Age: 11
The shortcut behind the "Family Mart" convenience store always smelled of stale garbage and cheap tobacco. It was a gray zone, one of those alleys where security cameras "coincidentally" didn't work.
We walked in silence. My shoulders still burned from the failed flight training, and Izuku was mentally reviewing the grocery list Inko had sent to his phone.
"...milk, eggs, and she said if there was a sale on detergent..."
The sound of a dull thud interrupted his monologue. Then, a stifled moan.
I stopped. My enhanced hearing picked up the sound of tearing fabric and unpleasant laughter.
"Please... it's for my train ticket..." whined a childish voice.
I looked at Izuku. Or rather, at the spot where Izuku had been a second ago.
The idiot was already running.
Without hesitation. Without assessing the threat. Without waiting for my signal. His backpack hit the ground with a thud as he accelerated toward the dark alley.
"Damn it, Deku," I muttered, but a crooked smile crossed my face. You can't train that in a dojo.
I ran after him but kept my distance. I wanted to see. I wanted to see what three years of hell produced in a real situation.
Rounding the corner, I saw the scene. A teenager, probably 14 or 15, wearing a local middle school uniform, unbuttoned. His right arm was transformed into a sort of thorny wooden club, a rather ugly emitter-type mutation. He had a small boy, no older than 7, cornered against the dumpsters.
The bully raised his thorny arm to strike again.
"Leave him alone!"
Izuku didn't scream with fear. He screamed with authority.
He slipped between the bully and the child like a green shadow. He didn't attack. He planted his feet on the ground, lowered his center of gravity, and raised his arms in a defensive judo guard.
The bully blinked, surprised by the interruption.
"Huh? Who are you? An elementary school hero wannabe?" He laughed, showing yellowing teeth. "Move or I'll crack your head open, runt."
"You're hurting a child," Izuku said. His voice trembled slightly, not from cowardice, but from adrenaline. But his eyes... his eyes were fixed on the attacker's shoulder. "Leave. Now."
"You asked for it."
The bully threw a lateral swing with his thorny wooden arm. It was a clumsy, wide move, full of brute force but zero technique.
In canon, Izuku would have cringed. Here, Izuku saw.
Izuku took a step forward, inside the attacker's guard, nullifying the range of the blow. His left hand deflected the bully's forearm (avoiding the thorns), and with his right, he grabbed the lapel of his uniform.
"The kid!" Izuku shouted. "Run!"
The small boy bolted through the gap Izuku had created.
The bully roared in anger.
"Damn bastard!"
He used his superior weight to shove Izuku. Izuku was strong for his age, but the size difference was at least 20 kilos and three years of development. The bully slammed him against the brick wall.
Izuku let out a grunt as the air left his lungs, but he didn't let go. If he let go, the bully would go after the kid. He was acting as a human shield.
The bully raised his free arm, ready to smash Izuku's face.
It was my turn.
I stepped out of the shadows walking slowly, cracking my knuckles.
"Hey, discount Spiderman," I said with a bored voice. "You have terrible posture."
The bully turned, fist still in the air.
"Another one? What is this, a daycare?"
I raised my right hand. I didn't need a big explosion. I just needed precision.
"Let him go."
"Or what?" The bully smiled, feeling safe with his Quirk activated.
I clicked my tongue.
"Or this."
I aimed not at him, but at the wall right next to his ear. I released a concentrated explosion, a pure Flashbang.
BANG!
The detonation was deafening in the narrow alley. The blinding light bounced off the bricks.
The bully screamed, letting go of Izuku and clutching his ears, disoriented and blind for a moment.
Izuku didn't waste the opportunity. The instant he felt the grip loosen, he didn't back away. He remembered my lesson: "If they attack you, make sure they don't get up."
Izuku swept the blind bully's leg and checked him with his shoulder. The teenager fell backward onto the trash bags with a wet crunch.
Izuku stood there, panting, fists raised, waiting for him to get up. But the guy just groaned, dizzy from my explosion.
I walked over, kicking the bully's wooden arm to make sure he didn't try anything stupid.
"Good job on the deflection," I said, looking at Izuku. "You stepped into his guard. Risky, but effective."
Izuku relaxed, lowering his arms. He touched his cheek; there was a small cut where a thorn had grazed him.
"He... was going to hit the kid in the head, Kacchan. He could have killed him."
"I know. That's why I didn't stop you."
Izuku looked at me, surprised.
"You're not mad I got into a fight?"
"You got into a fight to defend someone weaker and created an opening for the victim to escape," I said, pulling a handkerchief from my pocket and tossing it at his face. "That's not a street fight, Deku. That's hero work."
Izuku caught the handkerchief, pressing it against his cheek. His eyes shone, and for a moment, I saw the future Symbol of Peace. Not for his strength, but for that suicidal and wonderful stupidity of putting others first.
"But..." I added, flicking him on the forehead, "next time, use your backpack as a shield. Your skin isn't thorn-proof, idiot."
"I'll note that down!" he said, cracking a nervous smile.
The bully started moving among the trash, groaning.
"Let's go," I said, turning around. "The police will come because of the noise. I don't want to explain why an eleven-year-old knocked out a middle schooler."
Izuku grabbed his backpack and ran to catch up with me.
As we walked out of the alley into the evening light, Izuku walked a little taller. He had a cut on his face and a dirty uniform, but he didn't look like a victim.
"Kacchan..."
"What?"
"Thanks for having my back."
"Someone has to keep you from getting killed before getting into U.A. It would be a waste of my training."
We walked home. Izuku defended the helpless. I defended Izuku. The system worked.