John Wick reborn as Izuku

by daschpool

..

3. Chapter 3

yelling at him for getting into trouble again.

"Leave her alone and I will," he says, placing the tote bag holding the groceries on the ground a few inches away from his feet. The girl seems a little bit calmer now, but John knows she isn't safe yet.

"Oh, you wanna fucking fight, then? You wanna go?"

He doesn't, but he's been in close contact with Katsuki to know that he doesn't have as much of a choice as he wanted when demanded to fight. He just sighs, and that's enough to set off the teen's temper as he's quick to shift the knife from the girl's neck to John's, holding the blade intimidatingly near the skin while also gripping John's shoulder.

He expected as much. John raises his hands in mock surrender (catch them off their guard, strike fast, don't pull back your blade too soon) before he instantly throws a palm-heel strike against the other boy's chin, then, like clockwork, moves to twist the hand holding the knife in one of the disarming techniques the Ruska Roma drilled into him until he got it perfectly. (The Director sought perfection, after all.)

"Ack—! What the fuck?!" The teen tries to struggle free, but John thoroughly makes sure he doesn't as he knees the contorted arm at an uncomfortable angle, removing the pocket knife and throwing it away.

John shortly looks up at the girl, finding no other injuries. "The police are on their way."

He sees the relief flood through her as she breathes out, "Th-Thank you so much!"

John nods.

And then, he feels his phone buzzing in his pocket, and he knows Katsuki is going to be extra noisy and tiresome, so, after releasing the arm for a split second, and letting the delinquent get up on his hands and knees, he picks up his grocery bag full of hefty items and delivers a mean swing on the head which he hopes keeps the teen down long enough for the cops to arrive and detain him. Luckily, he hears the sirens closing in.

"I'm running late for something," John tells the girl. "Are you okay waiting here and telling them what happened?"

"Oh! Uh, y-yeah, sure!"

With one last nod, John adjusts his grip on the groceries and leaves.

That is, until the girl calls for him, "Wait! I didn't catch your name!"

"Midoriya," is all he says before walking further away, because now his phone is ringing in that weird All Might laughter Katsuki put as his ringtone for some reason, and he can't be bothered to interact with more people at the moment, especially the police. He's almost certain the detective and his cat partner are tired of meeting him again.

~

"And could you describe the person who came to help?" Sansa asks as an afterthought even though he has a suspicion of who it is.

The girl, who introduced herself as Aihara Kikyo, replies with the enthusiasm of any star-struck kid who has witnessed a hero coming to rescue them, "Oh, he has, uh, he has green hair? Yeah, green hair and he's, like- he looks younger than me but when you look at him you can mistake him for a teen or something because he acted so mature—oh! He also has green eyes and freckles! I don't know his Quirk, though. But it was so cool how he knocked out the bastard with his grocery bag!"

Ah.

Oh ho ho, Tsukauchi is really gonna love this. The kid's seriously gaining some reputation around here.

"Did you catch his name by any chance?"

Aihara looks thoughtful for a brief moment before she snaps her fingers, and, "Oh yeah! He said his name is Mido something. Midorima? Ah, no, Midoriya, yeah, his name's Midoriya, sir."

...Sansa is feeling twelve thousand yen richer now.

~

The first time John hears about a clinic specifically for the Quirkless (because apparently some hospitals in the city can refuse medical treatment for the Quirkless) is when he stops three delinquent middle schoolers from further assaulting a boy close to his age, if but a year younger.

"Where's this clinic?" John asks when the boy with dark, messy hair tells him to take him there in a wheeze.

In his previous life, John had his fair share of crossing multiple thresholds of hospitals and clinics made to heal people like him. They were out of sight while at the same time out in the open if you know where to look. Though in later years, he decided to stick to private, hidden clinics, despite its doctors following the High Table's code.

("Sorry, Mr. Wick," the doctor told him morosely as the clock struck the hour of his reckoning. John simply stared at the man without bitterness nor ill will because—

"Rules..."

"Are rules.")

"In the..." The boy croaks before coming into a coughing fit, later spitting out sputum of blood on the sidewalk. "In the back alley... Ando street... Behind Sakane's bookstore."

They make it there when the sky turns into a splash of oranges, reds, yellows, and pinks, the sun casting sharp shadows from the buildings onto the streets. ("Stick to the shadows when you can, Jardani, because the light cannot help you out there.")

Deeper into the aforementioned back alley, he finds an unsuspecting metal door, thoroughly concealed by the darkness and the clotheslines up above, the only source of light being the lone

neon blue lights lining the doorframe. "We're here," the injured boy mumbles before reaching out to knock four times on the door. Soon after, a tall elderly woman answers with a brisk, "Get in."

The clinic is what John imagines it to look like; clean yet homey for those who seek comfort in a society such as theirs. There are cabinets stocked with medicine and first aid equipment among other things, and there are some worn but plush chairs lining the walls. It still smells like any other hospital due to the antiseptic, but it has this lavender scent as well. If anything else, the clinic seems to have been a storage area to some other business once. But John won't comment on it; it's not his place to do so.

"You can set him here," the old woman tells him shortly, brushing past John and entering one of the only doors in the room that must lead to the patient beds.

After carefully helping the boy to one of the vacant beds, John supposes that he's no longer needed. The nurses and doctors here can patch the kid up—

"What's your name, boy?"

John glances at the elderly lady searching through a cabinet and, after a brief moment, answers, "Midoriya Izuku."

"Well, Midoriya Izuku, can I ask for your cooperation and not say a word about this clinic?" The way she says it almost sounds like a threat but John is aware of the difference between that and a desperate request. In any case, he has no intention of disclosing this clinic to anybody. It's not any of his business, after all.

So he nods. "Yeah."

"Good. You may leave."

He was going to, but it's a rule for the universe to follow that John Wick—now Midoriya Izuku— should not have an easy time if they could help it.

Just as soon as he passes the threshold out the patient room, the entrance door gets slammed open with a resounding bang, and three very familiar figures enter the clinic, each holding a weapon (a crowbar, a baseball bat, and a rusty pipe).

"Oi! Quirkless squicks! Don't think you've seen the last of us!" The middle schooler in between the other two announces with egotistical flair despite the obvious black eye he's sporting.

"Yeah, we've got a bone to pick with ya, squicks!"

"You better say your prayers!"

John doesn't need to say anything, though. What he does do is pick up a nearby stool, stare evenly at the trio, and let them come to him on their own foolish hubris. And they do, and it's a flurry of clumsy, uncoordinated, telegraphed attacks, paired with their lacking spatial awareness. It's simple enough for him to use the stool to disarm them and subsequently knocking them on their backs, ending the short-lived fight before the old woman could call for help.

"Don't come back here again," he soon bids them, aiming a cold look at the three middle schoolers because he means it. This is a safe space, a neutral zone where you are to not conduct any business until you leave. In his past life, it's a rule that everyone respects and follows dutifully to a fault (until Perkins, and then much, much later, John himself) and he wants nothing more than to instill that kind of regard in these boys so they can leave the clinic alone.

There are barely enough safe spaces for people like him these days, after all.

~

Igaku Koeda doesn't see kids like Midoriya Izuku very often, but she did get a kick out of witnessing the kid owning those prejudiced little imps for disrespecting her clinic (as illegal as it was in the eyes of the Quirk-worshipping law). But alas, sometimes you can't let the children do everything by themselves.

So she sends a text to one of her heroes, specifically one who she tolerates the most out of every other hero who comes by to drop off an injured person-without-a-power like her out of the goodness of their heart or whatever.

"Is...Is Midoriya-senpai okay out there?"

Koeda glances at her current patient—Akatani Mikumo, he told her earlier—and shrugs. She isn't that worried, not after what she saw.

"He's fine. Knocked those little scamps to next Sunday, easy."

She's grateful for it, really. At least she doesn't have to take out her custom-made taser. She dislikes brats who come into her special clinic thinking they're all that, but she'd like to avoid any physical damage if she could help it. (Plus, she is, above all else, a doctor, and she's morally bound not to curb stomp narrow-minded children with her special boots.)

Eventually, she leaves the treatment room to stand a bit behind Midoriya, who is currently staring down the three brats into silence while still holding her fucking stool. Impressive. "Thanks for dealing with them, kid. I've already called a hero to take them, they'll arrive shortly."

The kid simply nods.

When Midoriya does end up needing to leave, Koeda raises a hand to extend an offer, because really, it's the least she could do, "You're always welcome to stop by in case those stuck-up docs refuse to even bother with you. You know where to go."

Midoriya gazes at her with this look she doesn't really recognize before he nods again.

"...Thanks, doc."

"Eh, don't mention it. Now scram, I've got a patient to tend to."

He does, and shortly thereafter, a friendly, tired face arrives, and it looks like he aged ten years upon seeing the three middle schoolers scared shitless on her tiled floor.

"Before you ask, these three came into my clinic thinking they're hot shit and wanted to commit a felony against my patient and another kid, but the same kid decided to slap the shit out of them with a chair before they could try to wreck anything."

Poor guy continues to age ten more years before her eyes until he sighs like he just saw something so devastating but was too tired to react beyond anything else.

"...Is the kid still even here?"

"Nah. He left before you got here."

"Ah."

~

At this point, John is beginning to think he has some latent trouble-attracting power that the doctor missed during his examination when he was four because, in recent weeks, he's been getting pulled into fights that he never wanted to be in, much less interested in, by confrontational people who want to "challenge" him for whatever reason.

Of course, there's also him stopping shady people from harassing bystanders, but it's more out of habit than anything else, and it's something he was willing to do.

(It's not this hero instinct Katsuki keeps raving about. John is anything but a hero. Sure, he saved that one dog from getting put down, but the blood he spilled would never come off his skin, no matter how much he tries washing it away.)

("You are a weapon, Jardani. The best one there is. You are raised to be one. Don't disappoint.")

Nevertheless, he fights back when he has to.

However, he barely manages to hold himself back from inflicting dangerous injuries because he has to remind himself that he isn't existing as an experienced hitman, but as an ordinary boy in a superhuman society. He can't go back to that kind of life here. He refuses.

Eventually, he tells Katsuki about this little phenomenon—mostly because the blond kept pestering him for answers—and all John got from that was the other boy putting up a tally system for how many scuffles John unintentionally gets involved in. It's ridiculous, really, but whatever makes Katsuki happy-ish.

Soon enough, though, the fights he gets dragged into by assertive kids his age and older happen a little less frequently, primarily due to John's memorization of the routes he takes most often and his capability in evading people efficiently.

Now, he only ever involves himself in hindering thugs and dubious folk alike from executing crimes and injuring other people in the shadows of alleyways, silent and out of sight, just as he always did before.

He might not be forgiven—or even forgive himself—of the bodies he buried in his career, but somewhere in the back of his mind, he thinks Helen would be proud of him for using the skills he cultivated just for this.

(And if he paid enough attention or was interested enough, he might've heard the beginnings of a rumor with him in it. But, as it always is with everything else, John doesn't care.)

~

Although Tsukauchi Naomasa is someone who rarely dips his toes in underground chatter for self- preservation's sake, he does get to hear stories and legends being passed around here and there. Some of them are helpful, while others are just flimsy speculations and theories, but Naomasa appreciates any information given, regardless if they're legit or just plain rumors.

In this particular instance, though, he wants to drink his third cup of coffee dry, because what the hell.

Midoriya Izuku, a frequent figure in multiple arrests for the past year, is now being dubbed by most of the underground circuit—specifically villains—as the Viridian Devil of Musutafu.

According to the rumors circulating in the underground and the criminal underbelly of Musutafu, the Viridian Devil is someone you don't mess with at all, point-blank. Though he is small, he is agile on his feet; though he looks weak, he can overpower even the biggest of crooks with just the environment and his terrifying smarts.

("I saw him knock out a thug with a trash can lid, Tsukauchi," Sansa said to him one day. "It was the weirdest, most effective thing I've ever seen.")

What's frightening for the people who spread these rumors, in that respect, is that the Viridian Devil only ever appears in the shadows, and when there's trouble. He doesn't come to gang-related fights or anything akin to them, however.

When a child is about to be abducted, the Viridian Devil is there. When someone is getting mugged, he's there. When someone who can't fight back is about to be ruthlessly maimed, he's there in a heartbeat, and he does it in absolute silence.

And he only ever shows up when a hero isn't there to help.

Naomasa knows this because a few underground heroes who come by to the station told him as much. While he could bring Midoriya in and ask him why he keeps doing it (he will, he most undoubtedly will because come on the kid is- what, almost thirteen? It's a wonder how his mother never found out about this), but at this point, he's too exhausted to try. He'll take him in for further questioning—if he sticks around long enough—without charges, and that's it.

As Naomasa informed him the third time he's met him (beating a robber with an umbrella, what a kid), Midoriya's not technically breaking any laws about vigilantism. If anything, he's part of the ones who aren't affected by it at all, so he can freely intervene in any trouble so long as he continues to call the police.

Still, when all is said and done...

What the fuck is Naomasa's life.

(Somewhere in a certain high school, a very exhausted teacher feels a strange compulsion to pat a detective on the back in solidarity.)

Chapter End Notes

I feel like this chapter is close to having the Crack Taken Seriously tag lmao

john: I want a life free from violence john: *respawns as izuku* john: ok john: *has legends made about him bc he's a Bad Bitch to the point he has an epithet* john: god fucking damn it

sorry john turns out you won't get the life of retirement you wanted after all lmao

and OCs! OCs everywhere!!! (They'll make some cameos and mentions throughout the story but other than that, they're not really main characters to the overall plot)

also! Shoutout to ProjectIceman for the Viridian Demon moniker in their comment in the last chapter! I tweaked it to be Viridian Devil tho I hope it's alright! (it's way better than my initial name of just calling him the Boogeyman of Musutafu bc I'm Not Original lol)

the die is cast

Chapter Summary

Entrance exams are coming up.

John is insistent he doesn't want to be a hero but then a particular set of events happen that give him the impression that the universe at large doesn't care.

Chapter Notes

CW: Suicide baiting, brief description of suffocation, lots of swearing from your not- so-friendly neighborhood bomberanian boy

Woo time skip to canon timeline island baby!!!! (with a u-turn to canon divergence for spice :D)

I'll be honest though, I'm not 100% satisfied w this one, mainly bc Idk how to transition from one scene smoothly to another w/o piling unnecessary exposition or something and making this chapter boring lmao but here it is and I hope yall enjoy! \o/

See the end of the chapter for more notes

John first hears about UA when he's in a certain detective's office for the tenth time of the year for unintentionally helping in taking down a rising band of drug sellers early this morning. Katsuki will undoubtedly give him a hard time for this, but it'll be a problem for another time.

"Okay, I think that wraps it up. Thanks for today, Midoriya." The detective, Tsukauchi, caps his pen and directs a small smile at him, as tired as it appears, but John won't call him out on it.

He simply nods.

Before he can finish his cup of mocha and leave the detective's office, the man starts casually, "You're in your last year of junior high, right?"

A strange thing to ask suddenly, but he had weirder questions asked to him. "Yeah."

"Have you thought about what high school you're thinking of enrolling in?"

In the beginning, John didn't think much of it. Actually, he didn't consider much of his future at all, too busy trying to adapt to this superhuman society for 14 years while simultaneously keeping the rotten, poisonous tendrils of his past life from infecting his new one.

He hardly thought of what he even wanted to do when he grew older. Back then, his only purpose was to be a weapon. A vicious killer with a mountain of bodies entombed under his feet. There was no other future left for him but death.

(But Helen changed that, he had a future with her, but life turned out to be cruel, and he was left

uncertain with where to go until Daisy came along. Even then, he was left to grieve and wonder if he was meant to have a future at all.)

Considering everything, a choice of high school had been the last thing on his mind.

"No," he says as much in one simple word.

Tsukauchi raises a brow. "Really? How come?"

"I got too busy, I guess." From dealing with low-level criminals heckling him for money, knocking said criminals on their ass for harassing other people, and attending his martial arts and self- defense classes, "busy" probably didn't describe most of it.

"Understandable," the man comments with a teasing lilt. "You've got quite a track record here, Midoriya."

He doesn't recall the last time he's ever felt embarrassed, but this came close.

"Hey, why don't you go attend UA?"

John looks up from his cup to see the detective regarding him with a relaxed look in his eyes. He recalls hearing Katsuki mention a school called "UA" before, saying he wants to go there because it's where the best heroes came from. He had no opinion on it except that it's a high school, and students are taught and trained to be heroes.

(A repulsive part of himself takes note of how it's not much different from his time growing up. Training until his hands scarred and bled and bruised, raised to be a killer than a savior.)

"I don't want to be a hero." His answer stays the same because that's been the plan since day one.

Tsukauchi gives him a certain look and he thinks he sees a slight twitch at the corners of the man's lips.

"Well, judging from your many—and I mean many—interventions between crooks and victims, I'd say you're well on your way to becoming one."

John shrugs, taking another sip, unsure of what to think about that kind of impression.

"I'm just being a decent person. If I can stop someone from hurting another, I'll do it."

(He holds his tongue—and his tone—about his concealed distaste for how commercialized heroism is in this world, though. John doesn't think he has the right to have an opinion on it, really, considering his history, and the underworld wasn't invested in media coverage of its human reapers for obvious reasons.)

Sure, he did the things he does now, stepping in between a knife and a child, stopping a bully from brutalizing their victim, but...

That still didn't make him something as glorified and praised as a hero.

"That may be true, but society doesn't see it in the way that you do, kid," Tsukauchi says and there's something faintly bitter and tired underneath, but John isn't here to navigate the detective's emotional state of mind.

For a moment, it's silent in the office, barring the whirring of the coffee machine and the hustle and bustle of the station outside the room.

His drink had gone a little cold but he forgets about it when Tsukauchi speaks again, "Look, Midoriya, all I'm saying is that UA could be a good place for you. If you don't want to be a hero, that's fine. But at least consider going? Because, no offense, you need some friends."

John opens his mouth to correct him.

"Bakugou is one friend. You need more than one."

John closes it.

"Plus," Tsukauchi adds with a thumb jutting at a very specific green ring binder sitting on the desk, "I'd prefer your track record to be less like this in the future. The police chief's already breathing down my neck about letting a kid do most of the precinct's work for them."

He nods at that. "Sure." He'd hate to have a police chief breathe down his neck.

Shortly, he checks the clock, and sure enough, he has about an hour before school starts. Hopefully, there won't be any giant crooks taking advantage of the rush hour. That would be a headache.

Finishing his drink and throwing it in the nearby trash bin, John takes his leave. "Thanks for the coffee."

Right when he opens the door leading outside the office, Tsukauchi says, "I know you said you don't want to be one, but I think you'd make a great hero, Midoriya." And there seems to be a smile in his voice too, but John doesn't look too deep into it.

Later, he mulls over his conversation with the detective on his trek to school, narrowly avoiding the day's villain and side-eying the heroes (that wood-themed hero is certainly...dramatic with his heroic spiel), but he shoves those thoughts in the back-burner as he passes the school's gate, mentally, emotionally, and physically preparing himself for another day.

~

"Now that you're all in your final year, I believe it's about time you think about your futures seriously."

Around him, John's classmates are practically buzzing with anticipation. Meanwhile, John busies himself reassessing his recent analysis of the fresh Pro Hero on the scene, Mt. Lady. Actually, now that he's looking at it, he should refine his code; or better yet, begin a new one.

Whichever's the easiest and less time-consuming.

"Ah, who am I kidding," the teacher continues. "I'm assuming you all want to be heroes?"

With a show of throwing the high school application forms in the air, the class (sans John and Katsuki) let their powers run free, a sudden pandemonium compared to the moment of complete silence earlier. It almost grates on his ears, but he's adept at tuning out the noise.

Especially when Katsuki is added to it.

"Sensei! Don't lump me in with these losers!" The blond proclaims, "If anybody in this shabby

school's gonna make it big, it's gonna be me!"

Their classmates, expectedly, don't take the declaration too kindly, and John naturally blocks out the next wave of uproar before his eardrums could rupture. Honestly, Katsuki and his big ego will never cease to amaze him even after all this time.

"Ah, of course, that reminds me; Bakugou-kun will be taking UA's entrance exams, is that right?"

John ignores all the instant awes and compliments thrown at Katsuki, as usual. It's strange enough they still glorify him after being told they're "extras" daily. What he doesn't ignore, though, is the mention of UA again.

On his way to school, he typed the name on his phone, and according to his short and quick research, UA is one of the top hero academies in Japan, the alma mater to a cluster of widely known heroes such as All Might and this walking incarnate of Hephaestus named Endeavor (a grandiose name for a guy who seems to scowl a lot).

The school isn't like the Ruska Roma as far as he can tell. UA is—obviously—a high school, one the government is apparently funding, and while it teaches its students to fight and defend with their Quirks and otherwise, it also guides them to uphold good morals, to adopt the mindset of saving the people and stopping the villains.

(It's not like the Ruska Roma at all.)

All things considered, it's a place that John can't imagine himself attending.

The teacher says as much.

"Oh, it seems Midoriya doesn't have a choice of high school written here."

The other students, as he already expected, react in various degrees, some mocking, some pitying, some laughing. He ignores them all in favor of his notebook.

It's nothing he hasn't dealt with before, and he's a natural at tuning out nonsense for something that deserves his attention the most.

(Like wondering how detective Tsukauchi even thought that John could go to such a school in the first place.)

After turning a deaf ear to Katsuki yelling at everybody as per usual, the school day is finally over at the ring of the bell, and John dispels the exhaustion from his body with a breath, waiting for everyone else to leave the room. Normally, he'd pack his things and leave before any unpleasant confrontations happen, but now, he knows without a shadow of a doubt that a certain someone is gonna confront him about a certain issue.

"Oi, you're going to UA with me, asshole."

Katsuki is looming over his desk, brows furrowed and arms crossed. To an outsider, it would seem as though Katsuki is trying to be intimidating, but between the both of them, it's just Katsuki being his usual gruff self as he communicates whatever's on his mind.

John doesn't look up from his current analysis-writing as he answers, "No."

Katsuki makes a noise that's a mix of confusion and his normal anger in the back of his throat. "The fuck?! Why the hell not?!"

"I don't want to be a hero."

He wasn't lying when he said it the first time either, and when he was in Tsukauchi's office. For all that he's thought on it, he doesn't plan on attending what's essentially a hero school filled with hero-hopefuls. And he's not intending on becoming the opposite of what he used to be back then, and he's not planning on changing his mind, never mind what Tsukauchi thought.

It wouldn't really work anyway in this kind of world, where those with Quirks are loved and favored than those without.

"You don't have to want to be a fucking hero to get into UA, you dick," Katsuki grits, close to incinerating the desk as he's leaning his hands on it, but John is used to the attitude. "You could fucking— I don't know, go to Gen Ed or some shit. I don't fucking care, just go to UA with me!"

"Why?" Katsuki is easy to read on the best of days, but sometimes he can be quite unpredictable, something John has grown to be familiar with. "You wanted to be the only one in this school to go."

"Because!" The blond throws up his hands, letting off a few sparks before slamming them down on John's table again (to which John moves his notebook away in practiced ease), "You could get into some stupid shit with some villains or whatever the fuck if I let you out of my sight!"

"It's a coincidence," he reasons, because he can tell the difference between enemies coming to get him with a purpose and thugs just trying to start something while John is in the same area. In the latter instance, he's just trying to defend others. Nothing particularly wrong with that.

(Better than other assassins attempting to murder him for a bounty and him throwing the sentiment right back at their faces twice as deadly.)

"No it fucking isn't, asshole," his friend grumbles. "Every time I leave you alone—hell whenever you're out by yourself!— there's either a mugging going on while you're there or some two-bit thug about to fucking shank you. You rock their shit anyway, but it's fucking annoying when it happens all the damn time!"

"It happened only ten times this year."

"You got fucking arrested for five of those, shitty Deku!" And of course, Katsuki figured out why John was almost late. May it never be said that the resident perfectionist isn't perceptive.

"Brought in for questioning, and then released without charges," he corrects. He absently wonders if that detective's partner is keeping a scoreboard from all his visits to the station.

Katsuki just stares at him with a look that says a lot of things until it settles on plain Katsuki- Annoyance. "I'm not gonna stop bugging the shit out of you until you say you're going to UA with me. You know I will, Deku."

Stubbornness. It's always stubbornness that he and Katsuki have in common the most. Unlike his friend, though, John knows when to call it quits. "Fine."

Looking exceptionally pleased with himself, Katsuki jerks his head to the classroom doors. "I'm heading to the store to buy some shit. You coming?"

"No. I've got things to sort out at home." Like triple-checking UA for anything suspicious, for example, but Katsuki doesn't need to know that.

"Then, I'm going with you. No fucking way am I gonna let you off that easy after last month," he later says because of course. For all that he is brash and loud and difficult to understand at times, the blond boy is careful, and perhaps a little protective even though he'll deny it wholeheartedly.

"Sure."

They don't make it outside the classroom before John gets verbally harassed, though. Shame.

"Oi, stupid Deku! Did you finally become brain dead or something when you forgot to put in what high school you're gonna go to or what?" The voice of the other resident pompous kid, Mayura Ken, resounds from the other end of the hallway and John carefully keeps his emotions out of his face, as usual. Bullies get satisfaction out of your reaction.

"Ignore him, Katsuki," John says, already having noticed the blond about to tear the other kid a new one from the way he flexes his hands dangerously. Katsuki's been getting better at handling his anger issues but he has yet to completely reign them in. Acting on his rage via exploding Mayura into oblivion definitely won't help matters.

John should know, his anger has gotten him into plenty of trouble before.

Katsuki, meanwhile, scoffs, "The bastard's getting on my last nerves, Deku."

John continues walking, knowing fully well that letting even an inch of an opening for someone like Mayura to bug him incessantly wouldn't be a pleasant experience.

He doesn't need to look back to see Katsuki catching up with him, listening to the scuffs of the blond's shoes against the hallway floor. Mayura continues to taunt him from a dozen feet away, obviously the type to be petty from a distance.

"I seriously don't get how you're not fucking pissed at that dumbass right now."

"It's not my problem."

Katsuki clicks his tongue. "Of course you'd say that. Smartass."

It's the truth, though. Dealing with guys like Mayura, all bark and no bite, just isn't worth the trouble. Besides, there's nothing to be gained from answering back; the only thing he'll get is more annoyances and pretentious boys flaunting whatever privilege they have.

"Hey, Deku!" Ah, Mayura is still talking, is he? "I got a suggestion for you if you decide to go to a hero school! Why don't you take a swan dive off the roof and wish for a Quirk in the next life?"

Like a remote control, it sets off Katsuki's fuse, and he detonates. "What in the goddamn fuck did you just say, you degenerate piece of shit?!"

"Katsuki."

The blond stops just two steps away from him. His fists are clenched tightly, and John can practically smell the burning caramel from here. Oh, Katsuki's fists are smoking now.

"Don't."

Katsuki growls lowly, "Somebody should—"

"And that's not your job." Really, it should be the teacher's job to reprimand a student for their misconduct. His trainers and the Director certainly did whenever the other orphans of the Ruska

Roma toed out of line. Even his dojo mentors in this life don't take too kindly to harassment— discrimination, especially.

"That son of a bitch needs to get his ass handed to him, Deku!" His friend snaps, bristling.

("He shot my dog," Sofia snarls lowly with a kind of vitriol and anger that only John could understand.)

"I get it," he tries to placate. "But he's not worth it. Let's go."

There are times when Katsuki doesn't listen to him, choosing to do what he wants to do, regardless of the aftermath. Most of those times happened to be when John gets pushed around too much and he doesn't react to it beyond a mask of apathy and cold indifference, whereas Katsuki responds to such treatment with a show of loud confrontation and indignation on John's behalf.

This time, though, Katsuki eases up, if with a bit of annoyance. At least the scent of burnt caramel is growing less intense.

They continue walking, Mayura's paltry goading echoing behind them, but they don't acknowledge it. Well, John doesn't. The boy beside him is obviously trying not to turn heel and possibly hospitalize Mayura until graduation, but the gritted teeth, clenched fists, and stiff shoulders fall away into something mild the moment they leave Aldera's gates.

"Ten minutes. Good work," John says. It's become a bit of a game of sorts, something Katsuki suggested they do to help curb his violent tendencies by timing how long it takes for him to calm down from a surge of anger. For the most part, it worked. (And sometimes he wished they could've done this sooner when they were toddlers, but the past...stays there.)

"Shut the fuck up," Katsuki grumbles without the usual bite as they continue their path home in companionable silence (well, as companionable as it can be.)

~

He has to get outta here. He has to escape now or He will find him, and he doesn't wanna mess with that shit. He's a bastard, alright, but he ain't suicidal.

He's lost his previous invisibility cloak—it died before he could even make it past the shopping area—but that's fine; he can just find a new one! There are tons of 'em slithering in this godforsaken city, all smiles and laughter, and thinking they've got such an easy time.

Spotting a nearby sewer grate, he slinks through the gaps, hoping that wherever he ends up in, he'll find a new cloak.

~

For a moment, things have been relatively calm on their walk home from school, save for Katsuki complaining about Mayura or some other thing that caught his irritation.

But then things turn to absolute shit halfway into their journey and it starts with the sound of something rattling in the underpass that stops John in his tracks. Katsuki stops too shortly after.

"What?"

John doesn't answer yet. He raises a hand to halt any other questions, tilting his head to catch the noise again. It's...close. Too close for comfort, actually. Behind them.

"Get ready to run."

That's his only warning to Katsuki before something big and reeks of sewage bursts from the only manhole in the underpass, large, unhinged eyes directed at—

"Ah, two new invisibility cloaks? Don't mind if I do!"

John is quick to slide off his bag from his shoulders, sharp gaze locked on the pungent villain before him and the unmistakable presence of the eyes, out in the open for an attack (always exploit your enemy's weakness). Without delay, he hurls the yellow backpack at the guy's eyeballs with as much strength and accuracy as he could muster, earning a thunderous cry for the move.

(Mentally, he apologizes to Mom for the disrespect he's put on the bag that she bought for him for Christmas.)

"You little shit! That fucking hurt!"

Without prompting, Katsuki immediately follows with a timed blast to the face, strong enough to stun the villain but not enough to bring the whole tunnel down. "Eat this, you son of a—"

But then the villain recovers all too quickly to encase the boy's limbs in green muck, cackling, "Eat what? You didn't finish! Now stay still so I can—"

John doesn't waver as he runs towards the villain, the familiar adrenaline of taking down difficult opponents and the unshakable instinct to get to Katsuki propelling him to leap at the sludge and claw at the gunk that's trapping his friend's arms.

As of right now, his goal is to free the other boy's hands so Katsuki could temporarily blind and daze the villain to spare them enough time to escape and alert a hero. While it's a feeble plan with plenty of potential drawbacks attached to it, John is willing to risk it to get Katsuki out.

(He risked it when he chose to put that bullet in Santino's head.)

His thoughts and his clawing come to an abrupt halt when he feels his own limbs get consumed by the same green sludge, the scent of sewage and a faint hint of smoke invading his senses as he's pulled away from Katsuki who is still screeching despite his mouth being covered by slimy filth.

"Ah, trying to save your little friend here, eh?" The sludge villain says with a croaked laugh. "That's fine, I get to have more than one sock puppet!"

Before he knew it, the odor of every foul entity from the sewers grows stronger, and John can feel something viscous and foul trespassing his mouth and forcing its way down his throat, cutting off his airways. Beside him, he can hear Katsuki managing to free his mouth of the sludge to let out a furious, "Get your nasty fucking shit off us, you bitch!"

"Stop struggling, it'll hurt less!"

"Fuck you!"

John has had experience in being suffocated and strangled.

(A plastic bag over his head, struggling, finding a way out)

It's always an unpleasant experience; it's as if your entire body is slowly shutting down from the lack of oxygen—your eyes get blotted with dark spots, your throat constricted by rope or hands, your heart pounding against your ribcage like a burning iron ball, your consciousness slipping by the second—yet it still fights to stay conscious enough to get rid of the thing that's keeping you from breathing.

This is like those times, but worse.

There are no hands or ropes for him to break out of. It's simply thick sewage crawling into his esophagus, extinguishing any chance of air. Marcus isn't there to snipe the villain dead. It's just John and Katsuki, both being suffocated to possible death.

But John doesn't want to die here. He doesn't want both of them to die here, especially when Katsuki has something to look forward to. And Mom would be devastated if John were to die, and he hates being the reason she cries.

Black spots obtrude his vision. His ears ring and muffle any other noise, and he thinks he hears Katsuki yell for him, but John doesn't know. All he knows is that he can't breathe. He can't breathe.

Just as soon as the darkness swallows him whole, a booming voice cuts through it, and John can almost see the bright, obnoxious colors and a cheek-aching smile belonging to it.

"TEXAS SMASH!"

~

Consciousness returns to him slowly like molasses, but then it slaps him across the face.

Oh, no, it's just Katsuki.

"Oi, Deku, wake the fuck up, you asshole!"

John peels his eyes open, staving off an impending headache, and above him, he finds Katsuki hovering over him with a scowl that says he's worried but wouldn't admit it even under the pain of death or embarrassment. The same could be said for how he sounds, occasionally interrupted by coughs.

"I'm up, I'm up," John says hoarsely, all too aware of how sore and dry his throat is. Actually, his whole body seems sore. He'll deal with that later, though. He has other concerns.

"Fucking finally! Deku, you will not fucking believe who just saved our asses," Katsuki starts, and that at least answers the question of what happened.

Sitting up slowly with a bit of help from the other teen, he blinks, adjusting his eyes to the light, and John is suddenly conscious of the fact that a giant man is standing in front of them. A giant

man who happens to be the last person John would want to see in any other setting.

"Ah! I'm glad you're alright, young man!" All Might says with a smile that feels so uncomfortable to John's face. He squints. Has it always been stuck like that or is it just some god-given talent that makes up All Might as a whole?

"My apologies for getting you two caught up with that villain. I don't normally make such mistakes, but I'm new around here and I may have gotten a bit too excited on my day off." The Number One Hero chuckles but it's more of a stentorian laugh than anything else.

John hums noncommittally, eyeing the older blond. Although he's not as much of a hero fan as Katsuki (and every other child ever), he is at least grateful that All Might came to save them in time. However, there's another concern of his that he hopes the Number One has already dealt with by the time he arrived to help them.

"Um," he hears the man begin a little nervously (and isn't that funny? The top hero of Japan, nervous in front of two middle schoolers), "I don't mean to be rude or anything, but why is your friend staring at me like that?"

"He does that sometimes, you're fine," Katsuki answers gruffly.

John decides to ignore that. "Where's the villain?"

He sees All Might perk up, and he pulls out a large soda bottle from behind his back, the green sewage of the villain intact and confined within the plastic, knocked unconscious.

Huh...

John is not going to ask how the man did it. The laws of physics and reality have already been thrown out the window even before he was reborn, so he's not going to question it. "I've successfully detained him! Speaking of which, I should be dropping him off at the station now and be on my way. A hero's work is never done, after all!"

Just when the hero is about to leap away (without making sure they'll be fine by themselves, or calling an ambulance or their parents or anything because a hero's work is never done) John briefly goes out of his way to suggest, "Keep your hold on the bottle instead of keeping it in your pocket. It'll fall otherwise."

He's unsure if the guy will even take his suggestion because he has a slight suspicion that All Might could be one of those people who rely more on themselves rather than information and other outside sources to help them achieve their objectives.

He's of course proven wrong. "Oh! I see your point. Thank you for the suggestion, young man! Now, I must be off. Take care, you two!"

With that, All Might leaps into the air, soaring further away until he is just a dot in the sky, never to be seen again until some other dangerous villain comes around to summon him. Although… It could just be John's imagination, but was there blood peaking through the man's lips?

"Holy fucking shit, we just met fucking All Might," Katsuki mutters in disbelief. John will never know how it feels to meet your heroes, but at least his friend is enjoying himself, even when they almost got suffocated to death earlier.

Later, after taking a moment to collect themselves, they gather their things. To John's relief, his bag is relatively fine as well as his notebooks and pens, if a little dirtied. However, one notebook sticks

out the most to him, and when he flips through its pages, he discovers with a grim line of his lips that the hero signed it with his hero name.

It takes two entire pages, and frankly, he is a little disconcerted that All Might thought to write on his notebook with a predetermined notion that John would want it.

He didn't, in fact, want it, but it's there on his notebook now, and he can't exactly erase it without wasting a correction fluid or two, and he can't tear them off without ruining the rest of the pages stapled with them. He does know someone who might want to keep it, though, and would like to preserve it as a family heirloom or something.

"Here." Without preamble, John hands the (defaced) notebook to Katsuki, who is gaping at the offering as if John just gave him the secrets to the universe.

"That's—"

"All Might's signature, yeah."

Katsuki, for some reason, looks bemused at the gesture, and John can't quite figure out why. "But —"

"I don't want it," is all he says because he knows that Katsuki knows that John isn't a diehard fan of the American-themed hero, so his offering shouldn't be that confusing.

After a brief period of Katsuki grouchily appraising John and the notebook, he swipes the thing into his hand, now returning to his usual self. "Suit yourself. 'S your loss."

It really isn't, but he's not going to bother telling Katsuki that. Napping is sounding really appealing right now.

~

Somewhere across the district, All Might has arrived at the police station. However, the familiar sensation of his time running out and his body steaming urges him to make another careless mistake.

He simply places the bottle holding the villain in front of the sliding doors rather than inside the station and leaps away in a rush, counting the remaining seconds he has before he could turn back into the shriveled husk of himself, his scar pulsing in phantom aches.

The sludge villain has awoken before any police officers could collect him. He escapes his plastic prison and seeks to find a newer, more submissive cloak with a powerful Quirk that could take down All Might.

And he does. And he reigns fire.

~

It says a lot about John's luck when another disaster strikes a few blocks from where he and Katsuki almost met their end by a slimy, sewer monster almost half an hour ago. He's not superstitious by any means, but if he was, he might've thought the universe was conspiring against him.

Because down the street, shortly after telling Katsuki for the nth time that he was alright, a crowd is forming in front of the entrance to a commercial alleyway, and John's gut is telling him it's not some celebrity making an appearance and causing a scene.

"The fuck is going on over there?" Katsuki mutters under his breath, and likely without even knowing, moves closer to take a look. John follows, cautious eyes scanning over the shoulders of the bystanders, and while he's unsure of what he's supposed to find, he sees it.

Or rather, him.

"All Might! Come out and face me!"

John would like to believe it wasn't All Might's fault the villain escaped. A plastic bottle isn't really that strong of a container when it's holding a Quirk-powered man, after all, and the police probably didn't know how to cuff sludge. But this is still a disaster and the guy has another hostage now, one who evidently has a fire Quirk, and the heroes present aren't doing anything at all, save for getting nearby people out of burning buildings, and crowd control.

He's never had much of an opinion on professional heroes before but he certainly has one now, and it's that they are frustratingly incompetent at the worst of times such as this.

"Our Quirks are no good!" One of them shouts, a burly man with some kind of theme going on with the caution tape colors around his wrists. From John's memory, that must be Death Arms.

The other heroes seem to agree with him.

Then, a large shadow hangs over the crowd as the newest hero, Mt. Lady, comes to the scene, but is apparently stopped short due to the narrow width of the alley. "My Quirk is useless here!" She exclaims.

The sludge villain continues to wreak destruction with the hostage, the hostage who is currently trying to breathe through the gunk blocking his mouth, struggling, and pulling, while the heroes persist on standing around and watching it happen.

Our Quirks are no good, they said. My Quirk is useless here, they said.

(Never make excuses for your own incompetence, Jardani.)

"Hey, Deku, what the hell are you doing?"

John doesn't realize his feet are bringing him forward, a strange feeling taking over his senses until Katsuki has a hand wrapped around his arm, stopping him just a bit.

What was he doing? He involved himself in situations before when it seemed there wasn't any help coming, a practice that John picked up since he was eleven. But it was always out of the sight, behind alleyways, away from public scrutiny. He learned the dangers attached to it in his previous life, and he didn't want them to happen now, not with Midoriya Izuku. Not to mention, there are Pro Heroes on the scene. There's no need for him to jump in there. It'd be illogical to do so.

Mentally shaking his head, he exhausts all options first. He can't be irrational here.

"Hey," John steps forward to the nearest hero, the bulky man from earlier, and Katsuki follows, no doubt confused, but doesn't comment. "You can aim for—"

"Not now, kid!" The man brushes him off sternly, practically shoving him back into the mob of onlookers. He ignores the way Katsuki grips his arm tighter at that. "If you want an autograph, wait 'til this is over! Now get out of here! This is a dangerous place for you to be in!"

(Unbidden, the memory of a particular unwarranted autograph on his notebook comes forth in his mind.)

The man looks over at the situation and whispers under his breath, "Help is on the way kid, hang on."

In any other situation, John might've listened. Might've left with Katsuki and just not involve himself with this. Might've gone home and hoped for the best because Pro Heroes are here, and a hero's work is never done.

But...

"What are the heroes doing?"

"That boy is in pain!"

"Where's All Might when you need him?"

"They said they're waiting for a hero with a suitable Quirk."

The boy being held hostage by the villain aims his panicked gaze at the crowd. His eyes seem to meet John's, tearful, and afraid, and desperately seeking for help, and—

(Daisy ran away, but it was too late, he heard the agony she was in, the kicks, the hits, the squeals, the barks, he couldn't help her, he was useless to help her like he was useless to save Helen)

John Wick might not enjoy the aftermath of this, but Midoriya Izuku doesn't care at that moment.

"I'll be right back," is all he says to Katsuki before he wrenches his arm away and moves.

Startled shouts ring from behind him, some from civilians, others from the heroes, and one from Katsuki. But he doesn't falter, doesn't hesitate. He will never hesitate for this.

Just like before, he swiftly removes his bag and pitches it at the villain's eye, successfully distracting him with the pain it induced and caused him to free his hold on the hostage for a brief instant.

But John knows not to do things halfway and he takes out a pencil he immediately recalled stashing in his pocket back at the underpass and advances accordingly, leaping on the villain and clawing at the green sewage until he's directly above him, a large pupil there for him to do what he needs to.

"You again?!" The sludge creep screeches in a guttural tone. "Oh, I'm gonna have so much fun digging your grave—!"

John never does let his enemies finish.

He grips his pencil with a purpose and without pause, stabs the eraser end of it against the eye with enough vigor, and the following happens: