Giran counts through the money that Piper hands him, sly grin growing. "Have you ever heard of the Eight precepts?"
The vigilante raises a brow, interest peaked. "As in Buddhism?"
"Not even close." Giran catches his gaze over the tops of his glasses, smile melting. "The Eight precepts of Death, they're a yakuza organization. Their boss fell ill, so they've come under new management recently. A guy named Chisaki Kai, goes by Overhaul now, he and some of his higher ups are all running around wearing bird masks. They've been flooding the blackmarket with some new money, buying up a bunch of medical equipment."
"For their boss?" Midoriya questions, hands clasping together as he leans forward.
Giran shakes his head. "I doubt it. They came to me two weeks ago looking to buy a centrifuge. I couldn't get them one fast enough so they went somewhere else. I'm not sure if they're the ones that took your guy, but they'd be one of my top suspects."
A frown twitches at the boy's lips. "Just one of your suspects? That means you have more than just them."
The man's gaze turns serious. "There are lots of dangerous people in this city kid." Giran's lenses flash in the overhead lighting of his office. "People I wouldn't dare cross, people you couldn't even hold a candle to." Pink eyes bore into pied ones. "Don't go throwing yourself in deep water when you don't even know how to swim yet. You're a grain of sand in a sea of do gooders, try not to drown with the rest of them."
A few days later, Giran's words come back to him, ringing a caustic note like the voice in his head.
"People I couldn't hold a candle to, huh?" The vigilante breathes, blocking a particularly vicious blow from the villain he's facing.
The man lets out a low grow, "You ignoring me asshole?"
"I wonder who he thinks could then," Midoriya murmurs, slamming the end of his staff into the man's diaphragm.
The guy stumbles back, struggling for breath. He trips over his own feet, wiping out on his ass. The man's quirk allows him to harden his hands and arms, but as long as Piper keeps out of range of all his hits his quirk is nearly ineffective.
The villain makes to push himself up, but the vigilante gently presses the pipe against his throat, keeping him in place. "Say," Midoriya says, directly addressing the man this time, "Do you know anything about a yakuza group called The Eight precepts of Death?"
He gulps. "The fuck are you goin' on about?"
Izuku sighes, "So, you don't know either, huh?" The vigilante stares him down, a half glazed look in his eye. "That's unfortunate."
After he calls the police, he flees to the rooftops to watch the man from a distance as several cruisers pull to a stop in front of the tied up criminal. From this far away he can't make out any of their faces, but he recognizes Detective Tsukauchi's distinctive form. After learning of their connection, Midoriya would never be able to unsee the similarities of Reo and the detective's figures. He's in a plain button up, sleeves rolled up to his elbows and the same navy tie he always wears wrapped around his collar.
"Is that the only one he owns?" Midoriya murmurs, using is hands as mock binoculars.
On the ground Naomasa turns his gaze upwards, scanning the tops of the nearby buildings. He squints into the early morning sun, hand raised to his brow in an attempt to block some of it. "It's not even eleven yet," the man mumbles, "How is he not exhausted? He never sleeps and that means neither do I."
The vigilante ducks away from the edge of the roof, quickly changing out of his gear and into something he can wear at the dojo as the police get to work below. He stows his pipe and backpack on the roof of an abandoned building several blocks over, just a few rooftops away from the dojo.
Izuku rips the mask off his face, shoving it in his pocket before he pushes through the dojo's front door.
Ji-woo waits for him inside. "Midoriya, you're late."
The boy slips off his shoes at the door. "Only by a minute." "Late, Midoriya," Ji-woo repeats.
He grins sheepishly at the woman. "Traffic was bad?"
"You walk here." The boy opens his mouth to respond again, but Chee Sensei cuts him off. "Go warm up. You're facing Gamon today so grab a staff once you're done and meet him on the second mat."
Midoriya lets out a sigh as he makes his way towards the other students already mid warmup. "Hai~"
He takes up a spot next to his sparring partner for the day. "Morning."
The older boy gives him a shy smile. "Late again Midoriya? That makes four times this month you know."
Izuku returns the smile with a cheeky one of his own. "At least I haven't missed any days. What was it that had you missing a whole week again?"
The boy lets out a quiet laugh. "Well I wasn't going to miss out on a trip to America."
Gamon Hasuki was a year older than Midoriya though Chee Sensei hadn't started teaching him how to use a bo staff until a year after Midoriya. But, the boy had taken to it easier than he had their regular Muay Thai lessons. He was shorter than anyone else their age range, even shorter than Midoriya himself. But, he wasn't one to be underestimated in the slightest.
The green-haired boy had gotten better at fighting since he'd started his vigilante work. But, even still he wasn't a match for the older boy when Gamon had a bo staff on hand.
Ji-woo waves at the two to begin sparring and Gamon immediately takes the offensive, Izuku forced to defend against his never ending onslaught of blows. Midoriya's heart rate rises, adrenaline pulsing. Hasuki's staff slaps painfully against the fifteen year old's exposed parts, the hits sure to leave blooming blue and purple bruises in their wake.
He blocks a blow coming for his left side and another looking to slam into the back of his knees as Gamon spins, attempting to get behind the younger boy. There's a whirlwind taking over the fifteen year old's head, roaring with ways to counter Hasaki's moves. He's desperate not to let the boy land another hit, vigilante mindset swirling, the storm in his head rising to a crescendo.
Gamon's brows are furrowed in concentration, studying the other boy's every move and taking every opportunity he sees to land a hit on him.
Ji-woo watches the two from a distance. Midoriya's fighting style had changed over the last few months and the woman wasn't sure if it was an improvement or not. Professional dojos like her own didn't allow what most referred to as 'killing blows'. They were considered unsportsmanlike and strictly prohibited because of how dangerous they could be. Because of that many of her students fell out of the habit of protecting against such blows since there simply wasn't a reason for them to. But, Midoriya's style had changed in the way that he had begun protecting against such blows as if he expected his opponents to resort to such methods whenever the opportunity arose for it. Even now she can see how viciously the boy guards his head and other vital organs as if he's fighting not just for a sparring sessions, but for his life.
Desperation swells through him. None of Hisaki's blows are particularly damaging, but Gamon is wearing him down with smaller blows, the injuries racking up like points in a video game despite keeping himself guarded.
Midoriya feels his Muay Thai form slip, street fighting rising to fill in the gaps.
Don't get hit. Don't get hit.
Midoriya blocks a blow coming in from the right and the staves send out a wooden clack that sounds distinctly metallic in his head.
His grip shifts downward, turning into a more baseball bat like position.
Don't get hit. Don't get hit.
Midoriya's gaze drifts upward, spying an opening.
Don't get hit. Don't get hit.
He takes aim and swings for the head.
Don't get hit. Don't get hit.
He watches Gamon's eyes widen, and his own widen with it. But, it's too late to pull out of the action. Midoriya only has time to scream, "Get down!"
Gamon does, the pipe staff sailing over the older boy's head in a smooth arc. Izuku stumbles back, dropping the staff. "A-are you okay?"
Chee Sensei's voice roars over the blood in his ears. "Midoriya! What the hell was that!" Hisaki stares up at him, wide eyed.
"S-Sorry. I'm sorry. I wasn't–– I wasn't thinking." Izuku's hands shake. I almost hurt him. "It's–It's fine Midoriya," the boy says, standing up on shaky knees, "I'm alright."
"I could've killed you."
"Gamon," the black eyed woman pauses at the older boy's side, "Are you alright?"
He nods, wiping his hands off on his shorts. "Yeah. I-I'm fine."
After she's checked that her other student is okay the woman rounds on Midoriya, fiery tar boiling in her pitch eyes. She grabs him by the arm, dragging him towards her small office. It's a dingy room, dimly lit and poorly furnished.
She rounds on him once the door is closed behind them. "Why?" is the only word that comes out of her mouth.
"I–," his voice shakes, "I don't know."
Her freckles burn neon. "That's something you should know better than to even try Midoriya. So I want to know why ." His fists clench, angry at himself for letting something like that even pass through his mind. The whole point for him becoming a vigilante was so that he could protect innocent people.
"I don't have an excuse," the boy whispers.
"I don't want an excuse Midoriya," Ji-woo snaps, "I want an explanation. Where did you even
think to use a staff like that."
"I just..." the boy faulers, "I got caught up in the fight, I was looking for an opening to end it.
And, I... I saw one and took it."
"You got lucky this time." In his head the maw opens, words slithering through his mind like vipers. They bite at every part of his exposed flesh, pumping poison into his veins. And for once, he lets them, lets the poison in, lets the self hatred surge through him like a flood. His pace slows on the race track of his life, watching as several blurred figures pass by him, jeers on their lips.
"He wasn't even trying to kill you," the voice hisses, fanged teeth pulling into a cheshire grin. "I wonder what you'll do once someone is actually trying to? Kill them before they can kill you?" Its acidulous smile sharpens, stretching into something far more sadistic. " I wonder how you'd handle becoming a murderer?"
He grinds his teeth, looking down in shame. On the racetrack he slows to a stop.
"Midoriya, look at me." Chee Sensei's voice is still just as hard, but there's a warmth to it that wasn't there before, "Mistakes happen, you're not the first one to get too caught up in a fight. But, this is a type of mistake that you can't afford to make twice. Gamon is fine this time." She takes a
deep breath, freckles dimming.
"But," Izuku whispers, biting his lip, "He almost wasn't."
Ji-woo's brows unfurl. "Go home Midoriya. Take the rest of the week off. Gather yourself. I'll see you on Monday, okay?"
He nods reluctantly. "I'm sorry." "I know."
Naomasa resists the urge to run a hand through his hair as he pulls to a stop next to a familiar dojo. He hadn't been planning on stopping by today, but Piper had pulled him into the area and he didn't see a point in not getting it out of the way. Tsukuachi peers into the front windows. This is where Reo's friend goes isn't it? The detective glances down at the list in the seat next to him, reading all the names they have left to check off.
Naomasa pinches at the bridge of his nose. "I hoped Eraserhead could've given us better info. Piper saying that he could've been one of his students doesn't necessarily imply that he applied for UA, just that it's somewhere he'd want to go if given the chance." The man leans his head against his steering wheel. "But, what aspiring hero wouldn't go to UA if given the chance. In theory it's good info," the man mumbles, "but it doesn't necessarily get us anywhere." A sigh escapes his mouth as he pushes himself back up and pulls himself out of his patrol car.
He makes his way to the front door, pushing it open.
Ji-woo spies him from the corner of her eyes, turning towards him. "Detective Tsukauchi."
"Chee-san, sorry for dropping by unannounced. It's nice to see you again," Naomasa greets the woman, "I was hoping I could talk to two of your students, Gamon Hasuki and Midoriya Izuku. I wanted to ask them a few follow up questions."
Ji-woo's arms cross, the woman letting out a tired sigh, eyes drifting shut. She foregoes any greeting. "Gamon is here, but I already sent Midoriya home early today, he wasn't feeling well." Her lids crack open, black eyes boring into the man. "And, Detective. I understand that you're trying to do your job and this vigilante that's been running around causing you problems. But, I am also trying to do my job. If you want to speak to any of my students further then it needs to be outside of my dojo, during their free time, and with their parents' permission."
Naomasa eyes widen only slightly before he nods his head in understanding. "Of course. It seems I forgot myself, I got too wrapped up in trying to narrow our suspects." The man dips his head. "I'm sorry about that, I'll save the interviews for a more appropriate time and place."
"Thank you."
Midoriya trudges his way to Reo's apartment after retrieving his vigilante gear, his eyes glazed with the possibilities of what could have happened. His inner voice swirls, churning like molten tar. It spouts insults he'd heard many times in the past, but each one opens new wounds and rehashes old ones.
He knocks quietly on Tsukauchi's window, hesitant, for the first time, to bother him.
Reo opens the window, surprised, but nonetheless welcoming. "Midoriya," he sounds confused, "Aren't you supposed to be at your dojo?"
Instead of answering, the boy spits out the words that had been clogging his mind. "I almost killed someone."
Reo's eyes widen. "What?"
"And, it wasn't even a villain it was someone from my dojo. We were just sparring."
Tsukauchi gently guides the boy to his bed, letting him talk uninterrupted as he drags his desk chair over next to him.
He listens silently, not saying anything as he waits for the fifteen year old to finish his story. Midoriya ends it quietly, with another whispered, "I almost killed him."
Reo nods softly. "But, he's alright."
"But, I almost killed him Tsukauchi."
"But, you didn't."
"But, I almost did ," the younger boy insists.
"But, you didn't ," Reo's words are hard, final, "You didn't even hurt him Midoriya. It sounds to me that he did more damage to you, at least enough for you to slip into fight or flight mode like that. I mean just look at the welts on your arms dude."
Midoriya doesn't spare them a glance. "That isn't the point. " His brows are drawn together, eyes desperate for the older boy to understand.
Reo sighs, "You're right. That's not the point. The point is that you're trying to get me to tell you that you're a horrible person because your teacher wouldn't."
Midoriya's eyes widen. "Wha– That's not!"
"You almost slipped up, you almost hurt someone. You're mad at yourself, but no one else is, not that Gamon guy, not your teacher. So, you turned to me because I'm the only one who knows your secret and you think that's why everyone else isn't mad at you." This time it's Reo who's desperate for the other to understand. "What happened was an accident Midoriya. That's why no one is mad at you. You've kicked up your vigilante hours since summer started. If you're so desperate to punish yourself then cut back on it."
Izuku frowns. "How is that punishment for anyone except the people I'm trying to save!"
"Just... Focus on something that doesn't involve fighting for awhile." Tsukauchi suggests, pleading with him. "Try doing some recon on the missing persons case you've been working on and stop with the short morning patrols before you go to the dojo. That's probably one of the reasons this whole ordeal even happened."
Midoriya quiets.
"Your mind is stuck on 'vigilante', right? So, all we have to do is get you out of it." Tsukachi glances around the room, back at his desk. "Uh, this may or may not help. But, either way it'll get you out of your head. And, who knows! Maybe these escrima sticks I made will help. I finished
them by the way." Reo grins at the younger boy. "They're not something you use at the dojo right?"
Midoriya nods reluctantly. "Yeah. I only learned some of the basics from one of Chee Sensei's friends who was visiting the dojo awhile back. They seemed interesting so I studied how to use them on youtube for a few months before I started the whole vigilante thing."
Reo raises a brow. "You learned how to use them through youtube ?"
"The stances and stuff were nothing new. I just needed to learn how to wield them effectively."
Tskuachi's grin widens, swiping up the two identical weapons off his desk to hand to the boy. "Careful, people might think you're bragging."
"I-I wasn't!" The vigilante splutters, taken off guard.
The black haired boy sports a mischievous smile. "I know Midoriya."
Izuku huffs, struggling to hold back a smile of his own through his mock indignation as he carefully takes the weapons, studyinging them in fascination. "How did you finish these already?"
"It's summer. I could literally make anything in a few days if I put my mind to it. Anyway, they each have a button on their handles, easy to access, but difficult enough to push to where you won't do it on accident." Reo spins in his seat, turning back towards his work desks to push a few things to the side as the fifteen year old finds one of the buttons Tsukauchi had mentioned and presses it.
Midoriya curses, immediately dropping the one in his left hand, fingers spasming. Laughter seeps into his voice, "It shocked me!"
Reo turns, an unsurprised smirk on his lips. "Of course you would have already managed to electrocute yourself. Now, if you'll let me finish... pressing one button will activate both sticks as long as they're us to sixty feet from each other. So, you probably had one of them by the wrong end. I noticed when I first looked at your vigilante gloves it seemed like the palms were coated in a type of synthetic rubber to help with grip. Which means something like that shouldn't be a problem for you as long as you have them on. But, just in case I covered the lower quarter of the sticks in rubber grips to prevent you from electrocuting yourself if you don't have your gloves on for some reason. And, there's a switch on the bottom of them to deactivate the two for one feature if you want."
Midoriya carefully picks up the dropped stick, grabbing it by the rubber coated end this time.
"Each shock has about the same voltage as a police taser. Because of that I implemented a safety feature, usually if you had the link activated and touched one person with both sticks at the same time then it would be like getting hit with two police tasers which can be risky business. But, with this if the link is active then they'll only send out half the volts from each if they're closer than five feet from each other, so a total of 1,200 volts if you get hit with both. Keep in mind that because of that there's only enough juice in them for four full shots each, or eight half shots. After that they'll just act as regular escrima sticks until you recharge them"
Midoriya perches himself on the edge of the teen's bed, completely rapt.
"If the link is active then there's usually a three second signal delay between pressing one button and the other stick going off. And, that delay can fluctuate up to fifteen seconds depending on how far apart they are."
The fifteen year old sets the weapons aside in favor of taking the small box that Reo hands him.
"This is the charger. I tried to make it as inconspicuous and as easy to use as possible, so all you have to do is put them in and leave them and they should be fully charged within twenty-four minutes. So, approximately one full charge every six minutes. The box is also able to generate its own electricity so no plugins required."
Midoriya's eyes twinkle in awe. "You really thought of everything, huh?"
Tsukauchi offers him a smile. "If I don't then someone else will and we can't have that happening now can we?"
"Thanks..." Midoriya ventures, "For taking my mind off of everything. You were right."
Reo huffs. "Of course I was right."
The phrase 'that's what friends are for' comes to the boy's mind and seems to go without saying.
On the race track Midoriya takes a step forward, and another. He picks the pace, jogging, running, sprinting. Until he's back to the pace he'd once held. The sun in his chest burns bright, radiant as ever before.
But, in his head the maw opens, hissing in his ear.
"It's not like you would know the answer to that question. You're so worthless that even the ones you had changed their minds, so worthless that even your father abandoned you."
"He didn't abandon me," Midoriya hisses back, scowl falling into place.
Tsukauchi turns back to him, confused. "What?"
Izuku's eyes widen, stammering out a response. "N-nothing! Just talking to myself!" He manages an awkwardly quiet laugh that does nothing to settle the worry that's taken up residence in Reo's amber gaze.