Mina was being fucking stupid.

Every instinct in her body was telling her that she shouldn't be here, that she should have done what she always did when a hero fight broke out: sprinted in the other direction as quickly as she possibly could. And yet, here she was.

She'd been making her way back towards the Depths after a successful theft elsewhere in the level, hopping from roof to roof with the practiced ease of long years spent running and hiding, when she'd heard the sound of shattering glass and breaking rock and screams of terror. At first, Mina didn't think anything of it; those sounds were part of the backdrop of the Underground, a steady beat every resident was familiar with. And it was none of her business, whatever it was.

Mina decided to go to ground; whatever was going on, it would certainly attract heroes like flies to a corpse. It was best if she laid low for a bit, let them deal with the mess.

But the screams kept coming. Mina stuck her head out, off the roof of the building she was hiding on top of. She was just in time to watch a swaggering mutant with a scorpion tail stalk his way into an alley a ways down the road, on the opposite side from Mina's buildings. Judging by the blood trail leading into that alley, he was following somebody.

Deep down, Mina realized what was going on; someone was about to die. She didn't know who, and it wasn't like she was unfamiliar with death. People died every day in the Underground, and most of them didn't deserve it. Mina figured that it was just the way the world was.

But still, something was protesting inside Mina. Some spark she hadn't managed to quash yet screamed in defiance. Mina just frowned.

"I shouldn't get involved," Mina reminded herself, tamping down her desire to do just that. "Why do I care?"

Because no matter how hard this world had made her, Mina knew that whoever the victim was, they didn't deserve to die. Because Mina knew the story playing out in front of her like the back of her hand, and had no desire to see it again.

Because all the logic and reason and cold rationality in the world means nothing when time slows to a crawl and your heart screams " no."

In the back of her head, Mina recalled an old memory; a friend (and how few of those she had!) looking her dead in the eye and saying, "You were never meant to be cold, Mina. Your heart's too big for this place."

Mina stood up from her hiding place, eyes fixed on that alley. Another memory, this one so faded and distant it might as well have been a dream; sunlight. Blue skies. A life she'd destroyed a long time ago.

"Why now?" Mina wondered. "Why the hell do I remember these things now?"

There was no answer. Mina tried one last time to stop herself, to do the cold, logical, sensible thing, to turn and never look back. She'd done it so many times, it was like second nature to her now. But she couldn't.

Cursing her fucking soft heart that always seemed to get her into trouble, Mina got a running start, and leaped across the chasm of the road. She nearly plummeted nearly thirty feet to the stone below, but caught onto an overhanging pipe by the tips of her fingers; the ceilings in the middle levels of the Underground were covered in them, festooned with hanging wires and gushing pipes. Perfect handholds.

Using every bit of strength she had to maintain her momentum, Mina completed one, two, three full loops around the pipe, building speed even as she was forced to pass through the narrow gap between the pipe and the ceiling; she barely even noticed the mere inches between the soles of her boots and the jagged stone above. She flung herself forwards, the speed and momentum her maneuver had granted her proving to be just enough to let her land on the opposite roof, tucking into a roll.

Knowing she had no time to waste, Mina leaped from the roof, letting acid soak through her boots and gloves to eat handholds into the stone as she hopped from wall to wall of the narrow alley. At last, she landed, her cloak slamming down around her, turning her outline into a formless shadow, like something out of a nightmare.

Maybe that fit her perfectly.

Mina didn't block the exit to the alley; she knew better than anyone else how having no way out made you fight twice as hard, filled with desperate strength. She wanted to give this a chance to end peacefully. She knew it was unlikely to happen…but she wasn't gonna put herself in danger if she didn't have to.

The scene came into better focus as she stood, fading into the dark rock, half shadow and half monster. One man, pinning another to a wall. The victim was barely conscious, covered in so much blood she couldn't make out their features.

But the other man, the one about to take another human life, was like her; mutated, warped, twisted. That was what the abovegrounders said, anyway. That because the man had pincers and a tail and the head of a scorpion, he wasn't really a man. After all the things she'd seen men like this do to each other, Mina almost believed it.

She knew what she was. Knew what her quirk made her. But she still raised her head to meet the man's beady, pure-black eyes.

"Get away from him, friend," Mina said, her voice easy and soft. It was a suggestion, but one backed by steel. Any resident of the Depths would have recognized that tone for what it was; a warning bell, a soft, simple threat, made by someone utterly confident that they had the upper hand. A last opportunity to leave unharmed.

The man was unmoved. "Who the hell are you?" he demanded. His pincer remained around his victim's neck.

Once again, Mina found herself wondering why she was bothering with getting involved. Scenes like this happened every day; who cared if she saved a single soul from bleeding out in a back alley? It was none of her business; she got nothing out of it.

And yet, Mina held her ground. She replied to the man, "Nobody important. Just get away from him."

The man scowled, mouthparts rubbing and humming dangerously. "What, you some kind of hero or something?" he demanded suspiciously, gesturing at the cloak that covered her whole body, the mask that hid everything except her eyes.

The thought was so ludicrous, so nonsensical, that Mina barked out a short, sharp laugh. The man stood stock-still as Mina rested one hand on the wall, shaking her head vigorously. "Hell no," Mina said, packing years of venom into two simple words. "I'm no hero. Not even close."

The man held her gaze for a long, quiet moment. At last, he asked, "Then why do you care, friend? Move on."

Friend. In all the world, there were two people Mina had ever allowed to call her that. And they weren't here…not anymore. Maybe they would have been, once. But long years in the Depths had Mina moving on, ignoring the wave of hollowness that threatened to sweep over her.

Eyes forward. Don't look back.

"I can't, friend," Mina answered, teeth bared under her mask.

The man still didn't move. Quietly, he said, "You're like me, aren't you?"

Mina froze in place, eyes wide.

Slowly, surely, the mutant turned to look at Mina. He continued, "I'd recognize the cloak and mask approach anywhere. I used to do it myself. I wonder what you look like under there."

Mina gritted her teeth. "Just leave that man alone," she replied. "I don't want to hurt you."

She knew it wasn't likely to work; men like this were not easily scared. They were too used to strength, too used to being the deadliest thing they knew. Odds were, she would have to fight. And down here, that meant she would have to go for the throat, because anything else would risk her being the one who died, not the victim she'd tried to save.

It was the simple law of the Underground: Run if you can. Fight if you have to. And if you fight… win. At all costs.

The man laughed. "Sorry, but I can't do that," he told her. "He needs to die."

"Nobody needs to die," Mina answered. Her hands clenched into fists, acid pooling in her palms, gloves opening.

She hoped, at least. She couldn't promise she wasn't just trading one life for another. For all that she was, she wasn't a wanton killer. Her quirk, though…it wasn't clean, or pretty. And she would have to end the fight quick, unless she wanted the heroes to catch her, too.

The scorpion man shook his head. "You're a monster like me," he replied. "You know it's in our nature."

Mina took long, slow breaths. Did she really have to get involved? Was this worth it to her? What was it to her if some random man died today?

Finally, Mina made her decision.

"You're right," she agreed.

And then, as the man opened his mouth to reply, Mina struck. Acid flew from her palm, crashing in a wave into his many beady eyes. Compared to what she could cook up, it was weak, but the inhuman, bloodcurdling scream that erupted from the man's mouth was a testament to the agony he was currently experiencing.

Without missing a beat, Mina charged, just as the man released his grip on his victim's neck, staggering backwards towards the other wall of the alley, his claws pressing against the smoldering wrecks of his eyes. His tail jabbed out randomly, flailing in desperation. Her hands coated in a layer of acid strong enough to melt human flesh to nothing, Mina simply grabbed the tail, just behind the bulbous stinger. There was a sound like a juicy steak on a barbecue, accompanied by a scream of pure pain, raw, visceral agony ripped straight from her fellow mutant's lungs as the venom sacs on the end of his tail dropped to the ground, melted off of the appendage in mere seconds.

Mina hated this. She hated her quirk, all of it. She hated what it had done to her, turning her into a monster that all the world hated and feared. But more than that…she hated that they were right to fear it. She hated what she could do to other people, how much she could hurt them if she wanted to.

But regrets were a luxury she couldn't afford, so she grabbed the man's head, feeling carapace and flesh sizzle and hiss beneath her palms, and she didn't let go. She grit her teeth as the much larger, stronger man beneath her thrashed and screamed as his flesh melted, as his body burned. His claws lashed out at Mina, but the man's strength had deserted him; they felt like shoves, not hammerblows. And finally, he stopped moving. Not dead-she hadn't held on nearly long enough to do that-but knocked unconscious by the pain.

Panting from the adrenaline and the energy cost of such explosive motion, Mina slowly drew herself up, the only one standing in an alley of blood and pain.

"You're right," she repeated to the unconscious man on the ground. "I am a monster. Just like you."

With that, she turned to check on the victim, hoping that he hadn't expired from blood loss or something. She opened her mouth to speak as she leaned over them, jostling them by the shoulder to see if they were responsive. There was nothing…and that was a lot of blood. Maybe she could get someone's attention, let them call the police-

Mina's thoughts came to a screeching halt as she saw the iconic mop of green hair. The freckles, the imposing, muscular body…he was heaped on the ground, barely moving save for the rise and fall of his chest, yes, but even she knew who this was, and she lived in a cave, and hadn't seen a television or computer in years. As she watched, the man's green eyes, which had widened in recognition, finally slipped closed, his body lapsing into unconsciousness at last.

Mina's eyes went wide, and she stumbled away from the limp figure of the Number One Hero. Her back pressed against the far wall.

"Are you serious?" she breathed, still in disbelief. "This is just my fucking luck, huh?"

Of all the days she'd chosen to intervene, to listen to the voice in her head that screamed every time she hardened her heart…it had to be today. Of all the people she could have chosen to save, she had to choose Atlas. The man who arrested more mutants a year than anyone else. The man all the criminals in the Underground loathed and feared, who was considered a boogeyman by the worst of the worst. The man whose name was practically a curse in the Depths.

Mina forced herself to stay calm. Atlas was unconscious; maybe he hadn't seen her. Maybe she could get out of this without ending up on his radar. After all, she was a thief, a criminal…and a mutant to boot. Her best chance of survival had always been avoiding the notice of heroes.

And now, she'd come face-to-face with the most powerful hero around.

"Okay," Mina thought to herself, taking deep breaths. "Maybe if you leave quickly, nobody will see you, and you can avoid-"

"Izuku, you okay?" asked a new voice; deep and male, filled with concern and worry. Mina's eyes went wide all over again as her head shot up, swiveling towards the entrance to the alley.

A man almost as tall and bulky as the Number One Hero stood there, his body crystallized and jagged, hair in a flamboyant, bright red spike above his head. That and his sharp, sharklike teeth made him instantly recognizable as Red Riot.

Mina knew, immediately, that she was screwed. Red Riot's eyes took in the scene with the hardened, experienced look of a seasoned hero; the unconscious, badly wounded mutant on the ground, and Mina, so heavily cloaked she could have been anyone.

To Mina's surprise, Red Riot didn't instantly attack. Instead, his eyes landed squarely on her, and he asked firmly, "What happened here?"

Mina didn't dare tell the truth; she knew damn well that saving Atlas's life meant jack shit. She was a criminal and a mutant; she'd be thrown in jail faster than she could blink. Heroes, and the law, wouldn't give a shit about the good she'd done-they'd only see the bad. Mina knew that from experience.

Instead, she slowly began to back away. Red Riot's eyes grew harder.

"Look," he said in his rough, sturdy, yet genuine-sounding voice. "I don't wanna hurt you."

Mina couldn't help the soft snort that escaped her lungs. "Funny, everyone always says that," she mused as she frantically searched for an escape route. "They never mean it."

Red Riot walked further forwards; he blocked the alley entirely, trapping Mina in. She could feel panic rising in her chest.

The red-haired hero began, "Just tell me where Atlas is- holy fuck!"

Red Riot stopped bothering with Mina as he finally saw the other hero, who had been hidden in shadow. He raced to Atlas's side, muttering, "Come on, buddy, get up."
When Atlas didn't respond, Red Riot pulled out a phone with shaking hands; Mina felt rooted to the spot as she watched. Her legs wouldn't obey her.

Red Riot didn't even wait for the operator on the other end of whatever line he'd called to finish before he snapped, "We've got a hero down on Level Four! I need medics here, now!"

Mina heard the tremble in Red Riot's voice, and something in her heart ached. She wondered if they knew each other; Red Riot seemed too messed up for just finding a colleague badly injured.

"Even heroes are human, I guess," Mina thought. The idea was…confusing. Mina was so used to seeing heroes as faceless monsters who hurt people like her, the sight of something like this felt impossible.

Red Riot turned, and Mina panicked. Without saying a word, she bolted, knowing that staying would only get her caught. She couldn't be caught. She hadn't spent years hiding and running and surviving to give it all up now. Behind her, she heard the hero shout, "Hey, where the hell are you going?"

Red Riot reached out to grab her, his hand closing on her cloak. Mina's desperation grew stronger; she was in full fight-or-flight mode now, instinct taking over. Red Riot's sharp, clawlike hands tore into the rough fabric, and Mina reacted without thinking. Acid coating her hand, she swiped at the hero, making him yelp as burning liquid splashed across him. It didn't cause any damage, not through layers of unbreakable hardening, but it definitely stung, and that was enough to make Red Riot yank his arm away.

Mina heard a tearing sound as part of her cloak ripped off, trapped in Red Riot's clenched fist. She didn't even care; she was free. Before she even knew it, she had bolted from the alley, sprinting at top speed as far away as she could possibly get. Mina didn't see Red Riot start after her, only to stop and focus on keeping his friend alive. She didn't see him clutch the brown fabric of her cloak, his eyes hard and determined. She didn't even think again until she had disappeared into the depths, curling up in her tiny cave and waiting desperately for her heart to stop pounding.

She had to wait a very long time.

Izuku woke up again to gentle golden light and the too-clean smell of antiseptic and a rough, heavy voice telling him, "You're a fucking idiot."

With a groan, Izuku's eyes opened fully, registering the familiar sight of Ejiro's face watching over him. Even though his head was pounding with a fierce headache, Izuku still recognized the look of concern and worry on his best friend's face, mixed with righteous anger and resignation.
Well, that meant Izuku was alive, which was both unexpected and extremely welcome.

As soon as he'd run through a mental checklist of himself, confirming that all of his body parts were in their correct places and didn't hurt too much, Izuku replied, "You say that like it's supposed to be news to me."

Despite himself, Ejiro snorted. "I sure hope you know you're an idiot," he said. "Otherwise, I'd be worried about brain damage in addition to…let's see…oh, multiple broken bones, significant blood loss, a concussion-"

"So all in a day's work, then-" Izuku joked, both of them intimately familiar with his frequent hospital visits, a trend dating back to UA.

Ejiro just glared at him, raising his voice as he finished, "And three times the usual lethal dose of whatever venom that bastard got you with."

Izuku flinched at that, not out of pain, but out of fear. He'd lost, and to a two-bit punk with a scorpion tail at that. How the hell had he managed that?

Simple mistakes, tactical errors, clouded judgement…and plain bad luck. It happened all the time, and Izuku knew just how lucky he was; it only took one fuck-up to kill or cripple most heroes, even the best of the best. One For All couldn't protect him from his own stupidity.

Weakly, Izuku joked, "Well, it's a good thing I'm four times the man you are."

His best friend snorted humorlessly. "Lucky bastard. If One For All didn't strengthen your body's response to toxins, too, you'd be fucked and we both know it," he responded.

Izuku fell quiet again, not because of the casual mention of his inherited quirk-Ejiro had known about One For All nearly as long as Izuku had had it-but because his best friend was right. Even though the hospital had clearly brought the big guns to bear on him, judging by how nearly all his injuries had already healed, he had One For All to thank for letting him live long enough to just get here. That left him with an uneasy feeling in his stomach…or was that the nausea of his concussion?

Ejiro sighed as Izuku made to get up, shoving the green-haired man back into bed with the ease of someone who knew exactly what Izuku did every time he ended up in the hospital. Namely, acting way too casual about the whole thing, trying to walk it off, and pretending like it never happened.

"Oh no you don't," Ejiro told him bluntly. "You're staying here."

Izuku protested, "Come on, I'm fine! Nothing even hurts anymore!"

"That's because you have the pain tolerance of an enraged bull on meth," Ejiro replied. "You're staying in this bed until someone much smarter than you says you can leave."

Izuku rolled his eyes, but stopped trying to rise. In the silence that followed, he finally noticed the bags under Ejiro's eyes, and the worry lines still creasing his face.

His mouth suddenly dry, Izuku asked, "How long was I out?"

"About a day and a half," Ejiro answered. "I…honestly expected you to be out longer. When I found you in that alley, you looked…"

His voice trailed away, and neither man needed the next word said out loud.

Izuku hung his head. Softly, he said, "I'm sorry. I fucked up, and scared you because of it."

Ejiro shrugged. "Being friends with you means accepting the times when you're in danger," he replied. "That goes the same the other way around. I'm not gonna be a hypocrite about it. You'd be there for me if the situation was reversed."

Izuku nodded. It was nothing more than a declaration of fact; he and Ejiro had done just that too many times to count. It wasn't a boast or a brag, it was the truth.

"That being said," Ejiro continued, "You're still a fucking moron for charging in alone, and I'm gonna make sure you know that. You don't gotta fight alone all the time, Izuku."

A dozen tactical protests, ranging from Ejiro being drunk to someone needing to assist the evacuating civilians, rose to Izuku's lips; not one of them escaped once he saw the look on his best friend's face. And anyway…Izuku knew Ejiro was right. It was a bad habit of his, a serious risk he took every time he entered the Underground; fighting alone as a hero was a good way to end up dead. Having people to watch your back saved your life more often than not. Just because Izuku was the new Symbol of Peace didn't mean he was immortal.

After all, All Might wasn't immortal, either.

Seeing Izuku absorb his words without protest, Ejiro smiled, clapping him on the shoulder. "Now then," he said, his tone still grim. "We do need to go over the events of the fight, for reports and all that. What do you remember?"

The tightness in his voice made Izuku suspicious. "What did you see, when you…found me?" he asked.

Ejiro held his gaze for a moment, seeming to weigh the need for answers against…something. Eventually, he sighed and admitted, "Not that much. When I got everyone to safety and came back to help, I found you on the ground in the alley, unconscious."

A thought struck Izuku, and a pang of worry tore through him. "What about the villain I was fighting?" he asked quickly.

Ejiro's expression was somewhere between a mystified shrug and a scowl. "He was unconscious too," he replied. "He's in custody now. Refuses to talk about what happened, why he attacked you, or even give his own name."

Izuku's confusion was echoed in his best friend's gaze. "What…happened to him?" Izuku wondered.

Ejiro shrugged. "I was hoping you could tell me," he admitted. "When I showed up, there was someone else in the alley. They were wearing a cloak and a mask, so I don't know what they looked like. I thought they might have been an accomplice."

Izuku frowned in thought. "I don't remember any accomplice," he said. Then, his eyes widened as memories flowed back to him. "Actually…I think whoever that was saved my life."

"What do you mean?" Ejiro asked. Izuku relayed everything he recalled, from the villain's final threat, to the sudden, out-of-focus scuffle that had freed him…to the last thing he remembered, those shining golden eyes staring down into his as he slipped away.

Ejiro stroked his short beard thoughtfully. "Whoever it was seemed awfully scared of me," he mused aloud. "They didn't speak, and what little I could see of their body language seemed terrified. Maybe that's why they ran away before I could stop them."

Izuku blinked. "They ran away?" he repeated, some part of him stinging painfully in response.

Ejiro nodded. "That's why I was hoping you had a description," he admitted. "Right now, all we have to go on is "medium height, wears a cloak."

Izuku snorted a little at the lackluster image, but was quickly struck by another concerned thought. "Wait, why are we looking for them, anyway?" he asked. "I hope you aren't gonna arrest the person who saved my life!"

"We don't know they intended to save your life," Ejiro pointed out. "And even if they did, we don't know why. It could have been a brawl between accomplices as easily as it could be you getting saved by a timid bystander. But aside from all that detective shit…"

Ejiro let out a long breath, and Izuku saw the shining relief there, mixed with new fire. Ejiro continued, "Whoever they are, they did save my best friend's life. I'd like to be able to thank them in person, if I can. And I'm sure you'd like to meet your savior, too."

Izuku nodded in agreement. He certainly would.

Ejiro grinned. "In that case," he said, reaching into a pocket, "it's a good thing I was able to get this."

With a flourish, Ejiro pulled out a piece of ragged, dark cloth. Not high-quality, but strong and durable enough, with clear signs of wear and tear and heavy use over a long period of time.

Seeing Izuku's confusion, Ejiro explained, "I tried to grab whoever it was as they ran away. They got loose, but I managed to rip off a piece of their cloak."

Izuku's eyes widened. He began, "That means…"

Ejiro nodded. "We can analyze it," he agreed. "See if we can't figure out where the fabric comes from, where it's been over the years. That kind of stuff could lead us to our target. If there's hair on it, we get DNA. And even if none of that stuff works…it's got their scent."

Izuku finally saw where Ejiro was going with this, and his smile widened, filling with eagerness.

"Nice work, buddy," he said, impressed and suddenly hopeful. Maybe he would get a chance to find his mysterious savior after all. Izuku didn't know what to make of his burning desire to do just that, in all honesty. Some combination of wanting to ask why they'd saved him, and the desire to see those golden eyes again, maybe. Whatever quirk they had, it must be fascinating.

Ejiro saw the look on Izuku's face, and even though his own grin was equally eager, he said warningly, "We can contact Bloodhound once you get out of this hospital, but there is one other thing you should know."

Izuku nodded, indicating Ejiro should continue.

The redheaded man did just that, finishing, "That villain who attacked you…when we found him, his eyes and face were covered in chemical burns. Bad ones. The doctors said they aren't sure if they'll be permanently disfiguring or not. Whoever saved you…their quirk is strong. And it seems like they aren't afraid to use it to hurt people."

Somehow, that did little to weaken Izuku's eagerness to find them. He wasn't sure why.

Whatever the reason, Ejiro returned the scrap of cloth, sealed in an airtight plastic bag, to the pocket he'd stored it in. His grin shifted again, filling with mischief, and Izuku felt a sudden and profound dread.

"Now that that's out of the way, we can let some of the other people waiting outside see you," Ejiro said evilly, making it clear just how he was going to get his revenge on Izuku for scaring him so badly. "So, I'm going to leave so that some doctors can yell at you. After that, our PR guy's gonna come in here and bitch-slap you with some paperwork. And after that… well, the Number One Hero's been out of contact for nearly two days! The media can't have that! So I've taken the liberty of scheduling you some interviews."

Izuku groaned. He hated interviews. The idea of interacting with reporters honestly wasn't the reason. No, Izuku was just really fucking bad at giving interviews that didn't descend into panicked rambling or constant muttering. Apparently, most people found that endearing. So they kept coming back to do it again. And again.

Izuku wasn't about to complain about succeeding in his goal of becoming the heir to All Might…but interviews were the closest thing to a part of the job he hated.

Ejiro smirked viciously as he bowed out of the room, leaving Izuku alone with the whirring of machines and the soft golden light streaming in through his window.
With effort, Izuku hauled himself out of bed, thankful that most of his injuries had already healed; he mostly just felt tired and a little disoriented, and that was clearing up pretty quickly. Izuku made his way to the window, which had a perfect view of a magnificent sunset, all pinks and oranges and purples splitting the sky, bouncing off deep dark clouds.

It made Izuku squint a little; seeing the sun again after any amount of time in the Underground, where light was blue and green and soft yellow and, in emergencies, blood red, always left you squinting and struggling to adjust. And Izuku lived aboveground, though he spent most of his waking hours belowground, where the vast majority of crime happened. He couldn't help but wonder what would happen if someone who'd spent their whole life in the tunnels and galleries beneath Musutafu were to suddenly emerge into the sunlight. Would they find it overwhelming, burning, far too bright for their eyes? Would they treat it as a world not meant for them? Would they find it as alien and hostile as Izuku sometimes found the very deepest parts of the Underground?

The thought unnerved and intrigued Izuku in equal measure, but before he could think on it any more, the door creaked open behind him.

Sighing, Izuku turned to face the resumption of his life; it may have been a miracle that he was here to watch another sunset, but he was here all the same. And so life never stopped.

Even if a pair of haunting golden eyes remained in the back of his mind, no matter how hard he tried to set them aside.