Chapter Text
Moonlight slipped through the room, rays slipping over the two similar beds. A phone beeped wildly, and a pale hand smacked onto the mute button.
Shinjitsu Shigeki was a simple person. By day, they reported for the Musutafu Gazette, by night they ate and slept in their modest 2-bedroom apartment.
They slid their legs out of bed and stretched, relishing in the blood rushing to their muscles. Pushing themselves upright, they silently padded over to the dresser and grabbed the simple street clothes they’d left out. A black, mottled grey workout shirt, dark teal shorts, and black workout leggings. Perfect for tonight’s activities.
Undressing silently, they carefully re-dressed, keeping the fabric from rustling. Snores droned through the air, masking their noise. Tiptoeing out of the room, they kept their footsteps light as a whisper.
And now, as they silently slipped into the hallway leading into the kitchen, Hoseki’s snores rattled the air.
Their lovely roommate, Hoseki Kirameku, was a cop and dead to the world. That was the main reason they were leaving now, as the night was the only time they’d be able to do this.
Snagging an apple from the fruit bowl on the counter, they bit into it and crunched the sweet, crispy flesh between their teeth. Tossing a water bottle into the air, they caught it with their other hand and chucked it across the room, where it landed in an open tote.
Grabbing their keys off of the small hook they rested on, they twirled the ring once around their finger before snatching it in a closed fist. Taking another bite of their apple, they moved to the couch and sat, slipping socks on.
One more crunch finished the apple, and as they stood up they bent down and gingerly placed the core at the bottom of the trash can. At the same time, they grabbed the tote and brought the strap over their shoulder. Reaching into it, they pulled out a pristine black and silver cat mask and tied it behind their head, making sure none of their short hair was caught in the ribbon’s path.
Reaching down, they toed their shoes on, quickly kneeling and double-tying them.
Shrugging the tote bag a little higher on their shoulder, they slowly creaked the door open. Holding their breath, they waited to see if anything had changed with their snoring friend.
A particularly loud snore echoed through the room and they sighed in relief. They were fine.
Stepping out into the chilly night air, they turned and slid the key into the lock, clicking it shut a moment later. It made an odd clinking noise that Shigeki paid no mind to, knowing that that was normal. Their door made all sorts of weird noises, they were used to it at this point.
Jogging down the steps, they pulled their earbuds out of their pockets and plugged one into their left ear. Their phone followed and with a tap on the screen, their playlist was shuffled. The familiar beats of Rise bumped through their earbuds, and they bopped their head to the beat as they started walking.
Technically… this was illegal. But it’s not like their Quirk is easily tracked or easily found, and besides- they were hoping to help with the big case going on right now.
A family of heroes and heroes-in-training, taken straight from their apartment in the dead of night. No signs of breaking and entering, no signs of struggle. It’s like they turned to dust.
Except they knew that was wrong. There had to be more.
There had to be.
And that’s why they were doing this. The family hadn’t done any wrong. They were heroes, and heroes-in-training- there shouldn’t be a motive for them to be taken. It made no sense. And that’s what Shigeki set out to do.
Bring the truth to light.
They danced out of the way of an out-of-control motorcycle, earning a ‘Rad, dude!’ and a ‘Woah, that was epic!’ from two bystanders. At this point, dodging errant vehicles and bikes had become a past time of theirs. It came with the whole… vigilante thing.
That was the creed of the Musutafu Gazette. Not- not being a vigilante, the truth thing. Give the truth to the people, make them understand both and all sides. They got articles out later than most other news sources did, but they focused on keeping their articles unbiased and truthful.
In other words…
They wanted to, had to, see the site for themselves.
Which involved breaking and entering.
…
Joy.
It was official. This is the most illegal thing Shigeki’s done.
After, of course, being a vigilante. Even if they just gathered information and snuck into the police office and dropped it off on Hoseki’s desk. Still technically illegal, but whatever.
Slipping the lockpicks back into their tote, they placed a gloved hand onto the doorknob and jiggled it. After a little of finagling, a click and they were in.
The door creaked ominously, and they swallowed at the noise. That had been… really loud.
Blinking, they turned and closed the door swiftly, not giving it the chance to creak again. Holding the doorknob down, they edged it the rest of the way shut, slowly letting go once it was completely closed. Turning, they appraised their surroundings.
The apartment was eerie. Moonlight streamed in through a skylight, falling perfectly against the plush couch. Leaning down, they placed the tote on the floor and opened it a bit, revealing the forensic brush, fingerprint powder, and evidence bags, followed by miscellaneous detective equipment. Tweezers (tongs for larger items), a magnifying glass, the works.
Shigeki took a deep breath, closing their eyes, before snapping them open. Almost instantly, circling blue circles surrounded the room. They almost blinked their Quirk off again in shock.
The blue circles were evidence.
If there was this much evidence, why hadn’t the police picked up on it yet?
Ignoring that, they stepped forward one step, but then-
Something scraped, the harsh noise ringing through the silent apartment. On instinct, they froze. That was the sound of something opening, shoved open. It came from the kitchen, which was odd. Who’d be in the kitchen at 1:42 in the morning?
Shigeki took a careful step forward, then another, before pressing their back to the wall and peering around the corner of the wall into the kitchen.
Their eyes flicked about the room, looking for something different.
Where-
Wait, where did that gleam come from?
Moonlight was dancing across the kitchen tile, but something was off about it. It was clearer than it should be. The windows were dusty, and the light should have been muted.
Something- someone - had opened the window.
Before their very eyes, a large, clawed hand stabbed through the open frame, slicing through the air as the things clamped down on the windowsill. Large spans of something followed, looking almost like a bat’s wing. It looked… silver? But following the long arm...
In the shifting of scales and a large horned thing leaning to the window, following it was a shrewd, toxic, acid-green eye.
They gasped and ducked back behind the corner, feeling their heart start pounding in terror like a rabbit’s during a chase.
A snuffling noise, almost like a reptile smelling for prey, and then the rustling of scales. All noise paused.
The window creaked and whined, the moonlight spilling across the floor switching from bright to dull yet again. Something leathery unfolded outside, beating the night air like a bat’s wings. They squeezed their eyes shut and let themselves slide down the wall a little as their heartbeat calmed down.
Just…
Just what was that?
And why had it flown away?
His claws clicked on the linoleum as he crawled along the floor of the abandoned asylum, the only place large enough to hold him in this form. He was lithe, long, and muscular, and this hall was his favorite. Toxic green eyes burned green as he puffed smoke out, growling to himself.
It had been three months since he’d been forced into hiding for the sake of his dear family, only emerging to take advantage of another league’s actions and steal money behind the scenes. He had dropped a scale at a fight and they’d taken it, and although he didn’t know if one could extract DNA from a scale, he was not about to risk them finding him. He was the only reason his lovely wife and amazing daughter had the amount of money they had.
Wait, no, that wasn’t right. His wife had complained his ear off about their baby ‘pretending’ to be a gender they weren’t- he wasn’t quite sure which gender. Still, he had tried to talk sense into his lovely pond lily. She couldn’t control their gender, as much as she couldn’t control his own actions.
He wondered how his child was doing now. He hadn’t heard from them in a long, long time, not since he’d left.
When their baby was diagnosed Quirkless, the family had been sent into a pit of pitying glances from neighbors. It had affected his other half, and soon she was acting out against their child. Right then and there, he had resolved right then and there to financially support his family.
No matter what it took.
Alas, his child was a hero fanatic, and his wife was a goody-two-shoes with the number of a pro hero on her phone. He couldn’t do what he had to without running, and it had ripped his heart in two. Especially since he could smell the raw potential in his child.
Oh, yes, they had potential. They smelled of smoke and acid and air and dragon , just like him. It would take something large, traumatic, to bring that side out. It had been buried under… something. Perhaps the diagnosis of Quirkless? Who knew.
He’d been thinking and thinking, and he couldn’t even tell when he had started swiping with bare claws at his baby.
They had stared, forest eyes wide in pain as blue-tinged blood spilled from their arm and forehead. He had stared, at them, at the blue-tinged blood dripping from his claws, at the tuft of green hair decorating the white rug.
He had grabbed his bags and left in a hurry, not wanting to face his wife. He’d made a mistake that night, he didn’t need his wife to scream his guilt in his face, not when she’d done more than him.
It was three days later when the news story had come out, that he found out his wife had called the police and fabricated a childhood of abuse. That tossing his baby up and down in laughter was throwing him into a wall. That sending him to time-out was locking him in his room for hours at a time, with no food and no company.
She had pinned her crimes on him.
That was the day he’d committed arson for the first time. And as the apartment complex burned, that apartment and its memories crumbling into ash, the blueberry flame had reflected in his toxic green eyes as he laughed.
In a flash of gleaming silver, he had become his second form and flew away into the night, scorching the night with royal blue flame.
Anyways.
A family had gone missing. And… he’d seen the names in the newspapers.
Aizawa Izuku
He had a different name now. He was male now.
As he’d dragged claws down the image, the brightly-smiling boy printed in black and white, love had swamped his frame. He had grown into a fine young man.
So, he explored that apartment. Used a claw to slowly scrape the (unlocked) window open, ignoring the portly woman who had squealed in fright at the sight of him and scurried away. Had peered through into the house, looking for something, anything, to point to his Izuku being alive-
The apartment was empty.
Drawing back, he gently slid the window back down, flapping away. Flying into this very hospital, he’d devastated the front desk, roaring in anger.
After the anger came keening sadness. His baby... his baby boy was gone.
And right there, right then, he vowed to get revenge on whoever had taken his baby. He was absent in his life, he hadn’t been there.
He didn’t care.
Izuku was his bloodson, and part of his lounge. Even if the boy hated him. He was his father, and always would be.
His kidnappers would rue the day they’d crossed the path of Wyvern.