When most people say 'I'm scared of the dark', they don't really mean it. That is to say, it isn't the dark that scares them. It's what lurks in the dark. It's what they can't see, that they fear. Izuku felt the same way once, but not any more. Not now. Because, now he was the thing that even the deepest lurkers of the dark could not detect. After all, what monster thought a fifteen year old boy was dangerous?

He moved fast. swiftly closing in on a woman's cries for help, and a man's swearing. The boy weaved through alleyways, filled with garbage, over and over again, until he was face to face with the scene. The man was tall and muscular. Easily twice the size of Izuku Midoriya. The woman however, was a petite little lady. They were playing tug of war with a handbag, neither willing to give up its possession, when the criminal noticed the boy, clad in a dark hoodie and a black face mask.

'The hell do you want?', He barked, 'Get lost, ya little-"

Izuku was already on him, slamming his hand into the man's throat. He hated thieves. The crook staggered back before falling to a knee, wheezing for air.

'Get outta here!' The boy yelled, looking around at where the woman had been. But she was already out in the street, running her fastest it seemed.

Izuku turned to face his enemy, bringing his hands up, readying for a fight- WHAM! What felt like a sledgehammer collided with the boy's side, sending him flying into the side of a dumpster. Pain streaked through his side. He coughed, taking in as much air as one could in a millisecond before diving out of another blow's way.

He stood, facing his opponent once again, but noticed an oddity. The man's arm seemed to have been replaced by a mace. His heart raced, and anger filled his veins like an acid. Why do they always resort to quirks? Why did it always come down to the last stand of a violent asshole?

Izuku slipped his hand in his pocket, pulled out a pocket knife, and flipped it open. All these people, and not one thinks to use their quirks to help people. It made him sick. Especially when someone tried to kill him with their power.

The man burst forward, slinging his mace-like arm at Izuku's head, missing by mear centimeters as the boy dodged. He went to swipe with his knife when another morphed hand slammed into his body, knocking the poor kid on his ass. He barely had time to roll out of the way, when the next attack came, crushin the concrete he had just been.

He got up, firing a roundhouse at the villain's head, knocking him flat on his back. The man tried to get up, but Izuku didn't waste a second. He mounted the lurker, and plunged his blade into his neck. The darkness dweller struggled for a few moments, before giving in to his wound.

A few moments passed as Izuku allowed his aching, stinging body to rest, breathing heavily. He looked up, seeing a dark purple sky; the sun was beginning to rise, and he should be getting lost before the police, or heroes, arrived. He got up, with a large effort, and began walking to the alley's exit, covered in sweat, dirt, and blood belonging to both him, and other night dwellers he had encountered.

Izuku walked into his room; a small studio apartment, furnished with a twin bed in the corner, with an end table next to it. a tiny kitchen took up the left side wall, and the only other door led to the smaller than small bathroom. A desk with a laptop on it secured the right wall just at the end of his bed, and a punching bag filled the remaining corner of this place he called home.

he went into the bathroom and began to strip. The clothes stuck to him, as if they were glued on. He tossed them in an empty hamper and inspected his body in the small mirror above his sink. His body was heavily scarred, with fresh bruises, cuts and stitches littering the little bits of clear space he had left. He had a dark bruise on his left cheek, and a small cut just above his right eyebrow, leaking next to, but not into, his eye.

Izuku felt a mixture of pride, shame, and defeat when he saw himself. He'd have to work harder just to survive the next encounter with a quirk user, let alone beat them.

He thought of the man he'd killed that night, with a pang of guilt. He wasn't Izuku's first kill. Not even for that night. But Izuku couldn't help but wish the man didn't resort to using his powers, and just ran off after the lady escaped. Izuku only ever killed when criminals used their quirks. They were just too dangerous if he took caution. He got used to the act over the past few months, but the boy still felt guilty over it.

After a quick shower, and some bandaging, Izuku booted up his laptop. His lock screen was his martial arts schedule; tonight was Brazilian Jiu Jitsu, his least favorite (mostly because he wasn't very good yet). He logged in, checking his email, the news, and any social media he had. Nothing stood out to him as interesting, but he wanted a reason to stay awake.

After a few minutes of mindless scrolling, his stomach growled. He had no food in the fridge. Damn.. He didn't feel like going out today.

Izuku walked along, not really interested in where he was going, as long as it had food. He popped in his earbuds, not wanting to hear car motors, or the chattering of strangers passing by. He wondered if he could get a burger this early in the morning, when he noticed people wearing school uniforms passing by. He watched with slight envy as the new high schoolers went to start their first term. Izuku had given up on schooling to pursue, what he thought were, more important activities (homework kind of gets in the way of crime fighting). But a small part of him still wished he could go back, even if the kids were jerks.

It had been eight months since he started training, and three since he left school. To tell the truth, the reason he left it all for this life was, more or less, stubbornness. Everyone looked down on him and his goal of becoming a hero, even All Might, the greatest hero of all time, told him it was impossible. But he never gave up. Not even when his mother died. He knew that, if he worked hard enough, he could keep people safe, keep them from feeling how he felt. Even if only for a little while.