onna Miyuki, aged 31, used Okaski's account on , username charity-dooms-day, to ask a quirk analyst for help when she suspected her fiancée was cheating.
According to Ms. Miyuki, one of her followers referred her to a fairly well-known analyst on the site, known as jqaonline, formerly known as Mightyshrubagency, and now dubbed JQANON by Grapefruit_Princess's followers.
Nothing is known about jqaonline and their personal life, only that they have a true talent for professional analysis and provide a tier-system of services aimed at only the most privileged of people. After the events described in this article, however, they might want to add heartbreaker to their toolbox
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[2] staticky garble, no real significance, just distorted repeats of sentences already used in the chapter (with minor artistic tweaks). Ordinarily, I'd never go so crazy but I couldn't help myself. ;u;
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CW: Dissociation, head injuries, suicide ideation, depression, and mentions/implications of past child abuse.
My cat made the revision process of this chapter literal hell.
Thank you, everyone, for all your reviews. I've been meaning to respond to each of them and still aim to do so. If you haven't heard back from me yet, please just bear with me. Life has been so crazy I haven't been able to come up with a solid updating schedule. I would LIKE to upload once a week but it will depend on chapter length.
Happy belated Christmas, for those of you who celebrate it.
Please keep those X/Os coming!
Cheers!