Two days later, Izuku and his best friend were on patrol again. They didn't bring sidekicks along this time; this project was a little more personal. Besides, the fewer people who knew just how close Izuku had come to dying, the better.

As they reached the arranged meeting point, a stubby little building with a flat roof on the second level of the Underground, Izuku felt himself getting lost in his thoughts. Near-death experiences had a habit of doing that.

The media had mostly brushed off his brief absence; almost nobody bothered to look deeper than the interviews Izuku had given once he was out of his hospital bed. Izuku had developed the kind of trust that All Might had once had among the public-if he said something was true, it was more or less taken for granted. Odd, that. You would think they would have learned that even All Might was as flawed as any man after the war with the League, but no, they'd fallen right back into their old habits as soon as his successor had come along.

Izuku pushed away thoughts of his mentor as he and Ejiro were joined on the rooftop by a third figure, who clambered up onto the top with the same lanky ease one might find in a spider. They were clad in dark, muted colors, with tight clothing clearly meant to allow for ease of movement rather than displaying a physique. A heavy mask with breathing apparatus and beetle-like green eyes hid their face.

"Hope I didn't keep you boys waiting too long," the figure said, in a voice made slightly raspy by the mask. The rasp made it difficult to tell age or gender, though Izuku knew the face behind the mask was middle-aged and female. He was one of just a few who did.

"Bloodhound," he said respectfully. "Good to see you again."

Bloodhound replied dryly, "I get the feeling it isn't. The Number One Hero needing help isn't exactly a common occurrence."

Izuku and Ejiro shared a look as Bloodhound sat down on one of the protruding lumps of rock on the rough-carved roof. She was an underground hero-literally. The term, and the style of heroics, had both been invented down here, hence the name. Eschewing fame and renown had started out as less of a bold philosophical statement among the early heroes of the Underground, and more of a necessity-villains here loved targeting both the heroes themselves, and family members if they could reach them. As many of the underground heroes were natives of the district, those family members were uniquely vulnerable. So even before the official founding of the district, the unique approach to heroism had formed-even Craton himself hid his identity behind a mask. Even now, seventy years after the death of the man who had created the district, his real name was known only by the keepers of high-level government secrets.

Bloodhound was one of the old guard of these heroes, a silent presence who preferred hidden, invisible takedowns and arrests to flashy battles in the streets. Hence the mask, and the dark costume that had few, if any, distinguishing characteristics, both trends that had fallen out of style aboveground. Bloodhound had a reputation for being professional, intelligent, and effective, even after a multi-decade career.

She was also, as most underground heroes of her ilk were, cranky, aggressively independent, and utterly ruthless when the situation called for it. Izuku and Ejiro both knew how to handle her, though; after all, their homeroom teacher had been her protégé.

"How's Eraserhead doing?" Bloodhound demanded, her voice harsh but clearly fond.

Ejiro shrugged and replied, "Cranky, sleep-deprived, and still teaching…so about the same, really."

"Good for him," Bloodhound said, before turning to Izuku. "Now then, down to business. Why did you call me and say you needed my help?"

Izuku nodded to Ejiro, who pulled out an evidence bag containing a scrap of dark, rough cloth. Gesturing to it, he explained, "We're looking for someone. We were hoping to use this scrap of their clothing to track them."

Bloodhound took the cloth, rubbing it between her fingers to study it. When she looked back up, she asked, "Who does this belong to?"

Ejiro and Izuku exchanged a look. After a moment, Ejiro said, "We're not sure. That's why we came to you."

"How did you get it?" the old hero asked.

"There was a villain fight a few days ago, and this got left behind," Ejiro answered, very deliberately leaving out more than a few details about that fight.

Bloodhound sighed through her mask. "So, let me get this straight," she began, "you don't know anything about who it belongs to?"

Ejiro and Izuku exchanged yet another look. "Er, no," Ejiro admitted eventually. "They were wearing a full-body cloak and a mask. I couldn't make out anything about them."

Bloodhound snorted dismissively. She turned to look at Izuku, and demanded, "Well, what about you? Did you notice anything about this mystery villain?"

Dismissing a sudden, bizarre urge to reply that his savior, whoever they were, was not a villain, Izuku sheepishly replied, "Um…no? I was kinda unconscious at the time."

Izuku got the distinct impression that Bloodhound was rolling her eyes behind her mask. "Number One Hero, my ass," she muttered.

Bluntly, Izuku demanded, "Look, can you help us or not?"

"Sure I can," Bloodhound answered, shrugging. "Although I'm just a tad curious about what kind of target is enough to get two of the Top Ten out in force."

Ejiro met Izuku's gaze, clearly asking permission to tell her. Izuku granted it with a nod.

Izuku's best friend met Bloodhound's gaze, jerked his thumb at Izuku, and said, "The kind that saved his life."

For a moment, Bloodhound didn't speak. When she finally did, her voice was acid as she demanded, "Why didn't you tell me that from the beginning?"

Izuku shrugged, even as he wondered at Bloodhound's ability to provoke shame in a hero objectively far stronger than her. It was like arguing against a grandma; absolutely guaranteed to make you feel like a scolded child.

"We're trying to keep it quiet," he admitted. "I don't want people worrying over me or villains getting emboldened because some punk nearly got a lucky shot."

"Of course not," Bloodhound sighed. "Can't have people knowing that Atlas is a human being just like them."

Izuku flushed harder. How did she even manage to make his hero name sound like a backhanded insult?

"I'll help you," Bloodhound said after a momentary pause. "But I want to know what you plan to do when you find this person."

Izuku narrowed his eyes as he realized he hadn't really decided, either. All he really wanted was to know who he owed his life to, and why they'd saved him. But at the same time, whoever it was had technically committed a crime by using their quirk, and they were a witness to a crime…in the end, Izuku realized, he'd been so focused on finding the person that he hadn't considered what he would do when he caught up with them.

He still had to respond to Bloodhound, though, so he admitted, "I, uh…I guess it depends on them. I don't plan to arrest them or get them in any trouble, I'd just like to know who saved my skin. I'm really grateful for what they did. I'd like to thank them for it."

Bloodhound seemed to nod to herself, then opened the bag containing the cloth. "Alright, you win," she said curtly. "Here, I'll help you."

For a moment, nothing happened. Then, there was a strange, sudden flash of blue light, and the cloth seemed to glow faintly. Izuku watched, fascinated; Bloodhound's quirk was legendary for its ability to track anyone or anything, just from a small object or piece of an object that belonged to them. Izuku had no idea how it worked, whether it relied on their scent or their DNA or something else, and Bloodhound never told anyone the secret, either. Tracking quirks like this were rare; although mutants with canine quirks could supposedly do something similar, Izuku had never heard of one in real life. Mutants were one in a hundred thousand, and most of them, if they even had kids, tended to only do so with other mutants, and those types of quirks rarely mixed together to make stronger offspring like normal quirks. That meant the pool of mutant quirks was so limited, very few new ones ever seemed to appear. It was a good thing, too; the ones that existed were powerful and terrifying enough.

Rising to her feet, Bloodhound handed the scrap of fabric to Izuku. As he took it, he felt a bizarre tugging sensation in his gut, just behind his navel, as though a hook was dragging him in the direction he wanted to go.

"Follow that," Bloodhound ordered him, clearly anticipating the confused look Izuku shot her. "It'll take you right to whoever that cloak belongs to."

Izuku nodded to show that he understood. "This is so weird, " he said, the old excitement at seeing a new quirk in action bubbling up in his chest. "Are you sure you won't tell me how it works?"

Bloodhound laughed, a deep chortle that made her head and neck shake. "I'm sure," she replied. "A woman has to have her secrets, after all. Now, get going."

Izuku turned to Ejiro and asked, "Are you coming?"

Ejiro chuckled, "Of course I am…even if I doubt I'll be able to keep up. You'll need the help, anyway."

Izuku rolled his eyes. Trapping the cloth firmly in his balled-up fist, he strode in the direction it was dragging him, which was towards the great elevators that led down deeper into the Underground. If he closed his eyes, he could almost see the trail out in front of him, a faint blue ribbon shimmering and twisting in midair.

"Let's get going, then," he told his best friend. "I want to meet the person who saved my life."

With a grin, he jumped off the roof, lightning sparking around him. Ejiro did the same a moment later, his quirk activating to protect him.

The chase was on.

The third level of the Underground was a strange one indeed; upscale enough for all the luxuries and beauty of the high levels, but boasting little to attract tourists. Where the first level was all beauty and grandeur, and the second was nearly as gorgeous, the third level was where the Underground began to let its hair down a little. It was the first level where it actually felt like a place people lived. This meant rows and rows of houses and shops, all of them large and expensive and owned only by the rich (or those who were rich by Underground standards), but still houses and shops.

And then, of course, there was the Rift.

While most of the third level was the same mind-bending maze of roads and buildings carved right out of the rock in a large, flat-bottomed cavern as the other levels, the excavation of the far western side had discovered a natural fissure in the rock, formed long ago when an enormous bubble of molten rock had cooled and hardened, shrinking as it did so, creating a crack as the volcanic rock had split. It was the same process at work in concrete that cracked as it dried…just on a scale that put mountains to shame.

The Rift was hundreds of meters deep and more than two hundred meters wide. It ran for nearly a mile along the western edge of the third level; it likely went farther under the rock walls at the edges of the level, but nobody had ever explored that far. It narrowed as it went down, but even at the bottom it was more than wide enough to swallow buildings whole. The geologist who had discovered it had nearly fallen over the edge in his sheer awe.

The Undergrounders, naturally, had taken advantage of such a magnificent feature, building into the walls and jagged edges of the Rift with characteristic disdain for the laws of nature…or zoning. Countless levels, paths, and walkways had been carved from the rock, winding along the cliffs and dipping down, down into the ravine, serving the thousands of buildings that adorned the Rift all the way to the bottom; shops, hotels, restaurants, and more. The effect was akin to standing on the streets of Tokyo, seeing the legendary riot of light and color and sound, and then multiplying it by seven or eight and making it much more claustrophobic.

The markets of the first level may have been more famous, but the Rift was a commercial hub in its own right, and one considerably less crowded by tourists at that. And of course, so much wealth sitting around, whether in the form of money, goods, or food, was bound to attract a few unwanted visitors.

Emerging from one of the unimaginably vast number of illicit, unmapped smuggler's tunnels that made all security down here more or less pointless, Mina slipped down one of the main roads in and out of the Rift with the same practiced ease that got her through nearly any crowd. The trick was simple: just act like you belonged there, and most people would assume you did and ignore you.

The irony, of course, was that nothing could be further from the truth. Mina didn't belong here, as any one of these people would have shouted, had they seen her face. She knew that from experience. One flash of pink skin or yellow horn, and the polite ones would start giving her lots and lots of space as they discreetly tried to hide their stares and nervous expressions.

The impolite ones wouldn't bother hiding those stares…and they'd probably call on the heroes, just in case. You know, as a precaution.

It was still odd to her that so few people blinked when a cloaked, masked figure joined the steady throng entering the neon nightmare of the Rift. Despite all their fear and hatred of mutants, the diversity of quirks on display was as wild and impressive as it was anywhere else. It always felt so unfair to Mina. What was the difference between them and her? What gave these people the right to live so comfortably, while she was forced to struggle and steal for food?

Mina forced down the familiar righteous anger; she knew there was no point letting it consume her. The world was unfair. That was just the way it was. There was nothing she could do about it, as a powerless petty thief. She had enough on her plate just trying to survive.

Making sure that nobody had their eyes on her was child's play; Mina had been at this for years, so long any time before that was…hazy. She preferred it to stay that way, too. As soon as she'd made her way away from the main walkways and "streets" of the Rift, which were as crowded with shoppers and-more importantly-heroes as they always were, Mina let herself slip into the attitude she'd honed to a razor edge. Cool and collected, lightning-quick reflexes, all business. Worries fell away, as did her anger, the nerves that always accompanied any adventure away from her home in the Depths, and even the dull, gnawing hunger that was the reason she'd come here in the first place.

Then, Mina took a deep breath, crouched down on the tiny side path that was the Rift equivalent of a back alley…and rolled off the edge.

As quick as a viper, Mina's hands, covered in the thin layer of acid she used so effectively, grabbed onto the steel beams that supported the shelf of rock carved from the wall of the canyon. There was a soft hiss as the steel deformed, and Mina let out a tiny breath as she began to clamber along the underside of the walkway, moving back towards the shopping district. Her hands, shaped like scoops, carved just enough of a grip into the rock to let her hang suspended from her handholds. It was a good thing she was as thin as she was.

This trick had taken Mina years to perfect, and it still left her nervous as hell; she was uncomfortably aware of the enormous drop she was crawling above. It may have not been all the way to the bottom of the Rift-there were layers and layers of shops and homes and other buildings in the way, not to mention the tangle of wires, pipes, struts, and other objects that crisscrossed the void, so tangled and chaotic it would have broken every safety law in the country, had the Underground listened to those laws in the first place-but it would still kill her for sure. Mina had long ago suppressed any fear of heights she may have had out of sheer necessity, but the sight of the yawning abyss beneath her still set her empty stomach aflutter.

Gritting her teeth, Mina focused on the rhythm of climbing horizontally along the walkway, following her sense of smell. She needed to eat, so that should be her first priority.

As she moved, though, Mina couldn't help but think about how close she'd come to getting captured a few days before. Sure, she'd saved someone's life-she hoped, at least, since news of Atlas dying would have made its way even to the Depths-but had it been worth it? If she'd gotten caught, she never would have been free again. Even if they hadn't known about her crimes, they would have found out sooner or later…or maybe they wouldn't have cared. She was a mutant, after all, and that seemed to count as a crime itself sometimes, down here. Either way, Mina would have been doomed, and all to save the life of someone who would have captured her himself without a second thought.

Why had she done it? The question had been burning in Mina's head ever since, without any answer presenting itself. Even in the moment, she hadn't been able to explain it, to make sense of the way her heart had screamed at her, overriding every instinct she'd learned in long years without a home or family to keep her safe. She'd just…moved before even thinking. Her body had been acting without her control. She'd been unable to let her cold side take over, driven instead by the tiny fragments of the idealist she might have been, in another life.

Mina's thoughts were interrupted as she took a deep sniff, and was greeted by the most beautiful scents she could think of-warm, fresh food. Bread, fruit, even meats and other things she barely ever got to taste. It was a struggle to fight back the drool, not to mention the rumbles in her stomach.

Forcing herself to focus, Mina kept moving, looking for a good place to steal from. Her usual tactic in the Rift-one of her more common stomping grounds-was to simply melt into a shop from below, letting her steal without being noticed. It limited her haul to what she could carry in her pockets-there was no way she could sneak around upside down while carrying anything larger-but it was safe.

Coming to a halt directly underneath one of her favorite targets, a fruit-and-vegetable vendor with a particularly oblivious owner, Mina began to widen the hole she'd gradually melted over countless raids. She needed a little more than usual today; each raid that turned into a high-speed, risky chase with the heroes sapped way more of her energy reserves than she could afford, and she wanted to avoid cutting into her fallback supplies as much as possible. She needed to steal as much as she could, as quickly as she could.

Mina had only managed to grab a pair of apples when she heard a commotion from the walkway above; even if she hadn't had a tiny portal to bring her the sound from above, the rumbles of hundreds of stampeding feet transmitted through the rock with ease, shaking Mina's whole world. She heard the shouts a second later.

"Holy crap, it's actually them!"

"I've never seen him in person before!"

"Red Riot, you're my hero!"

Mina went rigid, shock nearly making her lose her grip. Impossible. What were the odds that the hero who'd nearly captured her would show up here? She heard Red Riot's trademark laugh, and knew that the man would doubtlessly be posing for the crowd, signing autographs, and all the rest of the shit that so many of Mina's fellow mutants-many driven by that Stain fucker who'd been a big problem for the abovegrounders nearly a decade ago-hated so much. As if heroes that didn't act like celebrities wouldn't haul them off to jail for the crime of being born just the same as those who did.

Still, the coincidence was deeply unnerving for Mina. Even if he had no way of knowing she was there, the thought of being so close to Red Riot made her twitchy. Especially because, as everyone knew, if Red Riot was there, there was a damn good chance he would be, too.

A second after the thought crossed Mina's mind, heavy footfalls shook the ground directly above her. A voice she had never heard before, but still somehow knew, rumbled, "Hello."

Mina heard a creaking sound, and the box she'd been reaching into began to creak back and forth. Her eyes went even wider.

The stand owner squeaked, "W-what are you doing?"

The voice Mina instinctively knew was that of the man she'd saved replied, "I believe you've got a slight pest issue."

Suddenly, light was flooding into Mina's access hole. Blinking in shock, she realized why. Atlas had picked up the stand. She could see him carrying it across his shoulders effortlessly, a smirk on his face. How in the hell had he known she was there?

"Oh, sorry, didn't see you there," Atlas said with a grin. "I believe we've met."

Mina went through a state of panic so quickly, she was scarcely aware of the fight-or-flight instincts that overrode her brain in an instant. Without even thinking, she dropped the apple she'd been busy stealing, and scuttled away, headed for the sheer rock wall at the edge of the Rift. As soon as she reached it, she leaped onto the wall, running at top speed along it the instant she had herself positioned correctly. Her heart felt like it was beating a million times a second, and there was only one thought in her brain.

She had to get out of here. Now.

Izuku watched the oddly familiar masked face of his savior disappear in a flash of movement, and felt disappointment and confusion wash over him. He didn't have time to wonder what was going on, though; he needed to follow them.

Setting down the street vendor's stand with a little less care than he probably should have (and making the weaselly man who ran it squeak something about…cabbages?), Izuku quickly looked over his shoulder at Ejiro, who was still surrounded by a small army of adoring fans who seemed unaware of the chase about to start.

Izuku and Ejiro locked gazes, and communicated more information than anyone not familiar with their bond would have expected.

"Go," Ejiro's expression said. "I'll keep the civilians distracted so you have some privacy."

Izuku nodded wordlessly, gratitude filling his heart. He'd never be able to keep this quiet if the whole Rift watched him chase down the person who had saved his life-and he knew that this was the person. Bloodhound's quirk, acting on the cloth still clenched tightly in his fist, had led him right to them.

Then, he turned away, ignoring the fruit vendor's babbling as he summoned One For All. A moment later, he leaped into the Rift, already shooting Black Whip forwards.

He was going to get his answers.

Mina ran along the canyon wall, fingers and boots melting platforms into the rock as she went. She figured she was safe; Atlas's quirk didn't let him follow her, as far as she knew.

A creaking sound echoed from the center of the Rift, and Mina's head whipped to track it. Her eyes widened as she saw Atlas himself, following her with seemingly little difficulty. He swung from dark tendrils that burst from his clenched fists, shooting out to wrap around any of the walkways, pipes, wires, or other structures that crisscrossed the Rift that he could reach. He moved with confident ease that told Mina that this was a long-practiced maneuver.

Clever bastard. Mina resolved to stop trusting her assumptions about Atlas. Whatever else he was, he was smart.

Mina hated having smart enemies.

"Please, stop running!" he called out, though Mina ignored him. "I don't mean you any harm!"

Mina barely heard it, and certainly didn't consider anything that came out of a hero's mouth as worth trusting. Her mind raced as she tried fruitlessly to get further ahead of Atlas. Finally, she had an idea. Clever as Atlas was, swinging through the Rift like it was a metallic jungle had its own risks. The center of the Rift was chaotic and unpredictable, requiring considerable dodging ability and quick reaction times to navigate, and many of the struts were too weak to hold the sudden additional weight of the Number One Hero. Mina just had to wait for an opportunity…

There.

As Atlas tossed one of his tendrils forward, the narrow metal support it wrapped around buckled, sending the hero plummeting downwards for a fraction of a second. Atlas reacted quickly, stabilizing himself with a different anchor, but that momentary lapse in his conversation was all Mina needed.

Moving so quickly she was only half-aware of spotting her opportunity, Mina lunged off the canyon wall, throwing herself out into the open space of the Rift. She caught a glimpse of Atlas staring at her in slack-jawed disbelief; clearly, he hadn't expected his quarry to seemingly go into a surely-fatal free fall on purpose.

Apparently, he didn't expect Mina's true purpose, either, which became clear a moment later when her boots slammed into his face. Atlas cursed in surprise as he wobbled under the weight and impact, before finally losing his grip and falling downwards, the tendrils he'd been suspended from dissolving the moment they snapped their connection to his wrists. The momentary platform his broad shoulders provided the perfect launching point for Mina to somersault from. She landed on a narrow walkway bridging the two sides of the Rift, and was moving as soon as her feet were on solid metal.

She didn't get far, unfortunately. Atlas recovered from getting used as a springboard far too quickly for that. Mina had been sprinting down the walkway for scarcely two seconds before green lightning heralded his return. Atlas slammed down on the walkway, barring Mina's path. He looked annoyed.

"Really? That was a dirty trick," he complained, clearly indignant. Mina rolled her eyes at the idea of a dirty trick being bad, and for a moment she was tempted to make a sarcastic reply. She caught herself before she could, and instead opted for an exaggerated shrug, spreading her arms out and turning her palms up to make sure the hero caught the motion through her cloak. Then, she started sprinting in the opposite direction.

Behind her, she heard Atlas's irritated sigh turn into a surprised shout of "Hey! Get back here!"

Mina fought the sudden, irrational urge to snicker. Had that line ever worked? Did heroes really expect their opponents to actually come back?

Mina quickly reached the far wall of the Rift; here, it was a flat, sheer cliff, with no buildings above her for more than two hundred feet. Acid coated her hands, and she leaped upwards, flowing upwards smoother and faster than any pre-quirk rock climber could ever hope to match. There was no way Atlas could catch up to her now.

For a second, Izuku nearly let his confusion slow him down. Why was this person running from him? They'd saved his life, surely they'd at least realize why he'd look for them? Were they scared of him? If they were…why?

Izuku didn't have time to answer his questions right then, though. He realized that the figure he'd been chasing was already nearly halfway up the rock wall on the opposite side of the Rift. There was no way he could possibly keep up with them in a rock climb. Not even Ejiro would have been able to, if he hadn't been forced to distract the crowd in order to let Izuku pursue their quarry freely.

Then, as his eyes landed on a second walkway that ran parallel to the one he stood on, separated by a gap of less than twenty meters, he realized he didn't have to keep up.

Izuku generally preferred to avoid using the many additional quirks he'd been granted by his mastery of One For All. Aside from the fact that the vast majority of them were basically useless in combat-one of them let him make his fingernails glittery, another seemed to do nothing but let him recall the names and life stories of the Beatles with perfect accuracy-the few that were useful were also extremely recognizable. After the terror the Nomu and the League of Villains had wreaked, the last thing Izuku wanted to do was make the fact that he had multiple quirks too obvious.

But sometimes, it was the only way to win. And that came first.

Taking a deep breath, Izuku flung himself from the walkway, plummeting downwards into the Rift. Wind whipped at his face, the only kind of wind that existed down here. Izuku counted silently in his head, eyes locked on the two walkways as dark tendrils wound together at his wrists.

Three.

Two.

One.

Just before his fall would have become irreversible, ensuring a painful end on the jagged rocks below, Izuku whipped his arms out, and the dual strands of Black Whip shot upwards at impossible speeds. They coiled around the two narrow bridges, which creaked and groaned under the sudden strain, but held. The tendrils stretched like bungee cords, building up power as they slowed and finally stopped Izuku's fall.

In the single moment of perfect weightlessness, a tiny fraction of a fraction of a second that seemed to stretch on forever, Izuku let out the breath that he'd been holding. He summoned yet another quirk, one that had brought his mentor to tears the first time he'd watched Izuku master it.

Zero.

There was a sound like the cracking of a whip, and Izuku rode the world's largest slingshot straight upwards, shooting between the double bridges in a blur. He moved faster than the eye could follow, faster even than physics suggested he should have gone, thanks to Float sending him upwards. With the speed of his release turning Nana Shimura's quirk from a gradual upwards push to the rough equivalent of strapping two small rockets to his feet, Izuku knew he would reach the top of the cliff well before his target.

He allowed himself a small grin of satisfaction first, though.

Sometimes, it was good to be the best.

Mina climbed onto the flat ground near the top of the Rift with effort, breathing hard, her stomach rumbling loudly in complaint. It wasn't like she needed the reminder that her search for her next meal had been interrupted. Damn heroes.

Mina groaned slightly as she rose to her feet. There was a smuggler's tunnel nearby, the perfect opportunity for her to escape before-

There was a man standing in front of her. An all-too-familiar man, wreathed in green lightning. Mina scrambled backwards, cursing under her breath as she realized her path out of here was blocked.

Beneath her mask, Mina's mouth fell open, her eyes bugging out. Izuku grinned back at her, his cocky smirk identical-though he didn't know it-to the one Mina had been wearing just a few minutes ago at the bridge.

Mina still didn't say a word, though even she wasn't entirely sure if that was because of her desire to avoid identifying herself or because of shock. How had he gotten here?

Still smirking, Izuku didn't even seem to need to know what expression Mina was wearing. He simply gave an elaborate shrug-the exact same one Mina had given him.

So, a sassy one. Mina was almost impressed…though a sassy hero was still a hero, and Mina was most definitely in trouble.

"So," Izuku said casually. "Are you done running? Because I'm not here to arrest you."

Mina blinked in surprise, but still didn't reply. Her eyes were fixed on the tunnel entrance that was just barely visible behind Izuku's broad shoulders. If she could just find a way past him…

Izuku raised his palms, trying to show he had no violent intentions. Whoever this was, they were very jumpy, and far too skilled for him to be certain he could keep up with them. If they pulled another trick on him, there was a good chance he'd be screwed.

"I promise you, I don't care if you were stealing from that vendor," he told them. "I really don't. That's not why I've been looking for you."

Mina's panic only grew. Atlas was looking for her? Specifically? How had he found out that she'd been the one to save his life? How had he found her so quickly? She had to get out of here. A desperate plan began to form in her head. She didn't have any other choice.

Izuku watched his savior's body language carefully. It was nearly impossible to make out under the long, loose cloak, not to mention the mask. Hell, he wasn't even sure what gender they were. Slowly, though, they seemed to calm down, gloved fists unclenching. Maybe this could work after all.

Cautiously, doing his best not to spook them, Izuku began to take a step forward. He extended his arm in a peaceful gesture. He began, "Look, I just want to ask why you-"

As Izuku began to walk forward, Mina struck. Whipping her arm out, she threw a sizable ball of weak, slippery acid that she'd been making in her palm-not at Izuku, but at the ground directly under his foot. She wanted to make sure he didn't think it was an attack. That would only end badly for her-she'd be hunted down if she ever actually hurt the Number One Hero. Instead, the acid splashed into an ultra-slick pool directly under Izuku's feet, just as he took a step. The sudden loss of traction made him wobble, fighting to maintain his balance.

In the sudden moment of weakness, Mina charged forwards. She pitched forwards just a few feet from the shocked, toppling hero. Her hands met cold stone, and she flipped into the air, getting just enough height and momentum to avoid slamming into Izuku by inches.

For a moment, time seemed to slow to a crawl. Mina's front flip brought her face impossibly close to Izuku's; she could see every detail of the surprise on his face. It was guileless, honest shock, too; he truly hadn't expected her to strike like that. His deep green eyes held confusion and stunned disbelief. Neither expression was unfamiliar to Mina…so why couldn't she look away?

Izuku, for his part, felt transfixed in that stretched-out fragment of a moment, by one thing only. He stared into golden eyes so vivid they were like molten metal; they were all he could see of his savior that wasn't covered by dark cloth. He couldn't be sure what emotion they bore, not when he couldn't see anything of their face, but it didn't matter. He couldn't stop staring into them; they were the most gorgeous thing he'd ever seen.

"What's happening to me?" Izuku wondered, even as he lost his war with gravity and went plummeting to the ground. The frozen second ended; Izuku struck the stone with a grunt, and Mina completed her somersault, finding her feet again. She was instantly running, vanishing into the tunnel without ever looking back.

Izuku fought his way onto his feet again in moments, and he went sprinting for the entrance, determined to follow his savior. "Wait!" he called out, desperate.

But it was too late. Izuku heard a rumbling, groaning sound; a moment later, he realized what it was when, just ahead of him, countless tons of rock crumbled down from the ceiling.

Mina had melted through the first set of supports she'd found and collapsed the tunnel.

Izuku threw himself backwards, easily avoiding the cave-in; he didn't even get a scratch. It didn't matter. He'd failed.

He pulled himself out of the tunnel, which was too cramped for him to stand up fully in. Drawing himself up to his full height, he finally became aware of the beeping in his earpiece that meant someone was trying to talk to him. He hit a button, and Ejiro's worried voice asked, "Hey, buddy, what's going on? You okay?"

"Y-yeah, I'm fine," Izuku replied shakily. What was wrong with him? He wasn't hurt, not even close. No, it was the memory of those golden eyes doing this to him. Why?

"Did you get them?" Ejiro asked, and Izuku's heart twinged at the total faith he heard in his best friend's voice.

Izuku took a deep breath.

"No," he admitted, his voice frustrated and shocked and a tiny bit wistful. "No, I didn't. They got away."