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He's so sick of it.
Because he left. He finally left that god-awful place.
So why does he still feel like this?
He finally gathered his courage, finally got out.
So why, every time he sees himself in the mirror, is the first he thinks fat?
Why is he still not good enough?
What can he do to be better? He doesn't know why he feels like this. He doesn't know what he's doing. He just wants it to stop, dear god, just make it stop. He wants it to be over. A distant memory in his rearview mirror.
Why is he still fat? Why is he still ugly? Still dirty?
Why is he still not enough?
Izuku spends his first night away in a cheap hotel that reeks of weed and alcohol and sex. He sits in a corner and cries, tears dripping down his face and hitting the carpet. It's almost mesmerizing, watching them darken the spot on the carpet. Sink into it, collect moisture.
He doesn't sleep the first night.
Instead, he opens the window and sits on the edge. He looks over at the edge, fascinated by the seven-story drop. Sitting there, feeling the wind tousling his messy green locks, is just so empowering. It's confidence; it's freedom; it's everything he had ever wanted.
It's everything he can never have.
The next day, he walks to a nearby store and buys a couple of pairs of jeans, a few t-shirts, and a hoodie. He still has a bit of clothing leftover, packed away in a backpack he carries around with him. Some essentials, though it is nice the hotel provides breakfast and dinner free. He suspects it's to make up for the state of the rooms.
Sick of smelling cheap alcohol and cheaper hookers? Here, take some breakfast.
He didn't really mind. The food was a plus, though.
After showering in the dingy bathroom and using cheap hotel soap and drying off using a soft towel, he dresses in dark-wash jeans and a t-shirt, throwing on his new plain black hoodie over it. He's tired.
So he lays down and takes a nap.
On the third day, his money is dwindling.
That's okay. He's okay. He can just get a job. Lie about his age, take up a nice dish-washing duty.
He realizes that he never had a real plan when he left. Only that he had to get out. Now that he had, he didn't know quite what to do with himself. A fifteen-year-old boy, abandoned and alone. Later that day, he catches a glimpse of the news headline.
UA STUDENT MIDORIYA IZUKU MISSING
He turns and walks away.
On the fifth day, he has a fake ID and information. He's showing up at a nearby cafe, with a black wig and red contacts and the biggest, fakest smile he could muster. The lady who interviews likes him and gives him the job.
Izuku nods and shakes her hand, made of bubbles and happiness.
When he gets back to his cheap hotel, he showers and lays down on his bed, and wishes he were someone else. His stomach aches; a constant, gnawing hunger that refuses to leave him alone.
It's such a shame he's so accustomed to the feeling he doesn't give it a second thought.
Two weeks.
It's been two weeks since Izuku Midoriya vanished.
Akatani Mikumo enjoys working a full-time job at the nearby cafe, greeting his customers with smiles, and mixing drinks that taste better than anything else sold. He's almost requested and is pretty sure a few people have memorized his days so they can appear on them.
He's happy with it. He's content. He loves it.
Akatani Mikumo is pleased.
But something sits in his stomach, curls up in his head. It's the seed of dissent, a small feeling of anger. And it's started to grow, to sprout out of the ground like a red spider lily. Every time he sees a hero fight on the news, there's a brief moment of anger.
He can't for the life of him figure out why, though.
But it grows.
And that small, brief moment becomes more than that. It stops being brief. It starts lasting hours.
It starts ruining his day.
One week later, and a red spider lily sits innocently in a vase on the corner of Izuku's desk.
It's the twenty-ninth day after he disappears that he snaps.
He's sitting on his window ledge, looking at the ground, as he does so often, and something in his mind just clicks into place with a small snap. It's minuscule, almost unnoticeable to the average human.
It has Izuku fuming.
He stands, retreating into his room and packing his things into his bag. He doesn't have enough that it requires much. He's grabbing his bag and snatching the cheap, provided hotel soap and anything else he could possibly need.
The red spider lily remains untouched on the desk. A little memento of him for the hotel.
In neat, scripted handwriting, Izuku writes his name with a little heart next to it on a crisp white card. On the back, all he writes in all lowercase letters is 'regret is such a funny feeling, no?'.
He props the card against the vase of the spider lily, setting the pen he used to write the note beside it.
It doesn't take long for Izuku to crack the case.
It's almost laughable how easy he did it, to be quite honest with himself. After a single day, he's found out where the League of Villains is basing their operations. The best part? It's only a ten-minute walk from where he works at the cafe.
Fifteen from his hotel.
Thirty from UA.
The base for the League of Villains is a thirty-minute walk away from the most prestigious hero school in the country.
Who came up with that genius idea?
Although, now that he thinks about it, there is a tiny stroke of genius within. Because who would ever think this would happen? Heroes would start their search at least an hour, maybe two away. And this is a bar, and a dingy one at that.
Who would expect villains to hide out in a dingy bar thirty minutes walking distance from UA?
Not the apparent 'geniuses' running the hero society, that's a given.
Izuku isn't angry when he arrives, per se, but rather discontent. Snappy. Short-tempered. Irrate. But not quite angry.
The greenette hums to himself as he walks down the sidewalk, heading for the entrance of the bar without thinking too much about it. He knew they wouldn't kill him immediately. They would at least hear out what he had to say. They were curious.
He knew they would be.
UA's star student, young upstart Midoriya Izuku, protege of All Might himself, had gone missing thirty days day. Almost a month. And he hadn't been found. That was suspicious in itself. They should be tearing up the foundations of the city searching for him.
Izuku was only a little salty about it.
So no, they wouldn't kill him upon first sighting. They would hear him out.
And they would most likely ask him to prove himself. He wasn't very worried about that part of it though. He had One For All running through his veins. The buzz of quiet power that almost seemed to protest against this.
He was Nine, though. Dead people couldn't stop him.
He could prove himself. And that was exactly what made him dangerous. A wild card.
Izuku had only one line he refused to cross.
And it wasn't murder.
Shigaraki had been sitting at the bar, sipping some random drink Kurogiri had given him.
The man had been standing across from him, cleaning a glass with a rag idly. Dabi was sitting on the couch, scrolling through his phone. Toga sat on the other one, humming quietly to herself as Twice sat behind her, putting her hair up into messy little space buns. Compress had been sitting next to Shigaraki, twirling marbles in his palm and shuffling a deck of cards. Spinner and Magne were sitting on opposite sides of a couch, each one looking at their phones and staring into space.
It was calm.
One might almost call it peaceful.
Almost.
It was peaceful before a knock came at the door to the bar.
Everyone froze simultaneously. Cast glances to one another, judging how they were to respond.
Toga, who looked the most like an average citizen out of all of them, stood and walked over to the door. Twice had just finished putting her hair. Toga grabbed a knife from her sleeve but held it out of view as she walked up the stairs to reach the door.
There was silence as they heard her pull it open.
Silence. "Izu-kun?"
The hell?
"Hi, Toga-chan."
Toga squealed at the sight of the greenette at the door, jumping forward to wrap her arms around his neck. He stiffened, clearly wary of physical contact. Toga understood the sentiment, but that didn't stop her from hugging him. She wanted to know if he was a threat or not.
"You can put the knife down, Toga-chan. I'm not going to kill you."
Toga nodded. She had long ago become a human lie-detector. And her Izu-kun's body language was obviously truthful. He made eye contact, he didn't tense in a fighting way, and he let her hug him. She couldn't smell any metal on him either.
So she drew back, a lopsided grin on her face, and grabbed his hand to pull him down the stairs and into the bar. The villains stared at him, though they were more glares than anything.
It didn't do anything to deter him. Not much did anymore, though.
Shigaraki, oddly enough, didn't have one of those disturbing hands on his face. It was unnerving to see his actual face. Which proved his guess right: the poor dude really needed some moisturizer. It was bad.
And if Izuku, the resident anorexic and expert in not-taking-care-of-one's-self was saying it was bad, then it was bad.
"Midoriya Izuku? UA's missing student?" Shigaraki asks in a scratchy voice.
Izuku, resisting his now natural urge to aggressively clean this bar from top-to-bottom and throw a bottle of moisturizer at Shigaraki, nods calmly. "The one and only, I'm afraid."
Shigaraki narrows his eyes. "What are you doing here? What do you want?"
Izuku smiles. But it's not his usual, carefree, happy smile. This one is all danger and sharp edges, begging for someone to give him a reason to attack. "I believe I have a deal that might interest you."
"What could we possibly want from the UA student?" Dabi drawls from his place on the couch, alert with his phone switched off.
And Izuku's smile only grows wider. "Information."
Shigaraki's interest is peaked instantly.
"Information? What kind?" he rumbles, stamping down his excitement and intrigue. Be calm.
Midoriya slips his bag off of his back, unzipping the plain black thing and reaching inside. After pushing a few things aside, he pulls out a battered-looking notebook. It had a few singes on the corners of the cover and was clearly worn and had seen some stuff over the course of its usage.
Hero Analysis For The Future, #15
Shigaraki raises an eyebrow as the kid holds out the notebook. It seems innocent enough.
Shigaraki is careful, though. He reaches out and grabs it, making sure not all five of his fingers touch the beaten-down cover. Holding it in a painfully gentle grip, he flips open the first page.
And holy fucking shit.
The information in this notebook could take down the entire academy. The level of analysis is astounding, the drawings are detailed, every little bit of information is accounted for. This kid did an analysis of potential weaknesses in the students' personalities. One kid was too kind. The other needed his friends threatened. This was insane. Was this kid even a kid?
And the cover...
"There are fifteen more of these?" Shigaraki questioned, one eyebrow raised high in disbelief. There was no way. This notebook alone had to be the product of a lifetime of work. There was just too much for it not to be.
And the kid, he had the gall to laugh. "There are thirty-nine, actually."
Shigaraki felt his brain explode.
He didn't let it show, though. "You have them all?"
Midoriya nodded. "I can provide a full-depth analysis on anyone asked in about two days, give or take the amount of resources I'm given. I gather mostly on my own, and use a variety of resources."
The kid sounded like he was quoting a resume. But Shigaraki couldn't even bring himself to care. All he could care about was the fact that standing right in front of him was the key to taking down UA. Wait, he was All Might's protege.
He was the key to taking down the number one hero.
Shigaraki was still on edge. "What do you want to exchange?"
The little hero blinked, looking momentarily stumped. Then he let out a small chuckle, looking at the ground for a minute. His green tangle of locks hid his eyes. When he lifted his head, they were glowing a cruel toxic green. The temperature of the room plummeted.
"Simple. I want to join you all."
Disbelieving silence in the room.
"Why?" Shigaraki asked, guarded. This couldn't be true. It wasn't possible. This kid was the one who had the strongest conviction out of all the other brats. And now he wanted to join the League? Of villains?
Impossible.
"I want this society built on heroes to fall." He said with a shrug, but there was a sharp, cold edge to his words. Something heard only in the voices of villains. Something heard in those who believed in their cause.
Coupled with his missing status of a month, this was all pointing towards signs of being true. But still, it just was too unbelievable. The protege of the symbol of peace was asking to join the villains. How hilarious was that?
But Shigaraki wanted this information. And if he could do more? He was too good of a card not to have in their pocket. The kid was the key to winning the war they waged against the heroes.
A compromise, then.
"Prove it."
Midoriya blinked, tilting his head to the side. "Hmm?"
"Prove that you're serious, little hero."
The bastard smiled. "What would you have me do to prove it?"
Shigaraki thought for a moment. It couldn't be something to make a huge splash, since if he was being serious, they would need to debut his villain career in the best way possible. Something smaller.
"Go outside, and be back in twenty minutes with a completely random person off the street. Doesn't matter who they are. Lure them into the bar. I don't care how you do it. Twenty minutes. Go."
And the kid nodded and turned to walk up the stairs. There was the sound of the door jingling and closing.
The room released a single, tense breath.
"He was serious." Dabi laughed. "Jesus Christ, what did they do to him?"
Toga was giggling, and she seemed happy enough. "I'd love to have Izu-kun with us! Maybe he'll let me have some of his blood! We could stay up watching movies and doing each other's hair!"
Compress was more thoughtful. "Something major happened to turn him to us. But this is an excellent card to have. A guaranteed win. He's good at fighting, and he's spent time at UA."
"He looked very thin," Kurogiri commented.
Shigaraki thought back to it. Now that Kurogiri mentioned it, his clothes seemed to almost be hanging off his frame. His cheekbones were clearly visible, and he had dark bags under his eyes.
"He seemed off." Spinner suddenly said, eyes narrowed. "There was something wrong with him."
Toga's grin died, and she nodded. "He's meticulously clean. Obsessively, almost. And there was the faintest smell of blood on him. I can't figure out where it was coming from, though."
Dabi furrowed his brow. "They did something bad to that kid."
Shigaraki sighed. "Another reason for him to join us. Hero society never fails to ruin someone. But to think it's the biggest fan? UA's golden boy? I wonder what they did to him to make him lose faith so fast."
There was a heavy silence in the bar. The villains each knew why they were there. They didn't like to reflect on it, but the kid just brought it up all over again. There was something seriously wrong, and no one liked it very much.
Dabi opened his mouth to say something.
The door jingled open.
"Please, down here. He fell over and I just don't know what to do!" Came a shaky, watery voice.
Midoriya came into view, and god this kid was convincing. Tears were dripping down his face, which was contorted into a fearful and heartbroken expression. It was completely believable.
A tall man followed him, a brown buzzcut, dressed in a hoodie and cargo pants, heavy boots on his feet. His gaze was kind, and he clearly wanted to help Midoriya. Shigaraki almost felt bad.
He froze when they emerged into the bar. He pulled his hand back from Midoriya's. "What's going on here?"
Midoriya suddenly grinned, reaching up to wipe tears from his eyes. It didn't look like he had cried at all. Not a single tear dripped from his face, and he almost looked normal. He would have, if not for the cruel smirk curving the edge of his lips.
Shigaraki didn't know how to feel about this. Because the little hero deserved an Oscar, Jesus. Instead of spending too much more time reflecting on his acting skills, he reached his hand out to Kurogiri. Kurogiri set the gun in his hand.
It was a well-weighted black pistol, a Beretta of some sort. Shigaraki held it out silently to Midoriya. The boy didn't even hesitate. He reached out, grabbed it, and flicked the safety off the gun.
The poor man turned and made a run for the stairs to the door.
Midoriya calmly lifted his hand, bracing on the other for the kickback, and aimed. He pulled the trigger in a strong, steady motion. A loud crack! sounded through the bar, and there was the thud of a body hitting the floor.
The man had fallen on his back, a hole in the middle of his head. Blood spilled out, pooling around him. Thank god for the hardwood floors. It made it much easier to clean blood and other unsavory substances out of it.
Midoriya flicked the safety of the gun back on, holding it out to Shigaraki. Shigaraki took it back, setting it down on the counter. He was feeling a little shell-shocked, and not really sure what to do now.
Kurogiri filled in for him.
"Welcome to the Villain Alliance, Midoriya Izuku."