Chapter 2: Day to Day
"Have you heard? Apparently Akatani is quirkless."
"Quirkless?"
"It means he doesn't have ANY power!"
"What? That can happen?"
Mikumo was seven, and he already knew that the world wasn't fair.
He never got any special power. No wings stretched from his back, no lasers sprung from his eyes.
"He's useless! Like some kind of…Deku!"
He definitely couldn't fire explosions from his hands.
"Kacchan, don't say that! It's mean!"
School had become…less fun, in recent years. Once his classmates realized he was never going to manifest a quirk, they'd taken to picking on him for it. Especially….
"Shut your mouth, Deku! Some hero you'll make! What'll you do? Bore them to death by talking?"
Mikumo wasn't special. Would never be special. Unlike Kacchan. Bakugo Katsuki, a blonde with fiery red eyes and a personality to match, would be an amazing hero someday. He had the talent, the drive, and was both intelligent and competitive. His quirk, Explosion, put him even further ahead of his peers. He was practically a hero already!
...
"Where do you think you're going, Deku?"
"Kacchan, w-wait!"
BOOM!
"Ah! Stop!"
"Shuddap, Deku! Stop fussing and learn your place already! Now c'mere!"
"Kacchan, STOP!"
BANG! ZAP!
"What…what did you do, Deku? WHAT DID YOU DO?!"
Izuku's eyes cracked open against harsh afternoon sunlight. Barely resisting the urge to burrow back under his blankets, he rolled himself off of his bed and onto the unforgiving wood of the floor. Stretching and cracking his back, he winced as last night finally caught up to him.
Looking down, his arms were covered in bandages and burn cream, along with a few places on his chest, as well as his left foot. He had enough first aid supplies on hand to deal with his burns last night, but he'd have to restock soon. Probably today. His costume, or what was left of it, lay in a smokey heap on the floor a few feet away. Another trip to the department store, then. Checking his phone for notifications (there were none, like always) he glanced around his little sanctuary.
He was actually rather proud of it. A condemned apartment building in the rougher part of town had gotten caught up in some kind of legal case. Something about unpaid back-taxes? What was important was that it'd be at least a few more years before the building could either be re-purposed or demolished. Izuku had moved in two years ago, and between regular vandalism and some quirk-enhanced remodeling, he had an entire corner of the building opened up for his own use.
There were no utilities, unfortunately, but a few years of saving his vigilante earnings (taking money from muggers and drug dealers) had earned him a bed, a hot plate, an ice box, and a small generator. He boarded up all but one window, and drew blackout curtains over the last to avoid detection at night, but in the day it was a nice way to get a little natural light inside. Moving to the center of the large studio, he tenderly began stretching out his limbs from the previous night, wincing as muscles strained and burned.
Coming in last night had been a bit of a blur. He had, as usual, clambered up the fire escape as quietly as possible to the fourth floor, before removing a false piece of plywood set in front of the unlocked window. He'd disinfected, cleaned, and dressed his injuries best he could in the light of his phone's flashlight before tossing his costume off and passing out.
The growling of his stomach stopped his mental review, reminding him it was well past time to start his day. There was a lot to do! Grabbing a protein bar, Izuku whirled around his space, using Pull to snatch things from across the room and get ready in a flash. Now dressed in baggy blue jeans, an All Might t-shirt from over a decade ago, and a dark red hoodie, he slipped on his spare red boots and climbed out the window with a long-faded blue backpack, heading into town.
===============
Izuku groaned to himself, stretching his injured arms and nearly knocking his coffee onto the library desk he'd been parked at for the last four hours. He was making considerable progress with his online schooling, but man was it boring. Maybe it was his independent lifestyle, or the whole risking-your-life-illegally-in-the-dead-of-night thing he had going on, but most of what he was learning through the basic curriculum felt…well, lacking. He knew he needed some form of education. Not just to keep up with the rest of society as he got older, but also to get into high school eventually, online or otherwise. But literature sucked. Half the reason he did his lessons in the library was the access to all of the ancient, pre-quirk books the course made him read and analyze over and over again. At this point, he was pretty confident Grapes of Wrath contained exactly zero symbolism, and was in fact just a tool to torture young minds with.
Shaking his head free of the mental cobwebs that had been building up, Izuku opened a new browser window and navigated to something much more interesting: Quirks Analysis Anonymous.
Quirks Analysis Anonymous
New post in [#MyLife] by NotaGoodBoy245 (4:56pm):
Having a dog quirk SUCKS! I literally chased after a car today before I even noticed what was happening. I was in CLASS! I can never go back now. I even got detention -_-
27 likes 5 comments
New post in [#quirkDiscussions] by WhippedCream96 (2:10am):
Has anyone ever seen a quirk that makes someone a liquid? How would that even work? Like, do they not have a brain? What happens if you pour half of them into one container and half into another? Can they get diluted with water? What would happen if someone with a vinegar quirk (Read More)
16 likes 26 comments
New post in [#quirkAdvice] by ThirteenFangirl11 (11:26am):
Any tips for reducing quirk-induced nausea? It's the drawback for over-using my quirk, or using it on myself. It's an emitter-type if that helps. Doctor just told me to take meds, but those don't work anymore, and I can't really afford a visit to a professional…
30 likes 38 comments
QAA was a blog, purposefully buried deep in the search algorithm so the HPSC wouldn't shut it down. They tended to frown upon 'amateur analysis' and had shut down the last few bigger blogs due to concerns of 'untrained civilian quirk use'. Meaning that they'd rather just pretend people who weren't heroes didn't have quirks at all. But QAA was better. It had different chat rooms where people could rant about their quirk problems and find support, or just get a laugh out of people. It also had rooms like #quirkDiscussions and #quirkAdvice, where people could post questions or issues they were having to the internet and hopefully get some good advice. Every user was screened and asked several interview questions before they could register, and nobody could post or even view most of the site unless they had a verified account. Once you got past the initial check, your personal details were wiped off the site completely, so it was all totally anonymous.
It was all Izuku's perfect creation. He'd created the site about five years ago after a bad nighttime tangent into coding and web design (he'd been healing from a slightly broken ankle at the time with nothing better to do). It had been pretty slapdash at first, but over time he'd improved and innovated it up to the point it was at now, and even then, he'd still occasionally add a new feature or two. He himself had two accounts. One was a fake civilian account, SmallMight189, so he could participate in (sometimes rather heated) debates and discussions on quirks and their functions. The other was tied to the administrative side of the website, simply called Admin. He could use it to filter and deny/accept account requests, delete and moderate posts and threads, and all the other day-to-day work that came with running a website. More recently, however, it was mostly used to take advantage of the newest feature on the website: The Housecall Request Line.
It was taking a leap of faith. Anyone with an account could request a house call. Basically, they'd send a request with a short description of a severe or debilitating quirk or quirk-related issue, and 'Admin' would 'send one of their specialists' to deal with it. Izuku's quirk being what it was, it gave him a pretty good understanding of how most quirks functioned, at least after seeing it in action. So basically, he'd send himself to deal with it under a false name and, occasionally, a slightly false appearance. The website was supposed to be anonymous, so for people to reach out like this they usually had to be pretty desperate. Not many people used it, if ever, and the ones that seemed sketchy were denied.
Izuku didn't charge anything for it, usually just happy to help someone in need with their quirk. He never said no to tips, though. A growing boy has to eat after all, given his usual nighttime activities. He'd managed to help a few downtrodden folks this way, which made it all worth it.
There had been a few unfortunate cases where a person's quirk was too volatile for their bodies to handle and couldn't be trained, or was too debilitating for day-to-day life. In those cases, 'Admin' would send in a personal acquaintance to help with the issue.
Meaning Null would show up and relieve that person of their quirk entirely.
It had only happened three times thus far, and even now Izuku could feel those particular quirks bubbling inside of him, waiting to be called upon, although given their nature he almost never did.
His quirk was…a bit of an odd subject to him. Both a gift and a curse in some ways. On one hand, it let him take quirks from people, or return them, at will. It just required skin contact between the person in question and the small, circular hole one each of Izuku's palms. He had never tried giving someone the wrong quirk back, but supposed he probably could? He'd never given anyone more than one either. He didn't have many to give, and that'd be a great way to blow his cover. But on the other hand, it kind of messed up his life? Perhaps irreparably? Although he guessed that was more peoples' reaction TO his quirk than the quirk itself.
As far as he knew, it didn't matter how many quirks he had, because whenever he took one it settled deep within his chest, as what felt like a small ball of energy. Each quirk felt a bit different (that man's napalm quirk felt kind of slimy, while Pull, his mother's quirk, felt like a tiny magnet? It was hard to put into words), but just sat in his chest until he needed it. To actually use a quirk, he had to 'slot' it into place. Again, the feeling was a bit hard to describe, but it felt sort of like pulling a book from a shelf, or maybe putting a bowling ball onto a rack? He could slot two quirks at a time before he started feeling the strain. Three was possible with weaker and less-involved quirks, but anything more than that would either have him passing out from strain or in agony. Best he could figure, the human body just wasn't made to use more than one quirk at a time, even his. He'd considered training to improve, but never really had the chance. Not like he could go around slinging all kinds of quirks around. He barely managed to keep off the Commission's radar as-is, best not give them a better reason to hunt him down faster. It also made it seem like less of a monster.
Snapping out of his mental mutter-spree, Izuku logged into his Admin account and filtered through some of his usual business. About ten minutes into that, though, a new notification chirped at him; he had gotten a request for a house call.
Housecall Request
Submitted by: Overwatch452
Priority: Medium
Quirk: Super Senses
Remarks: Hello again. Apologies for the inconvenience, but Hana is having more issues, and we'd like to request another appointment as soon as possible. She's been falling behind in school again, not even able to do online.
Please. Any help would be appreciated. The same young man as before, if possible. We will, of course, pay the usual price.
Izuku pondered over the request a moment, but made a decision pretty quickly.
QAA - Private Message:
Admin: I've just received your request.
Admin: I'll send the same person as last time. Are you free this afternoon? He is available now.
Overwatch452 is online
Overwatch452: Yes! Thank you so much! He can come over whenever he is free, my wife and I are both here. Hana is in her room.
Admin: Understood, he'll be on his way shortly.
Admin: Also, you really don't have to pay.
Overwatch452: We absolutely do! If nothing else, Hana has been much more lively since your boy started coming by. It's nice to see her getting some social interaction.
Overwatch452: My wife also says that the young man needs to eat more, so he can expect leftovers when he gets here.
Admin: If you insist.
Admin: He just messaged me. He'll be there in an hour.
Overwatch452: Thank you so much again. We deeply appreciate it.
====================
Izuku walked into the small suburban neighborhood just over an hour later. It was just starting to move into evening, the sun not quite setting yet but starting to get close. The house in front of him was a modest 2-story structure, painted a charming white. The lawn was horribly unkempt, and all of the curtains were drawn tightly closed. Walking up the driveway, Izuku looked straight up and waved at the small floating eyeball 20 or so feet above him. The eye vanished, and the door opened without a sound. Stepping out of the house and down the stairs, wearing two pairs of the fluffiest slippers he had ever seen, were two adults, probably in their late-30s. They shut the door ever-so-carefully, before practically tip-toeing their way down the driveway to him.
"Izuku-kun, thank you so much for coming again." Both figures bowed deep in gratitude, but Izuku just put a hand on each shoulder and guided them back up, just like the last three times he was here.
"Nora-san, Kaien-san, please stop. We've been over this, I'm happy to come and help little Hana-chan. Tell me what's going on."
The father, Kaien-san, grimaced slightly. He was a tall man, with bag under his eyes and unkempt blond hair. His wife, Nora-san, was shorter, just a bit taller than Izuku, with frizzy black curls. He spoke in a whisper, just loud enough for Izuku to hear.
"She's been feeling overstimulated again lately. We tried the earmuffs, but the rustling of trying to put them on was too much. I stubbed my toe yesterday and she passed out."
Izuku internally grimaced at that. Yumika Hana, their daughter, was a sweet, caring person with one of the roughest quirks he'd ever seen. They called it Super Senses. Basically, it enhanced all of her senses to the maximum. Hearing, sight, touch, smell, and taste were all amplified far beyond human levels. The kickback? She couldn't turn it off, and the quirk made her body able to handle the senses. So loud sounds and bright lights wouldn't blind or deafen her like most people. Instead, she'd get so much sensory overload she'd just pass out after a while. It was so torturous Izuku wondered why they didn't want to get rid of the quirk, but Hana herself was determined to make it work and Izuku was going to give her that chance, if nothing else. Her parents were some of the most caring and accommodating people he had ever met, but even the nicest of people had limits. Living without making a single sound had to be excruciating at times.
"I see. Well, I've been thinking on some new coping techniques we could try, and I have a few potential ideas for quirk practice. Can I go in?" Receiving nods from both parents, Izuku left his bag and shoes on the front porch, along with anything else that could make sound from in his pockets. After quintuple-checking his phone was on silent and turning the brightness all the way down, he slipped on an over-the-top-fluffy pair of house slippers and went inside. The house was modern, and would be rather nice, if it wasn't for the plush carpet and blankets thrown everywhere and the dimness of the interior lights. Honestly, the entire house looked like there was a massive sleepover about to happen. Padding up the stairs towards the second floor, Izuku slipped on a thick medical mask over his mouth and whispered as quiet as he dared.
"Hana-chan, it's Izuku. Can I come in?"
After waiting a few seconds, the bedroom door near the top of the stairs silently opened, and Izuku moved inside. One side-benefit to this gig was the massive improvements to his stealth from practicing so hard. The inside of the room was pitch-black, with plush carpet and soundproof padding everywhere, including the bed. Inside, a short girl of eight years old, wearing what was probably the softest nightgown known to man, was slowly padding her way back towards the small bed against the opposite wall. She had long black hair down to her knees, and sadly smelled like she hadn't showered in awhile (Izuku couldn't even imagine how painful that had to be for her). Over her ears was a pair of fuzzy earmuffs, but clearly she could hear him just fine. Her eyes had dark circles under them, and she looked exhausted. He couldn't imagine when the last time she slept was outside of passing out.
It was basically pitch-black in here for Izuku, outside of a dim nightlight with a covering on it, casting the room in the barest of minimums to let a person see. All of the windows sported blackout curtains taped or bolted to the walls in some way.
"Hi, Izu Onii-san." Hana smiled at him and gave a little wave.
Izuku's heart melted at the sight. Despite her hardships, Hana-chan was still one of the most positive people, adults or otherwise, he had ever met.
"Hi Hana-chan. Ready for some practice today? I have a few things for us to work on." Izuku whispered as quietly as he could. He couldn't even hear himself at times, but Hana-chan nodded and gestured to her desk chair. Izuku got out his phone, making sure to point the screen away from her. It was time to get to work.
School had run late today, and Aizawa Shouta was hating every millisecond of it.
Even if he had ended up re-enrolling most of his class after their, frankly, pathetic showings on both the entrance exams and his first day quirk assessment, it didn't make them any less of a group of problem children. They were getting close to that point in the year where they finally got used to their quirks, their costumes, and their hero names. They'd gone on their internships already, and a few of them had even waded through encounters with actual villains.
Simply put, it was the time of year when their egos inflated to nearly cartoonish levels.
Heroics training had run over today, unfortunately run by him this year, due to a spar between 3 students that had gotten so out of hand it had collapsed a building onto them. Luckily, nobody was horribly injured (at least until Recovery Girl got her cane out) but the rescue and cleanup took the better part of an hour. He had things to do! (Sleep, he had sleep to do). He had just finished filing the disciplinary reports for the day (three weeks of detention for all of them. Rather light, but that last super move was actually pretty inspired in his opinion) when his hero phone dinged. Not his teacher/personal UA phone, his Eraserhead phone. Shit. Picking it up and unlocking it with his thumbprint, a fairly unusual email greeted him, marked as urgent.
From: [email protected]
Subject: [URGENT] New Vigilante Case
Eraserhead,
This is Detective Tsukauchi, from Musutafu PD. We've worked together before, in passing, most notably on the Villain Factory Incidents.
The HPSC has elevated the case on a new local vigilante, and they operate both in an area and in a fashion you'd be very familiar with. As such, I am sending an official request through the Hero Network to have you brought in. Please come see me at the station tonight before your patrol. I'll share the details with you in person.
Whatever time works, I'm always here.
Thank you,
-TN
Well, that was…. odd. It was rare for a police department to request the aid of a hero like this. And for a vigilante case? They were usually pretty low priority, unless they turned themselves into a public spectacle (he shivered as one of Pop Step's songs played in his mind). Then again, it was probably his own experiences with successful vigilantes that dragged the detective to him in the first place. Mourning the loss of his evening nap, he gathered his things and started trudging towards the station.
Shouta strolled into the station just over an hour later, immediately ignoring the receptionist and going for the coffee machine he could sense was around the corner. An officer tried to stop him, but he just slipped past them, slowly moving until he was drinking a horrible cup of liquid life. After draining a cup and filling a second, he turned to find a somewhat-familiar detective waiting on him, with dark tired eyes and messy black hair.
"Eraserhead, thanks for coming on such short notice."
He nodded. "Let's just get it over with."
The Detective led him back through a few halls and into an office. Tsukauchi brought out a manilla file folder and pushed it across the desk to him.
"This is all of the current information we have on the vigilante Null. He operates out of eastern Musutafu, mostly, but has been seen across the entire prefecture and into the adjacent one. His quirk allows him to erase the quirks of people he touches, occasionally permanently but usually not."
Shouta's eyes widened a bit at this. "Really? That's…concerning. Even my quirk stops affecting a person when I blink. But his is permanent?"
Tsukauchi nodded. "Only one case, so not much of a sample size. Based on the few eyewitness reports we have, it's touch-based, so the current guess is that if he touches you once, you lose your quirk until he touches you again. If he doesn't get that chance, well…"
Shouta shuddered at the implications as he skimmed the file. It looks like his quirk worked on mutation types, too. No wonder the Commission wanted this guy so badly.
"So, we're going for a typical arrest then? Why so much trouble bringing him in?" Shouta didn't like to question the talent of the police. They worked incredible hard (when they weren't corrupt bastards at least) and, frankly, hero society would be in shambles without them. Not that you could catch most daylight heroes saying that, though.
The detective sighed, bone tired. "He's tricky and resourceful, and clearly very intelligent. He's managed to evade our officers with everything from human shields to whoopie cushions." He cringed, remembering that particular incident. Sansa may never recover his pride from that day. "We're pretty sure he's had professional training, too. The witness accounts say he's pretty brutal in melee combat. Along with his quirk, well…we basically brought you in because he was a mini-you."
Shout glared, and the detective put his hands up in surrender, but really he couldn't even question the man's logic. He sighed before draining the rest of his coffee and scooping up the papers. Patrol would be replaced with study and planning tonight, it seemed.
"Alright. I'll get to work." As he turned to leave, though, the detective stopped him.
"Just a moment, Eraserhead. One more thing." Shouta raised a brow.
"It's his age. His helmet, apparently new, has some kind of voice changer in it, but the two witnesses from just after his appearance say he sounds young. Based on his height, we're guessing he's a teenager. 16, maybe younger."
Well, shit.
Chapter 3: Hitting the Streets
Custom Settings:
[Display Settings]
[Audio Output Settings]
[HUD Settings]
"Display Settings."
Display Settings:
Dark Mode: On
Transparency: 0%
Text Color: Blue
Text Font Size: 32
Eye-Tracking-Calibration: Top-Left Corner
Damage Indicator: On
Battery Indicator: On
Izuku hummed to himself as he poured through his helmet's settings at long last. There was a lot in there! It almost made it worth the price! (He was going to avoid that sketchy man like his life depended on it.) He glanced at the window, seeing the sun already setting, and used Pull to close the curtains before it got too late. He wasn't going out tonight. Instead, he wanted to dedicate his time to research based on the previous night's patrol.
Null flung himself from rooftop to rooftop, silent as a ghost. It was freeing, in a way. Momentarily detaching yourself from the Earth until gravity reclaimed its hold on you. He had always wondered what it would feel like to fly through the night sky. Would it feel freeing, totally and completely, being liberated from the world altogether, or would it crush him under a blanket of loneliness, the isolation of floating through the void with nobody to stop you (nobody who cared)?
Never mind that, he had an appointment to keep.
Sliding down a drainage pipe on the side of a taller building, Null's feet hit the ground, echoing through the alleyway. He really needed to work on his landings. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, and his skin buzzed.
He was being watched.
He slotted 2 quirks into place, just in case, but kept his posture relaxed, even as a quiet 'click' sounded next to him and a gun was pressed to the back of his helmet.
"An' who the fuck're you 'sposed ta be?"
Izuku rolled his eyes. What a cliché line! And he could tell by the way the man's hands shook he was clearly an amateur with the pistol he had. Not to mention he smelled like a one-man drug circus. Exactly who Izuku needed.
"Just here to do my laundry."
The man scoffed, but the pistol retreated. "We got a drier you can use."
After a moment, he was lead further into the alley and into a seemingly boarded-up door, into what looked like an abandoned laundromat.
"You got the money or what, squirt?"
Null crossed his arms, unimpressed. "Do you have the information I asked for?"
"Money. Now." He waved the pistol around in the air. In response, Null uncrossed his arms, flexing his fingers at his sides and letting a little red light seep through his gloves, lighting up the corner of the room they stood in like a horror movie.
The man tensed. He was going to accidentally shoot himself if he wasn't careful. After a moment, he sighed. "Fine, whatever just keep your quirk to yourself, ya brat. I got both things." He dug out a small binder, a long-faded yellow, probably picked up from an elementary school dumpster.
"Trigger's been all over the place lately. Hero-types haven't caught on, yet."
Izuku cocked his head. "I thought Trigger mostly disappeared like, 4 or 5 years ago."
The man snorted. Gross. "'At's why you're still green, eh? Course it didn't! Just switched suppliers. Sales 'ave been on the rise last few weeks. Someone's plannin' somethin'."
He nodded. "Any locations on dealers?"
The man wagged a finger at him. "Ah-ah-ah. Money first, kid."
Sighing, Null slowly reached into his left pocket before throwing a small wad of bills at the man. He flipped through it before scowling, tightening his grip on his gun. "This ain't all of it."
"And you haven't given me all of my information yet. Deal with it."
The man scowled deep, and for a second Null thought he'd be in for a fight, but after a moment he sighed and relaxed again.
"Fine. Here's the file you were buggin' me about. It's the original so don't lose it."
Izuku nodded as the man kicked the binder across the floor to him, before picking it up. In return, he tossed another, much larger, wad of cash at the man before turning to leave. Over his shoulder, he could hear the man flipping through the money, before he spoke once again. "Not sure what the fascination with those freaks is, anyways. Best just to let 'em disappear, I say. But whateva floats ya boat."
Izuku slammed the door hard enough to crack the frame.
Researching on his phone was difficult, but this wasn't exactly something he could research at the library. Maybe he should invest in a laptop eventually….
Putting that thought aside for later, Izuku flipped open the yellow binder he had received to the first page. The papers were crinkled and creased, somewhat, like they'd been stuffed in someone's pocket at some point. They likely had, now that he thought about it. It was about 3 pages worth of information, with some supplemental pictures and transcriptions of interviews.
Name: Nashi Iruka
Age: 28
Quirk: None
Eyes: Brown
Hair: Black
Status: Archived
It was a missing person's report. Specifically, it was a missing person's report for a woman who Izuku suspected was connected to a string of disappearances in the area over the last year. Moving through the other files he'd managed to get his hands on, the cases seemed completely unrelated. All different ages, both male and female targets, and none of them had almost any common characteristics whatsoever. But he had a hunch, this gut feeling that they were connected, but he just couldn't figure out how! The infuriating part was that the police department had already closed Nashi's case, declaring it cold and unsolvable.
They just didn't want to look for her because she was quirkless.
It bothered him in ways he could barely tolerate. He knew, oh how he knew, that the world wasn't fair! If you didn't fit into society's perfect-little-mold for heroism, if you didn't have the perfect, flashy, destructive, stupid quirk! And gods-forbid you have a useless quirk, or a weird quirk, or a scary-looking mutation, or a so-called villainous quirk. What the heck did that even MEAN?!
And then there were the quirkless.
Izuku was more than familiar with how they were treated. That's why, despite the power he could hold at his fingertips, he almost never kept the powers that he stole. That's why Null would never be anything more than a plucky vigilante with an erasure quirk. That's why Nashi's case was now personal.
If society had given up on her, he'd just go and find her himself.
After more than ten years as a hero, Shouta could not be more done with Trigger.
Quirk-enhancing drugs were legal in America, in small doses, but their quirk laws were basically good luck, figure it out yourself! Japan's quirk laws lay on the other side of that spectrum, but both were equally irrational in his opinion. You don't need drugs to improve your quirk when you could just train it yourself. That's just lazy. Shouta was a lot of things, and he may nap more than the average cat, but if there's one thing he was not, it was lazy.
Trigger was a bit different than your run-of-the-mill drug, though. It didn't just get you high, and didn't just enhance your quirk. It did both at once, while also making the person angry and impulsive. And that didn't even cover the potential side-effects and mutations.
He pondered this, hating his life, as his capture weapon wrapped around the base of a fire escape some twenty feet up. Pulling on it, he flipped up and over his latest encounter: a triggered-up villain with a cow quirk who seemed intent on goring him. Landing on his feet back on the empty road, the villain spun around, bloodshot eyes locking onto his before he charged back down the road. In a completely straight line. Again
Shouta hated idiots.
Wanting to wrap this up as soon as possible, Shouta set into a run directly at his attacker, who recoiled at the action. Using the brief imbalance of his opponent, he wrapped his capture scarf around the man's horns before whipping his head to the side. Given his intoxicated status, heavy center of gravity, and overall bad coordination, he went down like a sack of bricks. Only minutes later, after a quick message, a police cruiser (of sufficient size) had come and collected the man, taking Shouta's statement at the same time. Taking out one of the legal form templates from his utility belt, Shouta completed his paperwork on site within a few minutes. It was a simple encounter, with a clear motive, plenty of tangible evidence, and no property damage. So basically Shouta's favorite kind of case, nice and efficient as all things should be.
Giving a nod to the officers as they took the papers and villain on their way, Shouta checked his phone and decided this was as good a time as any to head home. He didn't have a particular route, but wound and crept through various streets and alleyways, sometimes skipping them to go over buildings entirely. It was hard to tail someone if they didn't even know which way they were going. After some time, he adjusted his course, taking the long but safe way home. Creeping in the back of his apartment building, he slinked into the elevator and hit the button for the eighth floor, still not fully relaxing even after the doors closed (heroes had been killed at home before, in that moment where they think they can finally relax). He rode in tense silence, before a chime released him onto his floor and he found his way to the correct door. Silently unlocking the door with his key, he quickly moved into the living room, kicking off his shoes at the entrance, waiting.
Tap-tap-taptaptapTAP-
His capture scarf shot out from both ends, wrapping around the two small forms that had darted out at him to attack. Leaning down, he let out a tired sigh and spoke with a whisper.
"You're both so, so bad. Every night you attack me, but Nemuri is apparently a-okay. Little bastards." He scowled at his two cats, now having the time of their lives trying to murder his capture weapon, getting themselves further tangled in it. One was orange with bright green eyes, while the other was solid black and missing an eye. Missy and Demon, respectively.
A soft groan and some rustling caught his attention as he released the fur gremlins with a flick of his wrist. His husband stood up from the couch, stretching and yawning so wide Shouta was worried his jaw would pop off. Blonde hair was half-fallen out of a messy bun, and his glasses were nowhere to be seen. He wore a pair of grey sweatpants and a black shirt with the word 'pants' on it (oh how he hated those shirts). You'd never think someone so brightly colored and fashion savvy during the day would dress so dull at home.
"Zashi. I keep telling you it's illogical to try and wait up for me on the couch. You could just go to bed."
Hizashi yawned again, before smiling at him sleepily. "But Shooo, then I can't greet you at the door when you come home!"
Shouta rolled his eyes. "Technically you didn't. The cats did first."
"Little bastards."
"That's what I said."
Hizashi snickered, before moving towards him. Shouta pulled off his capture scarf and threw it onto a hook on the wall to his right, just before his husband pulled him into a tender hug. Hizashi did this every night. He'd wait up on the couch for him, fall asleep early, wake up when he arrived home, and hug him at the door. It was his way of saying he missed him without risking using his quirk in the dead of night, and his way to make sure Shouta wasn't injured.
It was thoughtful. It was sweet. It was considerate.
"Disgusting."
Hizashi chuckled. "Yeah, yeah. Welcome home, you grinch. How was patrol?"
Shouta rolled his shoulders out, moving to the kitchen to grab a snack before bed. "It was fine. Mostly uneventful. Found more trigger, but no dealer. Again."
Hizashi nodded. He always looked like he wanted to speak, but didn't. Truthfully, his quirk control was immaculate, one of the best even among pros, but it was a habit engrained from childhood. Plus, Shouta wasn't much of a talker, so Hizashi usually let him get all of his talking done up front so he could relax. He was more of a listener, anyways.
"We've found seven different Triggered villains over the last two weeks, but no dealers. We know the drugs are being sold close by, Trigger doesn't have much of a shelf-life, but we just can't seem to nail down where. It's really frustrating." Shouta grabbed a jelly pack (apple, he noted) and plopped onto the couch. Hizashi sat down too, leaning his head against Shouta's shoulder.
"Any word on your little vigilante problem?"
Shouta shook his head. "Nothing, yet. Apparently he's out pretty irregularly, but since it's been a few days since anyone's spotted him, he'll probably show up soon."
(1 week later)
It had taken a lot of late patrols, a decent amount of what was probably considered stalking, and some subtle quirk use, but Izuku had finally, finally, gotten a lead on Nashi's case. After asking around (mugging a mugger) in the neighborhood where she lived, he'd managed to get in touch with her previous landlord. They were a middle-aged woman that screamed 'show me your manager' at a glance but was actually a bit nicer than she looked. She'd been renting to Nashi for a few years, stating that she 'felt bad about the shit hand she'd been dealt' before she suddenly stopped paying rent. It turned out the police had never even investigated the premises, or told the landlord that her resident had gone missing. Izuku was the one who had to tell her.
The woman was sad, although whether it was about the missing person or the lack of rent, Izuku wasn't sure.
"Do you mind if I go take a look around the apartment?"
The woman eyed him up and down. He was in a (kind of) new vigilante outfit tonight. Which really meant that he bought new clothes and padding that weren't smokey/full of holes.
"You some kinda pervert? Why would I let you into someone else's apartment?"
"I'll give you last month's rent that you missed."
She narrowed her eyes. "Two months."
"One month and I use the door instead of kicking it down."
Eyes narrowed further.
"You're a little shit, aren't you? Fine."
Handing over the money, the woman lead him up to the second floor and produced her key, opening the way to the darkened abode within. Taking a few steps inside, signs of a struggle became immediately apparent. Clothes, blankets, and pillows were torn and thrown around the small studio like a tornado had come through. One of the walls had what looked like claw marks on it, and on closer inspection, the lock on the door was clearly broken on the inside. Taking a few photos on his phone, he turned back to the landlord.
"Do you know who could have done this?"
She shook her head. "Nashi-chan was pretty non-confrontational, for obvious reasons. Didn't have many friends, or at least never brought anyone around."
Izuku tapped his chin, before an idea came to him. Flipping the lights off, he activated the blacklight filter on his helmet. Immediately the room was bathed in shades of dark purple to him, with occasional splotches of color that represented…well, something. He didn't actually know outside of crime shows he pirated at the library. He was really just looking for anything unusual-oh.
Glancing at towards the left side of the room, towards the bathroom, were several white glowing streaks that went inside. Moving further in, Izuku poked his head in the door, and saw a scene straight out of a horror movie. White splashes went across the entire room, including the ceiling, and coalesced in an area near the corner, on the floor. Turning the filter back to normal, Izuku flicked the lights on, and felt himself gag when he realized those splotches were patches of blood. It looked like someone had been pretty badly injured in here, then dragged out across the floor.
Moving to the corner, Izuku patted around on the floor around the largest blood stain, looking for something, anything, that might give him a clue as to what happened or where Nashi could have been taken. Flipping on his blacklight again, he did another scan of the area, until he noticed some odd-looking smudges in the corner. It wasn't until he twisted his head and squinted that he could make out a few sloppy letters beneath the rest of the blood, the shape of the word dragged along, likely along with their writer as she was taken.
'Takashi'
Well, it was as good a start as any.
Chapter 4: Threads Abound
Mina was bored.
School was never her favorite thing to begin with, at least not the educational parts of it, but lately it had just gotten worse. Her parents had moved them out of Chiba at the end of last year (away from the only two friends she had) because her old school apparently 'coddled her too much' and 'she kept getting into trouble'. Her record was spotless! It was just-
"Ashido! Pay attention or go I'll have to give you detention…again."
She groaned internally as several of the children around her chuckled. It had all started during her second year of middle school. She had been out with her (only) friends, hoping to just grab a bite to eat and maybe do some karaoke, when this giant villain had shown up! Okay, maybe he wasn't actually a villain, but he was like 12 feet tall and towering over two young girls. PLUS his hand damaged the building he was leaning against, and property damage was a crime, so?
It didn't matter that it wasn't her fault, or that she did everything she was supposed to do, was taughtto do. The police arrived and immediately yanked her into the back of a car, accusing her of 'riling up the villain' or some shit. They'd driven her home and presented her to her parents, who then proceeded to ban her from leaving the house entirely! She didn't even DO anything but guide a suspicious man towards the police station. But that wasn't the end of it.
'You cause too much trouble, wherever you go! That's it! We're moving somewhere with less people so you won't attract so much attention!'
'Why did you have to go and stand out so much? Like we don't have enough problems already…'
She'd been here for about 2 months now, and didn't even remember the name of this shitty prefecture! Both of her parents worked from home, so moving wasn't an issue for them. They almost never left the house, and they also looked fucking normal, so theyhad no idea how terrible of a place they'd put her in!
There were only ten people in her new class, and only about 150 in the entire school. Not a single one of them had a mutation quirk. That was fine! She could deal with that! Even with such a small population, it was unlikely that everyone here was an asshole. And they weren't! Sure, she got the regular doses of mutant hate from a chunk of the students (and a good amount of the teachers), but a few of the students were passingly nice to her.
Just by looking at her, you'd think that her quirk was 'alien' or something. Pink skin, pink hair, black sclera and bright yellow eyes with a matching set of asymmetric crooked horns atop her head. Sure, people called her creepy once in awhile, and sure, she'd spooked a few people (and her parents) because her eyes 'glowed in the dark' whatever that meant. But that was okay! She'd rather just call herself 'brightly pink'! It would've made her into a sideshow attraction. A novelty. She could deal with that, really!
But that had nothing to do with her quirk. At all.
She wasn't sure what god-buddha-demon-WHATEVER was doling out quirks, but apparently it didn't like her, because on top of looking like a god-damned space person, when she was five she started dripping acid from her hands. And not just any acid, STRONG acid. The turn-a-person-into-a-smoothie kind of acid. The that-should-only-be-possible-in-cartoons kind of acid. She could control the strength of it a fair bit, and it almost never came out when she didn't want it to, but just seeing it was enough for some people.
It was enough for her parents.
Her mother, a tan-skinned woman with brown hair, had a quirk called Plastic, while literally let her turn her body into plastic at will. Her father, pale with blonde hair, didn't have to blink, ever.
Her birth alone almost caused a divorce, her father so sure that he'd been cheated on. Even after five paternity tests, their marriage never fully recovered. A 'random mutation' the doctor said. It apparently happened sometimes, with odds around one in ten-thousand. Lucky her, right?
Wrong.
Her father never quite looked at her, always from the side. It was pretty obvious he hated her, but was 'raising her' (with pretty fat fucking quotes) out of obligation. Her mother was…mostly absent. To Mina, it looked like she just wanted her husband back, and Mina was in the way.
School was worse. Once the other kids found out what her quirk did, they were scared of her. Mina would wake in the dead of night sometimes, hearing the terrified voices of the other kids screaming when she got too close to them, or bumped into them during gym class.
When was the last time Mina had gotten a hug? She didn't remember.
Her new classmates weren't exactly rays of sunshine about her acid, either. Even if she never used it, she was asked (told) to announce it on the first day of class when she transferred in. The teacher's tone was clear, 'you are a threat to the others and they should know about it'. So, she was once again back to being ridiculed and kept at arms' length (literally). She just had to get through one stupid year of this. Then she could apply to a hero course program, move out of her parents' shitty house, and never look back.
BRRRIIINNGGG!
But first, math class….
She sighed.
======================================================
Tonight was the night, Izuku could feel it.
Null launched himself across the ever-familiar rooftops of his hometown, going out just a bit further than usual. The few weeks had been stressful, but his effort was finally starting to pay off. After 3 botched drug busts, a small house fire, and a well-timed interruption of an alleyway fistfight, he finally had a lead on one of the Trigger dealers in the area.
A man named Takashi.
Apparently, he operated pretty quietly, vetting his clients by some unknown criteria and usually not meeting people directly. He usually distributed his Trigger through dead drops that changed locations frequently enough to throw police, and him, off of his trail. But not tonight. He'd finally gotten some good information. A new shipment of supplies had come in (he didn't know what Trigger was actually made of, but it sure sounded like chemicals) and Takashi had to be there to pick it up. It was coming via truck on a road just outside of town, so if he waited for it to show up, he could stop the shipment, question Takashi about Nashi's whereabouts, and put everyone behind bars before bedtime!
Maybe he was getting ahead of himself, though. First he had to get into position. It had taken him a few hours to stealthily weave his way to the outskirts of Musutafu, 45 minutes to find the rumored delivery location (a series of abandoned houses on the side of the road), and finally 20 more minutes to find his preferred hiding spot. He hunkered down on one of the roofs, in between an old brick chimney and the branch of a long-overgrown tree.
He thought he had given himself plenty of time, but after only another 10 or 15 minutes (13 and a half, but who's counting) a small group of 6 people, all in dark clothing, began to litter the space around him. He couldn't really make out details from here, but one of these people was likely Takashi.
Did he strike now? Or wait? It wouldn't be toodifficult to take them out if he caught them by surprise. But on the other hand, if the shipment arrived and cops were swarming, the whole operation could go to ground…
Best to wait for the truck, then.
He wondered what quirks they had…
No! Bad Izuku!
He kept himself occupied with theorizing about their quirks and playing with his helmet for another hour, until eventually one of the people perked up. They spoke with a high-pitched, chirpy sort of voice, and Izuku could scarcely see some mutant features around their head. Flipping on his helmet's somewhat limited night vision, they looked to have the head of a bat.
"Truck incoming, boss. Three blocks."
One of the larger men, wearing a leather jacket and heavy cap, stood and spoke out in a deeper, more gravelly voice. "Alright, positions."
That must be Takashi. He's supposed to be the one in charge, after all.
The people down below all moved, standing in a spread out semi-circle in the lawn of the house he was hiding on top of. If the bat-mutant person really did have enhanced hearing, he'd have to be extra careful. If he was going to move in, he'd take that one out first.
Not too long after, headlights began to light up the street, and a large cargo truck pulled to a stop just in front of the house. Izuku squinted at the harsh light, flipping his night vision off. As three of the goons moved towards the back of the truck, Izuku got a good look at Takashi, as he stepped towards the driver-side door, which had just opened. Over 6 feet tall at a guess, with a strong-looking physique and absolutely no hair. He lacked any kind of hair poking out from under his cap, no facial hair to speak of, and no eyebrows. Izuku noticed some kind of smudge poking from beneath the cap on his forehead. Maybe a tattoo or something? Around his mouth, the skin of his face was an angry, patchy red and purple. It looked terrible.
Izuku had seen scars like that before. This man had been burned badly by something, probably more than once. Was it a quirk or an unfortunate past? He supposed he might find out by the end of this.
The rear door of the truck slammed upwards as Takashi and the driver spoke in hushed tones, too quiet for Izuku to hear from this distance. He toyed with the idea of getting closer, but Bat-Guy seemed to be on lookout, so that was out.
Just a little longer….
They were efficient, he'd give them that. It only took them about five minutes to unload several large crates off the back of the truck. Now that the product couldn't be carted off to god-knows-where, it was about time to get started.
Izuku took a deep, centering breath, and pulled on a quirk.
He usually tried not to use any obvious quirks in combat, but this one came in handy. Helium was a quirk that made his body as light as helium, which was much lighter than air. If not for his clothes, he'd float into the upper atmosphere and die, but with his vigilante equipment covering his entire body, he had essentially just cut his weight down to a few pounds.
He leapt off the roof, momentarily soaring through the air before he let the quirk go and dropped like a rock.
Right onto poor Mr. Bat-Guy.
Metal-toed boots slammed the poor man into the ground, knocking him unconscious. One down, six to go.
Trying to keep surprise on his side, he reached into a pocket on his belt, pulling three small orbs out of it along with a lighter. Flicking it quickly, he thanked his lucky stars when the party-store smoke bombs lit on the first try, and slammed them onto the ground.
"Get him you idiots! We don't have time for this!"
Welp, surprise over.
As multi-colored smoke filled the air in spurts, Null ducked and wove around the two men that charged him. He flinched back as a sharp shhrrrring sound pierced the air, and a glint of metal barely missed his leg. Stumbling back, one of the thugs' hands had turned into a curved blade, glinting in the low light. As he tried to regain his footing, his vision twisted, and he found himself being thrown several feet through the air as a sharp impact hit his back. Hitting the ground and rolling back to his feet, he had no time to spare as a fist slammed directly into his helmet before pulling back several meters.
Scythe-hand, and some kind of superspeed.
Superspeed shook his hand out, knuckles already swelling from impacting Null's helmet (just how tough WAS this thing?). "He's got gear, boss! Might be a hero!"
Takashi grinned and kicked the last sputtering smoke bomb away, into the road. "That ain't no hero. Look at him! He's just some stupid kid. Why don't you get outta here before you die playing hero, brat?"
Why does it feel like every bad guy in Japan gets their lines from cheesy American westerns?
Izuku stood up, analyzing his situation, and slotted two different quirks into place before turning to look at Takashi.
"Nashi Iruka. Where is she?"
Takashi's eyebrows raised, before settling in a cruel smirk.
"So, you're the one who's been buggin' my boys this week, huh? Tell ya what kid, I'll make ya a deal. I'll take ya right to that quirkless waste of space, long as you do somethin' for me first."
Izuku was not impressed, but figured he'd humor the man for some information.
"And what would that be?"
"DIE!"
BANG!
A sharp impact to his helmet threw him on his back. That had hurt! It felt like he pulled a muscle in his neck, and his head was ringing. Did…did they just shoot him? Was his helmet bulletproof?!
"You fuckin' morons! Stop hitting his head! Shoot him in the chest this time."
Rolling to his feet, reeling, Izuku took stock. One of the thugs had a pistol pointed at him, while another had shed their shirt entirely, revealing a chest and arms covered in what looked like sharp porcupine quills.
This wasn't good. Maybe, just maybe, he had been so invested in finding Nashi that he had forgotten that he wasn't very good in one-versus-seven combat in a wide open space. Oops.
Plus Ultra? Maybe?
Gritting his teeth, Izuku focused Pull as hard as he could. Of all his quirks, it's the one he'd had the most practice with, and he found that he could do a lot with it if he tried. The ache in his head increased to a solid migraine, but as the thug went to pull the trigger to his gun again, he looked confused when he found it completely stuck in place. As he started checking the safety and smacking the gun, the porcupine guy unleashed his own payload: a volley of VERY sharp-looking quills. Izuku dove and rolled to the side, but as he popped back to his feet a superspeed-backed fist slammed into his gut, sending him sprawling again and probably bruising a rib. Luckily he was padded, or that would have hurt a lot more. The man in question was rubbing his hand in pain.
Superspeed but no durability to match. That'll be helpful.
Keeping his focus on the gun, Izuku took off in a dead sprint towards the shooters, best to take out the ranged options. He dodged another set of quills before Superspeed was back on him, but he was ready. He'd feel bad about this later. As the man with the pistol smacked his gun again to get it working, Izuku remembered the first rule of gun safety he learned online.
Never point the barrel at anything you didn't want to shoot.
As Superspeed sped around Izuku and pummeled him, he switched his target of Pull from the trigger of the pistol to the running man's shoes. Several things happened at once.
Pistol Guy accidentally shot Porcupine Guy in the leg.
Superspeed guy tripped, probably running close to 70 miles per hour.
Who then subsequently crashed right into Pistol guy, sending them both sprawling with bruises and probably broken bones.
He ran up to Porcupine Guy and punched his lights out for good measure.
Four down. Three to go.
Spinning on his heel, he lashed out with a kick at Blade Guy (he needed better naming conventions for villains, but he was busy!) and hit him in the chest. In retaliation, the man's bladed hand came swinging down across his chest, cutting a gash in his hoodie. His chest stung, and he just hoped he wouldn't need stitches.
A foot came from behind him. Although he got an arm up to block, the size and strength of the attacker still sent his smaller frame sprawling into the dirt. The man got out a large hunting knife and twirled it in his hand.
"Don't know who you are, kid, but you need to learn not to interfere in other peoples' business."
He stomped his foot down, and Null just barely rolled out of the way in time. Scythe-guy swung his hand down again, nearly taking his arm off, but he rolled further away. Takashi ran forwards, stabbing down with his knife as Null tried to get to his feet. Putting his arms up to catch the larger man's he was once again forced to the ground and onto his back, desperately trying to hold back Takashi's hands while he tried to plunge his knife into Izuku's chest.
Definitely not good.
"How's about this? You come in here, spit all over my operation. Maybe you deserved to be spat on."
What? Is that some kind of metaphooooooooooo- "AAAAAH"!!!!
Izuku couldn't stop the scream that ripped from his lungs as Takashi swished something in his mouth before spitting, and a glob of molten-hot lava splattered onto his shoulder.
His hoodie and padding immediately melted as the lava started burning directly into the flesh on his left shoulder. It was raw agony. His vision went white with pain and he lashed out without thinking about it.
When he came to, he and Takashi's positions were reversed, the knife nowhere to be seen. The larger man was breathing heavy, and Izuku's palm was directly on his face, smashed into his nose. Whipping his head to the side, Scythe man looked shocked, halfway between fight or flight, holding his blade out in front of him.
"You're…fuck, you're that kid! The quirk-eraser! Give Takashi back his quirk you little shit!"
Izuku stood up, adrenaline somewhat masking the pain in his shoulder, and took a step towards the man, who quickly took his own step back.
"Make me." He flexed his hand, letting red light crackle along his arm. The man turned on his heal and bolted, only to stumble back onto his ass as a grey length of…cloth? Wrapped around his torso, restraining him.
"Nobody move!"
Standing next to the truck (and apparently the unconscious form of the driver that Izuku had forgotten about) was a man. He was dressed in all black, with long hair and yellow goggles masking his eyes. Around his neck was a long scarf, that was currently lashed around Scythe-guy. The man looked up at Izuku, and as his hair raised from his shoulders Izuku felt this concerning feeling of emptiness. Like something was…missing?
Wait…
My quirks! I can't feel them at all! Shit, those goggles! He's Eraserhead!
This was bad, this was super bad. Eraserhead was basically Null's worst nightmare. Similar quirk that worked at a distance, better gear, and martial arts skills better than his in every single way. Izuku wouldn't last a minute. He turned on his voice changer, setting it to a deeper, more distorted setting. Time to dust off a skill he rarely had to use.
Bullshitting.
"Eraserhead! That is you, right? What're you doing all the way out here?"
The man's glare seemed to deepen, and his quirk was still active. How long did it last, though? There had to be some kind of limit to it.
"These men are suspected to be a part of a drug smuggling operation. I was sent here to arrest them. What I want to know is why you're here? Null, right? This seems a bit outside your usual patrol route."
Izuku chuckled, rubbing the back of his head and attempting to appear nonchalant. Best the man underestimates him as much as possible. Smoke and embers curled off of his ruined shoulder, but for the moment he tried his best to ignore it.
"Well, these guys were selling drugs! In MY neighborhood, no less! Like I'm gunna let them continue being so rude!"
"Uh-huh."
Police sirens were now visible down the street. A lot of them. Time to wrap this up.
"You look like you have your hands full with this."
"I don't."
"Is that right?"
Using every iota of stealth he'd learned from going over to Hana-chan's house, Izuku slowly, slowly, crept back towards Takashi's body, not taking an eye off of Eraserhead.
"How old are you, anyways? You look like you could be one of my students."
There was absolutely no way he was answering that question.
"Students? What are you, a teacher? What do you teach?"
"Heroics. At UA."
That actually surprised him. "Really?"
The man nodded. "Really. You seem to have some potential, kid. Give this up, you could probably be a pretty effective hero after some training."
Izuku frowned. "I don't think so."
Eraserhead frowned, and Izuku relaxed his posture, trying to make it look like he forgot the situation, and had gotten distracted by talking. Eraserhead's hair fell back around his neck, and Izuku felt his quirks return to him.
"Why do you say that? You wouldn't be the first."
Izuku grimaced. This was not a conversation he wanted to have right now.
"I…it's…I just can't."
"Why not?"
Izuku should be leaving now. Why wasn't he leaving?
"I…I don't-"
"STOP! DON'T MOVE! YOU'RE UNDER ARREST!"
Bright headlights flooded the yard. If not for the auto-dimming in his helmet, Izuku would have been temporarily blinded.
Eraserhead shielded his eyes with an arm, and Izuku felt elation as his quirks returned full force. He'd pay for it later, but he slammed Pull into place as fast as he could, wincing from the effort, before ripping Takashi's phone from his pocket and into his hand. Turning on his heel, he set off in a dead sprint towards the house, feeling his quirks disappear again after a moment.
"Null, wait!"
He almost hesitated, but he had a woman out there who needed him. Society refused to help her, but Izuku refused to give up. He threw his weight to the side, kicking off the side wall of the house and using the height to scramble over the back fence, into an adjacent alleyway. Now out of sight, he felt his quirks return (was it sight based or did Eraserhead just blink?) and pulled on Helium again, using it to make a quick escape to the rooftops. As he fled, he heard the hero clamber onto the roof next to his, and the sound of rapid footfalls as he gave chase. This man was fast!
Pouring on the speed Izuku threw himself from rooftop to rooftop with reckless abandon, dodging a few stray lashes of the hero's capture weapon. He knew that up ahead there was a pretty steep drop towards a bridge. It was too high for a normal person to leap from, but with Helium he could probably make it down without breaking anything. Probably.
He turned sharply towards the building in question, practically feeling the moment Eraserhead worked out his plan in his head. His voice rang out from behind (but close WAY too close), somewhat panicked.
"Null, stop! Wait! Let's just talk!" The hero erased his quirks again, but strangely, Helium stayed slotted in place. Interesting…
Izuku turned and threw himself from the building in a dive. The wind whipped past him, and his body almost started rolling from the wind resistance, but after a split second he hit the ground and rolled, dropping his quirks as he did so. He tried to pop to his feet but ended up crashing heavily in a heap. No time to waste though. Scrambling to a standing position, turned around and looked up.
Eraserhead was standing atop the building he leapt from, some five stories above. His goggles were pulled onto his forehead, and with his helmet Izuku could see them blown wide with concern.
It might be easier if he thinks I'm dead, but…I really don't want him to think he accidentally killed someone. That's…that wouldn't be right, even if it makes things harder for me.
Whipping out his phone, Izuku turned on the flashlight, blinking it a few times in the hero's direction. His eyes immediately snapped to it, and as they did Izuku turned the phone upwards to give eraser a view of his helmet (he probably looked creepy, but eh). He gave the hero a sheepish wave, before turning the light off and disappearing into the shadows once again. The coil of guilt in his chest unwound at how the man's shoulders visibly slumped with relief.
It was weird, though. It almost looked like he cared. The man must be a really good actor, or he was just really attached to his work.
Well, that was fine. Izuku was attached to his work, too. He had plenty to do, now.