When morning comes, Izuku is up and getting ready for the day before Chizome even opens his eyes. He does his best to move silently, though there's not much he can do about the way the pipes rattle and groan when he turns on the shower in the bathroom. He's not allowed out on his own without a disguise, though, so it can't be helped. The vague guilt and worry disappear quickly at the discovery that this place has hot water, though, and his thoughts of a fast shower evaporate in a cloud of steam.
When he emerges, he is almost unrecognizable. The colored contacts make his eyes itch, but the bright blue is a far cry from his usual green. Stain had bought him hero-grade hair dye from a shady (but reliable) contact, the kind used for deep-cover missions that only washed out with the right formula. A single bottle cost more than a month's stay in a warm, dry apartment, but they had both agreed that it was worth it after Izuku'd slipped on a wig that had fallen off while running from Sparrow last year and almost got himself caught. He went with pink, because it's fun and makes him happy to see a puff of cotton candy curls when he looks in the mirror.
A black medical mask is used to hide his features and the distinctive scar on his cheek. Finally, he pulls a knitted hat on to complete his disguise, and he's pretty sure that even Chizome would struggle to pick him out of a lineup. He packs his notebook and pens into his bag along with a handful of granola bars and a bottle of water to tide him over until he gets back for dinner. His knife fits comfortably into his hoodie pocket, its weight familiar and comforting against his stomach.
Heart in his throat, Izuku pauses at the door and offers a whispered goodbye, waiting to see if his guardian will decide he's not allowed to go out today after all. Thankfully, Chizome just grunts and lifts one hand in a halfhearted wave, unwilling to get up yet just to fight with Izuku on the matter. It's as close as he'll get to permission, so with that, Izuku is off, grinning at the prospect of getting to explore. Maybe he'll even see a villain fight!
The hallways are empty, and the streets are still quiet as he sets out. The businessmen and students are all still home getting ready for their days, and the overnight workers are likely just collapsing into their beds. The smell of cherry blossoms hangs heavy in the air, mixing with the distant scent of the ocean. It's pleasant, though not quite enough to block out the familiar city scents of car exhaust, sewage, and general rot.
Izuku smiles as he walks, a bounce in his step and a half-forgotten tune hummed beneath his breath. It's nice to be outside when there aren't as many people he has to avoid. The morning breeze tugs gently at the frayed ears of his All Might hoodie and tickles his neck. He's not in any rush, so by the time he reaches the train station, traffic has begun to pick up. The station is busier than the streets, but the bleary-eyed commuters waiting on the platform don't bother looking up from their phones when Izuku joins their ranks. He still does his best to blend in, head ducked and nerves prickling at being so close to so many people in broad daylight.
It isn't a long ride to Musutafu and the train isn't too crowded, but he's still practically vibrating out of his skin by the time they come to a screeching halt in the station. Setting foot on the platform, Izuku forces himself to take a deep breath and lets some of the tension drain from his shoulders, grinning widely behind his mask. He's in the same city as UA! So close to some of the coolest active heroes! Maybe he'll even get a chance to catch a glimpse of some of them. Reruns of Present Mic's show are his favorite thing to listen to whenever he's on lockdown, and just the thought of getting to see the hero in person (even from a distance) is enough to make his heart feel like it's ready to burst from his chest.
It's stupid to seek out any heroes, he knows. They'd be in danger just by being in close proximity to him. But…if it's just by chance, and he keeps his distance, it's fine, right?
The morning rush is in full swing now, sweeping Izuku along with the crowds. He keeps a hand in his hoodie pocket, fingers wrapped tight around the hilt of his knife as he lets himself be carried along. The familiar feel of it in his grasp helps soothe the burgeoning unease churning inside his chest.
It isn't too hard to disappear among the shuffle of bodies, though he does catch a few glances thrown his way, eyes narrowed, noses wrinkling, curious or confused or suspicious about the presence of a kid in tattered clothes instead of a school uniform at this time of day. No one ever asks, though, which is just fine by him. It's for the best.
It isn't long before Izuku finds traffic slowing, the crowd running up against a roadblock, and his pulse quickens as he realizes he's stumbled across the first villain attack of the day. The people around him are all muttering their discontent and worries, but they don't seem truly concerned as a man with, Izuku assumes, a mutant-type gigantification quirk bellows his anger to the sky. The murmurs going through the crowd suggest he's more of a common thug than an actual villain, and Izuku almost feels a little sorry for the guy; he's really digging his own hole by doing things this way. When heroes get involved instead of just the police, the sentencing is always harsher, whether the crime is as petty as blocking traffic or snatching purses, or as extreme as assault or murder. Even so, he still watches with the rest, cheering alongside them when the first hero arrives on the scene.
Even after all this time, and after everything he's done, Izuku still loves heroes. The immediate relief and happiness that rolls through the crowd is what Izuku wishes he could inspire someday, too. The feeling of calm, the sense that everything will be okay as the stress and uncertainty melt away. It's like a breath of fresh air after spending every day drowning. He knows it can never be his, but he still enjoys the feeling of breathing a little easier when he gets the opportunity to.
Not to mention how amazing it is to watch the heroes work! There's just something so inspiring in the way that Backdraft immediately begins to check on people and secure the perimeter while Death Arms focuses on containing the villain, the two of them falling into an easy camaraderie despite being from different agencies. It makes him happy to see heroes working together for good instead of competing for attention. It's an easy ebb and flow. Each of them knows their strengths and subsequent roles, leans into the task they've taken up, and they're doing so much good for the people and city that it's easy to ignore the way that Backdraft's eyes stray towards the arriving news vans a little too eagerly, or how Death Arms seems a little too smug as he flexes and winds up to deliver a finishing blow. Everything is routine, and it's amazing to watch seasoned pros work.
Well, that is until Kamui Woods and Mount Lady arrive on the scene. Izuku watches curiously (but no less excitedly) as the dynamics shift, equal parts awed by the quirks on display and worried at how obvious these newcomers are with their desire to steal the spotlight despite the situation having been well in hand.
It's fascinating to see how the newer heroes differ from the more seasoned pros. They don't really work with the others or pay much heed to the civilians' needs, instead rushing right in and stopping the villain without communicating their intentions or plans with one another. It's efficient, sure, and he can't deny that their skills are impressive, but it also creates a much larger margin for error if someone gets in the way. Not to mention the increased property damage and risk of civilian casualties. It's mostly just dumb luck and Backdraft's efforts to maintain a perimeter that no one gets hurt before things are all wrapped up.
After the fight, Izuku lingers until the roads are cleared for travel and the villain has been loaded into the back of a police cruiser to be escorted to the local precinct. It's strange to see local authorities shaking Mount Lady's hand, praising her quirk, when the villain they're arresting has a similar quirk. It makes Izuku frown, thoughts straying towards why it is that society would accept one person as a hero while the other found himself resorting to a life of petty crime. There's personal choice and past circumstances that he doesn't know about that comes into play, of course, but he can't help but think about how often he's seen amazing heroes who happen to have uncommon appearances be pushed aside in favor of more conventional looking heroes.
Izuku watches the heroes and the officers until they've all gone on their way, then ducks past the dispersing reporters and heads towards the nearest park. He pauses only long enough to dip his head in gratitude to the maintenance workers who've been called in to clean up the damage — back when he still went by Stendhal, Chizome always used to tell him that emergency responders of any kind are their own breed of hero. He's careful to keep his mask pulled up as he passes through, just in case any lingering news cameras turn his way; Chizome would be pissed if they had to relocate after just one day.
The park bench is sun warmed as he settles cross-legged onto it, shrugging off his backpack and setting it in the empty seat beside him. It's probably rude, but he's pretty sure he'd have a minor heart attack if anyone sat beside him and tried to strike up a conversation. The groan of the zipper seems inordinately loud in the peaceful quiet of the park. The rustle of paper sounds ugly and out of place contrasted with the soft sighing of wind through the trees' new spring leaves, but he flips through until he finds the most recent entry. Today was Mount Lady's debut, and the fact that he was there to see it is so cool! He'll be able to add more than he would have if he'd just heard of her from a news story or online forum when he creates her profile. And since he's now seen Kamui Woods in action, he'll be able to expand what he's got for him, too!
Black ink smudges and stains his hand as he jots down his notes, mind racing and the fight playing on repeat inside his head so he can pick apart every fault or feat. A lot of their show had made Izuku cringe a little on the inside, but he's got faith that the two newbies will be able to get their act together. It's not uncommon for heroes fresh to the field to be overzealous during their debuts, or clumsy with how they handle the media or civilians in the following months. There's a learning curve, and though the transition period sort of makes him want to hide his face in secondhand embarrassment, he's sure that they'll get through it and come out the other side as better heroes.
Mount Lady's quirk isn't really well suited for the city, though if she's chasing recognition it makes sense why she'd be starting out in one. New heroes need to make a splash when they debut if they want to climb the ranks, so getting attention by being here is a good tactic. If she actually cares about more than fame, though, she'll likely realize with time that she's limiting herself by being somewhere she can't move freely. He just hopes that it won't come at the cost of too much collateral damage. Maybe she'll learn with time that her strong suit is likely going to be rescue work, where open spaces and increased size and strength will make a huge difference to victims' survival rates during natural disasters or large-scale villain events that level city blocks.
Kamui Woods is really versatile, and Izuku has to admit that he was impressed while watching how quickly he managed to subdue the villain today. He'd been efficient and aware of his surroundings, though the way he'd swooped in to basically steal another hero's thunder at the last minute leaves a bad taste in Izuku's mouth. There's just something so repulsive about the kind of person who would drag out a fight and risk causing more damage just because they want to be the one to finish things. The hero is way too focused on gaining recognition and fame; it's obvious in pretty much every appearance he makes. There's no doubt that he'll be a great hero, but he won't be able to rise to the status of a true hero when he's more focused on looking cool for the cameras than actually collaborating with the heroes already on the scene to solve the problem without dragging it out longer and putting people in more danger.
They both have a ton of potential to be real forces for good! The challenge is making sure they get the chance to reach that potential. Stain has no patience for fakes, even if they are early into their career, and Izuku's sure that the coverage of the villain fight that not just one or two heroes took part in, but four, will be all over the news. He won't usually go after the new heroes, aware as Izuku is that they'll have some learning to do, but if he's feeling especially persnickety on a day he notices them alone in an alley…well, there's no real guarantees that he won't take a shot when he sees the opportunity to do so.
His hand jerks a little at the unpleasant thought. The pen bites through the paper, marring his careful notes, and Izuku grimaces as he smooths the rough edges of the tear down. It'll be salvageable if he can find some tape. They've probably got some back at the apartment. It's fine. It's fine, so why is his heart beating so hard?
(He knows why. He knows. But it's so much nicer to pretend he's not thinking about their impending deaths. He wants so badly to move, to find them and warn them, but he can't. He only ever makes things worse when he tries.)
Analysis will take his mind off things. It might help to slow the painful pounding inside his chest, too. He'll go through what he's gleaned of their quirks, and come up with the ways they'll be most helpful during crises. He's already noted that both of them would be excellent in natural disaster relief work, so he'll start there, and then work his way up to combat and conflict resolution in a cityscape.
While he's at it, this is also a great time to add some more details to the profiles he already has on Death Arms and Backdraft! After seeing them work in person, he has a few more ideas about how they could be more efficient. Maybe he'll also go through a few other heroes who he knows are active in Musutafu, too, while he's here. It's never a bad time to reread his old notes and refresh his memory on them!
(He only falters a little when he flips through and sees those damning red X's. He hopes he won't need to add any more any time soon.)
The hours pass quickly, once he's set his mind on the task. By the time he lifts his head again, his neck and shoulders are aching, his wrist feels a little like it's on fire, and there's ink smeared halfway up his forearm. He frowns at the sight of it spread thin over the ridges of his scars, and tugs his sleeve back down, wondering when he'd rolled it up. A thin dusting of cherry blossoms has collected around him, clinging to the curls that stick out from under his beanie and settling on his shoulders. The sun is high in the sky, so brilliantly bright that it makes his eyes hurt a little bit.
There's more people in the park, too. Mostly kids still in their school uniforms, chatting with one another as they walk the path or duck between trees. A girl glances his way as she and her group of friends pass by. She smiles when their eyes meet, and gives him a little wave. Izuku blinks back owlishly, cheeks feeling hot as he hesitantly returns the gesture. Is it more likely for him to stick out in people's minds if he responds, or if he doesn't? Will they remember the rude boy who snubbed a friendly greeting more than they would someone who waved right back? Is he wearing his mask? Is his hair still disguised? Will she be able to identify him to authorities, if she's questioned?
That's definitely his cue to get going.
Stuffing his belongings back into his bag, Izuku hurries out of the park, the cherry blossoms he'd unwittingly collected falling from his shoulders. He can hear laughter following him, making his skin crawl, though the sounds fade quickly enough that he knows they're not trailing him. He can't help the way his fingers find his knife again, squeezing the hilt until his knuckles ache and his breaths begin to even out. It's probably about time to head home. He always gets a little jumpy if he spends too much time away from Chizome.
He sticks to alleyways and side streets on his journey back to the train station. He moves slowly, not wanting to get there at the same time as all the other kids just leaving school. It's easy for adults to ignore the little oddities about him when he's by himself, but when there are others his own age around to compare him to, it always seems like that's when they realize that there's something very wrong with him. He wonders, sometimes, if it's that easy to see how broken and stained he is. It's better to just avoid them, when he can.
Izuku's footsteps echo as he ducks away from an approaching group of highschoolers and beneath the cover of a secluded bridge. The sound of his quiet breaths echo back to him, too loud even against the scuffing of his sneakers on the concrete. He tries to focus on controlling himself, fading away, breathing softer and stepping lighter until there's hardly any trace of him left at all. He's gotten good at keeping himself small over the years.
It's cooler down here, out of the sun. He hadn't even realized he was sweating until it's cooling on the back of his neck. The sensation is like an icy breath gusting over his skin, raising goosebumps and making him shiver.
He swallows, saliva like tar, sticking his tongue against the roof of his mouth and filling his throat until it's hard to breathe. His skin prickles. Another shudder wracks his body, and he stills, senses on high alert. He's been training since he was four, sharing his life with the kind of man that wields malice like a weapon, and has gone head to head with petty criminals and villains with terrible intentions; he knows better than to ignore his own instincts when they tell him something bad is about to happen.
There's a distant rumbling beneath his feet, but as he turns slowly, he can't find anything that could be causing it. His mind is racing, trying to figure out where the danger is coming from; whether he's safer hidden from view beneath the bridge, or if it would be better to get to higher ground. His nose twitches, wrinkling at the smell of wet and rot. The rumbling has stopped, and he tips his head, eyes narrowed, listening carefully as his knuckles creak from how tightly he's gripping his knife. Something isn't right, and if he can just—
The scrape of metal against concrete. A heavy thunk and a disgustingly wet sound. He feels the ill intent like needles pressed against his skin, poised and ready to draw blood.
Izuku whirls around, knife drawn, already striking out at the approaching figure. The blade meets its mark but instead of drawing blood, it sinks into something sticky, then glides right through with a wet shlorp. He swipes again without pausing to let himself doubt, but it feels like trying to stab water. Like nailing jello to the wall.
It's too late to run, but he tries anyway. He doesn't get far before the ooze envelops him, rolling across his body like a wave swallowing the shore as it drags him beneath its surface. It doesn't occur to him to cry out as he struggles against it, clawing at the muck, kicking and twisting and snarling like a wild thing, and then biting when he feels it slip past his lips. It sits heavy on his tongue, and sends probing tendrils into his nostrils, blocking off his airway completely. He can feel it pulsing like a heartbeat, warm and alive even as it aims to kill him.
The impossible futility of the situation rolls over him as the seconds turn to minutes. Izuku tries to scream at last, eyes rolling back, fear heavy and painful inside his chest, burning through his oxygen twice as quickly as it should. It's useless though. The sludge is closing over him and the edges of his vision are turning black, and he goes for his knife again for lack of anything better to do, but fighting through it feels like trying to punch through deep water, struggling towards a dark surface that never gets nearer no matter how hard he tries. It occurs to him in a sudden burst of near hysteria that he's had nightmares just like this before.
He twists again, swiping the blade uselessly through the foul form that is hissing promises about how the pain will be over soon, how he'll finally have the chance to be useful. A hero to this one single person. The asshole laughs at him when he gags, pushing further down his throat, wrapping his gelatinous form more tightly around Izuku, and it vibrates the whole of both their bodies. Izuku feels water and granola bars and green goop all sloshing in his stomach and feels a little bit like he wants to puke.
Black and white spots are bursting before his eyes, eating away at his consciousness bit by bit. There is fire and ice inside his chest, a knife sinking deep into each lung, twisting and rending until the only thing left in his mind is panic and pain. He realizes with a sickening jolt that there is no help coming. He's on his own, and isn't that a scary place to be? He always thought that when he died, Stain would be right there with him. Bleeding out beside him. Maybe even holding the knife.
As everything around him fades, one bulbous eye floats before him. He feels the ooze move around him as it does, flowing and shifting to follow its movement. The realization hits him that the eyes and mouth are the only solid pieces of his attacker, the places where the sludge seems to center its movement around, and are therefore likely the best weak points.
His own stupidity hurts. If he'd just collected himself sooner, stopped panicking for long enough to just think like Chizome always taught him to do, then maybe he could have saved himself. He tries to reach for them, a final desperate bid at survival, but he is too slow and too weak and far too late. His fingers can't even graze that staring eyeball, and he feels as the villain laughs again at his pathetic attempts to keep on living.
His eyes close, body going limp as the final bit of fight leaves him. It's with a strange sense of serenity that Izuku thinks, at least I won't hurt anyone anymore, as he lets the emptiness bleed over him.
.
.
.
(He takes a massive, shuddering breath as he's thrown backwards. Concrete against his back. Head throbbing from the impact and the oxygen deprivation and the feeble dregs of adrenaline still trying to convince him to go on living. The ooze is gone. His eyes snap open and immediately settle on a solid form, backlit by light yet too deep into shadows to make out any features. Still, his wavering thoughts pick out a few key details.
Big. Strong. Safe.
His eyes flutter closed again, too heavy to try to keep them open any longer.
Oh, he thinks, and the knives in his soul plunge themselves deeper and twist. Chizome came for me after all.
And for the second time, he lets the emptiness consume him.)
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This chapter is dedicated to my little brother, who had a big life event this weekend that I was lucky enough to get to be there for. I'm so so so proud of you and so happy I got to spend time with you. I love you!
Shout out to Shae for being the best beta in the whole wide world, and to everyone who reads. Your reviews keep me writing. I'll see you next chapter!