Chapter 5
The Night Crawler
Three years later…
Izuku's Age: 10 years old…
"Listen... I don't have anything with me right now, okay?"
The pleading voice of a man echoed through the alley. He appeared to be in his late thirties or early forties—short, bald, and slightly pudgy. His back pressed against the cold brick wall as he gazed fearfully at the two men before him.
One of the thugs towered over the other. The taller goon sported blonde hair and a lean physique, while his shorter counterpart was a mass of muscles topped with a brown mohawk. Both wore leather biker jackets and black jeans, their appearance as menacing as their intentions.
The taller goon looked at him with disgust. "What the fuck, man?" he snarled. "You're a goddamn middle-aged old fool. How the hell can you not have any cash?"
His partner chimed in, his voice dripping with contempt. "What a pathetic excuse for a man."
"I swear I'm telling the truth." The short man urged, his voice trembling. "I-I really don't have anything on me right now. But if you let me go, I-I can give you everything you want."
"Let you go? And what? You bring the police in? Yeah, not happening, pal." The taller goon's eyes narrowed dangerously, a cruel smirk playing on his lips. "You know what, pal? Strip."
"H-Huh?" The poor man stuttered, his face paling.
"What, are you deaf now, ya bastard?" The shorter goon sneered, cracking his knuckles.
"What are you waiting for, bitch?" The taller goon glared menacingly. "GET. NAKED."
Cowering in fear and seeing no other way out, the man began to unbutton his white shirt with shaking fingers.
"HAHAHA!" The two goons roared with laughter. "This bitch is actually stripping! Man, what a fucking lowlife!" the taller one taunted, slapping his knee.
"Have some dignity, dude!" The shorter goon chortled. "You could've been a man, but you chose to be a pussy! HAHAHA!"
The victim felt tears welling up in his eyes, wishing the ground would open up and swallow him whole. As he reached the last button of his shirt, a voice suddenly pierced the air, startling all three men.
"How interesting~"
The voice sounded robotic, emanating from the shadowy depths of the alley.
"Two imbeciles assaulting an elderly gentleman..." The voice continued, its monotone laced with disdain. "You two must be the epitome of patheticness."
"Who the hell's there?!" The taller goon bellowed, his anger flaring. "Show yourself, you coward!"
Footsteps echoed from the darkness, growing louder as a figure emerged into the dim light filtering through the alley. The newcomer was clad in black from head to toe, his body encased in sleek black and red armor. The shoulder, chest, and abdominal plates were as dark as a moonless night, trimmed with gleaming crimson borders. A similar color scheme adorned the shin guards and armored pants. The armor itself was form-fitting rather than bulky, hugging the figure's body like a second skin. A cowl concealed the upper part of the face, leaving his lips and chin visible. Most striking of all, there were no eye holes in the cowl.
The taller goon squinted at the newcomer. "Oi!" He nudged his partner, pointing a finger in the direction of the armored figure. "Does that bastard look like a kid to you? Or is it just me?"
"Uh..."
Indeed, the intruder was short, standing at around five feet, perhaps even less.
"Well," the armored figure spoke, his voice as monotonous as before. "The Almighty doesn't bestow everyone with all gifts, does He?"
"What? You here to preach about God or something?" The taller goon sneered, his lip curling in contempt.
Ignoring the two men, the armored figure turned towards the victim and motioned for him to flee. Nodding fearfully, the man scrambled away as fast as his legs could carry him. The two goons, so fixated on the armored intruder, failed to notice their prey slipping away into the night.
"OI! Answer me!" The taller goon bellowed, his patience wearing thin.
"Hmm... Not really," the armored figure replied, his tone nonchalant. "You gentlemen don't need God."
"Oh~" The shorter goon sneered, a mocking lilt in his voice. "What do we need then?"
"The Devil~" The armored man's monotone added an eerie quality to the words.
"YOU BASTARD!" The taller goon roared. In a flash, he whipped out a revolver tucked in his waistband and opened fire on the armored figure.
To their utter disbelief, the armored man gracefully dodged each bullet, his movements fluid and precise, as if performing an intricate ballet.
The taller goon ceased fire, his jaw slack and eyes wide with shock.
The armored man chuckled, the sound devoid of humor. "Always the same," he intoned before vanishing into thin air.
"Where the hell did he go?" The shorter man exclaimed, stumbling backward.
In a burst of speed far superior to what the goons could see, the armored figure materialized above the taller goon. Through the small opening of his helmet, a pleased smile was visible as he launched a devastating kick to the taller goon's head, smashing it against the alley wall. Blood sprayed everywhere as the man slumped down, the left side of his face a crimson mess. He teetered on the brink of unconsciousness.
The shorter goon let out a blood-curdling scream and frantically searched his pockets. The armored man watched with curiosity as the thug produced a lighter.
"What do you plan to do with that?" The armored man inquired, his tone mildly intrigued.
The shorter goon fumbled with the lighter, struggling to ignite it. The armored man waited patiently, arms crossed over his chest, curious to see the man's next move. After several attempts, the lighter finally sparked to life, eliciting an impressed whistle from the armored figure.
"Well done," he praised, his voice laced with mock admiration.
The shorter man held the lighter aloft with his left hand, cupping his right hand behind the flame. Both of his hands shaking violently, he aimed the makeshift weapon at the armored man.
"BURN UP, BITCH!" The shorter man roared. Suddenly, a torrent of fire erupted from his hands, engulfing the armored figure completely.
"HAHAHA!" The goon cackled maniacally, watching his presumed victim burn. "THAT'S IT, BABY! GO TO HELL AND MEET THE DEVIL YOURSELF!"
His laughter died in his throat in the next moment as he witnessed the armored man stroll through the inferno as if it were a gentle summer breeze. The figure approached him, utterly unfazed by the flames licking at his armor.
"Quite an impressive quirk. But not particularly effective against mine," the armored man remarked casually before seizing the goon's left hand and twisting it viciously, shattering every bone.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" The shorter man howled in agony, collapsing to his knees and cradling his mangled hand.
"What do you want from us, man? Just let us go," he pleaded, tears streaming down his face.
"Well..." The armored man crouched to meet the goon's eye level. "I have some questions that need answering. If I'm satisfied, I might consider letting you go."
"S-Sure! I'll tell you everything. Anything. Just let me go, okay?"
The armored man chuckled, the sound devoid of mirth. "Sure. Sure."
"Is it worse this time?" A lean, well-built man in a Japanese police uniform inquired.
"Fortunately, no," his partner sighed, adjusting his own uniform.
Police sirens wailed through the marketplace, drawing curious onlookers. The once-peaceful night had been shattered, and news vans were already pulling up to report on the incident.
"These were his what? Tenth victims?" The first officer asked, frowning.
"Thirteenth, actually. In a single month too." his partner corrected. "He has been active for more than a few months but his activities are increasing recently AND becoming more brutal."
"And we've yet to find who's behind this. Damn!" The first officer groaned in frustration. "We're gonna catch hell from the public, aren't we?"
His partner explained patiently, "One saving grace is that this unknown vigilante's been targeting established criminals fresh out of prison. Hopefully, that'll be enough to placate the masses. Wonder why he is targeting low-profile criminals and not going after the more high-profile ones?"
"Seriously, sometimes I wish I'd chosen to be a professor or teacher instead. Life would be so much easier."
"By the way," the second officer raised an eyebrow, "has any hero arrived yet?"
"One has."
"Who?"
"You know... That guy... Uh," the first officer knocked on his head mockingly. "What was his name? Header... Erase or something..."
"Eraser Head?"
"Yeah! That guy."
"Interesting. He has been present at all the crime scenes involving this vigilante. You think he is going after whoever this is?"
"Who knows, man. That guy's super weird." The officer shivered. "The way he looks with those eyes... Damn, gives me the creeps. But it is a possibility. I mean Eraser Head operates at night and the vigilante has been quite active in the night."
Suddenly, a commotion from the crowd drew their attention. As they turned, their eyes widened, and massive blushes burst across their cheeks.
Striding towards them was a figure who exuded sexiness, grace, and finesse. But above all, she radiated confidence - not just in her abilities, but in her body and image.
Many considered this woman the living embodiment of Aphrodite herself. Only the Almighty truly knew how many hearts she'd broken and how many tissues she'd caused teenage boys and men to waste.
It was none other than Japan's first ever X-Rated Heroine. The woman who had completely changed the demographic of heroines in the country and redefined the meaning hero costumes.
Ms. Midnight!
The purple-haired woman was smiling brightly, waving at the gathered crowd. Men went wild, and most women blushed furiously. A few women openly glared, not that she cared in the slightest.
Wherever she went, eyes followed - some entranced, others glaring at her divine form. She was popular among men and women alike, introducing boys in puberty to a whole new world of pleasure.
Her mere presence drew even more people. News of her arrival spread like wildfire, and it seemed the entire city had come to catch a glimpse of her when she was in her actual Hero costume and not wearing her coat over it.
Few heroes, save perhaps All Might, could garner such attention. In terms of drawing a crowd, she even outshone Endeavor.
Ms. Midnight winked at the audience and blew a playful flying kiss. She struck a pose, extending her hips backward, giving a tantalizing view of her bare ass while somehow maintaining to hide her privates from curious eyes. Her hands pointed downward as she struck a pose that oozed unparalleled sexiness.
The crowd collectively suffered a massive nosebleed, some even losing consciousness due to sheer blood loss. Interestingly, both men and women were affected equally.
Midnight straightened up and blew another playful raspberry. "How are my dear Samaritans tonight?" she asked, her voice loud and enthusiastic.
"WE ARE GOOD, GODDESS/MIDNIGHT!" The crowd roared in reply, some using her hero name, others preferring her nickname of 'Goddess of Sexiness'.
Midnight giggled at their enthusiasm. "Fufufu! Ara, ara~" Her voice was smooth as silk and twice as seductive, causing another section of the crowd to swoon. "I see my dear citizens are as lovely as ever." She then smiled raunchily. "Maybe they deserve a little present from dear old me~"
"YES! YES! YES! YES!" The crowd chanted in unison. "MIDNIGHT! GODDESS! MIDNIGHT! GODDESS!"
"Ow~" Midnight let out a disappointed moan. "But you see dearies, Ms. Midnight is very busy today.
A groan of disappointment echoed from the crowd.
"But don't worry! Ms. Midnight will entertain you another day!" She exclaimed, getting joyful shouts from the crowd.
"As you leave," Midnight continued, "please help those who've fainted. Be heroes in your own right. PLUS ULTRA!" She thrust her hands towards the sky.
The crowd or at least those still awake thrust their arm upwards towards the sky and roared, "PLUS ULTRA!"
The crowd began to disperse, carrying their unconscious comrades. Satisfied with her distraction, Midnight leapt gracefully from the car and approached the two policemen from earlier.
"Arara~" Midnight purred, her tone dripping with sensuality. She placed a smooth, long finger under one of the officer's chin. "Please close your mouth Mr. Officer," she said, gently pushing her finger upwards. She smiled innocently. "We wouldn't want any insects flying in there, would we? Unless, of course, you enjoy that sort of thing."
"N-No. Uh... Um..." The policeman stuttered, words failing him.
"Please don't be nervous, officer," Midnight urged, cupping her cheeks with both hands. "If you're nervous, who will protect poor old me~" Her tone was so innocent, she could've passed for a naive country girl, untouched by urban life.
The two policemen gulped. Their nervousness was understandable. It wasn't simply because she was a woman - they were used to that. However, conversing directly with Midnight was a challenge for anyone, given the aura she exuded and her hero costume... or lack thereof.
Many female heroes, aka heroines, wore revealing costumes. But Midnight had taken that concept and amplified it a hundredfold. She was, after all, the pioneer of provocative heroine attire, and no other heroine had ever matched her level of audacity and sexuality.
Her hero suit was a masterful blend of exposure and strategic concealment, elevating her exhibitionist flair to unprecedented heights. The ultra-fine, black colored nearly invisible mesh leotard hugged her every curve, a second skin that not only accentuated her physique but also amplified the easy of release of her sleep-inducing aroma. Micro-pores were woven into the mesh to allow Midnight to subtly exhale the intoxicating scent, teasing the senses of all who dare approach her or attack her.
Her nipples, adorned with ultra-thin, black stick-on covers, blending seamlessly with her skin and her mesh leotard to maintain the fantasy of unadulterated exposure. Similarly, the genital area, veiled by a black, flimsy, flexible film, appeared tantalizingly exposed, yet technically concealed.
Her Hero suit was also adorned bondage accents—a torso harness, wrist, thigh and ankle cuffs—served not to restrain, but to entice. Under the hand cuffs, she wore gloves that went up to her elbows giving her warmth and comfort. There were embedded micro-diffusers in these flexible restraints that released concentrated bursts of her quirk's potency, further increasing her ability to use her quirk.
Tiny, dangling charms on the torso harness, shaped like miniature stars and moons, subtly vibrated against her skin meant to be used both as pleasure devices and tactical weapons. They looked like charms for decoration, a subtle way to amplify her moniker of 'Midnight', but only Midnight knew that they were strategically concealed buttons for several purposes. Several pouches containing mysterious items were attached to the harness.
Her tresses, styled in flowing, loose locks, were punctuated by fragrance-releasing hairpins shaped like tiny, sleeping silhouettes. These delicate adornments wafted a lighter version of her quirk's aroma, drawing in her opponents with the promise of slumber, without immediately succumbing to its overpowering effects. They could also be used as weapons to fight and were as fine as needles when it came to piercing.
Her long, milky legs were covered by lace stockings that stopped at her mid thighs with straps that held them tightly to her torso harness. The top of the stockings consisted of flexible cuffs just like her wrist and ankle to which several more, larger pouches were attached allowing her to carry larger objects.
Completing this ensemble were high-heeled, open-toe boots, crafted from the same advanced material as the suit.
Midnight placed her hands on her hips and cocked them to the left. She caught the officers' eyes drifting downward, their cheeks flushing. Her own cheeks reddened, not from embarrassment, but from sadistic pleasure.
"Uh-uh-uh, boys," she scolded in a sing-song manner, wagging a finger playfully. "That place is forbidden~" she teased.
The officers winced, realizing their inappropriate behavior was unbecoming of their position.
Midnight replaced her right hand on her hip. "Now, can you kindly tell me, dear sirs, are there any other Heroes here yet?"
One officer cleared his throat and pointed behind him. "Mr. Eraser Head is already here."
"Ah, I expected him," Midnight nodded. She smiled at the officers, causing them to blush again. "Thank you for your help, kind sirs. No doubt the streets are safe thanks to your sacrifices." As she walked past, she turned and pointed at them. "You, my sirs, are the real Heroes," she said encouragingly before strutting away, her hips swaying enticingly.
Midnight couldn't help but giggle, knowing they were hypnotically staring at her perfectly peach-shaped butt. She loved their attention - attention from anyone made her feel alive. Every hero had their eccentricities, and loving the spotlight was one of her many.
She carefully crossed the police tape and entered the alley. Sure enough, Eraser Head was already there, crouched over one of the bodies.
"Eraser Head~" Midnight called out cheerfully.
The hero glanced at her from the corner of his eye. "Midnight," he greeted curtly. "Done with your theatrics?"
"Arara~ Did you not get enough sleep, Eraser Head?" Midnight asked, her tone disappointed. "And give me some credit. I diverted the crowd's attention from the scene, you know."
Eraser Head stood up. "Hmm. I've gathered everything I need. Just need the pockets checked." He walked towards the exit, stopping behind Midnight.
"Is that so?" Midnight approached the body Eraser Head had been examining. "Dead or alive?"
"Dead. One was alive but critical. They've moved him to the hospital," Eraser Head informed tiredly. "They're hoping to treat him enough to get information about this new vigilante."
"I see," Midnight uttered softly, bending forward at the waist for a closer look.
Eraser Head never understood Midnight's insistence on going so bold, even in public. What if she accidentally flashed someone? Though it had never happened before, one mishap could set the internet ablaze with compromising pictures. Yet, Midnight seemed unconcerned.
Unaware of Eraser Head's thoughts, Midnight studied the corpse. It clearly belonged to a tall man, but his face was so bloodied that details were hard to discern. She frowned. She had seen the vigilante's victims before, but this was the first time she'd encountered one so brutalized.
Midnight squatted down, her thighs pressed together, and began examining the body with her gloved hands. She was grateful for including gloves in her otherwise sparse attire - an often overlooked but invaluable asset at crime scenes.
Eraser Head observed as Midnight meticulously searched the body's pockets, the only area left unexplored. Her expertise in crime scene examination was something he greatly appreciated.
Suddenly, Midnight's hands froze. A moment later, she extracted an object from the body's pocket.
"Got everything from the body?" She teased, holding up her find.
"A wallet," Eraser Head muttered under his breath.
"Let's see what we can glean," Midnight said, peering inside. Her eyes lit up upon spotting a government ID. She pulled it out and scanned the details. "Huh! I guess my sympathies were never warranted," she remarked.
"What do you mean?"
Midnight showed the ID to Eraser Head. As he read the name, realization dawned on him. "Oh..."
Midnight returned the ID to the wallet and replaced it in the body's pocket. She stood, dusting off her gloved hands. "A serial murderer roaming free on the streets like this." She crossed her arms under her bust, inadvertently accentuating them and making them look one size bigger. As she walked towards the alley's exit, she continued, "Homicide, kidnapping, drug dealing, theft." She shook her head. "We were looking for him. We thought he would be hiding somewhere, not roaming free like this. But to think this vigilante got to him before us. We really need to step up our game."
"At least one thing is clear from this," Eraser Head said as they emerged from the alley. "This vigilante is targeting low-level yet dangerous criminals."
"He spares those who've committed minor offenses," Midnight added. "But those guilty of heinous ones..."
"He kills them," Eraser Head finished grimly.
"Hey, you're Ms. Midnight!"
Midnight turned to see a man in his late thirties approaching hastily. He halted at the police tape. She walked up to him with Eraser Head, offering a kind smile. "Can I help you, sir? Would you like an autograph or photograph?"
"W-Well, I'd love one with you," the man said meekly before glancing at Eraser Head. "Sorry, I don't really know you," he added respectfully.
Eraser Head nodded silently. Understandable. As an Underground Hero, he preferred anonymity. At least the man was respectful in telling him that he did not know him. Others were not as respectful sometimes.
The man shook his head fervently. "Before that, can you please tell the guy you sent to save me that I'm really grateful?"
Midnight and Eraser Head exchanged glances. This was their first eyewitness to the vigilante.
"You did send him, right?" the man asked suspiciously.
Midnight smiled. "Of course..."
"He was a vigilante," Eraser Head interjected before Midnight could finish. She felt her eye twitch in annoyance.
"V-Vigilante?" The man uttered, shocked.
Midnight sighed. She wanted to lie to him but realized that he would find everything by tomorrow morning. Eraser Head had really saved her from making a mistake. "Yes, it seems the person who saved you was a vigilante."
"I... I didn't..." The man stammered.
"I know it may be traumatizing, but can you describe how he looked?" Eraser Head asked gently.
The man nodded. "He was short. Maybe five feet, give or take an inch," he gestured. "He wore this black and red armor-like suit with a helmet hiding his upper face. No eyeholes. His voice sounded robotic."
"I see," Eraser Head muttered.
"We really appreciate your cooperation," Midnight added.
"About that photograph..." The man reminded shyly.
"Fufufu," Midnight giggled mischievously. "No worries." She ducked under the police tape. "Who's this picture for?"
"F-For me..." The man answered.
"Fufufu. Then I guess you deserve a Midnight special," Midnight smirked. "What do you prefer?" She pointed at her chest, especially at her breasts. "This?" Her hand moved to her rear. "This?" She raised her left arm, exposing her left armpit and pointed at it with a naughty smile. "Or perhaps, this?"
Eraser Head facepalmed at her antics. Typical Midnight, enjoying teasing anyone she could. He turned away, preferring to start his search for the vigilante rather than witness Midnight's mental torture of the man.
The man gulped. "Y-Your b-b-b-b-breasts w-w-w-would d-d-d-do..."
Midnight giggled at his stammering. She pouted, feigning anger. "Poo~ I can't find any kinky men these days," she teased further, enjoying his furious blush. "Perhaps men have grown weak-willed."
"I... I... I... Uh... Uhh~"
"Fufufu. No worries," Midnight said, clapping excitedly. "Mommy Midnight will fulfill your wish tonight."
"Uhh~"
Izuku stared forlornly at his mother's gravestone. This had become his ritual - visiting the cemetery at dawn, vaulting over the fence, and standing before her grave for hours, gazing at it as if she might somehow rise from the earth.
"Damn, I'm turning into Kakashi-sensei from that Burrito's dad's manga, aren't I?" he muttered to himself, releasing a depressed sigh.
He wanted to speak to her, but words eluded him. He felt that if he shared anything about his life, she'd only be disappointed in him.
Hell, he was disappointed in himself too.
This wasn't how he had envisioned his life. He didn't want to be a miserable kid anymore. He longed to laugh and smile, but since the last few years joy seemed to have abandoned him. Had he really forgotten how to smile? No, he remembered. He just couldn't find a reason to anymore.
Heaving another sigh, he decided it was time to leave. He had to be at the HPSC for more training. Lately, training had become... mundane. All he had to do was stay fit and practice what he'd already learned. There wasn't much challenge anymore. Occasionally, Yukimiru would arrange for some no-name hero to test him, and he'd wipe the floor with them. Recently, he'd gone up against four at once and emerged victorious without breaking a sweat.
The only problem was trying to figure out his quirk. He had for now gotten used to a few aspects of his quirk like infinity and using his negative energy to increase the strength of his punches. His eyes were able to show him more details. Recently, he had figured out that if he stared at someone for long enough, his eyes could actually show him where their quirks were originating from. An example of that would be him figuring out that the President's quirk had something to do with her hair. It did make Izuku wonder if his eyes could show more if pushed further, but for now, he had hardly gotten any results making him wonder if this was pretty much his entire arsenal.
Though, the President was insistent that there were other aspects of his quirks that he had yet to discover. She would often point out to him that he had simply grazed the surface and that there were still many aspects of his quirk left for him to discover. He was still trying to figure out just what other abilities he was missing. He had tried asking the President but to no avail. 'You should discover them yourself so that you can become more familiarized with your quirks.' she would say whenever he had bothered asking.
Otherwise, training was becoming tedious. He needed to find another distraction. Maybe he could join one of those tea ceremony classes. They said it was good for building patience or some crap like that.
"I'll visit you again, Mom," Izuku said, as he always did before leaving. While he was walking out of the cemetery, he noticed a boy in his late teens with bluish-grey hair standing in front of a grave. Their eyes locked for a second, and the teen offered a small smile. Izuku nodded curtly and walked past him.
Hands shoved deep in his pockets, Izuku left the cemetery and headed towards the station. On his path, there was a shop that sold televisions. Usually, the screens on display would be showing some random news he couldn't care less about, but not today.
As Izuku was passing the shop, his attention was caught by what the TV news anchor was saying.
"Reports are coming from Kamina ward about the vigilante going around dispensing his form of justice to low-level criminals once again."
Izuku's ears perked up at that, and he halted in his tracks. Walking backward a few steps, he turned left and stared at the televisions. Almost all of them were showing the same news, but his eyes were focused on the one at the center. Why? Because he liked things at the center, that's why.
"From our reporters at the scene that night, we have learned that there were two victims this time. Thirteen deaths in just a month. Thankfully, no innocent lives have been lost. We do not have confirmation that this vigilante was also involved in the previous eleven deaths. But for the first time, we have gotten a proper description of the Vigilante."
A hand-drawn picture appeared on the side of the screen showing a figure dressed in black armor with red highlights. A mask covered the upper half of his face while his chin and lips were exposed. He looked like a discount store version of Daredevil.
"From the description of the eyewitness, it seems that the vigilante is not very tall, somewhere around five feet. Some experts believe that this vigilante could be a child, while others think they might be a dwarf. We are yet to receive any confirmation from the Police, but one of the two Heroes present at the scene, Ms. Midnight, has said this."
Suddenly, the anchor was replaced by a video of Ms. Midnight from last night, apparently from the scene of the incident itself.
"We have yet to find any concrete evidence of the Vigilante," Ms. Midnight said, her tone uncharacteristically serious. "But at least we have a brief description of him from the eyewitness. I know this isn't a satisfactory excuse, but all the Heroes are working tirelessly to find this vigilante and put an end to his illegal actions. We kindly request the cooperation of our lovely citizens to report any information about him. Thank you, darlings~" She finished with a sultry wink and blew a kiss at the camera.
Izuku raised an eyebrow at Midnight's display of...sedition...sedatation...?... Anyways, funnily enough, they were only showing Midnight's face, and he knew it was to avoid showing anything inappropriate - which was pretty much Midnight's whole shtick. The broadcasters really thought they were protecting kids from Midnight's influence. All those kids had to do was create a fake HeroMail account with bogus birth dates, and they could access all of Midnight's content on HeroTube, Herogram, Reddit, Twitter. While Midnight never did anything on the level of OnlyHeroines models, her Hero Outfit alone was enough for boys' imagination, especially those in puberty.
How did he know all this? He was a Hero enthusiast and all the information about Midnight were age-restricted. He had to circumvent his way to get the information he needed on Midnight and well...they seemed useless once he had found them anyways.
What Izuku would never accept was that poor him had gotten his first crush.
"While the Heroes promise action against the vigilante," the anchor continued where Midnight left off, a faint blush on her cheeks, "there are some people who think that the vigilante's actions are actually justified and that they shouldn't punish him for doing their job better. Here's what they have to say-"
The screen changed again, this time showing a crowd gathered around a ground reporter.
"What he's doing is right!" one man in the crowd bellowed into the mic.
"The Heroes are just jealous that he's better and more efficient than them," another yelled.
"We need vigilantes like him who'll keep the streets safe, unlike the so-called heroes," a third chimed in.
"If he'll keep me safe from getting raped and murdered, then I'm all for him," a woman added. "Let him do what he does!"
"If they punish him, we revolt!"
Izuku felt a pang of sadness. It was evident from their words that people were losing faith in Heroes. Heroes were once a bastion of light that shone on Earth to keep it safe. That bastion was starting to collapse slowly. With the rise of villains and petty criminals, and a shortage of Heroes, crime was starting to run rampant. Heroes were trying their best, but even they were human. They could only do so much.
"Though we don't have an official name for the vigilante yet," the news anchor continued, "Some people have started calling him 'The Dark Knight' after the popular classical comic book character – Batman. Though more popularly he is being named the 'Night Crawler'."
"What an honor for the vigilante," Izuku mused. To be compared to Batman himself - that was the dream of so many people. Being compared to Batman was second only to being compared to All Might and maybe Superman. It truly was an honor.
Izuku glanced at his watch and realized he had to haul ass or he'd be late. And so, the green-haired boy took off running towards the HPSC, leaving the televisions and their controversial news behind.
It was another cool, silent night - just how she liked it.
Midnight found herself on the roof of one of the many buildings in Tokyo's Kamina Ward, where she usually patrolled these days. She stretched her arms skyward and inhaled deeply. The cold breeze caressed her bare skin, sending chills of pleasure down her spine.
One of the perks of her costume was that she didn't need to worry about sweating and causing her suit to reek. Add the bonus of getting plenty of air, and her skin always glowed thanks to it.
Midnight's hair swayed enticingly in the breeze.
"Wonder if I'll stumble upon our elusive vigilante tonight," she purred under her breath.
The vigilante had made quite the splash in the news today. He'd become an online sensation overnight - something rarely seen. From what she could tell from social media, he'd already garnered an equal number of supporters and haters. Understandable, considering he was such a controversial figure to begin with. She'd once been just as controversial and had used that opportunity to boost her fame.
But the vigilante needed to be dealt with. As much as she appreciated his work of going after low-level criminals and delivering justice when the system itself was failing, everything had a procedure. Even justice. That's why there were rules, laws, and courts. Yes, the courts might be slow and sometimes inefficient, but that didn't mean they could just let anyone start taking the law into their own hands. It would lead to chaos, and only chaos.
A large explosion two blocks away.
Midnight blinked in confusion and rushed towards the railing. Her eyes widened when she noticed a humongous black humanoid figure towering above the buildings. Its eyes were hollow and white, giving it an eerie appearance in the night. Add to the fact that it had four arms instead of two gave it a monstrous appearance.
The humongous black figure towered over the buildings. People on the ground were running away, screaming in terror. Those inside the buildings held each other, praying it wouldn't destroy their homes.
The monster bellowed into the sky, causing more chaos all around.
Midnight dashed across the rooftops. Thankfully, the buildings were close together, allowing her to jump from one to another with her trusty whip. She knew she had to hurry; otherwise, the villain could damage the residential buildings around him. While she wasn't as strong as All Might or Endeavor, when it came to subduing villains, no one was better than her.
"HELP!"
A desperate scream reached her ears. She turned towards the monster, her eyes widening when she noticed a girl in her late teens being held tightly in one of its massive hands. The girl looked to be in pain from the grip.
Midnight squinted. "Isn't that the Pop Step girl?" she muttered to herself.
Suddenly, the monster started shaking its hand, causing the girl to scream in fear.
"Oh dear~ This doesn't look good." Midnight picked up her pace. If she could reach the building closest to the villain, she might be able to save the girl.
But luck wasn't on anyone's side today.
Midnight was one building away when the monstrous villain screamed into the sky as if in pain. It let go of its hostage, sending the girl plummeting towards the ground.
"HELP ME!" Pop Step cried out as she fell.
"SHIT!" Midnight cursed and jumped onto the railing. She was ready to leap down and catch the girl, but before she could, she saw a cardboard piece flying towards her. "Huh?" she muttered in shock and confusion.
The girl thankfully still had her senses and used her quirk on the cardboard box to bounce away onto the roof of another building.
Midnight's eyes scanned the crowd, wondering who could have thrown the cardboard piece when suddenly something caught her eye.
A black figure was running very fast across the rooftops on the opposite side of the road. The figure leaped towards the villain and punched it square in the face, causing it to stumble backward into one of the smaller buildings.
Thankfully, no lights were glowing in the building, indicating it was empty. Or at least, that's what Midnight hoped.
Her eyes widened as she caught sight of the shiny black armor on the newcomer, realizing it was none other than the vigilante himself. She smirked and licked her lips in anticipation. "Let's see what you can truly do, Night Crawler~"
The Vigilante landed on the road after his punch successfully connected with the villain. He hadn't planned on coming out in the open like this, but who could've guessed that drug would turn the man into this monstrous thing?
The villain managed to push himself to his feet and started looking for his attacker, his eerily white eyes catching the vigilante in seconds.
The vigilante dashed towards the villain, wanting to take him out as soon as possible. Nearing him, he jumped once again, aiming for the villain's head.
However, the villain was prepared. He raised his large left hand and back-handed the vigilante towards the road on his left.
The vigilante went crashing into numerous cars, causing their security systems to beep uncontrollably. Smoke flew everywhere, hiding him from view.
In the sky, a news helicopter could be seen flying, probably recording and reporting on everything going on.
The villain turned towards where he had thrown the vigilante and screamed challengingly.
When the smoke cleared, the vigilante was revealed to the world. He had positioned himself like an Olympic runner, hands on the ground, one leg pulled to his chest and the other extended backwards, using the cars as support.
As if an unseen timer had ticked, both the villain and the vigilante dashed towards each other, the vigilante much faster than his opponent.
Seeing his opponent approach rapidly, the villain reared his fist and shot it towards the ground, aiming for where he thought the vigilante would be when his hand made contact.
However, the vigilante, in a feat of athleticism, jumped onto the villain's hand just as it hit the ground. He then raced up it, towards the villain's face.
The villain, using one of his left hands, tried to crush his opponent. But it was futile as his hand suddenly stopped mid-air unable to be moved.
The villain howled in pain as the vigilante reached his face and, with style, kicked him brutally at the chin.
The kick caused the villain to stumble backwards and fall on his butt.
The vigilante landed gracefully on the villain's forehead. He was prepared to bash the skull of the villain until the drug's effect wore off, but before he could, the villain started to shrink causing the vigilante to jump down just in time as the previously monstrous villain shrank to the size of a normal human being.
Suddenly, white bindings wrapped the shrunken villain, binding him in an immovable position.
The vigilante followed the bindings' length and found they were originating from none other than the Erasure Hero – Eraser Head.
"You know," Eraser Head began in a drawl, "I was on a much-needed break today. But I guess I need to return to duty." He glanced at the vigilante. "Dark Knight."
"HAHAHA!" A booming laughter caught both the vigilante's and Eraser Head's attention. They turned towards its source to see a hulk of a man standing on the sidewalk. He was wearing a bandanna that covered his upper face.
"You must be the Dark Knight?" the large man said. "Name's Knuckleduster!" he introduced himself. "You've been making quite the commotion lately, vigilante. How about you join my group?"
"None of that is happening," Eraser Head snapped. "You're coming with me, Dark Knight."
The vigilante said nothing for a second before raising his right hand and pointing at the villain bound by Eraser Head's capture weapon. "I need him," he said in his robotic tone.
Eraser Head stepped in front of the villain, standing protectively over him. The bindings around his neck came loose as he wrapped more around his hand and took a fighting stance. "If you need him, then you'll have to go through me first."
The vigilante took a deep breath. "Very well," he said, knowing that Eraser Head wasn't one to give up. He dragged his right foot a few steps behind him.
For the next few seconds, the two of them waited with bated breath, and then the vigilante dashed towards Eraser Head.
The moment the vigilante moved, Eraser Head activated his quirk. But... "What?" Eraser Head muttered in confusion.
The vigilante was in front of the Erasure Hero in seconds, but instead of attacking him, he jumped over his head and landed perfectly behind him. Somehow tearing through the bindings, the vigilante snatched up the villain and dashed away.
Eraser Head gritted his teeth and sprinted after the vigilante, but the gap between them was widening rapidly. He saw the vigilante turn left into an alley, but when he finally reached it, he found no one there.
"GODDAMMIT!" Eraser Head cursed and punched the wall of a nearby building. Just when he thought, he had caught the vigilante, the vigilante had to turn out to be a Quirkless guy. But that did not make sense.
How was a quirkless guy doing all that?
This was not a good day for him.
The vigilante's boots scraped against the grimy alleyway floor as he came to an abrupt halt, the dim light of a distant streetlamp casting an eerie glow on the filthy surroundings. The air reeked of decay and neglect, but for his purposes, this forsaken alley would suffice.
With calculated precision, he unwrapped the bindings from the villain, the rope thudding against the wet pavement. His hand shot out, grasping the villain's neck with an unyielding grip, before slamming him against the wall with a muted thud. The villain's head bobbed forward, only to be yanked back by the vigilante's unforgiving hold.
"Where did you obtain the drug?" Each word was enunciated with robotic clarity, his voice a low, ominous growl that sent shivers down the criminal's spine. The anger simmering beneath the surface threatened to boil over, his eyes blazing with an unsettling intensity.
The villain's eyes darted wildly, his pupils constricting in fear. "W-What d-drug are you... talking about?" he stammered, a poorly executed attempt at feigning ignorance.
The vigilante's grip constricted, his fingers digging into the villain's neck like a vice. "Don't lie to me," he rasped, his voice dropping to a menacing whisper, the words dripping with malice. "Where did you find it?"
The villain's face turned a deep shade of crimson as he choked out, "I d-don't know, okay? Got it from some gang around here. They said if I could distribute it to young people, I'd get filthy rich. I need the money for my daughter's college. Please let me go!" Desperation clung to his words like a shroud.
The vigilante's gaze narrowed, his eyes boring into the villain's very soul. "Here, where?" he pressed, his tone unrelenting.
The villain's terror reached a fever pitch. "I don't know! I don't know!" he wailed, panic-stricken, as tears began to well up in the corners of his eyes.
The vigilante's right hand recoiled, his fist tightening with a deadly promise. "You tell me or I bash your skull so hard against this wall that it would turn into a paste." The threat hung in the air, a sword of Damocles poised to strike.
The villain's composure shattered. "I CAN'T TELL YOU!" he shrieked, fear-induced tears streaming down his face. "IF I DID... THEY WILL KILL HER! THEY WILL KILL MY DAUGHTER!"
The vigilante's actions halted, his lips curling downward in a mixture of confusion and concern. His raised fist faltered, hovering in mid-air before slowly descending to his side. "What...?" he began, his voice laced with a hint of uncertainty, a chink in his robotic armor. "What do you mean by that?"
The villain's body racked with sobs, copious amounts of tears streaming down his face as he blubbered, "T-That is what the deal I made. They give me the drugs, I sell them. If I ever reveal their location or identity they kill my daughter and make me eat her." The words tumbled out, a grotesque, horrific confession that hung in the air like a miasma of despair.
The vigilante's lips twisted in revulsion, his expression a mixture of disdain and incredulity. "You'd really go that far? To make such a deal? Do you have no shred of shame, no semblance of decency?!"
The criminal's face contorted in anguish, his voice cracking with desperation. "I didn't do it for myself! It's for my daughter... She's an intelligent, bright girl, deserving of a life far better than the one I've known. She deserves to study, to thrive, to experience the world like her peers, unencumbered by the hardships I've faced!"
The vigilante's composure snapped, his robotic facade crumbling to reveal a more youthful, impassioned tone. "You could've found a job, you idiot!" he yelled, his words laced with a deep-seated frustration. "You could've begged, could've pleaded for help instead of peddling drugs to innocent teenagers and children! There's always a righteous path!"
The criminal's face turned beet red as he countered, his voice a defiant bellow that caught the vigilante off guard. "You think I didn't try every bloody avenue already?!" he spat, venom coating his words. "I studied Engineering, invested years of my life, and finally landed a job. Only to have my quirk," the word was expelled with a vehement disgust, "render me unemployable. I couldn't stay in one place, couldn't escape the constant disruptions. I tried, I tried everything. Working as a grocery store cashier, a car washer, a petrol pump attendant. But every time, without fail, my quirk would sabotage me, and I'd be cast out, rejected once more." The criminal's teeth were bared, his eyes blazing with a furious helplessness.
The vigilante's expression transformed, his curiosity piqued. "What is your quirk?" he asked, his voice measured, slow, as if genuinely seeking to comprehend the complexities of the criminal's plight.
The criminal's laughter echoed through the alley, a hollow, mirthless sound. "Oh, you're curious, are you? Well, let me show you why I'm a walking disaster." He raised his right hand, and with a flourish, picked up a rock lying nearby. The moment their skin made contact, the rock crumbled into a heap of sand, slipping through his fingers like grains. "Anything I touch turns to sand. No exceptions, no reprieve."
The vigilante's eyes widened behind the shadows of his cowl, a flicker of surprise dancing in the darkness.
The criminal's expression turned morbid, his voice dripping with the weight of his curse. "And the worst part? It's impossible to control. Gloves, steel or otherwise, can't contain this... affliction. Five fingers, and it's all reduced to dust." A second, equally hollow chuckle escaped his lips, a stark contrast to the desperation in his eyes. "You see now why every job ended in catastrophe? The losses, the destruction... I was a liability, a ticking time bomb."
Just as the criminal's words hung in the air, the vigilante's fist clenched, his lips curling into a snarl of displeasure. But it was not the criminal's words that triggered this response.
"NO! PLEASE! STOP! NO! MAYA!" A desperate, unfamiliar voice pierced the night air, shattering the tension between the two.
The vigilante's fist shot forward, but in a display of lightning-quick reflexes, he adjusted his aim at the last moment, connecting with the wall a mere inch from the criminal's head. The impact sent shockwaves through the alley, the wall cracking and denting under the force. The criminal's eyes bulged, his mind reeling with the realization that his life had just hung in the balance, susceptible to the vigilante's whims.
The vigilante's face twisted in frustration. "You idiot! Why not seek work in garbage disposal, or something equally suited to your quirk?" He took deep, measured breaths, gradually calming the tempest within. As he released the criminal from his grip, his voice softened, infused with a hint of empathy. "I understand the struggles of a parent, the desperation that comes with it. But there's still a choice to be made. A better path, though fraught with challenges, should be much more preferable for you to dying here. Think of your daughter, Maya. Live honestly, and give her the life she deserves."
"They'll kill me anyway," the villain sobbed, his body wracked with despair, as if the weight of his words was crushing him. "This encounter with you... it's enough. My daughter and I, we're as good as dead. They'll hunt us down, no matter what."
The vigilante's expression remained resolute. "They won't know," he stated, his voice low and reassuring.
The criminal's laughter was a stark contrast to the vigilante's calm demeanor – a resigned, mirthless sound. "They will," he whispered, his eyes clouded with a deep-seated fear. "They always do. They have eyes and ears everywhere."
"Don't worry, I'll take care of them. I'll ensure they never learn of your... betrayal." His gaze locked onto the criminal's, a fierce intensity burning within.
Hope, fleeting and tentative, flickered to life in the man's eyes. "A-Are you really...?" His voice trailed off, uncertainty and desperation warring for dominance.
The vigilante nodded, a subtle, almost imperceptible movement. "Yes. Now go. Consider this your final warning." The gravity of his words was palpable, a clear demarcation between the man's past and future.
With a newfound sense of purpose, the man scrambled to his feet, his movements erratic. He bowed deeply, a gesture of gratitude. "Thank you, whoever you are." His whispered words hung in the air as he turned and fled, disappearing into the night, leaving the vigilante to contemplate the weight of his promise.
As the man vanished around the corner, the vigilante's gaze instinctively swept behind him, his head half-turning in a fluid motion. That's when he spotted her – the X-Rated heroine, Midnight, perched atop a small wall with the effortless ease of a feline. Her legs, crossed in a sensual, knee-over-knee pose, struck a delicate balance between modesty and allure, drawing the eye to the supple thighs that had undoubtedly fueled the fantasies of men across the age spectrum. Her hands, resting lightly on her knees, subtly pressed her breasts together, creating a provocative, cleavage-enhancing effect that seemed almost accidental, yet utterly captivating.
Midnight's eyes, however, told a different story. Shining bright with curiosity, they sparkled like polished onyx, filled with unspoken questions and a hint of intrigue, as if she was intent on unraveling the mysteries of the vigilante's actions. Her gaze, locked onto his, exuded an air of quiet scrutiny, inviting him to share the secrets he kept hidden behind his mask.
"How much did you hear?" he asked. His tone was laced with a serious undertone, his voice low and even. His gaze was fixed intently on Midnight.
Midnight responded with a nonchalant shrug, her smile hinting at a deeper curiosity. "Not much. Just arrived in time for the grand finale."
"Here to capture me, Hero?" The vigilante queried, his tone laced with a hint of wariness.
Midnight's saucy smile grew, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Nah~ Not today, at least. After what I witnessed, I'll let you off with a warning... for now." She glanced towards the alley's exit, her expression turning contemplative. "Though, I do wonder... how can you be certain he won't betray you to the gang?"
The vigilante remained silent, his gaze piercing through the shadows of his cowl, as if scrutinizing Midnight's every feature. This unexpected encounter presented an opportunity to study her, to unravel the enigma that was Midnight.
Midnight, sensing his intense stare, teased, her fingers tracing the curves of her lips. "Fufufu~ You're staring at me so creepily, it's making me blush."
The vigilante's retort was swift, a hint of annoyance creeping into his voice. "Aren't you a bit old to tease me like a schoolgirl?"
Midnight's shrug was accompanied by an air of nonchalance. "For all I know, you're a dwarf in a costume."
"I AM NOT SHORT!" The vigilante yelled. His outburst was immediate, his voice rising in indignation. He quickly realized his mistake, having fallen prey to Midnight's playful jab.
Midnight's snicker was music to her own ears. "You really fell for that." Her expression transformed, turning serious, as she posed a question that cut through the frivolity. "So, you're a kid. What drives you to do this? To take on the responsibilities of a vigilante?"
"I have my reasons."
Midnight's gaze softened, her eyes filled with a deep empathy. "You don't have to do this... There are other ways, other choices, you know."
The vigilante shook his head, his voice laced with a sense of determination. "I have to… You heroes have left me no choice." He paused, his gaze locked onto Midnight's, before adding, "Nice to meet you, Hero."
With a swift motion, he raised his left hand, and a rope shot upwards, disappearing into the night sky. A second later, the vigilante's body was yanked upwards, leaving Midnight to watch as his figure vanished into the rooftops.
Midnight's eyes lingered, following the trajectory of the vigilante's escape, her mind whirling with questions. A curious Midnight was a restless Midnight, and this chance encounter had ignited a spark, ensuring that their paths would cross again.
The vigilante touched down with a muted thud on the rooftop of a corporate high-rise on Tokyo's periphery, having successfully distanced himself from Midnight's unexpected interruption. Lost in the intensity of his conversation with the criminal, he had momentarily sacrificed situational awareness, allowing Midnight to catch him off guard.
With his back against the hum of a large rooftop air-cooling unit, the vigilante slid into a fetal position, his hands clasped over his knees. As he exhaled a sigh of relief, he gently tugged off the cowl that shrouded his upper face, unveiling a disheveled mop of green hair streaked with wisps of gray highlights. The soft thud of his head against the unit's metal casing provided a fleeting sense of comfort, the dull echo resonating within his ears. Eyes upturned, fixed intently on the veiled, cloudy night sky, he inhaled deeply, the cool, damp air filling his lungs.
"What am I doing here?" he murmured aloud, his voice an poignant amalgam of innocence, confusion, and the weight of his responsibilities.
These past few months had devolved into an relentless, sleep-deprived blur. The vigilante's workload had escalated, with each passing day ushering in more demanding, high-stakes missions. The President's expectations for tangible results hung over him like the sword of Damocles, and unfortunately, success had yet to materialize. The cumulative burden of his duties now threatened to overwhelm him, as the once-distinct line between right and wrong grew increasingly indistinct, shrouded in a deepening haze of moral ambiguity.
A year prior, the President had ordained his immersion into 'Field Experience', ostensibly designed to hone his skills in real-world scenarios. Initially, the assignments were straightforward: pursue lesser targets, subdue them, and strategically leave them for the authorities to collect. These early endeavors proved to be well within his capabilities, as he effortlessly overpowered his quarry and restrained them for the police.
However, the paradigm shifted irrevocably when the President decreed his inaugural contract kill. The green-haired boy's gaze drifted to the palms of his hands, now suddenly ablaze with a fleeting, blood-red hue that made him recoil in startled discomfort. His hands instinctively clenched into tight fists, as if physically suppressing the unsettling memory.
Though he had successfully executed the task, the aftermath brought an unsettling revelation: the President's announcement that he was henceforth deemed ready for more formidable, complex missions, having allegedly proven himself in her estimation. Since then, each successive assignment had escalated in difficulty, pushing him to his limits. One particular debacle still lingered in his mind like an open wound – the ill-fated Lebanon excursion, orchestrated to send a cautionary message to a clandestine criminal organization based in Saudi Arabia, an entity he had been previously unaware of. The haunting memories of that chaotic night continued to disrupt his sleep, refusing to be exorcised.
Two months prior, an urgent summons from the President had beckoned him to her office, setting in motion a perilous pursuit. Her briefing had revealed the existence of a clandestine gang operating in the heart of Tokyo, peddling quirk-enhancing narcotics to the quirkless and those with weaker quirks. His mission, as ordained by the President, was to find and apprehend the gang's leader. When he ventured to suggest that such a high-stakes operation might be better suited for the seasoned Pro-Heroes, the President's retort was lashingly crisp: "You are our Pro Hero, Izuku. Isn't that what you aspire to be? As a Pro Hero, you'll be tasked with the unpalatable and the unpredictable – I'm merely preparing you for the realities of your chosen profession."
Her words had, as always, proven incontestable, leaving him bereft of a convincing counterargument. It was as if she wielded an inexplicable influence over his being, a phenomenon that sparked a lingering, albeit far-fetched, suspicion within him: could she be utilizing a quirk to maintain this unwavering control? The only aspect that tempered this burgeoning conspiracy theory was the unshakeable certainty of his eyes that no such quirk was wielded by the President.
Since that fateful meeting, he had immersed himself in a nocturnal game of cat and mouse, scouring the Tokyo landscape for any whisper of the elusive gang. Though his efforts had yielded some successes – the capture of several gang affiliates and drug peddlers – each lead ultimately ended in a dead-end. The seized individuals, when interrogated, proved frustratingly uninformed, offering only vague admissions of being supplied by unknown entities. The elusive break he sought – encountering a dealer with direct ties to the source, rather than one removed through intermediaries – continued to evade him.
His head bowed in despair, weighed down by the crushing pressure of unmet expectations. The President's implicit timeline – to unearth the gang within a month or so – now seemed laughably optimistic, and his failure to deliver had given rise to a creeping desperation. A sinister solution had begun to tantalize him: employing lethal means to send a stark message, hoping the shockwaves would coax the elusive kingpins out of hiding. However, even this calculated gamble had yielded nothing, with no one rising to the bait. Direct inquiries to the President were met with an unyielding assurance that this was invaluable training for a Hero – a justification that no longer resonated with him.
Was this truly the heroic ideal? The President's credo, after all, was that a Hero must spare no means to maintain peace, even if it entailed morally dubious tactics and the taking of lives. She was unwavering in her belief that sacrificing a few for the greater good was not only justifiable but necessary. For a time, he had fervently subscribed to this doctrine, particularly after being presented with documentation of All Might's decisive victory over a formidable villain, which had ostensibly ensured the continued peace and prosperity of society.
Yet, doubts now assailed him. Wasn't this logic flawed? His hands, already stained with the unintended blood of innocents, now seemed poised to accumulate the deliberate blood of criminals and villains. Was this really a step in the right direction? Was he genuinely purging society of its darkest elements, protecting the weak from the predators that lurked in every shadow? Or was he merely perpetuating a cycle of violence, sanctioned by the very authority he trusted? The questions swirled, refusing to be silenced, as the righteousness of his actions began to unravel.
With a vigorous shake of his head, the green-haired vigilante endeavored to dispel the swirling doubts. He was simply overanalyzing, he assured himself. The President's mantra echoed in his mind: a Hero must take all necessary measures to safeguard the greater good, upholding peace and prosperity. This was, after all, the exemplar set by the venerable All Might – the embodiment of heroism. Those unpublicized, behind-the-scenes sacrifices, as revealed in the classified files the President had shared, had granted him a glimpse into the monumental burdens shouldered by the Number One Hero. If he aspired to emulate All Might's greatness, he too must be prepared to bear similar weights, and the President was merely grooming him for this inevitability.
Right?
The internal monologue was abruptly interrupted by a self-imposed rebuke: 'Enough, Izuku! Stop second-guessing!' A reassuring counterpoint swiftly followed. 'The President has your best interests at heart. You're just overthinking, that's all.' With this internal dialogue, the vigilante resolutely donned his cowl once more, the shadows of the night swallowing him whole as he vanished in pursuit of his targets, his resolve – for the moment – reaffirmed once again.
Chapter End
Next Chapter: You...want to...relax?
Author's Post-Chapter Comment:
So, Izuku is starting to question the HPSC ways but he still thinks that they are right and that it would help him achieve his goal. Will he be able to understand the President's manipulation or will he succumb to their tactics? I am not gonna say.
Also, Midnight makes her first appearance in this chapter. She is going to play a major role later down the chapters, so hope you guys are looking forward to that. I also hope my portrayal of her does not offend anyone. I took her Hero costume and persona and multiplied it by 10. Thankfully, this is a much darker world of My Hero Academia and my fanfic. So, I can do whatever I want. Why she isn't controversial in universe? Will be explained in later chapters again.
Anyways, meet you in the next chapter.
Do leave a review if you enjoyed the chapter.
Bye, bye.