boxman

It's Sakura season again. Which is just… crazy.

Where did the time go? He's spent the past year running around the country, when did he lose track of the time? Just a few months ago he was sure that time had crawled into a river and gotten itself stuck beneath the ice. Maybe that was just winter. Sure, Izuku likes Sakura season better than winter, but now that it's here he almost wishes it was winter again.

Maybe staring Death Arms in the face doesn't help. Seems like every time Izuku sees that guy he's stressed out of his mind. Izuku doesn't know the guy personally (and doesn't want to, mind you), but Death Arms yells a lot. For a moment, Izuku considers telling the guy about that massage parlor two streets down. Apparently, despite being cheap enough for a high schooler to buy a make-over package, they do good work. His mother had been glowing when she came back.

He glances from Death Arms over to the Police officers and catches a pair of them lounging on their cruisers. Most of them seem to consider this a problem, but he can see several who haven't drawn their weapons. The ones he recognizes who aren't taking it easy are holding a meeting, seemingly content with the situation.

Considering he's got three guns pointed at him and a knife pressed against his throat, he really wishes they would care a little more. Or at least pretend. The villains are close enough that, if his mom followed through with that joke from last week, a rape whistle would probably shatter their eardrums.

The street is in a deadlock thanks to the heroes' response time and the Police acting quickly, but it's a bit of a double-edged sword at the moment. Instead of some kind of chase or… anything more exciting, Izuku just stands in the middle of the street while the villains glare at the cops and try shuffling around.

"Man, how'd this go so wrong?" One of them curses quietly. Izuku rolls his eyes.

"Well, if you were from around here, you'd know that Death Arms patrols the next street over every Tuesday. Lei-a-nardo is pretty new but with the Sakura blossoms going strong they're on city clean up duty and that storm last weekend left a whole bunch of people complaining." Izuku twists his nose at the desire to sneeze.

"You some kinda hero nerd, brat?" A mirthless chuckle sounds from behind him as someone presses a gun to the side of his neck. It's just a standard handgun, one with a bit of attitude that Izuku hasn't seen before, but he assumes that it's got standard ammo loaded in it. "How's it feel knowing they've left you to us? You're not worth it for these cops. Must feel pretty horrible."

"Yeah, I mean they could at least act like they've got something better to do." Izuku huffs, twisting his mouth as a particularly strong bit of pollen leaves his nose itchy.

"Uh, kid, I didn't mean it like that, I meant…"

"What? Oh, you're fine. I didn't think you meant it personally."

"I… Okay?"

"Hey, can you like… raise that knife up to my face? I've gotta itch my nose really bad or I'm gonna sneeze."

"Do you know who you're talking to kid? You're a hostage."

"That's kind of a big picture thing, honestly? Look, just say no if you're not going to, this is really irritating and I'm trying to focus."

"Is this fun for you, brat? What, you some powerhouse playing by the rules, waiting for the media or something?"

"No, I'm quirkless," There's a moment were the weapons pressed against his skin waver, "But I really don't want to deal with Death Arms today so if you wouldn't mind turning yourselves in, I'd really appreciate it. You guys don't have an out."

"What the hell are they feeding kids these days, apathy?"

"Hey, you have a word of the day calendar, don't you?"

"Shut up before I gut you."

"I've got that same calendar, though!" Izuku's eyes hurt a bit from trying to look up, since the one who has that calendar is directly behind him, so he glances to the side and catches the time from the knife villain's watch. "Ah, is that the time? Look, guys, can we wrap this up? I need to get home. They gave us this new Pre-Cal assignment and I'm not really…"

"I don't know if you're dumb or careless, but I'm not going in just because you're a fucking nerd…!"

Izuku snorts a bit. The insult reminds him of Ka-

Bakugō. Reminds him of Bakugō. With less, ah… heat.

"Look, I get it, you guys are villains, you're scary and you managed to get, like, halfway through a crime. Which is more than a lot of people can do these days, honestly," Izuku sighs, pressing a hand against the knife to gently guide it away from his neck. The heroes and the Police are starting to panic, now, and the thugs are stepping back trying to focus on him, now that he's moving. "As much fun as this has been, I've got homework and I really don't have time to stick around."

He's half turned around when the three villains with pistols fire. Two of the bullets get snatched up, but the one on his left punches through his jacket with enough force to make him grunt. One look tells him that there's a noticeable hole punched through his shirt and coat, which means he'll need to buy another uniform tomorrow.

"Do you know how much these things COST!?"

Wide eyes stare back at him as the villains turn their handguns on the heroes and the Police, which does absolutely nothing against the tasers and fists coming their way. It's kind of anticlimactic, actually. Next thing he knows a familiar officer is leading him out of the chaos as if he hadn't just left Izuku to his own devices a few minutes ago.

One look at the ambulance on standby and Izuku decides that he's entirely done with this for today. Halfway there he turns and looks up at the officer without bothering to hide his mood.

"I'm going home. If you need a statement, just come get it later." The officer makes a bit of a fuss over it, but they both know it's a farce. After they picked him up at school, they've made a habit of driving him home from incidents or leaving him on the side of the scene for an hour as they put things in order. Eventually he'd just given up and gone home, which somehow invited a pair of officers into his house to take his statement.

When he gets to his complex, roughed up and sporting a blazer with a gunshot, the neighbors take one look at him and start muttering something about how he used to be a good kid. Not the ones he knows, who he helps out occasionally, but the ones who can go a week without getting wrapped up in a villain attack.

Izuku has been wrapped up in nearly ten over the past two weeks, and he doesn't even know how. There are three more heroes on his way home than there were last month. He's got more arrests to his name than some of the rookie sidekicks on the charts, and he's barely fifteen.

Shit, he's only fifteen. He feels so much older than that.

At least the people talking behind his back treat him like a teenager. No one else seems to, anymore.

"I'm home…"

"Hey sweetie… Oh, another attack, hm?" He sighs and kicks off his boots in the entranceway as his mother gives him a sad smile. "Everything okay?"

"Gotta buy a new uniform again." Izuku mutters, stripping his backpack off his bag and tossing his blazer over a chair. Luckily, after losing his old 'All Might' themed backpack last week, the foreman from one of his community service projects had gotten him this one as a gift. So far, the sleek green and yellow canvas has proven about as indestructible as he is, which is a blessing. Replacing uniforms every other day is already hard enough. "Everything else seems fine, though."

"That's good, at least! Should we expect company?"

"Yeah, I left early since the holdup part took longer than normal. They're really pushing Pre-Cal right now and I've got enough homework as it is." Izuku frowns as he catches the tired smile on his mother's face. She's already heading to the kitchen, but he feels bad. At this rate, they'll be back to quiet dinners before much longer.

-0-

Every day he has to get a new uniform, his discussion with whoever is in charge of that becomes longer. Apparently, he's bought more in two weeks than some students have in an entire year, so he's talking directly to the principal now (not that the questions change). He pays out of his own pocket and tells them the truth, that's he's been in more villain attacks than he wants to have seen in his entire life, but they all have this look of defeat.

Izuku is used to that.

Finding Kurobayashi-sensei outside the office is a pleasant enough surprise that he actually stops and stares for a moment. Just long enough for the man to take notice, place his bookmark and draw up himself out of the chair.

Kurobayashi-sensei is probably the tallest and most intimidating person that Izuku has ever met, courtesy of his quirk. Despite being very obviously human, the man's upper body is that of a great white shark. According to Izuku's research, his arms are right around where the shark's ribcage would swell out and the man's back has a long arch to it that leaves his open maw hanging out the front of his button-up. His nose extends out beyond the mouth such that it hangs over his fangs, allowing him to peer down at everyone through the square glasses mounted atop his snout. The blue and white skin, mottled in all the places where a normal human would pale, is more like reptile skin than shark scales, from what Izuku can see.

Somehow, despite his quirk, the man seems very quiet and approachable. Izuku just hasn't gotten over where he should look quite yet. He's sad to say that he's too short to really look up at the man's eyes, considering his line of sight leaves him staring at the man's fangs. Kurobayashi-sensei's voice radiates from his open mouth, very clear despite the fact that his lips never move, and it's a very formal heavy baritone. There's a very clear rumble to the man as he speaks, as if his voice comes from something other than vocal cords. Or perhaps he has larger vocal cords somewhere and his back-

"Midoriya Izuku-kun?"

"Uh, yes Kurobayashi-sensei…?" Izuku bows slightly as the man blinks twice in quick succession.

"Do you have some time? I'd like to talk about something, should you have a moment."

"Yes sir, of course I don't mind, but could I ask you some questions about your quirk?" Izuku already has a notebook in his hands and tiny stars in his eyes as he stares up at his teacher. A shudder passes over the man as quiet laughter fills the room.

"That is a rather small price to pay, as long as you're polite. Quirks are rather personal, are they not?"

"I'd never pry, sir, but hybrid-anthropomorphic quirks are so incredibly rare…"

"Come then, Midoriya-kun, let's walk and talk."

They make a hell of a pair walking through the halls. Izuku is used to being an outcast, but being a delinquent is new territory. Getting picked up by the cops every time they need a statement, and all his visits to the principal in tattered uniforms, has left the student body both intrigued about his quirk (that one stings more than it should, really) and horrified by what he must get up to in his free time. Pair that with the fact that THE most intimidating teacher is walking beside him and there might as well be a physical wall around the pair of them.

Not that Izuku minds it too much at the moment. He's mentally checking off questions from his phone notes and the profile he made for Kurobayashi-sensei in his notebooks (seriously who'd have thought his nails are made from the same material as his fangs?) as they progress out the side door and down the school's sports fields.

"My apologies for dragging you out after school, but I've been looking forward to speaking with you since last week," Kurobayashi fits a key into the lock of the weight room that the athletes use, then flicks on the lights and strips off his coat as they enter. Izuku isn't really shocked by the tension in the seams of the man's shirt. He wants to ask if it's partially from the man's quirk (some people inherit the strength of their animal, and the Great White isn't exactly a lightweight) but holds his tongue. "And I thought it best to catch you outside of your homeroom."

"You wanted to speak to me?" Izuku doesn't like that, considering how hard he's been trying to stay out of the spotlight. Not that it's worked, but he's trying. He follows the shark over to the squat racks and stands there off to one side as the man hums affirmation.

"I've always enjoyed working out, you see. My wife says… well, anyways, most people don't realize that there's a very small community of people who enjoy body building as a sport outside of heroics. A little while ago, an acquaintance who frequents the same gym as I do told me a story while I watched his bench press," Izuku takes the plate handed back to him without a word, listening to his teacher ramble with growing curiosity, "And we talked, seeing as it was an endurance set. He was pushing himself much harder than usual, and told me that himself, mind you. While I spotted for him, he told me that a young boy, a rather pathetic young man who was quirkless and quiet, turned to working out for a lifestyle change. I believe he mentioned that the boy didn't want to be a hero, but simply wanted to help people. To use the strength he earned to help others in small ways…"

The teacher hands weights back to Izuku constantly as he speaks. When Izuku finally accepts that he doesn't know if Kurobayashi's fin is in the right spot, he realizes that Kurobayashi-sensei is talking about him. Suddenly he's not just speaking to a teacher, but to a teacher who knows.

"See, that man is a member of the Police Force in this district, and I happened to think the story was rather inspirational. Another thing I realized, though, is that the quirkless population around the city is rather thin and our school had just accepted an outstanding quirkless student. One of two in the entire school. When I checked your file and asked the other teachers last week, they mentioned that you were constantly getting picked up by the Police, and I decided to pursue it." Kurobayashi-sensei turns to look at him, and it takes Izuku a minute to realize that the man isn't looking at him but at his right hand, where a stack of weights rests easily on his outstretched fingers.

"That's uh… Thirty kilograms…? Thirty by twelve that's… three hundred and sixty…" He cringes as he counts up the plates and shifts his eyes up to the shark, who is now blinking at him way more than he probably needs to. "Y-you were saying, sensei?"

"Well, the administration at your old middle school was very dismissive. They didn't have anything on file for you and didn't even remember you, until I stressed your quirklessness and your green hair, but eventually I was transferred to a Kanekō Arikechi-dono. Do you remember him?"

"Um… He was my social studies teacher for a little while?" Izuku hums quietly, then frowns. "We only ever spoke out of class once. I, uh… needed help with something."

"Yes, he mentioned that. I only spoke to him over the phone, though we seemed to share the same interest in fitness." Kurobayashi hums, removing his glasses and letting them hang from his neck by a chain, "He was rather heated once I mentioned you, and when he heard that you'd transferred into our school he seemed a bit relieved. Apparently, you made quite the impression on him. Would you like to put those away, perhaps sit down?"

Izuku sighs and replaces the weights as his teacher gets settled, then sits on a bench press across from the man.

"Kanekō-dono was a big long winded, I'll admit. He spoke at length about the fact that your school and the teachers had ignored you or written you off in favor of other students. I can't say with certainty, but he sounded very disappointed in himself when he spoke of your history. Eventually, he told me that his colleague fetched him near the end of the year to spot you, and he was shocked at your ability. Then he confirmed the story from my Police acquaintance, only with a bit more detail."

Izuku looks down at his hands as his teacher trails off.

"Would you mind telling me your story, Midoriya-kun? I'm very curious."

"You already know my story, don't you?" Izuku muttered, thinking back to his old school and the looks on his teacher's faces when he lifted that bar months ago. "It would be pointless to tell it over. I'm quirkless, Sensei."

"And yet you rival my strength, despite only working out for a year. Unless I heard the story wrong. Even if you'd spent your whole life steeling yourself, though, I must say I find it hard to believe that a quirkless boy could effortlessly lift nearly four hundred kilograms with a single hand." Kurobayashi chuckles a bit as he finishes, leaning his elbows against his knees to look Izuku in the eye. "I won't push you, Midoriya-kun, but I must admit I love a good story, and I'm a bit invested in yours at the moment."

Izuku takes a moment to look at the man, running through his memory of their interactions and wondering if maybe there's some sort of malice behind it all. There's a serenity lingering around Kurobayashi-sensei that gently urges Izuku to let out a breath, clasp his hands and think back to the beginning.

"I always wanted to be a hero. Everyone does, these days. But last year I got wrapped up in this attack, and I realized that… I'd been just sitting on the sidelines. I wasn't really trying to become a hero at all, I just expected it to happen..." He says quietly.

It hurts admitting that. There's so much more that he can't put into words: How can he convey a dream with so much desperate passion? Maybe he can put together a quilt or a canvas to highlight everything he wants. All he has to do is stitch it together with his scars and dismissals, throw in a few lonely nights at the dinner table and some long detention hours.

He starts from the beginning, working out instead of indulging his otaku tendencies, and leaves out nothing of how he went about it. Kurobayashi-sensei doesn't comment at all, though Izuku expects him to. Comments from his old Phys ed teacher linger in his mind, along with his decision to ignore her. There's no expression on the man's face to stop him, so he rolls through his months of agony into the months of helping others, expanding his routine into a full body workout. He leaves out his school and how people treated him, focusing on time spent helping shop owners, studying more than ever, changing his focus from heroics to… anything else.

Bringing up the doctors' appointments burns his throat, but he pushes on and mentions the beach clean-up. Then he goes on to the construction sites, and the villain attacks.

When he finally stops, he's standing up and pacing, which means he got a little bit heated. He blushes as he turns to Kurobayashi-sensei and rubs the back of his neck.

"Sorry if I got a little loud, sensei."

"No need, Midoriya-kun," The man blinks twice, and Izuku can't help but wonder if that isn't intentional, now that he's seen it for so long. The only real reaction has been the man's eyes so far, at least. "I asked for you story, and I'm very glad that you've trusted me with so much."

"Oh."

"I'm only guessing, but I assume you want to keep this to yourself?"

"Well, I'm already a bit of an outcast, Sensei. If people knew about my condition, they might be afraid of me."

"People are afraid of things they don't understand, sometimes. However, I can't say that I'd be content to leave things as they are either. Are you truly alright with how things are, Midoriya-kun?"

"I mean…" Izuku frowns. "I wish that I'd been able to just have a normal school life, maybe go on to join the Police Force or get a job somewhere quiet. But I'm used to being like this, so I guess everything is fine."

"Not to be rude, Midoriya-kun, but I disagree somewhat. You've gone through much more than most kids your age. Being caught up in attacks so often, having to deal with adults who don't take your safety or your wishes into account, having to worry after your parents… I wonder if that might be a bit too much." Kurobayashi-sensei says quietly. "Sometimes, even though it's hard, seeking help is the bravest thing a person can do. People need help on occasion."

Izuku frowns as he listens to the man talk. He's heard that before, of course. Talking to people in private, without the subject of quirks, it was something he heard often. His friendly shopkeepers told him to try making friends nearly every week. A glance up at his teacher reveals absolutely nothing about the man's position, though, so Izuku isn't entirely sure what his teacher is looking for.

"I don't know what I'd ask for, honestly." He mutters, fully expecting yet another lecture. The shark faced man stands up, extending a single mottled blue-white hand.

"Midoriya-kun, you've been looking for some way to add weight lifting to your routine, yes?" He nods, earning a few blinks and a low growl from the shark. "Then allow me to assist you on that front."

"What?"

"Three days a week, I'll teach you to use the equipment here in this gym," The hand sweeps across the racks and sleds and benches, leading Izuku's eyes to the mirrored wall on the right side of the door. "And we will go over some of the things I have managed to pick up during my years of training."

"I r-really couldn't, the school wouldn't…"

"Leave that to me. I'll speak to the principal personally, and we'll get everything settled. Sponsoring you would make me feel much more accomplished than if I simply left you to your own devices." The man hums with an air of happiness in his voice. "Teaching the next generation how to properly strengthen themselves is what good athletes love the most! Sharing a gym and a dream make people a family, Midoriya-kun."

Izuku stares up at the man with wide eyes. No one… hardly anyone he's ever met has simply thrown such a generous offer at him. Occasionally strokes of good luck would strike him, but this was insane.

He's been looking for a way to start lifting weights, sure. This is a huge blessing, but can he really ask his teacher to do that? After a moment of spiraling, he looks up at his Sensei and speaks, despite the growing pressure in his chest.

"What would you do, Sensei?"

"If you have the time to spare, Midoriya-kun, this is an agreement that would benefit us both. Try doing what you want instead of worrying about me." Kurobayashi says, blinking once. Izuku blinks in return, earning another blink for his trouble. "Would you like for me to teach you how to properly train yourself, Midoriya-kun?"

He stands up and takes his Sensei's hand before he can think about it much more, because this is what he was looking for. Refusing such a generous offer would leave him regretting it, on top of being incredibly rude to the man offering him the chance.

"If you don't mind, Sensei… teach me everything you know."

Izuku barely manages a grin when Kurobayashi smiles, because the image will definitely haunt him for the rest of his life. But he's not one to look a gift… shark… Never mind.

-0-

In the last year, Izuku has been studying a lot more. He had always been on top of things, keeping a firm rank three in his middle school and now holding rank two in his current school. For the last six months or so, though, he's been studying MORE as well as studying more often.

There are exactly twenty-six different (mass produced, mind you) history texts that have conflicting information about the Emergence Era the period immediately following the rise of quirks. Izuku has read all of them, and despite the worrying amount of information those texts had left out, they all agreed on one thing: if not for the rapid demilitarization occurring right before the rise of quirks, the world might have fallen into collapse.

Quirks, as revolutionary and incredible as they are, do not mix well with competitive sports. Izuku knows this firsthand, secondhand and thirdhand. Now he knows it fourth-hand… is that a thing? Like, he's reading the books, and there's that whole "fourth wall" thing. Maybe he isn't an expert but reading that much history and building your own timeline should make Izuku somewhat of an expert, even if his notes will never see the light of day. And even if he does have his own timeline, he won't ever get to talk to someone who's been there. Knowing humanity, anyone with an immortality quirk would have come out and said something.

Anyways. Quirks. Emergence Era.

When some people have speed and strength beyond normal, you needed more rules to keep things fair. While world borders strained and governments did their very best not to collapse under the sudden change in demographics, world relations very nearly crumbled to nothing.

Countries turned their eyes inward, rather than worrying about international affairs. Worldwide competitions like the Olympics just couldn't survive in that environment.

Several years after the rise of quirks, when heroics was firmly cemented as a job, U.A. decided to capitalize on the lack of a national sensation.

At least, from what he's read, that's Izuku's best approximation of how Japan ended up frothing at the mouth over a bunch of high school students fighting over a gold medal.

Any other year, Izuku would be sitting at home, pumped full of caffeine with a stack of notebooks ready. He'd probably have his computer ready to replay slow motion and take screen captures, and there would be a tab open to his favorite chatroom.

This is not any other year.

When Golden Week started, just after his talk with Kurobayashi-sensei, Izuku got an email from an old friend. After transferring a decent amount of virtual currency to the return address as a thank you, Izuku spent most of his week off studying the files that he'd downloaded. From there, following the news on the Hero Killer Stain was pretty natural.

This year, instead of being glued to his couch, Izuku is wandering the streets of Hosu. His attention is split between putting pins in a map and watching the live broadcast on his phone.

U.A. really ramped up their surveillance of the festival this year, so he's nose deep in his phone screen when he hears a car honk at him. After a rush of wind and a blur, Izuku is left standing safely on the other side of the intersection with a girlish shriek in his throat.

"Ingenium?!" The display of phone fumbling is impressive, in his opinion. Six bounces is a new personal best considering the lack of damage. Meanwhile, the armored hero wags a finger at him, eyes openly displaying his mirth at the show.

"Hey! You should really watch where you're going, young civilian! You really know your stuff if you're recognizing me on the street!" Ingenium's armor looks pretty cool up close. Seeing the exhausts from his arms is interesting, because it doesn't look like normal exhaust pipes… instead they almost look rifled? That doesn't make sense.

"Ah, s-sorry, I was watching the spoRTS FESTIVAL WAIT A SECOND HE'S YOUR BROTHER ISN'T HE?!" Izuku isn't proud of screeching like that. He's not. Ingenium looks downright terrified for a moment before he turns his eyes to the paused section of the video.

Then Ingenium lights up. Izuku stares blankly as one of his heroes turns into a fucking fanboy.

"TENYA! Oh, is that his match?! He paired up with the Todoroki boy, eh? That's a bold move, but he's sure to get through the cavalry battle! This is a replay, right? My team is supposed to update me, but they can't watch the whole time, you know. Could you play the video, if you don't mind? I would really appreciate it!"

"W-would you tell me about your quirk while you're here…?" Izuku whispers hoarsely, already rewinding the clips with shaking hands. The hero hums for a moment before he laughs.

"You're a fan, hmmm? Promise you won't tell anyone else?" Izuku nearly breaks his neck to nod, and Ingenium laughs as they walk to a nearby bench. "Okay, okay! Only this once, for a fan! For someone doing me a favor, at least. Now, let's see. He didn't do so great in the obstacle race; I was a little bit worried…"

-0-

His mom stares at him blank faced for a long time when he finally asks for permission to put his plan into motion. Truthfully, he doesn't expect her to agree. But they've been doing this for a while now, and he feels horrible just… waiting. Going probably won't actually accomplish anything, but he doesn't like sitting on a profile and knowing that the police won't take him seriously.

And… there's something about the reports that bothers him. Not any one thing, not even a particular statistic… This is something coiling in his gut like a spring. Something he can't put his finger on. Call it a hunch, or a premonition.

"Let me get this straight, Izuku..." She sighs, digging her fingers into the bags under her eyes, "You want me to… willingly let you stay out past curfew… and travel a prefecture over, to Hosu City, for an entire night. So that you can chase down a wanted murderer."

Izuku thinks about it, then frowns.

"Well, um. Actually, I'm a bit worried about the train fare? I've saved some money from working with Smith-san, but it may not be enough to stay over the night in Hosu and the return trip." They stare at one another for another few minutes.

"You want me to pay you so that you can go and chase a wanted murderer around a different city for a night?" She asks again, still looking unconvinced.

"Yes please."

Izuku watches his mother stare at him, only moving to blink, for several minutes. He wonders if she knows that she's basically a shark, in his mind, and how that sort of thing might go over if he said it out loud. For a terrifying moment it hovers on the tip of his tongue, but then he swallows it and wets his lips.

"Um… I guess that's a no?" He flinches instinctively when her eyes widen far, far past normal width.

"Izuku, honey, WHAT are you THINKING?!"

-0-

The only issue with hunting for Stain is that the Hero Killer only attacks at night. Which means that Izuku will have to be out past curfew, stuck in a different prefecture, while hunting a serial killer.

It isn't the best pitch. Needless to say, his mom doesn't take it well. She buys a bottle of wine and tries to sneak a bottle of whiskey into the house. Izuku doesn't appreciate that, but she doesn't say no. After another few days to work up the train fare, and he decides that giving his mom a heart attack by asking outright again probably isn't the best idea.

He leaves a note on his desk and sets off with a full backpack, stuffed with two changes of clothes. It's not like he can't handle on night out of the house.

He's fifteen, for crying out loud.

-0-

After almost seven years crawling the streets of Musutafu for heroes, Izuku knows his home city fairly well. Hosu city is different, but not… different. It's still a city; people are still going about their business. The flow is just different enough that he feels out of his element without really knowing why.

Maybe it's nerves. He's prowling for a serial killer this time, not heroes.

Taking a day out of school isn't really that hard, but he doesn't have more than one, so he wanders the edges of the commercial distracts, tracing the lines between residential and business sections. Pins go into his map for him to return to later, but he never lingers more than a few minutes in each part of the city.

His profile puts Stain somewhere just outside the central districts of the city. Certain portions of the city have connecting alleys, and when Izuku cross references the layout with new hero patrol routes he's got a handful of likely sites. The problem is that he has a handful of possibilities and he's on foot.

The day passes without an attack. Izuku takes it as a blessing, despite the tightening sickness in his gut.

His night gear is simple: one of his older workout sets has reflectors taped on and his hair gets stuffed into a ballcap. Everything else gets stuffed into a backpack for his inevitable return home after the late patrols. No one in Hosu dares patrol more than necessary early in the mornings, and their numbers are so heavily reinforced that Stain wouldn't dare take anyone then.

His phone rings after his third busted location, and Izuku answers it with shaking hands.

"Hello?"

"Midoriya-kun…? This is Midoriya Izuku-kun, right?" Izuku stops in his tracks when he hears the voice coming through the line. He hasn't forgotten, exactly, but he'd been a lot more focused on the detective's quirk at the time.

"Y-yes, this is Midoriya Izuku, Detective-san. Is… Ah, I'm sorry, I've forgotten your name…?"

"Tsukauchi. Midoriya-kun, I just got a call from the police over in Hosu. Apparently, your mother called in a tip that you'd be out past our mandatory curfew looking for trouble. Normally the uniforms would go looking, but your name is a bit of a flag in our system right now, so they called me."

"Wait, you flagged me? Doesn't that mean I'm a person of interest?" Izuku blinks. "Tsukauchi-san, I'm going out on a limb to say your quirk works over the phone? Most quirks don't, but you're a detective and they seem pretty reliant…"

"No, unfortunately. I'm just a regular detective making a call as a favor to a worried mother. Midoriya-kun, are you in Hosu?"

"…Would I be in trouble if I was?" He mutters.

"Your mother claims that you haven't run off, but minors are supposed to be indoors by now. Technically this is truancy, or disobedience. I forget the exact clause."

"According to the selective administration of regional activity restrictions, a minor can be fined, placed in juvenile detention facilities or be subject to disciplinary action courtesy of the school authorities, depending on the circumstances of the arrest and the authority of the minor's guardians." Izuku recites offhand.

"…Yes, that's almost exactly right. Word for word, actually. Midoriya-kun, how did you…?"

"Detective-san," Izuku winces as he cuts the man off, stepping off the main sidewalk so that he's leaning against an alcove with his phone tucked between shoulder and cheek. His backpack is already in one hand while the other fishes for the Stain profile and his law enforcement notes. "Can I ask you something? Something off the record?"

"I'll admit you've got me curious, Midoriya-kun. What's on your mind?" 

"Let's say… Have you ever had a possible lead on something? A lead that wasn't anything special, just a bit of a hunch. Something that you noticed, but couldn't phrase correctly enough that people would listen?" Izuku frowns as he stares down at his profile notebook.

"Well, I've seen it happen a few times. A good friend of mine has this intuition that's nearly inhuman… frankly, I'd kill for half of his ability. But most of the time, police force members aren't allowed to move on a hunch like that. Is that the sort of thing you mean?"

"Yes. I have a friend like that, too." His eyes close as the memories burn just a touch and he slips into old habits. "Um, an old acquaintance, I mean. Not a friend. Someone I knew."

"Right. So, would you like to tell me what's going on, Midoriya-kun?"

"Are you going to arrest me for pursuing a police investigation?"

"That's a bold claim. Firstly, could you tell me something? Do you get involved in everything on purpose? Your file is… honestly, this is a bit extreme for just bad luck. Especially considering your situation."

"Situation?" Izuku frowns. "You mean the quirklessness."

The silence draws out. Izuku drops the profile notebook and grabs his flashlight instead, stalking back onto the sidewalk with new purpose.

"You're probably right, Detective-san," Izuku says bitterly. "But I can't do much about it unless you want me on house arrest. Even then, I'd just be stuck inside with a bunch of free time on my hands instead of pursuing a lead."

"You've said that a few times, Midoriya-kun, what kind of lead…"

"I know where the Hero Killer is going to strike next, Detective-san," Izuku mutters, shining his flashlight down another alley and mentally checking off the pin in his maps.

"Stain? Midoriya-kun…!" Izuku speaks over the man despite how much he wants to apologize, letting the words flood out as if he were talking to himself, not the detective. Somehow that makes it a bit easier, though he still feels shame for the way he's treating the man.

"Att the very least, I have an idea of where, and how, and when. But something tells me that you aren't taking this seriously, so you won't believe me in the first place, and honestly being on the phone while I'm out looking for a serial killer is probably a bad idea, so I'm going to hang up now. Don't worry, I'll be home before anyone realizes that I'm out here. It's probably nothing, but I can't just sit on this… and none of you will take me seriously. Good night, Detective-san."

He hits the button and sighs heavily. Sickening heat churns through his gut: a mix of shame for his actions and restlessness in the face of doing nothing with his information, but mostly… Mostly he's hurt.

Sure, he's quirkless. He also may or may not be immortal. Getting grounded is definitely something to avoid but he doesn't have time to play word tag with the lie-detector-detective and definitely doesn't need this eerie sensation of being… parented. Coming from a guy he barely knows, it's just weird.

He turns down the fifteenth alley when he sees a flash of metal and a hero lying in a puddle of blood.

As three minds each try to figure out what Izuku has just walked into, an image is burned into Izuku's mind. Stain is a little taller than average, made of thin limbs wrapped in bandages, leather and bloodstained scarlet fabric. The Hero-Killer is reeling back from his kill as Izuku panics and throws the first thing on hand.

The flashlight.

Stain picks heroes off for one on one confrontations a majority of the time. Victims are found just outside of the public eye, in between public areas and city maintenance areas. Native has a tracking quirk which means that he's probably faster than average, and Stain managed to lure Native into the alleys instead of taking him on with backup. Blades fit the profile but carrying that many has drawbacks unless there's a Quirk application. Cuts, blood, skin contact, motion amplification, force amplification, status effects…

The flashlight is still spinning overhead as they meet in the middle.

Izuku is halfway down the alley when the light comes back around. Stain's blade is mid-swing, poised to take Izuku's head from his shoulders before Native has a chance to cry out. The blade breaks against Izuku's forearm and bounces off his neck, howling as it flips into the space between them, and Stain is gone with the pieces before the light finally passes overhead.

"Flee, boy," Stain snarls. Buckles pop as knives fill the air between them. Izuku's teeth grind as he snatches them out of the air. "I already have my prey for the night, don't be a fool!"

The flashlight clatters against the pavement when Izuku throws the killer's knives into the air behind him and reaches out to parry the man's wakizashi. Panic fills him every time he parries a blade barehanded. A tiny voice in the back of his mind rocks back and worth, whispering "what if" over and over.

He can't see Stain move. He can only see the attacks carving through the alley. Between action and reaction, he can trace the orange glow left along the blades, as if burning the air might break their limit.

Izuku's hands meet the blades until he can see the afterimages of his fists and Stain's arms. Eventually, though, Stain gets through. The wakizashi slips through his guard and slams against Izuku's ribs hard enough that it shatters the blade. A yelp escapes him as he skids back, running a hand over his side.

"Whatever your quirk is, it must be powerful. But at your age you could only be a sidekick. Don't let yourself be chained to his ilk," Stain mutters, dropping his ruined blades to draw new ones. The pair of them glance towards the hero bleeding out against the wall before they fall back into step. "Leave me be, and I'll ignore this. You don't need to die tonight."

"Sorry, but I don't plan on just walking off." Izuku's voice rises as he assumes a rough stance. The second katana rises from Stain's back silently as the villain shrugs.

"My warning was fair. If you stay, you die."

Izuku doesn't have time to blink. Stain is on him, katana flying towards his neck, in a heartbeat. He catches the blade on his forearm, then his knee and finally on his elbow. The alley shudders when Stain's blade draws back and the air between them collapses into the wake of the assault.

Stain leaps back, then up, bouncing off the walls to bring his sword down like a guillotine. Izuku's eyes widen, tracing the edge of the blade as orange brightens to yellow and the air between them begins to hiss. His shoulder is already slack, twisting backward as his hand rises to meet the attack.

The world begins to fade as the blade snaps between his fingers.

His enemy lands and leaps back in the same step.

Izuku doesn't mean to flip. He's already in the air, passing Stain as the Hero-Killer lands and twists out of the way, overshooting the mark so that he lands with his back to the enemy. A leg rises as his shoulders roll back, bringing his foot down where Stain's head should be with enough force to leave him buried up to his calf in pavement. Stain leers at him from the shadows near the mouth of the alley, hesitating for the first time since Izuku threw the flashlight.

"You… You can keep up with my speed. Speed that only All Might can attain." Stain growls. Izuku squints at him and pulls his ankle from the rubble.

"Uh… That's kind of… self-serving? I've met him. You're nowhere close to that level." Izuku huffs and kicks to shake the rubble from his sock.

"What's your name, boy?"

"What the hell happened to your nose?" Izuku snorts. "You seriously think I'm going to tell a serial killer my name? I'm young I'm not stupid. Give it up already, I need to get this guy to a hospital."

"I would know the name of my rival." Stain growls, taking a pair of knives from his waist holsters. "Or I can take the moment to kill that man, and return to our fight…"

"I'm nobody important. Just a screw up." Izuku sighs. "Definitely not your rival, or whatever. Pick some hero kid for that."

"Are you not a hero?" Stain's eyes narrow. "You came to fight me without a license? Are you a vigilante, or a villain perhaps? What kind of villain…"

"I'm just a kid!" Izuku snaps, clenching his fists. "Just a kid who figured out your MO, who couldn't sit back and let you do what you wanted! Leave him alone!"

"…Tell me your name, and I'll leave that miserable piece of garbage to you." Stain growls quietly, sheathing his knives and drawing his wakizashi. Before Izuku has a chance to speak Stain's drawn the blade over his hand and let the blood spill onto the pavement between them. "You… Someone like you is worth more than a hundred of his kind, and your name worth his life at least."

"I… I don't have… Look, I'm not a hero! I don't have time for this…" Izuku runs a hand over his face, then shakes his head. Stain's blade darts out and Izuku panics. The world freezes just long enough for him to scream, just long enough that his entire body burns as he chokes out the first thing that comes to mind. "Just call me Deku!"

"Deku… A strange name, for someone blessed by the gods. Very well, Deku. His life is yours, and you… I'll find you again. You may very well be the only one who can face me in battle and live. My appointed enemy…!"

"I don't have time for this!" Izuku is already sprinting to Native and tearing out of the alley in a sprint. When he realizes how cold the hero is, he puts a little more force into his step, damn the consequences.

-0-

He doesn't check the time until he's dumped Native in the nearest emergency care ward. All in all, his confrontation with the Hero Killer barely took twenty minutes. That revelation alone destroys him for a moment, either because the fight is a blur or because it feels as though he's aged a lifetime in those twenty minutes.

Eventually he drags himself off his bench, thanks it for supporting him in his time of need, and trudges back into the city. He misses the last train, opens the map on his phone and stumbles back to the edge of the city. Once he's sure that he's got a straight shot to Musutafu and he's secured his belongings, he puts a little pep in his step and breaks into a dead sprint in what SHOULD be the direction of his apartment.

Needless to say, his mother is not happy when he returns. She's also a bit tipsy, which is something he decides to deal with later. He tucks her into bed with a kiss and lays in his own for an hour, thinking about what Stain said.

A gift from the gods…? Speed like All Might… He thinks, staring at the ceiling. I'm quirkless and grounded. The gods need to pick better heroes.

-0-

For the first time in a long time, Izuku wakes up to a fresh breakfast of agony. He's mostly numb to it, though it's been long enough that he shuffles into the shower like an old man. A hot bath kicks the pain into the back of his mind where it waits like a snarling animal.

School passes in a blur. He takes notes and answers questions without thinking, force feeds himself a meal and does it all over again. By the time the final bell rings, he fully intends to tell Kurobayashi-sensei that he can't train today.

Instead he finds Kurobayashi-sensei waiting in the weight room beside a metal contraption that vaguely resembles a person. He knows better than to start a staring contest with his teacher, but after a brief inspection of the machine he stares up at his teacher knowing full well that he won't win.

"Uh. Sensei… Did you get this for me?"

"Yes, Midoriya-kun." Kurobayashi-sensei's voice lilts as the man blinks twice in quick succession. After weeks of training, Izuku can firmly say that the man blinks to express all types of things but knowing doesn't make it less jarring. It's all he can do to smile when the man turns to the machine. "This is a device that we often use with small children who possess strength quirks. A friend of mine who helps out with support gear took this one and tweaked it. Apparently, this should help with your applications of force."

Izuku frowns. The contraption looked like a person, from the elbows to the shoulders and neck down to the thighs. A small screen sits behind a sheet of plastic in the middle of the chest, and the metal is pretty seamless. Red and green circles are painted over certain spots that Izuku vaguely recognizes (kidneys, heart, lungs, arteries and joints) but overall it doesn't look like more than a metal mannequin.

"So, what, I'm supposed to punch it?" Izuku waves at it, glancing towards his teacher.

"Well, that wouldn't be a great start, no. Here, let me…" Kurobayashi is surprisingly adept at moving slowly, something he's worked with Izuku for over the past two weeks. "Moving slowly" doesn't quite do the man justice, though. Considering the size of his frame and the odd way his snout juts from his shoulders, Izuku is sure that he's spent his entire life learning how to do simple things.

Like reaching for the switch at the base of the mannequin.

The screen flashes to life with a bouncing smiley face. Izuku frowns while Kurobayashi-sensei rumbles happily.

"Um…?"

"From what I've been told, this device will measure the force applied anywhere you touch the frame. If you put too much force, the device will make a sound. It also measures where you put that force, and how it's distributed. The green face will change to a yellow or a red if you knock the person unconscious or kill them, respectively." Kurobayashi-sensei recites, sliding out of the way and crossing his arms as he stares at the device. "My advice would be to start off with a simple touch, and slowly increase the pressure until you have a good understanding of what you can afford."

Izuku does his best to swallow the knots in his throat. His body throbs as he recalls Stain's blades shattering under his fingers. The small part of him that still can't believe in his powers is so much louder now than it was when lives were on the line.

"I… I'm really, really grateful, Kurobayashi-sensei. But… I'm mostly invulnerable, and more than fast enough to run. Is learning to attack really something… I mean, what if I lose control and kill someone by accident?" He trails off near the end, staring down at his hands.

"Midoriya-kun," Kurobayashi-sensei hums, laying a hand on his shoulder. "Why do you help others?"

"I… Why not?" Izuku slides the man's hand off his shoulder and stares at him as if the question itself is insulting. "What's wrong with helping others if you can? Even if you can't, why shouldn't I help people?"

Kurobayashi-sensei rumbles and turns, taking a seat on one of the benches so that they're eye to eye. He crosses one leg over the other, folds his hands and peers over the frame of his glasses.

"Perhaps you are safe, young Midoriya. Perhaps you'll never be in any danger at all, or else your gifts will protect you from all the bad luck this world can throw at you. Were you anyone else, I could be convinced that you were capable of hiding," Kurobayashi-sensei says. "But I have the pleasure of knowing you better than that, Midoriya-kun. You are brave enough to throw yourself into battle for the undeserving. You help others without question, without stopping to consider if you can or the task is beyond you. The fact that you worry for others is admirable, and it speaks worlds of your character. But neither of us are stupid. You don't know what's happening to you. I don't believe that anyone can run from their problems forever, Midoriya… And our world is rather dramatic. When your troubles catch up to you, I fear that they will involve others, no matter how hard you try. So!"

Izuku's eyes burn as he thinks back to the day this started. Tears well as he thinks of the shopkeepers along his jogging route. His hands shake when he remembers Native's blood dripping from his hands in the lobby of a hospital. When he thinks of his mother, of everything he's already put her through, he wipes his eyes and takes a shaky breath.

"Let's not think of this as learning to fight, Midoriya-kun," Kurobayashi-sensei doesn't speak until he's sure Izuku is ready. He stands and takes a deep breath clenching his fists hard enough that his entire body shudders. "Learn the limits of your gifts so that you may use them for the sake of others. That has always been your strong suit, has it not?"

Izuku grins and sniffles a bit, still fighting back tears as he nods. When he turns back to the machine, he thinks of All Might. The number one hero surely had to do something like this, right?

Save everyone… He digs in deep, trying his best to engrave the words into his soul. Save anyone and everyone you can, however you can, no matter what it costs you. 

"Let's work on your form, Midoriya-kun," Kurobayashi-sensei rumbles happily, blinking quickly as he gently corrects Izuku's stance. "If you break your own hand punching something then you're the only one to blame."

"You know how to fight, sensei?" Izuku mumbles curiously.

"People will pay good money to see a shark in the ring, Midoriya-kun," He nudges Izuku's foot out a tad, then taps his knee until Izuku slides backward. "And I was a bit overzealous when I was saving to propose to my wife."