Chapter Text
“So that’s him?” Overture is leaning over the shoulder of the man in front of her, staring at the open screen of the computer. A bright, young, and freckled face stares back at her.
“Mhm. Midoriya Izuku.” Indicator glances up at the woman looming over him, a lazy smile plastered onto his face. She catches his eye and her expression immediately darkens. Huffing, she turns her attention back to the computer screen.
About a week or so prior a few of her subordinates had found one of his journals, Volume 11, and after that he hadn’t been too hard for the smug bastard she called an associate to track down. Assuming the wreckage of the apartment building was where he lived, Indicator had quickly made the connection between the supposedly dead Midoriya Izuku and a certain Vigilante that had surfaced in the recent months. The physical frame of the two seemed to match a little too well, and when Indicator looked into more personal records the word Quirkless was the first thing that caught his eye.
Of course a child, one who most likely wanted to be a hero (what kid didn’t these days?), looked down upon by society for being quirkless would turn to vigilantism.
Overture glances at Indicator again, lip curling in distaste when she sees the look in his eye. He’s going to try and take the kid for himself.
She can’t stand the smug looks he keeps giving her. They had started the minute she had asked for his assistance in tracking down the boy, seeing as all of her subordinates had failed. Every time they locked eyes she could almost taste the satisfaction radiating off of him.
She had been especially reluctant asking for his assistance this time around, seeing as he was also interested in the identity of the person who had written those journals. She would have to do something about that to make sure he didn’t get his hands on the boy first.
Luckily she already had her approach planned out.
“I have a proposition for you.”
The woman blinks at him deviously, waiting for his response, and Izuku’s mind grinds to a halt.
He frankly has no idea what she wants with him, and there’s only so many things that could give him a clue as to why this is happening. Giving the woman another once-over he notices that she’s dressed inconspicuously, a small bag slung over her shoulder.
His brain can’t help but visualize all of the horrible things she could be hiding in it.
Sure, she’s smiling at him, clearly trying to come across as unassuming and non-threatening, but the bright smile etched in her face is wrong, like her muscles aren’t used to the feeling. That alone causes every alarm bell in Izuku’s brain to go off.
He glances down at the desk, still in shock over the fact that the woman, Overture, she had called herself, had managed to salvage it and bring it all the way here.
Ignoring the fact that she’s using an alias (which is making him even more suspicious), he picks up Volume 11 and flips through the pages, swallowing harshly. A blast from his former life was not something he’d had on his agenda today, and it’s making him feel a little nauseous.
Overture clears her throat loudly, and Izuku snaps his head back up to look at her. She’s standing impatiently with her hands on her hips. Right. He’d almost forgotten she was even there.
He places the journal gently back onto the desk and narrows his eyes suspiciously, brow furrowing with confusion and concern.
“A… proposition?”
As soon as the response leaves his mouth, she’s talking again, eager to continue the conversation, and Izuku can’t help but feel like everything she’s saying is scripted, like she’d already practiced each and every word a thousand times over, and the work is definitely paying off.
“Oh, yes! Don’t look so concerned, I’m here to help you!” The words fall out of her mouth, quick and sweet, dripping with honey.
The thought briefly crosses his mind that she could be a social worker, but he very quickly decides that that is not the case. There’s no way she could ever work with children, and besides, why would she bring his analysis journal? How would she have even found out about him? No normal person would have put so much dedication into finding a legally dead quirkless kid. Not to mention the alias.
Which only makes him all the more wary. Why is she interested in some legally dead quirkless kid?
Overture’s eye twitches. He can tell she’s not very ecstatic about the pace of this conversation. She’s impatient, his trusty brain supplies, and he mentally catalogues that little fact away.
“Help me with what?”
“I want to help you take down the men responsible for the death of your mother.”
His stomach lurches and the world stops moving around him. Just the mention of her is enough to cripple him, and he tries to shake the sudden dizziness and devastation away.
“What?” The word sounds chokes, and it feels like his throat is closing up.
“You heard me right.” Her words sound far too chipper for the situation. Overture makes her way to a small table in the corner and sits down, patting the open chair next to her. “You look feverish, you should probably sit down.”
He takes a step back instead. “No thanks, I’d prefer to stay right here.”
She shrugs and crosses one leg over the other, the picture of a relaxed woman having a normal conversation.
But this isn’t a normal conversation.
“You,” Izuku takes a breath, trying to form the right words. “You want to take down… Endeavor?”
“Oh no. Well, yes, but that will come later. You can’t just immediately take down the number two hero. First, I want to help you take down the villain he was fighting that night.”
“But… she died.”
Overture tsks, a shaper smile taking its place on her face, and this one looks much more suited to her than the previous happy smile she’d been wearing.
“Yes, but her boss is still out there. Taking him out will gain everyone’s attention, and once you gain more traction, then you can take out Endeavor.”
Izuku shakes his head, not understanding. “Her boss?”
“Mhm. I’ll give you all the information you could ever want about him, for a price.” The way she’s staring at him makes his blood run cold, and he grits his teeth, trying his hardest to stay in place rather than run the other way.
“I’m sorry, I think there’s been a misunderstanding. I’m just some quirkless kid, and I certainly have no plans to take down a pro hero. Even if he did something… bad.” Izuku wants to throw up. It was more than just bad, but he bitterly digs his fingernails into the palm of his hand and forces himself to keep going. “He still saves people, and I… don’t want to ruin that. So, you should probably go.”
Overture looks unbothered by the refusal, tracing out shapes on the surface of the table with long, pointed nails. “I thought you were into vigilante justice? Didn’t you want to change society and heroes for the better, maximize the number of people saved? Isn’t that why you went on all of those vigilante escapades?”
He freezes, and the nausea comes racing back, hitting him like a truck. She knows it was me. How does she know?
Overture just looks at him, amused. “Let me guess. You’re wondering how I knew that you were the vigilante? It was easy to figure out, almost laughably so.”
The boy scowls, starting to get irritated. “Well, no one else seemed to figure it out.”
“That’s because they didn’t know where to look. It was painfully obvious. The approximate height and weight and overall appearance matched yours too well to ignore, and all of your little escapades happened within a 15 kilometer radius of your apartment. Anyone who was looking for you could have found out. You’re too inexperienced.”
He cringes at the criticism. He knows he’s inexperienced, but hearing all of his mistakes laid out at once is just painful.
“Of course,” she continues, “You have potential.”
Oh yeah, sure, he has loads of potential. Potential to be a huge letdown on literally every level.
“Not to worry, though! I’m not here to beat you up, just here to set you on the right track! I’d hate to see your potential go to waste. So, like I said before, I can give you all the information you could ever want about that villain, for a price.”
He narrows his eyes. “What price?”
She practically jumps out of her chair, making her way back to the desk and snatching Volume 11, holding it up like a prize.
“Write one of these for me.”
He looks at her incredulously. She wants a journal? That’s what she came all the way here for? One of his creepy little journals?
“...Why?” Izuku cannot fathom why she’d want one so bad. Everyone else had always thought they were trash.
Except for that one guy who bought one.
“I have my reasons. Does it matter?”
She bats her eyelashes and Izuku thinks yes, it most certainly does.
But it’s just information, and, believe him, Izuku does know that information can be powerful. But it’s not like he has a quirk that gives him access to special information. It’s really just information that anyone could get if they watched closely enough.
Besides, she was offering information in return, information that Izuku can’t get his hands on so easily.
Information that has to do with his mom.
Thinking about her makes his eyes sting, and thinking that the person responsible for her death is still out there, unaware of the consequences of their actions, makes a feeling rise up in him that he can’t quite place. But he knows that he can’t just sit here anymore while knowing that that villain is out there.
It would kill him.
He bites the inside of his cheek, tuning back into the real world, hardly noticing that his cheeks feel slightly wet.
And then he says two words that he hopes he doesn’t live to regret.
“Okay, deal.”
Overture looks immensely pleased with herself, and pulls a little notebook of her own from her bag. It’s flipped open to a page with a bunch of names written on it.
“This is a list of people I’d like in the notebook. Can you complete it by next week?”
That is not a lot of time, his brain warns, but it’s probably fine. He nods, looking at her expectantly.
“Okay, and what about my information?”
“Right, I can give you his name now, and the rest next week after you give me the notebook. Just a precaution.”
Izuku sighs. “I guess that’s fair.”
She takes a breath, barely holding in her excitement.
“He goes by the name Indicator.”
It’s only a few hours after Overture leaves that Izuku realizes just how ill prepared he is for going back out into vigilantism and plotting to take down a villain.
He’s certainly let himself go these past few weeks, and having done nothing for days on end was probably taking a toll on his physical state.
Sure, he’d spent months training and getting to the point where he could hop from roof to roof, but he was out of practice. And in a week he was supposed to start his crusade, or whatever, on this Indicator guy.
So, with a heavy heart, he drags himself out of his room and prepares to get to training.
That is, until he bumps into Mrs. Suzuki in the hall.
Izuku decides to not tell Mrs. Suzuki about his newfound business partner. The last thing he wants is to drag her into his mess after she’d literally saved him from starvation and homelessness.
Her face lights up when she sees him. She flashes him a real, genuine smile.
“Midoriya, dear! How lovely to see you up and about! I was just about to come get you for dinner.”
Ten minutes later the two sit across from each other at a table in the dining area, and the smell from the meal in front of Izuku is downright intoxicating.
“I’m honestly surprised you’re not a chef or something, you could definitely open your own restaurant. Actually, why do you own a motel? What’s the story behind that?”
Mrs. Suzuki chuckles and stares off at nothing in particular while trying to remember. “Well, it wasn’t exactly my dream to run a motel, believe it or not. I actually had planned on becoming a pro hero.”
Izuku nearly chokes on his food before letting out a strangled, “What???”
She nods sagely, playful smile lighting up her face. “Yes, my whole family thought I’d be perfectly suited for the job. But I suppose it wasn’t written in the stars. I went for my license and got disqualified for improper use of my quirk. I had really just gotten into a small kerfuffle, but that was that. I always meant to try again, but I never got around to it. I ended up buying this motel with one of my childhood friends, but she’s moved onto other things by now. So it’s just me.”
What the fuck. What the fuck what the fuck.
Before he can stop himself, the green haired boy blurts out, “That is so awesome, what the hell?!”
He suddenly realizes he just yelled that at an old lady. His face lights up like a christmas tree, blushing so much from the embarrassment of actually having said that out loud.
But Suzuki doesn’t care, just laughs it off.
“Um,” now he has to know, “What exactly is your quirk?”
She glances around dramatically, taking a long pause.
“Do you really want to know?” She says slyly, leaning in close.
“More than ever now that you’ve said it like that.”
She holds up her arm. “Watch this.” Right before his eyes her entire arm turns to solid metal. “I can turn any part of my body to metal. From the top of my head to the tip of my toes.” She looks really pleased with herself and Izuku can definitely see why. That is such a cool quirk.
Then the realization hits him.
“Hang on a second, so that metal pipe that I thought I saw you beat that guy with was actually, what? Your arm?”
She nods.
“So you could’ve totally handled that guy by yourself, and I made myself look like a chump by trying to fight him and failing miserably?”
She looks aghast at the very mention of that idea. “Oh no! My joints are so old these days that by the time I could’ve turned my arm and started swinging, he would’ve done some serious damage, and I’d be a goner! You saved my life.”
Izuku is 99% sure that that’s bullshit because Mrs. Suzuki is the most badass old lady he’s ever met. But, he’s not gonna lie, it feels good to hear her say it.
He picks at his food, the beginning of an idea forming in his head.
“So, with you almost becoming a pro hero and all, you probably know a lot about fighting and self defense, right?”
She purses her lips. “I suppose, though I’m bound to be awfully rusty. Why?”
“Do you think you could, I dunno, give me some tips?” She raises an eyebrow at him and he rushes to explain himself. “It’s just--um, just in case I ever get in another situation like the one with the mugger?”
He feels bad lying to her, he always feels bad when he lies, but he just can’t drag her headfirst into the real reason why he wants to learn how to be a better fighter.
“I’d love to.”
Mrs. Suzuki is staring affectionately at him, and Izuku feels content for the first time in a long time.
Heading back out into the city for the first time since the fire is nerve-wracking, and it takes all of Izuku’s willpower to not go back and just curl up in his bed. He’s only been out for about an hour, but already he’s exhausted.
Luckily he hadn’t slipped too far out of shape to galavant around, but those weeks off had really done some damage to his stamina.
He decides to take a break, sitting down on the ledge of the rooftop he’s currently on, and pulls up his new mask to get some fresh air.
After Overture had pointed out that he was too careless and inexperienced, the first thing he’d decided to do before going out was to up his wardrobe. This time he’d gone for a mask that covered his entire face, instead of leaving half of it exposed like a moron.
And, of course, having little to no experience in actual combat, seeing as most of his previous wins were due to his best friend, the element of surprise, he’d decided to get a knife as well.
Not that he was gonna go around stabbing people! Or become some freak knife murderer. No, it was mostly for self defense in case he found himself in a bind.
Plus knives were, like, the easiest weapon. You didn’t need any special skills to use a knife. All you had to know was how to jab someone with the pointy end, right? Not to mention, it was small and easy to tuck away.
Back to business.
He stands, stretching, before reaching into his pocket and pulling out Overture’s notebook.
There were a lot of names on it, and he was an idiot for telling her he’d have it done by next week. He only had a few days left, and he hadn’t even started.
Scanning his eyes over the list, he looks for any familiar names. The task would be easier to accomplish if it included names that he was already familiar with. He could just knock those out, and then spend the majority of his time on the rest.
He’d prefer to look most of these names up on the internet and try to get a good look at their quirks through news footage and the like, but the computers at Suzuki’s inn were… ancient. He couldn’t make out any details whatsoever on the grainy screens.
Before he knew it, it was dark, and all the public libraries were closed, so he couldn’t use any of their computers either.
He wasn’t about to waste the entire night, so, here he was. Scouting around for any of the heroes so he could see them in person. Plus it was good practice.
On the list are actually a lot of familiar names, including, to Izuku’s mild concern, one Eraserhead.
It’s probably fine, the boy reassures himself.
He already knows all he needs to know about Eraserhead’s quirk, having already done a fair amount of research on him, so there was no need to seek him out. Izuku’s not particularly excited at the thought of facing him again.
The last time he’d seen the underground hero…. He doesn’t like to think about it.
Maybe I could have made it on time if he had just--
Nope. Not gonna think about that.
One name on the list Izuku barely recognizes, as opposed to the others, which he already knows a fair amount about, so he figures that’s as good a place as any to start.
He vaguely remembers a quirk having to do with food, and the small hero owning a restaurant somewhere in the heart of town.
What was it called again?
“Eggcitement?” Shouta looks up from the mountain of paperwork on his desk towards the man standing in front of him.
“Yeah, the restaurant’s been the talk of the town! Nemuri and I are going tonight to celebrate the egg-celent start of the new school year.” Hizashi grins at him, waiting for him to catch the pun.
Shouta stares at him with dead eyes, unimpressed.
“Anyway,” he continues, not the least bit discouraged by the lack of reaction, “You should come.”
“Can’t, I’m patrolling tonight.”
Hizashi practically falls over himself with shock, his glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose. He hurriedly pushes them back up.
“What? Again? You’ve been going out every night lately, you need some proper rest and relaxation! Especially now that the semester has officially started.”
“I don’t exactly have time for ‘rest and relaxation’. In case you’ve forgotten, I have to deal with the case that you made Tsukauchi give me in the first place. There’s a new criminal organization brewing and I have leads on at least two of their members, which I have to act on quickly or I may lose them altogether.”
The more he goes on the more deflated his friend becomes. “I thought it’d be an easy case, open and shut! I was trying to give you a mental break from all that vigilante stuff.” Shouta sighs and looks away, frowning.
“Oh yeah,” Hizashi continues, “Don’t think I didn’t notice you constantly moping around. He’s the reason why you’re out all night every night, right? You’re never gonna find him if you keep exhausting yourself…” He trails off, looking at Shouta hopefully.
They make eye contact and have a staring contest, mentally fighting for control.
“Fine,” Shouta huffs after a moment, “I’ll go with you tonight.”
Hizashi is right, he needs a break.What could possibly happen on the one night he takes off?
Eggcitement is not a very large restaurant. It’s more modest than you’d expect, it being run by a pro hero. But, Shouta supposes, it must serve pretty great food, because the line at the counter goes out past the door. The people waiting in line vary in all different shapes and sizes, so that must be a good sign.
The trio, Hizashi, Nemuri, and Shouta are across the street from the place.
“Damn that line is long! I hope you have a reservation, Hizashi.” Nemuri stares dejectedly at the line of people pooling out onto the sidewalk.
“Of course I do! You think I wouldn’t plan ahead?” He pulls out his phone and pulls up the restaurant app.
“I wouldn’t say you’re particularly known for that.” Hizashi glares at him, betrayed, before turning back to his phone screen.
“I--Oh wait, hang on…” He fiddles with his phone, expression of mild concern adorning his face.
Nemuri taps her foot impatiently. “Don’t tell me something is wrong with the reservation.”
“Nothing is wrong with the reservation! I don’t think… This app is just glitchy.”
Shouta runs a hand through his hair and makes his way to a nearby bench, only occupied by one other person, and sits down.
This might take a while.
“Give me that!” Nemuri snatches the phone away, stares at the screen for a few seconds, then groans in frustration. “Why is this page saying error? Don’t tell me it fell through.”
“I’m telling you, the app is just glitchy! Here, if we take it to the counter inside they’ll fix it for us!”
Shouta rolls his eyes, glancing at the person sitting on the other side of the bench. It’s some kid. His posture is stiff and he’s wringing his hands together anxiously. He glances his way and Shouta's heart stops for a moment.
For a moment he swears he’s face to face with the vigilante, and he’s half prepared for some smart remark to come flying his way and leave him thinking about it for weeks afterward, but it doesn’t.
The kid looks away, and Shouta has to shake himself out of the sudden stupor he’d put himself in. Of course this kid isn’t the vigilante. He’s just imagining things because he’s been overworking himself, trying to find the real vigilante, and now he’s just seeing things.
Glancing back the other way, he sees Nemuri and Hizashi still arguing.
Nemuri sighs. “Fine, whatever, let’s just go in.” She starts making her way across the street, Hizashi quickly following her.
Shouta stands, hesitant as he turns to look back at the kid one last time, just to make sure he’s not going crazy.
Except, where the kid previously sat there was nothing but empty space. Had he left? Shouta didn’t see him anywhere.
“Shouta,” calls Hizashi. “What are you doing?”
Shaking his head, he finally crosses the street and joins up with the pair waiting for him.
“What’s up? Something happen?”
“Did either of you see where the kid on the bench went?”
The blond gives him an odd look. “Kid? What kid? I didn’t see anyone.”
Nemuri stares at them incredulously. “Am I the only one who cares about this reservation?”
Shouta shrugs, trying to push down the bad feeling he was starting to get in his chest. “No, sorry, let’s go.” Ignoring the concerned look on Hizashi’s face, he enters the restaurant.
As soon as their food arrives, all worries slip away as the trio lose themselves in the food and talk of the upcoming crop of the new hero course students.
Shouta somehow manages to forget about the entire incident on the bench until later that night. He’d parted ways with his two friends and was walking home when something stopped him. The smell of blood drifting from somewhere nearby.
Immediately on edge, he makes his way quickly and quietly to the source, turning a corner and stopping in his tracks.
A man is lying unconscious on the ground, blood speckling the pavement around him.
The next thing he processes is the person standing above the unconscious body, bloody knife in hand.
Shouta activates his quirk, and moves to apprehend the figure, expecting some resistance.
However, the person, wearing a mask, Shouta notes, puts their hands up jerkily.
“Wait!” The voice comes out tinny and distorted, and somehow familiar, and that’s when it hits the underground hero.
The look is different but the height is the same, and he realizes that it’s him.
The vigilante.
The kid.
He drops the knife and it hits the ground with a clatter.
“I can explain!”