Chapter Text
Katsuki
His first day of school since he’d moved back to Queens had just ended, and things had already gone to shit. It was bad enough that his mom was forcing him to attend this shitty excuse for a school, but on top of that, that shitty Deku had also been avoiding him all day.
If Katsuki was being honest with himself, he had seen this coming. He knew exactly why Deku didn’t talk to him anymore. It was his fault. Fine. But just because he expected it didn’t mean it didn’t piss him off.
He was about fifteen minutes away from the subway when he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. Scowling, he pulled it out and saw a notification.
He’d been added to a group chat.
Katsuki’s brows pulled together as he tapped it open.
“BakuSquad.”
Of fucking course. It was those loud idiots from homeroom—the ones who wouldn’t shut the hell up all day.
BakuSquad
Today at 3:32 p.m.
Shitty Hair: YOOOOO
Racoon Eyes: Heyyyy
Shitty Hair: some dude in front of me just tripped lmao
Dumb Pikachu: lol that’s so random
Katsuki: who the fuck added me?
Tape freak: well aren’t you just a ray of sunshine
Katsuki: stfu
Shitty Hair: chill dude it was me
Shitty Hair: thought this would be a manly way to get to know a new friend
Katsuki: we ain’t friends
Racoon Eyes: well we are now:)
Katsuki: no.
He shoved his phone back into his pocket and huffed, bouncing his knee as he waited for his train.
When it finally arrived, he got on and found himself a seat. He closed his eyes and tipped his head back. It had only been three years, yet the whole city felt off, like someone had rearranged it just to piss him off. Sure, extras still locked to him like a moth to flame—making friends wasn’t exactly hard when you had his kind of presence. Katsuki had always been surrounded by people. He supposed what bothered him was the one person who didn’t come near him anymore.
An announcement broke his train of thought, letting him know that his stop was next.
He stepped off the train onto the platform, then made his way up the stairs to exit the station. The closer he got to his apartment, the louder the city felt—honking, voices, and, of course, the obnoxious sound of movers clattering boxes around a truck parked out front. Figures.
When he entered, he was immediately greeted by the sound of his mother barking orders at the poor bastards hauling furniture.
He ignored her and walked into his room. Shutting the door behind him, he took a look at his new room. It was mostly set up, other than the few small boxes filled with comics and other things from his childhood.
He pulled out his phone, thumb flicking over the screen until his eyes landed on an email from his new therapist confirming his appointment for next week. He felt a tinge of annoyance at that, but he quickly shoved that away because this was meant to be good for him or whatever.
“I bet Deku would be happy that I'm working on bettering myself or whatever the fuck this is,” he muttered to himself.
Not that this was his motivation to stick with therapy. Of course not. It wasn’t because he had issues to work through. Absolutely not. He was the best, after all. There’s nothing fucking wrong with him.
“Katsuki? Are you home?” he heard his dad call.
“Yeah” he responded flatly
“Good. Can you give us a hand with the last of these boxes?”
Katsuki let out a groan, dragging a hand down his face. The last thing he wanted was to deal with more unpacking crap, but whatever. He shoved his phone into his pocket and forced himself to his feet. “Yeah, fine,” he muttered, heading out to help anyway.
Izuku
Izuku sprinted toward the café where he worked, he was late as per usual. The cafe was not exactly close to his apartment; he lived in a rather shady part of the city and the cafe was not located there for obvious reasons—bad business.
Izuku thanked his lucky star as he made it to the cafe just in time. He greeted his coworkers and quickly changed into his uniform. Then it was back to the floor, where the next few hours blurred together in a haze of orders, dishes, and wiping down sticky tables.
About three hours in, the manager emerged from his office, a troubled expression darkening his face.
“Everyone, can you come to the office for a moment?” he called out. His tone was off; too heavy. Serious.
Izuku felt a pang of unease about this, but he trailed after the others into the cramped little office, wedged between his co-workers. His chest felt tight, like the walls were shrinking.
“I had a talk with the owners today” he began, his voice heavy.
“before I say anything, I just want you all to know that you have all worked very hard and this decision was not made with your performance in mind”, he continued.
Izuku’s stomach churned with anxiety. Bad news. It had to be.
“The owners informed me this afternoon that this branch of the cafe will be shutting down next week so this will be your last working day—don’t worry you will all be paid for the work you have done so far this month” he ends.
There were a variety of reactions from everybody in the room— shock, anger, disappointment. But Izuku didn’t pay mind to any of them he was too busy trying to fight back anxious tears.
How would he be able to pay his rent on time now? He would have to look for a new job. Maybe Mr. Sherman would understand. He usually did. He’d been more lenient than most landlords would ever bother to be, and Izuku was grateful for that. But still… this felt like another failure stacked on top of all the rest. Another thing he couldn’t get right.
Izuku gritted his teeth and pushed through the remainder of his last shift. After changing back into his clothes, he started the walk back to his apartment. About ten minutes away, the sound of sirens pierced the air, sending a chill down his spine. His pace quickened, driven by a growing sense of dread. As he turned the corner, his heart raced—an ambulance was parked in front of his building.
His heart pounded, and dread coursed through him. Something was very, very wrong.
The ambulance was there for Mr Sherman.
His legs felt like lead as he walked up the stairs to his apartment. He unlocked his door and shuffled in, taking his shoes off to put them away. His body felt heavy as he carried himself over to his bed. His mind felt utterly drained as he lay there, letting his anxiety consume him. After a while, he finally gave in, surrendering to his exhaustion, and drifted into a restless sleep.
He woke up with a start, his heart pounding before his groggy mind could even piece together why. He got out of bed groggily, and then it all hit him.
The café shutting down. His job gone. The sirens. Mr. Sherman.
No, this wouldn’t do. He had to keep his head up. He was fine.
He grabbed his coffee and sat on the singular love seat he had in his living room, which he used as a makeshift couch. He scrolled through his phon,e looking at reviews of the new All Might comic.
The too-hot bitter liquid burned down his throat as he recalled the events of the previous night. The burning liquid didn’t do much to distract Izuku from the unease he felt in his bones. Izuku tried to ignore it, this was a familiar feeling after all. He could deal with this. So he continued to scroll through his comic in silence.
The doorbell’s sudden ring jolted the boy from his thoughts. Slightly puzzled as to who might be visiting on a Saturday afternoon, he got up and opened the door. To his surprise, Hitoshi was standing on the other side.
“Took you long enough, slowpoke,” he said as he made his way in.
“Sorry, forgot you were coming over today, Toshi” he replied.
They both made their way into the apartment. Hitoshi sat on the love seat and Izuku chose to sit on the floor behind the coffee table opposite his friend. He took a sip from his All Might themed cup and received an unimpressed look from Hitoshi.
“You’re seriously drinking coffee at like 4:00 pm?” he asked, the disapproval was evident in his voice.
“At least I don’t pour like five gallons of sugar into mine like a psycho” Izuku defended.
“How am I the psycho?! You’re the one who drinks their coffee black!”
“And there is nothing wrong with that!” he huffs. They bickered like that for a while before they finally agreed to disagree with one another.
“Anyway, I didn’t come here to argue about your tragic taste in drinks,” Hitoshi waved dismissively. “I came to tell you about this cute guy I ran into at the grocery store yesterda–” He paused mid-sentence, narrowing his eyes. “Wait, what’s on your face?”
“Wha–?” Izuku started, but was cut off by Hitoshi’s exaggerated gasp.
“Is that… facial hair?!” Hitoshi blurted, completely stunned.
Without warning, he practically leapt over the coffee table, grabbing Izuku’s face to inspect his newfound stubble. After a few moments of dramatic scrutiny, he let go and plopped back down on the couch.
“Looks like puberty finally caught up to you, huh?” he teased, smirking.
Izuku shot him an unimpressed glare.
They quickly fell back into their playful banter.
“Wait, did you get taller too–”
“Just tell me about the guy already!” Izuku whined impatiently, hoping to change the subject.
“Right, so I was just picking up some snacks for movie night, and this guy bumps into me. At first I was kinda ticked off by it, but then I turned around and, my god… Izuku, he was so damn cute. I was so caught up in staring at him that I didn’t even realise he was apologising for bumping into me,” he gushed. “I think he noticed that I was staring and got creeped out, though, since he quickly walked away before I could say anything.” Hitoshi ended.
They carried on like that for the rest of the evening till his friend left.
Izuku had retreated back into his room after Hitoshi had left about an hour ago. He was restless, his mind buzzing with anticipation and unease. He craved the rush his newfound powers brought him. It was the perfect outlet, not to mention being a hero was all he had ever wanted. Sure, Izuku was quite certain that what he was planning on doing was against the law, but who really cared about the technicalities when there were lives to save, right?
He sprung out of bed, pulled out a fresh notebook and started to scribble away. His hand moved furiously, scribbling notes and half-formed ideas into the pages of his notebook. He bit his lip in concentration as he muttered to himself “Okay, so first… I’ll need a patrol route.” He scratched out a plan, diagramming his route across the city rooftops and alleyways.
“I’ll start patrolling after 12 a.m. cause that’s when all the bad stuff happens, right? I mean, if I’m out there at 7 PM, what am I stopping, jaywalkers?”
The dim light from his lamp cast long shadows across the cluttered room. The room was mostly quiet, with only the sound of his pencil moving and the faint noise of traffic outside the window.
“I’ll need a mask to conceal my identity, and dark clothes to blend into the shadows.” He jotted down a few ideas, his mind racing. “Gloves are a must. Can’t be leaving my fingerprints everywhere for the police to find.”
He rummaged through his closet and found a black long-sleeve shirt and picked out a pair of cargo pants since having a lot of pockets would prove useful, and the bagginess would be efficient to remain agile. Lastly, he found a pair of thin black gloves and a mask to cover the lower portion of his face.
He checked the time and was surprised to see it was quite late. Feeling content with his progress so far, he safely put away his notebook and headed to bed for the night.
The next morning, Izuku woke up feeling a lot better. He walked out of his bedroom feeling happier than he ever had before. You could go as far as saying that he had a little pep in his step. He poured himself a cup of coffee to fuel his addiction and even made himself some toast!
He caught up on schoolwork after eating to make sure he would be work-free for the night. He looked online for new part-time job offers as well, considering he would need one as soon as possible. The rest of the afternoon flew by like that.
Once it had started to get darker, Izuku started to prep his first patrol route. He put on his ‘costume’, or so he called it (it didn’t really qualify as one, but it sounded cooler than just calling them clothes, so he was running with it). he stuffed the pockets of his pants with zip ties and basic first-aid items like gauze, antiseptic wipes and adhesive tape.
He put on his shoes and waited till it was around 11:45. Like any smart superhero, he left out his window. Once he was standing on the fire escape, he shot out a web and flew out into the night. He carefully swung from one building to the next as he was still getting used to doing this. After a few minutes, he felt as if he had gotten the hang of this.
Izuku felt more alive than ever. He had reached his patrol route for the night by now.
It was quiet. Well, not literally, but in the sense that nothing had happened yet. He was getting rather impatient as he waited for something to happen, not to say that he wanted something bad to happen since he’s a good person and al,l but he wouldn’t be complaining if something did happen. It was as if the universe could hear him think because he suddenly heard a woman yell. She had her bag stolen from her.
Immediately he swung into action, swinging down from his perch to go after the thief.
Once he was on the pavement, he shot a web at the perp and yanked him back, which caused him to fall back and drop the bag. Izuku quickly grabbed the thief, flipping him over on his stomach to zip-tie his hands together. Once he had secured the thief, he called the police to come arrest him and returned the bag to the lady, who profusely thanked him, which caused him to go red from embarrassment, but thanks to his mask, no one could tell.
Satisfied he moved on and started to swing past alleys to find more crime.
Most of the night had remained rather uneventful. He’d stopped some more petty crimes like pickpockets and called the cops on a drug dealer or two, but that was about it. He decided to stop and return home around 4:00 a.m. so he could get a few hours of sleep before he had to leave for school.
He climbed back into his room through the window and took off his gloves and mask. tonight’s patrol had been quite mundane, but Izuku was still pretty satisfied. He got changed and finally went to bed; he fell asleep quite easily thanks to all the swinging around, which tired him out.
He could only hope that the next night would be more exciting.