Chapter 16: Midoriya Izuku XV
A/N: And here we are back with Izuku's point of view! I won't keep you; hope you all enjoy!
There's an ad playing on a jumbotron, just about half a kilometer away. It's one among many in the crowded square, filled to the brim with a myriad of bustling people and immense digital billboards playing above their heads.
–And that's why you should consider the feelings of your peers! We're all people, after all!–
It's All Might's voice that Izuku's paying particular attention to — has been for the past minute and a half. It's blended amongst others ads playing at the same time; all in all such a limitation doesn't mean much, however.
All Might is a person who catches people's eye the moment he enters their line of sight. Even if only for just a split second, All Might gathers attention — it's a proven phenomenon whenever he jumps over rooftops or merely talks on an interview for a news segment. It'll be the same when he appears on a screen for a public service announcement.
A public service announcement that only took All Might ten months to take off the ground.
Izuku can't help but laugh at such a prospect. All Might is a national figure, with connections and favors to pull from anywhere and whenever. He could have had his message about the quirkless and those with 'weak' and 'villainous' quirks up and running mere days after he and Izuku's mutual rooftop conversation. That it took the man so long to act drives Izuku off any notion that the effort was made for his benefit.
Wonder what's changed though.
Still, there's no telling how much of an impact All Might's new project will actually have. Sure, it's an announcement from All Might, and the man is one of the most influential men of his time. But at the same time, the prejudice against the quirkless and the less flashy and powerful quirks is deeply rooted after so many generations of societal enforcement.
Not that I didn't anticipate such a thing, of course. That's why I'm here, after all.
Not that that really matters right now; it's a far-off concern. Right now, Izuku's focus is on something more pertinent and time sensitive. In other words, je's currently crouched atop a rooftop, just around a couple dozen meters or so away from his target.
The man's name is Kotobuki Akinari; age 26, born in the city of Hioki within the prefecture of Kagoshima. He left home at sixteen — without a valid education or sustainable income — and merely wandered, taking drugs and committing petty crimes.
Nobody of any particular interest — that is, until the rise of one particular change. For the past week he's been stalking one Sakata Sute; age 21, born right here in Shizuoka. Unlike Kotobuki, she's educated, connected, and has a comfy job as a secretary to the local branch of the Safety Commission.
Suffice to say, Kotobuki's plans for the woman are rather… unsavory. His would-be plans are crimes that would raise his status from petty criminal to a heartless, self-serving monster. And that's the point that has caught Izuku's interest.
Ah. And there we are.
Kotobuki's finally walked into a secluded alleyway, one that's fairly extensive and out of the way. Meaning, that it's time to act.
Izuku stands up from his position. He looks over to the next rooftop over, and jumps, steadily making his way towards his target. In the meanwhile, he begins to speak. Not with his own voice, of course. But with an amalgamation — something fairly androgynous in its nature, and thus wholly untraceable to himself.
"Ah. Kotobuki Akinari. We finally meet face to face."
The man turns to face the source of the voice, only to find nothing. He spins to look behind him, only to turn once more to again find nothing. All the while, he's oblivious to the individual watching him from above.
"Wh— Who's there?!" Kotobuki demands, yelling out into the alleyway. He pulls out a knife, which begins to glow an eerie orange.
And there's his quirk — Superhot — in action. It allows him to heat up any nonorganic thing that he's holding, ranging from temperatures of up to a thousand degrees celsius. He likes limiting himself to knives and swords, though. Oddly enough, no form of heat bleeds off the materials he touches — the heat only becomes palpable once contact with the affected object commences. An interesting quirk for sure… But nothing too useful that other quirks can't replicate to a greater degree. Doesn't fit what I'm looking for either.
Izuku flexes the use of his quirk once more, extending his voice once more behind Kotobuki's head. "Does it matter who I am?"
Kotobuki turns again, only to find nothing but himself alone in the alleyway. "What do you want?!" He yells. "You're making a mistake attacking me!"
"Oh?" A chuckle. "Am I now?"
He turns. And again, nothing,
"Is this because of that gas station you held up? Where you were nearly caught because a dog grabbed onto your pants, and you killed it? Only to cry about it later?"
"Or perhaps you mean the fact that you seared that dealer's stomach a few months ago? All because you didn't have enough cash on you for another pathetic hit?"
The voices come in tandem, simultaneously echoing from his front and behind him. By now Kotobuki's shaking, his heart rapidly beating out from his chest. A gulp runs down his throat, and his clammy palms are barely able to hold onto the knife in his hands.
"L— Look man," Kotobuki says," I don't want any trouble."
"Really?" This time, the voice echoes from all sides at once.
Izuku takes that as his cue and jumps down, right behind Kotobuki's shaking form. With prudent use of his quirk, the sounds that would usually accompany the impact of his feet against the pavement is rendered nonexistent.
"Then you should have thought about that before you decided to target innocent women, hmm?"
The man spins to strike, but the action is sloppy and easily predictable — even without the help of Izuku's quirk that essentially grants combat precognition.
Izuku makes quick work of the man; a precise blow against Kotobuki's arm and he drops his knife to the floor, the weapon losing its orange glow. The man attempts to punch his assailant — only for Izuku to quite effortlessly dodge the fist. From there all it takes is one well-placed fist in the middle of the face for Kotobuki to fall over to the ground, blood leaking down runnily from his nose.
Upon gaining some semblance of recovering from the blow, Kotobuki looks up to his assailant. He instantly yelps in fear and attempts to back away.
Personally, Izuku doesn't quite understand why his appearance would warrant such a violent reaction. In Kotobuki's eyes, what stands before him is a figure draped in a black trench coat that runs down to his ankles. Black combat boots adorn his feet, with a similarly black bandolier stretching across his chest. All while Izuku's hair — long and straightened and dyed black (not that the latter fact is widely known) — runs over his face, which is thoroughly concealed by a heavily-customized, full face ski mask with accompanying goggles.
Unfortunately, Izuku doesn't have the time to think of the nuances of such a mystery. There are footsteps approaching from the east, and fast. Given their relative travel from rooftop to rooftop, and the given individual's rough estimated shape, Izuku has a good idea of who's coming.
As such, Izuku simply pushes on. And so he speaks — but not with his own voice. He once again utilizes his quirk, making sure that his voice reverberates in the air around them, giving the illusion that his voice is coming from everywhere at once.
"Do you understand why it is that I'm here, Kotobuki-kun?"
The man shivers, fervently shakes his head.
"Hmph." Izuku crouches down, kneeling right beside Kotobuki. "It's rather simple, really. I know everything there is to know, you know?" Izuku takes hold of Kotobuki's right arm — the man's dominant. "And, well… You have a rather bad habit of talking to yourself when you think of yourself to be alone, you know?"
"You mean you've been watchi—" Kotobuki's face twists in agony, his words cut off by a silent scream that never leaves the confines of his throat. All in all, Izuku's not surprised. The man's reaction is a reasonable one to having one's arm broken and bent in the wrong direction. Izuku's agency to silence the scream was a good one, considering his proximity to the man.
"Think twice before you go around repeating your thoughts regarding that lovely woman you've been watching. Or else next time will see both your arms broken. Good luck trying to sate your… 'desires' then.
Izuku leaves the man curled on the ground, clutching at his broken arm in pain. After a few moments, he turns, just in time to face a man he's become quite familiar with since the start of his vigilante career, over eight months ago.
"Eraserhead!" Izuku cheerfully announces with his quirk, the voice now restrained to seemingly originate from where his mouth is. Izuku himself stands still, with his hands behind his back and posture straight, but eyes never leaving the scruffy-looking hero before him.
"Whisper," Eraserhead huffs with a glower. "The vigilante who plays with peoples' heads before he strikes." He looks around Izuku, right at the cowering victim on the ground. "And it seems that you've striked again."
"And here you are, interrupting my work and appearing before me all angry and agitated," Izuku counters. "Haven't I already announced that all I'm trying to do is help you?"
Of course, he leaves out the part that this isn't the first time they've faced one another. Nor does he mention the part where each and every one of their confrontations has ended with Izuku escaping, and Eraserhead left with nothing but an injured criminal to bring to the nearest police station, and another report to add to the pile.
Nonetheless, Eraserhead crosses his arms, narrowing his eyes. "By imparting lasting damage to your victims? And sometimes even mentally scarring them?"
"And like I've told you before, only those who deserve it receive such measures. They need to be taught a lesson if they are to learn to turn away from their despicable and monstrous actions."
"And yet your system of choosing your victims remains as nebulous as ever." The disbelief is clear in his voice. "Then tell me, what did this one do this time?"
"Projected and forthcoming assault, rape, and potential murder of a female victim."
"You mean you assaulted him for a crime he was supposedly going to commit? And you injured him to such a degree? Do you truly think what you do is heroic?"
"Would you rather I wait until the crime is in progress? Have a woman potentially traumatized when I could have prevented such from happening days in advance?" Izuku shakes his head from side to side, ever so slowly.
"And your basis to accuse me is rather underdeveloped. My information is top notch — that I can assure you. As for the latter part... whoever said that I saw myself to be a 'hero?' I'm not blind; I know what I am. Or, at the very least, what you and your people see me as. And in that narrow mindset, I'm a villain, aren't I? Because I'm too 'brutal' to be a vigilante."
Eraserhead frowns. "All I want to do is question you about your methods, Whisper. It's clear that you only wish to target criminals. But it's true that the way you do so is too brutal, too violent. So if you'd just take the time to—"
"I've told you before that I will not accompany you anywhere. And I will not sit around and talk for an extended amount of time that can allow your reinforcements to get into position. What makes you think that my answer will change? I simply don't trust you to not just trap me the moment I let my guard down. Not with the way some of your colleagues are."
Eraserhead shakes his head. "You can still turn this around for yourself, you know."
"You can tell me that again when you actually catch me with that fancy scarf of yours, for once. Otherwise… I'm afraid you're out of luck. It's simply too late now for me to turn back now."
"Shame to hear." The scarf shoots out without warning, zooming through the air and straight towards Izuku. Any normal criminal would have been caught and be within Eraserhead's grasp in seconds. But with Izuku and his quirk, dodging the offending capture device is as simple as stepping to the side.
Eraserhead's eyes begin to shine red past his goggles, his hair beginning to rise from his head. His plan is simple and yet effective in its application — deactivate Izuku's quirk in order to make his escape as difficult as possible. Unfortunately for the underground hero, the activation of his quirk is simply too late a response.
Before Izuku can even feel his hold over his quirk disappear, the alleyway is filled with gas. Tear gas, to be exact, courtesy of the grenades found in Izuku's bandolier. With the thickening smoke and blinding effects of the gas, Eraserhead's quirk is rendered effectively impeded.
With Izuku's mask protecting his eyes and nose, and with his quirk to allow him to effectively see through the smoke, he has all the advantages of home turf to his disposal.
"Quite antithetical to your request, don't you think? Attacking me when you said you just wanted to talk?"
Izuku dodges yet another applied use of Eraserhead's capture gear — and does so much easier than the first time. Eraserhead is effectively blind, after all, and is aiming in the general direction of where he presumes is his target.
From there the plan's quite straightforward. Simply, Izuku takes part in some rather effective mind games. Eraserhead hasn't caught on yet — though Izuku's inclined to believe the hero will soon — but this is the second time he utilizes the strategy, so there's still time for that.
He replicates sounds of his footsteps, running, in one direction. Eraserhead makes the bid to follow, while Izuku slinks away in the opposite direction, his footsteps muffled with the ample use of his quirk.
When Eraserhead finds himself out of the gas, he makes the time to clear his vision. He can still hear the footsteps up ahead, just around the edge of the alley's exit. But when he turns the corner and out onto the busy street, he finds no sign of the target he's chasing. All there is are cars and people, and nothing to designate Whisper's location.
He's none the wiser that, largely out of sight and back in the depths of the alley, a black portal has winked out of existence. There is no trace of Izuku left behind aside from the man who had sparked this confrontation.
As is, Kotobuki Akanari is still on the ground, trying his best to move past the pain of his arm and the debilitating gas that now surrounds him. He won't escape; not with his injuries, and not with Eraserhead still around.
All in all, just another day in the life of Midoriya Izuku.
Izuku lets out a sigh as he exits the portal, his feet settling onto the floor and the sounds around him becoming more disparate. He takes off his mask and then takes a moment to settle himself, allowing his quirk to adjust to his newfound surroundings.
He's out of danger now; and yet, despite his flawless escape and careful handling of the situation, he can't stop himself from releasing some of his irritation.
"That man is getting annoying."
"Oh for fucks sake! Stop your whining!" Tomura pleads from his solitary corner of the bar. "Why not just kill the scruffy hobo already and be done with it?"
"I'll have you know that there's no way that I'd win a one-on-one fight with him." Izuku pauses. "Well, I don't think so, at least. Not if it's in any sort of prolonged fight, anyways. He's perhaps the most renowned underground hero, you know."
"And besides," Izuku counters, throwing a pointed look towards Tomura before he himself can speak up, "I'm not going to kill Eraserhead. I've already told you: he's one of the decent ones."
"And as such, you situate yourself in largely unnecessary danger, facing off against this underground hero who persists fervently after your alter-ego," Kurogiri interjects.
"Once again, both for my reassurances and for your safety, I must recite myself — I admonish you for running around like you are, Midoriya. You are taking down potential allies to the cause—"
"Your cause, maybe," Izuku interrupts. He moves over to one of the bar's many open stools and takes a seat. "Remember: similar goals, but dissimilar interests and methods. I understand that as things are now, going lone wolf would — aside from satisfying my pride — do nothing but hinder my efforts. So I'll play along for now—"
"Yada yada yada," Tomura interrupts, his voice disrupting Izuku easily. "Yeah, yeah. We get it. You'll keep lying to yourself about what you really are—"
"I'm fully capable of understanding my flaws of logic and the circumstantial position that—"
"I'm sure you are. And like I said, your stupid ass—"
"I'm sure that if you ran your mouth the same way you—"
"Boys."
Kurogiri's presence easily pierces the argument. Both Tomura and Izuku cease their squabble, the former dismissing the situation and heading back to his games while the latter looks towards Kurogiri.
Having Izuku's attention, Kurogiri gestures his head towards the television situated atop the bar. Any normal patron would find it to just be part of the atmosphere, but the truth is something wholly different.
The ancient box television was added to the bar after Sensei's… confrontation with All Might. It allows the man the luxury of communicating with the bar without having to even leave his lair.
Knowing what Kurogiri's gesture means, Izuku moves down the bar countertop to the seat in front of the television, turning a dial to switch the device on.
Static flickers into existence; greys and blacks and white dancing across the screen. Most would consider the sight to mean a lacking signal or a broken television; but of course, that just isn't truez
"Sensei," Izuku greets as he rests his head on the table. He'd rather not stare at the screen, after all.
"Ah, Izuku." Sensei's voice answers back, still as mysterious and menacing as ever. Izuku's figured out by now that Sensei appreciates a sense of showmanship. He likes to show off, piecing together one dramatic effect after the next. The use of the television is no different than that need. "I see that you're acclimating relatively well."
Izuku has no doubt that Sensei relays the phrase sarcastically — he wouldn't even be surprised if he knew about his quarrel with Tomura just a minute ago. The man isn't averse to spying after all, and Izuku wouldn't put it past the man to see the fight in a way that appealed to his twisted sense of humor.
"You could say that," Izuku answers diplomatically.
Sensei's chuckles reverberate through the screen. "And I'd say that I'm right. You've invested yourself quite well into your self-imposed role. Your exploits as… What are they calling you? Whisper, yes? Well, I have to say that your feats are impressive as is."
"But we're not here to talk about that, yes?" Sensei continues, just before Izuku is able to say his piece. "No matter. I haven't contacted you for a progress report or anything of the sort. I simply want to know — Are you ready?"
Izuku doesn't need any prompting to know what Sensei's talking about. "I am."
"That's good to hear. But you know me — I like to cover my bases. So do me a favor: give me a brief rundown. To the level of… let's say what an assessor might see at a cursory glance."
Izuku clears his throat. "Michimoto Jakku — Age 16, born in the prefecture of Iwate to parents Michimoto Anzai and Kaori. Black hair, yellow eyes — courtesy of some contacts via Giran's contributions — and pale skin. Quirk: Hyper Analysis; Allows the user to quickly and precisely analyze things in the heat of the moment." Izuku huffs. "I still don't like that. It's too on the nose."
"But it's an easily provable skill of yours," Sensei counters. "You're good enough at analysis that you can pass it off as a quirk. You can fake and lie while actually knowing what you're talking about — and that makes for a good cover."
"And it's a sure way to get Nezu's attention."
"You'll be fine. You've memorized your doctored dossier. It'll hold for what we have planned. For now, what you need to worry about now are your studies."
"I can pass the written exam easily," Izuku argues. "The only thing I have to worry about is the practical — though I hope that I'm capable enough that I can take down a dozen or so training bots. Otherwise my time here has been a waste for both me and all of you."
"If you're so sure," Sensei says. "Any final thoughts?"
Izuku shrugs. "Just that it's a bit shameful really, that we can implant somebody so easily. All it requires is a fake record and boom; I'm scheduled to take the exam."
"Don't forget that — among others — I've been cultivating this identity for years."
And that's a scary thought; to think that he has a lineup of multiple fake identities ready to use and dispose of whenever.
"It won't hold up to scrutiny," Sensei continues, "but all the paperwork is present. That will ensure that you last a week, at a minimum. This operation must be flawless if we are to get past the rat's radar, after all."
Izuku nods. "Sounds good to me."
Sensei hums. "You're sure that you don't wish to attend fully? I can use one of my more cemented identities—"
"I'm sure," Izuku interrupts. "It's too late for the hero school route."
Sensei lets out a short chortle. "And I assume that has to do with you not being able to stand being around so many aspiring naive heroes all day?"
"Something like that."
"As long as you understand the stakes here," Sensei says, brushing off Izuku's obvious initial distaste in the topic at hand. "Remember. Don't waste this opportunity."
"I won't," Izuku says. "This is just the first step amongst many, after all."
A/N: And there we go! Hope you all enjoyed this nice little time skip and the insight it's given regarding Izuku's newfound place amongst his peers. Of course, it's only one small part of a greater complexity - there's more internal dialogue to come!