Archive of Our Own

Prologue

Izuku suspects that it was the thrill of it.

The thrill of jumping from rooftop to rooftop.  Of taking down criminals in the dead of night while no one else was around to witness it.  How the cold wind would blow against his face as he pulled his mask farther up his chin to cover his identity.  The fact that no one knew it was him in this suit; it’s a secret he’d keep forever and ever.

All those things gave him a charge that nothing else could.  The way it flowed through his body and rushed to his limbs as he ran.  It felt like a drug, and he was dependent on it.  Izuku constantly longed for the dark sky to replace bright blue so that he could go out once again and help people in need.

It was so fucking addicting.

Knowing that it’d be game over if he was caught fueled the adrenaline rush he aimed to experience daily.  The fact that most crime seemed to happen when the sun was down and the bright moon shined in its place, was another reason as to why he preferred fighting during the night.   But he especially enjoyed the rush of being chased by a pro after getting spotted, only to escape into the void of darkness once again.  He was known amongst the police force, as he would always contact them after taking down a criminal.  They’ve been after him for months, but they still couldn’t find any information regarding the young vigilante.

__________

It didn’t start off this way, no.

Izuku Midoriya, at the young age of thirteen, knew the unlikely chances of becoming a pro hero.  Needing a quirk was almost essential, that much was evident in All Might himself.

This conclusion didn’t stop the young teen, though.  If anything, it strengthened his resolve, made him want to prove everyone whoever doubted him wrong.

So, when an article popped up online about a different route that wasn’t being a pro, an idea formed in Izuku’s mind.

It was a late Sunday night when Izuku found the solution to his strong resolve of helping others.  His computer screen was dim, due to his lowered brightness at the ungodly hour he was awake at.  The boy sat hunched over in his chair as his finger mindlessly scrolled the mouse, creating the long used pattern of scroll and click .  Exhaustion filled his viridian eyes, making them ache by just keeping them open.  Unfortunately for his body, Izuku had better things to do than sleep.

He was looking into the latest villain attack, so he could study the tactics used by the heroes on the scene.  It was nothing too audacious, just a petty robber trying to escape via his quirk.

Izuku continued to scroll through the numerous articles until one column header caught his eye.

Vigilantism.

Izuku’s half lidded eyes widened immediately, his brain putting together the idea that of course they existed, how did he not think of this?

It was risky, dangerous, and dumb beyond comprehension.  A thirteen-year-old fighting criminals twice his age?  Absurd.   He wouldn’t last a day on the streets, let alone while fighting someone.  But it was no surprise to Izuku when he found himself planning a new workout routine to prepare.  He always did this.  Push past his limits, take things too far.  It was unhealthy, he knew that.  But the excitement he felt when throwing a punch for the first time was oh so incredibly worth it.

Izuku was a self-taught fighter.  He silently observed the way Kacchan and the other kids would throw punches, jabs, and kicks.  He would stay up late while the fluorescent light of his computer screen shined dimly over his moving body.  He was constantly advancing his style, improving at a rapid pace all on his own.  He had the basics of fighting down, along with the stamina of a pro, by the time he entered his last year of middle school.  Izuku liked to consider himself a quick learner, after all.

He still hadn’t been able to test his skills on people yet, nor did he have the materials to even be a vigilante.  But it was a start.

Izuku decided from the beginning of his resolve that he wouldn’t tell anyone, which also meant he wouldn’t fight back or even acknowledge his bullies.  He knew he’d have a decent chance against Kacchan’s two friends, but he’d probably still struggle with Kacchan himself.  It was also for the best that Kacchan didn’t see his progress for the time being, in the case that he would get suspicious and find out Izuku’s secret hobby.  After all, Izuku was never good at keeping stuff from the blond.

When building up strength was off the list, he learned how to sew from his mom, so he was able to create the basics of a costume (and possibly prepare for future stitches).  The costume wasn’t anything unique, just a black jumpsuit with a hood to protect his unique hair.  Even though the likelihood of someone seeing the colour of his wild curls in the dark were low, it was still possible, and Izuku wanted to take the most precautions necessary.

He later decided to wear a red bandana over the lower half of his face, with a pair of goggles, (which were partially inspired by Eraserhead), to match.  Izuku was determined to keep his identity a secret, even if they couldn’t technically charge him for vigilantism crimes.

The green-haired boy continued training as he further prepared to get out into the field.  The boy was alone in this, he knew that.  But in a weird way, he kind of liked it like that.

He was a careful kid, in some aspects at least.  He knew he wanted to do this right and safe, which meant weeks of preparation, even if he hated the waiting.

After another tireless search on the web at three am (which was not a good combination for him), Izuku realized he probably needed a weapon, just in case.  The boy wanted to fight primarily with his fists in order to avoid causing serious damage to his opponents, so he opted for something small in the case of an emergency escape: knives.

Okay, yeah , that does sound bad, but it’s fine!  He doesn’t even intend to use them unless he’s in extreme situations, so he’ll let it slide.  And to accustom to the new features, he added a few hidden pockets to various parts of his costume to have access to them at any time.  A utility belt full of random essentials was added soon after when he noticed how useful they were during a fight.

The more and more he prepared, the more the boy was aching to get out there.  But patience is a virtue , he supposed.

After learning multiple attacks with his new knives (and becoming quite skilled in the art of throwing), the green-haired boy concluded that he was finally ready to go out.

Izuku, the smart one he was, decided to have various patrol routes scattered around the city to make it harder for others to track his whereabouts.  He spent a few days wandering around the city, trying to sketch out specific areas on a map that he would later memorize in his bedroom.

Finally, the day, or rather night, had arrived, and Izuku was on the verge of bouncing out of his chair from anticipation all day.  After months of hard work, he was finally able to test it out.

_________

His first few patrols went by smoothly, if you would consider, 30 bruises and a minor finger sprain that.  Fortunately, he primarily ran into street thugs looking for trouble, so Izuku had gotten only roughed up, but it was part of the job.

And he loved it.

The thrill sent him over the edge, and the knowledge that he was getting more experienced each fight only boosted that.  Sure, the bruises hurt like hell, but it was manageable, and thankfully unnoticeable from his classmates and mom.

He had yet to come across a pro hero, which he would consider a good thing.  He still didn’t think he was ready to face them head on or escape if it came down to it, they were pros after all.

Even with that fear, he continued to help in the shadows of the nighttime.

__________

The months skimmed by like it was nothing, and the next thing he knew, he was halfway through his third year.

The vigilante was slowly gaining popularity among the police force.  After call and call again regarding the location of the latest criminal he beat up, they were starting to get frustrated.  This kid (was he a kid?) was catching an absurd amount of criminals, and it was honestly making them look bad.  They somehow were never able to track his phone, so it was likely that he used a burner (he did), which made him difficult to locate.  And to top it off, none of the members of the police force had even laid eyes on the guy.  He was always a shadow hiding in the distance, gone before they could arrive at the scene.  All they had to go by was what the people he rescued would say about him.

“He’s so sweet!”

“They definitely know what they’re doing, I haven’t seen a kick like that in ages.”

“The moment I saw him, I knew everything would be okay.”

To put it shortly, he was an enigma.  A complete mystery within the police force and underground hero community.  And after a dozen or so futile attempts on even talking to the guy, his case was handed over to a poor, unfortunate soul who would then have to locate and detain the kid with very little information on the mysterious vigilante.

And unfortunately for a certain Erasure hero, that soul would be him.

Based on the information provided, they knew that the vigilante was indeed a boy (a victim explained how he gave them his pronouns after trying to comfort them from an attack).  He was around 5’5, wore a black suit with a red bandana and goggles, and he was apparently extremely kind.  The sweetest guy you’ll ever talk to based on the people he’s rescued.

It also came to attention that he was popular among the homeless community too.  Tales of a generous, young boy helping around the community in more than one way.  He wasn’t always a fighter, believe it or not.  Most of the vigilante’s patrols ended with him engaging in light-hearted conversations with those who lingered at the dead of night.

All in all, the public (at least those who were aware) loved him, and it made it much more difficult for the police to do anything about him.  More and more information about the enigma was being concealed by the victims he had saved.  None of them wanted to help the people who were keen on taking him down.  Many, if not all, of the detectives could tell that whoever he was, he had everyone wrapped around his gloved, little fingers.

__________

It was a cool night when this particular event happened.

Izuku, as always, was casually jumping from rooftop to rooftop, and scouting out the area for any trouble.  Listening for the screams of anyone who may be in danger.  The night wind blew ruthlessly against his loose suit, and he was grateful that it provided the warmth he needed for times like these.  Honestly, working at night was so much better because of the temperatures.  Who wants to fight in the peak of the day when the heat is at its highest?  Not Izuku , that’s for sure.

Izuku snapped out of his mindless thoughts about the weather when he heard the scream of a young woman a few alleyways down.  He rushed over immediately and quickly scanned the area for whatever the issue was.

When he realized the situation, he immediately started to formulate a plan.  Fortunately for him, this wasn’t his first time dealing with something like this.  From the angle Izuku was located, it seemed like the only criminal was this bulky man, with the victim being a young girl with long, dark hair.  The man towered over her in an obvious attempt at intimidation to get the girl to comply, and she probably would have, if not for Izuku being there.

He’s seen this event play out time and time again, with other old geezers who couldn’t get laid, so they resorted to force.  Typical thug behavior , Izuku scoffed.

Instead of wasting the little window of time he had, he made his way towards the ground, using the fire escapes and other items off the side of the buildings to aid him.  It had been almost a year since he’d dedicated his time to this lifestyle, and going out every night gave him a clear advantage.  He obviously wasn’t the best in the world, but he was fast, smart, and confident when in his costume.  So that, mixed with a year worth of experience, was enough to get him by.

He landed with a thump , and if he didn’t have months of practice, he definitely would have laughed at the man’s expression when he turned around to see who interrupted his attempt at assault.

“Good evening to you, sir.  Care to explain what’s going on here?” Izuku announced, his confidence flowing easily.  God, why can’t he be like this at school?

“Get lost, kid.  This isn’t any of your business,” the man snarled, turning his head back to his target.

Izuku noticed how the girl trembled under the gaze of the brutish man, and clearly he underestimated Izuku if he casually turned his back away from him.

“Listen, man,” Izuku said, “I’m not letting you get away with this, so either surrender peacefully or I’ll take you down with force.  Your pick.”

This earned a scoff from the man, his attention finally shifting back to the vigilante.  The woman squeaked again, but she seemed much less nervous than before.  Good.

“Now who in the hell do you think you are, kid?  If you seriously believe you can lay a finger on me, then you’re more delusional than I originally thought.”  He stepped away from the girl as Izuku readied himself to fight, since this guy clearly thought he could win.

Izuku’s strategy in a nutshell was to be fast, small, and to land the first hit.  He learned in enough fights through his months of patrol that his chance of success grows significantly when he lands the first blow.  He assumed that was probably due to the shock his opponent had after getting punched by some scrawny street kid.

And that’s precisely what Izuku did.

The man charged at him fiercely, his large fist swinging rapidly towards Izuku’s face.  Good, he threw the first punch. The man’s form was sloppy, and it was obvious that he had little fighting experience.  He must be so far up his own ass that he can’t even see how bad his fighting is, Izuku thought.

Izuku dodges the punch easily, and he watches as the thug stumbles a bit as his punch meets with nothing but the air.

“Why you little punk!” the man yelled.  And before he could swing again, Izuku lands a solid kick to the man’s face.  He flies backwards and groans as his body collides with the alleyway's brick wall.  Izuku strolls over to where he landed, and notices that the criminal was still conscious.  It would be more impressive if he could actually throw a punch.

“You little shit ruined my fun for the night,” he growled, his eyes struggling to stay open.

“Hey, man— I told you to come peacefully, this is just karma for trying to harass someone on the streets!” Izuku replied, and he heard the man scoff tiredly.

“Okay, okay.  I’ll put you out of your misery now.” And with that, he punched the guy on the back of his neck, successfully knocking him out for the night.

After he tied up the unconscious man and placed his signature sticky note on his forehead, he strolled towards the girl, who was now leaning up against the wall.

“Hiya, ma’am! Are you doing alright now? I get how scary these situations can be.  Can I help you at all?” Izuku’s flurry of questions and reassurances was enough to make the girl tear up a bit and wrap her arms around the vigilante.

“Thank you so much, Karma!  I don’t know what would have happened if you weren’t there,” she sniffled.

Wait, Karma ?

Izuku pulled back from the embrace gently and asked, “Karma?”

“Is that not your name?  It totally sounded like it was because of that killer one-liner you had!” she explained, and wait, she had a point.

“Karma it is!” Izuku smiled.

Izuku heard the cop cars wail in the distance, signalling for his return to the darkness.

“Looks like the cops are almost here, so I gotta bolt, but tell them everything, alright?” Izuku chirped, his back already turning from the scene.

“I will! Thank you again for helping,” she called, and Izuku turned to wave to her one last time before disappearing into the shadows.

All it took was a few nights, and the name Karma was swirling through the underground.  Tales of a vigilante who was previously anonymous was finally given a name, and if Izuku freaked the hell out when he got home, then no one but him knew.

__________

Shota loved his job, he truly did.  But in times like these, he regrets everything that’s led him to his current position.

“You want me to do what ?” Shota asked as he eyed Tsukauchi suspiciously, coffee cup in hand.

“I want you to take on the case involving a high-priority vigilante.  He’s only ever taken down thugs, so I doubt he’s that strong against a pro.  Our only issue is that we’ve never been able to locate him, that’s how good he is at hiding,” Tsukauchi clarified, and god , Shota could already feel a headache setting in.

“And why is he a high priority if you think a pro could take him?” Shota questioned, downing his last sip of coffee soon after.

“Well for one, he’s slowly gaining a reputation for the number of criminals he’s taken out, at least 8 a week from my count.  And it also seems that he’s able to take his opponents out in one or two hits, making him dangerous to go up against.  He’s strong, don’t get me wrong, but I believe he’s still a child.  If we can get him out of this now, there’s a chance we can put him down a better path before he becomes even stronger and more difficult to catch,” Tsukauchi explained tiredly.

“So you’re saying his potential makes him a top priority to find?”

“Basically,” Tsukauchi confirmed.

“Okay, sounds reasonable enough.  What do we have on the guy?”

“Well, we know he's a boy, around 5’5, and he wears a black jumpsuit with a red bandana and goggles. He also goes by Karma,” the detective replied, his exasperation on the case clear as day .

“That’s… it?”

“Eraser, we haven’t even seen him in person yet, this is only by witness reports,” Tsukauchi said.

“ Fuck.  Why me?” Shota grumbled, not really expecting an answer.  Because really, why did he of all people need to be assigned to a case with no objective information?

“Because I believe that you have the best chance of not only tracking him down, but convincing him to stop what he’s doing now,” Tsukauchi answered, a small smile forming on his face.

Shota scoffed before answering, “yeah, yeah.  I’ll take the case,” Shota sighed, but he couldn’t help but feel intrigued by the young vigilante.

“Thanks, Eraser, I knew I could count on you.”

__________

Finding the kid was just as hard as Shota thought it was going to be, unfortunately for him.  It took him a week to even see the kid for the first time, and then another few to catch sight of him regularly.

The vigilante clearly had some irregular schedule to keep people off his back, and Shota could admit that he was mildly impressed.  He studied the kid for a few days when his sightings became more consistent.  He wanted to see what the kid could do, how strong his potential really was.  And he was not disappointed.

The kid obviously knew how to throw a punch, and it was apparent that he had at least a year’s worth of experience.  Sometimes his movements were too stiff and predictable, but all in all, he was quite skilled for his age (somewhere in the young teens if he had to guess).  He also tended to slack when travelling through his patrol route, making it effortless for Shota to follow him around.

But still, Shota had no idea as to what the kid could look like.  His goggles and bandana covered his face, and he had a hood that somehow stayed on at all times to hide his hair.  He also noticed that the kid wore gloves in an attempt to prevent fingerprint tracking.  The kid was smart, he’ll give him that.

But what really pissed him off more than anything else was keeping track of him after the patrol.  Observing the vigilante throughout the night was a breeze, and Shota was able to follow him easily.  But whenever it seemed like the kid was done for the night, giving Shota the perfect opportunity to find where he resided, he would completely vanish from his sight, as if he was never there in the first place.

The vigilante was a master in the art of stealth and disappearance, even if it wasn’t the best when running from location to location.  Which pissed Shota off because that was his thing.  Damn kid.

At first, Shota suspected it was the kid’s quirk at work, but when he watched him fight, he noticed that no such power appeared.  In fact, no obvious power at all.  There wasn’t anything defining that Shota could declare was his quirk, and that increased his irritation exponentially.

This kid showed no signs or evidence of his quirk when he fought against the criminals he encountered, and he never swung first, meaning that he was technically acting out of self defense.  With that knowledge, Shota wasn’t sure what to do.  There wasn’t much he could even charge the kid for.  There was a chance that this was a minor and that he was out far later than he should be, but that’s running off of uncertain guesses, not facts.  This whole ordeal was frustrating him because even with all of his observations, he got very little information out of the vigilante.  That meant he needed to start the next phase of his plan: confrontation.

__________

About a week or so after being dubbed Karma , Izuku sensed a set of eyes on him. It didn’t feel malicious, but they were definitely curious.  And who was he to let down an audience?  So, he continued doing his job, and because he was so kind, he made it easy for the spectator to follow along.

He knew they would probably confront him eventually, so he kept doing what he did best: kicking ass and helping others in need.

But Izuku wasn’t nice enough to let this stranger find his home, so after his patrol was over, he would vanish back into the darkness like he always did.  He doesn’t know how or when he perfected the art, but it probably had to do with all the times he needed to avoid Kacchan and the others at his school.

This routine continued for a couple of more weeks, and Izuku could regularly feel the intense glare directed towards him.  At some points, it felt like it was burning a hole right through his back, but he found it entertaining more than anything; the fact that someone dedicated so much time into watching him.  Either the cops were desperate to catch him or he had a devoted fan.

On one night in particular, he decided to give his spectator an opening.  Not only because he was such a generous person, but he too was curious about who they were.  After his patrol had ended for the night, he opted to sit on the ledge of a roof instead of running on home.  Let’s see if they come out.

The cool breeze was a blessing on Izuku’s face, regardless of the fact that he had his getup on.  You can only fight so many criminals until you get sweaty under a mask , he supposed.

When he sat down, he inhaled a large breath of fresh air and waited idly on the ledge.  It was about ten minutes of waiting before he could sense the presence lingering behind him.  God bless his self awareness.

“Are you the person who’s been following me the past few weeks?” he asked aloud, not bothering to turn around.  The presence didn’t seem to have ill intentions, and worse comes to worst, the building was jumpable.

“You knew I was there?” the voice questioned, and crap , Izuku knew that voice.

He whipped his head around, almost losing his balance on the edge of the building.  When his eyes met the figure behind him, he recognized the man immediately.  Shit, it’s Eraser Head.  It’s going to be difficult to get out of this.

He quickly swallowed the shock from the reveal, and put his nonchalant façade back on.  Everything will be fine, Izuku.  You technically haven’t committed any crimes that he’s seen.

“Of course I did, you didn’t put much effort into hiding your presence.  And it’s not like I was trying to hide from you,” Izuku replied, and he grinned when he noticed the agitated glare the underground hero gave him.  Too bad Eraser couldn’t see his smile, he thought.   Though he presumed it would only piss him off more.

“You’re impressive, kid.  But can you tell me what you’re doing out here every night?” Eraser asked, taking a few steps closer towards the edge.

“Not much, really.  I’m just defending myself against criminals who try to attack me,” he said, and he was certain that Eraser was getting frustrated.

“If you keep getting attacked, then why not just stay home?” So that's what this was.   Eraser was definitely working with the cops, and he was trying to get answers and motives out of him.

Izuku had plenty of potential run-ins with the authorities, and though he’s never interacted with one in costume, he knew the rumours regarding his situation.  He had heard from a variety of citizens living on the streets and even the secret underground website (that honestly wasn’t that big of a secret if you knew where to look) that the cops put him on a high-priority list.  But Eraser didn’t need to know that he knew that.

“Awe, but how else am I going to go on my nightly walks?” Izuku asked, his voice laced with sarcasm.  It was a trait he picked up when dealing with thugs every night.

The hero scoffed at the reply, and slowly continued to make his way towards the vigilante.  “Mind if I sit?”

Izuku’s eyes followed his movements, and Eraser seemed way too chill right now.  Maybe he was letting his guard down, so that Izuku would let his down too?  Trusting any adults that weren’t his mom was always difficult for him, especially because of how he was treated by his teachers.  So he wasn’t completely surprised when he felt the same uneasy feeling in Eraser's presence, even if he was one of his favourite pro heroes (besides All Might, duh).

“Depends.  Do you plan on capturing me with that scarf of yours?  I know how it works, y’know?” Izuku replied, his eyes not leaving Eraser.  This was a tough situation he was in right now, but if he got the right opening, he was definitely going to bolt.  The only reason he hasn’t left yet was because he was curious as to what the hero had to say to him.  One weird look and Izuku was out .  He was not having his mom bail him out of jail.

“As much as I would love to get you off the streets, taking you by force would be considered kidnapping since you’re still a kid.  And you technically haven’t committed any crimes that I’ve seen, so I wouldn’t be able to arrest you,” Eraser explained, sitting down beside Izuku in the process.

“Hey! Who said I was a kid?” Izuku argued. Yeah, he looked young, but not that young! Eraser was just being mean now.

“You’re clearly much shorter than me and your voice indicates that you’re not older than fifteen, so give up the act,” Eraser said, and shit, he did have a point.

“You can’t just make assumptions based on that!”

“That’s true, I can’t.  But I want to help you, so just come with me to the station, and we can work this out.  We wish to set you on—”

“Okay, I’ve heard enough,” Izuku said, interrupting the hero and not bothering to hear the rest of his explanation.  “I’m sorry, Eraserhead, but I’m not worrying my mom over this and I’m not going to the station.” This was the firmest Izuku had ever heard himself, and he was surprised more than anything else.   “We’re done here.  I’ll see you around, I guess.”

“Kid, wait—” but before he could protest, the kid was gone.

Shit.

__________

Regardless of the unpleasant interaction, Izuku continued to keep his stealth down when he felt the hero’s presence near him.  There was no use in trying to hide because like the hero said, there wasn’t anything he could arrest him for.  All he could really do is bring Izuku back to his house and expose him to his mom, which was over his dead body.

So, his expeditions continued like they typically did.  He beat up criminals, called the cops, dipped, and continued on his patrol like usual.  And almost every time at the end of his patrol, Eraser head would always come to talk with him.  The topics weren’t always exciting, but Izuku secretly appreciated the presence of another while he talked about his interests.  And slowly but surely, he noticed the uneasiness residing in his stomach fade into something new.  Something warm. 

It was just like his typical routine, except he had a pair of eyes on him every other night, with the same set of eyes becoming his nightly talk buddy.  He suspected it was the days that Eraser wasn’t on patrol that he would spend his night observing and later speaking with the vigilante.  The detectives must be really down his throat if he’s committed so much time towards Izuku’s mediocre patrols.

Well, they were mediocre, until this one incident happened.

In Izuku’s almost one year of being a vigilante, he had faced a variety of criminals.  Some used their quirks, others didn’t, but the ones who did never had the strongest quirks.  So for the most part, he never really had issues with taking criminals down after getting the gist of their fighting style or quirk because if there was one person who could win a fist fight, it was Izuku Midoriya— or technically Karma.

Karma has bled, sprained, and stitched his body more times than any child his age should, so he was still prone to getting hurt.  But in his 275-day career of being a vigilante, he had never technically lost a fight.

Which is why when he’s beaten, bruised, and bleeding on the ground to some hefty criminal with a knife quirk, his resolve to win is the only thing that keeps him going.

He never experienced a fight like this before, and it honestly annoyed Karma that he never got this sort of experience.  Though at the same time, it solidified his beliefs that the only help he would be in the long run would be keeping crooks and minor criminals off the streets.

The villain looked over him with the most menacing glare Karma had ever witnessed on someone’s face.  He was smiling, as if bringing a young kid to a bloody mess was exhilarating.  People are weird, Karma thought.

When they first crossed paths, the man looked harmless as he was attempting to break into this small jewellery shop that was already closed for the night.  When Karma confronted him, he lunged at him without reason.  Though getting caught breaking into a store was more than enough for most.

So, here Karma was, sitting in some back, dark alley, blood dripping everywhere (he’ll have to drop the villain off at another location, so the cops don’t find his blood), and trying to muster up the strength to stand up again.  The villain started rambling about enjoying the thrill of power or whatever he was obsessed with.  Karma wasn’t too keen on listening, as he was far too focused on trying to get up to knock the guy clean out.  He really wished Eraser was here to help out, but unfortunately, Karma was on his own tonight.

After a solid punch to Karma’s face (what a low blow, he still went to school!), the villain seemed to have lost interest.  He turned his back away from the injured vigilante (like an idiot), and continued his attempts at breaking into the store.  His power high must have flipped back over to the break in , Karma thought.  With everything he could muster, Karma raised to his feet, legs shaking, blood spilling out of his battered arms, and he quietly walked over to the oblivious villain.

Karma picked up a mental pipe he saw near a garbage bin during the beginning of the brawl, and gripped it until his knuckles were white.  This blow was sure to be the rest of his energy, so if he didn’t take care of this now, he was utterly screwed.

Raising the pipe above his head, Karma inhaled quietly as he gathered his strength.  And with as much force as he could gather, he slammed the pipe against the villain's neck to avoid serious brain damage.

And shit, Karma must have done something right in this life because the villain fell to his knees after the blow, causing Karma to sigh heavily in relief.  He quickly tied the villain up with a special type of fabric he found that was immune to the sharpness of knives ( What ? He was resourceful!).  He loved being prepared for anything, after all.

Once the tying was complete, he dragged the villain a few alleyways over.  It wasn’t the best, and he was sure that the cops would eventually find the spot that they brawled, but for now, it prevented them from finding any of his blood.  He called the cops soon after, and quietly made his escape when he heard the familiar sound of police sirens wailing.  When he was a safe distance away from the scene, he finally took a minute to rest and review his injuries.

Three stab wounds, the one on his shoulder more fatal than the others, but still not hospital worthy (was any injury hospital worthy?).  He counted more bruises than his fingers, which was lovely as always, and by just touching his eye, he knew he had a black eye.  Shit.

He quickly got to work by unzipping his costume, the cool breeze of the night making goosebumps appear over his body.  He didn’t have a mirror, or really any light, so it seemed that his stitches were going to be heavily inaccurate; meaning he would have to redo them at home.  Spectacular .  Fortunately, the pain from the wounds weren’t nearly as bad as the blows to his face, so hopefully the stitches would be a breeze and he could go home for the night.

He was on his final stitch worthy cut when he heard the familiar footsteps approach him from behind.

“We meet again, Raser.  You must have been busy if I’m only seeing you now,” Karma called, waving one of his hands in the air as he continued to work on the stitch.

“Why are you hunched up on a rooftop in the middle of the night, Karma,” Eraser asked, and crap, he used his vigilante name, something he never did before.  There goes his excuse as passing as a normal civilian defending themselves (though he knew Eraser never believed that).

“It’s my personal favourite position for when I stargaze on rooftops,” Karma replied, holding back a whimper as he closed off his final stitch.

Eraser Head, of course, didn’t buy it, and made his way towards the seemingly injured vigilante.

When he noticed the overly bloodied suit and the stitches material splayed over the ground, Eraser’s eyes widened in shock.

“What the hell happened, kid?” he asked harshly, though by the injuries, Izuku suspected he had an idea of what could have happened.

“Oh, these? I was just stabbed a few times by some knife dude.  He’s already handed to the cops, so there’s nothing to worry about,” Karma answered nonchalantly as he proceeded to pick up the arrangement of tools and return them to their home in his utility belt.

“Nothing to worry about— you were stabbed ?” the hero recited, and Jesus they’re still on this?

“You’re acting like it was a fatal injury.  I’m fine, it’s fine.  Now did you need something, or can I go home now?” Karma rolled his eyes, he felt like he was being lectured by a dad or something.

“I don’t think you understand the gravity of the situation,” Eraser stated.

“If anything, I think it’s the opposite, Raser.”

“You need a hospital,” Eraser said firmly.

Karma stood up, the remainder of his tools finally picked up off the ground.  “Attempt to bring me to a hospital and your chance of seeing me patrol again will be zero,” he declared.

It was times like these that Eraser Head really hated his job.  Being unable to help someone right in front of you was something he hated most and strived against.  But he needed to play the long game here, he needed the kid to trust him, so he could help him.

“Fine.  But let me help you next time you’re injured, okay?” Eraser compromised.  “They’re more accurate when someone else does them.”

“I’ll see how I’m feeling next time.  So long, Raser,” Karma called as he jumped down the fire escape and disappeared into the darkness of the alleyways.

This kid was going to be the death of him.

__________

Contrary to his initial belief, attending school was far more difficult with his injuries than facing his mom.

Izuku was able to make it back home safely, even if he felt that each step was taking a year off his lifespan.  Thankfully, his mom was a deep sleeper, so he was able to shower and rinse the layers of grime and blood off his beaten body without any interruptions.  And after spending a ridiculous amount of time learning how to use foundation or whatever it’s called, hiding his black eye and other visible bruises was a breeze.

He felt terrible, obviously.  His mom didn’t deserve a troublemaker like him, didn’t deserve the amount of worrying she succumbed to as a result of her quirkless child.  So for her sake (and his), he hid the evidence of his fight to the best of his ability, and his ability was incredible, if he said so himself.

The real obstacle was trying to remain unfazed as he was, once again, pounded down in some alleyway.  This time, by no other than his bullies.  Normally, Izuku could handle whatever they threw at him (figuratively and literally), but not even the absurd amount of pain medicine he swallowed this morning could numb the pain of his healing stitches and possibly fractured rib.

The stitches were in much better condition than the previous night, as he had the time to redo them under the fluorescent lighting of his bathroom.  He added small bandages to cover the obvious marks, and made sure to keep on top of his use of pain medicine.  The last thing he would want is somehow overdosing on some low-level antibiotics.

But as Kacchan and a few others shoved him into the paved ground of an alley, the calloused hands hitting directly against the healing stab wound, he couldn’t help but release a small whimper.  Normally, he was able to stay completely quiet as he handled whatever he was given, but having a rough hand become a figurative salt to the wound, he accidentally slipped up.

Something must have really ticked the trio off (or mostly Kacchan) today because their attacks were almost always verbal during the later middle school years, unlike the physical attacks he was prone to getting in elementary school.  So because of the different approach to making Izuku’s life miserable, he knew that they were definitely agitated about something.

It wasn’t until another hit to the face that the group looming above him noticed something he desperately tried to hide.

“What the hell— why is there makeup on my hand?” the one on the right of Kacchan yelled, his hand on display in front of the others.

“The fuck are you wearing makeup for, Deku?” Kacchan questioned.  And crap, how was he supposed to get out of this?

“It’s uh— it’s nothing.  Just forget about it, okay?” Izuku replied, his gaze not leaving the sight of the rough pavement below him.  He couldn’t bear to face this, he was such a coward .

“Nothing?” the other mocked, “I’m sure it’s something.  Tell us, Deku.”

Before Izuku had a chance to respond, Kacchan, to his horror, started wiping away the makeup that covered the black eye he gained from the criminal.  It must have been worse than Izuku initially thought it was because the three of them stared at him with dismay.

“What the fuck happened to you?” Kacchan asked, his voice lower than usual.  Izuku couldn’t tell what was more scary: when he yelled or when he was quiet.

“Like I said,” Izuku started, standing up from the ground in the process, tears filling his eyes.  “It’s nothing.” And with nothing else to say, he walked further into the alley and disappeared before the group had a chance to process what had just occurred.

“What the hell just happened?”

__________

The not-so lovely run in with Kacchan and his friends left Izuku in a more bitter mood than usual.  He’s not sure why, since he was normally able to dismiss the array of insults (and punches) thrown his way.  But for some reason, he was feeling much more annoyed than he typically did.

Vigilantism was not only Izuku’s alternative to being a hero, but it was how he often coped with problems too.  Fighting criminals to let off steam was his therapy, and watching someone’s face light up after being saved always made him feel better about himself.  So, who could really blame him for his legally-grey actions?

So with that in mind, if he was harsher with the criminals he encountered later that night, it was no one’s business but his own.

“You went a bit hard on them tonight,” Eraser Head said as he watched Karma take a seat on a roof ledge after his patrol.

“So what if I did? It’s not like they didn’t deserve it,” he huffed, allowing the hero to take a seat next to him.

Eraser seemed to have ignored his comment, and asked instead, “wanna talk about it?”

“The hell— talk about what?” Karma asked, leaning away from the hero reflexively.  Heart to Hearts were never his forte.

“Y’know, I don’t usually do this,” Eraser said in response, effectively getting the vigilante to sit still and listen.

“What’s ‘this’? Befriend vigilantes and have late night conversations on abandoned rooftops with them?” Izuku joked.

“Precisely that,” he deadpanned.

“Oh.”

“Typically I’ll take them to the station, sort through the paperwork, and either try to rehabilitate them or arrest them for their crimes,” Eraser explained, and he almost chuckled at the gulp the vigilante next to him made.

“Why haven’t you done that yet?” Izuku asked, suddenly feeling anxious.  He was definitely about to jump at any minute if the hero tried anything.

“I’m… not really sure.  But you’re a kid, and I want to be able to help you.  And it’s hard to arrest you when you don’t commit any visible crimes.  I need you to be willing to accept my help, and with that, we need trust.”

“I’m glad my nightly strolls aren’t very criminal like.  But there isn’t much you can do to help.  I’ll never be able to become a hero, so this is as good as it gets for me, sorry,” Izuku replied, his stomach dropping from the fear of disappointing the hero next to him.

“Why can’t you become a hero?” Eraser asked curiously.

“Ah, ah, Eraser Head.  I think that’s a story for a later time.  We’re still forming trust, right?” Izuku smiled as he stood up, his body still aching a bit from the wounds he received the night prior.  “For now, I need to go back home to my mom.”

“You’re going to keep me in suspense, kid?” Eraser frowned, annoyed with the vigilante dodging his question, but also amused from the typical behaviour.

“Life’s boring without a little suspense, am I right?” he called as he started to make his way down the fire escape on the side of the building.  “Bye for now, Raser!”

__________

A few weeks later found Izuku being greeted by his mom holding a letter at their kitchen table, a nervous look plastered on her face.

“Mom, what’s that?” Izuku asked, his mom’s behaviour affecting him too.

“It’s a letter from UA, honey.  We just received it today in the mail.  I wanted to tell you as soon as you got home from school!” Inko answered, her fingers fidgeting together, a nervous habit Izuku was sure he got from her.

Though Izuku’s dream of becoming a hero might have gone down the drain after countless years of everyone but his mom discouraging him, paired with the fact that being a vigilante seemed to satisfy his ambitions of helping others, it didn’t stop his dream of going to UA.  He still wanted to attend the prestigious school as a general studies student, not only to help his future job resumes, but so he could also study the unique array of quirks that were present at the facility.  The school was known for turning out the world’s best heroes, and if there was one thing Izuku still held on to, it was his love for quirk analysis.

So, he took the exam for the general studies course, and hopefully, his score was high enough to get in.

“Woah, okay thanks, mom,” Izuku replied, taking a seat across from where his mother was sitting.  “Should I open it now?”

“Whatever you want to do, dear.  But no matter what, just know that I’m so very proud of you.”

“Thank you,” Izuku smiled, taking the envelope from her hand.

As he sat down and started to open the envelope, a wave of anxiety washed over him.  This was a new chapter for him and he still desperately wanted to attend UA, regardless of what class it was.

Finally, it opened and a little disc fell out, rolling a few times before falling flat on their wooden dining table.  Before either of the Midoriya’s had a chance to question it, the disc lit up, projecting a transparent video into the air.

“Hello, Izuku Midoriya.  It is I, Principal Nezu, from UA! I am personally recording this message to inform you that you have passed the written entrance exam with the highest test mark in the entirety of the school! I was quite impressed with your results, and wanted to tell you myself that we look forward to seeing you in the new school year! Congratulations!” After the hologram disappeared, Izuku and his mother slowly moved their heads to face the other, a look of shock plastered on both of their faces.

“Holy woah, I got in! Did you hear that, mom? He said he was impressed with me!” Izuku cheered, his cheeks growing pink from the praise.

“That’s wonderful, sweetie! I’m so, so proud of you for getting in and doing your best,” Inko cooed.  “How about we eat out tonight? I can get food from your favourite restaurant if you'd like?”

“Really? Yeah, sure!  We can afford it, right?” He asked hesitantly.  He hated when his mother spent more than she needed to, especially on him.

“Yes, of course we can! And this is a big occasion, we need to celebrate,” Inko reassured, a soft smile forming on her face.  “I’ll go right now, okay?” she said, making her way to the door and pulling on her slip on shoes.

“Did you want me to come with you?” Izuku asked.

“It’s okay, honey.  You can set the table while I’m gone,” his mom replied as she went to leave the door.

“Oh, and Izuku?” she asked, turning her head over her shoulder as she threw her shoes on.

“Yeah, mom?”

“I know you’ve been sneaking out lately, and I know that you’re getting hurt.  I don’t know what you’re doing out there, but it’s making me worried.  Which is why we’re going to talk about this when I get home.  Just wanted to let you know before I forget.  I’ll see you when I get home, I love you!” The sudden change of topic completely threw Izuku off guard, which is why when she kissed his cheek goodbye, he merely stood there gaping at his mother.  He’s not sure how she found out, but crap, he didn’t want her knowing.  Should he tell the truth or stretch a lie? His mom would totally know if he’s lying, though, so does he even have any options?

Unfortunately for Inko, the kindest soul that Izuku had ever known, she never did find out why he snuck out.

It had been three hours since his mom went out to get food, and Izuku was starting to get restless.  The place was only 20 minutes away, so it should have taken an hour max to be back home.  Maybe it’s just crowded today? Or she saw an old friend?  She’s fine, everything is fine.  She’s safe.  Nothing would happen to her.

Hesitantly, he turned on the news, and was shocked to see that some ordinary villain had trashed a large area not too far from Izuku’s home.  No, no, no, this was not happening right now.  His mom was still alive, she was going to come home any minute now with food in her hands, apologizing for running so late.  They would eat together and celebrate Izuku’s admission, and then talk about his late ‘walks’.  Right?  She would be home, it was just a matter of time before—

“There are currently three dead on the scene, all everyday civilians who were unfortunately caught up when the event occurred.  From what we know so far, the villain attempted to rob a jewellry store, but when faced with a hero who arrived at the scene, he fled into a restaurant next door and lashed out,” some random News Reporter said, her face looking grim as she explained the situation.  Izuku’s mouth when dry, there was no way life dealt him such an ugly card.  He was doing so well, he was helping people, he got into a top high school.  He didn’t deserve this , his mom didn’t deserve this.

He and his mom were going to eat dinner together and discuss their days, that’s how tonight was supposed to go. Not… whatever this was.  No, his mom was alive, she had to be.  If not… then it was his fault.  His fault for not going with her to protect her.  His fault for agreeing to celebrate his dumb acceptance into school.  All his fault — if he went with her, was there to stop the villain, then maybe she would be safe right now.  Safe in their home, safe with him.  It’s his fault, all his fault.  His mom might be dead, and it’s because he wasn’t there to protect her.  Some vigilante he was, couldn’t even protect him damn mom.  But… she could still be alive, right ?  His head was starting to feel fuzzy as he fell back onto the couch.  He couldn’t give up yet, there was still hope.  But why did his stomach tell him a different story?  He didn’t get a chance to eat that day, yet his stomach was doing so many somersaults that he felt as though he could throw up.  This couldn’t be happening.

Izuku fell asleep on his couch that night, waiting for his mom to walk through the door and apologize for scaring him.  They’d hug, and he’d apologize for not being there, and they would be okay.  Izuku dreamt of memories from his childhood, where his mom would kiss his cuts better and help him pick out hero names.  She always believed in him, no matter how high odds were stacked against him.  Izuku couldn’t have had a better mom, which is why he needed to see her again.

__________

It had been a week since his mom was pronounced dead by the local hospital.  She was crushed by falling debris that the villain created, and later died on her way to the hospital.  To say Izuku was devastated would be an understatement.  He had lost his biggest motivator, the only person who cared about him.  He couldn’t focus on the lessons in class, and he hadn’t even been on patrol since the fateful night.  The funeral was held a few days after her abrupt death, with only Izuku and Kacchan’s family attending.  Izuku wasn’t too surprised, his mom never really had any close friends.

Kacchan’s parents were extremely kind to him.  They offered him a place to stay should he need it, and many hugs and pats on the back.  Kacchan, typically, didn’t say anything at the funeral.  Whether he didn’t care or just didn’t know what to say, Izuku wasn’t sure.  Reading the blond had become increasingly harder over the past year.

Izuku was expecting the police or some sort of social worker to show up at his house to figure out what to do with him, but unsurprisingly, no one ever showed.  He seemed to have completely slipped through the system, and as much as he hated to admit it, he wasn’t entirely shocked.  His life never seemed to work out well for him.

Fortunately, his dad still seemed to send money overseas, which was just the right amount to keep him from living on the streets.  He was grateful for his absent dad’s financial support, but even so, Izuku wasn’t able to get a hold of his father.  His mom never mentioned any phone numbers or emails his dad could have owned, and the only contact that resembled anything related to him on his mom’s phone led to a dead end of a no longer in use number.

Izuku wasn’t surprised, obviously.  His father was never in his life, not directly at least.  But there was still an ounce of hope in him that said his father would hear about the death of his wife and return home to take care of his forgotten son.  It didn’t matter , Izuku concluded soon after his hope was demolished.  His mom was the only light in his life, and even that was crushed by the monstrosities of society. He was numb, mostly, but a little part of him was enraged, pissed off at the world for being so cruel to him.  For taking away the only thing he truly lived for.

That night, Izuku returned to his routine of vigilantism.  After all, heroes don’t cry.

__________

Shota knew something was wrong the third night Karma didn’t show up for patrol.  Sure, the first two nights he could’ve just missed the vigilante, but there’s no way he would go three nights without spotting him.  There was the possibility that the boy was purposely avoiding him, but that wouldn’t make sense because they were on good terms last time they talked.  There was also the possibility that he was injured, but knowing how he was, Shota doubted he would take time off during an injury.  That only left two more options.  Either the child had decided to quit the dangerous pastime, or something else could have happened to him.

With those options to choose from, Shota wasn’t liking where this absence was leading.

Either the kid was so injured that he couldn’t move, or something else must have happened to him.  Shota feared both scenarios, but only time would tell when he could see the kid again.

Shota realized that with the passing weeks, he had grown moderately attached to the kid (though he would never admit that out loud).  The kid had potential to be a hero, with his impressive combat, strong battle intellect, and the heart of a fighter; it was clear as day.  And he was always kind, even if he did sass and annoy Shota in every interaction they had.  Shota wanted to keep the kid away from danger and teach him that self-sacrifice isn’t the way to go as a hero (or vigilante for that matter).  He was relieved to know that the kid had a home and parent to return to, but hearing how the kid talked about himself and his talents was concerning.  He had severe self-esteem issues, even if he tried his best to hide it with his sarcasm and jokes.

It was for those reasons that Shota was desperate to find the child again.  He just wanted to make sure that he was safe, okay.

When he finally did find him a week after his initial scare, he knew he was correct about his worries.

Karma seemed slower, more tired than usual, and he knew that with that level of exhaustion, the kid was bound to get more injuries than usual.  So without hesitating, the Erasure hero chased after the young vigilante.

“Hey,” he called when he was in range for the kid to hear him.  “Haven’t seen you in a while, problem child.”

Karma stopped in the middle of a partially rundown rooftop after hearing the hero’s appearance.  It was more than enough time for Shota to run and jump onto the roof before the vigilante could make a narrow escape.

“You don’t usually approach me this early at night, Raser,” Karma said as he turned around to face the hero standing behind him.

“I never had a reason to, unlike now,” Shota replied, his hand gesturing to the tired posture of the vigilante.

“Oh yeah, and what’s that?” Karma’s voice perfectly replicating the tone of a moody teenager.  Something was definitely up with him.

“You’re clearly not okay, and as much as you try to hide it, you’re dealing with exhaustion.  If you continue going, I have reason to believe that you will end up hurt, or worse,” Shota explained carefully.  He needed to guarantee that he could get through to the kid.

“So what if I’m tired? Heroes never give up, and I’ve been away for too long, so just leave me alone.” As Karma attempted to make his way to the next building, Shota quickly extended his scarf, wrapping it snugly around the confused vigilante.

“Hey— what the hell is this?”

“I’m not letting you go out tonight.  So if you promise not to run away, I’ll let you go,” Shota stated.  He had never used his teacher voice on Karma before, so it wasn’t surprising when the kid shuttered a little.

“Why do you even care anyway?” Karma sneered, his annoyance with Shota rising immensely each second he was trapped in his scarf.

“I’m a hero, kid.  I help those in need, and right now, you’re someone who needs it,” Shota answered truthfully.

“But why me?  No one has ever cared before.  Not my teachers, not my classmates, not even my dad.  No one except—" Shota didn’t miss the unevenness of the vigilante’s tone, how his voice cracked in the last sentence.

“Except?” he pushed.  If he could just get a little information—

“My—" Karma started, choking on his tears. “M-my mom.  But she’s gone now, and it’s all my fault and—" the vigilante wailed.  If it wasn’t for his signature mask, Shota was sure that he would be able to see tears streaming down Karma’s face.

Ever so slowly, Shota lowered his scarf, along with the crying mess of a vigilante, down to the ground.  After retracting his scarf, Shota made his way over to kneel next to the boy.  The child.   The child who had recently lost his mother and was most likely dealing with the grief by himself.

He put a hand on Karma’s shoulder in an attempt to give support, but not be too overbearing.  He didn’t want to scare the kid away, not now.  It took a few minutes before the quiet cries turned into even quieter sniffles, but Shota waited patiently.  He always would.

“Did she leave? Or is she…” Shota asked carefully.  He needed to know more details.

“I don’t wanna talk about it, Raser.”

“Okay, that’s fine, kid.” It really wasn’t, but pushing the kid too hard would do more harm than good, as much as Shota hated to admit it.

“I just want to know how to help, Karma.  And I can’t do much if you don’t tell me anything,” Shota reasoned, his voice softer than it typically was, surprisingly to him.

“Can you just—” Karma mumbled, “never mind.”

“What is it?” Shota asked, his eyes focused on the trembling child in front of him.

“Forget it, it’s embarrassing to ask anyway,” Karma responded, his face going further into his knees.  The kid wrapped himself in a ball, a poor attempt at self-comfort, Shota noted. 

“You can tell me, kid.  I’m here to help you,” Shota assured as he placed his other hand on the vigilante’s knee.

“Can you… hug me, or something? I don’t know, it’s stupid,” Karma replied quietly.  That was… not what he was expecting.

Shota didn’t verbally respond, instead, he did exactly what the vigilante had asked.  He moved over to sit next to Karma and slowly wrapped his arms around the still trembling child.  If he wasn’t too focused on comforting Karma, he would have been more concerned as to how the kid practically melted into him.  He probably didn’t have much physical contact besides his mom , Shota supposed.

The two sat there for a while.  Shota held the vigilante quietly as another wave of tears overcame Karma.  The sobs wracked through Karma’s body, and Shota thought it was the most emotion the kid had ever shown.  All Shota could really do was continue tracing circles on Karma’s worn suit as the vigilante let out all of his tears.  The boy needed this, that was for sure.

When Karma finally settled down again for the second time that night, Shota pulled away gently, but not far enough that he wasn’t out of reach.  He placed his hands back on the boy’s knee and shoulder, and watched his reflection in the vigilante’s goggles.

“Do you have somewhere to stay?” Shota asked once Karma’s breathing had evened back out.  This was his biggest concern right now.  There was no way he could let a child live on the streets, especially after knowing the situation.  He was sure that his husband wouldn’t mind either, he's always loved kids.

“Y-yeah, I do.  It’s just been hard without her, y’know?” Karma sniffled, and Shota couldn’t help but sigh in relief.

“That’s understandable, kid.  Now please, go home and get some rest.  You can’t fight properly in this state,” Shota reasoned.

“Fine,” Karma huffed.  At least he listened for once in his life.

As they both stood up, Karma took the time to stretch out his limbs before turning to go home.

“Thank you for everything, Eraser.  I really appreciated that,” the vigilante said, and if Shota was right, the kid was definitely smiling under that mask.

“It’s no problem, kid.  Now go get some rest, you need it.”

“Yeah, yeah.  I’m going, bye!” And without another word, Karma jumped down the fire escape and disappeared into the darkness of the endless alleyways.

Shota was just relieved that the kid was alive.

__________

It wasn’t too soon after Izuku’s incredibly embarrassing breakdown in front of one of his favourite heroes that he started his journey at UA.

The school was gorgeous (obviously), and Izuku was already appreciating the change from his old middle school.  All of the students were nice to Izuku, but he supposed that was because they didn’t know his quirk status.

He was placed into Class 1-C, with Present Mic (!!!!) being his home room teacher.  Izuku was over the moon excited, obviously .  He adored Present Mic, along with his radio show, so it wasn’t a surprise that he found himself enraptured with his lessons.

Kacchan had made it into UA as well, but because he was in the Hero Course, the two never seemed to cross paths.  In a way, Izuku was relieved that he didn’t have to deal with Kacchan and his other bullies anymore, but he also missed seeing the blond every day.  They were in the same class since kindergarten, so in a way, he missed that constant in his life.

Though everyone tended to be kind to Izuku, he didn’t really have any friends per se.  Sure, he interacted with his peers, but he often felt too nervous to actively befriend them.  Though, he supposed his middle school experiences had something to do with it.

Overall, the comforting routine of attending his General Studies classes during the day and being a vigilante at night was something Izuku cherished.  It almost made him feel normal again, as he never really felt the same after his mom passed away.

Of course, it didn’t last forever, as an attack on one of the Hero Courses, along with Eraser Head being absent for over a week of his patrols, had disrupted his familiar routine.

He was always used to the presence of the hero following him around, in fact, it even gave him comfort knowing that Eraser would be there if he needed him.  So, when he didn’t so much as feel the presence near him, he was starting to get worried.  Was this what Eraser endured when he was absent after his mom’s death?  He felt terrible now knowing the possibility of what his mentor favourite hero went through because of him.

Izuku just hoped that he’d be able to talk to him again.

__________

After getting beat to a pulp protecting his class from a group of villains, Shota didn’t have it in him to go out and patrol.  As much as he wanted to check on Karma, all of his energy seemed to go towards healing his completely bandaged face. Fortunately, the injuries to his face weren’t as severe as they could’ve been, and the bandages would only be necessary for two weeks at most.

Shota was still bewildered by the fact that not only had a group of villains broken into the school, but had attacked him and his students. To his relief, he was the only one who had any major injuries, and All Might was able to take the Nomu, or whatever they were calling them, down.

Hizashi was more worried per usual, not that Shota could blame him.  He knew his husband deeply cared for him, and if the roles were reversed, then he would be feeling the same way.

But what really caught his attention was something that Hizashi had said during dinner one night.

“I have such a fantastic class this year,” the blond said randomly as they were both eating their meals quietly.

“Yeah?  Mine aren’t half bad either, though they are rowdy most of the time,” Shota replied, his gaze meeting his husband’s.

“I can’t wait to teach them English next semester! Any student who hasn’t been expelled by you mustn’t be half bad,” Hizashi agreed with a laugh.

“Yeah, yeah.  They all have potential, I suppose,” Shota sighed.  “Is there anyone in your class who wants to get into the Hero Course?”

“Most of my students are Hero Course rejects, Sho,” Hizashi answered.  “But yeah, a few are definitely aiming to place well in the Sports Fest to snag a spot in your class.  If only they knew what kind of teacher you were…” the blond teased.

“Any catch your eye?” Shota asked, ignoring his husband’s teasing remark.

“Two, actually.”

“Hm,” Shota hummed, signaling for his husband to continue.

“The first one is this boy named Shinso. He’s basically a smaller version of you, reminds me of your angsty teenage self .  I can’t even count the number of times he’s mentioned the Sports Festival since I brought it up.  He has the motivation for a hero, that’s for sure,” Hizashi explained, his eyes lighting up as he talked about his student.

“It’ll be interesting to see what he does at the Sports Festival then.  Who’s the other one?”

“Ah, yes! Midoriya is the other student.  Though he says he doesn’t want to be a hero, he has total hero potential.  He’s kind to his peers, and is always the first to help a classmate with something.  He’s warm-hearted and has totally strong morals from what I’ve noticed.  And get this, I think he got the highest exam score this year! Isn’t that crazy? I think the only thing stopping him is his quirk status.”

“His quirk status?” Shota asked, intrigued.

“He’s quirkless.”

Shota couldn’t help but relay a surprised look on his face.  It’s not that he was against quirkless people in any way, but this was the first time a quirkless student had attended the school, General Studies course or not.

“Well, I can see why that would diminish his hopes of being a hero.  I wouldn’t be surprised if he was told all his life that the dream was unachievable,” Shota said in his typical nonchalant voice.

“I was thinking the same thing, poor listener.”

“Your description actually reminds me of someone else,” Shota voiced aloud, and he could already feel his husband's eye roll.

“Shota, I swear if you bring up your vigilante child for the 100th time this week, I will call Tsukauchi myself and ask for his file so I can see what's so special about this kid,” the blond sighed, exasperated.

“For one, he’s not my child.  And two, I don’t even talk about him that much.” Shota glanced at his husband, only to be met with an unconvinced expression.  “I do not.”

“At this point, the little listener is your child, Sho.  You patrol with him basically every night and talk about him like he’s your own kid.  I swear you love him more than the cats!” Hizashi exclaimed.

“Now you leave Peanut Butter and Rei out of this.  There was no need to bring them up.”

“Sho…”

“Zashi.”

“Why don’t you just bring him home? You said that you’re concerned about his living situation, and I wouldn’t mind having another person around.  Especially if it’s a kid that you so highly approve of,” Hizashi argued, though he knew that Shota already agreed with him.

“Hizashi, he only recently started opening up to me.  The only information I’ve gotten out of him in months was that his mom was no longer in the picture and that ‘no one cares about him’, his words too!  Trying to convince him to come into our home, reveal his identity, and then foster him would be close to impossible.  And I don’t want to force it on him because he’ll just end up resenting me and the rest of the world more.  It’s a delicate situation, okay?” Shota explained calmly, and wow, he didn’t know he was holding that in.

“I get that, I really do.  But you can’t deny that you see him as your kid! You literally suggested that we foster him,” the blond’s eyes lit up, and shit, Shota did say that.

“Okay— well.”

“I can’t wait to meet the little listener! He sounds like a whole lotta fun to be around,” Hizashi said as he went back to eating his dinner.

“He…is,” Shota replied, the smallest of smiles making room on his naturally stoic face.

__________

It wasn’t until a few days after that discussion at dinner did Shota finally have the go ahead to patrol again.  Though his quirk was weaker than it used to be, it didn’t stop him from his hero duties, nor his need to see his problem child.

When he finally went out that night, he noticed Karma in one of their usual spots, and it didn’t take long for the vigilante to stop and look around.  He had incredible awareness, Shota could give him that.

Not hesitating any longer, Shota made his way towards Karma, and he swore that when Karma caught sight of him, the vigilante jumped on the balls of his feet.

“Been a while, kid,” Shota said as he finally landed on the rooftop that Karma was standing on.

“Eraserhead!” the kid said as loud as one could when they’re standing on top of a roof in the middle of the night.  Something that completely took Shota by surprise, though, was the way Karma lunged himself at the hero and wrapped him in a hug.  It was definitely unexpected, but it made the dad inside his heart bubble.

“It feels like I haven’t seen you in forever! It’s been over a week,” Karma mumbled into his chest.

“I was caught up in something, no need to worry about it now though,” Shota explained as he brought his hand up to the vigilante’s hood and patted it (when did he get so soft, ew).

“What happened?” Karma asked as he pulled away from the embrace.  “Holy crap, what happened to your cheek?  That’s a massive scar— where did it come from?”

“Did you hear about the USJ incident?” Shota asked.

“Yes, of course— wait, were you a part of it? You’re a teacher at UA? How did I not know this?” The vigilante asked the series of questions with a look Shota could assume (still couldn’t see his face) of shock.

“Yes, I was.  I’m Class 1-A’s homeroom teacher, and that’s probably because I haven’t mentioned it anywhere,” Shota replied nonchalantly.  He couldn’t help but find it amusing how surprised the vigilante was.

“I heard how gruesome it was there— I can’t believe you fought in it!”

“You underestimating me, problem child? Shota questioned, quirking an eyebrow.

“No— never.  It’s just— wow ,” Karma gushed, “sorry! I usually keep my fanboying to a minimum when I’m out on patrol,” the kid squealed.  God, Shota wanted to adopt him already.

“So, what did I miss when I was out of commission?”

“You would not believe this guy I faced the other night! Let me tell you about it while we patrol.”

__________

Izuku was glad that Eraser was okay.  Surprisingly, the hero had grown on him throughout the weeks, and he actually looked forward to talking to the hero every night.  Not that he would ever admit that out loud.

Eraser was someone who he was slowly feeling more comfortable with, but with his latest reveal of being a UA teacher, Izuku knew more than anything that he needed to keep his guard up.  One slip up and Eraser would know his identity in a heartbeat.  He wouldn’t, couldn’t let Eraser figure it out.  All his efforts of being a vigilante would go down the drain once the cops knew who he was.

As much as he cared about Eraser Head, he couldn’t let that fog his judgement.  He needed to stick to the resolve he set when he first started this hobby.

A few days after their reunion, Izuku had overheard Shinso, a classmate of his, talking about the Sports Festival for the 100th time that week.  He understood where the boy was coming from, probably more than anyone.  The test was impractical for people that didn’t have physical quirks (or no quirk),  making it close to impossible for someone like Shinso to pull ahead.  He honestly felt bad for the guy, which is why he had an idea.  A bit stupid? Definitely.  But he was always the type of person to help someone if he thought they needed it.

“Hey, Shinso,” Izuku said as he walked up to the eye-bagged teen.

“Oh— Midoriya, right? You need something?” Shinso asked, his right eyebrow raised.  He’s just like Eraser Head, Izuku almost giggled at the comparison.

“Uh, something like that,” Izuku replied as he fiddled with his thumbs.

“What is it?”

“You wanna win the Sports Festival, right?” Izuku asked, though he already knew what Shinso’s answer would be.

“Of course I do, it’s the only way for me to get into the Hero Course.  Why?”

“Team up with me, I have a plan that’s guaranteed to work.”