Chapter 19

.::Friday Morning Shenanigans::.

Morning eleven of being in another world, and the sixth full day since arriving in Odawara. Shouto had still made no progress in finding any hints as to Gentle Criminal's (and by extension, Tokoyami's) location, nor had he decided whether he should tell the runaway network about his whole situation. He hadn't made contact with anyone since the shopping trip, so he had plenty of time to think it over and he still couldn't decide.

Maybe if he knew who else might be part of it, he'd be able to make up his mind. The only members he knew of for certain were Shiozaki and Kouda. Maybe Kuroe too, but so far it sounded like he was a bit more disconnected from the organization than the others. He figured it consisted mostly of kids, since few adults would bother to run away from home, but surely they had some adult support besides Kuroe.

Those mystery adults posed the issue. Shouto doubted he'd be lucky enough to know everyone connected to the network from his own world; it was a fluke he even knew Shiozaki and Kouda. In this world trust was a valuable commodity, not something to be given easily, and his circumstances made him even more vulnerable. He absolutely could not take any risks.

But... Didn't that make trusting Tokoyami dangerous too? Shouto knew next to nothing about Gentle Criminal, except that Midoriya had briefly met him in his own world. Which... was probably a bad sign, now that he thought about it. But then again, just because he told Tokoyami didn't mean the other teenager would tell the famous phantom thief. He might be able to convince Tokoyami to keep it secret.

As he mulled over it he almost didn't notice someone sneaking up on him. Almost, because he had been keeping his guard up constantly since he first woke up next to Dabi of all people, and so when the person got too close he immediately turned around. "Can I help you?" he asked icily, but paused when he registered who had approached.

An unfamiliar child stood behind him, a young boy with an oversized navy blue sweatshirt and dark blue hair. Cat-like ears twitched atop his head, his eyes a bright mismatched blue and gold. For a moment Shouto just stared at him, unsure what to make of this strange child approaching him when he so obviously looked like a homeless vagabond.

"Yuki-san?" the boy asked, and, oh.

"Are you part of the runaway network?" Shouto asked in surprise, and the kid held a finger to his mouth.

"Shh, not so loud!" he hissed, looking around to make sure no one had overheard. Seeing no eavesdroppers, he turned back to Shouto with a frown as he said, "Don't just go around asking people! No one's supposed to know about it!"

"You're... very young," Shouto said, for lack of anything better to say. He looked like an elementary school student, or else a short middle school student. Either way, he looked far too young to be on the streets, alone. The boy's ears pressed flat against his head, shoulders drooping slightly as his eyes flitted around anxiously.

"So, you are Yuki-san, right?" he asked. "You look like how Sh—Maria-san described you, and you know about the network, s-so... You are, right?"

"I am," Shouto confirmed with a nod, and while he still looked anxious some of the tension faded from the kid's shoulders.

"C-can I stay with you?" he asked, and Shouto felt his mind briefly go blank.

"...What?"

"N-not forever or anything!" the boy said hastily. "See, we're usually supposed to travel in pairs when we leave the base for safety stuff, a-and my partner. He, he..." He trailed off, ears pressing even flatter against his head as he looked away.

"Did something happen to him?" Shouto asked, and was rewarded with a small whimper and head bob.

"H-his mom showed up and saw him. He told me to run before she noticed me too, s-so I did. And now I have no idea what to do." The kid looked ready to cry, just absolutely miserable as his head hung lower. Shouto noticed a strange bulge moving around the kid's stomach, and for a second he was confused before realizing he probably had a tail wrapped around his waist or something. Made sense given the cat ears.

At this point, his response required no real thought. Helping a lost child had been something they'd covered in class extensively, especially after Eri's recent rescue. So he knelt down to be closer to eye level with the child, the movement drawing his attention back. "Do you know how to get back to the base?" he asked gently, and the boy blinked before shaking his head.

"N-not really... I try not to leave the base too much, but Masa-nii needed to get some hair stuff at this special store and I asked to go with him. I thought it'd be okay, but..." He trailed off, biting his lip and looking ready to cry any moment.

"Do you have a phone?" Shouto pressed.

"I don't have one yet. We figured it'd be fine if Masa-nii had his, but..." Shouto just hummed in understanding, thinking to the burner phone in his pocket.

"I have one that should have their phone numbers, but the battery's dead right now." He hadn't been able to charge either phone last night since he opted to sleep in an abandoned building, wanting to save his meager funds for a night with worse weather. Thinking of the places most likely to have an outlet, he suggested, "We could go to a coffee shop to charge it..."

He trailed off as the kid physically recoiled with a look of undisputed horror, ears flattening against his head. "Or not," Shouto finished lamely after a few seconds, and saw a minuscule slump to his still-tense shoulders.

"I'm sorry," the boy mumbled, looking away with a miserable-looking frown. "I... don't really like those places, last time I went to one bad stuff happened..."

"It's alright," Shouto assured him. He didn't know any other places likely to have outlets off the top of his head, so using the phone to call Kouda or Shiozaki would be out for the moment. That really just left letting the boy join him until they could find another runaway or their base. "I don't really know this town too well," he said. "I'm not sure how much I can help you find your way home."

"But you can make sure no one hurts me!" the boy said, looking up at him with a large frown. "Maria-nee says you protected Kuroe-san, so you're strong and good. I can't just walk around alone! Please, help me!" It was hard to argue with that reasoning. Partially because the kid looked about five seconds away from crying, and he had no idea how to actually handle a crying child. He couldn't even handle Midoriya crying half the time, and this was somehow infinitely worse.

"Alright. We'll try to find the others and get you back safely." The boy's ears perked up briefly before he sagged with relief, a majority of the tension visibly fading from his small frame.

"Thank you, Yuki-san!"

"Can you tell me your name?" Shouto asked, and the boy froze like a deer caught in the headlights. It belatedly occurred to Shouto that the runaways all used codenames, and if this boy didn't leave their base often he might not be in the habit of giving a fake name to other people just yet.

"Um... Everyone calls me Nyaota?" He sounded hesitant, and Shouto blinked slowly as he processed the name.

"Is your real name Naota?" he asked, and the boy's wince essentially confirmed his thought. "Um, you might want to choose a better codename." There was probably some irony there given Shouto still used his actual name as his official codename, but then, his own world didn't have the dangers this one appeared to have.

Those concerns could wait though. He rose to his full height and held his hand out to Naota. "Come on, we should start looking now. They might already be looking for you." Naota bobbed his head as he accepted Shouto's hand, rubbing at his eye with his other arm as they began walking. Worst came to worst he could probably drop Naota off at Kuroe's house later. For now though, he didn't mind having some company.

Izuku felt more tired than ever as he walked down the street after asking Kurogiri to teleport him to a "safe" alleyway, face tucked into a thick scarf and a new brown beanie covering his hair. It had been a day since he met Aiko, and while he hadn't seen her since then he couldn't stop thinking about the sight of Aizawa-sensei's goggles around her neck.

So far he had avoided looking up any of his teachers in his notebooks out of fear of what he would find. He knew that Present Mic was fine because he still had his show, and there'd been a news article mentioning Thirteen and Cementoss helping with a recent landslide earlier that week, but that was it. He saw no headlines about any of the other teachers, especially an underground hero like Eraserhead.

Why did Aiko have his goggles? Did she kill him? The thought made him feel sick, and he vehemently pushed it aside to try to think of alternatives. Like, maybe she just took it from him as a trophy at some point. Or maybe she was an Eraserhead fan and got a matching pair. Her eyes made him think she had some sort of ocular Quirk, so it wasn't too much of a stretch to need goggles, right?

Even as he struggled to come up with more explanations he felt like he was grasping at straws, looking for even the smallest glimmer of hope. That seemed to be all he did lately. His parents were dead, he lived with the League of Villains, Kacchan was currently a prisoner, Shinsou was muzzled—everything here was just so wrong!

Izuku wanted to cry. It felt like that was the only thing he really could do right now. He couldn't just spring Kacchan and Shinsou from the Alliance's custody, nor could he work up the courage to look up what happened to his teacher. He had a feeling whatever answer awaited him would leave him broken and numb, just like everything else about this world.

Right now, he just needed a distraction.

Throughout this melancholic internal musing he didn't pay attention to his surroundings, his legs carrying him through the unfamiliar streets almost mechanically. He didn't really plan to go anywhere specific, but somehow when he came to his senses he found himself standing in front of a large, dilapidated-looking warehouse. The sight gave him pause, blinking and looking around in confusion before focusing on the building.

Wooden boards sealed the front entrance and windows, padlocked chains covering the tall, sliding metal shutter on the far end of the building. Rust had eroded the bottom right corner of one shutter though, leaving a surprisingly large hole. Izuku walked over to study it, noticing it looked big enough for him to fit through. He eyed it for a moment longer before getting to his knees and crawling through the gap, fitting through with ease just as he'd expected.

Inside he found a large, open room, sunlight pouring from a giant hole in the high ceiling to illuminate it clearly. Chunks of plaster and broken support beams littered the floor alongside other debris, the floor directly beneath the hole glittering with shards of glass from fallen light fixtures. Something about it gave the room an almost ethereal air, and almost as if in a trance Izuku began slowly walking forward while looking around in silent wonder.

The space had not been totally emptied of furniture. Weather-worn metal shelves still stood tall and scattered throughout the room alongside broken machinery and piled boxes, remnants of the warehouse's active days. As he ventured closer to the center he noticed something dark green in a far corner, partially hidden behind a broken shelf, and he moved to get a better look and found... Was that a couch?

Izuku blinked in surprise, changing course while being careful to avoid stepping on anything sharp. When he got closer he saw that the corner had been largely cleared of debris, with a beaten green couch pushed against the wall below a boarded window that managed to provide a decent amount of light. The shelf made it feel just slightly secluded from the rest of the room, its own little space.

His steps faltered, just staring at it. Even now he could see a thick coat of dust covering everything in this corner, so it hadn't been used in some time. Still, something about it felt oddly comforting and inviting, a ball of tension he didn't realize existed quietly unfurling in his chest and leaving him feeling lighter.

For some reason Izuku couldn't fathom he just felt relaxed now, his mind clearing of the incessant worries that had haunted him for so long. They didn't disappear entirely, but he didn't feel seconds away from a panic attack either, able to think calmly and rationally for once. Exhaling softly, he turned to survey the rest of the room, taking in the debris and shelves, before his eyes trailed to his hands.

In this world, he had never gone through the pain he'd experienced in his own journey to become a hero. He had never shattered his limbs taking down the Zero Pointer, his arms hadn't been broken countless times to the point of no repair. His skin remained perfectly unblemished, bearing no trace of the scars from his battle with Todoroki at the Sports Festival or his encounter with Stain.

Yet he could still feel a steady thrum of power beneath his skin, the strength of One For All tingling and waiting to be used. Green lightning sparked along his hands as he clenched them into fists, turning his attention to a nearby chunk of cement with renewed determination. Striding towards it with a purposeful jaunt, he stopped and slid his legs apart to steady his footing.

Then he let Full Cowl activate and threw his fist at the center.

The first time he'd used One For All he'd broken his bones, his body still not ready despite ten months of training. He didn't have that much training here, but the body of this world's Izuku felt much more fit than he'd been back then. He could just feel that he'd exercised and done strength training regularly, his body clearly used to exercise and experiencing only minimal fatigue. On top of that he'd been sure to keep up his training routine since waking up in this world, doing a lot of push-ups and sit-ups in the privacy of his room, but he wouldn't have be able to if this body wasn't already accustomed to it.

The difference showed. Lightning surged along his arm as he called upon two percent of his power, his fist colliding with the cement with a resounding crack. A small crater formed around the point of impact, the cracks crumbling and imploding within a few seconds. Izuku pulled his hand back and stared at it in awe, flexing his fingers in wonder.

No pain, no swelling or even bruising. Just the typical soreness from hitting the cement with his bare knuckles. A shaky smile slowly spread across his face, feeling more of the tension seep from his shoulders as he relaxed. His body might not be as strong and suitable as he was used to, but he could still use One For All.

Really, this just raised more questions though. Why—and how—did One For All transfer over? Clearly the dimensional transfer hadn't swapped his entire body, since this one lacked all the scars and chronic pain. His body didn't feel wrong or anything, it still felt like it belonged to him, but logically it belonged to the other Izuku. So how did his Quirk transfer over?

Or did his counterpart already have One For All, but it had just been hidden? It was unlikely, but he couldn't discount the thought. But for that to be true, then the most likely explanation would be that he'd been present for All Might's death. That thought made him feel nauseous, unable to help but picture his All Might on the ground with that sunburst scar still fresh and bleeding.

He shuddered and pushed the image away before it could get any more detailed. The specifics of how he still had One For All ultimately didn't matter right now anyway, what mattered was simply that he had it.

Izuku confirmed he could still use it, but he could already tell his control wasn't as good as his own world. Even using two percent left his arm feeling a bit more shaky than he liked; not to the point he thought he worried he'd hurt himself, in fact he thought he could even use up to five percent. It was still just off enough to make him wary of going too high though. Using it without a healing Quirk on hand would be risky, so he'd have to be careful if he wanted to test its limits.

For now, he could focus on building up his strength further. He pulled out his cell phone to check the time. It was only ten thirty in the morning, so he should have plenty of time to do some training today. Nodding to himself, he headed back to the corner with the couch and set down the phone on the nearby shelf before tugging the bulky sweatshirt over his head.

Just as he started to leave he paused though, eyes tracing back to his phone. Hesitating for several long moments, he made up his mind and marched over, picking it up and unlocking it. He pulled up the site for Put Your Hands Up! Radio, the show run by Present Mic. In this world he'd expanded his schedule to air the show three times a week as opposed to just late nights on Fridays, and he pulled up the latest episode.

A pang of nostalgia and warmth hit him as his teacher's voice came over the speakers, enthusiastically greeting his listeners as always. This might not be his Present Mic, but his energy was still the same. Izuku turned up the volume before putting the phone on the shelf and heading to start training.

It had now been twenty-four hours since Ochaco ran away from home, and the adrenaline rush had yet to fade.

She felt completely unrecognizable as she walked down the street, clad in a baggy blue sweatshirt and red sweatpants bought from the thrift shop. The chalk had faded from her hair pretty fast—it had been a quick, temporary job meant to last just long enough to buy a disguise—and she'd tied her hair into a ponytail and shoved a beanie over it that covered a majority of her head.

She'd topped her thrift store ensemble with a bandage over one cheek, a flower sticker on the other, and a pair of fake glasses she'd found by chance. The only thing she wore that didn't come from a thrift store were her sneakers, and she really hoped no one would recognize them. She'd even bought a new bag, a bulky purple backpack that housed all her new clothing and money.

As it stood, her penny-pinching habits from her frugal lifestyle in her native world served her well. Even after riding a bus out of town and paying to spend the night at a cheap hotel, she'd been left with a good twenty-five thousand yen. It wouldn't be much in the long run, but she should hopefully be able to scrape by long enough to find Deku. Once she did, she had no idea what she'd do next though. Worst come to worst, she might have to join the League of Villains, a thought which made her grimace.

But before any of that, she needed to find shelter.

Dark clouds filled the sky, an ominous rumbling in the distance suggesting rain would come sooner rather than later. She quickened her pace a bit as she glanced at the nearby buildings in search of a café or something, mindful of the rundown storefronts and dirty-looking houses as she tried to look for a good place to ride out the storm. This area just screamed trouble, the kind of place that set her on edge even with her hero training.

Honestly, she didn't think she'd be able to find any place she'd feel totally comfortable staying around here. She only came here because she figured the League of Villains would try to stay somewhere off the beaten path. It hadn't taken long to realize this particular area would probably be a little too obvious though. She'd had to duck away from two police patrols since arriving, so she doubted a group of villains would hang around here.

Speak of the devil. Ochaco grimaced as she spied another police car turn the corner ahead, resisting a groan. Great. They always cruised by so slowly when they drove around, it worried her they might see her and recognize her. She made a split-second decision and ducked into a nearby alleyway, stepping behind a dumpster. Safely out of sight she quickly tapped her own arm and hopped into the air, letting the lack of gravity carry her to the roof.

Ochaco only floated for a couple of seconds, but by the time she released her Quirk and dropped onto the roof she still felt just a bit queasy. "I barely even used it," she muttered to herself with a frown as she rubbed her stomach. Her tolerance had gotten so high after all her training, so why did it suddenly feel weaker now?

She sighed and shook her head, deciding to worry about it later. For now she should probably get off the roof, preferably landing out of sight of the police cruiser. She turned to check if there would be space behind the building, and then froze as she found herself faced with a heavily scarred man leaning against an air conditioning unit. He looked at her with obvious surprise, a half-smoked cigarette held between his fingers next to his mouth.

For several long seconds they just stood there staring at each other, neither moving or blinking. "Did you just float onto the roof?" he asked, and Ochaco cringed.

"Um... no?" she replied weakly. The man huffed, rolling his eyes as he glanced over the edge of the roof towards the street.

"Trying to run from the cops?" he asked, and Ochaco cringed again.

"O-of course not! I'm not a villain!"

"Never said you were, sweetheart." He took a draw of the cigarette while Ochaco scowled at him, ignoring the twist of discomfort in her stomach. Before she could say anything else though he added, "Smart move though, you could've gotten kidnapped."

Okay, that startled her. "What? What do you—"

A drop of water interrupted her, and she looked up reflexively just in time to see more raindrops falling. Within seconds the sky practically exploded above them, dumping water all over her. She squawked in dismay as she threw her arms over her head, wishing she'd bought a raincoat.

Her eyes were drawn back to the man when he dropped the cigarette and snuffed it with his shoe, flipping his hood over his dark hair. "Come on, kid, let's go before the storm really gets here," he said, and turned to stride towards the back of the roof while Ochaco frowned.

"What?" she asked, and he glanced back at her over his shoulder, his blue eyes almost seeming to glow in the shadows of his hood.

"I mean we need to find shelter, kid," he replied almost lazily. "This storm isn't gonna pass anytime soon. Or do you plan to just stay out in the rain all day?"

Ochaco's frown deepened. "Of course not, but—why would I go with you? I don't even know you!"

The man just snorted though, nonplussed by her protests. "Do you have anywhere else to go?" he countered lightly, and Ochaco fell silent, unable to deny it. She didn't know this area at all, and the storm would make her search that much more aggravating. Every second spent outside meant who knows how long to dry off.

Fists clenching at her side, she took a breath and reluctantly trailed after him, pushing down the bubble of unease in her stomach. Satisfied by her compliance the man turned around and walked to the edge of the roof, peering over to gauge a good place to jump. "Can I at least get your name?" she grumbled as she joined him, and he glanced at her from the side of his eye, the purple scar marring his jaw creasing upwards to accentuate his smirk.

"Name, huh," he mused idly. "Names are dangerous on the street. But you can call me Dabi." Ochaco nearly choked on air while he turned and jumped over the edge to land on a pile of garbage bags, barely able to contain her absolute horror. Oh, crap.

Dabi's back. Also, to everyone who's been asking about whether Izuku still has OFA, you now have your answer.

Question for next time: how do you think Izuku still has OFA?