All right folks. It's the tenth chapter in something I was expecting to last two or three. This short series has already established itself as the second longest one I've written, and by the time it ends, it'll have surpassed the first. Little weird. Fun fact, I did some googling and it turns out that a typical novel is around 50k-60k words. So most fully fleshed out fanfics are actually longer than the stories we read and the books we buy. A little...how do I put this, disorienting. No matter. Let's see how far we can get.
With a rather dramatic and abrupt end to his internship week(it had only been three days, so not much of a week) behind him, the next thing on Midoriya's agenda was really just rest and recuperation. He needed to stop running into trouble every other week. But since it seemed like he couldn't stay out of trouble even if he wanted to, the best way to avoid losing his mind would just be to try to make the best of the time he still had. The internships lasted six days, with the seventh being a day off for students to rest. So with Gran Torino kicking him out, he could arguably consider today and the next three days as additional rest days, days that his temporary mentor had given him. He should probably attempt to upgrade his equipment or train a little more, but Mei deserved a few days to herself after the fact that he had enlisted her to help him fight the Hero Killer and his own body was a little shot to pieces because of the continuous usage of One for All in actual combat after two days of sparring and training. If he was a betting person, he would have already put money on the chance that he had at least a few fractured bones, and maybe even money on a broken one if he had been more careless against Stain. Even with Todoroki's help and the almost reckless usage of One for All in order to constantly use air blasts and air shots combined with his own weapons and support equipment in order to constantly put distance between himself and the clearly experienced hunter, he had still needed to voluntarily take an injury in order to spring his trap.
Thankfully, it appeared that as disgustingly filthy and bloodstained as Stain looked, he had a penchant for keeping his weapons clean. The knife had slipped between the protection of his mask and his collar, and had he been a little closer to the man or the knife had been just a little longer, he would have bled out right there and then after successfully immobilizing the villain. One day, the true terror he should have felt with each brush with death would overwhelm him and pull him under. Still, with how heavily and constantly he was disassociating, it was unlikely that he would contract any form of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Even though the Nomu was the USJ was the first person(or creature, with the number of Quirks it had, it was unlikely that the monster was a singular individual anymore), he had felt nothing but a rush of energy that had made him feel just the smallest bit alive again as blood dripped from his hands and the taste of blood set his nerves on fire. He would call himself insane, but that was something that he had accepted as part of himself ever since the day he had discovered a dog while he was wandering around in a forest in order to gain some experience with unpredictable landscapes(and test out how well Mei's radar worked. Spoiler: it didn't), its leg crushed in a bear trap(why did those still exist when wildlife was more likely to get killed rather than kill any wanderers?). Instead of doing the "right" thing and attempting to free the poor animal and take it to a veterinarian, he had gently cradled the dog's head in his hands, avoiding the teeth despite the fact that it was too weak to even bark as he had approached it. For the first time, his mind had been disconnected from his body, and he watched impassively as his hands tightened slightly before twisting as quickly as possible, snapping the dog's fragile spine in a single instant.
He had desperately run out of the forest after that, and when he had ended up back at his house, he had spent an hour trying to throw up in the toilet. Despite his disgust at his actions, his hands were steady and his stomach did little more than churn slightly as he thought about how the light of life he had seen trying to stay alive in the animal's eyes had been snuffed out by a single action. Midoriya knew that he was a monster. All Might's callous words might have been the final straw to break the child's spirit, but his slow descent into madness had been a long time coming. After what was technically his first kill, there was this clarity in his thoughts that hadn't been there before. An almost clinical detachment that reinforced itself as he got injured, thought processes solely focused on the actions he needed to take in order to succeed with little care for how his body screamed with exertion. Aunt Hatsume had helped to encourage it, seeing the advantages of the ability to disconnect from your emotions but also ensuring that he knew how to snap himself out of it. Pain only made him retreat further into his head, and the first few times he had tried to forcefully slip into what she had called "Battle Instinct", it had taken the older woman beating him into the ground over and over again until his body shut down despite his nigh endless banks of determination keeping him going in order to reconnect himself. It was a mixture of constant training and exploring his own mind whenever he ripped the cord that was his brain's direct link to his body(or accidentally, like when he had somehow managed to stumble into the midst of a gang war and paid the price almost immediately with a brick to the face) that had finally allowed him to wrangle the state of being under control. Technically, it was a sign that he was overclocking his brain, dialling his senses up to eleven and deliberately inducing the fight-or-flight response that gave him hysterical strength. At least, that was what the books on neuroscience he had read to figure out his new abilities said.
A therapist or psychologist would probably be able to explain it better. But Midoriya didn't trust a random adult to not call the police or the heroes if the boy they were attempting to understand confessed that he had essentially gained a knack for killing without feeling guilt or regret while maintaining a regular state of mind afterwards. He was practically a sociopath, except sociopaths were violent, refused to follow laws and were charismatic...he was starting to notice all the boxes on the "how to recognize a sociopath" checklist. However, unlike the clinically insane, he had managed to find a switch in his brain that could turn the tendencies that would result in his new attire being a straitjacket off and on if he needed them. He preferred to think that the only reason he refused to interact with his classmates more was because most of them were hypocrites that made him taste ash every time he thought about it rather than any natural antisocial personality traits. After all, he had managed to put up with Mei. And Hagakure. Why was it that the two people he could call friends without having to think about it were energetic balls of sunshine that he needed to watch over to prevent any forms of explosions from occurring? Was this karma or some sort of divine retribution for deciding to take the dark and winding road instead of staying on the straight and narrow? He chuckled to himself before burying his face back into his pillow, not in the mood to get up considering his muscles protested every time he breathed. If the divine really did exist, and he guessed that he would find out soon if he continued to wage war against the world, he had more than a couple of questions for whatever holy being resided in the heavens above. And most likely a punch to the face. Several punches actually. If he was going to get smited, he might as well get in a few good blows before he was tossed into internal damnation.
One in the afternoon, still in bed. His mother was still absent, and the suspicion that he had harboured about her finding somewhere else to live so that she didn't have to look at him and wonder what her son had become continued to fester and sink its teeth into the last remnants of his heart that still held affection for her. Midoriya's eyes strayed to where he knew the box of all his All Might merchandise lay hidden, with a lock that was more secure than all of those in the house and was Quirk-resistant. Of course, it would be easier to just smash the box, but that would cause the items inside to become damaged. An idle thought about two months after he had met All Might and removed all of the things around him that he had drawn comfort from had caused him to do some quick calculations with the help of the internet. It turned out that most of his collectibles had become vintage items over the years, and the total value of all he contained in that one box had a net worth that was counted in the millions. If he sold it to the right people, he could probably get close to seven million yen. It was technically his emergency fund. Even though the scrap metal business did well, it couldn't hurt to have some back up cash considering how freely he gave it to those that had nowhere else to go. A text notification, the fifth one in the last few minutes finally made him roll over and feebly paw for his phone. With some lazy swipes, he checked to see who had sent him the messages.
Two were from Mei, the first a report on what had happened with the Stain incident(including several videos about the media's reaction to his actions and how the police had attempted to cover up his and Todoroki's involvement in the takedown of the villain) while the second was about a minute's read of an angry rant that included but was not limited to her cursing his recklessness, cursing the heroes, worrying over the damage he had taken and complaints about how her babies would require maintenance again. He smiled affectionately, tapping out a quick message about how her inventions would need little more than polishing with all the work that she had put into them(the last thing he had done before deciding that it wasn't worth the pain or effort to do anything more than roll around in bed) and then a second thanking her for her help. He paused before sending the second, then added a simple "love you" at the end of it and sending the text. Switching over to the next, he noted with a wry grin that Yaoyorozu was thanking him for helping her make the right choice(it turned out that Kendo Itsuka from class 1-B had gone ahead with Uwabami despite his classmate switching over to Fatgum after his advice and was suffering the repercussions of her actions), with an image of her and the BMI hero flashing grins at the camera. He also noticed the older boy pinned between the Pro-Hero's arm and his body, looking like he wanted to be anywhere but there but still attempting to smile at the camera. Midoriya nearly snickered at the other individual, quickly replying to say that she would have made the same choice had she known that the Pro-Heroine she was going for was more concerned about commercials than hero work. The fourth was actually not a text, rather a message from the group chat Kayama-sensei and Yamada-sensei had added him to(and then they had "nicely" gotten Aizawa-sensei to join as well). It was mostly a way for him to relay to them whatever information he had gleaned from analysing their fights and suggested upgrades for their equipment, plus some knowledge Mei fed to him about the illegal activities in their respective patrol areas. She had told him, holding a wrench very threateningly, that he was not allowed to go and attempt to dismantle gangs solo. So as much as it would be practice for the future, he merely acted as an informant.
Still, despite the awkwardness and slight tension between himself and his homeroom teacher, the other two had more than enough combined chaotic energy to balance out the gloom that he and Aizawa-sensei carried around. Despite being the youngest of the four, he had somehow once again been delegated the team mom, constantly having to stop his teachers, of all people, that ideas were not good just because you thought of them and making sure that Aizawa-sensei had enough energy left to deal with class 1-A's shenanigans while surviving his friends'. It was a little odd, nonetheless, to speak with the adults responsible for his equation like they were equals(or that one occasion where he had borrowed a drone from Mei to deposit a care package for Yamada-sensei after he had decided that shouting in a frequency that was equivalent to using a dog whistle that had a range of close to half a kilometer and causing chaos was a good idea. His teacher thought that Midoriya had forgiven him. He obviously realized his error, probably due to the small army of robotic insects he had sent in the care package to torment the man), especially when he had to treat them with respect in class. It was hard to respect your homeroom teacher after breaking in with his friends to check if he was still alive, only to find him lying asleep on the floor in his obnoxious sleeping bag and three cats curled up on his body. It was harder to respect your English teacher when you had seen him trying to hold back his tears after a baby had taken one look at him, huffed and turned away with something akin to disdain. It was even harder to respect your Modern Art History teacher(much less keep a straight face in her class) when you had the unfortunate experience of carrying her home from a bar while she was completely wasted, ranting about how she "didn't need no man", before having to hold her hair back while she threw up and having to run away when she tried to seduce him(and when that didn't work, she had been ready to use her Quirk). He could feel Aizawa-sensei and Yamada-sensei laughing at him every time their gazes locked the next day, and desperately wanted to dig a hole in the ground to perish in when Kayama-sensei started stuttering every time she had to talk to him(which led to even more silent laughter from the only two who actually knew what was going on).
His homeroom teacher had texted to notify him that the police had managed to stop the news from covering his part in the Stain incident, but there was more than enough buzz on social media to make Midoriya Izuku a household name. He answered with a thumbs up, which got two amused responses and one that radiated disapproval. He quickly switched to the final notification when Iida Tensei got added to the chat, already anticipating the questions that would be thrown his way and his previously good mood plummeted. It was from the organization he had created just for that one single incident, but had somehow managed to evolve into something akin to a religious cult if he didn't constantly remind them that he was only human. He had created a network of eyes and ears, spreading the message that anyone who needed help would receive it free of charge, but all requests ran through both he and Mei to ensure that it wasn't a trap or something from a villain with bad intentions. He scanned it quickly even as he got to his feet, fatigue temporarily forgotten. Grabbing his mask from its place hanging on a hook on the wall, he pressed the button located on the inner right cheek of it before sliding it on. A text box immediately materialized in the air, and he spoke the password that he had set in order to start the modifications. Donning a plain hoodie with the camouflage technology also embedded into it, he cloaked even as his mask whirred and clicked as it transformed. He sent a reply before glancing in the mirror at the ominous visage floating in thin air before cloaking his face as well.
The mask of Deku was too obvious, but he still needed a disguise. So what better disguise could there be than a mask that could transform into another? This one was much simpler, but he had gone all out with the creep factor. It was black with three white diagonal slashes across the entire thing, a wide smile that was more of an animal revealing its teeth and two closed lines to represent eyes with twin trails of blood coming from each of them. The invisibility was good, but if he needed to reveal himself or his technology got shorted out, this would suffice as a disguise and an intimidation factor at the same time. Normally he wouldn't be the one diving into the action, but this was a serious case. Quirk Marriage. Just like Todoroki. The hero in question was one from the mid-fifties of the hero ranking system, "Aqua". Despite his admittedly simple name, his ability to control water was only limited because he could only use nearby water sources. Naturally, the way to fix that was obvious. Find someone with a Quirk that could produce water. Unfortunately for him, his first child couldn't handle the strain of manipulating more than a small sphere of water as big as a watermelon despite the fact that she could produce water from her hands. The mother wished for the organization to get her and her daughter out of the grasp of their abusive family member, considering the Public Safety Commission turned a blind eye to any complaints made. It had taken a week, but the man was finally out of the picture, off on a trip to another country to aid in disaster relief. He felt a faint trace of fury curdle in his gut. A shame that someone with such a versatile Quirk was blinded by greed.
He holstered two guns, strapped a knife to each limb and grabbed the reinforced baseball bat that Mei had fashioned for him. The preparations shouldn't be necessary, but it couldn't hurt to have some sort of protection in case things went wrong. He had put too much effort into this to have it go to waste, even stooping as low as to dip his toes into the underground community in order to arrange for the new identities the mother-and-daughter duo would need and their living accommodations. He should probably start making modifications to his network in order to ensure that he could do such things in the future without having to shake hands with potential villains and definitely criminals, but he was still unwilling to use the goodwill of those that he had helped in that way. He knew that they wouldn't protest. It was what made him hesitate. Pulling on a regular pair of gloves, he flexed his hands experimentally, checking the muscle strain. Nodding to himself, he stepped out of the house. It would suffice unless things went wrong.
Things went wrong.
As with most situations in his life, things decided to fall apart at the worst moment. If this kept happening, he might consider establishing something similar to Murphy's Law just as an explanation for how his plans collapsed whenever he needed them to succeed. Arriving at the house with "Dabi", or as Midoriya enjoyed calling him, Mr Crispy, as their getaway driver once everything was said and done was step number one. He tried to ignore how the older man was constantly commenting on the "edgy" mask that he was wearing. It was much easier than he thought, especially after reminding himself that the snarky comments were coming from a burn victim labelling himself with the name "Cremation" who claimed to not need his help but had quickly become one of his most loyal followers. He had gone inside to help the duo carry what little belongings they wished to take with them after ensuring that any forms of security systems inside the house were disabled. He tried his best not to give in to the urge of leaving any care packages for the bastard before he left. "Kidnapping" someone's wife and child was already bad enough. Setting fire to the house afterwards while its owner was still inside would be edging into the territory of deliberate murder in addition to arson.
Of course, getting in was the easy part. Getting out was when things went wrong. He had opened the door to check if the coast was clear, only to find a face from the past. Death Arms was locked in combat with Dabi, bursts of fire intermixed with the Pro-Hero throwing whatever he could get his hands on at his opponent. He blinked, sighing before closing the door. Telling them that this was going to take more time than he had expected, he ordered them to stay inside before exiting the house to see the Pro-Hero clothesline Dabi into a wall. Despite the brief flash of dark amusement that had flickered inside him, he drew his pistol and took aim. He breathed in slowly, before firing twice. Twin spurts of blood erupted from the man's legs, and he crumpled to the floor with a yell of pain. Not taking any chances, he dashed forward with the slightest hint of One for All to enhance his speed, pouncing onto the kneeling man before he could regain his bearings and trapping him in a chokehold. Rather than wait the seconds required for lack of air to make the man pass out, he tightened his grip to speed up the process and was rewarded with the adult going limp before his arm could even reach his assailant. Lowering Death Arms to the ground gently, he ensured that the Pro-Hero wasn't faking after smashing him in the back of the head twice with the butt of his pistol before going to check on Dabi. He was winded, body temperature just high enough to make him feel uncomfortable, but remarkably unscathed for someone who had been introduced to a wall just a minute ago. Helping the man into the car as fast as possible, he dashed back to the house and after a quick apology, whisked its occupants into the car as quickly as he dared, before returning to grab their belongings. By then, sirens had already begun to wail in the distance, so Midoriya made a decision. Transmitting the coordinates to Dabi, he ushered for them to leave, stating that he would buy some time and create a smokescreen.
As the car whizzed off, growing smaller with each second, he returned to the building, palming the incendiary grenade attached to his belt. With the use of a roll of thin bandages and some ingenuity, he rigged the explosive to go off when someone opened the front door and pulled the pin. Making sure that the bandages would just yank the pin rather than the entire grenade, he escaped by smashing through a window and used his mask to cheek the police scanners. Grimacing when he noted how the authorities were too close for comfort, he left a couple of care packages on the road before taking off. Scaling a nearby building(people always forget to look up), he barely reached the roof before a muffled explosion drew his attention back to where he had just been. A single police officer was running away as the house erupted into flames, smoke filling the air while the link he had to the police scanners told him about the frantic calls for a Pro-Hero or the fire department. He switched on the care packages, rewarded with several electromagnetic pulses shorting out all nearby devices and cutting off the first responders before they could call someone in order to put out the fire before it could consume the house. Watching it go up in flames was cathartic, especially when the roof caved in on itself and another muffled explosion indicated that the fire had found the gas line. Crossing his fingers and praying that nobody would be hurt, he cloaked and slipped away from the chaos. Midoriya could probably buy some more time by making his presence known and drawing the attention of the heroes in the area, but having the face of his organization broadcasted on live television was not something that he wanted to experience. After all, Midoriya "Deku" Izuku was already famous for the Sports Festival and the defeat of the Hero Killer. This persona needed to remain in the shadows in order to stop anyone from connecting the dots. A ping from Mr Crispy indicated that he had gotten to safety, hidden between complaints about his ribs and the fact that he hadn't been able to tag along and start a fire. Midoriya chuckled slightly, leaping from building to building before finding a fire escape he could scale back down to the ground.
It was a good thing that he had decided to pack firepower. Of course, live ammunition would have been too easy to track(although significantly harder because he was the one producing them in Mei's lab), so the real bullets were tucked away along with the guns that could use them underneath a false bottom of one of his desk drawers at home. Borrowing some ideas from movies and stories, he had planted a small explosive that would destroy all evidence in the event that someone brute-forced said drawer and discovered his weapons. Still, the modified railguns that Mei had built for the two of them packed similar, if not more power than regular firearms. Not exactly railguns considering how much energy would have to go into them(although someone with a suitable electricity Quirk would probably be enough of a battery), but they relied on the same concepts. "Bullets" were flung at high speeds with the help of electromagnetic currents, but he had elected to use just enough power to turn them into regular ammunition rather than cry over his electricity bill after accidentally erasing the target from existence. He fought down a shudder at how he could have turned Death Arms' legs into mush instead of shattering the bones in them if he had dialled up the output. He also had one that relied on compressed air, but that sidearm was more likely to explode if the container cracked during a scuffle and shot darts instead of normal ammunition. So far all he had stored in that one were tranquilizers of differing strengths based on the variety of people out there. Midoriya made a mental note to see if he could find Quirk suppresants. And alcohol. It would be handy to have something that just made your opponent weaker rather than put them to sleep. Moving through the back alleys, he told Dabi to send the mother-daughter duo his regards, hesitant to see them again after burning their house down. As per usual, he got a sarcastic quip. Midoriya smiled slightly despite the whispers in his head telling him that he was no better than a villain now.
If this was the cost of saving people, then so be it.
Naturally, exerting his body despite every fiber of his being telling him that it was a bad idea ended up confining him to his bed for the remaining hours of the day after checking to make sure no cameras had picked up traces of the runaways or him. The news helpfully reported that Death Arms was expected to make a full recovery soon, easing the heavy feeling in his gut at shooting a Pro-Hero more out of vindication than anything else, along with a report on the damage he had done. The fire had been put out, but Aqua had lost everything in one fell swoop. His wife, his child, and pretty much all of his property. The hero had declined any interviews, but a shaky recording on the internet showed him threatening to kill the person responsible for what had happened. Mei had called him in order to shout into his ear for two minutes about how reckless he was being and rattled off a list of orders to prevent his injuries from getting worse. It involved lots of bedrest, dousing his neck wound with plenty of alcohol in order to make sure it wouldn't get infected and a warning that he would have to test out all of her more experimental babies if he did something like that again despite being confined to his house. Having already faced that punishment once, he repressed the bad memories of that time, brushing away the phantom feeling of electricity coursing through his veins and the nervous twitch of a finger.
Still, when he woke up the next morning to bliss as his limbs no longer felt like he had been smashing them with a hammer, he had to admit that a break had been a long time coming. Nevertheless, he experimentally attempted a portion of his regular training routine to test how much he burned when exerted, before making himself an early lunch. He had gotten a message from Dabi about how the duo they had rescued yesterday were already beginning their new lives, accompanied with a video of the mother and daughter thanking him for all he had done. He fought a bitter smile, wondering if he could be considered a hero after torching someone's place and almost crippling a man. He poked the region on his chest where he knew his heart was located, wondering despite the illogical nature of it all if he would find a hollow cavity where a heart was supposed to be if he cut himself open. He sent a message back to thank Dabi for accompanying him and apologized for the man getting injured in the process. Midoriya laughed gently when his typical response to compliments was sent back as a response(snarky quip attempting to conceal the fact that he was pleased at the praise) before switching over to the group chat to see what had been going on in his absence.
Iida Tensei, "Ingenium", was a legacy hero that was more focused on recruiting capable heroes and even some reformed vigilantes in order to help keep Hosu safe rather than do everything on his own. Charismatic, smarter than the average hero and a simple Quirk that was made effective through training and experience. Not someone he would be willing to tangle with voluntarily, partly due to the fact that the man was related to one of his classmates, but would be relatively easy to take out or avoid with the right equipment. He mulled over the practicality of hunting down someone with a Quirk that could bend space so that he could carry a variety of equipment with him as a hero and as a vigilante. He currently had counters for most types of Quirks, but only just enough to give him a temporary edge in a fight. He was still confused over the reasoning behind Stain's attack on the Pro-Hero. With his addition into the chat, it reduced the average number of shared brain cells from about ten to seven, for the man had started off by sending as many memes as humanly possible intermixed with messages fawning over his younger brother. He grimaced after watching a video of Iida-san using his Quirk while still in his wheelchair(the Hero Killer had attempted to destroy his mobility, and the blood loss would have made it permanent had Midoriya not shown up in time) with Iida's familiar voice in the background yelling for his brother to desist at once. It ended with the man careening into a wall. He sighed, massaging the bridge of his nose, already anticipating the number of new incidents that he would need to stop in the future. The familiarity of the conversations exchanged between his teachers and this new addition to the group indicated that they were most likely friends as well. Shooting off a quick message about how the children would need to behave in his absence cause of his injuries(and delegating the position of group mom to Aizawa-sensei), he exited the application once again to avoid answering any questions. He breathed in and out gently, before using the arms of the chair to brace himself as he clambered to his feet. Grabbing a cap and a simple surgical mask, he slipped both articles of clothing on before tugging his hood on as well to conceal his hair. Strapping a knife underneath his sleeve, he tugged on the SnapDragons. A peek outside the door showed that there were at least three media vans waiting for a sign of him. His lips curled into a snarl, before he went into the bathroom and exited through the window there.
He walked around aimlessly, not knowing where else to go or what else to do. He would arrange a meeting with Toga tomorrow, but he just wanted to spend the rest of the day existing, rather than living. Keeping his head down in case anyone recognized his face, Midoriya took a leisurely stroll, stopping only when his feet hit the sand of Dagobah Beach. Looking up, he frowned at the sight of the trash bags that had begun to litter the line between the sand and the sea. Rolling up his sleeves, he began the long and agonizing process of heaving garbage away from the beach, muscle memory aiding him in his endeavours. He followed the familiar paths that he had once trekked daily back before One for All had been passed on to him, a simpler time really, carefully stacking the bags despite the dull thrum of rage in his bones telling him to pulverize them and leave their contents scattered across the pristine beach as a warning to those that would destroy what he had spent months to create. On his fifth or sixth trip, he noticed the old man watching his journey from a chair underneath what appeared to be a parasol. His mood lifted slightly at the amusing sight of someone who looked so frail using something that he had probably lifted to the beach himself, and he gave the old man a two fingered salute. Much to his surprise, the adult saluted back as he left, and when he came back to continue finishing the job, he found the old man lifting three bags at once. Despite knowing instinctively by the sure and stable footing of the other individual that he was either strong enough to lift what he was carrying or had a Quirk that helped him in some way or another, the first thing he did was to check on whether the man in his fifties could carry all the weight he had taken. His previous watcher waved away his concerns, asking only for Midoriya to lead the way. He grinned beneath the mask, rushing back to grab an additional two bags. Along the way, they talked.
The man introduced himself as Joseph. When he curiously asked for a last name, his conversation partner gave him a smile that spoke of some hidden joke, before stating that his name didn't matter anymore. Ignoring the sheer weirdness of it all, he continued to exchange pleasantries with the man, talking about everything from the weather to the recently concluded Sports Festival. The older man had drawn him into a brief debate about whether or not Quirks were a mistake on evolution's part, but they didn't manage to reach a common agreement even after the last of the trash was safely disposed of. Rather than continue their discussion, Mr Joseph clapped him on the shoulder before bidding him farewell. Before he turned to leave, however, the elderly man gave him a cryptic message about not wasting his life("A candle may burn longer than a torch, but both will go out one day.") and a smile. Midoriya briefly contemplated the notion that this odd old man was a sign that there was some divine being up there that had heard his screams and decided to give him some advice before squashing that idea beneath a mental boot. He hummed a tune, the lyrics of the song forgotten as he returned to the garbage dump to see if it had what he needed. He popped over to a hardware store to get a hammer, a shovel, more cement, some nails and a can of spray paint. Making sure that the wooden board and pole he had salvaged were firmly attached, he dug a small pit and filled it with the cement before sinking the makeshift sign into it and gave it a couple of smacks in order to make sure it stayed upright as the cement settled and hardened. He spent a couple of minutes testing out how to draw and write with the can of spray paint, enjoying the way the colours splashed across the sand before inscribing his sign with a warning. Pocketing the can after he had finished using it, Midoriya hesitated before adding a symbol to the back of the board. Satisfied with his work, he gave the item a few tugs to see if strong winds would uproot it before the base was complete, hammering it one last time with a small burst of One for All to ensure it stays upright. He capped the can, taking a photo of the sign as a reminder and leaving the beach.
"Anyone who tries to dirty the beach I cleaned up will have to answer to me~Midoriya Izuku"
On the back of the sign was as close as a Guy Fawkes mask that he could draw without any additional implements, enclosed in a circle. Scribbled across the whole thing was a single word.
FREEDOM
He returned to Dagobah Beach two days later, still mildly anemic from the amount of blood he had taken from himself. The previous day had been a relatively unsuccessful attempt to try and sort out Toga's problems, but a good step forward considering he had managed to persuade her that she would only feed on him and got a good look at the problems hiding beneath the surface. Against his better judgement, he had offered a place at his house if she ever needed somewhere safe, and even put her in contact with Dabi. The latter wasn't exactly something he regretted. Brief interactions with the fire user had demonstrated that the man was probably a runaway, considering the "big brother instinct" he had. Introducing the two would allow Toga to have another anchor in her life apart from the guy who had taken her apart in their first encounter and would hopefully get Dabi through some of his own issues. He had gotten several thinly veiled threats from the police and Endeavour's agency, along with requests for interviews with way too many media outlets. He made sure to block the numbers, although he spent a couple of hours screening the web to check which of the offers were genuine and not just attempts to get his words and twist them to make him look bad in front of the world. Returning to his house after an afternoon spent trying to teach Toga how to sort through her own brain left him with a bad mood for the rest of the day when there was graffiti on the front door. The word "freak" stood out amongst a host of other insults, and he mentally restrained the part of him that wanted to show these cowards what a freak really looked like.
Another trip to a store later, he had gotten several paintbrushes, buckets of paint and even a couple more cans of spray paint. It took only half an hour to put a fresh coat of paint over the insults, and he set a mental reminder to leave the house on permanent lockdown mode. It would unlock in the event that his mother returned home, but other than that, it would serve to prevent any further cases of property damage from occurring. A peek into his mother's bedroom and a swipe of his hand later, he was brushing off the coating of dust on his fingertips along with the sinking feeling that his only remaining parent wasn't coming back. The evening was spent binge watching old movies with a healthy amount of cup ramen and a pitcher of coffee, only interrupted by the clatter of something striking the reinforced window. Pulling up the camera feeds, he stood up and cracked his knuckles when it showed several teenagers flinging stones at his window. Opening the door, he caught a projectile with his hand before returning it to the sender, feeling a flash of vindictive glee as a cry of pain echoed through the night and the boys bolted away. He grabbed a few of the stones they had left behind on the road, taking time to score long range headshots with the help of One for All before clearing the rest. He glanced at the window to see that it was barely cracked, before returning to his movies.
He stared in a little bit of awe while walking up to his sign and laying a hand on it after crouching down. There was a small pile of gifts lying underneath it, ranging from a bouquet of flowers to envelopes weighed down by small stones. A familiar parasol was covering the entire thing, and the items were lying on a waterproof tarp. Brushing his hand against them almost reverently, he scrubbed away the tears forming in his eyes and opened up one of the envelopes. Inside was a simple thank you note. He delicately placed it back inside before setting down the envelope, getting to his feet and looking around. He walked the length of the beach, seeing similar signs peppered across the sand, with similar messages and different variations of the symbol he had drawn on a whim on them in a variety of colours. He brushed his hand against each and every one of them, stopping only when his fingers came away wet with paint. Looking around, he noticed the silhouette of a man fading into the distance, what appeared to be a can of spray paint in his grasp. His eyes stung with unshed tears, and he swiped at them before leaving Dagobah beach, conviction in his heart and fire burning in his veins.
It was his final rest day, and he made sure to actually take a break rather than lug garbage around or allow a slightly psychotic blonde to drink his blood and leave him feeling punch-drunk for the rest of the day. A can of spray paint was nestled in his pocket, tempting him to stop and use it as he walked through alleyways and patrolled for criminals. Still, perhaps he was lucky or maybe it was because the criminals that once laid claim to the places where heroes did not go recognized him and what he would do to them if he found them. Exiting the path he had taken, he paused in front of an abandoned building, a mural of Endeavour in bright colours splashed across one of the walls. People milled around behind him, going about their own days and taking their own paths as anger coiled in the base of his spine and crept up the back of his neck. The painter had clearly been a fan of the Number Two Hero, and despite the fact that he could respect other people's opinions, the broken pieces inside him still scraped against one another when he thought of leaving it be. Sighing at his own lack of self-preservation, he glanced around for any Pro-Heroes or members of the police before shorting out the cameras nearby. Bouncing on his feet, he went to work on the mural, adding darkness to the brightly lit portrait and twisting it from something that made Endeavour look good into something that made the man absolutely demonic. He added shadows, figures that screamed as fire licked at their bodies and twisted the scowl on his face into a cruel grin. All traces of self-restraint gone from his mind, he added a couple of horns to the head of the painted individual, before scrawling the word "FAKE" in large block letters across the entire thing. He didn't sign it, knowing that an outright display of hatred towards the Number Two Hero would only cause more problems for him. A small crowd had gathered by the time he finished, a multitude of teenagers snapping pictures and taking videos while others scowled at him, like their gazes would be able to cause him to drop dead right there and then. A smile hidden by his mask, he leaped the wall, slipping through a hole and dashing off, pocketing the can of spray paint as he did so. Vaulting over another half-destroyed wall on his way out, he ventured down another alleyway and used a shortcut to get to a more populated area before dropping his guard.
His heart pounded in his chest, hands aching for more as he took slow, measured steps in order to calm himself down. Relying on his own muscle memory to take him to wherever he was going, he wandered the inner workings of his thoughts as his feet continued to move forward. He was brought out of his contemplative daze when he bumped into a gate. Looking up, he repressed a snarl at seeing his old middle school. It had not changed since he had last been there. He stood, facing the looming building, the bad memories of this place looping over and over again inside his mind. A stray, sudden flare of green caught his attention and he hurriedly released One for All before it could continue building up power in his body. If he wasn't concerned with his image in the eyes of the public and how carefully he had crafted it, Midoriya expected that he would have already used his new Quirk to demolish the school, god forbid anyone attempt to stop him, even his own bones. He didn't know how long he stood there, just staring as his vision flickered between the school building before him and another one engulfed in flames and crumbling before his very eyes. He refocused when someone loudly asked what he was doing. Turning around, he felt his face twist into a cruel parody of a smile as he locked gazes with his old homeroom teacher. The insanity must have reached his eyes, because the adult took a step back before repeating his question once again. He removed his mask and whispered hello. His former homeroom teacher's eyes widened, his mouth forming words but none escaping it. They stayed like that for several seconds before the adult bolted under the gaze of a student he tried to beat into the ground. Midoriya smiled, pulling his mask back up and turning away.
There was work to be done.
The next day, he deliberately shows up almost late to class in order to escape any questions about the Hero Killer. Still, when Midoriya steps into the classroom and closes the door of 1-A behind him, everyone's eyes immediately dart towards his form. He silently dares them to get on his nerves as he takes his seat, snickering at how Bakugou's hair, for once, doesn't look like he had blasted it with explosions. He leans back in his chair, tugging at the bandages he had wrapped around his neck in order to cover his wound and those that had become a permanent addition to his wrists. His support equipment remains with his hero costume for now, and before anyone can work up the courage to ask him about the Hero Killer, the bell rings and Aizawa-sensei pops up from under his table like a demented jack-in-the-box. The older man's eyes linger on him briefly, something akin to concern flickering in them as they trace the bandaged portion of his neck before he starts class. Midoriya idly takes note, the majority of his processing power dedicated to figuring out how to avoid his classmates when there is free time for them to pelt him with questions.
Yamada-sensei whispers to check if he is alright after the Stain incident, and Midoriya is surprised enough to not have a scathing comment ready for the obviously concerned teacher. Instead, he settles for a smile that was more of a grimace, nodding as he feels the eyes of his classmates settle back on him. After Kayama-sensei's lesson is a break, and he prepares to escape as quickly as possible before she calls for him to stay behind. Releasing a quiet sigh of relief, he stays in his seat and shoots glares at the more curious members of his class attempting to linger in eavesdropping range. Aoyama is the only one left behind, but the flamboyant teenager is borderline narcissistic and obviously values his life considering he is focused on his food rather than on Midoriya. He gets a few questions from Kayama-sensei, and when he replies that he is fine for the fifth time, a trace of sadness enters her eyes. Instead of dropping the matter, however, his teacher steps forward to gently embrace him. He tenses up in her arms, before forcefully relaxing his body as she whispers that they were always there if he needed to talk about it. The constant showing of concern by his teachers throws him off guard, and he mutters a word of gratitude. They remain like that for a few moments, and he is once again reminded of how his mother used to do this whenever he came home from school with new bruises littering his body. He closes his eyes, and rests his forehead against Kayama-sensei's shoulder.
Just for once, he wants to be able to act like a regular teenager, with regular teenager problems. Not Deku, a crazed fighter making splashes and ensuring that he will never be forgotten, and those that have been forgotten will be remembered. Not a monster, lurking in the shadows and saving those that have been ignored by the system, prepared to stain his hands with blood. He doesn't want to be the one juggling two separate identities, fighting a war in the spotlight and in the darkness at the same time.
He just wants to be Midoriya Izuku. And for this brief moment of peace, he enjoys what it feels like to have no weight to his name, no blood on his hands.
He stretches as All Might announces how the rescue exercise will go, already mapping out possible paths as he does so. He is placed in the first group, and whispers of how Sero had the advantage makes him smile as his mask unfolds to cover his face. Gently, he floods his body with ten percent of One for All when fifteen makes his muscles protest. Crouching into a sprinter's starting position, the word "begin" has barely fallen from All Might's mouth when he takes off. Bouncing off pipes and metal railings in an imitation of how Gran Torino fought, he relishes the sensation of the DubSteps doing their work magnificently as he breezes by Sero grappling from object to object. His faceplate warns him of obstacles and continues to chart a course for him as he increases his speed even further, just barely clearing a hole in the pipe beneath him before using a wall as a springboard. Just for dramatic effect, he backflips before landing in front of All Might, resting a hand on the Pro-Hero to confirm his position in first place. It takes a few minutes before Sero arrives in second place, panting with exertion and exclaiming in surprise when he notices that Midoriya isn't even sweating. Resisting the urge to laugh, he gives a jaunty wave before going back through the course, passing by the remaining trio before skidding to a stop in front of the rest of class 1-A. Ignoring the murmuring, he slides his mask to the side of his face before poking at his neck wound, which was stinging slightly throughout his parkour. Internally, Midoriya grimaces. With his activities, injuries tended to take ages to fully heal, and he always ran the risk of injuring himself once more. Resolving to laze around at home like a couch potato, he sits down and pulls out a notebook, adding more details to his character profiles of his classmates as they go through the rescue exercise.
When the final person is done and All Might congratulates all the winners, he takes it as their cue to leave. Quickly undressing to check for any bruising, he changes back into proper attire before unwrapping his bandages. Redressing his injury after splashing more alcohol onto it, he makes to leave the locker room just before Kaminari announces his discovery of a peep hole. He stops briefly, before catching himself and opening the door to the locker just as the electricity user starts fawning over the chance to see things that Midoriya refused to say in his head or out loud. Two things happen as he lowers his eye to the hole in the wall despite Iida's repeated warnings.
One, an earjack shoots straight through it to jab him in the eye.
Two, a shoe smashes into his temple and he careens into the nearest wall as Midoriya winds down from his kick, the familiar stirrings of anger beginning to course through his veins. He cracks his knuckles menacingly, ignoring how everyone had fallen silent. Stepping forward, he lifts the blond by his collar and smiles before leaning forward to whisper about how Kaminari would experience how it was like to pick up your teeth from the floor after they were forcefully ejected from his mouth. The other teenager whines almost pitifully, trembling like a rabbit before a wolf. Disgusted, he drops his classmate before rapping on the wall and announcing loudly that he would make sure any peeping toms regretted their actions if he caught wind of them. He exited the locker room, making a mental note to keep an eye on the more pervertic member of class 1-A while repressing a shudder at the thought of that purple-haired lecher from the Entrance Examination.
A hysterical giggle almost escapes Jirou as the other girls ask her what happened. She replies almost absentmindedly, the phantom feeling of the reaper towering over her causing another shudder when she recalls the almost tangible rage that was emanating from Midoriya.
"Holy shit," she whispers almost reverently, "I think Midoriya just killed Kaminari."
And that's a wrap. Darn it, I took four days instead of three. Although it is technically two considering I didn't write on the first two days. What can I say? My inspiration comes and goes. I hope you all enjoyed the chapter. The next one will be the last before this enters my story cycle, so stay tuned for that. The end is in sight. Shattered!Midoriya's story is coming to its close. I hope you all continue to enjoy the ride.