Chapter 3: Blood on Your Hands
Exams had just ended. Izuku was thankful for the break from school, especially after studying so hard and trying to balance his training and research on top of academics.
He didn't finish at the top of his class (he made sure he wouldn't. What's a few missed points in comparison to getting a zero for "cheating?"), but he hadn't done horribly, either. That was all he needed.
He hadn't told anyone about his quirk, nor did he plan to. He considered telling his mother, but he'd rather wait. He couldn't dance around the fact that he practically died in order to discover his quirk, so it was best to hide it for now. It was easy enough, anyway.
The legalities might come back to bite him eventually, though. In Japan, it's illegal to have a quirk and not get it registered within the first two months of its manifestation. He still had time, but he wished he didn't have to at all . . .
It was complicated, really. The whole "twenty percent of the population is quirkless" statistic was bullshit. Maybe that's what it was a couple generations ago, but most people had one by now. The younger you were, the more likely it was. In fact, most of the current quirkless population was made up by the elderly. If you were still "quirkless" (or just hadn't figured out your quirk) by the age of eight, you were legally considered quirkless.
The statistics are messed up because they're extremely outdated and constantly changing. Some people with quirks die before they ever figure out the activation criteria, so they're labeled as "quirkless" even in death.
And even in death, the world is a cruel place. Izuku knows.
The bullying hadn't stopped since Izuku "died." Why would it? At least Harumi seemed more hesitant to laugh at him after their last encounter, which came as a bit of a surprise to Izuku.
But everyone else had no reason to stop. Izuku would still come home everyday covered in bruises and burns garnered from his classmates.
Izuku wondered if Kacchan would feel any remorse if he knew that his childhood friend took his advice seriously.
"Just pray that you'll be born with a quirk in your next life and take a swan dive off the roof of the building!"
Probably not.
Izuku was lonely. He knew that, and he felt it everyday. It was hard not having anyone to rely on besides his own mother.
But he couldn't talk to her. He couldn't make her worry about him more than she already did. He couldn't become another burden on her shoulders.
So, that meant he had nobody but himself.
Izuku was okay with that.
He wasn't.
~~~~~
Izuku had plans.
Finally, finally, it was time.
He was headed straight for Kacchan's house right after this.
Izuku made sure he was wearing his Gakuran. He wanted the blonde to feel sick whenever he saw Izuku in that tattered uniform. He wanted Kacchan to feel sick whenever he saw Izuku.
Not sick from disgust, no. He wanted him to be sick from guilt. For once, Izuku would be in control.
Izuku set the knife down on his bedside table.
The blood from his right wrist steadily streamed into the tall cup he held in the same hand, filling with crimson.
The cup was stationed on the floor next to his bed with Izuku on his stomach, his right arm hanging off of the bed so he could hold the top of the cup.
He waited a little bit until he was satisfied.
Then, Izuku went into the Spirit Plane. Lo and behold, a replica of the cup of blood came with him, an extension of himself.
It worked! He'd been a little worried that his grip would fail when he left his body, but the positioning seemed to help.
Now he had exactly what he needed.
Izuku floated out of his first floor apartment and all the way to Bakugou's house, filled with anticipation.
~~~~~
Izuku found Bakugou in his room on his phone, laying down.
Perfect.
Izuku decided to wait a few minutes. Think, savor, revel in the silence. He imagined Kacchan's reaction, his scream.
He was ready.
Izuku entered the Ghost Plane and found himself behind Bakugou, just next to his left ear.
"Kacchan," he whispered.
Bakugou immediately tensed, pausing any movement to listen, as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing. Why would he?
"Kacchan," Izuku drawled once more.
Bakugou's eyes widened and he sat up, slamming his phone face down on the bed beside him.
"What the fuck? Deku?" he asked challengingly.
Izuku chuckled, his voice dry and humorless.
Bakugou stiffened at the sound, his gaze flickering threateningly around the room, searching for anything that might give away Izuku's position. He had his hands braced at his sides, prepared to explode.
Without warning, a hand gripped Bakugou's shoulder.
"What's wrong? Are you scared, Kacchan?" Izuku cooed.
Bakugou swang his arm around, attempting to hit his offender. It went right through him. Not that he could see it, anyway. "Deku– no, whatever the fuck you are—!"
Izuku scowled.
He was the same as ever.
"You don't believe it's me?" Izuku asked, his tone feigning heartbreak. His green eyes narrowed out of spite. "Maybe this will help!"
Izuku concentrated on the contents of the cup, dumping it over Bakugou's head without a sliver of hesitation.
A slight gasp came from Bakugou as blood rushed from his head and dripped down his body.
"Don't act surprised. This isn't the first time my blood has been on your hands," Izuku spat, the petty smirk evident in his voice.
Izuku slowly slipped his other hand onto Bakugou's shoulder, using both hands to rub slowly. Izuku made sure that Bakugou could feel his deliberate touch as his clothes became stained red.
The freckled boy made himself visible, leaning over Bakugou's shoulder. "I took your advice, you know. It was the best decision I've ever made. Now I'm like this because of you, Kacchan."
The ghost watched as the color slowly drained from Bakugou's face.
God, maybe Izuku was enjoying this too much.
A rush of warmth filled Izuku as his face split into a cheshire grin.
In his celebration, Izuku nearly failed to catch the way Bakugou had his head tilted towards Izuku's ghostly form on his shoulder, dark carmine eyes wide with terror. His eyes searched Izuku's own, scrutinizing them with a desperation Izuku hadn't even seen when the sludge villain had him captive. Deep crimson eyes that denied ever having begged for help.
Deep crimson eyes that reminded Izuku of blood.
The ghost watched Bakugou's throat bob, his voice hoarse when he spoke. "I- Deku—"
"Kacchan," Izuku whispered back, gently wrapping his arms around the blonde's lower neck. It was reminiscent of a hug, yet it was meant as anything but. It acted like a chain tightening around Bakugou's throat.
"You—" Bakugou's fists clenched. "You weren't supposed to—" he choked out.
Izuku squinted at Bakugou, smirking. "The suffering won't fade just because time's passed," Izuku replied in a sickeningly sweet tone. "I hope you can live with it, Katsuki."
And like that, Izuku willed himself invisible, backing away into the Spirit Plane and leaving his childhood friend to silently writhe where he stood, drenched in blood.
But that wasn't anything new for Katsuki, was it? He had always been alone, soaked in blood that wasn't his own.
~~~~~
Izuku had always prided himself with having strong morals . . . even if the lines had started to blur a bit more recently.
Being morally ambiguous wasn't something he knew much about, nor did he want to.
At least, that's what Izuku told himself as he floated past the security of a weaponry store. He was looking for some handheld weapons to use in the near future, and he felt the need to up the ante on his training regimen.
. . . Not that he had much experience with anyweapon whatsoever, but he was going to need it.
Before Izuku even began looking at the selection, he scoped out the area, looking for cameras, exits, alarms, and employees. If he had to, he would come back at a later time so he wouldn't be captured.
Not that he could be caught. He technically wasn't even there! The only issue is that he can't make objects in the Human Plane disappear into the Ghost or Spirit Plane with him unless he's already touching it in the Human Plane when he crosses over. If he were to take a weapon, it would just be floating around in the security footage.
Izuku rubbed his wrist. It had healed while he was busy messing with Kacchan, but his chronic pain grew worse as a result. Luckily, the pain would eventually grow duller. Or perhaps he just got used to it.
Turns out that big or lethal injuries are the only ones that heal when Izuku is outside of the Human Plane. His wrist seemed to be enough of a threat to his body that it needed to be healed, although none of his older bruises went away.
Anything to keep a suicidal boy from death, right?
Izuku finished observing the premises. From what he could tell, there were about three employees in the building, two in the main room where the weapons are displayed and one in the back.
Part of Izuku felt so guilty for stealing, but he was just a teenager, wasn't he? Half the time his lunch money would get stolen at school and he'd go hungry, so sue him for not paying.
At least Izuku had made sure it wasn't a small business he was stealing from.
~~~~~
Izuku observed the different weapons on display. There were different knives, swords, even a few guns that were locked up behind some glass casings. Unless you were in the military or police force (or a pro hero), you couldn't own or carry guns in Japan. However, there were a few exceptions made for hunters, so long as they had a license.
The freckled boy found himself observing a pair of dual swords— they looked so cool! A couple knives had caught his eye, but he didn't want to take too much. I mean, nabbing some equipment probably wouldn't hurt . . .
Izuku shook his head. No, he had to stay on task. He couldn't get too greedy here. Just because he could, doesn't mean he should.
He grinned to himself, making up his mind after another minute of thinking.
Switching out of Spirit Plane and into Ghost Plane, Izuku approached the fire alarm and concentrated so he could pull it. The building's alarm blared, lights flashing.
The workers were quickly alert, rushing out of the building and ushering along any customers inside with them.
Izuku carefully snatched the dual swords and a back holster for his new weapons before he flew out of the emergency back doors (which had been left ajar from when the employees fled the scene). If he was fast, he could get high enough into the sky and carry away his new gear without being spotted by people on the ground.
So he did.
~~~~~
Izuku collapsed on his ass, huffing in irritation. God, none of these tutorials about dual sword wielding were very helpful. Like, he kinda got the hang of some of the basic stuff. Form, some technique . . . but he had no progress when it actually came to combat.
Plus, most videos online were made by foreigners. Sure, he could manually translate it and learn through observation, but it still sucked. English and Japanese were the only languages he was fairly fluent in. Just another barrier to overcome, Izuku supposed.
Maybe he should've thought this through a bit better.
Izuku glanced towards the corner of his room, eyeing the hoodie, mask, and sword holster sitting on his dresser.
He wanted to be prepared for his first official "outing," but was this really worth it? He'd been working out consistently for nearly three weeks now. That included eating better and training his quirk whenever he could.
There's something that's been on his mind, as well. His quirk . . . what category does it fall under? Mutant, emitter, or transformative?
Emitter-type quirks generally mean that the user has the ability to manifest or create something. Someone with a fire quirk, like pro-hero Endeavor, has an emitter-type quirk. Although, emitter-type quirks have usually stronger physical drawbacks due to their versatility.
Mutant-type quirks mean that the user generally has a different build or skill set that they're born with, but sometimes adjusting to more common society is a hindrance. He felt that he fell under this category, although he wasn't entirely sure due to the fact that his changes weren't exactly physical. If he was right, though, that meant Izuku was born with his quirk. It was probably more of an overall state where his soul was more connected to the other planes, rather than a physical state. Physical changes were a common side effect, however. Some people looked like reptiles while others could have wings!
Izuku knew he didn't have a transformative quirk, though, that's for sure. Transformative-type quirks had physical changes, but they were also temporary. He had entertained the thought at first, but he knew that he could probably leave his body however long he wanted without many drawbacks, if any at all.
His quirk wasn't a temporary effect or something he produced; it was a part of him. That's why he believed it must be a mutant-type quirk.
Izuku's fists clenched slightly around his weapons, glancing down at the shiny blades.
Maybe it would help to gain live experience?
Dangerous.
Perhaps necessary.
Either way, who cares? It's not like he'll get hurt. Izuku wouldn't complain even if he did.
Maybe he's more messed up than he thought.
Considering this past month, he probably should've known . . .
~~~~~
It had been a few more days of practicing with the swords and brushing up on some basic self defense moves. He probably wasn't at the skill level he wanted to be for what he was about to do, but whatever. He had still improved quite a bit!
Izuku threw on his hoodie, his face mask, and his holster before tucking himself under the covers. His swords were in his hands, hidden beneath his pillows. Dual swords were shorter than most other swords, so it was easier to hide. He made a pretty good choice.
His quirk allowed for a great decoy because it technically was still him. His body. He just wasn't really there. If his mom walked in, she'd just see him "sleeping."
Izuku crossed over into the Ghost Plane holding his weapons.
A fresh wave of excitement hit Izuku like a bullet train.
Was he about to do this? For real?
Yes, yes he was. After tonight, he could officially call himself a vigilante.
Izuku flew into the night sky, doing a quick flip midair out of pure joy. The sensation of freedom overwhelmed him.
He had never done any sort of flip before he learned of his quirk. Just another small way his life had changed for the better.
He was pretty sure that this feeling would never get old.
Izuku wondered if he would ever grow old.
~~~~~
The first hour and a half had been pretty uneventful. Not to say that he wasted it; he pretty much just wandered the city and practiced with his swords. He had even spent a little time picking up some litter in one of the rougher parts of town. He felt bad whenever he saw trash, especially when he only lived a few minutes away from the garbage-infested Takoba Beach.
Perhaps that could also be another way to train?
Izuku was steadily floating above the city, scanning the ground for any disturbances. The interesting thing about being out at night is that most civilians were at home sleeping or working night shifts at their job, so it would probably be easier to pick out crime like this—although, he definitely couldn't jump to conclusions whenever he saw someone outside in the evening.
Vaguely, Izuku made out two figures in an alley, standing by themselves. Something felt wrong, but he couldn't quite place his finger on it.
Maybe it had something to do with the fact that Izuku had been cornered in the exact same way so many times before.
He floated down, stopping overhead to observe the situation, prepared to intervene.
There was a young woman with dark eyes and dirty blonde hair standing against the wall, her back pressed against the red brick. She didn't look outwardly threatened, but her posture was stiff and unnerved.
An older man with dark grey hair and a large build was standing in front of her, blocking her exit. He had a relaxed posture and small smirk occupying his face, staring her down.
Izuku tensed when the man took a step forward.
"Come on, do you really have much of a choice here? It'll be for a good cause, I promise. We'll take care of you," he smiled charmingly.
The woman glanced away, her brown eyes scanning her surroundings for an escape. "U-um, what did you say you needed me for, specifically . . . ?"
"Relax. We need you because you're quirkless, alright? You want a quirk, don't you? I know a place that's working towards giving people like you a chance. It's all paid testing," he said, voice taking a sing-song tone. "Come on, it's good work."
"So you need me because I'm quirkless? I-I thought . . ." the woman stuttered.
Izuku's brows furrowed. What was he hearing about testing and quirkless people? His stomach sank and he felt sick.
It was quirk experimentation. He'd read about this in a public safety announcement a few months back. Apparently, abduction rates in the past few years had spiked, specifically targeting quirkless people. Quirkless people were like a clean slate, a control group. Easily manipulated.
Thinking back a couple years ago, there had been a big story that went crazy in the media about a little boy that had been kidnapped and had his quirk taken, as well as showing physical signs of human experimentation.
Izuku shuddered.
This woman was going to be a victim unless he did something.
The man took another step forward, attempting to seem nonthreatening as he closed in on her.
Izuku dove into the alley and stationed himself between them. He concentrated, forcing the grey haired man back with a sharp push.
He stumbled back a few feet from the sudden, unexpected force, nearly toppling over. "Wh- was that you? Fuckin'— did you lie about being quirkless?" he grunted, his surprise dissolving into anger. His hands clenched into tight fists at his sides.
"No, no! I'm quirkless, I promise! Please-!" the blonde woman screamed.
The man stormed towards her while a mysterious glow surrounded him. "You little b—"
Izuku's heart rate spiked and he reacted on instinct, reaching for one of his swords. He focused and slashed, aiming for a leg to throw the guy off balance.
"Agh—! Fuck!" The man cried, keeling over as his shin was sliced open, blood flowing from the wound. His silvery glow dimmed. It was likely an effect of his quirk, but what was his quirk? Strength enhancement? Something reflex related?
Izuku's mind raced with possibilities, his heart nearly pounding out of his chest as he stared down at the person he'd just attacked.
Oh, God. What was he doing?! He just sliced someone's leg open! He- he wasn't qualified for this! He should leave—
Out of the corner of his eye, Izuku caught sight of the trembling woman behind him. Behind him.
He was the only thing standing between an innocent girl and what was likely death.
Izuku's brows furrowed and his resolve steeled. No, he couldn't just leave when he was the only one here to help. What would that solve? He eyed the man, who was slowly making his way back to his feet, shaking from what was likely a mixture of adrenaline and fury.
"Hah- haha," he laughed dryly. "I'm going to fuckingkill you!" the man spat.
Izuku slashed again, hitting his other leg. The goal was to neutralize him— not kill him. He could leave the rest to the police. If he could just get the man to stop fighting—
The man briefly faltered after the attack but his chemical rush kept him upright and aggressive. Grey hair briefly enveloped Izuku's vision when the older man passed straight through him, headed directly towards the blonde.
A flash of fear filled Izuku, knowing that smaller attacks wouldn't work against someone like this without utilizing blood loss— and he didn't have time for that. He had to immobilize him!
Izuku's hands darted out, gripping flesh by the neck. Blood roared in his ears, his vision narrowing as he watched the man choke. Izuku was lifting the larger man above the ground as he floated, enough so that his feet were dangling.
He couldn't tell how long he was holding on for, but his entire body was laser-focused on keeping his grip in the Human Plane. He had to protect her, he had to protect her, he had to protect her—
There was a slight spasm in Izuku's grasp and a sickening choking sound.
The man fell limp.
Izuku gasped, immediately dropping him to the ground. His hands ached from the effort he had just expended.
He quickly fell by the man's side, checking his pulse to make sure he was still alive.
Izuku was scared. Izuku was really scared.
The weak thrum of blood against his fingers were enough to help soothe his anxiety, and Izuku relaxed.
He had done his job, albeit not as cleanly as he would've liked.
Izuku straightened. He needed to—
A soft sob broke his train of thought.
He turned his head, watching the shivering blonde and scrutinizing her for injuries or any sign that she might not be okay.
Well, besides the fact that she had possibly witnessed a homicide after nearly being kidnapped.
Izuku inhaled deeply. He had time. He should make sure she was okay.
Taking a leap of faith, Izuku made sure he looked presentable and concentrated on making his entire body visible.
A hitched breath followed by another short sob.
Izuku raised his hands in a placating manner, slowly turning his body toward her with a nervous smile. She couldn't see his lower face, but he hoped the smile reached his eyes.
"Are you alright?" he asked, his voice strained with effort.
"Who are you?!" the woman screamed.
Izuku bowed his head, averting his gaze to the ground. "I knocked him out, and I'll make sure the police get here. You're going to be okay, I promise."
Her brows were pinched with distrust, but ultimately, she took his word—still keeping a safe distance away.
Izuku got to work, setting the man upright against the wall and restraining his wrists and ankles with zip ties (better than nothing, right?) before pulling out his phone and using the number he had saved.
Cheap burner phones were pretty useful, huh? It was ironic that his new "crime" phone was in better shape than his personal one . . .
It was the police department. He wasn't sure that he wanted to use his voice in a phone call, lest he give them something to identify him with, so he just texted.
Attempted kidnapping on block six. Offender is injured, restrained, and unresponsive. Victim is without harm. Please come.
If worse came to worst and there was no response, he could probably carry the man to the station and leave him outside.
He should probably stop referring to him as "the man." Izuku patted him down, pulling out the wallet in his back pocket before identifying him as "Akashi Hino." He put the wallet back.
Glancing at the woman, he thought maybe he could calm her down with some loose conversation to distract her.
"Hey there, er- do you mind me asking your name?" Izuku tried.
The blonde had been quietly sitting tucked into herself on the ground for a while now. She glanced up, her eyes red with tears. "Kiyo . . "
Izuku smiled softly. "Well, Kiyo, you're going to be just fine. The police are on their way and I won't be leaving your side until they get here."
She nodded, looking back at the ground. Her legs were scrunched to her chest with her arms crossed on top. Defensive posture, likely self-soothing, Izuku noted. He couldn't blame her.
Nobody should have to go through what she just did.
Delayed anger rose in Izuku's chest. It was okay, though. He had saved her.
He had just saved someone.
Maybe Izuku really could be a hero.
~~~~~
Izuku reverted back to invisible the moment he heard sirens nearby, but he never really left the scene. He wanted to make sure everything went well, especially for Kiyo.
He had to hand it to them, really. The police took it all in stride. They got Akashi into the car while he was still out cold and made sure Kiyo was okay, even managing to get a statement out of her.
Izuku wasn't thrilled by the fact that she readily gave away his description, but it wasn't enough information that he had to be worried. He thanked himself for his mask and hoodie.
He exhaled in relief as the area was cleared. Kiyo was taken to the station with the police— in a separate car from Akashi, of course, and the police swept the area for evidence. They found none beside the streaks of drying crimson and some signs of struggle.
All that mattered tonight was that everyone was okay (more or less) and that Izuku had saved someone.
He was definitely doing this again.
~~~~~
Katsuki had long since scrubbed the blood from his hair and cleaned his clothes, but everytime he looked at himself in the mirror, he still saw it.
What's worse, he still saw Deku right behind him, smiling.
It was the same bone-chilling smile he had seen when Katsuki had looked over his shoulder, directly at the apparition clinging to him.
It couldn't be Deku. That smile wasn't his.
He scowled, slamming the bathroom door shut behind him and trying to ignore the rising anxiety in his chest.
Deku wasn't dead. There was no way in hell that nerd would give up so easily.
God, Katsuki hoped he wouldn't.
He hated Izuku with his whole being.