The next day brings with it the weekend, a small blessing that grants him time to gather his thoughts. The fifteen year old isn't to sure where to start, the whole idea still feeling like a dream itself. I'm going to save people, he thinks, Eimi's face flashing in his mind. But to do so I'll have to break the law.

Midoriya tries not to think of that aspect too much just yet, worried he'd end up scaring himself away from what he needed to do. So, instead he pulls out a notebook and makes a list of the things he'd need and labels it 'hero supplies'.

He'd need a weapon, and a disguise, and a local map of hero activity would be a necessity. The boy is sure he'd be able to find some information on the hero forms he frequented. But, he doubted he'd get ahold all the intel he'd need until he found himself walking the streets and experiencing the patterns for himself.

The fifteen year old spends hours in his room thinking over the logistics of him being a vigilante before he gets side tracked with costume design and vigilante hero names.

The costume is of course impossible with his current resources. Much of his past allowance had gone to hero merch, and what was left wasn't nearly enough to pay for the sketches in his notebook. Not to mention that anyone he got to make it for him would be dragged into his vigilante scheme, seeing as they too would be breaking several major laws.

It's already one by the time emerges from his room, looking only a little better than a corpse. Inko is gone when he comes out for an extremely late breakfast. There's a note for him on the counter telling him that she'll be back around five and to not forget to eat. It's unusual for her not to say anything to him directly before leaving so he figures that at some point she must have peeked into his room and decided to leave him be.

There's a small seed of guilt that plants itself in his stomach at the thought of how much worry and stress he'd put the woman through. And, he realizes only then, that she would be clueless to the meaning behind last night's breakdown. He obviously couldn't inform her of its significance. So, he'd have to replace his revelation with something mom-friendly, if only to put an end to her fears.

They don't speak much when she returns, a pregnant tension hanging over the two. Inko wants desperately to ask what last night had been about, but, instead, she holds her tongue. She makes katsudon again, and watches the boy carefully from across the table as he eats. Her eyes flicker from one point to another as if just looking at him for too long would leave him shattered again.

He needs to say something that will stop her from worrying, both for her sake and his. So Izuku sets aside his chopsticks, lets out a shaky sigh and says what he's been thinking about since he'd seen her note, says what he's known since he received his rejection letter. "I'm going to apply for UA's general education course."

The words hurt, but Midoriya knows that no matter how much it pains him, he'd never been

willing to let go of UA. Even though it feels like he's giving in. Even though it feels like a dismissal of his dreams. Even though it feels like he's accepting his fate of being nothing more than

quirkless, he can't let it go.

He has to remind himself that, despite what the voice in his head says, he's not accepting his fate, that he's rewriting it, defying it. I don't have to be a hero, Izuku thinks, I just have to save people.

Midoriya watches his mother's eyes light up, watches the worry melt from the lines in her face.

Those lines would only get deeper if I told you what I'm about to do.

The irony of what he's planning is lost on him. The idea that there'd be a vigilante sat within the midst of Japan's top hero school never even crossing the boy's mind. Because in his head there's an image of an older Izuku. He's dressed in black and Midoriya can see the thin stripes of scars around the backs of his hands and illuminated within the stippling of freckles across his cheeks. The man is bruised and battered but he stands strong before him, proud and resilient and happy .

It's the image of a man who's achieved his dreams. It's the image that Izuku will strive for, the picture of the person he wants to become.

Inko doesn't know what to think of the determination that she watches solidify on her son's face. But, it lessens her worry further, makes her hopeful for what's to come. There's still a melancholic expression that she sees pass across his face from time to time, but Inko prays that soon enough it too will disappear altogether.

r/heroesofmusutafu · Posted by u/echoplasma three months ago Where Are The Heroes?

248 upvotes

Okay so I don't know if it's just my neighborhood but I've been noticing that I haven't seen as many heroes around my apartment anymore. Over the last few years the neighborhood has gotten a lot rougher so there's been a lot more crime recently but at the same time the number of heroes has gone down??

It doesn't make any sense, you'd think with more crime there'd be more heroes but it's been the exact opposite around here. I was wondering if anyone else was experiencing something similar where they are because it's gotten to the point where I'm kind of scared to go outside of my apartment now.

.

transatsushii - 26 points, two months ago

well ill tell you right now if you're looking for a place with lots of heroes you'll wanna go into the nicer and more populated parts of the city

the only thing heroes really care about is fame, money, and recognition

sure they might get a lot more work in what you called the 'rougher' parts of the city but more work doesn't necessarily equate to fame and fortune

the richer parts of the city get criminals with stronger, flashier quirks (since they think they can get away with more ) and where the flashy criminals go so do the attention seeking 'herhoes'

.

syn_ley - 5 points, two months ago

I've been having the same problem in my neighborhood echoplasma, it's gotten really bad in the past few weeks, just in the last two days alone I've heard about five people getting killed, all in different incidents, but I haven't even seen one not ONE hero patrolling the area

.

klngkuroo - 38 points, two months ago

"herhoes" IMWHEEZING

With the next day comes more nightmares. He should have realized that they wouldn't have simply gone away at the snap of his fingers. But he'd gotten his hopes up after the peaceful sleep he'd had the night before.

Eimi's being dragged out of the convenience store by her kidnapper, and he can only stand there, quietly watching as she disappears out the door. The image of her distressed face is burned into the backs of his eyelids, it's a look that doesn't belong on the face of a girl her age.

In the dream he can't help but think, It's probably just her uncle.

And even though he knows it's not, even though he desperately wants to reach out and take her hand, his body won't do anything because, What if I'm wrong. What if it is just a friend of her father that she doesn't like.

Officer Fujimori is there as well, replacing the cashier behind the register. He leans against the counter, he too watching as the girl is dragged away. He turns to stare at the boy with a smile that's more suited for Bakugou and a voice matching the caustic one in his head. "What a shame," he surmises, "If only you hadn't hesitated."

To take his mind off the dream he decides to continue planning his start as a vigilante. He's certain Chee Sensei would notice if any of the dojo's staffs went missing. And he'd be too worried that anything he bought could be traced back to him. So, Izuku falls back on the pipe he'd used for training at Dagobah the last three years. It's not something he'd like to use for vigilante work, but it's something he's had a lot of experience handling, even if he'd never used it against any corporeal opponents.

His disguise also comes up lacking, but for a middle schooler with little money, it's to be expected. He dons a pair of dark sweatpants and a black hoodie that he tucks his curls into. He pulls the pipe from the back of his closet and decides he'll sneak a white face mask from their small stash in the kitchen. In the end the only thing he actually buys is a pair of red contacts.

Midoriya digs a pair of old knee and elbow pads from the back of his closet and slips them on over his clothes. But, other than those his protection is non-existent. It's worrisome, but the more he thinks about it he realizes that there's not much else he can do at this point. The items he'd need for his excursions wouldn't be available for civilian purchase and even then he wouldn't have the money for it.

Part of him wonders, as he pulls on the clothes, if it's too soon to be going out. It'd only been two days since he'd decided to be a vigilante and now he was going out to commit his first planned act of vigilantism. But, despite the guilt on account of his mother and despite the fear on behalf of himself, something pushes him to continue.

So Izuku listens for the quiet breathing of his mother before slinking out of his room and sliding the balcony's door open. The drop to the concrete below is daunting, but it's nothing he hasn't done before to get some extra training Dagobah. Midoriya drops the pipe down first, tossing it into a set of bushes nearby, before hauling himself over the ledge and dropping down to hang from the sill. The concrete digs painfully into his palms before he lets go and drops down onto the ledge of the balcony just below theirs. It's a precarious position and he almost tips off and to the ground below at one point before catching himself. Adrenaline rushes through him when he looks down, still a good one story drop to go. But, unlike in his own apartment he can still see a light on through the sliding door, so he's quick to drop into another hang, pushing the rest of his body away from the wall with what leverage he can manage and drops.

Landing hurts, pain spiking up his legs when he hits, but he smooths out some of the impact with a roll. His palms throb from the concrete and his feet and knees ache from where he'd taken a majority of the impact, but he knows from experience that it'll fade. He retrieves his pipe from the bushes and looks around.

And now that he's here, now that he's ready, he has no idea what to do. He knows what he wants to do. He wants to save people, wants to bring criminals to justice, he wants to prove himself worthy. But, is this really the right way to go about doing it?

"It's the only way," his mind whispers.

But there are other ways to be a hero, he could be a police officer or a doctor, he could be a

psychologist or a social worker.

"But that's not what you want. They'd never be enough for you."

And it's right about that, those things would never be able to give him what being a hero could, what being a vigilante will . They would never be able to give him the satisfaction, the elation, of knowing that he'd directly saved the life of someone from a villain who'd been seeking to take it, control it, abuse it. He'd sipped the ambrosia, and now there was nothing else that'd be able to

replace it.

He's not sure what to do or where to go, but he's got to dosomething . So, he sets off down the sidewalk. It's late, but there are still people decorating the streets and as a result he sticks to the shadows, ducking down alleys when he can, certain that his pipe would draw too many suspicious eyes. Though there are several times within the next two hours that he's forced to turn back upon encountering a dead end he deems the lack of attention worth it.

He listens for cries of help, but the closest he comes to hearing any is a few peels of shrieking laughter from a group of inebriated college students. And he's frustrated. It feels like Eimi's situation had been a fluke, like now even fate wouldn't give him a chance to prove his worth.

So he burrows further into the city, slinking down alley after alley until he's in a part of town he doesn't recognize. The streets he finds himself on remind him of the area where he'd met Eimi, dark and teeming with criminal activity. Which, he figures, is exactly the part of town he wants to be in.

It isn't long after that he runs across a mugger. She's got a man held at knife point, pressing him into the wall of the alley with her hand.

"H-Hey!" Izuku curses himself for the stutter as the woman's head whips around to glare at him.

"The fuck you want?" She waves her knife at him, trying to scare him off. "Get outta here 'for I cut you up too." Her gaze drifts away from him and back to the man she's mugging.

He's scared, but he's fifteen and about to play at being a vigilante so he can't really say that it's not expected. There's a woman with a knife, an unknown quirk, and a hostage. He thinks about leaving, about turning around and calling the police. He thinks about going home and sleeping and pretending he'd never thought of this whole vigilante idea in the first place.

But, his dream comes back to him, "What a shame. If only you hadn't hesitated."

He grits his teeth, the man's face mimicking that of the Eimi from his dreams. Izuku steels his

resolve, and sends his pipe slamming into the back of the woman's head.

"I won't hesitate, bitch."

He feels almost guilty doing so, deliberately aiming for the head with a weapon was a strictly forbidden tatic within any professional dojo. The head was a vital part of your body and injuries to it could be deadly if an attack was poorly executed. Or well executed depending on situation, he thinks briefly.

If there was too much force or the impact was badly placed it could result in serious damage. But, for the safety of both himself and the man she'd been robbing, a swift end was necessary, especially when unknown quirks were factored in.

The woman crumbles under the force of the blow and Midoriya has to drop his pipe to catch her before she falls, gently setting her down on the alley's floor before he stands back up.

Midoriya turns to the man, whose fearful stare is trained on him. "Are you okay?" Izuku asks, his voice muffled by the mask. His heart is in his throat and everytime he tries to think about what he'd doing it make a leap into his mouth, cutting off any other words that he might say.

The guy tries to stammer a response. But, in the end nothing coherent comes out.

Midoriya swallows his fear and speaks again instead, "Do you have a cellphone on you? It's

probably best if we call the cops. They'll be able to take care of her." He glances at the woman at his feet, her breathing soft and even, face almost peaceful while unconscious. Before he can speak to the man further he catches movement at the far end of alley.

Another woman comes around the corner, her flaming red hair giving off a soft glow. "Mika you done yet?" She hasn't noticed them, too engrossed with the phone in her hands. She mutters a quiet curse as the passcode she puts in comes back incorrect. "I need your quirk to open this phone, I'm usually good at just guessing but I've only got three tries left." There's a beat, where no one says anything. The only sounds the distant rumbling of an overnight passenger train left to fill the silence.

She looks up and the three are frozen in place like deer stranded in headlights, unable to look away from each other. She glances at the body laid at the boy's feet, eyes glued to her friend's unmoving form. Izuku hears the man behind him shuffle backwards. His movement acting as a catalyst that sets off an explosion of violence. The newcomer moves first, rushing at them.

"The fuck did you do to Mika!"

Izuku steps forward, pushing the man further behind him with an arm and a silent "run" that flashes through the boy's red eyes when he glances back.

The woman's hair flares brighter as she drops the phone and pulls a pocket knife from her jacket. The jab is clumsy, inept enough to remind him of his first day sparring with a partner, but there's a sharp weapon in this hand, one that's coming towards him. And, there's a moment where Izuku freezes up again, because this is an actual fight, and that's an actual knife, and it's his life and the man's behind him that he's defending. Then the knife is there and he can only run off pure instinct.

Her arm is coming in low and at an angle, aiming for his gut. He brings his right hand up to meet it, pushing her arm away to where he can wrap his left hand around her wrist. He twists it into a position where her elbow is forced to lock and turns his body parallel to hers, using the mugger's own momentum to redirect the knife past him.

Then, he brings is elbow down.

Midoriya can hear the woman's cry of pain when he drives his elbow into her locked one, can hear the bone cracking, and the knife clattering to the pavement when she drops to her knees. He can hear his own heavy breathing, can hear the man's frantic voice behind him, can hear the sound of the same passenger train roaring in the distance. And, he can feel it, can feel her elbow give beneath his, can feel the muscles in her wrist spasm with pain, can feel his heart pounding in his chest.

Her flaming hair floats up to meet him, but the sensation isn't one of burning. It's soft. The warm feeling grounds him and after a time he's able to gently release her wrist from his hand. It falls to the ground and the woman cries out again as she sobs. He can hear a string of random curses falling from her mouth as she cradles the arm as best she can, trying not to move it. "Mika," she sobs, "Mika wake up."

He turns from the woman, the man that had been behind him now peeking around the corner of the alley's opening, a phone pressed to his ear.

"Tell them they'll need an ambulance."

With that he picks up his pipe, still laying on the ground near the first woman, and walks out of the alley. He feels numb as he brushes past the man, listening to the sobs of the fiery woman like one

would dull elevator music. He can hear it, and if his rabbiting heart is anything to go by, his body is reacting to it. But, it's like his mind hasn't quite caught up yet.

He stumbles out onto the sidewalk, ignoring the calls from the guy he'd saved to 'come back'. He can already hear sirens in the distance and if he hadn't been so out of it he'd have been able to tell that the sound was coming from in front of him. Instead, it's the flashing of lights through the window of a corner store a few minutes later that warns him, leaving him with barely enough time to stagger into an alley.

Midoriya stumbles into the wall closest to him, free hand clutching at his chest. Suddenly it's hard to breathe and he feels like the ground is swaying beneath him. The alley reeks of garbage and one of his contacts is bothering him and his exhaustion is starting to catch up. But, he feels like laughing. It bubbles up unbinned and unwarranted and Midoriya feels a bit unhinged in doing so, but he laughs. Laughs until he actually can't breathe and he's clutching at the stitch in his side and using his staff as a crutch just to keep himself standing.

"This is insane," he gasps out. He wipes at the tears at the corners of his eyes, still quietly laughing as his adrenaline fades.

He'd saved another person's life, and though he feels a small pang of guilt when he thinks back to the fiery-haired woman, he feels no regret. He's sure that there were other courses of action that he could've taken that would have resulted in less injuries on her behalf, but he tries not to dwell on it. It was his inexperience in dealing with another's bloodlust that led to the woman's injuries and there was only one way to fix that, experience.

Once the sirens have faded into the distance he steps back out onto the sidewalk, rubbing at his irritated eye as he goes. He's more aware now, the haze of adrenaline having burned off by the police lights like early morning fog by the sun.

It takes him half an hour of wandering to find himself in an area of town he recognizes and another hour to make it back to their apartment. And, once he arrives he's somehow able to make his way back up to their balcony through his crashing adrenaline high.

Midoriya kicks the pipe under his bed, tosses the mask in the trash, tugs his hoodie off, elbow pads and all, and throws it to the back of his closet with the old sneakers he'd worn. He flops face down into bed, still in sweatpants and knee pads still strapped on. But, Izuku can't bring himself to care as the air conditioning cools the sweaty skin of his back.

The bedside clock taunts him the with the time and he falls asleep watching the numbers glow red in the darkness of his room.