Chapter 5: Bleeding Wounds
It was the next day that Eraserhead, looking as exhausted as Naomosa had seen him, practically dragged himself into his office. He was nursing a cup-no, an entire pot of coffee in his left hand while the other was holding onto various papers.
The man sat there, silently, as Naomosa waited for him to speak.
A minute went by. Then three. He took a big gulp of scalding hot coffee and didn't even blink.
"Oh for god's sakes, Aizawa. Get on with it already."
The man grinned, maniacally, but the face broke with a deep sigh.
"We busted seven Trigger dealers last night. Actual dealers, one of them at a fairly high place in the operation."
The detective quirked a brow, impressed and surprised at the hero's efficiency. "How high-up?"
Aizawa shrugged. "I'd say middle-management."
"So an improvement, but nothing world-breaking."
"Exactly."
He leaned forwards. "So why deliver your report in person? There's something else, right?"
Aizawa nodded. "I ran into Null."
Well now he was awake. "You actually saw him? What happened?"
Aizawa grimaced. An odd expression for him. "He had taken down most of the smugglers by the time I got there. I didn't see him fight much, but based on the injuries of those involved, his fighting style is as brutal as people say."
"Did you see him use his quirk at all?"
He shook his head. "No, but based on what I saw he had just finished using it on the leader of the little operation, a man named Takashi. His quirk was Lava Spit."
Naomosa cocked an eyebrow. "'Was'? Did it not come back?"
"No. I'm starting to think our earlier theory was correct in that he needs to touch the person a second time to un-erase their quirk. I think my presence there prevented it. Takashi was pretty upset once he came to."
"I assumed Null fled the scene?"
Aizawa raised his free hand in a 'so-so' gesture. "He was injured, and clearly scared, but he talked to me for a minute. His helmet does have a voice-changer, by the way." Naomosa nodded, starting to write things down and add to the report the hero had set on his desk. "I told him…that he could be a hero, if he hung up the helmet and got some proper training and turned himself in. He seemed unsure, unsteady, and I think he was probably already tired and injured to some extent."
"What do you mean? Couldn't you tell?"
"With the lighting as bad as it was, not really. His shirt was torn in a few places, and it looked like he had a burn on his shoulder, but he was still able to outpace me at the end. Officers came and spooked him, so he took off."
"What do you mean he 'took off'? If he's as young as we think he is, how the heck did he outrun you?"
"He's resourceful and crafty like they say. He lulled me into a false sense of security by half-answering my questions. They were partially meant to manipulate him into getting distracted, but the kid just gave me a taste of my own medicine. Used my reaction to the police lights to bolt. By the time I got to the roofs, I was already losing him. Then…"
"Then what?"
Aizawa sighed. "He got to the end of the block near Ratchet Street. With the bridge?"
The detective paled. "Don't tell me…"
Aizawa shook his head. "He's fine, I think. He didjump, but once I stopped and started searching, he shined his light up at me. Even let me see his helmet before he disappeared again. I don't know how he survived that fall, even I'd break both my legs attempting it. He might have some kind of support gear we aren't aware of. Regardless, the kid's still kicking. And I do mean kid, based on his height and mannerisms. He's most likely a teenager, although I could place him anywhere between 16 and 21, being generous."
Naomosa nodded along, flipping through the rest of the paperwork before Aizawa continued.
"One thing I don't understand is why he was there in the first place."
Naomosa nodded. "I agree. Usually, vigilantes start up because they want to stop local crime, or use their quirks freely, but this kid barely uses his quirk, and while he does focus a lot on local crime, a drug smuggling ring outside his normal jurisdiction doesn't really fit his image thus far."
Aizawa finished the pot of coffee before setting it down and crossing his arms. "So what do we do, then?"
"We keep looking. Move some of your patrol routes into his area. Between this and the Trigger itself, we'll have our hands full."
More late nights…yay…
Light from the outside assaulted Izuku's eyes, rousing him from a deep sleep born of pure exhaustion.
He had fallen asleep (more like passed out) in his full costume, helmet and all. He smelled like smoke and blood, there was dirt everywhere, he had a small puddle of drool in his helmet and-
Holy crap everything hurts!
Pulling his helmet off (he'd clean it later) and tossing it to the side, he tried to slowly take stock of his body. His neck ached something fierce, almost like a pinched nerve, but whether that was from sleeping in his helmet or from last night's encounter was a tossup. His ankle felt swollen, possibly a sprain from his high-diving antics to escape Eraserhead, and then running all the way back to the apartment. His shoulder-
"AH!" He clamped his hand over his mouth to avoid alerting anyone outside to his yelp as he gently prodded the skin on his left shoulder, where Takashi had spit literal lava onto him! That certainly explained all the horrific burns on his mouth. His mouth may be lava-proof but his skin certainly wasn't. Sighing but deeming his shirt another loss, he tried to Pull one of his several knives to cut his shirt off, but hissed when the attempted action caused a horrible spike of pain in his chest.
He'd pulled on his quirks too quickly, and definitely overused Pull. Slotting quirks into place took energy, quirks were still physical abilities after all, and if he did it too fast he'd get quirk exhaustion in the form of strong chest pains. Time and heat would usually help but for now he was on his own. Not to mention his still-present migraine. Even if he put the quirk away the quirk overuse symptoms still lingered until he got proper rest (which was rare, if ever).
Sighing to himself for his own recklessness, he slowly, painfully, got to his feet and limped over to where he kept the scissors. Over the next five or so minutes, he cut his hoodie off, careful not to damage the padded vest underneath, before peeling that off too. Limping to the other side of the room, Izuku looked at himself in the mirror and cringed, hard.
He, to be fair, looked like absolute crap.
Messy hair and dark bags beneath his eyes. A very swollen ankle. A shallow but angry-red cut went across his chest horizontally. And his shoulder.Angry, dark red and blistered skin was prominent amongst patches of black char. Second to minor third degree then. He sighed; not like he knew Takashi had that kind of quirk. He should have targeted him first instead of Bat-Guy. Hindsight was 20/20, he supposed.
Moving towards the bathroom, Izuku fumbled around for his first aid kit, but was severely disappointed when he found the burn care compartment (yes he made one, yes he needed it, clearly) totally empty.
Crap. I never re-stocked it after that apartment fire. I'm glad Fuzzy is okay, but now I gotta go out and get some serious supplies before this gets infected.
Burns were no laughing matter. They had to be thoroughly cleaned or all sorts of health complications could pop up, from necrosis to heart problems. Changing out of his costume and into some regular, if ratty and a bit baggy, sweatpants, Izuku threw some gauze on his shoulder and slipped a very loose hoodie on top. It was a faded yellow, probably donated almost ten years ago, with a practically ancient 'Put Your Hands Up Radio' logo on it. He didn't listen to the show very often (on account of not owning a radio), but when he caught it out on the town he rather enjoyed it. Present Mic was bubbly and loud, but also incredibly earnest and caring beneath all the pomp and fanfare.
He slipped some money and his phone into his pockets and emerged into sunlight for the first time in several weeks. He…didn't really like going out in the day to begin with, but sometimes it was a cruel necessity. He wasn't exactly nervous about being recognized as Null anymore, especially with his new helmet, but a ratty teenager walking around town during the day instead of going to school usually drew some unwanted attention. Walking with purpose and keeping his eyes straight ahead was usually enough to keep all but the nosiest of passers-by at bay.
As he walked, trying to absorb some much-needed vitamin D into his skin from the warm sun overhead, Izuku did his best to avoid bumping into anyone on the street while pondering his new quirk.
Getting a new permanent one was always a bit of an oddity to him. His quirk (the natural one, not the taken ones) always filled him with this underlying sense of giddiness when he kept a quirk. He assumed that was because he was using it for its actual intended purpose, even though he could give them back. It felt…well…
He felt complete.
He shuddered and tried to knock the thought away. Allowing that train of thought could turn bad pretty quickly, and Izuku didn't want, didn't deserve, to be greedy.
Where was he? Right, new quirk. If each quirk had a specific feel to it, Lava Spit, as he was so aptly calling it, felt as one might expect it to. It was warm and smooth, almost slick. He slowly, slowly pulled it into place, careful to keep his mouth shut as he walked, and felt both a warm feeling in his throat and a tingling sensation in his mouth. Both were faint, but it told Izuku that his insides were likely completely heat and fire resistant, but nothing on the outside of his body. He'd have to, gross as it sounded, practice spitting without getting it on him or anything he didn't want to burn.
Putting the quirk away, Izuku gulped and, based on the lack of immolation, noticed that his saliva turned back into regular spit instantly. Small mercies.
Finally, he arrived at the pharmacy. It was one of the larger ones, which was necessary based on the quality and amount of supplies he would need. Not wasting any time, Izuku power-walked (or power-limped) to one of the rear aisles in the store, where most of the burn stuff was sitting next to cosmetics and makeup. Small basket in one hand, he slowly and methodically went about restocking his supplies, just as he had done the last few times he'd run low. The downside, though, was that there was only one brand of burn cream that didn't smell super weird or leave his skin feeling all sticky, and it was on the top shelf.
Normally, he'd just hop and snag it, or use Pull when nobody was looking, but between injuries and quirk exhaustion those weren't really good options. His eyes darted between his preferred brand and the other peasant brands, trying to decide if further spraining his ankle was worth the hassle, when-
"Here ya go, kiddo."
Izuku jumped (and dang did that hurt his shoulder) as the good brand was suddenly held aloft in front of this face. Turning to look, the man next to him was tall, almost a full foot taller than him. He had messy blonde hair in a long ponytail down his back, and green eyes that crinkled with something that might have been amusement. The man was wearing black skinny jeans and, unbelievably, a well-worn gray t-shirt that had the kanji for the word 'hat' on it. Against his will, a quiet snort escaped Izuku's nose, that shirt was absolutely hilarious, even if the deeper breath twinged his shoulder like everything else. Trying not to show his discomfort, he took the offered bottle and dropped it in his basket with a quiet 'thanks.'
The man beamed. "No problem!" The smile lessened considerably a second later though. "You hurt, kiddo? You have a lot of burn remedies there."
Outwardly he was calm, but inside Izuku grimaced hard. "Uh, n-no. I um, I'm just clumsy. Good to be prepared, you know?" Good lord he was bad at socializing out of costume.
The man absolutely did NOT buy that terrible excuse, as he leveled Izuku with an incredulous look. "You sure, bud? If you're hurt, I could take you to the-"
"No! Uh, n-no t-thank you. I'm good, honest. Just need some cream and a night's rest and I'll be g-good as new!" Izuku chuckled nervously. This conversation needed to end before this man got all good-Samaritan on him.
This time, there was no half-hearted banter, the man just narrowed his eyes at him. "How bad is it?"
Izuku recoiled, backing up a step. "I-I-don't-"
The man held up a finger, before disappearing around the corner of the aisle they were in. Izuku heavily debated bailing entirely to avoid this interaction, but he really needed this stuff, and there was no way he'd be able to pay and leave before this guy was done with whatever he had gone to find. He wondered if the man knew that, too.
True to his word, the man returned with a rattling bottle of something, probably pills.
"Bad burns can lead to swelling and, in the worst cases, heart issues and infection. These are the best over-the-counter painkillers they got. Take one or two a day along with the other stuff and you should be alright, yeah?"
Izuku's eyes widened a bit. "That's really thoughtful, thank you." Inside, he cringed. There went a bit more of his budget, but he could really use the pain relief. The sooner he felt healed, the sooner he could get back out on patrol. Then again, he'd probably need a few nights to go through Takashi's phone and another few to follow up on any leads it provided.
He sighed to himself. This was enough interaction for the day. With a small smile and nod, Izuku left to go pay for his things. The dull beep of the checkout scanner nearly lulling him to sleep, if not for the constant burning in his shoulder that kept him forcefully grounded in the moment. He grabbed his bags in one hand and made for the door, but stopped at the last minute for reasons he couldn't quite place. Maybe he was over-tired, but he found his eyes seeking out that same man again, just moving up to one of the small self-checkout kiosks. He called out.
"I like your shirt, by the way!"
The man beamed, flashing Izuku a thumbs up before they went their separate ways.
Hizashi returned home after a rather…eventful trip to the store. His grumpy-for-life husband was curled up on the couch, a cat on each side, slowly marking away at papers he'd been avoiding for the last week or so. He certainly didn't blame him for his reluctance, Shouta's current second-years had some…interesting…takes on the English language. He couldn't imagine their Heroics essays were much better. As he dropped his keys in the bowl by the door and kicked his shoes off, the man looked up at him, quirking an eyebrow.
"Zashi, it's been over an hour. Did it really take you that long to pick up my eyedrops?"
Hizashi tossed the man his tiny bottle of eyedrops (the literal strongest brand on the market), before sighing and flopping onto the couch next to him. The cats went scrambling as his weight disturbed the cushions (the little bastards had always liked Shouta better, because he was basically one of them). "I met the strangest little listener. Kiddo needed some burn cream-I think he was hurt?"
An eyebrow raised. "You didn't check?"
Hizashi looked back at his husband, incredulous. "What? Am I supposed to ask him, as a strange man that in no way looks like a hero, to show me his suspected wounds? That's a nice way to get security called on you."
"So what did you do?"
He shrugged. "I asked, but he seemed insistent he was fine. I gave him the cream and some pain meds. He had some other stuff in his basket too, looked like he was stocking up. Oh! But that's not the interesting part!"
"And that part was?"
Hizashi beamed. "He said he liked my shirt!"
"You're right, Zashi. The kid definitely wasn't okay."
"Shouuutaaa!"
Mina trudged through the halls of her school once again, trying her hardest to change her quirk to invisibility with pure willpower. By now, the other students usually had one of three stock reactions when she walked by: side-eyeing, open staring, or open staring with disgust/laughter. As she passed one of the regular side-eyeing groups, she grimaced as the heel of her left foot scraped across the floor of the hall. A lesser-known side effect of dragging your feet through life was wearing down your shoes faster, apparently. And of course, her request to her parents to get her a new pair was met with the 'we spend so much money on you already why do you keep asking' lecture.
Her mother's new handbag was, of course, not mentioned.
Regardless, Mina would have to put up with the annoying hole in her shoe for a bit longer. Moving to her classroom, she walked as quietly as she could around the perimeter to her desk in the very back. It was in a row by itself, of course, and the desk itself had seen better days.
Swiping the thumbtacks off of the seat, Mina looked down at the worn and chipped wood, probably a desk they got from storage (or the dumpster). She'd asked her teacher about it, and all the man had said was that 'the school didn't want to waste resources if they'd be destroyed anyways'. Once again implying that she had no control over her quirk. Sighing, again, she swept the spider lilies off of her desk and into her bag (they had started showing up a week ago, and the volume was steadily increasing. Where did they even find this many flowers in good condition?) while bringing her notes from the previous day out in preparation for class.
"Hey, Demon Girl actually showed up today! Did you like the flowers, or did you already melt them into mush?"
Mina rolled her eyes. The name-calling stung a bit every time, but middle school kids were far from the most creative when it came to insults. Despite what people said, she liked how she looked. Pink was her favorite color! And aliens were cool! At this point, that was about as far as her self-esteem went, but it was still something. The jerks in her new school could call her whatever they wanted! The real problem was-
"Tachi-kun! I don't think Ashido liked her flowers!"
Shit. Yumihara Tachiko, or Tachi-kun to his cronies, was pretty much the self-proclaimed king-of-the-bullies, at least amongst the third years. He was a pudgy twerp, a few inches shorter than Mina herself, with a quirk that gave him minor super strength. Not enough to lift a car, at least not at his current age (or physical fitness), but enough to really hurt if he punched you. Which happened all the time.
True to form, the kid marched over like a king come to execute a peasant, greasy brown hair slicked back and face riddled with acne. He pointed in Mina's direction, and began to talk, but she wasn't really listening. Is it worth it to just ignore him? He'll prolly get mad. I just don't want to deal with this today.
"HEY! I'm talking to you, mutie freak!"
That one stung a bit. In a world of strange quirks altering the very definition of what it meant to be 'human', the word 'mutie' had pretty much become a slur, short for mutant. Something unnatural. Something that didn't belong. She'd googled the origin of the word one night, out of curiosity, and ended up with something called the Creature Rejection Clan. Her related internet searches after that became much less fun.
The boy shoved her hard enough to send her sprawling out of her desk and onto the harsh floor of the classroom, the back of her head impacting painfully.
"That'll teach you to ignore me! How's about you shine my shoes while you're down there? It's about all your kind is good for, anyways."
Just be calm. Just be calm. It's not worth it. You'll just get in trouble.
She tried to get up, but a kick from one of the cronies knocked her back down. Her face felt flushed, and her eyes burned.
Don't cry. Can't cry right now. It's fine, it's fine, it's FINE.
"Ew, weird! She turned purple! Maybe she's shedding her skin or something!"
"Fuckin' freak!"
Mina glared up at the boys through tears that hadn't quite fallen, scowling. One of them backed up, looking frightened.
Don't get mad, it's fineitsfineitsfine. It's fin-
Something impacted her cheek hard, her head snapping to the side and taking her body with it. The back of her skull impacted the classroom wall hard enough to turn her vision white for a moment, and she could already tell through the haze that it was bleeding.
"HEY! Watch your temper, mutie. My dad taught me self-defense! Just stay on the ground like a good bitch."
Mina saw red.
She never even felt the bully's nose break, cartilage and bone crunching under her knuckles. Didn't even notice the blood run down her hand as the skin split. Her heart pounded in her ears, making it impossible to hear the boy's two friends whimper and cry out, scrambling away like prey in front of a predator, probably calling for a teacher. Yumihara was on the ground, crying and cradling his ruined nose with his hands. Mina stomped up to him (when did she stand up), ignoring the shocked and terrified faces of the rest of the class that had watched the exchange (and done NOTHING why do they never help me)
"I HATE YOU! I HATE ALL OF YOU!"
She screamed those words, over and over again, hot tears streaming down her face until she felt like she'd drank a cup of her own acid. It didn't last long, though.
"ASHIDO! ENOUGH! STOP THIS, NOW!"
Breathing ragged and vision obscured by tears, she glanced up to see her history teacher, arms crossed and posture defensive. Behind him, one of the cronies hid, smirking at her smugly, with a hint of fear in his eyes.
Shit.
The principal wouldn't even look at her as she was escorted inside roughly, her teacher's fist holding the back of her shirt and shoving her along (she was pretty sure they weren't allowed to do that).
"Sir, this is the third incident this week. I recommend we expel it."
It. He called me an 'it'. For some reason, that hurt more than the words of the bullies. (Weren't teachers supposed to help)
"Unfortunately, expelling her now would result in too much hassle. She just transferred in, and the last thing we need right now is an investigation." Mina was mostly numb at this point, tired from her earlier outburst, and tired in general.
"Ashido, you're suspended for a week. One more incident before the end of the year and I WILL expel you. Are we clear?"
"Ye-"
"Don't speak. Are we clear?"
Mina nodded, eyes clouded over, as a piece of paper sailed over the desk and landed at her feet.
"Good. Have your parents sign this form and bring it back next Friday. Or else."
Mina nodded again. Through the haze, she distantly recognized that she had to tell her parents about this, now.
Oh, no.
It started with the smell.
Something on the wind. That distinctive musk, that smell. It was familiar, it was intoxicating.
Next was following it. That took a while. It took even longer when people looked at you strangely. People always looked at you when you were wrong. When you weren't Normal.
Your outfit was wrong. Your voice was wrong. Your posture was wrong. Your hair was wrong. (Your smile was definitely wrong why do you smile like that you freak-)
Next was remembering him. That was easy! His face was sullen, a bit tired, and a little plain, but still cute! He had fluffy hair! And his eyes held something…dangerous.
The smell became intoxicating.
Who was that boy? Why was he so hurt and hiding it so well?
Would he look better if he bled some more?
Chapter 6: We Meet Again
People were watching him.
It had started at the park. Mikumo had wanted to play in the sandbox, maybe build a castle. Or a fortress! Or a pyramid!
After two days of near-constant badgering, he'd finally convinced Mom to take him after school. The park near their apartment was small, and a bit run-down, but that was okay. The swings still worked, and one of the slides was in good order, and naturally it had a large sandbox.
It was cloudy, the rainy season was probably going to start in the coming week. Mikumo was determined to squeeze out the last bit of outside playtime before he was stuck inside, watching rain pitter-patter against the window for hours at a time (although that was fun in its own way).
Mom was acting weird, though. Mikumo, although still a little kid, was insightful for his age. Smart. He noticed things. He noticed how Mom could only use her quirk 5 or 6 times in the kitchen before she stopped with a headache. He noticed how Kacchan eyed him warily from across the classroom after he demanded to switch desks with another kid (ever since the incident anyways). He noticed that the mailman had an iguana quirk and a long tongue.
He noticed that his mom was nervous.
She was already a nervous person. So was he, he thought. But this was…new. Ever since the incident at school, she'd been a lot stricter about taking him places. He'd have to beg for days or even weeks to go to the park, or the pool, or even to get ice cream with her! At first, he thought she was mad at him, but she was super nice to him! They'd have movie marathons at home, and she'd make his favorite food sometimes, and last week they made a blanket fort together and she'd played Heroes with him!
So if it wasn't his fault, what was it?
Mikumo pondered this amongst his rising Sand Kingdom. It only happened when his mom took him somewhere, then? Glancing at her now, sitting on a park bench a dozen or so feet from the sandbox, she was the picture of calm and collected, a mother watching her son play on a lazy afternoon.
But Mikumo noticed things.
Her eyes kept darting around all over the place, like she was looking for something but couldn't find it. Her forehead was sweaty. Her fingers kept twitching. Twitching in a motion he was familiar with. Like she was about to use her quirk on something.
Suddenly, she darted forwards and scooped him up into her arms. He protested, but quieted when he felt her arms shake. Looking down at her, the mask of calm was still in place. She spoke to him, louder than necessary for how close they were.
"The weather says it's supposed to rain soon, sweetie. Let's go home!"
Glancing over his mother's shoulder, he couldn't help but notice a man had wandered into the park. Mikumo didn't see any kids with him, so why was he there?
And why was he watching them leave?
The weirdness kept happening.
He saw a few more people. Sometimes dressed fancy, sometimes not, but they all stared at him. A man at the grocery store, some lady at the mall, a couple at a coffee shop.
His mom knew about them, too. Eventually, she stopped taking him places other than school, and each walk to and from was always on a different road. He got to see other neighborhoods though, which was neat. Eventually, he got curious enough to ask.
"Mom?"
Inko looked down from the plate she was cleaning. They had just finished dinner, some curry with tasty spices Mikumo couldn't pronounce yet.
"Yes sweetie?"
"Why do people keep staring at us?"
Inko's happy demeanor turned scared.
It was the beginning of the end.
It was late afternoon by the time Izuku dragged himself out of bed.
The last few days had really taken their toll, so he decided to let his injuries rest and get some other work done in the meantime. He wanted to stay busy, he wanted to hit the rooftops and run and leap and help but he couldn't do that with a sprained foot and a burn bad enough to keep him up at night, so instead he decided to dedicate himself to some home pursuits.
First, healing. The faster he felt better the soon he could go out, so he iced and creamed and elevated and did all of the stupid little things the internet said to get him moving.
Second was his vigilante work. He had a missing woman to find, and he was NOT going to stop until she was safe. He combed the sketchy parts of the internet for rumors (hard to do on a phone, he really needed a laptop) while also trying to get past the security on the phone he'd swiped from Takashi. It was his best lead at this point. The tricky part was getting past the biometric scanner. He'd taken the man's quirk, not his thumbprint.
When he got sick of those, he resorted to his favorite pastime: quirks.
Quirks Analysis Anonymous
New post in [#quirkAdvice] by AlaskanBookWorm (2:01am):
Say, hypothetically, that someone had a quirk that could turn their hair into paper. Now, how would this hypothetical person deal with getting like, a thousand papercuts every time they scratched their head? Also my scalp is super dry bc how do you wash paper?
Asking for a friend.
8 likes 6 comments
Comment by SmallMight189 (2:05am):
Sorry to hear about your friend! You should tell them that there are ways to treat paper (depending on the type, what type is it? Regular notebook paper or computer paper or construction paper? etc) to soften the edges and give it an almost wax-like coating. That would allow you to wash it and it wouldn't be irritating or harmful to the skin!
New post in [#MyLife] by LivingLarge46 (5:10am):
My quirk lets me change my height by thinking about it. Sounds cool, right? Well it SUCKS. I just ripped my 1094th pair of pants and I'm pretty sure my dad lost the last of his braincells. Support companies only sell DNA-cloth stuff to heroes, because why the heck would I need to change my height, ever? What if I wanna reach something on a high shelf, huh? Selfish bastards.
My sister definitely got the cool quirk in the family :/
18 likes 14 comments
Comment by SmallMight189 (5:19am):
That does suck! But I think your quirk sounds cool! Modern society just doesn't like things being too convenient :'). There's a cool brand of super stretchy workout clothes for mutation quirks here, maybe those will help, as long as you're not trying to be the size of a building.
LittleRed89 (5:22am): SmallMight you're back again! You've been on here constantly this week man, do you ever sleep?
SmallMight189 (5:23am): Ha! Absolutely not, life is pain ;)
LittleRed89 (5:25am): *visible concern*
SmallMight189 (5:27am): *dabs so you cannot see my tears*
The laptop helped immensely.
It had been a string of good luck, along with slightly sketchy surveillance of a department store dumpster, and maybe a brief scuffle with a homeless guy who just wanted food. Izuku had found a laptop that was in approximate working order. He'd had to drain a decent chunk of his funds to replace the screen, but it was cheaper than buying a new one, anyhow.
Now that he had better access to the internet, it had only taken him a few extra days to finally hack into Takashi's phone, and another few after that to finally track down his first lead. Obviously, there weren't any contacts listed as 'Drug Supplier' or anything stupid like that, and cold-calling random contacts was bound to end poorly. Izuku had tried digging through old texts and emails, but he couldn't find any; Takashi had probably deleted them as he went. The man sucked, but he was definitely good at the whole criminal thing. So, he just had to wait for a message to come in with something incriminating.
Which, eventually, it did.
—-------------
New Message From: D.
D: New shipment in. 2 weeks.
Takashi: Location?
D: Usual place.
—-----------------------
Well that wasn't very helpful. And he couldn't just ask where the 'usual place' was, that would be so suspicious! Izuku racked his brain for ideas but came up with nothing. He was at a dead end.
Stupid criminals and their stupid vague language! Why can't the shipment just be down the street or something?!
Wait…
….Maybe…but how would Takashi approach this. He seemed pretty…aggressive, although we were fighting, I guess. Here goes nothing…
—------------------
Takashi: Nah fuck that.
D: ???
D: Is there a problem?
Takashi: Usual place is no good. Think I heard some cops sniffing around last time.
Takashi: You got a backup?
—---------------
This was risky. If this 'D' person caught on, Izuku was dead in the water.
—------------
D: Shit.
D: Yeah ok I got another place. 1 sec
D: [Location pinged]
D: 2 weeks. Shit'll be there by 1.
Takashi: K
—----------------
Thankfully most criminals were stupid, apparently. Izuku could not believe that worked.
He opened his map app and plugged in the location, seeing…pretty much nothing. It was an empty lot in Hosu, behind what was probably once some kind of factory or warehouse. A bit on the nose, but a good place for a drug deal, if nothing else.
2 weeks was more than enough time to get back on his feet. He had work to do.
(1 week later)
Shouta moved across the quiet rooftops like a ghost.
It was a skill he'd cultivated long ago in school (he would never admit he first learned how to tread silently to scare Hizashi and Oboro after they startled him out of a nap one too many times), and while putting too much stock in one's abilities was irrational, he was proud of it. With the experience he had under his belt, he could sneak up on pretty much any criminal or villain, so long as they didn't have a sense-enhancing quirk.
And now it was time to put his skills to use.
He'd been searching for Null all week, but the vigilante was as crafty as he was unpredictable. He'd show up, stop a dozen criminals in a night, and then disappear for days on end. The Detective had managed to compile enough witness reports to map out a loose boundary for Null's 'territory', but not much more than that.
So, Shouta searched. He mixed up his patrol route each night, stopping crime along his way and hoping that he'd run into his target. Was it the most efficient strategy? No. But it was the method least likely to scare the kid off before Shouta could talk to him (at least he was pretty sure it was a him). He wasn't joking the last time they met, Shouta had met a big handful of vigilantes, not to mention taught hundreds of students. Null had potential. With some proper training (and maybe a government pardon), he'd make a very effective underground hero.
Coming to a quiet stop on a tall apartment building, Shouta glanced down to the next building over, where Null was crouched close to the edge, nearly invisible in the low light. The sight made him nervous for some reason he couldn't quite place. Null's posture was fairly relaxed, but his shoulders were tight. Hir arms were crossed, and his finger tapped the bottom of his helmet repeatedly, like he was tapping his chin. Now that he had the chance to really look, Null did seem rather short, and thin. His clothes were baggy without being ill-fitting, which hid most of his physique, but judging by what Shouta could see he was definitely on the slim side. Short, too; Null was probably shorter than most of the kids in his class. That didn't mean much, though. Sometimes people were just short. He just hoped that it wasn't because of malnutrition or illness. Or age.
A not-so-small part of Shouta wanted to just whip his capture weapon out and be done with it, but there were two problems with that. First, Null was right next to the edge of a five-story building with no railings. If something went wrong, the vigilante might take an accidental dive towards the pavement below, and Shouta refused to be the cause of such a thing. Second, Null seemed like a genuinely decent person, if a bit odd and brutal in his takedowns. If he wanted to have any hope of rehabilitating Null into a hero, or even just a regular citizen, he had to build trust. Typically, wrapping someone in metal-woven cloth and slamming them onto a roof was a bad way to do so. Unfortunately.
So, he settled on something a bit less intense. He leapt from the roof, hitting the one adjacent and rolling to his feet, purposely making enough sound to be heard. Clearing his throat, he spoke, trying to sound as relaxed and bored as possible (not exactly a tall task for him).
"Null."
Null flinched a bit, then tensed. "Eraserhead." His voice came out a bit distorted, and clearly was being artificially deepened, probably by that helmet.
Shouta pulled his goggles down to rest around his neck and put one of his hands in his pocket while the other rested lazily on his capture weapon.
"Seems you've been busy lately. Any particular reason?"
Wrong thing to say. Even without facial expressions to go on Shouta could see how the vigilante's shoulder tensed even more, becoming guarded.
"None of your business."
Shouta sighed. "Right. Fine, then. Nice night tonight, isn't it?" He was bad at socializing, sue him."
"You're bad at small talk. You clearly want something from me, so what is it? I know you followed me here."
If nothing else, he could admire the bluntness. Finally, someone else who can cut through the crap. "I've been assigned your case by your favorite local detective. We operate in a pretty similar way, you know. I'm supposed to bring you in."
Shouta did take some satisfaction when he noticed that Null didn't bolt at his words. Laying his cards on the table may have been worth the risk.
"But you're…not trying to capture me? Yet."
Shouta nodded. "Yet. You are, by legal definition, a villain, but vigilantes operate in a grey area. Putting you through a rehabilitation program is on the table. Or you could always just hang up the mask and we can go about our lives, though the brass may not be happy with me if you vanish."
Null's posture…changed, but it was hard to tell exactly what it meant. He was more guarded, did Shouta say the wrong thing? Null spoke again after a minute, voice tight.
"I can't just stop, Eraserhead. I'm not doing this for fun. People need my help."
"You've saved a fair number of people, no denying that." Shouta shrugged. "The people Tsukauchi's talked to have been appreciative, at least most of them. Still, that is what heroes are for."
"Most heroes don't give a rat's ass about the people I help. If they did, I wouldn't have had to help them."
"What do you mean?" Shouta knew what he meant, and Null probably knew that he knew, but he wanted to hear it, his motivations.
"Quirk discrimination has gotten worse, the last few decades. Heroes spend more time in front of cameras and less on patrol, and people keep slipping through the cracks. Did you see what happened with Death Arms last month?"
Shouta nodded, frowning. That was a messy incident. Death Arms had attempted to stop a robbery in progress at a local store. He showed up to the scene a few minutes late and ended up tackling a man with a scorpion mutation quirk who had been shopping there. The actual culprit, a man with a weak emitter quirk, had fled the scene and had only been caught by police sometime later. Death Arm issued a public apology, and paid a fine, but otherwise got off scot-free.
Null's fists were clenched at his sides. "It happens all the time. Daylight heroes don't care about people in the poor parts of town, it's too much work to deal with the gangs. The media makes people with mutant quirks into monsters. If your quirk looks scary or just not heroic, you're a suspected villain. And gods help you if you're quirkless-"
Null cut himself off, seeming like he was trying to pull himself together. Shouta was surprised at the venom, the bitter regret, in his words. Given his quirk, though, some of it made sense. Speaking of…
"The man you fought, Takashi, can't use his quirk anymore. I thought your quirk worked like mine, but it seems that it has the potential to be permanent."
That was the wrong thing to say. Null's posture went ramrod straight, and he looked closer to bolting. Shouta had positioned himself smartly, there were no nearby buildings Null could leap to without going past him, but he was still wary, struggling to keep his outward posture nonchalant.
Okay, let's try a different angle. "People gave me a lot of grief for my quirk in school. Said I was taking away their individualities by robbing them of their quirks. Not like I actually took them, but whatever. I get it, a little. But I never bought into that crap. A quirk is a tool, it's what you do with it that matters. Just because you can't shoot rainbows out of your ass doesn't mean you can't help people."
Null's posture relaxed slightly at the quip, and he sighed. "You're one of the good ones, Eraserhead. I hope that you stay that way. It's just…not as simple as you think. I can't stop, I just can't. They need my help, and I may be the only one that can help them."
Shouta sighed back; this was going nowhere. It gave him an idea, though. It might delay Null's arrest, but it might be better in the long term.
"What if you weren't the only one that could help these people?"
Null's head cocked to the side a bit, almost like a cat. "What are you talking about?"
"You've been going after the trigger operation in the area. We've pieced that much together. If you don't want to tell me why, fine. But I've been dealing with these operations for a lot longer than you. We could pool our resources and information and take them out faster."
Now Shouta could catalog surprise. Probably wasn't expecting that. "I-what? You'd…you're lying."
Shouta shrugged. "If that's what you think, fine. Not a lot of point to it though. I've worked with vigilantes before, and the recent trigger sales are an issue that needs to be fixed sooner rather than later. If you know anything about it, which you seem to, it's only logical to work together,"
"I thought you were here to capture me. Wouldn't that delay things? Because I'm not helping you from a cell, if I help you at all."
"No. If you agree to help me, I'll give you a way to contact me and be on my way. Frankly, I could use the backup. If the Commission has to wait a bit longer on your arrest, too bad for them."
Null had started leaning forwards, clearly at least considering the offer. Until Shouta mentioned the Commission. Null's posture closed off entirely, and he took a step back towards the lip of the building. Alarmed, Shouta took a step forward, hand tightening around his scarf. "Null? What-"
"What did you just say?"
Shouta was confused. "What? I said I could use the backup. These people can be dangerous, and you seem like you can handle yours-"
"The Commission sent you?"
That was the part he was worried about?
"Uh, yeah. I don't work directly for them, a lot of heroes don't, but they were the ones who pushed your case onto Tsukauchi's desk in the first place. Not really sure…why…what's wrong?"
Null was…shaking?
"Sorry."
Shouta cried out in alarm as Null threw himself off the roof of the building, losing him in the shadows below.
Chapter 7: Reconsider
"Mom, he's looking again."
"No sweetie, he's not. He's just passing by."
"But he's…following us."
"Mikumo, stop. You're just imagining things."
…
"Mikumo, come set the table!"
"Okay!"
BANG! CRASH!
"Mikumo run!"
…
"Mommy? MOMMY!"
…
"Come with us."
Izuku slept like shit. He'd gotten home fairly early, having decided to call it a night early in case Eraserhead decided to pursue him. Even so, the usual nightmares plagued his unconscious hours, and even now that the sun was high in the sky Izuku found himself struggling to keep his eyes open.
It had been a close call. Eraserhead was nice, at first, but after mentioning…them…he had chosen to leave. The real question was whether the hero was genuine in his confusion, or if it was all a ruse. Was he working for them after all? If nothing else, Izuku would have to observe the man and see. If he kept up his current investigation, it was probably inevitable they'd run into each other again eventually.
Last night was probably a bit too early to go out, anyways. He'd mostly just left his hideout to think and get moving after a week stuck inside. He'd been up on that roof, mumbling through his various backup plans for the next week when Eraserhead and dropped in. His helmet had pinged him with a proximity alert several minutes before, which made Izuku uneasy. Why was Eraserhead just watching him from a roof? So weird! He'd had to pull on Helium again to get away, but luckily he had avoided any injuries this time, aside from some soreness. Even so, the smart decision would be to wait a few more days before going out again.
Would he, though? Debatable.
DING!
That was the notification sound for…the Admin account?
Housecall Request
Submitted by: Overwatch452
Priority: Medium-High
Quirk: Super Senses
Remarks: I'm so sorry to bother you again, but Hana is having a really bad flareup right now. She's passed out three times today and it doesn't seem to be getting any better. We can't even interact with her anymore.
Please, is there anything you can do to help?
QAA - Private Message:
Admin: I've just received your request.
Admin: Is Hana-chan's quirk getting stronger?
Overwatch452: I don't know! Probably!
Overwatch452: Is Izuku-kun available? She really likes him and she always seems a bit better after he visits.
Overwatch 452: I'll pay double.
Admin: Please don't.
Admin: I was just speaking with Izuku, actually. He said he'll be on his way in a few minutes.
"So, what happened?"
Naomosa would like to think that he and Eraser were becoming more familiar with one another at this point. Not quite to the point of 'friends' like he and Toshinori were, but maybe closer to 'close work acquaintances'. The man was pretty much a block of cement as far as emotions went though, so who knew.
Eraser had called the meeting, saying he had an important update on the Null case, but he had asked Naomosa two favors. First, he asked that Naomosa not update anything or anyone about the case until after their meeting. Okay, fine, if there was sensitive information or conflicting evidence it was best to get it all down at once to keep it organized. The second favor though, Shouta said he'd ask during the meeting, which had Naomosa concerned. Eraser wasn't exactly one to beat around the bush like this.
Once again brandishing an entire pot of coffee (he had swapped an extra one out in the breakroom, in preparation for this very meeting) Aizawa sighed before speaking. "I had a conversation with Null last night that actually lasted for more than a few sentences before he launched himself off of another building."
The detective paled a bit at that. "Is he alright?"
Aizawa huffed out a sigh, swishing his coffee around. "Best I can tell. I didn't see a body when I checked, and he's leapt from higher ledges already, so he's probably fine. That's not what I came to talk about though."
Naomosa nodded, urging the man to continue.
"His motivations are becoming more clear. He said he 'wasn't just doing this for fun' and that he would help those who heroes don't bother with. Seems like he's got a thing against a lot of daytime pros. Really up in arms against quirk discrimination, too, especiallytowards the quirkless."
Naomosa groaned, putting his chin in his hand. "That makes this even harder. Usually, vigilantes run out of motivation after a few weeks and give it up. If he's that passionate about this, he'll probably keep going until he physically can't anymore."
Aizawa nodded. "Exactly. Given his quirk, that isn't too surprising. I do find it odd we can't find anything about an erasure quirk like his in the system."
"Depending on how it manifested, he might not have ever gotten it registered at all." he shrugged. "I don't suppose you've seen him use it."
A shake of the head. "No, but I think our guess was right. I mentioned to him that we thought his quirk could be permanent under the right conditions, and his posture stiffened. I think we hit that nail right on the head."
Naomosa felt a bit of dread pool in his gut. "That's…bad." His blood chilled further when he caught the glare the hero was sending him. "What?"
"Let's not let any personal bias sully the investigation. Right, detective?"
His eyebrows raised. What was he…oh! "No! No, Eraser! I didn't mean it like that, sorry! That sounded terrible out of context!"
The man narrowed his eyes but made no move to relax. If quirk discrimination was bad in the public eye, it was rampant behind the scenes. A staggeringly small number of laws were in place to prevent it, and most didn't follow them anyways. The police, from Naomosa's own experience, were sometimes even worse, depending on the quirk and who was involved.
"Eraserhead, you should know by now I have no problem working with you or your quirk. I'm just worried about the power to render someone permanently quirkless being placed in the hands of a criminal with an agenda. Not to mention, if he really is as young as we fear, it might make him a target to other parties."
"The Commission?"
"...among others, yes." The man he was thinking of was supposed to be dead, but Naomosa still worried about what his best friend had confided in him.
Eraserhead set the coffee pot on his desk, before leaning forward. "That brings me to my favor, actually. Tsukauchi, I need to know if I can count on you for this investigation. I need discretion here."
Well if that wasn't a suspicious way to start asking a favor. "Discretion…in regards to what, exactly? I really like this job, Eraserhead."
The man glanced behind him at the closed door, before turning back to the desk and leaning forward, hands clasped in front of him. "There are two ways we could bring Null in. One is the 'easier' way. I corner him with some police, wrap him in my scarf, and call it a day. Null goes to jail, maybe even Tartarus, and I have a regular sleep schedule back within the week."
Naomosa grimaces. "I don't-"
A raised hand cut him off. He claimed to be a bad teacher, but he could certainly command a room. "The second way is rehabilitation. Either into a licensed hero or just as a regular citizen. Basically, convince Null to retire and pursue something better. This option is more difficult, but it's the better outcome, objectively."
"I agree, we've discussed this before. What are you getting at?"
The hero sighed, again. "For reasons he won't tell me, Null is going after the Trigger operation in the city. He's gathered intel rather quickly, and there's a personal stake in it, somewhere, but he intends to take it all the way. If we want to take him in, we need him to trust us. To that end, I offered to work with him."
Now that was a surprise. Usually Eraserhead operated alone, by a pretty noticeable personal preference. He hadn't worked with another hero in years, probably since the Villain Factory incident a few years back.
"The problem came when he started asking me questions. He asked if the Commission sent me. By legal definition, I told him they did, at least through you."
Pausing his note taking, Naomosa glanced up. "And this is a problem?"
Another nod. "I confirmed and he immediately backed out of the offer and threw himself off the roof of the building."
"Rather blunt, but damn. Not good. So Null has some kind of grudge with the Commission."
This time, Aizawa shook his head. "I think he's afraid of them, actually." At his confused look, the man continued. "He started shaking, and his posture went from interested to extremely defensive. His voice shook, too. Given his quirk, I'd say he may have had a run-in with someone in the past. Either with the Commission itself or someone closely tied to them."
Well wasn't that perfect? That would explain why the HPSC pushed up Null's case priority. Really, everyone with a brain knew the Commission was a lot more corrupt than advertised. It was kind of a 'we know but we don't know and the system works so nobody will do anything about it' situation. Day-to-day, Naomosa would have to admit he didn't think about it, which was probably part of the problem.
The real question, though, was what did they want with him, exactly? Did they just want a criminal with a unique quirk off the street, or did they want him for something? He looked back at Eraserhead, who had likely already gone through this entire thought process before this meeting.
"So, hence the discretion then. What do you need from me?"
He knew he was screwed when the hero looked him in the eyes, all business.
"I have a plan. I just need you to lie to your superiors and the government."
Damn, he really liked his job.
It was well past dark by the time Izuku finally returned to his apartment. He'd had one of his busiest days in recent memory, all the day after a super-stressful conversation with Eraserhead, of all people.
Even if meeting Eraserhead had been pretty cool. While their quirks weren't as similar as the man probably thought, they did share a certain unspoken…kinship? Acquaintanceship? People didn't really like their quirks. Izuku also couldn't help but respect the man's work ethic. Eraserhead was famous (at least amongst the underground, most regular people had never heard of him and never would, which only made him cooler) for busting drug and trafficking rings, and patrolling in the bad parts of town most heroes wouldn't bother with.
Izuku would have to look into the man's employment, and his motives, but he was at least considering his offer to work together, at least in a limited capacity. But he wouldn't compromise on the Commission either way, he'd learned a long time ago they weren't worth the pain.
Shaking his head clear of that mess, he trotted onwards, his building finally coming into view. After tending to his wounds and traveling to two separate house calls, Izuku had spent some time in the library catching up on schoolwork and doing some…independent research into Eraserhead's personal life. Sadly, all he got from that was his civilian name and his teaching certificate, along with his employment at UA. Pretty cool, but not helpful in actually vetting the man or his intentions. Well, they'd run into one another again eventually, so Izuku would have to keep an eye on him.
He clambered up his fire escape quietly, before going to remove the wood blocking the window-
The wood had been moved.
Someone was in his apartment.
Crap, did it have to be the one day I come home late?
He could hear the telltale signs of someone digging through his belongings, taking absolutely no care to contain the noise. That ruled out anyone official immediately. Probably just a thug or a drifter.
While he hid his presence well, he was in a pretty bad part of town. Once every few months, someone became desperate enough to try their luck or stumbled across his abode by pure chance.
Unfortunately for them, Izuku was not in the mood.
Carefully setting his backpack on the ground just inside, Izuku slipped through the window, as quietly as he could. He could see the figure across the room, rooting through the icebox with his back to him. Amateur move. He was wearing dark, ratty clothing and hiking boots. The real test though, would tell Izuku whether this man was desperate and hungry, or a jerk trying to score some free stuff.
The test, of course, was walking right up behind him and seeing his reaction. Using Pull, Izuku brought a can of discarded soda to his hand, before underhand tossing it so it landed on the infiltrator's head with a dull thunk.
"Ow! The fuck?!" The figure whipped around, and Izuku caught bloodshot eyes and a nose that had probably been broken more than a few times. "The fuck you think you're doing, you brat?! This shit's mine! Back off or I'll bash your fuckin' skull in!" The thug whipped around, bringing to bare an old-looking wooden bat.
Izuku smiled, cocking his head to the side. He could at least try to be friendly. "Actually, this stuff is mine. But, if you need some food, I'd be happy to give you some!"
The thug swung his bat, coming just a few inches from Izuku's face. "I told you this shit's mine! Get outta here before you get hurt!" As he spoke, Izuku narrowed his eyes. The man's tongue was black.
This man was on Trigger.
Izuku smiled, but it no longer reached his eyes. Perfect.
"I have a few questions for you."
A small figure hunched in the dirty alleyway, trying to let the shadows obscure them from the person they were definitely not following. It had worked pretty well all day! They lost him in some neighborhood, but they knew he lived around here, so following him home was pretty easy!
Still had no name, but that was okay! Names were easy. The rest…the rest came later. (Kill cut stab BLEED).
Tired eyes widened as a loud crash sounded through the otherwise empty city block. Where…there! Movement in one of the windows of a tall building. Most of it looked boarded up but…yeah, one of the windows was open!
The figure crouched down as yelling and movement approached the window. Despite their decent night vision, they were a bit too far away to make out what was happening, until the wind carried a voice over. It sounded super scared, which was fun, but gravely in the way drug addicts' voices were, so not very cute,
"WAIT! I'M SORRY, I-I-I WON'T COME BACK! I'LL TELL OTHERS TO STAY AWAY TOO! PLEASE-!"
The figure flinched as another loud crash sounded through the night. Their eyes followed more movement as a figure was ejected from the open window at speed, out into the open air before falling several stories into a dumpster with a loud clang!
After waiting a few moments, the person hauled themselves out of the dumpster, crying and groaning in pain. Looking up towards the window, the new figure flinched hard as an eerie-looking red light flashed in the window frame, just for a moment, showing the shadow of…oh! It was him! That fluffy hair was pretty noticeable! That red light was so pretty!
The figure on the ground took off in a sprint at the sight, slipping and stumbling until they entered the alleyway. Plastering themselves against the wall, they slid down to a sitting position, nursing what looked like a broken arm and…OH!
The man was bleeding. What looked like dozens of open cuts littered their visible skin, and based on the smell there were even more injuries beneath their clothes.
A wide, almost manic smile overtook her features (kill stab stab kill drink bite bleed blood kill stab bite kill bite drink BLOOD).
Himiko would drink her fill tonight.
Chapter 8: On My Own
You can do this. You can do this. Sure, they'll be mad, really mad, even, but it'll be fine. Like, okay they'll probably ground you, and yell a whole lot, and say mean things, and, and…
Oh god I can't do this.
Mina tightened her grip on the straps of her backpack, stuffed to the brim with her things, as she stood in the threshold of her parents' home office. The door was a dull white, faded from the age of the house but well-maintained despite it. There was a small chip in the paint below the knob, from when they first moved in and her dad tripped with a box. They never bothered repainting it. After all, what was the point of painting an entire door for one little chip?
Ah, hell. She was stalling.
Her left hand curled around the damning piece of paper given to her by the principal. It was just one week! She'd suffer for it, but then she could just go back to school and suffer there instead. Mina had never understood why her parents wouldn't let her just do online schooling if she was such an embarrassment. Both of her parents worked from home already, so it's not like the internet couldn't handle it.
She sighed, looking down at the old, worn shoes on her feet. Truth be told, she had started doing online classes after two days at her new school, speeding through her courses after her parents went to sleep at night. She knew she wouldn't really learn anything here, not with everyone out to get her like this. But every time she brought online classes up at home, wanting to admit the only reason she still went to school was so she wouldn't be marked truant because she couldn't un-enroll herself without them knowing, they shut her down hard.
She got the feeling that they just didn't want her at home.
Her fists tightened around the straps of her bag, and she knocked twice on the office door. Her hand didn't even have time for a third knock as the door whipped open, revealing her father standing beyond it, looking cross.
"What are you still doing here? You were supposed to be at school twenty minutes ago!"
What little courage Mina possessed fled her entirely at the look her father was giving her. He was so mad, and she hadn't even shown him the paper yet. Maybe she could just jump out of a window.
"Well?! Out with it, girl!"
Mina flinched, before holding out the piece of paper with her eyes closed. "Th-the principal! He, uh, he wanted me to g-give this to you…"
The paper was torn from her grip, and her gaze focused squarely on her shoes. Not five seconds later-
"SUSPENDED!? WHAT IS THE MATTER WITH YOU?! Have we taught you NOTHING about how to behave?!"
A bubble of…something, probably anger, burst in Mina's chest. She looked up, eyes starting to burn.
"Of course not! You haven't taught me shit because you hate me over something that ISN'T MY FAULT!"
SMACK!
Mina stumbled back a couple of steps before falling onto her backside, holding her cheek. Despite their differences, her parents had never hit her before. Looking up, her father glared down at her, an unreadable expression on his face.
"Get out."
Mina flinched at the words, but the tone was calm. Cold. Emotionless. She looked up again.
"W-what?"
"Get. Out. We're done with you. If you won't appreciate all of the sacrifices we've made for you, then you don't deserve them."
Mina sputtered for a moment, almost not believing what she was hearing (but deep down, a part of her had expected this. Why else would she have already packed a bag?). She looked past her father into the office. Maybe her mom would-
Her mother was still sitting at her desk, working. She typed away at a spreadsheet of some kind.
She hadn't even turned around.
"Oh." Mina said, in the quietest voice she had ever used. It all sort of…sunk in, at that moment. She knew her parents weren't super…fond of her or anything, but she had thought, maybe, that they had some kind of loose understanding.
Apparently not.
"I said. Get. OUT!" Her father stomped his foot, taking a step towards her. Mina let out an involuntary yelp, before scrambling to her feet. She tore down the stairs and out the front door, nearly tripping on the stoop, before making it out to the street. She faintly heard a door slam closed behind her.
I have a few more days to patrol. My leg is back to a hundred percent. Should I show up early to scout the area? But wait, what if someone else has the same idea and I get spotted? Or the meeting place changes? Which heroes are in Hosu again? Let's see, there's the Idaten agency, I know Manual is around, Native-
Patrol was quiet tonight. Izuku had spent most of it leaping between rooftops, almost wistfully, while coming up with backup plans for his foray to Hosu in a couple of days. Truth be told, he was nervous. This was supposed to be a relatively big supply deal, and it was still his only real lead on whoever Takashi handed off Nashi to. Hopefully, she was still alive, Izuku would believe she was still alive. Society had failed her already, so Izuku, so Null, would be there to save her when it counted.
Even so, it dawned on Izuku that other than during his 'training', he had never actually left Musutafu before. He'd taken the time to pour over maps of the area, check some cameras, and google some things, but that was no substitute for the real thing. Normally, he'd just head over a few days early to get the lay of the land, but this wasn't a tourist trip. Someone's life was at risk, and Izuku would not blow his lead by being overeager or nervous. He just had to be patient.
The main issue he was dealing with was a lack of information. He didn't know who exactly was responsible for the uptick in Trigger sales, nor who the suppliers were. He didn't know how many people they had coming to this exchange, or what their quirks were, or…really anything.
Troublingly, he didn't even know what the drug trade had to do with Nashi's disappearance. Or any of the previous ones. Takashi's name was sprawled in Nashi's apartment, so they were connected somehow, but the details were eluding him to an annoying extent.
What he was not going to do, however, was show up and make a fuss. Not only would fighting an entire drug ring at once possibly reveal his quirks, but he'd be outmatched and lose his only lead into the case. He could really, well…
He could use some backup.
His mind drifted once again to Eraserhead's offer. The man had seemed genuine, but Izuku was inexperienced with people, and he knew that. Eraserhead probably knew it too, or at least suspected it. Izuku was smart, best he could tell, but he was loathe to admit it would probably be pretty easy to manipulate him in a social situation if he wasn't prepared for it.
He'd have to talk to Eraserhead again, get a better feel for the man if nothing else.
He had stopped on a rooftop to ponder this. Looking around, he was a few blocks over from one of the sleazier clusters of bars and clubs in the area. Poorly patrolled by regular heroes, poorly lit, and overall pretty slummy. Perfect for picking up some petty crimes.
His heads-up display lit up with a notification. Proximity sensor in the next alley. Right on queue. This helmet really was handy, even if he had no clue how it worked.
Hopping over to the next building, Izuku looked down into the alleyway, finding the sadly familiar sight of someone getting pressed against a wall. The perpetrator appeared to be male, based on their build, and fairly tall, or at least tall compared to Izuku. He looked like he'd just come from the clubs, based on his wobbly posture. Or he was another druggie, in which case all the better for information gathering.
He couldn't quite see the other figure from this angle, but it didn't matter. This was sketchy as hell and Null wouldn't stand for it. Silent as a mouse, Null jumped from the roof, hitting the ground in a silent roll only perfected after countless attempts, and springing to his feet a bit down the alley.
Turning on his voice distortion, he spoke.
"What do you think you're doing?"
Both figures jumped (he could see the person pressed against the wall now, and the sight made him sick to his stomach. That girl looked young, way too young to be in this part of town. Then again, so was he.) The man turned around, stumbling on one leg a bit before righting himself.
"Nuthin' to worry about! Just offering the lil' lady here a ride home! So fuck off!"
Uh-huh. Right.
Null leaned to the side, looking past the criminal at the girl, who was still frozen in place against the wall. She looked like a teenager with some pretty prominent mutant features, although not the oddest he'd ever seen. She had horns sticking out of curly hair and dark eyes with golden centers. It was hard to tell with his helmet's light filter, but he thought they might be glowing slightly in the dark. And…was she pink? That was neat, what an interesting mutation! Not the time, though.
She looked pretty terrified, which wasn't surprising. Her clothes looked old but not filthy, so she hadn't been out here for too long. So either she wasn't homeless or had recently gotten some donated clothes. There was a large, faded backpack at her feet. Maybe a runaway? Questions for later, he realized, as his eyes narrowed in on a large bruise on her cheek, turning the pink of her skin a dark purple.
His insides burned as a bubble of anger worked its way up his throat. He must stay calm, though. No use scaring the poor girl.
"Miss?" The girl flinched at being addressed, golden eyes snapping up towards his head. "You're safe now. I'll get rid of this man and be right with you. Just wait right there, okay?" The girl held her eyes on him for a few more seconds, obviously gauging whether it was better to stay or run as fast as she could. Decision seemingly made, she nodded once, stiffly, before sliding down to sit against the wall of the alley. She looked spent. Nodding to himself, Null took a step towards the man, who had begun shouting drunken curses at him.
"Hey you brat! I didn't do nothin'! Just talkin' to a nice girl ain't a crime! And if she wanted to come home wit' me thas' her buis-"
Null relished in the satisfying crunch of bone and cartilage surrendering under his gloved knuckles as his hand sunk into the man's face. He sunk to his knees, trying to stem the flow of blood from his ruined nose.
"YOU MOTHAFUCKER! I'LL KILL YOU FOR THAT!" The man stepped forwards in a wide right hook. Drunken people like him were usually the easiest to fight, telegraphing their moves like a circus show. It almost made him feel bored, but he was too angry for that.
Ducking to the side, the man's fist went wide, rendering him off-balance. Null caught his wrist before driving his knee and elbow into the cook's arm, easily breaking the bone. The man let out a pitiful wail of pain, staggering backwards. Izuku simply walked forwards into the man's space and grabbed him by the front of his shirt, blue and stained with alcohol. Rearing his head back, he slammed the front of his helmet into the man's already-broken nose, dropping him like a sack of bricks onto unforgiving cement.
"Didn't even need to use my quirk. Pathetic." Lowering the volume on his helmet and turning off what he dubbed 'the scary voice', Izuku turned back to comfort and hopefully help the girl but saw only an empty alley.
"Miss? Are you still there? Miss!" He waited a few moments, but no response. She must've run off, then. That's a shame, she looked like she needed help. With a sigh, Izuku whipped out his burner phone to call the crime in and get this man medical attention (reluctantly).
"Musutafu Police Precinct. Detective Tsukauchi speaking."
"Hey buddy, how's it going? You're still on shift this late?"
There was that weary sigh he'd been looking forward to.
"What is it, Null?"
"Caught a guy trying to assault a girl in an alley. Public intoxication, and the girl had a bruise on her cheek and was pressed against the wall of the alley. I already forwarded you the video." (His helmet, apparently, functioned like a body cam when he wanted it to, which was awesome).
"By the books, for once. Thank you, Null. Send me the location and I'll get someone down there shortly. What's the condition of the victim, and the perp, for that matter?"
Izuku sighed. "The criminal is pretty messed up, not gunna lie. The victim fled, and I didn't really get much of her on video." He had actually cut the video feed before the girl came into view when he jumped into the alley. He had faith in Tsukauchi's professionalism, but cops in general were pretty tough on mutant quirks, and he didn't want the girl to get in any hot water just because he wanted this man behind bars. Maybe he'd patrol this area a bit more this week, just in case she was local. He finished giving the details to the detective and went to hang up.
"Actually, wait. Can I talk to you about something?"
"Oh really? The detective with the least free time on the planet wants to talk to little old me? Tsukauchi, I'm flattered. Whatever could you need me for?" He asked, placing his hand over his chest dramatically, wishing the man on the phone could see it.
"It's about Eraserhead."
Well, there went his good mood. He had been hoping to use this as a distraction to that very issue. "What about him?" He asked dryly.
"Listen, I really don't blame you, but why such an aversion to the Commission?"
Izuku nearly, nearly, hung up on the spot, but logic won out by a hair. "Eraserhead talked to you, I assume." It wasn't a question, of course he had.
"Yes. Listen, Null. I haven't updated your file on anywhere but my own private servers. Eraserhead really is willing to work with you."
This was…odd. Tsukauchi was a nice guy, sure, but he didn't really seem like the type to vouch for a hero like this. "Why are you so interested in me?" He asked.
"We're worried about you, kid. I know you can handle yourself, but you shouldn't be out there alone."
"I'm not a kid. And I CAN handle myself. I've doing it this long; I don't need any help." he said, stiffly. This conversation was going nowhere. (He ignored the sick feeling in his gut. Whether it was from Tsukauchi guessing his relative age or something else, he wasn't sure).
"Listen, Null. You don't have to trust us. But we can help you, I promise. Just…just give Eraserhead a chance, okay?"
Izuku's eye flicked up towards the 'end call' button.
"I'll think about it."
Mina's breath burned in her lungs as she ran.
Her feet were killing her, her back hurt, her face hurt, she was scared. She just wanted to go home.
But she didn't have a home anymore.
Moisture burned at her eyes, but she wouldn't cry. Not now. She had used most of the rest of her cash to catch the first train she found after running out the front door. The prefecture her fam-her par-her…whatevers, had moved them to, wasn't exactly the place to be when you were a homeless mutant. Angry citizens would have thrown rocks at her anytime she stopped for food. So she rode the train to the end of the line, not even paying attention to where she departed to, and wandered off into the night hours later, in hopes of finding a place to sleep.
She'd gotten a few dirty looks on the train, but nobody said anything or did anything, which was a nice change. But then, of course, she'd almost gotten mugged immediately. She didn't follow heroes too closely, but the one that saved her was kinda scary, although nice and not openly quirkist. Either way, she wasn't gunna stick around to find out if he hated mutants or not, so she dipped as soon as he turned around and started pummeling the guy who'd cornered her.
Now the question was…where did she go? She needed a place to sleep where she wouldn't get…bothered. Not to mention food. Her phone worked purely based off the fact her parents didn't know she was on their plan, and she made sure she never to use actual data for anything unless it was an emergency. Regardless, if she found some free wi-fi she could look some stuff up. It's somewhere to start, at least.
Opening her phone and turning on her data, just for a minute, she mapped a walking route to the nearest library.
By the time she got there, some two hours later, she was sore, and sweaty, and exhausted. She'd walked straight through the rest of the night, with the early morning sun now burning her eyes as she trudged into what she now knew to be a suburb of Musutafu. Her walk over was terrible, too. Every sound, every creature (or person) rooting through garbage or walking through alleyways spooked her into hiding herself. She'd wasted half of the time hiding behind dumpsters or in the shadows of broken streetlights, covering her stupid glow-in-the-dark eyes and praying nobody would see her again.
But she'd made it. After a brief search, the library had just opened, and there didn't seem to be many people around. She'd go in, get a membership card, and search for a place to crash. Heck, she could even do her online classes here! Mina couldn't believe she'd had such an aversion to libraries before, they were so useful!
Wandering inside, Mina attempted to straighten her clothes out and run a hand through her hair so she'd look like less of a street rat, before ambling up the front desk. A woman was working, maybe in her early fifties, nursing a coffee with one hand while the other lazily typed away at the computer there. She had pale skin and red cheeks, with a few wrinkles. Her hair was likely her quirk, as it appeared to be made entirely out of foam. As Mina approached, she caught the scent of saltwater. A wooden nametag at the desk read 'Suki'.
Suki looked up at her, subtly but noticeably cataloguing Mina's appearance, making her internally cringe as she tried to stand up straight. She looked at Mina with a polite-yet-neutral face. "Can I help you?"
"Um, hi, good morning." Mina flushed as her voice cracked a bit from dehydration, trying to forge on as Suki raised an eyebrow. "I was wondering if I could get a library card, please?"
Suki spent another tense second of silence taking in Mina's appearance, before nodding and digging out a few pieces of paper and attaching them to a clipboard. She passed it to Mina over the counter, along with a pen. "Sure. Deposit is 3000 yen, but then the card lasts forever unless you lose it. Fill out these forms and hand them back to me so I can get you registered."
Mina's smile brightened into something a bit more natural. Thanking the nice woman, she quickly sat down and started leafing through the paperwork. Most of it was legal nonsense. Rules about late fees and checking out books, property damage liability, blah blah blah. She stalled when she landed on the information she had to fill out, which included an address. Which she no longer had.
She sniffled but kept the tears in, trying not to draw any attention from Suki (is someone asked her if she was okay she'd definitely burst into tears and nobody needed that at…oh jeez, 6am). Flipping out her phone, now that she was close enough to get the free wi-fi, she looked up a bunch of random addresses, until she found a building next to the local beach. The rest of the form was pretty easy, and she passed the papers back to Suki in a few minutes. After typing on her computer for a few minutes, Mina was passed a red, laminated plastic card with her name and the name of the building on it.
"Here you go. Enjoy your reading!"
Mina smiled. "Thanks, Suki-san. See ya later!" She walked around the desk towards the rest of the building. She could do this! At least, she hoped.