Chapter 1:

In our modern society, every child born with the privilege of living in a first-world country, at one point, believes in their heart that they could become a hero. Typically, it's always for the same reasons as everyone else.

Because we are the future of humanity, a blank slate that showcase a hope for a better tomorrow.

Because everyone has the ability to become what they want, with just a little bit of elbow grease.

Because, on the surface level, society tells us that everyone is special, no matter what race, creed, class, or gender we were born with.

But it's all a lie, of course. Reality is often very different from our preconceived expectations pushed on us as small children. The truth is, no one is special, and not everyone is equal.

While that sounds like a contradiction, let me paint you a picture of the world.

Some people are born into power, whether it be a powerful quirk, riches beyond our wildest dreams, or a famous legacy that has existed for generations. Some might believe that these people are special because of their birthrights. After all, it was they who won the genetic lottery instead of us. There must be a reason for that, right?

It's a mentality rooted in the belief that somewhere in the cosmos, in the vast depths of the universe, someone is creating a special plan for all of us. That there is a reason for each and every one of our existences.

It's a belief that I personally don't ascribe to, but let's say for example that, perhaps it is true. Perhaps there is someone out there weaving a plan so unknowable and four-dimensional that mere mortals like us could never hope to comprehend it.

But even with that assumption at play, it is still unlikely that anyone is special—not because I am a terrible cynic and pessimist who believes that there is no good in the world, and that everyone is rotten to the core. Rather, I believe that if there is a governing principle guiding the world to a certain destination, it doesn't care about our individual lives.

If God exists, I believe he doesn't care for the small picture, nor does he care if each and everyone one of us suffers for his unknowable scheme. If God exists, then we are all just cogs in a machine, spinning towards a destination that we will never live to see the end of.

I used to be one of those children, once. Wide-eyed and filled with dreams of heroism, I believed in the promise that anyone could become a hero with enough determination. I believed, despite everything, that I was destined for something greater, even knowing the harsh truth that not everyone is born equal. .

But now, as I blink into consciousness, the harsh fluorescent lights above me blur into focus, and the sterile scent of antiseptic fills my senses, I feel anything but special. The cold, impersonal beeping of machines echoes in the background, reminding me of last night's escapade that led me here.

But even with the knowledge of what I've done, and the children that I saved after getting them to safety with the help of that fixer, along with everything else that I have done that led me up to this place - I was back to where I started a few years ago, sitting in a hospital bed. Nothing special, just another room with four walls and a ceiling.

Reality is far from the heroic dreams I once held dear to my heart. My body aches, a dull reminder of the ribs I broke after getting slammed into that shipping container. I try to sit up, but a sharp pain shoots through my side, forcing me to lie back down, along with the handcuffs trapping me to the bed.

The world isn't the fair and just place I once imagined. There was no gold at the end of the rainbow, there was no recognition for the people I saved. If I was born with a strong enough quirk, I might have been able to become a hero, a person who could save others with a smile.

But I wasn't born with a quirk. I was just another lunatic who thought he was too big for his britches. I was a criminal and a vigilante, someone that would likely be processed and, if I was luckily, sent to the looney bin.

We live in a world where some people are born with everything, and others are left to scrape by with nothing.

And as I lie here, staring at the ceiling, I can't help but wonder if all my struggles, all my pain, have been for nothing. I've been a vigilante for 4 years now, even longer if you include the training I received starting at the age of 6 years old. I'd been taken in and trained by the greatest person I have ever known, and was forced to bury them only a year ago in an unmarked grave in the middle of New Mexico. I have been going, from place to place around the globe, hunting down human traffickers, gang syndicates and drug lords, all in an attempt to make up for my failures, mostly getting lucky until now with being a local legend without any public recognition of what I've done.

I know that might have changed now though. That massacre I left at the docks was sure to have been noticed, if the cuffs on my right hands are to be believed, and unlike developing countries in Africa or South America, the amount of deaths I left will surely have been noticed and televised to the public.

Stupid fool. Even on such short notice as the mission was, the first tenant taught to me was to avoid unneeded bloodshed, even if it's only just to stop the public attention from looking into our work.

I wonder where my place was in the grand scheme of things. I wonder if this pain is supposed to lead somewhere, or if I was just another insignificant soul, lost in the shuffle of a world that doesn't care.

But even in the darkest moments, a small part of me still clings to that old belief—that maybe, just maybe, I can still be the hero I always dreamed of being. Even if the world isn't fair, even if I'm not special, I still have the power to make a difference.

And that, perhaps, is enough.

It has to be enough. Or else what was the point in all of this suffering?

"Brooding like usual, it seems? You wanna get out of here, or would like a few minutes to wank off in your self pity and loathing?"

I couldn't help but groan and turn my head to look at the newly opened window, and the jackass sitting on the window sill.

He was dressed in his usual getup—a patchwork of dark clothing, matching and absorbing into the night sky behind him; along with a mask obscuring most of his face. But those sharp, mocking eyes were unmistakable.

"Shin," I muttered, not even trying to hide the irritation in my voice. "Right now is not the time to be an asshole."

He shrugged, unbothered. "Well, someone has to snap you out of that self-righteous martyr complex you've got going on. You do realize they're not going to keep you here forever, right? So, what's the plan? Or are you just going to lie there and wait for them to throw you in the interrogation room?"

I shifted uncomfortably, the pain in my side flaring up again. "I'm still cuffed to the bed without a bobby pin and paperclip to be seen. It's not like I want to stay here."

Shin rolled his eyes and hopped down from the sill, landing silently on the tile floor. "Please, like that's ever stopped you before." He pulled something out of his pocket—a small, sleek device that he twirled between his fingers with practiced ease. "Lucky for you, I'm here to bail your sorry ass out. Again."

I watched as he approached the bed, his movements almost lazy, like he had all the time in the world. He leaned over and made quick work of the handcuffs, the metallic click of the lock releasing sounding louder than it should in the quiet room.

"Why are you even here?" I asked, rubbing my wrist where the cuffs had been digging into my skin. "You're supposed to be halfway across the country, retired and running a pub in the middle of Scotland."

He smirked, stepping back and pocketing the device. "You think I'd let you get yourself captured without keeping an eye on you? Please, what would sensei say?"

I tried to sit up again, this time more cautiously. The pain was still there, but whatever they did to attempt to heal my wounds, at least it made things bearable so long as I didn't make any spontaneous movements. "You know this isn't sustainable, right? You can't keep looking out for me and bailing me out when I need to. You're out of the game, with a whole life to live now. You're getting caught would mean a whole lot more than if I did. It's only a matter of time before we run out of luck."

Shin's smirk faded slightly, replaced by a look that was almost... concerned. "You're right. This isn't sustainable. But I can't have you doing this alone, Izuku. It's a big brother's duty to look after his younger sibling after all!"

His words hung in the air, heavier than I expected. "I know," I finally said, forcing myself to meet his gaze. "But that doesn't make it any easier, it's a younger brother's duty to worry about his elders."

He scoffed, but nodded as if understanding the weight of what I wasn't saying. "Then let's get out of here. There's no point in sticking around and waiting for them to figure out who you are."

With a deep breath, I swung my legs over the side of the bed and gingerly stood up. My body protested every movement, but I forced myself to keep going. I couldn't afford to show weakness now, not when we were so close to getting out.

"By the way, I was meaning to ask about the children that I rescued…" I asked, already knowing the answer but needing to hear it out loud.

Shin's, what I dubbed 'asshole smirk' returned, something that I have grown used to over the years of fighting side by side. "Don't worry about them. After the police caught you passed out near Hal's Motel, I took notice and went to talk to that fixer in your place. He wasn't receptive at first, paranoid fucker that one, but we managed to reach a deal, even if it left me one grand lighter."

"So the kids?"

"We sent a tip to the cops, and they're being safely held in a facility guarded by the queen's finest."

I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding, feeling a small weight lift off my shoulders. It wasn't much, but at least the kids were safe. That's what mattered.

"Good," I replied, the tension in my voice easing just a little. "That's one less thing to worry about, at least."

Shin gave me a lopsided grin. "You're welcome, by the way. You owe me one for that."

I shook my head, a faint smile tugging at my lips despite everything. "Sure, just add it to my tab."

He chuckled, turning toward the door. "Your current tab could drown a whole city by now. Come on, we need to get you out of here before the guards decide to check in on their 'guest.'" He threw a quick glance over his shoulder. "And try not to pass out on me this time, okay? I'd rather not have to drag your sorry ass out of here."

I pushed through the pain, forcing my legs to carry me forward. Each step made my ribs ache, the fatigue weight on my mind like a load of bricks. This is the type of stuff they don't mention in the movies or comics. It's always the action, but none of the consequences. What keeps me going is the thought of what might have happened to those kids if I wasn't there to rescue them. I've endured worse before. This was nothing.

Shin led the way, his movements quiet and calculated. It was the night, and it seemed that the staff the hospital left was more or less a skeleton crew left to watch over incase of any trouble. Sneaking by, it was clear Shin had scouted the place beforehand—typical of him, always ten steps ahead. We slipped out of the room and into the dimly lit corridor, the sterile smell of the hospital replaced by the faint scent of disinfectant and old, worn carpets.

"Where's the exit?" I whispered, scanning the hallway for any signs of movement.

"Service elevator, down the hall and to the left," Shin replied, his voice barely above a murmur. "Most people don't use it, since it's always from the more populated areas of the building, and It'll take us to the basement level. From there, we'll find a way out through the parking garage. I've got a car waiting."

"Why couldn't have we gone through the window? It looked pretty simple the way you got in my room."

Shin turned back to face me, his eyebrow raised. "With the way you're walking? If you tried to climb around rooftops in your condition, The police would probably have a confusing time wiping an idiot like you off the pavement."

The area below my lungs suddenly ached, as if to provide his point. "Fine, have it your way."

We moved quickly but cautiously, sticking to the shadows as we made our way toward the service elevator. Every sound—the hum of the fluorescent lights, the distant murmur of voices, the echo of footsteps—set my nerves on edge.

Finally, we reached the elevator, and Shin hit the button to call it. The doors slid open with a soft ding, and we stepped inside. The ride down felt longer than it should have, giving me time to think and wonder.

"Hey, Shin," I started, trying to keep my voice steady despite the dull throb in my head and side. "I guess the handcuffs are a dead give away that they suspect something, but what do the cops know? Do you know if they suspect that I had something to do with what happened at the harbor?"

Shin's eyes flickered toward me, his expression thoughtful. "From what I overheard while listening to their radio chatter," he began, his tone dry, "they're still piecing things together. They've got a few vague leads and some circumstantial evidence, given that you were found heavily wounded near the site of that massacre, but they think that you're more likely to be a victim or an accomplice rather than the vigilante perpetrator, especially once they did an x-ray and found that your who joint situation."

I couldn't help but sigh in relief. "Thank god for quirkless prejudice. "

"Yeah, make escapes like these a piece of cake. Those jackasses couldn't even leave a single police officer to watch over you, the rest of those tossers are probably looking for the "real" culprit!" Shin laughed.

As the doors opened to the basement, a wave of musty air greeted us. The parking garage was dimly lit, shadows stretching across the concrete floor. Shin motioned for me to follow, and we made our way through the maze of pillars and painted lines. The lot was mostly empty, letting us walk with more freedom than usual, our footsteps echoing in the otherwise silent space.

"Over there," Shin said, pointing to a dirty white van with red flaming strips painted on the side parked near the exit. "Get in."

It was my turn to turn to him with a raised eyebrow. "Seriously? Of all the cars you choose to steal for a getaway, you picked the one that screamed 'I touch little kids'? You're gonna offer me candy now too, or should I just go tell the therapist where the bad man touched me on the doll while we're here."

"Oh fuck you, it was the best I could hotwire on short notice. You're lucky that I was able to find this route out the building, with your gown-wearing-ass flapping your buttchecks in the wind. Now get in the van."

I laughed, but did as he instructed, sliding into the passenger seat while he took the wheel. The engine roared to life, and Shin wasted no time pulling out of the parking space, heading for the exit. The garage's heavy doors opened, revealing the dark, rain-soaked streets of the city beyond.

As we drove through the night, the rain drumming against the windshield, I finally allowed myself to relax, just a little. The adrenaline that had kept me going was starting to wear off, leaving behind a bone-deep exhaustion.

"Where to now?" I asked, finding my voice.

Shin glanced at me, his expression serious. "I've got a safehouse nearby. We'll have to lay low there for a while, get you patched up, and then figure out our next move. Once the police realize that you're gone, they're going to come to the conclusion that you probably know more than they expected. With the mess you left at the harbor, they're not going to let up for quite some time. You might wanna think about leaving the country, if only just until this whole storm dies down."

I could see him looking at me through he rearview mirror, and I couldn't help but stare back at him in defiance. "You can't expect me to drop everything and leave, can you! Those guys I took down at the harbor were the tip of the iceberg. There's a whole child trafficking ring going on in this town, and the heroes and police are just ignoring it."

"Then I'll take care of it."

"You can't! You just got everything you ever wanted, stepping back into this would mean you'd have to leave your retirement."

"Izuku, I'm only 25 years old, when I said I was retiring, it was always going to be with caveats. Plus I still got Carol to take care of the pub while I'm gone."

"Yeah, and Carol's carrying your unborn child for god sakes!"

"I'm not abandoning her, if that's what you're implying. She'll understand once I tell her the situation. That woman knew what she was getting into when she married me."

"But…"

"No buts! This is how we're going to do things, and that's final!" Shin all but yelled, pinching his nose afterwards in annoyance. "I know you're worried about my life, but that worry goes both ways. Things are too hot for you right now, and when Sensei died, he left me in charge of you. So please, just do this for me okay?"

I growled to myself. I wanted to argue with him, tell Shin how much this was a bad idea. I wanted to yell at him and say that this was my mess, and that meant I had to see it to the end.

But the rational part of my mind also knew that he was right, and that I didn't have any other choice given the situation.

But my heart screamed at me that, as long as there were people out there in this town who needed help—people like those kids—I couldn't just stop. I didn't say that of course, as I didn't want to jump into the same argument we always had on this topic. Instead, I leaned back in the seat, closing my eyes as the rain continued to fall, a soft lullaby against the glass.

"Just... let me know when we get there," I murmured, already feeling sleep tugging at the edges of my consciousness.

Shin's response was a quiet hum, and before I knew it, the darkness had swallowed me whole, pulling me into back into a restless sleep filled with nothing but memories and nightmares.