Izuku is 13 when he meets the first man he's ever felt true, murderous rage for. His name is Chisaki Kai, and the little girl he's tugging around behind him like a dog is somewhere around four years old and far too thin to be anywhere near healthy. The feeling that ignites in his chest is surprising, and overwhelming, and somehow not as disgusting as he thought it'd be. He sees Chisaki Kai and understands, just a little bit, why some people turn sour.
He reports it to the police, and they tell him that they'll 'look into it.'
He tells a sidekick from the local hero agency, and they say that the police will be fine without their help.
He sees the man around more times than he can count, so obviously whatever the police are doing isn't working.
So he decides something very important.
If the police can't do anything, then a Hero has to. But when the Heroes can't do anything, won't do anything?
Something has to change.
So he goes online and finds an article. An article about something called 'Vigilantism'.
He remembers Kacchan talking about vigilantes once. He remembers disliking the idea. He remembers filing the idea away for later.
And he weighs his choices. He could break the law, kill Chisaki Kai, and save the white-haired, wide-eyed little girl. Or he could save his dream of becoming the first quirkless pro hero, leave it to the police, and trust that everything will be okay.
His choice is obvious, really. He starts planning a rescue.
-
It takes six months to plan, and it is underwhelmingly, disappointingly easy to kill Chisaki Kai, alias Overhaul, leader of the Shie Hassaikai. Underwhelmingly easy to break in at two am, slip into his room, and drive a stiletto knife through his eye. Same with Kurono Hari, alias Chronostasis, keeper and main caretaker of the girl.
It's easier still to work through the rooms, into the facility, under the facility, through the doctors who haven't spent the last seven months training their bodies, and to the door of her room.
It's… hard to open the door. He doesn't want to scare her, doesn't want to open the door and see her afraid of him. She shouldn't be afraid of him, but she will be and he doesn't know if he can take someone as young as her, as innocent as her, looking at him with fear in her eyes.
It's hard to open the door. He does it anyways.
Inside, she is sitting up, looking at the door in terror. Looking at him in terror, and he pulls the black surgical mask he's wearing down under his chin. He slowly, ever so slowly, sits down just outside the doorway, criss-cross applesauce. He looks up at her.
"Hi," he says. Quietly, because he will never raise his voice at her. "My name is Izuku. I'm here to rescue you."
Her eyes keep the fear, but there's a touch of curiosity now.
"I came here just for you," he continues, "and I made sure everybody stays quiet while we go. You don't have to worry about anything, I'll make sure we get out of here real quick." He shifts the bag on his side to a more comfortable position, and looks around the barren room. "Do you have anything here you want to keep?"
She shakes her head, just the tiniest bit, but it's an answer.
"Okay." He smiles gently, standing up slowly. "That's fine. I have to get some things from the lab. Do you want to come with me or stay here until I get back?" Because he will come back, if he needs to.
Her indecision is palpable. She doesn't want to go the the lab, that's obvious, but she doesn't want to risk him leaving and not coming back. He'll wait until she has an answer.
She gets out of her bed, and it seems she has decided.
She's barefoot, and her legs have bandages on them. Same with her arms, and the horn on her head has grown bigger since the last time he saw her. Something to do with her quirk, then. She walks over to him slowly, and flinches when he stretches his hand out. She doesn't look at him when she puts her hand in his, and she's silent still when he leads her down the only path he left un-bloodied.
The lab is full of strange, useful machines. Strange, useful data that he uploads to a thumbdrive. Strange, useful vials of a clear liquid that won't go bad, thanks to the quirk of one of the yakuza that allowed anything she touched to keep indefinitely. So says the report on the box, at least. Strange, useful things that go into his duffle bag, filling it up to the point that he knows if he hadn't spent the last while working on muscle conditioning, he wouldn't be able to carry it.
She is silent the entire time. She doesn't look at him, she doesn't talk to him, and she shivers when he sets her on a table so he can move around and keep her in his line of sight.
She seems surprised when he lifts her off the table and onto his hip, her arms automatically curling around his neck. He's not sure if she's surprised because he didn't hurt her or because she's never been held before. Neither would surprise him, but it's still disheartening. It still makes him sad.
Which alerts him to the fact that throughout this entire process, he hasn't felt a damn thing other than affection, worry, and sadness. He's felt nothing for the scores of people upstairs, lying in their beds or on the floors, bleeding from bullet wounds and slit throats. No anxiety, no fear, no panic. Just disdain and a muted sense of justice.
Oh well. He'll psychoanalyze himself later, when she's safe in a bed that isn't underground, in a yakuza torture compound.
He carries her all the way out of the basement, up through the halls, and stops in front of Chisaki Kai's room.
"This is his room. Do you want to see him before you go?"
The little girl lifts her head up from his shoulder and looks to the door. She turns her back to face him and shakes her head, eyes down.
"Okay," he says easily. "We'll go now, then." He starts to make his way to his entrance point. "We're going to go to my house." He slips out of the window, keeping hold of her and the bag. "I have some money saved up to buy you a bed, get you some clothes, whatever you want." They're out of the complex now, and his surgical mask back up. He shifts a bit and pulls out a black beanie, then hands it to her.
Softly, gently, he gathers up her hair and piles it on top of her head.
"Here, pull it over your hair. We don't want people seeing you right now." He smiles, even though she's not looking at him. "It's a shame we have to cover up your pretty hair, though."
He walks them to the train station. The duffel bag is digging into his shoulder, with all its damning evidence, and it's not too heavy, but it's definitely not ideal.
"Rest your head on my shoulder, it'll take a bit to get home." His eyes rove her face, and he sees exhaustion and traces of fear written all over her. "It's safe to sleep. I'll keep you safe, I promise."
She sets her head down too easily. She probably won't fall asleep until she's made sure he's not going to hurt her, and he accepts that. He just wants to get her home and tucked in.
He steps onto the train and it pulls away from the station.