CW: Violence, nonconsensual drug use. (Also lots of POV switches.)
Bits of this chapter might not make sense if you haven't read at least the early chapters of Vigilantes. I tried to make it accessible to readers who haven't, but if I failed please feel free to let me know and I'd be happy to explain anything you have questions about.
Queen Bee has been following the newest plaything around for most of the week. It's kind of boring, what with him spending so much time tracking down his targets and making careful plans to take them out, but the last few moments when he slices them open make the waiting all worthwhile. He is clean and precise and has taken out four of the targets in under a week, two of which were hopped up on some of the experimental serums. It's a much better track record than the killers-for-hire that they've had her recruit before. There's no denying that he's a professional.
She's disappointed that he's only had to use the blood she so graciously provided him twice. It would be way more fun to watch the target cry and plead, completely helpless without fully understanding why. Maybe she can request he use the blood from now on!
The empty window frame she's perched in shudders as something big and solid hits the side of the building. Queen Bee hums as she leans forward, dangling by her fingertips as she tries to get a good look at the chaos below. The wind whips her hair out of her face and the buzzing in her head gets a little louder, displeased with the chill. She quiets them with assurances of a cozy cafe soon, a place where they can warm themselves while she writes up the report on which serums have yielded the best results in this trial so far.
Below her, one of the other test subjects is rampaging. She laughs when she sees that all the serum has done is mutate his quirk a little bit. He's bigger and probably a little stronger than usual, but he's still just a dumb rock.
"Remind me to cross TR-23c off the list," she tells one of the bees flitting agitatedly around her head. "It makes for a good power boost, but not quite what we're looking for this time around."
She's glad this one's on Stendhal's kill list. It will make things easier for her, since all she has to do is make sure the guy actually dies. After that, she can just leave it up to the police to dispose of the body. She doesn't envy them; wiping viscera off the walls is never fun.
She giggles and leans further forward to get a better view of the show. The ledge of her precarious seat is digging into the tender flesh of her thighs and her shoulders ache as she dangles her full weight from shaking fingertips. Even the scrapes on her knees seem like they're stinging worse than usual today.
She's glad she won't have to deal with the consequences of putting this kind of strain on the body. Once things get bad she can just ditch it for a newer model.
A roar echoes from beneath her, the sound amplified by the close quarters. The subject has chased someone into a parking area and is currently swatting at the guy like a particularly stupid child swinging a hammer in a game of whack-a-mole.
"Oh my god. Do you think TR-23c lowered his intelligence or has he always been this stupid?" she asks the air, not bothering to hide her amusement, and the bees hovering around her buzz in agreement. From her vantage point and through the eyes of her bees, she can see Stendhal approaching, slinking through alleys until he's close enough to watch the fight unfold. She tips her head, feeling the wind whip her hair against her cheek, and wonders aloud, "Do you think he's going to step in or just wait until the wannabe hero is dead?"
The nice thing about Stendhal is that he keeps her guessing. Her bosses are always complaining about it, but she loves it. Things get boring when they are too predictable, but no matter how much she tries she can't seem to pin down the guy's moral code. There seems to be no rhyme or reason behind his actions. She never knows if he's going to kill a witness or let them walk away unscathed, whether he'll make a death slow and painful or quick and merciful. His movements are unpredictable and he's faster than anyone without a speed enhancing quirk she's ever seen. It's impossible to tell whether he's meticulously planned each step out or if half of what he does is entirely on a whim.
Even the first time they met, he was in the process of burning down a building and killing everyone present over one boy too weak to keep himself alive. The juxtaposition had caught her attention, made her want to study him more and have him work for her. It is everything else about him that made her want to keep him around to see more of the chaos he can bring. If all goes according to plan, she'll have a big hand in that chaos.
Much to her delight, she hasn't been disappointed by him yet. Once she figures out what makes him tick, Queen Bee is sure she'll lose interest in the man, but in the meantime he excites her. Even now, watching as he chooses to work with the little wannabe, she feels a giddy sort of elation rise to fill her chest.
She sends another one of the bees down to get a closer look, watching as Stendhal and the wannabe in an All Might hoodie work together to send the big idiot running.
They chat for a moment before Stendhal is off, and the wannabe watches him go with a smile and eyes sparkling with adoration. It is hilarious.
Later that night Queen Bee finds herself wishing that the All Might wannabe had somehow managed to find them again as she watches Stendhal kill the test subject as he is scared and running for his life. Watching him drive the knife through the man's eye makes her smile and she cups one hand over her own eye socket, which is once again covered by a patch. Imagining the face of the wannabe as he sees his new idol slaughter someone makes her heart flutter; she loves seeing pedestals crumble.
When he is done and has stepped back to wipe the blood off his knife, she sends a bee down with a note and a vial of blood. He scoffs as he glances at her words, then crumples the note in his hand and holds the vial up to the dim light of the street lamps. Though she hasn't seen the face behind the mask yet, she likes to imagine he's squinting at the blood, face all twisted into a scowl as he searches for any sign of meddling. He won't find any, of course.
A long moment passes before he pockets it and turns his eyes to the rooftops, searching the skyline for her. When his masked face turns at long last in her direction, she gives him a jaunty wave. He turns away in disgust and she marvels at how rude he is.
People who think they're special always think they're above being polite. She giggles as she watches him walk away, already on the hunt for his next target. His dedication would be way more admirable if he wasn't so goddamn annoying.
"He's gonna be in for a rude awakening one of these days," she tells the bee darting around her ear. It buzzes in waspish agreement.
.
"—and then he just swooped right in, like wham! Swoosh! Bam! And the guy just ran away! Just like that!"
Koichi swings his broom handle like a sword, eyes sparkling as he regales Knuckleduster and Pop Step with the tale of how he and Stendhal teamed up to take down the villain. Pop Step doesn't look up from her homework, but absentmindedly hems and haws at what she hopes are appropriate moments to encourage him to continue. She's still pissed at him about the whole thing with Yudai, but the more he talks, the less likely he is to run off and get himself in trouble. It works out well for her and saves her a lot of time in the long run since she has to help him out every time he buries himself too deeply in shit. She wonders, briefly, if this Stendhal person is the reason there hasn't been as much crime as usual. Her schoolwork is suffering enough as it is, so she's happy for the temporary reprieve from their extracurricular hero activities.
Knuckleduster, on the other hand, is watching him with a dangerous sort of intensity. Several newspapers are laid out on the pockmarked table in front of him, edges held down by knives and beer cans to keep them from fluttering any time the broom swings too close. His eyes are dark and calculating, and the scar that carves deeply across his face wrinkles at the edges as he frowns.
The black and white image of a burning warehouse stares up at him from the paper, along with the blood splattered windows of an office building. The headlines declare murder and mayhem, death and destruction. He watches Koichi ramble and sing this newcomer's praises, and he wonders.
.
It's the first time he's been out of the apartment in almost two weeks. He had wanted to wait a while to let his wrist heal and to train more, but he's almost out of food. Plus, he's been so bored while cooped up inside that he's been practically crawling out of his own skin. Still, the feeling of people brushing past him and jostling against his still-sore wrist makes him flinch.
"Hey! Hey, Yudai!" a voice calls, and Izuku jumps when he recognizes the alias.
He turns, squinting against the light that reflects off the glass sides of the building stretching as far as the eye can see on either side of him. A hand is raised above the sparse crowd, waving at him. Izuku pauses, wide eyed and uncertain, before he tentatively waves back. Hoodie guy beams as he jogs over while Izuku desperately racks his brain trying to remember if he'd actually introduced himself last time they met.
"It is you! Awesome! I wasn't sure if I had the right guy or not."
"Um, hello. You're—"
"Just call me Koichi!" hoodie guy interrupts, voice high and reedy. Then, he holds up a hand in a silent request for Izuku to wait.
Izuku shuts his mouth, patient but befuddled, as the man doubles over and wheezes as he tries to catch his breath. The seconds tick by and the people passing them have begun to give them strange looks. Izuku feels his skin crawl at the sensation of eyes on him.
He clears his throat, wondering if he should just walk away, and asks, "Are you okay?"
"Yeah," the guy says a moment later as he straightens up, and his smile is wide despite the sweat that has collected on his brow. "I just got done running with a buddy. He's kind of fast, so I'm just a little out of breath still."
Izuku nods and waits expectantly for a second longer, but Koichi doesn't say anything else. An awkward air hangs around them like a heavy shroud.
"Did you...need something?"
"Huh? Oh, no! I just saw you walking alone and thought you might want some company."
"Oh," Izuku says. "No thanks."
The smile falters, but Izuku barely has time to feel bad before Koichi is moving on.
"That's fine! I did also want to take the chance to say sorry again for how the old man acted last time we met. When Kazuho heard about it I thought she was going to murder us herself!"
"You know Kazuho?"
"Yeah! She's a friend of mine. We work together sometimes and hang out a bunch." A pause, and he frowns as though a thought has just occurred to him. "Now that I think about it, she and the old man are both at my house more than their own these days. Maybe I should start charging rent."
Izuku narrows his eyes, reassessing his initial impression of this man. It's hard to imagine Kazuho being friends with someone like Koichi, but then again, he supposes that 'Yudai' and 'Pop Step' make an odd pair as well on the few occasions they've spent time together. He squints at Koichi, picturing him in his baggy hoodie and joggers next to Kazuho when she's done up in her Pop Step outfit. It's kind of funny.
"How did you guys meet?" Izuku asks, curiosity overriding caution. Koichi grins, brown eyes scrunching at the corners. It's the kind of smile that reminds Izuku of someone, though he can't put a finger on who, and he finds his defenses lowering even though his heart aches with every beat. He is familiar with this kind of pain — it is nostalgia and quiet yearning for something he lost years ago and has since forgotten. It's the taunting of a memory that has slipped through his fingers, no matter how desperately he may have tried to hold on to it. He's not sure whether he wants to cling tighter or find a way to banish these feelings once and for all.
"Where are you headed? I'll tell you the story while we walk."
"I don't want you going out of your way," Izuku says, ducking his head shyly. It feels strange to even think about accepting company from this person he barely knows, but he can't help but feel at ease with him.
"It's no problem! I've got some time to kill before my evening classes anyways. Besides, if Pop ever found out I didn't take the chance to show you I'm sorry about how things went last time I saw you, I think she'd kill me!"
As he speaks, Koichi's eyes flicker towards Izuku's bandaged wrist. The reminder makes Izuku's nose scrunch with distaste and Kochi laughs, rubbing nervously at the back of his neck. He is sweating a little bit despite his lack of a hoodie and the chill of the day. He seems high strung and Izuku isn't sure how cautious he needs to be right now. He licks his lips, feeling the rough material of his mask scrape across his tongue, and decides the err on the side of safety.
"It's no big deal," Izuku says, shrugging and taking a step back. "I've got to get going, though."
"Are you sure you don't want me to come with you? This area isn't the safest place to be alone."
The insistence is making him nervous. He's seen Stendhal hunt down and beat up enough creeps to know the signs, and though Koichi seems genuine there's a little voice in the back of his mind that is warning him to be wary. It's not just for his own sake, either, but for Koichi's as well. If Stendhal ever learns that Izuku has been talking to strangers - particularly adult strangers who keep seeking him out and won't take no for an answer - he's going to be angry. Being near a civilian who cares even just a little bit too much is a good way to get an innocent person hurt.
"Thank you for your concern."
Izuku takes another step away and something sticky squishes beneath his shoe. He ignores it as it tries to suction him to the sidewalk. Koichi watches him go with wide eyes, worry apparent in the slump of his shoulders and the crease in his brow. Izuku can tell, from the bottom of his heart, that Koichi is sincere in his desire to help. A hint of a smile ghosts its way across Izuku's lips.
"You'd make a good hero, I think."
Something strange passes across Koichi's face. He stays rooted where he is, watching as Izuku moves further away.
"Do you like heroes, Yudai?" he asks, hands held loose and empty at his sides.
Izuku hesitates for just a second, then nods. Before Koichi can get another word out, Izuku turns on his heel and hurries off. Kochi watches him disappear around a corner and wonders whether his friend might be willing to meet a fan.
.
Chizome is on his fourth cup of coffee, but he still doesn't feel right. It's barely past midnight but his thoughts feel scattered and his head is foggy, like he's been up for days despite having slept a whole five hours earlier. He scowls into the lukewarm muck in his travel cup before taking another begrudging swallow, wishing it were hot enough to burn the roof of his mouth. He's only halfway through, but he's already dreaming of his fifth cup.
From somewhere behind him, Hachisuka has made her appearance. She is humming. Her bugs are buzzing along, offbeat and off tune, and the dissonance is making his skin crawl. If she would just shut up then maybe he could think clearly. Maybe she wouldn't be so infuriatingly cheerful if she was missing her other eye.
Worn leather brushes his fingertips and he jolts, surprised to find that he had reached for his sword the second the thought had crossed his mind. The lack of self control is unsightly and his scowl deepens as he forces his fingers to unclench. Hachisuka giggles, and he knows she has seen him slip. He lowers his mask to cover his mouth, noting with displeasure that he has dropped his cup. The coffee creates a dark puddle beneath his feet.
"You called me here, so get on with it already," he commands, voice scratching its way from his dry throat.
He's been running himself ragged for weeks now, hunting down one target after the other, cutting down entire organizations full of filth and worthless rot. The blood is sour when it fills his mouth, revolting and impure, but the feeling of cleansing the world is as sweet as ever. Hachisuka tuts, the sounds directly next to his ear. It takes everything in him not to flinch away in surprise; he hadn't heard her get close.
"Eager to get home?" she asks, up on her tiptoes so she can lean her cheek against his shoulder.
He steps away, stiff and breathless at the contact. Something is wrong and the fact that he hadn't felt her approach scares him. Everything is off kilter, hazy around the edges, his movements disconnected and dreamlike. He hates the way he is overwhelmed and overworked, hates that he hasn't seen Izuku in almost two months, hates that he has to answer to the whims of some demented high schooler just because she's the go-between for whatever organization it is that has hired him.
He just has three more targets. They should be easy to take care of – nothing more than low level thugs. He just has to finish the job. Then he can go home. Then he can close his eyes and rest, unbothered by fears and worries and uncertainties for a few blessed hours.
"Oh wow!" Hachisuka says, and his eyes snap open. He hadn't realized they'd slid closed. "If I'd known you had a kid I would have asked the boss to give you some paternity leave or something!"
"What are you talking about?" he asks, keeping his voice calm and level. He does his best to pretend like his heartbeat hasn't tripled its pace, and to ignore the way cold rushes through him like his blood has been replaced by ice water. His fingers rest on the hilt of his sword again.
"Your kid! Duh! Did you forget or something, dummy?"
She is all but shouting at this point. Chizome grits his teeth, too tired to play her games right now.
"What—"
"Izuku is really cute, isn't he?"
He whirls to face her so fast that the world goes black around the edges. His sword is drawn and pointed at her, tip hovering mere inches from her slender neck. The sharp toothed smirk on her face doesn't waver for even a second, and her single green eye is glittering. A bee buzzes by his ear and goosebumps break out across his skin at the sudden thought of it crawling inside, working its way through his ear canal and digging its stinger into his ear drum. His jaw creaks as he grinds his teeth harder together.
"How the fuck do you know that name?"
She grins and lifts her hand, waving his own phone at him.
"Seems like you're losing your touch, Stendhal. I think you deserve a day off. Why not go home? Have a nice meal or something." Her eye darts towards the screen and her lips stretch further, showing off sharp incisors. The bees' buzzing grows louder. "Looks like little Izuku-kun's been really into baking lately. That's adorable."
He has to fight to control his breathing, has to fight against the rising tide of panic that wants to overwhelm him and send him running back towards the apartment immediately. It is quickly overshadowed by a fury that fills his chest like a lead balloon, anchoring him to the spot and forcing him to remain in this moment. He grinds his teeth. He wants to kill her.
Instead, he lowers the point of his blade and holds out his free hand. Despite his attempts to appear calm and unaffected, his voice still shakes a little as he says, "Give me my phone back."
Hachisuka watches him with cold regard for a moment, eyes dead and empty despite the smile that is still frozen across her lips. The phone's screen goes dark in her hand.
"Say the magic word."
"Please," he snarls, brushing his pride aside with ease.
The seconds tick slowly by. He can feel the rage growing and see it in the way his knuckles have gone white around the hilt of his trembling sword. Hachisuka can see it too, and he has no doubt that she can feel the heavy intent in the air. Her eyepatch bulges as something moves behind it, restless and hungry, and the sound of buzzing increases tenfold.
And still, she smiles like the dead.
His patience is about to snap, his precariously held control wavering when, finally, she shrugs and tosses the phone at him. He catches it and shoves it deep into his pocket with barely a glance towards the black sheen of its darkened screen. Only then does he slide his sword back into its sheath.
"Whatever. That's not what you're here for anyways. I just wanted to let you know the boss said you can take the weekend off. It's taking a little longer than usual to get the blood for the next target."
"I don't need you to get me any blood. I'll handle it myself."
"Not if you want to get paid, you won't!" she sings, and it grates on his already frayed nerves.
As much as he enjoys purging the world of the kind of filth they have employed him to kill (he might even go so far as to say that it's a passion of his) the money is really the only reason he's still forcing himself to push forward through the exhaustion and deterioration. It is enough to keep a roof over their heads for a year and then some, which means he'll be able to take fewer jobs. He could spend more time cleaning up the streets and training Izuku, building the boy and the world up to their full potential simultaneously. As when the offer was first put before him, it is still too good to turn down.
"Fine," he bites out. "I'll wait. Contact me when you fulfill your end of the deal."
"Okay! Say hi to Izuku-kun for me!"
He flips her off as he walks away and ignores the way her laughter sends chills up his spine.
.
He circles the city for the rest of the night, senses on high alert. Once he is sure he is not being followed, he allows the tension to bleed from his shoulders and stops to rest next to an air conditioning unit on the roof of an apartment he could never afford to live in. His head is pounding.
When the sky is alight in the gentle pinks and oranges of dawn he begins the trek back to the apartment. It's weeks sooner than he had intended, but he has to move Izuku to a new location. He doesn't know what will happen if Hachisuka and whatever shadow organization that employs them both find Izuku, but his gut tells him that it will not be good. Chizome knows that if that ever happens, his heart will be left broken one way or another.
The door opens without a sound and Chizome slips his boots off, padding silently into the apartment on bare feet. His eyes trace the controlled mess, the knives laid neatly across the scarred table and the dishes piled in the sink, and he smiles. It looks like Izuku has really made himself at home.
The smile falls when he remembers why he's here.
His mask finds its home on the table next to the knives and he moves deeper into the small space. The tv is playing a cartoon he doesn't recognize, the volume low as the characters dance and flicker across the screen. He watches for a moment, head tilting as he tries to figure out which hero each animated counterpart is meant to parody. The colors become overwhelming quickly and he instead turns his eyes to Izuku, who is out cold on the floor in front of the tv, mouth hanging open and the remnants of a microwaveable dinner sitting next to his head. Chizome snaps a picture before tucking the phone back in his pocket.
It only takes a nudge for Izuku to sit bolt upright, eyes massive and fingers wrapped tightly around the hilt of a knife that Chizome hadn't even noticed. He blinks slowly up at him, hair sticking out at every angle and sleep-addled mind working slowly through what he's seeing. As soon as it clicks, a wide smile breaks like the dawn across his face.
"Welcome back," he says, scrambling to his feet and slipping the knife back into the pocket of his oversized hoodie. His sleeves are pushed up and Chizome's eyes hone in on his wrist. Izuku is oblivious to where his attention is. "Is your job all done?"
"Not yet. I'm taking the day off, then it's back to work. Have you been behaving yourself?"
"Yeah! You've been gone a while so I've had to go out and get food and stuff, but nobody's given me any trouble."
"Oh yeah? Then why's your wrist bandaged?"
Izuku goes bright red. He tucks his hands behind his back like he's hoping that Chizome will forget about the yellow and green bruise poking out from beneath the ace bandage if he can no longer see it. Izuku drops his gaze, biting his lips as he stares shamefaced at the floor. Chizome waits, silent and still, allowing him a moment to collect himself; he knows how much the kid hates disappointing him. Finally, Izuku sighs.
"There was a lady. I thought she was sick but it turns out she was just on drugs. She grabbed me and it hurt my wrist a little bit. That's all."
Chizome feels a rush of exasperated affection. He already knows the answer to his next question, but he asks anyway.
"Why were you close enough for her to grab you in the first place?"
"I was just going to offer to walk with her to the hospital! It's not like I knew she didn't need that kind of help."
"Hey, watch the sass," he snaps, then sighs and shakes his head. "You're unbelievable, you know that?"
Despite the heat in his words, there is a smile twitching at the corners of his lips. Izuku is too busy hanging his head to notice, though.
"Are you angry?" he asks, voice small.
A long moment passes in silence, then Chizome huffs out a fond little laugh and drops his hand to rest on Izuku's mess of curls. Some distant part of him notes that the kid needs a haircut. The green strands are long and twine around his fingers and he thinks about how easy it would be to close his fist tight, to throw the boy to the ground and rip his hair from his scalp and make sure he knows the consequences of breaking the rules. All it would take is a few curled fingers.
Izuku whimpers, and Chizome jerks back to reality. His eyes widen as he realizes that his nails have begun to dig into Izuku's scalp. He does not pull back, but loosens his grip just enough to ease the pain. Izuku is staring at him now, eyes wide and wet and glimmering in the dim light the tv casts.
Maybe he is a little angry. But it's fine. He is fine, and he knows Izuku was just trying to do the right thing; the sort of thing Chizome has been training him to do for years. Sometimes it is okay to break the rules, if it is for the sake of someone else. He takes a couple deep breaths. The shadows are deep and endless, but when Chizome smiles the fear fades immediately from Izuku's face.
"How can I be angry when you were just trying to help someone? C'mon. I'll check it out and redo your bandages, and then I need to rest. Don't think you're off the hook for breaking a rule, though. We'll talk more after I wake up, okay?"
Izuku nods, and Chizome follows with heavy steps as he leads them to the bathroom, flipping on the lights as he goes. They'll figure out the logistics of moving after he's done with his twelve hour nap.
.
"But why?" Izuku whines, feet swinging furiously beneath the table. Chizome watches the way his toes barely brush the floor and wonders yet again if the kid is supposed to be this small. Are all preteens this tiny or is it just Izuku? Does he need to feed him more vegetables or something?
"Because this apartment might've been compromised," Chizome tells him, forcing himself to be patient despite the way the kid's temper is beginning to get annoying. They're both lucky that he's feeling more like himself after getting some sleep, because this conversation would be going much differently if he wasn't. (Though with the foggy feeling still lingering in his head, he's beginning to suspect he must have a fever on top of being sleep deprived.)
Izuku's pout fades away, replaced by wide eyed worry, and Chizome hurries to say, "We'll be staying in the city until the job is done. We'll just have to find somewhere else for you to stay, just to be safe."
Izuku chews his lower lip, mulling the situation over with the same attention he gives most things that catch his interest. Once upon a time, Chizome had thought the gears turning behind the kid's eyes were a sign of an analysis quirk. Now, he knows Izuku is just far too intelligent for his own good. It makes him proud.
While he waits for the kid to process the situation and work through the hundreds of thoughts running through his head, Chizome casts his eyes around the barren apartment and begins planning their day out. It shouldn't take too long to pack the necessities, but cleaning everything so there's no trace left behind that they were ever there will take much longer.
"Are we in danger?" Izuku asks and Chizome snaps back to attention.
With a jolt, he realizes that the shadows are just a little longer than they were before. He ignores the creeping dread that wants to rise in his gut and instead gives Izuku a long, assessing look, letting the tension build until he is sure the boy is ready to actually listen and absorb his words.
"We are only in danger," he says slowly, "if you do something to put us in danger. As long as you do what I say we'll both be fine. Now start cleaning up so we can get going."
Izuku's tense frame begins to relax and he nods, a familiar determined look crossing his face. Having something to do, a way to feel useful, usually helped to get him out of his head enough to relieve some of the anxiety his spiraling thoughts might conjure. He already knows the basic drill when it comes to clearing out a temp apartment, so he doesn't need any further commands to start cleaning up the dishes or to pull out the bleach and start wiping down every part of the apartment he can reach. Chizome sits in the recently vacated seat and lays his weapons out before him, focusing on cleaning any blood he may have missed and sharpening the blades.
"Was it villains who found us?" Izuku asks as he wipes down the cabinet handles. Then, before Chizome can form the words to answer, he says softly, "Or was it the heroes?"
He doesn't get an answer to that, after all. Chizome focuses his attention back on the task he has assigned himself, and tells Izuku to finish up and start packing. There is a long stretch of silence, and when he glances back he can see that Izuku is still waiting, expecting a response. Chizome wants to roll his eyes but instead he resigns himself to being the adult in this interaction and purses his lips, jerking his chin towards the pile of laundry besides the tv – a silent command to get started.
With a heavy, dramatic sigh, Izuku abandons the bleach soaked rag on the countertop and stomps his way towards the dirty socks. Chizome hides his smile behind a fist, then goes to strip any blankets they have off the bed. There's a lot to get done, and he doesn't want to wait around to see what that bug quirk bitch will do if she manages to find his kid.
.
Tensei is not the kind of hero most people would recognize on the street. The majority of his public appearances involve his helmet and armor, both of which do a great job of hiding his identity. On top of that, his face is actually rather plain. He can acknowledge that he is perhaps a bit broader in the shoulders and a little taller than the average person, but there are plenty of Japanese men built like American linebackers out there. He gets looked over most of the time and, all things considered, he really does prefer it that way. He's seen the way some of his fellow heroes with more distinctive appearances are followed around by fans and reporters, and he is grateful that he can slip into the crowd by simply bowing his head or hunching his shoulders.
It makes going jogging much easier, which is great since that means he doesn't have to hide that he's got a running buddy now. Koichi seems like the kind of guy who wouldn't want any reporters looking too closely at him and Tensei respects that, just like he respects the fact that his friend would rather continue his vigilante work than join the Ingenium agency. He would never push, but if asked he won't lie – he is still holding out hope that Koichi will change his mind about that some day! It would be nice to have him around more.
They're cooling down after their Tuesday run, Koichi red cheeked and glowing in the pale early morning sunlight as their pace slows to a brisk walk. Most of the time their runs consist mostly of Tensei stealing glances at the way Koichi's warm brown eyes shimmer when he makes a joke that the other man is too out of breath to properly laugh at, or at the way his lips curl and his slightly crooked teeth flash when he grimaces at the sweat stains on his shirt, or how he does this tiny fist pump literally every time he manages to get even a step in front of Tensei during their impromptu races.
Today, however, Koichi seems distant and...well, distracted seems too gentle a word; he's run into three parked cars and tripped into two holes already. The first time was funny, but now it's just concerning. Tensei considers whether he should bring it up or not as he stretches, arms above his head while he shakes his hands out and does several high-steps. He knows he must look ridiculous, because this is the exact stretch that always makes Koichi snort out a breathless laugh after every run. His brow furrows and he makes his decision when Koichi's frown doesn't so much as smooth out.
"Hey, I don't mean to overstep, but is everything alright?"
It's a testament to the turmoil his friend must be feeling that he doesn't immediately paste on a smile and insist that he's fine. Instead, Koichi takes a deep breath and turns to face him head-on.
"I have a favor to ask," he says and Tensei stiffens.
If Koichi hadn't already had his full attention for the majority of their time together, the look in his eyes now would have ensured it. Tensei has never seen him so serious. He takes a deep breath and Tensei watches his hands curl at his sides, fingernails scratching nervously at the smooth material of his track pants. Tensei wets his lips and prepares himself for whatever he may be about to entangle himself in.
"Anything you need," Tensei says, and he means it. Despite the sincerity, Koichi still seems to hesitate. Tensei smiles encouragingly and waits, trying to ignore the way he can feel the tension rising in the air around them.
"How do you feel about...kids?"
Just like that, Tensei feels his brain short circuit a little bit. Surely Koichi isn't suggesting…. That's not what friends usually do together! But what if…what if he's been misinterpreting their relationship this whole time?
His heart rate has skyrocketed. Koichi has brought him to an absolute standstill, freezing him in place more surely than any ice-quirk-wielding villain he's faced in the past. Koichi stops beside him, staring at him expectantly like he doesn't even realize the gravity of his request.
Tenya is still a kid, so he's definitely not ready to be an uncle yet, but maybe in a few years? Plus, Koichi should really finish college before making any big life decisions like that! Isn't this moving way too fast? Their friendship(?!) is still fairly new, for goodness sake!
In his panic all he can manage is a small, strangled, "What?"
"Well, there's this kid I know who seems to really like heroes, and you're the only real hero I know so I was wondering if maybe you'd be willing to say hi some time."
Tensei blinks, processing the explanation much slower than his quirk would suggest. Then, with a sudden rush of relief, he laughs. Koichi watches him with wide brown eyes, and it is obvious by the expression on his face that he has no idea what to make of the response.
"Sorry," Tensei says, smiling so wide that his cheeks hurt. "You just had me really worried! I thought you were asking for something more serious."
"It is serious! A kid's happiness might be at stake!"
"Okay, okay, you're absolutely right. That is very serious."
The answer is, of course, yes. Koichi's answering smile is like a weight lifted from Tensei's shoulders, and together they find the cleanest curb to sit down on to talk. Of course, the weight gradually settles itself back down, once he hears more about the mysterious Yudai.
"This kid almost got himself killed," Tensei says slowly, shaking his head. A strand of sweat soaked hair falls into his eyes, but he doesn't bother brushing it away. "Why didn't you insist on taking him to the hospital if he was obviously hurt?"
Koichi gives him a strange look, one that Tensei isn't sure how to read. His fingers are once again uselessly picking at the slippery material of his pants while he tries to find a way to put his thoughts into words.
"It's...hard to explain. You've come across people who don't want to be saved before, right?"
"Yeah, of course."
"Well, he was kind of the same way. That first time we met he asked me if I was a hero, and when I told him I wasn't really one it was like...like you could just tell he was going to refuse to let me help him. Not in a normal way, either. Like he would fight if I tried and it would just make things worse. He'd just hurt himself more trying to avoid accepting any help."
"I see," Tensei says. His elbows dig into his thighs as he leans forward, cradling his chin in his hands while he considers Koichi's words. "So something weird is going on with this kid."
"Yeah, exactly. I saw him again a couple days ago, walking around during what I'm pretty sure are school hours. He just ran off again when I tried to offer to walk with him to the grocery store."
"He was alone again?"
"Yeah. There's a lot of Trigger activity in that part of town, too. It makes me worried. I wouldn't want Pop going there alone, let alone some elementary schooler."
Tensei grimaces, trying to imagine Tenya wandering through the worst parts of Naruhata on his own. As much as he loves his brother, he's pretty sure the kid wouldn't last five minutes. The thought of any kid finding themselves in the middle of a Trigger attack makes him feel a little woozy, and the fact that Yudai has already been caught up in one is even worse.
"So you thought that having a licensed hero talk to him might do some good."
Koichi shrugs, looking a little embarrassed. It's endearing, if Tensei is being honest with himself, and he can't help the small smile that finds its place on his lips. He claps a hand on his companion's shoulder and apologizes through choked off laughter when it jolts the smaller man forward.
"Well, you arrange the meeting and I'll be there. In exchange, I want you to do me a favor too."
Koichi blinks up at him, honeyed eyes narrowing like he doubts he can do anything worth a favor for Tensei. Still, he nods and says at a volume just short of a yell, "Yeah, of course!"
"First, I want you to try to be more careful." Koichi opens his mouth to protest, but Tensei steamrolls right over him. "And second, when you see Yudai next time, see if you can do anything at all to convince him to be a little safer. I know it will be hard, but it's important."
"Why?"
"It's kind of being kept hush-hush, but there've been a lot of suspicious murders going on in the area recently. They look targeted, so your little friend probably doesn't have anything to worry about, but they're weird enough that everyone's a little on edge."
"How so?"
"From what I've heard, it looks like most of the victims didn't fight back. It's like they just laid down and didn't move at all as the killer...well, let's just say it's not pretty. An entire Yakuza faction was wiped out and there wasn't a single trace of any of them so much as lifting a finger to defend themselves."
"Oh, yeah, that is pretty weird. Do you think it's Trigger related?"
Tensei laughs, bumping shoulders with Koichi as he asks, "Why? Looking for even more to do around town?"
"Of course not! If it were up to me I wouldn't have anything to do with that mess."
It takes everything in him not to roll his eyes. From what he's seen, Koichi is the kind of guy who can't leave anything well enough alone. If he hadn't gotten tangled up with Trigger cases then his desire to help would have landed him in some other mess. From what he's heard, before "The Crawler" made his debut there was a very similar person going around calling themself "The Gentleman." Someone like Koichi was always going to find himself drawn to vigilantism and hero work.
"We haven't seen any evidence yet that it's connected to the kind of things you like to meddle in, but just be careful, okay?"
Koichi frowns but gives a sharp little nod. Tensei returns it, then hefts himself to his feet. His engines give a little sputter of protest and he huffs, reminded of the strain he put on them during a villain attack just a week prior. The sound makes Koichi huff out a laugh, so he considers it worth it. It gives him enough confidence to ask a question that's been on his mind for a couple weeks.
"You wanna go get some breakfast with me?"
"Ah, sorry," Koichi says, and Tensei feels his heart plummet as embarrassment rises to take its place. If he notices, Koichi is kind enough not to say anything. "I've got to get to class. My Friday classes are evening ones, so maybe next time if there's nothing else going on?"
"Yeah, no worries. I'll see you around."
As Koichi turns to leave, a sudden thought occurs to him.
"Before you go, do you think you could give me a quick description of Yudai? I'd love to keep an eye out for him around town."
"Oh," Koichi says, rubbing sheepishly at the back of his neck. "Whenever I see him he's always wearing a medical mask and a hat so I can't give you a very good answer to that. He's…short? Elementary school aged. Green eyes and green hair, I think."
"Well, that's better than nothing."
"Sorry," Koichi says, grimacing. "I'll see if Pop can do any better. She's spent more time with him than I have, anyways."
"Tell her to be careful, too."
"Yeah, I will. I'll text you with what she says." Koichi glances at his watch and abruptly goes white as a sheet. Tensei does his best not to laugh.
"Running late?"
"I've been late to the last three classes. I think the teacher is going to fail me at this rate."
"Then get going!"
Koichi laughs and turns to go, throwing a cheerful goodbye over his shoulder as he does. Tensei doesn't scold him when he drops to all fours to use his quirk. An education is very important, after all.
Tensei watches his running buddy glide away with a small smile and tries to place why he feels so desperately disappointed. He only allows himself to wallow for a moment more before he shakes his head and forces himself back into a more positive frame of mind. He sets up a reminder in his phone to text Koichi when his class is over. He doesn't have Pop Step's number and is well aware that the other man will forget to talk to her.
With that set up, he allows himself one last lingering look towards the sky. He breathes in the morning air and the lingering sour smell of sweat and the smog and stench of the city. There is a long day of patrols ahead of him, but spending the morning with a friend is a good way to get things started. He is already looking forward to their next meeting, and hoping that when it comes he'll also get the chance to meet the mysterious Yudai.
Hello to my wonderful readers! It's been way too long but I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I know I keep saying this is the last chapter of this arc, but uh. Obviously it's not. This darned thing just keeps getting longer and longer. I hope no one minds too much.
Question for you! I haven't used discord in many many years, but I was wondering if anyone might be interested in a discord for this fic? Let me know….
(Some manga spoilers ahead)
Random news article: Stain is getting set up to be Deku's newest mentor!
Me, in tears because my imposter syndrome dictates my life and says now I gotta get this fic out faster in case Horikoshi's plans line up with my own and someone thinks I am unoriginal.
(Y'all, I haven't even read the manga and I am way behind in the anime. I just watched the episode where Eri goes to the school festival the other day. I CRIED GUYS! IT WAS SO PURE.)
On the plus side though if Stain really does become Izuku's mentor then hopefully that means more characterization for Chizome because I've just been making it up as I go along based on the ten minutes of screen time he's gotten in the entirety of the series so far.
I think I had like ten other things I wanted to address but I can't remember right now and also I'm writing this while I'm supposed to be doing work at my real human adult job. Thanks so much for reading! If you liked it, please leave a review. They help me work up the spoons to keep writing. :)