Took a little while longer than I hoped, but it's done now. As ever, I hope you enjoy.
Continuing his streak of relatively sensible actions, Izuku immediately backed away from the two villains and towards the edge of the roof. They both turned, Shigaraki pointing a threatening finger at him.
"Don't run away," the man rasped, his voice a paper-thin whisper through his damaged throat, "We're not done yet."
"Don't turn your back on me, Tomura Shigaraki," Stain ordered, his voice hard-edged with murderous intent. Shigaraki stopped, his head tilting as though he was exhausted. Izuku sized him up, noting the wound on his right shoulder. It was narrow but looked deep, and Shigaraki was clearly favouring the arm. Izuku knew what a knife wound looked like. And, wonder of wonders, Stain was just festooned with blades that could have caused such an injury. That was interesting.
Shinsou was quietly panicking in his ear, but Izuku shut him out in favour of devoting almost all his attention to the two men in front of him. Even a second of distraction could be fatal here. The knife wound was a clear weakness in Shigaraki, providing he was willing to exploit it. Was he willing to? Was he prepared to plunge his fingers into the injury, tear it open in a gout of blood and bone and gobbets of raw meat?
Stupid question. Of course he was. If it meant survival Izuku was ready to claw, kick and bite his way through anything that stood before him. Shigaraki certainly wasn't an exception. At least he had a clear weakness- Izuku had a feeling that Stain wouldn't be so easy in that regard.
"Listen, Hero Killer," Shigaraki said, his voice barely rising from that harsh whisper- Izuku was definitely leaning towards permanent damage to his voice at this point- "I understand. You're a boss I have to take down to progress. But this kid here…he's more of a recurring miniboss. So if you'll wait until I finish this objective, I'll get onto you."
Izuku continued to subtly retreat, towards the edge of the building. He looked around for Shigaraki's teleporter shadow, Kurogiri, and saw him flat on the ground near the edge of the roof, crimson leaking from the chest of his tuxedo. Well, that was one way to deal with a teleporter. Stain stalked closer to Shigaraki, who barely seemed to notice.
"Don't turn your back on me, Tomura Shigaraki," Stain repeated, "It'll be the last thing you ever do."
Shigaraki made a noise of disgust, half turning and flicking a dismissive hand at Stain.
"Get over yourself, Hero Killer. In fact, no. Be useful. There's a Hero right there, you're the Hero Killer. Why don't you live up to your class? Join my party as a temporary NPC. It'll be fun."
Stain went very still, every muscle quivering like a hunting hound about to attack. Izuku took the frozen moment to assess the man, looking for weaknesses. Armour across his torso, although it looked home-made. His face seemed strange under the mask, as though he didn't have a nose, although Izuku couldn't be certain whether it was an actual disfigurement or an inborn mutation. Arms unarmoured, but thick with muscle and coated in tacky red, drying from bright scarlet to an ugly brown. Blood. A lot of blood. Stain had attacked already tonight. Izuku watched as his lipless mouth curled in a sneer.
"I kill Heroes who aren't worthy," he said, eyes focused on Shigaraki with an unnerving fanaticism, "Not children."
Shigaraki let out a dusty, wracking cough.
"Well, maybe you should broaden your search," he said, "Because this Hero child is the one who cut my throat."
"You were trying to rip my arm off," Izuku snapped, momentarily forgetting himself. Shigaraki whirled, his one uncovered eye blazing with insanity.
"You cut my throat!"
"You were trying to kill me and my friends!" Izuku snarled back. Shigaraki took a step forwards, lifting a threatening hand, and Izuku half crouched, dropping a hand to the butt of his gun.
"You should have just died!" Shigaraki hissed. Izuku was about to retort, but the shriek of metal on metal drew both their attention as Stain drew a long knife to accompany his battered looking katana, scraping the blade across the metal neck of its sheath in a motion that couldn't have been anything but intentional.
"Don't waste your breath on arguing," he said, his deep voice thick with violent intent, "Because neither of you is going to live through this."
The words had barely left his mouth before he burst into motion, and the fight was on.
Stain didn't go for Shigaraki first. Izuku had half a second- half a hysterical, half panicked and half amazed second- to realise that Stain was enough of a fanatic that he chose to ignore the villain who could kill him with a touch to go for the Hero student before Stain was leaping past Shigaraki and rushing Izuku. Shigaraki lurched away from the slashing katana with a yelp, almost losing his balance, but Izuku was far more focused on Stain. The Hero-Killer launched himself forwards, leading with the knife in his left hand- broad bladed, blackened steel, a military style knife with a vicious saw-edged back- and Izuku moved like he'd been doing it all his life. Sidestep away from the line of attack, his left hand closing over Stain's wrist, options- Stain's too big to try and grapple, Shigaraki's coming in so trying to take Stain down isn't an option, leverage isn't right to break the arm even if Stain's musculature and the angle weren't making it difficult- and Izuku twisted and threw an elbow at Stain's head. Stain ducked, his shoulders coming up to take the hit, a grunt leaving his mouth as he bent his arm and put the weight of his body into an elbow strike at Izuku's chest. Izuku snarled out a breath as the impact hit, even soaked by his armour, and let Stain's wrist go to smash his left hand into Stain's chin. The palm-strike was hasty, sloppy, but Stain rocked back from it and Izuku shoved off, sliding a step back. Izuku heard the beginnings of a snarl rumbling in Stain's throat, but it was overshadowed by a hate-filled hiss as Shigaraki bounded across the roof and lunged at them both.
Stain spun on his heel, swiping his katana at Shigaraki as the man closed in. Shigaraki ducked, bending almost in half to avoid the blade before lunging up from his doubled-over position, hands reaching for Stain's face. Stain's other hand whipped around, the knife almost cutting through Shigaraki's chest, Shigaraki leaned back away from it and his left hand closed around Stain's katana. Steel rusted and decayed, the sword snapping half-way, and Stain brought the hilt around in a vicious clubbing blow that caught Shigaraki across the jaw and send him stumbling away. Izuku drew his gun.
Four shots, evenly spaced. Hard to hit moving targets, but they weren't far away. Just a shame that he hadn't had a chance to reload his Neural Disrupters, Izuku idly noted as the bullets impacted. One missed, yes, but the three others that hit Shigaraki more than made up for it. Shigaraki let out a warbling snarl, pinned to the roof by the swiftly expanding foam, but Stain reacted too quickly and the two shots Izuku got off at him missed as Stain dropped low, darting closer, arm whipping out to throw the knife directly at Izuku. Izuku swore and leaned sharply out of the way, arm reaching out and snagging the knife from the air on panicked instinct, just before Stain finished crossing the distance and tried to cut him in half.
Izuku met the half-blade of the katana with the knife. Pain shook its way up his prosthetic from the weight of the impact, but it didn't stop him from slamming the butt of his pistol into Stain's jaw, the taser crackling and sending Stain staggering. Izuku followed with a kick directly to the torso, broke the blade-lock, spinning the knife into a forehand grip and stepped forwards, angling the thrust of the knife towards Stain's shoulder. Stain dropped his katana, catching Izuku's wrist in one hand, and Izuku had an instant to realise his mistake before Stain locked his other hand onto Izuku's collar and lifted him clean off the ground. Izuku experienced a moment of flight before he smashed down onto the roof, the breath exploding out of his lungs in a gasp as Stain followed up, a heavy knee dropping onto Izuku's prosthetic arm as Stain raised a second knife and plunged it towards Izuku's face. Izuku let go of his pistol, hitting Stain in the forearm just enough to deflect the knife, a gruesome shriek cutting the air as the blade caught his helmet on the curve and scraped off to hit the concrete below. Stain rocked forwards and Izuku jerked his head up, smashing hardened plastic into Stain's face. He didn't feel anything break, but Stain reeled back and Izuku bucked his whole body, destabilising Stain and throwing him off. Stain was rolling away, cursing, as Izuku lurched to his feet. No gun, no knife, and Shigaraki had freed himself and was coming at him with definitely murderous intent.
Well, at least Shigaraki wasn't as good at fighting as Stain. If it weren't for that absurdly deadly Quirk Izuku would very much fancy his chances against Shigaraki. Stain? Less certain. Far less certain.
"Hood, I'm on my way," Aizawa snapped in his ear, "Can you get clear?"
Izuku dipped his chin.
"No," he said, softly, and then Shigaraki was on him. Shigaraki wasn't that skilled: Izuku knew that. Shigaraki was, however, very fast. Ungodly fast, with killer fingers and a grudge. Just the worst combination, really. Shigaraki led with his left hand, keeping his injured right arm back as he darted in and swung a hand at Izuku. Izuku hopped back, jerking away from the swiping fingers, knowing that he needed a better opening, needed a chance that wouldn't open him up to a grab from the other hand as Shigaraki snarled in that quiet voice, ruined throat preventing a shout, as he forced Izuku back. Izuku knew that the edge of the roof wasn't far away now, knew that he needed to fight his way out, push through and get more space. Preferably before Stain shook off being stunned.
"Just stay still!" Shigaraki snarled, hopping back from a backhand swipe that Izuku threw and circling. There was a crazed look in his eye, a wild animality to his hunched posture as he paced, trapping Izuku in place, a madness frothing at his lips. Like a rabid dog, Izuku thought. Just like being back in Gotham, on a rooftop with a maniac while his hero partner rushed to help him. He just knew he'd be getting some highlight flashbacks tonight. Provided he survived, of course.
Shigaraki dipped his chin, breaths rasping from behind his grisly mask, and his right hand came up, fingers slowly flexing. Izuku widened his stance just a little, eyes narrowing, still ignoring Shinsou's voice in his ear and then Shigaraki charged at him. Izuku went to meet him, predicting- Shigaraki led with his left hand again, reaching, and Izuku caught him, forearm to the inside of the wrist to push the hand with its spiderlike fingers aside before he lowered his left shoulder and rammed into Shigaraki's chest. The man wheezed out a breath as Izuku ploughed into him, knocking him back a step and sliding his right hand free of Shigaraki's wrist, smashing his fist into the same place his shoulder had hit and he felt a hand clamp onto his side, his armour starting to flake away and Izuku brought his left hand around and plunged it into the wound on Shigaraki's shoulder.
Shigaraki screamed, a quiet and whispery noise of pain torn from his ragged throat, fingers breaking free in a spasm of pain and Izuku stepped into him, turning and twisting and blood sprayed from his fingers as he wrenched his hand free and shoved Shigaraki hard towards Stain.
"Jesus Christ, Midoriya!" Shinsou yelped in his ear and Izuku gritted his teeth, ignored it, ran for his gun. He reached the weapon in a few strides, swooping down to grab it before turning his duck into a roll that brought him back to his feet facing the fight. He didn't make the mistake of thinking that either of them had forgotten him, but at least he had a breather as Stain and Shigaraki returned to attempting to kill each other. Shigaraki lunged at Stain as Izuku dropped his gun into its holster, drew the other, smoothly reloading, Stain storming through Shigaraki's lunge, ignoring the brush of fingers against his bare shoulder to ram his fist into Shigaraki's stomach, pull the man down into a vicious knee-strike, Shigaraki's grasping fingers dissolving a chunk of Stain's torso plate before Stain leaned back and kicked Shigaraki hard enough in the chest that the man flew back, landing hard on the ground. Almost certainly cracked ribs and Stain didn't miss a beat, rushing at Izuku. No time to aim and Izuku pulled both his guns, spinning them in his hands to use the taser-butts as clubs, met Stain halfway. He swung his right gun across, blocking the knife Stain drove at his ribs, brought the other one around into Stain's shoulder, heard the snarl of pain, brought his right hand gun up to swing at Stain's chin. Stain leaned back, his knife scraping jarringly across Izuku's chest, Shigaraki returning to the fight again, his hand-mask fallen away to reveal pale features contorted in a snarl of horrifying rage. Izuku twisted away from Stain, felt fingers drag across the back of his jacket, finished his spin to see Stain grab Shigaraki by the wrist a second before those fingers could close on Stain's face, the knife now in Stain's right hand and angled for a thrust into Shigaraki's ribcage. Izuku spun his guns, pointed them, maybe he could take them both down-
"This would be a lot easier if we grouped up!" Shigaraki hissed, kicking at Stain's knee with sudden speed. Stain slid free, coming at Izuku with his knife held like an ice-pick, descending, Izuku catching it on his left vambrace and feeling it twist and lock around, the saw-edge against the underside of his forearm where the vambrace didn't cover, smashing his other hand into the gap in Stain's armour. Stain snarled out a breath, ripping his knife free and turning on Shigaraki, the reddened knife coming within an inch of taking off Shigaraki's grasping fingers and Izuku kicked the back of his knee, tried to club him across the head only to be flipped over Stain's shoulder and smash into Shigaraki.
"Shit!" Izuku hissed, keeping the motion going and rolling away, feeling a section of his coat turn to dust. Shigaraki pushed himself to his feet, crazed snarl still on his face, hunched over like he'd hurt his ribs, Stain heaving himself up with a broad grin on his face, a long tongue spilling from his wide mouth.
"Got you, Hero," he crooned, swiping that tongue across the blade, and Izuku blinked. Shigaraki hit the floor with a screech.
"Blood based Quirk," Izuku whispered to himself, although Shinsou could probably hear, "He thought he had mine, but it was Shigaraki's from earlier, looks like paralysis. So…"
Stain looked down, head tilting as Shigaraki swore and spat. Very slowly, he shrugged.
"Just as good," he drawled, lifting his boot over Shigaraki's head. Izuku took a step forwards, fighting with himself- just let him die, it'll be so much easier, no-one will blame you- unsure of what he should do. Unsure of if he should do anything.
Perhaps unfortunately, the choice was taken out of his hands.
An unholy screech split the air as the Nomu returned to the fight, barrelling past Izuku and bull rushing Stain. Izuku caught a glancing blow that knocked him across the roof, sprawling on the hard concrete with his head spinning from the sudden blow. He flipped over, shoving himself to his feet- no more injuries, though his arm would have fresh bruises- to see Stain leap at the Nomu, ducking under a wide swing of the arm and plunge his knife into its side, the backhand swipe knocking him off his feet before he could pull the blade free. He rolled, coming to his feet not far from Izuku, eyes glazed with savage intent.
"Kill them, Nomu! Kill them both!" Shigaraki spat. Stain and the Nomu turned, neither of them further away than a few feet, and Izuku dropped a pepper bomb. Acrid smoke billowed over the roof, thick and stingingly choking, and Izuku plunged into it, sprinting for the other roof edge in an attempt to confuse Stain and the Nomu. They both came after him anyway, pounding footsteps on the ground behind him, and Izuku leaped off the roof, spinning mid-air and pulling his Neural Disrupter gun. No time for subtlety, he fired on full-auto, raking both Stain and the Nomu as he drew his grapple with the other hand and fired. The roof he hit wasn't high enough for a decent landing, the jerk of the grapple tightening far closer to the ground than Izuku would like but it took away enough of his momentum that when he let go he could hit the ground rolling, coming to his feet and spinning as that awful shriek split the air again. The Nomu landed with a thunderous crash, Stain following at full speed, leaping from handhold to fire escape to window ledge at alarming speed, but the Nomu was far more pressing. It heaved its bulk forwards, trying to seize Izuku in a bearhug that he barely ducked, reached out and ripping the knife from its side with a grunt of effort. The Nomu wailed, rearing back, and Stain landed on its shoulders like the judgement of an angry deity. Izuku flung himself aside as the Nomu overbalanced and fell, three steps back to regain his balance as Stain threw himself off the Nomu and crashed into Izuku. Izuku felt his back smack into a wall, his helmet cracking on brick as it saved his skull. Stain pinned his left arm to the wall, fingers tightening in a fruitless attempt to crush Izuku's wrist- Izuku barely even felt it, pressure sensors perhaps malfunctioning- and bared his teeth in a feral threat display. Izuku must have clipped Stain with the Neural Disrupter rounds, his left arm was weak enough that he couldn't pin Izuku's right and Izuku tore his hand free, slicing across and striking hard at a pressure point that should be in Stain's right arm. Perhaps his aim was off, perhaps evolution had changed the body structure, but it still had an effect: Stain's arm didn't go limp, but it spasmed in pain and Izuku spun the knife in his left hand, raking it across Stain's torso with the grating shriek of metal on metal.
"No," Stain snarled, his arms wrapping around Izuku's chest before he heaved and turned, throwing Izuku bodily to the ground. Izuku coughed out a breath as he hit the dirt again, the knife skittering out of his hand and sliding to the wall, Stain staggering back a step. Izuku dragged in a lungful of air and forced himself back up, all too aware that he couldn't keep this up. His skills weren't far behind Stain, but he didn't have the strength and endurance that the older, much bigger man had, never mind the Nomu.
Stain took a step back, his glare still fixed on Izuku but laced with something like caution as he shook out his arms. Izuku set his jaw, still taking deep breaths to try and supply enough oxygen to his protesting limbs, adrenaline still ripping through him.
"Less than a minute," Aizawa snapped, words coming between breaths and through the whistling wind, "I'm nearly there."
Something exploded in the city behind them, a rush of air washing over them. Stain shifted as though to take one more step back and Izuku briefly contemplated running, grappling onto one of the nearby buildings and trying an escape, a frozen heartbeat of indecision and the Nomu howled and came rushing in.
Izuku jumped aside as it brought one fist smashing down into the concrete, cracking it just a little- not as strong as the one at the USJ, but still far stronger than him- and vaguely saw Stain retreating as it turned on him with a warbling, bubbling snarl. It swung a backhanded blow at his head, Izuku ducking under, pulling his guns- right hand from the holster, swinging up into the chin just under the gas mask, follow the motion through into a bend to avoid the Nomu's other fist as it clumsily lashed out at him, back muscles straining to pull him back upright and left gun drawn and stitching a line of bullets across the Nomu's chest. It reeled back, hands coming up, Izuku darting in, a vicious stomp to its knee followed by the strike of a gun-butt and the knee gave way with a grisly crunching crack. The Nomu bellowed in agony, smashing to the ground and Izuku pulled back, feeling claws snag on his armour as he hit the wall again.
Too slow. His reactions were suffering from the long fight. He bounced off the wall as the Nomu lunged at him, its wail of pain and fury even higher pitched now. It lunged from its crouch, arms spread wide, and Izuku pushed himself forwards, jumped, hit its shoulder with his hip and rolled over it, hearing it crunch into the wall as he landed on his feet. A turn, the Nomu rising- what would it take to stop this thing- and it suddenly stiffened, froze, fell heavily to the ground. Izuku coughed.
"What?" he whispered, his voice raw from effort, barely hearing Shinsou echo the question. The scrape of a knife on brick drew his attention and he turned, seeing Stain advancing on him. The noise was yet another knife, dragging along the brick of the wall and singing a mournful, eerie song.
A long, slow breath, whispering past Izuku's lips.
"Why are you doing this?" he asked, "Why are you still fighting?"
Stain tilted his head, advance inexorable, and Izuku measured the distance in his head. Did he have time to bring his guns up, fire? Yes- of course he did. But that wasn't the real question. Did he have time to bring his guns up, fire, hit something that wasn't the armoured torso? Hit something where the rounds would have an effect? Once again, Izuku wished for Jason's Anti-Meta rounds. No matter how determined Stain was, determination wasn't enough to keep fighting with your chest cavity open to the air.
Well, not without some Meta ability. But Izuku very much doubted Stain had that, given the way the Nomu and Shigaraki had gone down. Some kind of paralysis, Izuku thought, though he couldn't say much more than that.
"Life is war," Stain said, "Everyone must fight against injustice. What about you? Why do you fight?"
Izuku shifted his feet, dipping his chin.
"Someone has to."
Stain laughed, a rusty, chilling chuckle like the drag of steel across bone. His grin was wide and empty.
"It's almost a shame I have to kill you," he said, still in that conversational tone, "But we both have our duty."
"Duty?" Izuku asked, his lip curling in an instinctive sneer. He raised his hands, consciously ignoring the slight shake in his left hand. Too much stress, he thought. Too much pressure being put on it, not long enough after installation. He focused, saw the tremor still, and Stain shrugged, still walking closer. He didn't look too well either: there was a crack in his armour, and the spot on his arm where Shigaraki had touched wept bloody tears, crusting along the lines of his muscled arm. His jaw was steadily blackening, a bruise courtesy of Izuku, but he didn't seem affected.
"This Hero society," he said, "It's full of fakes. Money, fame, power…those are not worthy ambitions for a Hero!"
Stain put on a sudden burst of speed, covering the distance in an instance and Izuku yelped out a breath, falling back and desperately parrying the flashing blades that rained down on him, feeling the shocks through his gauntlets. Stain kept speaking, the low growl rising to a feral shout.
"This society is rotten!" Stain roared, crimson eyes blazing with fury, "And only blood can cleanse it!"
Izuku twisted his left wrist, heard the blades pop out and brought the up, locking them onto Stain's knife and twisting sharply. Stain let the knife go, spinning away and driving a knee into Izuku's stomach, following it with a vicious stomp. Izuku moved his foot just in time, his other hand locking with Stain's second knife, bringing his head forwards again in a vicious headbutt and Stain spat, his free hand latching onto Izuku's arm. Izuku twisted- it couldn't have been comfortable, gripping the vambrace over the blades, but they weren't sharp on the top and he regretted, regretted not being able to sever fingers with a sharp pull of his arm, drove his knee into Stain's thigh and heard his wheeze of pain before Stain bodily lifted him and rammed him into the wall. Izuku felt the breath driven out of him for the third or fourth time today, lungs struggling, and Stain twisted and threw him to the ground. Izuku landed badly, feeling his ankle twist as he hit the ground. He shut the pain out through sheer bloody-minded determination, rolled over and forced himself most of the way up and one of Stain's boots crashed into his chest.
Izuku bounced along the ground, pain exploding in his chest and radiating throughout his body, rolling to a halt, air cold and sharp and spiked in his lungs as he forced himself to breathe, to struggle upright. He almost made it. His left arm came up, blocked the knife plunging towards his neck, but his other was too slow and he felt the coldness of metal ripping across his side, through the rent Shigaraki had left in his armour. Stain disengaged, leaping back from Izuku, and ran his long, oddly textured tongue along the blade. Every muscle in Izuku's body went slack, sending him back to the ground, a boneless heap.
"Midoriya!" Shinsou yelled, but Izuku couldn't answer, He heard the butcher noise of metal on meat, the wail of the Nomu muffled again as it thudded to the ground, and then a hand fisted in his collar and dragged him to his feet. Izuku lolled helplessly, staring at a broad, plate armoured chest.
"I am sorry," Stain said, sounding sincere, "But no revolution is bloodless."
He shook Izuku just enough that Izuku's head rolled around, looking up at Stain, and the moonlight glinted white on the knife he raised. Izuku felt the cold numbness in his limbs choking the burning in his chest, his throat, anger blazing bright and impotent - not yet, not like this- the knife coming back and Izuku raged inside, struggling in the grip of Stain's Quirk, fighting to get free, every step of the way, he wasn't going to die quietly-
A thin strip wound around Stain's wrist before he could swing and Aizawa hit him like an avenging angel. Boots cracked into Stain's arm and the serial killer lost his feet, sent tumbling, and Aizawa landed with a predatory grace, eyes blazing with a hellish glow and hair waving around him like strangling fronds of seaweed.
"Get away from my student," he rasped, the gravel and grit voice given the scouring edge of a sandstorm by his fury, and Izuku felt life rush back into his limbs, rage sparking thicker, darker, a wash of relief barely damping it down as he realised that he wasn't going to die but the anger still there because he hadn't been good enough. Fury, ever present even if he liked to ignore it, rage from Jason and from Izuku himself combining into hatred for Stain, a man who saw a fifteen year old and thought 'victim'. But he had lived, even if he knew what would be in his dreams that night and Izuku squeezed his eyes shut, hauled in a breath and locked the emotion away. He could have a breakdown later, try to sort out the suffocating fury and take time to realise that he hadn't spared time for fear. No fear, only anger. What did that say about him, Izuku wondered in a frozen moment of clarity. What did it say about who he was- about his mental state? No. Not now. Later.
Later.
He lied to himself a lot, he dourly thought as he rose, his ankle blaring with pain although he didn't think it was serious, a nasty sprain maybe but nothing more. Enough to slow him down, but not enough to stop him. And speaking of not being stopped…
Stain rose to his feet, teeth no longer bared, his neutral expression making a triumphant return. His left arm was curled protectively against his side, fractured maybe, and Izuku saw the way Aizawa tilted his head. A vindictive part of Izuku wanted Aizawa to take the chance. Surge forwards, break the weakened arm, knock Stain to the ground. Take the knife and- Izuku felt a muscle jump in his jaw as he suppressed all emotion again. This was no time to be rash. Aizawa shifted, just enough to stand between Stain and Izuku. Protecting his student.
"Don't," he said, addressing Stain, "You won't win."
Stain narrowed his eyes, his long tongue curling out to lick at his lips.
"You're Underground," he said, eyes fixed on Aizawa. Aizawa nodded.
"And you're a Villain."
"An empty word," Stain spat, "When filth call themselves Heroes while they strut and posture in search of gratification! I will bear any title if it means cleaning the scum from this world!"
Aizawa tiled his head further, a clear sign of interest.
"Really," he said, his voice dry as a desert, anger briefly veiled, "You're killing Heroes because they aren't worthy?"
"You think they are?" Stain asked, although he didn't advance. Rather he drew back a little, moving towards the shadows of an alleyway. Aizawa shook his head.
"Doesn't matter. Still murder, no matter the motive."
Stain scoffed, still backing slowly away.
"They aren't worthy of the title. Rot must be cut out before it spreads too far."
"You're not a surgeon. And don't think I don't see you backing away."
Stain grinned, wide and manic.
"You're perceptive, Eraserhead. It would be a shame to kill you. But I don't think I need to."
Aizawa shifted his stance, his scarf coiling around a wrist like it had a life of its own. Stain chuckled, the sound as harsh as ever, like the scrape of rust-laden steel on bone.
"I know I couldn't beat you now, Eraserhead," he said, gesturing with the knife in his hand, "But you have other problems."
Izuku heard the crack of bricks breaking and a low, hungry snarl behind them and knew, without turning, what it was. The snarl rose to a hissing, creaking moan, and Stain laughed again.
"The Nomu's tough, isn't it?"
Aizawa half turned. Izuku didn't bother, throwing himself forwards and letting his legs go limp, toppling to the ground. He felt the air of the blow moving over him, the cry tearing at the air as he landed, feeling the shock through his knees, and the flash of pain as his ankle reminded him of its condition, the buffet of wind as the Nomu took off into the air. Stain flicked his hand, steel glinting as the knife blurred towards Izuku and Izuku locked onto it with his eyes, tried to force his tired body to move in time- wondered if he'd have to trust his armour to take the hit- and felt a thin cord wrap around his ribs.
Aizawa wrenched him to the side, Izuku letting out a squawk of hastily bitten-off pain as the pressure sent splintering shards of agony through his ribs, but the knife missed and he found his feet, stumbling upright. The scarf unwound, Aizawa darting forwards to distract the Nomu as Izuku wobbled on his feet, catching himself with a stagger.
The Nomu hadn't regenerated: its knee was still a twisted ruin and thick, dark blood oozed sickeningly from the cuts in its hide, but none of that seemed to slow it down. Izuku spared a moment to glare along the rooftops, checking that Shigaraki wasn't up there waiting to descend, before looking back down. The Nomu was screeching and swinging at Aizawa, its attacks made clumsier than normal by its jerking movements as its wings beat, and Aizawa didn't seem to have any trouble avoiding it. He couldn't hit it either, though, and Izuku reached down to his belt. The adhesive grenades, he thought, though he only had two. He'd have to be careful.
"Sir, if you can get it to stay still for a moment I can ground it with an adhesive grenade," he said, relaying his plan to Aizawa as briefly as possible. Aizawa grunted, his breath hitching through the comms as he dodged a particularly savage blow.
"Do it," he grunted. Izuku slid the grenade off his belt, holding it closely in his hand. He knew how long the fuse was- he needed to do something about that, what if it needed to be different, but he didn't have time to fiddle with it- and the Nomu dived towards Aizawa. Aizawa ran at the wall with it close behind, jumping up and springing off the brick, his scarf unspooling and wrapping around the Nomu as he put all of the leverage of his leap and the weight of his body into it. The Nomu jerked back, whipping straight in the air, and Aizawa pulled the scarf free as Izuku threw the grenade. It hit perfectly, slamming into the centre of the Nomu's shoulder blades just a second before it went off and dull grey foam exploded over the Nomu, encasing the wings in a quickly hardening hold. The Nomu screeched again, its wings unable to beat through the thick goop, and landed awkwardly. It couldn't put weight on its knee, lashing out at Aizawa and turning with lurching, struggling steps.
"If I knock it down, can you pin it with your other grenade?" Aizawa asked. Izuku nodded.
"Yes, sir."
"Alright. Let's do it."
Aizawa ran at the Nomu, dropping to his knees and sliding under an attempt to bearhug him. His scarf flicked out, wrapping around the injured leg as he smoothly came to his feet, winding the scarf around his body and heaving. The Nomu's leg twisted, already injured, and with one last wail it toppled, smashing into the ground. Aizawa slipped his scarf free, bounding out of the way, and Izuku threw his last grenade, watching it burst and smother the Nomu in a thick, binding paste. The Nomu struggled and flailed, but the paste was all over its limbs and soon had it trapped, like a fly caught in amber. Aizawa took a deep breath, letting it out in a long sigh.
"Hood. Status report."
Izuku let himself fall back against the wall, taking as much weight off his ankle as possible with a grimace.
"Ankle is twisted. Ribs are…"
Izuku prodded at his chest, drawing in a sharp hiss of breath at the flutter of pain but nothing grated or moved and he could still breathe so it couldn't be that serious.
"Ribs are bruised, I think. Minor cut to the side. You, sir?"
Aizawa grimaced, carefully rotating his arm.
"Wrenched my shoulder pulling the Nomu," he admitted, "I'll live."
"Stain?"
"Gone. Ran while we were distracted."
Aizawa's voice didn't shift much from exhausted neutrality, but Izuku could hear a flash of anger in there, and what he thought was disappointment. He could have been imagining it, he thought, lolling slightly until an arm wrapped carefully around his ribs and held him up.
"Stay with me, Hood," Aizawa instructed, and Izuku bit back the instinctive murmur of 'still here, Bruce'. Of all the ways to blow his cover, that wasn't his favourite.
"Come on," Aizawa said, "Let's get you to a medic."
Izuku heard him sigh and look around.
"Stain, Shigaraki and a Nomu. You're a trouble magnet, kid. But you did pretty well."
Izuku let out a long, weary sigh, but took the compliment anyway.
"So Shigaraki was after you, kid?" Snipe asked, leaning on the long table with his mask pointing at Izuku. Izuku blinked, forcing back tiredness, and shook his head. The problem with adrenaline rushes was that they were a lot more like a loan than anything else- and they demanded payment immediately. Izuku was exhausted. Still, he had a debriefing to sit through before he could reacquaint himself with his bed and a hopefully dreamless sleep.
"I…don't think so. He was pleased to see me, but I don't know if he ordered the Nomu to look for me or if it was just coincidence."
"Or if he's put you on a list for them," Aizawa darkly added. Izuku nodded, looking down with a frown.
"Or that," he admitted, softly. Snipe whistled.
"Well, well, well. Still a Firstie and you've already got a nemesis. You lookin' to be the most overachievin' student we've got, kid?"
Izuku laughed weakly, a hand fluttering towards his ribs as the movement strained them. All the teachers in the room perked up, obviously catching the wince.
"You alright, kid?" Snipe asked, Midnight leaning forwards in her seat with a concerned expression. Izuku waved his hands, hoping to fend off any close inspection.
"Just bruised, sir. Stain kicks like a mule."
Snipe snorted.
"An' he prolly bites like a crocodile, right?"
"One more reference," Aizawa muttered from his slumped position, "I swear to God, Snipe, one more."
Snipe chuckled.
"You've been sayin' that for years, Eraser," he said. Aizawa, demonstrating a commendable self-control, didn't react- although Izuku was sure that he saw a probably obscene hand gesture begin before it was smothered. Snipe leaned back in his seat, looking a few inches away from kicking his boots up onto the table and lounging.
"Besides," he continued, "The kid did almost all the fighting. How come you're actin' all tuckered out?"
Aizawa looked up.
"I'm thinking of all the paperwork," he said, sardonic, "And do you know how fast I was going to get there in time? It wasn't a jaunt along the beach."
Snipe thoughtfully tapped his mask.
"Hmm. Well, I guess I can see that."
"And speaking of paperwork," Principal Nedzu chirped from the head of the table, having been previously paying attention to his laptop- Aizawa let out a groan like the death rattle of a small and fluffy creature- "Police Chief Tsuragamae would like to speak to you."
Aizawa let out another disgruntled noise before speaking loudly enough to be heard despite still having his face pressed mostly against his arm.
"Midoriya didn't use a Quirk, and even if he did he was being actively attacked, so it comes under self-defence. He would have escaped if he could. No jury would convict and Tsuragamae would be crucified in the court of public opinion for even trying."
Snipe was sitting straighter, looking at Aizawa, and Midnight had visibly perked up.
"Holy Hell," Snipe said, "I was jokin' when I talked about him bein' your favourite, Aizawa."
"I don't have-"
"You're getting' mighty protective over someone who supposedly ain't your favourite, partner."
Aizawa let out a rumbling noise that was a bare inch away from a snarl.
"It's not logical to make accusations of Quirk misuse," he said, "It should be fully folded into law, instead of being a string of precedents that the Government won't acknowledge. Midoriya did well to hold off Stain and Shigaraki and doesn't need to be harassed over it."
Snipe and Midnight exchanged obvious looks before Snipe shrugged.
"If you say so."
"I'm sure the Chief would be interested in the speed of your response," Nedzu said, smiling that unsettlingly toothy smile of his, "But he seemed just as interested in making sure that Mr Midoriya was unhurt. Fortunately the news helicopter that swung over the area seems to have arrived just in time to miss Mr Midoriya, so we don't need to deal with that."
"Finally, some good news," Aizawa said sourly, "We'll need it. Those Nomu did a lot of damage- and what happened with Shigaraki? He wasn't there when I arrived."
"Ah, that the news helicopter did catch," Nedzu said, still inappropriately brightly, "Shigaraki and Kurogiri were both seen retreating through a portal. Hard to be certain, but it's likely that Shigaraki didn't like his odds of beating Stain before Heroes arrived. And speaking of Stain...he also added another tally to his list."
Aizawa looked up sharply.
"Another? Before?"
Nedzu nodded, his smile finally fading.
"Mm, yes. Hero Native was found in an alleyway near the Manual Agency by the clean-up team, killed by a bladed weapon. Stabbed through the heart. That makes eighteen dead, I believe."
Aizawa grimaced, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers. Izuku wondered what he was thinking. Personally, Izuku was starting to wonder about the competence of the actual Hero industry. Surely someone who was approaching half a hundred attacks deserved a proper manhunt, with dozens of Heroes being called in and properly coordinated? Even Bruce, who hated feeling reliant on anyone, would have seen sense at this point. And Stain wasn't…yes, Stain had gotten the best of Izuku. He would admit that freely. But Stain wasn't unstoppable. He was skilled and strong and Izuku was fairly certain that Jason, Bruce or Dick could have taken Stain down alone.
"I saw Endeavour," Aizawa said, "Just wandering around. He was looking for Stain, apparently. Just walking along the streets with Todoroki in tow, hoping Stain would jump out at him. No way to conduct a manhunt."
"Perhaps you should lend them your expertise, Aizawa," Nedzu said, "Especially now that your student has been attacked and we have actual reliable footage of Stain. In fact, perhaps we should look through it now!"
The door behind Izuku hissed open and he fought the instinctive cringe at his back being unguarded down. He knew that he was safe here, but he'd just been snatched off a rooftop and hurled into a fight for his life. He felt like the had the right to be twitchy.
"All due respect, Principal," Recovery Girl said in a voice that was like ice mixed with ground glass, "Midoriya is fifteen years old and fresh from a traumatic experience. If you want to do anything with him there, it'll have to wait for tomorrow."
Aizawa stirred again.
"He's still well enough-" he started. Recovery Girl cut him off with a slash of her hand and a sharp hissing noise.
"Aht! No, he is not well enough for a long debrief. Izuku, dear, can you look at me?"
Izuku met her eyes, blinking slowly. Recovery Girl leaned in, scowling.
"No concussion at least. You hit your head?"
Izuku nodded silently, knowing better than to say anything. Recovery Girl clucked quietly, paper-dry hands prodding at his chest with gentle firmness and forcing him to sit up straighter. Izuku supressed a hiss as she poked at a sore spot and she shook her head.
"Bruised ribs, and a fairly long but shallow cut. You should have gone to the hospital," she chided, turning to look at Aizawa. He didn't cringe under what was probably a burning glare, but he did look slightly chastened.
"I thought it was better to get away before he was swarmed by reporters and other Heroes," he admitted. Recovery Girl shook her head.
"How you can be so sensible sometimes and other times act like such an idiot," she muttered, fingers poking at the area around Izuku's prosthetic port. His artificial fingers twitched without any real conscious input, a flicker of phantom pain chasing a shudder down his arm.
"Too much stress," she muttered, "Although you'll live. Has anyone contacted your parent, dear?"
Izuku frowned, closing his eyes in the hopes that the thick fuzziness fogging his mind would clear. He had only intended to close his eyes for a moment, but once they had settled he found himself unwilling to open them again. He heard Aizawa take in a sharp breath.
"I haven't," he said, softer than normal, sounding embarrassed. Recovery Girl sighed.
"Then you better had, hadn't you? You can do the rest of this tomorrow."
"Yes," Aizawa said, still quiet, "I hadn't thought of it. He held his own against Stain, I'd forgotten…"
"What?" Recovery Girl asked. Izuku kept his eyes closed, his head leaned back while he listened.
"You forgot that he's just a child, Aizawa?"
"He's training to be a Hero," Aizawa protested, but it was quiet and didn't sound convinced. A paper-soft hand rested on Izuku's forehead, cool and soothing.
"We'll wait until tomorrow to heal those injuries, if you don't mind," she said, "You're a little too tired to do it right now."
Izuku nodded slowly, forcing his eyes open.
"Yes, Recovery Girl."
She shook her head.
"So obliging, dear. You need to go home and get some rest."
"I'll take him," Aizawa said, shrugging, "I need to explain to his mother that…I need to explain everything. Since I was supposed to be keeping an eye on him."
Izuku watched, fascinated, as Recovery Girl turned her gaze fully onto Aizawa, the man paling just enough to be noticeable. Izuku wondered what her expression was like to drag that out of his teacher, although he suspected he'd be pleased if he was never subjected to it.
"You take him right home. If he gets any more hurt, I'll take it out of your hide," she told Aizawa, crisp and tart. He nodded, looking suitably intimidated.
"Of course."
Izuku imagined the narrow-eyed glare Recovery Girl must be wearing as Aizawa stood up and walked around the table.
"Can you stand?" he asked quietly. Izuku placed both hands flat on the table, surreptitiously testing his legs before he nodded.
"Yes," he said, heaving himself up. He wobbled a little, but his ankle had only been twisted- he could walk, so long as he was careful. Aizawa didn't quite hover as they made their way back to the car, but he stayed close at hand despite his quiet. When they were in the car Aizawa rested his hands on the steering wheel, letting out a long breath.
"I'm sorry," he said, gruffly. Izuku blinked, turning his head to his teacher. Aizawa shook his head.
"I knew that leaving you alone on the rooftop was a risk, but I didn't think it would pan out like that. But mostly, I'm sorry for forgetting that- well, that you're still a kid. Too used to working with other Pro Heroes when in the field."
Ah. The debrief. Izuku offered a shrug.
"I'm alright, sir. But…you might want to remember that, when you're mentoring Shinsou?"
Aizawa nodded, the engine purring to life.
"Yeah. Yeah, I probably should."
He went quiet for a minute or two before he spoke again.
"If I try to actually debrief Recovery Girl will skin me alive, but I do have to ask something. How did the guns work out?"
Izuku muffled a probably inappropriate laugh, leaning back.
"Not bad," he admitted, "They probably would have worked well on Shigaraki. I pinned him once, but Stain distracted me and he got free. Stain was tougher. It's hard to hit limbs when everybody's moving, and his armour rendered the rounds I had almost useless."
Aizawa nodded, but didn't speak. Izuku looked down at his hands, staring at the gloss metal next to flesh, biting his lip in thought.
"He's tough," he said, "Ridiculously tough."
"Stain?"
"Yeah. I just…nothing seemed to phase him. I thought it was his Quirk, at first. But no. He's just so…"
"Fanatical."
"Yeah."
Aizawa didn't say anything else until they had reached Izuku's apartment building, parking outside.
"So," Aizawa said as Izuku unbuckled his seatbelt, "How likely am I to get punched in the mouth?"
"Has…has that happened before?"
Aizawa shrugged.
"Not to me personally, but I like to be prepared."
Izuku thought about it, idly watching Aizawa's eyebrows rise in increasing concern.
"Not very likely," he admitted, "She's not…Mom isn't violent."
Aizawa nodded.
"Need help walking?"
Izuku shook his head, standing, and Aizawa sighed.
"Just don't fall over. Chiyo will murder me if you get any more hurt, I'm not exaggerating."
He tucked his chin into his scarf, dark eyes glittering in the ray from a streetlight as he glanced at Izuku.
"Do you need to take tomorrow off, Midoriya?"
"I…no. I'll be alright."
"If you say so," Aizawa said, although he didn't sound completely convinced, "But we'll still take it easy. Come on then."
Izuku walked ahead, making his way into his apartment. It was warm, cosy, and he felt a sweep of relief at seeing it again. It was funny, he thought absently, that it was this that really brought it home. That it was walking into the living room that really drove home that he could have died. He sniffed, eyes stinging and watering, and blinked hard enough to keep it back.
"Izuku?" his Mom asked, stirring from her place on the sofa. Izuku sniffed, slightly stronger, and walked towards her.
"Hey, Mom," he said aloud. She jumped to her feet, completely ignoring Aizawa, and rushed towards him.
"Izu- what happened?" she asked, her tone frantic as she wrapped her arms around him in a crushing hug. The pressure on his bruises caused pain to flare, but it was smothered by the warmth of her embrace. Izuku leaned into her, hugging back until she stepped back, moving her grip to his arms and raking her eyes over him.
"What happened?" she repeated. Aizawa, standing by the door, cleared his throat and Izuku's Mom jumped slightly, spinning towards him.
"Mr…Aizawa, right? Izuku's teacher?"
"I am," Aizawa confirmed, raking a hand through his hair to push it away from his eyes, a motion Izuku didn't think he'd seen before. Aizawa looked almost nervous.
"I took Midoriya on patrol today," Aizawa said, evidently deciding to get right into it, "Around Hosu. There was a…a villain attack."
Izuku's Mom squeaked, her fingers tightening around Izuku's arms, just above his elbows. Part of him was slightly fascinated with the way he couldn't quite feel the fingers squeezing his left arm, like it wasn't quite there. Aftereffects of the intensive use against Stain, maybe. He hoped it wasn't a sign of damage.
"I told Midoriya to wait on a rooftop while I investigated, since there was a battle taking place," Aizawa continued, remorselessly determined to get it done, "But he was targeted by one of the attackers. A creature, like the one that attacked the USJ."
Izuku's Mom was still looking him over, green eyes already filling with tears.
"It had wings and carried Midoriya away. I gave chase as quickly as possible, but he was forced to survive against both Tomura Shigaraki and the Hero Killer Stain alone for several minutes."
Aizawa bowed his head.
"I can only offer my sincerest apologies for not being there sooner."
Izuku watched his Mom blink slowly, clearing away the tears as best as she could before she offered Aizawa a watery, wobbly smile.
"I," she said, pausing to take a breath and swallow, "I'm not going to pretend that I'm happy Izuku was in danger. But you-you saved him? So…thank you. Thank you, so much."
Izuku had always known that his Mom was a saint, an angel, but apparently Aizawa was only just realising. He looked practically poleaxed, blinking in a stunned sort of way, and Izuku let out a strangled, watery chuckle. Aizawa shook his head.
"I…admit, I wasn't expecting that."
Izuku's Mom shook her head, almost dragging Izuku across the room and pushing him onto the sofa.
"I know that you wouldn't have put him in danger on purpose," she said, "Izuku trusts you, so I will as well. Do you want to come in?"
"Ah- no. If it's not too rude. I have things I need to get back to," Aizawa said, shuffling awkwardly. Izuku watched his Mom peer at Aizawa, wondering if she was fighting the temptation to mother the exhausted looking man, before she nodded.
"Alright then, Mr Aizawa. Again- thank you. For looking after Izuku."
Aizawa half turned, his chin dipping further into his scarf. His reply was quiet, but Izuku caught it.
"He looked after himself, Mrs Midoriya. You should be proud of him."
The door clicked shut and Izuku sank back into the cushions of the sofa with a soft sigh, resting his head back. He closed his eyes, feeling his Mom sit next to him and hearing her blow her nose. She sniffed after, fingers reaching out and wrapping around his right hand.
"Izuku," she said quietly, "It…can you tell me…how bad it was?"
Izuku took a deep breath, not answering immediately. As he thought back, it had been…
"It wasn't as bad as the USJ," he said honestly, although it seemed to give his Mom small comfort. He licked his lips, thinking on how to proceed.
"It felt like…Stain was the most dangerous, but it didn't feel personal."
Her fingers tightened around his for a heartbeat.
"If you…if you gave up being a Hero," she said, barely above a whisper, "Would they leave you alone? Would it be enough?"
Izuku thought back, remembering Stain snarling about fake Heroes and righteousness.
"I think Stain might," he said truthfully, "It didn't seem personal to him. But Shigaraki isn't the same. At the USJ, he was going to kill Mina just to teach All Might a lesson. I don't think he'll- after I injured him, I think he'll be fixated on revenge."
Izuku admitted the last part in almost a whisper, his heart twisting painfully with worry. Not for himself- he could handle himself, he knew the risks- but for his Mom. His kind, loving, gentle Mom, who wouldn't have a chance against Shigaraki. For a moment he wondered what he would do if his Mom was hurt, and the flash of fury that choked his throat was more than answer enough. He swallowed against the rawness of anger, dry and harsh.
Vigilante Plan version eighteen: if my Mom is hurt or killed, every member of the League of Villains will die screaming.
Promises and threats, Izuku reminded himself through the haze of murderous thoughts. Promises and threats. He forced the thoughts away.
"Oh, Izuku," his Mom said softly, "I'm sorry that you had to face him again. Your arm…"
Izuku opened his eyes, tilting his head down and saying nothing. His Mom pulled him in, letting go of his hand to wrap an arm around his shoulders and squeeze him in a brief hug.
"I know that you should keep going to U.A.," she said, her voice wet and muffled with tears, "So you can learn to protect yourself. But I'm still worried, Izuku. So worried."
"I know," Izuku said quietly, his voice raw and thick, "I know, Mom. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do this to you."
His Mom sniffled quietly.
"I know, sweetheart. I know."
They sat in soft silence for several minutes, until Izuku's Mom relaxed back into the cushions. Her breathing was starting to even out, moving towards sleep, and Izuku cleared his throat.
"You need to go to bed, Mom," Izuku said, turning to smile at her, "Or you'll feel it in the morning."
His Mom smiled sadly at him.
"Oh. Yes, I'm not as young as I used to be. You'll…you'll be alright?"
Izuku nodded.
"I'll be alright," he agreed, shuffling to the side to let his Mom stand up and slowly leave the room. Izuku gave it a minute, mentally arguing with himself- shower first, or bed? In the end the lure of being clean won out over his tiredness and he levered himself up, grimacing as he put his weight on his sore ankle. It didn't stop him though, and he made it to the bathroom without too much trouble. His grimace returned as he looked down at his chest, rubbing shampoo into his hair and watching the water stream over the yellow-purple-black bruising mottling his chest, his prosthetic fingers flexing slowly as he ran them over the injuries.
Dick wouldn't have gotten hit by that kick said a stray thought, just in time with the all too familiar Kacchan would have done better. Izuku bit his lip, squeezing his eyes closed.
"Exactly what I don't need right now," he whispered, "Two separate inferiority complexes making a comeback."
He'd thought it before, very briefly. When he had been throwing together all those vigilante plans, he'd thought that Dick would have had it easier- easier to adapt when you weren't forcing a fighting style made to be lethal into something more palatable, when you weren't always telling yourself how much easier it would be to just take a rifle and an elevated position and pull the trigger. Reminding yourself that no matter how effective a judicious dose of C4 in a building was, it wasn't heroic.
Izuku pressed his forehead to the tiling, feeling the coldness spread through his skull. He was being an idiot. Letting his worries take over. He was just tired, he knew, and doubting himself. Besides, in some ways…looking back, he had made the wrong choice at the very start. If he'd just been better, if he'd properly mastered pressure point techniques instead of working on them in his spare time, he could have crippled Stain immediately. Grab Stain's wrist, paralyse the arm with a strike to the shoulder, push him away. Take a knife, put it into Shigaraki's leg to cripple him, take the hit on his prosthetic if needed, that would put Shigaraki down unless he wanted to pull the knife free and bleed to death. Stain was strong, but with only one hand Izuku could have beaten him. But he hadn't. His skill hadn't been enough.
And yet. And yet, Izuku reminded himself, he'd done a better job than forty-two Pro Heroes. He'd survived, escaped, held his own long enough for help to arrive. There was nothing to be ashamed of in that. Just a shame that it was hard to genuinely convince himself of that. Izuku's lips twisted in a sardonic smile.
"Poor self-esteem, who would have thought it," he muttered, pushing the thoughts away with a shake of his head that sent water from his hair splattering everywhere as he climbed out of the shower and picked up a towel.
He should probably call the others, he thought, although he wasn't sure how much he could tell them. They would almost certainly ask about Iida, as well, and what would he need to say about that? Having fought Stain Izuku could say with absolute confidence that Iida wouldn't have been able to defeat the Hero Killer. And what would Stain have thought of Iida's drive for vengeance? Probably nothing good, given his ranting about 'fake Heroes'.
Izuku chewed it over as he dried himself off and wandered back to his bedroom, sitting on his bed with a sigh. He glanced at the clock- late. Late in the day. Too late for a phone call, even though he wanted to speak to Tsuyu, Mina, Kirishima. Just to talk to his friends, reassure himself that everyone was alright. There was always tomorrow, he supposed. One day wouldn't hurt. He lay back, folding his arms behind his head as he looked up at the ceiling, eyes peering blankly into darkness as he flicked the lights off, his mind still churning. Stain, he thought, the Hero Killer. Fanatical, skilled, and a good choice of weapon. Most Hero costumes, as far as Izuku knew, used a reinforced cloth mesh that would resist some damage- prevent scrapes from a fall, soak up some of the impact of a punch- but most also fitted tightly. Vulnerable to bladed weapons.
"He was mostly self-trained," Izuku said softly, thinking it over, "Like he had a lot of experience but not that much formal training. Strong, though, and fast."
Strong and fast enough that Izuku had struggled in close quarters, Stain's weight and strength too much of an advantage. But he had also made something else clear.
"I wasn't equipped to take him on," Izuku gloomily concluded. There were other choices in weaponry that Hatsume had suggested: the one that came most clearly to mind was what she called Concussion Rounds. She'd suggested them, and Izuku had vetoed due to them being essentially miniature flash-bangs and therefore, as Dick had once said, prone to causing co-Bateral damage. He'd assumed that if he was working alone they'd draw too much attention, and if he was working with others they'd affect his partners. But in this case, they could have taken both Stain and Shigaraki out of commission long enough for Izuku to make an adhesive capture or escape.
"Where would I even put them?" he asked himself, "Replace some of my other bullets? Maybe. But then it'll be harder to pick the right ones…and I can't carry an infinite supply of ammo."
A problem that he'd only briefly thought about. Jason hadn't had the problem, of course: when you were willing to kill all your problems you didn't need as many choices. Hollow-point and armour-piercing explosive and Jason had been quite satisfied. The two more obvious Heroes he could copy, Snipe and Lady Nagant, hadn't had the issue either. Snipe's Quirk homed in for him, and Lady Nagant- as far as Izuku could tell her Quirk created the rifle she used, but that rifle was a high-powered design that was mechanically the same as plenty of rifles Jason had used. Ammo expenditure was lower when you weren't using it suppressively in close quarters.
"Hatsume would probably design a resupply drone if I asked," he mused, blinking slowly, "But maybe I should take her up on the offer of a grenade launcher."
Izuku let his eyes close, lulled by thoughts of technology, and between one idea and the other he drifted off to sleep.
And now I have to answer questions like 'which canon members of the League of Villains only joined because of Stain', joy. Spinner's out. Mustard was in it for clout, so he might turn up. Dabi...always got the feeling his adherence to Stain's ideology came purely from his hatred for Endeavour, that might not change. Toga? Psychopath, but is she too obsessed with Stain? Urgh, consequences. At this rate the Training Camp Arc might be off altogether- at least a version resembling canon.
Still, it's a while before we get there, I've got some more OMC stuff in the pipeline so we'll get there when we get there. As always, I hope you enjoyed, reviews are appreciated and I'll see you in the next chapter.