Chapter Text
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Izuku Midoriya was not having a good day.
( words like daggers against his chest, the wretched scent of burnt flesh, blinding nitroglycerin-fueled explosions, the overwhelming smell of caramel. Dekudekudeku )
His back was littered with bruises, his homework assignment had been marked with a C yet again despite his best efforts ( he had a feeling that foul play was involved) and Kacchan got a kick out of ruining his analysis notebook. Again.
Did he mention he was currently being chased by Eraserhead.
The green-haired boy was sprinting across the rooftop at full speed, flipping over a chimney and leaping towards the next roof, narrowly getting snared in the wisp of the capture scarf that was thrust at him. He broke his landing with a graceful roll, cartwheeling to one side when he heard the rustling of cloth again. Another close call.
He didn't stop running. He knew he’d get captured if he did. It was bad luck getting an underground hero in your case. It was worse if said person was THE underground hero. Eraserhead was a legend among legends. Professional among professionals. His name was uttered at every corner of the underworld. Villains feared him, and the police loved him. If All-Might was the number one limelight hero ( something Izuku would like to debate on ), then Eraserhead was surely the number 1 underground hero.
Fortunately for Izuku, he hasn’t met Eraserhead face to face. As in, he has no idea what the hero looks like.
The first time he encountered the hero was after taking down a mugger. As soon as Izuku had felt someone coming, he had taken refuge behind a dumpster in the same alley.
He had been safe for a while, but thanks to his luck, it didn’t last. The fight had disturbed the cat that had been sleeping inside the garbage can, and she wasn’t happy. She pounced on the first person she could see, which had been him. Eraserhead heard the ruckus, and the next thing Izuku knew, he was sprinting away while dodging the underground hero’s capture weapon.
Apparently, Blackout, Izuku’s vigilante personna, had begun to catch the notice of a few people, and the police had likely been notified of his presence. An order for his capture had been sent, both in the underworld and the legal force. It was then that it clicked.
Eraserhead had been searching for him.
And wasn’t that a terrifying thought.
Vigilantism was a sour topic in society. They were the banes of existence for both heroes and villains. Villains, because they had a habit of putting them in jail and heroes because of their unpredictability . You see, villains were easy to handle. They always had something to say, and they always made their intentions clear. The villains were the” bad ” guys. It was as simple as saying that the sky was blue and the grass was green. But the topic of vigilantes always left people reeling in controversies. Were they the good guys, or were they the bad guys? Should they be brought to justice for breaking the law when they were clearly helping people? Just what did they get out of all of this? What did they hope to achieve? Fame? Power? While heroes were bound by the rules of law, vigilantes had no such constraints. They could do whatever they wished and enforce their own justice as they see fit. Some went over the top and took upon themselves to fill the role of the judge, the jury, and the executioner, all in one go.
Some like Knuckle Duster and the Crawler were quick and non-lethal with their take downs, while Stendhal made it a habit of killing villains.
Ah, and Stendhal, now known as the Hero-Killer Stain, is another topic of argument.
In the past, many vigilantes that dared to cross the thin grey boundary line of morality found themselves falling into the darkness of villainy. They were the ones who always made terrifying villains due to their indomitable convictions. At that time, the Hero Commision was pretty lenient with vigilantes.They were making their jobs easier, so what was the harm? Underground heroes were usually willing to work with them, and a few lucky ones were even given hero licences. Like the Crawler.
But after the fiasco with Stendhal, the Hero Commision realised that vigilantes were too risky to have running about. Stain alone was responsible for the murder of 61 heroes, who he claimed to be were ‘fakes’ and had an unhealthy amount of people supporting his views.
From that moment onwards, a new Vigilante constitution was introduced. Anyone guilty of unlicensed quirk usage would be subjected to 10 years jail time. The HPC ordered the instant capture of all unlicensed quirk users and made it a high priority. As years passed by, the vigilante population began to decrease. They were either captured and sentenced or fell to retirement. Knuckle Duster was one such example.
Because Izuku didn't want to spend the next 10 years of his life in jail ( he was pretty sure he wouldn’t survive even a month there), he was running like a maniac. It didn't help that Eraserhead was obsessed with capturing him. It had been 4 whole months since their first encounter, but he was still keeping at it. It was one of the many things that Izuku admired about Eraserhead. He really was a true hero. But right now, it was just frustrating. Every other night when he set out for the streets, half of his attention was kept at his surroundings, listening for the familiar rustle of the capture weapon. Granted, it was doing wonders for his situational awareness.
( Why could n’t he ever live a life without having to constantly watch his back?)
Over the course of 8 months since he had first started vigilantism, his paranoia level had begun to rise gradually. It had reached to the point where he had begun to stash knives at every hidden corner of his apartment, taped a few pairs of knuckle dusters under his floorboards and might have stored a bunch of stun guns behind the books in his shelf. Everywhere he went, he would subconsciously search for the rithmic tip taps of someone following him, the familiar woosh of the capture weapon or the tell tale sounds of explosions. Before entering the local bus, the school, the classroom, and any enclosed place, as a matter of fact, he would always search for possible exits. These were the times( read: always ) when he felt that the entire world was out to get him and he couldn’t trust anybody, not even his mom . He was quirkless. How could anybody not be out to get him.
In their view, he wasn't supposed to exit. He was a genetic anomaly that had to be erased. And people made their disdain for him quite obvious. So, really, though, he was just trying to survive, maybe be a hero and tell the haters, I am still alive, Huzzah!!.
( vigilantism and heroics, two sides of the same coin. His only salvation, his only purpose. The wind against his hair, moonlight guiding him, the shadows of his mind kept at bay, tucked in a box at the far corner of his brain)
He refused to kick the bucket until at least he did something big enough to change society. So that no one would have to suffer like he did.
( Hollow green eyes stared at the world below, hands shaking against the rail, feet shifting towards the edge, darkness enveloping his being, choking him. “ Take a swan dive off the roof, and pray for a quirk in your next life .”)
It was one of the main reasons why he wanted to be an underground hero. His dreams of being a hero like All-Might ( cough*cough*) died the day he was diagnosed as Quirkless. He never had the chance. But there was a possibility no matter how slim for him to go underground, i mean, i have been fighting villains for a while now, and i’m still alive. Being underground meant that he could be able to bring change in hero society from within, which was something he couldn’t achieve as a vigilante. He just had to make sure he didn’t get captured while masquerading as Blackout. Easier said than done
The thing about being captured was, as he had mentioned before, that he would most probably die the first month in. Even though not having a quirk meant that he wasn't technically a vigilante, it wouldn’t matter to the authorities. It wouldn’t matter that according to the law and basic human decency, he was a thirteen year old kid that should be sent to a Juvenile Detention Centre for rehabilitation, not Tartarus where the rotten apples of society were thrown in. In Tartarus, the other inmates would be out for his blood. He’d give himself 1 week tops before he got brutally murdered. And instead of getting her son a proper funeral and all, his mother would just shove the responsibility to the HPC, who would probably dump his body into the sewers.
Yeah, sorry Eraserhead. He wasn't going to end up in the sewers anytime soon.
It had been about 40 minutes, and the hero was still at his tail. Way longer than usual. The fanboy part of his brain, the one with 0 self-preservation instincts, was squealing like a lunatic, while the rational side of his brain was screaming at him to run faster. Because today wasn’t like the other days, where he would be miles away before Eraserhead could even give chase. The hero was actually gaining on him.
They both knew that.
Violently shoving the rising panic at the back of his mind, Izuku forced himself to think.
He knew he couldn’t let Eraserhead see him, let alone capture him ( eyes overflowing with hatred, lips curled to a sneer,” Rat .” They spit. ).For all that the media and the police knew, he was an enigma. He had never let anyone have a clear view of him. He was just a black blur in their sights. Something he feared might change tonight.
Now you might ask, how was a scrawny 13 year old nobody able to evade The Demon of The Underground for 4 whole months?
The answer was simple, really. Eraserhead was the hunter, and Izuku was the prey.
This concept has been ingrained in nature for aeons. Equality meant nothing to the inhabitants of the wild ( and not the wild, unfortunately) There was always a hierarchy that ruled the ecosystem. For example, in the savannah cheetahs were the hunters ( *pop* *pop* " deku… ") and gazelles ( K-Kaachan …)were their prey.
Cheetahs were gifted with the strength to kill, while gazelles gained the ability to outrun them by the near-death situations and painful experiences they went through.
The same situation applied to Izuku. Except, when you are born Quirkless, the entire world is out to hunt you.
But right now, Izuku's hard earned ability to run quickly in long distances was betraying him. The lack of sleep and his injuries were taking a massive toll on him. He could feel Eraserhead coming closer and closer.
Come on, come on , he thought. He had to find an opening, just one to get him the leverage he needed.
Another flip across a rooftop before Izuku finally found it.
.
.
.
.
.
He might be able to escape, but in order for that to happen, Eraserhead had to be able to…
see him.
…….. Great.
Sliding towards the ledge of an apartment, he turned a 180 towards his pursuer; his back towards the busy street below them. As a precaution, he tightened his mask, making sure to cover his distinct freckles.
Next, he quietly slipped his hand in his side pocket, where his smoke bombs lay, making sure to keep his movements undetectable under the darkness of the night. After securing them tightly in his right hand, his other hand searched around for the hilt of the stiletto knife, hidden strategically beneath his wrist brace. Since the hero had started his mission of capturing him, Izuku always made sure to keep his sharpest( and most expensive) knife easily within hand's reach. Just in case, he ever got caught in that capture-weapon.
Eraserhead landed with a soundless thump, his capture weapon blowing gracefully in the wind. The black clad hero scowled at the vigilante, hand clenching the capture-weapon tightly and red eyes gleaming in the dark behind his goggles.
He looked absolutely terrifying.
Izuku breathed in slowly and exhaled as he bent his body to a low crouch, shifting it to a defensive position.
The man made a move towards him, stepping forward slowly, analysing him. Familiar alarm bells were ringing inside of Izuku’s head, screeching danger, and demanding him to ‘make a run for it, you idiot!’ But he knew better than that. If he ran right now, he’d be caught instantly, and fighting the notorious combat-expert was out of the question. No, he had to wait for the right moment. Patience yields focus, Izuku, he reminded himself, just wait for him to get a little closer.
But Eraserhead didn't advance any further. The man was just standing there, staring at him. Beads of sweat began to roll down Izuku’s forehead - What ?! Why did he stop?
The hero’s unreadable eyes shifted all over him, scanning him from head to toe. His expression betrayed nothing. A shiver ran down Izuku’s spine. Why is he looking at me like that?
A minute passed before……
“ You’re a kid,” came his flat voice.
Izuku lunged.
____________________________________________________________________________
Shouta was a man of logic.
His friends knew that, his colleagues knew that, the principal knew that.
It was a basic requirement in his line of profession. It was only due to his level headedness and constant vigilance that saved him from falling to an early death on numerous occasions . Underground heroes had a fatality rate higher than most limelight heroes by at least 10%. The average life expectancy for an underground hero was approximately 5 years, give or take. He had seen many of his younger colleagues succumb to these statistics, many of whom weren’t ready for the horrors of this world. It was one of the few reasons why he began teaching at UA High School.
Number two, he was insusceptible to emotion.
He prided in having complete control over his emotions. The concept itself was irrational to him simply because it was a hindrance. Unchecked emotions led to recklessness, and recklessness led to death. Intelligent villains were always searching for mental weaknesses to exploit. They’d play mind games just to throw you off. You’d have to build impenetrable barriers around your head, otherwise you’re dead. High- stress situations, gang collaborations, hostage affairs, bomb disposals, Endevour, you name it. He never let his emotions rule his actions.
Number 3, nothing could catch him off-guard.
And when he meant nothing, he actually meant that nothing could catch him off-guard. If a bomb blew up somewhere, he’d expect it. If some world-ending apocalypse happened, he would expect it. If someone stabbed him in the eye, he’d expect it.
Nedzu had ‘graciously’ titled him as his ‘ favourite human’ because he was generally unbothered by his many eccentricities, unlike his co-workers. If his boss wanted him to do something, he would get it done before time, no matter how bizarre the task seemed. It was just how he did things.
Back to the current situation at hand.
Shouta was caught off guard.
The cause of this?
Blackout.
The first time Shota heard about the vigilante was through the police detective, Tsukauichi.
At the start, the detective had thought about letting the police handle the issue. There weren’t many vigilantes around, and all new-timers met their end within three weeks of their debut.
They were easy to handle, mainly because a lot of them were untrained, had no diverse patterns, and loved drawing attention to themselves. The detective had assumed that Blackout would be the same.
He was wrong.
Three whole months passed, and they had zero leads. Minimal descriptions, no estimated age range, the guy’s quirk was a mystery in itself, and he didn’t have a specific patrol route. Any pattern he followed was so randomised that it even put professional analysts, the force had hired, in a stump.
Worse, Blackout was very good at his takedowns. If the Vigilante Law hadn’t been placed, Shouta wouldn’t have minded working with him.
Any damage that he inflicted was minimal at best. Witnesses recalled that for a minute, their assailer was there, and in the next, he was on the ground, out cold. The vigilante himself was described as a ‘black’ blur. The criminals he took down said that he was short and wore a hood. How short? They couldn’t recall.
Then, Shouta came to the scene.
Tsukauichi had been hopeful that within a month he’d be able to take the guy out. But it proved to be an arduous task.
Blackout was quick, perceptive, and slippery, very slippery. Shouta would be in stealth mode and miles away, but he would still be able to detect his presence.
And that was saying something. Shouta specialised in stealth. He could move without making a sound. There was a possibility that Blackout could have a sensory quirk. It would explain why he was so good at running away.
And now, when he finally had the vigilante cornered, Shouta found himself bewildered.
Blackout, the vigilante they had been trying and failing to capture for the last 8 months, the same guy who the Hero Commision had dubbed as Japan’s Most Elusive Vigilante, the person who took down 380 criminals in the last 8 months, was a child.
Children were a sour topic for Shouta.
Many people he had encountered in his life loved to think that he was ruthless and cold-hearted. And Shouta? He wholeheartedly agreed with them, despite what Nemuri and Hizashi had to say.
Underground heroics wasn’t like limelight heroics. Many underground heroes had to toe the grey line of morality, and Shota wasn’t new to it. As years passed away, from Oboro to the present, with every atrocity he encountered, with every pathetic lowlife he fought, Shouta found his heart hardening. Apart from Hizashi and Nemuri, people he’s honoured to call his friends, he’s refused to let anyone enter his life. It was why many people found him unnerving and generally liked to stay away from him. Why the HPC asked him to work as their assassin ( He obviously refused, he may be morally ambiguous. But killing was clearly out of line for him)
But despite the promise he’s made to himself, despite the fact that he has vowed to never let anyone have the emotional edge on him, despite the oath of burying his feelings during missions, children always messed him up.
Watching street kids run about in the middle of the night scrounging around for food and other necessities, trying desperately to survive would always cost him his mental faculties. Most of these children were either abandoned by their families, runaways, or orphans. These were the ones with ‘mutant’ and ‘villainous’ quirks who the system had failed, who were treated differently because of something they couldn’t control. A lot of them were forced to join gangs in order to receive protection and have a roof over their heads. It was either that or dying a miserable death in an alley somewhere.
( carefree smiles, white fluffy clouds, “ Hi, you’re the new kid, right! My name is Oboro”, crash, the sound of the building collapsing, red, so much re-)
And Shouta unfortunately understood that. The world isn't black or white.
When he wasn’t hunting criminals, he’d be out watching over them.
He was the only reason why many weren’t dead right about now.
Every abuse case he was assigned with, every child trafficking ring he destroyed, every kid-napping mystery he solved, it never got better. A hurricane of emotions would be raging inside of him, his thick line of self-control would be stretched to its limits, the urge to rip the world apart would be tempting enough for him to consider it.He’d have to take deep breaths and banish those feelings away.
To summarise: Children.
Another reason why he taught at UA.
Another reason why Shouta was in a hitch right now.
The boy was around 5 feet, with the biggest, greenest eyes Shouta had ever seen in his life. That and the hint of chubby cheeks underneath his mask was enough to convince him that Blackout couldn’t be older than 13.
Shouta had been chasing a child.
The severe moral implications of that gave him a headache.
If this kid ever got caught he’d be sent over to the HPC and never be seen again.
And the headache turned into a migraine
He was cut off from his musings when he saw the vigilante hurl something at him. On instinct, Shouta shoved his body to one side, quirk activated once again and capture- weapon at the ready. He couldn’t let the kid escape, not until he had answers.
But before Shouta could even hurl his capture scarf, his vision flooded black.
Brat.