Like all spiders, Araneus Filistata has a body of two parts. Its diminutively small abdomen holds its book-lungs and the bulk of its paunch. Whereas the arachnid's pate is dominated by two large eyes facing forwards for acuminated binocular vision, beneath a pair of tiny tufts that crown the head like horns. Filistata is fuzzy with filaments in broken patterns of brown umber and stygian black. To predators, it looks more dead leaf than live prey.
Now, it's just dead. A crowbar wedges its way into the spider's home, chiseled pinch point splitting Filistata's two parts while simultaneously withering webbing that had been strung by it. Prying deeper into the dark and compact space of circuitry wires, the crowbar begins to bend from its point of entry. Stainless steel peels back and exposes light to the compartment. A squeak followed by a pop is due to the paneling of Filistata's former house being broken into; what's inside the metal box is exposed to the invader.
Bent over an ATM, crowbar in the hand of the culprit, is a man. He's flanked by three others, though they're empty handed unlike him. The one doing the prying grunts with effort, sweat dripping beneath the heat of his facemask. It's bad enough that it's summer, his tank top doing nothing to stop his tan from getting any darker; doing all this manual labor can leave a guy breathless. He drags a calloused hand through his slick blonde hair, trying to shield himself from the sunbeams of the bright morning.
"Daiki! Give me some shade with your blubber, will ya?!" Blondie grumbles and grouses with a glance back over his shoulder to address the biggest member of their group. A portly guy with a mutation quirk of some kind that makes his mouth oversized grimaces, the harness on his head clinching with the expression; he must be Daiki. "It's the least ya could do to help", tan man keeps ragging on his partner while increasingly adding ire to his tone.
"I told you, it's not blubber, my mom says I'm just big boned!" Daiki positions himself behind blondie despite sharing his grievance over being used as a human sunblock. As a corpulent goliath, he casts a broad shadow that spreads over more than just the ATM. His triangular pig ears twitch with irritation now that the sun is boring into his back.
The other two of the four crooks stay on the sidelines, one of which sporting an orange mohawk and the other a tall flat top flaunting brown hairs bound by a blue headband. Ginger guy nudges his partner in crime in the ribs with his elbow to get his attention. Followed by a head nod gesture as though to say 'watch this'. Headband adjust his shades like that'll help him see better, a grin forming on his face. "Funny, cause that's what your mom said about me last night", mohawk man smirks behind his green mouthpiece. His brunette buddy snickers, sunglasses nearly sliding off and winding up requiring another adjustment.
Daiki twists his head, flabby rolls of flesh creasing under his neck as he shoots a scowl over his shoulder. "Not cool, guys, not cool…" He watches the pair behind him double over with laughter now, mohawk having to prop himself up against their getaway vehicle. That white truck so happens to be his mom's pickup that he's borrowing by the way, so the least they could do is show a little respect; he begrudgingly grumbles under his breath rather than waste it telling them that though.
The bronzed blonde of the bunch rolls his eyes as he finishes cracking the ATM's small safe lock system, ignoring his gang member's antics. Just a little more pressure applied with the crowbar and he thinks he can get it to completely pop open. It's just hard to get a good grip, his hands slick with sweat and all; he pats his palms on the legs of his pants. He bites his upper lip as he concentrates on reasserting his hold, tasting the bitter saltiness of the sweat that he didn't wipe from his face. Daiki isn't doing a very good job of being an umbrella shade for him anymore.
Too transfixed on doing all of the work by himself, he doesn't notice when a new shadow descends upon him. Upside down, gripping a web line that lowers him into the same vicinity as the ATM robbers, is a boy clad in red and blue. Mohawk and Shades choke on their laughter, pointing at the newcomer on the scene. Daiki turns his neck back towards the bank machine to see what they're seeing. A spider themed figure waves nonchalantly, still strung in an inverted position. "Hey guys! How's it hanging?"
Daiki responds by unintelligibly screaming, full weight shuffling back with heavy stomps of his feet. The two that had been carrying on behind the giant dart in opposite directions to avoid a collision with him. Daiki slams into his mother's pickup truck instead, creating a huge indentation thanks to his body mass. His friends wince, feeling sympathy for him. "Ah.. Man…", Daiki whines when he thinks about how much trouble he's going to be in when his mom sees what he did to her vehicle.
"That bad, huh?" Two white lenses where the spider themed interloper's eyes should be narrow to convey some sort of emotion, startling the ATM burglars further. He sounds as young as he looks, small size made smaller by his poised form. However, that doesn't stop the bandit wielding the crowbar from standing up and taking a swing at the meddling pest. Lenses returning to their originally wide default state, the boy reflexively reacts to avoid being wallopped on the head.
He bounds backwards, performing a semi-somersault, before sticking his landing by literally sticking to the wall behind him. It's a shocking sight to behold, making bronzed blondie gasp in awe. Tan man does a doubletake when his crowbar is snatched away from him by a webline, sticky string fired from the red and blue boy's wrist. The spider themed problem for the crooks continues acting casual, as though one of them didn't just attempt to assault him. He asks as modestly as he is mousy, "Mind if I test out some material on you?"
Now relieved of his crowbar, the bunch's bronze leader backs up. That gives their pesky opponent more time to quip. The boy tugs on the front of his red and blue suit, elastic fabric stretching from where his gloved fingers grip the spider emblem etched into his chest. "Not this material – this is just some spare spandex I found laying around in my attic", he releases his hold on the cloth so that it snaps back to being flushed against his abdomen in a skintight fit. When none of the ATM robbers give him the decency of chuckling, at the very least, the youngster winces behind his mask; they're a tough crowd apparently.
"Yeah.. I'm no comedian..", he springs back into action when the brunette bandit rushes him. A swift spiral movement carries the spider themed boy over his challenger, before he lands gracefully behind the criminal. Despite his short stature, it doesn't take much of a punch for him to knock the crook over. A strong shove takes out the thug, flung into the brick wall where the kid had been sticking in place. "..Hence this whole vigilantism gig", the young do-gooder gestures between his handiwork and himself as though to provide an emphasis of action to his statement.
Mohawk man tears away the mouthpiece that had been covering the lower half of his face, unveiling a modified mandible. Bottom jaw unhinged to capacious proportions, a serpentine orifice full of fangs and a forked tongue sibilate a spray of verdant acid. The vigilante reacts with more common sense than anything, bounding out of the corrosive spit's projectile path. Hydrofluoric fluid splatters against the ATM, eating through the metal base with a steaming hiss. Ginger guy growls, angry that he missed. His intended target lands safely atop a street post, crouched on all fours in a poised position akin to the form he'd used while upside down earlier.
"But if you're willing to give me a chance instead of trying to kill me, I really think I might manage to get a good laugh out of you!" The boy's voice cracks as he shouts at them to stop attacking, making him grateful for the mask that's pulled over his face, his blush of embarrassment hidden so that he can keep his dignity for a while longer. Two web lines tie the mohawk member of the group to his blonde buddy, tangling them together. He ducks his head down and speaks in a lower tone of voice to avoid another spontaneous pubescent pitch adjustment, "Or I hope you'll give me one of those nose exhale things at the very least."
Daiki takes a swing next, hefty hustle easy to dodge and get under for the nimble vigilante. A fist slams into the thick hide of the giant's stomach, making the big burglar double over. "Oh! I've got one for you!", the boy spectacularly hoists the burly bandit over his head as though the man weighs no less than a body pillow, "How many criminals does it take to rob an ATM?" Daiki is given no time to answer. Instead, the colossal crook is chucked back towards his mother's pickup truck. Daiki crushes the vehicle's cargo bed when he's forced to fit via crash landing.
"Four", the vigilante places his hands on his hips as he mentally counts the number of ATM robbers he just thwarted. One lens of his mask squints as the other expands, an expression of bewilderment clear through his mask. "...Apparently…", the fact that the number was higher than one is pretty humiliating for them, come to think of it. He shakes his head, ridding himself of those distracting thoughts, as humorous as they might be. He still has a job to do. Even with the criminals defeated, he should round them all up to prevent them from trying to escape before the police arrive.
It takes just as little an amount of effort for the marvelous youth to carry each criminal as it did to render them all unconscious. After gathering the group of goons in gossamer, the boy produces a notebook seemingly out of nowhere from his pocketless spider themed spandex. Also, a pen. Somehow where that had been tucked away is more mysterious than the journal. He flips through pages full of scribbles and sketches before landing on a blank sheet. Then, he gets to work. This part is just as much fun for him as it is to trip up the bad guys. What started as a fun interest or a hobby quickly became part of his hero work – er – or rather, vigilante work.
Circling his quarry more-so than pacing, because he doesn't pace unless it's on the ceiling, the boy begins breaking down the tells of each opponent he faced. He'd be nibbling the end of his pen if not for the mask covering his mouth. Instead, he starts muttering as he performs his quirk analysis, another force of habit; the page that had been blank gradually gets filled. Starting with Daiki's clear mutational type quirk, he writes down qualities that apply to the criminal such as super strength and increased mass. Daiki's brunette buddy has a mutation as well, two elongated ears protruding from beneath the burglar's blue headband; that's a quirk that grants a heightened sense of hearing, just as blatantly obvious as the brute's giant genetics.
The bronzed blonde of the bunch is a little harder to analyze, no clear mutation to discern like his pals. Not until the vigilante sneaks a peek behind the crook's mask. A secret third eye was hidden away, albeit closed like the others. Cool … but nothing too shocking to see in a society where superpowers are passed off as a person's sense of quirkiness. Moving on to who's last but not least, the reckless youth leans in to inspect the mohawk man's venom tipped fangs. He can't help but draw a little doodle for this one. As for the ginger goon's quirk, he writes about the acidic spit he saw firsthand, adding an underline note that it's very cool for extra emphasis.
He nods, satisfied with the documentation of his fight and what he was able to take away from it. Not too shabby. Carefully so that the pages don't rip unevenly as he tears them out, the vigilante transfers his quirk analysis from the journal that he wrote in to being stuck upon his webbing. It's a perfect gift wrapping, complete with a heartfelt message and all. Only one thing remains left for him to do. Of course, he can't scurry off without scribing his signature. Etched at the bottom of the page in cursive kanji, he writes what can only be read as an autograph.
-Courtesy of your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man
A portfolio of quirk analysis lies strewn across Detective Naomasa Tsukauchi's desk. Sat upon splintered softwood in stacks, each page is written in descriptive detail. He can't help but admire every breakdown. As much as the other officers would hate to admit it, he himself has no problem thinking that it's nice to have a vigilante who does the paperwork for him for once; the heroes are usually no better than the vigilantes in that regard, even the number one head honcho himself being guilty of leaping away when the bad guys are all punched out. Spider-Man, however, truly is quite courteous. New on the scene, but somehow efficiently elusive.
Behind Tsukauchi is a dented filing cabinet. It's full of past cases. A good margin pertains to previous vigilante activities. This one, however, is presenting itself a little differently than when The Crawler or Knuckleduster were operative. Spider-Man doesn't wait for heroes to arrive and assist him nor does he brutalize anybody. It's no use dwelling on past experience or comparing unlicensed good-doers. As close as he'll get going simply off presumption is that Spider-Man might share Crawler's knack for sticking to walls. He doubts the vigilante is a rare quirkless case.
Light seeps in through the slits of his window shades as the sun sets outside, cascading his office in shadows. Tsukauchi leans back, allowing the back of his cushioned chair to bend and give him a comfortable position. It's private moments like these that he's able to conduct his best investigative thinking. Many might assume a detective goes around tailing people in a tan overcoat like the one he has hung up across from him, and while that might occasionally be what he actually does, it's also a lot of this. Silence. Thoughts. Mulling over the facts to get to the truth of the investigation.
So let's start with what he knows. Spider-Man isn't actually a MAN per say; if Tsukauchi were a gambler, he'd dare to wager that the vigilante is a boy that's just begun puberty. While the quirk analysis is composed at a scholar's level of expertise, the handwriting has the sloppiness of a teenager more accustomed to typing on their phone or computer. Not to mention, the gang of ATM thieves that were busted had lied about Spider-Man being twice their size with a deep intimidating voice. The group of petty crooks were embarrassed to have been bested by a kid and did a poor job of hiding that shame.
Secondly, Spider-Man must be based somewhere within the Shizuoka Prefecture. A majority of the vigilante's movements revolve around the Musutafu area in particular, with sporadic stretches of criminal catches in that same region. It's a location home to many schools though, the top hero school in the nation a part of that long list, so it's not like this deduction does much to narrow down where the kid attends classes. Still. A couple more patrol cars and a few favors from heroes to also comb the streets wouldn't be a bad idea. It's not exactly a crime ridden place to have been a point of interest before, so the detective really has to hand it to the vigilante yet again; Spider-Man wasn't kidding about the neighborhood part of his cheeky signature.
Tsukauchi brings a hand up to his chin, thumb pressing into the crook of his jaw and index finger placed upon his upper lip. He holds that pose as he muses other plausibilities. There's not many that get to cycle through his mind before his office door swings open; a dent is beginning to form from where the handle slams into the wall. Of course, out of all his co-workers who enter unannounced without the generosity of knocking first, he's not surprised to see Sansa Tamakawa is the one responsible this time … not to mention all the other times.
"Hello every~nyan!" Tamakawa's tabby mutation gives him a ginger cat's head, his miniature muzzle moving like an ordinary mouth. His whiskers wobble as he speaks in broken english, "How are you? Fine! Thank you!", and Tsukauchi can't help but slide his hand up from his chin to palm his face when he hears Tamakawa answering his own question. The off duty cop ditched his uniform for a floral printed shirt and shorts. To top it all off, Tamakawa is wearing crocs and not sandals, mismatching the outfit.
"Oh my God…", Tsukauchi drags his internal groan up from deep within his throat until it leaves his mouth externally. "Please don't subject the rest of us to your shenanigans just because you're going on vacation to America for the summer", the detective reaches for one of his desk's drawers before remembering he's not an alcoholic and doesn't keep a liquor bottle or flask stored there. His hand hesitates before it settles for grabbing a mug full of lukewarm coffee, forgotten from this morning, but still guaranteed to hit the spot if the cup's printed kanji of 'Don't bother me until I've had my caffeine!' is true; this particular mug is actually a gift from Tamakawa, by the way.
Not without laughing first, the cat-like cop steps deeper into Tsukauchi's office, taking his co-worker's comment as an invitation to do so. "You look like you could use a vacation of your own", Tamakawa smirks as much as his snout will allow. The officer's humored look meets the detective's withered stare. Then Tamakawa's eyes are drawn down to the papers littered across Tsukauchi's desk. His whiskers wobble as his smile falters but he asks anyways, "Whatcha working on there?"
Tsukauchi lowers his mug from his lips long enough to grumble, "There ain't no rest for the weary so long as there ain't no rest for the wicked", before downing the last of its remains. Considering Spider-Man helped with the quirk analysis though … Maybe wicked is a poor choice of words to describe the vigilante. Spider-Man is no Knuckleduster and he's certainly not bloodthirsty like Stendhal. Still, this particular problem poses a challenge of its own. "There's some kid about to get into things way over his head", is the best summarization of the situation that he can muster.
Tamakawa responds with what sounds like a cross between purring and humming. He paws at the papers atop the desk with his grubby mitts, inspecting them closer. Crocidolite cat eyes dilate when they skim through what's written. "A kid wrote these?", he sputters with disbelief as he glances between the quirk analysis and Tsukauchi. It then crosses the officer's mind just what these breakdowns are derived from; a child through firsthand field experience wrote these. It's not like Tsukauchi to pull pranks but Tamakawa is ready for a punchline by this point.
"We haven't dealt with a vigilante this young before", the detective agrees with his co-worker's skepticism to a certain extent but still feels inclined to defend himself and his findings, "Although … It shouldn't come too much as a shock that our new gen children would do such in our quirked era where society idolizes heroes…" He considers himself and the government lucky that this sorta thing didn't happen sooner actually. Unlicensed quirk defense occurs regularly every day; there are more cases where police get involved with illegal quirk usage than actual criminal activity.
Tamakawa shakes his head, making a noise of disbelief that's just short of him choking on a hairball. "Whatever happened to playing cops and robbers?", his ears droop down when he thinks about the rules and regulations that basically made police a less than glorified cleanup crew for the real professionals, "I used to play heroes and villains while growing up too but kids these days are really something else" It's not like Tamakawa could've made it into U.A with a quirk that only gives him a tabby's attributes, but this Spider-Man fellow seems more than adept enough to apply for a hero course. Or rather, the force could use an individual such as this if he'd like to be Spider-COP.
Tsukauchi can't help but share a similar sentiment. He ponders that part of the mystery a little bit; Spider-Man's motives may be a little more than simply living an amazing fantasy. He blinks back to being aware of Tamakawa idling at his desk, clearing his throat while regathering his thoughts. "Eraserhead has a strange way with kids that I was thinking about getting him involved", the detective actually already left three texts and a voicemail telling the underground hero to get back to him but he thinks better of himself to disclose that information, "It'll do the department some good by keeping good relations with the heroes. At the very least."
"Ah, man! Not Eraserhead!", Tamakawa strikes a dramatic pose in which one hand is placed over his heart while the other rests atop his furry forehead. A particular harrowing memory of when the underground hero tried to pet him makes the cop further slink down. "When he's not treating me like a kitten, the guy's a total stick in the mud!", Tamakawa can already feel his fuzz bristling into a case of piloerection and that's just from THINKING about sharing the same room space as Eraserhead. There was a time when he found the brooding types cool and mysterious but now he knows better; it's true what they say that you should never meet your heroes.
Tsukauchi struggles to keep a smirk from stretching across his face. As amusing as it is to imagine another instance in which he gets to see the cat loving underground hero interact with his tabby quirked partner, he has to force down that mischievous side of himself and focus on doing his job. He rolls his eyes at Tamakawa's antics before brushing them off, "It should go without mentioning that Eraserhead was a huge help when it came to prior vigilante cases – this thing is sorta his area of expertise by now…" Considering how those cases turned out, that'd be putting the past lightly; the underground hero should be more than well equipped to aid in the investigation of Spider-Man.
"You have fun with that", Tamakawa's voice is laced with sarcasm but his body language tells a different story. Tsukauchi doesn't need his lie detecting quirk to know that he's convinced his co-worker that he's right about bringing the underground hero into the fold. Nevertheless, Tamakawa feigns a somber sigh while backing away from the detective's paper patterned desk. "I'll be having real fun on some american beach across the ocean", he bids his friend farewell with a mock salute just as he ducks himself out of the room. The squeak of his crocs pedaling him through the doorway follows suit.
Tsukauchi can't fight down that pesky smile anymore, not that he has to worry about anybody seeing it now anyways. He waves goodbye despite Tamakawa not being there to witness the gesture. While the cat-like cop may be out of view, he isn't completely out of earshot quite yet. The detective raises his voice ever so slightly to call after the officer, "Just don't treat the sand there like kitty litter!"
Muffled, but only a little because of how thin the precinct's walls are, Tamakawa shouts back. "I resent that!", his whine carries over from however far he got with every receding squeak of his crocs. Thanks to Tsukauchi's quirk, he knows that his friend doesn't truly mean that. But again, he didn't really need his power to confirm it. He could hear the smile in Tamakawa's tone. It's probably just as broad as his own.
Gloved fingers curl under a window sill, carefully raising it up so that it slides open without so much as a squeak. When the lower sash is lifted halfway, through the narrow aperture crawls a boy adorned in red and blue spandex. He stealthily creeps atop the ceiling of an unlit bedroom, moving along on all fours from an inverted angle. When the boy is far enough away from the opening in which he entered, he extends his leg to nudge the window down in order for it to close behind him. It slides shut as quietly as it was raised. A quick left and right glance to ensure nobody saw him comes much too late, but he's able to breathe a sigh of relief since it didn't cost him getting caught.
He slowly turns himself to be upright, still clinging to the ceiling of the room with one hand. Once his feet are lowered close enough to nearly be touching the bed below him, he allows his fingers to stop sticking to the roof. The sneaky spider themed vigilante lands on the All Might blanketed mattress, springs creaking ever so slightly; the lenses of his mask squeeze into narrow slithers as he winces, body tensing under the stress of his nerves. He pauses, staying as still as humanly physically possible. After waiting for a moment, holding his breath and listening closely in case he hears anyone else's, he trusts his senses that he can proceed with stepping down from the bed.
Spider-Man grabs the back of his mask, giving it a good tug so that it slips off of his face. The freckled features of fourteen year old Izuku Midoriya are exposed to the air conditioned environment; the boy's mop of fluffy hair puffs out upon being freed of its confinement, green curls twisting up and down at odd angles as an unruly mess. His toned torso stretches as he stands a little straighter, he comes to his full height but it's still rather short for his age. He really is only a kid, circular eyes stretched wide as watery and innocent as they can be, his irises as green as his hair gaze out at all of his bedroom's hero memorabilia.
Decorating all four corners of his room are posters of the number one hero, a clock and a door sign sharing the same design. Even the color scheme of the paint on the walls match All Might's costume. He looks down at his own suit, the red and blue pattern inspired by the symbol of peace's outfit. Iterations of All Might's wardrobe are on display across mounted shelves via collectable action figurines and miniature models; Golden Age, Silver Age, Bronze Age, you name the version and he has a variant so long as it exists. He has no need for an altar to perform any hero worship to his idol considering the entire bedroom itself may as well be a shrine dedicated to the symbol of peace.
Each corner of Izuku's mouth turns upwards as he looks from poster to statue, all of them share All Might's signature smile that he can't help mimicking a similar toothy grin. Sure, it's not an expression he can show with a mask on, but that doesn't mean it doesn't still hold a powerful purpose. All Might keeps a rictus grin plastered on his face 24/7 to assure civilians he has everything under control; he always puts them at ease, a quality Izuku admires and always wanted to share as his own hero by saving people with a smile too. Well, with a secret identity to keep, he wound up having to find an alternative route. All Might's sidekick, though always having a constant sourpuss expression by contrast to his partner, made up for his part by cracking jokes. Izuku decided to borrow Sir Nighteye's quality and try cracking quips as Spider-Man.
Considering the reception he got from those ATM robbers, his material could probably still use a little work. He shrugs it off, thinking he can make up for it by getting a notebook to jot jokes in like he does with his hero analysis. It's harder than he thought to come up with stuff on the fly. It's not like the quips can't write themselves in particular situations, and talking does sometimes come easy when he's scared or anxious, but there's a difference between cringe humor and what he hopes will alleviate panic in anyone that he's saving. There's still a lot to this hero jig that he needs to figure out. Or, well, vigilante hobby is more like it. But those details aren't important. That's what he tells himself anyways.
Izuku removes his web shooters, metal armbands light enough to tuck under his bed where he can web them away for safekeeping. It sure would be more convenient if his webbing were organic when it comes to this part of the whole secret identity thing. It'd also be a whole heck of a lot cheaper too; he's been running low on allowance when it comes to the ingredients to make more of his web fluid formula but he can't bring himself to ask for more money. Not to mention, he's having a hard time coming up with excuses and lies to maintain this secret, so bringing up his allowance is only bound to do him more harm than good when it comes to that. He sighs, checking the drawers of his desk to see what remains of his supply. A couple of cartridges wait on standby; it's enough for him to make due with for another week.
Now for the spectacular Spider-Man's next big decision. He must contemplate whether he'll swap his current onesie for a pair of pajamas. The spandex may as well be a pair of lightweight long johns already. Then again, he has to keep it hidden from his mom, so… Yeah, the whole secret identity thing. Izuku keeps his suit on but pulls a pair of sweatpants to his waist and then grabs an oversized long sleeve shirt to wear over it. Sometimes compromises must be made and he figures this makes for a good middle ground. Look, he has no problem convincing himself that it makes for a time saver whenever he needs to do quick transitions between his alter ego. This isn't lazy. It's actually assiduous if anything.
The boy stops, nostrils flaring as he suddenly catches a whiff of pork and eggs. That aforementioned toothy grin of his not only returns but grows tenfold. Afterall, he can't be expected to be energized without some proper nourishment; a self proclaimed superhero has gotta eat and he's been operating on an empty stomach all day. Izuku finishes hiding his vigilante gear before eagerly heading downstairs for his mother's katsudon. The wooden handle bar mounted above each step makes for a nifty little railing system to slide down in order to get there faster. Spider abilities or not, that's always been a fun way to reach the living room. Though he is forced to walk the rest of the way to the kitchen from there.
He does a little waltz from carpet to tile, finding the source of dinner's alluring aroma. Inko Midoriya stirs rice in a frying pan above her oven top, simultaneously seasoning a tray of pork. She's humming to what sounds like the tune of 'the itsy bitsy spider' but Izuku doesn't have the ear for recognizing songs to know for sure; he brushes it off as his imagination since that'd be way too much of a coincidence for his liking. When he gets close enough to wrap his arms around the chubby woman, he pulls her into a hug from behind. "Hey mom!", his sudden greeting is unexpected enough to warrant a small jump though.
Inko places a hand over her heart, startled. However, that surprise passes and she quickly recovers. She begins matching her son's energy with equal elation to see him, returning Izuku's warm embrace. "Oh, Izuku, I didn't hear you come in!" Her hair, green genetics passed down to her son, is pulled up and tied into a bun; until she undoes the bobby pin and lets it fall free. Next comes her pink apron, the woman tossing it so that it lands atop a cabinet. She turns the oven off, finished cooking.
Izuku doesn't have to be told or asked anything, he starts grabbing silverware to set the table for supper. Besides, he figures he owes his mother that much. "Sorry for not giving you a heads up", and his apology is sincere even if he doesn't bow. A couple of cups with some plates are set out as he mulls over what to say. "I was–", but there is a considerable amount of overlap for him to pause when contemplating an excuse for his vigilante activities, "-out writing some quirk analysis" Well … That's technically not a lie.
A soft smile etches its way across Inko's lips. That reason for tardiness sounds like her son well enough; it's an excuse befitting of the one that she raised and watched grow into a teenager. "I figured as much", her tender tone holds no anger but rather complete acceptance and understanding. The little boy she knows lived a sheltered lifestyle; he was a quirkless kid in a quirk filled society, so he took up analyzing the powers he himself didn't have and so very much admired. For all she knows, he's stayed exactly the same. "Just be sure to text me next time", her only caveat if that's to remain the case is that he doesn't make her worry anymore than she already does.
If she only knew the truth. That he's got a 'quirk' of his own now. She'd be worried sick. Izuku returns her smile, albeit his is a tad strained. He can't let her know. He knows she wouldn't be able to handle the stress. "You've got it", so he lies instead. It's the only way to put her at ease. After what happened … Izuku refuses to put her through any more emotional turmoil. His eyes water as he recalls a particularly harrowing memory. That was tough on them both. The boy blinks his brimming tears away to get his eyes out of their glossy state before his mom can notice. If he starts crying then he knows he'll never hear the end of it and that'd be just as bad as her finding out that he's Spider-Man.
"So! Do you wanna tell me about some of the quirks you saw? Any interesting ones?", it's fortunately not so hard to postpone his angst and brooding when his mom has a knack for cheering him up. Inko serves her famous katsudon dish while letting her son launch into a quirk otaku rambling. It's times like these that Izuku doesn't think things can get any better.
"Heck yeah!", the boy shovels a spoonful of rice to munch on. Some bits fly out of his mouth as he chews and talks with it open, "There was one that could spit acid–", a demonstration of his own version mimicked with whatever food he doesn't swallow. "And another that made the guy huuuuge–", his next visualization is spreading his hands out wide to convey a semblance of width. It's all in good fun, nerding out completely with an overstimulated sense of excitement, but it can sometimes be a bit much even for Inko.
She delicately disrupts his spiel with a slow raising hand. Izuku's words trail off when he notices the movement, his eyes following the gesture as she then points to his napkin. "Izuku, sweetie, don't forget your manners" It's not so much a reprimanding as it is a reminder. Even so, the boy bashfully shrinks in on himself as he blushes from embarrassment. He dabs at the sauce smeared across his mouth and collects the crumbs that got on the table.
"Sorry, mom…" He realizes he got a little carried away. Time to reign it in a bit. "They all had some type of mutation, like, there was another guy with super tall ears or a dude with a third eye – so it was kinda hard not to notice what their quirks were – oh, did I mention that the acid spitting guy had fangs like a snake? He had a forked tongue and everything! Now that I think about it, I should've looked to see if he had scales on his skin or not – I mean, the big guy had blubber with his mutation so it's not that theoretically impossible – which can only mean I might have not noticed something about those other two either… OhnowhatifImissedanimportantdetailinmyquirkanalysisthatwouldhavebeencrucialtounderstandingtheirabilitiesandnowmymistakewill–" Oh. Whoops. That wasn't reigning it in at all. As a matter of fact, he would have probably kept going if he didn't have to stop in order to breathe.
Inko laughs at her son's antics, a small shake of her head not so much due to disbelief but because of how uncanny those ramblings always are. "Oh my!" She picks at her plate of katsudon before stabbing a piece of pork and putting it in her mouth. "That sure sounds exciting, dear. I'm just glad that you had a good time", the food is as sweet as her son's smile and it's times like these that Inko doesn't think things can get any better.
Izuku feeds himself a hearty portion of eggs, making sure to chew it completely and swallow, before shifting the conversation in a slightly different direction. "How was your day?", he doesn't just ask her to be polite but does so with genuine sincerity and curiosity. Inko occasionally has interesting stories from work to share, some involving cool quirks customers have. He has a sip of water, listening intently just in case there's something he doesn't want to miss.
Inko falters, nearly choking on her food. Izuku stops when he sees this, but pretends not to notice. He instead follows her gaze that's casting itself to the side now to discover the source of her disgruntled behavior. It's his turn to swallow hard on katsudon when he discovers a stack of overdue bills hidden atop the fridge. It's no wonder that she's hiding them from him, he guesses that she shares the same sentiment he has as Spider-Man with not wanting her to worry, but it still comes as a harsh reality check. It's been hard on her ever since she was widowed, in more ways than one. Paying everything alone in this economy is next to impossible.
Inko clears her throat, readjusting her smile to remain intact. "It was just your run of the mill kinda day", she shrugs nonchalantly in an attempt to disregard the question as a topic altogether. Izuku opens his mouth to push the matter further but closes it just as promptly, thinking better of himself. If she wants to keep the bills to herself, then he'll leave it alone for now; Izuku figures, or can only hope, that she'll tell him on her own eventually.
The boy gathers another mouthful of katsudon on his plate as he mulls things over in his head. "I've been thinking about getting a summer job", it's not like he can't make subliminal suggestions to help out though. Okay, that may not have been the most subtle approach, but… "I need to start thinking about what my future career will be and it's probably a good idea to build my resume", he smooths out the rough edges of his proposal while also spreading sauce on his pork, "It's not the worst idea – Right?"
Though shocked by the suddenness of this suggestion, "I think that's a wonderful idea", Inko is as supportive as ever with her son's decision. She wouldn't ever say it aloud, but it's a relief to hear he's beginning to think realistically about getting a job. Izuku has always wanted to be a hero from toddler to tween, but the odds of that happening plummeted when he was diagnosed as quirkless. She's not aware of his vigilante activities or his newfound abilities that help him do them, but even if she were, this is the safest course of action for her son that she would like for him to take. "Any particular places you would like to look at?", she asks for more details in order to encourage him further on this promising path.
"Uuuhh…", he hadn't really thought that far ahead since this whole thing was a spur of the moment conceptualization but he can't let his mom know that; so he goes with the first thing that pops into his head, "Pizza!" There's a coupon magnetized to the fridge right under the bills up top that his eyes land on, helping him come to a rational conclusion. "I'll be a pizza delivery boy", because that's the type of heroic service that this world needs and only someone with spider powers can do it. Izuku inwardly groans but accepts that there's no going back now that he's already suggested the job.
"Oh", Inko sounds just about as thrilled but runs with it anyways, "We all start somewhere! Why not?" Just once, Izuku would like for her to go without the overly supportive parenting. It's not like he could make it as a scientist somewhere just yet, but he also hadn't really considered turning Spider-Man into a mascot for pizza. He can already hear the new slogan in his head now: 'Nobody out pizzas the spider!' Okay, it's a work in progress, but you get the idea. Then again, his mom needs financial support, and if that means slinging pizzas instead of swinging crooks, then so be it.
Izuku's silverware nearly falls out of his hands when his phone suddenly vibrates against his leg. While what he's dubbed as 'Spider-Sense' warns against incoming danger, it sadly doesn't prevent him from being scared or surprised by other things. He plucks the cellular device from his pocket to see what all the buzz is about. Thanks to the Midoriya Household's monthly subscription to the Hero Feed App, Izuku is always notified when there's some sort of hero related activity going on – or, alternatively, villain activity. Crime alerts are to let civilians know which places to avoid, but for a certain wall crawling vigilante, those can sometimes be places of interest.
"Izuku", Inko's voice startles the boy so much that he comes closer to dropping his phone more than he did his silverware. Darn Spider-Sense, it's never useful when he most needs it. Especially since his mother is fixing him with a look that may as well be a death glare. Seriously, Izuku could've sworn this was some sort of danger sense meant to alert him when his life is at risk. "No cellphones at the dinner table", Inko gestures with the prongs on her fork for him to put it away before stabbing a piece of pork to emphasize her point, "Manners. Remember?"
"Sorry", Izuku agrees to stop scrolling through Hero Feed with little to no argument. Not without taking a quick glance at the latest news report though. The top story pertains to some criminal that's been posting their crimes as YouTube videos. Mostly misdemeanors and pranks bordering the line of the law. Nevertheless, a villain garnering an audience that supports these types of activities so long as they remain unpunished is proving to be a problem for hero society. If Izuku wanted to attract attention, he wouldn't have worn a mask, but maybe this is something Spider-Man can help with.
In the meantime, he puts his phone away like he was told and enjoys some quality time having dinner with his mom.
A collection of lights, all of them in the shape of four sided boxes, bleed a blue hue into an otherwise vantablack environment. They're computer monitors. Hero Feed, YouTube, blogs, anything and everything of interest to the woman viewing them is distributed to individually designated screens. All of social media is at her fingertips as she uses one hand to tap at a single keyboard and the other to hold a cup of tea to her lips. Within the dimness of the dark, she stews and she schemes. She is Manami Aiba, and she is the internet personality known as the dastardly delicious Screwball.
The namesake wasn't decided out of her own will, but rather it was an alias given to her from the authorities and internet trolls; though it has admittedly somehow become fitting for her on screen character after a while. She even went as far as to design her costume to further sell the gimmick; her vibrant vermillion hair is always made into pigtails, as flashy and bright as her stark white costume with patterns of pink mixed in. It's all to grow her audience in pursuit of a single goal, in order to turn her dream into reality. She figures if she can make a big enough name for herself, then she'll be able to gain the attention of the criminal vlogger that inspired her to begin with and maybe even perform a collab together. A monitor separate from all of the others displays Gentle Criminal and his own villainous videos; he's her idol and he makes her swoon.
Switching her sights to a screen that shows the view count on her latest post makes her sigh. The number is fine but it needs to be higher. Making Best Jeanist split his pants and covering Fat Gum in Dubble Bubble proved to be funny but they just aren't good enough of pranks to sell her brand. Gentle Criminal actually pulls heists and brings an extravagant elegance to his videos. Manami is missing that and she knows it. She needs to come up with something big for Screwball to screw up. She needs to orchestrate a huge event to guarantee her publicity. Even better, Manami decides that whatever she ends up doing, it will have to be done LIVE.
The self proclaim to fame will be a hell of a lot easier if she ups the ante. A couple of searches on the dark web to hide her cyber trail and another tea packet later, she starts putting together something a little more concrete. The woman has a knack for hacking but that's not all that will come in handy for this villainous scheme. She also has a brain inside that head of hers, contrary to her namesake as a internet star; she has a brain smart enough to hardwire and engineer all sorts of other fancy technological gadgets. Some camera mounted drones ought to do her live stream some good. As well as … 'fireworks' … for an explosive finale.
Manami giggles to herself, delighted that a plan is finally starting to formulate. Working out the details and applying finishing touches can wait though. She's uploaded her video but now Gentle Criminal is about to upload his. The redhead has already gone through two cups of tea but she makes room for a third. There's also no watching YouTube without a snack either. Everything must be perfect. She munches on caramelized almonds, taking care not to chew on them too loudly so that the crunches don't overlap with Gentle Criminal's voice. She wonders if her fellow villain vlogger's lips taste as good as her treat. The thought alone makes the woman's cheeks burn bright a red as her pigtails.
Soon, she will show him and the world just how great they can be together.
Frayed sneakers scuff a series of steps, retracing footprints down the Midoriya Residence's small perron. Izuku hops the last stoop of the staircase just as he's about to reach the bottom, shoes smacking the cement path beyond. The ol reliable reds are so worn and old that they may as well be tossed out with the trash bag that the boy is carrying with him, but he can't bring himself to part ways with his shoes for sentimental sake. It's not like he needs fancy slippers or anything of that sort to take out the garbage anyways. Well, he does wear them routinely and recreationally but that's beside the point. If they've carried him this far and they can keep taking him further than they may as well stick around. Pun unintended. Kinda. The soles seeping out do allow his spider-like ability to cling to surfaces a little more leeway with these particular sneakers.
Izuku catches the front of his foot on a cracked part of the cement path, nearly tripping. That's completely unrelated to his shoes being old though. They're still completely reliable; only if you ask him and not his mother, but … that's just because he forgot to pay attention to where he was walking. Which is to the neighborhood dumpster. Right. No running off to do some Spider-Man-ing because he can hear sirens in the distance. Izuku pauses, staring off in the direction in which he can see the red and blue lights of a police cruiser. He watches and waits. Spider-Sense is an attribute to his 'quirk' that may not help with moms but in the case of criminals, that's a little different. Except, the cop car is only pulling somebody over for speeding. It's a false alarm. Izuku releases a breath that he didn't realize he was holding. Spider-Man isn't needed for writing up tickets; not yet, at least.
Continuing on his merry way, the off duty vigilante can't help but smile at the notion; imagining a peaked cap and aviator sunglasses added to his mask, maybe even a mustache. It's enough to make him consider such a career path. It would beat being a pizza delivery boy. Maybe that won't be so bad either though. It's hard to really know anymore. Izuku just wants to enjoy his stroll through the neighborhood. He does enough overthinking while web swinging. He doesn't need to do it while getting his steps in too. The rest of the way is a short walk, so Izuku allows himself that much time to let his mind go blank for a bit. For the remainder of the trip, it's solely silence in that head of his. Until he recalls a song's beat but not its lyrics, making him brainstorm like crazy in an effort to remember them.
Izuku shakes his head, reorganizing his thoughts. He's made it to the dumpster now. A little spider strength to throw his trash bag over oughta do the trick. His old quirkless scrawny self couldn't throw a ball through a hoop to save his life, but now this sorta thing comes easy. Strangely, seconds later, a second garbage bag joins his. It's a little more than simple deja vu though. He pivots on his heel, spinning himself around to see somebody else disposing of their junk. Not just anyone though. A girl. A pretty girl. Izuku's Spider-Sense took the day off apparently; this is the sort of stuff that he'd like to get a warning for.
Her hair is as radiant an orange color as the sunset behind her, a natural glow of the lowering light highlighting the way it's done into a ponytail. Then there's her face and how it's illuminated in a way that brings out the teal tone of her eyes. Izuku snaps out of his dazed demeanor, realizing that she's been saying something to him this whole time. "It's nice to see people around here still throw their stuff out where it's supposed to go instead of just on the beach", she shows him a perfect set of teeth with a bright smile that's possibly more blinding than the sun. Izuku refrains from smacking his cheeks to get himself together. He focuses on what she's saying and not her looks. Oh, she's wearing a pair of work gloves. He really needs to focus better. But it's thanks to those gloves that It finally clicks in his head what she was talking about and where they're at.
"Y- You're t- talking about T-Takoba?", Izuku can't help but stutter when talking to a pretty girl his age. He tries thinking about the beach that they're referring to in order to distract himself from her b- b- b- — beauty — he was going to think about her beauty. It helps a little. The sandy spot became a junkyard after years of dumping and pollution. Nobody dares swim there anymore. "It's a shame what happened to it", he vaguely remembers a time when he'd build sandcastles there as a kid, "Summer would've been a great time to go there too."
"Yeah", the girl agrees wholeheartedly if her distant gaze and somber smile are anything to go by. She pulls her work gloves off, tucking them into the back of her pants' waistline. When she holds out one of her hands, it takes a second for Izuku to understand that she's performing an American gesture of greeting. "I'm Itsuka Kendo", she introduces herself when he accepts the handshake. "I've actually been working on trying to clean the place up a bit", and he can't help but admire her more when he feels calluses instead of smooth skin as a result of that tough labor.
"Izuku Midoriya", he shares his own name before allowing himself to gush a little, "Wow! You've been clearing that junk out all by yourself? That's incredible!" He calls himself the friendly neighborhood wallcrawler but he hadn't even considered doing community service until now. Spider-Man collecting recyclables and sweeping sidewalks isn't as silly as delivering pizzas. It's not a bad idea. Even All Might occasionally stops to help seniors across streets sometimes.
"It's no big deal", Itsuka proves herself to be humble about it all when she waves Izuku's praise aside. It's like each second spent with this girl only raises the boy's admiration for her. Especially when it comes to what she says next. "It's part of my training to get into U.A", Itsuka may as well have dropped a bomb on Izuku's head the way that his mind is blown. She says it so casually but that particular tidbit of information means the world to him.
"You're trying for U.A?!", Izuku can't contain a shout of sheer shock. There may not be any in the sky just yet but there are stars twinkling in his eyes. "You must have an amazing quirk if you think you can get in", a notebook has already spawned out of thin air and landed in his hands like the Death Note when he begins mulling over the possibilities of what Itsuka's quirk can be.
"Well", Itsuka gets the hint and obliges by inflating each of her hands, "Super sizing my fists can make them pack a better punch" Izuku's own hands move at a pace that might make someone believe his quirk is superspeed; he's already filled three pages with theories and analysis. Itsuka waits for him to finish writing before adding as an afterthought, "My strength is also enhanced when I make them grow – though that's a skill I only recently discovered while cleaning up Takoba."
"That's so cool!", Izuku beams with an unprecedented amount of joy that Itsuka is somewhat taken back. "There's no doubt in my mind that you'll be able to get in", and his awe just keeps bursting forth. If she's not careful, the girl can get radiation poisoning from how much brightness the boy is emitting. A light blush appears on her cheeks when she sees the way that he's looking at her.
"Thanks", Itsuka feigns a cough into one of her enlarged fists to clear her blush more than her throat; then her hands return to their ordinary size so that they can rest on her hips. "I'll be honest, I don't really know what I'd do if I didn't", the redhead's gaze moves to her feet when she considers the possibility of not meeting the expectations that have been placed upon her.
"Yeah", Izuku can't help but relate when recalling his own dream to attend U.A's hero program, "I can understand that" He finds himself staring down at his feet too; the aged set of shoes he chose to wear stare back. "But, hey, you should be already thinking about your hero name if that's the case", he offers Itsuka an encouraging smile when lifting his head back up.
She returns the expression, "Fair point", successfully cheered up. "I actually already decided though", Itsuka flexes one of her hands before fully clenching it, "I WAS gonna go with Battle Fist but after–" Her lapse in speech lasts a second too long before she readjusts her sentence, "I changed my mind to go with Mighty Jab now."
"Mighty… ?", Izuku lingers on the girl's hero name more than the pause that came before it. If he were a clockwork machine, the gears would be spinning. "Is that inspired by All Might?!", he's back to being overly excited again but he can't help himself when it comes to the number one hero.
"No!", Itsuka answers a little too hastily. She backpedals, "I- I mean- …Maybe… Yes", wincing with each change to her response. She had been way too forceful to start but now she's not nearly resolute enough. The girl wants nothing more than to bury her face in her hands at this very moment.
But Izuku doesn't notice her consternation in the slightest, still stuck on the symbol of peace being her inspiration. "That's awesome! I love All Might too! Well, everybody loves All Might, but I'm super inspired by him in the same way that I thought about calling myself Small Might as a sidekick or Mighty Man when I'm older or–", he cuts himself off when he realizes he's rambling and that Itsuka is staring at him with eyes as wide as saucers, "Sorry."
"No! No! It's okay! I just didn't expect to meet an All Might super fan", she laughs it off much to Izuku's relief. She's rather relieved herself, a drop of sweat sliding down the side of her head before she flicks it away. "I wonder how he'd react", she speaks as though she knows the man personally but hides it well.
Considering the judgment Izuku received from his childhood friend turned bully and his other peers, there's already an assumption in his mind of how his idol would react. "He'd probably be creeped out", the rational conclusion is pretty obvious when he thinks about how his bedroom could be turned into an All Might Museum. Otaku is a term that comes to mind but that'd be putting it lightly.
"I wouldn't say that", but Itsuka quells his inner turmoil by saying otherwise. Hey, if a pretty girl says something, then it must be true. Izuku feels his cheeks heating up. They only burn brighter when she tacks on, "It's kinda cute", turning the boy's face from ruby to rose in terms of red. He can't believe that he's actually been holding a full conversation with her once he's reminded that they're the opposite sex.
"C- Cute… ?", his brain short circuits as though it's run by wired electricity. He's back to stuttering again. He can't formulate a coherent sentence anymore. Izuku can feel his hands getting sweaty; he pats them on his pants legs in an effort to dry them.
"Well, it was nice meeting you, Midoriya. But I gotta get going. Hope to see you around", he's spared by some miracle that she's ready to end their conversation now that he's lost his ability to speak. Itsuka waves as she starts to part ways with him.
Realizing that he's just standing there like a fool without returning the gesture or saying anything back, he forces himself to blurt something out. "Y- Yeah! Y- You too!", he's still stuttering but it's better than nothing. No, he can do even better. He steels himself, trying for a better farewell, "Good luck on the U.A Entrance Exam, MJ!"
Itsuka stops short, glancing back at him with a perturbed look on her face. "MJ?", she raises her eyebrows inquisitively.
"Oh – I- It's short … f- for Mighty Jab", Izuku cringes when he says it aloud. He'll have to leave the nicknames to his bully, even if the kanji in Izuku being read as Deku to mean useless is rather mean, he has to admit that it's way more clever than how he came up with 'MJ'. He bows in order to apologize, "Sorry! I just thought–"
"I like it", but Itsuka gives the nickname a huge thumbs up. Izuku slowly stands up straight, stupefied. Her smile flares with the sunset. A boy can easily get mesmerized by a girl as gorgeous as she is. "Bye!", but he doesn't get to stare for much longer since she's trotting over the hill to leave now.
"B- Bye…", Izuku is left breathless as he exhales.
He really does hope that he'll get to see her again. Then again, it's much more likely with his typical luck that he'll be seeing Screwball as Spider-Man first.
AUTHOR NOTES
I've returned - with yet another MHA fanfiction! And like my previous fanfics, this one too will be mixing & meshing stuff with the MHA world. This time, it's Spidey. I know, I know. There's more than enough SpiderDeku stories out there and I could have done literally anything else. But I couldn't help myself. I had all these ideas of what I could do and it's now a thing I'm writing. So, here we are, for better or for worse.
If you're familiar with my BatDeku stories, ChainsawDeku story, or GhoulDeku story, then you probably already have a good idea of what this one will be like in terms of how I'll be blending the Spider-Man mythos with the My Hero Academia one. If you haven't read any of those, then I humbly request that you do and/or stick around anyways to figure out my style.
That being said, you otherwise know the drill. I appreciate any and all comments & feedback and will do my best to keep up with them as you keep up with me. Looking forward to getting those as much as I hope you are the next chapter!
-Courtesy of your friendly neighborhood author!