John Wick reborn as Izuku

by daschpool

..

10. Chapter 10

"Well- I mean, yeah, Midoriya's strong," Shitty Hair starts. He headbutts a hefty bastard motionless. "And he's super manly and all, but without a Quirk—"

"But nothing, Shitty Hair," Katsuki cuts him off, teeth grinding as he punches a twiggy bitch's lights out. "Deku can take care of his own shit and do it quicker than probably half of this fucking class."

That's not even an overstatement. Deku stopped near-robberies in under ten minutes before so who's to say he can't finish whatever the fuck this situation is in less than an hour? Katsuki is probably giving that guy a lot more credit than he needs, but hearing people doubt Deku (even after demonstrating his skills in H-fucking-D) drives him to say something about it.

Because nobody looks down on Deku and gets the fuck away with it without getting their shit rocked.

"You sound pretty confident about that, bro," Shitty Hair says, not in a mocking tone, but in a curious one. He gives another villain a nasty right hook.

"That's because I know what the hell I'm talking about. Now enough talk and more ass-kicking!"

"Gotcha, bro!"

Katsuki will worry about his friend and Eyebags once this is over. If there's anything he's more sure about other than his goal to become the number one hero, it's Deku causing one hell of a fucking storm and instilling the fear of God into every last one of these assholes.

~

In a blink, darkness swallows him whole and for a second, John Wick thought it was over.

The blackened skies reveal no stars but only the blinding lights of the dome ceiling. He feels the air hit his back and soon the impact of metal fences and balcony railings bruise him on the way down, a modicum of betrayal from Winston's actions worsening the blows.

He's back on the ground. Alive.

Colliding with the floor knocks the air out of him but it's not what he isn't used to by now. He rises slowly, ignoring the dull ache in his shoulder blades, and takes stock of his position.

He's in a notably empty office building by himself. No cubicles, cabinets, desks; nothing. Outside, rain pours heavily, with raindrops hitting the window harshly like the distant sound of an audience clapping (or the sound of a million guns going off at once). Taking into account that this location could possess artificial means of reenacting disasters, he's likely in some sort of zone meant for relentless storms like this, unless he's transported to a different area entirely. John can only pin his hopes that he's still in the USJ.

With how fairly dark the office he's in is, he carefully adjusts his vision to scan the place for an exit.

Half of him wonders where the rest of his classmates are. The last he's seen of them was when the misty figure—unmistakably the one responsible for the portals—manipulated Thirteen's Quirk

against them after Katsuki and Kirishima tried to knock the villain out of the way in a precipitous bout of heroism.

At the reminder of his impulsive friend, John mentally grouses; so much for preventing him from doing anything stupid during a crisis. He'll think about that later, though. Right now, he needs to find a way out and maybe find some of his classmates while he's at it. If what that mist man declared earlier was the truth—that they're only here to kill All Might—then Class 1-A should be relatively unharmed. Mentally distressed from today's events, most likely, but unharmed. Or something close to it.

(He's not a religious man by nature. But he prays, all the same.)

However, just as John was about to head to the only glass door of the room, he hears footsteps coming his way so he tenses. On the threshold of the glass door, another figure saunters in view, effectively cutting off John's means of escape. No one else arrives. For a second, John can't make out who this person is, the dimness of the room providing difficulty in deciphering their features but then—

Toxic pink eyes cut through the dark, and John knew right then that his escape will be nothing short of a Herculean task.

"Hey, V. Long time no see."

Kreuger smirks at him, so self-assured as usual with his hands buried in the pockets of his pants.

He hasn't changed at all since the last time John encountered him on the streets. The man still styles his ashy blond hair in such a way that it nearly covers his left eye. His attire remains the same as well; dark leather trench coat over a shirt with a torn neckline, black pants, and boots to make himself seem taller and more intimidating at night. The only other color evident on his person was the bright, nauseating pink of Kreuger's eyes, enhanced by the black sclera as he looks ready to start a fight. (He was always ready to start a fight when John is in the picture, evidently.)

John has no time for this.

"Aw, you're not gonna at least say hello? Well damn, UA must've leeched the politeness outta ya."

Like in their previous encounters, John remains silent. Watching. Waiting.

Kreuger—among the other occasional thugs who show up just to fight him—is someone he puts up his guard around at all times. John learned to do that after the first incident when he was thirteen. Dealing with the villain stopped being an issue as he grasped the tricks and solutions right up until Kreuger eventually lied low.

However, people change. They adjust and adapt. Who knows how much Kreuger changed in the last year or so while he had been in hiding? Or out of John's sight and mind, anyway.

John makes sure to keep the weapon on his hip hidden from sight, angling his body away slightly. He orders himself not to use his guns for this. Behind him, raindrops patter noisily against the tall office windows, creating a ghost of a familiar scenario from long ago.

Kreuger's smirk grows. "Oh, still sticking with the quiet routine, huh? Fine by me." He removes his hands from his pockets and cracks his knuckles, and a wispy glow exudes from his irises like a haze. "It won't be long before I make you beg for you life."

At full tilt, Kreuger goes in for the kill.

John quickly responds by whipping out his staff from its holster and moving to strike at Kreuger's face to disorient him and preferably have him squeeze his eyes on instinct from the impact. His opponent ducks at the last second, however, and shifts to give a solid punch to his face but John blocks it, shoving it away and landing a swift knee to the man's side.

Kreuger staggers at the hard hit but recovers shortly enough to leap and attempt another attack. John evades and serves calculated and sharp jabs with his staff, a few of which the villain repels or stops entirely. It seems like the guy's gotten better.

At some point, Kreuger manages to grab ahold of John's weapon and chucks it to the side with a gleeful cackle, leaving him to use his bare hands; not that it changes anything.

He's careful in his attacks, going for the blind spots and vulnerable openings. He's successful in landing them without hesitation in his strength but other times, not as much. Kreuger gets a few lucky strikes but John stays on his feet, retaliating in kind with a well-aimed left hook to the jaw, forcing Kreuger to lose his bearings for a moment.

All the while, John painstakingly tries to shift near his only escape route because he can't keep himself occupied with Kreuger longer than necessary. If he knocks the guy out here and now without any delay, he can go find his misplaced classmates quicker.

But as it always goes with the shitty luck of John Wick, he gets intercepted by Kreuger, who grows more and more thrilled and invested as the fight continues, and he's reminded again of Zero and his odd obsession with John. How long has it been already? Minutes? Hours? Whatever it is, he's getting pretty fed up trying to shake Kreuger off like a persistent fly invading his space.

"Oi, oi, you're getting a little distracted, V! That's not good," Kreuger jeers. He aims a straight right; John deflects it with an arm and tries to hook it to inflict a fast strike to the throat but the villain blocks that too. John kicks at the former's knee and keeps his distance, never lowering his guard. And Kreuger comes back, screeching like an impatient child in a toy store. "Pay attention to me!"

Kreuger's attacks grow faster and John, in kind, matches up to him, never missing a beat or a step. This triggers the man into another one of his emotionally driven spiels when the adrenaline of a fight starts to loosen his tongue.

"I've been waiting a whole fuckin' year to get back at ya, y'know!"

He goes for a swing at John's left; John catches hold of it, twists it, and delivers a heavy palm strike up the man's chin. Kreuger doesn't let up, even with that.

"You always annoyed me, stickin' your nose into my business. And for a snotty brat, you bested me more times than I'm comfortable with!"

Kreuger tries to punt his solar plexus but John narrowly avoids it and blocks the incoming boot with both arms, which gives the villain the fleeting chance to inflict a hefty punch to his face. John, though, has been punched by worse.

"But now that I'm rubbin' shoulders with this group, I feel hella fucking lucky—even more now that I know you're one of the hot-shots at UA, 'cause I get to brag to everybody that I killed a pompous hero-wannabe brat!"

God, Kreuger's even more of a chatterbox than Santino and Iosef combined.

Running thin on time and decidedly done with this, John draws nearer to deny his opponent any

openings. He parries another incoming jab, knees Kreuger in the gut, and uses that vulnerability to clutch the man's hair in both hands, ramming his head against the nearby wall with a resounding bam. The man stumbles but doesn't fall unconscious. In place of the expected groan of pain or something equivalent to that, wheezing chuckles escape Kreuger as he hunches over.

"Ahh, as 'xpected o' ya... Ya ne'er pull yer punch's..." Kreuger drawls, almost too soft for John to pick up. But he's not particularly willing to stay back and hear more of what Kreuger has to say.

He moves to deal the finishing blow (another hit to the face should do) until—

Kreuger's eyes lock onto his and the villain activates his Quirk at the last second before John could even remember to look away.

The whole fight, John's been avoiding looking at Kreuger's face directly, having committed to memory what his Quirk is from that first encounter. He made sure that, whenever they'd cross each other, he'd focus on anything but his eyes because—as the saying went—they were the windows to the soul. John should've remembered his lesson; nothing will ever be easy for him.

"Guess I'll do the same."

And shadows from a time long passed emerge from the floor, the walls, and the ceiling, inky as they pool into large puddles, then rising from them like mannequins. A dark pink aura surrounds them, soon converging into their eyes until the dark fog dissipates, and John Wick faces the ghosts of his doings. Again.

But as he always did in his countless nightmares, he avoids them. (Again. Always running, always escaping, for there's no rest for the wicked like him when his sins start catching up.)

Viggo leads the charge, knife in hand. Following behind him, Iosef plows through, still reckless, still thinking he's above facing consequences. Ares and Cassian run at him from both sides, weapons drawn to settle the score once more without any drinks between them. Santino and his sister watch from the sidelines, grim reminders of his mistakes. More faces show up unbidden; Ms. Perkins, Zero, the Adjudicator, Sofia, the Bowery King, the Director, Marcus, Winston. A reunion that he never wants to attend.

John avoids them all rather than what he vowed to his old forgotten friend ("I'll kill them. I'll kill them all.") because how can he kill something that's been dead for a long time? He had long since come to this conclusion after the Battle Trials. What happened with Katsuki was…an accident. A lapse in judgment or sense.

While it wouldn't have been that dire considering he had paintballs for bullets, his hands still went for the gun, aiming to end it all. But here, he knows the truth: these ghosts are as real as the history that binds them to him in his nightmares, only grazing him in times of weakness.

His attacks hardly leave a scratch on them anyway. So he evades, and dodges, going straight for the source of this revival of his nightmares.

Kreuger, the whole time, just laughs, unrestrained.

Someone got lucky. John gets toppled to the ground by a feral Iosef and soon the shadows crowd around him at the last second, swarming him until all he could see was infinite black. Mangled voices from his memories overlap with Kreuger's cackles, the familiar words of anger, accusation, betrayal, and misplaced admiration invading his senses until he can't tell who's talking anymore.

He doesn't struggle as much as he thought he wanted to. (Because deep down, he knows this is his

punishment long overdue.)

Ebony hands clasp his limbs like chains, slowly dragging him down to their version of hell, and when he feels phantom hands wrap around his neck, he—

—he's not as active in conversation with Mom at breakfast, only ever answering with soft hums and nods of his head, but she doesn't push nor prod or judge. She simply pecks his cheek with a gentle 'good morning' as she slides a plate of omurice in front of him.

Oh. That's right. Mom's waiting for him at home. She's waiting for Izuku to come home.

John can't do to her what Helen's death did to him. His mother doesn't deserve that.

With the sort of renewed strength that drags him out of bed ever since Helen died, John pulls away from the shadows and rises to the dim light. It's a struggle, still, having to fight this invisible pressure on his body, but he is a stubborn bastard who doesn't seem to know the meaning of stopping. It seems the effects of Kreuger's Quirk are wearing away.

The gray-tinted faces of the people in his past life remain blank when he breaks free. They never contort into the various expressions he'd been used to. They still fight to keep him chained down but John ultimately wins (as he always had, with risks and ramifications attached) and he smoothly walks through the inky fog of lost memories, shoulders squared and focus sharpened. He spots Kreuger now on his feet again, his expression on the balance between giddiness and frustration. In his haste, he tries to go for a sloppy but no less powerful punch but John catches it completely in his hand and kicks his legs underneath him.

John shortly stands over him, silent, prepared for any attack. And this time, he stares dead-set into Kreuger's eyes, not faltering for a second.

(It'll be easy to choke him, to suffocate him, to crack his neck and end it right here and now. It's so easy. But the blood and grime will be on Midoriya Izuku's hands if he did it. So he doesn't.)

"Still the same thing, I see!" Kreuger dissolves into a fit of hysterical laughter under him, the pink glow of his eyes sputtering out from overuse. "Hey, I bet your little friends don't know that about you, huh? That's fucking rich! I wonder what those little shits would think once they find out about the skeletons hiding in your fucking closet!"

He says nothing. Kreuger continues.

"Man, you're so fucking cursed! You can't even get over them, can ya? How many lives will it take until you can't bear it anymore, huh? How much blood will you spill until you're satisfied? A demon in disguise you'll always be, Viridian Devil—"

John cuts him off by knocking him out with a quick and direct blow to the head. The man truly does have the propensity to monologue when he's in a mood. But at least he got him to finally shut up.

After rolling his shoulders to ease up the strain building up, he collects his fallen staff right by the window and, not for the first time, decides to keep this particular experience in a box full of his other related incidents. Something to pry open with a therapist (unlikely) or in another life (likely).

Katsuki will surely try to wring this whole ordeal out of him until the stars die out but for now, John takes a breath. At least here, the ghosts trailing his path aren't taking the places of any of his peers. At least here, he doesn't need to take another life.

Sheathing his staff, he walks to the exit. Hopefully, now he'll have an easier time leaving this place and setting out on his undertaking of reuniting with his class.

When he finally leaves the office, though, a couple of other villains stand waiting deep in the hallway, some holding weapons and others with offensive Quirks. Wonderful.

Beyond that stands the exit door, the glowing green sign above it a clear indication of its use. They notice his presence immediately and a considerable number of them visibly backpedal, stammering and stumbling over their feet.

"O-Oi, oi, is that—"

"The Viridian Devil!"

"Oh god, why him?!"

"He took out Kreuger—!"

"We're so fucking dead—"

John sighs behind his teeth. As tired as he now is with this whole situation, he knows he can't stop here; he has a goal, a mission to complete.

He has friends to find and protect.

Chapter End Notes

I'm not super proud of this one either but I meh, I'll fix it when I can.

when's the next update? that's up for me to figure out in between college and life lmao (dear lord help me--)

but rest assured, I'm not abandoning this baby like how John's bio parents abandoned him! I mean, I've got Encanto and now more recently Rise of the TMNT in the brain but I'll endeavor to continue this fic bc it's my baby (*totally not ignoring my last MHA fic w aizawa which I left on a cliffhanger, whoops*). Until then, see you soon! (and thanks for sticking around, if you're still here ,))

oh and it was my birthday recently, so...wHUDDUP I'M JARED 19 I NEVER FUCKIN LEARNED HOW TO READ

the beasts flee the dangers they see

Chapter Summary

John faces a new enemy.

Y'know, just like any other Wednesday.

AKA: USJ pt. 2

Chapter Notes

previously: It's field trip time, the League of Villains made their entrance, and John Wick pulled a John Wick and is gonna continue Wicking all over the place.

happy new year my dudes!! here's a special gift just for yall! hopefully it was worth the long wait lol college is going pretty great so far, thanks for asking! :D (it's kicking my ass is what I meant to say)

cw: mild descriptions of canon/canon-typical violence and violence inflicted by john frickin wick

Minor edits: 7/10/23

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Of all the things that could've happened today, why did it have to be a fucking villain attack?

Hitoshi isn't the type to complain about things much (other than the regular shit like Quirk discrimination and bullying) but he's getting pretty sick and tired of these bastards boasting about killing students as if that's the only accomplishment they're ever going to have.

"We need to get the hell out of here," he mutters, surveying the villains lurking in the fake ocean of the Shipwreck Zone. He was goddamn lucky that Aizawa and Midoriya instilled in him the importance of vigilance, otherwise he would've gotten his leg torn off by a punk with a shark Quirk. He was also doubly lucky to be in this zone with Asui Tsuyu. Her calm disposition managed to ease some of Hitoshi's frayed nerves, helping him settle into Thinking Mode, a habit ingrained in him by Midoriya during their summer training sessions (seriously, that guy is always so efficient and prepared it's low-key terrifying.)

"Do you have a plan, Aiyama-chan?"

Truthfully, absolutely the fuck not.

But danger never waits for anyone to get ready so Hitoshi doubles his efforts into coming up with an effective plan that could get the both of them out of this situation without getting beat up to hell and back—or dying. Yeah, that option was on the top of the list of things to avoid as much as possible. No matter what. Otherwise, Bakugou won't let him hear the end of it.

"I'm thinking," he says and he hopes she didn't hear the uncertainty in his voice.

Okay, Hitoshi, calm the fuck down and think. What did Dad and Midoriya say about situations like this? Analyze everything, from the location to the people...

He must've been stuck in his head for too long when he startles at Asui's words, "I notice that the villains aren't attacking the boat, kero. It's like they're waiting for something."

Huh. Now that she mentioned it... Those bastards aren't doing much of anything other than staring at him and Asui menacingly. It might've been unnerving if it wasn't for the fact that Asui's observation sparked an idea in Hitoshi's head. Call it a hunch, but he had been told countless times that it never hurts to trust your instincts.

"Hey."

The frog girl turns to him with inquisitive eyes.

"You don't think they know about our Quirks, do you?"

The growing realization in her otherwise poker-faced expression says it all. These chumps don't know anything about them coming here and they're gonna use that against them. The biggest roadblock in that particular plan is the "how" because lord knows there's only so much two inexperienced hero wannabes can do in the middle of the water on a weaponless boat.

Wait a minute.

Hitoshi wordlessly and stealthily enters the boat's cabin, hope building up in his throat as he begs to be correct for once. When he sees the lever meant to get the ship up and running—like an actual ship—a solid idea emerges, bringing a sort of solace that Midoriya had given him that first day they met. And on the subject of his no-nonsense friend with a track record that could put the fear of god into any poor villain that crosses him, Hitoshi thinks he can afford to take after Midoriya and go a little reasonably batshit on these guys in the most unconventional way ever.

Like, make a whirlpool with the boat or something.

Oh yeah. It's all coming together.

~

As a strategist of her own merit, Momo knows that the best course of action right now is to utilize the Quirks of all her classmates who are with her in the mountain zone to escape the villains as unscathed as they can handle.

Jirou's Ear Jacks, Kaminari's Electricity, Tokoyami's Dark Shadow, and her Creation. How can she bring out the best in her classmates and herself in this situation? What should she do?

She blocks an incoming attack with her staff and kicks the villain away, falling back to where her classmates stand their ground. As outnumbered and inexperienced as they are, Momo can give themselves credit for doing remarkably given the circumstances. She commends Tokoyami and Dark Shadow the most for taking down at least half of the villains.

But she knows they can't keep these hired muscles at bay for long. They need to escape the facility and call for help, but due to some kind of disturbance in the radio frequency of the building, neither Kaminari nor Momo can call the school for backup. With all this, they were essentially on their own. However, as Momo learned throughout her first week of UA, that doesn't mean they're completely helpless.

(To gather courage, she thinks about her exercise partner, her new friend, an enigma of a classmate; she thinks of his calm demeanor, the self-assuredness in his plans and movements, the level- headedness he upholds even under great stress, and tells herself, I can be like that too.)

Momo takes stock of the situation. So far, only a couple dozen villains remain standing, ready to fight with Quirks blazing. Thanks to Dark Shadow, most of the heavy hitters were down, but at the cost of getting attacked by a wave of fire from one of the villains, making the poor Quirk retreat to Tokoyami (a weakness to light, she soon realizes. A rather on-the-nose drawback for a physical manifestation of shadows) like an injured animal. Jirou's use of her Quirk to create mini earthquakes had done the trick earlier but even with that, the villains weren't deterred, only fueled to hurt them faster and more brutally.

She had to think of a plan, and fast.

"Anyone got a plan?! 'Cause I'm down for any stupid idea at this point!" Kaminari says frantically shortly after tasing a lumber villain into a twitchy unconsciousness in a panic.

Seeing this, an idea—a crazy, risky, off-the-cuff idea—blooms in her head, and she can only silently thank one person for that.

~

The villains' numbers decrease as Katsuki and Shitty Hair continue to fight back. It's not surprising since these chumps hardly put up a good fight. Not that Katsuki's planning on slacking off either due to that fact because he's not all for that kind of bullshit. Slacking off? Please, you can just catch Katsuki choking on acid mouthwash than half-assing the shit he does.

Just ask Deku. And speaking of Deku, he's probably out there already beating the shit out of his set of villains and winning every last fight without missing a step. Man, Katsuki wanted to join him, or at least watch the poor suckers who dared to challenge Deku pissing themselves, but c'est la vie or whatever the fuck. Besides, Shitty Hair would lose a tooth or some shit if Katsuki wasn't there to pick up the slack.

Somewhere in the middle of the brawl, Katsuki listens in on the background chatter of the remaining villains in the wrecked building because they're fucking pansies who'd rather gossip than square up to him. And he picks up the name-drop immediately, even with his crappy aided hearing.

"Ugh, these little shits are tough but..."

"Not as tough as the Viridian Devil, yeah, I know."

Katsuki smirks at that, causing the literal bug-eyed punk in his clutches to sweat buckets.

Oh, so these guys have heard of Deku, huh? And by his bestowed moniker at that. Deku gave no

shits about what villains and other crooks called him, but Katsuki can still remember how annoyed his best friend looked when he first heard the nickname in person. Fucking hilarious, and one of the few times Katsuki saw him emote beyond a tick of his brow or a slight downturn of his lips. Katsuki should've taken a pic or something to commemorate it or some shit.

But that's beside the point.

If Deku's reputation can reach even the edges of Musutafu's criminal grapevine, then Katsuki is never gonna let that guy live it down for the rest of his life. He's practically a walking cautionary tale for the junior bad guys waiting to do their first felony, the boogeyman hiding in the shadows, sniffing for bastards about to start trouble.

Katsuki bets that once they graduate (and they will because he'll make sure they do, fuck whatever Eyebags said about bullshitting his way through their studies; not on Katsuki's watch) all of the villains and petty crooks will know not to mess with Deku, Quirkless status be damned.

"Let's be glad he ain't here, otherwise we'd be sippin' through straws on our deathbed."

Hm. As much as Katsuki loves busting kneecaps and headbutting noses, maybe throwing a psychological flash bomb at them will make his and Shitty Hair's exit from this zone faster. Plus, it'll be so fucking fun. Call it compensation for ruining their rescue training with their stupid agenda.

Katsuki knocks the lights out of the villain in his hold before he calls out, feeling particularly giddy as he ignores Shitty Hair's confused stare, "Oi, oi! Heard you villain shits talking about the Viridian Devil!"

He gets a few startled and fearful shrieks in return.

"What do you care, brat?! Do you know 'im or something?!" Oh, Katsuki can smell an opportunity when he sees it.

Grinning, he cracks his knuckles, already imagining the "Mildly Disappointed but Not Surprised" stare Deku is giving him for what he's about to do. "Yeah, I know him. And guess what, assholes, the Devil's already here! And he ain't fucking happy!"

Just like that, chaos reigns, and half of the guys he and Shitty Hair were fighting scramble to escape with their lives. Very few stay behind, probably not believing Katsuki's word, which is pretty fair and alright with him. In the end, they either get the crap beaten out of them or hightailed it out of fear of Katsuki's explosive fists, or the threat of the "Viridian Devil" himself showing up like a ghost coming out of the woodwork.

Hah. Fucking wimps.

("Uhhh, okay, not to look a gift-bomb in the hole, but what the heck was that, bro? And who's this Viridian Devil dude?"

"I'll tell you later, Shitty Hair, let's get the fuck out of here first!")

~

Everything is going to shit sideways at a rapid speed that Shouta, for one stupid split second, nearly loses his footing in his fight against the villains congregated in the plaza. No mistakes, Eraserhead, no mistakes.

One of the main heads of this operation, the man with the warp Quirk, managed to get to his students, which meant Thirteen was down for the count. That left the kids with no first line of defense other than their Quirks. Shouta may not be a betting man by nature, but he hoped his students were as safe and unharmed as they could be.

(His thoughts wander to Hitoshi, but he puts a cap on that; his son had trained under him, learned the ropes around physical and mental combat, and knew just what to do to utilize his Quirk to the best of its capabilities. Hitoshi will be fine, Shouta repeats in his head if just to give himself some form of comfort.)

He saw promise in all of them, observed their strengths and weaknesses thus far, and Shouta had almost no doubt they'll be okay. Almost. Because he remembers all so starkly that his students are still children with semblances of hero-worship in most of his co-workers and the heroes who fight the bad guys every day. They shouldn't be facing this so early but life has a very funny way of ruining a good plan.

Shouta dodges an incoming punch and sends a kick in return. His heart pounds heavily in his ears and he knows he's getting exhausted, knows that he's about to eventually lose, knows that if he stops now—if he messes up and gets himself killed—the kids will truly be on their own to face these criminals.

But drying eyes be damned, Shouta is a stubborn bastard at heart. He swears to himself that he'll live long enough to see the brats under his care make it to graduation.

He doesn't know how long he had been fighting at this point. He beat down almost half of the lackeys but more just keep coming. And the head honcho is still standing there, scratching his neck beside that towering, unmoving creature with the exposed brain. It has yet to move, but Shouta won't take any chances. He needs to get to the bud of the problem, starting with the hand-covered villain. Bring down the boss; bring down the entire operation.

That was Eraserhead's first mistake, getting a burning elbow for his misstep. His weakness is compromised, that much is clear, and he can only guess that the villain figured it out while Shouta had been fighting. He should've acted sooner before his time limit was up.

"Don't push yourself, Eraserhead," the villain croons mockingly. Now Shouta desperately wants to knock the bastard's teeth in.

But he loses the chance to enact that plan. One moment, he's fighting against the man with what he now realizes is some kind of disintegration Quirk, and the next...

Pain. An all-encompassing, unbearable pain that leaves Shouta too immobile and dizzy to think properly. All he can think is how his head hurts so goddamn much, fuck.

He can't even remember how he got brought down to the ground, his consciousness fading in and out from the sheer torture his whole body is going through. Shit, it feels like he fell over flights of stairs after getting trampled by a hundred bulls. Speaking of which, just what the hell attacked him? Something powerful, he wryly guesses. Something imposing and terrible, and not what he wishes his students to face, ever; not when they're still so unprepared for the wickedness of the world outside of the classroom.

But they are facing something terrible. This invasion on school grounds warrants the students to take action to protect themselves, Shouta is no idiot to that reality. They're doing their damn best to stay alive (at least, he hopes and prays with his entire being that they are) so Shouta, as their teacher, should make sure the most major threat of them all is out of commission even if he gets prickled by shooting aches all over his limbs and skull.

He uses his Quirk again but this time, he has his sights on the hulking monstrosity standing over him with unnerving, lifeless eyes. Eraserhead's arms get fucked to hell and back for the effort, broken and mangled by the creature called a Nomu. Oh, great, the hand guy's monologuing. Said something about bio-engineering and the creature being capable of going toe to toe with All Might.

Shouta wants to laugh at that particular statement (because honestly, how many times has that notion been said already by multiple overconfident crooks?) but he's too damn tired and in so much physical misery to deal with that. But he can't go take a nap just yet. He has students to protect, his kid being one of them, and if this massive beast doesn't kill him, his husband surely will if Shouta allows so much as a bump on their son's head. More than that, he promised Tsukauchi to look after his problem child, and he's not the type of guy to go back on his word.

But damn it, his vision is getting blotchy and blurry at the edges now, and the pull of unconsciousness threatens to do him in with each passing minute.

Don't close your eyes, Eraserhead, don't you fucking dare!

He needs to stay awake to give the kids a chance to survive but shit where are reinforcements when you need them—

"Nearly beaten half to death yet you're still pushing yourself, huh, Eraserhead?"

The raspy voice of the hand-covered villain rattles Shouta into some form of awareness as much as it's slipping through his numb fingers.

"Oh well, didn't expect any less from a Pro Hero."

Shouta doesn't have a single stupid clue how much time has passed since this entire mess began. All he knows amidst the cacophony and the tight grip the Nomu has on his head is the silver lining in the form of a status report from the mist villain.

"Shigaraki Tomura, my apologies, but one of the UA students got away. They are calling for reinforcements as we speak."

"What?!"

Shouta may not be a religious man or one who believes in things like fate and luck, but for once, he's deliriously glad that the universe is doing something right for a change. In the thick of the blood rushing to his head and the heavy rhythm of his heart, he picks up the angry rambles of the haggard villain—Shigaraki Tomura, a name he files away in his mind.

"Damn it. Kurogiri, if you weren't my escape route, I would've dusted you by now," he snarls and Shouta doesn't doubt for a second that Shigaraki will do good on that threat. "Whatever. That just means we're finally skipping to the boss level once All Might gets here."

Shouta has his eyes closed (shit, shit, shit, open your eyes, Eraserhead, hurry) yet he can practically feel Shigaraki forming an oily smile behind the severed hand attached to his face.

"Before that... Why don't we give the Symbol of Peace a little present?"

Shouta opens his eyes and further away from the plaza, he finds a shock of wild purple hair—

It's Hitoshi oh god oh fuck no why is he there save him Shouta save him NOW

He activates his Quirk seconds before Shigaraki could use his (his filthy hands are touching Hitoshi and Asui's faces, get away from them, damn you!) and red eyes meet each other. "Hmph. Just as I thought; you're really cool, Eraserhead—"

In the same breath, shrill cries of fear echo around the facility, adding to the splitting headache Shouta's developing.

"It's him!"

"Fuck this, I'm outta here!"

"Oh god, how is he here?!"

"Move, move, move!"

"It's the green devil!"

Hands splayed and twitching, Shigaraki leaves the kids behind—thank god—to gawk at the lackeys running through the plaza like ghosts were on their heels. "What the fuck is going on?"

Shouta chances a look. Beyond the villains sprinting away in terror, he spots a familiar freckled face—fairly marked by bruises and visibly soaked to the bone—that betrays no emotion, eyes piercing and calculative as they stare Shigaraki Tomura down.

And not for the first time, Shouta doesn't know what Midoriya Izuku is thinking.

~

John stumbles through the Downpour Zone, breathing haggardly from the eventful trip down the commercial building he'd been warped to. The lackeys who were there nearly drove him to a corner, he can admit that much. He had been forced to use his gun until it ran out of rubber bullets and he had to throw it away, but John had settled back into a natural rhythm and handled the situation, superficial injuries notwithstanding. Maybe his encounter with Kreuger rattled him more than he initially assumed.

He nearly forgot that Kreuger and his Quirk had that effect on his chosen targets. It was ostensibly a psychological power meant to break people down through what the man can find in his victim's memories, suppressed or otherwise, just from direct eye contact. At least, that's what John gathered through experience and Tsukauchi's watered-down version of Kreuger's profile, though he can read between the lines. But their first encounter had been entirely different as far as the outcomes are concerned.

For one, Kreuger didn't use all of the ghosts nipping at John's feet. The only tangible caricature he fought at the time was the Bowery King, the last person John had been with before he died. He didn't particularly know why Kreuger chose to summon the monarch of intel to go against John (although he suspected the pigeons watching from above sparked a memory to life) but it left an impression. The aftermath of it had been just shy of bloody.

John dealt with the shadowed parody of the Bowery King and then Kreuger much faster after. John hadn't been as drained and out of sorts back then; slightly unsettled from seeing a very old face, sure, but he stood firmly on his feet as he left Kreuger's (evidently unsuccessful) detainment to the police.

Now, however, after having fought the physical forms of his past transgressions and Kreuger all at once, the world tilted just a little bit to the left and John wanted to get rid of the feeling immediately.

A passing thought to take a break tempts him to drop his weapons, to sit down for a minute and catch his breath while he lets the pseudo-rainfall cool his head. He hardly had a moment's peace to do that when he had been running from the world of assassins, and the area he's in seems deserted, for now. It's the perfect time to appreciate the relative silence while he still can.

But as a universal rule of thumb, John cannot get any breaks unless he takes care of the core problem first, i.e. the ones that started this whole mess. An onerous mission if he goes unprepared, but he can play it by ear. Still, he needs to find his classmates first. If he's lucky, he can stop Katsuki from mauling the villains too much and save any classmate who's with him from witnessing indiscriminate bloodshed. Another Herculean task that'd be potentially exasperating, though nothing out of the ordinary for John to handle.

So he soldiers on despite the heavy rain drenching him from head to toe, holding his staff tightly as he fends off any incoming charge from a daring villain or two and keeps his takedowns as swift as possible. They all run away from him for the most part, though, and John doesn't care to wonder why. At least this way, it saves him the trouble of dealing with any more of them on the way out.

He follows the villains out of the zone and feels the faint warmth of the main facility contrasting with the biting cold of his soaked PE uniform. He has a slight theory that once this is all over, he'll wind up with a cold sooner or later. Not an ideal consequence, but he can live with that. Probably.

"Oi! You there!"

John sighs quietly just as a lanky man with ashy white hair comes to the scene in his peripheral, trying to appear intimidating with his wide stance and aggressive display whilst holding a gun in his crooked hands. It looks real too, and the guy sure doesn't appear like he knows how to use it properly without getting his nose broken by the force of it going off.

The man reminds John of those rookie bodyguards back in the day; young, fresh off their training, and high on too much confidence because they served and protected a powerful boss who, at a toss of a coin, could hardly care if their hired muscle gets polished off before the night ends.

"You UA brat! If you think you can just walk away 'cuz you took out Kreuger, then you're dead wrong!"

John can afford to be at least courteous and give the man a chance to deal out what he's been dishing. If he doesn't, it'll be a problem that would follow him to any classmate he'd potentially come across. Better to handle this now than never. But John also wants to conserve what little energy he has accumulated for the bigger, more dangerous threats.

Is the guy still talking? Yeah, he's still talking. Monologuing, actually—which is decidedly worse. How many times will he have to endure people like Santino and Iosef like this? Kreuger was already enough.

"...so prepare yourself, brat, 'cuz this ain't gonna tickle—!"

The villain stops suddenly. The belligerent scowl he had throughout his speech falls off, making way for a wide-eyed look directed at John. The man, after a heartbeat, gulps. His face pales as he backpedals slowly. Left foot. Right foot. Left foot. Right foot. Like watching a predator from making any sudden, unwanted movements. The firearm in his grasp shakes in his weak grip.

"Y-y-y-you—!"

John remains silent, staring at the villain, almost daring him to attack; that's what the villains—the League of Villains—are here for, right? To hurt the golden eggs of UA, kill All Might, and start chaos? John knows how that game plays out. It only takes one person to pull the trigger, and everything crumbles into a disaster, depending on which side of the war you're on.

The villain doesn't continue. He lets out an undignified squawk ("Screw this, I'm out!") before fleeing like the rest, dropping his gun in the process. Somehow, it doesn't go off from the fall. Either the safety is on, or the thing never had bullets in the first place. Hm. He should probably check, just to be certain, even if there's a looming threat of an explosive mechanism jammed in there.

And sure enough, he finds four bullets in the cylinder. Real copper bullets, loaded and ready to dig through an enemy's head.

(When was the last time he held a real gun?)

John doesn't think about it. He stows away it in an extra holster—a last resort.

It remains to be seen if All Might (Yagi Toshinori) has ever taken a life in his career, but John won't let that change any time soon if he could help it. Because, unlike John, All Might is loved by everyone. He's above all else a symbol, and the golden podium he stands on would grow corroded and foul if blood ever spills on it.

Santino or Viggo will call him a self-righteous bastard, and John wouldn't even bother arguing. He knows how guys like him and All Might operate in a world like this. All Might works in the light while John stays in the shadows, even if Yagi has shadows of his own behind sunken eyes. This circumstance requires the methods of the shadows for all that John persists in finding his place in the light as Izuku.

Now that he is alone with his thoughts, he now has the time to finally plan something decent. It hardly matters, though, when seconds after, a strange sound catches his attention immediately.

Up ahead in the central plaza, he spots a dark figure, massive even from his place by the Downpour Zone. Another one, much smaller and body covered with hands (the one leading this invasion, John affirms), stands nearby, hunched over by a body of water, while another stands out of the way— the one with the warping Quirk.

John only makes it a couple of steps forward to get a better assessment of the situation (even if it's an idiotic move in the context of this world) when he sees everything.

On the cracked surface of the ground lies Aizawa, bleeding, and with limbs visibly broken.

The gigantic figure, an amalgamation of a person and a bird with an exposed brain, stands over the Pro Hero, holding his head the way Perseus held Medusa's.

There, in the water, John can see a sliver of purple and the spindly villain's hand over Hitoshi's face.

And something within John (Izuku Baba Yaga Jardani) burns.

~

His dad is hurt, but he still fights.

Hitoshi both loves and hates that about the man, always willing to play the whole "self-sacrifice" shtick despite complaining about it when his past students and other heroes do it. A damn hypocrite with a scarred heart of gold. Hitoshi can already hear his dad's excuse/logical reasoning that if he could still move despite having too many injuries, then he will fucking run a marathon and beat the shit out of any villain daring to harm more innocent people.

Hitoshi has no idea why Pops hasn't grown white hair yet from Dad's nonsense, but it's probably that whole true love-soulmate bullshit. Like understands like. And Hitoshi isn't stupid to assume that Pops wouldn't act like Dad either because they're both heroes, and it's in their blood and job description to fight the bad guys and save people, even at the expense of their bodies.

And Aizawa's body is wrecked to shit. Hitoshi saw it—heard it—happen. Nothing, not even his past experiences pre-adoption, could rival how it caused his heart to drop so low in his gut and shatter upon impact.

The blood contrasts so starkly against the floor, striking red against sandy orange. It makes him sick just seeing it coming from his strong invincible father, his father who valued rationality and common sense more than grandiose displays of heroism for the flashing lights and cameras. His Quirk, though not as flashy as All Might's or Endeavor's, is a powerhouse all on its own, its weaknesses notwithstanding.

So regardless of the damage its user took, Erasure pulls through at the last minute, right as the creepy hand fucker enveloped both his and Asui's faces with his hands. They feel so cold and callused, and Hitoshi can practically catch the smell of death coming from them.

Hitoshi remembers what this villain's Quirk can do. He saw the bastard nearly dissolve his dad's elbow with just a touch, breaking apart the fabric and skin, until muscle fibers are shown. He can only imagine what'll happen if the Quirk ever got to completely affect a person.

Distantly, he thinks about that one pre-Quirk-era film where the good guys lost, and half the world turned to dust as a consequence, leaving nothing behind but particles, memories, and grieving loved ones. And the mental picture of him and Asui falling apart the same way leaves his throat clogged and jaw tightening from the tension of what could've been.

They were so close to... They could've... Holy fuck.

Suddenly, screams erupt throughout the plaza, and it snaps Hitoshi back to reality. The villain— Shigaraki was his name—removes his crusty-ass hands from his and Asui's faces, and Hitoshi can breathe again. Ignoring the mistiness in his eyes, Hitoshi discovers a bunch of the villains converged in the plaza tripping on their feet to escape something. Or someone.

"What the fuck is going on?"

Hitoshi can only think of one other person who can put the fear of God into villains effortlessly, and he's standing there amongst the fleeing crowd, sopping wet, his weapon in hand, and his face

betraying no emotion or thought.

Like an echo of their first meeting, Midoriya brings Hitoshi a kind of hope that tells him that everything will be okay. His dad will be okay. Asui will be okay. Hell, the whole class will be okay. Because judging from the look his friend is giving Shigaraki, Hitoshi hardly has any doubts.

You guys are so screwed now.

~

Anger was an emotion John had come to know quite intimately.

It was one of the many things fueling his need for vengeance, keeping him afloat when the grief of losing everything all over again threatened to break his focus. It sharpened his instincts, steadied his aim, and set him on a straight and narrow path to his goal. Anger was as much ammunition as it was a bomb. In the end, one way or another, it left him dead.

Then he found that anger in Katsuki, driven by passion and the need to prove himself, to guard his vulnerabilities. Well, John could barely call the default setting of his friend "angry" as it is rough around the edges, just him trying to come off as strong and tough to destroy the notion that he was anything less. And it's all because of a childhood filled with people who unknowingly gave him reasons to. At least, that's how John understands it now.

He also understands that his anger is much more different from Katsuki's. Unlike his friend's explosive sparks, it feels like molten lava in his blood. It boils under the surface, begging for vindication, for action, but John had been trained rigorously since childhood to know how to keep it in check (for the most part. That fell apart the day he lost Daisy, his chances for a peaceful life, and nothing else mattered to him).

He won't allow emotions to drive him off-course (anymore).

John narrows his eyes at the gangly villain in front of him, and the massive creature holding Aizawa's head. He spares the warp villain a glance before deciding his next move, ignoring the other villains around him.

Speed, brute force, and quick reflexes will be pivotal. He doesn't completely know what the ink- colored creature can do other than super strength, supposedly. The warp villain is another story altogether. He doesn't know much of anything right now aside from the obvious, but he can't afford to underestimate anybody or it will be his downfall. Therefore, he'll need to improvise sooner or later. He can do that.

"Who the hell are you?" The hand-covered villain demands. "An NPC with a death wish?"

John watches, analyzing everything down to the tone of voice and the stance of the body. Any weakness to use against him. The man likely has a powerful Quirk (or at least one that warrants fear and begrudging obedience from the hired crooks all around) for him to engineer this entire attack and lead the army of enlisted criminals. He'll find a way to get rid of the warp villain as soon as he takes down the boss of this operation.

"What, not gonna start your dialogue?"

He only has his staff and the procured gun on him. It weighs heavy, filled with real bullets instead of rubber pellets or tiny paintballs. It'd be easy to train the thing on the villain, pull the trigger, and that'd be the end of it. It'd be so easy to get rid of the root of the problem just like that.

But no, that's not how UA functions, is it? That's not how Izuku functions, as far as Mom, Katsuki, Hitoshi, and Yagi know. He only does enough damage to immobilize temporarily rather than permanently. He vowed to never let that instinct overpower him, let it become him ever again.

But this man nearly killed Hitoshi.

So, he'll compromise.

"Tch. Not saying anything, huh? Boring. Nothing but a glitch in the system." The villain scratches his neck. "Whatever. I think you'll be a better surprise gift for All Might."

His head tilts, and John imagines a cat eyeing its prey. "Nomu. Grab him."

In a blink of an eye, the inky creature is in front of John, looming and imposing like a dark mountain. He can hear distant yells but he barely acknowledges them as a large hand envelops his head in the same way it did with Eraserhead. John dangles in the air before he knows it, like those raggedy dolls his past adoptive sisters used to have as rare gifts from the Director.

To his credit, John didn't panic. He's fairly startled, sure, but the knowledge that this creature— Nomu, as it's seemingly called—can move at a speed that rivals All Might is invaluable. Perhaps it's made to go against All Might in terms of power. Maybe that's why this League of Villains is so confident; they have a weapon to use against a demigod of a man. The arrow that struck Achilles's heel.

John feels the hand tighten ever so slightly, adding a sliver of pressure.

"Y'know, you could've done me a solid and screamed. That would've been more fun," the hand villain says, mocking and venomous, and keeping his distance. "But since you're a boring little NPC, I guess I'll just let my Nomu squeeze your head until you pop like a grape. Maybe that'll get you to—"

Through the gaps between the thick fingers, John zeroes in on the Nomu's eye, exposed, empty, vulnerable.

(By then, it is too late to resist. Nothing seems to fill his head anymore but fight fight fight defend engage block ki—)

So he stabs it with his staff. Hard. The resulting screech is worth the near-burst of his eardrums, and the brewing threat of his head getting crushed.

As soon as the Nomu lets go of him out of pain (could it feel pain? Anything at all?) and shock, John dangles from the staff embedded in the eye, and instantly swings himself over its back. He twists the weapon until the half he's holding detaches, leaving its twin in the organ.

The Nomu struggles and writhes, but John wastes no second and plunges the rod into its exposed brain, pushing deeper and deeper, blood spewing out in short bursts—it struggles struggles struggles it's instinctual it's survival it's fighting against consequences—until...

The Nomu falls. Motionless. Lifeless. Dead.

(Does it count if the Nomu is hardly human at all?)

(You broke your vow, your promise, your oath.)

(You monster.)

John ignores the red staining his hands and his uniform, the shrieks from the straggling henchmen, and the tingling sensation of a familiar performance sinking its teeth into his bones. It doesn't matter. He argues in his head that it's all in self-defense. He resigns to never think about it until he must. When the danger has passed, and his job is done. When all of this is over. (But the war never will be over, will it?)

The silence from the leader is telling, charged with suspense, and it breaks like an erupting volcano.

"You- What did you do to my Nomu?!"

John steps off the creature. He leaves his two staves in their respective places on the Nomu, deeming them out of commission since they are practically stuck and that they've had their use (and it's not because he didn't want to touch them anymore. This is not like the Entrance Exam wherein he needed his tools anyway until they were broken. This one felt...permanent). He'll request a new staff from the Support department; surely it wouldn't be an issue.

The villain screeches with vitriol, scratching his neck more intensely than before. "Hey! Answer me, you shitty NPC! What did you fucking do?! How did you—"

"Shigaraki Tomura, please calm—"

"Shut up, Kurogiri, or I'll fucking dust you!"

Shigaraki Tomura. Kurogiri. John will remember that.

The noise around the USJ grows louder. Despite this, he remains fixed on Shigaraki, watching, and waiting. He's down one less weapon to use but that's the least of his worries. He needs to get that man farther away from Hitoshi and Asui, who John later notices. He can't do that though with Kurogiri acting as a probable wrench in that plan. Who knows where the mist man will send John next?

"Tch. Whatever. Don't get in the way, Kurogiri. This kid is dead meat," Shigaraki hisses, and he jogs only a couple of steps, revving up to sprint at him before one of his lackeys comes barreling into him by accident, also likely attempting to fight John as well.

And John watches in muted shock as Shigaraki, in response, turns his subordinate into ash.

(he watched as the foundations of his love and sacrifices burned to the ground, nothing but memories and mementos turned to—)

The man never let out a sound, face frozen in horror as his entire body cracks and falls like dust in the wind. Shigaraki sneers. "Stupid fucking imbecile of a party member. Useless." And he is back to running at John, uncaring of what he did, hands spread out and in front of his body like he's a ghost ready to snatch up its latest victim.

John does not end up that way. (He never will.)

He darts forward to meet Shigaraki. Decidedly much faster than him, John ducks under a swipe, following it with a hard punch to the gut. He gets out of the way in time, moving behind and striking the man's back with his foot, creating a distance between the villain, Eraserhead, and his

classmates. John pointedly stands in front of the latter three, like a human shield against decay.

Shigaraki doesn't give up at that instant. He snarls underneath the hand, clutching his stomach as he steadies himself. "You're gonna pay for that, you little shit." It's all muscle memory from a different body by now; John gets into a stance, watches for any minuscule weakness, and keeps his mind clear.

He's careful not to get in Shigaraki's grasp lest he wants to end up an anthill, going for blind spots in his opponent, and wearing the man ragged with his agility. It only serves to piss the guy off more and more, though.

"Why," — attack, dodge — "won't," — evade, kick — "you," — punch in the side, steer clear of the hands — "just stay still?!"

Another hit to Shigaraki's unguarded back and John's holster for his staff gets dusted in retaliation, but he brushes it off quickly. Shigaraki grows angrier and more desperate, John can see it now with every frenzied movement, every attempt to grab John only to fail at the last second. If this were any regular fight, perhaps John might have let Shigaraki run himself to the ground from sheer exhaustion, but as it stands, Shigaraki doesn't look like the type to let fatigue get in the way of his goal.

John is proven right when the villain comes running at him again with a shrill cry, and he goes for a kick straight to the solar plexus, knocking the lanky man to the ground.

In his peripheral, he finds the beginning of a wall of dark mist, stretching farther and farther.

"Shigara—"

Then, an explosion reverberates in the air, and John finds Katsuki and Kirishima pinning Kurogiri to the ground by the metal collar, rendering the warper immobile, and by the wild smirk on his friend's face, John can only assume that Katsuki is threatening bodily harm to the villain if he ever so much as twitch. Kirishima, on the other hand, just looks both intimidated and adrenalized at the same time.

"This is for separating us, villain—!"

"No time for those damn hero monologues, Shark Teeth. Oi, Deku! I got the mist fucker occupied, go take that crusty bitch out!"

John only spares Katsuki a glance before focusing back on Shigaraki, who is currently heaving and exuding absolute rage on the floor. John can work with that. Mold it to his advantage. Maybe by then, the Pro Heroes would arrive right on time. "So... You think you can just beat me, just like that, huh? Well, aren't you confident? I despise bastards like you."

Shigaraki turns his head at the downed Nomu, the apprehended Kurogiri, and the fleeing henchmen around the plaza before shooting a hard glare at John through the severed hand's fingers. John can practically see the color red vividly in those eyes as he listens to Shigaraki and his grievances, his number one goal of getting rid of All Might, and tearing hero society apart for all of their transgressions. John hardly has much to contribute. He doesn't think he deserves to.

"You're not gonna say shit at all, aren't you?"

No. John doesn't think he will.

"Tch. Alright, NPC... No, this level's mini-boss," the gaunt man rasps with a burning hatred, as he