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Rain fell softly over the city of Musutafu as night set in, after what felt like days of constant raining it seemed as if the clouds were finally moving on ready to leave the city alone. Nearly every nook and cranny was wet, small rivers ran down the streets draining into the sewers, the air was fresh and cool. Most people hurried home ready to snuggle up in a blanket, spend some time with the family, use the rain as an excuse to do anything. Everyone oblivious to anything that was happening outside the warm confines of their homes.
But time didn't stop it kept going, outside the world still moved. Crimes were still committed, people were still hurt, accidents happened, and some lives were cut short. The underworld was largely to blame for these things, even in the times when you couldn't walk ten feet without running into a hero, no one was safe. Even from these so-called heroes.
For every true hero there existed, thousands of false ones roamed the streets, their own selfish desires, be it money, fame, polluting what it meant to be a hero. It all cost someone something when they showed up, always looking for something in return never doing it because it was the right thing to do, they did it because it would help further their own goals. Criminals with the law on their side.
All Might’s golden age had come to an end long ago when the aging hero retired, but in its wake he left a glowing ember that soon grew into the hero Lemillion, a hero that rivaled All might himself, a hero that was chosen by the Symbol of Peace to lead the world into another golden age. He was climbing the ranks on his way to becoming the number one hero, he had already saved countless lives, the people loved him, villains cursed his name. He was a true hero.
In a perfect world, all those who would become heroes would do it for the sake of the people around them, to protect those that couldn't defend themselves, they would risk everything in the hopes that no one would have to suffer, in that world there would be no such thing as crime.
But, it wasn't perfect. It would never be perfect, fake heroes would always exist. They shouldn't exist, they bare the title hero in vain, it has lost its meaning, the people that relied on them forgot the meaning. It had become a hollow word, the power it once held gone,
He would right that wrong, he wouldn't stop until all the fakes that called themselves heroes were gone. Wouldn't stop until he had culled the herd, leaving only the true heroes behind. Wouldn't stop until this society saw what was wrong and changed it.
He wouldn't stop until he had purged every last fake from the face of the earth.
“Stop hiding you, coward!” the shout was followed by a blast of white energy, briefly illuminating the dark alleyway they were in, reflecting off every wet surface.
He was biding his time waiting for the perfect moment to strike, there was no need to hurry anyway the rain would be enough to drown out the noise he was making, perfect hunting weather, but it wouldn't last much longer he needed to make this quick.
“Or are you too afraid to face me head on!?” his target shouted once more the voice changing in pitch indicating he was probably moving, most likely in circled looking for him.
His target being a pride drived idiot it hadn't been that hard to lure him into the alleyway. He glanced over the boxes he was hiding behind, the alleyway was littered with big heaps of trash, and crates giving him plenty of hiding spaces, but the false hero was getting relentless beginning to take shots at anything that seemed like a threat making him more dangerous, but it also made him careless.
In the days he had followed him, he had learned that his quirk although impressive, could not maintain long fights, the firing rate on it being a blast of energy every 2-5 seconds depending on how tired he was, and right now he was bordering on four giving him a perfect opening to strike.
The man he was targeting had become a top priority after a family of four had burned alive, there had been a house fire that trapped them inside, he along with two other heroes had arrived at the scene, but instead of helping instead of rushing in to get them out, they stood by and watched as the house was enveloped in fire claiming their quirks weren't qualified for this, content with waiting for someone with a better quirk to come by. That family died knowing there were people outside that could have saved them. They worried about themselves instead of saving the people that depended on them, all three of them were fakes they would all feel his blade soon enough, and this one was first.
“COME ON!” he fired the area lighting up.
Now.
He vaulted over the crate, landing semi crouched, he took off keeping low to the ground.
One.
The ‘hero’ heard him beginning to turn, he reached behind himself gripping the hilt of the wakizashi scrapes to his lower back.
Two.
He saw him a look of surprise filling his face, both hands extended ready to fire.
Three.
Almost there, he pulled out his sword the blade scraping against the scabbard. One hand was aimed in his direction, here it comes.
Four.
His palm lit up temporarily before a bright pulse of white light filled the air, before it raced towards him. But his aiming had been too quick, he kept running as the pulse flew over him missing him by a couple inches, the hairs on the back of his neck rising as he felt the heat of the blast against his back.
The man aimed his second hand, but it was too late, he was too clase. Bringing out his sword completely he slashed his side the blade cutting through the dark fabric of his hero costume like a hot knife through butter, bitting deeply into his flesh.
The fake hero yelled out, bringing down both hands to cover his now bleeding side, the dark red blood spreading throughout his costume, falling on the wet pavement. He turned looking for his attacker, but he wasn't there. He found him moments later as he felt something sharp slash across the back of both his knees.
He collapsed to the floor pain spreading up and down his Leg his weight suddenly proving too much for them, he landed on his side causing more pain to spread. He grit his teeth as wave upon wave of pain pulsed through his body his tears mixing with the rain running down his face.
“It hurts doesn't it?” a cold voice asked him.
He looked up squinting as the rain hit his face, towering above him stood a man completely dressed in black, a sword in hand, it was too dark too see anything else, but his silhouette showed he must have a larger sword strapped to his back.
“What do you want from me?” he asked trying to contain the pained whimpers building up in his throat.
The man moved closer to him. “I don’t want anything from.” he said before planting a foot into his shoulder throwing him on his back.
He shouted as both his legs and side flared up the sudden movement too much for him.
“Please!” he pleaded
The man raised up his sword the blade pointing down. “You are unworthy of the title hero.”
“No! Please!”
He brought the sword down, raising his hands up he fired his quirk blindly hoping it would save him, but he missed the alleyway lighting up, the last thing he ever saw was a man with wet curly green hair, and bright green eyes, bringing his sword down on him.
***
Izuku walked out of the allyway, the rain had just stopped leaving the air cool and humid, he reached up and pulled his mask down taking a deep breath, the cold air filling his lungs.
The world would always be full of fake heroes, what he did here wouldn't make a difference, but it would open people's eyes and once they saw things the way he saw them, the way they were, things would change. The vision he had and his mentor before him would become a reality.
They would find his body by tomorrow, the news would fill up about who he had killed this time, and why, more speculation would come about how old he was, how tall, strong, fast he was. Each one amusing him more than the last.
He pulled the metal mask back up once again covering his mouth and nose. He wasn't done yet there were still two more so called heroes that had been at the fire, both their fates sealed. Their time would come soon enough.
He took of running across the street to the nearest building he jumped up his hands expertly grabbing anything that served as a good handhold, he pulled himself up climbing the building with ease. He reached the roof and observed the city's skyline momentarily before running again jumping into the nearest rooftop, his eyes darting everywhere searching for anything that could pose a threat to him.
He wouldn't stop until all the fakes had been purged, weather he was seen as a murderer, a villain didn't matter.
It was all for the sake of a better society.