Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

When you don’t have many friends, you tend to take on different hobbies to fill the time. When you also have a single parent who works long hours, you tend to spend even more time working on those hobbies to fill the silence of an empty apartment.

Or at least this was the case for Izuku.

He loved spending hours tucked away in the library where his mom worked, diving into fictional worlds and the rules of their reality, reading through the bookshelves until he knew just about as much about the selection as the other librarians. Hours easily slipped into days, then weeks and months spent hidden away in the shelves. When he was young, he spent most of his time at the library, and with the way things were with school and all, he’d spent many hours there with his mother.

But there were times when reading wasn’t enough; when he felt like crawling out of his skin and the only thing that could stop his thoughts was moving, actively doing something. The transition into junior high wasn’t easy, and he found himself with more time to think than he really needed. Times where his wandering around couldn’t be hidden, when his fidgeting took itself to a new level.

It didn’t take long for Inko to notice, and soon he found himself gifted with a membership to a nearby multipurpose gym. It took a while for Izuku to really work up the courage to go his first time. But he quickly fell in love with the parkour and free running courses, with the rush that came from aching lungs and burning muscles. He strained and trained entire evenings away to master the skills he was shown until he was finally granted a special mark on his pass that said he had permission to use the space and all it offered even on their off-hours. Izuku grinned all weekend after.

This was his new hobby. Inko loved hearing him chatter about the self-defense lessons or the new obstacles on the course he was working on, knowing that while Izuku saw it as training for heroics, it would help keep her son safe either way. The light in his eyes whenever he rambled about a technique or the quirk of the instructors made it all worth it in her eyes.

And running made him feel alive in a way that he hadn’t felt in a while.

It was different from the rush he got from analysis, different from the excitement of falling into a rabbit hole of research or debating with visitors at the library who didn’t know a thing about him, just that he was as reliable a source as any book. He’d always had his mind to rely on, studying was like breathing sometimes. This was pure fire in his veins, a real challenge that forced him to fall and get back up. It was living at its very basic, he thought. And it was very different from the way running from his classmates made him feel alive.

His time at the gym, running through the courses and on the tracks in the dead of night when the building had only one or two others inside, made him feel weightless. Izuku was free, unrestrained, and untouchable when he was running. The burn in his limbs overwhelmed the burns in his bruises and made every uncomfortable movement worth it.

It was worth it. Izuku seemed to be saying that to himself more and more often. When his thoughts were too loud to sleep, when he spent time locked in the bathroom wrapping up bruises and scrapes, when someone got especially brave and tried a new insult he hadn’t grown numb to, when his teachers scoffed at his efforts…. He told himself that it was going to be worth it. It would be worth it when he could become the hero he had wished to see. It would be worth it when he could finally prove everyone wrong. It would be worth it when he could face his mother and not feel like he was trying to hold back a storm from breaking in.

But all too soon he’s informed the gym has to cut their hours due to understaffing, so there’s no more late-night runs. He understands, but it hurts that his refuge is being taken away. Izuku still spends time at the library with his mom, but there isn’t as much of a point when he can’t run over to the gym for an hour or two while she plugs away at the system. So he finds himself in an empty apartment on some nights and he’d never ask his mother to stay up with him when she works so many hours into the night, but he’s restless and he wants to run and jump and swing through the air but it's three am.

Izuku ends up taking a walk instead, eyes immediately wandering to the close together rooftops of the bar and commercial area, tracing paths through fire escapes and wishing he could be up there. It only takes a week of nightly runs before Izuku builds up the confidence to actually climb a random fire escape onto the rooftop.

And wow, he wishes that he had done so sooner.

The air feels fresh and crisp in his lungs, the cool air pricking at his skin but making him feel so warm and alive. He can’t imagine what it would be like to run across the roofs, to leap from edge to edge, adrenaline pumping and free again. The thought alone feels like everything he’s been missing. He wanders over to the edge of the roof, looking across the gap to the other building, and sighs. He’s not about to start running tonight, no matter how much he wants to feel the way the cold air whips at his skin. This is very different from inside the gym where it’s bright and he’s familiar with the path. No, this is out in the city where there are far more people, heroes and villains, larger jumps, and long falls if he misses.

So Izuku simply stands on the rooftop for a little while longer before scaling down and continuing on his path back home. His mind races, thinking of ways he can run, how to be safe about things so he doesn’t end up in a dumpster with broken bones.

He’d hate to imagine how his mother would react when he’d have to call her.

Hey Mom, sorry to bother you while you’re busy with the catalogs but I kind of need you to come help dig me out of a dumpster? Yeah, no big deal just fell off a roof and definitely don’t have any injuries from the totally minor fall. Yeah, not happening.

Instead, he spends his newly recognized insomnia memorizing streets and alleys, mentally marking fire escapes and buildings too far apart to jump. After spotting a local hero, he takes note of the few patrol routes that occur this late at night. He feels bad for a moment with his obsession with limelight heroes when these newly discovered twilight and underground heroes go unrecognized for their work.

Inko grins at him when he rambles one night about all the different branches of heroics.

Izuku’s giddy when his first time truly running comes around. He’s dressed in dark clothing, layered to keep warm but also so he doesn’t risk overheating, and a scarf wrapped around his neck that he can tuck his face into if he gets stopped by anyone. It’s not much, but he’s far too antsy to wait any longer. He’s already warmed up, so he takes a few steps back and breathes in the fresh air he’s addicted to.

It’s not the gym. Running across rooftops and up fire escapes could never be compared to the gym. It’s everything and more, freedom and flying with the comfort of shadows tucking him away. Izuku has to stop himself from shouting out, restraining his glee to an aching smile as he runs.

Chapter Text

It takes Izuku about fifteen minutes to run into trouble. There’s a shatter of glass that leads him to stop running, and he immediately falls to the rooftop upon seeing a group of people breaking into a store across the street. He scrapes his palms and winces at the flare up of pain, but quickly pushes himself up to watch. They aren’t being quiet at all about things, and because he’s well aware that there is a hero patrolling literally one street over, he assumes the two individuals standing by the door have quirks suited to making up for that. Maybe there’s a sort of sound muffling that covers the block. Or a sort of see-me-not affect that keeps people distracted from their noise.

This isn’t what he expected when he first began to plan his nightly runs, but he honestly can’t be too surprised. It is prime crime hour, with the majority of people fast asleep and the area pretty deserted. There are only two heroes that cover this area as their main patrol, and a few other heroes that switch now and again to fill in the gaps. There’s a severe lack of hero presence at night, which Izuku finds to be a severe oversight considering this robbery is pretty much going off without a hitch.

Right, he reminds himself, there is an active robbery going on that you’re just watching. He pulls out his phone and immediately dials the alert hotline.

“Hello, the Hero Alert Hotline does not have active call staff after 20:30. If there is an active emergency beyond this time, please call our nightline or your local police precinct.”

"You’ve got to be kidding me,” Izuku huffs. But he quickly dials the nightline and quietly gives his understanding of the situation for the recording to be processed and sent to local heroes. In busier prefectures where there’s a more active nightline, he knows they have to have some sort of overnight staff. He can’t imagine this being efficient anywhere. As he’s talking, there’s a click before a human voice speaks up.

“There’s an active officer on this line, are you a safe distance away?”

Izuku startles slightly but clears his throat, because technically yes. “I am.”

“Good, we’ve got heroes in the area dispatched now, so if there’s anything else you can tell us, go ahead.”

So Izuku updates the man on how the break-in is going, not really thinking before he falls into an analysis. “There are two still standing outside of the building: white hair and tan skin- looks to be casual attire aside from the darker colors, eyes are still closed but there’s a faint shimmer around their hands. And then dark hair with a tablet- judging by the glow of the eyes and the typing he likely has some sort of electrical quirk, likely hacking into the alarms or cameras to keep any alerts from going out, but it must not affect phones since the call went through so the other likely has a sort of quieting quirk since he’s been concentrated on his ability this entire time and they haven’t tried to be quiet about things at all, they’re laughing and talking rather loudly inside so they must be familiar with operating together…”

The officer prompts him to continue, “What about those inside the building?”

“Well there are two inside: one bald, male- seems to be a basic strength enhancement quirk based on the build and slightly off proportioning, while the other is likely more long-ranged- actually, they have a sort of manipulation of their hands that allows them to pick locks, he’s using his fingertips to get into a safe the other pulled from behind the counter, which based on the size supports the strength enhancement idea but the way he keeps flexing his hands is a similar tick those with five-point touch quirks tend to have so he might have some sort of emitter type quirk that wasn’t necessary for this.”

“Pro Hero Rave should be arriving at any point. Thank you for your bravery in getting us this alert,” the voice says. “If you are in a safe position, please stay on the line so we can keep an active update of the situation until it is resolved.”

“Rave just arrived,” Izuku murmurs, eyes locked onto the local hero.

Compared to other Twilight heroes, Rave was a bit more well-known because they are an avid supporter of the LGBTQ community in the area being gender queer themselves. They tended to stick to the area since the number of bars and clubs lent to their quirk rather nicely. They essentially could create and control a series of lights, which they tend to use in a strobe effect to disorient villains in the low lighting. Sure enough, they are quick to take down the two noncombatants outside before looking inside. Izuku watches as the store suddenly begins to flash with multicolored lights. He updates the officer as Rave drags the now restrained villains out to the street and a police car turns into view.

With far more excitement than he had expected for the night, Izuku ends the call and stands, stretching out a bit before turning to head home. As soon as he gets home, he scribbles out a quick summary of everything so he can properly write about it in his notebooks the next day. Even though he’s still rather excited over getting to watch the hero fight, he falls asleep easily. A plus side of his runs, he’s noticed. His body is too exhausted to let his mind stay up racing through thoughts.

The next day is like any other, with the taunts and light shoves in the hall, and it makes Izuku feel so incredibly heavy and weighed down that he doesn’t really think before he’s getting ready to run again. He keeps his hood up and buries his face into his scarf whenever he stops to breathe, comforted by the soft material.

The weight pushes on him until he takes that first leap, for a moment wondering if he’ll plummet to the ground immediately. He doesn’t, and as his feet touch down on the opposing roof, Izuku finds himself weightless again. He feels so incredibly relaxed by the fresh air that he almost doesn't notice the sound of footsteps until Rave is suddenly pulling themself onto the roof with him.

“Hey, you were the one to call in the robbery last night, right?” Rave chirps, looking him over.

He’s talking to a pro hero. While most definitely trespassing on a rooftop. Izuku feels his stomach drop but he still nods, wishing he could sink into his scarf. What was he thinking?

“I thought so, thanks for calling that in, you were right about those quirks. No one would have noticed until they were long gone if you hadn’t been there,” they muse, turning to glance down on the street. “That quick analysis of yours really helped too, but uh… you might want to get some better gear.”

“G-Gear?” Izuku blurts, a bit confused by all the thanks and sudden advice.

The hero nods. “Yeah, that disguise of yours won’t hold up really well and some heroes get really prissy when it comes to vigilantes, so you’ve got to be careful. Don’t worry though, I’ll keep those cute freckles of yours a secret.”

Rave winks at him and Izuku just stares.

“R-Right, th-thank… thank you,” he manages to say before sprinting off, faintly hearing the sound of the pro laughing behind him, and he’s horrified.

Izuku takes a long way home, doubling back in places out of paranoia until he finally makes it back into his bedroom where he simply sits on the floor for a moment and stares at his hands.

Because a professional hero thinks that he’s a vigilante. A law-breaking vigilante. Is he a vigilante? Can you even become a vigilante without intending to?

Chapter Text

The answer, apparently, is yes.

Or no, but Izuku isn’t entirely sure how well technicalities hold up in court and he really doesn’t want to find out. Because the only defense he can think of is based on the wording of a law and well… Izuku has never had much luck in arguing against how rules are written.

He spends the night after his conversation with Rave in the library, pouring over laws and forums about vigilantism and literally anything that he could get arrested for because he needed to go running at night, and simply running on the ground like a normal person wasn’t enough.

Izuku very quickly decides that he’s probably going to be known as a vigilante regardless of what he does, but he can’t be arrested for illegal quirk use or vigilantism because, well, he doesn’t have a quirk to use. He also can’t get charged with brute force, assault, or battery, because he didn’t attack anyone, he just called the robbery in.

He could, however, get charged with trespassing.

So Izuku decides that he’s done with running at night because he doesn’t want to get arrested for anything. His mom would freak out and he would much rather avoid the whole thing. He’s confident in his decision, because it's the right decision, until three days later when he’s been unable to sleep and no amount of studying or stretching or anything could help.

Izuku sits down at the computer, removes the bookmark for the Limited-Edition Hero Merch Collection he had been waiting to go on auction, and decides to update his running attire so he can safely go out again. If he’s going to do this absolutely ridiculous and dangerous thing, he’s going all in. For safety.

Goodbye Ectoplasm poster.

It’s running attire because that’s all he’s doing. It’s not a costume, it’s not gear, because he’s not a vigilante or anything. It’s just running clothes. All he’s doing is running, nothing more and nothing less. Yeah, Izuku thinks, running attire.

He gets a few sets of dark shirts and pants made of a reinforced material promoted to mutant type quirks prone to breaking or tearing normal material: things like scales or spines that need a higher strength material that won’t wear out. From the same brand, he gets a sort of hooded poncho with slits instead of sleeves- once again for quirked individuals who don’t have typical arm anatomy or size. He clicks the box to mark the purchases as gifts on the off chance someone notices no one in his household has a mutation. From a high-quality cosplay brand, he selects a pair of aviator goggles, specially made so they don’t tint your vision. He selects a black and gray pair, deciding that he wanted to avoid notice as much as possible, and blending in seemed like a good way to do it no matter how much the urge to choose green or make them match a hero was.

If he buys more of the large, soft scarfs that he’s taken to wearing, it’s because there was a sale, and they really are very soft. There’s a comfort in ducking into the fabric that has nearly urged him to wear them as a part of his daily wear. It’s something he reluctantly admits he can’t go without if he’s doing this. Plus, he finds a beautiful floral one he thinks his mom will like, and he can’t not get it.

His collection of blacks and various dark grays should work as an effective camouflage in the city scape, especially since it’s actually really rare to find pure black shadows. Almost everything exists in shades of gray. He nearly snorts. His very existence is shrouded in grays thanks to societal bias. At the very least it seems fitting. Hopefully he’ll be just as invisible.

Izuku panics for a moment when he realizes he called into the hotline with his personal phone, but the worry is addressed in the worst way when it gets smashed during school. He and his mother had opted to use cheaper phones to save a bit extra- it wasn’t like Izuku had friends to message anyways, so it isn’t as big of a deal that it got destroyed, but he still feels terrible when he has to ask his mom for a new phone. She accepts the lie about it getting trampled in the hall during lunch, and in a bit of motherly intuition, decides to get him a secondary prepaid phone.

“Feel free to bring this one with you to school, or the gym, or your runs,” she tells him, handing over the prepaid. “You seem to attract trouble, so your father and I both think it would be best to have an… an emergency phone. This way you can call someone if there is an emergency, but you don’t have to worry about breaking your nicer one.”

Izuku cries because it’s a Midoriya trait and because Inko won’t know the weight of what she’s just given him. The trust and understanding, the way she pushes her doubt aside to support him… He’s not sure if there’s any way to react that’s more appropriate.

He’s filled with nervous energy when he finally gets around to go running again. Rave compliments him on his new outfit and Izuku can barely blurt out a “Thank You!” before he runs away. If he doesn’t interact with the heroes, he rationalizes, they’re less likely to arrest him.

It’s nice to be out again, so while he adjusts to his new attire, he makes sure to avoid unfamiliar heroes while they patrol. He still prioritizes the rescue per se, calling in attacks and muggings, waiting until a hero has the guilty parties restrained or makes a move towards him. He doesn’t want to get arrested, so if that means running from Rock Lock when the man starts heading his way after locking a thug to a streetlamp, he figures it’s worth it.

Staying out of their sights leaves him to get better at stealth, finding the safest way to muffle harder landings, to make his footsteps nearly silent, and its hard work oddly enough. Weeks go by with shocking speed as he puts his focus into his nightly runs.

He’s practicing one night when he notices two men caught in an escalating argument, and he immediately draws closer while he calls it in, the line almost automatically being transferred to a live officer once he begins to speak. Before he can get very far, one stabs himself in the neck with something, and with a much longer arm, the other is thrown across the alley.

“His quirk suddenly got much stronger, likely whatever he just stabbed himself with,” Izuku recites, whispering as the man stretches and whips around his almost elastic arms. Suddenly, the man looks up and Izuku stares into crazed eyes. There’s an icy chill that races down his spine, his limbs freezing in place. “I think he just saw me.”

The officer immediately begins to talk in his ear, probably urging him to back away or get to safety, but Izuku is too busy ducking under a sudden punch and darting to the other side of the rooftop. The arm continues to stretch towards him, and Izuku gets a terrible, terrible idea.

He starts taunting the man, narrowly ducking and dodging the two arms that are waving over the rooftop at him. With an enraged roar, the hands retract until they are latching onto the edge of the roof and Izuku immediately darts forward. As the villain conveniently launches himself onto the roof, Izuku is there to plant a kick straight to his face.

Sure enough, the villain collapses in front of him, body half hanging over the edge, and Izuku kind of just has to stand there for a moment before he’s sure the guy is knocked out. He scrambles over to his phone to find the officer shouting out for a response, and he meekly apologies for dropping the device.

Izuku really doubles down on stealth after that, especially when Foxglove and Rave come tearing into the area shortly after, shouting questions up at him until he panics and runs away.

He tries to do research on whatever drug the man took, but very quickly runs into access restrictions and security blocks. Bold CLASSIFIED notices and requests for user ID codes send Izuku into a panic as he tries to close his search windows. Not wanting to send the Commission to the library by pushing forward, he makes a mental note to add coding, hacking, programming or whatever to his list of research topics.

But other than that, his nightly runs seem to go well. He’s particularly fond of Rave and Foxglove, the two most local and consistent heroes who have made it very clear they have no intention of arresting him. Which is really nice, because he still has only fought the one guy (on accident and only in self-defense) so he can’t really be arrested for much and he’d feel bad when they found out they were just wasting their time on some quirkless kid.

He starts carrying around a mini first aid kit with him as a small attempt at bribery while they wait for the police to arrive after a fight. Foxglove frequently gets cut in close-combat and he’s unfortunately well-versed in knowing what needs stitches or butterfly bandages. Izuku is often too nervous to give any sort of answer to their questions and ends up sprinting away once he’s finished. So he doesn't really know if it’s working.

There’s a lingering weariness to him from the exercise and limited sleep, but he finds it better than the heavy exhaustion that used to weigh on him before he started running. His anxiety tends to temper down more often, which makes it easier to get through the school day. On bad days he knows he can stay a bit further from the patrol routes and just run, and he’s careful to keep an eye out since the last time he had been sprinting along it had worried Rave, who thought there was some sort of emergency. So he makes sure to stay away from the heroes and as soon as he has to stop, there’s a relief to it.

Of course, that doesn’t mean there are what Izuku would call good days.

He still tries to minimize his presence in class, try to read those around him, to guess whether his teacher wants him to acknowledge the taunts or ignore them and deal with the aftermath when he inevitably guesses wrong. The words have always hurt worse than any bruise his classmates could give him, because he isn’t really sure what he could do to make his teachers go easier on him. Izuku is always in the wrong, always missing something, and he feels terrible that he can never figure out what until it's far too late.

He leaves the teacher’s room later than normal, shoulders weighed down and he’s not sure he’ll have the energy to drag himself home, not to mention out to run tonight. He really doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do sometimes, and he can’t help but wonder if the others are right. Part of him knows that their actions are very much not right- it’s why he tries so hard to keep it from his mom, to try and convince her that he’s fine when he knows that his mother is so incredibly intelligent. It’s why he more often than not ends up out on the rooftops, just in case there is someone else like him who got caught outside of school and needs extra encouragement to stand up again.

He knows how hard it can be to stand up again sometimes.

Izuku makes it to the shoe lockers before he notices something is really wrong. Namely, no one has tried to stop him since he left the office. Normally Kacchan and a few others are waiting to ambush him in some hall or another.

In fact, he very distinctly recalls hearing them talking just around the corner when he left.

“HEY!” echoes in the otherwise silent hall, and Izuku only has a few moments to tense before someone has latched onto the collar of his uniform.

He chokes a bit as he’s dragged back, immediately flinching away from the dark glare his classmates are giving him. He wonders what has made them so much more upset than normal, but he doesn’t dare ask in fear that it will just make things even worse. So he clutches to his bag and tries to keep up as they drag him out of the school and towards the koi pond where he knows people don’t tend to check.

Izuku thinks of night skies and colorful lights. He recalls the friendly grin Foxglove always sends his way and the weightless feeling of a jump at its peak right before you begin to fall. He closes his eyes and remembers his nightly runs, trying to protect his mind just as much as his arms try to protect his head. He only tries to fight back for a moment before he relents, thinking about the rush of analyzing live fights and watching heroes act on what he sees, he thinks about flying through the air. Izuku thinks about preparing to land, diffusing the momentum, and landing safely.

The thing about jumping however is that you always fall, that gravity always kicks back in.

There’s a final loss of air, pain blooming in his chest before footsteps begin to walk away. Izuku lays there on the ground and he thinks that he’s falling and doesn’t know how to land. Despite all his attempts to block it out, he’s learned one thing:

His stealth has improved, and it does not belong in school.

Chapter Text

His injury, while painful, isn’t enough to stop him from running at night. It should, he knows, but Izuku also knows that he really shouldn’t be out in the first place. He tries to be extra careful about things, not going as fast or as far as he normally does, but there’s only so much you can do when there are people intent on committing a crime. It’s watching Foxglove fight while he talks to the officer, the way the hero has to get in close to deliver blows that makes him start thinking.

Because while he thankfully hasn’t had to, Izuku likes to think that if one of the heroes got hurt in a fight, he would jump down to keep them safe until the villain went down or someone else arrived. It would be the right thing to do, but being injured he can’t help but think it would do more harm than help. After all, he knows nothing about how to fight or redirect hits and the last thing he wants to do is make his time out at night be a burden.

So Izuku starts thinking of ways he could help the heroes from up on the roofs or higher on fire escapes, something long distance that would keep him safe but help them. He does a lot of research, and there’s a speaker at the library who does a whole lecture on pre-quirk weapons and how they’ve evolved with society, which gives him a lot of things to think about.

The only issue is that he recently spent quite a bit on his running attire, and he doesn’t really want to try and ask his mom to buy him a weapon because that’s a conversation just waiting to go wrong.

He can’t help but get lost in thought whenever the idea rears his head, so he doesn’t really react much when his mom shoves a spray bottle in his hands and shoves him in the direction of the window plants on the third floor of the library. It’s her go-to distraction when he gets into a rabbit hole of thoughts, so he pretty much moves on autopilot.

Or at least he does until he suddenly gets a squirt of cold water on the back of his neck.

“Mom!” he shouts, whipping around to find Inko grinning at him from her partial cover behind a bookshelf, a spray bottle of her own in her hand. It drips down past his collar, and he can’t help but shiver as if he could run from the water on his skin. “What was that for?!”

She just laughs, spraying him again, getting him right in the face. “Hurry up and finish watering the plants, it’s time to head home.”

Izuku pouts and tries to squirt her back, but his bottle is set to a mist, and it hardly gets anywhere. Her grin just gets wider before she ducks away, and he huffs before turning back to his plants.

Then he really starts to think, quickly watering the rest of the plants before glancing back to where his mom had been standing. Inko has to come back and confiscate the bottle before dragging him out the door because Izuku has an idea.

It’s a terrible, terrible idea, but he’s about all he has at the moment.

When he goes out a few nights later, he can’t really focus because he honestly isn’t sure if he’s about to get himself killed or not. For once Izuku really can’t tell how the night is going to go. He nearly turns around three times on his way to where he typically runs. He tries to tell himself that it’s better than nothing, but when he calls in a brawl between three quirked individuals and Foxglove runs into the fray, he finds himself using it.

He’s crouched on the edge of a building, quietly updating the situation as Foxglove fights, easily taking down two of the individuals before she’s fighting the last one at a slight disadvantage. The man is much larger than the hero and has a quirk that keeps pushing her out of melee range, which means she can’t make use of her quirk and the longer Izuku watches the worse the feeling in his gut gets.

So when Foxglove goes sliding back, forced down on one knee and bracing to dodge or take the charged quirk, Izuku’s already leapt halfway down the fire escape and is spraying the man in the back of the head.

There’s a pause as his quirk fizzles out.

So Izuku does it again. That makes the man turn away from the hero, expression wide eyes and furious.

“Did you just spray-”

Foxglove cuts the man off with a swift punch and makes quick work of restraining him and Izuku practically collapses as he tucks the bottle away and braces himself for the hero to scold him for jumping in. His hands are shaking, and he thinks if he wasn’t so nervous to hear what Foxglove had to say he would have already ran.

“Kid, was that really you?” she calls up at him. “Your quirk?”

He quickly shakes his head, “N-No, it wasn’t! I-I have a spray… a spray bottle.”

“You sprayed a villain in the back of the head with a spray bottle?” she says, speaking slowly as if unsure of her own words. Izuku ducks his face further into his scarf. To be fair, he thinks, it was one of those really heavy-duty spray bottles.

“Y-Yes?”

“What’s in it?” she asks, turning to look for the soon to arrive police cruiser.

Izuku practically stutters through his answer, “Um, well, it’s a water… a water and vinegar mixture, ‘cause I figured the smell might you know, throw them off more?” He’s fiddling with the bottle as he refuses to look at the hero because this really was a bad idea- he can’t believe he actually brought it out with him.

Instead, Foxglove just starts laughing.

Izuku’s startled enough that he nearly drops the bottle, but the hero just keeps laughing. As soon as she manages to calm down a bit, she glances back up at him and starts again. He isn’t sure what to do so he ends up just standing there watching, at least until the police arrive and are equally confused by the laughing hero.

Not wanting to get arrested with something as stupid as a spray bottle on him, he quickly gets back on the roof and runs.

Despite his embarrassment, he can’t help but bring it with him the following nights because it did what he had wanted it to, which was distracting the villain long enough to give Foxglove an opening.

That doesn’t stop him from flushing when Rave waves him down at one point in the night to ask if he really has a spray bottle. The hero takes it with glee when he pulls it out and curiously sprays it, and its only years of dodging nitroglycerin-laced palms that stop him from getting a face full of vinegar.

He tries to avoid it when he can, not wanting to interfere or startle the pros while they're fighting, but also because he knows the risk of accidentally setting a villain on him. Izuku’s goal is to help the heroes, not make things worse. It’s why he stays on the roofs or some distance away, why he calls each incident in, why he gives a passing analysis even though he knows he could be wrong and he’s always sure to insist that he could be wrong. He’s an extra pair of eyes, that’s all.

It doesn’t stop Foxglove from grinning whenever he uses it or stop Rave from trying to get him to let them use it for a night. He doesn’t trust the hero not to spray him when he isn’t looking, so he manages to say no.

For all the embarrassment the bottle gives him, he can’t help but find it odd at the sort of teasing the pros send his way. It is teasing, he can tell that much because even Rock Lock somehow got in on it, but it's nothing like what his classmates say. Everyone calls that teasing as well, but there’s something very different about the two that leaves a pressure on his shoulders with every interaction.

It's enough to distract him after a particularly rough day of “teasing” at school. He’s in the middle of watching Rave chat away with a bouncer at one of the clubs, not really wanting to wander off on his own. Izuku thinks if he starts running, he won’t stop so he sticks close to the heroes. He doesn’t really do anything but watch, his mind in a quiet sort of meditation he finds only in his nightly runs. Suddenly he notices the footsteps behind him, and he’s whipped around to spray the approaching figure in the face before it really registers.

It only takes him a split second to realize that he’s sprayed a pro hero in the face.

“Oh-Oh my gosh, I-I… Sorry…”

The hero, to his credit, doesn’t start yelling. Instead, he just takes a breath and his nose scrunches from under the yellow goggles. “Did you just spray me with… with vinegar?”

“Well actually it’s- actually it's a vinegar-water mixture… Eraserhead, I- I really didn’t mean to…”

Eraserhead just lets out a heavy sigh, shoulders slumping. The hero drops his guard for a moment to reach up and wipe his face, which Izuku immediately takes as a chance to run off.

He’s horrified when he gets back home because Rock Lock has warned Izuku to never spray him and he knows that’s not an uncommon stance. But he just sprayed Eraserhead in the face, and he’s really glad that the hero had goggles on because he can’t imagine what he would do if he accidentally caused the hero’s eyesight to go bad for a night. He really admires Eraserhead- it’s hard not to when he discovered the man on his Underground hero research binge so of course his first interaction with the hero was spraying him in the face.

Izuku almost contemplates never going out again, but he’s far too strung up to stay home for more than just the weekend. He braces himself for a scolding but hopes he doesn’t run into the hero again when he finally goes out.

He’s relieved when he spots Rave and Foxglove talking, and he quickly finds a way down when they wave at him to do so. He figures at the very least, he can hide behind them if Eraserhead decides to get murderous. Maybe he’ll get a few seconds to run before he’s arrested.

“Heya Kid,” Rave greets, “heard you had a run-in with dear old Eraser.”

“Sorry for sending him your way without warning,” Foxglove said, scratching the back of her neck. “His patrol has moved to this area for the foreseeable future. Wanted to know if there were any vigilantes to keep an eye out for.”

“It-It’s alright,” he sputters, waving his hands at her. “I was just a… a bit distracted and he caught me by surprise.”

“So you did spray him!” Rave cheers. Dread fills his chest at their joy. “He’s never gonna live it down!”

“It was an accident,” Izuku pleads, hoping to minimize his chances of getting arrested. “It really was!”

“We know kid,” Foxglove cuts in, lightly nudging him on the shoulder. He can’t help but notice that she’s got her gloves on, and he tries to give her a thankful smile. If he had the courage, he would question the pros about their quirks, but he doesn’t think he has the confidence, so he just says a quiet goodbye before darting away.

Chapter Text

To his absolute horror, him spraying Eraserhead in the face has become a joke among all the heroes in the area and they all make a point of bringing it up if they see him. They’re all incredibly amused at the thought of some kid getting the drop on such a well-known underground hero, and Izuku can’t help but feel like its a sort of backhanded praise. To be fair, he’s not sure himself how he managed to catch the hero off guard. He doesn’t see Eraserhead the next few nights, which is a blessing in disguise unless Izuku has somehow managed to single-handedly drive the hero from the area.

He’s not sure how to feel about one of his favorite heroes hating him that much. He’d deserve it, but he’s also pretty sure he’d immediately die of heartbreak.

“Hey kid, don’t spray me this time.” The low drawl is recognizable, and just enough for Izuku to stop himself from pulling the handle as he turns to face the hero. Embarrassment floods his entire being at the reminder, and he ducks his face into his scarf to try and hide any sort of flush. He glances down at the alley below, deciding that he can manage to scale down if the hero tries to arrest him. At the very least, if he catches hold of that window sill, the fall won’t be too bad.

“Look kid, it’s fine. Just don’t do it again.” The hero lets his face sink a bit into his capture weapon and Izuku is struck by the familiarity of the action. There are a good few feet between them, the hero pausing to give him plenty of space. “It’s partially my fault for coming up behind you like that.”

Izuku gives a slow nod and continues staring. He’s gotten better about actually talking with Rave and Foxglove when needed because he’s familiar with them, but he feels like his voice has locked up as he watches the unfamiliar hero. They both told him that Eraserhead has worked with vigilantes in the past and is generally willing to turn a blind eye but Izuku knows he tends to be the exception. He’s awfully young to be out here, and its obvious that he doesn’t really have any combat experience or training.

“Relax, I’m not going to arrest you.”

Izuku flushes again, hoping that he hadn’t been muttering and that the hero was just perceptive. He’d gotten better about it since it meant people could spot him through the noise but sometimes it slipped out. “S-Sorry.”

“Do you got a-”

They’re cut off by a rather loud shout, both immediately rushing in the direction it came from. It’s not quite a scream of pain, but it's something almost animalistic and he doesn’t doubt for a moment that there’s a brutal fight happening. Izuku lets the hero take the lead and pulls out his phone, immediately calling into the nightline.

He stands on the edge, looking down at the three individuals in an open brawl. There’s a limp figure further back, clearly having been taken out earlier in the fight. Eraserhead lets out a gruff, “Stay here” that Izuku barely registers, already talking to the officer about the quirks he’s seeing.

One rather obvious porcupine mutant type quirk, a strength enhancement, and some sort of touch-based quirk, likely an energy manipulation based on the way the others stumble whenever he lands a hand on them. They’re all just as occupied with taking each other out as they are with the hero, so it’s only a matter of time before someone else is out. He makes a note to the officer to see about getting medical on standby.

Izuku keeps talking when he pulls out his spray bottle, noting that the strength enhancement comes in bursts, signaled by a faint glow in his veins and a ten-second jump in strength. Porcupine quirk can’t seem to shoot the quills, only use them as weapons but it's much harder to land a hit on him due to the long mane of quills that goes halfway down his back. He’s also pretty sure that one’s a negative energy quirk, one that merely takes and doesn’t restore since the user doesn’t seem to be regaining any stamina as the fight goes on.

He mainly takes on spraying Quills, distracting the villain and forcing him to throw quills up in drunken fury rather than swipe and stab at Eraserhead. The hero manages to take down Strength, and Izuku is more than happy to pass the message onto the officer only to cut himself off as Quills seems to stab himself in the neck.

“Quills just took something,” he groans, especially as the man seems to experimentally shoot off a few quills into the wall. “Likely the black tongue drug.”

That’s not good. Izuku takes a deep breath before jumping down, temporarily catching onto a windowsill and a few of the quills imbedded in the wall before darting down towards the hero, who is still rather preoccupied with Negative.

“Quills can shoot,” he blurts, diving behind a dumpster. The hero does the same when the villain roars, both narrowly missing the wave of quills that goes flying by them. Negative isn’t quite as lucky and ends up with quite a number caught in his leg. He screams immediately, and quite shrilly which Izuku can hardly blame him for.

“Kid-”

“Go after Quills, Foxglove is on the way,” he tells the hero, waving the heavy-duty zip ties he definitely didn’t steal from the library. Eraserhead responds by launching himself over Izuku’s head and racing after Quills, who has decided to find someone else to fight, storming out into the street in a rage that must be characteristic to the drug.

Izuku ties the villains up and grabs his phone again, trying to decide if Negative needs urgent medical attention. Probably. “Two restrained at the previous location, two injured and in need of medical. Eraserhead is in pursuit of Quills, both last seen heading southwest.”

He nervously waits until the police arrive, watching to make sure the villains don’t get loose or start fighting again before running off towards the trail of quills littering the streets. Did he make the right choice? A part of him worries, wondering what he’s going to find when he catches up. Most of the underground heroes are focused on close combat, which means Quills could do some serious damage if they can’t manage to get in close.

To his relief, he finds Foxglove putting quirk-negating cuffs on a newly deflated Quills while Eraserhead retracts his capture weapon. Likely also following the trail of quills left behind, it doesn’t take long for the police to show up. He doesn’t leave right away though, nervously waiting on the rooftop to see if either of the heroes are injured. His blood still feels like it’s racing in his veins, making it hard to stand still. This experience with that drug seemed significantly more dangerous. He doesn’t see anything serious, which is a relief. So when Foxglove looks up and waves, he returns the gesture before heading home.

Izuku wraps up the one cut he got from Quills when he gets home and falls into his bed, deciding to spend another night trying to look into the drug since Eraserhead didn’t seem surprised by the power-up. He doesn’t find a thing, and he goes out to run with a strong sense of disappointment. The feeling washes away easily, far easier than if he’d had voices echoing the sentiment. He finds himself sitting on the edge of a building two days after the fight, the quiet night seeming to be a secondary blessing to help improve his mood.

So Izuku just sits and takes in lungfuls of the cool night air.

After a while, he finds himself turning to watch Eraserhead swing up onto the rooftop with him. Izuku immediately climbs to his feet, still not entirely sure about the hero, who seems to be staring him down. It’s hard to tell when they are both wearing goggles, but eventually, the hero pushes them up onto his forehead and sits down a few feet from where Izuku had been before. There’s a line of tension in his shoulders, something Izuku doubts ever really relaxes. Sitting on the rooftop, however, the hero seems calm.

“Mind telling me how you know about Trigger?” His voice is calm, careful in its inflection, but Izuku is well-versed in detecting agitation even when it’s well hidden.

“Trigger?” he echoes.

“The drug you saw the other night. You seemed familiar with it.”

Izuku nods, glad to have a name for the drug he has been trying to research. He doesn't think having the name will help him at all, but it’s far less of a mouthful than a “black tongue drug”. Clearly, it’s a big deal and the hero doesn’t want him around it. So he hesitantly sits down next to the pro and fidgets with his hands, trying to figure out if this is some sort of test he’s going to fail and get arrested for. Eventually, he decides to just get it over with.

“I… I wouldn’t say that I was familiar with… with Trigger. But uh, I nearly got pulled from a roof by someone who used it so, um, I try to keep an eye out and Rave… Rave was the one to tell me about the, uh, whole black tongue part of it.”

“You nearly got pulled from a roof?” It seems like Eraserhead really locked onto that part of his explanation, and Izuku wishes he had left it out.

“Uh, y-yes?” Izuku winces and when the hero doesn’t respond, he blurts out a goodbye and leaps to his feet.

“Hey, kid, how old are you exactly?” Eraserhead abruptly asks. Izuku startles slightly, mere seconds away from leaping down to the fire escape. The hero sighs, “Just try to stay away from Trigger, alright? It’s dangerous!”

With a nod, he quickly jumps down and runs, hoping that he won’t run into any trouble on the way back home. He practically collapses against his bedroom door, nerves singing with strain. It’s a welcome pain, something that makes Izuku feel like he’s actually accomplishing something.

There’s an odd sense of pride Izuku feels at being able to hold a conversation with Eraserhead. Despite the fact that he hardly said two sentences, it feels significant. After all, he’s still terrified of the pro heroes: Rave and Foxglove and Rock Lock and Eraserhead, waiting for any of them to suddenly switch opinions and try to arrest him. Despite his pride, his longing to say more, he continues to leave after fights or run away after returning a brief wave.

It makes him feel bad, at least slightly each time he does, especially with Rave who is always so determined to rope him into a conversation. He can’t help it though, because he respects them and they are doing him such a favor by not arresting him for running on the rooftops, but they still hold a lot of power and Izuku can’t trust them fully because of it. He’s not sure if he can really trust anyone with that kind of power anymore. He knows they won’t do anything when there is a fight or something that they need to focus on, but once the criminal is restrained or the victim comforted, he’s the next most illegal thing.

It’s kind of an odd thought for Izuku to realize that he’s been taking nightly runs for a while now. Months, really. Experience is a tough teacher, he supposes, whether than be real fights or his classmates. He’s learned a lot, he thinks, and his skills have definitely bloomed compared to when he started. But as the end of his first-year approaches, he’s distracted by thoughts of flashing lights and capture weapons. He wants to have more confidence in interacting with them, after all, if it really has been a few months, then they really must not be planning to do anything. If they were going to arrest him, they could have done so far sooner. There’s nothing to gain from tricking him.

So he thinks about it and resolves to try and be more confident, but he’s distracted. He’s wrapped up in thoughts of nightly runs, of racing adrenaline and frantic pounding heartbeats. He misses the conversations around him, mind firmly grounded on rooftops and in alleyways.

It never bodes well when Izuku gets distracted in school. Not when his teachers haven’t been stopping the taunts in class. Not when he can feel their eyes on him, watching him and waiting, hoping for a good laugh. Not when he’s distracted and the eyes are not friendly which instinctually tells Izuku to be quiet, not to make a noise, don’t let them notice you until help comes.

Help doesn’t come at Aldera. Not for Izuku.

Chapter Text

Izuku thinks that the worst of it is the massive bruise on his shoulder from being knocked against a desk. That’s really all Izuku can think when he patches himself up before heading to the library. It’s all fresh and it’s painful, so he doesn’t expect to be able to scale buildings and throw himself from rooftops like he normally does. The muscles feel strained, and overall he feels like one aching bruise. No more runs, at least not until he’s a bit more healed.

If anything Izuku almost wishes that he fell differently because the pain wouldn’t bother him as much, but he uses his arms a lot on his runs. He’s been gaining quite a bit of muscle from his runs, but that means little when he’s injured. He’s not stupid enough to wish that his classmates hadn’t hurt him at all. Aldera has been trying to cut down on physical altercations, and he’s gotten comfortable in a way, floating by against their taunts and damnations. It finally boiled over though, and he hopes that the detentions reluctantly handed out will have an effect.

So for a few days, he stays at home and at the library, studying first aid and how to comfort victims of attacks. It’s hard to talk when he’s out there, so deeply wrapped up in the burn of well-used muscles, the tension of waiting for a hero to arrive that unless he’s giving an analysis, Izuku hardly speaks. The generally low-simmering anxiety he lives with tends to jump up into a thankfully useful hyper awareness. He thinks that he’ll need to find a way to comfort people with as few words as possible until he can get it under control. He tries to keep his schedule as full as possible to avoid thinking about going on a run. He even finds time after school to attend a special self-defense course at the gym, which probably wasn’t the best idea considering his shoulder but it gives him confidence that maybe he could go out, though maybe staying on the ground would be the best choice.

He double-checks the bruising before he leaves, just under a week after getting hurt, making sure it’s healing correctly and he doesn’t need to replace the bandages on any other injuries. He’s glad for the layers of dark fabric, the ones that hideaway white bandages and he hopes that if he does run into one of the heroes they won’t notice. Its harder to hide them from his mother, but he’s able to wave a lot of it off on his nightly runs. He’s not sure how much she knows, but there’s a lot of things they don’t dare say aloud. He thinks this might be one of them, and the combined worry in the Midoriya household sends him back out with a prayer that no one else notices.

Izuku promptly decides that he needs to stop hoping for things.

Because the first night turns out okay, and while he can’t talk himself out of wandering his usual route, the strain ends up being too much, sending him home early. Two days later, he takes a deep breath and just walks around the area. It’s a bit odd to be on the ground again like he had been at the beginning, but he sticks to less commercial areas to avoid as many people as he can. At the very least, he can finally check on some of the stray cats he’s noticed in the area.

Walking around though, he almost immediately runs into Rave and Foxglove- because only one of them wasn’t enough- who both rush over at the sight of him on the ground. He is startled because they both look ready for a fight, and even once they fall out of an immediate reaction, both sets of eyes latch onto him.

“What are you doing on the streets kid?” Rave asks, head tilted to the side as their lights vanish. Their hands land firmly on their hips, and he tries not to fidget too badly under the intensity of their gaze. “Never thought you’d take a break from the rooftops.”

“You’re injured, aren’t you.” Foxglove doesn’t give him a chance to answer, and her tone makes it clear that it isn’t a question. She nods her head towards his shoulder and he immediately stiffens, wondering how she found out so quickly. She’s a hero, he reminds himself. She’s trained to recognize injuries at a glance. Rave’s eyes widen, and he takes a step back in preparation for the inevitable scolding.

“That’s why you haven’t been running around as much!” the hero exclaims, staring at his shoulder, and Izuku wonders if their attention can make it throb more than normal. “Are you alright, kid? What happened?”

He notices Rave move to reach out towards him and he can’t help but panic further, immediately spinning on his heel and sprinting away. He hears them chase after him for a while, so he doesn't stop running until he’s absolutely sure he’s alone. Izuku groans before he begins to head home, well aware that the two heroes would only want to help him. Once his panic recceeds, he can’t help but feel embarrassed for reacting so strongly. He’s pretty sure they want to help him at least, but he’s terrified of them finding out about his school life or his quirklessness and taking away this one bit of air he’s clinging to.

Izuku needs these nightly “runs.” He needs the peacefulness of a quiet rooftop, needs the urgency of running towards the unknown, needs the way it makes him feel like he can still have some effect on the world. His time at Aldera feels like an endless mountain climb, a desperate struggle for balance against an inevitable landslide determined to knock him back down to the bottom. He’s littered with scraped knees and cut palms, just trying not to fall. At the library time seems to stand still, which is a nice reprieve but it’s a stagnant existence that makes his skin crawl after too long.

He feels like he’s standing on the edge of something, waiting for the other shoe to fall. He’s standing on the edge of something that makes him feel sick and drained and these runs are keeping his heels firmly planted on the ground.

He decides not to risk going out again, at least not until he’s healed because he figures that if Rave and Foxglove haven’t told the others, they’ll be keeping an eye out to send him home. He’s pretty sure everyone in the area will know though, just to be safe. Might as well cut out the middle-man and stay home. Izuku needs to heal and he needs to run, and since he can’t run until he’s healed, that has to come first.

Izuku’s restless by the time he’s healed enough to do his regular jumps and stunts, or at least healed enough that it's tearing him apart to wait any longer. He thinks he’s healed enough that no one would notice. Which, he knows, is still a few days too early. But it feels like it’s been far too long, so he decides to go anyway. It’s not like he told anyone the specifics of the injury, so they can’t track the average healing process and get on him. He’s used to working with an injured body, he can manage one night.

It’s that breath of fresh air, the feeling of weightlessness again and Izuku wants to do everything he can so he never loses it. It’s a lot more complicated if he were to sit down and think about it. He has time and time again wondered exactly how he’s supposed to avoid getting hurt, how he’s supposed to avoid danger while running headfirst towards it. For now, he’s content.

He only stops when Eraserhead lands on the rooftop he was about to jump onto, his capture weapon still floating threateningly in the air. His sense of ease immediately vanishes.

“Rave said you were injured, kid,” the hero calls out, looking him over. “Are you fully healed yet?”

Izuku hates his guilt, the fear of lying to a hero that stops him from saying a thing in response. He wonders how he can so easily brush aside the truth so his mom doesn’t completely lose her mind, but can’t say a word now. His silence is met with a heavy sigh. He ducks his head for a moment, then turns around and runs, not wanting to push his luck since he was caught early on in the night.

“You’re smart enough to know better than jumping into fights injured!” Eraserhead shouts after him. “Go home! Hell, you shouldn’t even be out here!”

Ducking under a half-hearted strand of capture weapon, Izuku stops at the edge of a rooftop to glance back, summoning his courage and giving the hero what he can only call a cheeky wave goodbye. Not waiting for a reply, he jumps down and turns to head back home, thinking of ways to ease his restlessness without having heroes jumping down his throat about self-care. Of course, then he thinks about how his mother would react to being confronted with the full truth of his nightly “runs”, and he decides that maybe staying home for a few more days wouldn’t be too bad. Despite the fact that he didn’t really get to run for very long, he still feels pretty light after talking with Eraserhead.

He comes to the conclusion of using the time to look back on his previous runs, reading back through all of the notes and analysis he’s done on the heroes in the area. He has a ton of data to review, things to analyze and learn from. Maybe, he thinks, he can find something he can adjust to his own use, so he can be of better help when something inevitably goes wrong.

Rave uses a very acrobatic and flowing style of fighting, practically a dance in the way they weave around their opponents. Each movement is swift and intentional, taking advantage of both the color of their lights and the frequency of flashes that give them an intense and threatening aura. The strobe makes it hard to track their movements, and they certainly make use of their stamina, especially since they don’t have much other than their body and escrima sticks.

Foxglove doesn’t let her fights drag out any longer than she can make them. Her quirk, a poison similar to the effects of the foxglove plant she took her name from, can have effects on her opponent's heart rate. As such, she fights almost purely with quick, precise hits to vital points or exposed skin. Too much contact with her skin could eventually lead to a heart attack or failure, but most of her opponents experience extreme dizziness before passing out. It’s why she wears gloves most of the time, especially since hers have built-in knuckle dusters to pack an extra punch.

While he hasn’t seen nearly as much of Eraserhead’s fights, what he has seen shows that the hero’s fighting style is almost completely based around his capture weapon, either using it for mobility or as a restraint.

As amazing as he thinks the capture weapon is, Izuku knows that he has no means to replicate it. So he focuses more on Rave and Foxglove, wondering how he can take what he’s seen to create a fighting style of his own. Designing it and working through the simple movements he’s seen the two use will give him something physical to do and focus on while he’s been “banned” from running.

He’s not sure what he needs: something that either drags a fight out until help arrives or finishes it as fast as possible. It’s oddly enough not too hard to research pressure points and dislocation spots, and Izuku ends up falling down another rabbit hole at the library regarding how techniques can be shifted to those with mutant quirks. He tucks the information away, as he does with everything he learns. There’s very little room for error or hesitation in fights, especially at night, but he almost feels burdened at the warning to avoid dislocating an additional limb or other quirk-based mutation due to the difficulty of resetting them properly. Any proper combat training he’ll have to work into his schedule.

He refuses to acknowledge how he’s creating a long-term plan to be an effective vigilante. In for a penny, in for a pound he decides.

He spends the next few days healing- adding some extra time so they can’t tell him- training and analyzing fights to replicate in safer spaces. The distraction helps, though more than once he almost feels paralyzed by the thought of someone getting hurt because he wasn’t out there to call in incidents. He reminds himself that the heroes did fine before he arrived, and they will continue to function without him especially since they know he’s gone.

Inko watches him carefully around the house, so instead of going out as he had previously planned, he decides to stay home and watch movies together, letting her run her hand through his curls. While he longs to run again, his mother will always hold priority.

The next night, however, she’s staying late at the library so he finally goes out to run, once again feeling weightless as he stares up at the night sky. Rationally he knows that he should still take it slow, ease his way back into things just to make sure nothing goes wrong. The bruising has healed and faded almost into nothingness, but the damage was done and the others would kill him if he did something to get hurt again.

But the rational thoughts can’t stop him from leaping across rooftops, entranced by the night air and rush of wind against him.

Izuku lets out a shout when he suddenly finds himself falling, having misjudged the distance and jumped too early. He narrowly grabs onto the edge of a roof, but his own weight tugs his hands off and he falls. The trash isn’t the best cushion. He’s still absolutely certain that he’s going to have bruising yet again, but as Izuku pushes himself up and moves to climb out of the dumpster, he’s grateful that he wasn’t accidentally impaled or anything.

As soon as he pops his head out of the open dumpster, however, he’s forced to duck under a flying bottle that shatters on the brick above him.

Standing in the alley he’s fallen into, a man glares at him. After a moment, he’s looking almost frantically between Izuku and the woman who’s collapsed against the wall, eyes wide with fear. The man quickly flicks out a switchblade and Izuku leaps out of the dumpster, panicking slightly because there is no way for him to call in a pro hero.

He looks at the woman one last time before swallowing his fear. How is he supposed to run away when there’s now a spark of hope in her eyes?

Chapter Text

Izuku knows his luck is terrible. He’s never had good luck and it’s painfully obvious in many ways as he finds himself on the wrong end of a knife and very little clue as to what he’s supposed to do next. His heart is still racing, each beat frantically pounding in the back of his head. He’s sore from the fall and while he’s found shocking clarity in the adrenaline rush, he’s drawing a complete blank.

He doesn’t know what the man’s quirk is, or the woman’s for that matter, which means he’s really not in a good position to go into this fight, especially since he only really carries around his phone, first aid kit, and his spray bottle, something he really should fix soon. The man’s first instinct was to throw a bottle, which meant that either it was already in his hand or he didn’t have a quirk fitting for long-distance. It’s possible that it was just some drunken instinct, but there’s a tenseness to his posture that speaks of awareness. So he had to be reasonably sober, which meant that any quirk use was going to be intentional. The woman, however, seemed really panicked, especially since she wasn’t getting up. Either due to shock or the man’s quirk- but her panic could cause her to accidentally use her own quirk, which could be a blessing or a curse.

Izuku really didn’t like going into things blind.

“Get out of here,” the man grunts, waving with the knife. There’s arrogance in the action, and his grip could be better. Izuku takes a deep breath and shifts his back foot, settling into a more secure stance before summoning up his courage. There’s no way he can walk away, especially since he doesn’t know how long it would take for one of the pros to arrive.

“N-No.”

Great. He couldn’t look any more pathetic if he wanted to.

The man laughs, displaying sharp fang-like teeth. The bit of light from the street shows that his skin is incredibly pale, and while Izuku doesn’t like making assumptions, the dark red and blacks of his attire practically scream modern vampire. He dares a glance back at the woman to find a bleeding bite on her wrist, which lies limply at her side. Paralysis, most likely. Izuku’s quick to look away, deciding that if he can make it out of this fight, he won’t need his scarf.

His analysis is largely based on observation and assumption, but he’s not sure how to feel about being right about this one.

Vampire finally stops laughing and moves forward, swinging in a wide arc that Izuku easily dodges. He searches his mind for the memory of how to disarm someone with a knife, knowing it was something that the gym’s self-defense classes had covered. The muscle memory is there, he knows it is, but he just needs a scrap of memory to set it into motion.

He’s pretty sure he has time, however, so long as he doesn’t let the man grab him long enough to bite. If he wants to be fully safe, he would probably avoid getting any injuries at all. Blood-based quirks had always interested him, especially since they were so rarely documented. There was a very strong stigma against them, despite the influence Vlad King used as a pro hero to try and fix that.

Izuku isn’t quite desperate enough to find out what this particular quirk feels like.

His heart pounds in his chest as he ducks and weaves around the man, lashing out at pressure points like he’s been studying, but there’s only so much he can do while trying to avoid the knife. The longer the fight goes the more cuts and nicks he gets, and it’s starting to get frustrating that he can’t recall what he’s supposed to be doing.

Of all the times for his memory to fail him it had to be now.

He stumbles back from a cut on his upper arm that went deeper than the others, his left hand immediately reaching up to put a bit of pressure on the bleeding wound. He’s thankful for the dark material, knowing it should help cover up the red blood a bit.

Before he can do much more than regain his footing, Vampire lunges forward and Izuku’s body finally moves as he wanted it to.

He twists the switchblade from the man’s hand and kicks him back. Izuku glances at the blade and shifts his grip.

There’s a brief lull in the fight now that he has the knife, but he really isn’t sure what he’s supposed to do next.

Before Vampire can realize that Izuku has no clue what he’s doing, he shifts his foot forward and throws the blade down the alley. The man turns to watch it fly by, and Izuku races forward to slam his bottle against his temple. He slams it down again while he’s disoriented, and quickly knocks him to the ground.

He desperately tries to catch his breath as he stands over the collapsed man, still holding his bottle in the air in case the man gets up again. The stinging pain in his arms draws him back into reality, and he quickly drops his bottle in favor of digging out zip ties and restraining the man.

Izuku numbly thinks that he really should get a weapon of his own to start carrying around.

The woman continues to stare at him as he quickly pulls his scarf off, carefully laying it over her lap and shoulders before pulling out his phone. It’s a bit different calling in when the incident is already resolved, so once he’s said his piece he hangs up and crouches down by the woman, pulling out his first aid kit to take a look at the bite on her hand.

“Do you mind if?” he trails off, watching her face before he reaches out. Slowly, she manages a nod and he makes quick work of disinfecting the bite, wrapping it in clean bandages.

Izuku sits with her until the police arrive, mentally making a reminder to wash what he’s currently wearing, unsure of whether or not anything from the dumpster is stuck to him. He gives the woman a wave before he darts off to find a way back onto the roofs, deciding to head back home and call it an early night, knowing he needs to disinfect his own wounds before they get infected. Plus, he’s not exactly wanting to explain to anyone why he smells like rotting food.

“Hey kid!”

At the familiar shout, Izuku pauses on the roof, glancing down to see Foxglove waving up at him. He returns the wave, wondering if the hero needs anything from him. As much as he wanted a shower, if there was an emergency there was no way he would leave. He’s not sure how much of a help he would be, but he’d at least try.

“Heard you took care of a fight on your own!”

Izuku tenses, wanting to duck into his scarf but finding it missing. He nods.

“How’d you manage that, Mister spray bottle?” she taunts.

“I kinda fell into the middle of things?”

This makes the hero pause. “You fell?”

“Uh, no!” he blurts, taking off into a run again.

Izuku throws his gear into a plastic bag when he gets home, not willing to start a load of laundry in the middle of the night, though he does head into the bathroom to scrub himself clean and patch up his cuts the best he can. He’s not sure how to feel about his skill when it comes to fixing himself up, but it’s a helpful skill.

Reluctantly, Izuku takes time off again to let the cuts at least scab over, not entirely sure whether or not the heroes would know if he was injured or not. He had mentioned it to the officer on the line, and the woman might have mentioned it in her own testimony.

He’d rather not run the risk of getting scolded again. It’s not the same type of scolding he receives at school, in fact, Izuku finds he wants to avoid it even more for whatever reason even though he knows it’s coming from a place of concern. That’s probably why he tells himself. As odd as it seems, the heroes actually care enough to worry.

It’s more likely that he’d be a liability if he was injured, something they wouldn’t want to deal with, so Izuku swallows his restlessness and resolves to stay home a bit longer.

Chapter Text

“Hey, Mom?” Izuku manages to call out, leaning back in his seat but keeping his eyes fixed on the tabs he has open on the library computer. He’s been looking through different brands and watching all sorts of review videos, and he’s got three companies that sell to civilians that he’s trying to choose between. When it came to choosing a weapon, Izuku wanted something that he could use from a distance, but also up in melee range.

His goal, first and foremost, is to stay out of the hero's way and provide a minor distraction if necessary. Izuku isn’t as dumb as to think that he can get away without jumping into combat forever, but he wants to be as safe and as small of a burden as possible. Based on the lecture a while back, Izuku had originally looked into kunai and shuriken specifically, as they were often used for distractions- at least according to his research. With his own experiences while… running, he’d settled on throwing knives.

If his mom agreed that was.

“Yes?” she called back from across the empty library. He was thankful there was no one else around to possibly see the kind of things he had been researching the last few hours after he’d finished his homework.

“I have a question, do you mind coming over here for a second?” He tried to swallow his nerves, wiping his palms against his pants as he listened to the sound of her approaching footsteps. When he turned over his shoulder to look at her, she was in the middle of flipping through a novel, her other hand gently calling another book through the air behind her.

“What is it, sweetie?” she mused, finally looking up at him. With a shaking smile, he gestured to the computer screen. “Are those… knives?”

“Do you remember the professor who came in to speak about weapons throughout history a while back?” Izuku blurted, turning back to the screen so he didn’t have to watch her expression, knowing he would overanalyze everything. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about some of the things he was talking about, and well… I thought it might be interesting to try out and you know… keep some of that tradition alive.”

“Oh.” He could feel her lean in closer to look at the screen herself. “Are… Are you sure you want to try this? Knives are dangerous and I’d hate for you to get hurt…”

“I- I’ve thought about it a lot, and I looked at other non-bladed weapons but they’re almost all much larger and well… You can get dull training knives so you can practice and everything…” Izuku trailed off, trying to think of the best way to word things. He couldn’t exactly tell her that he was fighting with heroes every night, because he wasn’t, not technically.

“Some of those look rather small,” she muttered. “Would they be easy to hide and carry?”
Izuku nodded, clicking over to a different site with more in-depth photos of the set he was looking at. The dimensions of each knife were clear in the photos and the description. “I mean within reason, but yeah.”

There was a long moment of silence as she took over the mouse, scrolling through all the tabs he had open and looking at them with a keen eye he knew well. It was likely that she would say yes. He had a feeling that he knew why she would agree, but there was no way they would say it out loud until the other did. The bullying or his “runs.” Inko was smart, and Izuku would never discredit his mom’s intelligence. Of course, that simply left the two of them to dance around each other. For both, he tries his best to be discreet. He often changes into his full running attire after leaving, though carrying a bag with him is almost just as obvious. He bandages and hides any wounds he can before she sees, frequently spending his allowance at the corner store to replenish their first aid kit and waiting to throw the trash away outside of their home.

Izuku isn’t sure if his efforts really make a difference in easing her worry.

“You’ve looked into reviews, return policies, and maintenance, right?”

“Yep. These were the three with the best ratings that don’t ask for a Heroics license number.”

In the corner of his eye, he could see her grin a bit before it dropped back into a serious look. “Do you have the money for any of these sets?”

He tries not to nod too eagerly, but he’s not sure he succeeds. “I’ve been saving up for a piece of Present Mic merch, but I think this is a better use of it.”

“Oh really?” There’s a genuine surprise in her voice.

“Yeah,” he replies, trying not to think too hard about the signed, misprint poster from his debut. It was an incredibly rare find, but he knows that having a way to defend himself is far more important. “I don’t exactly have the wall space for it anyways.”

“Alright. But I’m taking the sharpened knives until you can prove you’ve got at least the basics down and aren’t at nearly as much of a risk of cutting your finger off,” she demands. “If I find any nicks or holes in our walls, they’re being confiscated immediately. Understood?”

His reply is instant and instinctual, but no less honest. “Yes ma’am!”

His mom laughs and pauses for a moment, simply looking at him with an almost bittersweet smile. He tries to smile back, hoping something in his expression tells her just how much he loves her, how much he is trying to be a better son despite how he can’t help but think his actions of late would only make him a worse son. He feels more settled, more at ease with his runs. Without another word, she just ruffles his hair before returning to the front desk. Feeling far more at ease, Izuku looks through the sights and all of the different sets and bundles he had originally picked out. The poster was worth a lot, and Izuku had been prepared to pay for it, so he does have quite a bit to spend.

It’s one of Inko’s rare days off that the package comes in, only a few days later. Izuku can’t help but yelp when he finds it- every time he’s gone out at night without a weapon it feels like it’s weighing on him exactly how stupid he’s being.

“MOM!” He rushes to the table and carefully deposits the package on its surface, darting to the kitchen to find something to open it with. “They’re here!”

Almost as excited as he is, she hurries over with him and watches as he practically rips open the box and carefully pulls out the rolled fabric. With shaking hands Izuku carefully unfurls it, staring in awe at the dark gray metal and already resisting the urge to run one of his fingers along the blade. Inko carefully handed over a second package, already open and Izuku laid it out above the knives, not entirely sure what to expect. Laid out on their kitchen table are twelve throwing knives and eight throwing stars, all in beautiful dark gray metal. He quickly tears his eyes away from them to look at his mother, unable to miss the melancholy edge to her smile before she pulls out the two training knives and holds them out to him.

“Dull knives only, remember?” she says, and he eagerly nods, taking them with careful hands. “And no holes in my walls.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he agrees, giving a mock salute. She grins and rolls up the rest of the blades, wandering to her room to place them aside. If he really wanted to, he knows it wouldn’t be hard to get to the knives, but he has no reason to. Not only would it break his mom’s trust in him, but he really does need to learn how to properly use the weapon before bringing the real thing out into his nightly runs.

He wants to make sure he has a full understanding of his knives on the off chance they get turned against him or even worse, against someone else.

Izuku starts by setting aside an hour or two or three a day purely to practice with his knives. It doesn’t take long to discover that he really enjoys spinning and flipping the knife between his hands, and it becomes a sort of fidget while he works. When he gets home from nightly runs, he makes a new routine out of cleaning the metal to prevent any tarnish from forming.

He’s not very happy when he “falls” down a set of stairs at school, his ankle feeling very close to buckling when he does anything more than walk, but it gives him the time to start working with the sharpened blades. His fingers end up wrapped in white bandages after a while, aching from various nicks and cuts, which unfortunately aren’t covered by the sleeves of his running attire. He goes out a few nights later when his ankle is feeling better than his bruises, and is almost immediately stopped by Rave after they catch a petty thief.

He thinks about running, but he’s not entirely sure that he can sprint long enough to get Rave to drop things. The look in their eyes is certainly intense, so all he can really do is tell the truth. It’s not like it’s a bad truth to be telling either.

“Weapon’s training?” he blurts out, resisting the urge to pick and pull at his bandages as he waits under the hero’s gaze.

After a moment, Rave lets out a low whistle.

Not sure what sort of reaction that is, Izuku ducks his head further with a muffled “Goodbye!” before running off. He can hear them laughing as he turns into a side street, but they don’t follow.

Izuku wonders if he should be impressed by how quickly he’s picking up the craft. Even after his cuts heal and he can hit his targets from a distance, even after his mom makes moving targets with her quirk, even after he can flip and spin the blades in his hand while distracted by something else, he hesitates before bringing them out with him when he goes running.

In the end, Izuku tucks three of his blades into his pockets, one single-bladed and two of the double, just as a precaution. There are many worst-case scenarios he can think of, so Izuku decides that he simply won’t pull them out unless there is a very real threat. If he doesn’t take them out, they practically don’t exist. It isn’t a very convincing argument, but it’s something, and Izuku doesn’t need much to work with. He’s used to the bare minimum.

Chapter Text

“Eraserhead and Foxglove just took down two of seven, still fighting steadily,” Izuku narrates into the phone. It had been a rather quiet night, though it hadn’t taken long for Izuku to find Eraser stalking a steadily growing group in the alley below. He’d darted away long enough to call in another hero but was back to looking down and giving his running analysis of the fight while the two pros worked. “Four remaining: Stone-skin down. Minor projectiles looking worn, taking longer between shots. Same with Soap, her movements are catching more friction.”

It was still amazing, watching heroes work up close like this. As much as he dreamt of going limelight, being the quirkless hero that he wished for when he was younger, that wasn’t his reality. He sincerely doubted that he’d ever be able to actually become a hero like them. But this, this was close enough for him. This was more than he ever thought it could be.

“Oh, Soap accidentally took out Detatch, they both seem down for now.” Izuku frowned as he watched, carefully glancing at the downed villains now and again in case one of them got up. Just because they were out of the fight now didn’t mean they wouldn’t jump back in. There was no guarantee unless they were unconscious and restrained.

“Projectile down.” He relaxed a bit as the numbers continued to dwindle, knowing well that Foxglove and Eraser had fought together many times before and could handle themselves. “Both- Shoot, Detach is up.”

They both seemed distracted with the remaining villains on the edge of the street. He hurriedly lept down the fire escape, throwing two of his blades at the villain. They scratched past him as they flew past, leaving shallow cuts and giving Izuku the time needed to jump down and grab his arm. It comes off the moment he puts any force on the limb.

“Oh, uh, need a hand?” he blurted, slightly panicking despite the fact that he really should have expected it to come off. Izuku tossed it down the alley, immediately rolling to the side when he turned to watch his arm fly. In Detatch’s distraction, Foxglove darted forward and slammed her foot into his face, knocking him out quickly. As soon as Izuku rolled back onto his feet, he turned to Eraserhead only to find the pro restraining the remaining villains with his capture weapon. Sure enough, they probably didn’t need him to jump in. He went ahead to help restrain everyone since the police still had a few minutes ETA. The heroes began to move everyone closer to the street for pick up, and Izuku returned to the alley to look for the two knives he had thrown. They were nowhere to be seen, unfortunately. Izuku figured that it would happen sooner or later, but it still was rather disappointing for it to happen the very first time he had used them on his nightly runs.

“Hey kid, this yours?” Eraserhead called from behind him.

Izuku whirled around to find the hero leaning against the wall, dangling the two blades between his fingers. There was an immediate sense of relief at finding them that was overwhelmed almost instantly in fear of what the pro might say about him carrying weapons. They might arrest him now that he was carrying weapons. It was too dangerous not to be armed but it was dangerous to have them, was that how it was? He really was stupid for trying to help out. Any moment now they would tuck the blades away and demand that Izuku be arrested with the rest of the villains they’d taken down tonight. It would be all too easy of a fight, and then they’d realize he was quirkless and it would be an even bigger problem.

“Calm down,” Eraserhead said, clearly sensing that he was about to panic. “Where’d you learn to use these things? I’ve never seen you use knives before.”

“Knives?” Foxglove wandered over, peering at the blades before turning to him. “Rave mentioned that you’d said something about weapons training but dang. Didn’t expect you to pick it up this fast.”

“I, uh... Self-taught! I’m self taught,” Izuku blurted, catching wind of the approaching sirens. “Can I have them? Please?”

Eraser snorted before tossing them his way. Izuku immediately shifted to catch them before shoving them into a pocket and scrambling up the fire escape. He forces himself to pause for a moment on the roof, glancing back down to the heroes who weren’t bothering to watch him anymore. He figured it was a sign of trust for underground heroes, to turn their backs on someone with a higher vantage point.

“Th-Thank you!” he blurted, catching their attention once more. “Goodnight!”

“Stay safe kid!” Foxglove shouted back.

Eraserhead lifted a hand in a motionless wave.

Izuku grinned. They were so awesome.

He hurries home and goes to bed, and he heads to school the next day excited for the day to end again. He’s glad that the heroes don’t seem to disapprove of his decision to carry knives with him at night. He’s glad that his skills, novice as they are, can help the heroes out. It’s a bit of a weight off his shoulders knowing that he isn’t entirely helpless anymore.

The hall is busy this morning, and Izuku frowns a bit at the sight, not looking forward to trying to squeeze his way through to get to class. It’s loud, so many voices are talking over each other and his mood begins to dip. It’s a miracle it lasted this long, he mourns. He’s been happier since starting his runs. Physical exertion has always been said to help, scientifically and all, but getting to help people? It’s even better. Even so, feeling eyes linger on his back, Izuku tries to stand up straighter when he pushes forward.

He’ll have to see if Eraserhead would know any tips about fighting with a knife. Izuku knows the hero carries a knife around as a sort of secondary weapon beyond his capture scarf, and it would give him a reason to talk more with the pro. He really spends most of his time around Eraser, Foxglove, and Rave, sometimes Rock Lock when the other man takes a later patrol. He always feels terrible whenever he doesn’t know what to say. Asking for tips might help build up that confidence.

Izuku tries to slip around someone who nearly runs into him, lost in thought and not wanting to collide with them. Rather than hit them head on, he ends up getting shoulder checked by the larger form. Someone shouts and he quickly catches his footing so he doesn’t run into anyone else.

“Watch it!” A chill runs down his spine at the tone, and Izuku immediately ducks his head.

“S-sorry.”

Voices almost immediately pick up, whispering and laughing about the short interaction as someone else pushes him to the side. Izuku feels trapped up against the wall as everyone continues walking by, and he grips tightly to his bag strap wishing he had his scarf to hide his burning cheeks in. He shouldn't have gotten distracted. Maybe he could have avoided running into whoever it was entirely.

“-take a leap off the roof already…”

He freezes as the words register. There’s an immediate hush that falls over the hall, but it doesn’t go silent. Hesitantly, he begins to look out at everyone surrounding him, raising his eyes from the ground to look at the blank faces staring his way. He can’t tell who said it. Who said such a thing? There are so many people staring at him, waiting.

Izuku feels like he might be sick.

He’s gonna be sick.

They all want to know how he’s going to react. How is he supposed to react? Who said it? Someone just told him to… Who would say such a thing?

Someone tries to muffle a laugh, and the dam breaks. The noise level jumps and Izuku flinches as it seems like everyone finds the situation hilarious. He still feels like he might be sick. He can’t pin down why. He’s horrified and embarrassed and ashamed and he’s frozen in place as a thousand other thoughts rush through him. Maybe he should just head home for the day. Maybe he should just leave.

He can’t get his feet to move.

Slowly the hall begins to empty, and he manages to take in a deep breath. Standing down the hall by their classroom, he spots Kacchan. His eyes are blown wide and he just stares at Izuku without a word.

Izuku wonders if maybe Kacchan is saying something because he can see other students rushing to classrooms but there’s no bell. He can’t hear a thing anyway. Numbly he manages to get his feet to move and he slides into the classroom without a word. He feels sick.

Chapter Text

Time is an odd thing, Izuku thinks. Some moments pass by in a blur, happening too fast to really process while others drag along until each breath is an eternity. It’s painful when time seems to stop, but he thinks it's better than a blur because he’d much rather be aware of things.

If he had been aware, maybe he wouldn’t have walked into the library and greeted his mom without patching himself up in the bathroom first. Normally he would have checked. He always checks before he greets his mom, but there’s a large scrape on his cheek that he didn’t register until she was gasping and it’s a bit too late to do anything now that he’s registering the pain.

Izuku would much rather experience everything in a cruel snail's pace than a meaningless blur.

He accepts her worrying and hovering about with minimal fuss. It’s his fault after all for not hiding it. It’s understandable that she’s worried, so he just has to lie low and try to calm her somewhat. He thinks about skipping school to spend time with her, but he remembers the horrified look on Kacchan’s face and decides that maybe he shouldn’t.

Is it odd that he was surprised that Kacchan was horrified for him?

It’s tempting to stay home for a while, let them squirm and wonder if he’d actually do it, but he figures that they wouldn’t actually care. Better to disappoint them now than later. Then again, he also really wants to just snap and scream at everyone about how stupid they are for even suggesting that to someone. He wonders if they would listen to him like they listen to Kacchan if he starts yelling.

He’s lucky that he hasn’t come across someone else on the rooftops yet, staring down at the sidewalk with similar words echoing in their head. Almost all of the other heroes have mentioned their experiences to him at least briefly and he's always equally warmed and saddened by the solemn tone that fills their voices. Rave and Foxglove have made it clear that they get nervous about him being on the rooftops alone when he’s feeling off. He doubts anyone in his class has ever really thought about what might happen if he actually went through with it.

A week passes before he’s realized that he hasn’t gone running. He stares at his gear late at night and it feels like an eternity since he’s last been out. He wonders if the heroes have noticed that he hasn’t been out.

Doesn’t matter, he abruptly tells himself. They’re busy and he’s taken breaks before. They might be worried that he had gotten injured, but he hadn’t. They can work fine without him, but he can help if he goes out. There’s nothing to lose either way. So Izuku gets dressed, taking time to bury his face in his scarf and just take a few deep breaths, focusing in on the soft material. He wonders if Eraserhead has ever seen him bury his face in his scarf. It’s apparently a habit they’ve both developed. He wonders if he’ll see anyone tonight, and winces at the sharp voice that whispers maybe it would be better if he doesn't.

He wonders if he wants to see any of them tonight.

He’s not sure if he wants to see any of them tonight.

Izuku slips out his window and starts down the street, quickly coming up to a building he normally starts on and begins climbing. The movement is familiar and more than welcome. He stands on the rooftop and takes in a breath, sharp night air like a cleanse of everything that’s been clouding his mind the last few days. He really should have gone out sooner.

“Take a leap”

Izuku frowns at the echoing voice in his head and takes a few steps back to get a running start. He tries to shove it to the back of his mind, focusing on the jump in from of him. There's no time for stupid distractions. That's all it is, after all. Some stupid comment his classmates made without any understanding of the implications or consequences. It's fine, nothing to dwell on. Right?

The voice fades away, there only being space for looking at his surroundings, for running, jumping, and climbing. He’s falling into rolls and pushing back to his feet in a single motion, running faster and faster, pushing his legs to run and jump and just go.

Go.

GO.

He can feel his chest heaving. His footfalls are louder than normal. He’s not really thinking about being quiet. He’s not watching his breathing, he’s being reckless.

He shouldn’t be so reckless.

What is he doing?

Izuku forces himself to stop before jumping, stumbling a bit but falling still. He wouldn’t have made the jump. He knows this building is a dead end, why did he run across it? He swallows hard, trying to wet his dry throat. His tongue flicks out across his lips, lungs aching from the lack of moisture. Still staring across the gap that he’s unable to cross, he presses his palms into his stomach, fingers curling tightly into the fabric of his poncho. There are a lot of gaps that he’ll never be able to cross.

Izuku drops to the ground, letting his legs sprawl out as he glances around. Thankfully he isn’t too close to any of the normal patrol routes. He wonders if anyone saw him running like someone gone mad. Maybe he has.

There’s a faint sound of feet landing on the roof behind him, but Izuku doesn’t move from where he’s staring off the edge.

He’d almost fallen.

He’d almost jumped.

He can’t believe he almost did.

“Running pretty fast there, kid.” It’s not a big surprise that it was Eraserhead who’d found him. No one else really travels on the rooftops as fast as he can. Even if Rave or someone had seen him, they would have sent Eraser since he’d be faster. Izuku tries not to blurt out an immediate apology for worrying anyone.

“The world really isn’t fair, huh? Of course, you’d probably know that better than anyone else,” he finds himself blurting instead. “There were so many people waiting to see how I’d respond. I don’t think they really understood how much worse it was to say to me. ‘Take a leap.’ They don’t know I’m out running on rooftops every night, how could they know telling me to take a leap off the roof was so much more likely to happen? I’d never do it, but accidents happen… Things had been going too well. I-I must have done something to deserve it.”

Izuku buries his face into his scarf again, resisting the urge to pick at the bandage on his cheek. It was a bad idea to come out. He hasn’t calmed down yet.

There's a soft swish of fabric rubbing together as he stares at the scuffs on his shoes. He can hear the steps as Eraser quickly moves closer, crouching a careful distance away. Izuku winces, keeping his eyes locked onto his feet.

“Kid, hey, that’s not okay. There’s nothing you could have said or done to deserve being told that.” There’s an unfamiliar edge to Eraserhead’s voice, something soft but firm. Soft was the exact opposite of anything he’d use to describe the hero. “No one deserves to be told something like that.”

It hits him rather suddenly that this is the longest thing he’s ever said to Eraserhead. The longest thing he’s ever told the hero in all of the nights he’s been in the area. How terrible is that?

“I know,” he admits, climbing to his feet. “I’ve known for a while now that the kind of things my classmates say and do are far from alright.”

“Good, you’re smart. Trust me when I say you’ve got a lot of things going for you, kid.”

Izuku finally glances over to the hero, wincing when he sees that despite the relaxed stance Eraser had adopted, he was clearly prepared to use his capture weapon any moment. It’s to be expected. He’s a hero and he’s a good one at that.

“Uh, thanks,” he mutters. “Sorry for bothering you during patrol. I’m fine. I would never actually do it. I-I could never do that.”

Eraserhead sighs, and Izuku tries not to tense up further. The hero wasn’t relaxing. He didn’t believe him. Izuku wasn’t surprised, but he was telling the truth. He’d never be able to go through with it. He’d never thought about it before.

“Look, kid, I wanna trust you, but I can’t let you keep running around-”

Eraser was going to arrest him. This is it.

Izuku stops listening, instead turning to leap over the edge of the roof. He’s stopped by a strip of capture weapon latching onto his wrist.

“Kid!”

He yanks on the fabric, whipping out a knife to quickly cut through the weapon while it was slack. The fibers were nigh impossible to cut when taught, but he’d noticed this little trick a while ago. Once free, Izuku breaks into a sprint, escaping through streets and over rooftops, blending into the shadows until Eraserhead stops chasing him.

He can’t lose his nightly runs now.

When he gets home, Izuku finally notices the strip of capture weapon still hanging from his arm. It wrapped itself lightly around his arm, the light gray standing out against his black sleeve. The one end is slightly mangled from his hurried cut, strands fraying slightly.

He’d cut the capture weapon. He wonders if Eraserhead will be able to get it fixed quickly. If the hero got hurt because of the missing length, he’d feel terrible. Eraserhead is a good hero, he knows that the pro should be fine either way but the guilt bubbles up quickly.

Carefully, Izuku unwraps it and lets it roll up into a small bundle. He almost tucks it away with his running gear but stops. He feels bad for running from Eraserhead. The hero probably just wanted to help. There was no way he would be able to know that Izuku needed this. Exhausted, Izuku continues to hold onto it when he falls onto his bed. He wakes up with it curled around his arm in the morning, and he decides to leave it there when he’s getting ready for the day. The weight is comforting.

Chapter Text

“That’s it,” his mom says, a restrained and almost forced cheer to her voice. Izuku immediately looks up from his breakfast, brow furrowed as she grins at him. “You’re taking the day off.”

“What?” he blurts, frantically covering his mouth so he doesn’t spit food across the table. “But what about-”

“You can take a sick day, Izu.” She gives him a mock glare that immediately shifts into a serious one. “Don’t tell me you think I can’t see something’s been going on with you.”

He ducks his head, guilt immediately welling up at the truth of the statement. It was easy to pretend his mom wasn’t as observant as she was. But that was the Midoriya way, to shoulder on through adversity without burdening others.

“I am your mother, Izuku,” she sighs, reaching across the table to grab his hand. “You don’t have to tell me anything, but I am here for you. I may not be a perfect mother-”

“No!” he denies, eyes wide with the sudden desperation to let her know that this is far from the truth. “I- You’re a great mom. And… And you’re right. I could use a break.”

“Then it’s settled,” Inko chirps, popping up out of her seat to clear her dishes. “You can help me run some errands before we head to the library.”

It really is a nice change of pace. The weight of his classmate’s bated breath fades as he follows his mom around from store to store, listening to her chatter away about some of the library’s frequent visitors and the oddities she’s found tucked between pages as makeshift bookmarks. The clinging pressure of the capture scarf still wrapped around his arm keeps him grounded, and despite the comfort, he makes a mental note to store it away when they get home.

They don’t talk about school, they haven’t in a long time, but Izuku knows that she’s only following his lead on this. He’s shut down conversation about anything other than his grades since elementary when it finally set in that his friends weren’t really friends any more. Inko had tried time and time again to talk to the school and the other parents before he realized what was happening.

So Izuku stopped talking about his classmates and instead focused on his schoolwork whenever she’d ask about his day. After a while, and a few calls to the Bakugou’s that he eavesdropped on, Inko had stopped asking. She’d turned her focus to his hobbies instead and began bringing him to the library more frequently.

He stares at his mother’s back as she walks just slightly ahead of him, chattering away, and lets his shoulders relax. He’s always been safe with his mom, always been supported and he knows she does her best to understand him. She’s probably the only one who could even come close to knowing how his mind works.

The Midoriya’s have never been great about communicating. But they show up when it matters. Even his dad, working long hours overseas, never forgets to send letters and gifts for even the slightest of things. It doesn’t matter why something is wrong, or what has gone well.

Izuku wonders what it might have been like to grow up without the need to try and protect each other from the world’s disappointments. If his mom hadn’t tried to hide how lonely it was to be married with such distance between them. If his dad hadn’t tucked away any regret at not seeing Izuku grow up behind the need to provide. If he had admitted way back when they were all five years old that his best friend was anything but.

Maybe they would have been better off. Or maybe it all would have fallen apart like a house of cards, unable to stand without the careful lines they dared not cross.

He does like to think that they’re all stronger for soldiering through the adversity that’s been thrown at them. The bitterness makes these small moments much sweeter; he knows how to properly appreciate the things he’s been given. Despite the secrets, Izuku knows he’s much closer with his mother than he would have been in any other life. Knows that their bond helps keep the loneliness at bay for them both, and he knows that his dad can soldier on because they’re taking care of each other.

It’s not great, and he bets that someone with a fancy degree somewhere might say it’s not a healthy way to live, but it’s the Midoriya way.

Inko hums to herself as she flits about the grocery store, picking out ingredients that he immediately recognizes as her recipe for katsudon. They’ll have to run everything back home before her shift, and for once his arms don’t ache after carrying her bags around. A smaller perk of his nightly runs, he thinks, a smile tugging on the corners of his lips.

It’s been a while since he’s felt so relaxed.

She glances over at him, and he tunes back into the moment to hear as her question trails off. Inko scrutinizes him for a moment, and he watches as her own tension melts away. She’d always been good about hiding it, the way the slightest layer coated each movement with a subtle restraint. Guilt tries to wash over him, but the slightest spark in her eyes doesn’t let it.

Izuku tries to give her a small smile, but it’s still a bit weak. The one she returns has a similar taint to it, the presence of hope in adversity.

The Midoriya way, he thinks, is a lot of blind faith. A lot of saying, I will make this work. I will not fail. I cannot fail. I will cry and bleed, but I will not falter. I will limp and crawl if I must, but I will not let that stop me.

It’s no wonder he still has that whisper in the back of his mind, screaming against the voices of everyone who tells him that a quirkless nobody is destined to be trampled by the superior other. It’s no wonder he fell so quickly and so deeply into his nightly runs.

It’s no wonder the taunting of his classmates could never be enough to make him take that final leap. The wound is still there, sluggishly bleeding as the scab slowly tries to form. He knows if he picked at it, lingered too long, it wouldn’t take much to reopen. He knows he’s gotten close, stood on that edge far too long before taking that step back.

But he’s still here, isn’t he? Following along after Inko who is trying just as hard to make sure he doesn’t sink. She wouldn’t bat an eye if he fell apart but only try to help him piece back together. She wouldn’t hesitate to stand by him if he decided to keep pushing along.

He knows that in just a moment, they’ll return to their small apartment. She’ll cook dinner and he’ll help her box it up. They’ll ride the train down to the library, and he’ll lose himself amongst the shelves as the hours dwindle away. They’ll eat at one of the study tables, whispering about the things they’ve heard and what he’s read. She’ll drift off on his shoulder on the train ride home, and he’ll send her off to sleep as soon as the front door unlocks.

But for now, Izuku’s content to trail behind her, putting off any thoughts of the future in favor of this moment. Of this soft warmth that radiates from his mother, doing her best and silently encouraging him to do the same.

“Slow down,” he jokingly pleads, letting his arms sag as if burdened by the weight of the grocery bags. She narrows her eyes at him but lessens her stride anyway. He wants to linger in this moment, and she knows. She always knows.

Chapter Text

Staying away from the heroes he’s potentially befriended is a lot harder than Izuku would have thought. Not because they keep trying to track him down or arrest him, but because he can tell they’re being careful. Too careful. The realization threatens to tear the fragile scab that's finally formed over the aching wound of his classmate's words. To them, he’s probably a flight risk. He hates that he’s giving them another thing to worry about, but he doesn’t exactly have a way to fix it so he just tries to stay away unless he’s watching them fight.

He’s not selfish enough to run away from a fight or attack just because he’s worried that they’ll try to arrest him.

Eraserhead told them about his abrupt confession after all.

He’s kinda upset that his personal life got spread around, but he knows why Eraser did it. He would have done the same, if it were someone else. It doesn’t make the way Rave and Foxglove had tried to bring it up any easier to think about. He avoids them less than Eraserhead, but mainly since they’ve stopped trying to talk about it after he'd abruptly tore off the first few times.

Izuku wonders if he should be proud about being able to consistently evade pro heroes.

He can’t feel proud about it.

Izuku lets out a sigh and slumps down from where he’d ducked out of sight upon seeing Eraserhead crouched on a rooftop a street away. It’s his fault things feel strained at night. If he had just kept his mouth shut things would have been fine. He's fine. He knows he's a statistical anomaly, that a lot of other kids like him very much weren't fine. But he is.

Of course, he scolds himself for thinking that way. The heroes are worried. It’s odd to think about pro heroes being worried for him, but it’s the truth no matter how hard it is to accept. He doesn’t regret trusting the hero to listen and not ridicule him. It’s the kind of behavior his teachers should have been showing. It’s not supposed to be so odd.

But it is, so he shakes his head and stands again, looking around for the path he wants to take before Eraser decides to try and have another conversation about it all.

There’s a loud crack in the air, something like thunder despite the sky being clear. He notices a flash in the corner of his eye and starts over. It’s terrible to be grateful for the distraction.
Maybe it’s some drunk loosing control of their quirk and no one is in any actual danger. Maybe it’ll be a harmless incident that he can handle before heading home.

"-sorry! Come on man, just let me go!" The teen on the street frantically pleads with the man striding after him, hands half raised in a defensive but pleading position. Sparks dance off his skin, some longer trails shooting towards the man who keeps stalking forward. There's a third Indvidual face down on the pavement behind them, a knife resting in their limp hand.

Izuku pauses at the edge of the rooftop and frowns as the officer on the line announces his presence. It’s not simple. When is it ever simple?

“Three individuals: one down, another still fighting. Third looks like a victim, young teen currently on the defensive, trying to run. He’s losing control of his quirk, some sort of electricity. Other must have some sort of nullification, as he’s unfazed.”

“Eraserhead is nearby, shall I alert him?”

“Yes- Ah, not good. Jumping in.”

Izuku ends the call as the two draw closer to where he’s standing and the teen trips over a crack in the sidewalk, falling backwards. He looks incredibly panicked, sparks dancing off him as he continues to scramble back, unable to get his feet under him again. There’s a black and white wallet on the ground by the unconscious individual, so it was likely a mugging gone wrong. Izuku quickly gets down to the street and pulls out a knife as he runs, watching the blade dig into the back of the aggressor’s shoulder.

He’ll feel bad about that later.

The man turns around, oddly enough looking up like he’s expecting someone from the rooftop. Izuku doesn’t mind, keeping himself low as he darts forward. The teen scrambles back further as he slams a foot into the man’s knees, quickly moving to restrain him before he can properly get up. He leaves the knife in his shoulder there for now, at least until Eraser or someone can tell him if it’s okay to remove.

The teen stares at him, still sparking rather badly. Izuku can’t help but notice the black streak in his blond hair, but he sets it aside with the rather vulgar cursing to try and calm him down.

“H-Hello, there’s a pro hero on the way, he should be here shortly. Um, it’s gonna be alright. You did well keeping yourself safe,” Izuku says, reaching up to pull his scarf way from his face. The boy just watches him, so Izuku bites his lip and pulls it off. He holds it out to the boy, who gives him an incredulous look. “Soft, it's- it's soft. Might be comforting, err...”

Slowly, he reaches out and takes it. Which seems like an improvement. Incredibly nervous himself, Izuku ends up sitting quietly a few feet away, fidgeting with his fingers. The teen sits with his palms on the fabric, and after a moment begins to fidget with it as well. The sparks fade out, and the teen lets out a choked laugh as he fists the scarf in his hands. There's a thump of boots on pavement that he doesn't react to, hearing Eraser mutter quickly into his comm as he checks the two muggers and properly restrains them.

“Oi, I think this is yours.” Izuku whips around to see that Eraserhead is holding out his knife. He jumps to his feet and cautiously takes it, but the hero simply turns back to the two men. There’s no blood on the blade. The hero must have wiped it off. “You didn’t hit anything serious.”

“R-Right.” Izuku glances back at the teen, who was looking at Eraserhead with a mixture of confusion and awe, which seemed like an appropriate reaction. “Uh, bye!”

Giving a short wave, he darts into the side street, heading for the fire escape as the sound of sirens began to approach. It seemed like Eraserhead wasn’t actively looking to arrest him anymore. At least not if there was a victim to deal with. Small blessings, he thinks.

“Wait! Your scarf!”

Izuku glances back, hanging slightly from the railing to see the teen standing up, the black scarf clutched in his hand.

“Keep it!” he decides, seeing the police car pull up. He still had a spare at home.

Izuku sighs when he pulls it out of his closet. He would need to buy more scarves if he kept this up. Doesn't matter, he decides. It was a small price to help the teen. Knowing Eraser wasn't as arrest-happy was a bonus.

Chapter Text

It’s always hard to keep his hopes from getting up. He wants to avoid it if possible, that way he isn’t disappointed when things do go awry, because they always do when it comes to him. It’s just hard, because it kinda feels like a dream at this point.

The heroes are still giving him space, so he’s not as worried about getting suddenly arrested or put on suicide watch. He’s able to talk to Rave and Foxglove now and again, which is nice. The library is doing fine, and he’s learning more about the system they use. His mom joked the other day that he’s practically the expert with it now, which is odd. He hadn't thought too much about the time he'd spent in the library, how he knew the shelves like the back of his hand. He'd been helping people without really questioning it until someone assumed he was an employee.

Though the weirdest thing is that Kacchan has stopped picking on him in class. It’s like a weird limbo in school now. Everyone seems to be waiting for his approval of things, always trailing off in their insults and shoves when Kacchan doesn’t respond. He would almost feel invisible to his old friend, if he didn't notice how the blond would glare at him whenever he thought Izuku was distracted.

It’s odd.

But it’s a nice odd, and he hopes that it continues.

He hasn’t had to stab anyone else with his knives, which is an added bonus because he does feel pretty bad about hitting that one guy right in the shoulder. He kinda deserved it, attacking someone like he did, but still.

“Hey kid!” Izuku whirls around at the sound of Eraser’s voice, prepared to run either towards the hero or away depending on what comes next. If there’s an emergency, he’s going to follow along. The heroes know that, especially since he doesn’t have a comm to communicate like the rest of them. He wonders if Eraserhead would ever take advantage of his trust to arrest him.

That would suck.

But the hero simply waves something in the air before setting it down and swinging away. He just stares at the hero vanishes into the shadows, rather confused. With nothing else to really do, Izuku makes his way over to the rooftop he’d seen the hero on and starts looking around for whatever it was he’d set down. None of the heroes have ever really given him something.

It had to be something important to get his attention for.

Maybe it’s the warrant for his arrest.

He shook his head, deciding not to think about it until he’d found the thing. If there really was a warrant for his arrest, the hero would have just arrested him. That didn’t make any sense. Unless it was some sort of mind game, but that wasn't really Eraser's style.

Oddly enough, he finds two things set on top of a piece of paper. One being a trademark jelly pouch he’s heard about from the other heroes. It’s peach flavored, which isn’t exactly what he would have expected from the hero. It fits, but it's still surprising. There’s also a super nice-looking knife. It’s hard to tell the details in the lack of light, but it’s incredibly balanced and just seems to be overall high quality. Eraser must have dropped it on accident or something, he tells himself. But the knife was directly on top of the paper, almost tucked under the jelly pouch. Either way, he can't keep something like this. He wanders over to a rooftop with better lighting and takes a look at the paper, making a note to return the knife next time they end up on the same street.

“Not poisoned, keep the knife… I believe you,” Izuku reads, a bit giddy at the sight of the very orderly script on the paper. “Wait.”

Izuku pulls out the knife again, and nearly squawks at just how nice the knife is. He frantically looks around, trying to see if the hero has stuck around for any reason, but finds nothing. A low whine escapes his throat as he holds onto the knife with careful hands. “I can’t- I can’t accept this. Seriously, Eraser?”

There’s no response, and Izuku doesn’t really expect one.

The last gift from the hero is a number scrawled on the bottom of the note, which Izuku memorizes immediately. He thinks about burning the note when he gets home, not wanting to be the reason his number gets leaked or something, but Izuku finds that he can’t. He keeps looking over the message and he can’t bring himself to do it. It's the first time an authority figure in his life has genuinely told Izuku they're on his side. How could he destroy something like that?

Instead, he tucks the slip of paper away in a heroics magazine the moment he gets home and shoves it under his mattress.

Unfortunately, Eraserhead refuses to take the knife back when they run into each other again. To be fair, Izuku doesn’t argue very hard because he’s still terrified of speaking to the heroes too much, or them somehow being able to identify his voice if he runs into them during the day, but the night devolves into a pathetic game of tag between the two shoving the handle at each other before sprinting off.

He gives up when Eraser offers to make a trade, and he ends up alone on the roof with a different knife and another jelly pouch.

After that, it’s just hard to continue avoiding the heroes. Rave seems just as relieved as he is when he answers their questions on a slow night.

The rest of his second year passes by with this new routine. Quiet evenings interrupted by the crime they work to stop. Eraser starts showing up more and more, matching pace with him as they run. Izuku ends up spending far more time with Eraserhead than Rave or Foxglove, and the two mock him for it on the odd evening they end up together. Nights with the pro end up sitting in silence together, sharing drinks or small snacks in the middle of a patrol. Most of the time it’s Eraser who’s tossing a jelly pouch or protein bar his way, but Izuku makes a point of buying canned coffee now and again when the hero expresses an interest in it.

That’s another odd thing. Izuku doesn’t feel like he needs to fill the silence when they sit together. In fact, he rarely says anything other than a brief thanks before they part. There are no expectations, nothing to say or apologize for. There’s nothing but the cool night air, the warmth of company, and the sweet taste of jelly pouches or whatever Eraserhead pulls out that night.

Izuku wonders if Eraser has a sweet tooth or just assumes that Izuku does because he’s young.

But it’s… It’s nice.

Those quiet moments with Eraserhead make Izuku wonder what it would be like if Hisashi worked in Japan, but he tries not to dwell on it too much. His relationship with the hero is something completely different. It feels like the hero knows everything and nothing about him, and vice versa. There’s respect, which is something Izuku doesn’t feel very often. There’s concern, but it’s still quite the surprise whenever the hero comments about Izuku’s skills. They’re still mediocre by fair, but Eraser trusts him to be able to hold his own at least somewhat.

The validation means a lot to Izuku, and he wonders if the hero knows that. He probably does, considering he’s noticed which flavors of jelly pouch Izuku prefers despite never saying a thing.

It’s really nice.

Chapter Text

Izuku sits in silence, listening to the sounds of people walking in the hall, trying to ignore the sound of quiet beeping and the ache in his chest. He thinks back to the last few months, how his nights have gotten better which made the days more bearable. He thinks about silent midnight company, the sweet taste of peach jelly pouches. He thinks about the rush of running and the feeling of weightlessness when you jump, the grounding feeling of landing safely before running again.

Izuku stares at his hands, wishing he could spin and toss a knife between them. Anything to lessen the buzzing energy that seems to press under his skin.

Izuku stares at the white sheet pulled up over his legs and wishes he hadn’t gotten his hopes up.

He can hear his mom just outside the door, angrily speaking into her phone, and he wonders exactly who she’s tearing into. He doesn’t dare say anything to try and calm her down when she storms back into the room. It feels like he’s lost that right. He managed to get through two years without telling her. Two years of dancing around the topic and trying not to hurt each other. A single week into his third year ended that precarious balance. Izuku won’t say it, because it would be insane to do so, but in some ways he’s grateful. He won’t have to lie to his mom anymore.

His head pounds, and he wants to just lie back and sleep, but he can’t quite yet. He sits in silence in his hospital room and stares at his hands. He hopes he’ll get to go home, that it isn’t bad enough he’ll need to stay overnight. He can’t fathom the idea of going out for a run, not for a long while, but eventually he’ll need to at least let Rave or Foxglove or Eraserhead know why he’ll be MIA for a while.

He really just wants to sleep. Everything hurts.

Inko leaves again for a different phone call, and Izuku sighs.

He knows why it happened, though he also knows it shouldn’t have mattered. He forgot that he isn’t supposed to answer his classmate’s questions, that he isn’t supposed to bring up UA. Kacchan didn’t care, he’d been distant for a long time, but the others were bolder now. He forgot he wasn’t supposed to use his skills to avoid his classmates, so by their definition, he was at fault. it was always worse when he didn't lie down and take it. He should have known better.

It’s the worst incident that’s happened at Aldera in his three years, maybe even longer, and the school is blaming him. He’s the aggressor, the one who started it, and he’s got a three-week suspension. There will be a heavy mark on his record, but he agrees with his mom that the worst part of it all was that they didn’t let him see the school nurse.

Everyone else involved had first priority for their scrapes and bruised fists. The boy with a split lip should consider pursuing acting by how big of a fuss he made.

Izuku won’t lie- he fought back this time. Actually, truly fought back before he had the chance to run. Even so, there’s not much he can do against gravity. He knows how to fall, how to minimize injury, but he’s never fallen down a set of stairs.

Though fall implies it was just between him and gravity. He knows that isn't true, no matter how much the school tells them otherwise. The teachers weren't there. They never are.

Izuku really just wants to sleep or sit on the roof for a while. He wants to listen to the wind and stare out across empty streets. He wonders how long it’s gonna take before he can go out again.

When his mom returns, she’s with the doctor. He’s got a concussion- suprise suprise, he can recognize how disjointed everything feels- but his ribs are fractured. The bruises will heal on their own, as well as the scrapes and split lip. He’s going to be in pain for a while, but he’ll heal.

The doctor hesitates for a moment before leaving, offering the name of a good lawyer should they wish to press charges.

Izuku speaks up for the first time then, to argue that it wouldn’t be worth the struggle. He’s not saying he isn’t worth the effort, he knows logically that he is. It’s what Eraserhead and Rave and Foxglove were telling him last year. Emotions don’t equal reason. It’s also why he knows attempting to sue the school or even just press charges against the students involved isn’t worth it. The doctor gets a twisted look on their face, but simply reiterates the offer should they change their mind.

Inko demands that she pull him from Aldera, and he doesn’t argue with that. Instead, he suggests an online program, alleviating her fears that another school will be just as biased or worse. He’s not sure how they could get worse, but if it means he can avoid the classroom, he doesn’t mind.

His days are spent at the library now. He pours himself into schoolwork and different research topics, anything and everything he can get his hands on to stimulate himself when it’s hard to do much more than walk around. He helps out with minor tasks like helping people check out or watering the plants, but for the first three weeks Inko strictly refuses to let him do much more than that.

Thankfully she doesn’t take away his knives, though he can’t carry more than one sharply bladed at once when he’s in the library. He does his best to keep them put away when they’re open, knowing he’s accidentally scared a few people when they approach the front desk only to see him casually tossing a knife into the air while reading.

After about four weeks in, Inko tells him over dinner that she has to pick up a misplaced delivery of donated books from a library in a different prefecture. She’ll be gone for a day or two getting things worked out between the libraries, and while she doesn’t ask if he’d like to stay with the Bakugou’s like normal, she requests that he call Mitsuki if something happens.

When she leaves, Izuku finds himself staring at his running gear for a long while. While it isn’t the first time he’s dealt with bad ribs, it’s definitely the worst. He doesn’t dare risk making them worse, not when he knows they aren’t healed, and his mom is actively tracking how well things are going now that he’s at the library every day.

He promised he would be safe, but he doesn’t know when he’ll get to go out at night again. At the very least, he needs to let Eraserhead and the others know that he’s okay. He doesn't want them to wonder if he'd fallen victim to those words he told them about so long ago.

Maybe he's not okay, but alright. He's better.

So once it’s late, he gets dressed in his running gear and heads out, sticking to the ground until he’s closer to patrol routes. He’s careful and slow when climbing to the rooftop, actually using the stairs of the fire escape rather than climbing the side. He takes a moment to relax, breathe in the air before he looks around. He’s hoping to spot Foxglove, since she’s often in the area around this time. It occurs to him that he could have called the number Eraserhead gave him to explain the situation, but he’s already out.

Izuku thinks for a moment about just following one of the heroes on their patrol, but when he thinks about falling into a roll after leaping across a larger gap, he decides that’s a terrible idea. He'll start retracing one of Foxglove's usual patrol routes, stick to the ground until he can get the message out. One hour, he tells himself. No matter what, he'll head home after an hour.

He startles slightly at the sound of Eraserhead’s voice, the gruff and loud “KID” reaching his ears easily in the otherwise silent streets. There’s a flurry of grey capture weapon as the hero comes sprinting his way, flying across the gap between their rooftops, eyes alight in red glow, and Izuku realizes that the hero has never actually turned his quirk onto him directly before.

He waves sheepishly in greeting, almost afraid to speak up with how intensely Eraser is glaring. He’s glad the hero didn’t try to wrap him up in the capture weapon, quite sure it wouldn’t do him any favors.

“It’s been a month since anyone’s seen you,” the hero snaps, looking him over. “What happened? Is everything alright?”

“Ah, s-sorry-”

“Nevermind that, just tell me what happened.”

Izuku shuffles in place, unable to look the hero in the eye. “Sorry Eraser, I-I really meant to let someone know, but um, this is the first time I’ve really had a chance to get out. I uh, I got pretty hurt. I swear I’m not staying, really, I just needed to let someone know before I, you know, hunker down to fully heal.”

“What injuries?”

Izuku blinks, glancing up. “What?”

“Your injuries. How hurt did you get?” he repeats, staring Izuku down. His hand flexes on his capture weapon, a silent warning not to lie.

“Well, I uh, some classmates...I was pushed- er, fell down the stairs. So usual bruises and scrapes, but uh, a pretty bad concussion and… I can’t recall the specifics but a few of my ribs were fractured…”

“Damnit kid, go home,” Eraserhead snaps. Izuku flinchs, knowing the hero was right, but the pro sighs and continues with a softer tone. “Look, we both know you shouldn’t be out here.”

“I-I know,” he pleads. “I-I just needed to make sure you and the others knew I was okay!”

“Alright, that’s done. Don’t let me see you out here again until you’re fully healed. Three more weeks, minimum.”

Izuku quickly nods. “D-Deal! Will… Will you let Rave and Fox-Foxglove know too?”

Eraser sighs, and Izuku gets the feeling it's a performative gesture. “I will. Now scram.”

And Izuku does, and he’s quick to fall asleep, one less worry on his mind.

Chapter Text

Izuku’s far more relaxed when Inko returns home the next day, filled with energy and he’s incredibly proud when he manages to convince his mom to let him help unload the boxes and tubs of books the library’s been given. He stacks them up in an empty conference room on the first floor while she helps the last of the visitors of the night.

She waves a takeout menu at him when he locks up the doors, a smug look on her face that he can’t say no to. It’s not long before he finds himself sitting on the floor, surrounded by piles of unpacked books, scratching down titles and the condition of the pages as they debate whether or not to add them to the system. The volunteer in charge of the task had been sick the last few days, and so it had been gratefully given to them by the others. After all, the other librarians doubted there was anyone who knew the selection they had better than the two of them. Any books they wouldn’t keep would be passed along to the next library in need. Inko had tried to contact the volunteer but had heard nothing in response.

“How are you feeling? Is the pain still bad?”

Izuku shrugs, setting aside the sequel to a fantasy novel. “I’ve been staying on top of my meds, but it seems like it, yeah. A lot better actually.”

“That’s good. And your classes?”

“Mom, I rant to you all the time about my classes,” he taunts. “Is something wrong? Why all the questions?”

She sighs, a small smile forming as she places a hand to her cheek. “Am I not allowed to worry about you? There’s been so much going on these last few weeks… I just want to make sure you’re doing okay.”

He nods, but he thinks about his time on the rooftops, how Eraserhead said that he believed him. For the first time in a while, he thinks that he’s actually doing okay. He’s doing better than okay, but there’s still a lot that could be better. He’s thankful for what he has and it’s more than enough. “Yeah, I’m okay. Really.”

They fall back into the rhythm of work, talking easily over whatever music or movie they’ve turned on as white noise. After a while, Izuku gets to work making a proper path on the floor, picking up books they’ve scattered everywhere in their organized chaos. The clock silently ticks past the hours as the night grows deeper, and Izuku wonders when the last time he’s felt this calm was.

“Izuku? Can you come look at this?”

The tone of her voice sends a feeling like icy night air running down his back, and Izuku doesn’t hesitate before making his way over to where Inko has knelt in front of one of their last unopened tubs. He peers over her shoulder at the book in her hands, brow furrowing when the pages don’t separate under her fingers.

“What in the world,” he mumbles, sitting down next to her and plucking it from her grasp. It’s far lighter than a book its size should be, and there is a smoothness to the page edges that isn’t natural. No matter how hard he tugs on the cover, it doesn’t budge. It takes only that split moment for him to recognize that these aren’t normal books, but small lock boxes made to look like one.

“There’s quite a few more like that one,” Inko speaks up, and that same cold wind feeling strikes him again. Izuku frowns, and upon noticing the worried look in her eyes, makes a very easy decision.

It’s a Midoriya trait to worry over little things, and it’s better safe than sorry. His nightly runs have confirmed that instinct.

“Turn everything off, I’ll grab tissues and bags. We’ll take them upstairs and call the police,” he says, the both of them already halfway to their feet. “Stuff some other books inside the tub so it doesn’t look like they’re missing and put it with the others.”

“Right.” If his mother is feeling any hesitation, she doesn't show it.

It doesn't take long to shut off the music or shove the tub away. Izuku finds himself with ten to fifteen fake books loaded into plastic library bags as he ushers his mom up the stairs before turning off the lights and following after. They duck behind the desk on the second floor, slipping into the offices and dropping all of the bags under a desk. Inko continues to look over one, looking for a way to open it while Izuku pulls out his phone- his personal phone, there’s no reason to risk revealing himself when it could be nothing- and dials the non-emergency line.

“Hello, you’ve reached the non-emergency call line. How can I help you tonight?”

“My mother and I work at the local library and recently received a large donation of books. In sorting them out tonight, we found what, maybe twelve, fifteen fake books? I think they’re the kind of book safe, but we weren’t told about them and have no way of knowing what’s inside.” He glances back to where his mom is sitting in her chair, paperclip in hand. She must have found a keyhole or something. “I figured it would be better to call in than risk something happening. I can give you the address.”

“Alright, thank you." The address falls from his lips as he scours his mind for whatever heroes might be in the area this late at night. "Let me see if there are any officers we can send your way…”

“Thank you,” he sighs, nervously tapping his foot. The dread hasn’t faded, but he’s hoping that it’s nothing more than paranoia. If something goes wrong, he’s not sure what he’ll do. He only has a dull knife and one of his double-bladed ones with him. He could probably steal the spray bottle, but it’s plain water and he doesn't want to risk his mom killing him for using something so seemingly stupid.

There’s nothing but the faint sound of the air conditioner and his mother’s occasionally shifting. It’s silent, and Izuku closes his eyes while he crouches at her side and strains his ears. He wishes he had a scarf to duck his face into. He tries not to think of all of the things that could be stashed in the books, but it's hard not to think when they all felt so light. Why lock them if there’s nothing inside? Maybe it was the effect of a quirk, but if so that meant they had stumbled into something much deeper than he’d like.

What if it’s Trigger, somehow?

Eraserhead told him very strictly to avoid the drug, and he’s been rather content to do so. Outside of internet searching of course. But the thought alone is terrifying. If it’s a shipment of drugs they’ve accidentally received, who knows who will come looking for it?

“Alright, thank you for your patience. We’ve got a few officers in the area that we can-”

Izuku cuts off his own sigh of relief when he hears the faint sound of shattering glass. “Wait, I think someone just broke in.”

“Where are-”

“We’re on the second floor, hiding in the offices behind the front desk.” Izuku drops his voice to a lower tone, wincing when the alarm abruptly cuts off and plunges the library into silence again. He doesn’t flick off the lights when he darts back to his mom. They’ve probably already noted there was someone here. He waves her down, and the two sit on the ground in the low lighting, hiding away with the books they’ve taken with them. He carefully peers out towards the staircase, knowing that no matter which of the three floors they’ve entered, they’ll have to at least pass by the staircase.

“There’s at least two individuals, one with some sort of horned mutation and the other with no indicator,” he mutters as the two appear for a brief moment before the horned figure goes back downstairs.

“Those officers should be there in seven minutes. We’ve sent out an alert to the hero line. As soon as I’ve received a response, I’ll let you know. Are you in a safe enough place to stay on the line?”

He glances at his mom before returning to watch as the remaining figure looks around for a moment before starting over their way. He bites back a curse. “I’m handing the phone over to my mother now.”

Inko looks panicked when she takes the device, and he tries to give her a reassuring smile. He figures it looks more like a grimace, so he drops it entirely. Smiling seems wrong. “It’s going to be alright. They’ll keep you updated on ETA’s, I have to go out and distract him. They’d find us and the books sooner or later. I’ll be alright, I swear. I’ll be smart and safe about it.”

It’s about the only plan he has. He wonders how badly she’ll scold him when things are said and done. He wonders if Eraserhead would approve of it.

Probably not. Oh well.

Chapter Text

His mother immediately hisses, looking panicked, “Izuku-”

The man is about to the front desk at this point, so Izuku just takes a breath and stands, focusing in on the dull pain now that his meds are starting to wear off. He thinks about his exhaustion and lets out a loud yawn as he walks forward, rubbing at his face and heading straight to the computer. He has to do this, pretend and distract until someone shows up or they leave.

He bats at the mouse to light the screen up, glancing briefly at the man before stopping to look at him fully. He sighs, taking a moment to look the man up and down. He’s incredibly plain looking, with slightly shaggy brown hair and dull eyes. His attire is darker tones, something casual but put together. If Izuku wasn’t high on paranoia, he’d have assumed the man was just some average individual and not up to something incredibly sketchy.

“Oh, sorry. We’re closed,” he finds himself saying, words drawn out and heavy with a weariness he’s often heard in Eraserhead’s tone. “I must have forgotten to lock one of the doors. If you come back tomorrow, I’d be more than willing to help you then.”

The man stares for a moment, a bit startled before approaching the desk fully. Izuku just leans into his line of sight and waves a hand.

“Hello, sir?” he calls out, leaning into a bored annoyance he's heard from teachers who thought he should be doing something else than whatever he was actually up to. He’s not about to let him look too closely at where is mother is hiding. Thankfully, he turns his attention back to Izuku without any more prompting.

“Ah, sorry. Did you recently receive a donation of books from another library?” the man finally speaks up. His voice is sharp, probing for answers. Izuku’s sharp too.

He raises his eyebrows, mimicking Foxglove’s deadpan stare. “Yes, why?”

“I work with the organization in charge of collecting and distributing those donations, I should have introduced myself to start with,” he laughs, but it’s not an awkward pseudo apology. It’s calculated and it’s nervous. “We noticed that a few important books were accidentally included in your donation and would like to get them back as soon as possible.”

“Ah, okay. We haven’t been able to look through them too much since we just got them in tonight and the volunteer who was supposed to sort them has been MIA after getting sick a few days ago,” Izuku hums, reaching for the yellow notepad and pen on the desk. If he wasn’t playing along, he’d be asking for a name of the organization because that should have been mentioned. “If you tell me what you’re looking for, I can keep an eye out. I may look young, but I spend all most all of my time here, being quirkless and all. It’s a really nice place to hang out. The librarians certainly appreciate the help.”

The man startles slightly, and Izuku keeps his expression still. Take the bait, he thinks. I’ve told you that I’m weak. I’m quirkless, so just take the bait. Underestimate me, he chants, give me that advantage. Izuku knows that he looks like a small, plain teen. He’s just thrown out his biggest weakness without any second thought. No one who was a threat would do that. Underestimate me, he demands.

“Right, well, I’d hate to waste any more time,” the man says instead, though his shoulders slump a bit. “I’m sure you would have noticed them right away. They’re actually fake books, miniature safes.”

“Really? Wow, that’s such a neat idea!” Izuku blurts, dropping his pen in favor of waving his hands about with his words. His voice jumps with the sort of fascination that tends to make most adults try to end the conversation immediately. “I’ve never heard of those before. Are they made out of real books or manufactured by a company? I bet they’d be hard to distinguish from a normal book on a shelf. How does that work? If you made them from a real book, it would probably take a lot more effort, but they’d be far more realistic. But if they were made specifically to be safes, you could probably include some sort of locking mechanism to really make sure no one gets into it.”

“Right, well,” the man predictably cuts him off. “They’re pretty obvious once you see them. So?”

Izuku twists his lips in thought, wondering if he can get away with another rant about how much they could fit inside. “I can’t recall anything specifically. Was there anything inside the safes that you need? I could convince the librarians to hold them in the safe once they’re discovered if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“I know it’s late, but I really need those books,” the man huffs, dropping a notebook heavily onto the table. The cover has been folded back so a page is resting upright. It looks like a collage of images, including a bat and a few other concerning images. It’s an odd thing to carry around when breaking into a place, Izuku thinks, so it might be related to his quirk.

“I’m sorry sir, but I really don’t know. If you need to check, we put everything in one of the conference rooms on the first floor,” Izuku says. “Besides, they wouldn’t be able to hold much anyways, right? Clearly if they got donated, they must not have been that important to keep track of.”

“Look kid-”

Izuku doesn’t like hearing “kid” from this man. He’s not sure why. He notices the man is beginning to flex his hands. So he leans forward, pushing the notebook up against a cup of bookmarks so they fall off the desk. Startled, the man grabs the cup only for it to flatten into a paper-thin image.

“Whoa!” Izuku immediately blurts. “Is that your quirk? That’s amazing! Is it some sort of compression? I bet you could make it so much easier to transport things- do the objects retain their weight or are they actually paper?”

The man huffs and drops the 2D cup on the notebook, and it seems to melt onto the page, covering up part of a briefcase. “Why don’t you come down with me to go check? It will be faster with an extra pair of hands, yeah?”

He’s saved from having to answer when the library phone begins to ring. The tone practically screams into the air, and Izuku sighs before reaching for it, answering the phone before the man can stop him.

“Hello, you’ve reached your local public library. Unfortunately, we are closed at this time.” He holds up a finger to the man, rolling his eyes in mock annoyance.

“This is Detective Tsukauchi. We’ve got several pro heroes and officers on standby. Are you safe?”

Izuku blinks. “Oh, hello Mrs. Tanaka. I'm alright. Is something wrong?”

“There’s a forcefield, assumably quirk related that’s currently preventing us from getting inside. We've reason to believe this event is related to a larger case. Are you and your mother alright?”

“Oh, that’s not good. Don’t worry about it, we can handle things here until you’re feeling better.” Izuku wonders if he’s convincing enough. It’s harder than he would have expected to make up a one-sided conversation.

“Once Pro-Hero Eraserhead can get a clear sightline to disrupt the quirk, we’ll head in. You’re doing a great job,” the Detective calmly states. Izuku can’t help but feel that the voice is familiar, but he’s not entirely sure.

“Is there anything I can do to help out? Should I move your plants up to the third floor with the others? They’ll get plenty of sunlight,” he offers, leaning up against the desk, giving the man before him a placating gesture. The man shifts, crossing his arms.

“Under no circumstances should you put yourself at risk. Just stall for a while longer now.”

Izuku frowns. “Alright, Mrs. Tanaka. I’ll do my best. I have to go now. It’s late, you should go to bed.”

“You’re doing very well son, understand? It shouldn’t be much longer now.”

“Alright, alright. I'll let her know. Thank you, goodnight now,” he chirps before hanging up.

Someone missing the very distinct horned mutation comes practically falling out of the staircase, and Izuku reaches into his pocket to grab his knives. 2D turns around to look at the noise, frustration clearly written on his face. Izuku tilts his head to the side, trying to look confused. At least three then. Damn, he thinks. Not good.

“Is this a co-worker of yours?” he asks.

“They aren’t there!” the man shouts instead. “All of them are gone, damnit!”

Izuku hopes he isn’t reacting negatively when they both turn to glare at him, the pale blond addition immediately heading over. His hands begin to glow with quirk use, and 2D’s eyes glance to his sketchbook on the desk. Izuku wants to scream- he’s out of time.

He could fight, it would be hard with his ribs and all, but it wouldn’t be something he had never done before. He could fight and lure them up to the third floor like he suggested. He could take them away from his mom and the books and get them into Eraser’s eyesight. There are windows on this floor, but not nearly enough clear sightlines.

He could get arrested, however, if Eraserhead recognizes him.

Izuku doesn't have time to debate with himself. There’s only a split second before 2D will be reaching for his notebook and Blondie will be letting off his quirk. His mom is in the line of fire, even if they don’t know it.

Is he going to risk his identity?

The answer is obviously yes.

Chapter Text

Izuku vaults onto the counter, catching 2D’s fingers under his foot. There’s a cut off shout when he slams a kick into his temple before essentially tackling the man to the ground when Blondie lets off a sort of concussive blast or something that nearly catches him. The glass windows shatter, but he doesn’t hear any sort of response from his mother, so he decides to take that as good news.

2D’s unconscious, so Izuku keeps himself low when he sprints past Blondie, glad to see his quirk has a recharge time. On the way past, he whips out one of his knives and manages to nick him in the arm.
Something Izuku has always loved about the library is how the third floor has a sort of balcony that overlooks about half of the second floor. It’s an odd architectural design, but he’s almost certain that’s where Eraser would have situated himself to get the best line of sight. So long as he can get Blondie to call up the mutation quirk and into that sight line, things will be fine.

Everything will be fine. It has to be.

If it means keeping his mom safe, Izuku can do this much.

He pauses in the doorway to the stairs, glancing between the two directions as if trying to make a choice. He needs Blondie to follow him, rather than search the second floor. He can’t think of a thing he could say that wouldn’t seem suspicious. Thankfully, he doesn’t have to think for very long. It’s a fight after all. This man watched a teenager knock out one of his partners, and they need him alive to get the safes back. Considering 2D’s quirk, Izuku figures that whatever’s inside might be far more dangerous than they had expected. Hell, it could really be Trigger for all he knew.

His chest burns. He doesn’t want to drag the fight out for very long.

Blondie clutches at his cut for a moment before reaching up to his ear, the comm device nearly hidden by his shaggy hair. “Get up here, the kid’s a runner.”

There’s a slight commotion from the first floor, and Izuku ducks fully into the staircase to dodge another blast. Sure enough, he can see the curling ram-like horns when someone begins to run up the stairs from below. Izuku lets out a shout before scrambling up to the third floor. It isn’t very hard to act terrified, because he is. It feels awful fighting without his knifes or spray bottle or even just a hood to cover his face.

He reaches out with a practiced hand and plunges the library into darkness. The shadows make him feel much better about things. Between the emergency lights and the faint yellow glow from the shield blocking the windows, he’s certain that there won’t be an issue with Eraserhead using his quirk. There have certainly been darker nights.

The two men kick up quite a ruckus when they follow him to the third floor, and Izuku ducks around a few bookshelves to throw them off before heading straight to the seating area by the balcony. He leaps over the couch facing the glass railing and crouches on the floor, trying to take in air against his protesting ribs.

If he does get arrested tonight, he’s going to have to deal with Eraser and his mom scolding him for fighting when he’s injured. The fact that he’s about to get arrested should be more worrying than anything, but it’s almost comedic to think of how different the two are when it comes to keeping him in line.

He listens carefully for the two, glaring at the glass in front of him and wondering if they’d be able to see his reflection in it. It’s unlikely, but he doesn’t like not being able to see them either. Izuku can’t help but think he’s been a bit spoiled by the vantage point rooftops and fire escapes have provided him.

“Oi, kid, just show us where the books are already, and we’ll get out of your hair!”

“He’s too quick, maybe we should just cut our losses and leave.”

“Are you insane? If we don’t bring back all the vials in those books, we’re dead meat.”

“I’ve got one on me, think we should use it?”

“Hand it over, your quirk won’t do shit.”

Izuku’s incredibly grateful for the sound of shattering glass, immediately moving to peer around to where Eraserhead’s capture weapon has wrapped around the two men. In a swift movement, they slam against each other and fall to the ground. There’s a faint glint of light as Blondie drops a vial. It rolls towards the couch, and Izuku doesn’t really think before snatching it up. It's no good if the evidence gets lost under the furniture.

There’s a moment of quiet as Eraserhead speaks into his comm, the sound familiar and far more comforting than he thought it could be. It’s over quickly when other heroes and police officers rush in, feet pounding against the steps as lights are turned back on. He slumps against the sofa and forces his lungs to take some slow breaths, one hand on his aching chest.

“Oh.”

Izuku glances up to see Eraserhead looking at him in thinly veiled surprise. His brow furrows before he scrambles to his feet. Did Eraser not notice that he had wandered that close to Izuku? He stares at the hero for a moment, unable to say a word as he finds himself fixated on the details of his hero costume that he hadn’t seen before. In the dark of rooftops at night, his costume seemed a lot simpler. Now illuminated by the soft amber lights of the library, he can easily make out far more pockets and the faint outline of armor patches under his otherwise bulky and loose jumpsuit. His boots are clearly steel toed and a high-quality brand, though well worn.

“Ah!” Izuku blurts, abruptly realizing that he’s been staring at the hero for far too long. “Here, I think this is evidence. They were about to do something with it before you broke in.”

Eraserhead stands a bit straighter but takes the vial from him, taking a brief look at it before stuffing it away. “Thanks kid. Are-”

“Eraser!”

The hero’s attention is pulled away by one of the detectives standing by the two properly restrained criminals, giving him a chance to relax for a moment. He tries to prepare for the eventuality of his arrest, but he’s oddly calm. Maybe it’s because he’s gotten to feel some of the adrenaline rush of his nightly runs again. Maybe it’s because he knows it would have been worth it if it meant keeping his mom safe.

Izuku tenses, immediately recalling that he hasn’t heard a thing from his mom. Did something happen? He was so sure there were only three that he left her alone. What if he was wrong? What if she had gotten hurt in that first blast?

“Where is he? Where is Izuku?!” Hearing her panicked tone, he immediately spins around to the railing and peers down, spotting his mother clutching tightly to a tissue box as two police officers try to calm her.

“Mom!” he shouts back. Her eyes are filled with tears, and he feels his stomach drop. He’s clearly worried her so much tonight. But she’s safe. Thank god she's safe.

Before he can really think too much about it, he’s throwing himself over the railing and landing on top of one of the bookshelves on the second floor. Quite a few books are displaced in his rush to get down, but soon enough he’s running to his mom and getting swept up in a painful hug.

“Oh Izuku! I was so worried and-and you were right there! You were so- just- Oh! Are you hurt?! The glass shattered and then you were gone and-”

“Mom, I’m alright, I promise. Ease up a bit on me, please?” he squeaks. Immediately, Inko’s signature bear hug relaxes a bit. She continues to fuss over him, and he lets her. He wasn’t in a position to stop her in the first place since he was the one to so recklessly put himself in danger.

Was he about to get arrested?

If he was, then he didn’t want to rob her of this.

Instead, he soaks in the comfort of his mother and lets her ramble away her worries, shoving away the fear of what might come next with the overwhelming warmth she gives. He loses himself in the familiarity of comforting her, trademark Midoriya tears falling from them both. Eventually, he knows he will have to explain what happened, and he’d have to look Eraserhead in the eye and know that he was lying to the hero.

Would he be able to do it?

He could sense the hero hovering a few feet behind him. There were quite a few eyes on the two of them as it was, being the only two witnesses. A lot of people had already filtered out alongside the three criminals and the books that had been properly retrieved. He didn’t really like the sensation of being at the center of attention. It was incredibly uncomfortable, and he really just wanted to get things over with.

Izuku just about jumps out of his skin when a hand falls onto his shoulder. Whipping around, he sees it was Eraserhead, who looks down at him with a blank face. He thinks there's a slight smugness to him.

“Long time no see, huh, Shadow?” the hero drones.

Chapter Text

He blinks. Once… Twice. “Excuse me?”

“What?” Eraserhead looks almost bored with the conversation, but considering he was the one to initiate things, there’s clearly something he’s looking for. Izuku’s just not sure what that is.

“Who...” Izuku mutters, brow furrowing. "Did you just call me Shadow?"

“Yes?”

Izuku glances over to the Detective standing nearby, finding that the man is also incredibly interested in the interaction. The long tan trench coat makes it hard to miss him lingering. He’s not really sure what’s going on. “I’m sorry, but I have no idea who you're talking about.”

There’s a moment of silence before the detective steps forward.

“My name is Detective Tsukauchi, we spoke over the phone. It’s safe to assume then that you don’t know anything about the vigilante Shadow?”

“No,” Izuku admits, glancing at his mom and Eraser before turning back to the detective. “I’ve done a lot of research about the local heroes, especially underground ones which can be hard to pick from the vigilante’s on hero forums… But this is the first time I’ve heard that name.”

He just sighs before giving them a smile, and Eraserhead turns away for a moment and curses. It’s abrupt enough that Izuku wonders if he gave the wrong answer somehow. Instead, Eraser just removes his hand from Izuku's shoulder and takes a step back.

“You’ve got some skills, knocking one out and leading the others upstairs,” Eraser says. “Good work, kid. Where’d you learn that?”

“Ah, it’s not really that impressive. There’s a multi-focus gym in the area that I used to train at,” he replies. “It’s also one of the only places that doesn’t ask about your quirk status unless absolutely necessary.”

“What is your quirk, if you don’t mind us asking,” the detective jumps in. He feels his mom grip onto his hand tighter, but he just gives them all a small smile.

“I’m quirkless, actually.” He doesn’t intend for his voice to grow quiet, but it does, so he quickly swallows and waves his free hand in the air. “Anyways I’ve learned a lot from them so…”

“Thank you for indulging our curiosity,” Detective Tsukauchi continues, pausing after a moment to watch Eraserhead walk away. “Once one of our officers takes your statements, you’ll be free to head home. Of course, with the circumstances, we’ll be having a hero escort you.”

“Thank you, Detective,” Inko speaks up. “Oh, if it’s not too much to ask, is there someone who could look over my son? There was an incident a while back that fractured his ribs, so they aren’t fully healed yet. I’m worried that something might have happened tonight.”

“Mom-” Izuku protests, but when the detective waves over one of the other police officers to call in the medics on Stand-by, he lets it be. It wouldn’t hurt to make sure that he hasn’t hurt himself even more, but he’s almost absolutely sure that nothing has changed.

The EMT checks him over quickly, and he was right that nothing had really changed, but he’s scolded once again for being reckless while injured so there isn’t really much he can do other than nod and agree and swear he’ll never do it again.

But the truth is he would. He’d do it again in a heartbeat if it meant keeping his mom safe.

It doesn’t take them long to give their statements, and Izuku’s glad that he can be fully honest about the situation. He knows he’s not the best fighter and it’s really a miracle that he was able to stall as long as he had, but he’s fast. He’s been fast and he’s had to be fast for many years now. It was the safest decision he had made the entire night aside from ushering his mom upstairs and away from the books.

Izuku can’t help but think he’s gotten incredibly lucky thus far. Aside from the potential risk having his ribs look at posed, he can’t think of anything they had asked that could have incriminated him. He’s tired and ready to head home and sleep, but his mom is still rather strung up, so he’s focused on keeping her calm.

When they finally leave, he ends up wrapped up in talking about the new obstacles they’re planning to add to the free running course at the gym. He’s easily distracted trying to stay away from the events of the night despite how close they end up coming to it. To occupy his own nerves, he ends up pulling out his training knife and flicking it between his hands as they walk.

“You know how to use that thing?”

Izuku jumps again at the sound of Eraserhead’s voice and curses himself for not paying attention to who exactly their escort was. The hero is looking at his knife with narrowed eyes, and in his lack of response, Inko eagerly jumps in to go on about how hard he’s been working to learn how to use them properly.

“It’s just a hobby, really,” he adds in. “A bit for self-defense, but I’d rather not end up on the wrong side of my knives.”

“Where’d you get your knives? They seem familiar.”

Izuku offers it up to the hero, nervous but well aware of how he can answer. “I mean, there aren’t too many brands that have high quality products for a reasonable price that don’t cater directly to heroics. I’m sure there are quite a few villains out there with knives like these since they weren't too hard to get.”

Eraserhead takes it and checks the balance. It’s odd to see the hero holding his knife. He’s seen it more than once, actually, but not as a civilian. For a moment he wonders if there’s any nicks or marks that might tell Eraser who he is, but he immediately dismisses the idea because he’s never brought the training knife out with him at night.

After a moment of examining it, the hero lets out a long hum and hands it back.

They make it back home with no other issues, and Eraserhead leaves with only a single short bow before turning around. The door closes, and they both head to their rooms, and nothing happens.

Izuku lets out a sigh when he falls back onto his bed, wondering if he got away free or if they’ll be coming to arrest him in the next week or so. He takes in a slow breath before shooting up, mind suddenly whirling at his obliviousness. He nearly did get arrested tonight. He was so incredibly close to getting arrested and he didn’t even realize it. Hell, he spoke with Eraserhead so easily! There's the slightest chance that they had doubts based on how calmly he spoke to them compared to his nervous stammering at night, but that was such a stretch.

He’s just thankful that no one ever called him Shadow on his nightly runs.

No wonder Eraserhead was so annoyed.

Chapter Text

He’s incredibly nervous when he’s healed up enough to go out for a run again. There’s an edge of fear, that once Eraserhead hears his voice again that the pieces will fall into place. He’s worried that the hero has already figured it out and is waiting to catch him in the act.

But he’s already been taking actual walks and runs in the morning, and Inko had taken away his gym pass because he’d been pushing the edge of his healing for a while now. He’s restless. There are only so many nights that he can spend hunched over in front of a screen, diving down rabbit holes. He even got around to learning more about coding. His main goal is to hack into the hero comms so he can provide his analysis to the heroes directly instead of through the hotline like he has been.

Izuku loves his mother, but he feels like he’s been stuck with stale air for weeks now. The extra time with her both at home and at the library is wonderful, he’s incredibly grateful for it, don’t get him wrong, but he misses those nightly runs.

So he swallows his nerves and gets dressed in his blacks and greys. It feels like it’s been forever, so he checks his first aid kit and his zip ties. He refills his spray bottle and carefully picks out his knives for the night. His scarf is soft against his neck and his goggles are a welcome weight.

He knows it would be smart to ease back into things, to make sure he really is ready to jump back in after staying away. He knows it logically, but when he scampers up to the first rooftop of the night, the cool wind blows against his back and Izuku wonders if oxygen has always been this addicting.

After savoring the feeling for a moment, he takes a step back before falling into a familiar run, drifting close to patrol routes so he can greet Rave and Foxglove. He’s excited to see them again. He hopes that nothing too big has happened while he was gone. He hopes they’ve both been safe.

He stumbles upon Foxglove first, who has to double take before she finally grins and waves up at him. He feels like his cheeks might burst when he waves back. She’s changed her costume up a bit, added in a bit more armor on her arms.

“Welcome back, kid!” she shouts up at him. “Rave’s gonna flip when they found out I greeted you first.”

He laughs a bit, but waves again before going to search for the other hero. Rave’s a bit preoccupied when he finds them, talking to a bouncer outside of one of the clubs, so he sits down on the edge to wait, idly kicking his feet.

After a moment, the bouncer seems to catch sight of him, and he nudges the hero. Immediately Rave has whipped around, looking for a potential threat. Instead, Izuku just waves down at them. Finally spotting him, a wide grin breaks out onto their face. It's a bit odd to know that the local nightlife has gotten used to having him around, but he doesn't mind.

He startles when Rave throws their hands into the air and lets out a loud whoop, incredibly excited it seems to see him. He lets them dance around for a bit before he decides to keep going, not wanting to sit still for too long. Rave pouts when he stands, but waves him off nonetheless.

To his surprise, he finds Rock Lock next. It had been a while since he had seen the hero, having recently taken less patrols to prepare for being a father. It’s a nice sight to see him out on the streets again, so he calls out a greeting despite his nerves.

The hero pauses before searching the rooftops for him, finally shaking his head with a grin. “Welcome back I guess. Maybe Rave will stop whining now.”

Overall, Izuku thinks it’s the warmest reception he’s ever received.

It’s easy to slip back into things now that he’s healed. Eraserhead isn't out the first night, but by the second, it doesn’t take long to run into each other.

Izuku feels a bit bad when the hero leans out of the way of the stream of water sent his way, but the hero really should have expected it after abruptly landing behind him at the end of a fight he’d helped Foxglove end. Though help is a bit of a stretch, considering the woman had it pretty much handled. He was mainly just restraining the villains so they wouldn’t jump back into the fight.

“All healed then?” Eraserhead asks.

“Yep!” he chirps back.

Foxglove snorts behind him. “Don’t worry Eraser, even if he’s not lying, Rave already decided not to let him fight for another week.”

“Huh?” he immediately protests. “I’m-I'm fine!”

“You didn’t get into any trouble while you were supposed to be resting, did you?” Eraserhead prompts.

“I didn’t,” he pleads. The library was very low risk considering the circumstances. He wasn’t hurt at all during it.

“I don’t believe you.”

Foxglove starts laughing, and Izuku just lets out a heavy sigh, completely lost on how he could possibly convince the hero. There’s an undertone to his voice that tells Izuku that there’s nothing he could do that would help, so he just lets his shoulders slump before scrambling back up onto the rooftop without another word.

He’s used to not being believed but for some reason it hurts more. He knows that he is lying, at least by omission, so it’s completely fair that the hero doesn’t believe him. He’s not sure why he’s frustrated. So while the two heroes start talking below him, Izuku tries to roll the tension out of his shoulders before he starts running again.

Around the time he normally starts heading home, he’s still sitting on a rooftop. It’s not like he has to get up for school. His mom has gotten pretty relaxed about his sleep schedule so long as he’s still eating and getting enough sleep. He’s letting his frustration wash away as the first signs of dawn begin to break. He doesn’t want to stay out long enough to actually watch the sunrise, but he’s really content to just sit.

After a while, Eraserhead manages to find him again and sits down on the edge a few feet away. A jelly pouch is held out his way, and Izuku silently takes it with just a short bow of his head.

“Thank you for staying off the streets until you were healed,” Eraserhead speaks up after a moment. “We all appreciate you respecting that request.”

“I-I mean, I was gonna do it regardless…” Izuku sighs. “I-I’d hate to, well, to be a burden on-on any of you because I was st-stupid enough to go out injured.”

“You’ve got more common sense than half my old classes,” the hero grumbles.

“You teach?” he blurts before he can think of it.

“Yes. Law and Ethics mainly, though I split heroics with other faculty.”

Izuku stares at the hero for a moment, finding it both easy and difficult to see Eraserhead and his blunt logic in a classroom environment. His own experience with teachers makes him wonder what it would be like to be under his guidance. He turns away when his thoughts begin to spiral, deciding that it really doesn’t matter what kind of teacher Eraserhead is. He’s a heroics teacher and Izuku has next to no chance to get into a heroics course.

“Ah,” he ends up saying, focusing on the kiwi jelly pouch so he can’t say anything else.

“Entrance exam season is approaching. Have you thought about applying to a heroics course?”

Izuku doesn’t want to answer, so he doesn’t, instead trying to read the label on the back of the pouch.

“Surely you’ve thought about applying to UA at least,” the hero continues.

“I’m forty-seven,” Izuku finds himself blurting.

“What?”

He tucks the empty pouch into one of his pockets and climbs to his feet, deciding to run with it. “I’m forty-seven years old, Eraserhead.”

“Kid, really?”

Izuku just grins and runs, laughing at the half-hearted strip of capture weapon that swats him on the shoulder. If he’s fully honest, it’s been a while since Izuku’s thought about high school. It’s been a while since he’s thought about his dream to become a hero. His nightly runs have been enough for him. Besides, when there are laws that don’t include him and laws that directly exclude him, how could he possibly become a legal hero? It’s not like he could even lie about having a passive quirk, not when they have medical records and x-rays that would say otherwise.

He finds himself looking at the updated bylaws of UA High school, staring at the removal of the rule that prevented quirkless students from applying to the heroics course. In the end, Izuku closes the tab and heads to bed, no decision made.

Chapter Text

If Izuku is fully honest, he hadn’t expected to see Katsuki again until they were adults. He’s not sure why, considering they still live in the same neighborhood. But Katsuki stopped bullying him and grew distant, and the dinners with the Bakugou’s stopped, and then he left Aldera, so it’s been a gradual shift from seeing him every day to never.

Even so, he finds himself curling up under a vermillion gaze across the kitchen table and for once he doesn’t try to fill the growing silence. He blames the bit of confidence he’s been growing each night he goes out. Their parents had retreated into the kitchen at Mitsuki’s urging, something his mom was very against until something had been whispered to her. He’s not entirely sure what’s going on. Whatever it is must be important. It’s not exactly the most comforting thought either way.

“You good?”

“Huh?” Izuku blinks and finds that Katsuki’s glare is directed at the table between them. The image before him just seems off. How long has it been since he last saw Katsuki look so… unsure about something? His expression is clearly hesitant in the annoyed way that only Katsuki can seem to look.

“I asked if you were fucking okay,” he snaps. Izuku doesn’t jump at the sudden rise in volume and because he’s so aware of everything going on right now, that little fact throws him off again. “Those damn extras kicked you down the stairs. You went to the hospital.”

“Oh, yeah. I got cleared by the doctor… a week or two ago? It really wasn’t that bad,” he replies, wishing he could pull out one of his knives. He wonders briefly how Katsuki would react to seeing how proficient with the weapon he’s become. Would he take offense? While he was certain that the blond might have before he left Aldera, he doesn’t think it would get the same reaction now. Izuku’s curious.

“Good.” There’s a long silence before the blond huffs. “Look, I was… I’m an asshole. That shit I said to you wasn’t okay.”

“I know.” Izuku stares into surprised eyes, and he can’t help the small smile that tugs at his lips. “I knew back then too.”

Katsuki frowns deeper, eyes falling back to the table. “I could have stopped those extras at Aldera if I wanted, but I didn’t.”

“I know.” Izuku’s pretty sure he knows where this is going, but he’s not entirely sure how to feel about it. He’s going to be honest though because he feels like both of them need it. He definitely needs it, which is good enough for him. He wonders if Eraserhead would be proud.

“That shit wasn’t heroic.”

“It wasn’t,” Izuku agrees, taking a moment to clear his throat. It isn’t easy to be honest. He’s not sure if he’d rather this conversation just didn’t happen. “They told you it was okay because you would be a great hero in the future, but it meant well, you weren’t much of a hero then. You-You could have been.”

“Right… I’m gonna be better.”

“I believe you.”

Izuku laughs a bit at the flustered expression on his old friend’s face. Katsuki probably would have been worse if he hadn’t gotten so injured. If someone hadn’t slipped up in the hallway their second year. Katsuki might have been worse if that hadn’t happened. If Izuku hadn’t left Aldera, things might have gotten to the point of no return. But they hadn’t, at least not how Izuku saw it. Katsuki said some terrible things, but he was also repeating things he’d been told. It wasn’t much of an excuse, but it was reason enough for Izuku to extend a second chance. There wasn’t anything beyond that, however. Katsuki would have to do the hard work.

“What?” Katsuki says, and it’s clear he doesn’t quite believe him.

“I believe you. You said you’ll be better, and I believe it.” Izuku shrugs. “I don’t- I don’t forgive you. I won’t forgive you until you can prove it, but… but I’ll believe you.”

“Thanks, De-” Katsuki huffs. “Izuku.”

Izuku just nods. It's as close to an apology as he’ll get from Katsuki, at least for now. There’s a lot of progress that needs to be made, though being brash and borderline abrasive has always been a part of Katsuki’s personality, so he’s not entirely sure exactly how much change can occur. That part of him will likely always remain. He figures it will be his actions that change the most, so that’s what he’ll wait on. Katsuki will probably always curse and yell, but he’ll keep an eye on what he isn’t saying. Izuku has heard stories of Mitsuki’s attempts at apologies from his mother for years now. If the two are anything alike, he’ll probably end up with a lifetime of favors to cash out instead of the actual words “I’m sorry” unless they’re scratched down on a piece of paper attached to take-out at 3am.

They sit in silence for a moment longer before Izuku starts hearing harsh whispering from the kitchen. He finds it more unnerving than when they had been quiet. Izuku wouldn’t be surprised if they had been eavesdropping, but the argument is worrying. It isn’t long before Mitsuki is storming out and his mom is rolling her eyes as she follows behind the blonde woman.

“Seriously, you brat,” Mitsuki snaps, “is it really that hard to fucking apologize?”

Katsuki bristles in his seat but doesn’t respond.

“It-It’s alright, really,” Izuku says. “Even if the wording is different, I can tell he means it.”

“Well thank you, but there’s no need to defend my pain in the ass son,” she coos his way. Her eyes narrow again as she glares at Katsuki. “Consider yourself lucky that Izuku’s such an angel. Maybe now you’ll actually be able to protect him like you were so stubborn about doing when you were a smaller brat.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Katsuki finally replies, still glaring at the table.

“Don’t ‘whatever’ me!”

Izuku frowns, trying to separate the reasons why he feels like he’s eaten something bitter. One is more easily addressed, so he sighs and stands. “I appreciate the concern, but I don’t need Katsuki to protect me. I’m more than capable of doing so myself.”

Mitsuki pauses to turn away from Katsuki, fixing him with an almost pitying look. He thinks it’s a pitying look, as much as he wishes it wasn’t. “Really, it’s the least he can do to-”

“No,” he firmly cuts in, “it’s not that I don’t want his help, it’s that I don’t need it.”

“Izuku, you were hospit-”

Not waiting for her to finish- finding himself rather annoyed to his surprise- Izuku pulls out one of his throwing knives and watches as it digs into the singular target Inko had let him set up in the house. There’s a moment of silence as the Bakugou’s stare at the dark metal and Izuku huffs, seeing that he’s just missed the center.

“Izuku! What have I told you about throwing your knives in the house?” Inko demands, hands firmly planted on her hips.

He winces, scratching the back of his head. “Not without warning.”

She humphs and spins around to go back into the kitchen, leaving Izuku alone once again with wide vermillion eyes. Since neither says anything, he walks over and pulls his knife free before sitting at the table once again. He takes the teacup his mom passes over when she returns and busies himself with the drink.

“Where’d you learn that shit?” Katsuki finally speaks up.

“Taught myself,” he replies.

Katsuki nods after a moment, hesitates, but remains quiet as he picks at the handle of his own teacup. Izuku smiles slightly as he drinks. It seemed like a pretty good start to trying again.

Chapter Text

“What the hell are you doing?”

Izuku yelps when his door slams open, spinning around to find Katsuki standing there with an unamused expression on his face. A moment of pure panic flashes through his head and it’s about all he can do to not shove the strip of capture weapon he’s been fussing with under his bed.

“Hey Katsuki, you’re here early,” he responds instead, glancing at the clock. The weekly dinners with the Bakugou’s had picked up again, though they were always here exactly at seven. It’s hardly five-thirty.

Katsuki just scoffs and wanders in, taking a seat on his bed and stuffing his hands into his pockets. “The hag was nagging me about apologizing again so I left early, said I’d help Auntie cook. She kicked me out of the kitchen though.”

“Ah.”

It’s been an odd shift these last few weeks. In Izuku’s biased opinion, things have been wonderful. His classes have been stimulating, though he’s doing his best not to blow through the assignments which has been moderately successful since he’s been able to distract himself with his attempts at coding now and again. Things have been a bit busier during his nightly runs, which isn’t good, but watching the heroes fight is thrilling and he feels like he’s learning a lot. Eraserhead has brought up entrance exams more than once, and each time he does his best to deflect. He’s just not sure of much anymore, but it’s easy to push the mounting dread and existential crisis aside when he’s running along rooftops with Foxglove or Rave on the streets below him.

He’s also been able to spend more time with his mom at the library, which was nice since he was hesitant to leave her alone on long shifts after the break-in. It turns out the safes had a few different things inside, but Rave had let it slip that a few did hold Trigger as he had thought. Eraser wasn’t pleased, to say the least when he heard that bit of information had gotten back to him. They’d also taken to calling him Shadow now and again, which was odd in its own way, since they are so used to just calling him “kid”. It almost feels forced, like they are making absolutely sure that he knows he has a name. Izuku had never thought he would ever get a name.

Playing dumb wouldn’t work if he ran into Eraserhead as a civilian anymore though.

Izuku sits down on his bedroom floor and glances up at Katsuki, who’s still staring at him with an unamused look. He’d probably consider it to be the oddest part of it all. He didn’t remember Mitsuki being as harsh with Katsuki, and something about it just rubbed him the wrong way. As a result, he’d kinda inadvertently sped up the starting over process with Katsuki by dragging the blond into his room after dinner so they could get away from the adults.

Though this was the first time Katsuki had come of his own volition.

“So what the hell are you doing? You didn’t answer me the first time,” the blond repeats, leaning against the headboard.

Izuku glances down at the capture weapon currently curled around his arm. He has absolutely no clue how to explain what it is and how he’s got possession of it without telling the truth. For a very understandable reason, he doesn’t exactly want to say that he has a heroics support item that you probably need a license to have. Izuku makes a mental note to look into the laws regarding support items.

“Just fucking tell me,” Katsuki huffs. “I’m not stupid enough that I wouldn’t be able to understand your nerd-ass rambling.”

“Well… There’s this really cool underground hero by the name Eraserhead. His quirk allows him to temporarily deactivate your quirk factor, stopping a person from using their quirk. It doesn’t really work on mutation type-quirks from what I can tell, but because he’s underground he doesn’t like giving information on his quirk anyways so a lot of my understanding is purely theoretical. Anyways, his main weapon is this capture weapon which is full of all sorts of interesting tech and mechanics I don’t exactly understand quite yet,” Izuku lifts his arm and lets the weapon slowly unwrap itself and hover in the air. “I think it might have some sort of DNA component since it’s far more fluid and much faster when he uses it.”

“Huh. How the hell did you get your hands on it then?” Katsuki replies, leaning forward to stare at the weapon. “I seriously doubt a hero would let just anyone steal their main weapon, especially if they’re underground.”

“Oh, right, I’m actually a pseudo vigilante by the name Shadow who’s known by all the local pros who patrol at night,” he says with as much casualty as he can muster, recalling how easily Rave lets classified details slip. “I cut a strip off when he tried to arrest me once.” He tries to get the weapon to slowly coil around his arm again, only for it to whip him in the cheek as it snaps back into place.

Katsuki lets out a sharp bark of laughter as Izuku rubs his face before settling back onto the bed. “Uh huh. I’m not gonna say I don’t believe you but, uh, yeah.”

“Thanks,” Izuku snorts. “Anyway, I’m just trying to figure out how it works. A lot of the control seems to come from precise movements either with the hands or fingers. Kind of like playing a stringed instrument, or maybe like how yoyo tricks are all about manipulating points of the string, only far more dangerous…”

“How much have you slapped yourself with that shit?”

“A lot.” Izuku flicks it out towards the empty cup he’s placed on his desk, but when he presses lightly into the center of the cloth, it curls in the opposite direction and tangles on itself. “It was a lot harder to control when I first got it. I doubt that I’ve gotten better at using it, so maybe the whole DNA possibility comes from time and proximity.”

Katsuki lets out a hum. “So like, if you never took that off, you might be able to control it half-telepathically or some shit? Unless it's got some sort of nanotech that puts itself in your fucking body that seems impossible even for support gear.”

He hadn’t thought about nanotech being used in the capture weapon. Even if that was the case, he figured that he would only really be able to tell if he had the full scarf or something. His little scrap didn’t seem to have anything like that, though if he brought it into the field, he wondered if it would react to Eraserhead in some way. It seemed like a recipe for disaster.

“I mean, what if instead of the traditional concept of using the bloodstream directly, it transmits through skin contact? Eraserhead wears his like a scarf, and being right there on the neck would probably be the perfect place for nerve signals to be transferred into the material somehow.” Izuku draws it back into his lap and begins to unwind the material. It resists for a moment before giving, and Izuku wonders if Eraser has ever had an issue with it catching on itself. Part of his struggle might be because it is such a short piece compared to the massive roll of fabric the hero seems to use.

“Does that even exist?” Katsuki argues. “Other than the floaty shit you’ve got it doing, it just seems like an oversized slap bracelet to me.”

Izuku frowns as he watches it wind up his arm again. “I suppose you're right, though it isn’t quite as rigid as a slap bracelet.”

They lapse into silence as Izuku continues to fidget with it. He’d managed to sew up the edge he had cut, not wanting to accidentally slice his arm open with whatever was inside the scarf. He had broken a needle or two, and his fingertips had been pricked more than once. It was comfortable to wear, so keeping it on to test out that skin-contact theory couldn’t hurt.

He glanced over his shoulder after a moment to see Katsuki scrolling through his phone, looking away long enough to give him a questioning look. Izuku quickly shrugged and returned to the capture weapon.

Yeah, he thought. Things weren’t too bad at all.

Chapter Text

It’s a quiet night.

Izuku finds himself only slightly embarrassed at the thought of Eraserhead spotting the capture weapon wrapped around his arm, but after bringing it with him for the past few nights, he’s starting to believe that no one is going to say anything about it. He hasn’t used it- it’s still too fickle to use properly, though that might just be his lack of confidence talking.

It’s a quiet night, so he figures that it doesn’t matter quite as much if he hangs out on a rooftop for a while to practice. Katsuki’s comment about snap bracelets has been circling in his head for a while, and he definitely can see some similarities to how he’ll have to use the smaller piece. It makes far more sense to practice using it in a similar way over trying to replicate Eraser’s fighting style. There just isn’t enough, and he highly doubts he’ll be able to manage that fluidity if there isn’t some sort of skin-transfer technology he could somehow override.

He’s been wearing it pretty much all the time, just in case.

There isn’t exactly anything to wrap it around other than himself, so Izuku just sits on the edge of the roof and flicks it down at his kicking feet. There’s some elasticity to the fabric, just enough to really cinch in on whatever it latches onto. Izuku figures he has a good five, six feet of length at max.

The street is pretty empty below him as he’s a few streets away from the major bars and clubs in the area. There are only a few people out this late aside from the patrolling heroes and Izuku, and his eyes easily track the slow pace of one individual in particular. They seem young, but he can’t tell if they are his age or older. There’s no school uniform he could reference, which he decides is a good thing considering how late it is.

He pulls out his phone but ends up just sitting there. Is there even any reason to call? It's definitely not safe to be out alone so late, but he knows there has to be a reason. He’s a hypocrite himself, even worse because he’s not even just walking on the ground like they are. He doesn’t want to call and waste anyone's time, and he definitely doesn’t want to call and risk sending someone home to a bad situation.

They abruptly stop, halfway across the street. Immediately Izuku stands, scanning the area for any sort of threat. He can just barely make out the sight of a group of friends turning onto the street.

They’re loud, and the sound of their laughter reaches him easily. For some reason it feels familiar as he watches the lone individual quickly turn around and start backtracking.

The laughter trails off, and suddenly everyone is running.

Izuku feels like he just might be sick. Is this what it looks like from the outside?

He tries to follow them from the rooftops, hands shaking as he grips his phone. It rings quietly in his ear as he tries to guess which turn they had taken. He’s slow, his own panic making it harder to keep up like he normally could. Izuku has outran Eraser before- it was a close thing and pure luck- but still. Why can’t he keep up with junior high students?

“Who’s this?” The gruff tone in his ear snaps him back and Izuku catches sight of a slight flash to his right that’s followed by a loud cheer.

“Eraser, there’s- Young, junior high. I can’t- I have to interfere but… Do I call it in? They might not want help but I can’t just let it happen and-”

“Shadow, kid, take a breath,” the hero immediately cuts in. “What’s going on?”

“This group started chasing them, students I’m assuming. This late at night, it's- it's painful. They don't hold back. What should I do? They might not want help, it makes it worse- It always hurts but-" Izuku forces himself to suck in a heavy breath. He feels pathetic, lost. "Eraser, I don’t know what to do.”

“Send me your location. We can call it in later, I’ll be there soon, alright? I don’t know what’s going on but we can figure it out.”

“Right, right. I’ll… Location.”

Izuku feels like it takes forever to send, but as soon as it does, he hurries over and tries to do what he’s done so many nights now. There are four of them, aside from the one they’ve grouped up on. They’re curled up against the wall, attempting to protect their neck and head.

The others laugh and taunt, and Izuku doesn’t really hear what they’re saying. It’s overwhelmed by other things he’s heard. He can feel the ache in his ribs as he stands there, so he doesn’t want to wait any longer. It’s been too long already and Izuku’s honestly afraid that he’ll freeze himself if he doesn’t act. As he lands back on the street, he’s a bit thrown off by how quiet it is aside from their laughter. Don’t they normally want you to beg and plead to be let go?

“Hey, cut it out,” he calls out.

They turn to look at him, and the boy on the ground glares. He tries not to wince at the look. He knew he wouldn’t want help, at least he wouldn’t ask for it. He wonders why they’ve decided to go after him. Did he make the right choice?

“Who the hell are you?” one pipes up. “Some hero wannabe?”

Izuku shrugs. Be confident, act confident. “Close, local vigilante I suppose.”

Another laughs. “Get out of here, you didn’t see a thing.”

“Uh, no?” Izuku shuffles a bit, fingering the handle of one of his knives. He doesn’t want to throw it, he can’t hurt someone his age, but he also doesn't want to walk away.

“Whatever, ignore them,” a redhead- no noticeable quirk indicators- decides, turning away from him. “It’s four on one here.”

Someone snorts, and when the redhead goes to kick at their target again, Izuku flicks out the capture weapon, latching onto his grounded leg. With a swift tug, he pulls them off balance and sprawling across the pavement.

“Leave,” Izuku says, drawing it back around his arm.

“What are you gonna do about it?” someone else says. So maybe the redhead isn’t in charge. Their hands begin to glow, and his breath catches in his throat. They’re just students, probably kids his age. Why is standing up to them so much harder than against actual criminals?

“Stop you?” he replies, wincing at the questioning tilt his voice had taken.

“Nakamura,” Glow-hands orders. Abruptly there’s a flash of light and Izuku can hear someone charging at him. His vision has stars, but he still manages to duck out of the way of whoever it was, latching onto their arm. With practiced movements, he manages to pin them down. He pulls out his knife as an added deterrent to try and make sure no one else charges at him until his vision returns.

There’s a gasp, and he figures it worked.

When he can see again, Glow-hands has a sword pointed at the boy on the ground. It seems to be some sort of light or energy construct. Izuku knows that it’s what they would praise as a heroic quirk if any. It hurts to see another one used for something as stupid as this.

He takes a slow breath, trying to calm himself down. He feels like he’s shaking and that isn’t good. It certainly isn’t intimidating, and he really needs to be intimidating. This isn’t going well and he hates himself for it.

“Let Nakamura go.”

Izuku sighs and does so. “Even if you don’t consider me a threat, there is a pro hero on the way.”

At the very least, everyone but the leader seems nervous. He really isn’t surprised by that. They shuffle back a bit, clearly more nervous by the idea of getting caught by a hero than they’d like to show. Redhead glares at him quite harshly, and Izuku’s glad for his goggles so they can’t see exactly how nervous he feels about the whole situation.

“Whatever. This isn’t over.” The sword disappears, and the one on the ground relaxes slightly. So does Izuku.

“Don’t get so cocky,” Redhead snaps and suddenly there’s a knife being thrown his way. Two weapon creators in a group? Izuku steps to the side and manages to grab it, and he quickly discovers that it's just a naked blade. It cuts his palm a bit, but at least he can lie about the wound being of his own mistake.

When he looks back to the group, they all abruptly take off. Izuku stands there for a moment, rather confused before sinking to the ground. He groans, cutting off a piece of his scarf to wrap around the blade and safely tuck it away. His heart feels like it’s racing, and he doesn’t like it.

“Are-Are you alright?” he manages to ask, turning to look at his current companion. No longer quite as freaked out, he can properly take a look at them. The first things he notices are the head full of wild indigo hair and eyes with dark circles underneath. The boy stares at him with narrowed eyes as he slowly sits up, and he can’t really blame him.

“Here, you can take this,” he ends up blurting, tossing his scarf over. “I have first aid supplies as well if-”

“You have Eraserhead’s capture weapon.”

Izuku pauses before glancing at the arm his scrap is wrapped around. “You- You know Eraserhead?”

He nods.

“Oh, well, um… it’s actually just a piece of his, not the full thing.” He unfurls it a bit so they can better get a look. “Since it’s not the full thing and it’s not technically mine, it's harder to use and a lot less fluid than the original."

His palm pulses a bit, and he quickly cuts himself off to pull out his first aid supplies. “Sorry, um, how are you feeling? If you need any medical attention, I can help out but… You can keep that scarf if you’d like, and Eraserhead should be here any second to help if you’d rather a pro do that since he probably has official medical training and all.”

The boy narrows his eyes. “Wait, you actually got that from the hero himself?”

“Ye-Yeah, we had a bit of a disagreement, and he tried to arrest me so I may or may not have cut it off.”

“You really are a vigilante,” he sighs. “I’m surprised there isn’t more news about you in the area.”

Izuku shrugs and quickly bandages his palm. “I try not to get too involved, I mainly just call them in so the heroes on patrol can handle it.”

There’s a soft landing behind them, and Izuku whips around to find Eraserhead approaching. He quickly stands, fidgeting with his hands. The kids got away, he’s not sure if that was alright.

“Kid, is that the capture weapon you stole from me?” the hero questions.

“No!” Izuku squawks. “I didn’t mean to take it I swear!”

Eraser shakes his head with a huff that Izuku knows means he is amused, but when he turns to look at the third person who should be in the alley, he’s gone. Izuku isn’t sure how to feel about it, but at least he took the scarf with him.

"You wanna talk about what just happened?" the pro prompts.

Izuku shakes his head, still feeling slightly off balance. "Bullying. Normally isn't so bad, but this... Brought back memories."

"Head home, Shadow." Izuku can tell it's not a condemnation. He wonders when he was able to tell the difference in Eraser's tone of voice. It isn't an order, but an out. "If the kid's still around, I'll find them."

He nods, slipping away. For once, it doesn't feel like a failure to run away.

Chapter Text

Izuku sucks in a deep breath before he steps out of the alley, still pretty shadowed but very much in the path of Rave as they wandered down their usual patrol route. Sure enough, the hero immediately turned to look at the movement. It took them a bit to recognize Izuku as he hesitantly lifted a hand to give a short wave.

“Hey there, Shadow!” Rave chirps, practically skipping up to his side. “Not very often we see you on the ground. Everything good?”

He leans back a bit, taking in another deep breath to try and force the words out. “Um, y-yeah everything’s fine. But uh, I wanted… I wanted to ask if maybe it would be alright if I could possibly follow you t-tonight?”

“Of course it is, but can I ask why?” Rave responds, voice calmer and more serious than normal for the hero. “You normally can’t get far enough away from us heroes, Eraser aside. Thought you liked your space.”

“Oh-oh! It’s not that I’m avoiding you… I mean I kind of am but it's not because I don’t like you or-or Foxglove. I’m really sorry if it came off that way but… I- I actually just don’t… I don’t really want to be alone tonight... I’m sorry, I don’t mean to bother you or anything, I could probably just head home-”

“Kid, kid, it’s alright. We don’t think you hate us, and I’d be more than glad to let you follow me around if that means you’re safe,” Rave assures, looking into his goggles. “Now get back on your rooftops and let's get moving, alright?”

Izuku hurriedly nods and darts back into the alley, feeling much more relieved as he climbs to the roof and waves down at Rave. The hero merely waves back and continues their patrol, and he follows along with them, occasionally darting off to check on some noise before returning. He’s thankful it's a rather quiet night, giving him the chance to walk on edges and just relax a bit rather than his usual sprinting. Even though it isn’t all that much different, he doesn’t find himself falling into his thoughts. He had thought that he’d need the breakneck speed of a fight or running, something that took all of his attention so he literally couldn’t let his thoughts wander, but instead, he watches Rave and the way they patrol.

The hero just walks, greeting those who call out to them but leaving others be, though he’s certain they keep an eye on anyone walking past just to be safe. He’s glad he decided to follow the hero rather than going off on his own. He hates to admit it to himself, but he isn’t quite sure what he would have done if he was alone. It was part of the reason he had started going out at night in the first place.

But today wasn't the best of days. Old classmates had come into the library to study and he’d panicked. Things had been… tense. They weren’t as upfront with their insults and Izuku couldn’t exactly get away, but there was something clearly holding them back. Like they expected something or someone to jump out at them. He was positive that he’d been fully healed, but his ribs ached the longer they had lingered. He promptly freaked out when they finally left, and his mom had been quick to send him home for the rest of the evening.

By the end of the night, Izuku finds himself feeling better than he has in a while. He almost bursts into tears at the realization, but he figures that’s something for when he gets home, not where a pro hero might start fussing over him. He really is thankful for the odd little friendships he’s created during his nightly runs. Threat of arrest or not.

So Izuku makes his way down to the street once again, waiting until Rave is alone before stepping out again. The hero grins and approaches, their eyes looking him over for what Izuku assumes to be any injuries despite being a quiet night. When Rave gets close enough, he gathers his courage and steps forward, wrapping the hero in a brief hug.

With a quick, “Thank you,” he sprints off and heads home.

He’s content. The days pass by quietly, or as quietly as they can get when he’s running at night and helping pro heroes by restraining villains before they can get up again. Katsuki spends more time at the library, though he’s rather strictly closed about why. Izuku feels like he’s finally settling into his new normal and he’s grateful.

Then Inko tells him that she has to pick up another book donation, and his nerves come back. What if it’s connected to the trigger ring again? She’s strict about going herself, likely for the same reason. The other librarians are older women, not nearly as strong willed as his mother but still. When he asks about coming along, she explains that he needs to stay behind to help out in case there is an issue with the system. She’ll be driving and won’t be able to answer if they call, so he has to be there, just in case.

It’s a flimsy excuse at best, but she gets a look in her eye that tells him not to argue.

It doesn't help.

He tries not to go out while she’s gone, wanting to make sure that he is at home, ready to answer the phone in case anything happens, but it doesn’t work out. He’s too strung up, so he ends up slipping out anyways. The night is quiet, but he’s able to run and try to work out some excess energy.

If Izuku is relieved when Eraserhead waves him over to sit and rest, he tries not to make it too obvious.

He’s handed a kiwi jelly pouch this time, and he plays with the edge of the packet while they look down at the street. Should he head home already? They’d paid for a hotel, so she wouldn’t have to drive so much in one day. They’d already talked earlier in the evening, and everything was fine. Everything’s fine.

“Something wrong?”

He glances over to see Eraser staring at him. Izuku just hums lightly in response, not wanting to give away any identifying information.

“Right, well, you have my number if you need anything,” the hero says after a while, turning away. “And I mean anything, kid.”

“I doubt that,” he mutters.

“Why?” His tone is hard, but gentle enough that Izuku doesn't immediately jump to his feet. Eraserhead is different from his old teachers, he knows that well enough by now.

“I… I’m just worried about some-some personal life stuff,” Izuku sighs. “I’m gonna head home early, sorry.”

“That isn’t something to apologize for,” he replies. “Take care of yourself. And I do mean it- just give me a call.”

“And waste precious nap time?” Izuku taunts. “Thank you. Goodnight.”

“Night, problem child.”

He grins when he turns away, a bit thrown off by the sarcastically affectionate nickname. He isn’t nearly as terrified of the pro heroes as he was not too long ago. When had that changed? As he wanders home, he tries to keep the doubt from taking over his shaky calm. The run had been nice, and he’s glad that he went out. Izuku just hopes that it doesn’t shatter as soon as he gets back.
He takes a small detour, checking in on some of the stray cats before continuing home and taking a longer shower than normal to try and cool his head. He falls into bed with his hair half dry, towel thrown over his pillow as he stares up at the ceiling.

He doesn't rest all that well when he does finally fall asleep, but it's enough for him to get up and set about his routine regardless. He wanders over to the library to work on his assignments and helps out with an issue with the check-out system, and Mrs. Tanaka buys him lunch from the corner store for his help. There’s a college student looking for medical textbooks that Izuku helps.

He decides not to go out later that night, instead sitting down in front of the TV to find reports on any recent hero fights that he hasn’t seen. He has his notebooks and pens, a cup of tea on the table and a blanket pulled over his shoulders. He’s not sure how long he’ll be up, but both phones sit off to the side just in case. Inko should be heading back home by now after dropping off the donation. He would have met her at the library, but she had been very clear that the other ladies had volunteered to help so he was to stay home.

There’s a coiling feeling in his gut, but he figures it will resolve itself once she’s back. They don’t have to talk or anything, it is getting later into the evening after all, he just needs to see her walk through the door. Izuku flips through the channels, finally finding a reputable news source that covers a lot more than just street brawls when it comes to hero work. The newscaster is finishing up a previous segment, so he flips to a new page and leans back against the sofa, fiddling with his pen. His personal phone starts to ring, so he reaches over and grabs it, turning down the volume before answering.

“Hello?”

“Hello, is this Izuku Midoriya?”

He sits up a bit. “Yes, who is this?”

They’re reporting about a major incident on one of the major roads. It seems like a lot of damage, though the text at the bottom says there were only a few major injuries due to quick responses of heroes and civilians alike.

“This is Mutfastu General Hospital,” the voice on the other end says. “We’re calling to inform you regarding the condition of Inko Midoriya.”

Chapter Text

Izuku finds himself staring at the black screen of the television. He’d watched the report on nearly every channel that was broadcasting it. There were four people rushed to the hospital, and they estimated there would be a few more by the time the destruction zone was swept and cleared. They didn’t think there would be any casualties.

But Inko is currently in emergency surgery and supposedly there should be an officer on the way to escort him there. He wonders if anyone else has been notified. Mitsuki might have broken down the door if they had been told, so it’s likely that the Bakugou’s haven't been notified yet.

Has Hisashi?

Izuku manages to push himself up and towards the bathroom in an attempt to make sure he at least looks halfway put together. His eyes burn from how harshly he’s already been wiping away tears. Does it matter if he looks put together? If there’s any time to be a mess, he figures this is it. Instead, he moves to his room to grab a bag, not sure if he’ll want to leave the hospital once he gets there.

He doesn’t get much done by the time there is a knock on the door, so he just pulls his wallet and phone from the bag and snags a jacket on his way to the door. Waiting outside is a police officer he isn't familiar with. He’s seen a number of the local police force during his runs, so he figures it might be a small blessing that he doesn’t have to worry about exposing himself. The last thing he wants is to get arrested while his mom is in surgery.

Maybe the officer can give him a more detailed report of her condition, though he might have to wait until he gets there to talk with a doctor. They probably won’t release that information to just anyone.
He opens the door, and there’s a chill that drags down his spine. The man doesn’t look calm or urgent, like he had expected. Instead, he just frowns at Izuku and bows his head slightly.

“Izuku Midoriya, correct?”

He nods, stuffing his wallet into his pocket. “How is she? Do you know anything about her condition?”

His shoulders fall a bit, and Izuku narrows his eyes at the officer. The chill is there, close against his skin and he doesn’t like it one bit. He pulls at his jacket, trying to force it closer.
“Do you mind if I come in?”

“Oh, um, sure.” Izuku manages to step aside for the officer. “Would… Would you like a cup of tea?”

“I’m alright, thank you.”

He sits across from the officer at the table, staring him down. Izuku has a feeling that he knows what he’s about to hear, and he practically dares the man to spit it out instead of sitting in the awkward silence that’s been created.

“As you were made aware, Inko Midoriya was caught in the attack and subsequent accidents earlier today. She was rushed to the hospital and entered surgery not too long after rescue efforts began,” the officer states, and Izuku dreads the upcoming “but”. “On my way over, I received a new update. Unfortunately, she passed away during the operation.”

“Oh.” It slips from his mouth. He’s not sure what he’s supposed to say. A whisper in the back of his mind snarls. He’d had a terrible feeling for a while. He hates that it got proven correct.

“I’m sorry for your loss. We’ve reached out to your father as well, and he said he’d be calling soon to discuss what will happen next. Is there anyone else you want us to reach out to?”

He swallows hard. “Uh, no. Just… Just a family friend, and I can call them.”

“Alright. Is there anything else I can do for you?” the officer asks.

“No.”

The officer nods, once again giving his condolences before he lets himself out. He stares at the table. Offhandedly, he wonders if the officer is supposed to leave him alone after delivering such news.

Considering he mentioned Hisashi, they should know that it was just the two of them.

Izuku doesn't move for quite a while, not until his phone begins to ring again and it’s pure instinct that leads him to accept the call.

“Hey Izuku, how are you holding up?” Hisashi’s voice is calm, and Izuku barely feels like he can respond.

“She’s dead,” he ends up saying.

“I… I know.”

Izuku sniffs, wiping at his face again. “I told them I’d call the Bakugous, since mom was always close to Mitsuki. But, what now?”

Hisashi sighs. “Mistuki should be listed as your emergency contact. They are your godparents after all, so you’ll move in-”

“Wait,” Izuku blurts, feeling slammed back into his body. “You aren’t coming back to Japan?”

“No, Izuku. I’m not,” Hisashi says, and there's something empty in his father's voice. “I was planning to, when there was a chance Inko would wake, but no. The Bakugou’s-”

“Seriously?” he bites out. “What about-about the funeral? The apartment?”

“I’m not going to stop sending money, and I’ll keep up payment for the apartment in case I ever come back to Japan. But... I'm sorry Izuku.”

Izuku glares at the table. “Fine.”

“Alright. I’ll call again about the specifics-”

“Don’t.” He hangs up,

Izuku stares out into the empty apartment. He’s alone. How did he manage to lose both parents in one day? Hisashi had been gone as long as he could remember, sure, but he wasn’t absent. He knows he should call the Bakugous. They need to know.

He ends up sitting there for a while before he can even turn on his phone again.

Izuku knows he should be sad. He should be devastated. Instead, he’s more angry than anything. Angry at the terrible way they went about getting his hopes up and leaving him alone. Angry at Hisashi for finally admitting that he never really cared for Izuku, just his wife. Angry that he’s alone and he should have made her take him along. Angry that as soon as he has his feet underneath him, something always has to come along and knock him over again.

Eventually, after a shorter wave of tears have slowed, he manages to pick up his phone and put it to his ear. It’s late. He’s spent far too long just sitting at the table without doing a thing. It’s far too late to be calling, he’s pretty sure that Mistuki’s going to curse into the phone before she realizes it’s him. He’ll have to apologize for waking her. He probably won’t.

The voice in his ear is not Mitsuki.

It’s Eraserhead.

Izuku startles as the man growls something before abruptly hanging up. Frantic, he calls back, at least so he can apologize. He didn’t mean to call the hero. How had he messed that one up?

“Who is this?” the hero demands, clearly angry.

“Sorry I-I didn’t mean to call you and I did but you’re probably busy. It’s late and oh, you’re probably in the middle of a patrol and I didn’t say anything the first time-”

“Shadow?”

He slumps back into his seat. “Uh, yeah, sorry.”

“Where are you? This isn’t your number.” Eraser asks.

Izuku frowns, wiping at his eyes. “What?”

“I saved your contact last time you called so I wouldn’t miss it if you called again,” he explains. “Where are you calling from?”

Izuku pulls the phone away and winces, seeing his personal device. “Oh, um, I’m not out tonight.”

“Is something wrong?”

“N-No, not really, I mean, kind of? I really didn’t mean to call and interrupt your patrol, it was a total accident and I felt bad when you hung up so I felt like i should apologize and I guess I’m really just wasting even more of your time since you probably just meant I should call for emergency-emergencies and I’ve already been pushing-”

“Shadow, it’s fine. You didn’t interrupt anything,” the hero sighs. “And I said you could call me if you needed anything. So? Do you need something?”

“I… My mom died.” Izuku bites his lip, staring at the table. It slipped out, just like everything seems to do around Eraserhead. “I just found out today and the officer that told me just left me alone in the apartment and I don’t think he was supposed to do that.”

There’s a pause. “In the case of minors like yourself, I believe protocol says that they should either wait for a parent or guardian before leaving or take you to meet them.”

“What are you talking about?” Izuku manages to grin slightly. “I’m 37.”

“I think you mean 47, problem child.” Eraserhead lets out a heavy breath. “Do you have someone to go to?”

“My dad just called to say he isn’t coming back to Japan, so technically a family friend but…”

“But what?”

“Well, their son used to be one of my bullies.” He stops when he hears Eraserhead let out a muffled curse. “He’s gotten better! He’s trying to be better and he’s admitted he was wrong but um, it just doesn’t seem like a good idea.”

“If you don’t think that would be a good choice, your other option is to turn yourself in,” Eraser says. Izuku freezes, feeling his breath hitch. “I know you’ve been fighting the idea, but depending on the case we make, you could enter a rehabilitation program and be placed under the custody of a hero who vouches for you.”

He can’t. Izuku knows that they would never let him into a program, but he isn’t sure what else he can do. If he moves in with the Bakugou’s, he knows that it’s going to put strain on Katsuki and his relationship with his mother. She’ll treat him like glass and Izuku can’t help but think that any of the progress they’ve made will go down the drain. So… He doesn’t really have much of a choice.

“What… What are the requirements for the program?” he asks, curling up in his seat, knees digging into the table’s edge.

“If the vigilante is repentant and has a minimal about of brutality or damage in their time on the streets, they can be recommended for a program. Of course, those are more of a technicality. Unfortunately, having a strong quirk and decent control over it never hurts.”

“Oh, well, then… Maybe it would be best if I just tried to stick it out and-”

“Shadow,” Eraser calls through the phone, drawing out his title. “I don’t want to break your trust, but at the same time, I’ve gotten enough information by now that the Detective and I could figure out your identity regardless.”

Izuku lets his head fall to his knees. He feels like he might be sick, but he doesn't have another option. He can’t risk Katuski’s progress because he’s afraid of how Eraser will react. “And what if they were quirkless?”

There’s no response from the other side. It drags out long enough that Izuku nearly hangs up, unable to wait much longer. Of course, he would just be wasting their time and such a generous offer. He’s incredibly lucky to have been given one but it’s just going to go to waste.

Slowly, he can hear Eraser start chuckling. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh. Tsukauchi was hoping that wasn’t the case, loopholes and all, but we can work with that. Pretty smart of you to try and stay out of fights for as long as you did, kid.”

“Wha- Really?”

“Yeah. It's going to be a few hours until I can get off patrol and get the detective over to you. Will you be alright until then?"

Izuku nods, “Alright, yeah. I'll... I'll be fine.”

“So, what’s your name? Where are we headed?”

He takes a deep breath, and sighs. “Izuku Midoriya, from the library. You’ve walked me home.”

Chapter Text

He cries a lot in the hours after his call with Eraserhead. Everything just seems to come out, and he’s incredibly drained by everything that fell apart in the last few hours. He doesn’t manage to get around to calling the Bakugou’s like he had originally planned, instead deciding to call them once it's a better hour.

It’s still a bit surprising that he’ll be alright despite being quirkless. He hadn’t expected Eraser to laugh, but he isn’t offended. It was an odd sound. Izuku doesn’t think he’s ever heard Eraser laugh before, but it was fitting. He’s glad, though it is unfortunate that he won’t be able to say goodbye to Rave or Foxglove.

This isn’t how he imagined the end of his nightly runs.

This isn’t how he imagined the night would go at all really. How could he imagine something like this?

Izuku still feels far too fidgety despite his emotional exhaustion to rest, so he ends up packing up some of his things. Most of his things will be alright to stay in the apartment for the foreseeable future, or at least until everything is sorted out. With his bag on the couch, he dumps out his long cold tea and brews a new cup. Eventually he sits down at the table again, busying himself with his analysis to pass the time.

He startles slightly at the knock on the door.

He opens the door to see Eraserhead and Detective Tsukauchi standing in the hallway. It’s further into the morning than he had expected, though that made sense considering Eraser told him there were some things he had to do first.

Eraser raises his eyebrows at Izuku as the detective clears his throat. Right, he needs to let them in.

“Hello again, Midoriya,” the detective greets, his tone calm and smile soft. Izuku figures this is what the officer should have looked like when he came to break the news. “Can… Can we come in?”

“Oh, yeah,” he says, opening the door fully and letting the two step inside before closing it again.

He brushes past the adults, wanting to clean up his scattered notebooks and papers so they could all sit at the table without anything in the way. After a moment, they follow behind and before he can stop the hero, Eraserhead picks up one of his newer notebooks and flips through the pages.

Izuku stares, hands atop his own messy pile of notes. After a moment, Eraser looks at him before handing it to the detective. Tsukauchi doesn't take it for a moment, clearly checking to see if Izuku will say something, but he just sighs and picks up the rest to push to the side. He waits for the negative reaction to his written rambling, but it doesn't come. They just stare at each other for a moment before sitting down.

“Sorry, I needed to work on something and some of the entries are pretty old and needed updates anyways, but I could have kept them more organized so it wouldn’t be in the way especially since I knew you were coming and all. I know they aren’t all that good, it’s mainly just practice-”

Eraserhead huffs, leaning back into his seat. “Kid, it’s fine. I’ve heard the stuff you call in with. Your analysis is good.”

Izuku blinks. “What do you mean?”

“After a while they started patching you into the hero comms,” the hero explains.

“They… Wasn’t that distracting?” he asks.

“Actually, most limelight heroes tend to have someone in their ear analyzing fights,” Tsukauchi explains. “It isn’t as common for underground heroes, who mainly just talk to each other in fights, but most pros have the training for it.”

Eraser nods.

“Oh.” He doesn’t know what else to say to that, so instead he finds himself staring at the capture weapon around the hero’s shoulders. “Is something wrong with your capture weapon?”

Both men sigh at the question, and Izuku once again finds himself at a loss as a white animal in a suit pops out and joins them at the table. He’s pretty sure that’s Nedzu, the principal of UA high school. There's been too many reveals and surprises in the last twenty-four hours, so all he does his stare yet again.

“Impressive!” Maybe-Nedzu cheers. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Young Shadow. Shall we begin?”

Izuku glances back to Eraserhead, who nods. He sits up and nods himself, wondering if he should just stop trying to figure out what’s about to happen. He figures that whatever will happen would happen regardless. He's just along for the ride at this point.

“Alright. My name is Detective Naomosa Tsukauchi, and I’ll be taking the lead on your case. So you are aware, my quirk allows me to know if someone is telling a lie. Think something along the lines of a polygraph test.” The detective pulls out a few different folders and sets them on the table. Izuku can’t help the small smile that tugs at his lips. It really was a miracle that no one had called him Shadow before the library. He would have been caught for sure. “Are you the vigilante known as Shadow?”

“Yes.”

The detective nods, frowning slightly. “True. It’s a shame no one used that name before we met.”

Izuku glances down with a shrug. “Sorry.”

“It’s quite alright, that was a mistake on our part,” he continues. “You said that your father wouldn’t be returning to Japan?”

Izuku nods. “He called.”

“Would it be possible for us to get his number to confirm that he will be relinquishing custody?”

He hands over his phone, wishing he had grabbed one of his knives as he sits before the three authority figures in control of his future. “Would… Would anyone want a cup of tea?”

Nedzu nods. “That would be great, thank you.”

The detective nods, already typing the number into his own device. Eraserhead asks for coffee, if they have it, and he isn’t too surprised by the request. He quickly retreats to the kitchen, glad to escape the pressure at the table even just for a moment. When he returns, the call seems to be over. Tsukauchi is filling something out and Eraserhead has a familiar look of protective frustration on his face.

He wonders if it’s a bad thing.

“Alright, we took the liberty of pulling your file after your conversation with Eraserhead. It seems Mitsuki Bakugou is listed as your godmother and emergency contact,” Tsukauchi continues after a moment, taking his mug with a grateful smile. Izuku sits back in his seat and fidgets with the handle of his. “Eraser mentioned that you were uncomfortable with allowing her to take custody.”

“Her son was one of his bullies,” Eraserhead cuts in, sipping his coffee. Izuku winces, but nods. "Shadow has never fully confirmed, but he's recieved some serious injuries from his previous classmates."

“That's... that's correct. When I got hurt, he realized he was wrong and has been trying to be better. He has been better, actually, but well… Auntie Mitsuki is pretty tough on Katsuki and her expectations on him, which is almost the exact opposite for me,” he adds, staring into the steaming tea. “She puts a lot of pressure on him, and me being there all the time would just make it worse since she tends to think, well… that I’m fragile and everything. Between our history and her treatment, I’m worried it would make it hard for him to get better.”

"Alright." The detective makes a few notes before turning his attention fully to Izuku. "Now it's time to discuss your options."

The offer is surprising.

The HPSC doesn’t want anyone else to figure out about the loophole in the vigilantism laws regarding quirk use, so his case will be kept quiet. Eraserhead has agreed to vouch for Izuku’s potential in the rehabilitation program and will be granted emergency custody until his acceptance into a program becomes official. After that point, he will be granted the option of staying with Eraserhead, entering the foster system, or joining the Bakugou family based somewhat on their evaluation of where might be best to keep him out of trouble.

The program he’s been recommended to is one in UA. Nedzu gladly takes over for Tsukauchi when it gets to this part in the explanation. He’ll be attending UA as a student of the previously theoretical 1-R, and will be accompanying a pro hero at all times. Depending on his educational needs, he will either be joining a heroics class or continuing virtually.

“There isn’t much else to discuss at the moment,” Tsukauchi says, drawing his attention again. “In a few days, I’ll have more complete paperwork for you and Eraser to go over. Until then, you’ll go with him and get some rest.”

“And we do mean rest,” Nedzu cuts in. “You’ve had a very taxing day I’m assuming.”

Izuku shakes his head, reeling. “I still need to call the Bakugous and-”

Tsukauchi makes another quick note. “I’ll inform them of Inko’s passing and keep them from bothering you in the meantime. You deserve some time to process yourself, alright?”

Numbly, Izuku just nods.

The detective and Nedzu see themselves out, and Izuku finds himself alone with Eraserhead again. He feels odd without his scarf or goggles. At least Eraser isn’t wearing his. The hero watches him for a moment, and Izuku can’t hold his gaze for too long.

“It’ll work out, problem child. Try not to worry too much.” With a heavy sigh, the hero stands. “Let’s get going. I have a feeling you didn’t get any rest like I told you too.”

Izuku shrugs. “Didn’t you come here directly after a patrol?”

“Yeah, so?” He seems to work out a kink in his shoulder, likely from the principal standing on it. “You called.”

Izuku thinks it’s pretty odd. For as little as he’s spoken with Eraserhead in all of the nights they spent out on rooftops together, he feels like he should be more nervous. But as he grabs his bag and finds the hero with an armful of his notebooks, he finds that he can relax a bit. It’s almost certain that he’ll break down at some point- too much has happened in the last twenty-four hours for him to be fine- but he figures that it might be alright anyway.