Chapter Text
There's a lot that Izuku knows, and an overwhelming amount that he doesn't. But he strives every day to rectify that situation, to learn, and learn, and learn. Kacchan had never gotten it. Naturally talented people wouldn't.
" Oi, nerd, what's this for?" He said, snatching away Izuku's textbook. It was a secondhand volume on Forensic Science that he'd picked up at the bookstore while his mom browsed the romance novels.
" Nothing, Kacchan. Can I please have that back?" He asked, sweat pooling in his palms. He shouldn't be afraid of Kacchan, he shouldn't. Midoriya Izuku works with people far scarier than Bakugou Katsuki. The rationalization doesn't help, however. Izuku supposes you never quite get over the fear of your first bully. Kacchan seemed to honestly consider his request for a moment before scoffing and tossing it over his shoulder like garbage.
" Eh, no. Quirkless morons don't need to learn to fight, that's what heroes are for."
It wasn't that bad, on the scale of stuff Kacchan has said to him. But it still makes anger and fear curdle in his gut. He won't cry. He won't. Izuku always told himself this.
Kacchan goes back to his seat when the teacher comes in, and the knot of anxiety loosens a tad. A classmate with a minor physical quirk (skin the scaled silver of a fish) slips him his book when Kacchan's called to the front to answer a math question. Izuku smiles at her, and the girl nervously grins back, eyes locked on the front of the classroom. He tries not to hold it against her.
-
The way home is quiet, and he doesn't pass any villain attacks or disasters, unlike usual. He lives in a pretty busy area, crime wise, though occasionally they have a quiet day. His mom always enjoys those days, though Izuku can't help but find them boring. Where was the excitement in a quiet urban neighborhood.
The apartment is silent when he gets home, and there's a note saying that his mom went grocery shopping. He heads to his room, humming under his breath as he boots up his computer and types in his password. Izuku had had a very busy week, though it was solely his own fault. Business was slow but his, ah, side project was taking up a lot of time. Hunting down information on Yoshida Taichi was harder than he'd thought it was be. But slowly, slowly, everything was coming together.
Izuku wondered how Mr. Yoshida would feel if about one million yen went missing out of his retirement. Would he be upset? Angry? Would Mr. Yoshida feel shorted?
Don't get him wrong, Izuku doesn't like hurting people. His mom had raised him better than that. But he couldn't deny that there was something viscerally satisfying in righting wrongs against him. But it took him weeks, if not months, to implant his own justice. He wasn't some super hacker who could sneeze and hack into Google, nothing like that, but he had his own little talents. Research was one of those little talents, one that he was incredibly proud of.
Izuku cracked his knuckles and began calling banks, pasting on his bright, cheery 'kid voice'.
" Hi! My dad uses your bank, and I was wondering if-"
Izuku could get what he wanted, if he tried hard enough. It was just a matter of waiting most people out.