The vigilantes reveal their pasts. Shouta makes an offer and gets rejected. And Izuku and Katsuki have another talk.
It goes like this.
Ochako is nine years old when the men show up, demanding payment for 'protection'. She doesn't quite get it, but her parents do not like these heavily tattooed men in suits, and so she does not like them. She does not like how things keep getting worse, how much unhappier her parents get month after month, and then she really does not like the day the men come and leave her parents crying and sobbing.
It's late at night when she is ten, and she is asleep, peacefully drifting in her dreams, when she is awakened by heat, so much heat it's suffocating, no, it's not the heat that's suffocating, it's the smoke, smoke everywhere, filling her room and her lungs and her eyes and she can't see, she can't breathe. She's had fire drills, she knows what to do. Get to the floor, crawl crawl crawl, get out as soon as possible…but her door is barred. Her window? It's locked. It's barred. She can't get out.
What happens next is fuzzy in her memories. She remembers trying to get out. She remembers getting weaker and weaker, her lungs filling with smoke and heat and pain. She remembers the crackling warning as bits of the ceiling collapsed onto her prone form, searing her flesh to her bones, her screams added to the roar of the flames. And she remembers placing her hands on the wall, a flash of pink light, and the entire wall gone.
Things after this are…fuzzy. She never knew how long she was out, only that she was unconscious for days. She never got rescued by a hero. Or the police. Or her neighbors. Because no one wanted to incur the wrath of the men in suits, not in sleepy little Mie. No, she was 'saved' by some wanderer, someone who was burned as she was. She woke up in a broken down room, thirsty and hurting, to see some white-haired teen, covered in burn scars, with an annoyed expression checking on her bandages.
She didn't stay long. He didn't want her around and she was scared of him; even though he helped her, he seemed too angry to trust. Once she could move, she moved, leaving behind a thank you note since she owed him that much. She never saw him again.
She had no friends to go to, no family to trust, so she just…ran. She didn't know if they'd want to hurt her more than they had, those men in suits, so she couldn't stay. As for her parents…she was young, but not stupid. She wanted to try, but crying wasted precious water she didn't have anymore. Maybe she did cry. She wasn't sure. It was all a blur to her, hopping from shelter to shelter, the second they mentioned sending her 'somewhere' she was gone.
The thing about living on the street is there is no guide. No rulebook. No rules at all. No food, no shelter, no clean water. You had what you could take, and that was it. She got pretty good at it, if she was being honest. Being able to float made a lot of things easy, because no one ever looks up. Small things at first…little things stolen from konbini's, or lifting someone's wallet so she could eat. And then she started hearing things.
No one cared what a little bedraggled eleven year old heard. They dismissed her as a non-threat. And maybe she was; but what she could tell others wasn't. But no one was going to deal with an eleven year old child…so she made Zero. Zero didn't meet people face to face. She relied on notes in boxes in alleys. She got cheated out of her paydays a lot. People tried to catch her a lot. But she was smart and accepted she'd lose out sometimes.
She was twelve and had a bit of a reputation. Not much of one, but enough that she had money for food and water and sometimes could slip into a shelter and get a shower. And that's when she found out about the politician who helped some criminals sell people off. She was pretty good at getting into places she wasn't supposed to be now. And she had a 'costume'. Really, it was a motorcycle helmet and some black clothes, but it worked. She may have been small, but lots of people were small and still dangerous.
She snuck in, found the documents, snuck out and tossed them on some newspaper's doorstep. She took a lot of his jewelry in the process, carefully hawking them at different pawn shops across the city so she didn't get caught. Wasn't like he'd need it now that he was about to go to jail, right?
That was the first time she felt like she was doing more than surviving. She was doing something good. Something maybe her parents wouldn't hate her for. When she caught images of the news story splashed on the papers as she ran by, she felt a tiny bit of pride swell up in her chest.
She was thirteen, and was now starting to really get into messing with the rich and powerful, those who used their position for personal gain. But more than that…she found herself stopping some would-be muggers. Pretty easy too, she'd just sneak up on them, tap them, and whoosh, into the air they go, easy pickings from there. And once she found out she could transmit her Quirk through something she threw? Well…she bought a lot of ball bearings to carry after that.
She was fourteen when she was really coming into her own. She had a turf she protected, a nice cubby in an abandoned warehouse she could crash in, and she had started really fucking with more crime syndicates. She never had figured out which Yakuza killed her family, but she figured, mess with them all and eventually she'll get the right one. She had a big group, her biggest target yet, all scoped out, all ready for her to bring ruin…and then she met him.
It goes like this.
Izuku is nine years old, just shy of his tenth birthday, when he's woken up by his mothers screams. He runs out to her, panicked, only to see a group of men in suits beating her within an inch of her life, a camera on a tripod standing there, capturing the moment. And then he's captured.
They want him to scream for his Dad. His Dad worked hard for them, overseas, working for a big company where he had a good, cushy executive job. And these men, they were allied with a group over there who wanted his Dad to do something for them, but his Dad had said no. He'd reported them to the police, in fact, doing the right thing!...but no one followed up.
So these men decided to make a lesson out of Izuku and his Mom. A lesson in pain. When the knife was slowly dragged down his face, as his Mom begged them to leave him be, to focus on her, he cried and screamed and begged and nothing helped. So instead, he pulled.
His Mom's Quirk could pull small things to her slowly. He could pull small things too…but he could pull them fast. He could pull them to any part of him. So if he pulled small objects towards his outstretched hands, and then turned his Quirk off and tucked his hands in, those objects would keep their momentum…so when the shattered glass of the display stand behind him got pulled from all around and then flew forward in a storm of razor sharp pieces, the men fled.
He was left, with his Mom, begging for help and to be saved, but no one came. His Mom, smiling through the pain, begged him to run, to save himself, because the men would be back very very soon, she was sure of it. He wanted to take her, to protect her, but she made him promise he'd go and stay safe. She made him promise to live.
He didn't remember leaving, just his backpack thrown over one shoulder. He didn't remember the tears that blurred his vision as he went. All he remembered was one final hug, a gentle kiss on his forehead, and his mom telling him how much she loved him, as he fled into the dark.
He thought about going to his Auntie and Uncle. To his best friend Kacchan, the one who gave him the Deku nickname as a joke. But he was scared. Scared to bring that violence to them, to bring those men in the suits after them. He couldn't let them get hurt, not because of him and his Dad.
He tried calling his Dad. But the number didn't work. He wanted his Dad to be okay, but…he didn't have hope. Not anymore. So he kept running.
Some street people are nice. They know what it's like, to have nothing, and sometimes they share what they have. Others are not so nice, they know what it's like, to have nothing, and they refuse to lose it. But enough gave him advice he could use, so he did.
He was eleven when he took down his first mugger, and it felt good. So…he did it more often. Pull let him easily slip small snacks out of stores, and wallets out of pockets. Pull let him protect himself by deflecting small objects coming towards him, like knives, pulling them to the side of him and then dodging just a tiny bit as he let his Quirk go. Or Pulling shoelaces. Or rings and bracelets. He tried organs and bones, but they were all considered part of a person, and honestly, he wasn't a big fan of the idea to begin with.
He was twelve when he managed his first big bust, a drug dealing group. The more he used Pull, the more he remembered his Mom, the more he hoped she was proud of him for helping people. And he chose to keep up his analysis of Quirks, of habits, of various goings on in his 'area'.
He was thirteen and had a reputation. He was known as untouchable, even though he got hit a lot when it was something he couldn't Pull or that came out of nowhere, but the myth persisted and he took advantage of that. He was a ghost, a Specter, something hidden and made of mist that couldn't be harmed. Sometimes he sold his analysis'...he still had to eat. He always vetted his clients, but beggars can't be choosers, and once in a while it was a villain he handed them over to. But only the stupid ones who he knew couldn't do anything with it.
When he was fourteen, he was ready. Big Yakuza group, men in suits and tattoos, like the ones who took his parents from him, he had been spying on them for weeks…and that's when he ran into her.
It goes like this.
Their first meeting…could have gone better. She threw a lamppost at him, he managed to spin it back around and send it back to her before she turned off her Quirk. She thought he was with the Yakuza. He thought she was. They were only fourteen, no formal training, but surviving on the streets meant you had to learn to fight, and fight they could.
It wasn't till both of their helmets lay broken and busted, and they saw the other as another kid, it occurred to them that someone so young wouldn't be allowed in such an organization. And for the first time, they tried to talk.
It still did not go well. Neither trusted the other, and both lay claim on this group. Specter needed this. Zero needed this. Neither would budge an inch. But Specter remembered the lamppost; how her Quirk let him use his power to an extent he never could before, because by removing its gravity, she removed its weight…and thus his own limits. While she was limited in how much force she could throw something with, but with his ability to orbit objects around himself to increase their velocity, he could make things she floated go much faster.
So he made an offer…they work together to crush all of them, in one fell swoop, leaving the Yakuza broken and beaten and bleeding because they deserved it. Maybe it was a moment of madness for her that led to her saying yes, but she said yes, and a bargain was struck.
They broke into the news the next day. Largest Yakuza bust in recent memory, over a hundred members detained…mostly because the entire house was collapsed by a half-dozen of the Yakuza's cars smashed through the front door, taking out the support pillars and collapsing the building. A few may have died. Perhaps Zero or Specter should have cared, but neither one did. They both had to acknowledge that they worked well together. Maybe future partnerships could be a thing.
They didn't fall in love, not in the conventional sense of falling. It wasn't really slow. They were two hurting, desperate for affection teenagers who had no ties to anything but what they bit and clawed to have. Perhaps it was an inevitability for them, as they did not fall so much as leapt off the cliff at the same time and on the way down, managed to find one another's hand. But it worked for them. It made them happy, an emotion they'd only managed fleeting moments of in the past few years.
By the time they were fifteen, Zero and Specter were now spoken of in tandem, as one unit. People didn't know if they were together or just partners, but the duo knew the truth, the times they'd huddle together in the dark, holding one another for love and comfort and whatever they could get.
They didn't have the same sense of intimacy as one would expect. Getting a hotel room, even a crappy one, to get a shower was a luxury, and they didn't like to waste time so they often took them together. Sometimes they slept together without clothes between them, to be as close as they could to one another. They never took it further than hugs and gentle kisses to places above the shoulders. It wasn't about sex, for them. Maybe that was something in the far future, but for now, it was about just…being there.
They were sixteen, and they had become the bane of organized crime in their region. Together they had vowed one thing and one thing only…the end of such things. A return to the world before All Might's retirement, the Era of Peace, and they'd bleed over and over to do so. And so they did, when they heard of Yakuza keeping a little child that they tormented. A child like they once were…hurt, and alone, and lost. Eraserhead wanted information. Zero and Specter wanted justice and revenge.
They got what they wanted.
"So…yeah. That's our stupid story," Izuku muttered. Ochako had taken over explaining her part, and they'd worked together to explain what happened after they met (although they kept most details about that to themselves…the others didn't need to know about how they fell for one another, the times they showered or slept together, the vow they took to get their revenge). Mic had walked in midway through, but didn't say a word, just wiped his hands off on a towel as he stepped into the room.
It was silent, for a good while, before Eraser let out a breath and leaned back. He rubbed at his brow. "Well, that does line up with what we have on record."
"Course it does. We know our own story," Ochako muttered, refusing to look up.
"That's…not what I meant," Eraser began, before deciding to drop any argument. He shook his head. "I imagine it's been difficult for you, living on the streets-"
"Don't start being all 'sympathetic', Eraser. We're fine," Ochako said, looking up at him with narrowed eyes.
"It's not sympathy. I just wanted to ask if you'd be willing-"
"No," Izuku cut him off without waiting for him to finish. Eraser opened his mouth to speak again but Izuku cut him off once more. "I know what you're going to say and the answer is no. We're fine on our own. We've been over this. We had a deal. We stay the night and we get our repaired costumes in the morning. Don't tell me you're going back on your word already."
"I'm not. Power Loader has already finished most of the work, your helmets are being printed anew by the Support Studio's printers as we speak. They'll be delivered here in the morning," Eraser assured.
"Good. Then we got nothing else to discuss about us," Ochako replied.
"What happens to me?" Eri asked quietly, forcing all the teenagers and adults to look down at her. She'd spent most of the time quiet, just sitting either in Izuku or Ochako's lap, but apparently she finally wanted some concrete answers.
Izuku swallowed, getting off the couch and kneeling before her as he shared a glance with Ochako. He wasn't sure how well she'd take the idea, but still…"Well, you're gonna stay here with Eraserhead and Present Mic, they'll take care of you and keep you safe."
She looked at him with her red eyes, as if seeking an answer, or assurance from his gaze. "...I can't stay with you?" she asked plaintively."
Ochako shook her head no, a comforting half-smile plastered on her face. "No, sweetie, we have dangerous things we gotta do, you need to be safe here. Plus Eraser there can stop your Quirk, so you don't gotta be afraid of it no more."
"Oh," Eri said sadly, looking down at her lap. After a moment, she looked back up at Ochako then as Izuku. "Will I see you again?"
That hurt. They hadn't really…thought that one through, Izuku realized, sharing an agonized glance with Ochako. Coming near Eri would just be putting her in more danger. The hit they'd done on the Shie Hassaikai was bound to draw a lot more attention, combined with all their prior hits. They already were on the radar of a lot of groups at this point, and if it got out what Eri could do; well, the Hassaikai wouldn't be the only ones hunting her. Coming back here to Eraser's house would be dangerous for Eri. And going to UA just meant more chances of people figuring out his connection to Katsuki.
He spared a glance back at his oldest friend, seeing the blonde's eyes narrowed, gaze steady, as if he was waiting for the answer for Eri as well. Silently Izuku cursed his friend's intelligence; Katsuki probably understood that staying away from Eri meant staying away from him, from everyone involved. Specter and Zero were not people to be around. They were too dangerous, too tied up in the darker parts of the world to be around others.
Ochako gave Izuku a slow, methodical nod, a brittle smile flickering across her lips, one he returned. No matter how much Eraser thought it would be safe, they both knew it wasn't. He hated to break Eri's heart, but to be fair, she'd barely known them. She'd get over this attachment soon enough, and be much happier with who she had now.
He gulped, offering her a reassuring smile as he spoke with as much false cheer as he could. "I'm sorry sweetie, but we're going to have to go away for a while so I don't know when we'll be back. But rest assured, if we finish our business, we'll come back and check in on you, okay?"
He didn't need to look back to know that Eraser, Mic, and Katsuki all knew he was full of shit; their business would never really be finished, not until they messed up and got killed. But still, this was the best he could do for her. She nodded absently, tucking herself into Ochako's side. "Okay," she whispered. He wasn't sure if she believed him or not, but this was all he could do for now.
His arm was gripped tightly by one hand, the heat from the palm making him recognize it as Katsuki, before he could flip out and attack whoever grabbed him. As it was, his breathing did pick up and he glared at the blonde, but Katsuki simply tugged him over away from the others, towards the front hallway, quiet enough to stop anyone else from hearing. "So you're leaving again?"
"I told you, it's dangerous to be around us," he replied quietly.
"And I told you I don't give a shit! Don't go making my choices for me!"
"I'm not! I'm making my own choices! And I'll make whatever choices I damn well please, Katsuki," Izuku snarled
Katsuki just curled his lip at Izuku in a sneer. "Still the same tricks years later. You always do that when you want someone to fuck off, you try to make them mad at you so they'll stomp off and let you do whatever. News flash asshole, I'm already mad at you but I'm not fucking leaving."
"Yes, well, I am. Ochako and I have work to do, Kacchan. Just," Izuku paused, relaxing his shoulders as he spoke with as much sincerity as he could muster. "Just go on and become the Number One Hero, Kacchan. I always knew you would. I always knew you had it in you. So you go on, do that, be that. Be the person who saves everyone, and just forget about me. We live in different worlds now, Kacchan…and yours is going to be a bright one, far brighter than anything I'm meant for." Izuku offered a broken smile, hoping against hope that Katsuki would see what he meant, would understand why it had to be this way.
Katsuki's free hand clenched tightly, the one on Izuku's arm squeezing hard, before he abruptly let go, stepping back and taking a deep, shuddering breath. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but after a moment, he shut his mouth with a clack. Spinning about on his heel, he stomped over to the front door, angrily shoving his shoes on and then slamming out the front door with a thunderous crash. The sound of his angry stomping away from the house echoed for a moment, before it faded too much to hear, gone out of Izuku's life once more…and he had no one to blame but himself. This is what he wanted, he reminded himself, even as he felt his chest tighten and his hands clench. Katsuki would be a great hero. And a great hero had no room for someone like him in their life.