Hey, would'ya look at that? I lived, bitch. Your friendly neighborhood spider-killing-man, back at it again with the writing and uploading inconsistently.
I was told by my adviser and parents that having a lot of writing classes would be a lot of work, and I didn't really care. I enjoy writing, so the more experience with that I get, the better. Wasn't expecting it to take as much time as it does, given I just pushed out a short story for class that had me use 46 tabs on my internet search bar for research and reference within what I was writing. That was something else. But also I've been finding the will to write more outside of class assignments harder to do than just gaming or going out for a walk to relax myself, but with most of my writing assignments done for the semester, I have this and AO3 to fill in the gap. Most things left from here are editing projects, so that's a bonus.
Warning: Alongside writing this chapter, I have been writing the next chapter for Starting Point so that will be out probably next weekend or some shit. Gonna get through this week's list of assignments first before tackling the rest of that. But after that, I'll probably stick with Starting Point to get the first 'book' of it done. I've decided to split the story into three parts, each of which will cover the years at Yuei, with what's being written now and to follow covering what's left of their first year at the school. Then part two will cover year two and part three year three. Do note the style and attention of the story will change with the content, because there are certain things I wish to cover in all three that will set a tone and theme and genre for the school year. Maybe I'll do a fourth as well, but it may just end up as extensions to part three for what follows after Yuei. I don't plan on writing too much chapter after the other after they graduate.
Stepping back from that tangent, it means I'll just be writing several more chapters for Starting Point to get it done, then I'll work on all the stories again, maybe each in bursts until I find a good stopping point to tease the rest of the story or, if the day can ever come, write the end to them to focus on the rest. It doesn't help that I want to write four more storylines unconnected to the stories I already have on here. I have having fun sometimes.
Anyways, here is chapter six. I do hope you all enjoy this fairly long yet pretty short in sections chapter, and have a good whatever time of day it is for you reading this, along with the rest of your week.
November
It was through sheer luck that Suchīrubōn and Teashishi didn't confront Izuku at school the day after. By all rights, they should have cornered him at any time, in a crowded place or a secluded one. But neither boy made move towards him; in fact, they did quite the opposite. The few days following the street fight consisted of the two boys actively avoiding their quirkless classmate whenever conversation could be had. Neither bothered looking in his direction, and even a lick of a glance was diverted a second after. Izuku had thought maybe they were on edge of the man who had defended him, fearing he would crash through the classroom window had they made even a hint of assaulting the green teen. That was preposterous, though, in Izuku's mind knowing the man had only crossed their path on hapchance. It should have been obvious to the two boys as well, but apparently that wasn't the case.
Speaking of, Izuku hadn't seen the man again for the whole week following their first encounter, not like he had been looking for him to begin with. Just as easily as he had come, the young-and-yet-older man disappeared. No sign of him in the neighborhood they met in, nor anywhere in town when Izuku went in to visit, nor anywhere at all that Izuku had to be in his routine schedule. He never got the man's name, and since he had kept the fact he had met someone from his mom (he kept the whole fight a secret from her, using the cover of a villain attack that had happened in town around the same time and he was hurt in the crossfire but send home by paramedics on the scene deeming him without a concussion or any cranial damage (which he hoped he was right about and was lucky she took it at face value) in its place) he didn't really have anything to go off asking other people if they've seen him around.
Though the thought of that man and his actions and words lingered in the back of his mind, Izuku chose to drop any hopes of chasing him down to continue on his path of training and bettering himself. It was his first fight since the incident with the slime villain, or really the first real one outside of his self-defense classes, and he still had ways to go. Every punch Suchīrubōn landed, his mind screamed at him to throw one back. But Izuku knew fighting as they did would solve nothing, so he chose not to instead. He argued throwing up his arms to push away the blows and move around the other boy to avoid fighting as he had learned in class, but not wanting to get in a fight was why he took the first hit, and the roaring in his ears made it hard to concentrate on the two that followed to have any hope of defending himself well enough. If Izuku wanted to be a hero, he needed to fight. He needed to stand up for himself. He needed to be level headed.
Anger had been building up in him, or at least a heat Izuku called anger to keep himself understanding. Frustration targeting himself to boot, displeased by his lack of improvement in all the time he had. Disappointed in himself that his convictions were getting him nowhere. Izuku knew – he knew – better than that; that he, just like everyone else before him, needed time to get better, more maybe than they believed it would take. He knew starting much later than the kids around him meant he was behind, and to catch up he couldn't do it in one day. He was smarter than to believe he would be anything to compare to his peers. But the back of his mind grew impatient anyways and gave Izuku the added task of keeping face forward, and keeping his attention where he wanted it to be and nowhere else.
The distraction was probably the reason Izuku didn't duck his head when he was slammed against the wall.
Izuku gasped out his breaths from how his head bounced off the brick as he stared level with the steel boned classmate of his holding the collar of his uniform. "S-Suchīrubōn—"
"You've kept your mouth shut until now, so I expect you to keep it that way right now," said classmate growled as he cut off Izuku's words. That didn't stop him, though.
"I e-expected you to do this sooner," the green-haired teen retorted. "G-guess we set the bar too high—" Suchīrubōn shook Izuku by his collar, cutting his sentence short again to prevent biting his own tongue.
"I've been wanting to all god damn week," Suchīrubōn continued on, "but I wasn't going to let some twerp like you ruin my reputation in class."
Your reputation is being a block head in class, even beating out Teashishi who should have had that on lock down thanks to his quirk alone, Izuku wanted to comment and share the snide remarks the classroom around him has made about one another, but he decided to (metaphorically, just to keep his word) bite back his tongue on speaking that aloud. "How-how would I ruin your reputation?"
"By running your fucking mouth," was the hissed response his spoken words received. "The last thing I needed you to do is spout to the class that your bruises were from me and that you didn't cower back like the weakling you are. Or of that fucking nobody guy who tried to step up and defend you. You're lucky you didn't say shit to anyone, right?"
"Does it look like I did?" Izuku could hear the touch of snark in his words he didn't intend, but it must have been potent enough for Suchīrubōn to slam his head against the brick wall again. His own hands shot up around the other boy's wrists in an instant, holding on to them more than attempting to pry them away. "L-look, I don't even…know who that guy was. I never met him before that day, I never got his name, and I haven't seen him since."
"I don't care about him. It's your face that I have to see every day, not his, so it's your mouth that I have to make sure stays shut—"
"Oi!" The boys froze in their standoff, the callout of another snapping their attention from the other to the newcomer. Down the hall stomped the voice's origin, blond spikes standing stiff over flashing red eyes. The sneer below that was potent more so, rumbling the air to the two facing boys as Katsuki Bakugou continued to call out. "I can hear you dimwits on the other side of campus and it's pissing me off. Shut the fuck up and go home already."
The fighting boys blinked in union, and as one stared on in silence to his old friend the other jolted back to reality and turned more to the on-comer. "B-Bakugou!" Suchīrubōn announced in a tone of shivering glee. "You're just in time! Come and help me deal with Mido—"
"I don't care." The blond teen butt in, stopping only a few feet away from his classmates. There was a gleam to his eyes that didn't lack the emotions his words suggested, but his body did nothing to act upon them. "I thought I told you to fuck off."
Suchīrubōn and Izuku loosened their grips on one another, the former turning more to the newcomer while the latter leaned only slightly in the opposite direction. "B-But Bakugou! Midoriya is—"
"I don't give a rat's ass what Deku's doing as long as he isn't in my way, and the shithead hasn't been in my way for months." Suchīrubōn opened his mouth to speak again, but a step in his direction and a pop from his palms got Bakugou to shut him again. "What I do care about is that you're in my way, and you won't shut the fuck up? You wanna fucking fight, tin man?"
Had Izuku not known Suchīrubōn's quirk gave his skin a sickly yellow hue, he would have believed him going pale was a sign his quirk was activated. "N-no, no! Wha—Bakugou, you can't be serious right now! Would you actually—"
An explosion went off between the three, flinching back the boys closer to one another as smoke piled in front of the third. The gray clouds rose from the eruption, leaving the ruby orbs and a fanged smile to shine dark in the hallway lighting. "You either fight me or get lost, you fucking extra! I don't have time to listen to your shit anymore, so make up your damn mind and fight me or fuck off!"
Izuku kept his gaze on Bakugou, even though he was no longer in Suchīrubōn's clutches and could have easily run off earlier. His body fought itself in a game of tug-o-war, pulling apart his balance of steeling his gut to stay or spilling it to hide away. The iron-boned boy in front of him gulped and seethed through his teeth, throwing a glance over his shoulder to the green-haired teen before settling back on the explosive boy challenging him, weighing his own options to fight or flight. His answer was clear he scoffed and turned away from both boys to the opposite end of the hall.
"Fine," he grumbled out, fists trembling into his uniform's pockets. "I'll go, I'll go. Whatever." A sneer was tossed out of the corner of his eye to Izuku against the wall, whose fists balled at the anticipation of a challenge coming his own way. There was no other threat after that, not to keep his mouth shut or a repeat of the confrontation the week prior. Izuku let his gaze follow the boy's back down the hall, until he rounded the corner and the doors outside could be heard swinging about.
"Deku." The call of his nickname – surprisingly untouched for quite some time by the boy commenting – turned Izuku's head back around to gulp at the hard stare Bakugou was giving him. The green teen didn't verbally respond right away, but the notion didn't seem to bother the blond as much as the silver boy's responses did. Bakugou inched forward, step by step until he took Suchīrubōn's spot prior and bore holes into the side of Izuku's head. The two boys met shoulder to shoulder, neither turning their bodies more to fully face, and neither hinting on the intent to. So the blond continued. "The hell do you think you're doing?"
Sharp and to the point, just how Izuku remembered his voice being; but little to no sting backing those words further. No steam building in the boy's palms, no snarl twisting his lips, no screeching from his lungs in a battle cry. Nothing but a simple questions with more implications than actions.
His green eyes faltered from the red higher than his, only to check the thin line of the boy's mouth – no pout either, very out of the norm – before flicking back to meet the taller boy's gaze. "…Nothing," was the more than hesitant reply Izuku mustered.
Bakugou felt colder than Izuku remembered him being from previous private encounters. No loud, boisterous noises from his mouth or his hands, no wild swings of his arms, no singeing of his body or his surroundings. Now, Katsuki was stone cold, imposing shadowing threatening.
"Keep it that way," was the flat response Izuku got for his own word, watching on over his shoulder and Katsuki took down the hallway, bag swinging over his shoulder as he sauntered off. "I don't want you getting in the way of me becoming a hero, or getting into Yuei. If you know what's good for you, you'll give up now." It was before the turn to the door that the blond looked back over his own shoulder, a singular red dot glistening dim to the green boy. "You'll never be a hero, got that, Deku?"
Izuku dug his nails into his palms at the hissed accent put on the insult, but said nothing as Katsuki took the turn and disappeared from the hallway, leaving the Midoriya child alone to his own thoughts. Thoughts of Suchīrubōn and his shift of attitude, of Katsuki the hardening of his presentation, of the mysterious man and his wish of luck to Izuku to become a hero.
"…It's not worth it," was what he ended up muttering to himself, turning his attention from the empty hallway to the filled backpack by his side. He shuffled through the contents, aimlessly counting the books and utensils before securing it over his shoulders. "Kacc—Katsuki…" He blinked, only for a moment, to realize the difference in the sounding of the names for the blond boy, before pressing that thought down for another day and continuing forward on his own path.
If Midoriya thought of anything as dangerous, his focus would solely be on Mei Hatsume.
Izuku could list the amount of times his life felt genuinely threatened. When he was young, his child mentality feared fights with Bakugou (and calling them fights paint Izuku in a better light than he actually was) would go a step too far, but as they grew up and nothing changed beyond the norm, the reoccurring worry was squandered. The first time he handled scissors he nearly impaled himself, only really cutting along his side and freaking both himself and his mother beyond what they thought they could mentally handle. It wasn't until the two-timed meeting with the slime villain that Izuku felt his life on the line, but both times the number one hero of the world came in to spare him a tragic fate. Since then, nothing in the month following aimed to use his life as a bargaining chip.
Until Mei Hatsume nearly threw a fridge on top of him.
It was an honest (-to-god-terrifying) mistake on the girl's part, Izuku knew that much. It was their third meeting, by Izuku's counting, and he could ay with the only confidence he had that he had a good feel of the girl and her personality.
(The phrasing of his musing took a minute to sink in before he melted into a stumbling and stuttering mess, feeling the need to apologize to Mei on his poor choice of wording in a sentence she didn't even hear.)
The pink-haired girl's love of mechanisms and the physical labor of breaking and building was the most striking detail of her personality, second only to her over-the-top actions and booming voice whenever something caught her intrigue and passion. She was fast, on her hands and feet, with and without her gadgets guiding her around. (Izuku noted her hover boot prototypes spewing steam with each sharp turn around the trash piles, and especially when scaling said piles.) She was surprisingly athletic and capable of dynamic maneuvering, and what she lacked in physical strength she seemed to make up with having devices and other 'babies' of hers bother with the heavy lifting. All she seemed to deeply care about was getting what she wanted, making what she got into what she dreamed about, and giving it to the rest of the world. Simply put, she was kind.
So he understood entirely that having her OctoDrone.5 attempt to carry the broken fridge off the beach for Izuku's sake and bouncing it around in the thin, whip-like arms of the drone only for it to fly out and nearly clothesline Midoriya in the face was a complete accident.
And Izuku was pretty sure he saw the angels waiting to take him plastered on the freezer door.
"Sorry about that, Metal Bat!" Hatsume yelled atop the shorter pile of trash, down to the boy hunched on his hands and knees clawing at the skin, shirt and jacket covering his heart. "My baby was using the sensors to distribute the weight better! Did 'ya get hit?"
"I—" Heaving and breathing cut his response short, opting to recollect the air he had almost lost the feeling of in its entirety. When he had gathered all he required, he pushed himself back to his feet alone with great effort, even relying on his bat to help prop him on his way up. "I-I'm fine, just-just…" What would could he use that meant terrified and on the verge of a panic attack but didn't come off as rude or overdramatic? "…startled, is all, I-I guess."
"OK, good!" If it wasn't for the sweat of workout and worry already pouring from his hairline, Hatsume might have seen the sweat drop Izuku gained from her careless nature. "Can't have the presenter of my babies fall into bad condition! I let you off the hook for the bruises last time, and I'm not letting you get away with more next time, ya hear?" Midoriya felt nothing but God-given thanks for the workout he had just finished to help mask the rise of blood of embarrassment and praise on his face, even if his arms wrapped around his head quick enough to hide it when it began.
"OH! That reminds me! Metal Bat!" A space parted between Izuku's arms for his eyes to peek back out to the girl towering above the trash. "I need a design of your hero costume!"
"A…what?" Lowering his guard, Izuku brushed past the red still plastered on his face to focus more on the girl above. "My…my hero uniform…?"
"Yeah!" Despite his better judgement, Izuku did push forward to help Mei down the pile, watching her bounce as she went level after level to his, nearly becoming an obstacle as she barreled past him and landed safe on the sand. "If you're going to become a hero, then you'll need a uniform to work in! I bet you I can make tons of gadgets, tools, weapons and adjustments to your costume to keep up in the field with the other heroes! All I need are some basic blueprints and I can get started on crafting anything you need!"
"Just-oh, um…" He chuckled something unsteady, fiddling his fingers on the handle of his bat.
"I – uh – don't have any idea what I want for a hero costume, actually." A lie, actually, knowing the pervious iterations and drawings he made for his hero uniform existed and waited in his hero analysis notebooks back home, but were no longer meeting his appeal and were scrapped all too soon. He was still looking for a substitute to send in when he applied for the school in only a few short months.
"Then you better get to it then!" Mei lifted a fist to the air, slapping her other hand on her bicep to keep the arm from launching out her shoulder. "You won't be taking the world by storm in that green tracksuit! A proper hero needs a proper attire!" It was without hesitation that she jumped to the refrigerator, calling her drone back over to haul the appliance in the air again.
Izuku shrugged off the upper of his jumper, folding the jacket over his non-dominant arm as the other twirled his bat, whirling the thoughts plaguing him, questioning confidence and probability. "You…think I can become a hero?"
"Dunno. You haven't tried yet." The burst of her nature vanished in a second, the wind behind it gone to stop the windmill of Izuku's choice of weapon. The green boy blanked, locking vacant eyes with Hatsume's perpetual smile. "If you're any good at it as I am building, then you'll probably become one. You'll have to prove yourself first, then get into Yuei with me. You ready for that, Metal Bat?"
"What—but…" Izuku's hands shook in front of him and his lips tugged down at the corners. "We-we have four months until the entrance exam is open for participants and I have so-so much I still have to learn, I mean I've barely practiced at all with my bat as a-a-a-a-a weapon or-or a tool I could use in battle or for rescue miss—"
"That's not the energy of a hero, Metal Bat!" Izuku flinched back as Mei darted up to his face once again. "If you're gonna be the first quirkless hero telling off the public with nothing but a baseball bat and the clothes on your back, then you're gonna have to go in without even the slightest hesitation! Got that?"
Izuku gulped, adverting his eyes every which way and making sure to keep backing away to keep her…body from getting any closer to his. "D-don't worry, I g-get that."
"That doesn't sound like the commitment of a hero to me, mister!" Thank the heavens above Mei backed away from Izuku, hoping on a broken washing machine and striking a pose with a hand to the sky, a long finger pointed to the clouds and sun above. "I need to hear you shout your desires to the heavens! Tell the world you're going to become the next greatest hero!" Izuku did nothing, bat clutched tightly against his chest and eyes blank as they stared at her. "Come on! Say it with me! I'm going to get into Yuei and become the greatest there is!"
"Hatsume, please, you don't have to—"
"That doesn't sound like the voice of a future hero, Metal Bat!" Her interruption cut through his words as fast as she could walk. "Come on! Say it with me and prove that you're going to become the next greatest hero! I'm going to get into Yuei and become the greatest there is!"
Izuku swallowed, eased his bat into his left hand and rose his right to mimic Mei's, minus the standing finger and with his own elbow bent. With an elongated inhale, he repeated, "I'm…going to get into Yuei…and become…the greatest there is."
"That's not high enough in energy, Metal Bat!" Mei shouted back, flinching Izuku a step away. "Say it with energy and pride! I'm going to get into Yuei and become the greatest there is!"
He took another, deep breath, eyes closed, chin dropped slightly to his chest. "I'm going to get into Yuei and become the greatest there is."
"Louder!"
Her command straightened his arm closer to a solid line and lifted his chin to the pile of trash he couldn't see behind the lids of his eyes. "I'm going to get into Yuei and become the greatest there is."
The clang of her foot stomping on metal echoed on the sand. "Louder."
He inhaled, puffing his chest and raising his fist higher with his head following. "I'm going to get into Yuei and become the greatest there is."
"What are you going to be?!" Her shouting dug the nails into his palm.
"I'm going to get into Yuei and become the greatest there is!"
"I said what are you going to be?!" His body clenched at her voice, and his other arm rose with the bat shaking in his grasp.
"I'm going to get into Yuei and become the greatest there is!"
"What are you going to be, Metal Bat?!" His heels dug into the shoreline, his other arm bent out to his side with the bat raised slightly over his head, his right arm bent again but with a fist tighter than he had ever tightened before.
"I'M GOING TO GET INTO YUEI AND BECOME THE GREATEST THERE IS!"
"You're goddamn right you are!" Mei's shouts rung with his own, rattling off sheets of metal and wrappings of plastic in the two mounds of trash flanking either side of them. "You're gonna go in there and become the greatest hero there is, ain't cha?!"
His eyes shot open with a spark and his teeth clashed in a growl. "I'M GOING TO GET INTO YUEI AND BECOME THE GREATEST GODDAMN HERO THERE IS!"
"That's the spirit I wanted to hear!" Mei's gloves collided the knuckles with one another. "Are you ready to become the next star hero in all the world, Metal Bat?!"
"You're fucking right I am!" His fist held high dropped in a dash in front of his face, the snarl he wore over his lips pulling up in a full-blow tooth-filled smile.
"Then give me the schematics to your hero uniform so I can make it the best hero uniform it could be!"
There was a fire building in Izuku's lungs when he first muttered the sentence Mei wanted him to repeat. With each repetition, the flame grew, and it grew and grew and burned throughout the whole of his chest and then through the whole of him until he could feel it on the outside. Within three seconds of processing Mei's last sentence, that blaze was gone in its entirety.
"…I-I still don't know what I want my uniform to-to be, though…" he admitted to the still triumphant-standing girl before him.
"Aw, come on, Metal Bat." Her smile never ceased, even as her head fell to the side with what must have been a sigh in the middle of her sentence. "You've been at this for months now – four, like you just said – and you don't know what you want to look like to the public? You need to have some idea for a uniform."
"Well, I did, but…I can't really u-use any of them…anymore." He didn't know if his mumbling could still be heard by her. "And I…I don't really know what I can do that goes well with this." He raised the bat weakly for emphasis.
"Not planning on becoming a professional baseball player and using an altered uniform of whatever team you're signed on to?" With Mei's expression, it was hard to tell if her words were a tease or a genuine question. "I think it would fit wonderfully with your bat! And your helmet too, I could probably add night-vision goggles to for when you have to work a late shift or a place lacking in installed light fixtures. Or add a removable shell to so you can use it in place of having to carry a bag of baseballs around everywhere. Or—"
"I'm not planning on using the bat like that, Hatsume," Izuku grumbled with little effort. "I'm supposed to be learning to wield it like a sword. Like-like a samurai would."
"Ah, that's right! Then we should put you in a do with a home team logo and number on it. I know! We'll add extra metal plating to the chest and back plates of the dō, light ones that can be mechanically retracted into a single line of plating so when you fight you can jump between slow and armored to take hits you can't avoid and flexible and quick on your feet when you go in for the kill!"
"Heroes don't kill…" He really didn't care if she couldn't hear his mutters anymore. Mei was prone to tuning out the world for only specific words to listen to, when she wanted to. It reminded him of his muttering.
He could being to understand why his classmates hated listening to it in class.
"Also, you should watch that mouth of yours when you interact with the public, Metal Bat." The irony wasn't subconsciously lost on him as he turned his attention back in to the girl in front of him. "Use big boy words like that when you're working and people might think you're just some delinquent."
Izuku blinked, running the sentences he had spoken within their last twenty minutes of a conversation until her warning made sense and the color in his cheeks drained away. He blinked again.
"Oh, wow, would you look at the time. I need to start running now." He turned on heel, arms squaring up by his sides in balled fists with more blood in them than his head.
"But you don't go on runs—"
"Sorry! Can't hear you over the sound of me running!" He booked it, not caring that his bat was still in hand, or the laughter that was following behind him, or that he was running away from another problem. He was usually good at that.
Some problems he just couldn't run away from. One of those was a holiday dinner with his mother. On Thanksgiving. And with no one else.
Despite the fact in the back of his head that he and his mother could have ended up sitting on the short ends of the table, leaving the longer length of the wooden surface in between them, Izuku always took the longer end to face so he could be closer to his mother, even with the table still between.
The Thanksgiving they celebrated wasn't Labor Thanksgiving Day. This year, that holiday was the day after. The Thanksgiving they were celebrating, they held on Thursday, just before the month was coming to a close, with a big meal of imported turkey and homemade rice and katsudon and yakitori and tempura for them both to share for the night and the few following. The Thanksgiving they were celebrating was one in honor, more so than it was in respect for the holiday in America.
Aside from their thanks, of which Inko gave to her job and to Mitsuki and her baby boy, and which Izuku gave to his mother and his school and his newfound friends, there was no talk at the dinner table. Izuku learned over the first few times they celebrated together that his mother would fall into a state of silence for the meal and for the rest of the hours in the day following, and over those times he began to understand why and adopted the silence as well. He knew she didn't want him to point out the third and empty seat at one end of the table, still decorated with its own silverware and plate and cup of cider. He didn't want to talk about it either.
So the son and mother ate in the silence of their voices and the sound of chewing and clinking and the radio on the kitchen counter sounding off names of the Hosu professional baseball team. Izuku didn't dare look up as his mother, and watched instead his own plate as he drained it of food and the servings about the table as he and his mom dwindled them together.
Inko called herself full first, and Izuku followed in quick agreement, he was too. He helped repackage the leftovers and stack them in the fridge and freezer, and helped in cleaning the table and dishes. When what needed to be done was done, he wished his mother a goodnight and left to his room with only a nod from his mom wishing him the same.
Izuku kept to his desk instead of his bed following the goodnight wishes. His mind was too jumbled and active for him to fall asleep sooner, he didn't even want to attempt the effort. A picture, framed, became the center of his attention. In the middle of all the dust-collection hero memorabilia and pristine school related books and tools, was a picture of his family; mother, father and son, the last one they took together. Back when he was only three. His hand shot up to the frame and flicked it forward, dropping the photo to face his desk and lie flat against the surface, out of his sight to work out of his mind.
He pulled his recent journal of his heroics writings, though it wasn't exactly about the heroes he watched. More aptly named Hero Future, he had made the journal specifically for himself, centered around himself. The occasional entry of a new or old hero in the news made a page or two in his entries, but he added on ways he could learn from them regarding the world of heroics: moves he could adapt into his own set, offices he could join when he gets the option to, legal reasons and people's perception regarding tools and weapons used by heroes, etc. He flipped through the pages until he came to the empty ones and held the book open on the first two. His free hand shuffled through the stack of pencils, and his mind replayed the words: Just think about a hero costume. Just think about a hero costume. He flicked a pencil out of the pile, gave the tip an once-over to make sure it was sharp, and brought it down onto the paper.
And did absolutely nothing.
He sat there for a minute, and then two, and then three before he gave up with a sigh and threw the pencil into the lined paper. It had been a good two weeks since he talked with Mei about the designs of his plans for a hero uniform, having used the last Sunday to avoid the topic at every second and sentence he could. But no ideas had jumped into his head. He didn't bring up the topics with Tenya or Mashirao yet, and he was almost certain the two boys would have theirs planned out in advance and probably even have some pointers for him.
But the little cubic inch of his brain that nagged him about how often and how long no one but his mother had been there for him sprouted the idea of working on it all his own: the inspiration had to be something he took notice of; the whole design had to be crafted the way he wanted and imagined it to; every inch of layer and pocket and design and tool had to be from him and him alone, without any feedback or opinion from an outside source on the matter. He didn't know why he listened to it, but he found solace in the truth it presented despite the argument he had made that he had people sticking their necks out for him now. He just didn't know how much he could trust them, or for how much longer he could. Mei was energetic and excited throughout all their time together, but she was a girl who had expectations she practically demanded to be met. If Izuku doesn't meet those, he could get the boot. Iida was closer to and just as enthusiastic about heroes as Izuku was, but he was strict and vocal about the ideologies he had learned from his family of and representing the world of heroics. If Izuku didn't act those ways, he could get the boot. Mashirao was a great partner in learning how to fight and had a simple approach to answering Izuku's questions and dilemmas when presented, but everyone had their limits, everyone got burnout. Whenever he reached his over Izuku's problems, he could get the boot.
It sounded almost a stretch beyond reality, but it happened with everyone else, so why wouldn't it happen with them too?
Izuku flipped his notebook shut, threw on a jacket and twirled the bat into his hands, told his mom he was gonna go out for a short walk and that he would do his best to stay out of trouble, even if he was bringing the bat with him, and took to the sidewalk in the pink glow of night. He mumbled to himself as he walked, spinning the bat in his hands and letting it be his center of attention and topic. The bat was probably going to be the center of his uniform, he had no doubt about that. Only he didn't want to dress up as a baseball player; that was too tacky, wasn't it? Heroes could have some out-there costumes, he knew that, but he didn't want to be that. It would probably stand out more if he kept his look to something simple (like I've always looked, apparently, he grimaced in his head). The idea of a samurai uniform popped in his head more than once, given the general techniques he was learning were going to translate to how he handled the bat in their place, but one to resemble the ancient uniform would probably be too bulky and, once again, too overdone and overcomplicated. There was a more modern, more professional attire he could use, one he'd seen in practice videos and back at the dojo, but that wouldn't mesh well enough with a weapon of a baseball bat. He could alter the uniform, find a way to combine the modern samurai clothing with an attire that went with the baseball bat, like the player uniform; only, yet again, the idea was too tacky and complicated. And painted the wrong picture that he was into baseball. He was not as invested in the sport as he was heroics.
With the internal debate at the forefront of his attention, Izuku had failed to notice the man walking behind him until a hand fell onto his shoulder. The contact set off alarms in his ears, and Izuku's first response was gripping the bat tight with both hands and spinning on the balls of his feet with the bat swinging with him. With a single hand in the bat's way his momentum was stopped, and Izuku parted his feet to better his stance not to fall from the sudden stop, only to meet his green eyes with the gold ones looking down at him. For a moment he could see a glare to them, but they too filled with recognition upon closer inspection.
"Oh," the white haired man, the same one he had met and stepped in for him, breathed out in surprise. "It's you, kid."
"OH, mi—" Izuku jumped his shoulders in his surprise, but bit back his tongue remembering the man's name was something he didn't know, nor how to address him as such a stranger. "H-hello again, sir."
"Still jittery, huh?" the older man quipped, gently pushing away the bat aimed for his shoulder. "You should watch where you swing that. Could really hurt someone if you aren't careful. Put quite the power behind it too." He shook the hand that had caught its impact early; whether for show or honesty that someone of his strength could feel the power Izuku put behind his swing, the younger boy didn't know.
"Sorry about that," Izuku hastily apologized. "I thought – had thought – you were trying to attack me—"
"I get it," the tall man waved the apology away with tongue and hand. "Thought you were some delinquent with a bat going to mess someone up. Pretty late out, couldn't really see the color in your hair if not for the street lights." He pointed up for emphasis and Izuku's squinted eyes followed to the light source directed down on them before he looked away. "What are you even doing out this late, anyways? It's a Thursday, don't you have school tomorrow?"
"It-it's not that late—how do you know I go to school?" The absurdity of the question was clear the instant he asked it. Of course a Japanese teenager was in school.
"You were wearing the same clothing as bonehead and his friend when we first met." The man pointed behind himself with a thumb, even though the street behind them was not the same street Izuku had gotten punched on. "And with how well he seemed to know you, or what he thinks of you anyways, I doubt two kids wearing the same uniform is hap-chance or that you two were in church clothing or something like that." Yeah, the uniform would have given it away, wouldn't it? Same for the backpack, now that Izuku thought about it. Had someone thought of him as a choir boy in that would've been more concerning.
Izuku spun the bat by his side. "Okay, but…I'm just out for a walk, right now. Needed to think, and being in my room wasn't really helping me with that."
"Too much shit or not enough shit?" The unnamed name chuckled to his crass words, and Izuku with him.
"Too much. Way too much." Izuku shook his head, looking down and away from the man before him. "It's…too much of hero stuff."
"Shouldn't that be a good thing?" The man lifted his gaze and turned, giving the street a look-over. "Do you want to keep walking, or is it getting too late for you to stay out?"
Izuku looked out as well, and took note of the lack of warm colors on the horizon and tile rooftops replaced with a thick, dark blue with the specks of white sprinkled about it. "I should probably head back," Izuku admitted. "Mom would freak out if I stayed out too late, and I told her I would only be out to walk for a little bit."
"How long has a little bit been?" The man's question had Izuku picking his phone out his pocket and reading the timestamp given.
"15 minutes…" Had he been that lost and long in thought? It felt shorter than that, for sure.
"You've only been out for fifteen minutes and you're heading back now?" A white eyebrow raised with the man's following question.
"Yeah, well, my mom can worry sometimes, and it is better I don't press it."
"Is it worry or is it helicoptering?" Izuku gave the man a puzzled look as he walked past and back in the direction of his home. The white haired gentleman sighed, audibly. "It's…an English phrase. It means a parent too overbearing and controlling on what their child does, basically."
"Oh, uh, no, she's-she's not like that." Izuku thought to stop to explain but found himself pressed forward as the man stepped to follow. He turned his head away to hide his embarrassment of the collision. "M-mom is…she worries a lot because I can get in trouble and danger a lot, and I am her only son, so I'm really all she has to be overprotective of."
"Well I can agree that you get into trouble a lot, given that trigger finger of yours with the bat." The red on Izuku's cheeks only grew hearing that. "Speaking of which, what the hell is it even for? I thought you were into heroes, I don't remember anything about sports. Were you actually on your way to take someone out with that?"
"No no no no no no no." Izuku let his free hand disappear in a flurry of shaking between his face and the man's. "It—the bat is what…I'm using to become a hero…"
"Really?" Izuku nodded, thought faced forward and away from the man to see his facial reaction. His words were more clarifying, which he appreciated: "Man, you really are one crazy kid. Trying to take the world by storm, aren't ya?"
Izuku only nodded again and said nothing. His mind wandered to the right as he turned left on the street corner, and he looked back over his shoulder to the man with white hair. "I—we never introduced ourselves, you know…" His voice drifted as his eyes met the man's golden ones. They looked so empty of emotion and only carried the sign of life behind them.
"You're right, we haven't." There wasn't any surprise or excitement or any emotion behind the man's words. Izuku flinched and nodded. "Guess I should learn your name, then. Be better than just calling you kid all the time, wouldn't it?"
"Y-yeah…" Izuku coughed into his shoulder, tucked the bat under his shoulder and stopped to turn and face the man with him. "M-my name is Midoriya Izuku. It's a pleasure to meet you."
"Midoriya, huh? Alright." The man kept his gaze on Izuku for a minute longer, not saying a word until he broke his silence with a hum, as though debating whether he shared anything at all. He ended up doing so. "I'm Hunter."
"Hunter…" Izuku let his name roll slowly off his tongue. "That's…a very English name."
"Yeah, you can blame my old man for that," Hunter scoffed. He took a look around the block. "We at your house or something?"
"Oh, I, uh, live just down here." Izuku pointed down the block, though not directly at the apartment complex he called home. "You don't have to follow me all the way to the door; I should be fine the rest of the way. Thanks for, um, walking me home."
Hunter blinked at Izuku before looking around again. "Huh, guess I did. Don't mention it." His hands slid to rest on his hips, fingers slipping into his pockets. "Yeah, I'll let you walk the rest of the way. Have a good night kid—ah, Midoriya." His face contorted with the closest expression without becoming a grin Izuku had ever seen. "Got to remember that, don't I? Try to stay out of trouble. And keep practicing your swings." He turned his back to the green boy and walked back the way they had gone together. "For a kid with no quirk you sure have a lot of power in those arms. Make good use of it."
Izuku watched in silence as the man – as Hunter – left and disappeared around the corner of the next stop sign. The bat swung out from under his arm and landed to be cradled in his other hand. He ran his thumb over the scratched metal, taken its own beatings from the ones it delivered in his practice against trash. Hunter caught it with ease, just has he had pierced pavement with his bare hand, so the man was strong. Did he really believe Izuku was getting somewhere with the bat too?
He turned and walked down, back to his apartment mute, listening only to the distant sound of the cars lanes around him, birds whistling their babies' goodnight, and the tapping of his shoes distracting him from his thoughts.