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Endeavor’s hatred of vigilantes is a well-known part of the hero’s personality, and general hatred towards anything that seems to get in the way of his work.
Shouto’s pretty sure that hatred being present in his life from a young age is why he ended up doing that exact thing. Sue him, he has the training to take down almost anyone and the inherent need to go against his father simultaneously, what else is he supposed to do?
He ducks out of the way of whatever projectile the villain is tossing at him through their telekinesis, the sound of it cutting through the air beside his head muffled through the beanie covering his hair.
He’s gotten used to breathing through the facemasks he’s been wearing since he started, and the rest of his gear is easy to manage through – it doesn’t matter that it’s built for cold weather and he’s wearing it in the middle of the summer, as long as he doesn’t suddenly lose the ability to almost subconsciously regulate his body temperature.
Father would probably regret teaching Shouto to fight Quirkless if he knew this was what he used it for, but that’s exactly why he uses it – no one will ever know who he is.
He dodges past a few more projectiles as he advances, carefully but quickly, towards the villain, taking a guess at where their stance sets their center of gravity before ducking under one last projectile and tackling the villain to the ground.
This was one of his favourite parts. Not even when the villains realized that it was over, but when they realized they have been defeated quirklessly .
The facial expressions almost made Shouto wish for a camera in his mask, or at least somewhere on his body.
He knew it was an exceptionally bad idea.
Still, didn’t stop him from wishing.
Handcuffing the villain to the lamppost — he wasn’t going to be able to use his quirk, not with the very likely concussion and not with the handcuffs hidden behind himself — Shouto turned away, planning on going straight back home.
There was a child behind him.
Well, child was a bit of a misnomer. The kid seemed to be about the same age as Shouto — maybe slightly younger, maybe just waifish — staring at Shouto with stars in his eyes and notebook in his hands.
Shouto refused to be the first one to speak.
“That was so cool!” The kid said, scribbling something down in the notebook. Shouto sincerely hoped it wasn’t a description of him. “And you took that guy without any visible quirk use? That’s so impressive!”
“Thanks,” Shouto offered, lowering his voice significantly. Like father said before, if you whisper, there’s a much lower possibility of being recognized by voice. Everyone’s whispering sounds the same.
Turning to the side, Shouto started walking away, fully planning on disappearing as soon as possible.
“How did you know the villain can only manipulate what’s in their sight-line?” The kid asked, bringing Shouto to a full stop.
“What?” He asked, barely remembering to whisper.
“You did something… A concussion, I think?” The kid continued as if to himself, still scribbling in that notebook of his. “He can’t keep his eyes open now. Light sensitivity. And you put him under a lamp, so he has to keep them closed…”
Quite frankly, Shouto hadn’t considered any of that. He just figured the villain wouldn’t try to smash the handcuffs apart with a piece of rubble if he ran the risk of smashing his own hands.
“How did you figure out that’s how his quirk works?” Shouto asked, too curious not to.
“Ah… It was kind of obvious?” The kid finally raised his head, looking straight at Shouto. Gosh, but his eyes were very green. “It’s what I do, I analyze quirks for fun. I can’t figure out what yours is, though.”
“Good,” Shouto nodded. Mystery solved, he started walking away again.
The kid caught up to him, because of course he did.
“Are you a hero?” he asked. “You look a little young, but looks are pretty deceiving these days. What’s your hero name?”
Shouto didn’t answer. He would need to get rid of the kid pretty soon, his home wasn’t that far away now…
“Is your quirk something related to healing or pain-receptors?” The kid said out of the blue, startling Shouto into looking towards him. He pointed towards Shouto’s side. “You seem to be ignoring that gash pretty intently. A very badly bleeding gash.”
“I’m fine,” Shouto said — which is of course when the world went fuzzy and started spinning.
When he came to, he was on his knees and the kid was fluttering worriedly over him.
“So… not a healing quirk?” he said, and Shouto couldn’t help but let out an incredulous laugh that quickly turned into a pained moan.
Note to self: no laughing while injured.
“No,” Shouto replied, forcing himself to stand up. His side pulsed with pain, and though Shouto’s head felt cloudy with pain, he could still feel the sharp edge of panic coming in.
How was he supposed to hide this? How was he even supposed to deal with this — this wasn’t exactly the scrapes and bruises he could disguise as training, and if Shouto felt woozy now, he dreaded to think how it would be when he got home.
If he got home.
Shouto swallowed dryly.
“Here,” the boy said.
Shouto’s eyes flicked back to him, and found that he was holding out his jacket with a concerned pout.
“Take it. It’ll be better to apply pressure than just your hand,” he said, before blushing vividly. “I-I mean, that’s what I read!”
Shouto hesitated only for a moment before nodding and accepting the help. “Thank you.”
It did help. Luckily, it seemed like, while the gash had bled rather profusely at first, it was slowly down now. Pressing down on it hurt, but it really seemed to work, and Shouto exhaled a sigh of relief.
“Thank you,” he repeated.
“Are you…” The kid bit his lip and his eyes darted to the sides. “Are you a vigilante?”
He said the word ‘vigilante’ in a different tone than he had said ‘hero’, but the awed worship of it was the same.
Shouto didn’t answer, but that didn’t seem to matter, because the kid clearly took that as agreement anyway.
“Do you… have anywhere you can take care of that?” he asked, nodding to Shouto’s side.
Startled, Shouto moved to hand him back his jacket, but the kid started shaking his head, urgently pressing Shouto’s hands back to his side.
“No, no, don’t do that, it’s okay, I wasn’t— I don’t want it back. You should keep it. It’s just… I don’t live very far, and I could help? Maybe? I’m kind of accident-prone so Kaa-san keeps a good first-aid kit.”
Shouto froze. It didn’t seem likely this kid was setting a trap for him — Shouto didn’t think he was well-known enough for those, really — but still…
“I’m fine,” Shouto repeated. This time, when he took a step forward, the world held steady, and he exhaled in relief. And then, as an afterthought, he added, “Thanks.”
He left as quickly as he could after that, and tried very hard not to think about the kid’s disappointed eyes as he did.
It didn’t really work.
The boy’s eyes and words stuck with him. Shouto figured he ought to be more annoyed, but the kid’s words… they had merit. While he’s been able to handle everyone he’s come across so far, that wouldn’t always be true. The boy had had a point… if Shouto had actually known the guy’s weakness… It was smart. So far Shouto had just been relying on the Quirkless hand-to-hand training his father had given to him. So far Shouto had been lucky in the villains he had come across. He managed to surprise them and take them out, but his luck wouldn’t always hold.
He needed to find a better and more efficient way of fighting the villains he came across. Before he got too injured. While he had done pretty well keeping it from his father thus far, Shouto knew there was no guarantee it would remain that way. He needed it to remain that way.
Quirk analysis and learning to predict his opponent’s moves would be useful. He just needed to learn how. Sure, he could read his Father’s moves, but the random villains on the street… sometimes Shouto still moved too slow. Maybe he could look it up online? Study Quirks? Or maybe the next time his Father dragged him to his agency and started showing off, he could ask some of the analysts or sidekicks some questions…
Shouto was reminded of the wound when he stood up, hand going back to put pressure on it. He’d just about forgotten about it, lost in his thoughts with the need to do better .
He probably needed stitches. He didn’t think a bandaid was gonna cut it this time. His Father wouldn’t stop training him either. Shouto stared down at the wound. Wasn’t Natsuo home? And he was taking medical courses… Though Natsuo never seemed to like Shouto that much… Shouto shrugged. Either Natsuo would help him or he wouldn’t. Hopefully he would.
Shouto stumbled over to his brother’s room and lightly knocked on the door. Natsuo should be home, right?
“I’m busy, dad,” came Natsuo’s voice, slightly muffled. “Go bother someone else.”
“Not dad,” Shouto choked out, wincing at the metallic taste in his mouth. The door flew open, and Natsuo stared down, bewildered.
“Oh, uh, Shouto,” he said. “Wait… Shit, are you bleeding? Did he do this?”
“No,” he said, offering no further explanation. “But… I’m… Can you help?”
After a brief moment of wide-eyed panic, Natsuo ushered him to the bathroom, gently peeling away the blood-soaked jacket. He deposited it rather unceremoniously on the floor, kicking it out of the way before opening the cupboard under the sink.
Shouto tried to ignore the blood stain it left on the floor, or the All Might themed pen rolling out of one of the pockets. If he saw that…
“Can you tell me what happened?”
Right. He was very tempted to just say “No” and hope that the questioning ended there, but he knew better than to lie. “I was training, on my own, and I… slipped. Fell on one of the, uh, the knives. I was using the knives to… I mean, I was training.”
Natsuo flashed him a very obvious nice try, kid look before focusing again on the medical supplies. “Sure. Look, if this really is a knife wound, accident or not,” he added under his breath, “then you might need stitches. I’ll take a look at it, but if that’s the case, we’re taking you to the hospital.”
He knew that tone. That was the don’t you dare try to argue with me tone. He just nodded, holding back a cry as Natsuo prodded at the wound with some alcohol wipes.
“Shit, this is pretty bad,” he said, barely betraying his panic. “Look, Shouto, I’m going to wrap this, and then we’re going to get you to the emergency room, okay? And…” he trailed off for a moment, still vigorously unwrapping a roll of gauze. “Just, don’t lie to the doctors there, okay? They want to help.”
Shouto considers that, considers Father’s hatred of vigilantes, considers the boy who helped him and how amazed he was at seeing him fight Quirkless–
Oh.
He might have accidentally saved himself, just through that.
Legally, vigilantism only describes rescues and villain apprehensions that include unlicensed Quirk usage. Shouto hasn’t used his Quirk at all since he started.
That realization sits in the back of his mind as Natsuo finishes wrapping the wound, pushing Shouto to go get a new shirt to wear (an unloved one, in case he bleeds through the bandaging – he grabs one of the extra agency shirts Father had brought home for him) before they leave.
He runs the words around his brain on the ride there, pressing his tongue against the back of his teeth and ignoring how white Natsuo’s knuckles are as he grips the steering wheel.
If Father finds out about the vigilantism, it won’t be good, but he’ll be able to deal with it. But, if he’s lucky, he won’t hear anything from the doctors and Shouto can get him to believe his lie about training – he’ll still get scolded for being reckless and not being strong enough, but that’s better than having stricter monitoring and curfews.
Whatever Natsuo says to the front desk worker in the emergency room is obviously convincing – either something he learned at school, or something about Father, probably – because Shouto’s in a room and getting looked at within a few minutes of arriving.
“I’ll be back in the waiting room,” Natsuo says, wringing his hands as his eyes follow the nurse’s movements – bringing in blood transfusion equipment, starting various monitors Shouto doesn’t know the names of, the usual medical stuff. “I won’t call Dad, but I can call Fuyumi if you want.”
“You can stay in here,” Shouto says, glancing at the nurses to gauge if that’s actually something he can do. They don’t give him any weird looks or contradict him, so he assumes he’s fine.
It’s a little while longer before the doctor comes in, once one of the nurses checks over the bandaging and ensures he’s not going to bleed out any time soon. In the meantime, Shouto says nothing, and neither does Natsuo.
So when the doctor, prior to stitching the wound, asks Shouto what the injury came from, Natsuo’s sudden sputtering when he says a fight with a villain is completely understandable.
As soon as the wound is disinfected, stitched, and re-bandaged, and the transfusion is completed, Shouto is discharged. They don’t leave as quickly as they had left home, though.
Natsuo sits in the driver’s seat of his car, arms resting over top of his steering wheel, and turns to Shouto. Even with his… questionable, social skills, Shouto can see the millions of thoughts behind his eyes.
“You know how dangerous that is?” Natsuo asks.
He doesn’t need to clarify. Shouto nods with a hum.
“And you’re still doing it? Without your Quirk, even?”
“Yeah.”
Natsuo sighs, leaning forward until his head falls on top of his arms, and then laughs.
“If it didn’t keep you out of jail, I’d think that was stupid.”
Shouto hums, again, not sure exactly what to say. Natsuo doesn’t continue the conversation, sitting back up and rolling his shoulders for a second before switching the car into drive and starting the spiral back to the exit of the parking garage.
It’s not uncomfortable, per say, even if it’s awkward. Natsuo switches on the radio after they get back to the road, music Shouto doesn’t recognize filling the car. The foot Natsuo isn’t using to press the pedals taps against the floor.
Shouto lets his head fall back against his seat, watching the buildings as they slip past, the stitches on his side still stinging with each beat of his heart.
In the back of his head, he sets a timer for when the doctor said the wound would be healed. He’s going back out as soon as he can – and if he can find the green-eyed boy whose jacket he borrowed, that would be a plus.