Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Izuku Midoriya was presumed dead on March 25th. The boy's fifth birthday was the last day he was ever seen by those who cared about him. It had been eight years since then. Eight years since he'd been known, eight years since he’d been cared about, eight years since he’d been loved. Eight years since his mother had lost her precious baby boy. She didn't last much longer after that.

Izuku had only found that out after he found her tombstone at eleven next to the empty one with his name beside it. Was it his name still? He hadn't been referred by it in years. Can a name no longer be his if he distanced himself from it long enough? Or did it follow him like a badly kept secret, always two steps behind, always ready to pounce, always keeping you just on the edge of panic until you run yourself ragged trying to catch it?

He supposed he would find out one day; for now he's taken the name back, an act of rebellion. But what happens when the past came to bite him when he least expects it? “You can't change the past; only plan for the future.” Cute sentiment, sure, but when the past projects onto your future, sticking and staying and refusing to budge no matter how hard you try to scrub like an inky stain, it starts to feel impossible to move on. Not like he should be able to move on; he'd done too much.

Was he even his mama's little boy anymore?

His mother told him to be nice. His mother told him to be generous and hopeful and compassionate. He would have to go apologise to her grave soon. Despite his best efforts, he hadn't been anything to be proud of since he was five. He had been surrounded by the wrong people for too long. His “father” seemed to be like that.

She wouldn't like what he's doing right now.

He was sat in the rafters of a so-called abandoned warehouse. It was filled with a few low-level villains who have access to some pretty good tech with awful security for it. Now, he didn't need the tech exactly, but he had been getting bored since his radio broke and he wanted to fix it. He didn’t get much entertainment, alright. Besides, they were probably going to use it for villainous things anyway, and so he was technically doing a good thing.

Careful, he might want to stretch before reaching that far.

Anyways, the eight guys inside the warehouse seemed to be waiting for someone or something as they paced back and forth around the warehouse or were playing cards on the table in the corner. They all seemed to be wearing some sort of mask over their faces in different shapes. Seemed like someone's got a brand. Ah yes, the most important part of being a villain: looking like you're at a Halloween party!

Well, that fit for certain heroes too, didn't it?

Izuku could hear a truck start to pull into the front of the warehouse, and the guys inside stood up at attention towards the door. Well, that was an excellent distraction.

Now, Izuku had never really been a fan of stealing; he didn't like doing actions that made him seem villainous after the multiple lectures from his favourite detective about how much trouble he can get in. But when he's alone and an orphan and legally dead and legally quirkless, he did what he could to get by. What was he going to do, anyway? The little visually impaired kid can easily say he didn't mean to steal. He can't even see most stuff! He preferred to just let people think he’s fully blind, he can get away with more that way. One of these days, he would probably give that detective guy a migraine.

He crawled across the rafters as slowly as he could to not cause any noise that could give away his position as he turned up his hearing to focus on the group on the ground. They were strangely silent as they stood on each side of the door. Their heads stayed straight ahead as he jumped silently down into the corner behind some boxes they had set up. Boxes full of scraps they'd gotten from God knew where. Though the tracking wristbands they had could be nice. The radio wasn't too busted, but he could also take more for good measure.

They were villains anyway, so what would they care? He grabbed a few of the wristbands and some other scrap metal they had lying around. One of them had to have a technology quirk because villain support tech went for good money to the right person. He would've gone down that route if he didn't get so guilty at the thought of it. He didn't want to make his mom too disappointed in him.

He was stuffing the ratty old backpack he had brought with him full of anything he could get his hands on when he heard the doors open and about six heartbeats tied together and muffled screaming.

Oh, shit. He walked into a kidnapping, didn't he?

As the six bodies were brought in, he again shrank down behind the boxes. He'd made a mistake, hadn't he? He could easily slip away and not get caught and not get stuck into hero stuff.

Again.

But then again, no heroes were coming. And he was here. And there was a kid stuck in that pile of six. Soft crying erupted behind the blindfold as whispers of comfort and pleas to be silent were exchanged by the people around him. Pleads that were not heeded quick enough for his captors as he found a sharp kick into his stomach and a hand finding a grip into his hair to drag him out of the pile. A sharp nod from the ringleader was all the accomplices needed to start ripping blindfolds off. Fear and panic radiated from their faces as they watched helplessly at the gun pressed into the young boy's temple.

They were all panicking. They were really fucking panicking. He couldn't leave them here. He couldn't do nothing.

“You're all going to stay nice and quiet, alright?”

This guy even sounds like an arsehole.

Izuku can sit in his little abandoned building and build his little machines as he ignored the shouts down on the streets. It's cowardly, yes, but he doubted many people would want him to run around helping people if they knew how weak he really was. Though, in this moment, when people were in trouble and the smoky, known too well, odour of the guns wafts past his head, his weakness seemed to evaporate to the back of his mind. Locked away deep where it would only resurface when he's alone and panicking and most vulnerable for it to strike.

He didn't like being vulnerable. He didn't like a lot of things, honestly.

He especially didn't like bullies. He had his fair share in his short life and in his current predicament, he can tell the guy with a gun to a ten-year-old's head isn't going to hold back. Adrenaline, his old friend, comes rushing back like always.

Next time he went to steal from someone, he's going to make sure it isn't a bunch of villains. He's trying to lay low for goodness' sakes. Speaking of laying low, Izuku would admit he had a pretty recognisable face. Since being recognised in any capacity by people like these was the complete opposite of his goals, he probably should just sneak out, right? Call the heroes. Be an upstanding citizen!

He stole a mask from their box as he thought about that.

They had a pretty good selection; some of them had ridges, and others had ear-like structures on the top. One had horns! He didn't have the right to be picky. He picked up the first one he could get his hands on that would be secured over his face and tied it on, loosing his little remaining vision as he did so.

The kidnappers hadn't noticed him yet, but how long would that take? They didn't seem like complete and utter idiots, which was a step up from a lot of villains (and heroes, cough cough) from around this area. Not that there were many heroes in this part of Musutafu, anyway. Too much paranoia and too little limelight. No time to dwell on that.

He looked over what he had in his pockets: a switchblade (you can never be too careful), a smoke bomb (that thing costs a lot; he needs to learn how to make his own), his keys (they aren't going to be of much use) and finally, what he was looking for, his blowgun!

Well, that didn't come off how he intended.

He rolled out how many darts he had left. They were coated in a poison of his own design, intended to paralyse and slightly harm but nothing too lethal. That was a line he wasn't a fan of crossing. He only had six left, damn. There were about nine guys currently in the warehouse, not including the kidnapping victims, and about three more in the van outside. He would have to be careful with the darts then. He was very much outnumbered here.

He made sure the thin hoodie he was wearing was zipped up as he tied back his far too outgrown hair—he needed it cut soon—and took a breath. He listened to the breathing in and out of the people around him. Of the blood rushing through their veins and the hearts which were beating faster than others in some but all of which had an increased speed. Hopefully, some of these guys were flight sort of people. He grabbed his hood and covered his hair with it before standing up.

He took his blowgun and inserted a dart into it, careful to do it the right way; he's made that mistake before—and then took it up to his mouth. The ringleader with the gun to the kids' heads found himself passed out on the floor with a new puncture wound in his neck soon after. Then, with all the worry of a plan gone wrong, Izuku found about a dozen guns pointed right at him. He always was a showstopper. “A dramatic little bitch” he was referred to once.

“Why don’t we all take a little breath?” He started before he found the faint footsteps sneaking up behind him, deciding to gain their confidence and try to whack him on the side of the head. “Or not,” he finished as he grabbed the man's wrist and threw him over his shoulder, kicking his gun away into the far corner. He took the man in a strong headlock before giving his attention back to the other men. They weren't shooting? Strange. He should've been either almost dying and trying to hide behind anything he could get his hands on or well, Swiss cheese. Yet he was fine. They seemed scared even. A small shake of a hand here, a shuffle in their stance there. They didn't want to shoot.

He can work with that.

He spared a look at the kid, who was still crawling backwards, and nodded at him to run. He turned around before he could see what he did, but he could hear it, not that they needed to know that.

“And who are you supposed to be?” One of the original eight inside the warehouse had broken ranks to grab his boss's unconscious (he hopes he's unconscious) body. His voice came out in a rough but hushed tone; there was a lot of strain in his voice. Maybe he had a voice quirk of some kind. Izuku could only hope this guy shared the others' qualms about shooting. Why they weren't, though, was still a mystery. unless…

“Just someone who knows holding back your quirk like that can’t be nice.”

It was a shot in the dark, really, a hope that the small tether he could latch onto would be the right one. Luckily, the speaker’s hands started fidgeting after he heard that, and his heartbeat started to increase. telltale signs that someone was nervous. Gotcha.

“Although of course, you are wanting to keep silent right now; I can see why. You are surrounded by multiple housing complexes, and someone would have to alert at least the cops, and alerting the heroes in the area of a potential fight wouldn't be helpful in the slightest. That must be why you're all so hesitant to shoot; gunshots are incredibly loud. Trust me, I would know. Although that does ask, Why are you kidnapping people in the first place if not for ransom or attention?'”

He would admit he had started muttering halfway through his spiel, but as he held the unconscious body between his fingers, he started to get too confident. He barely noticed the guy sneaking out of position until he was a couple of feet from him. Luckily for Izuku, though, he scuffed his shoe on the last step and left a harmless noise to most but a guttural scratch to someone's ears as sensitive as his. The dart found its way into the guy's eye socket before Izuku even realised what he was doing.

A loud thud was left in his wake as he dropped; he was seemingly a large guy if the mutterings of a “bear” afterwards were anything to go off of. Maybe his mask was a bear, and all these guys took on code names based on the animal they masqueraded as?

“What do you want?” The ringleader's voice was wavering despite the tone becoming more aggressive. He was getting scared, probably not expecting any fighting. Rookie mistake, really. You should be ready to expect anything, no matter how outlandish. He really shouldn't judge; he had absolutely no plan here.

The whispers of voices miles away started creeping into his ears.

A hero was coming. They were about twelve minutes out if the hero didn't have a speed quirk.

He needed to get out of here.

That was shockingly quick; the nearest hero he could see was about three miles away, and yet the kid had gotten to him in a matter of minutes. He must've had a speed quirk or something. Speaking of quirks, the 5 kidnapping victims remaining, all had some sort of mutation. A hair of fire on one, a shark quirk on another. They all seemingly had pretty powerful quirks; probably some sort of tell for people they wanted to kidnap.

“I'm just trying to help; it's not very nice to take people without their permission; consent is key, my guy.” At the hero's current pace, he would be here in ten minutes. Time to be an annoying little shit.

“So you think you’re funny, do you, arsehole!” Oh, so this guy had anger issues.

The remaining six kidnappers shuffled where they stood. How new were these guys to kidnapping if they were this anxious about not even killing him? Or maybe they were anxious about killing him, and that's why he was still alive. How annoyed could he make this guy before the hero showed up? Nine minutes left.

“I've been told I'm actually quite funny, thank you very much, and I know when people are lying; I'm very observant. Like how you kidnapped only people with strong quirks; wonder why that is?”

It did make him wonder, actually. That wasn't purely stalling. Izuku wasn't unaware of the kidnapping and trafficking going on in the world, but he also knew of the quirkism that went through their heads. People with stronger and especially visibly stronger quirks were far less likely to be taken, as it was seen as more of a hassle. Yet they had taken only those with strong quirks. It was a strong contradiction from the norm.

Maybe he was thinking too much into this. He's been too under stimulated for a while, anyway.

“You don't know what you're messing with, Fox.”

Oh, so he's wearing a fox mask. Ironic.

He highly doubts this kidnapper was the worst villain Izuku had met. He'd meet a hundred of this asshat before having to go back to his old life. Even if he wasn't as bored back then.

“Care to enlighten me, or are you just going to keep on being cryptic as hell? Do you even know what you're messing with, or am I just talking to a middleman?”

Another stutter in his heart. This was getting fun.

Five minutes left

If he was working for some kind of unknown person, then there could be a background villain who wanted people specifically with strong quirks.

Or he was just being dumb like usual, and they weren't related. He always did take things like this too far. His boredom seeping into every part of his mind until it uncovered some kind of gold, some kind of glistening stone that could free him from his existential problem of nothingness in his head. Even if that glistening stone was truly just a piece of coal that he had convinced himself was important. He really just can't trust his own mind sometimes.

“You should've stayed home, Fox.”

He had enough malice in his newly found name that he was half convinced Izuku had murdered this guy's whole family. He was riling this guy up enough that his increasing volume would hopefully tip off the hero of where exactly they were. This guy was basically doing his job for him, except this conversation started to cause some of them to slip their attention away from him. He couldn't risk that.

“I aint got many places to go, but if you're offering me a way out, I'd suggest you take your own advice.”

He pointed his thumb up to the shadow-encased corner up in the rafters of the warehouse. Luckily enough, the kidnappers were paranoid enough to immediately aim their guns up at where he was pointing. Idiots.

He brought the blowgun to his lips and aimed at the speaker's neck in the hope the others would be too shocked to get another to rally up again. The hero was only three minutes away, anyway. The mystery speaker had annoyingly fast reflexes, though.

A smack from the gunshot the dart off its course before it getting squished under his foot like a bug. That was just mean.

“Oh, come on, dude, those were hard to get.” His whiny voice was easy to muster up when he was actually upset; those chemicals had cost a lot, really. His favourite childish voice, which somehow got the speaker to waver in his merciless staring down of the barrel of his gun straight into where Izuku's defective eyes should be.

Had he not realised Izuku was a kid yet? Childishness was an easy enough layer to throw on top of his shell to push away the questions from hitting too deep. If he couldn't be recognised as childlike at first glance, he may be losing his touch.

The inevitable loss of his innocence was a problem for another time, damnit!

He needed to find something else to defend himself with. The darts were effective but limited. The hero was about two minutes out, and he was about a minute from finding a piece of metal lodged in his cranium.

The sound of the bullet leaving its muzzle whistled through his eardrums as the bullet tagged his ear cartilage. Leaving a cold, bloody hole behind it as he ducked and swerved behind some boxes to his side in an attempt to hide the rapidly closing up hole. He felt his own skin rearranging and reconnecting with itself to create an amalgamation of what once was until it settled back into his ear. an ear attached to a body with too many scars and injuries he acquired too early for his newly fast-acting regeneration quirk to counteract.

A sharp pain shot out through his stomach as his head started to sway in protest to his lack of energy.

Quirk drawbacks were stupid. Couldn't the quirk doomsday theory hurry up already?

The speaker shouted to his fellow villains to “get the rats out of here” and that “he’d deal with the fox”. The guy must have caught onto the gunshot being loud enough to alert any person within ten miles, like the hero who was only about thirty seconds away at this point.

He could play this stupid game of hide and seek, but the deadly edition, until the hero got here and left the mess to him. He didn't seem to have much backup except for the police cars too many miles out to be of any real help except for carting the villains away.

He could always try to slash their tires or in other ways distract them so they couldn't get the kidnappees away. That would be an even bigger problem, and he didn't need “being a useless nuisance” with his vigilante charges.

Only one thing was worse than being a vigilante—being a vigilante who can't even do that right.

Vigilantes who can't even be vigilantes properly were the ones that end up squashed on the bottom of an alleyway or bleeding under someone's fist or snapping and deciding to murder people.

The hero silently sneaked onto the rafters, overtaking Izuku’s previous spot, which he had been sitting in for about an hour as he waited for an opening. He had a lot of time to kill. Izuku stopped himself from looking up at him, kept his head steeled forward towards the speaker as his anger started to grow. His arms throwing the gun around the room at a frantic speed. Shouts being thrown around the warehouse from the speaker and the six masked guys trying to haul the kidnappees and the three unconscious bodies he had caused out of the warehouse. Probably none the wiser as the hero moved across the rafters towards the entrance. He was probably planning on dropping down and fighting the six while they were distracted. Smart plan if the speaker wasn't ready to shoot at anybody at a moment's notice.

He slipped the switchblade out of his pocket before zipping the pocket back up. Snapping the blade out of its cover before holding it up to aim at the speaker's gun. He reeled his arm back and threw the knife at the barrel of the gun. A loud crash echoed through the warehouse. The kidnappers and the hero turned to look as the gun was knocked out of his hand and flew across the warehouse. Izuku slid out from behind the boxes and ran towards the speaker.

He threw a punch at the speaker's temple in an attempt to get him out cold before the speaker grabbed hold of his hair and used it to throw him over to the side. He tucked his head and covered his it with his arms when he fell to the ground.

He paid a moment's attention to the hero; he had a strange long scarf he was using to take down and restrain the other villains. Maybe he had a quirk like Best Jeanist. He must've been an underground hero because Izuku spent a lot of his unlimited free time paying attention to the local daylight hero fights, occasionally using them as a distraction to get away with stealing some stuff he needs, and he'd never seen a guy like this before. However, he was very smart. He was taking down those villains quickly and efficiently.

Izuku sat up and then fell back onto his hands as he swept out the speaker's legs. He got up onto his feet as the speaker fell onto the ground. The speaker fell badly onto his head, and blood started to drip onto the ground from the side of the mask; he looked up at Izuku as his fists started to ball before he ripped his mask off and opened his mouth to scream.

Izuku's hands instinctively went to his ears as he dropped his hearing sense to as low as he could, his sense of touch becoming almost unbearably high. He could feel every touch of air like a slap against his skin as he kept his body stiff in anticipation. Before, when the speaker was holding back his quirk, he was still able to get pretty loud. Izuku didn't want his ears to be as especially sensitive as they were in that moment when this guy let loose.

Then he noticed that nothing was coming out of his mouth.

Confusion spilt off from Izuku as the scarf came straight to the kidnapper and wrapped around his mouth and arms. The speaker got dragged off into the pile of kidnappers that the hero had counted up in the time Izuku had dealt with one of them. He must've had good control of his quirk, whatever it was.

He ran back to his boxes to pick up his backpack. It didn't really dawn on him how much vigilantism he was doing until everyone was already down. He had been arrested before, but he gave a fake name and got himself off with just a warning when they found out about the blind thing. He didn't know how he kept getting away with getting arrested and getting off, but if it kept him out of trouble and “Izuku Midoriya” was legally dead, he's not so fussed.

This guy didn't strike him as the type to back down on a vigilante. He seemed like the type to drag him kicking and screaming to a police station and get him an ankle tracker and realise that he'd been lying about his name and get him no longer legally dead on the police records. Police records that would easily leak to people who would be more than happy to send out thousands to find him.

There were two doors out of the warehouse. The one the kid had run out of and the one the hero was currently standing by with the kidnappers. The hero had called the police to come pick the villains up so he could probably slip out of the faraway door if he was quick enough. Easy peasy.

“Alright, Fox, you want to be nice and come to the station?”

So that's his name set in stone, then.

So he can't sneak away with this guy's focus on him; his original assessment of his quirk didn't take into account that face that he could seemingly stop others' quirks from working. Even temporarily, that was not a power to be underestimated. Would it work on all of Izuku's quirks or just one of them? How long could he keep a quirk erased? Was there a way to get it back while he kept it erased? Can he use the quirks he erased? He stopped his mind from steering any closer to that line of thought.

He had to think worst-case scenario. That this hero could erase all of his quirks indefinitely and use them against him. If he could do that, Izuku would probably be down for the count. Sure, he could keep on fighting this guy, but if the fight drew on with his quirk still erased, his regeneration couldn't keep working on his body. From the pain he pushed down constantly encircling his nerves; he knew his quirk was always at work, and he couldn't risk stopping it for even a minute.

Judging by the fact his quirk wasn't erased yet, this hero probably needs some kind of visual on him to erase his quirk. The villain whose quirk he erased hadn't even been paying attention to him, so the cause couldn't have been something done by the erased; it had to have been the eraser. That's a shame; Izuku's vision was already pretty fucked, and this mask really wasn't helping.

So he needed to get out of here quickly without letting the hero get a visual on him. He didn't want to shoot a dart in case it really did hit true and caused the hero to pass out; then the villains could get control of the situation again before the cops got here.

The soft footsteps of an overly cautious hero moved towards him at a slow enough speed it could be seen as nonthreatening. Too bad Izuku took everything as threatening! Take that, hero!

He moved to his knees to stifle going through the boxes easier. A desperate attempt to find something that could get him out of this situation that, by the grace of everyone up above, worked. His hand grasped a large tarp folded nicely into a square. His hand went down the layers to check the side, and from the size of it, he knew if it was thrown at the right time, it could completely cover the man's vision. So he would have to throw it at the right time, wouldn't he?

He was three seconds away. Then two. Then one. A blankness washed over his body for half a second as he came into the hero's vision, followed by an agonising pain deep under his chest until he got the hero’s eyes covered by the tarp, which was actually a lot bigger than he expected. It had not only covered his body but wrapped it onto itself as it took over a lot of the ground. Good luck to him getting that thing off.

Izuku jumped up and over the boxes he was previously hidden under. A flip he would've normally done when running away for pure dramatic flair was denied because of the sheer pain running through his body. He would've kept on running if it wasn't for the scarf the hero had shooting out towards him as it freed itself from the tarp.

He jumped up and then fell to the side. The scarf was relentless in its attacks towards him despite the hero's eyes still being covered. Did it work on its own, or did he have to know where it was going? He rolled to the side, and the scarf continued grasping at the thin air.

He ran over to the far corner of the warehouse, where his knife had fallen next to the gun. Picking both up, he turned around quickly enough to see the scarf shooting right towards him. He reeled his arm back and threw the gun straight onto the tarp where the hero was on the verge of getting out of. That took less time than he thought. It hadn't even been a minute since he threw the tarp on.

He heard a wince as the gun collided with the hero's head and caused him to fall face first onto the ground, which toppled onto the scarf as it dropped to the ground. Izuku took the opportunity and grabbed hold of the limp scarf before running to the pile of kidnappers and wrapping it around them.

When the hero came back from the hit to the head a few seconds later, his scarf tensed and then came back towards him, dragging the pile of villains with it. When the hero had gotten his eyes free from the tarp a few moments later, the fox had already run from the scene of the crime with only a laugh left behind drifting through the wind.

He kept on running through the dark and desolate streets until the wind battered his face and the pain in his lungs made him push through to make it finally crack in his brain that he's alive, that he's there in this world and not the next. That the feeling of his own body splintering and eating itself was not there anymore. That it had only been there in the few seconds his quirk was gone. It had been gone.

His quirk being erased even for a few seconds had sent a shock through his system that had awoken an old pain deep inside his system. He hadn't been without a quirk since he was nine; before that, not since he was four. Let's just say a body wasn't meant to gain then lose multiple quirks. Especially not that young.

Your body compensated and grew to accommodate such powers as they flood into your bloodstream and give it upgrades after upgrades as quirks were added relentlessly despite your begging that it's enough. Bodies don't want to die. So they adapt. They evolve. Then, when they were taken but the evolutions were left, and the body is left confused. Like when the immune system fights its own body due to its being seen as a threat. The quirks were a buffer that kept the adaptations from collapsing in on one another and fighting. When a buffer was lost, the fighters start going all out. Like Izuku found out at nine years old when he felt his own body rot with no abilities to stop it.

If he hadn't acquired his regeneration quirk, then likely the body would have eaten itself.

He needed to find out who this hero was and stay far, far away from them. Even a moment of harmless quirk erasure for him could mean Izuku smelling that rotting feeling that haunts his nightmares again.

He ducked into an alleyway a few blocks from his home. The panting fell out of him involuntarily, and his head rested on the wet and cold brick wall beside him. His hands found themselves reaching into the nearby dumpster in a desperate attempt at getting some food. Food fuels his regen; after all, he had higher nutrition needs than the average person, which just made his malnutrition problems worse. He struck gold as he pulled out a pack of beef jerky still sealed. Thank whatever jerk threw away perfectly good food because he had ripped into that pack before even having a second or first look at the expiry date. It was all gone before he realised it was four days out of date.

He sighed as he fiddled with the straps of the mask he was wearing. Now that his small field of vision was returned to him, he could see the mask in its full glory. It was light orange and black with short ears on the top and a sanded-down bottom ridge, which left everything below his nose exposed to the world. It wasn't that much of a problem, really. He could eat in the mask since his mouth was exposed, and if he ran into a deaf person, it would be easier for them to read his lips. He's visually impaired; okay, his sign language needs work.

It had only dawned on him as he sat on the soaked floor of a dark alleyway a few minutes' walk from the abandoned apartment complex he calls home that he was actually considering the mask's long-term uses. Did he really need to think about that? After all, the small acts of vigilantism he had done before were spur-of-the-moment, adrenaline-induced actions that he ran away from and only thought of with fond memory until he had done enough thievery and lookout jobs for cheap cash that they became silent, washed over paintings in a gallery of villainy. He couldn't really do this long-term. Could he? Izuku Midoriya always dreamed of being a hero; those dreams had been crushed so many times that the thought was an amalgamation of awful actions and deaths that were his fault.

Did being a vigilante really count as being a hero, though?

He had heard about some vigilantes a couple of years ago, but that was only because his father had stolen one of their quirks. Since they had dropped the vigilante act and become pros, though, vigilantism seemingly only had a poor reputation everywhere in society. He really couldn't be a vigilante. Not only would it draw unwanted attention, but if one onlooker took a look under the mask and put together who he was or if a villain was able to recognise his voice that really hadn't dropped yet, then his brief life would be over. The life he had gotten someone killed to have a chance at would be swept under the rug as another one of his little rebellions.

So, he really should just throw the mask away. Take his stolen stuff and go back up to his solitary home. Take it easy and keep on living in the shadows of society.

He stood up and walked over to the dumpster.

What would've happened if he wasn't there tonight? Would those people have died? Would that kid have gotten shot, or would he have just been thrown back into the pile of people that got kidnapped and were never seen again? He had helped people, hadn't he? People were saved, because of him. He wasn't even thanked, and yet he loved doing it. Could he keep doing this?

His mask felt right hugged to his chest. He would have to be very careful. He would have to hide from that erasing hero and not get caught for having multiple quirks. That could all be done, thought, couldn’t it? He had been hiding since he was eleven, and if he did this, he could help people.

Inko would be proud of that, wouldn't she?

He stuffed the mask back into his backpack. He was going to help people. Biting back a smile, he walked out of the alleyway, his hands gripping onto his backpack as tight as they normally did at the home stretch. His ears listening out for any sign of movement, like they did every time he had came back here since he found the building abandoned and with no sign of reopening after the Musutafu earthquake when he was eleven.

It was perfectly fine for use (he thinks), so it's really just recycling the waste left from people. He was a good person sometimes. The zero yen rent was just a much-loved benefit.

His keys jangled as loudly as they normally did when he took them out. He had covered the two keys he actually had with far too many keychains to make it almost impossible to get them out of his own pockets, nevermind if someone tried pick-pocketing him. There wasn’t enough money in his wallet to worry about losing it, but he'd be screwed if he lost his keys. He really only had his apartment right now, and it cost a lot to get the key to the building in the first place.

He pushed open the heavy door to the building, the cold air inside settling into his bones as it always had. He pushed it back shut and locked it quickly before moving over to the stairs. Some days he very much regretted picking a room not on the bottom floor, but he had his reasons! If the lights and sounds started showing on pedestrian levels, then questions would get asked, and he might've gotten kicked out due to it being seen as a “danger to his safety”. The building had only stayed up this long because the owner had died in the earthquake and the government decided the building would cost less money to keep up than it would to tear it down.

Izuku didn't care for the reasons they kept the building up; as long as he got to live in the calm, cold and pretty, structurally sound apartment, he was happy.

He took the stairs two at a time, ignoring the sharp pain in the pit of his stomach, until he got to the third of the five floors. This floor coincided with the tops of many of the buildings, so the few lights he did make were brushed off as just coming from the rooftops. He likes to believe he wasn't a complete and utter idiot.

He used his second key to open room 304, ignoring the pillow fort he had made on the couch in the winter of his first year on his own. When the cold started getting to him and he was afraid of any more fire than just his small lighter.

His hand found the bottle of painkillers he kept for when the pain got too much. Fingers struggling to get the cap open because of their own shaking. He sat down on the ground before he discarded the lid next to him on the small rug he had saved up for. Two pills left the bottle and went down his throat; his forehead resting against the counter until his head stopped swimming. The out-of-date beef jerky hadn't filled the empty pit in his stomach where his pain splintered off through his every nerve. He had planned to get more food for his apartment after the tech thievery. Due to his redirections, he was left in a barren apartment, with an insatiable ache in his bones and a deep-seated fear of a hero he hadn't known existed this morning.

His legs protested as he dragged himself to the small desk he had for himself, covered in batteries and a ripped-open toaster he fidgeted with when he was bored. He opened his laptop and leaned as close to the screen as he could. His visual impairment hadn't made him entirely blind, but his peripheral vision was non-existent. His tiny field of vision had annoyed him for years, but he can work with it for research!

If he was going to start being a vigilante, then he'd have to know what he was doing. To start with, he should look into the more underground heroes. Emphasis on the erasing hero, who could kill him even accidentally with a look.

So he went searching, bypassing the limelight hero forums in search of some kind of word about quirk erasing. Even if this hero had tried his best to stay out of the media, the reporters were like vultures who would fight and search and scratch at any coal they can find in the hopes of a minor story getting them known. Then he found an article about a UA student.

a UA student who got into the hero course during his first-year sports festival. An admirable feat for anyone, but this student didn't have a flashy quirk; in fact, he fought people seemingly quirkless. His quirk was written as “erasure”; if he looked at someone, he could erase their quirks until he blinked or otherwise lost his sight of them. The article hadn't mentioned his scarf, but he would find something, eventually. He had a lot of time to kill before he could go outside.

Alright, Shouta Aizawa, how can he permanently ignore your existence?

Chapter Text

Izuku loved the sun. The light warmth that blankets over his skin as he walks aimlessly through his life. It was always better than the darkness of night or the clouded sky in winter. He might be biased. Deprivation makes you love something more once you get it back, after all.

A light smile brushed over his features as he walked down the bustling streets of Musutafu. It was around 5pm when he had dragged himself out of the apartment to go out. At this time of day his baby faced appearance wouldn't be given a second look between the likes of people coming home from a long day at work and teenagers just free from school and able to make havoc on the streets and back alleys.

He pushed up his sunglasses as he got his shoulder shoved into again for the fourth time that day, sorry’s being exchanged before they moved on and off with their lives.

Izuku had always loved people watching. What if they were mothers of children taken too soon? Off to see their half sibling they didn’t know existed? Going to buy food for their multiple pet snakes? An undercover hero who had to watch their partner die in their arms when they could’ve saved them?

Point being, Izuku liked to use his subpar mind to create far too exaggerated stories of people based on only their faces. It gave meaning to his incredibly boring life at times.

He wondered what Eraserheads life was like. He would give the man one thing he’s incredibly good at staying away from the media. Even on the crevices of the internet, there was only pieces here and there that mentioned him as an “underground hero”. He had acquired his scarf in his second year, he was an extremely effective hero since graduating from UA, and he was currently a teacher at UA. He had only found that out since a Reddit post from an annoyed student said his home room teacher “Eraserhead” had expelled him on the first day. Pretty harsh but based on the guy’s posts after Izuku could tell he was a major cyberbully and misogynist. So it was deserved.

So Eraserhead was an elusive soul who had kept himself in the shadows for two decades, therefore, Izuku must make up everything about this man’s personality. Preferably, making him more repulsive so Izuku didn’t have to feel bad about his plan to ignore his existence. So he made him hate cats and the sun and joy.

He moved away from his thoughts as he entered the mall. He hadn’t ever liked this place, whenever he came he had to hide and try to not get caught as he stole much needed clothes from the most populated stores. There was money in his pockets this time around, but he was more than reluctant to part with it.

“Watch it!”

He apologised as he accidentally ran into someone's shoulder. Another reason he didn’t like this place was the too bright lights that took up the little vision he had, that only got worse because of his sunglasses. He wished he didn't have to wear them, but too many questions got asked when he takes them off. His ears ringing as he walked through the boisterous building; his super senses became a curse in this hellhole. His hands balled in his pockets as he scratched deep into his fingers every so often to keep himself from mentally flying away from the feeling of too much that plagued his every limb.

He was here for a reason. Get in, get out. Quick and easy. He can do this.

He walked straight to the biggest clothes store he knew was here. His mind focused on one foot after another as he kept his head down and bobbed and weaved through the crowds of people walking by. Apologies leaving his mouth from time to time when his reflexes led him astray, and he found himself nudging into others. Manners were one of the few things that stayed ingrained into his mind after all these years.

The store was big, much too for the ten or so workers manning it. Of said ten workers, three were teenagers just wanting the extra money, another five were young twenty to thirty-something people just trying to work for a living. There was also a nice little old lady who gave him a chocolate bar when he first came because he was “skin and bones”. He likes her. Then there was the fourty year old guy; Izuku had seen him sleeping on the floor a few times in uniform. How he wasn't fired yet was beyond him. But, the point being that the workers didn't notice him taking an extra shirt here and there as long as he was polite and quiet between shouter number 4 and screamer number 9.

So he waddled in as the wave of air conditioning washed over his face, and he bolted straight for the clearance section. They were getting into winter now, and so the summer clothes would all be hung up to dry for prices he can actually afford. Izuku's size fluctuated depending on how much food he could snag that month, but as a general rule he steered towards the kids sections. They were normally comfier anyway, even if he had to deal with dumb motivational quotes and rainbows on his shirts. He had one too many cat shirts then he liked to admit.

He kept a quite slow pace as he looked out for something that would work for the fox character he wanted to make. It's not like they had a “vigilante” section, so he had to get creative. He already had the stolen fox mask to keep on wearing —if it ain't broken, don't fix it— so the outfit was the big problem. He only really knew of three vigilantes —if you don't count the hero killer— and he wasn't going for the all might superfan, pop idol or homeless man look. Even if he was homeless, he didn't want to announce it to the world. That would just cause him more issues.

The clearance section was a little dry today. He kept sifting through clothes in the hopes of finding something at least fox related to keep on theme if he couldn’t get something helpful to be wearing outside at night to fight crime. He really didn’t want to have to steal the whole outfit from the more expensive isles. It’s less suspicious if you buy at least one item.

A soft, surprisingly expensive fabric caught onto his hand as he looked through the pile. He ripped it up from its home and was met with a black leotard. It was for a ten year old so it would probably fit him even through his weight fluctuations —although his vigilante roof jumping may put a stop to those due to the extra steps— and the soft fabric wouldn’t annoy him if he had to turn the touch sense up. The pure black colour would make it easier to stitch up if he got injured. He’s not as worried about the clothes helping him to not get as injured as he was about fixing them if/when he got stabbed through it.

His body was resilient, and the black would help hide the blood. He put the leotard into his arms and crossed them across his chest. He wasn’t going to steal it —it was the cheapest thing he was going to get— and having it on display would make him less of a target if one of the workers decided to catch on.

There wasn’t anything pants wise in the clearance section, so he resigned himself to having to steal some from the more expensive sections. He manoeuvred himself from the relatively underpopulated clearance section over to a sign that said “men’s” and, sadly, it was filled with men. He kept his head down and moved over to the pants section. Izuku was a quite —a lot— shorter than a lot of these guys, but what can he expect at four foot eleven. He’d get his growth spurt soon, okay.

He realised his mistake as he combed through the men’s section, that he was much too short for these clothes. Any pants that fit him around the waist went below his feet and off on the ground. He was most likely going to get a tool belt to hold things for him which could be used to hold the pants up, although he was going to have to cut the bottom to around his ankles. Izuku didn’t have many shoes because of the annoying extra joint in his foot, but he was fond of the steel toed boots he had stolen from a department store at twelve. They weren’t technically necessary thievery, however they help a lot to give him extra height. Little wins.

He sighed before deciding upon a pair of cargo pants that were only a few inches longer than his legs. The extra pockets would help, and they seemed breathable to run around in. So he took himself to a small corner he knew was a blind spot for the cameras and balled up the pants before stuffing them into the waistband of his sweatpants. He rolled his hoodie back over it before beelining over to the cashier.

He kept his head up as he moved forward, his favourite old lady was on shift as she waved to him, and he waved right back. There was a few places he had to go after this, and truly he just wanted to get this whole excursion over with. His isolation these past two years had made him less liking of social interactions than he cared to admit.

The speed walking continued through the store when his eyes caught onto the softest looking coat he had ever seen. It was a dark green and more of a trench coat if anything. The inside was filled with enough fluff he would probably sleep in the thing.

Even with the vision of a blind bat mixed with a moth mixed with a cavefish and any other animal with shit eyesight sometimes, he caught onto stuff just using his eyes.

He did need a coat. It was heading into winter, then it would be snow season. If he was still doing the vigilante gig by then, he would be freezing in the leotard. He did quite like the thing, but it didn’t have sleeves. He would rather not freeze to death.

So the jacket was necessary, obviously. He would have to ball it as much as he could to put it into his waistband with the cargos.

He was far too deep in thought to even notice as the old lady snuck up behind him.

“You like that one dear” she spoke softly, and stared right at Izuku’s tinted eyes as she did so. Izuku let out a very undignified squeak at the sweet old ladies’ presence. Loud chuckles left her lips. Stares from other customers caused heat to flush to Izuku’s cheeks. He would need to pay more attention as Fox and probably train harder If he could get that scared from just an old lady speaking to him.

“Oh yeah, sorry,” he mumbled when he realised he had gotten caught, he really wouldn’t be able to steal the dumb thing now. He just had to pray she wouldn’t pry on the slight lump in his hoodie.

He moved to put the coat back, but his hand was swatted away as she looked at him disapprovingly.

“Now now, child, it’s getting chilly, and you need a coat,” she shook her head and took his hand. He then found himself getting dragged over to an empty cashier lane. The shop wasn’t that busy right now. Still, he felt bad for skipping the queue. She took the leotard and jacket from his hands and scanned the leotard. Izuku did not want to think about the price of that jacket. He well and truly could not afford it, he was poor as shit, okay. He just wanted to try and get a good meal before going out. Nothing can go his way, can it.

He looked up with much remorse to check the price when he heard the infamous rustling of the bag being acquired and then was confused at what he saw. It hadn’t increased from the price before with just the leotard, but the jacket was stuffed into the bag. He had to lean closer to the machine to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating. The old lady told him his total with a knowing grin on her face as she put one finger to her mouth with a slight shush. Izuku had to hold back tears as he mouthed “thank you” and dragged his hard-earned —stolen— cash from his pockets.

The world really didn’t deserve people like her. Izuku didn’t deserve people like her. He wanted to help people like her.

A smile came to his face as he let himself get lost in thought. It’s easy to forget in the day to day the good in the world. The people who were kind and compassionate and selfless. The people who Izuku was not, but for whom he would be happy to lay his life down for.

He took the bag and waved at her as he left the safety of the underpopulated store with pop music playing overhead to find himself yet again in the bustling horror that was a mall. Had he mentioned how much he hates populated areas!

Because he hates them. A lot.

He pulled his hood back up and relied solely on his hearing and the foggy mental map of the mall he had to find the sporting goods store. He moved the cargo pants from their hidden spot in his waistband into the bag he was holding when he was sandwiched into a particularly large crowd. His hands held on tightly to the bag strap, the rough texture giving his hands something akin to rope burn, before the skin flaked off and rearranged to make itself brand new without a second thought. He stumbled at the sharp stabbing pain in his hand before getting himself under control. Forcing himself to think about the walking, the store, the anything to not think of the pure squeezing and stabbing agony just under his chest.

He would need to snag some food on the way out of here, he hadn’t had anything since that stale beef jerky. If he wanted to really be a vigilante, then he’d need to make sure he was eating enough to at least function. Passing out in the middle of a fight would not be fun.

He took slow steps around the sporting goods store to try to calm the swimming of his head and to erase the black dots creeping into his tiny field of vision from the endless abyss which covered most of his view. He allowed his hands to snag a few protein bars and shove them into his pockets when people weren’t looking. Small luxuries. He even let himself get the expensive brand’s even if they tasted like sandpaper. Food was food.

One benefit of being able to manipulate his own senses meant that if he didn’t like a certain food, he could just turn down the sense and not even be able to taste it. Of course that meant another sense had to be increased while he was chewing but, you win some, you lose some. All his senses were enhanced to some degree normally anyway because of how bad his eyesight was. He hadn’t been able to find a way to fix it in the two years he’d been on his own; every time he tries to turn up his sight, his head just started to feel like someone was drilling into it from the temples with an industrial grade jackhammer. He always ended up sobbing and curled into a ball in his bed fort as he tried to ignore the pang of loneliness when he realised no one cared he was crying. Silent tears falling onto no one’s ears, as he was the only one to know they were even there. That he was even there.

He hit his hand against one of the metal stands to heave his mind away from the memory. They weren’t needed right now. Right now, all that was needed was him getting his newly decided weapon of choice, a baseball bat.

It was basic, however it would work good in hand-to-hand fights. He knew basic self-defence, but beyond that he only had sheer will to hope he didn’t get stabbed in the head multiple times on the first night. That and the thought that if god wanted him dead, he’d be on the side of a curb by now.

He thought about getting a metal one, but that left more risks of serious injury. He wanted to be able to regulate his attacks, and he couldn’t if they found their brains splattered on a wall after one hit. The aim of being a vigilante was to save people, not get himself wanted for being a murderer.

He decided on a pretty basic looking baseball bat. It was probably meant for the little leagues as it was a lot smaller than the others, but it worked to his favour because of his height. He gave it a practice swing and it worked quite well.

He swung by another few isles to make himself look busy, in the third of the seven isles held the packs of the knives. Moving quickly through the isle as he took three packs of knifes and four switch-blades, and they all found themselves safely in his bag, pockets, or waistband.

People need better security, really.

He paid the exhausted looking young man at the counter, who looked like he’d rather be dead than here right now. Izuku found that was a commonly held sentiment between retail workers. It worked in his favour, though, if they couldn’t be bothered to check if the boy who bought a baseball bat really only had a bat on him.

He was happy after that outing that he could leave the mall. The hardware store he planned to visit was technically part of the mall, but you had to go outside to get in. He counts this as a win. His smile came back to his face as he got back under the sun’s rays. The knives were moved into his bag and added the protein bars on top. He scarfed down one of them as he stood, trying to recollect his energy before going back into a store with people in.

His hand found itself moving to his hair, he would probably need to cut it soon. He had given himself semi regular trims over the two years he had been on his own. Apart from that, he just let it grow. The memory of his first day out on his own was still painted over his mind —he was practically bald back then— and how terrified he was at the thought of being alone. He had embraced it now, though. The calm of being by yourself all hours of the day was unmatched. This vigilante gig probably meant that he would run into more people but small interactions he could deal with.

He ran his fingers through his badly cut mullet, far overgrown after his miserable attempt at giving himself cool hair. He had been on his own a while, hadn’t he.

Time flies.

He moved slower than usual over to the hardware store, the smell of cardboard and sawdust assaulting his nose as the automatic doors opened. Izuku was quite fond of this place, even if the smell was truly awful. He often came here to get different metals or tools for whatever his build of the week was. The best form of entertainment when you’re too scared to leave your house.

He already knew what he was here for. He had seen it a few times while coming through. There wasn’t any excuse he could think of to really need it. He didn’t like stealing for meaningless objects, but a fancy tool belt required for him to be a vigilante was plenty excuse. If only that logic worked on cops.

It wasn’t anything too fancy. A dark orange like Izuku’s stolen fox mask, as well as having a loop that would fit his baseball bat and multiple pockets for his knives and whatever other stuff he decided to carry with him that day. It was perfect. It was foxes.

Fox already had a thieving count of eleven now, fingers crossed that didn’t have to increase much more.

He wrapped the tool belt over his upper stomach and put his hoodie back over it. Izuku not getting caught more for all the stealing he’s done was honestly a miracle, all things considered. He hated getting caught for things, always shoved him into a fight or flight response he didn’t want to deal with.

He didn’t come here just to steal for fox. He had looked over the tech he got from the villains the day prior. While the parts there would help him with fixing his radio, he did still need to get some more copper wiring to replace the burned out ones. With his budget, he should be getting aluminium wire, but copper worked way longer and was more flexible. As well, he’s a tad traumatised from the time he used aluminium wire, put it in wrong and almost blew up his apartment.

You live and you learn.

About ten minutes later, he was walking out with four pounds of copper wire and his tool belt still sat snuggly under his hoodie. Sometimes he loved being tiny, let him stay out of sight more. Like if you saw a six-foot man sat alone on a park bench looking through his bag of knives and baseball bat, people would be suspicious, but when little Izuku did it, no one even bats an eye. It’s extremely helpful.

Being smaller would probably help him out as Fox too. Little demon running around and hitting villains over the head with a baseball bat before running away could be a funny sight.

A child’s laughter floated through the air from the Musutafu park next to him. He had used to go there when he was younger. When he was weaker. Izuku had most of his life turn upside down at four. Then at five, the remnants were put carefully into a plastic bag before sending them into a meat grinder. After, the pieces were picked up and shaped into the image of another person he was meant to be a pale imitation of.

He picked up his bag and walked back to his apartment with a smile haunting his face. He was going to help people. Use up the last ruins of his life to do something useful. He didn’t know how long it may last. Though, in this moment, as the sun shines down on him, and he’s surrounded by happy people unaware of the true horrors plaguing their world; he’s free to do what he wanted.

He had highly underestimated how cold it would be out here.

He had a three-hour nap after getting back to his apartment before running around and trying to find something to do until midnight. Then about an hour later, he had found himself jumping across rooftops with his hands wrapping the —even more fluffy than he thought it would be— coat around himself.

He would be a much bigger fan of the outfit when summer came around. The leotard fit him well, but he did have to cut off the turtle-neck bit of it. His cargo pants sat around his hips and he rolled up the bottoms of them so they sat over the top of his boots. His tool belt was wrapped around his waist and in it sat 2 knives he could throw, a switch-blade for emergencies, a protein bar which was probably already mushed and his baseball bat. It was, surprisingly, not swinging around that much as it sat firmly at his side. That was helpful, he was worried about it moving about and inhibiting his running.

Since he was eleven, Izuku had been sporadically learning how to jump across rooftops, just for fun really. Being alone all the time got boring. He had gotten pretty good at it over the years, he hadn’t even hurt his ankles yet from a bad landing!!

He calls that a win.

Getting ready to jump across a much larger gap when a muffled cry came from the alleyway below. There was a man with floating hair being held at gunpoint by a guy with a mask on. He whispered to floaty hair to give him his wallet or he’s gonna shoot. Pretty basic threat, but originality didn’t always come from desperation.

He moved his baseball bat out of its holder. He had done a few practice swings back in his apartment, hopefully a person’s head isn’t too different to a wall.

Jumping down to the floor of the alleyway with much regret as he landed on his ankle wrong and heard a crack from underneath him as his ankle snapped. He spoke far too soon. Maybe he should’ve practiced how to do that properly.

The wince he let out as his ankle started to heal alerted the mugger of his position. He swung round to hold the gun up to Izuku’s face. He still had his hand over the other man’s neck and if it wasn’t for the gun and the terrified expression on the victim’s face, he might’ve taken this interaction as something less child-friendly.

“Who the hell are you!” The mugger's voice came out gravely and forced, like his voice didn’t get used much. Perhaps his quirk inhibited his voice, perhaps he just didn’t speak much and smoke ten packs of cigarettes a day. Who was Izuku to judge?

He opened his mouth to speak when his voice got caught in his chest. A large coughing fit erupting in his throat as the words got stuck and refused to worm their way up no matter how hard he tried.

“What, cat got your tongue?” His voice came out more sly, less gravely, like the more he stood there making Izuku’s voice disappear the more the smoker voice effect disappeared. In fact, his voice got higher, lighter, more childlike. More like his voice. Izuku was no stranger to talking to himself but hearing his voice come out of someone else was a strange feeling.

So he’s a villain who can’t speak on his own and can only speak when stealing the voices of others. Izuku was praying he got his voice back after this. He couldn’t deal with never being able to speak again. Learning sign language would be such a pain.

He listened out for the man’s heartbeat, it was absolutely racing. That was going to be annoying to tune out while fighting him. He had made a last minute decision before leaving to wrap his training blindfold around his eyes under the mask. With the mask snuffing out most of his remaining eyesight, he had decided to just go all out and put on the blindfold so he could completely tune out his vision.

He listened into the man’s bloodstream running through his limbs. If he kept on paying attention to that, he could tell when the guy was moving and when. He still remembered the first few days when he lost most of his sight and had new ways of fighting drilled into him until he could barely stand.

Izuku ran forward and swung his bat at the mugger's head, the mugger dropped the man who he had pinned to be able to duck and weave his swings better. Now without his hostage, though, he started to get more desperate. He tried to kick out Izuku’s legs from under him as he once again slipped backwards to evade a baseball bat to the throat.

“Haven’t seen you on the news before, what kind of hero are you?”

Not one at all. Can’t tell you that though because you’re currently yapping using my voice, asshole.

He must be new to mugging if he still thought all heroes operated on TV. Underground heroes were normally the ones who operated at night, out of the public eye as they dealt with low time criminals. Sure, underground heroes weren’t that well known, but people still knew they existed right? They weren’t that dumb.

His inexperience in fighting was shining through as he continued to flail about in an attempt to duck and weave and escape, Izuku had to run towards the entrance of the alley every few seconds when he kept on trying to escape. He was slippery, he’d give him that, but his form was god-awful. He had attempted to throw a punch and if it had connected he would’ve likely broken his thumb. Izuku was not the best fighter by any means, although he knew the basics of combat, they’d been drove into him since he was five, after all.

A sloppy roundhouse kick was sent to his head. The guy was very desperate, he had a cool quirk, but it had no combat use, and he seemingly had no combat experience. He was doing this out of unbridled desperation and anger. Izuku understood where desperation could take you; he’s not innocent to thievery. But, his victim was curled against the wall, he looked around seventeen and terrified. The gun which was just to his head was being waved around like a toy.

Izuku had never hurt anyone unless they tried to fight him. That was the small, shallow, and flimsy moral compass he kept close to his rotten, cursed heart. Some people called him a hypocrite, but lines must be drawn in the sand. A wall of glass to keep himself from his father.

As the kick came close to his head, he pushed the leg to the ground using his hand before stomping on it with his boots. In the moment of shock as pain registered through the mugger's body, Izuku swung his bat at the man’s head too quickly for him to recover and duck again. He heard his body drop to the ground, and he quickly realised he had forgotten to get stuff to restrain the villains. Well this was a trial and error wasn’t it.

He kneeled down to the villain and put him into the recovery position so he would be okay while unconscious. Yes, he was annoying, but causing a death was a bit much for a vigilante on day one. He hadn’t heard the bone crack in the villain’s leg, so hopefully he wasn’t too injured.

He kicked the gun the man was holding into the side of the alleyway before moving towards the teenager and kneeling down next to him.

“You okay?” He tries to speak as softly as he could to calm down the teenager. He had his head hidden in his shaking hands, and was refusing to look up. Izuku felt bad for him. He remembers when he was a little kid before everything happened and he would cry openly at every little thing. The kid was technically older than Izuku, but he was still mentally a child. Izuku grew up far before his time. He didn’t want that for anyone else.

“The villain is down. I don’t know how much longer he’ll stay like that,” Izuku was mumbling his speech as he stayed kneeled next to the kid. “I’d really appreciate it if you called the police”

The kid’s head moved up at that. “Aren’t… Aren’t you a hero? Can’t you do it?” His words stuttered as they came out. Like his words had to be forced out through layers of anxiety and fear. Would Izuku have turned out like this if he wasn’t taken by… them?

Izuku bit the inside of his cheek. The kid was already scared, and telling him he was scarcely saved by some weak vigilante doing this because he had nothing else to do would probably terrify him more. He just let out a nervous laugh. Izuku couldn’t see the kid’s face and yet he could feel that his hand’s had started shaking again. Maybe, this was a bad idea.

“Ill… Il'l umm call the police,” his words still came out stuttered, though now they had more force behind them. Good because Izuku didn’t want to deal with getting the police here. He would have to figure out a way to restrain the villains and alert the police of them being there in the future if he was gonna keep on being Fox.

Izuku nodded at the kid and stood back up. He considered jumping back up to the rooftops, but the snapping of his ankles every time he jumped down wrong wasn’t very appeasing. He would learn how to jump down properly eventually, but for today potentially staying on the streets and staying vigilant of nearby heroes was a good idea.

Giving the villain another kick to the head to make sure he stayed unconscious before running out of the alleyway, Izuku was gone with the wind. The faint buzz of the streetlights overhead told him where to stay away from whenever he passed a hero. There were only about three out tonight from what he could tell and one of them was Eraserhead. Izuku had made sure his patrol route stayed far away from Eraserheads, and it’s always good to be careful of the other heroes too. He could theoretically deal with the likes of Death-arm’s if he had too, but he really didn’t want a name for fighting heroes. As well, if word got to Eraserhead that a kid running around in a fox mask was beating up heroes, he might decide to take matters into his own hands. Then, he’s a tad screwed.

Unsurprisingly, muggings were pretty common this late into the night. Two girls walking home late linked arm in arm that Izuku saved had ruffled his hair after. That was a strange experience. Then there was the guy in full suit, who after Izuku stopped him from getting mugged started shouting at Izuku for something or another that he couldn’t understand and then Izuku realised he was just drunk and his words were slurring together.

All in all, the night was pretty slow. Izuku hadn’t really known what to expect, considering he barely went out at night, but at least his biggest injury of the night was a snapped ankle. He calls that a win.

He found himself back up onto one of the rooftop’s. His leg’s crossed on the edge as he ate the very mushed protein bar he had in his tool belt. It was times like this he remembered how free he was, and god he loved it. No one to hold him back or tell him how to behave. Just Izuku Midoriya, the vast, never-ending sky, and the world below his feet, too far out of his reach for him to care.

That was until he heard a scream from said world down below. He jumped at the sound and choked on the protein bar in his throat. He attempted to silence his coughs into his shoulder; he had to keep his position a secret until he figured out what was going on. Dust coated his hands as he crawled to the other side of the roof to listen out down below. He kept himself knelt down to try and hide out of sight.

There was about five guys total down there, and one was hanging out behind all of the others. One of them had massive hands balled into fists that did not match the rest of his body, and another had crab claws for hands. The other three were still bulky, but they had no outward signs of their quirks. Their victims were a couple in their mid-thirties. The guy was shouting that he “didn’t have his money yet” over and over again as his friend was being held by the throat. She was likely the one who had screamed. Well, Izuku, can’t leave this one much longer.

“Don’t suppose I can butt in here,” a soft voice spoke into the alleyway. She had a tall stature and pretty bulky body. She was standing in a way which hid her muscles and made her more petite looking, more vulnerable.

“Who are you supposed to be, lady?” The voice came out extremely patronisingly from the man with the girl’s throat in his hands. This guy was getting further and further down the respect list whenever he moved a muscle.

A laugh left the heroes mouth before she spoke, “you’ll see!”

About half a second after the words had been let out into the air, she had rushed forward. A knife was stabbed into the man’s wrist and caused him to drop the girl. The new arrival that Izuku was starting to believe was a hero —and he should really be running right now—, caught the girl with ease and let her down next to the man who she came with. “You could do much better, girl,” the hero deadpanned before going back to fighting the four guys, and Izuku had to hold back a snort from his vantage point.

They all tried to ambush her at once, but she just seemed content to fight them off with all the grace of a ballet dancer. Her moves seemed fluent. Like it came naturally to her to be able to fend off multiple assailants at once. Izuku was taking mental notes of her form, if he wanted to get better he would have to learn from the pros themselves. There was one problem though, the fifth guy was still held back behind the others. He took slow steps towards the hero and despite all her strengths at fighting four villains at once, she didn’t even hit the fifth guy once.

It didn’t make sense, really. The hero knocked down guy number three and the fifth guy was right next to him when she did it, yet she didn’t even acknowledge him. Did he have a quirk which allowed him to not be attacked? To not be seen?

It would line up with everything, him not being used to intimidate the guy and his friend before, as he couldn’t be seen anyway. He was here purely as emergency backup in the event the heroes came. It would be a perfect quirk for an ambush. You take down the villains and when you think you’re safe you get whacked in the head by seemingly nothingness.

He was getting closer to where the hero was stood. About to finish getting the fourth guy down, and his body just moved on its own. He hadn’t even been planning on using his darts tonight but desperate times and all that. He lined up his blowgun to where he could hear breathing coming from and shot it out towards the invisible man’s neck. It just so happened to skim by the heroes neck and caused her to whip her head around to look up at him.

For a moment Izuku thought he was truly and without a doubt, screwed. All those two years spent under the radar and alone and his first day doing something enjoyable he got caught because he had to play the hero. He could probably still run if he was quick enough, lie low for long enough people forgot that a kid in a fox mask ever even existed. Then the villain let out a shout.

A gasp came from the hero as she stared down at the ground where the fifth guy was laying. His heart rate was indicating that he was unconscious, and from the way her head remained on the ground for about a minute afterwards Izuku guessed he became visible again. That would help his case. Trying to incapacitate a hero and saving a hero would probably have much different reactions, and jail times.

A loud laughter echoed throughout the alleyway as the hero wrapped her arms around her stomach. She was finding this situation far more amusing than Izuku was. He wanted to run as soon as he shot that dart, but something kept him planted to the ground. Maybe it was his own self-destructive tendencies that kept him close to the hero he almost shot a poisonous dart at, or maybe it was his own stupidity, they’d never know.

“Thanks for the assist, kid,”

She shouted up at him from the floor, her hands were on the sides of her face and imitating a megaphone. Was she not going to race him up here and arrest him? Sure he had helped her, but he was a vigilante, wasn’t he? What he’s doing was illegal! Yet, she’s just giddily trying to talk to him. Izuku waved back slowly before moving to put his blowgun away. Probably a dumb decision as it was his only way to quickly get the hero down if she quickly switched faces and decided to go after him, however he kinda wanted her to trust him. His hands were shaking as they opened the pockets on his tool belt for the blowgun and darts, how nervous was he at meeting one hero he hadn’t even heard of before? He needed to get his act together.

“The names Phantom by the way”

She shouted up at him again. Her words had a softness to them that even Izuku couldn’t overthink into maliciousness. He really didn’t get it. Was she just going to let him get away?

In seemingly reading his mind, she turned her back on him and spoke into her comm about catching five criminals, seemingly no mention of the child vigilante on the rooftop who had helped her. She started handcuffing the villains and Izuku could feel the couple’s eyes on him from the ground, but surely if Phantom wanted to catch him she would’ve done it already? Surely she can handle a little flack for not catching a vigilante as new as him? It’s basically her fault for turning her back on him like this anyway.

So he ran. Izuku ran across the rooftops and let the wind fill his lungs and throw his hair back into the endless abyss this world resides in. He couldn’t even help another laugh erupting from his lungs as he got across a particularly long jump unscathed.

He was loving it! He had gotten seen and within a few feet of a hero. A hero who could easily have ran after him and tried to or even successfully arrested him and ruined his framework of a life. Yet she didn’t. He liked this Phantom, she was nice and evidently pretty lenient on vigilantes. Which in his case was a massive plus.

Were other nighttime or “underground” heroes like that? He didn’t want to push it too far too early, but maybe after a while of being fox he could try talking to a hero. Maybe they could even be allies. God knew Izuku needs some relationships in his life, no matter how surface level they were.

He could deal with that another day. It was edging on 3am after all. He was only planning on doing another run around of the city before going back to his apartment. He rolled onto a rooftop after a big jump as he heard a shout from down below, another mugging presumably.

Wiping off his inappropriately large smile before getting closer to the alleyway, he jumped down to the ground with his bat swinging. Hopefully, one day people could know that no matter what, there was a fox there trying his best to protect them. For now, though, he could help people. That’s all he ever truly wanted.

Shouta was exhausted. That could describe his mood most days. After that godforsaken kidnapping the day prior, he had to do an ungodly amount of paperwork. Then Tsukauchi only decided to mention to him after he had done all of it that he had to do even more because of the fox vigilante who decided to show up. The problem child — because that's what he was, a child— had been the only one to notice the kidnapping going on, as it was out of the way in a residential area. When he saw the little kid running around the streets incredibly fast, crying his eyes out, Shouta thought he was a runaway. Then he started rambling through his tears about a kidnapping and a warehouse and a gun to his head.

Shouta had pointed him in the direction of the police station, then ran as fast as he could towards where the kid had described. In the warehouse he had found absolute chaos, they must’ve noticed the kid's escape as they were trying to get the other five victims out of the warehouse and the vigilante the kid had described was hiding behind some boxes. He thought the kid was trying to stay out of trouble, maybe he had been kidnapped with the rest of them and had got free. Then the kid recklessly threw a knife at the villain's gun and stupidly started fighting him.

The kid had forced Shouta to fight the rest of the kidnappers as he dealt with the one actually willing to shoot him. The fox was seemingly trained in combat, but he was obviously rusty. His moves seeming like second thoughts instead of basic instinct, like they were forced and added on instead of learnt and gained to his skill set.

The tarp story was one he very much wished he could’ve omitted from the report, as he had his eyesight covered, and his own capture weapon used against him by seemingly a young teenager, if that. But darn his integrity as he had to add every annoying detail to his statement and try to ignore the pointed grin on the detective’s face as he read it. He had even had to come in the next night after his patrol to fill in even more paperwork about the incident. It was times like this he regretted his career choices.

He was currently sat waiting his eleven billionth document about the event, a cup of coffee (with a totally normal amount of sugar in) nursing in his hands when the police station’s door was slammed open. Shouta turned his head and saw Phantom waving over at him. Phantom was a relatively new underground hero, she had graduated UA three years ago and while he wasn’t her home room teacher he certainly knew of her. After getting her license she had swarmed towards him.

“Hey, Eraserhead! I got some news for you,” she had that practically immovable grin on her face as she slid into the seat next to him. Shouta just rolled his eyes at her and begrudgingly took the next form from the detective.

“What is it, Phantom” he tried to speak as dismissively as possible so she would go bother someone else, like miss joke. They had always been close.

“I saw your little vigilante today!” She announced very loudly to the whole station. Maybe that was just her normal volume.

Shouta wanted to crawl into a sleeping bag and never reappear. The kid had been had a headache the first time he met him, if he started going out every night he could already feel the migraine coming on.

“You saw the fox?” He couldn’t hold back the curiosity in his voice as he spoke. His eyes moved to glare at that stupid grin she seemed so sure on keeping up.

“Yep, he even shot one of his lil dart things!” She mimed holding the blowgun up to her lips, then an explosion as the dart hit its target.

Very overdramatic. The darts had only immobilised the villains and while he hadn’t seen the fox actually hit anyone with them, the stories of the witnesses lined up. The kid had shot three people with darts, one in the eye, and the poison on the tips was still being checked by forensics. So far, the running guess was he mixed different types of poisons together. Shouta would be lying if he said he didn’t find that impressive.

“What was he doing?” The detective had joined the conversation, his eyebrows furrowed in curiosity as he opened his notebook. Phantom sighed at the impromptu investigation.

“He was helping me, I didn’t notice one of the villains I was fighting had an invisibility quirk, but he did!” She always spoke with her hands, they made large gestures whenever she spoke to emphasise her words. The excitement flowing out of her body whenever she did so. She would’ve made an amazing spotlight hero; she was almost made for the media and attention.

“This could be bad. If he’s getting into fights he could get hurt,” Shouta said.

“Didn’t peg you for such a softie, Eraserhead,” Phantom interrupted as she nudged his shoulder.

“Not wanting brats to get hurt is my job,” he pointed out as his capture scarf knocked her away.

“He seemed to be handling himself,” she replied with a shrug.

“Still, we will need to keep an eye on this,” Tsukauchi started, putting an end to their bickering. “Phantom, Eraserhead, if you could both try and deter this fox from any more vigilante work with words first, then we might not have to try and use more force.”

Shouta nodded with most of his face still hidden in his capture weapon, and phantom gave him a mock salute before starting to fill out her own paperwork for the night.

Shouta sighed as he looked at the pile of papers still left to do. “If it stops more paperwork, I’m down,”

“I’m a detective, not a god.” Tsukauchi laughed as he left the heroes to their own devices.

He looked at the vigilante form Tsukauchi had cobbled together when he mentioned the vigilante at the kidnapping. At the top there was three columns left unfilled. Shouta had hoped the kid’s appearance was a one and done. That he’d run along home and stop bothering him. Sadly, the world didn’t work in his favour very often.

“Alias - fox,”

“Presumed age - early teens,”

“Danger level - low,”

Chapter Text

Izuku tumbled out of his bed the next night with such joy plastered on his face he could almost ignore the soreness erupting all over his body. Turns out running around all night did not make your body happy with you in the morning. He had found that out when he first woke up after his first fox night with every muscle screaming at him. He hadn’t felt anything the night before, but he chalked that up to the thinning adrenaline high he rode to finally finish fixing his radio. Nothing got done the day after but eating protein bars and laying motionless on his couch, the radio he’d newly fixed playing Present Mics radio station in the background. It was all that was on, okay?

Now, though, the screaming of his muscles had been silenced almost completely by his precious, amazing, and he’d never complain about it again, regeneration quirk. Over the years, he had figured out that his regeneration quirk chose to tackle injuries on their level of severity and by how much energy he had to spare. So his relatively harmless soreness, coupled with his recent protein bar-filled diet, meant that it had taken all day to heal.

He stuffed some of his cash into Fox’s toolbelt. Hopefully he could get some time to buy food; the protein bars had gotten scarce. His blindfold was wrapped around his eyes, and then the mask was strapped onto his face. He thought of bringing one of his notebooks around; analysing quirks had always been his favourite hobby—even after the memory of it was tainted with years of it causing harm—but his handwriting would be even more awful if he tried to write down his thoughts with only the feeling of ink to guide him. He would have to just try and sort through his thoughts in the moment, praying his muttering habit didn't get him found out.

He never really got that habit out of him. The two years of isolation truly didn't help.

His hand stopped on the doorknob out of his apartment. If he kept walking out of the front door as Fox, one of the cameras could pick him up. If he got seen on a camera, he could get traced back here. If the police started getting annoyed at his unending vigilantism, they could track him back here. They could realise who he was. Then he’d be so everloving screwed he’d wish that falling off a building actually did do permanent damage to him.

He looked over to the window. In the two years of living here, there was only a hero in this area once in a blue moon. He really wouldn’t be noticed if he started jumping out of his window to the rooftops. His neighbourhood had seemingly been forgotten by the world. The closest (legally) inhabited homes were only on the outskirts, and the rent was so cheap some people took the stigma of living so close to where the Musutafu earthquake began with pride.

Izuku knew the earthquake started somewhere around here; where exactly he didn’t know, but it's not like Japan would get one of the worst earthquakes it had ever seen in the same spot twice. Besides, “Izuku Midoriya” was already pronounced dead from the earthquake, so it was kind of like fate if he did actually end up dying here.

The cold breeze came in through the window and disrupted the normal temperature he kept in the unheated apartment. A sigh left his mouth as he realised he would have to hide in his pillow fort tonight to try and warm up. Maybe he could set a small fire with his lighter to get some heat back in.

He stepped out to the outside of the window and shut it behind him before jumping to the next roof. His foot slipped on the edge of the roof, and he threw his arms out to get a grasp of something to stop him from plummeting to the ground. Luckily, his arms stayed on the edge of the roof, and he was able to crawl his way back up in a less than flattering position. When he finally got up, he laid on the roof of the building and tried to catch his breath for a few minutes. So he needs to lessen his confidence.

He shook his head and sat up with a frown. A stinging pain laid itself across his chest from where he hit it against the roof. He let out a groan and forced himself up despite the pain. It would heal itself eventually, and he wasn’t going to let his dumb little fall hold him back before he even got out.

Running across the rooftops luckily didn’t lead to any more falls that night; the first one had been embarrassing enough with no one even watching. If a hero had run into him when he fell, he might’ve just found a way to circumvent his regeneration to be able to die and never be seen again. He had to readjust his baseball bat every so often while running until he finally realised he had put on his tool belt too loosely. Idiocy was just his normal state of being sometimes.

He stopped to sit on the edge of a rooftop and discarded his coat under him to fidget with his tool belt straps when he heard voices from underneath him. There were two of them walking side by side as they spoke. Their heart rates were slightly elevated despite there being no visible danger around.

His legs swung back to hide on the rooftop as he listened to their conversations.

“I have to get back to my patrol route soon, or the partner is going to get mad, Rocklock,” the person on the right spoke quietly as they fidgeted with the cuffs on their arms.

Oh, he's screwed. Also excited! His emotions were out of whack then.

Rocklock was one of the few heroes who patrolled this area at night. He had a really cool quirk: being able to immobilise inanimate objects could be extremely useful, especially if it could work on clothes or even hair. Being able to lock someone in place surprised them enough, and they wouldn’t even be able to tell until they were already down for the count. Izuku could think of about twenty different uses for the man's quirk, and he was currently a few feet below him on the ground.

The other hero he was with left soon after they’d spoken, and he hadn’t even noticed until Rocklock spoke. “Who’s up there?” He shouted up from where he was standing below the roof. Izuku’s hand slapped onto his mouth; he must've been muttering his thoughts without even trying. He was going to start strapping something over his mouth to stop himself from muttering again soon. It worked when he was younger, and if he were a silent vigilante, he could live with that.

He laid there in silence as seconds turned into minutes that felt like they stretched into years. The hero seemed unfazed as he stood there with all the time in the world and leaned against the wall of the building Izuku was hiding on. Izuku could try and run away and pray that Rocklock didn’t follow him.

He was thinking over his options when he heard a car speeding down the road a few miles from where he was. The car being exactly on the far too high speed limit didn't worry him, but the mumbling of someone in the trunk did. What’s up with him and running into kidnappings?

If he got caught because of a kidnapping, it would all go full circle. He sat up and grabbed his blowgun. There were only two darts left in his pouch. Here’s to praying his aim was good.

He heard Rocklock trying to speak to him as he shot out his dart towards the car window, shouts coming out from the man in the car as he started to swerve. Izuku stood on the edge of the roof and ignored the protests of the hero as he took a risky jump over to the hood of the kidnappers’ car. He felt his kneecap slide out of place down to his shin as his other leg’s tibia cracked under the force of the jump. His wrist was mostly shattered from how he landed on it, but he was expecting much worse from that jump.

He muffled the wince with his uninjured hand to try and make himself seem scarier in the moment. Very unnecessary, as the kidnapper (AKA the only person who could hear him) started screaming his lungs out when he landed on the hood. Well, that makes his life easier.

He used his bat to shatter the glass of the windshield and put the uncovered part of his face into the inside of his elbow. Getting glass out of skin was really annoying.

The driver jammed on the gas pedal and continued swerving to try and get him off. Izuku latched onto the inside of the dashboard to stay on as he was thrown about. He felt bruises bloom on his front and the itching sensation as they healed themselves despite his low energy. The burning of his legs as they tried to heal themselves filled up the few thoughts in his brain that weren’t fueled by adrenaline.

He reached out with his uninjured hand and slammed the driver’s head into the steering wheel. Blood leaking from the driver's forehead started staining Izuku’s hand as he threw him back onto his seat. Glass from the dashboard stabbed into his leg through his cargo pants as he slid into the passenger seat. He took control of the steering wheel and realised far too late that he had no idea how cars work.

He kicked the driver’s legs away from where the pedals were, kicked down onto the pedal closest to him, and let out a very undignified squeak as the car sped up. He moved onto the pedal next to him and was relieved as it started to stop, for about one second, until he got very bad whiplash and hit his chest against the glass-filled dashboard.

Letting breath seep in and out of his bruised lungs for a few minutes until he forced his injured arm to reach for his last protein bar and scarfed it down with a groan. He sat back in the car seat and tried to ignore the feeling of his skin rearranging to fix the injuries that could’ve killed another person. Pain evaporating from under his skin as it’s replaced with unchanged and unharmed cells. Any evidence of the pain he’d gone through disappeared without a trace, and he’s left with only the memories of torture and burning that he had no way to prove. Did his pain even count if it dissipated in mere moments?

When he felt the burning sensation start to be numbed under his chest, he sat up and listened out for Rocklock as he slowly moved towards the car.

“Alright, get out of the car slowly with your hands in the air,” Rocklock shouted from a few feet away from the car. Did he not know that the driver was passed out? How would he get up right now?

Wait, he’s talking about Izuku, wasn't he? Oh, he’s messed up, hadn’t he?

From Rocklock’s perspective, he literally just attacked a random man for no reason. If it ends up being that the breathing body in the trunk wasn’t actually kidnapped, then he’s going to kill someone.

Speaking of the body, Izuku could still hear breathing and a very elevated heartbeat from the trunk. Muffled screaming and kicking onto the walls of the trunk very much pointed towards a kidnapping. This arsehole better thank him. He moved his arm into the driver’s pocket and took out the keys, unlocking the car before throwing the keys back at the man’s face.

Rocklock stood close to the other side of the car as he kicked open the door of the car. Wincing as he walked over to the back of the trunk. Rocklock ran round to the back of the car to stop him from running away, and he put his hand onto his shoulder. He was probably worried about the number of injuries he sustained throughout that whole thing. A fair worry if it wasn't for his inability to be injured for more than a few minutes.

He put on a probably very annoying grin as he grabbed the door of the trunk and pushed it open. Rocklock gasped as he saw the person inside the trunk, his head whipping between Fox and the person before laughing as he patted his shoulder. “Good work, kid,” the hero spoke in a slightly softer voice, and Izuku had to bite back a smile at the approval. He had a reputation to keep up here.

Rocklock started untying the victim and trying to comfort them; Izuku took the opportunity to sneak away. It had rained that day, and he had to move carefully to not slip on the puddles left on the ground.

Izuku hated rain. The last time he had a good memory with rain, he was a four-year-old in a rain jacket as his mom held his hand and laughed as he jumped in puddles.

Memories of rain pattering against windows as he lay alone and cold in his apartment or rain becoming a burden on his shoulders as it relentlessly beat down on him before he had found his way to shelter. Then there was the first time he had tried to run away from his father. The sight of cherry mixing with the colourless water overhead and tainting it, staining it, taking over its very image until it was all you could see. That was one of his last memories of full sight.

The rain was quickly replaced with the two hands. Two cursed hands, with all five fingers down on his eyes.

He miscalculated his jump and landed with one foot in a puddle. The water shot up and then covered him in muddy water. He wrapped his coat around himself again and walked on with his head down. His cheery grin was replaced with a blank frown as he attempted to hold back the shivers. If he got a cold from this, he was going to find a way to fly and strangle a cloud. All the clouds, at once.

Droughts were a little price to pay.

He dragged himself to the nearest fire escape to get himself up to the rooftops again. The few people around at this time had started whispering about his “wet dog” appearance, and it was starting to annoy him. His legs screamed out underneath him as he forced himself up the stairs. When he finally got to the top, he ended up just lying on the roof with a frown. His energy had just been zapped out of nowhere, and it was annoying.

He slapped himself and tried to focus on the stinging pain to get himself back to this existence. Out of his blank and welcoming mind and back to the tiring and uncaring world.

He let out a groan as he heard a scream in an alleyway a mile away.

What was he doing? He was given the chance to be good and help people, and here he was complaining and being a brat. Who cared if he wanted to go home? Who cared if he wanted to sleep? He’d been fine being lazy the past two years as he sat apathetically in his fortress of solitude. The people he needed to save probably wanted to go home too. He can let them do that. Maybe if he saved enough people, he could be seen as useful enough to make up for his years of inaction.

He shook his wet hair a few times to get it to dry before jumping over to where the scream came from. He forced a grin on his face and leaned on his muscle memory to fight the villains trying to hurt other people for selfish reasons.

If he broke an ankle when jumping from the rooftop, smashed his wrist in a bad fall, or got his head bashed in during a fight, then it's better him than a real hero. The victim he saved hugged him when he made the villain fall and thanked him profusely. A real smile came to his face again as he heard the victim say she wasn’t hurt. He tried his best to comfort her, and somehow his stammering over his words got her to calm down and be able to stop crying. She patted his head again and agreed to call the police as he ran off to go save someone else, then another person, then another.

His few energy stores were depleting as he regenerated over and over again. Adrenaline rushing through his blood kept him going after every fight.

He would be honest; his mind wasn’t truly in the present. Swimming in the blank nothing was too positive a prospect, that his muscles moved without any command to fight the villains. It was pure bliss to not have to care about the eternal burning in his chest or the pain of the scrapes he got in fights. He didn’t need to care as long as he saved people, right?

He only came back when the victims gave him physical contact, a brief reprieve from his mind vacation as he got positive attention. His little reputation was going through the wringer tonight.

“You sure you’re old enough to do this, little guy?,” One of the men he had saved had kneeled down in front of him. His hand was ruffling his hair, and he had laughter stuck at the back of his throat. He couldn’t blame him for laughing, a six-foot man being saved by a four-foot-eleven little boy who just knocked out three men with a baseball bat. It must’ve been a funny sight from the outside.

“I mean, what are you, twelve?” The man spoke with the laughter dissipating from his tone, replaced with concern.

“I'm way older than twelve,” Izuku retorted. The fact that he was thirteen was not necessary information.

“You sure?” The man said.

Izuku knocked the man's hand away from his head and shoved a grin on his face. Waving at the men as he heard one of them call the police, he ran as fast as he could down the street.

Half an hour later, he was still walking in the shadows of the streets. His limbs still screamed out beneath him, but he shoved it down into the crevice of his brain where it didn't bother him. Kept shoving it down until it became no more than a frequent whisper. Just a small tug in the back of his head begging him to lie down and give up.

No one had caught his attention as needing to be saved in a while. He had been shouted at by some teenagers who were smoking something to “do a flip” when he was on a rooftop. He humoured them. Backflips were just fun to do, alright.

Maybe he should call it a night. Running around all night with no breaks would just make him sloppy. You can’t be a good vigilante if you can’t save people.

The unused money sat as an unnecessary weight in his pocket. He really needed to get more food for his apartment. The protein bars were running low, and he didn’t want to have to deal with the excruciating pain of healing on no energy. Truly not a fate he wished upon his worst enemy.

Finding a 24/7 convenience store was deceptively easy. Hiding in the alley next to it and checking to ensure there were no cameras, he removed his fox mask and blindfold from his face. He stuffed them into the strap on his toolbelt and covered his ensemble up with his coat. The lack of buttons on his coat meant he had to keep his arms around his stomach to stop his ensemble of knives from being shown to the poor, probably very tired, cashier.

His face felt far too bare and vulnerable without a covering. His eyes squinted, and he had to wipe away the water that started to erupt from them as the pressure was taken away. He hadn’t even gone outside without at least sunglasses on in years. Shoving his hood over his head, he resolved himself to keeping his head down. The gory and disgusting imagery left on his face was hidden the best he could to stop the cashier from freaking out at the mere sight of him.

Or worse, the cameras being unlucky enough to have a certain sensei watching through them at just the right moment to catch his face. In his dreams he had grown to be unrecognisable from the six years he spent with him. However, in this miserable reality, his baby fat still sat stubbornly on his face. His eyes, no matter how dull or lifeless, kept that childlike shape to them. His limbs were still far too short and yet unmatched to his body in that way before a growth spurt. A growth spurt that was halted from malnutrition that Izuku had done too little to counteract.

A soft bell chimed as he opened the door. The cashier at the counter paid him little to no attention as she kept herself on her phone. What kind of weirdo came in at three in the morning anyway? Not one needing your attention, that's for sure.

Izuku finds stereotypes quite dumb, yet certain ones fit him eerily well.

He forced his legs past their adrenaline-filled high and moved through the aisles. Letting the quiet buzz of a probably broken sound system soothe his brain into forgetting the stress of his life. He picked up one of the cheapest chocolate bars he could find and then beelined to where he could see the canned food. A responsible adult had lectured Izuku on how canned goods were much better for a pinch than fresh. They lasted longer, and (what was more important for him) they were cheaper.

A genuine smile came to his face as his mental math concluded he could get six cans of one of the soups in his budget. That and the remaining six protein bars meant he could make it almost a week before having to find some more cash. A day at a time, after all.

The world's best game of soup can Jenga was occurring in his arms as he tried to balance them all until he got to the counter, when he heard the bell ring again. The man's heart rate was staggering; it had even shocked Izuku a little when he heard it. There was something wrong with this guy if he wasn’t stressed out of his mind.

Ragged breaths could probably be heard even without super hearing, as the cashier even looked up as he stood with his feet planted right by the door. His head swung about the store like his life depended on it.

Before the worker could get a word out, she found a knife at her throat.

Did crime just follow him now?

That must've be his karma from his negligence. Being given more chances to help people was a good thing, he supposed.

The cans of soup were forgotten behind one of the aisles as he kneeled down out of the attacker's sight. The volume of his demanding only increased as the cashier tried her best to get the register to open for him. Izuku had been desperate enough to steal before, but this was just uncouth. It's just mean to rob someone at knifepoint; that could inflict trauma on somebody. No amount of desperation had brought Izuku to that point yet anyway.

He always stole from massive chain stores. No certain person with awful memories of him, just inventory going missing here and there to feed or clothe a lonely orphan.

Orders were still being stuttered out of the attacker's mouth, and the cashier was getting more and more frightened as her shaking hands were unable to open the register.

The fox mask he had grown to love was re-tied around his face. Allowing himself to push down his hood. Being able to hide always helped with his confidence somehow. If he could pretend to be someone else, then he could think like them, like how a smart lone vigilante would think.

A lone vigilante with more darts, for example. There was only one left in the far too big pocket. If he used this, then he would have to go searching to try and get more, and it was so exhausting. The last time had been an absolute trainwreck.

Did he mention his hatred for cage fighting? especially their ability to rope in a certain twelve-year-old just trying to be a messenger boy into trying to fight men three times his size. Did he win all the fights that night? No. Did he win enough that the memory of it was like an addictive daydream he thought about as he tried to ignore the gnawing hunger that possessed his every limb? Maybe.

The villain lifted up his arm, the knife getting ready to stab into the cashier's chest when Izuku shot the dart right into the attacker's neck. He fell to the side of the counter, knocking off the rack of lollipops kept on there as his legs started to fall out beneath him. Grasping the end of the dart, he pulled it out of his neck, leaving a puddle of blood behind in its wake on the floor. Like a pin landing on the floor, the dart was almost silent as it found its way to the ground. The only sound was the increasingly frantic breath of the attacker as the poison started immobilising his body and his head pivoted to stare daggers at the fox that shot it.

That hadn’t happened before. The darts had just immediately incapacitated whoever got shot before! Was the last one just faulty? Or did this guy have some sort of quirk that allowed him to withstand poisons longer? Did it work with other kinds of medicine?

Not the time for quirk analysis, Izuku!

Izuku put his arms up in a surrender gesture. No matter what reason this guy had to still be standing after being hit with the poison, he wasn't completely immune. The man's legs were still crumpled, and he was holding against the counter for dear life. If he could stall him for long enough that the poison spread, then he wouldn't even have to attack him.

“Hey, uh, idiot!” His words stuttered out, and he was reminded how much he sucked at trash talk. The silent vigilante gig was looking better by the second.

“Why don’t we just take this outside and not harm the nice lady he—”

He didn't even get to finish his sentence as the attacker used the seemingly last of his strength to reel back his arm holding the knife again and throw it directly at Izuku's chest.

The sound of blood being coughed up from Izuku's throat was accompanied by the crash of the attacker finally succumbing to that stupid poison. There went his last dart, and he still got a knife to the chest. A very deep knife to the chest if the blood coming out of his mouth was anything to go by. That had only happened once before, when he got stabbed in the lungs during an extremely long training session at ten.

The adrenaline fortunately numbed the probably inconceivable pain as his skin tried to regenerate and regrow around the knife. Sticking deep into his skin as the regeneration confused itself at the intrusion. One of the most annoying things about his quirk was that it just messes around with foreign matter. Grew and broke itself over and over in an attempt to heal around it instead of dispelling it, and using his energy to do it.

Like second nature, his hand grabbed the hilt of the knife, and he tried to ignore the squelching sound of his blood leaking out from the knife. Tried to ignore the rotting smell permeating from his chest and haunting his brain with its presence. Tried to ignore the feeling of simultaneous emptiness as it left and the scratching of ribs as the knife made its venture out. The cage around his lungs and heart acted as a never-ending maze that just broke under the pressure of going through its walls.

The knife clanked against the floor, and his breathing became far too shallow as his arms curled themselves on his chest. The skin on the front of his chest heals quickly and leaves the internal injuries to deal with themselves on the inside. He was starting to regret all those injuries he let himself get before.

His limbs felt like they were not a part of his own body. His head felt a million degrees hotter. Vomit climbed up his throat and mixed with the blood still coating his mouth. His chest expanded and deflated against his will far faster than he would've liked.

The cashier fussed over his body, soft hands bringing him down to sit on the floor, and he was far too weak to stay standing. Izuku Midoriya wouldn't die tonight, he knew that, but he would be in an immense amount of pain as his body destroyed itself enough in a gory attempt at healing. He just had to get up.

If only his body cooperated.

Turning in a way that caused wailing from his fragile bones, Izuku used his unfeeling arms to crawl his way out of the grip of rest. Continuing to crawl until he found his abandoned goods. Ignoring the muffled outcry from the cashier at his movement, he picked up the chocolate bar.

He probably looked like a maniac. Who got stabbed and then uses his last moments to eat chocolate, after all?

“Better a maniac than a dead man,” his brain helpfully supplied as he continued eating the chocolate without a second thought. He probably wouldn't have to pay for this, right? doubting the cashier's first worry would be making the stabbed and maybe dying vigilante pay for the food he’s eating. Izuku continued to scarf it down, trying to ignore the taste of sugar mixing with the metal in his mouth. Then the feeling of his dry throat swallowing down the chewed-up food like it was sawdust sent from hell. He had kept his hand over his mouth between bites to stop himself from gagging or coughing it all up.

After the chocolate had fully been pushed down to his stomach purely by his will, he discarded the wrapper into the cashier's hands. Pushing away said hands that tried to stabilise him as he stood up, he grabbed the cans of soup from the floor and left them on the counter. The cashier followed him in probably pure confusion as he leaned over the counter to get a bag to put the cans in.

“The police will be here in a minute; I told them to bring an ambulance.” She spoke softly enough that Izuku almost didn’t notice how much trouble he was in. When had she even called them? Probably during his “I can’t breathe” meltdown. He can't do anything about that, except scramble to get out and get far away enough to not get caught.

He would need at least half an hour more to regenerate before he would be able to go home. His head wanting nothing more than to fall onto some hard concrete and not wake up for ten years probably would make him lie there for longer.

“I’ll be fine,” his voice came out increasingly raspy, the words sending him into a coughing fit, which he leaned onto the counter for. The attacker's unconscious body was underneath him as he tried handing over his last bills for the soup.

“No offence, but you just got stabbed,” she started, her hand rubbing circles on his back during his seven billionth coughing fit of the night. “Keep it; take more of the soup if you want.”

Well, Izuku was not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, as he took his bag of canned soups and added about eight more into it. Absolutely overkill, yes, but hey, starvation did mess up your brain.

He doubts some canned soups would really be cared about in all of this. It’s not like they're going to waste either! Izuku was unequivocally a charity case, so it's going to a good cause!!

Izuku could hear the sirens starting to get closer to the convenience store, and with all the finesse of a giant, he dragged himself and his bag of fourteen canned soups to the door. Ignoring the worries of the cashier as he moved further away from his place of stabbing. Stabbing always hurts way worse than other injuries. So did gunshot wounds. It probably had to do with the fact that his body tried relentlessly to heal around the foreign object instead of just dispelling it. Getting the wound into an endless cycle of healing and then breaking again as the weapon stayed stubbornly in its place,

Bullets were so inconvenient last time. He had gotten lucky it was so close to the outside of his skin. He wanted to think about what would happen if it had gotten stuck deep inside his chest. It would probably still be in there as he lay in pure agony, unable to move from his couch. Regeneration had its downsides sometimes.

Luckily he was able to find a fire escape when his legs had started to give way and dragged himself up to a rooftop not too far from the convenience store. The sirens were still within earshot for a normal person as the police cars pulled in.

He really should run further away. His exhaustion was still in full force, and his heart was starting to get upset at the amount of adrenaline spikes. If he stayed here, then he might get noticed by a hero. Even if they didn't want to bring him in, he’s still a child vigilante who just got stabbed. His blood was still rotting on the floor of that store. Luckily he had gotten all his DNA wiped from any police database years ago, yet the thought of them having his blood just didn't sit right.

Maybe he could steal it back eventually. If he could get himself up from where he was currently lying on the rooftop. Ignoring the funny scratching feeling of his lungs regrowing under his ribs. That would probably take a while

Likely, there wouldn't be a hero coming to an attempted robbery. The villain was already down for the count, and there was no one else to fight (if vigilantes don’t count). So it wouldn’t be too bad if he just lay here, right? Yeah...

It would be fine.

Eraserhead didn't know what to make of the recent vigilante. He was a reckless child who got himself into extremely dangerous situations, got immensely injured, and yet somehow carried on like it was nothing. Aizawa wasn't a stranger to denying medical attention, but when you're falling about twenty feet onto a moving vehicle (Rocklock had regaled that tale to the whole station), you can't just run away and be fine.

The fox obviously had little regard for his own life. Seemingly willing to trade it to stop others from being harmed. An ever-growing, extremely annoying trait in vigilantes.

The Fox was probably in a rough place, using vigilantism as a crutch to keep going. He didn't even have to meet Fox more than once to know that. Fox had only been active a few days, and yet he should already have enough injuries to put any pro out of commission.

Which only led Aizawa to question his quirk—maybe something that made injuries less harmful? He had thought about a self-healing quirk but the quirk registries say the last person with a kind of quirk strong enough to sustain the injuries the fox had was long dead. So that was scratched off. No matter what the kid's quirk was, getting stabbed in the chest was, by all accounts, very fatal.

The sheer amount of blood he had left behind was staggering in and of itself. From the security tapes he had asked for, it seemed the knife went fully into his chest. It was horrifying. A small child doing what he thinks was right got stabbed so deep it probably punctured his lung and immediately flees the scene. Even if he was a complete and utter problem child, no one deserves that.

He had left the scene to go searching for the fox not long after. Tsukauchi told him in no uncertain terms to take a walk due to his anger bubbling over as the cashier described how she just let him leave. She let the not even ninety-pound, soaking wet, stabbed, bleeding child just leave. Aizawa didn't know if he had expected her to drag him back or stop him from unravelling the knife from his own chest, but she could’ve done something!

He knew he was probably being harsh. Children dying was a sensitive subject for any normal person. Especially so in his line of work.

Jumping across the rooftops, he begged whatever was above that he wouldn’t find a dead body on the street. Maybe if he was quick enough, he could get him to a hospital. He just had to be quick enough.

Bile climbed up his throat as he saw the fox mask attached to a curled-up body a few buildings down from where he stood. He took a risky jump to the next roof and ignored the sharp sting through his leg when he fell on it wrong.

“Fox…” His hands were probably shaking as he reached out to check his pulse. Due to the way the Fox was curled up, he couldn't see if he was breathing. His feet sped up more and more as he got closer, his breathing speeding up to accompany the overexertion plaguing his muscles. What if he was too late?

He thanked every single thing above that allowed the tension in his body to decrease tenfold when the kid's head shot up.

The damn problem child was thankfully alive. Now for mission number two. Get him to a fucking hospital.

“Fox, you’re okay,” he tried speaking in that comforting tone he used when his students got overwhelmed. Times like this he wished he patrolled with Hizashi. “You’re going to be okay; you got injured.”

He noticed how Fox started crawling away from him on the roof, ready to run. He noticed how his hand was shaking over where his stab wound was. He noticed how his other hand was gripping onto the plastic bag like a lifeline. He noticed how Fox’s legs were basically limp in front of him. He noticed all of it.

Yet it didn’t stop the brat from hauling himself up and into a fighting stance anyway.

Aizawa had guessed the Fox had somehow figured out his quirk after their first encounter. Probably a secret slipped in some internet backroom. He knew he had to cover up Aizawa's eyes to stop his erasure from working. Any movement that closes his eyes makes his erasure slip, and if he can't see you, he can't erase anything. It was annoying (and he would have to ask him how he found it out), but still there's nothing he can really do while bleeding out on a rooftop.

Words tried to leave the fox's mouth, but they were replaced by his dried blood being mercilessly coughed up. It looked extremely painful as the Fox almost doubled over in pain and had to force himself not to. Aizawa moved closer to him and started rubbing his back to help with the coughing.

Then, in a move that made him question if he was actually in pain, his arm reeled back from his chest and punched him square in the nose. Aizawa staggered back in pain and saw the Fox stumble away towards the edge of the roof.

Then, he made a mistake.

In his panic he fell back on his reflexes, and he turned on his erasure.

His hair floated up into the air, and he could see it in all of its agonising glory as the Fox collapsed over his own feet. A guttural scream from the very pits of hell itself was let out as he fell. The banshee scream only lasted a few seconds, but it seemed to stretch into hours as Aizawa forced himself to blink to stop whatever torture erasing this kid's quirk inflicted.

He lay there for a few more moments, ragged breaths escaping his still injured lungs, followed by sobs that made his scream seem like child's play. Then he noticed how deep crimson blood was spilling out of his open mouth. Sobs only increased as he started choking on the blood that refused to stop pouring out of his gaping mouth. Aizawa had to hide his nose in his capture weapon from the stench of rot that the blood was starting to give off as it continued its relentless assault from the boy's own insides.

What kind of quirk did the Fox have if it had this reaction on its body to being erased? Maybe the quirk hadn’t caused this. Maybe the quirk just allowed him to sustain injuries easier, and by Aizawa erasing it, he had made all the kids' injuries attack himself at once.

Bile returned to its endless crawl up the chasm of his throat; Aizawa was horrified. He had caused this. This suffering.

This kid needed a hospital. Now.

Aizawa slowly trudged towards him. The fear of erasure accidentally activating again spurred him into blinking far more than a normal person did, never mind him. He could only hope the Fox didn't take this as an invitation to never trust him again. It's impossible to get anyone, especially a child, to open up if they don't trust you.

“Listen, Fox, I'm sorry.” Even with the softest voice he could muster, Fox still tensed up at his voice and swerved around in a way that could not be good for his lungs and swung his bat right at his face. The handle became drenched in blood as the waterfall continued to cascade from his mouth, only starting to subside moments later.

He ducked out of the way of the bat and knocked it away with his capture weapon as it landed into his own hands. The Fox was obviously in fight or flight mode, not wanting to listen in the midst of his panic attack if the quick and ragged breaths between barrels of blood leaving his throat were anything to go by.

Before he could get another word out, the Fox made a split-second decision. taking advantage of his mistake of standing right by the edge of the roof. He wrapped one arm into his capture weapon, the other grasping his arm, and he pushed.

He was deceptively strong under those scrawny bones as Aizawa went tumbling over the edge. His hands grasped onto the blood-stained bat as he fell.

He saw the fox mask looking over him. His blood was making its last stand as it dripped from the Fox’s mouth directly down onto his eye, causing him to blink.

When his eyes opened again, he was gone with the wind.

And he kept on falling, his capture weapon his only hope to stop his descent.

Chapter Text

He was so unbelievably doomed.

“THE MENACE IN THE FOX MASK!! UNCONVENTIONAL METHODS? OR SOMETHING MUCH MORE DEADLY?!!”

The edge of the roof was really calling his name right now.

The article had jumpscared him when he logged onto his computer; apparently the most important story right now was his vigilante identity. Front page showed a grainy security camera photo of him in the convenience store right before he shot his last, very precious, dart straight into the villain’s neck. Luckily, it had been that photo and not one from before he put his mask on. He just had to hope that the cameras didn’t get any footage of his actual face, or he could be in some deep shit.

running away from Japan was his original plan. He stopped because of all the legal barriers stopping a supposedly dead orphan from fleeing the country. Maybe those non-legal options were still there.

He flicked the side of his head; this wasn’t the complete end of the world. It was likely he was going to get some sort of attention eventually; he just hadn’t expected it to be this soon. He had expected to get a few weeks out of helping people before the media started picking him up, but, sadly, his luck is never that good.

The article contained snippets from two interviews. The first was from the cashier he had saved the night before. They asked her a few questions about the attacker first: did he think he was going to kill her? What did he want? Did he seem like a threat? That sort of thing. She answered most of them with short responses, barely acknowledging the knife he had to her neck.

maybe it’s a trauma thing; she didn’t want to think of how much danger she was in, so she didn’t. Easy as that.

Then she started talking about him. her previous aloofness disappeared as they asked about the vigilante who saved the day. The “reckless college student,” as she put it, was helpful, yes, but also just escalated the situation more. She spoke about how the man was just a delirious drunk the police could’ve taken care of, and then he showed up and shot him (she didn’t mention it was with a dart) and got himself stabbed.

Izuku was… Well, he was upset. He had gotten himself stabbed and nearly caught by the eraser hero. the thought of that fight spiralling in his head by the stench of his decomposing flesh just below his nose, his eyes, his hands, everything gone into one large pile of decaying bone.

“You can’t make everyone happy,” he mumbles to no one in particular as the words scratch about his still dry throat despite the gallons of water he chugged to try and get the taste of red out. He hasn’t spit out that much blood in years, since when his illness first arose from under the now empty pile of stolen quirks.

Scratching at his increasingly reddening throat, he continued to scroll through the article. His eyes were squinting and watering under the strain of being on his computer for hours already.

He hadn’t even slept the night before. The fear of what-if was plaguing his every nerve. that and the pain of a lung ruptured twice in one night were howling at him.

The article clearly didn’t like him. Going out of its way to frame him as the bad guy over and over again. Every attempt to help someone that they knew about was twisted and changed until he was the one on the evil side again. The bastard Fox, who destroyed everything around him, cloaking his sinful ideals in a shade of “help.”

they were pretty on the nose there he couldn’t lie. He didn’t want to hurt people. Is that all he was doing?

“Some people may say the vigilante has good intentions. intentions are misleading. I’m sure Stain has the best of intentions as he slaughters our fallen heroes. Our martyrs”

oh he doesn’t know what to say. Everyone who spent a day on a stain forum knows he started as a vigilante. He’s the cautionary tale of when you let justice go too far. when the lines between vengeance and bloodthirst weave and whirl around together until it’s impossible to untie one from another. The knowledge that whenever another hero falls from that cursed katana, he thinks he’s doing good. He thinks he’s making the world better.

The worst part is, he can’t deny it.

Stain’s ideology of false heroes is one that resonates somewhere deep into Izuku’s soul, so that if you tried to remove it, you would have to take every moment from his childhood with it. Every memory of laying in pain on a harsh cold ground surrounded by villains and begging, praying for a hero’s help, and yet none coming.

Then there were the worst memories. The good ones. The ones where a villain put a bandaid on a scraped knee. When a villain patted his head and told him how he loved him. Where he sat in a villain’s lap as he got told a bedtime story. When he sat beside a villain without a care in the world, because that was his brother.

Izuku grew up in the belly of the beast. watching and listening as heroes, no matter how high in the rankings, fall from their own hubris. Like how icarus fell from the sun, heroes falling to the darkest means to gain what they want, always more. it’s never enough.

Standing still as fire engulfs their cities and the man who causes all of the world’s chaos laughs down at their submission. It’s infuriating.

Was he like Stain? He hadn’t killed anyone (as Fox). But he had hurt that criminal in the car a lot. He hurt a lot of his criminals badly. His poisons, while not fatal, were still agonising to feel in those split moments before black enveloped your mind. It could be counted as torture if you looked at the attacker in the store.

He didn’t really hold back. Did he?

They had even gotten a few words from the kidnapper in the car. His screaming as the Fox jumped onto his car bonnet, breaking his glass and knocking him unconscious. The article skimmed over his crimes and sprinkled in the supposed crimes of the kidnappee. According to this, they were rival gang members. according to this, they were just as evil as each other. According to this, he was the one causing all of this chaos. He couldn’t even disagree.

The fox mask sat cold on his bloodstained chest. His hair sticking up in ways that probably wouldn’t be possible if it wasn’t for the blood coating his hands working as a sort of gel to help his hair defy gravity. The eyebags under his eyes looked as prominent as ever as his mind begged him to rest.

He continued scrolling on. It was basically a slander piece. Well, is it slander if it’s technically true?

It wasn’t even bending the truth too far. Just laying out facts in a snide enough way to make Fox look like the true villain behind all of his nice attempts at being good after all these years.

The thought wormed its way deep into its mind and made itself at home there. Curling up onto his brain and riddling his body with even more guilt that made him want to get rid of his stomach’s contents. Contents that were mostly a can of soup. A can of soup that he really couldn’t afford to get rid of.

He shut off his computer. small bubbles of water were leaking their way to the surface of his eyes. His knees came up against his still injured chest. The Fox coat was still wrapped around his shoulders. Despite the blood staining his hands and clothes, his coat stayed miraculously clean even with the constant downpour of scarlet from his lips.

His face had been washed off the blood, but the feeling of it still lingered in the back of his mind. A phantom pain of overwhelming fear as the nothingness came back. He didn’t know how Eraser had found him.

Izuku was curled up in agony as his body healed his lungs from the inside out. Barely paying attention to his surroundings until he heard that godforsaken voice. Yes, he freaked out. He was hurt and tired, and his only means of surviving could be wiped away in an instant with one look from this guy.

That doesn’t mean he expected him to actually do it.

Maybe he was a pest. If the heroes were willing to almost kill him, then he must be doing something wrong. His antisocial tendencies must’ve been permeating from him. Maybe they just wanted him dead.

Currently there are only two men who could do that, one who thinks he is dead, and one who Izuku is ready to really avoid like the plague.

Izuku knew he wasn’t going out that night. It was far too soon. Even if his body didn’t rebel at the idea, heroes like eraserhead could be looking for him. He didn’t really think he was important enough for full-on search parties, but he doubted he would be able to slip away from heroes without a fight anymore.

Three days of being a fun vigilante was really all he got.

Maybe he was cursed or something. Something must be the cause for his astronomically bad luck.

Or maybe it’s just him. He’s also never heard of someone making as many problems as he had.

Definitely cursed.

The curse of Eraserhead.

His toolbelt discarded on his couch looked almost bare without the bat in it. He could’ve grabbed it from Eraser before he fell (got pushed) off that roof. Sadly, his mind wasn’t in the position to do anything but be paralysed in fight or flight. He knew from the split second in the warehouse that losing his quirk could be gruelling. Yet his most concentrated daydreams paled in comparison to the real thing.

The last real memories of that roof were locked away deep into the vault of his head. He really only remembered bloodstained hands gripping onto the scarf and pushing in a vain attempt to stop a feeling that the owner had long lost his control over.

Everything else was gone in a maddening self-preservation instinct that his own blood loved to torture him with. There’s a reason Izuku always asked about what happened to his mother.

If that didn’t make him an atrocious person, he didn’t know what did.

His own morality, a long worn-out subject of his one-man debates, he let his perception slip back to his lack of weaponry. He should replace the bat soon.

He would only have too if he went out as Fox again…

It wasn’t an outrageous thought, going back into his own isolation. Having survived this long, he knew he could last a long while longer. Most of his near-death scares in the past year came from his newly found fox hobby.

He was going to think about it. Indecision ran rampant in all of his choices up to this point anyway. He had, more times than he liked to admit, thought about giving up this dead charade and running back into his father’s arms. Hoping beyond all reasoning that his dad would still be anything more than cold, decomposing bones turning to dust.

He needed a walk. Yeah, he just needed a break. Just needed to get his mind off the thought of the purple mist engulfing his body.

He let cold water soak into his bloodstained hair, waking him up slightly as he worked his fingers through it to get the tint of red out.

Shoving his shaking hands into his hoodie pockets, he stepped out of his steel-toed boots into his favourite and only other pair. The red shade of them had become his main outfit colour over the years. All the other shoes he tried to wear would pinch his foot in the weirdest ways. He got these shoes long before running away. Half convinced they were going to get him tracked down, he tried throwing them away only to find nothing else worked. Maybe his father did something else to his bones to make Izuku more reliant on him.

Hiding his nonexistent complete and utter shock at the thought of his father literally changing his bone structure to keep him with him, Izuku finally opened his apartment door. Glass from a broken window down the wall was strewn about. Maybe he could get some boards for the windows today. He had a tiny, and his mind heated up at the thought of it, amount of money left.

Ignoring the probably villainous job on his horizon, Izuku continued on his eerily silent walks through the street that once had children running through with bright smiles on their faces. Replaced almost overnight with cracks in the ground spreading miles around and a national trauma so large that the area didn’t even have much graffiti.

He forced a very selfish smile onto his face; he didn’t have to worry about getting caught. He was able to be completely alone. He was able to get away from his father. He was able to have such selfish thoughts without weary side glances from peers.

He was perfectly happy.

He sneaked through the back of the closest populated house to find the path the small, closely knit neighbourhood had made to stay off the cracks, which dominated every square foot of the land. It was still mostly silent, but there was an air of domesticity that was eradicated further in. A crayon drawing here, a lost tennis ball on a roof there. A loud laugh that could be heard through the walls, and people didn’t even care enough to tell them to shut it.

Izuku was more thankful for his sunglasses every time he walked through here.

Then as he got back to the main city, he wished more and more he had brought earmuffs instead. One of these days he’s going to bleed from his ears instead of his mouth.

Even with miraculous healing, throughout the night he would have to sit up as he kept on coughing and coughing until small splatters of blood showed their faces again. He rubbed at his ever-growing eyebags in an attempt to wake himself up.

He kept up his bob and weave technique he had perfected for when he’s in public. With his head leading the way to get around the far too crowded street. His arms were discarded as they wrapped around his stomach to try and stop himself from doubling over from the unending complaints from his body in general.

He shared a lot of the complaints from his head. the constant banging against his skull with a hammer that any miniscule social interaction brought him being one. He’ll walk around the city, maybe hop on a train, and just get his mind clear. easy as that, really.

Maybe he should just get used to his life not being easy. Muffled cries sneaking their way into his solace from deep inside an alleyway.

Curse his eagerness to jump into danger; he didn’t even realise he was at the head of the alleyway until he locked blurry eyes with one of the people in the alleyway. His head swivelled around to get a view of the other attackers in the alleyway. There was about four of them; they all wore a black school uniform, probably middle schoolers.

From what he could see of them, he guessed they were a bit older than him and a lot stronger. As the other child, who looked around his age, could see as he was curled up on the ground and getting his side kicked in.

Another muted sob left from the boy, and Izuku finally noticed how he had some kind of white cloth wrapped around his mouth. What kind of assholes were these guys?

“Hey!” He shouted down the alleyway. It may have been his nightly escapades, but his heart didn’t even miss a beat as all six heads turned violently to face him.

“Who’s this?” The one who was kicking the boy on the ground stopped for a moment to whisper to the boy next to him.

“No idea,” replied boy next to him

Then the probable ringleader started laughing as he grabbed a fistful of the boy’s purple hair.

“Awww, did you get yourself a boyfriend, mindfreak!”

He remarked with a grin leaking into his voice. The rest of the group started laughing like the sheep they were. It was annoying the hell out of Izuku.

A scowl set deep onto his face, he reached onto his hip and realised far too late that he didn’t have his bat. Or his darts. Or any weapon he could use on these guys (he had a knife, but stabbing someone is not ideal, no matter how awful they are).

He wasn't even in his fox suit. He was in a ragged old hoodie and sweatpants he got from a thrift store. More importantly, he didn’t have his mask. He didn’t have something to hide behind like he normally does. It's just him.

He could probably fight Them with his fists if they didn’t spring a knife on him. Bullies like these are all bark and no bite with fights. Using the strength in numbers to team up on one vulnerable person and praying no one fights back.

Except he is weak right now. He’s not Fox, an apparently agent of chaos vigilante who brings destruction in his wake as he tries to help. He’s not even Izuku midoriya, whatever he is from beyond the grave.

He’s just izuku. Izuku Shirakumo (he freaked out when he first got arrested and they asked for his name). Izuku, who hacked government databases to add himself into existence. Izuku is weak and cries when someone accuses him of stealing. Izuku is probably a fleeting, worrying thought in a detective’s mind as he gets dragged into his station again.

Izuku can’t fight these guys. Not if he wants to keep his weak cover.

He braces for a punch without even meaning to. Flinches a second language to the boy who grew up on eggshells around a man who considers himself a god.

“Wait, no, he’s shaking,” one of the boys from the sidelines pointed out and all but beamed with joy when the others started laughing.

This was getting sad even for Izuku. He thought he was talking about the purple-haired boy until he put his hands together.

He wasn’t scared of a bunch of teenagers, was he?

Maybe he was just scared of not being able to fight back.

The ringleader dropped his hand out of the purple hair and stood up straight. Leaving the boy to bang his head on the floor in response. Now he was either very tall for his age, or Izuku was just far shorter than he thought. He cracked his knuckles, then his elbows, before moving onto his neck.

Bit overkill but okay.

He was stalking forward with an almost insane grin on his face. This did seem like the kind of guy to have a knife on him. He had that “i’m not afraid to murder” look about him.

“Come on, Pipsqueak,” He started with a laugh as his fingers started to elongate into knives. So he was right, huh?

As he got closer, Izuku could start to see him properly. That murderous smile was even scarier up close. Izuku, though, also couldn’t see anyone else due to his far too large to be a natural figure taking up his tunnel vision.

“You were all brave before,” he finished as he pushed Izuku’s chest with one finger. A wave of “oo”s passed around his entourage before being silenced as he whipped his head around.

“Cowards”

He did not mean to mumble that out loud.

Can he have that cloth the other boy has in his mouth, please? Or a different one, actually. It’s probably unsanitary.

He could’ve sworn the ringleader saw red before reeling his arm back. Luckily he had the foresight to know that stabbing someone in the face wouldn’t be a good idea. He would’ve regenerated, yes, but it’s hard to answer the question of how after that.

Didn’t mean the punch felt any better. Stumbling back, he felt his front tooth get knocked out of its place. Luckily, he could get his hand over his mouth to disguise it as the tooth got back into place.

Blood getting on his hands again, making them shake even more, didn’t change anything.

He looked up at him from where he stumbled back. His body language was open; He could easily knock him right in the neck and then slam his head onto the ground when he doubled over. The others didn’t seem like the types to fight back when something like that happened to their leader.

It would be so fucking easy for him. Not for Izuku, though.

He dragged his legs down, who were oh so happy to comply as he brought himself to the ground. The floor was annoyingly wet.

the ringleader spat on him with another grin on his face as he kept his head down.

“come on I'm getting bored.”

the ringleader spoke, and the sheep oh so happily complied.

There was an alarmingly large amount of glass shards on the floor. Grab one of them, and at the right angle, he could’ve cut someone’s trachea out. A good cut to the neck, and they would be down for the count. Easy as that.

He grabbed a pretty sharp shard and felt blood bloom in his palm as he held it before closing up again.

It would be almost too easy.

“Freak,” Spat out the last of the bullies as they left the alleyway. Dropping the shard onto the ground, Izuku used his hands to drag himself back into a standing position. His legs weren’t really a fan of working today.

At least his cover is intact. He was having a bad enough day already.

He moved his head towards the purple-haired boy, his hair the only discernible feature in the dark alleyway. He had untied the white cloth from his mouth and was coughing quite violently as he held his stomach. He was still on the ground, sitting on his knees as he was still doubled over. Probably from the pain of getting kicked so many times. Izuku had to be more thankful for his regeneration sometimes.

It might have been Izuku’s horrible eyesight, but he was partially sure he saw multiple splodges of red on that cloth. Matching the more sprinkles of red as he continued his coughing fit.

Blood pouring out of his mouth. A scream so guttural it ran his throat raw. Head blurry with pain, adrenaline, and pure anger at the hero. The deception of a concerned voice scratching at his ears.

“You okay?” The purple-haired boy barked out from his side of the alleyway.

“Oh! Umm, well, I’m fine… how. How are you? That is the real question. That looks bad,” Izuku wants to say he was exaggerating his awkwardness to play the part.

He would be lying.

Moving closer to where the other boy was sitting, Izuku could get a better look at him. His purple hair seemed to defy gravity as it stayed upwards and out of his face. Could it have something to do with his quirk?

The eye bags under his eyes were larger than even Izuku’s were. Did this boy ever sleep? The worst part was he didn’t even look bad with eyebags. They seemed to fit his face nicely. Some people just got lucky in life. Izuku’s gaunt appearance was one to be ignored most hours of the day.

He had gotten far too close in his attempt to be able to see the boy properly, and he had to get reminded of personal space by a push to his chest by the boy.

“It’s fine,” he spoke quickly, the words being spat off his tongue like they were lava. His voice came out a bit more raspy. Either his throat got hurt by the bullies, or he just didn’t talk a lot. He hoped it was the former; he had a pretty voice.

“If you say so, umm, my name is Izuku. By the way.” He stuttered out his name, and now he really wondered what he was doing. Putting a big flashing light over his head by telling his name unnecessarily would just cause more annoyances. He hadn’t ever cared about socialising with some dumb kid his age before. Who the hell decided to possess his body? Can they please get out before he embarrasses himself even more!!

“Shinsou,” his name was spat out again as Shinsou kept his eyes down to the ground. His hands were twirling and pulling on the hair next to his ear.

“Well then, shinsou, what was up with those guys? They seemed really rude.” He spoke with his signature whiny voice back in full force. God, that was probably so annoying. He felt his cheeks go red from embarrassment. Please, whatever ghost is possessing him right now, take him to the afterlife already.

“It could be that the knife quirk made him like violence more. There is a lot more expanding evidence that quirk type can affect personality.” he only looked up from his mumbling spiel at the end, and he noticed the deadpan look Shinsou was giving him. It seemed like he was scrutinising his soul bit by bit.

He must’ve had some kind of quirk that allowed him to get behind his walls if he was getting this upset over a bad look.

“You mutter a lot,” he spoke matter-of-factly. No room for niceties or even rudeness. Just saying it how it was. He liked that. The stare shinsou was giving him was even looking less negative the more he stared back before diverting his gaze to the floor.

“Oh sorry…” he started, the words starting to stutter as they left his lips.

“It’s fine,” shinsou cut him off. Waving his hand as he sat up properly with a groan. Izuku tried helping him, but his hand just got slapped away.

“You shouldn’t have jumped in like that,” he scolded. The negative glare back over him, he wrapped his arms around his stomach. Should he have run in without a plan? No, but he could’ve easily handled himself. He just didn’t. Maybe that’s worse.

“I wanted to help you. Be a good person.” It was a flimsy defence. He really hadn’t done anything but get the main bully to focus on him and then get bored by his frankly pathetic lack of fire. Or defence. Or anything at all, really.

Shinsou looked back up before sighing as he stood up. Izuku quickly followed him to get on his feet. Brushing away the dust and water that collected on his pants. It wasn’t too noticeable that he had been sitting in a wet alley, thankfully.

“You can go do something else helpful,” Shinsou spoke with his hands still wrapped around his middle. His fingers tapped onto his arm as it stayed tied with no room for air.

“What do you mean?” Call him an idiot. This shinsou guy was speaking incredibly cryptically. He mulled over every single word, analysing every syllable before he let them out. It was obvious when his brain was reworking itself to figure out the best way to get his speech out. It was also a bit apparent his dislike towards asking questions. Wonder why that is?

“go help yourself; get lost.” His words were spat out as the glare came down on full force.

Izuku stood in place as Shinsou hobbled out of the alleyway. Had something happened to his ankle before he got there?

Not like he could ask. Shinsou had made that very clear. Izuku’s face was pretty red from that whole encounter, and he didn’t think he had fidgeted this much since he was four.

So that was mean. Well, he has never needed friends before, has he? He rubbed his palms into his eye sockets with a groan. That had been awful. Letting himself get thrown around had never been a fun experience. Being unable to fight back was always a massive fear of his. He couldn’t even do anything.

He could’ve helped if he was Fox, though. Too bad Fox was hated now. The scum on the bottom of some victims’ shoes, as he only made violent situations worse.

Perhaps you just can’t help anyone if destruction has chosen to follow you in your path.

Phantom pain of the long-healed punch resided on his face, making his hand press up to his nose every few seconds to make sure he had actually regenerated.

He wondered what heroes like Rock lock and Phantom thought of him now. Eraserhead had probably given up on him now; you don’t recover from being pushed off a roof easily. Likely the other two hated him just as much.

The small part of his mind praying that he wasn't completely hated by everyone got locked away far away in his mind with everyone else he didn’t want to think about.

He wanted to help people. He knew that above everything else. Most vigilantes do it because they want to enact their own sense of justice. Help the people they see fit.

That was how the hero killer put it anyway.

When he puts that mask on, he feels invincible to the world. Like there’s a shield of pure light keeping him safe from the dark of the land he resides on. He hadn’t felt that way in a long time.

His feet started moving before he even realised what he was doing.

Fox is far less efficient without a weapon. Throwing his fists around would only get him so far. Getting more knives and leaning into the anti-hero label they wanted to put on him. Then again, stabbing someone seems more permanent in a way. Like he's actually wanting to harm people, and saving someone is just a side effect instead of the main reason. So knives still remain a last resort.

His bat was honestly one of the best choices he made. Maybe a hammer would also be good. That might be overkill now that he thinks about it.

His brain was working fast enough that he didn’t even notice when his muttering started to slip out again. His chin resting on his hand as he manoeuvred through the crowd without a second thought. His thoughts were way up and away from the land beneath his head.

He felt almost at home whenever he got like this. This was when Izuku felt most like Izuku. When it’s just him and an endless thought bubble slowly untangling as he thinks endlessly over a problem. Keeping his mind occupied as his body moves of its own fruition far away from his own brain. Times like this he felt like a careless little kid again.

He knew deep down that he couldn’t ever give up being Fox fully. Yet he also knew that with increased backlash, working as Fox could be jeopardised. His best bet would probably be laying low, waiting for the hype to fly over, and then when Fox is fairly forgotten from that one article, he can reappear again. Hopefully this time he wouldn’t ruin anyone’s day again.

He could even figure out how to do it right this time. Having flown straight into the sun by being Fox last time is most likely what caused him to fail so spectacularly. This time he wouldn’t do that. This time he would know better.

An oppressive smell of cardboard and sawdust took over his nose for the second time that week. This store was going to start asking him questions soon. The bat was a smart decision at the time, but bats were also associated with the old Fox. He wanted a new Fox to come out after this. A new Fox that was a tad bit overkill.

Hammers weren’t that much more dangerous than baseball bats, really. They both could kill someone if swung at The right time. He’d only use it if the villain was refusing to go down. Being honest with himself, he felt a lot more vulnerable now that he was out of darts. Those were his cheat codes, and now they are gone. His darts were his non-lethal way to get someone down; without them, he was scared of accidentally hurting someone too much. Medical care had made leaps and bounds since the dawn of quirks, but that didn’t mean izuku still wasn’t scared of simply going too far.

Yet still he picked up a hammer. A claw hammer with a pretty strong handle. He would’ve much preferred to hit someone with the handle than the actual hammer in a fight. As well, if he ever needed to pry through nails, he’s good to go.

A weapon wasn't the only reason he came here. He had found out pretty quickly into his escapades that hitting someone until they knock out and hoping they don’t wake up until the police get here isn’t a very good strategy. So he picked up an exorbitant amount of zip ties as well as a very long rope.

Supposedly it was quirk enhanced so that it would tie around whatever it was shot at. It was at a hefty price, and getting it would cost the last of his money. Buying it would be an idiotic decision for him to make. Sadly, he is an idiotic person.

Going over his ten thousand rationales for why he definitely should get the rope, he finally gave in and brought it over to the checkout stand. Regret fills his veins and arteries alike as he hands over his very last pieces of cash with shaking hands and a too-tight grip.

Thanks to the soup thievery, he would last at least a week and probably longer before hunger started getting to him. So he could make it about a week before having to go back to doing odd jobs again. That would give him plenty of time for Fox-related research. Most of which will probably be spent sadly scrolling through people picking apart his every action and attempt at being good.

Criticism is needed for growth!! Or something…

Didn’t mean it hurt less.

Moving his train of thought back into the more positive aspects of getting more research done on Vigilantism, Izuku moved purposefully and kept his head down as he got back to his apartment.

The overwhelming racket of other lives and other breathing and other heartbeats dissipating from a cacophony of too much to a small melody of nothingness. Just his own heart that he had long learnt to tune out. All others being forgotten and erased as he got to his own corner of the world.

His corner of the world, which he barely trudged himself away from all week. Fresh air is a limited luxury between hours spent on his laptop and practicing with his new weapons. hammers are extremely strong. He hit one of his walls with it, and it caved very easily under the pressure. Here’s to hoping he doesn’t have to hit someone’s skull with it. A few other dents joined it on the wall; he was trying to find a way to hit something and cause less damage. The only way he had found so far was hitting with the handle, but holding the hammer by the head was more precarious and uncomfortable.

He’ll figure out something eventually. The rope actually worked surprisingly well. The first time he shot it out, it latched onto his microwave, and he had spent about ten minutes carefully trying to unwrap it without breaking it. Then he decided to go into one of the empty apartments on his floor and practiced using an empty water bottle. it took about ten minutes until he latched onto the bottle properly, but once he did, he started getting the hang of it. By the second day he could grab the thing he actually intended to grab, and nine times out of ten wouldn’t knock something else over in the process.

Progress is progress, and sometimes taking steps back can help you become better; that was what the endless websites he looked to whenever he started feeling guilty about not being out being Fox said. A small comfort as he lay in his pillow fort staring up at the ceiling for hours on end. Mulling over whatever worst scenario came to him in the dead of night of what was happening out there. What he could’ve done to help? What was going to happen since he didn’t? He daydreamed until his eyes finally slumped over. Then he’d get back up and spring from his couch so quickly his brain didn’t even have time to dream.

That’s how he found himself on day seven of his new solitude. his arms clicked as he stretched them out before he dragged himself to his makeshift kitchen. Putting his can of soup into the microwave, he looked over the last few cans still left there. He’d have to get more soon.

He filed that away for later as he started scarfing down the soup. The warm feeling it brought erased any lingering fear from his night worry fests. The shaking in his hands always got better after this.

He started slowing down his eating as he scrolled through his feeds. It was a mindless activity he did every morning to make sure the world hadn’t exploded while he slept peacefully. It was meant to just be simple. Nice and easy.

A can of soup fell to the floor, spilling the few remaining contents onto the hardwood floor, and yet Izuku couldn’t bring it within himself to care.

From his computer screen stared back an article. Multiple articles. All about one villain attack from a man who apparently had some kind of strength-enhancing quirk. Izuku knew better, though. Izuku knew what that brain protruding from the skull meant. He knew what the monster not being able to listen to reasoning meant. He knew what those horrific eyes meant.

It meant it was one of him.

A shaking hand scrolled further down the article as the other came to his face to wipe the budding tears away from his eyes. The water refused to cooperate as it continued to just fall. Izuku thought he had blown up the factory for these things; the original plan was for him to go with them. A boy with his own kind.

His stupid quirk had other thoughts.

That was how Izuku knew he could come back physically from anything, no matter how bad. It just took more time.

Izuku read the article as it called him a monster and a freak and a villain. An abomination of nature that was more man-made than anyone truly knew. The nomu didn’t deserve this; everything it did was not of its own volition after all. Izuku had spent far too many nights trying to get them to do something, anything, on their own, only to be met with a barbaric laugh from the doctor as the nomu only got more and more confused. Or scared. He didn’t know if it was better or worse that the nomus were scared.

Izuku didn’t truly know why the doctor revelled in destroying those people’s minds so much. Screams of pure agony filled every wall of that disgusting warehouse as the doctor carried out his experiments with a sadistic smile.

It was pure sadism. Izuku and Kurogiri were proof of that. If he really wanted to add quirks to people to make them soldiers, he could do it without breaking their minds down piece by piece until they’re a numb slab. A slab ready to be chiselled by the people he had once called family.

Every reasonable thought in his mind wanted him to stop reading. He would only beat himself up over it more. There was only really one thing the nomu could’ve done. Caused destruction and mass panic. It was all they could do.

Even if he wasn’t cursed from birth, maybe the doctors’ experiments made him more predisposed to it.

Nights of being unable to move for hours at a time as he felt his organs being cut into to feed some insatiable fantasy the doctor had after he got his regeneration. “wanting to find him limits” turned into a punishment quite quickly when his rebellion didn’t seem to tamper down immediately.

They stopped after he learnt to behave, but the threat stayed. Looming over his shoulders like a very persistent spirit.

Yet he stayed staring at it. Reading it. Wiping away water erupting from his eyes when it got too much and he couldn’t see through it. It had killed four people

When he finally got to the end, he was a mess of blubbering sobs, half wretched, deep from his locked chest. His knees had come up to his chest somewhere in the middle of the article, and when he had finally shut the laptop down, his head collapsed onto them with a whimper.

Violent sobs rocked his body as it stayed curled up in his chair. His tears were falling far too fast for his hands to wipe away, and eventually he just gave up. He hated when his emotions came over him like this.

He looked down at the discarded soup can, spilt on the ground, rolled away, and leaving him like everyone else. Logical thinking is truly out of the window.

Yet as he stared at the floor of a building he wasn’t supposed to be in, in a city he wasn’t supposed to be in, in a world in which he was supposed to be dead. In a city where his kind had killed four of their own and his father had killed hundred more.

This was all his fault…

Chapter Text

A case file once left to collect dust at the bottom of his office drawers was suddenly getting thicker by the minute.

Brain-dead individuals, unable to make any conscious thoughts or decisions, going on monstrous rampages through different Japanese cities. Then there was the problem of them having multiple quirks.

Or at least they were pretty sure they did. The bodies of the nomus had some sort of fail-safe. When they were caught, the bodies simply started to melt.

They had only ever gotten one nomu to forensics. The results were frankly horrifying. Any higher brain function was unable to be accessed by these creatures. The DNA of the mangled body was from a missing child, for goodness's sake.

Multiple quirk factors inside their brain were almost brushed aside as impossible by the researchers; Tsukauchi wanted to ignore it as well. Toshinori had assured him the only person who could give someone multiple quirks was dead.

They hadn’t been seen in two years. Their appearances became nothing but a memory that plagued Japan for a few months. A haunting memory of an unsolved mystery that likely would go down as an unknown forever.

Whoever made these things liked to toy with people.

A normal week by all accounts. A quiet night for the station until the calls started coming in.

A giant monster breaking cars with their hands. Horrific beast squashing people in its fists. Nightmarish creature slamming into the buildings around it.

No one knew where it was going. No one knew what it was trying to do. No one knew why it was there.

It was just like how it started last time.

Four people got killed in the nomus rampage. About seventy more in the hospital. If endeavour hadn’t gotten there in time, probably more casualties would’ve happened. The fact that many of those hospital visits were for burns was purposefully ignored by the media.

The body of the nomu wasn’t able to be recovered. Whether that was because of the failsafe or because it was just too charred, Tsukauchi didn’t know.

To say he was terrified would be an understatement. The nomus were nightmare-inducing the first time, with all might to fight them whenever he was needed. With him getting worse by the day, that meant that the nomu could create more destruction. More chaos. More death.

The case file kept on filling up.

Two files sat on the top of his desk. One thick file that was a nightmare to haul around about the nomus and one considerably thinner one about the recent vigilante.

A recent vigilante who went off the grid after apparently being stabbed. A recent vigilante who was truly extremely unhealthy; that might have been obvious when he started spilling blood from his mouth. According to his blood work, his platelets died and regrew in a matter of seconds. His white blood cells were also just nonexistent, which could just mean they died immediately like the platelets but didn’t regrow or that he didn’t have any to begin with. That wasn't even scratching the malnourishment problem.

The regrowing was probably due to his quirk. What it was, though, was also extremely up in the air.

Eraserhead had a horrified facial expression as he told him the story of how he got pushed off a roof by a child. The blood pouring uncontrollably out of his mouth had stained the rooftop he had ran away from.

They tried following the trail of blood, but it had stopped a few miles away. Maybe the kid learnt to keep his mouth shut.

Until the kid showed up again, dead or alive, they couldn’t find out what happened to him that night. He was dead; Tsukauchi was enough of a realist to know that, but until they found a body, he couldn’t make that official.

Eraserhead, in all his pessimistic and cynical glory, didn’t stop him from holding a small hope he was okay. Deep under those eyes holding years of pain and suffering and experience, he still hoped. Tsukauchi knew it.

He wouldn’t be in his office every single day asking about the damn Fox if he didn’t.

Just like every day that week, his office door creaked open, and in came Eraserhead. His face mostly obscured under his capture scarf, he sauntered into his office with exhaustion etching into his every movement. Eyes as red and sharp as ever stared pointedly down at him from the door. The iconic yellow sleeping bag was discarded, probably back in his classroom at UA. Tsukauchi had only seen it a few times, when cases drag on into stakeouts and Eraserhead started to get relaxed.

“Anything?” Desperation leaked from his vocal cords more and more every time he came in. His face dropped further and further every time he had to shake his head at him.

“you might be able to help with this though.” Tsukauchi handed over the file to Eraserhead. He read over the first few pages quickly before getting to the stuff from two years ago. “These things are back, huh?” Eraser spoke with pure annoyance lacing his words.

Eraser had been one of the biggest contributors back when the nomus first appeared. Being able to erase their quirks slowed them down a significant amount. Even killed one of them. The man spoke of that time with pure hatred and a newfound thankfulness for his eye drops.

Aizawa continued to skim through the papers, his head turning every so often to make it seem like he was reading. To make it seem like his thoughts weren’t a million miles away. Tsukauchi sighed.

“What’s wrong? you're not thinking clearly.”

Eraser looked up at him, and his scowl loosened ever so slightly.

“Fox hasn’t been seen in a week,” his words came out mumbled, like he was ashamed of the thought.

“Eraser…” Tsukauchi tried

“I hurt him, naomasa..” Eraser interrupted. He slammed the file on the nomus shut and dropped it to be forgotten next to the fox file. The file he actually cared about. The case which had plagued Eraser’s thoughts every second since Fox went MIA.

“I hurt him even more after he was stabbed…” Eraser paused. “If he died, that’s on me.”

Words filled with dread and regret that seeped from a fallen building back during a work study and clawed deep into his back to drag themselves along with him all these years were spat out. The memories of children who flew too high too soon and got cut down in the most violent ways. The memory of when a hero first realised they can’t save everyone wasn’t one they ever forget.

“You didn’t know that would have happened if you erased his quirk. You can’t beat yourself up over that,” logical reasoning always worked better on eraserhead. The logical answer that the kid was dead would have to wait until he was less emotionally invested. Even if the kid were alive, there would be legal consequences for his vigilantism.

“you sound like Hizashi,” Eraser laughed as he rubbed his eyes.

“Your husband has a point sometimes, eraserhead.” Tsukauchi felt a small sense of pride as Eraserhead smiled before hiding behind his capture weapon again.

Tsukauchi moved to put the Fox file away; most likely it wouldn’t ever be needed again. Left to collect dust in his cabinets, just like he thought the nomu file was supposed to.

before he was able to continue his conversation, there was a knock at his door. “Come in,” he said before an officer opened the door with a small smile on his face.

“Bad luck kid is back.” Tsukauchi felt his smile drop. Eraserhead just looked at him confused as the officer held back a laughing fit. Izuku was a very sneaky child who got himself accused of multiple crimes that he “didn’t commit.” Tsukauchi was suspicious, of course, but with no evidence at all and his quirk saying he wasn’t lying, he got let go over and over again. He had gotten himself a name in the station as “bad luck kid,” as he kept getting brought in time after time.

It was a running gag at this point. Some of the officers had a “this many days since bad luck kid got brought in” counter on the whiteboard. Every time he told them to wipe it off, it kept coming back up every time he saw the damn child.

“I need to deal with this, Eraserhead,” Tsukauchi groaned as he walked towards the door. Eraserhead looked at him with more and more amusement the more miserable his face got.

“Have fun with your brat then.”

Tsukauchi sent eraser a glare before leaving his office, the officer bringing him over to the front desk where the kid was sweet-talking the receptionist.

Wild green hair that the kid had been growing out since he first met him a year ago. The sunglasses that refused to budge off of his face and the freckles that framed the grin that was made of the same stuff that started revolutions. He wasn’t in handcuffs this time anyway; that’s an improvement. However, there was dried tear tracks on his face.

“What are you doing here, exactly?” he didn’t even try to stop the sigh as he rubbed his eyes. Ignoring the knowing gaze and smile from the receptionist as she patted Izuku’s head.

“He got into a fight.” Another officer Izuku had gotten to like him a few months ago, brought him over a coffee before ruffling his hair. Maybe Eraserhead was right when he said kids gave him aneurysms.

Izuku was, by all accounts, a sickly, weak child. He had lost even more weight from when he last saw him, and it was concerning then. He had only last seen him fourty-nine days ago, according to the counter, which was getting erased in the break room. He needed to stop getting into dangerous situations, even if his guardians need to put him on a leash. He was partially blind, for goodness sake!

“I didn’t mean to!” Izuku snorted before chugging down his coffee with a smile. The officer went to get him a new one without complaint.

“Doesn’t mean you can go around swinging your fists around, Izuku.” to top off everything the kid was doing, he was quirkless. That was partly the reason Izuku had gotten away with all he had; since quirks started to become a majority, laws started centering around them, and such quirkless people can very easily squeeze through gaping legal loopholes. Of course, Tsukauchi didn’t like the fact that the kid got away with clearly breaking the law, but he was also barely a teenager; he’s allowed to have soft spots.

Izuku didn’t even reply, just sent a large smirk in Tsukauchi’s direction. He was pretty sure Izuku just liked to make him suffer, the laughing of the others around the station whenever the kid got brought in was torture in and of itself.

“Do I need to charge you with anything?” Tsukauchi groaned, already knowing the answer

“Only self-defence!” Izuku laughed again.

There we were. Every time he had a perfectly reasonable explanation for every action and how he most definitely did not commit the crime. Every time, he didn't lie. Perhaps Izuku did have a quirk, and it’s just bad luck.

“Can we get him processed and away then, please?” he waved towards the officer to take him away. Izuku took his second free coffee with a thank you and let himself be led into another room by the hand on his shoulder.

“Bye detective!!” Izuku shouted behind him as he kept on walking

“Bye izuku,” Tsukauchi said before sighing again. One of these days he’s going to meet that boy’s parents and give him a piece of his mind. Multiple pieces. Take care of your damn kid.

“He’s a nice boy. He was really scared before, you know,” the receptionist smiled at him before sipping at her tea again. The kid was unendingly charismatic, probably how he’s always gotten out with nothing more than a warning. If only he used that charisma to not get into fights with grown men.

“The guy he fought is in interrogation room 2.” An officer pointed him towards the room. Time to deal with a bad luck boy case; maybe he could get his mind off those damn nomu.

Izuku got more and more thankful for the guy who got him fake records every time he got taken to that damn police station. thirteen times. Thirteen times in a stupid year had he been taken to that police station and had to squirm himself out of it. His favourite detective had a very fun quirk to play with; if he could stretch the truth just enough to make him look innocent while not lying, he got let off. It hadn’t worked every time as the four warnings he’s gotten show; however, a sixty nine percent success rate wasn’t too shabby.

The fight, if he’s being honest, was mostly his fault. Being out of money, hungry, and almost getting caught stealing made him less observant of his surroundings. Then some good old fashioned trash talk got him into a fight that, for the second time in two weeks, he couldn’t defend himself in. Being Izuku was stupid.

Annoying the detective was always a fun detour, but once he got let out of the police station, a scowl returned to his face. Sometimes, getting arrested was helpful. Whispers inside about the nomu confirmed some of Izuku’s info. There had been an attack the night before, they hadn’t been seen in two years (his explosion act did something), and that they were dangerous.

All the more reason for the Fox to have an encore.

An erasure free encore. He had almost divulged into a panic attack when Eraserhead came into the police station. He hid his face down and prayed he didn’t notice him. He unintentionally tuned out all the noise around him as he started sweating and breathing heavily. The nice reception lady helped him, and thankfully he was okay when the detective actually showed up.

He didn’t need any more suspicion on him. Questions about his parents had been barely dodged over the past year. Hiring someone to pretend to be his parents got more appealing every time he had to lie his way through an interrogation.

Breath cracking into his lungs and escaping started to make him move hastier. More snappy movements in his chest as he willed his legs to keep moving.

He was going to go out as Fox again. He had too. People died in a fight he could’ve helped in. Next time he would be ready. He just had to not die before then.

Any massive fatal injuries or anything close, and he runs home. Run from all heroes, especially eraserhead, don’t let them be able to catch you. Finally, don’t dawdle after fights; take someone down, then run. Easily, he’s going to be the most unnoticed vigilante ever to walk these streets. Then he can run on home to his fortress of solitude and try to survive another day.

Yet with all the planning in the world, it didn’t stop his heart from beating against the walls of its enclosure like a caged animal yearning for freedom.

The sun was setting in the distance when he walked by dagoba beach. Or dagoba landfill as it had become over the years. His mom brought him here when he was younger. He made a sandcastle while the sun set in the distance, and he cried when he had to go home. She picked him up and ran her fingers softly through his hair, calming him away from his sobs and into the tranquility of her arms.

This time as he watched the sun set, he was left on his own as the tears fell.

Or somewhat alone

“You okay?” A recognisable deadpan voice from a floating lavender head of hair spoke to him. He looked just as tired as he did the week before. A bruise healed on his cheek that wasn’t there last time. Perhaps it was, and Izuku just didn’t notice.

Shinsou was sat on the edge of the path, his legs swinging over the heap of rubbish that was the beach. Sharp purple eyes continued staring up at him, scowling more and more every second words didn’t tumble out of his mouth.

“Mhm… i’m okay,” he stumbled over his words as he turned away from shinsou to wipe away his tears under his sunglasses. When he turned back around, Shinsou had his back to him again.

“Lying isn’t good,” Shinsou sighed as his legs swung methodically back and forth over the edge. A frown was dead set on his face despite him staring off into the beautiful sunset. Sunsets were beautiful. Whenever Izuku got especially upset, he just sneaks onto a rooftop to watch the sunset until he can ignore his problems. If it's already nighttime by the time he’s upset, then he would just blast music in his headphones until he’s out for the count.

Dagoba beach was always a nice spot to see the sunset. No one bothered you at all. Maybe that’s why Shinsou was there. He seemed like the type to like solitude. He must hate Izuku’s pestering then…

“What are you doing?” Izuku continued to pester, never knowing when to back down. Shinsou didn’t scowl at him though, his gaze pointed up towards the dropping sun.

“Cleaning... or attempting to,” Shinsou mumbled as he gestured towards the less cluttered section of the beach.

“I haven’t got much else to do,” Shinsou shrugged as he spared a glance up at Izuku. Izuku was staring right back down at him, his small tinted field of view filled with that lavender hair.

What kind of teenager spends his afternoons cleaning up a beach? A very selfless one, that's for sure.

What kind of teenager spends his nights being a vigilante? A very dumb one.

“Well.. umm, have fun.” Izuku, the master of dumb responses mumbled his words when he finally dragged his stare off Shinsou.

“Not much fun to be had,” Shinsou interrupted with a laugh. It was pretty boring to be alone all the time. Izuku would know.

A scuffle could be heard as izuku brought his bright red, dirt covered shoes to the edge of the wall and sat down a few feet from Shinsou. A short glance was sent his way before Shinsou went back into his own world. His own world that kept a frown imprinted on his very brain structure. Almost like it was muscle memory to be miserable.

The sun continued to droop as the boys sat in silence. Both riddled with so many secrets they were leaking out of the seams of their very souls, yet not a single one picked up. Not even looked at. An unwritten agreement to have all their ugly out for show and yet not a thing acknowledged or even thought about. The oranges of eternal space filling the sky. The world’s greatest and oldest showman, the sun itself, seemed to be for only them tonight.

When the sun had gone to bed and darkness taken its place, Shinsou and Izuku were still sat on that ledge. Izuku needed to go, he didn't really want to leave Shinsou alone though.

“Are you going to go home?” Shinsou mumbled before slapping a trembling hand over his mouth. His gaze stayed strapped to the floor, the invisible string in his back pulled taut as he tensed up.

He only asked a question… What’s so wrong with that?

“Yeah, I am,” Izuku replied. His legs refused to get the memo as they continued to happily swing. He likes the calm. His best moments were in the calm.

However, he sadly can't live a life in the calm. Dragging his increasingly annoyed legs up into a standing position, clicks of joints filing back into place rang out. Can he be getting old bones at thirteen? Maybe the body eating itself sped up the process.

Shinsou didn’t spare him a glance as he got up; Izuku didn’t know why that upset him so much.

“I have to get back,” Izuku told Shinsou. The boys head nodded while staying perfectly facing forward.

He didn’t wait much longer before walking away. Connections wouldn’t be good for him right now. Not ever really. They could too easily get wrapped up with his father and get hurt. So he ignored the longing feeling in his chest that cried after his every movement and walked through the silent zone to his home. His fortress. His castle.

On his couch sat his mask, his outfit, his coat, and his new weapons. He took the sandwiches he was able to steal and gorged down on both of them. He wasn’t getting caught because of his lack of food this time.

It’s about time Fox makes another appearance.

He slipped on the outfit as fast as he could, not letting the doubts creep into his mind about what happened last time he had this one. The outfit had been washed since the last time he wore it, so the blood he felt coating its layers was all in his imagination.

Plunging himself back into darkness, the blindfold slipped tightly over his eyes. the visual silence that it brought felt like utopia against the violent thoughts swirling in his dead. He stood there for minutes, just indulging in the nothingness.

It wasn’t until the blood was already dripping down to the ground and his scalp was rearranging itself that he realised he had slipped. There’s a waste of energy. There was another crack in the wall now, next to where Izuku had little height markers from across his two years there.

A makeshift attempt to make the apartment feel like a home. Dad used to have height markers on the walls. They had to be reset a few times as they moved around, but they were there. Did he still have them? Did father keep them up? Or was the pain of a dead wolf who wasn't even his too much to think about? Or was it just such a hit to his ego they couldn’t talk about it anymore?

Probably that one. He was never much for feelings.

His finger sank deep into the rearranging hole in his scalp. An excruciating sting cut into his skull. The pain caused him to flinch before he used it to force himself back onto his legs. Well, that worked better than he thought it would. Maybe a pang of pain can actually help him get stuff done.

Smiling despite the throb that could’ve incapacitated someone reverberating through his spine, he put on his mask. Praying he didn’t look stupid in the thing because he's flown far too close to the sun.

Opening up the window again, he could barely feel as the cold mist settled into the air of his apartment. Drifting off with a small fire was always a favourite way to go out. Shutting it off behind him, he took a breathe, before he got ready for the jump.

He hadn’t done this in a week; he might be rusty. What if he missed the jump? What if he got nowhere close and fell to the ground spectacularly? What if someone decided to actually look around this area that by all means should have a lot of crime and found a vigilante jumping off a building?

Only one way to find out.

For once his body was all in agreement as he boosted his legs off the edge. Limbs in perfect unison as they soared through the air, then, for once, his feet landed correctly onto the next rooftop. Not being in pain after a jump was not a feeling he knew well. He just stood there for a few minutes before hysterically laughing. Why did he ever stop this?

Eraserhead be damned, dying be damned. There’s not much to be living for except some stubbornness deep in his blood his mother gave him. Maybe she was just waiting for him up there…

She’ll have to wait a bit longer.

Pure warmth slipped into every thought as he kept on jumping. Kept on moving through the dark sky. A fox on the run, one with the moon. So he kept on running.

he wasn’t a fool. No matter what precautions he put up or how many rules he followed, he was going to get found. One day this lie of a life would crumble into his hands. He’s known that for years, yet the thought didn’t bring him as much dread anymore. In fact, it almost brought him joy.

Izuku midoriya would go down fighting. That’s all he ever did.

The villain stumbled back when he jumped down. A loud crack echoed through the alley. He barely noticed as his ankle fixed itself that time. Turns out eating before he went out was helpful!

“I know you.” Fox didn’t let him finish his sentence as he punched him in the throat. A splutter as his air got evicted from his lungs before Fox sweeped out his legs. The villain must’ve been smarter than he thought because he had the ankle he broke when he first jumped down grabbed. If it was still broken, that would’ve been a good strategy. Too bad.

Fox kicked him in the head again, and then his body went limp. He heard a camera snap; the victim apparently decided now was the perfect time to take photos. He waved minutely before getting one of his zip ties around the man’s wrists.

“Call the police, would you?” He was almost out of the alleyway when the girl shouted at him

“Wait!” His legs planted in place, was she hurt? He couldn’t hear any injuries. He had never fine-tuned that ability before. He really should’ve started before now.

The girl instead just ran up to him with a camera. Her hands shaked as she pressed buttons on it before shoving it even further into his face.

“Who are you? Are you really dangerous? Can you rip someone’s skull out? What’s your quirk? Can you tell the future?”

Questions were spat at him quicker than he could even comprehend, Never mind answer. A frown deepened and deepened on his face after every inquiry, yet the girl never got the hint. This must be what he used to sound like. Luckily, he now knew how to shut his mouth, something that this girl did not.

“Why are you doing this?”

Well, at least he knew the answer to that one

“I just want to help.” Her face lit up as he answered. He left her no time to revel in her win as he shot off down the street like a bullet. She didn’t follow him like a moth to light that time, so he continued running onwards.

The night was quieter than normal. A silencer clamping down on the noise that reverberates through the dusk. A shiver settles frailly into his spine, a moment from erupting his body into shakes yet too far away to tip.

The sound of footsteps following him didn’t help. They were as quiet as dust dropping onto shelves. A whistle in the wind that even he had to focus on to listen to.

They weren’t Eraserheads; there was no scarf whipping through the wind.

So who was following the Fox?

He prayed to whatever was above that they weren’t following because of Izuku and kept on running to where he heard a scream. The footsteps of someone jumping across rooftops acting as a tick in the back of his brain that was planted and refused to budge off his head as it drained him of his blood.

Whenever he landed a punch on a villain, they were there. When he dodged out of the way and slammed someone into the wall, they were there. Whenever he helped someone up off the floor, they were there.

They were starting to get on his nerves. Climbing up to the rooftops via fire escape, he decided to confront the nerve-wrecking asshole. No one stalks Fox (if they keep stalking him, they could find out where he lives and/or what he looks like)!

He wanted to go home tonight at his own leisure and not have to wait for this guy to leave.

He was barely up to the last flight of stairs when he saw someone sitting on the roof. Legs dangling over the edge. Soft sobs erupting from their eyes. Sitting on a roof like that could be dangerous. They could fall and hurt themselves or—

His body moved without permission to the other side of the roof. Sneaking up on the boy he couldn’t even see was unsurprisingly very easy; being able to tell anything while you’re crying was almost impossible.

He took a deep breath in and out. Fighting someone in a dark alley to get them to stop hurting people? He can do. Getting someone to decide to get away from a rooftop? That’s harder.

“Hi,” Izuku squeaked out from where he was standing a few feet from the boy. He flinched and whipped his head around to see a Fox mask staring back at him. His hands clenched around the edge of the roof; not likely a fan of people talking to him when he wanted to be alone on a rooftop. Izuku got that, if only falling off a rooftop didn’t harm this boy like it did Izuku.

“Mind if I sit here?”

izuku pointed timidly at the spot next to him and didn’t even wait for him to reply before sliding himself onto the edge. His legs were swaying in the nighttime air as he probably had to ignore the glare of a lifetime from the boy next to him.

“Nice night, isn’t it? Bit chilly though,” as if on cue, he started to shiver. A large smile coated the small amount of his face visible. He can only imagine how annoying he seemed right now.

At least he can regenerate if he got pushed off.

“What do you want?” The boy uttered the question before tensing almost in preparation for a blow.

“Just trying to make sure you’re okay. Are you not cold?” Izuku voiced his worry but was waved off by a hand in his face by the boy himself. He was getting more confusing by the second.

“I’m fine,” the boy spoke abruptly, tears still staining his eyes and running down his cheeks. This boy was the absolute opposite of “fine.” From the shaking hands to the sluggish movements of his limbs, the boy obviously had not been having a good day.

Time crept onwards as the lie told by the boy wafted between them both. A lie they both knew wasn’t true, yet neither wanted to call him out on it. Time to rip the bandage off. Izuku had become a master of taking the high road since ever. Pushover from birth.

“No offense, but fine people don't sit on the edges of roofs.” Somehow the boy tensed up even more as it was vocalised. No more beating around the bush.

“I wasn’t going to jump,” the boy mumbles under his breath.

Sure, and Izuku wasn’t dying.

His sarcasm and disbelief must’ve been noticeable through just his closed mouth, as the boy just sighs and curls more into himself on the rooftop.

“I believe you.” Izuku’s hand moves onto the boy’s shoulder. How to walk someone down from doing this hadn’t been planned for exactly. he can figure it out eventually, can't he? This was supposed to be easy.

“Then why are you still here?” the boy barked, and Izuku’s hand was ripped from his shoulder.

“I also believe that sometimes, people just need a friend,” Izuku sighed as he put his hands into his lap, his head facing down as the wind let his hair fly.

The boy didn’t reply for a good few minutes. The wind ,accompanied by nothing, whistled its lonely song until steadily, light sniffles turned into distinct, coarse sobs.

The boy’s head dropped onto his shoulder, needing something to cry on. He rubbed circles into the boy’s back until the sobs teetered off into loose whimpers. He kept on holding him even after it was just heavy breathing and the tears had dried. He kept holding him until the boy tried to sit up and out of his grip. A small emptiness was left in his arms afterwards, cradling on to a broken mind which had long since moved away.

“Thanks...” he whimpered, his eyes not even meeting Izuku’s mask.

“How about you thank me not on the edge of a rooftop?” Izuku laughed. Covering his voice, damp with concern.

Thankfully the boy laughed with him, loud chuckles erupting from his chest. Through his laughing he had the thought to finally swing his legs back over the edge and onto the roof. He moved off the edge and sat a few feet from the ledge with his legs crossed and his head held down. Well, Izuku couldn’t leave him now.

With a thud he plopped himself down in front of the boy, his legs crossed and his back as hunched as could be. They sat in silence for all of two seconds as the boy gaped at him before more laughing left his throat.

“You're funny,” the boy noted

“I do try,” Fox joked back, and caused a breathless laugh to come out of the boy.

he really didn’t know what else to do except laugh and make jokes. Izuku had never been taught to be nurturing or caring. All he was ever given was hard fists and rough hands. So to be kind, to be gentle, that was the hardest thing he ever had to learn. There’s no rules to it, no laws, no guidelines just empathy and compassion. Both of which Izuku was not good at.

“You're that fox guy, aren’t you?” The boy observed. He knocked on the fox mask over his eyes and Izuku had to swat his hands away.

“I'm already recognisable, huh?” Izuku replied.

the boy just sighed.

“Some people think you’re dead, you know?” the boy stated, his hand drumming on the floor. His mind fixed on thoughts far away from a rooftop.

“Sadly not.” to that the boy snorted. A loud, carefree snort that turned into the both of them holding back the cracks of laughter at every second.

“aren’t I supposed to be the suicidal one?” The boy mentioned as he nudged Fox’s shoulder.

“I’m a vigilante; its an occupational hazard.” Izuku shrugged and pushed the boy back as he continued to laugh.

Maybe he wasn’t awful at this

The laughter settled into a comfortable silence. With all the awkwardness of a newborn foal, the boy attempted a soft hug with the vigilante. Izuku reciprocated just as awkwardly.

“We aren’t very good at this, huh?” The boy admitted and then pulled away at Izuku’s nod.

The boy stood up with a groan and looked down at fox still in the sitting position.

The eyes were gone. They had left him at some point after The boy left from the edge of the roof. Maybe watching him coax someone down from a rooftop didn’t fit their agenda of the night. Maybe they had seen all they needed too. He would have to watch for if they came back.

The boy sighed and reached his hand down to Izuku, who took it with a grin. Standing up, he realised he wouldn’t be able to go on for much longer. He was already starting to sway on his feet after all.

He would do one last run around the area before going back to his apartment for the night. Then probably collapse without a second thought.

“Well, maybe try not to die anytime soon,” the boy asked with worry just twinging his words. If only he knew Izuku couldn’t die, no matter how much he tried. Jumping off a roof would have little effect on him; trust him, he tried.

“No promises,” Izuku noted back and ignored the hit on his arm he got from the boy.

Silence fell on them again, this time less comfortable. More foreboding. The boy swivelled on the spot and walked to the door to the steps down from the roof. He paused with his hand on the door handle.

The boy slipped him a wave before turning and moving down the staircase. Izuku could barely get his hand in the air to reply before he was gone like a light descending down the building.

Did he live here? Probably, Izuku hadn’t gotten the boy’s name, but he's guessing most teenagers don’t sit on random rooftops.

Remembering how he was really not a normal teenager, he descended down a fire escape to get ready to beat up more grown adults. He was going down slower than usual due to the fact he heard a heartbeat outside of the alley. Probably nothing to be worried about, but better safe than sorry.

He would just slip by them and continue to live another day. Easy peasy.

It was not that easy.

The second his feet got onto the ground of the alleyway, the head outside turned to face him. Instead of turning back and minding their own business like a normal person, they stood there. Frozen in place and probably gaping like a fish at the innocent little Fox trying to mind their own business.

“Fox?…” the person, no, the hero, croaked out from the end of the alleyway. Well, at least it’s not Eraserhead.

Without having missed a beat, Izuku’s blood ran cold. He shifted into a fighting stance. Phantom wasn’t even that bad last time, but that was before he almost got killed by a hero; he’s not taking any chances.

As phantom tried to walk closer to him, he only stepped back further. He needed to find a way out; the only entrance to the alley was blocked by phantom and he didn't even know her quirk. Trying to sneak past her could be dangerous.

He could try and run back up the fire escape; even if she ran after him, he was fast. He had options, or well, one option. Run.

Phantom disrupted that the further into the alley she forced him to walk.

“Fox, wait—” She started, in the few milliseconds the words took to leave her throat, Izuku got the throwing knife out of his pocket and held it up in warning. A warning that he knew how to throw it. A warning that he’s dangerous.

Perhaps he already showed that when he threw Eraserhead off a roof because Phantom didn’t even try to walk closer to him after that.

“You did good,” Phantom continued. A soft almost addictive quality to her voice sauntered through the air. Izuku almost let himself believe her words…

almost.

“I know you probably don’t want to talk or do anything associated with the cops right now, and I don't blame you.” She lies, lies through her teeth.

Maybe it’s the adrenaline pumping through his veins or the pure fear turning her blood to ice, but she was lying. She's tricking him, trying to weave him into her web so she can use him. So she can get rid of him.

Just like Eraser tried to. Just like he tried to.

He wasn't falling for it this time.

“But Eraserhead is so sorry—” Her words get cut off by a knife being thrown just by her ear. Cutting the edge off, and in her confusion and pain, he ran. Ran to high heavens to get away from everything that the heroes were.

To make it worse, the second he’s out of the alleyway, he’s filled with so much regret it weighs him down. It wasn’t her fault she had to lie? It wasn’t Eraserhead’s fault he had to kill him? Hopefully he wasn’t even trying to kill him.

Izuku was just such an insignificant and grating bug that people can’t help but want to stomp him out whenever he’s seen.

Screw the last run-around, he runs straight to his apartment. Luckily there were no screams heard in his run; he wouldn’t be able to not help people in need. Then Phantom could catch up to him.

As far as he could hear, Phantom was long gone in that alleyway; however, he still had to pray she didn’t catch up. A faulty prayer, but a prayer nonetheless.

He sent out a few more prayers that night. That Shinsou would be okay wherever he was. That roof boy wouldn’t feel the drag of the edge as much for at least a little while.

rumbling came from his forever needy stomach while he ran, causing his feet to stumble in their tracks. He didn’t have anything left in his house…

Groaning, he thought over his options. Run home, starve to death, and die alone and unknown. His legs started moving to his only option in getting more money before he could revel in that thought anymore.

that the eyes that found themselves back onto him after blood was drawn from Phantom didn’t decide to rat him out as he ran into his least favourite spot in the world.

Chapter Text

Aizawa had made many mistakes in his life. He still remembered the years of isolation after Oboro’s death. Having to drag himself through every day using The ropes of his hero work. Then getting carried through them by his amazing husband. Then, eventually, being able to walk on his own two feet. His hand still held on to Hizashi’s, for that would never change as long as he lived.

Hizashi had noticed something was wrong the second he walked into their apartment. Eyes blank and hidden behind a ripped and bloody capture scarf. Blood still staining the roots of his hair that the wipes he got given couldn’t get off. He knew he would need a shower that night, standing silently in the beating-down water as red, like too-rich wine, was flushed down the drain. Yet even after standing in it so long that his legs started to go numb underneath him, his husband, His Hizashi, was still outside waiting for him.

It’s late by the time he got back most nights. He’d drag himself inside, wash away the gunk he’s started carrying through the night, then slide into his bed and hold his husband until the sun selfishly decides to show its face again. It was his routine.

Some nights he just needed to be held nonetheless.

Bare bones of words left his blubbering mouth, soft loving phrases being whispered into his ears as he sobbed into the love of his life’s shoulder. Sobbing didn’t come to him often; even so, the thought of the child’s scream that he had caused still haunted the back of his eyelids. It had been a week, for God’s sake. The kid was dead. Without a body in sight or any missing child reports matching his description, the case was stalling. Hizashi said he was worried about him after the third day of doing all-nighters to try and find him and passing out in the middle of a lesson.

Aizawa needed whatever parents this kid had to just give him a sign of concern about their child, who hadn’t been home in a week.

“You can’t save everyone, Shou…” Hizashi comforted as Aizawa continued to blubber and mumble. Truly a mess to behold.

Using his own words against him was smart. The mantra was repeated every year to every student. The failure that permeating from a hero when they needed to save someone, but couldn’t, was like a never-ending tempest with no eye in sight.

He told it to every student, a hope that only one would take it to heart, that one wouldn’t make the mistake and fall off the deep end like he did. He must’ve picked a four-leaf clover sometime in his life, as just the fact that Hizashi kept looking his way was one he thanks the heavens for daily.

He looked up at Hizashi and saw a love so fierce in his eyes, finally freed from those sunglasses, that it would’ve been suffocating from anyone else, but from him, it was perfect. Hizashi had heard the whole story of what happened with the Fox when he had to go to the hospital to get his leg checked out after he was pushed off that building. They were a pair, a couple, two people so unequivocally made for each other that the strength of what he would do for Hizashi scared Aizawa sometimes.

despite everything, there were still some things he kept to himself. Like how he still remembers the crunch of the bones when the building fell.

The night moved on slower than he would’ve liked. His mind refused to shut off for hours at a time between minutes of relief. No matter how relaxed he got in his blessing of a husband’s arms, the turn-off button in his thoughts always seemed too far.

So until his alarm sounded in the morning, Aizawa simply listened to Hizashi’s soft breathing and focused on the light hold he had around his waist.

When he had finally been dragged like a puppet out of their bed, Aizawa still felt like he was on autopilot in the morning. It was a Sunday; he wasn’t supposed to be patrolling the night before, yet certain situations led to overtime being used. From the side glance his husband’s was giving him, he guessed he wouldn’t be able to do it again that night.

Coffee and an exorbitant amount of pancakes were handed to him as Hizashi continued cooking with a hum filling the room. Warmth climbed up to the cavern of his heart as he heard the tune flying off his husbands carefree smile.

God, he loved him.

The carefree spirit that had settled into their home was disrupted by the buzzing of his phone. A call that Hizashi pointedly did not like and that sadly Aizawa had to answer.

“Phantom, what is it? It’s my day off.” Aizawa groaned as he picked up the phone. His hand was already rubbing up and down his exhausted face.

“Eraserhead, I need you to be calm right now,” Phantom warned, her voice more hoarse than usual.

Aizawa tensed in his seat. He knew what this was about; they had found the body of a dead Fox. Strings cut too soon in a way he didn’t understand but knew deep in his heart was all his fault.

“Did you find Fox…?” He had barely whispered before a pair of eyes was on him. Over the past week, Fox had became a sort of trigger word in the Aizawa-Yamada household. Hizashi was already starting to finish up his cooking quicker than normal to get to his side.

“We did,” Phantom started. His heart dropped down to the bottom of an eternal pit, his stomach decaying and flooding with vomit, which festered in his mouth. His hand, which he had learnt to steel to stop the shaking, covered his mouth at the thought of it.

They had found the child’s body.

he was going to have to see a dead child’s body.

“But he’s alive!” Phantom continued, noticing her mistake at not leading with that she almost shouted down the phone.

“What…” How on fucking earth could that child be alive? Aizawa knew first aid, he knew medical procedures, and he knew that losing that much blood would be enough to kill someone.

Some sort of medical quirk must be at play to not kill the problem child immediately. He better be in the hospital.

“He was running around being a vigilante last night. I saw him with my own eyes.” Phantom explained as Aizawa got more and more confused at this child’s pain tolerance. Who on earth let the problem child out of their sight after losing half his body weight in blood; that was not very easy to hide.

Fox was no doubt dedicated to being a vigilante; he would give him that.

“How?” Aizawa asked, trying to interrupt Phantom’s speech about seeing the vigilante.

“He didn’t even seem injured,” Phantom continued on her rant despite his attempt at a disruption.

silence passed through the call for a few seconds as Aizawa thought his options over. Fox would likely hate him. Never wanting to see him again after he almost killed him.

Yet he couldn’t just let him keep running around on his own. He got fucking stabbed, okay! Maybe Nemuri was right when she said he got attached too often.

“I’ll see you tonight,” Aizawa asserted into the silence. Hizashi’s annoyance was shown very obviously on his face. Shouta would apologise. With cake.

“Wait—” Phantom’s protests were shut off when he hung up the call.

Hizashi had his back to Shouta again as he finished up and gathered a scarily large plate of pancakes into his hands. Silence stretched further than he liked in the kitchen. Their days off were sacred. Loving days that they spent in each other’s presence just enjoying the peace they could only have in the company of each other, and the cats. He knew he should wait until his patrol to try and follow Fox leads, but he needed to just make sure the kid was okay. He wouldn’t be too long. Ask around some informants and then get back home to watch whatever cheesy rom-com movie Hizashi decided to lovingly torture him with that night.

“I hope whatever that is doesn’t mean you’re spending our day off doing work.” Hizashi warned as he put his still enormous plate of pancakes onto the table next to Shouta.

“Fox is alive,” Aizawa stated. Then, like flipping a switch, the annoyance Hizashi felt had dissipated like fog. His shoulders loosened and his eyes widened.

“Woah, okay, never mind then.” Hizashi’s hands ran through the long blonde hair he had flowing down to his shoulders. He had his voice so soft and caring that Aizawa had to remind himself that the Present Mic on the radio show was the same as his present mic sometimes.

“Hizashi i’m sorry—” Aizawa started before he found a hand reaching for his own.

“Don’t,” Hizashi interrupted. “The listener needs you more than I do right now.” Hizashis hands were holding his own, his fingers rubbed up against Shouta’s knuckles before he overdramatically brought his hand up to kiss it. Shouta wasn’t even mad when he couldn’t stop a smile from erupting onto his face and a warmth that settled on it.

“Dork,” he said as laughter started to be shared between them.

“Have I mentioned I love you?” Shouta huffed as the laughter started to die down.

Hizashi tapped his finger on his chin. “Not in the last hour, no.”

“I love you,” Shouta deadpanned before Hizashi smiled at him like he lit up the stars himself.

“I love you more, shou.” Hizashi leaned forward in what he was expecting to be a kiss until a certain egotistical cat decided this was her moment to shine.

A black tail was wafted in his face as their cat jumped onto Hizashi’s lap to stare at the pancakes like they were her lost love.

“I love you too, Bell,” Aizawa joked as he scratched behind her ears.

“I love you the most,” Hizashi said as he tapped her nose. A move reserved only for him, as whenever anyone else tried, they found themselves being hissed and scratched at like they just threatened to murder her mother. Hizashi was obviously her favourite; not like he could blame her.

“Watch the favouritism, Hizashi.” Aizawa joked as he started to chug down his coffee.

“I do not do favouritism,” Hizashi tried to defend himself, but Shouta just scowled at him in return.

“I don’t!” Hizashi spluttered as Bell nudged his hand to keep on petting her, and he obliged without any hesitation. Absolutely adorable.

As daytime turned to nightfall, Hizashi got comfortable on the couch with two cats on either side of him as Aizawa got ready to go hunt a child who should be dead. The warmth in his chest from the morning transformed into dread under his own skin as he left the apartment.

The bar he was going to wasn't likely to be packed at the start of the night, but there could be an information broker or two there who would be willing to tell him what they know about a Fox. The cash in his pocket sat restlessly, he hoped the problem child’s movements wouldn’t cost too much. No matter how many jobs he and Hizashi have, giving money to borderline criminals always sat with him the wrong way.

Sadly, as long as they stayed borderline, he couldn’t legally detain them. The law was really annoying sometimes.

The streets were surprisingly silent as he moved through barren alleyways. He was able to get all the way to the very unoriginally named “grey space” bar without having to step in to stop any crimes.

The people who owned the bar said it was called the “grey space” as a reference to an old pre-quirk movie called “beauty and the beast”. A cute cover-up (even if he had to deal with Hizashi ranting about how it’s the grey stuff, not place) to hide how it’s truly just a bar that didn't turn away villains. Underground heroes were thankfully allowed there, as Aizawa got most of his information from brokers who lingered there.

As he walked into the rustic-style bar, the scent of cigarettes and spillt alcohol attacked his senses. The music playing was some kind of jazz song that could barely be heard under the conversations being thrown about the bar. To say the bar stilled when he entered would be a far overstatement, but there were eyes on him. Eyes of petty criminals he had brought in before and eyes of brokers who he had paid to get ahead on a case before.

Thankfully, the eyes started moving back to their own business when he didn’t immediately pull out a badge and try to arrest someone. He had done that one time when he was here; the only reason he was allowed back was because the guy he was arrested was a disgusting human being. Criminals hating criminals who hurt kids and all that.

He sauntered over to the empty stool by the bar, resting his arms on the sticky, wooden counter full of scrapes and stains from god knew what that he knew well enough not to ask about. The light above was flickering like it needed to be resurrected soon, the main light source being lamps installed into the wall, which gave a faint buzz whenever you sat near them. People whispered in the shadows about less than legal things that Aizawa had to shut his ears to. Truly illegal things don’t get talked about within places like these. The no fighting rule meant that people had to be restrained in their comings and goings inside. Didn’t mean he liked having to push down a groan whenever he saw a drug deal in plain sight.

The bartender must’ve been new as Aizawa hadn’t seen him before. He looked rough. Wild black hair that sat over what seemed like burn scars under his eyes, on his jaw, neck, and down his arms. Skin being held together by staples and eyes that seemed forced open each day by pure spite was juxtaposed with the knowing smile he painted on when he was talking to patrons. Like he knew how he looked, and like he didn’t even care.

“what can i get ya?” The bartender asked, his voice even more hoarse than he thought it would be. The smell of fire and smoke seemingly followed him wherever he went.

“just a water,” Aizawa grunted as he eyed around the bar, looking for one of his usual informants. The bartender just eyed him up and down before dropping a glass of water in front of him. He stalled a moment longer, looking down at the hero like he was a puzzle to be solved.

“you waiting for someone?” He asked.

“you could say that,” Aizawa replied, causing the bartender to squint towards him even more, the staples under his eyes protesting at the stretch. The moment continued onwards as he took a sip of his drink, his eyes continuing to search for someone he normally talks to in here. It appeared he was completely alone from the few brokers he’s allied with through the years. Problems upon problems made another sigh leave his mouth as he rubbed his too-dry eyes; he needed to start remembering to use his eyedrops. When he looked up again, he saw the bartender’s gaze was still persistently on him. Did he know something?

“you heard of the Fox,” The hero asked as he scowled back at the man. If his smirk was already large, it only grew tenfold at the question before he calmed himself, throwing the rag over his shoulder before leaning back without a care. His hands suddenly became the most important thing in that moment.

“here and there,” He replied, his eyes shining with pure revelry that he hid from infecting the rest of his face. Aizawa had fallen into his trap, hook, line, and sinker. Bartenders at places like this know about everything, after all. Grabbing the money from his back pocket, it was swiftly taken and then counted by the bartender. The amount must’ve been satisfactory, as he leaned closer to the hero and started talking.

“the little asshole was in here this morning, something about needing money.” He stated. The smile he wore like a mask not meeting his eyes this time. His fingers drumming on the counter restlessly until Aizawa put more cash onto the bench, which was taken without a second thought.

“got paid by someone to sneak into a Shie hassaki building,” The bartender whispered that time, like mentioning the name would get him burnt alive. It may have. The Shie Hassaki was one of the fastest-growing Yakuza in modern japanese history. They had taken full control of the criminal underground back after the earthquake, and it had taken all might himself stepping in to get their power stripped even a little. Even years after their power was significantly squashed by police efforts, they still had immense power.

If Fox had to sneak in there…

His blood ran cold at the thought. He just found out the damn problem child was alive; he couldn’t have them getting into life-threatening situations already.

“what did they want?” Aizawa huffed out, his hand already on his steadily decreasing stock of cash.

“only told the Fox; I wasn’t privy to that,” He sighed, leaning back from the hero. It must’ve been important then. Fox was a small child, though. If it was really that necessary, they wouldn’t have sent someone so short and who had just lost gallons of blood a week ago.

“who was it?” He asked, handing over the last of his money when the bartender put his hand out for it. He looked around before whispering the one word into his ear.

“Giran,” the bartender was off and away with another patron the second the name left his lips. Aizawa had half the mind to stand up and start pacing towards the police station. Giran didn’t send people on missions for nothing; he didn’t speak about anything when he’s taken in, and he covers his tracks so well he couldn’t even be charged with anything. What kind of relationship did Giran have with the Fox to convince him to let him do missions for him?

What had this problem child gotten himself into?

—

Izuku was starting to not like rafters. Feet above any solid ground and surrounded by dust and spiderwebs, They were lucky they stopped Izuku from getting caught sneaking around, or he wouldn’t be anywhere near him. The office below him was mostly silent. The room was full with files upon files of what he could only guess were the doings of the Yakuza. There had been one man in there that Izuku had lovingly named snail due to his incredibly slow typing.

It had been hours, for goodness sakes, and the man was still typing. He was copying something down from a file onto a computer. Izuku snuck into the room when there was a shift change in the guards outside about three hours ago, and he was still typing. Maybe Izuku could get a job like that; he could definitely type faster than this guy, and he couldn’t even see a full keyboard at once.

His legs had fallen asleep beneath him and then woke themselves up multiple times in his unplanned stakeout of an incredibly boring room. There wasn’t even much sound outside, just eerily silent hallways and unamused grunts of guards. The smell of an overly sterile room was all he got whenever he tried to branch out for anything outside of the endless boredom sticking in the room.

Giran was lucky he paid well.

Izuku had known of Giran back in his days still living with his father. One of the best brokers in the underworld, who Izuku was pointedly not allowed to interact with directly. He had only seen the guy once, behind Kurogiri’s shoulder after he had had a nightmare.

After running away, Izuku made a point to get on the man’s good side. He never liked associating with villains, but the primal need to live another day overrided his morality, and he did what he had to while keeping his head down. Fox was meant to atone for that, yet now he just sat in the dusty rafters of a Yakuza building and got ready to steal from them, wearing the mask of a liar. Maybe he should’ve told that reporter girl that he was just selfish last night.

Giran already knew his name; showing up in a new get-up only shocked him for a whole of ten seconds before he was getting given a job. Who exactly it was for, Izuku didn’t know or want to know. He was completely fine with screwing over a criminal organisation, quite happy to do so if he didn’t think about how he was helping another.

A wide smile planted onto his face as the man’s file finally shut. He rested it back in its place in one of the far too many cabinets in the room before finally leaving (and locking the door behind him; he would deal with that later). Izuku stayed up in the rafters for another few minutes as the snail spoke idly to the guards outside about his life that Izuku (and the guard) seemingly couldn’t care less about. When his heartbeat finally started to move away from the room and Izuku was sure someone wasn’t going to immediately replace him, he started to move.

Staying as silent as he could manage, Izuku scaled back down to the floor. His feet felt like jelly as they buzzed with uncomfortability at finally being used after hours. Limping through the numb feeling, Izuku walked to the filing cabinet he was told to go to. The tallest one in the corner.

The job had very precise instructions, as they had wanted a very precise file. What was inside of it, Giran kept from him willingly or otherwise. He didn’t want all the details; having a conscience wasn’t going to get him fed.

he opened the third drawer as instructed and lifted out the first one before hiding it under his arm. His mask and blindfold were working as a barrier from the truth of what exactly he was going to be handing over to villains.

Task one was done; now he just had to figure out how to get out of here. There were two heartbeats outside, followed by multiple more inside the compound. They all had guns, which could be annoying to have to get out of his body later. The window he had used to get in was only half a mile from his current room.

Securing the file inside his coat, he slowly started picking the lock to the door. Hoping the two men outside wouldn’t notice his meddling until the door was already open. When he pushed up the final pin with the lockpick Giran gave him, a clicking noise screamed out to the guards outside of his whereabouts.

Before they could hopefully get their bearings, he kicked the door open. As it flung open, it hit one of the two guards in the face and shocked the other one, giving izuku a few seconds to just run before the guard reacted. He shouted something Izuku didn’t pay attention to into his radio before aiming his gun and shooting multiple rounds in his direction. His shoulder jerked forward as one of the rounds caught it, and blood splattered onto his face. Legs numbly moving forward and dazed hands trying to wipe away the memory of the last moments from his face.

His free hand frantically moved towards it before smiling as he felt a rearranging exit wound. Alarms started blaring above him, and he heard shutters starting to close on the doors around him.

The other rounds missed him as he turned the corner, his legs starting to speed up as fast as they would take him. His file stayed tight in his arms. If he lost that he would be dead no matter what he did.

Thanking whatever luck he was given in a past life, Izuku saw that the shutter over the window he had came in was broken. Probably due to his less than safe entrance beforehand. Sometimes unnecessarily breaking stuff did help!

More shouting was being echoed around him with the far too loud bangs of bullets being shot. Gritting his teeth and bracing his arms around his head, he pushed off the ground and then felt a million shards of glass crack and stab into his skin as he jumped through the window. Tears came to his eyes as the air whipped past his ears. He hit the ground and then tried to keep himself rolling to not cause even more harm to his cracked body. His regeneration protested at the glass staying stubbornly inside of his skin that got itself scratched up at the grotesque road burn he got when he kept on rolling. Ignoring the skin peeling off and getting abandoned on the ground where he landed, Izuku started stumbling further away from the building he jumped off the fourth floor of.

The file was still sitting nicely between the soft inside of his green coat and the exposed bone of his elbow, raw and rotten and still trying to claw its way back to looking semi-human.

Shouts continued in the building he left behind. They probably thought he was dead. Falling out of a fourth-story window tends to do that. Smiling and would be skipping if his legs weren’t riddled with evaporating bruises, Izuku moved away from the chaos he all too commonly leaves in his wake.

Giran better be happy with him. The file was heavy in his arm; it was a thick one that he had to remind himself with every step to not open. A never-ending mantra in his head that he shouldn’t ruin this job for himself.

No matter how much affirming he did, the file just got heavier and heavier the further he stepped. The ties in his heart pulled it tighter and tighter at the thought of him just handing it over. His mind was getting foggy at his lack of food, and yet the thought of someone getting hurt because of his own selfishness was enough to make his blood start to see his own body as a foreign disease.

He scoffed as he fell to the ground of a wet alleyway, fog wafting through the streets just outside. Ripping his mask off, it clanked onto the ground and was met with his blindfold by his side. His tunnel vision blinked up at the sky, and he sighed as he got ready to read the humungous-looking file. The first piece of paper wasn’t much, a hypothesis on how the eradication of quirks could be followed out, signed off by one “Kai Chisaki.”

It was sloppily written, and yet, like the haze of a madman, the papers carried on. Apparently he was given permission by somebody to actually try and carry out his idea. Izuku would’ve been all in on the idea if it wasn’t for his far too inhumane experiments to actually figure it out. The papers detailed experiment after experiment that he had to squint his eyes to read and hold back a gag at the specifics. He didn’t feel bad about breaking their building anymore.

The papers carried on until they got to the last one, where unintelligible scribbles were left on a scrap piece of paper until at the very bottom he wrote in surprisingly legible font, “lamb particle needed.”

Was Giran sure he wanted this one? the papers led to no answers, but that the Shie Hassaki have got insane men in their ranks, and they wanted to eradicate quirks entirely. A goal which would serve neither heroes, villains nor civilians. When the world’s evilest and goodest man both disagree with your goals, they might be a bit far off.

He shut the file at that and then sighed. There was nothing useful in there. He didn’t have to continuously hit his head against a door in some kind of masochistic repentance for his sins, because his “sins” for this job only consisted of breaking a criminal’s window!

He bounced back up on uninjured legs, and his hand instinctively moved to check on his elbow. Instead of meeting hard, cold, exposed bone, Izuku’s hand was only met with warm, tingling skin.

Strapping the blindfold and mask securely back onto his face, he revelled in the freedom it gave. The feeling of not being able to be found, to be recognised, to be truly seen.

The file stowed itself back under his arm as he walked into the fog. His hair was getting damp and sticking almost fully to his face when he stumbled into the 2am Grey space bar. The music was turned up way too high in the front to hide the probable screams of an underground fight club downstairs. He was never going down there again. People stumbled by far too drunk to be out right now, while contrastingly people sat silently and as still as a statue in the far booths, waiting for something they probably paid far too much for.

They could keep on wasting their money as much as they want as long as it fills Izuku’s scarce pockets.

Someone ran into him from behind and spilt some kind of vodka onto his back. His nose scrunched up in disgust at the strong smell, and his mouth moved to cover his mouth. The laundromat was going to be seeing Izuku again!

The culprit tried to apologise to him, but when his mask faced up to look into the man’s eyes, he only flinched and fell back. Izuku wasn’t that scary, was he?

“so sorry mister Fox,” his friend stuttered out as he grabbed the culprits’ arms and dragged them away.

He almost felt bad about making people scared of Fox until he realised they were criminals. Hanging out in a criminal bar. Getting blackout drunk on a tuesday and spilling vodka on his one and favourite jacket.

He nodded silently, ignoring the increasing eyes on his small form and walking as fast as he could to where he needed to be. With Giran. Getting paid so he could actually eat.

His steps were already swaying from having to regrow the skin around his elbow. Forcing his back up straight, he kept walking in as straight as a line as he could get. He couldn’t seem weak in front of these people. Being feared by criminals would always be a bonus.

Giran noticed him the moment he stepped into the bar. His gaze getting lost in the underground feeling of being watched he’s had since the first time he stepped into this mess. Searching around using his hearing was only getting him so far as he walked around in circles until he felt a familiar hand on his back. A familiar hand guided him to the main bar and into two stools.

This place had always annoyed Izuku. From the unbearably sticky tables to the annoyingly loud music to the overbearing patrons either making fun of him or trying to get him to buy drugs. He hated all of it. If his attempts to get an actual job at eleven weren’t horribly unsuccessful, he probably would have never even given this hellhole a second glance.

Sadly, his life didn’t give him what he wanted. So instead he had to sit here and talk to criminals with kind smiles that reek of lies and words sharp enough to cut, covered in a sheath thick enough that you think you’re safe for only a minute before the rug got pulled.

They don’t talk about the cage fighting incident.

“You took a while,” Giran grunted as he patted his back, hard.

“Got held up; the man didn’t want to leave the file room.” He mumbled and dropped the file into Giran’s hands. He wheezed as it dropped into his hands before it got dropped onto the bar counter, secured under Giran’s arms. Like someone would try to steal from Giran. Like he didn’t have such a reputation that people wouldn’t fucking dare.

“You never dissapoint, kid.” He ruffled Izuku’s hair and then quickly flipped through the papers in the file. Not even bothering to read them. Good, he would find out they were useless if he did.

Giran probably wouldn’t have cared. Money was money after all.

“I like getting paid,” Izuku scoffed. He wanted to get his money and then get out of here. He wanted to patrol tonight after all. Giran just started to laugh.

“Hey dabi,” Giran shouted to the bartender, “get this kid a drink, would you!” Dabi had one of those bodies that seemed to scream in pain with every movement. Bones grating with pleas to just lay over and die with every movement. Muscles which wanted to fight themselves into withering into dust. How the man was still up and kicking was beyond him. Izuku had to hold back a gag every time the man was within his superhuman earshot. He almost felt bad for him.

“what does the baby want apple juice?” Then it evaporated as soon as he spoke. He was also an absolute asshole. Maybe that’s how he’s still alive, pure unadulterated spite at the very rules of the universe that say someone with half their skin burnt off should be dead.

“I dont—” Izuku tried to protest his extended stay at this cesspit, which made him want to hurl every second, but then he got a glass of apple juice shoved in his face, and that thing had calories, okay? He could deal with the humiliation if he got more energy in him.

Chuckles left Giran’s mouth as he started gulping down the apple juice as fast as he could. The thought of going home clawed at the trail of thoughts which diverted from his main goal. A few more hours of being Fox first; couldn’t let the apple juice go to waste.

“Can i ask why you’re in this getup now?” Giran commented after he got himself a beer. The question had been on the tip of his mind since he showed up the morning before. A shocked expression when he realised the little Izu was being a vigilante now. Followed by a scoff, of course. Couldn't show any emotion down here.

“Just trying to do good,” Izuku answered. It was the truth, really. No matter how much the guilt seeped to his throat, coating it in the thought of lying just to be ready when he eventually ruins it all. Giran just grunts in response.

“The internet says otherwise,” Giran mumbled, almost like an afterthought. So he’s read the article, huh. His heart dropping must’ve been from the sugar of the apple juice.

“So does fraternising with villains,” Dabi added with a grin that could probably send a grown man into bloodlust. Izuku was just holding on.

“Don’t remember asking for your input,” Izuku spat, causing a laugh to erupt from Giran. Yet Dabi’s smile stayed stubbornly on that horrifyingly mangled face.

Izuku got out of his chair, his apple juice long into his stomach, and his payment thrust into his hands by Giran. He was almost about to turn around and leave this shithole until the next time he had to go crawling back to Giran so he didn’t starve to death.

“Eraserhead was asking about you.” The voice was sly, carefree, and happy to push every single button deep within Izuku’s chest and then pull out every fear to lay them out on the outside. For all to see. For all to manipulate.

He wasn’t going to let him win.

“Bye, Giran.” Izuku said.
“See you next time, kid,” Giran replied, already turned away from him.

It’s no wonder Eraserhead was looking for him. He almost died in front of him. The man was a hero, and Izuku was visibly a child (most Fox posts he’d seen accused him of being a child out of his depth after all). That’s why Eraserhead needed to find him. He’s a child vigilante he let get away; that probably hurt his ego if anything. The detective was probably on his case about it. He just wanted Izuku out of the picture so he could deal with actual crimes and actual prospective heroes.

Izuku wasn’t either; Fox was the most he could wish for.

Eraserhead could pry it out of his cold dead hands.

Normally, when he left that disgusting excuse of a bar, he felt an invisible weight just evaporate off his shoulders. A freedom fuelled his weary bones at the joy of him not being watched anymore. Not being studied anymore.

That didn’t happen that time.

Shallow breaths muted in the dead of night. Heavy breaths flowed down through the air before pushing his shoulders further down to the earth. Eyes were on him yet again.

He groaned as he turned around to face up. Slits of his mask made contact with the elusive eyes of the shadows. If the eyes were shocked at him noticing them, they didn’t show it. Barely a change in their breathing as the moment dragged on. Whispers of the night perusing through this moment of just Fox and a persistent set of eyes.

Then the eyes laughed.

Movement faster than even he could keep up with as the eyes followed by the body they belonged to whipped to the floor he was standing stood on. As Izuku stumbled back, the voice stayed firm in their stance. A kind of confidence which exudes only from years of experience in a form of work considered too deadly for most.

Yet this wasn’t a hero. He knew that. His legs wouldn’t be frozen in place if it was.

“Who are...” His voice stumbled off before he could finish his sentence. His mind was too fragmented to focus on anything but running. Something his legs seemed unable to cooperate with.

“Dear old fox,” The eyes voice started, “even vigilantes must be pure. Unless they shall be culled.”

Oh shit.

Izuku’s head shot up as he found his blood leaking onto the ripe katana at his neck. Held by none other than the stain on the earth himself.

Chapter Text

This time, his legs truly couldn’t move.

What was once just fear riddling his body at the thought of being in front of the hero killer quickly dried into true paralysis. He couldn’t figure out how he did it. One second stain had a katana to his neck, and the next blood was dripping off the edge into the man’s gaping, sort of horrific mouth.

His arms lock up, and his stomach flares in a way it hasn’t in years.

Quirks like his work well under most circumstances; it’s what they’re built for. Torture— he’s fine; starvation— painful, but he’ll live; yet all that circled the veins that Stain’s quirk prowled in was confusion. Confusion on what happened and confusion on how to heal it.

Confusion hurts even more.

It’s the endless circle of trying one thing to stop the pain and the numbness only to shoot more pain through his spine after it fails, because it always fails. His quirk would be so much more helpful if it didn’t fail. Stain barely reacted as badly disguised screams of pain got trapped just before his locked-close lips.

“huh, that’s new...” Stain stated. His voice was as grating as he thought it would be. His hands, thin and calloused, moved across the closed-up rip in his neck. Nothing left behind but blood, which stain had mostly gotten on his katana.

A katana that he put to his mouth. Stain drank his fucking blood like a fucking vampire.

Stain always moves with a purpose. No matter what, his movements mean something. Whether that meaning was you’re about to lose your life right now was not something he cared to dwell on. He can’t dwell on it, as Stain’s katana found itself scraping across any piece of skin he has open. Watching in morbid fascination as some closed before blood even spilt. Even with extra time, his body couldn’t find a way to just get him moving again. Get him running. Get him away.

Like a predator finding a sign of prey, Stain blinked, and the wonder was gone. Replaced with all but the want for bloodshed, for vengeance, for karma, for justice. He whispered something about his purpose before a katana was found right at his neck again. Slit between his collar and jaw like it was meant to be here, his life on a fragile balance. One look down to see what you’ve got to lose, and your head comes clean off.

“Normally vigilantes can be trusted to not be a fake,” He stated all his words like facts. Like unshakeable mountains that never fell, no matter how much one pushed, because the truth doesn’t fall. The truth was always here, hands strangling Izuku’s every last breath where no one can see it.

The katana was on the side of his neck. The dull side, thankfully, but with a little movement, a simple flick of the wrist, and he’s bleeding yet again. This asshole was depleting all of his energy stores today.

“Yet it seems you’ve taken to making your money other ways.” He sighed as he spoke. Like he was disappointed he had to kill somebody. Like he didn’t revel in the thought of making someone weak and unimportant underneath them. Like his fingers don’t buzz at the thought of taking someone and just squeezing until they pop like a pimple.

It’s the beating of his heart that gives him away. The way his heart just speeds up whenever the dagger gets close, ready to just watch him wither. Tells that were unnoticeable to most, but recite a complete novel for him.

“Although it does seem culling you will be harder than normal,” annoyance tainted his words. Coated them before they left his mouth. Izuku was truly a cockroach; Stain can fucking try to wipe away his last vapours of life, but it wouldn’t fucking work. Stain was too proud of his mission to work with the likes of his father, and Eraserhead was too good to let Stain even try to kill him. Stain was on his own.

Unstoppable force, meet unmovable obstacle.

“I will stain myself by ridding this world of fake heroes so that real ones, the All Might’s, can rise from their ashes,” he announced to the three rats scurrying in the alleyway (he included himself in that). He couldn’t even stop the laughter as it came. Blood rushed to his face at the absolute snort he let out, and almost like clockwork, his fingers began to move. Then his arm had feeling to it, and like a move he practiced hundreds of times, he kicked Stain right between his legs and then kicked said legs out from under him.

Stain was fucking creepy, okay.

So creepy, in fact, he barely even flinched as his head hit the ground. Just brushed it off and got back up without any qualms. Izuku had taken it upon himself to move as far away from Stain as he could in those two seconds between his head colliding with the ground,and it finding itself swivelling back up.

“So, you are as pretentious as they say you are.” The words slipped out as a Chesire grin comes to his face. Something flooded his mind whenever he was Fox; it started to slip whenever he’s actually scared, but when it’s just him and a mask he feels invincible. Realistically, it’s adrenaline, in his dreams though.

In his dreams his mother was cheering him on. His papa was cheering him on. Telling him to not stop.

“You are stubborn, Fox.” Stain qualms, his hand moving up and down the flat side of his katana with precision. He hasn’t moved yet. Despite being so ready to slit his throat mere seconds ago Stain was… Stain was hesitating.

“I do want to help people,” Izuku confessed. He knew Stain’s motivations, true heroes and all that. Izuku knew he wasn’t one of those, wasn’t someone who effortlessly did nothing but help. Someone who didn’t drag down everything he touched. But Stain didn’t. Someone who has killed so many heroes right where they stand was not someone he wants to be on the bad side of.

“you know more than most that some lines must be crossed, don’t you?” Izuku almost pleaded. The man was much taller than him, his katana was about three-quarters of his height. Said katana twitched ever so slightly at his words, Stain’s heart beat faster, his breathing increased too little for the naked eye. Good thing he didn’t use his eyes.

The katana was moved away from his neck as Stain got swept up in his show of innocence. Just a lost Fox in a far too scary world.

“how did you feel? When that article compared you to me?” Stain asked. His voice never wobbled, never frayed, never showed anything. The man was a tomb that took far too much to crack open.

Stain was also one of the most influential people in the underground right now. Popular opinions always messed with his plans.

“I’m not a killer,” Izuku lied. Lied through his teeth like the brat he was and didn’t even care. The words felt like second nature after all these years. Only way to get people to care about a little shit like him was to lie. Lie and lie and lie until your gums were all that’s left from the sweet nothings one clinged to to just keep on lying and not shrivel into nothing.

If Stain noticed his teeth decaying he didn’t say.

“I’d quite prefer you not to be,” Stain replied, his words foggy. Like his mind was in a million places and yet nowhere at once.

Izuku stepped backwards to get further away from those godforsaken eyes. It’s like they hurt. Seared into his skin like an iron.

“I’m not going to let you kill me,” Izuku mumbled. Stain couldn’t have killed him if he tried. However, some of his energy stores must be kept after all this.

Before he could even react, there was a katana going straight for his head. He ducked and then swivelled on his feet to try and get himself closer to the mouth of the alley. He just needed to get out. Then he could… Well, he would figure out something. Add Stain to a never-ending list of people he can never see again.

Stain didn’t need much blood to get hold of his muscles. A few drops were acquired when he got an artery on his arm cut open. Dripping on the very edge of his sword before he dropped them unceremoniously into his gaping mouth. Teeth absolutely rotten.

“No, you aren’t, are you?” He paused as Stain’s katana climbed up Izuku’s face. “Killing children isn’t something I enjoy; I hope you know,” Stain lamented. Because boo-hoo, the murderer didn’t actually want to kill people. Like that made it any better.

“Would’ve shocked me,” Izuku got out through gritted and locked-in place teeth. The words were barely legible, and yet Stain heard them in all of their glory and decided to cut his cheekbone.

“You’re quite mouthy,” Stain observed.

“I watched you with that boy on the roof. Thought I could leave you be,” Stain mumbled his words. So he was the one watching him…

Izuku was still for quite some time. Stain stood deep in thought as Izuku tried to wriggle out of his own trapped skin. That must have something to do with Stains quirk; it only made sense. There were theories all over about what it was. Stain could kill any hero, from the most powerful to simply bottom feeders that didn’t deserve to lose their heads.

Of course, no one deserved to lose their head, but his point still stood.

It’s a paralysis quirk of some kind; that’s for sure if his current predicament was anything to go by. The blood played into it somehow, unless he was just a cannibal doing it for funsies. Maybe it’s the drinking of it? Did ingesting blood let him paralyse whoever it used to belong to? How long did blood have to be out of the body for Stain to not be able to paralyse them with it? Obviously, it takes a while. Stain’s kills weren’t very quick if his situation was evident to anything.

“you drink the blood,” Izuku stated. “That’s your quirk, isn’t it? You drink their blood and it paralyses them.” Izuku was almost triumphant as Stain nodded at the words forced through a locked mouth.

“You’re observant. What limits does your quirk have?” Stain was right back to observing him. Observed him like he was going to set on fire if he stared hard enough. Like he could be killed with a strong look. When Izuku didn’t answer quickly enough Stain takes it upon himself to answer his own question.

“Blood type affects mine,” Stain admitted.

Izuku was sceptical, to say the least. Stain was many things; trusting was not one of them. Probably never would be. It’s hard when everyone around you would sell you out for a quick buck.

Then there was the scarier thought. The thought that the Stain, the hero killer, wanted to bond with him. That stain took one long look at the smile he forced on under his mask and listened even for a second to the screams he let out when his body thought he’s dying and decided that he was good enough for him. He didn't know whether to be flattered or horrified.

“I haven’t found anything i can’t heal from yet,” Izuku admitted. His whole body has been exploded and burnt beyond recognition, and yet it just came back, mummified and changed and disgusting, but it came back. Finding out the true limits to his regeneration quirk wasn't on his to-do list these past years, surprisingly.

Izuku had strange feelings about death. If he lingered on the thought of nothingness too long, it could feel like an aching want he would do anything to achieve. Then whenever something comes at him that could make that nothingness happen, he fought. He screamed and bit and clawed his way to staying on this plane of existence in a way that he didn't understand half the time. Izuku was one massive contradiction that he can’t make anything out of. Then there’s the thought that even lingering on the idea of death is futile; after all, even if for once he decided to just lie down, his body wouldn’t take the memo.

It might not have any limits; it kept his father alive for centuries, after all.

Izuku Midoriya, the boy who couldn’t even kill himself right.

If Stain could hear his internal thoughts, he showed no sign. His head faced directly at him, and Izuku swore he could feel his eyes on him.

“If i cut your head off, would your body grow back or your head?” Stain asked, all too calmly, as he brought his katana directly at Izuku’s neck. Sliced it slowly a few inches into the side of his neck before pulling it out. Like some fucked-up game. Like he can’t feel the pain of something sharp being where it’s not supposed to.

Izuku didn’t answer. He couldn’t answer. Any words he could’ve thrown out of his throat got caught in the blood. His vocal cords were always finicky with regeneration. He was always scared that one day his vocal cords would bring his voice back wrong, that it would be the final nail in the coffin that his body fully wasn’t his anymore. Just a shameless amalgamation of his quirk, artificial and metallic.

“Well, I may get to test that theory one day.” Stain sighed before putting his katana away. His gaze lingered for only a moment before he turned around. Walking calmly as a murderer could in the direction that Izuku had been begging to get close to just minutes ago.

“Where are you—?” His speech got cut off when his body decided it didn’t want to be paralysed anymore. His legs collapsed under him the second he tried to take a step, and he absolutely ate dirt on the way down to the ground. Wouldn’t be his first time.

“You have potential… Well you aren’t a fake, as far as i can tell,” Stain stated his word like absolute fact. Like he was the only one who could speak the truth among a world of misbelievers. People agree with him; Izuku knew that. Stain said a word, and people went running to do as he wants. Stain said jump, they do it before he can even tell them how high. How a man with such shit social skills did that, he didn’t know, but he has.

His words must mean something. Preying on the insecurities of those wronged or down on their luck and bringing them to his cause. Izuku promised himself to never be like that. Leaders can do anything if they weren’t questioned.

“Remember, Fox, I’m watching you.” Like that, Stain was gone. Off in the wind, he waited for the next person he could horrifically kill and leave out for some innocent soul to stumble across.

Stain was an awful, despicable person. Izuku hated the way his heart glowed at his praise. Once the thought of being happy that Stain liked him settled into his head, he started to hurl into a poor lowly dumpster and the sad little rats inside. Stain was a murderer, a cruel person who killed whoever he liked under a guise of doing it for good. For the greater good. Killing was never the answer, everyone has people in their corner no matter how despicable they were that would be heartbroken at their death. To rip someone from this world was a line he would rather lose his own limbs one by one than cross.

Stain also said he was good. Maybe he was just too starved for praise, or maybe his mind was far more fucked than he thought, but he kind of did want Stain to like him. He wanted the person in the underground most obsessed with “good” heroes to take one look at Izuku trying his damn best and say that he was doing good.

Sometimes, Izuku thought his mind and his body and Izuku were all on different wavelengths. That his mind was a contradictory thing that houses Izuku’s thoughts, rational or not, and forced him to do things that make everything else in him cry. His body wasn’t his. Hasn’t been since it got stuffed full of abilities tied to people and souls that wanted nothing more to live again and yet he has to stop them. His body wanted to live; it’s the only part of him that did. Like everything else in him, his body was also stupid. It moved of its own accord to help even when it could get him killed. His body was what dragged him back from the edge, kicking and screaming every damn time.

Izuku was just an unwanted passenger in all this. Izuku sat on the side lines and watched all the dumb decisions and did nothing to stop them. Izuku was the one who sat and cried and wallowed in his guilt and self-pity and occasionally grief.

Fox was what tied them together. One goal to just help that for once his fight-or-flight response and his dumb, logical yet contradictory brain and he could agree upon. That goal had been crushed and stomped on and called useless and almost got him killed before a fucking murderer showed up and said he was doing good. The whiplash of the day was doing laps on his mind. Did Rocklock think he was doing good? Did Phantom?

Did his mom, wherever she was?

Izuku was crying. He didn’t know when it started, and he didn’t know how to get it to stop, but his tears were bawling out of his eyes. His hands weren’t shaking for once, but even so they were useless against the onslaught of tears that leave his face. His blindfold was soaked by now, but he didn’t even care as he kept on crying. Halted breaths and interrupted sobs echoed across the alley in a way he prayed no one was listening.

Especially not Stain; he just said he wasn’t bad, seeing him break down like this at simple praise would make him seem weak. It wasn’t even praise, that’s the worst part. It was an acknowledgement that he wasn’t an awful person from someone who was an awful person, and yet Izuku cradled the words like they’re the most important thing in the world. Like if he moved them too quickly, they would simply shatter, and he’d be left alone in the darkness again.

He almost wished the words would cradle him. Just a comfort around his shoulders away from the too much that has controlled him over the years. Izuku didn’t like seeking out other people; they only ended up getting hurt being around him, but the childish want for someone never did leave him.

So he ignored it.

He was in the middle of an alleyway outside of a bar with dangerous people in it; if he stayed here any longer, then he would be screwed. Someone could get the drop on him easily like this. The overrun thought of being in danger got his legs to start moving. The feeling of eyes on him made his head drop further and further closer to the ground as the tears continued to not fucking stop. He just needed them to stop. The eyes, the tears, whatever— he just needed it all to stop so he could start to fucking breathe again.

His thoughts weren’t making sense right now. they didn’t need to for his body to just start fleeing. Fleeing away from the street. Away from the alley. Away from the bar. Away from the ground. Away from his own body if he could. He couldn’t have gone home right now. He didn’t know if he trusted himself to be somewhere where no one would care if all his blood just leaked out of his body. No one would really care on a random rooftop. It would be hard for someone to clean up, though.

So he sat there. Truly and utterly pathetically, as he thought about all the ways of how ungrateful he was. He’s alive. wasn’t he? That’s so much more than others can say, and yet he still sits there pathetically crying. Over what? His mother? His mother, who he barely remembered. His mother, who would probably hate every fibre of his being after all these years.

Somewhere in the process he threw his daggers to the other side of the roof. The thought of some poor soul stumbling across the rooftop covered in his blood, selfishly, not being enough to stop the urge to just rip out his own heart. Rip out every organ in his body and feel the gut-wrenching pain as they grew back over and over again. Because his father took everything from him, even his own autonomy to kill himself. He had made sure of that at nine. Izuku tested him at eleven. Now here he is at thirteen, desperately wanting to be nine again so he could just die.

The thought of lost chances to rip himself off this earth only caused more tears to come to his eyes. Tears of jealousy and nostalgia ripped straight from his heart. He almost didn’t notice someone coming closer to his rooftop. He almost didn’t notice how he had gotten himself too far out of his planned route. Didn’t notice how he plonked himself on a rooftop right at the right time for the hero he wanted to never see again to stumble upon him. He noticed Fox long before he’s even at the rooftop. Cries of a child, missing, well everything, glided through the sky straight into Eraserhead’s head. A head that had been passively locked on said child’s well-being since he first saw him in that godforsaken warehouse, and it wasn’t going to stop now.

He looked so broken on that roof. His hair flew like butterflies in the wind despite his head being basically in his own lap by how far it’s fallen. His mind was so preoccupied by the endless thoughts that in hindsight would probably not be much different from Kai Chisaki’s barely legible “science” to even notice as the hero kept walking forward. Kept walking towards him as he tried so hard not to get him to run away again. Wanted desperately to not hurt him again.

Fox only noticed when Eraserhead descended upon his rooftop. The thumping beat of a scared heart being too loud to not notice even over the sound of his own sobs. He wanted to run. He needed to run. Except his body never did listen to him, did it?

So he sat there, his broken and tear-stained face hidden behind his mask. Waited for Eraserhead to just kill him. He did it once. He could do it again. Fox was not going with him willingly no matter what he thought, and so he would just have to kill him.

He bit down on his lip and felt as it fixes itself under his teeth to stop the smile coming at that thought.

It felt like a millennium as they sat there. Like the sun could rise and fall and burn and die and a new universe could be born from the ashes all in the time they take just sat there. Izuku’s tears never stopped. His mind never seemed to calm with the threat of death so close, but Izuku and his body were in agreement to just sit there, for two very different reasons. Izuku wasn’t afraid of death; his body was just tired. So on that rooftop they stay. One sobbing, one calm. One hunched on the ground, one standing tall. One a vigilante, one a hero. One a child, one an adult. One a fox, one a raven. A raven ready to pounce.

His steps were slow and calculated. His breathing has slowed in the time he realised Fox just wasn’t running. So he moved towards him, very slowly. Mind-numblingly slow as he treated him like the wild animal he truly was. Izuku finds a strange fascination in his joy about being feared. Being respected. People not being able to tell him to do something and him not being too scared to say no. He liked— no, he needed to say no. Needed to be in control of some portion of his life, or else he withered and died like all those nomus before him.

If the hero was threatened when Izuku tried to glare at him through the tears, he didn’t show it. He wasn’t showing much of anything really. It's unnerving. The art of hiding one’s emotions so well they can only bubble up in solitude was not one he knew well. Izuku was always an emotional child. He was the one who would cry over the dead rabbits he found on the side of roads, whimper at the people sent to the doctor to never be seen again, and frown when his father would convince someone to join their side. The crying must have been somewhat endearing to Eraserhead, as Izuku wasn’t screaming bloody murder right then and there.

He wanted to threaten him. Work him up, annoy him. Do something to cover that face in rage so thoroughly he can’t help but not blink this time until Izuku has melted. He reached for a dagger at his hip and groaned as he remembered it was still on the other edge of the roof. He resigned himself to continuing to glare as he held his hammer as menacingly as he could towards Eraserhead.

Then the asshole laughed. It’s a short laugh. Most likely from exasperation rather than amusement, but it’s a laugh. Izuku wanted to bash his head in; instead his body decided to make him blush. His face was heating up as Eraserhead just kept on staring at him trying his very best to be intimidating. Eyes back on his face as it ripped back the layers of protection Izuku put up with a simple stare, who did this asshole think they were?

This asshole, just sighed at his unwavering determination to keep on holding a quite useless hammer up to threaten him.

Asshole stepped forward again, and Izuku can’t help but think, this was it. He had a good run of about two and a bit weeks before getting dragged off by a hero who can’t even give him the luxury of killing him. Izuku holds his hammer tighter. He was not going easy. That’s for sure. He was going to kick and scream and use his quirks and fight and probably try to push him off a building again. There’s no one around for backup, so Izuku would have a solid few minutes to fight back before reinforcements showed up. He could probably hit him over the head with the hammer; that might get him down if it didn't give him enough time to run. If he could reach his dagger he could cut the capture weapon before it wrapped around him. Even if he can’t get his dagger, his teeth would get through a bit of it.

Maybe if he hit him enough, or fought him enough, or annoyed him enough, he would just do it. Just get rid of him. It’s a power only he possessed, and under masks of fire and a need for survival, Izuku was begging him to use it.

Eraserhead took another step forward. Izuku was ready to fight like his life depends on it.

The fight never came.

One moment Eraserhead was stood Focused on Fox, then the next he’s sat on the edge of a roof next to him. The sky now thoroughly more important than any threat Fox posed. That couldn’t be right. Eraserhead tried to kill him. Eraserhead was probably under strict orders to bring him in. Strict orders he’s disobeyed to stargaze next to a criminal on a rooftop. A rooftop that smells vehemently like cigarettes.

He ignored the urge to affirm to Eraserhead that he, the thirteen-year-old shitty vigilante, had not been smoking and instead focused on the packet of something thrown into his lap. Izuku was never one to turn down food. You could serve him a rotting piece of meat that’s laced in some kind of horrible poison, and he would still probably eat it. Future Izuku’s problems and all that.

He’s drank it before Eraserhead started drinking his own. If he wanted to kill him, he would have just had to use his quirk, so poisoning his food is quite counterproductive. Also, who carried around poisoned jelly, because it was jelly, very good jelly.

Might be the clothes that hung more and more on his frame every day, or the way his bones sat uncomfortably under his skin against most chairs, or the way his body swayed whenever he stood too quickly, but Izuku had the entire pack emptied in a matter of fifty-four seconds. He counted. Eraserhead didn’t even judge him for it, just threw another right into his lap to replace it.

Maybe Izuku was a feral animal because food was very much winning him over right now.

He took the second one in slower; he finished it about the same time Eraserhead finished his first. Except Eraserhead didn’t move onto a second and only drops about four more of them into Izuku’s lap with a huff. Izuku would feel bad for stealing his food but call it even from almost killing him. The memory of mercilessly pushing Eraserhead off of the edge of a roof just like this one wriggled its way unceremoniously into the foreground of his thoughts. Okay, so maybe he had already made it even for him trying to kill Izuku.

Did he even know that would kill Izuku? Of course not, he knew that; he always knew that. It was the fear holding him back. The fear that someone had the power to take away his father’s only gift. That he could use it with a simple look and make Izuku just crumble without a second thought terrified and enticed him at the same time. Because, what if his father got it? What if his father got the ability to just look at Izuku and make him suffer? That would ruin his reckless half-concocted plans made in spirals of paranoia to actually be able to beat his father if he ever came after him. He would lose; he knew that, but he wanted to go down fighting. He was going to stay far away from where his father could reach, and he was going to run. He couldn’t do that with Eraserhead.

Far removed from Izuku’s inner turmoil, Eraserhead just continued to sit there and stared blissfully up at the stars. Izuku never understood people’s love for the stars. Tiny lights high up in the sky, which couldn’t be touched and apparently made shapes that he couldn’t make anything out of. He didn’t get them. Eraserhead didn’t have his problem, as his head stayed facing upwards.

“do you know what that constellation is?”

Eraserhead pointed up at the sky. Up at the endless chasm that he couldn't see. He had to hold back a laugh at the silence that followed the question. Izuku might have answered the question. Might have told him the little knowledge he knew about stars. Instead, he sat there in silence, as he truly didn’t even know what he was pointing at. Izuku was going to die laughing about this later to himself and the other ghosts that know about his condition.

“Its Leo. It’s the Nemean lion that Heracles slew. Always felt bad for that guy.” Eraserhead, surprisingly, laughed. Izuku couldn’t help but flinch at the noise. The silence only got more suffocating after that. Dragged him under the ground he clawed his way up from. Eraserhead only sighed.

“Listen, Fox, I'm not going to hurt you again.”

His heart rate didn’t elevate— he wasn’t lying.

“But I do need to ask something of you.”

Izuku’s heart rate elevated. He’s scared.

“Don’t get slain, alright.”

Izuku felt a hand on his shoulder.

He felt a comforting presence next to him. Like a boy on the edge of a rooftop, contemplating the jump, Izuku really did just need a friend. Someone to watch over him. Someone to care about him as he cried in his lonely, bleak apartment and winter swept through his every vein every day of the year. He wanted so badly to just collapse.

But Izuku wasn’t a boy on a rooftop who wants to die.

He’s a boy on a rooftop who can’t die.

Izuku was a boy who defied the one convention of all human life, death.

So he didn’t let himself break. He took a breath and nodded at Eraserhead. Then he ignored him, and he jumped. Eraserhead shouted something, but he couldn’t hear it as he landed awfully once again. He felt most of the bones in his legs shatter and he just kept on walking. He wasn’t running. He wasn’t scared of Eraserhead running after him again. He wasn’t scared of stumbling upon a villain. He wasn’t scared of anything at this moment. There’s someone out there he can trust, even a little. Eraserhead didn’t even follow him, and he couldn’t help but smile.

Maybe everyone didn’t want to kill him.

The high didn’t last forever. The next morning was spent shopping and shopping and shopping and trying to get enough food into his damn apartment. Then into his damn mouth as he carbo-loads like an athlete. If he’s able to go out and not have to worry about being killed by Eraserhead, then he was making the most of it.

It only took one day for his mind to sway back to Stain. It was night time. He was supposed to just take a nap. Recharge, then go out. Easy as that.

“How did you feel when that article compared you to me?”

He was horrified. Disgusted. Not because he was being told he was like a murderer but because he felt like it was right. Stain had always been an outlier. Too evil to be a hero but too good to be a villain. Izuku had felt like that since he was five years old.

Father always said it was his birth right to rule, to live, to reign. To be powerful enough to do whatever he pleased and no one be able to stop him. Izuku tried to compensate all he could by being as good as he could be and yet still he here he was at the bottom of the barrel. Considered a villain by many. If no matter what he did, people still consider him evil because of some fault the shapes in the sky carved out centuries ago, then why should he even try? He’s not going to be evil. Izuku’s conscience and his mother’s soul, which he carried with him after all these years, would just rot at the idea. Yet maybe, he didn’t have to be fully good. Maybe there’s an in-between.

Vigilantes were meant to walk that line, weren’t they?

The line between good and evil. The line between hero and villain. Maybe there was never a line. Maybe Izuku was born so far into the evil that no matter how much he fought, he could never leave. An endless cycle where all he could do was try his best. If his best wasn’t enough for them, then so what?

Where this newfound confidence had erupted from, Izuku had no idea, but before he knew it, he’s in his costume before he can even have his nap. The daggers slipped into their holsters like they belonged there. His hammer felt like home in his hand. The dark green jacket slipped on like summer in the middle of an ice age. Fox mask slid onto his face and covered all the broken pieces of himself, of others, and of the world itself that he has accumulated over the years.

For once, he didn’t feel like he’s alone when he stepped outside of his home.

So then, he went to find a maybe cannibal. Izuku knew he'd lost it when not even calling him that deters him. One thing about Izuku, when he has his mind set on something, there was no stopping him. Not earthquakes, or fires, or giant monsters. The only thing persistent within himself was his stubbornness, and so it’s the only part of himself he allowed himself to like. Because it wouldn’t disappear in the blink of an eye.

Not like Stain anyhow. The man was not one to be found easily. Izuku swore he was about to catch him six times until he was finally able to tackle the guy. The high ground he had gotten lasted all of two seconds before he was back on his arse, but it was so worth it for the surprise in Stains heart rate when Fox jumped on his back.

He put his hand to the back of his head where it got slammed onto the ground. Worth it.

“I do believe I said i’d be watching you.” Stain’s katana was back onto his neck, and Izuku did not feel a lick of fear. From the amount of food Izuku has consumed in the last twenty hours, he could properly get skinned alive and be dandy in a few minutes.

“You were taking too long.” Izuku’s charm didn’t seem to be working on Stain, which did not hurt his feelings at all. Not one bit.

Okay, maybe a little.

The silence stretched. The blood on Stain’s katana was drying. Izuku was only trying to get good enough so he never has anything to fear. That was all it was. He swore.

“It’s been a day,” Stain deadpanned after pulling apart that silence for far too long, mind you. Izuku was practically jumping out of his own skin when he finally started to talk.

“What do you want, Fox?” Stain could barely get his sentence out before Fox replied. Jumped too close to the sun and far too close to Stain's face as he got a katana in the shoulder.

“I want you to train me.” The words were muffled by his yelp as he tried to pry his arm off the katana before his body started to freak out again. Stain just stood there still and unamused, but Izuku knew he was trying not to laugh as he wriggled his arm off the katana’s blade. Stain brought the katana back and then wiped it off on the scarf and didn't eat it. See, they were making progress.

“Why—?” Stain started

“Because you want to help me, and don’t lie!” Izuku was back in his personal space and apparently had not learnt anything as he gets stabbed in the other shoulder. His smile didn’t even drop as he held his hand up for Stain to shake.

“We got a deal?” Stain didn’t even spare a glance at his hand before he dragged the katana out of his shoulder as fast as a light.

“deal.” Stain stated. Then, like the asshole he was, drank the blood off the katana this time and then left like he was never even there.

Fox was left there, immobile on a rooftop in the dead of night. Yet he didn’t even care. Right now under the shapeless blobs in the sky and above the endless dirt he was supposed to be resting under, he’s utterly invincible.

He wondered how long that would last…

Chapter Text

Izuku had, no exaggeration, the best two weeks of his life. He should’ve known it wasn’t going to last much longer. Life has ups and downs, and yet when he'd spent so long on the up, he could start to forget the downs even exist. He never thought there would be a day where he forgot about the downs, but slowly, day by day, he could actually sleep. He could get food in his expired stomach and not have to sway with every step. He even started to grow some minimal muscle.

The muscles came from his favourite cannibal’s (the name has stuck) never-ending training routine. Well, training was being generous. Izuku would be prowling around as Fox when he would feel a shift in the air, a soft heartbeat thumping to get his attention, and then there would be a katana swinging at his head. He would try to dodge, then eventually fail and get lectured about all he did wrong on top of a rooftop as his skin stitched itself up. Truly a beneficial relationship.

Maybe the reason Stain didn’t have any other apprentices was because he kills them all. Izuku was sure he would be dead ten times over without regeneration, given the number of times this man has cut his limbs off.

Izuku had to wait with his own severed arm for it to just start melting more times than he can count. A severed hand found inside of a dumpster would just cause more questions after all. When he was younger, he used to be horrified whenever he lost a limb. Vomit gushed into his mouth as it melted into nothingness. Perhaps he’d just lost his mind over the years, but now he could barely care less. Maybe it’s because it all happens under the Fox mask and he couldn’t see it. Mayhaps it’s just because he had to worry even less about food these days.

Izuku wandered silently on the same rooftop every night, and like every night since that fateful one where Eraserhead asked him not to do the impossible, he finds two jelly packets on the edge. He understood why Eraserhead loved them so much because since he got put onto them, he hadn’t even had to worry about his regeneration. Free food was always appreciated by Izuku.

So maybe Izuku was extremely wrong about Eraserhead; he’s mature enough to admit that. As long as Izuku or anyone else didn’t let slip that he was currently working with a murderer, then he’d be fine. Stain even said that Eraserhead was one of the good ones. That comforted him for all of ten seconds as he realised Izuku was also considered a good one, and he willingly hangs out with a murderer.

Izuku didn’t like Stain; he swears it. Stain was just being used to help Izuku get better so he can save more people. Its a purely selfish desire to just get better that drives him back to fighting Stain each time instead of calling a hero. Stain would just kill the hero after all. Keeping Stain occupied with Izuku so he can’t kill people was a good thing in and of itself. Izuku couldn’t win against Stain yet, and based off his kill count, neither can a lot of heroes. So Izuku needed to hang out with a murderer. That was the stupid reasoning he’s made up in his head to deal with the crippling guilt that fills his bones, severed or attached, every time Stain walks away.

What if Izuku could capture him? What if Izuku could take down one of the worst murderers in Japan’s recent history? What if Izuku could get rid of the hero killer for good? Would he do it?

He told himself he would, obviously. Stain, no matter how nice he was to Izuku, was a murderer and a borderline cannibal. He took life and felt no remorse whatsoever. He’s an awful person who reminds Izuku of his father in almost every possible way. Almost.

There’s the way his hand pats his head for a second longer than necessary after a good hit. The way his gaze lingers whenever Izuku’s regeneration was taking a while. How he gets upset whenever Izuku lets himself get hurt that mirrors not his Father but his Papa in a far too close way.

So every time, he lets Stain go. Every time he walks away, and the guilt barely even settles before it’s being washed away without another thought. It didn’t keep him awake or make him jump out of bed early to get his brain occupied on something else. It just sits there. Happily sits there between all the guilt he’s accumulated over the years.

Besides, he wasn’t the worst killer Izuku has ever met. That crown was long since stolen.

Izuku had very few objectives to carry out tonight as Fox. Make his daily appearances, which were starting to be catalogued on one very dedicated blog, and check on the Gorilla. Not his gorilla—he’d love a gorilla—the Zoo’s. The zoo’s gorilla, which Izuku has heard repeatedly throwing itself at its enclosure’s walls all throughout the night, has superhuman and super-gorilla speeds.

The gorilla was special; it had a quirk. Not a quirk that let it have human intelligence; it was just as dumb as a normal gorilla, but it had super speed. It was also very unhappy. Izuku didn’t know how to deal with upset gorillas, but he has done extensive googling, and if the Zoo was mistreating the gorilla, he would get proof and hand it off to the proper authorities.

That felt weird even thinking about.

By proper authorities he obviously means the wonderfully scary with the wonderfully impossible security to crack Nedzu. The person was on a one-Nedzu crusade to get the gorilla out of captivity. Something about animals having to stick together. Izuku’s losses linger long after they were taken from him, and so he feels compelled to the cause.

He wasn’t going to actually engage with it, of course. Just jump into the shadows of the Zoo and make sure the gorilla was being properly cared for. It was supposed to be an easy job; nothing ever was as Fox.

The banging on the cage walls only clashed louder in his ears the longer he left it. Every ten steps there was some kind of emergency going on in the night streets. The shapeless blobs tonight had decided to pull out every stop to make sure everyone was on their worst behaviour that night. There was a dude kicking a puppy, for goodness sake.

Izuku was running out of post it notes. A new addition to his arsenal that he stole from some webcomic online about a rookie vigilante “just trying to do his best.” Izuku had, of course, internalised the character, and so the post-it notes were born. Whenever Izuku zip-tied a criminal, they would find themselves with a post-it note on their head detailing their crime and signed off with a “Fox”, A smiley face and a stick figure drawing in whatever pose first came to his mind. Izuku found them quite cute, and he did hear a hero laugh when they saw one, so he takes it as a win.

If someone decides they don’t like them, then they should be happy he wasn’t following his first teenage boy instinct and drawing penises on them all. He showed self-restraint and only drew that on one of them. Surprisingly, it was that one that got a laugh out of hero. Maybe they weren’t all immune to his spectacular humour.

More shouting in a close alleyway led him to two very drunk men about to start swinging at each other. Where were the heroes, truly? A sigh mixed with a grunt left his mouth as he dropped right between the two men and let himself get punched in his face.

A post on twitter called him the silent badass type, and he has decided to take that to heart. What more could separate Fox from Izuku than if he was actually cool? Of course that led him to many sad google searches of “how to be cool,” but then he’d fallen upon just letting himself get hit and not showing himself to be affected by it. Even if that punch really hurt. Ow.

His pain was not foretold by the drunk man, as he only staggered back before his friend tries to punch Izuku too. Crazy how people forget about past hatred for others whenever he shows up. Fox, bringing people together in hating him one day at a time!

Sadly, he wasn’t a fan of getting punched, so he ducks down and tried to sweep the man’s legs out from under him. Key word was tried, as the man has enough lucidity to jump over his legs. However, not enough lucidity to stay awake as he passed out with no actual interference by Izuku. Literally, he did not do a thing. It was a little bit sad. His friend had already run far away before he started to get some rest on a street curb, and Izuku was left with an unconscious body.

“He was drunk and passed out of his own accord. Didn’t do a thing. I swear—Fox,” was written onto a post it note and placed on the man’s head. Next to it was a smiley face and a stick figure looking suspiciously dead on the ground. He then called the anonymous tip line, like a good law-abiding citizen, and tried to ignore the annoyance in the man’s voice the second he said the word Fox. Izuku and the anonymous tip line had started to become good friends, as you can see.

He was tempted to plug his ears as he kept walking. The zoo was within his metaphorical sight, and the looming threat of the gorillas mindless crashing over and over again was getting on his nerves. Like a never-ending heartbeat but much louder, and this one could kill people if it finally got what it wanted. The gorilla’s speed was unmatched; it had been since birth. He had been moved around different zoos and science facilities since his quirk manifested and taken on a new name each time. The list was long and included, but not limited to, Splash, Freeze, Wild, and Strawberry. The amount of different name usages had apparently confused and irritated him immensely. That’s also something Izuku can relate to!

He entertained the idea of him being best friends with the gorilla as he scaled the wall of the closed zoo. It had higher security than most, partly due to the super speed having gorilla. Breaking out of enclosures so many times before and getting dragged back only gets the locks chained up tighter and tighter.

The security wasn’t anything Izuku couldn’t handle, so he sneaked through an eerily quiet zoo, harmonising with the beat of shaking bars against gorilla limbs.

The guy was just stressed, really. Movements whipped around quicker than should’ve been possible to knock down at any sign of movement around him, even if it’s just his trees moving in the wind. Grunts and barks left his mouth between each crash as he banged against his chest. His heart rate was through the roof; the thing never seemed to want to slow down. There were the little things. The way his teeth clenched every few seconds, or his body swayed unnaturally. How his eyes never stayed in one spot for more than a millisecond or how his back seemed to stay straight despite the probable injuries growing in his side. This wasn’t a happy animal.

It was an animal screaming out to just be let out by everyone around it, and yet it just kept on being shoved into cages and enclosures. Tested on and watched like a circus over and over. Like they don’t even matter. Like the fear etched into their every twitch wasn’t on display for all to see. Like the torture should just be accepted.

For one moment, a Fox’s heartbeat and a gorilla’s beat in perfect unison.

Screw Nedzu, Izuku was getting this guy out. The cage was enforced, very enforced. Padded enough to stop a gorilla from being able to take it down but not enough to stop the ramming into it from being painful. It was purposefully cruel. He moved silently around the cage for a single sign of how to get in. Or how to get a gorilla out. The cage was almost impenetrable.

Almost. Nothing was never able to be toppled.

Izuku couldn’t smell any food within the enclosure, which meant that they had to feed the gorilla themselves instead of him getting his own food. Which wasn’t surprising within the context of him never having to find food for himself in the wild before. There’d always been humans in the gorilla’s life, holding his leash and keeping him at bay. Crying sounds were a sign a gorilla was hungry; he learnt that online, and this gorilla was wailing. Pain wailing or hungry wailing, he was still wailing, and it was still breaking Izuku’s heart.

Izuku couldn’t even see the damn guy, and he knew something was wrong, why couldn’t someone with the ability to actually take care of a gorilla see it too?

Ignorance was a palace of bliss only for the privileged.

Izuku kicked the bin next to where he was standing and left behind a dent, trying to keep back a scream from bubbling to the surface. The bin falling over was probably just as loud as if he had just screamed until his lungs started to fray, but it’s the thought that counts.

The gorilla slammed into the cage walls again, arms thrown out in a helpless plea that turned malicious as his mask fell to the ground. A sound like a growl left the gorillas mouth at the blindfold left still on his face. His mask started seeming heavier in his hands.

Was this gorilla smarter than people gave it credit for? Maybe it was capable of humane thought. Maybe it just wanted to see his face.

Cursing his profusely bleeding heart, his daggers were shot one after the other into the frankly excessive number of cameras pointing at the gorilla. At one point he had to go collect them all back since he used them all, and that just aggravated the animal further. Once he was sure it was only the eyes of an animal on him, he slipped the blindfold off. Feeling bare under his mask of protection, which lay silent in his arms, he just stood. Staring at the endless voids one calls eyes in the strikingly white gorilla. It was purely white. From the head to the feet. Purely white. It would’ve been scary if it wasn’t absolutely gorgeous.

Mesmerised on both ends, the gorilla and fox stood there for many moments more. Time slipped on, and yet the vulnerability painted directly onto the gorilla’s face was beautiful.

Izuku couldn’t really tell what the gorilla found so captivating about his face. Jagged messes of scars upon amalgamations that shouldn’t even be alive again. There’s a reason Izuku keeps his eyes covered at all times; the injuries he got were more than just the loss of his peripheral vision. Someone can take one look into Izuku’s mangled skin and just know that he was wrong. That he survived something he shouldn’t have had to. That he was somehow keeping on going.

That’s a kind of vulnerability he didn’t like sharing with other people.

Right now he was sharing it with a gorilla.

This really was quite an absurd situation, i=wasn’t it?

The gorilla, whoever said he didn’t have some kind of human intelligence was lying, beckoned him closer, and despite his better judgement, he moved forward.

Then the banging started again. Punches one after the other, barely even staggered, as they started overlapping fists on metal and arm on metal and body on metal. A mess of blurred movements that got covered in darkness whenever he so dared to move his eyes. To push it all away into the sides of his vision, which were filled with nothing but uselessness. A whole part of the world he will never get to see. Always reclused into the back of his eyes.

He barely got time to stagger back as the metal was dented, then broken, then thrown aside uselessly. His blindfold was left in the heap of discarded metal, and the mask was thrown on haphazardly. The gorilla was out of his cage now. Izuku didn’t want to get pummelled any more than he wanted to fall off the side of a building. Being none at all. He’s never doing anything kind again.

The gorilla had decided his new favourite toy was Izuku’s arm, as it was crushed beyond normal repair and hauled behind him as he jumped through the zoo’s endless security parameters at a speed far quicker than Izuku could keep up with. Being outside a cage one moment, then being thrown past a massive gate the next, to being hauled around the night time streets the next, he wasn’t even trying to disappear into his brain this time. He wanted to pay attention. Keep up with the ever-changing attitude of this very annoying gorilla. Yet the gorilla never seemed to keep one idea for more than ten seconds. Choosing one route one moment, then giving it up the next to fly up further into the air, with Izuku an unwilling and unwanted passenger in it all. His head was starting to overload with the pain of trying to heal the arm while it was being crushed with no remorse and no sign of reprieve. The small slits in the mask he could barely make out were just sending bright, vaguely threatening light into the small tunnel of his world.

Where’s Eraserhead when you need him?

When Izuku finally got dropped, it was because the gorilla noticed the sirens steadily climbing in volume as they moved closer. The gorilla’s grand escape was foiled, probably by someone just calling in to say there’s a gorilla running around downtown with a probably dead boy in his grasp.

God, Izuku wished he was dead.

The gorilla was tall, freakishly so. When Izuku finally got dropped, his head split open on the concrete, and he had to bite back a scream. His arm was still a mess, and his head protested with every little movement, no matter how small. He flicked at his wrist, and it flew to attention before the bones started creaking to actually make it seem relatively human again. The gorilla was long gone by the time his arm was half-healed, and he was left with the deafening lullaby of a city being attacked by a gorilla. What has his life come to? Chaos, absolute fucking chaos. There was chaos everywhere, from the streets filled with screaming people to the roads filled with siren-spouting vans and cars trying to get the gorilla to relax. Like the loud noises would do nothing but stress him out more.

Maybe Izuku shouldn’t be commenting on stressing out the gorilla. There must have been something he did to piss off the guy so much he decided to ragdoll him around wherever he went and shattered the bones in his arms with glee. He couldn’t have just left it well enough alone, could he?

The internal demand to go home was only increasing.

The guilt of him being somewhat responsible for the gorilla getting out in the first place was the only thing keeping him from collapsing where he sat.

Getting up onto his feet, his arm was still more floppy than usual due to the number of breakages it sustained. It would be fine in a few minutes, but he needed to get moving. To get running and jumping and flying across rooftops searching for one of the only heartbeats he recognises these days. It was jumpy and linked to an annoying voice, but it was damn comforting; he’ll give him that.

The sight of light flickering through the slits in his mask was strange and disorienting. He had become more and more thankful for the blindfold that blocked him from this as he kept on running and his eyes refused to close despite his better judgement. There were sirens underneath him, painting the ground beneath his feet in red and blue. He ignored his breathing rapidly speeding up and just kept on running towards the heartbeat.

Being able to see Eraserhead, no matter how small an amount, was terrifying. Eraserhead’s face was secretive all over the internet, and despite being within touching distance of the guy multiple times he’d never actually seen his face. He can barely see it now, and it’s still overwhelming. Long black hair, really long black hair. Izuku kept focused on Eraserhead’s hair to not care or acknowledge the pure fear mixed with a hearty dose of relief in the man’s eyes when he saw him. Even after technically letting him go, he still expects Eraserhead to show up one day and pull a one-eighty. Just turn around and start trying to hit him repeatedly over the head until he’s a puddle of squash as the quirk radiates from wherever it did.

It didn’t happen, though; instead, he just has Eraserhead looking down at him, eyes darting around to assess danger. Whenever he tilted his head, his eyes would hide in the parts of vision locked away from Izuku, but even then the picture of it never left his head. He looked concerned. Really fucking concerned.

Izuku didn’t want to think about how happy that made him.

A crash down in the street ripped Eraserhead from their moment, and Izuku forced himself not to care and to just turn his head. Ripping his heart out of rhythm once again.

His attachment issues aside, the Gorilla was still absolutely causing carnage on the streets. It was the middle of the night, and there weren’t many heroes around, but there were people. Innocent people he was letting get hurt by standing here trying to bask in a comfort he didn’t deserve because he caused all of this. God, this was all his fault.

“Endeavour is on route, but we need to occupy this thing till then, got it?” Eraserhead ordered. Fox found himself nodding before he could even stop himself. Izuku hates fire. He hates endeavour even more. His father always had certain feelings towards the number two; they weren’t always negative.

“Fox, listen to me, when Endeavour shows up i need you to hide, okay?”

He hesitated after that one. Denying orders was nothing new to Izuku, but this still hurt. He nodded anyway. Eraserhead was not fully convinced; he could tell that, but he didn’t seem keen to test his luck as he started climbing back down to the ground and instructed Fox to do the same.

“It would be much quicker if we just jumped to the ground.” Izuku commented

“That is also a good way to break your legs.” Eraserhead quipped back. Unknowing of how that’s been Izuku’s favourite way of travelling the past few weeks. His legs have been broken over and over again more times as Fox than in the past two years on his own. Whoever made the decision that teenagers weren’t responsible enough to deal with themselves was obviously wrong; they just need to be able to regenerate, and they will be fine. Trust him.

Izuku holds back his well-developed rant and instead tries his best to focus on Eraserhead’s nonverbal instructions. A wave there and a point there would be utterly useless if he had his blindfold on. Maybe he wasn’t made for multi-person stealth missions. His eyes were squinting so much to see through his channel of vision that he barely understood half the instructions he made. He couldn’t exactly ask him to repeat since he was very much against any speech right now, so Izuku made the very responsible decision of simply winging it.

The gorilla was fast, freakishly so. He could be miles away one minute and then right next to them the next. He was scared, freaking out in every direction whenever someone or something decided to move in his presence. He had smashed up about seven cars and broken multiple signs on his rampage and showed no sign of stopping. That was until Eraserhead locked eyes on him.

When his quirk isn’t being used on you, it is pretty cool. How his hair sticks up and away from the real star of the show, his eyes. Izuku couldn’t see them from this angle, but they were focused on the animal, who only swung around in confusion as he was forced to move at normal gorilla speeds. Izuku gets the confusion, but he should be happy he isn’t dying at least.

The animal, however, who must’ve seen it as the end of the world, locked eyes upon Eraserhead and started running without a second thought. Even without his superspeed, he was still a very fast foe. A very scary foe. A horrifying foe running straight at them both without remorse.

Eraserhead shouted at him to run, and his capture weapon started floating in anticipation. Fox followed his orders, just not in the direction he planned. Running straight at the gorilla as he ran straight at Izuku, both at a crossroads.

Izuku tried shooting out his third quirk around him, but his arm once again got turned to jelly underneath the gorilla’s grip. It hurt so fucking much. Maybe even more than the pained shout by Eraserhead as his head got grabbed by the gorilla and he was ragdolled right and left and on and on again straight onto the floor. His bones dislocate and break, and his skin scabs and grates off and he is thrown about like a rollercoaster. A rollercoaster that would put his whole body out of commission for about a minute at most.

The worst part of it all was the fear he could feel resonating off of Eraserhead in waves as his heartbeat grew and grew. His brain stopped properly working sometime after the tenth smash onto the ground, a cloud of fear and judgement and pain wrapping around his every thought and rendering them useless.

Later, he would be eternally thankful that it wasn’t Izuku’s head getting smashed; his brain was always a pain to regenerate. Right now, however, all he could comprehend was the pure pain searing through his body.

There was a warmth climbing up from his legs. Hugging his mauled body as it was held limp in the gorilla’s hand. He wanted to lean into it. Disappear into it and never return to this bastard world again. Just Izuku and the warmth alone at last.

Then it started to burn.

The gorilla dropped him and started running again. Mask cracking against the hard ground as it started to melt underneath him. Fire creeping up his skin, slowly and precisely. Burning off any remnant of skin it could get its hands on. It still felt like a hug, but a more forceful one. A feeling you can’t run away from as it crawls on its hands and knees to just get more.

Adrenaline started filling with blood when his skin fell off his arms. Far too late to help the actual damage. His legs were black blobs, and his pants were burning away as he stood there. Springing up and ignoring the muffled shouts of Eraserhead and someone he could only assume was Endeavour, he started running. Spending short moments between forcing one foot in front of the other to fan the flames of his pants. His mask was cracked directly down the middle in a jagged line, which let in more light to his blocked-off eyes.

He couldn’t stop running. If he stopped, his face would get revealed. If he stopped, they would know. If he stopped, this would all be over.

With legs that could barely support his own weight, he kept on running. To where he didn’t know, but with his quirk scrambling desperately to deal with the injuries he had sustained, he just wanted to lie down. Sadly, rest was for people with fewer secrets than him, so he kept on running.

He was never helping a gorilla again. That was one of Izuku’s new cardinal rules.

It was only about ten miles away from where the fire started that Izuku realised that the fire was following him. Endeavour, the fucking number two hero, had left an escalating dangerous situation to chase a lowly vigilante. Fox was so fucking screwed.

Flames were still biting at his ankles whenever he stopped running for even a moment. His jumbled brain was being of little help. Stripped down to the basic animal instincts of “run” and “hide.” Going home seemed more impossible by the minute. He would be more likely to strip the sky of its shapeless blobs than be able to run away right now.

Endeavour was not giving up. Some heroes were assholes.

He kept on running. His legs refused to stop even after the immediate threat of fire had been erased. Disappeared somewhere along his endless chase. If there’s one thing Izuku was good at, it’s running. He didn’t know where he had ended up when his mask started falling off, but he kept on running.

Running up a fire escape, Izuku just felt the fire continue to follow him until he got to the top. The fire was shouting something he could’ve taken in had the gorilla ragdoll practice not burst his eardrums. His hearing was obviously not being detected as a big enough issue in comparison to his peeled-off skin coating his arms. With his hearing and most of his sight gone, ash and flesh had a chokehold on his nose.

Izuku didn’t know how the fire, imaginary or real, reacted when he jumped off the roof; he was too busy hiding at the bottom of a dumpster to even squint at his face. Curled up silently into a ball. Paying as close attention as he could to the vibrations left behind by the fire’s nonexistent steps. Sleep didn’t come to Izuku that night. Pure fear chilling his movements. His eyes weren’t allowed to close in case Endeavour was right there. Waiting for him to be weak. Always waiting.

It was hours later until Izuku allowed himself to move, and it was only to trace the crack left behind in his mask. Starting at the top of his head and going down to where his nose sat was a long jagged crack. Exposing his eyes to the dark work and the mess that lies over them. He hated it. There was nothing he could do about it until he left the dumpster. Every time he sat up, he could feel the fire swallowing the world around him until he lay down in his only safe haven once again.

Maybe he could just live there forever. A rat sat in the corner of the dumpster. His newest best friend. He’s going to call him Dave.
“Hi Dave,” Izuku said to the rat, who said nothing in particular back. They were having a quite nice conversation until the rat came closer to him, and when Izuku tried to pet his new friend, he got bit right in the middle of his hand.

The cover of the dumpster hit against his head as he shot up. Dave was discarded back into his home of the dumpster as Izuku forced himself to crawl out.

“Bye then, Dave,” Izuku said as snarkily as he could to his new rat enemy.

He can’t get rabies, right? Thoughts of his imminent rabies death were discarded as too scary, and he focused on his current fashion disaster. His newly healed eardrums allowed him to hear the whispered judgements of people who don’t know he was attacked by the number two hero and a gorilla the night prior. Leaving his mask behind a box in the street, he started trying to get as much of the grime out of his hair as he could. No matter what he did to flatten it, it just continued to shoot up. Eventually it was left to do its own thing, and Izuku had to go into a corner shop to buy a protein bar (and steal some glue).

The front of his pants was singed. The fire had reached his shins and then dissipated off around his knees. Luckily his weapons were left unscathed even though his sleeves were taken by the fire. He must’ve looked like a mess. A mess without anything covering his eyes.

Resorting to shoving his hood on and keeping his head down, Izuku was shaking as he walked through the store. Every whisper, every mumble, every gaze held too long was chalked up to them being horrified by his face. Not like he could blame them. He cried when he saw it the first time too. Cried most nights after it. Still cries about it to this day.

He got out of that store as quickly as he could. Finding sanctuary back in his alleyway.

He didn’t go back home that night. The daunting threat of having to walk all the way home paralysed him to hiding in a cold alleyway and waiting for the sun to set and the glue on his mask to finally dry.

It looked awful. Jagged crack still visible down the centre, scarring it. It looked like him. He hated it, and yet he put it on anyway.

The burns were completely gone. Nothing left behind on his skin. He didn’t have to worry about fire sinking its teeth into his skin anymore. Someone should tell his body that. He couldn’t stop moving. His legs were still scared of a fire that wasn’t there catching up to him and ripping his limbs off. He just needed to get home.

The ends of his coat were wet and dripping water every few seconds. He was cold and wet, and he might have rabies, and he wanted to go home. Still, with his endless amount of wants, he kept on walking in blatant circles. There was the rising problem of he didn’t know where he was. He had run so far on his attempt to get away from endeavour and he hadn’t realised exactly how far.

Last night, in hindsight, was truly dumb of him. Keeping on running despite Endeavour not even being on his trail was idiotic. He can beat himself up for it later. Right then, he needed to know where he was. Maybe he could steal a car and drive it home; his legs were collapsing in on him as he walked through a strange new place. His hood was kept up and his mask planted on his face. He couldn’t ask anyone with his mask on in case he was recognised, but he also can’t ask with it off, as they would see his face.

He was confused. Home was a faraway thought in a faraway place he couldn’t get to, and yet he yearned for it. He was never going to complain about those squeaky floorboards again, he promises.

Someone was walking up to him. They had some kind of armour on, so they were likely a hero or a very dedicated cosplayer. He tried his best to ignore the knee-jerk response of running away, as that would just make him look even more suspicious than just any thirteen-year-old walking around alone at night.

“Hey kid, are you alright?” The hero said.

There was a hand on his shoulder. He wasn’t going to turn around. He just had to nod and be on his way. Getting himself out of situations was what he does. Unfortunately, before he could grunt out a response, the hero had moved in front of him to look at his face himself. For a moment, Izuku could feel the shock radiating off the hero. The next he could feel the determination.

“I am very sorry about this, Fox.”

Yet again, before Izuku could react, he had hands under his arms, throwing him over the shoulder of the hero in a fireman carry. Then the hero started running, really running. Putting any of Izuku’s running to shame with how fast he was going. There were jets in the back of his legs, making him go even faster than the gorilla. Izuku knew which hero had that quirk.

The fanboying joy of “oh my god I’m being carried by Ingenium right now” was quickly replaced by the ripe fear of “oh my god i’m being carried by Ingenium right now.” If Ingenium was here, then he was likely in Hosu. How Izuku ran from Musutafu to Hosu was beyond him, but he was here now. Being carried by Ingenium. He was fucking screwed.

Trying not to fall victim to his fate of getting arrested, Izuku started trying to swing his legs around from where he was being carried. Ingenium was shouting something, probably to stop, or they’ll both get hurt. Sadly, Izuku turned his hearing down.

Swinging his legs behind Ingenium’s, he kicked him right in the back of his knee. The pacing got disrupted from where his leg locked up, and Izuku took the opportunity to knee him right in the throat. So sorry, Ingenium; he really was a fan, he was just having a really bad day. Or two days.

However many days it has been since he met that fucking gorilla.

Kicking off Ingenium’s chest, he failed a backflip off of him and dislocated his shoulder on the fall. Ingenium faltered at the scream he let out and winced when Izuku punched his shoulder back into place.

Jumping back up to his feet, Izuku took in his options. Ingenium was the fast hero; the turbo jets in the back of his legs let him move exceptionally fast, but they can heat up if he runs too long. Izuku couldn’t get him to chase him without catching up for long enough, though, so that’s a bust. Maybe if Izuku could get him onto a roof, he could get him to run off. That really depends if he can stop quickly enough. It’s the only plan he has currently.

“If I weren’t a vigilante right now I'd so ask for your autograph,” Izuku shouted. Then, when his words confused Ingenium, he took his chance and booked it.

It didn’t confuse him enough, as Ingenium was right on his tail again. He tried moving in diagonals to see how his manoeuvres were, but he was, unsurprisingly, very good at them. He gave up on that strategy and ran to the first fire escape he saw. Jumping up three at a time, he got to the top of the building only a second before Ingenium grabbed the back of his collar and yanked.

He was stuck. Caught. Doomed. Not doing enough research on Ingenium and stupidly running to fucking Hosu of all places got him caught.

Well, he’s not going down easy.

They were on top of a roof right now, and unlike with the gorilla, his arms couldn’t be turned to jelly by Ingenium. Ingenium shouted something out as a field of light Encircled Izuku’s hand and pushed him away from him. Izuku tried to push him further to get him off the roof, but his legs buckled right at the edge. So close, yet so far.

He never liked force fields. An emitter type his father stole from a man while he was unconscious; the quirk even acted up while he was asleep, so it took a long while, but eventually it was taken from him when he ran out of energy. Taking quirks from dead people was always an unpleasant experience for everyone involved. Well, not the dead person; they’re dead. But it turns a corpse to a husk.

Forcefields were just not sustainable at the amount of energy Izuku takes in and was taken from him by regeneration. It takes the energy someone has and transforms it into an impenetrable light, which covers the body for however long it can be supplied. Once it’s turned on, it didn’t like to be turned off. Screaming bloody mary on a rooftop yet again, Izuku could feel the tears erupting.

Ingenium was still on the rooftop. It couldn’t even do one thing right and kick him off. Instead, Izuku has to deal with him with basically no energy left because, forcefields, the greedy fucker, didn’t know when to stop. At least he contained it to his hand.

Izuku was waiting for Ingenium to make the first move. He was always better as a reactionary force. Then for the fifth time since he became Fox, a hero surprised him. Ingenium laughed. Full body laughed. Doubling over and crying kind of laughter. Izuku didn’t really understand what was funny, so he sat there and tried not to let his eyes droop closed.

“God, Eraserhead has gotten himself another Crawler!” Ingenium shouted and confused Izuku even further. His confusion was pointedly ignored by Ingenium, who sat next to him while still fending off giggles. He was within reaching distance, and yet Ingenium didn’t even try. These heroes need to stop confusing him before he has a migraine.

“Why exactly are you in Hosu?” Ingenium asked. Izuku didn’t answer, as his throat simply felt too tired to let words out of it. He was hunched over more than normal, and his eyes were on the verge of shutting forever. Eternal sleep on a random rooftop.

“Alright, be that way then.” Ingenium quipped, then started whistling, which only worked to put Izuku to sleep more. Ingenium must not like silence, as he started talking with no notable response right after.

“My little brother is in Musutafu; he doesn’t like you, but he has always loved rules,” Ingenium commented. Hurting his ego aside, Izuku didn’t know why Ingenium was still talking. He didn’t really know why any heroes talk to him. Endeavour had pulled him back to earth, and now the kindness of an occasional hero was all the more shocking again in contrast.

“Get back home, kid. I’ll let Eraserhead deal with you. Try not to get killed.” Ingenium sighed as he stood back up. He ruffled Izuku’s hair, which reminded him to pull his hood back up, which Ingenium then laughed at him for.

“And get your shoulder checked out,” He added before disappearing down the fire escape.

Izuku needed a nap. Izuku also needed to get home. Only one of those could get done on a random rooftop. But Izuku, like the responsible thirteen-year-old he was, got up and walked his way, very slowly, to the train station. His legs felt like they were wading through knee-deep water the whole time. It was only when he got there that he realised being on there with his mask on was a no-go. Pulling his hood as much as it would go to cover his face, the mask got cosy inside of his coat beneath his arm. He thankfully had enough money to actually pay for the train; he did not have enough energy to sneak on right now.

Sitting on the train, he must have looked pathetic. Curled up into a ball with his eyes closed and on the verge of both sleep and tears. He was sitting there in and out of sleep for about an hour before the intercom finally said he was at Musutafu.

There had never been a man to run away as quickly as he did from that train.

Then the hike began. The hike back home, where he had to ignore shouts and screams despite every atom in his body telling him not to because he would just be a hindrance. An utter waste of space. So he trudged his way back home through exhaustion and collapsed onto his pillow fort with the knowledge that all good things come to an end.

Chapter Text

Patrol had started to become part of his routine about a week in. Patrolling with Eraserhead took a bit longer to become normal. Took a while longer until he could see Eraserhead and not have his first instinct to fight and flee and not let himself be caught. Of course he was still cautious of Eraserhead, but it was only ever necessary caution. His progress with the hero was increasing every day. Why that brought him so much joy, he didn’t know.

From grunts as greetings to one hug he was too scared to reciprocate after the gorilla incident, slowly but surely Eraserhead carved a hole into his sorely won and maintained mansion of solitude he calls a life. Izuku stopped pretending to complain a while ago. The Jelly packets were always a win.

He was on his third one of the night as he and Eraserhead sat silently on a rooftop. The wind bustling through the air and making him extra thankful for the old lady who got him his coat. Eraserhead had asked him once at the start of their impromptu stakeout if he was cold and took his no at face value. They hadn’t talked much since. Silence and Jelly, the two things he’d come to expect with Eraserhead.

Even with his sporadic visits into the man’s life, he hadn’t even learnt much about him. As far as he knew, he could still absolutely hate cats, and he was still half convinced he hates the sun. He had seen the man hiss at a street light before. Maybe it was more of a grunt than a hiss, but that wass a tally in his “Eraserhead is a vampire” chart if he’s ever seen one.

They were Staking out a building an apparent gang leader lived at. It was uncomfortably close to Izuku’s own building, so Izuku stuck around to make sure Eraserhead and the asshole didn’t get any closer. The gang leader, Izuku didn’t catch his name and so had resorted to calling him Crab, had been responsible for multiple kidnappings in the area in the past few months. A large step up from their original job of just pushing drugs.

It had been making them money, though; the leader was able to buy a whole new house away from the cheap area of the city. This was his last week inside of his current apartment.

Eraserhead had been assigned with watching him before he moved, looking for any suspicious activity that would be cause to bring him in. Crab had a very dangerous and yet very interesting quirk, which Izuku was itching to analyse.

He could make drugs out of his own blood.

The drugs weren’t like any other the medical system had in circulation. If taken for too long, the drugs could start killing your stomach from the inside, and it couldn’t even be noticed until it’s too late. A very easy way to kill somebody if they're crushed into a powder. Their only distinguishable feature was that they had small green freckles inside, which glowed under the light.

Izuku wondered what else his quirk could make? Could the drugs be used to heal certain ailments if programmed to be made that way? Could the death outcome be downplayed to just a sickness, and if so, how much would need to be taken? Do the pills get created by his own energy source?

Sadly he couldn’t ask his questions, so Izuku had decided this Crab guy was an asshole from the little information he was given, and he was happy to sit silently on a rooftop for hours waiting for him. Watching was a much harder job. His new blindfold was tied securely around his face, and he felt worse every time Eraserhead offered him his binoculars.

The guy was inside though. He could hear his heartbeat. It was calm. Eerily calm. Like the calm when you know a storm is coming but just can’t prove it. Every so often the guy would laugh at the TV playing in the background, but for the most part he just laid on the couch for hours.

It reminded Izuku of his own life before Fox, just a few miles down.

Izuku always saw the few who lived on the outskirts of his area as good people. People who saw past the pain and fear and death that had been permeating the area for the last eight years. Yet throughout the crayon children’s drawings and slowly built pathways through cracks in the earth was a murderer and kidnapper weaving himself into the very fabric of his own turf.

How many times had Izuku just walked past the man’s home and not even looked once? How many times had he not cared? How many people have gotten hurt because of his inaction?

It took a lot out of Izuku not to race to his door and kick it open before beating him until he couldn’t breathe. Izuku hates people who lie. Maybe that’s why he hates himself so much.

The amount of secrets Izuku carries around on a daily basis was frankly horrifying and disturbing.

Izuku had been learning to live with himself for the past thirteen years of life; he hadn’t figured out the secret yet.

His third jelly packet was added onto the pile and replaced almost immediately by a fourth.

“You really like those?” Eraserhead murmured. Izuku forced himself to nod as slowly as he could. Then Eraserhead let one of those smiles come to his face where the change is only noticeable if you pay a creepy amount of attention or it's just—flash—one second he’s depressed and next he’s overjoyed.

Another tally to his vampire chart.

In the split moment that Eraserhead took his gaze off to watch Fox, a heartbeat entered the alleyway. Lugging a box that had another two heartbeats inside.

Izuku needed to shout. Needed to tell Eraserhead about it and stop it before the Crab asshole got his hands on them, but how exactly could he explain? Fox was already so much of a wild card that just being able to hear heartbeats was almost believable. They wouldn’t come to the multiple quirks conclusion, not at the beginning at least; the human brain was wired to things it knew and ignored things it didn’t. It’s almost funny how many possibilities a brain could ignore simply because it’s not the obvious answer or it’s never been done before. Like all things don’t have to start somewhere.

They could get there eventually, though, and Izuku’s whole livelihood could be crushed in moments. Unfortunately, he couldn't let people suffer to save his own skin. He’ll just have to prey on the close-mindedness of the people around him.

Eraserhead shouted at him as he jumped straight down to the alleyway. A loud crunch echoed through the ground, likely his own bones as he was stuck on the ground. The ground was very dry.

The girl with the box gagged as his legs started cracking and repairing themselves to allow him to stand back up just in time to hear Eraserhead’s heartbeat join them in the alleyway.

He wasted no time running towards the lady. Izuku did not have the best social skills, but hauling around a coffin-shaped box with two alive people inside was not a good look. Kicking said box away over to Eraserhead pissed her off far more than he expected. Ducking down to dodge a punch sent right to his head, he kicked the girl right in the stomach and sent her flying backwards onto the ground. Her hands balled on the ground and sunk deep into the gravel beside her. The question of how exactly she did that sat in his mind for all of five seconds before four tall, constricting, metal walls boxed around him.

Izuku had a short list of fears. His father, snow, others dying because of his own actions and, he had awful, brain-melting, claustrophobia. It wasn’t that bad when he was a kid; soft cries and whimpers whenever he got himself stuck somewhere he couldn’t move that much. Then the doctor found out about it. What’s more interesting than a nomu that could feel than a nomu that could fear?

His father had denied his experiments at first, using the small cupboard in the back of Izuku’s room only for punishments. Until at nine he decided to question him. Suddenly his whole life became a punishment, and no amount of grovelling would help.

He spent weeks locked inside a cupboard or a closet or a cage or whatever the doctor decided was best, as Izuku’s heart rate never slowed. The fear never edged off. The doctor still cackled whenever his tears started spilling over useless eyes.

Eventually the constrictions were taken away. Small favour was gotten with his father once again. He took any measure to give himself room to breathe. Nothing less than perfection being tolerated unless he wanted to be stuck between those four walls constantly closing in on his lungs. His head being squashed under the pressure of metal.

In that alleyway he swore he could hear the laughing of a maniacal and sadistic doctor echoing through the air. Tears started staining his blindfold once again, and the walls were still crushing against his skin. It may have been his mind playing tricks on him, but he swears he felt the walls moving inwards.

He couldn’t feel his limbs as they shot out, frantically attempting to shoo away the walls. They stayed stubbornly upright despite his flailing. He tried shouting, but his throat constricted in tandem with the walls, and all that was let out was a wet, broken cry. A heartbeat getting quicker and quicker as his mind searched in every known memory for a simple way out and yet finding nothing. For once again, he was completely and utterly useless, and it hurt his very soul.

A bruised and battered soul, which was ready to drop and beg for whatever was needed to just get the walls away from him.

There was shouting and fighting going on outside, but it became simple background noise to Izuku’s panic of the century. It was only this bad as he had gotten used to freedom; he knew that. The sky that hung peacefully above him knew about Izuku’s nightly escapades. Knew about how Izuku would fly around his whole apartment at the thought of being trapped anywhere again. Could see how Izuku’s attempts to flee only trapped him further down his well of despair, locked inside the four walls of agony that surrounded him.

When they finally fell, Izuku couldn’t stop himself from running. His heart more thankful than it had been in years that it was free once again to breathe. Tears being carried away by the wind as he kept on running. Shaking hands running themselves through his ever-expanding overgrown hair in a half-baked attempt to not feel stuck anymore.

He couldn’t run all the way to Hosu this time, so he resorted to the first random rooftop he saw. All rooftops belong to the stars, and right now he felt one with the trapped shapeless blobs. Both locked in place for the rest of eternity, unable to move or let a whole people down with their guide no longer there. Even when they have moved, everyone who matters would never be able to tell because the message takes that long to arrive. His chest still expanded and contracted in a way far too fast for comfort.

Working on slowing his breathing became second nature again, like it used to after he got locked away. Curling right up into a ball, he let the tears fall. About seventy of them made their way out of his eyes before footsteps appeared again. Faint and light coming from where he had just ran from. Eraserhead had taken his time before starting to appear again.

He remembered how he selfishly left a fight he had started in the first place without contributing anything because he got scared of the close dark walls. A blush travelled its way to his face and made itself at home between the tears and the held-back sobs, screams, and unsaid words alike.

When Eraserhead showed up again on the rooftop, Izuku was too wrapped up in his own head to even care. A tangled fear still webbed across his mind with the memories of his first time on a rooftop with the man, only dampened by his last dozen or so moments with him. Not erased. As long as blood still leaps up his throat each night, it would never be erased.

He sat down calmly next to Izuku and spoke words that he couldn’t make heads or tails of in the fog that rested in his head. Letting himself be calmed by them anyway, Izuku’s breathing started slowing down. The violent storm of his thoughts started calming into just a strong current. The feeling of the walls crushing him from all sides still haunted him; however, he let it become muffled background noise in the long list of things that haunted him.

Izuku couldn’t see how he was looking at him. Something in him told him it was pity.

How Eraserhead hadn’t turned his back on Fox and never looked back by now was well beyond him. Fox had done nothing but be the nuisance and trouble starter people say he was, and despite that, Eraserhead still hadn’t left his prickly and spiteful side. Sometimes Izuku just wanted to push on every little crevice of a button on Eraserhead until he leaves him without a second thought. As the fear of unintentionally making one of the only adults in his life disappointed in him was almost too much to bear. Then he remembers that, somehow, Fox was supposed to protect him if it ever came down to it. If it’s him or Eraserhead against his father, Fox was ready to run in and lay his life down so that Eraserhead’s quirk stays far out of his grasp.

Izuku would probably be kept alive in either scenario.

Choosing not to dwell anymore on his demise, he sat back up and sniffled as hard as he could to get the tears away.

“Thanks…” Izuku mumbled. His legs were dangling off the end of the roof now. The wind pushing against them to force them to swing.

“You weren’t paying attention to any of that, were you?” Eraserhead asks. There’s almost an art to how little emotion he could hold within his voice. How he could say enough to fill a whole book, and yet his voice would leave the words stripped down to their pure base meaning, the only subtext being that there is no subtext. Izuku likes that about him.

“Nope,” Izuku agreed, popping the “P” sound as it left his mouth.

“Why am i not surprised?” Eraserhead once again deadpanned. There was a long silence after he spoke. Like he was waiting for a sign to be able to move forward even talking to him. As if he couldn’t just decide to and have Izuku’s whole life crash before his very eyes. Izuku holds a frail and vulnerable, almost nonexistent power in every interaction with Eraserhead. No matter what he did, Izuku could never be anything but below Eraserhead. One measly look down to the boy below his feet, and Izuku can melt like there’s no one waiting for him anywhere in this world.

“You want to talk about it?” Eraserhead asked. Looking down at the boy and instead of deciding to squash him, lifting him up to eye level. There may be no one missing him, but Eraserhead didn’t need to know that if it kept his withered and bruised heart beating.

“I’m claustrophobic. What more is there to say?” Izuku scoffed.

“That was a pretty strong reaction for claustrophobia.” Aizawa pointed out. As right as always. Izuku would always have the worst reaction whenever his claustrophobia acted up because violence was one of the only consistent traits in him.

“Really badly claustrophobic.” Izuku started, and he may not be able to see, but he could sense the disbelief radiating off of Eraserhead in droves.

“I tried to rip someone’s arm off once, kind of claustrophobic.” Izuku admitted. A fully true story of blood breaking down in his brain and nothing being able to be registered but fear and pain. So when he saw another person in front of him, all he could think of was fight. Pure violent fight. His victim would’ve lost his arm that night if father wasn’t so determined in keeping the boy’s hands intact. Izuku regrets being driven to do it; he didn’t regret who he did it to. Call it payback for the eyes accident.

“You always been a violent kid?” Eraserhead asked.

“I’m not a kid.” Izuku defended. Not knowing why that part of the sentence offended him so much. Thirteen would be considered a child for everyone else in any other scenario. For him it just didn’t click.

“Not denying the violent part.” Eraserhead pointed out. The hand of the aforementioned hero was placed onto his shoulder, likely as an attempt to comfort him. It failed spectacularly, as it just recklessly reminded him of crushing walls digging into his skin. Right where his hand was.

He shrugged it off without a second thought, and Eraserhead thankfully accepted that.

“I jumped onto a moving car and hit the driver’s head against the wheel.” Izuku recounted, a grim smile on his face at the memory.

“You also got into a fistfight with a man who had a gun for the fun of it.” Eraserhead retorted. That memory also brought a smile to his face, but for a different reason. The first time as Fox would always be special to him, he supposed. Even if it was accidental and put him on a path that would likely get him killed one day.

“I wanted to help the people who were kidnapped get out.” Izuku explained, and Eraserhead let out a gruff laugh as his response.

The wind was cold that night. In his first escapade as Fox, the wind was freezing and strong, and it blew away any logical thoughts he could’ve had. That was his real explanation of how he had gotten here. The wind had been too strong every night since, and so it dragged him along after each dumb decision. Admitting the dumb decisions were his own was the most he would do. Most things he did were idiotic.

The wind was cold again tonight. Coat wrapped around him as winter crept onwards. He would need to get more kindling soon.

“You never did explain why you were in there.” Eraserhead said. The thought of explaining that he wanted to steal from a bunch of villains to fix his radio to the man who could kill him with a look didn’t sound very fun.

“For the fun of it.” Izuku lied.

“Very funny.” Eraserhead replied in probably the most deadpan voice he could’ve managed, which brought out a snort from Izuku.

“I know I'm hilarious.” He laughed as his hair got ruffled by Eraserhead.

“Why are you doing this?” Eraserhead enquired, his hand moving to Izuku’s shoulder.

“I want to help people,” Izuku answered. He always answered with that.

It was the truth, wasn’t it? His selfishness over the years in sitting in his room as the world burned had rotted him from the inside, and he just had to do something. Body moving forward to do what it can to help before the mind could react. Izuku couldn’t think of any other answer. Of course some people become heroes to get paid while doing a good job, and thats fair. Being paid for labour should be expected. As long as they don’t fall to greed and let money override the need to help people, becoming a hero for the paycheck wasn’t always awful. No matter what Stain says.

But Stain also said that vigilantes could be more easily trusted to be good. The most you can get from vigilantism was a little fame and a long sentence. That’s what Izuku signed up for when he put on the mask, and he accepted that. Accepting became a lot easier when you couldn’t be anything more even if you tried.

Why would Eraserhead do this job? Underground heroes get no fame. While the money was good, you only get paid for arrests, and yet still he didn’t take in Fox. The man must have cared about him somewhat, or he wouldn’t be giving him all his jelly packets or sitting with him on rooftops or listening to his horrible jokes. How exactly did Eraserhead get here?

“Why are you?” Izuku asked. Eraserhead fell silent. His finger started tapping onto the edge of the rooftop, and a sigh left his mouth. The cogs were working in his head. Izuku could almost hear them.

“I had a friend once.” He revealed. Like some big master secret that Eraserhead wasn’t a massive reclusive asshole his whole life. That’s something they have in common.

“You had friends? That's shocking.” Izuku retorted and was given no reaction from the hero.

“He was a good friend. He would’ve liked you.” Eraserhead doubled down. Something in Izuku’s heart panged at the words. How anyone that Eraserhead could see as a good person could do any more than tolerate Izuku was beyond him. Why the hero even mentioned it was confusing. You only say that kind of thing to someone you really think positively of, and Eraserhead couldn’t. Not him. Caring enough about a child to keep them alive and actually liking Izuku Midoriya of all people were highly different.

“That’s hard to believe.” Izuku scoffed.

The glare he got off Eraserhead could’ve transcended all methods of senses and just laid on the cosmic scale of he was getting deadly eyes thrown his way. He might be cursed.

“I don’t have any friends.” Izuku admitted, and miraculously the stare softened.

He used to, of course. Vague memories of playdates and explosions and being pushed on swings. A hand reaching up to him from a river and a sun beating down on them as they played. Izuku didn’t even remember his name, but his face was one that was burned into his memory. He hadn’t seen him in person since he was four, but after he had run away, a few searches into who was at his funeral revealed his real identity. Izuku left it at that. Dragging himself into the boy’s life would’ve just ruined both his and Izuku’s shreds of an existence. He never did have any friends after that.

“I’m sure you have some friends.” Eraserhead argued, and Izuku’s own silence spoke for him. The hero only sighed again and moved on, determined to get the lonely child sitting next to him out of his own self-implemented solitary bubble.

“Well then, I’m sure you have people who would like to be your friend,” Eraserhead argued. As nice as the thought was, Izuku being friends with people only caused them harm. Only got them tangled up in a web they didn’t ask for nor deserve to be in. Izuku’s own chaos was his to deal with or to fake his death and ignore like the plague for the rest of his days. Dragging another soul into it would just be an unnecessary and extremely selfish thing to do to everyone involved. Besides, Izuku would get annoying after a while, and after the resentment grew high enough, he could have another problem to deal with.

“Doubt it,” Izuku said.

“Sometimes, you just have to let yourself look.” Eraserhead didn’t give up, and Izuku kept thinking of an alleyway. Of purple hair.

Cleaning up Dagoba beach really was a smart idea. Not only could it do something nice for a community that’s had a lot of harm done to it in the last few years, but it could also build more muscle and strength to use against those assholes again.

He couldn’t bring Shinsou too far into his life. That was obvious. Izuku didn’t even know the boy’s quirk, and even if it’s tiny and useless, getting it stolen was still a tortuous process he wouldn’t wish upon anyone.

Izuku did want somebody to talk to, though. Eraserhead shovelling his way into his life proved that. Fox’s mask hid him from a real connection with the hero, but even with the one they had, it made him yearn for more. Deprivation makes you love something more once you get it back, after all.

Deprived was the only word he could use for his relationships. As a child he had free rein, then it got cut down into just His father, papa, brother, and the doctor. An occasional nomu passing through or someone he had to fight not included.

Izuku and his brother were never friends. They never really liked each other. Looking back, Izuku could tell his father was pitting them against each other, but his discontent with his brother couldn’t be overstated. He always just made Izuku uncomfortable. Even when uncomfortability became the norm, there was always just something about him. If Izuku was in a crowd with his brother, he would just be able to tell he was there. Some innate sense that dials up whenever he’s around. It’s been years, but Izuku could still pick him out of a crowd. Brothers were like that.

His father held affection for him. Or more held affection for the thought of him doing what he asked. Why he decided to take him in was never made clear to Izuku. Mumbled answers or just straight-up ignoring him only served to make him more curious about what happened. It never got answered. He didn’t have to call him sensei like his brother did. As long as he didn’t disobey him, he wouldn’t even raise his voice. A false sense of security that lured him in every time no matter how much he knew it was fake. It just felt nice to be held by his words sometimes, even with the knowledge of how easily the rug could be pulled out. For a while it just made him want to nail the rug down harder.

The doctor was evil. A sadistic, evil little shit. Izuku never felt anything but hatred for the man, and that never changed as he grew. When he exploded that factory at eleven, he hopes that every single bit of research that man had went up in flames. The man relished in hearing Izuku scream. If one day he got to punch that man in the face, he would die happy.

Papa was the only person he’s ever loved apart from his mom. He wasn’t much, and he couldn’t stop what father and doctor was doing but he loved Izuku. He told him that once before Izuku went to get himself exploded. He didn’t even get to say it back, and now he’s probably dead all because of him. Izuku could never forgive himself for that.

What if Izuku lets someone get close to him and that happens again? Everything close to him got destroyed, so logically the only way to keep people safe was to keep them at arm’s length. Keeping Eraserhead at arm’s length.

He could be friends with Shinsou and keep him at arm’s length, right?

He just won’t let him get close. No matter what, Shinsou couldn’t ever truly know anything about him. Everything had to stay deep within Izuku and Shinsou and Eraserhead, and whatever other hero came tumbling into his life could stay on the same layer. Far away from everything about him that could get them hurt. Izuku cared about people to a fault. He would let himself rot and burn and sizzle into nothingness before he lets another innocent person get a scratch on them.

He was also, however, human. Humans were unfortunately social creatures, and even with his attempts at solitude these last two years, he’s still found himself getting surface-level relationships with others. The old lady at the store, the detective, the receptionist, Eraserhead. Shinsou could just join that list.

Eraserhead was still looking at him. A soft touch was on his shoulder, and Izuku had to scoot away on the edge of the roof to stop himself from falling into a hug. Letting himself care too much is the biggest risk in his plan.

Eraserhead stopped pushing and just got back up onto his feet.

“I’m going back to the police station. The woman snitched on our guy so we can take them both in and the bodies to the hospital,” Eraserhead said before ruffling Izuku’s hair, “Good work, problem child.”

Izuku pushed his hood back up, then started his walk home. A plan already forming in his head.

His apartment had gotten warmer. When or how he didn’t know, but there was just something about it. Like slowly over time the walls started feeling less grey and the air less cold. His mask and coat had their own peg in his makeshift closet, and his weapons had their own drawers in his kitchen. His worktable was less cluttered, and his fridge was slightly more stocked. His pillow fort had two extras added onto the pile.

Despite the weather only getting colder outside, in his little haven of solitude, it was all okay. No one could burst in and try to kill him. No one knew where he was. No one could get hurt because of him.

There were two photos sitting on his desk. they were grainy and dark, and he had to print them out at the library, but they were there. One was of Eraserhead, taken from an underground hero fanpage. He was in motion when it was taken, and half his face was covered with his scarf, but it was him. The post was asking who the hero who saved him was, and no one had given him a correct answer, but Izuku knew who it was.

The one next to it was of Izuku, or more of the Fox. He thought he looked pretty cool, but that may have just been Izuku. That picture he got was from one of the only posts actually saying he was doing good. Most of the comments were criticising him, but he chose to ignore those. This was small proof that he was actually doing some good for someone. No matter how small, helping someone was one step further away from who his father wanted him to be.

Some mornings he needed that reminder that he was slowly but surely stepping away to get himself out of bed in the morning.

That night, luckily, sleep came to him easily, and the next morning, shooting out of bed in the afternoon came just as effortlessly. He had a mission after all. Create a totally surface-level and means nothing relationship with the purple-haired boy he met twice. That’s not weird at all.

Shinsou was already cleaning the beach when he got there. Well, cleaning would be an optimistic term for trying to move a very large ping pong table that refused to budge no matter what he did before slumping beside it with a groan. It was quite a pathetic sight. Shinsou’s head shot up towards him when a laugh left his mouth.

“You want some help?” Izuku asked, his sunglasses muffling the glare Shinsou was levelling at him.

“Sure, whatever,” Shinsou mumbled as he stood back up to try and move the table again. Sliding down the beach to where Shinsou was, Izuku tried walking to the other side of the table to help carry it. Unfortunately his shoulder clipped onto a fridge that was out of his sight range, and then he tripped on a net left on the ground. Falling straight onto his face brought a snort out of Shinsou, and then he tried scrambling up to his feet again. Sand was getting everywhere. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea.

“What are you doing here?” Shinsou asked, his voice standoffish as he glared down at Izuku. Now Izuku planned for this. Start the friendship off slowly and build into the best surface-level friends they could be. Easy as that.

“I just want to hang out—” As soon as the words left his lips, a blanket got shoved over Izuku’s mind.

He felt as if his body was stuck deep underwater and he was only getting dragged down further. Everything felt muffled, and his stomach was screaming and bashing against his skin in any and all attempts to get him home. The numbness just felt so good, though. This must be Shinsou’s quirk. If his father got ahold of something like this, there could be hell on.

“What do you want?” Shinsou asked, his words less standoffish now and more genuine. A facade drooping down now that Izuku couldn’t fight back.

“I want to be surface-level friends,” Izuku’s voice said without any of his consent. This was a freaky quirk. was it like brainwashing? What else could he get someone under his control to do?

Shinsou processed his answer for a few moments before the blissful rug under Izuku was ripped out mercilessly and he was thrown into ice-cold water. Stomach pains panged even harder due to the contrast of being able to move his own body again, and he had to physically stop the vomit from crawling any higher.

“Sorry.” Shinsou mumbled before leaning back against the pool table again. Head dropped in shame, and his hand started to fidget with the skin around his jaw. Izuku didn’t know why he was upset. His quirk was really an interesting one. “That was so fucking cool,” He complimented.

“What?” Shinsou said, sounding, looking, and probably being very confused. Which only served to make Izuku more confused. Shinsou’s quirk had so many possibilities that he could go through and figure out, and it would be extremely helpful for some of Izuku’s night activities. Even if he could never bring him into them. The thought experiment was enough to keep him up for weeks.

“How long can you hold someone’s mind? What do you need to get a hold over someone? is it a question? It’s probably a question, sorry. How long after the question is answered can you get a hold of someone’s mind? If they say something else after answering, can that break the hold? If you ask them a question they don’t know the answer to, what would they do? Or what if you tell them to do a backflip but they never have been able to before would they just do it anyway? If they repress something and convince themselves of a lie and you ask them for the truth, would they tell the lie or the actual truth?”

Izuku’s questions came out one after another faster than Shinsou could answer or Izuku expected him to. If he had a notebook right now, it would be getting filled up faster than he could think. The ways in which the quirk could be used were endless. Quirks were always Izuku’s weakness; one mention of a cool one, and he could be off talking and asking questions and wanting to run experiments for weeks. In his solitude he had to contain himself to hero analysis and watching fights, but with Fox and actually allowing himself to talk to someone, his interest just slipped away from him.

“You’re strange.” Shinsou noted.

“Sorry,” Izuku apologised, visibly deflating. His brother always complained about his annoying questions.

“No. I like it. It’s fine.” Shinsou corrected, and then for a moment they just smiled at each other. Then Shinsou cleared his throat, and his apathetic exterior was back up and running again. The smile never really left Izuku’s face. He missed having friends.

“I don’t really use my quirk much, so I can’t really answer most of your questions,” Shinsou apologised. His hands went back to mindlessly picking up rubbish around the beach and collecting it all into the bin bags he had brought. “Well, we could run some tests and try some things out,” Izuku suggested and got a glare as his reply before Shinsou corrected, “I don’t like using my quirk.”

“Or not then.” Izuku laughed, and Shinsou rolled his eyes. They fell back into silence as they moved rubbish into the many bin bags Shinsou had brought. By the time they were tuckered out they had filled up nine bags. In the end they sat next to each other on the ping pong table as Shinsou caught his breath and Izuku pretended to do the same.

“For the record,” Shinsou started, “I wouldn’t mind being surface-level friends.” Shinsou was smiling down at him, and Izuku smiled right back. The height difference between the two of them was outrageous. Izuku was barely up to his shoulder, so to see his face when they were sitting next to each other, Izuku had to look up and squint. The ghost of a smile was easy to see.

Shinsou jumped down from the table and started rummaging through a pile underneath the ping pong table before he found what he was looking for.

“You know whoever threw away this table didn’t want the ball or paddles either.” He pointed out while carrying a packaged-up ping pong ball and two paddles. It wasn’t truly a grin on Shinsou’s face, but Izuku guessed that was the most he was going to get out of the boy for a while.

“I’ll be honest, I’ve never played before.” Izuku admitted and apparently shocked Shinsou right to his core as he immediately began ripping open the packaging with a glint in his eye. “That should be a crime. Come here.” Izuku was beckoned over, and soon he had a paddle in his hand, and Shinsou was on the other end of the table with a ball in his.

“I’ll serve ,then you have to hit the ball and get it over to my end. Then I hit it back over. It’s only allowed to hit the table on your side twice before it’s shot over or the other person gets a point.” Shinsou explained as he bounced the ball against the table. Izuku squinted down at the paddle and then back up at him. “Are those the real rules?” He asked. “They’re the Shinsou rules” He said before serving the ball over to his side before Izuku immediately missed it. Then Izuku tried to serve it and missed twice before hitting it over Shinsou’s head.

Luckily, Shinsou kept his laughing at bay until Izuku’s sixth horrid attempt at serving, and he broke down in laughter at the sight.

“You suck at this,” Shinsou snorted.

“Oh shut it!” Izuku rolled his broken eyes.

This time he was able to actually serve it correctly, and they kept it going back and forth for about three more hits until Izuku missed again. “Progress,” Shinsou nodded. They kept on playing as the sun started to set. They kept on playing as the hours ticked by, and more laughs started slipping out at every awful turn. Izuku thought he was getting quite good at ping pong by the end of it. Besides, his actual goal was accomplished. Shinsou was smiling at him with a laugh quick on his lips. Sadly, it broke when he checked the time.

An onslaught of “shits” and other menageries of swear words were let out as Shinsou started scrambling to get his stuff together. Any questioning by Izuku was brushed off by saying he had missed curfew, and Izuku was harshly reminded of the fact that he had parents. People waiting for him back at home. He brushed off the pain of jealousy as leftovers from Shinsou’s brainwashing.

Shinsou wrote his number down quickly on a piece of paper and then ran off into the distance where Izuku couldn’t see him, but could keep a close note on his heartbeat. Pushing the boy’s number into Izuku’s own shoddy phone that he had stolen at eleven and taken apart more times than he could count, Izuku couldn’t stop the smile from his face. One of his plans had actually gone well. He had a friend who he could keep at an arm’s distance but also stop himself from going insane from loneliness with.

As well, he was slightly better at ping pong now as well.

The sun had long since set in the sky and the moon had taken its place. Moon being a much less forward performer, it sat happily up in the sky and sang its daily lullaby. The sun had set, the crowd had left, and Izuku didn’t have to act as he walked home with one more person in his lonely little life.

Chapter Text

Izuku never used to talk to people. Silent conversations in his room with himself to keep him company all his life. Other peoples thoughts an unneeded conclusion as he sat alone, with no need to perform. It was calming. It was healing. It’s all a boy could have when he’s in either forced or self-imposed solitude for most of his life.

Sometimes he felt like he did in his old room back with his papa as he ran through the sky. Only the rooftop acted as his tether back down to earth as he jumped with only the moon for an audience.

When he was in the air, nothing could get to him. Not his father, not endeavour, not even the sun itself. He was completely and utterly free.

Until he fell, of course.

One bad jump lined up perfectly with an awfully executed landing ending in his body freefalling into a dumpster. At this point he was considering making himself at home in the dumpsters of this city. It’s where he spends most of his time, after all.

A loud crack came from his leg as he sat up, pushing the bone back into its place so it could heal properly. The bruises blooming on his side quickly got erased and he listened out to the heartbeat quickly approaching his dumpster.

Izuku had been patrolling for about three hours already, and the lack of injuries he had sustained before this moment had surprised him. There weren’t many violent crimes even going on; he had only had to stop a drunk dude from committing arson and a different group of men from stealing from an ATM machine. It seemed as winter came upon them and the temperatures dropped even more rapidly, less people were even loitering around at night. Some days he thought he was living in a ghost town and started questioning whether another earthquake had happened without his knowledge.

Izuku was planning on going to find Eraserhead soon to get his daily Jelly packet before finishing up his patrol. However, it seemed Eraserhead had came to him.

“Heya Eraserhead,” Izuku said as he sprang up from the dumpster, his left arm being weirdly uncooperative as he tried to wave at him.

“Problem child, what is wrong with your arm?” Eraserhead asked, making Izuku run his right hand over the wrist of his left arm, then the elbow, before getting to the shoulder and seeing it wildly out of place. “Don’t mind that,” Izuku mumbled, then, with all his might, pushed it back into place with a pop.

“You cannot be healthy,” Eraserhead deadpanned. Having no idea how right he was, as he felt his shoulder have to crush the new shoulder cap it started making while the other one was out of place, and his stomach only started complaining more at the unnecessary use of the quirk.

“Never claimed to be,” Izuku laughed. He put his hands onto the side of the dumpster and jumped over, his ribs hitting on the edge of the lid and stealing a wince from him. Eraserhead stepped in to help him get back to the ground, which Izuku mumbled thanks for in return.

“Now, hand over the goods!” Izuku put on a dramatic accent and pulled his hood up to try and get a laugh out of Eraserhead, he failed. Getting Eraserhead to full belly laugh or even snort intentionally at one of his jokes had been his quest for the past two weeks. He hadn’t succeeded yet, but he was determined. Izuku was nothing if not determined. He would get the old man to laugh. “Thank you.” Izuku flicked off his hood when he was handed a Jelly packet. The man must’ve had an unlimited supply because Izuku was still going through them by the dozen. About three a day he had been given for the past month or so.

At least with the jelly, he didn’t run through his own money as quickly and could go a little longer before having to deal with Giran again. With all the publicity Fox got after the gorilla incident, he was too scared to look himself up, never mind have to deal with what Giran thinks.

“I will never understand you,” Eraserhead states.

“I wouldn’t try to, it melts the brain.” Izuku replied.

Eraserhead stood in silence while he finished up the three jelly packets he was given, then gave him a fourth before asking if he was done. Shortly after nodding, Izuku was told to follow him and then watched as he shot off running. Izuku scrambled to follow before he got too far away. Making strange turns and cutting through paths with dead ends, probably to try and test Fox, Izuku stayed hot on his tail.

Izuku prayed Stain didn’t decide to show his face. Whenever Fox tried to go on a run, Stain would be right round the corner, ready to pounce. But the man couldn’t, not now, not when Eraserhead was so close by. Izuku had kept his current relationship with Stain secret from Eraserhead. It was probably necessary information to tell him, and Izuku was wrecked with guilt every time the words refused to come to his mouth, but he just couldn’t.

Stain was a criminal, but he was also his trainer. He was nice and let Izuku play dirty. Maybe it was because of his chronic loneliness or just because of how pathetic he was. When he heard the heartbeat of an all too familiar murderer/cannibal lurking in the shadows matched with those piercing eyes, he kept on running.

Eraserhead didn’t notice him either. The hero just kept on winding to where he was meant to go, a destination Izuku knew nothing about. When he finally stopped running, Izuku was thoroughly annoyed. “Where are we?” Izuku asked, taking a moment to catch his breath after all that chasing.

“It’s the park,” Eraserhead began, confusion infecting his words. “Have you never been to the park?” Eraserhead asked. Izuku couldn’t find it in himself to answer “not since i was five and my mom was alive,” so he just shrugged.

“Come on,” Eraserhead sighed while opening the gate for him. Izuku decided instead to jump over the fence surrounding the park. The hero was not amused. “Very dramatic,” He said and Izuku bowed at him with a grin.

Eraserhead took him over to a patch of grass by the swingset. Then stuck his scarf out to trip Izuku up as he tried to catch up to him. Spitting out grass and pushing himself off the ground he flipped off Eraserhead. “Rude,” He shouted. Eraserhead hadn’t moved since tripping him up, and after Izuku had eventually put his hand down, he finally filled in the silence.

“You need to know how to fall correctly, you’re going to get severely injured if you keep on jumping off buildings incorrectly.” Eraserhead warned, and Izuku tried not to laugh. As if he didn’t have his regeneration quirk, his legs and every other bone, ligament, and muscle in his body would have crumbled into dust by now. Izuku’s constant jumping off of roofs and just letting his legs break and fix themselves had obviously started annoying and concerning Eraserhead as he told him very firmly that this wasn’t funny when giggles started leaving his mouth.

“I thought the point was not to fall,” Izuku countered, being the little shit he was.

“You’re always going to fall, you just have to try and stop the injuries once you hit the ground and get back up again,” Eraserhead advised, his words sounding all too much like his papa back when he was six. He had just been given a new quirk that shot out a light from his stomach but killed when used for too long. Naturally the doctor pushed him into using it repeatedly until Izuku passed out from the pain.

Every time he woke up that month, he wouldn’t be able to lift his own arms out of exhaustion and could barely open his eyes without black spots swimming his vision. He never knew how good he had it with vision those days. Every day, he would dread waking up, as it just meant more using his quirk, more exhaustion.

Yet every day he would wake up with his papa’s misty hand in his hair and a soft lullaby on his ears. Papa made him promise not to give up. To keep on going. Dust himself off and drag himself up no matter what. He owed it to him. Owed it to his mom. Owed it to his own tombstone. If little Izuku midoriya couldn’t go on, then the shadow of the boy that Izuku was now would have to do it for him.

Eventually his father stopped that one of the doctor’s experiments because by the end of the month he could barely be awake for more than a minute. Eventually the exhaustion withered, and he could walk again on his own, the side effects of that month dissipating like in the cycle of all things. The memories and his promise, however, stuck.

“You have to roll out of the fall to keep the momentum going,” Eraserhead explained. To show off, Izuku could only assume, he climbed to the top of the abandoned swing set and jumped off, then proceeded to roll once his body hit the ground for a couple more feet. Effortlessly, he got up again and dusted off his knees, which popped incessantly as he stood back up. Eraserhead was either way older than he thought he was, or his bones just cracked a crazy amount.

“That was cool,” Izuku complimented and got a grunt in response.

“Climb up here and do it yourself,” Eraserhead ordered. His scarf shot out, presumably to help carry him up, Izuku sidestepped it entirely and started climbing up the swing set with his bare hands.

“Climbing scarfs are for losers,” Izuku shouted down at Eraserhead when he finally got to the top. He was given no response, and after a minute of standing there awkwardly, he decided to just jump. His roll didn’t go as far as he wanted it to and his ankle almost flopped to the side when he first landed, but, for once, his legs didn’t need to rearrange themselves after he jumped off something. Progress!

“Good, now come on, you land on your ankles weird,” Eraserhead deadpanned, then started running him through about a hundred different falling techniques. A few of them his legs had to fix minor scratches and bruises from, but most of them stopped there being any need for his regen quirk at all. Truly, Eraserhead was being a saviour for his bones right now.

The drills could only help so much if he decided to jump off a massive building straight to the floor, but for the smaller jumps, he could use less energy on regenerating. Less energy spent regenerating meant he could stretch out his food further.

Finally, after Izuku’s twenty millionth fall, his splatting onto the ground appeased Eraserhead. He sat on one of the swings and started having one of his jelly packets almost absentmindedly. Instinctively, he handed Izuku one when he went to sit next to him; soon they sat side by side as the night air carried on whistling. It’s definitely a slow night when he not only had time to run god knew how many drills of failing but could also sit calmly afterwards without someone interrupting it with a scream for help.

Sitting there silently, he felt at peace on the ground for once.

That never lasts.

About ten minutes after sitting down, five heartbeats started running down the pathway opposite to the park. Eraserhead covered Fox’s mouth with his hand, and they ducked down to hopefully not be seen. The hero waited and watched as another heartbeat ran after the five of them, telling them to stop in the name of the law or some jargon. The vigilante waited for the perfect opportunity to run off and get himself involved in violence. They were completely on the same page about what Izuku wanted to do, or his scarf’s grip on his arm wouldn’t be so tight.

He stomped on Eraserhead’s foot in an attempt to get away and got a glare in response, his grip tightening at his attempts. “We can go help Phantom, but be smart about it,” Eraserhead whispered. Izuku could hear the fighting starting in the alleyway. His bones started moving before his brain could catch up to it, and so the second Eraserheads grip over his arms was gone, he ran to the alleyway without a second thought. Eraserhead had the good sense not to shout after him once he was on the run, only starting to catch up a moment after Izuku jumped the fence once again.

Running straight into fights had started to become his signature. There were six heartbeats inside of the alley. Two were passed out, and the other three were fighting the sixth, Phantom’s heartbeat. Phantom punched one of the heartbeats and sent him flying into Izuku. He hit him over the head, and the man fell to the ground without complaint. Only two left.

“Oh, hi, Fox!” Phantom shouted when the man fell. She took the opportunity to put her hair back into its ponytail when Eraserhead joined them in the fight. “Hi Eraser!” Phantom shouted again and once again got a grunt in response as the hero started fighting the thug with razor blades for hair. Cool quirk, how did he shower? Did he have to sharpen them manually, or were they always sharp? Could he change the sharpness of the knives at will? If so, how sharp could he get them?

Izuku was too lost in thought to properly react when the fifth heartbeat’s arms started expanding and getting increasingly close to him. There wasn’t any way to stop the hit when his arms rose, intending to come back down and flatten him into a pulp. It wouldn’t kill him like the villain probably thought it was going to, but it would hurt like shit. Better him than the other two heroes, after all.

His arms went up to cover his head in an attempt to make it look like he didn’t just stand there and let himself get beat up. Body tensed in anticipation for a hit that never came.

Phantom ran between them in the last second. Acting as a human shield between a deadly threat and an unkillable soldier. Like a deer in the headlights. She did it for no need. She’s going to get herself hurt for nothing.

The villain jumped back after the attempted hit, flying through the air before collapsing onto the ground. Crying out in pain as their arms dissolved back into normal size with nothing left to show for it but the bleeding slipping out the side of his head.

As well as the body of a Deer kneeling on the ground.

Izuku ran to kneel down next to her, “You okay?” Izuku listened out for any signs of bleeding, broken bones, ripped off skin, or even scratches or bruises, but there was nothing. Just heavy breathing and an unwavering smile on her face.

“My quirk is shock absorption, kid, I’m fine,” Phantom explained. Izuku didn’t know how to feel.

Logically, he should run away. Run far away from ever talking or being in the presence of Phantom again because a quirk that strong in the hands of his father would spell disaster. He should save her from ever having to deal with Izuku’s crumbling ruin of a life.

Izuku didn’t listen to his logical feelings.

Speaking on a purely logical basis, Izuku should still be with his Father after all. A good standing with a man powerful enough to take over the world was logically the best choice. It’s his feelings that get in the way. Feelings were what get him accepting the jelly from Eraserhead every time. His feelings got him to finally talk to Shinsou again. It’s his feelings that get him spouting off at the mouth, asking questions about Phantom’s quirk.

“Does it only take in kinetic energy or other types? Is the pushback on the person hitting you equal to the force they put in? What happens if you get hit repeatedly does it start to affect you? Is there a limit to the amount of shock you can absorb? Can you stockpile the energy absorbed, like if you hit yourself over and over and then used it against someone else?” Izuku asked without leaving a moment for Phantom to answer.

Phantom. however, didn’t seem discouraged by his never-ending questions.

“Only kinetic. It’s perfectly equal, but the pushback isn’t noticeable unless a strong force is used against me. It can if it’s like hundreds of super strong punches, but that’s only happened with robots currently. I haven’t reached my limit yet, and i haven’t tried that before.” Phantom explained, her hands flying about as she spoke avidly with her hands.

During Izuku’s little nerd session, Eraserhead was making light work of the last villain with only a few cuts on his arms to show for it. Eraserhead didn’t find Izuku’s dumb question-fest very productive and shouted at the both of them to help him with tying up the villains.

Izuku was going to cooperate when a scream reverberated through his ears. A not very loud scream, which wouldn’t have carried this far. In fact Eraserhead and Phantom, the two heroes on patrol at this time, wouldn’t have heard it. Only Izuku would’ve. Only Izuku would help them.

Both the heroes were watching him as he stood frozen in the alleyway. He would’ve just ran, but Eraserheads scarf was moments from latching around his waist. Explaining that he could hear a scream from miles away that they couldn’t was also a no-go.

Thinking over his options, Izuku’s hair was ruffled by Phantom with a dramatic sigh. “Go on, I’ll deal with grumpy.” Phantom pushed his head away after successfully messing up his hair beyond relief. She did, in fact, Push the scarf away from being anywhere within grabbing territory of Izuku, so he once again took the opportunity to run. Run until he got to where the scream was. Then he kept on running. Because Izuku was going to be there running around as long as someone needed his help.

It just so happens he had a few people on his team.

His Izuku team getting bigger was a shock. He almost had a heart attack the first time Shinsou texted him. A simple “hi” confused the shit out of him and sent him reeling to figure out who had figured him out and how, and on the way finding quick tickets out of Japan. Then he sent a photo of a cat asleep on the big fridge on Dagoba beach and Izuku remembered that Shinsou was, somehow, his surface-level friend.

Friend may have been pushing it. Izuku had been unintentionally ghosting the guy due to him not bringing his phone on patrol. Simply, he didn’t want to break it. It was about four in the morning when he got back in, and Shinsou had sent him a text only an hour ago saying he would be at Dagoba beach the next day.

Shinsou confused Izuku. He had a very cool quirk and yet little want to actually use it. In fact, he barely wanted to ask questions at all. Every time he would accidentally slip one out, he would flinch like he expected Izuku to start shouting at him for it. Someone must’ve. Bullying was definitely a problem, Shinsou never really talked about his other friends. The boys that were beating him up in that alleyway hadn’t been a problem since, but Izuku could’ve missed them. Izuku would admit that he had allowed Shinsou’s presence to carve out a small, surface-level hole in his life. His dumb heart always did get in the way, as such, Izuku had made it his mission to get Shinsou more okay with his quirk. Even if it took forcing him.

The sun was out again when he got to the beach. The smell of the sea mixing with the odour of rubbish and litter strewn about. Cold air contrasting with the supposedly sunny sky. Snow, Izuku’s worst nightmare, was going to be here soon. The bane of the sky aside, Izuku could feel Shinsou shivering when he finally got to the beach. The boy was in a long-sleeved thin t-shirt and trying and failing to push a freakishly large fridge from its hard-earned spot on the beach. Izuku had tried to move it and failed, Shinsou had tried to move it and failed. Due to the fact that it’s only the two of them on this endeavour, they were lacking anyone else to try move it, so the fridge stayed stubbornly in its place. Despite Shinsou’s frequent attempts.

Whistling down to the panting boy, Izuku squinted to try and catch sight of the path they had carved out to get down. Due to the heaps upon heaps of stuff on the beach, certain routes had to be cut out to actually get about. Their path downwards got harder to find each time they went back up and ended up moving things about. When he finally found it, Izuku’s foot got caught on a cable left behind and caused him to go tumbling down the wreckage-filled hill. Sand got into every crevice of his clothes as he fell right to the bottom, Shinsou’s laughter accompanying his winces whenever he crashed into something.

“You’re mean,” Izuku huffed.

“You’re clumsy,” Shinsou laughed.

“That cable was extremely obvious.” Shinsou asked in his own special way of not asking questions, his hand being held out for Izuku to get back up on his feet. A glass bottle left on the ground hit against his foot in his attempt to get up, almost making him trip over again and bringing a snort from Shinsou.

“My eyesight is awful,” Izuku admitted. It would be a good excuse for him wearing sunglasses all the time, even when the sun was nowhere in sight. The detective knew anyway when he let it slip the third time being arrested. He hadn’t even stolen anything that time.

“Then you need glasses.” Shinsou said, completely unaware of Izuku’s sightless plight. Izuku started weighing up his options. It’s easier to get away with things when people think you’re blind, as well it would turn away any suspicion of him being Fox. There was also the gaping question of school between them. Shinsou went to a school; he wore his school uniform when they first met. Izuku did not. Homeschooling was his lie at the ready, and it would make even more sense with his blindness.

However, Shinsou could start to see him differently. The detective did after he told him, Izuku would never know if the detective stopped thinking he actually committed the crimes when he brought him in the fourth time just because he hadn’t been guilty the last three times, or if it was because of his condition. Then Izuku brought up the lie of him being quirkless, he really started getting treated differently after that. In spite of all that, maybe Shinsou trying to push him away, despite Izuku’s despair at the thought, could help him in the long run. Izuku couldn’t leave Shinsou right now unless him being near him put the boy truly in imminent danger, until then, he was stuck. But if Shinsou pushed him away himself…

“Glasses don’t help blindness.” Izuku decided on telling him the truth. The silence between them echoed on the sand below their feet.

“Wait, seriously?” Shinsou asked, his voice softer. His eyebrows furrowing in concern, and in his thoughts, he didn’t even notice he had asked a question. Progress.

“It’s just peripheral,” Izuku added. That didn’t help the concern on Shinsou’s face.

“Oh, i’m sorry, man,” Shinsou apologised, for no good reason at all. That was always the part Izuku hated the most, the apologising. It always felt fake, too forced, too much. He’s part blind and there’s nothing anyone could do about it. Apologising wasn’t going to heal his eyes.

“I’m fine, really,” Izuku assured him. Awkwardness settled over the beach like an incredibly heavy blanket. The kind of heavy blanket he would steal to shove onto his pillow fort for the winter. A blanket that muffled sounds and weighed down on his shoulders until he could just rip it off.

“Please don’t start treating me like I’m fragile,” Izuku pleaded. He thought he could’ve dealt with Shinsou treating him as weak like the cops at the station did, but by god it hurt. Shinsou being awkward around him just felt weird inside. Like the blanket was smothering his mouth and not letting him breathe, and no matter what he did, it wouldn’t come off.

It was like a quirk that didn’t fit. Quite a few of those had been shoved on him through the years, and no matter what he did, they just wouldn’t become a part of him. They added to the feeling of wrongness that permeated around his father and brought down the temperature. Izuku hadn’t gotten rid of that wrong feeling since he became Fox, and now that it had started to become diluted, the thought of it coming back full swing with anyone who had carved a small hole in his life felt like an abomination.

“What?” Shinsou asked, that time he noticed it slip out. The sight and sound of his muscles tensing up as it dawned on him only made the feeling of fallacy worse.

“You know, when people find out I can’t see fully and start trying to hold my hand and talk down to me like my ears are what’s wrong with me,” Izuku explained. That had annoyed him beyond belief when his sight first left him. The thought of using it to his advantage only came when he was ten. By then he was planning his escape by explosion and needed to seem as weak as possible. He hadn’t expected to be alive after that. But then it was after; he was still alive, and he couldn’t go back, so he had to keep on using it, no matter how much it annoyed him to his wits end.

“That sounds shitty, man,” Shinsou mumbled.

“It is,” Izuku agreed.

They sat down in silence. Right on the beach in the small patch of land they made by moving all the rubbish into bin bags. An island of solace amid the chaos. Just two surface-level friends together.

“People don’t really like my quirk,” Shinsou admitted. Izuku’s theory of bullying being cemented as true. Quirkism was one of the stupidest things society had done. Being bigoted to people because of their quirks would only make them more spiteful with the use of said quirk. Quirkless people could just easily get away with committing crimes because of the stated use of a quirk in the law. He’s gotten away using that one before.

“I like it,” Izuku said, bumping his shoulder against Shinsou’s with a smile.

“You’re a very strange exception,” Shinsou huffed as he pushed him away.

“No seriously, it’s a very cool quirk.” Izuku defended, and the glare he got in return could’ve scared his brother.

“I don’t know what you want to do, but it can be useful in so many situations,” Izuku elaborated, not a word of a lie in his speech. Brainwashing was a very useful quirk, he wouldn’t be so scared of his father getting it if he didn’t. Shinsou was up on the very short list of people Izuku knew and was terrified of his father getting a hand on their quirk. He didn’t tell the other boy that, however, as Izuku knew very few people.

“I want to go to UA,” Shinsou admitted. Izuku tried his best not to run away. His subconscious pull towards heroes and future heroes was too strong to get him to leave. The cleaning of the beach made sense, getting stronger and doing something good for the community. Shinsou was quite lanky after all. If Izuku and Shinsou were still friends in two years when he would be at UA then Izuku would have to try his best to not get caught by Eraserhead inside those walls.

That was, of course, assuming that he was one: still alive, two: still Fox, and three: his identity hadn’t been found out already. All three of them tie together in some way, so assuming his life hadn’t crumbled around him, he would have to be careful. With how his life had gone so far, he doubts that won’t happen.

“I know it’s dumb!” Shinsou mumbled, and Izuku almost immediately cut him off. “No, your quirk would be great for hero work.” From the stare Izuku got from that, he assumed Shinsou didn’t believe him.

“You could easily interrogate someone. Or get someone to stand down or de-escalate any hostage situation. Of course, if your trigger was advertised, then it could make your job harder, but if you went into underground work, then you could be a very effective hero!” Izuku ranted. Shinsou’s quirk could do so much good for the world, and he wasn’t going to let some dumb bullies ruin that. Izuku couldn’t get any higher than a glorified criminal doing his best, but Shinsou could do so much more.

“Thanks,” Shinsou said.

The silence afterwards felt more comfortable. Like the hands behind the blanket had stopped pushing it down and started just letting it sit. It was still there, but it was manageable. The sea just beyond his sights pushed forwards and backwards, and Shinsou and him sat still. The great showman of the sky watching down at them behind the ever-growing clouds with curiosity.

“Well, we have cleaning to do!” Izuku announced after about ten minutes of watching the sea.

“No cleaning today. It looks like it’s about to rain.” Shinsou was staring up at the darkening clouds with disdain.

“You have something else to do?” Izuku asked. A small smile came onto Shinsou’s face, which for him was relatively a massive grin, and waved him back up to the street as he started running.

“Come on!” Shinsou shouted, and Izuku was left running in his trails.

Shinsou was a very fast runner. Even with his Fox escapades recently, he still found it hard to catch up to him. About five minutes into their impromptu run, he was finally side by side with the boy, and he wasn’t even breathing that heavily. Shinsou may have a second running quirk he wasn’t aware of because that boy was fast. Almost on cue, as soon as they were side by side, the rain started. It got heavier the longer they kept on running.

They had to start hiding under sides of different buildings for a few minutes at a time to try and not get horribly soaked. They failed. Horribly.

Somehow that didn’t stop them from laughing profusely as they kept running through the street to a place Izuku didn’t even know. Shinsou refused to tell him, only repeating that they were getting “closer” each time.

The smile on Shinsou’s face seemed light, airy, and unweighted by any of life’s deductions. Like he was flying in the air, and nothing mattered but running and living inside of the rain’s onslaught. Sometime in their running, Izuku felt as light as a feather. Nothing could get to him.

He hated rain. Yet somehow running like this, the memories of red leaking from a man’s body and the life leaving his eyes before Izuku’s own eyes started burning didn’t come to him. Limbs locking up in pure fear, just keeping on moving as Shinsou ran further ahead. Sure, his breathing got sparse and his heart sped up, but he couldn’t just stop. So he kept on going. Despite the pain, fear, and panic, he kept on going.

Shinsou eventually brought them to a cafe. A cafe with a very cute cat on the logo. Shinsou asked for a table as Izuku tried his best to dry off as his hair dripped onto the doormat. A fluffy head dropping itself into his hand made Izuku realise that Shinsou had brought them to a cat cafe.

He’s never been this happy in his life.

Izuku’s attention was directly and only on this cat. She was a ginger cat called “Chocolate.” He was ashamed that got a laugh out of him. Chocolate was purring into his hand, and he couldn’t bring himself to even have a hint of what was going on around him. So when Shinsou coughed behind him to get his attention, he jumped a few feet into the air and thoroughly upset Chocolate.

Apologies were mumbled to a cat who was long gone by the time he turned back to her, and Shinsou looked on the verge of dying of laughter. He got control of himself eventually, and They were able to actually sit down. The sulking Izuku was doing at the loss of Chocolate was replaced by the joy of another cat that sat in his lap and refused to move. Or be petted. The cat seemed quite content to just sit there. Izuku couldn’t complain.

“I come here after school sometimes,” Shinsou explained when about three cats flocked to him at once. The man was an absolute cat whisperer, as Izuku was finding out, and he was very happy with his choices of surface-level friends.

“You like cats?” Izuku asked after trying to pet the one cat in his lap and getting scratched for it. Luckily one of Shinsou’s crew let him pet them instead, as his lap cat just slept there.

“Yeah, but I can’t have one,” Shinsou said with misery clear as day in his voice. If Izuku was not poor as shit with no money or resources and could be unhoused if someone just decided to look into the abandoned building he called home, he would have so many cats. All kinds of cats. Sadly, Izuku couldn't take care of them properly. He couldn’t even take care of himself properly.

“Parents don’t let you?” Izuku asked, then noticed as Shinsou tensed up again. Sensitive subject then.

“Foster, but yeah.” Shinsou clarified.

Oh, Izuku, you idiot. Well, that’s something they have in common at least. If Izuku hadn’t been whisked away by his father and then falsely buried, he would probably be drenched in the system just like Shinsou. He made a note to not talk about parents around Shinsou from that point on.

“I bet your school is great.” Shinsou said after thinking in the silence for a long moment. Using his roundabout way of just asking Izuku what school he went to. Izuku just needed to have a quick chat with whoever made Shinsou feel like he couldn’t ask questions.

“Home-schooled,” Izuku lied. Well, not a full lie. He educates himself, okay. Library books and online essays to keep his education up to the standard and even beyond in a few things. Except without adult supervision and no one telling him what to do, he would get quite sidetracked. Looking into whatever he liked for hours instead of what the books said he should know. Knowing his idiocy, he’s probably miles behind everyone else his age. It’s not like he’d ever have a normal life anyway, so going to a normal school would forever be out of the question. Him even trying at all was an accomplishment.

“That sounds fun.” Shinsou asked in his not-asking way again.

“It can be,” Izuku said.

“You can ask me questions, you know?” Izuku asked into the silence that followed. He was frustrated at the way Shinsou seemed to skirt around questions. From what Izuku could tell, he had complete control over his quirk, so even accidental brainwashing wasn’t an issue. Trust for Izuku didn’t come easily, but Shinsou hadn’t done anything to ruin the small amount they had. Even surface-level friends have a small amount of trust between them, so Izuku trusted that Shinsou wouldn’t take over his mind and make him do anything evil. If his father got ahold of his quirk, then it would be a different story, but for now, it was just Shinsou. Shinsou was basically harmless.

“Sorry, habit.” Shinsou apologised.

For now they left the issue at that.

“The coffee here is really good,” Shinsou mentioned as a fourth cat joined their roster. Izuku was starting to get jealous.

“I can pay.” Izuku regrettably offered when he noticed Shinsou staring worriedly at the prices for too long. Izuku, at the moment, still had money to spare. The place wasn’t too expensive, and Izuku could rationalise it to himself. It was only food after all. Resolving himself to stealing more jelly from Eraserhead tomorrow and probably a few protein bars from the convenience store tonight, Izuku pulled out the cash he had in his pockets.

“You don’t have to do that.” Shinsou tried to turn him down, but Izuku just waved him off and attempted to get the cat away from his lap. “I insist, just have to get this guy off,” Izuku complained as the cat seemed unwavering in its sleep until, of course, Shinsou picked it up and it flew into his arms. “Traitor,” Izuku mumbled as the cat leaned in to Shinsou’s petting with more purrs and a complete lack of scratches. Absolute cat whisperer.

Shinsou was laughing as he walked away to get their food. Even from across the room with his fuck-ass eyesight, he could see the smile beaming on his face. A real genuine smile as all the cats in his miniature gang swarmed him with ease. He only took it in stride and kept up with all the attention with ease. Maybe right here, right now, was Shinsou’s rooftops. Where nothing and no one could get to him. Where he was completely and utterly free.

“Hey, are you with the purple-haired kid?” The waitress asked after he ordered. Izuku nodded, and she smiled wider than Izuku thought was humanly possible. “Tell him to bring his friends over more. The cats miss him!” She exclaimed. Izuku thought that was pretty accurate with the number of cats swarming him. He must've came there a lot to get them all to like him that much. Either that or he was magical.

“Here you go, mister.” Izuku smiled when he put Shinsou’s coffee down in front of him. His eyes quite literally lit up as he got it, even more than when the cats first pounced onto him.

“Thanks, Izuku,” Shinsou said before starting to chug down his coffee at record speed.

When he sat down, the cat that was originally on his lap jumped back in. They let him pet them for all of ten seconds before going back to sleep in his lap with a soft purr. It was absolutely adorable.

Yeah, maybe this could be one of his rooftops too.

Chapter Text

Snow was Izuku’s absolute worst enemy. He wasn’t joking when he said it was it worst nightmare. The universe itself must have been conspiring against him as about a week later, snow decided to cascade down and bury itself onto the ground. If he hadn’t told Shinsou he would help him, Izuku would’ve holed up in his room and not done anything that day. Sadly, he had stupidly decided to not live in absolute solitude anymore.

Shoving on the thickest clothes he could find, Izuku’s face was absolutely miserable as he stepped outside. He contemplated just wearing his Fox coat as it was his fluffiest, but unfortunately the logical thought that wearing his Fox uniform as Izuku was a sure-fire way to get himself caught won out.

The normally silent street on the outskirts of where he lived was bubbling with life. Little kids making snowmen, older kids having snowball fights, adults watching on with a laugh as their kids have the time of their lives. The street had really come to life in the past few weeks. He normally enjoyed seeing that life.

Something about the snow brought away the little joys he had in his days.

Logically, it should be the opposite. It was snowing when he finally got away from his father. Yet any memory of freedom and solace at his father’s grip becoming only a vague fear was tainted. Tainted with the long-winded disappointment of being alive. Polluted by the weeklong pain of skin burning and ripping—bones creaking and spinning in attempts to get back into their place. His own brain became nothing but a piece of machinery as it attempted to stop the pain no matter what.

The snow was there during that week where he never felt human.

As a snowflake fluttered onto his hand, he couldn’t help but imagine it searing through his skin, muscles and bones straight through to the other side like he’s simply made of water. Like his body was absolutely useless at protecting himself. He pulled his jacket closer around himself in an attempt to not let anymore snow get onto his skin.

The few painkillers he had taken that morning had started to kick in. The chronic pain swirling in his chest started to numb and left only the anxious murmurs behind. He started to shiver in the cold weather despite his attempts to wrap his coat around him. Hopefully, Shinsou would be willing to go inside.

He stepped out of his street and onto the busier path towards Dagoba Beach. His breathing started to get more rapid with each step. Shivers turned into shaking as people pushed him around and caused his hood to fall, or sleeves to rise up and allowed snow to invade his fortress. Snow could get on him.

His shaking fingers were holding on haphazardly to his sunglasses. Some kind of half-baked attempt to keep his one defence up even when all others fell. In the end, it just made his tears fall onto his palms. Attempts to stop their fall failed over and over again, and he had to stop in a random public bathroom to get himself under control.

He couldn’t just go to Shinsou crying his eyes out like some useless baby. The boy who had broken nearly every bone in his body couldn’t get brought down by some stupid snow and idiotic memories. He tried to remind himself that they were simply just memories, but his fallacy filled mind wouldn’t buy it. Instead, it chose to believe that he was simply on the verge of dying just because the temperatures dropped and the rain froze—yet his brain wonders why he hates it.

He wanted to run. Choose flight and soar away back home where no frozen ice could touch him. Where no one could talk to him, or know anything about him. Back to his fortress of solitude. Sadly, his fortress’s walls had started to break the second he decided to let a hero talk to him. The need to go home being counter-balanced by the fear of disappointing Shinsou. He said he would meet him. He hated going back on his word.

Laughter from people outside who enjoyed the snow echoed into his hate-filled chamber. If he were normal, he could’ve been like that. If normality was anywhere in his blood, then his brain would have far fewer problems. He could be in the snow without breaking down for one. A little voice in the back of his head said that going out to see Shinsou in the snow would just make him cry in front of him and look like a weirdo. Another, louder part of him, however, said that Shinsou would be more upset at him just bailing than he would at his extremely obvious mental problems.

Besides, if Shinsou decided he never wanted to see him again since he couldn’t even be in the snow without crashing into a million sobbing pieces, then he truly didn’t blame him. Izuku’s problematic nature ran deep, he just had to show his surface-level friend enough of it that he ran for the hills. All honesty, it wouldn't be that hard.

The only sad part would be finding out which part of him was so repugnant that even someone as nice as Shinsou had to turn his back. Then knowing deep down how many worse layers of Izuku lay underneath.

It would be a good experiment for which parts of him could be outed as Fox to not make heroes hate his guts. Fox did have to live on a very fine line. A lot of people who haven’t even met him hate him, yet the heroes who should hate him don’t. Thankfully, that non-hatred was the only reason he’s not rotting in a prison cell, then getting picked up by his father, and then getting ready for about ten million more experiments. So, Fox being terrified of snow was probably a no-go.

Fox had taken a break here and there before. Nothing like the weeklong break he first took after accidentally pushing Eraserhead off a roof, then getting that first article. There were a few valid reasons for that break. Every break afterwards was normally just a night or two, simply to recharge so he wasn’t completely useless. If he went out tonight, he would be completely useless. Thus, a valid reason.

Eraser would just get upset at his idiocy, anyway. Just take one look at his sobbing and decide that he couldn’t be out here anymore. The jelly packets he had come to rely on being whisked out from underneath him. Truly a fate worse than death. And he couldn’t even die.

For now, he just needed to get over it. Go, suck it up, and see Shinsou.

The thought of having to see Shinsou was all that filled his head as he trudged through the crowds and the snow. Survival mode, that’s all it was. One foot moving as quickly as he could get it to in front of the other. Hairs fell onto his hands and were regrown as he kept on pulling to keep his brain on the ground, next to the awful snow.

His brain started stinging at the pure too much overtaking him after every step. When his eyes finally locked onto that purple fluff, he could’ve just collapsed with how numb his legs felt. However, he did not want to horrify Shinsou anymore than he already had, so he faked a smile onto his face and walked up to the boy.

“Izuku, hey!” Shinsou shouted over at him. Izuku could make out his waving hand in the air through minimal squinting. In his hand was very obviously a carrot. A carrot that you would use as a nose to a snowman. Shinsou wanted to build a snowman. Izuku was about to throw up.

He wanted to have fun with his surface-level friend, yes, but the feeling of snow being wrapped around his hand repeatedly as the man was built out of it made his skin crawl even when confined to his imagination. Izuku always let fear have control over him—probably always would. Admitting that fact out-loud was a completely different beast. Vulnerability made his skin crawl even as much as snow did.

“Hey,” Izuku replied. Trying to sound as light and cheerful as he could but it just made his voice more flat than normal.

Snow kept falling from outside Izuku’s small field of vision. Pushing past his imaginary barrier and invading his eyes personal space. The wind followed in its footsteps and pushed past the protection of his coat to make his bones even colder under the layers of useless skin.

“you’re cold,” Shinsou noted. Shivers from underneath his coat not going unnoticed despite his attempts to wrap it around him more. Izuku didn’t know how to get out of this situation. Run away and go back to his life os solitude? Keep on standing there looking like an idiot and have to feel snow? Start bawling his eyes out and hope Shinsous didn’t think he’s an absolute freak.

None of his options were good by any means. The lack of an appropriate decision weighed on the tension, pushing out water from his eyes and sobs from his throat.

“You okay?” Shinsou asked, barely a whisper, but it was there. An unspoken remark of trust. Shinsou tensed when he asked him the question, yes, but he asked him a question. Full intent and purpose to ask him it and he did despite the absolute fear that doing it brought. Izuku needed to stop being such a baby. Sure his memories with snow were gruesome, gorey and downright inhumane but they’re just memories. Snow could only bring his brain back there and not his skin. Not his quirk which could save him whenever the snow decided to start burning.

It couldn’t even hurt him last time. The snow was just there, taunting him. Showing him how free they were compared to his mangled corpse of a person trapped on the ground. A soul desperate to leave but a body—and a quirk—all too ready to keep on pushing.

“yeah, I’m fine thanks.” Izuku said. He pushed back up his sunglasses and coughed to wipe away the hoarse before feeling of a real cry fest. It was all so simple, reach his hand out, hold a snowflake, then get over it. Easy as that.

He pulled his sleeve up. Arm stretched out to the frozen filled sky, off in the darkness that haunts his peripherals. Counting to three he waited for something to happen. Something for him to get over and show him that the snow was just that, snow.

He didn’t even get to two before the burning started.

That was all he could describe it as, burning. Full pyre, embers sparking, down from the depths of the planet burning. Skin ripping off bones before even that was melted and left out for the dogs to find. The kind of burning where you just have to accept your death and sit and play fiddle as everything burns around you. Except he was the only thing burning.

His ears couldn’t pick up any screams of sudden killer snow. No laughter or singing or even silence at the incoming burning of the world. All he could hear was a ringing that resonated through his ears and ripped any sense of normalcy to shreds.

His small patch of sight was centered to the ground to push away any unforbidden sighs of melting taking over his eyes. He didn’t want Shinsou to see this. Could you cover the eyes of a burning man? When all was gone and melted, all one had was another man.

Immense regret was all that came from the dim-witted decision to touch the murderous snow. Pain, regret and misery all mixed into one. There was a want, somewhere in his mind, to pull his arm back to the safety of his coat, yet another just said live with the burning. If he could’ve—his arm would be back under the safety of his outfit, yet right now the muscles didn’t want to listen. His arm just wouldn’t move. It was content to burn over and over as his regeneration refused to accept the end.

“Izu— Izuku… IZUKU!” Shinsou’s voice finally broke through the ringing in his ears when he placed his hands on his shoulders to shake him. Shinsou looked concerned. He couldn’t tell through the water spewing from his eyes.

“You’re crying,” Shinsou noted. His hands finally left Izuku’s shaking arms. Izuku brought his burning arm back into safety. The uninjured hand felt up his arm to see the burns and the holes and melting, but only found nothing in return. A memory that chose to haunt his senses. Nothing happened—his brain didn’t want to believe the reality.

Burned hand to scarred cheek, Izuku could feel the tears falling from his useless eyes and wiped them away the second they came into contact. He waited a few moments to give Shinsou time to run for the hills.

He didn’t take his chance.

“I’m fine,” Izuku deflected. His mentally uninjured hand still gripped his burning one to try to make sense of the apparent fake sensation that bloomed from it. He tried to step back, but his legs betrayed him and sent him stumbling on his own feet.

“Hey sit down,” Shinsou said. He grabbed hold of Izuku’s shoulders again to stop him from falling. He couldn’t stop the flinch that came. Snow did something to put him straight into fight or flight, and attempts to suck it up only send him further down the spiral. He could feel Shinsou’s hands trying to guide him to sit on the ground. The ground covered in snow. His heart rate increased tenfold at the thought.

“Not on the snow!” Izuku shouted, pushing his hands on Shinsou’s shoulders to stop his legs from collapsing under him. Reflexes took over after that, and Izuku twisted Shinsou’s arm behind his back before he could process. This time Shinsou flinched at his volume increase. Surprisingly, gave little reaction but a wince at the pain in his arm. Izuku wanted to crawl into a hole and never come back. His grave was still vacant.

“I really don’t like snow,” Izuku clarified. Taking his hands away from Shinsou’s jacket. Holding onto Shinsou would just make it harder for the boy when he wanted to run away. He had just made him scared after all. He had hurt him. Izuku promised himself he would only hurt criminals. Yet here he was hurting people who have been nothing but nice to him. Alike to his brother, destruction follows wherever his touch was. Izuku’s was just delayed.

“That’s okay. Okay come over here,” Shinsou’s words came out more hesitant. More scared. More worried. Izuku just wanted to see him run away and never want to be anywhere near him again than keep on seeing him be scared of him.

Shinsou’s grip on his shoulder became looser. He was being guided to a bench—snow free and hidden under a small roof. Collapsed back onto the seat, Izuku put his burned hand back to his face and wiped away the last few tears. His arms and legs felt like dead weight to his body, Izuku could barely keep himself upright after having his spine tensed up so long. His breathing finally started calming down as he looked directly up and didn’t have the white specs from hell dropping into his eyes. They were still there—just a few feet from where he was sitting—but for now, he was fine. Or as fine as he could be after all that.

“I’m sorry,” Izuku apologised to the boy next to him. His burning and safe hand still shaking when he finally dropped them to his lap.

“Nothing to worry about,” Shinsou said. Why on earth was this boy still around him? Was the terrified of snow layer not enough to push people away? The next few layers deep were secrets he couldn’t tell Shinsou if he liked. Fox and Izuku would need to stay separated for everyone’s safety. But his layers he kept covered—the meltdown layers—if they couldn’t push Shinsou away, then what would? He didn’t even really want to push it any further.

If Shinsou could see him being this pathetic and decide to stay, then what would happen when Izuku peels away too much and got pushed away? For one, there would be someone who knew far too many of his secrets. Then he would know what part of him was so disgusting, so heinous, that not even as nice as Shinsou could even stomach him anymore. Izuku wasn’t even sure he wanted Shinsou to find out that part.

“I know you wanted to hang out, but…” Izuku started. He had let Shinsou down—he knew he had. The boy had a carrot nose, the kind you put on a snowman. Izuku had only made one snowman in his life, and even he knew that. Shinsou’s attempts to hide the carrot in his pocket weren’t working.

“Hey, I’d rather hang out with my only surface-level friend when he’s not forcing himself through something which gives him panic attacks,” Shinsou interrupted him. Izuku had to push back the tears from reappearing in his eyes. After speaking, Shinsou pushed his hoodie up over his mouth and nose in a move Izuku found frankly adorable. Like a little kid hiding in a far too big hoodie on a chilly day. Some kind of attempt at a safety blanket.

“I’m just fucked up. I wouldn’t blame you if you just wanted to run for the hills, you know? Most people would’ve by now,” Izuku mumbled. Self deprecation slipping off his tongue like butter.

“Maybe I’m a very strange exception too,” Shinsou pushed down his hoodie to smile down at him. Izuku couldn’t stop the tears that time no matter how much he pushed back. They just kept on coming. Shinsou’s hand was placed on his shoulder again as the tears kept on pushing past his barriers. He needed to thank Eraserhead for convincing him to make surface-level friends. Sad he couldn’t go out as Fox tonight. Could he?

Eraserhead may absolutely think of him as a weak and useless petty criminal for being terrified of snow, but he also may not. Shinsou didn’t. Eraserhead hadn’t left him at every turn up to this point. Every point where the hero could’ve been pushed to hating him, he simply took it in his stride and kept ongoing. Maybe Izuku could just peel back this layer in front of him. Just this one. Afterwards, he would need to be careful for their safety, but maybe getting over his hatred of vulnerability for even a second won’t get him left in the dust.

“Thanks, Shinsou,” Izuku said. His head was resting against Shinsou’s shoulder, which he could barely reach. Izuku hadn’t truly realised the vastness of the height difference between them. God, he was short.

“Anytime, man.” Shinsou said

The snow continued falling, far away from being able to affect him. He could breathe and sit and think without being burned. His little safety bubble, under a roof with his only surface level friend. Snow didn’t look so bad from this angle. That may have been because he kept any sight of the white flecks in the darkness of his side.

“Carrot?” Shinsou asked as he pulled the carrot back from his pocket.

“Why not?” Izuku laughed.

They sat there until the sun started to set and the snow stopped its torrential downpour. As the hurricane of white settled down, Izuku knew what he was going to do that night.

Fox wasn’t afraid of Snow.

He kept trying to tell himself that as he sat on the edge of a rooftop. The snow underneath him being shovelled away with a fire extinguisher left there.

He tried to convince himself the shaking was just from the cold, despite his two coats on. That his eyes were just watering. For Fox, a walk across snow was easy—simple. They weren't afraid of anything.

Yet they were still sat alone on a rooftop only ten minutes into patrol.

He shouldn’t have come out here. Being trapped on a rooftop because of snow was not a good look for Fox. Stain would be so disappointed in him. The man only accepts heroes willing to do anything to help people, but if Izuku couldn’t even get himself to walk into snow for somebody. What kind of vigilante was he?

Luckily, he had heard only one altercation so far, right at the very start of his patrol. Before the tingle of cold crept up his neck, Izuku was able to save a man from getting mugged. He was thankful after—he must not known of who he was as he said he loved heroes, then put his hand on Fox’s shoulder. The hand that was on the floor moments ago. A hand that still had some snow on it.

The little bastards got under his coat collar, and he swore he thought he was going to die then and there. He wasn’t even able to write a Post-it note before he ran. Ran until he got himself onto a stupid rooftop.

A stupid rooftop, full of stupid snow, with a stupid boy on it. Truly an idiotic match up.

He wanted to go back home. He wanted the snow to evaporate. He wanted Shinsou.

He didn’t expect Eraserhead.

The hero first came onto his radar a few miles away. Izuku levelled his breathing as much as he could and prayed he wouldn’t notice the sad, lonely little Fox. He got lucky the first time Eraserhead ran past him. Less so the second.

He heard the hero pause. Heard him knelt down and picked something up from the rooftop. The footsteps of a man trying to sneak around.

“Hey problem child!” Eraserhead shouted, Fox turned around after trying to ignore his footsteps getting closer. Not like he could’ve gotten away, anyway.

A few moments after Fox turned, he could feel the shiver and burning of a clump of snow turned into a ball thrown into his face.

For the third time that day, Izuku felt his breathing get too quick for him to keep up with. Shaking becoming more apparent despite his attempts at keeping warm and the ringing noise coming back full force. So strong that not even Eraserheads concerned, muffled screams could get through.

He wasn’t fox anymore. Once again, he was just little Izuku sitting under an underpass and feeling his bodies vague attempts at making himself whole again never truly work, yet never stopping trying. A stinging and buzzing pain kept in his chest from his quirks constant use to keep his body alive without his quirk buffers since he was nine exploded into a full body sensation. Since then it never truly left.

Not even the mask could get through to him.

Seconds, turned to moments, turned to minutes before the ringing started to subside. The heroes grip onto Izuku’s shoulders becoming more apparant as he gained back consciousness in his own body.

“Out for four, in for four. Come on, breathe with me, Fox.” Eraserhead’s pained words started to become legible past the ringing. Past the clouds of fear that swarmed his remaining senses. The hero’s heartbeat was close. He was kneeled only a few inches from where Fox was sat. On the edge of a rooftop.

Fox could’ve easily pushed him off again. Easy as that.

He pushed away that horrifying thought as panic still coursing through his body and kept him arms sat by his sides. Eraserhead makes mistakes. That’s probably what made him one of Izuku’s favourite heroes, because he was also human.

The man was also trying to fix his mistake. Izuku had to try and let him in even a little if he wanted to keep getting jelly from him. That was the only reason he could come up with at that moment.

“There you go, good job, keep on breathing.” Eraserhead praised when he finally listened to his instructions and stopped wheezing. A sigh left his mouth when Fox finally started responding again. Izuku tried to ignore how happy he felt at the heroes relief.

“Sorry-” Izuku sniffled and tried to will his own tears away because of the mask and blindfold stopping him from actually wiping them. His will wasn’t doing very well.

“Hey, no apologising.” Eraser cut him off. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know how that would affect you and should’ve asked beforehand.” Eraserhead’s hands left his shoulders, but he could still feel the weight pushing down on his shoulders. Weight of imaginary snow piling up over his inanimate yet conscious body.

“It’s a stupid fear.” Izuku scoffed.

“No fears are stupid.” Eraserhead assured him despite the objective idiocy of his fear. It’s fucking snow. Frozen rain falling from the clouds which could do little damage to him but when packed together tightly. He agrees that the fear was stupid. Yet he just couldn’t bring himself to face it.

“It’s snow.” Izuku argued. Eraserhead didn’t shout at him for talking back, or glare at him, or even sigh at his incompetence. At his unwillingness to just accept someones comfort.

It didn’t help that Eraserhead’s words mirror the ones his papa used when he used to be afraid of the dark. Luckily, he got over that fear.

“My husband has a fear of bugs.” Eraserhead commented, changing the sbject.. His head facing in the direction of the skyline. A smile on the usually sullen man’s face at the mention of his lover.

Maybe the guy didn’t hate happiness.

“It’s really bad. He sees one, even an ant, and will jump up ten feet and run away screaming.” Eraserhead got a laugh out of him at that one. Who would’ve thought a hero’s husband would be so terrified of such a little guy, when it seemed like Eraserhead wasn’t afraid of anything. Opposites attract maybe.

“No way.” Izuku protested, trying to pull more stories out of the man. Very happy for another topic of conversation.

“One time we were at the beach and he jumped on top of someone’s beach umbrella because he saw a beetle. Refused to get down until I killed it, and we had to apologise to the guy who owned it so many times.” Eraserhead told the story in such a monotone voice that it somehow came back around and made it more immersing. If Eraserhead reacted to Fox’s over-the-top snort, he never would know.

He would get the man to laugh one day, he knew it

“You got a husband?” Izuku asked.

“Three years.” Eraserhead brought up a necklace that was hidden under his scarf. He let Izuku touch it. It was a basic string with only one ornament on—a sleek ring with two words engraved on the bottom “Yours, forever.”

It was corny as shit.

It was the cutest thing Izuku had ever seen

It was a pretty good idea too. A normal wedding ring could be used against him when fighting. Also, it could give away some of Eraserhead’s personal life. For an underground hero, secrecy could be everything. The necklace seemed perfectly in character for Eraserhead.

Izuku wondered how many people knew he was married. His close friends, if he had any, would. Was his husband the kind of guy to give Eraserhead lunchboxes on the job? How we would do that—Izuku didn’t know—but the image was cute.

Did his husband get worried every time he went out for patrol? Being a hero wasn’t a simple job, and he must’ve known what he signed up for. The fear must still linger though. That every time he kissed his husband goodbye could be the last time. Did they have kids?

Eraserhead had a family, a life. No matter how much he pushed the lone wolf archetype, the hero was a man with connections. A man who felt love.

Izuku didn’t want to rip the man away from that just because of how dangerous he was.

“He nice?” Izuku let go of the ring necklace.

“The best.” Eraserhead breathed a sigh. Izuku snorted again

“Awwww, Eraser is in love.” Izuku teased, bringing the smile back to his face. Leaning towards Eraserhead only got him pushing back with a “Okay, okay, laugh it up.”

“You talk about me?” The something which made all of his selfish decisions in Izuku asked.

“Only when you give me heart attacks.” Eraserhead grunted, his scarf being moved to let his necklace settle under it again. Izuku still wanted to know how that worked.

“So you do!” Izuku said. Half surprised that his presence would even be a thought in the man’s mind once he went home. Then he remembered he pushed the hero off a roof and probably pissed him off, if even only for a small time. Izuku would be royally pissed if someone pushed him off a window.

“Oh yeah, he loves you. Might kill me if I let you get hurt again.” Eraserhead lied.

He had to be lying.

Solemn in the safety net of Eraserhead having lied, Izuku barely let his words get to him. Barely.

Eraserhead didn’t get that injured from being pushed off that roof. He likely saved himself with his scarf and carried on with life. Izuku wasn’t that strong after all. Then what happened after that? Izuku got himself hurt. Izuku put himself in danger. Everything bad happened to Izuku. Eraserhead hadn’t been dragged through the high heavens by his curse yet, so maybe—just maybe—he didn’t hate him just yet. It would happen eventually. The point where being in Izuku’s life became too much to bear, and he just had to abandon ship.

It happened to everyone. From his mother, to the friend he could barely remember, to his brother, to his papa, everyone had to leave at some point. Until then—or until it started to seem inevitable—perhaps Izuku could be a little selfish.

“Why do I feel like this is some kind of manipulation to get me to stop getting myself hurt?” Izuku teased without his heart fully in it.

“You’re perceptive. Good job.” Eraserhead joked.

Izuku tried to stand up. He really did. Then his hands brushed up against some snow, and his legs decided he would be safer stuck on a rooftop than anywhere near it.

He really hated his body sometimes.

“Fox, fears exist because our brains think there is some kind of danger to us. Even if there isn’t a proper reason for your fear of snow, it’s a valid fear because you have it.” Eraserhead explained. The moment of silence before and after his words dragged on longer than a snowstorm. A kind of snowstorm where there’s no food left in his house and he’s getting starved down to the bone.

Somehow, Eraserhead just kept on pushing through his storms.

“Also, you shouldn’t have forced yourself out here if you’re that petrified of snow,” he scolded.

“I hate when people get hurt, and I could’ve minimised it.” Izuku felt his guts unraveling with every word he spoke. Izuku didn’t necessarily fear vulnerability—more that he hates it. With a burning passion. If he could tear the concept of vulnerability to shreds and burn it over an open fire, he would.

“That’s not your responsibility. You’re a child.”

“I’m thirteen.” Oh no. The words came out before he could stop them. Honest.

“I’m going to get back to that later.” Izuku knew a warning when he hears one.

Whether the shiver that he had after was out of fear or the chill, Izuku wasn’t aware. His two coats were still wrapped tight around his shoulders after all. The shudder just felt like a draft ripped through his body. It dragged over and over with no remorse. A lot of things didn’t have any remorse for Izuku.

“Are you cold?” Eraserhead took off his scarf without even waiting for an answer. Izuku didn’t know how he didn’t snort when the fabric simply swallowed him up entirely.

“I’ll be fine—you got any jelly?” Izuku pushed a hole through the scarf’s layers to get his wanting hand out.

“I’m out tonight, Problem child.” The hero betrayed him.

“Fuck, I’m hungry.” Izuku lamented

“Language.”

“Sorry!”

Izuku was snorting a lot tonight. When did Eraserhead get so funny? When did heroes get funny?

“You can come get actual food from my place if you like?” Eraserhead asked, throwing something completely out of a left field without a single warning. Rude. Izuku tried laughing him off, but he said no more. Almost like he were telling the truth.

“Wait, seriously?” Izuku shouted at a far too high volume considering how dark it was. It was only about eleven PM, so he got away with it.

“Yes, seriously. My husband has been complaining about me feeding you nothing but jelly packets. Even though I’ve told him you eat things not given to you by me!” Eraserhead ranted. Izuku hadn’t heard the man get really worked up before, and he had to hold back his laughter as the stop his flow. Sadly, he stopped himself and took a few breaths.

“Point being, if you want to, you can come steal some of my husband’s cooking.”

It wasn’t an awful offer. Izuku was still hungry after all. Eraserhead hadn’t tried to kill him yet, not intentionally anyway. It was simply a way to get food—that’s all it was. He’s bended his own morals to get food in his mouth before.

He started crying — again.

“Promise not to murder me?” Izuku asked.

“I promise not to murder you.” The hero confirmed.

“Good enough for me!” Izuku shot up to not give his legs time to remember the surrounding snow. His legs wobbled under him and reminded Izuku that they never forgot. Little bastards.

“You have no self preservation skills.” Eraserhead complained, his hands stabilising Izuku’s shoulders and attempting to help him navigate the alps of death flecks.

“I’m a vigilante, comes with the trade.”

“Just come on, Problem child.”

Eraserhead would jump over the next rooftop first. Then he’d wipe away the snow from the edge to let Fox follow him. Like a game of follow the leader on top of buildings. They took about seven detours, three dead ends and jumped from the same ledge twice in the hero’s attempts to make his route home be more obscure. Good thing for him, Izuku stopped paying attention about twenty minutes in. It was just autopilot, jump and run and wait and the jump. When Eraserhead finally stopped on the roof of an apartment building, Izuku had to scratch a patch of skin off his arm to get his focus back.

He was incredibly cold by the time they got there. Shivering every few seconds kind of cold. Izuku tried to tell himself that his two coats simply weren’t working. That the shivers were from the cold, and not the fear of actually meeting Eraserhead’s family.

What was there to be scared of? Sure, he’s a criminal, a vigilante, a homeless orphan, and he pushed the man’s husband off a roof. He might also unintentionally cause his life to break down, eventually.

Okay, he was terrified, sue him.

He had to stop his feet from going up the stairs two at a time to stay in line with Eraserhead. Apart from the fact that he still didn’t know where he lived, the thought of being seen was a tad terrifying. Many people still hate him after all.

Eraserhead brought them both to an apartment on the third-floor, second hallway, six doors down. Izuku filed away that information for later and listened in on the sound just beyond the door. Light humming along to a song and the methodical scraping and cutting sounds made in the cooking process.

Humming that stopped when the door clicked open.

“Shouta, that you?” The voice inside called out while Izuku was being instructed on what to do with his shoes. Izuku gestured to the seven buckles on the side of the boots he wears as Fox and Eraser just sighed before telling him to forget it.

It took Izuku a moment to process the fact that Eraserhead was called “Shouta”.

“You have a name?” Izuku was flabbergasted.

“Oh, shut it.” Eraserhead—or Shouta apparently—ruffled his hair with a scoff.

Izuku was still quite shocked that Eraserhead wasn’t called Eraserhead. Next you’re gonna tell him All Might wasn’t called All Might.

The voice from the kitchen practically ran to the door and almost toppled over his supposed husband, “Shouta” with a hug. Far too much was being found out about the hero tonight for Izuku’s liking.

Then, the guy must've seen him as he stopped dead in his tracks.

Izuku’s heart started racing, and there wasn’t even snow on him that time.

“Took you long enough to let me meet the little listener, Shouta.” The guy with a weirdly recognisable voice laughed after an uncomfortably long silence. Appearing to be not at all distressed about his husband bringing home a literal criminal during the night.

Izuku knew that voice. Being horrible with faces for obvious reasons made him much more susceptible to people's vocal mannerisms. He knew this guy’s voice. The word listener being used was something he had only heard one radio presenter do.

Eraserhead couldn’t have been married to Present Mic, could he? They just seemed so different with Mic being in and out of the top ten over the years and Eraser not even being known by the public. Mic seemed so bubbly and hyperactive on the radio, and Eraser just wasn’t any of those things. He was Eraserhead.

Opposites really do attract.

“You’re Present mic?” Izuku asked. He could hear the moment Eraser froze. Sometimes Izuku wished he had just bitten the bullet and not worn his blindfold, just so he could see the faint glimmer of people’s faces in moments like these.

“Huh, normally i don’t get recognised with my hair like this.” Mic complained like his hair would have been any factor to him. If the hero ever found out about his blindness, this moment would be so funny in hindsight.

“I’m good with voices.” Izuku told the truth for once.

Eraserhead, outwardly done with the way the conversation was going, threw Izuku under the bus and grunted, “The brat is hungry.” Izuku wished he had pushed him off that roof when he had the chance.

“Good thing I made food then,” Mic continued on. Not at all hindered by Eraserhead’s bland comment. Maybe they really were made for each other.

“Come on, Listener!” Mic’s arm was swung around his shoulder, and Izuku was guided through the apartment against his will. This hero was apparently extremely happy to cosy up with vigilantes. Once again, he was very much not complaining.

Eraserhead didn’t hate him for being a vigilante, so all likelihood would point towards his husband also not hating vigilantes. The experience of being treated like a friend was still jarring.

All thoughts and pre-conceived notions that Izuku had about Eraserhead were once again shattered when a fluffy cat jumped full force from the floor right on top of his shoulders. Then just laid there, without a care in the world. Izuku tried very hard not to upset them and to ignore the pointed laughter of Eraserhead at his predicament.

Turns out every single one of Izuku’s thoughts about Eraserhead was wrong.

Unless he was actually a vampire, he’s still not sure about that one.

“Oh, seems Bell has decided to like you.” Mic started petting her without a care in the world. Izuku had realised the hierarchy in this household quickly, and Bell was most definitely on top.

“Why did you name her Bell?” Izuku asked. His hand edged ever closer to actually being able to pet the cat perched on his shoulders. He hadn’t been able to pet a cat for years. He couldn’t let this opportunity go to waste.

“Blame Shouta. He found her while on patrol with a bell on her collar and just named her after that.” Mic threw him under the bus without a care in the world.

“That is so dumb.” Izuku laughed.

“She likes the name.” Eraserhead tried to pet said cat and got hissed at in response.

“I doubt it.” Izuku teased.

“She really didn’t, love.” Hizashi doubled down.

“Really, I invite you here and you gang up on me?” Izuku snorted at Eraserhead’s words, and Hizashi followed suit. If Bell could have laughed at her owner too, she would’ve.

“Your mistake, Eraser, I will take every opportunity to gang up on you.” In his bullying of Eraserhead, Izuku didn’t even notice when Hizashi had brought him and his feline friend to a chair by the counter. Eraser just sighed at his response and sat down in the seat opposite to where Bell was residing. She took the opportunity to graciously let Eraser pet her for all of ten seconds before going back to Hizashi.

Izuku put together that she had her favourites.

“You can call me Shouta while in here, you know?” Eraser said.

“That just feels incredibly wrong on so many levels.” Izuku didn’t know why it did exactly. Something about the hero’s real name felt sacred. Serene. Untouched by his grimy and destructive hands. To push forward through that would be to force Eraser onto his own pre-determined, discord-riddled path.

He still held on to the belief that if he just didn’t get too close to somebody, then they wouldn’t get hurt. Eraser was already getting too close for comfort.

“Suit yourself.” Eraser shrugged.

Mic and Eraser talked but Izuku couldn’t exactly process the words. Like in one ear and out the other. Nothing could get to his brain to tell him what was going on. He didn’t have any snow on him, and nothing bad was happening. So why was the ringing back?

“You okay, problem child?” Eraserhead must’ve noticed his silence, or he just looked like a total idiot.

“You don’t need to talk if you don’t want too listener.” Hizashi patted his arm, then bell, before finally getting back up to check on whatever was being made in the kitchen. It smelled better than anything he had eaten in the past two years. Considering he was on the streets, that really wasn’t saying anything, but this might even hold up to his papa’s cooking.

It actually smelled a lot like something his papa used to make.

Izuku brushed that off and focused solely on hearing Mic’s movements around the room. Movements, which stopped as he walked by Eraser.

“Shouta. Shower. Now.” Mic demanded upon one close look at Eraser’s state.

“Hizashi-” Eraser tried

“Now.” Mic continued.

Izuku quickly started feeling like a third wheel.

Watching his grumpy uncle-person getting bossed around by his husband was not what he expected today, but it was a welcome surprise. This show might even make up for the snow.

“You okay with spice, listener?” Mic asked in a full one-eighty of his previous tone once Eraser begrudgingly left. Presumably to shower.

At Izuku’s nod, Mic placed a bowl of chilli in front of him. Izuku might have married him in that moment.

“Thanks,” Izuku forced out before devouring his food at record speeds. In a move that stole his heart once again, the second Izuku had eaten his whole bowl, Mic filled it up once more without a complaint. Eraser would have to watch out for his favourite hero title.

“You’re welcome.” Mic said somewhere between his second and fourth bowl. After his fifth, he couldn’t have shovelled more food down his throat if he tried.

“Shouta does care about you.” Mic confessed. Izuku didn’t know how exactly to react to his words, so he just nodded and hoped he would move on.

He didn’t.

“Just so you know, the grump act is a front.” Mic joked. “Even if you’ve almost given him about seven heart-attacks.”

Bell bumped up against his hand again in demand of more pets.

Izuku used to beg his Papa for a cat almost every day. It was only when the doctor laughed about using it for his experiments that he stopped. Papa liked when he was happy though, so he used to sneak him out to pet nearby stray cats. They never actually got caught for that.

Papa would’ve liked it here.

“You better not be talking about me in here.” Eraser shouted when he finally reappeared in the main room.

“Me? I would never.” Mic feigned ignorance.

Izuku should have felt out of place there. A stray off-colour lamp stuck in a room full of perfect symmetry. Somehow they got his off colour to match, anyway. Seamlessly, they got him to just be comfortable existing around them. If they decided to attack him right now, he would be taken completely off-guard, and yet he couldn’t ever imagine them doing it. The normal worst-case scenarios that ran circles around any of his logical thoughts were simply silenced.

If they weren’t vampires, they knew some kind of witchcraft.

Izuku knew he was overstaying his welcome. The thought wormed in and found itself quite at home in his brain. He should go home. He was going to go home.

Just after he left a little bang.

Barging into Eraser’s front and wrapping his arms around his middle in the vague memory of what he remembered a hug was like, got his heart racing maybe even more than the snow. He couldn’t make himself regret his choice even as seconds stretched on. Some experiments had to be tried out.

“Oh.” Eraser’s voice was faint. Like how he had it when they first met. Izuku held on tighter.

“I got you, problem child.” Eraser patted the back of his head. Izuku most definitely did not melt.

Eraser didn’t push him away. Didn’t beat his neck in and tell him to stop being dumb or tighten his grip to make his skin crawl. He did exactly what Izuku’s hypothesis said he would do, just embrace the moment.

Papa would be happy Izuku could call this guy an uncle-figure.

Hizashi squeaked in the background. Papa would like him too.

When Izuku finally pulled away, he ignored the emptiness left behind in his arms and most definitely took notice of the four jelly packets Eraser shoved into his pockets.

“See you when the snows gone.” Izuku joked.

“See you, kid,” Eraser said. Far too sincere for Izuku’s lonely heart to keep up with.

Finding and undoing the lock on the window, Izuku threw it open before jumping out and down straight to the ground. Needless to say, quite a few bones in his legs broke.

“The door would’ve worked.” He heard Eraser sigh.

With his legs healing before he even got fully back up, Izuku started running as quickly as he could around the patches of snow still left behind. His favourite people, the ones who spread salt on the roads, were doing their jobs and Izuku was taking full advantage. In some mutation of hopscotch and acrobatic tricks, Izuku was not letting any blade of snow get anywhere near his skin.

Running past an alleyway, he could hear three heartbeats, and one terrified man. The click of the gun was all too familiar for the vigilante.

What’s one more? He thought before running directly into danger once again.

Chapter Text

Danger could get rid of an edge Izuku never knew he had.

The way adrenaline rushes into his blood and how his bones just shoot out and force his skin to catch up. Everything was instinctual without a wave of worry and thought behind it. The worry of being hurt if you mess up could send your entire self into overdrive to keep on going forward.

Training with Stain was a reprieve he didn’t know he needed.

Patrolling with Eraserhead was a show he wanted an encore to every night.

An encore had never failed to be delivered.

Fox was being unneedingly extravagant with his jumps between the rooftops. An occasional scoff or grunt being supplied by Eraser every time he got too close to falling straight onto his face. No such mishaps had occurred that night, and they had already dealt with three muggings, one attempted arson, one drunk guy creeping on a girl and another fight, which had already given both participants black eyes. Izuku just kept on jumping through.

Fox and Eraser had been a lot closer since he went to the heroes’ house. Some unspoken rule—that on some level, Fox mattered to Eraser. As little as he could without putting him in danger, Eraser mattered to Izuku too. Thankfully, the jelly was still being supplied to him, now with the occasional actual food packed with it. Mic was quickly climbing the ranks of favourite people.

There weren’t many on the list. Izuku was very lonely.

“So you teach at a hero school, right?” Izuku asked, fully knowing the answer. He was asking for Shinsou, as he wanted to help his surface-level friend as much as he could. Even if it meant going through the few back-alleys he had to get him a leg up.

“How do you know that?” Eraser questioned.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Izuku tried to hold back a laugh as Eraser nodded.

“What’s it like?” Izuku brushed him off.

“A lot of them don’t have what it takes.” Eraser sighed, leaving that question on the long pile of unanswered ones that Izuku left behind in his wake.

“Doesn’t getting into the school mean they have what it takes?” Izuku used to have a dream of becoming a hero. The glitz, the glamour, the people he would save. He thought he had given that dream up, but maybe he just got more realistic with it.

“Not necessarily.” Eraser said. “The entrance exam prioritises strength and physical quirks. Real hero work needs resilience, mental strength, and empathy. If someone was unwilling to learn, then they simply aren’t good enough for the course.”

Maybe Stain should listen to this guy talk for a bit.

“What do you do with kids like that?” Izuku knew how corrupt certain parts of the hero industry could be. Like the rot sticks all the way down past the root with no way to get it out.

“I expel them.” Eraser confessed. Well, that could work too.

“Seriously?”

“Expelled half my class this year.”

This man was cruel.

“I would get expelled in a heartbeat in your class.” Izuku wallowed. He had never actually been to a school before since elementary, but something told him he would be on thin ice anywhere near Eraserhead.

“No, you wouldn’t.” Eraser sighed.

They jumped across the next rooftop together, and Izuku’s ankle got snagged on the edge. Eraser grabbed hold of his arm and dragged him back up. The feeling of dead weight expanded tenfold.

“No matter how many dumb choices you make, you make them to do good. You get yourself injured and scared but you keep on going. The most I can ask from my students is that they are always willing to learn more and try again.” Eraserhead explained.

Shinsou would do good in his class. Shinsou actually cared about people and even two years before he could apply to a hero school, he was working towards his dream. If Izuku could find some way to introduce them without using Fox then Shinsou would be right in. The boy had actually decided to stand by him past the snow incident, this was the least he could do.

“If you could change the entrance exam, what would you do?” Izuku walked across the edge of the rooftop like it was a tightrope. With his arms out straight to keep his balance like he could take flight at any moment.

“Interviews like they do for the recommended kids.” Eraser was walking close enough to his side to catch him if he fell.

“That seems smart.” Izuku mumbled and focused on his steps. Falling over would make him too embarrassed to exist outside for the next week.

“It would be harder to do but at least then we could get a look at the kids beyond their combat abilities and I could expel less of them.” Eraserhead continued onwards with his spiel befoe they jumped to the next roof. That night was more quiet that he had expected it to be. The hero and the vigilante only got to have long conversations like this when the night dragged on and the crime got left behind.

“I didn’t peg you for a teacher, Eraser.” Izuku said. Even though he knew the man was a teacher from when they first met, something about him just cut off any teacher vibes. Maybe it was the emo look. It could’ve been how he tried to kill him, but his old tutor tried to do that too.

“I don’t have to deal with as many just gotten their licenses kids who think they’re tough this way.” He did, however, have to deal with annoying vigilantes this way!

Izuku kept the words stuffed behind his mouth in the pile of unsaid ones and jumped over to the next rooftop.

“I didn’t know I had a nickname.” Eraserhead let out into the air. His voice had a smug tone as he landed beside him. As it was Izuku’s mission to make him laugh, he suspected it was the heroes’ mission to make him as humiliated as possible.

“Eraserhead was getting too long to say.” Izuku shrugged. Eraserhead was far too long. He should’ve picked something short and concise like “Fox.” Even though he didn’t pick the name for himself, it’s still quite a good name. Ingenium, Phantom, even Endeavour had short, concise names. Eraserhead, Rock-lock, All might? They take far too long to get out. So he must give them nicknames. Rocky, Might and Eraser. Simple as that.

“Blame my husband he picked the name.” Eraser sighed. Izuku could not blame Mic for anything but the sun rising every day. The man kept giving him food how was he supposed to hate him.

The other night as he got home from being Fox, he decided to put on his radio show. The hero had mentioned him by name and although it got the station a lot of flack as he was a criminal, Mic was still standing his ground. Izuku liked Mic. Mostly because he could keep the man more easily at arm’s-length. He gave him food through Eraser. Heard stories about him through Eraser. Listened to him talk through a radio. Everything had a middle man. That fact was what comforted him on long snowy nights.

“Aww, were you two high-school sweethearts?” Izuku teased. Eraser and Mic were his perfect idea of love he could never have. They had cats, for goodness’ sakes. That’s the height of love.

“We didn’t get together until long after highschool I’ll have you know,” Eraser interjected

“Well, yeah, you are like ancient.” Izuku teased.

“Watch it!” Eraser grabbed his arm to stop him when his ankle stepped off-center and he lost his balance for a moment. Izuku mumbled in thanks, and in perfect tandem, a scream came from down below.

“Looks like we are needed.” Izuku tried to quip but got shushed by Eraserhead. Izuku hid his annoyance and kept his focus on the scene down below. There was one person, presumably a girl, being mugged by three people. Much taller people and one had a crowbar.

Izuku didn’t get to notice Eraser’s reaction as he jumped off the roof in a move all too common for Fox and landed right onto crowbar man’s head. The man underneath him crumpled and cushioned most of his fall. A scarf descended from the rooftop and grabbed the third guy, while the second came charging towards him.

His hammer decided this was the perfect moment to get stuck in its holder and, in a fleet of panic, he stole the crowbar right out of the man underneath him’s hand. One good hit with said crowbar knocked the second man unconscious. Eraser had made light work of the third guy when Fox turned back to the lady.

She was still crying, and while Izuku was probably the worst person for comfort, he had to try his best. No matter how awful that ends up being.

“You’re okay.” Izuku whispered, “No one is gonna hurt you.” Fox was approaching her as slowly as he could. Small steps and hands up in a calm down gesture. When her head finally whipped up to him, he could hear her heart rate increase even further.

“VILLAIN!” She shouted with all her might. Fox turned up his hearing even further to try to notice the heartbeat of whoever she was talking to. There was no one in the alleyway but him, her and Eraser up above. Then his brain caught up.

“Oh, you meant me.” Izuku mumbled under his breath. His feet brought him backwards towards where Eraser was climbing down on instinct. The lady, now called to action, raced forwards anyway and brought up her bag to attack.

“OW OW okay!” Izuku protested as he got hit with it in the head multiple times. She must have been keeping rocks in that thing with how heavy it was. His arms went up to cover his face, but for the most part he just stood there. Getting pummeled. He didn’t want to hurt an innocent person, no matter how prone to violence they may be. His injuries would disappear after all, so what did it even matter?

After Izuku was thoroughly pummeled, the woman just ran out of the alleyway and off into the distance. Fox was just left there feeling embarrassed.

“Rude,” Izuku mumbled as he started his pursuit to fix his hair and the bumps started to dissipate right back into the skin.

“You could have pushed her off.” Eraser pointed out when he finally got back to the floor. He put his hands on Fox’s shoulders and did a sweep of his now non-existent injuries that left only a buzz in his chest and skull.

“It was just a victim with a purse.” Izuku said. He could deal with people thinking he was a villain. Most people on the internet thought that. It was only a matter of time before he met someone brave enough to tell him to his face.

“Still assault.” Eraser grumbled and let him go when he found nothing.

“I just wanted to let her get her fear out, you know,” Izuku explained. It was better to be him than anyone else after all. Izuku couldn’t be permanently hurt. Izuku signed up for this. Fox could handle this.

“Other people in your life haven’t been hurting you like that, have they?” Eraser asked. Izuku tried to get a denial off his lips, but it wouldn’t come. No one was hurting him. He couldn’t get hurt. Any of his not permanent injuries came from Fox or his own idiocy. It wouldn’t even be a lie. He didn’t even live with anybody. But the words wouldn’t come.

Izuku didn’t want to tell him about the doctor. About his father. Fox didn’t have to deal with the memories, the haunting pain that crawled up his spine. And as long as Izuku kept the two of them separate, neither did Izuku as long as he had the mask on.

“You can tell me you know problem child” Eraser pushed on and Fox shaked his head with the might of all the words he kept unsaid. Eraser kept silent. Choosing between pushing further and simply believing him. He had to believe him. If Izuku couldn’t even make the truth convincing, then what was he good for?

Eraser just sighed. Making the decision that pushing further wasn’t going to work. “Okay, I have to go back to the station—”

“I’m staying out,” Izuku cut him off. Fox hadn’t actually been to the police station yet, for both the obvious reasons and the small fear in the back of his mind that he would get recognised. Fox had been out less in the past week because of the snow still lingering. Every time he would put on the news and have a crime come up in his patrol routes, he just felt like a failure.

“Don’t get stabbed.” Eraser warned.

“No promises!” Izuku laughed.

“I promise.” Izuku mended his words after Eraser grabbed his arm with his scarf. He really wanted one of those.

After finally being freed from his cloth prison, he did the most Fox thing he could and sprinted to jump off the roof. Less bones being broken due to his new rolling skills! Progress.

Eraser only sighed at the problem child’s antics before getting on with his actual job. Paperwork was a part of hero work that vigilantes such as Fox got to miss out on.

They had no legal jurisdiction or duty to fulfill. They were criminals in the eyes of the law, but criminals doing good. For a child whose only responsibilities should be homework and chores, Fox seemed to saddle so much blame for the world’s problems on his shoulders that it weighed him down at every step.

There was something wrong in that problem child’s life to make them that way. You don’t wake up one morning with no self worth and an immortal need to get yourself hurt to help others. Someone must’ve drilled it into his head—intentional or otherwise—that his life somehow cost less than others. That the sacrifice of his wellbeing was worth it for the securing of others’.

He was only thirteen…

The problem child had invaded every part of his life. In every kid still in his class, he saw that grin that could signal a chaotic doomsday if he wanted it to. In every child passing by him in the street, he saw the thirteen-year-old in far too much danger. Every time he went out on patrol, his pockets were lined with food for the disturbingly light teenager. With every file of paperwork he filled out, his own internal monologue supplied Fox’s snark-filled quips at every opportunity.

The problem child, for better or for worse, had fully infiltrated his life. Like a damn Trojan horse. Aizawa didn’t want to get rid of him. Fox could sack his city for all it’s worth with that smile, and he’d just sit there.

Tsukauchi was less compliant.

The detective was showing him the seventh inflammatory article written about Fox that week. All of them had some mix of lies, stretching of the truth, or even victim blaming to make Fox seem like a bad person for saving them. Aizawa did not understand the media sometimes.

Despite the blatant falsehoods that permeated all talk of the young vigilante, they kept running with the same story. The same lies doubled down on so many times that the web was too hard to get out of. Yet the media controlled public opinion. Public opinion was vehemently against Fox.

“Apparently, his quirk is blood manipulation,” officers whispered between each other. Rumours about the problem child’s quirk had been running rampant for weeks now. Fox was weirdly closed-lip about what it was. He was closed-lip about an absurd amount of things, actually.

“That’s not true.” Aizawa grumbled.

“Well then, what is his quirk?” Tsukauchi asked.

“Something to do with self-healing, I suppose,” Aizawa said. It had to, or else the problem child would’ve died a long time ago. Fox pushes all boundaries of recklessness and went into should-be-dead territory. The amount of times he’d jumped off of the top of buildings alone should have broken every bone in his legs.

Self-healing brought another problem, however. There wasn’t any case of it on the quirk registry. So other quirks, such as Pop-steps “Leap,” came to mind. Maybe the kid didn’t actually heal from the stab wound but just went out again injured. He wouldn’t put it past Fox to do that.

Fox’s quirk was a maze of answers that only led to more questions in an endless circle. It had something to do with how his body worked, but it wasn’t a mutant quirk. That was the only way to explain the blood waterfall out of his mouth when his quirk got erased.

“You suppose?” Tsukauchi pushed.

“He hasn’t told me,” Aizawa admitted. Fox’s trust was something he held close to his chest. He kept it and protected it with all he could. There wasn’t an essence in his body that thought the kid was telling the truth when he asked about his home-life, but any more pushing and he would just shut down. He had to tread lightly.

Which sadly involved dealing with police officers slandering a thirteen-year-old who, as far as he knew, was not in a safe home environment.

“Eraserhead, I hope i don’t have to inform you of the legality issues of vigilantism.” The detective sighed, already done from all the reports he had to sign recently because of Fox’s escapades. Aizawa hadn’t told the problem child about that. He heard he was making someone do more work and probably spiral ten layers below the earth before Aizawa could get another word in.

“Lay off him, Tsu! The kids only harmed criminals.” Phantom piped up. Her feet up on the seat next to her. Phantom and Rock-lock had been some of the kids’ only defenders in this cesspit of lies.

“Without a license.” Tsukauchi said, being the stickler for the rules he always was. Aizawa knew that the detective cared about the kid, somewhere in that frozen icy heart of his. Sadly, he was also an excellent cop and, as such, was not a fan of people who break the law. “He could get extremely hurt, which he already has, mind you!”

“The kid has potential, Tsukauchi, real potential.” Aizawa argued. Not a word of a lie. Fox could fight well, always got back up and had the spirit of a kid who wouldn’t get expelled from his class. Hopefully—if he wasn’t lying about being thirteen—Aizawa could get the boy to trust him enough in the next two years to actually take the UA entrance exam. He would recommend the kid if he had to. “He could be a great hero once he gets old enough.”

Tsukauchi scowled at him, already aware of what was going through his head.

“The vigilante reform programme won’t accept someone with this bad of an image, Eraserhead.” Tsukauchi asserted, disdain remaining in his voice.

“You and I both know how false those articles are,” Aizawa repeated for what felt like the millionth time.

“Falsehoods don’t matter as long as the public feels a certain way. Right now, they hate Fox with a passion.” Tsukauchi finished before walking back to his office. Aizawa didn’t understand how the Hero Commision could just ignore the problem child’s potential. No matter what the public thinks, the reform programme exists to help good, hardworking vigilantes turn over a new leaf and become real heroes. It would take longer for the kid because of his young age, but surely that just meant he deserved more chances.

If they could just see the way he lights up when he saves someone. If Nedzu could see. Well, the kid would already be getting drafted to become a UA ward in minutes.

“Someone said they saw him with Stain, you know?” The officers continued their gossiping.

“Oh, come on. Even I know the kid would never do that, and he’s only talked to me like once.” Phantom rolled her eyes with all her might. The girl was truly a Fox defender until her death-bed. Her “Interview”—random kid shoved a camera in her face—on a blog was one of the few positive Fox related media out there right now. Phantom always did care about the little guy.

“I have talked to the problem child, okay. He’s brave and resilient and a good kid.” Aizawa shut up that train of conversation before it properly began. What kind of thirteen-year-old would willingly want to hang out with a murderer? Sure, the boy had some kind of relationship with a dangerous underground broker—but that was it. In the grand scheme of things, brokers were nothing really. The problem child probably didn’t even fully know who he was. That was a conversation he was going to have with the kid eventually.

Even if he was seen with the hero killer, Aizawa would be more concerned for his safety than anything else. “He wouldn’t do anything that stupid.”

“I kinda want to meet the little guy properly.” Rock-lock exclaimed.

“Wait your turn!” Phantom complained.

“He’s not something to barter with.” Aizawa tried to stop their incessant bickering. He was far too late.

“Shush, Eraser, we are playing rock, paper, scissors.” Phantom shut him up as she and Rock-lock started playing to find out who would get to see Fox first. He takes back any kind thought he had ever had about the both of them.

Aizawa knew the kid wasn’t stupid. He knew the problem child, for all of his chaos, just wanted to do what’s right. He just wishes the kid would stop getting himself hurt.

Eraser would not be proud of Izuku right now. He made one promise not even an hour ago and somehow already broke it. The knife was still in his side, and there were still two criminals up and trying to punch him, so pulling it out was getting harder by the second.

It’s a throwing knife. A smaller one that got lodged right next to his hipbone. It hurt like a bastard, and his quirk was already freaking out around it as he bobbed and weaved as much as he could. Blood was trickling out onto the floor as he dodged punch after kick. These two were never-ending, even with their third companion down on the ground and their victim long gone.

The night had been going well up to this part. He had gotten his wrist broken while breaking up a fight and stopping a mugging. Apart from that, he was holding up to his no stabbing promise quite successfully. Then he ran into a girl with a camera being shouted at by three adults. She had tried to fight back but got a gag put around her mouth, and the main guy was about to bash her head into a wall before Fox jumped down.

Breaking a bone in his ankle in the process, he landed straight onto the main guys back and whipped out his hammer to hit him straight on the head. Knocking him unconscious, he felt pretty good about how the situation was going. He hadn’t expected Speedy #1 and #2 to start to throw knives at him immediately.

His hammer got kicked to the side, and the evasive manoeuvre he attempted ended with a knife thrown in his hip and his neck almost getting snapped.

With the Speedy’s attention on him, he got the girl to run away in the commotion. Now at least there would be no witnesses to this embarrassingly awful fight.

The Speedy’s did not need to take breaks. When one moved away, the other moved in. They would’ve been lethal if it weren’t for in inability to die. Ripping out the throwing knife was a painful and wasteful move as it was replaced his two more in his arm and leg. Speedy #2 was good at throwing these knives. He would ask her to teach him if he weren’t being given the full target experience.

Fox was strapped for ideas and energy. He had already broken his promise with Eraser, and he had decided the hero was not being told about this situation. That would be all well and good once he got out of this situation.

A kick to the head followed by his legs being swept out from underneath him made Izuku fall to the floor. Head hitting right against the pavement and gashing up his forehead before it immediately sewed shut, leaving only the blood left outside. Fox stopped moving. The only way he was getting out of this was a surprise attack. Even with a badly executed surprise attack, which depended on his ability to act dead.

“Isn’t that the vigilante Stain talked about?” Speedy #1 asked as they stood above his supposedly unconscious body. Fox tried his best not to feel flattered. Then he felt annoyed that Stain knew the people who had just tried to kidnap an innocent girl. The cannibal’s morals confused him sometimes.

“Can’t be, he’s tiny.” Speedy #2 grunted while recollecting her knives from inside his limbs.

“Oh well, the boss never said which kid he needed.” Speedy #1 sighed before grabbing a fistful of his hair and yanking him to his feet. Ignoring that very terrifying statement, Izuku took his opportunity to grasp onto the Speedy’s arm.

Whatever his and Speedy #2’s reactions were, he didn’t quite catch them between his last few energy reserves being melted away into a force field. A force field, which would luckily work as intended, and knock both of the Speedys directly into the walls of the alley. Then directly onto the ground as they were out like a light.

Izuku could barely celebrate as his legs threatened to collapse out from under him and his brain turned ever-so-slightly to mush. How he got home that night, do not ask him. Some combination of muscle memory and pure will got him to the door that night. However, not to his pillow fort.

Fox passed out on the ground that night with his door wide open.

While a girl, who had just gotten saved by an “evil” vigilante for the second time, decided that the media needed some pushback. There needed to be another side. Turn this from a dumpster fire to a debate.

“THE FOX, REAL HERO HIDING IN THE SHADOWS”

The girls’ seventh blog post about the Fox was different. This one had a clear as day video of the vigilante literally throwing himself in front of a knife to save her.

“People have been going way too hard on Fox. Some heroes do way more damage than him.”

“You mean heroes WITH licenses. If we let just any vigilante run about, then our streets turn into chaos”

“Licenses obviously don’t work if so many heroes are corrupt these days.”

“You can’t blame the whole batch for a few bad apples.”

“There still needs to be a better screening process before licenses are given to high schoolers.”

“Vigilantes don’t have any screening process at all. That’s why they’re so dangerous.”

“Vigilantes are just as bad as villains, really.”

“Vigilantes help people. Since when was it a crime to be a good Samaritan?”

“Fox just puts people in more danger.”

“A girl could’ve died if it weren’t for Fox.”

“Most people don’t have what it takes to be a vigilante. Promoting this lifestyle will only end in children being hurt.”

“The sky crawler started out as a vigilante. He’s doing good now.”

“One good apple doesn’t make the rest of them good. Remember Stain.”

All for One found society to be funny. A fallible, humorous ship, which changed and turned directions at the people’s very will. An idea that was decided to be moral one moment could be a sin worthy of inhumane torture the next. Drop one small pin into the middle and send off ripples miles wide.

Puppeteering the masses was a job he had taken on from birth. It was his right. To stand at the head of the ship and watch as the ants try to make themselves seem in control. Then, burn off the strands once they seem too dangerous.

Fox was quite an ant. Watching as one child’s contributions pushed off plans and aggravated villains and heroes alike. It wasn’t often one cause could be supported by both sides of ants, Fox did it anyway. All for One wouldn’t have noticed him if he hadn’t stopped three shipments of ready-to-be made Nomu’s from coming in.

It was only a matter of time before he became jaded. A shell of his former heroic self to embrace the darker edge of the places he runs in. All for One could use someone like him. The doctor had been getting annoyed about the amount of available subjects decreasing these days, but in all failures there was an opportunity. Always another ant to fall back on. One big maze of life only he could see over. The great showman of the earth.

The nomu’s only failed last time because of the fire in the factory. Sadly, his son was no longer around with his rebellious nature. In his parting, All for one focused more on the light streaks with his boy. No use holding anger toward a corpse, anyway.

This time the nomus were not going to fail.

“That one isn’t ready yet, sir.” The doctor explained as All for One focused on his so-called “Prime nomu.” The thing couldn’t speak or think. Just brainlessly follow orders. He was the perfect pet for Tomura. Well, he would be once the doctor thought him done.

“Why not?” he asked. A lot of their workings got delayed two years ago, but even with that, there hadn’t been a nomu to last as long as this one. Almost like the doctor was playing with it. Badly hidden sadistic tendencies were a reason he hired the man all those years ago, but interfering with his ship-steering was where he draws the line.

“His regeneration quirk isn’t working properly.” The doctor explained.

“It’s the best quirk i have in my collection.” Best quirk he could spare.

The doctor paused. All for One waited. He was nothing but a patient man.

The doctor took a deep breath like it would be his last. “Sir, if we could try to find your boy-”

“His corpse stays where it is.” All for one cut him off. His boy hadn’t been found since the fire. He intended to keep it that way. As much as he despised the boy’s reckless and disobedient actions, he was still his boy. Choices were going to be made that hurt him, but they were his boys’ choices. If he were still with him, there would be more punishment for his actions, yet he wasn’t.

All for one sees no use in punishing the dead, so he lets the boy’s body be free. Be where he always wished it would be in life. Behind lines and walls, where the want to be free still stood. He was going to let the boy’s cadaver stay out there until the day the maze fell down. He was still his boy after all.

“Of course, sir,” the doctor agreed.

“If he doesn’t work, what about the rest of them?” All for one moved onto the next few bodies. Standing up in test tubes with their brains sticking out of the top of their skulls, they truly looked like masterpieces. Works of art.

“These two are optimal, sir. Fire resistance on this one and water resistance on this one.” The doctor yammered on.

“Send them out tomorrow.” He ordered. It’s time the heroic ants learnt that the nomus never truly left. Only re-organised.

“But sir-” One little stare from a captain could make an ant roll back any pride they once secured. Pride was but a frilly accessory one uses to make themselves feel worthy in a world filled with nothing but carbon copies of themselves. “Will do.”

“Get Kurogiri to clean up a guest room. We might have a new Fox in our ranks soon.” All for one smiled as much as he could with the limited face he still had. Fox would come running to the heroes’ side. Go help them without a second thought. Then they would turn against him. Remind him how little he was worth to them. Break him down into nothing and leave him right for All for one to pick him up. Truly easy as that.

Society was so funny.

Chapter Text

Izuku had a problem. A Fox mask sized problem.

A fox mask, which was stashed in the back of his waistband and covered by his designated Fox coat. Sunglasses hastily thrown onto his face and a smile, he tried his best to keep up as he talked to Shinsou. Nothing could go right for him, could it?

Izuku woke up this morning (afternoon) on the floor with his hammer still missing. Left hastily in the escape. He could barely remember the night prior. He was hungry, tired, and annoyed that he had wasted so much time on the floor.

Thinking he could be smart and save time, he put on his Fox attire and started walking to the hardware store to pick up yet another hammer. The normal feelings of everyone watching him were muffled by the setting sun just visible in his glasses.

His only genuine fear was somebody figuring out his outfit was the same as Fox’s costume. However, Fox was really only seen in the dead of night, and he doubts his attire was somebody’s biggest worry when he shows up. So he kept on walking in public. .

Walking out of a department store with a hammer in his hand, Izuku almost jumped out of his own skeleton when he heard his name being shouted. No one was supposed to know his name. It must have been someone else. He kept trying to tell himself that there wasn’t anyone stalking him, attempting to kill him in the middle of the street.

He turned around as slowly as he could, praying to see another Izuku going to meet his friends at this time of night. Going off and living a normal life, unaware of the horrors someone with his same name just a few feet behind had gone through.

Instead, he just saw a purple fluff of hair and a slowly waving hand. A slowly waving hand getting closer and closer. Shinsou was walking up to him right before he was supposed to go on patrol. Trying to tell himself that everything would be fine, Izuku just waved right back and forced a smile on his face. He needed to make this quick. Usher Shinsou away in the nicest way possible and then got back to his nighttime activities. As well make up an excuse for the hammer he was also waving around.

Izuku felt like his two separate worlds were collapsing inward on him. The line between his Izuku life and Fox life was being trampled on and mushed into complete nothingness. His different lives were like water and potassium; you don’t put them together unless you want a massive boom. Izuku felt his heart getting ready for such a boom. Izuku had a lot more problems than Fox. Fox was brave and kind and hated by many, but he’s still a barrier. A barrier that got trampled on every time he cried but a barrier that kept his brain from breaking down because of the fear of his father finding him every time he put on that mask.

His father wasn’t looking for Fox after all. He was looking for Izuku. That wooden mask that covered his face made him feel like a new person. A new person with his same fears, but they weren’t as strong. Fox didn’t wallow in pity and cry himself to sleep. Izuku did that. The mask makes him feel Izuku couldn’t touch him.

Currently, the mask was being hidden from the only surface-level friend Izuku even had by a simple coat.

“Nice seeing you here.” Shinsou greeted him with that hard-earned smile he had worked to see from the taller boy. Izuku didn’t want to upset him, but the boy sticking himself anywhere near his Fox identity was a nightmare in itself.

“Well, you know i love being out. In the dead of night. Completely alone.” Izuku stammered out, his new hammer still waving around in the air. He must’ve looked like such an idiot. Somehow Shinsou just laughed at his sheer awkwardness.

“And buying hammers, apparently.” Shinsou teased.

“I like hammers.” he blurted out before shoving the handle into its loop on Fox’s tool belt.

“Good for you, man.” Izuku could sense the sarcasm in his voice. There were a lot of things that could be sensed in Shinsou’s voice. Fear, anger, joy, everything that couldn’t be seen in just the words themselves or his face, glowed in the way he said things. It wasn’t clear if even Shinsou noticed it, but Izuku did. He didn’t have many other people to talk to, so of the few people he did, he liked to notice their quirks. Their little ways of being them.

Izuku didn’t like letting anything out from himself. An undying need to keep his mask up.

The silence between them was more awkward than it normally was. No light breeze blossoming a calmness in the quiet. It was just pure blistering silence. Harmonised by the deep rumbles of thunder from above. Just two surface-level friends with little to say between them under the bruising clouds.

Izuku took a very long breath. “Well, I have to go before my parents get a-” Izuku’s lie couldn’t even crawl out of his own throat before the universe gave him one massive fuck you. A jeep being thrown directly at the hardware store’s door and followed by a monster he could recognise a mile away.

There were two Nomus. Two eight feet tall monsters with eyes injected straight into their exposed brains poking out of their skulls. Blue skin and grafts sewn with pure malice in mind onto their arms. They couldn’t think. Couldn’t comprehend any actions beyond destruction because that was all they could think. Shinsou grabbed his shoulder and brought him out of the way of the jeep and straight to the ground to try to save him from his own kind.

The nomus were destroying the surrounding buildings by ramming into the walls. Water pipes breaking and sprinkling water down to the trampled roads left behind in the nomus steps. There were cracks appearing in the floors themselves, opening up old wounds the population had tried to forget about for years.

Izuku was dragged into an alleyway by Shinsou to get them both away from the chaos. Shinsou’s hands were shaking, but Izuku didn’t know how to help him. He was panicked. The monsters that prowled just outside terrified him more than the monster sitting right next to him.

“What the fuck is that.” Shinsou whispered. His body instinctively flinched whenever another large smash echoed across the entire street. The nomus were walking away. It was likely they didn’t have any objective beyond causing chaos. Those kinds of nomu brains couldn’t be given too many objectives or they would get confused. A confused monster was harder to control.

“That means you should get out of here.” Izuku warned him. Fox could be useful right now. People were probably getting hurt that he could’ve saved. The nomus couldn’t even permanently hurt him no matter how many cars were thrown at his head

Shinsou was shouting at him as he got up onto his feet. His only friend was going to think of him as a complete asshole after this, but he just prayed to whatever he could that Shinsou would take his apologies after. The boy was probably still in shock.

Izuku could hear a few police cars driving up to where the nomus were plowing down the street and destroying everything in sight. Behind them, a few heroes were in tow. It would take them about an hour at least to subdue the nomus. He wasn’t aware of which quirks were shoved into their corpses, but they had to be something that worked in tandem with another. Filing that away to tell Eraser if he ran into him, Izuku made up his own plan.

The heroes would likely be focused on taking down the nomus. Only a few rescue heroes could make it to the scene for a while, so Fox had to do their work for them.

Reaching back to grasp the wooden mask hidden behind his coat, Izuku’s molding heart jumped up to his throat when his fingers clenched onto nothing.

It must have gotten dropped when he fell to the floor. His mask was somewhere on the ground. The ground that was being destroyed beyond recognition. He didn’t fucking have time for this. Screams echoed in his ears as he searched for the orange piece of wood.

“Izuku, what’s this?” Shinsou’s words came out muffled and mumbled and barely registered as he kept on searching. Then, one small glance over to the boy made him feel as his life turned to dust around him.

Shinsou, his only friend as Izuku, looked horrified and as pale as a sheet as he held up the mask which contained his solace of another life.

Izuku was in front of him before the boy could blink. “You saw nothing, okay!” Izuku shouted after taking back the mask. Shinsou flinched away from him in response.

Izuku didn’t let the remorse for his actions leak into his mind. It was too clogged up with the fog of fear to even notice how scared Shinsou was. How scared he was of him. He didn’t care about Shinsou’s quirk or how he could just take over his mind in an instant. He just needed the boy to be safe. Somewhere far away from where any of the doctor’s creations could hurt him.

“Get out of here, Shinsou,” Izuku ordered. All the while, screams piled up within his earshot.

“You’re that Fox guy,” Shinsou mumbled. His eyes were unfocused, and his hands scraped against the floor of the alleyway. Izuku wanted to help him, but every second he stood there, another scream resounded in the distance he could’ve been helping with. The air felt stale around him, cutting into his skin every second he chose inaction.

“No, I’m not.” Izuku countered. He didn’t have any excuse to get him out of here. He had to hope Shinsou just wouldn’t care. Shinsou wouldn’t go tell on him. Probably. Hopefully, he wouldn’t. Izuku was willing to accept the risk. He got about two steps out of the alleyway before his arm was dragged back. The other boys’ nails dug into his skin in a weak hold to keep him from running into danger.

Pushing the other boys’ grip away, he shoved his shoulder into the wall of the alleyway without a word. Shinsou’s bated breath was the only sound. The screams were too far away to even be registered for a moment. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re a horrible liar?” Shinsou teased, his face the epitome of not caring. The other boy’s breath was hot on his face. His sunglasses were his only reprieve. Looking away for a moment, they were quickly replaced by his mask.

It felt wrong being this close to Shinsou with the mask on. His skin tingled and threatened to rip itself off if stuck with this problem for one more moment. Pain in his chest rippled out in protest at the thought of the Shinsou being afraid of him. Scared wasn’t a feeling he was supposed to feel around Izuku. Not harmless Izuku. Another wall between Fox and Izuku was ripped down, and made his heart pound against his chest. Izuku knew he had likely lost his only friend after this. Surface level or not, it still stung. The best thing he could do was make sure he could still breathe after all the trouble of being anywhere near the treacherous life of Izuku Midoriya. His hand dug into the taller boy’s shoulder. Izuku went up as tall as he could on his feet to talk to him.

“Can we talk about this when you’re not in danger of dying!” Izuku broke the silence.

“You’re in danger of dying! You’re the one who wants to run into the fight,” Shinsou fought back. Izuku pulled out a knife and put it against his neck. A move he regretted the second it happened, but he couldn’t bring back. The knife sat just under the jugular. One small swipe and his father would be proud of him. He wasn’t going to do it. Shinsou didn’t know that. Shinsou knew nothing. His heart was racing a million miles an hour, and the knife still sat there. A silent threat that he could just kill him. Kill the one person who knew his identity. Who could burn his whole measly life to the ground.

Luckily for him, Izuku would rather go back to his father than murder someone. His liking of Shinsou aside.

“I’m fine. Now go!” He ordered him again, grabbing hold of the boy’s collar and pushing him out of the alley. The knife was still out and ready. Facing towards Shinsou’s head close enough to cut into his skull with one flick.

If Shinsou even had a flicker of care towards Izuku before, he snuffed it out without a doubt. Maybe it wasn’t Izuku’s cursed luck which pushed people away but his own destructiveness.

Shinsou must’ve been staring at the knife as neither his breathing nor his shaking hands stopped. “Izu-” He tried.

“Go!” Izuku shouted at him again. Pushing his knife once again into the boy he once called a friend’s face and racing his poor heart again.

Shinsou pushed the knife away. “We are talking about this.” Shinsou lied before running off in the opposite direction of the nomu. Izuku pushed down any disappointment, desperation or relief at him leaving to focus on the task at hand.

The air was rotted in the state of pure carnage left behind by the nomus. Fire reaped anything in sight around the ground, and dust ripped his lungs open. It took everything in him to keep himself from running away until his legs gave out beneath him or burned themselves out into nothing. The nomus weren’t stopping. Heroes fighting against them unable to do anything but stall. Bringing down buildings and crushing up cars in their wake. What was once a bustling street full of stressed but safe people became nothing but a wasteland as they fought on.

Following the onslaught of screams from inside of a building, Izuku pushed past the smoke and infernal heat to get to the people trapped behind it all. His skin was scratching itself off and ripping open under the scalding pressure of the fire on all sides. Claustrophobia threatened to lock up his limbs at the feeling of fire caging him in. He forced himself to keep on pushing. The people inside weren’t silenced yet. He wasn’t going to give up.

When he finally got close to where the two heartbeats he could pick up were, he needed to kick down the door to get inside. Sulfur was still corrupting any sense of smell, and his hearing was wracked with pure terror every time he reached out. He wasn’t even wearing his blindfold, and he still couldn’t see anything past the soot and flames.

“Are you a hero?” The lady huddled in the corner shouted out past the roar of fire around them. She had a child wrapped up in her arms, shaking and terrified as debris cracked and ricocheted around her.

“I can get you out of here” Izuku couldn’t let a lie fall out of his lips as they dried out under the surrounding heat. He pushed down on his hands to stop the shaking and ignored the seer of pain as the skin rolled right off and the nerves seared under the surface.

“Take my daughter first!” The mother demanded without a second of hesitation. Holding out her terrified daughter, no more than five, up to safety in exchange for her own.

“Mama?” The little voice wouldn’t have been able to be heard as Izuku covered the child in his coat to stop her skin from being near the flames. His own heart bleeding under his polluted chest and beating against its cage.

A part of the roof collapsed under the pressure of the inferno and dropped right onto his shoulder. Holding the kid out of harm’s way, Izuku pulled through the rippling of pain across his whole back and pushed his shoulder back into place without another thought. He was getting this family out of here alive, no matter how much it fucked him up.

“Please.” The mother begged. Tears rippled out of her eyes as the fires continued to consume on despite all else.

“I'm coming back!” Izuku promised, his own arms shaking against the child wrapped inside of them. He prayed she wouldn’t be able to remember the feeling of exposed bone pressing into her back as his skin failed to stick on and his regeneration didn’t work fast enough.

“I’m scared…” The girl was crying under the coat. The blaze still roared around them as he tried his best to manoeuvre through the flames. He was used to just plowing through without fear. Bones torn and cracked under the pressure, and he kept on going. Normally, there isn’t a child in his grip. The buzzing in his brain at the thought of her getting hurt was pounding against his skull.

“I am too, kid,” Izuku said before realising how idiotic saying that to a terrified child was. Holding her closer to shield her from the inferno all around her. “We do it together.” Izuku whispered. Then went back to his torturous game of moving around the flames. Not a care in the world about his own skin but for the child far too innocent for this discord. A child who reminded him far too much of a five-year-old Izuku being taken out of an earthquake only to leave him in a nightmare for years.

Finally breaking free of the building, Izuku was met with even more fire. Except this time they were actually being fought. Two heroes were shooting out water in tandem at any fire in their line of sight. Izuku was more focused on listening out for any kind of ambulance to drop the kid off at. He needed to get back to her mother. He refused to leave her.

“Fox!” Eraser’s voice was like a light in the dark. The hero ran up to him through the fire, destruction and screams and took him into a hug without a second thought. Despite how badly Izuku wanted to collapse into his arms, he pushed out of his hug and tried to hand the clinging child over to the man.

“Eraser, take her to the ambulance.” Izuku pleaded with the hero. His hands still shook at the thought of her mother still alone inside the building.

“Problem child, you need to come with her.” Eraser said. Eraser probably could’ve grabbed him and stopped him from running back into a burning building if he weren’t currently holding a sobbing child. The hero’s soft spot for children saves him again.

“Can’t!” Izuku shouted before running back into the stomach of the beast

“Fox!” Eraser’s voice fizzled into the distance as the fire crackling onto his skin resounded around him once again. He had to follow the heartbeat blindly. Nothing else could guide him through the destroyed wasteland. His own hands burnt through as he walked further into the building.

“Is she okay?” Was the first thing the mother asked when Izuku appeared in her little corner in the eye of chaos.

“Just fine, come on, she needs you too,” Izuku assured her. He would have to carry her to get her past his path. It was tiny and closing in by the second. Two people wouldn’t have been able to make it across it all without half of their bodies being burned off. Izuku was fine with that happening to him, but he would rather she still lived to get out of here.

“I can’t get up kid, you get out of here.” She said, her breathing heavier than it had been before. Izuku was confused about what she meant before she leaned forward in an exhausted attempt to push off the debris crushing her leg. If Izuku’s heart beat any quicker, he could circumvent a way for him to die.

“You’re going to be fine okay, I’ll carry you. Just get up.” Izuku was basically pleading as he pushed his whole body weight against the debris. Cries were dragged from the lady as he threw himself against it repeatedly to just get it to move. Desperation plagued his very bones.

“Kid, please. Just save yourself.” She begged. Even with the debris off her leg, it was still bleeding onto the ground. Heavy breathing was all Izuku could get through his ears despite the fire still roaring around him.

“I can’t.” Izuku sobbed. There was a small child just outside who needed her mother. Needed her to take her into her arms and keep her safe. She couldn’t make decisions without her mother’s beliefs in her head. Wanted her mother to help her through the woes of a lonely day.

Her daughter needed her mother like Izuku needed his.

Izuku lost his. She wasn’t going to lose hers.

“You saved my daughter. That’s all I could ask for.” She was breathing annoyingly calmly. Izuku was on the verge of hyperventilating, and she was just sitting there!

“I’m going to save you, okay! Because your daughter deserves her mother!” Izuku shouted over the fire quickly swallowing up the surrounding ground. The debris was no longer crushing her leg and keeping her stuck—no matter what injuries were left behind, Izuku could still carry her. “Trust me, growing up without one is horrible.” His throat didn’t support anymore shouting, yet his aching limbs still had enough energy to put a hand out to her.

“God, come on, kid.” She sighed before taking his hand. Fox could carry her in his arms and told her to be as small as possible to avoid getting nipped by the fire. His coat was absolute scraps now as fire ripped and grabbed at his cape to drag it down to smithereens. The path was even smaller than before, and his legs were getting the full blast of the burns as they tried their absolute best to get rid of his skin altogether.

He moved further on anyway.

Eraser was waiting for him the second his mask set out over the line of fire. Arms held up his scorched skin and helped the mother to get help with her bleeding, mangled leg. Izuku had to keep reminding himself that she was alive. She was safe. Her kid was going to grow up with a mother. A smile came to his face despite the bone-deep pain.

“You’re a really brave hero.” She whispered up to his still-breathing body. She was still breathing.

“Just a guy doing his best.” Izuku said.

She just laughed before she ruffled his hair once again. “Yet you’re still a hero.”

She was taken away to get help with her still profusely bleeding leg. But she was still alive. Eraser was right next to him, speaking on and on into his ear and giving him jelly packets to get him to come back down to earth. To breathe normally and to stop crying. Izuku couldn’t stop thinking about how she was still breathing. They were both still breathing.

Izuku let Eraser hug him longer that time.

“Problem child, you cannot just run into burning buildings, okay?” Eraser scolded him before finally letting him go. Dust took back over his senses as he was once again reminded of the pure carnage around him.

“No promises.” Izuku replied. Last time he promised something, it went haywire anyway.

Luckily, the fires were being tampered down by the heroes on the scene, and the nomus were slowing down a couple of miles ahead. Heroes had likely caught up with them and were attempting to stop anymore casualties. He could still hear heartbeats inside of buildings, but the rescue heroes were helping them now.

“Who’s this?” asked a firefighting hero. She had water shooting out of her wrists onto the larger fires. Izuku stopped himself from analysing it until people’s lives weren’t in danger.

“Vigilante. Not supposed to be here.” Eraser said while fretting over his blackened coat. The thing was hanging on by its threads by now, so he just stripped it off and left it on the ground. Much to the dismay of Eraser.

“Well, I am now. Deal with it.” Izuku teased.

“Oh, I like you. I’m water hose.” The hero introduced herself without even facing him. Far too focused on the ravaging infernos. Izuku recognised her cuffs. He really just recognised her. She and her partner patrolled his area. She could shoot out water, and her partner could control it. They were also related to the pussycats. None of those facts were quite helpful in this situation.

“I think I spied on your partner once.” Izuku mentioned and received a snort from her in response.

“What’s going on with the nomus?” Fox was going to stay back and help with the rescue. Getting recognised by the Nomus was far too high a possibility to go anywhere near them.

“They’re both attempting to move further downtown, but one of them is being pushed back by multiple heroes.” Water hose explained. She turned around for about five seconds, got Fox soaked, then turned back around with an apology. Well, it’s not like he was going to get a cold from all the fire around, so he just let his hair continually drip water onto the ground.

“The other one?” Their quirks were going to be intertwined, or they both wouldn’t be wasted on one fear attack. Separating them would be the smartest decision.

“Endeavour is on route. The second one isn’t immune to fire,” Eraser said. Then probably remembered his last awful experience with the number two hero as he grabbed his shoulder then said, “You’re not allowed to fight either, understood.”

“Wasn’t going to try to.” Izuku told the truth. Fire would be a wonderful weapon against the nomus. He wasn’t going to be a useless nuisance stood around in the middle of that fight when he could be saving people.

“Good.”

Izuku could hear footsteps running up to where the three of them were standing. In the heart of the chaos. His confusion only increased when Eraser didn’t even acknowledge him. He considered him being invisible until he started talking to the other hero. “We need to go.”

“What, why?” She asked. Fire-fighting heroes were actually really useful right now! Please don’t leave! They could not hear his thoughts sadly.

“Muscular is back and taking advantage of the chaos.” He must’ve been whispering as he noticed Fox staring right at the two of them in some attempt to will them into staying. Too bad he couldn’t actually see right now.

“I’ll see you, Eraserhead.” Like that, they were down another water source, and the fires were only growing.

“muscular…” He mumbled. He had heard of that guy—almost died to him once. Muscular was nothing short of terrifying. A sting rang out of his arm as he dug his nails into his skin to stop his hands from shaking.

“Villain they’ve been chasing, they’ll be fine.” Eraser brushed him off. He could only imagine what chaos Muscular had to make to stop them from saving lives to go fight him. Fox couldn’t fault them. Muscular was going to hurt people too. There was too much hurt and too few people stopping it. That’s why he became Fox after all.

“Listen, kid, you can help rescue people, but if a building starts to collapse, you get out of it. Understood?” Izuku felt like he was being scolded again, so he just nodded his way out of the situation.

Running away from Eraser was much harder that time with the hero’s eyes on him and his arms empty. But with the smog, destruction and screams still permeating the air, he was able to get out of the hero’s grasp to save people. There was an old man stuck under a piece of debris, which had landed on his arm. Pushing it off was the hardest part as the man seemed so invigorated with the will to live (and likely adrenaline) that he pulled himself out the second it wasn’t actively weighing down on his limb.

Ambulances stretched out the entire street. Each of them with the back open and about four paramedics working on people at any given time. He’d only actually seen one ambulance actually drive off to the hospital, and that was because they had to resuscitate someone. Apart from that, people were being treated and kept on backboards out of the way of the actual chaos. The risk of them having left then coming back with each patient and leaving someone in need of medical attention waiting was just too high. Fox brought back person after person, and the paramedics didn’t even notice or care that he wasn’t even a hero.

In times of chaos and death, the legalities of being a hero were really thrown out the window.

There was one little boy stuck inside a pocket of debris crying his eyes out about wanting his dad. It took Izuku about ten minutes to convince the boy to get out of the pocket, then he had to crawl back into the pocket as the boy had left his lion plush inside. He thanked everything above that he could when he got the boy to the medical area and his dad came running up to him.

There was a teenage boy who he was pretty sure had either a concussion or was extremely drunk lying between a large piece of debris and a fire. After attempting to just help him walk over to the medical area, he ended up just fully carrying him. Luckily he wasn’t bleeding anywhere except the side of his head, so his blood didn’t join the collage being painted on his shirt and arms.

There was blood that seeped into his skin and coated every single hair. No matter how much he tried to wipe it off, it just got mixed with the dust and the soot to make it cling even harder to his skin. He couldn’t stop it no matter how much he tried, so he just stopped.

No matter what, he kept on pushing himself to go out one more time. Keep on going and find one more person. Save one more life. He had to keep going because, no matter what happens tonight, he could live on. These people couldn’t.

So, no matter how many times he got told to breathe or take a break, he kept on going. Deciding to keep on going until his body collapsed. Then crawl on anyways.

There were six heartbeats on the top floor of a building. Every other floor leading up to it was completely on fire. They were stuck. Fox put his mouth into the corner of his arm and forced his way up the stairs. Dust barreled past into his lungs anyway, and he was reminded just how badly his regeneration worked inside of his body. The intense third-degree burns creeping up both his arms at the moment were fine, but a little dust or, god-forbid, drugs inside his body takes ages to get out. It’s faster than a normal person, but in the moment it could feel no different.

Izuku stopped taking notice of how many times his skin started to melt off that night about an hour in. The searing, blood-curdling pain became just background noise to the need to keep on pushing on. Fox didn’t have the same skin he left his house with that night, easy as that. He would deal with the energy being depleted to keep growing back his largest organ after all this. Adrenaline was keeping him going for now.

When he finally stepped foot onto the floor the heartbeats were on; he must’ve looked horrifying. A bone in his left leg sticked out and made him hobble up the stairs, paired with the melted off or burned straight through skin which appeared across his entire body. Nerves and tendons on show across his hands before the molecules dragged themselves over it to cover them up like a mangled curtain. The tips of his hair were singed, and his entire head had been blackened by the soot. Fox didn’t look like Fox. He didn’t even look human.

“Who are you?” Asked one of the heartbeats when he finally got to the room they were all in. It was boarded up by the fallen wall next to it. They couldn’t have gotten out if they had tried.

“I’m here to help.” Izuku tried to reassure them. How he was going to help, he wasn’t even sure. The fire covered every single inch of the stairs to the bottom. If the fire escape could be reached, then they would’ve already left. Without finding some way to get them all out, Fox was just there, bringing false hope.

“How did you get up here?” The man asked again as Fox dashed about the only room left not gorged by the fire. There had to be some way.

“Don’t waste time, boy! Let the hero work.” There was an older man among them all using a cane to whack the speaker over the head. He couldn’t even find humour in that amidst his paranoia.

Paranoia which was quite literally making his legs want to collapse from under him. Either that or the fact that the bone was still sticking out. Pushing it back into place made him cry out as pain shot out from where he had to push it through the re-stitched up skin.

“The fire escape is blocked. There’s no way out.” Okay, his pain may have gotten them more stressed out.

The only window left not covered in fire was boarded up. Had been for a while with the amount of rust accumulated around the nails. His hammer actually came into use for once! “There’s a way out.” He couldn’t stop the grin even with the deadly situation they were in. It took about all his body weight to knock the boards off, even after getting the nails ripped out. Pushing the hammer back into his tool belt, he went out to find a rope.

“I can tie this to the other roof and we can get down from there,” Izuku explained while tying the rope to the top of the window.

“That’s extremely dangerous.” One of the heartbeats warned.

“Either that or death.” He laughed before jumping over to the next rooftop. Landing with his arms being the only thing to reach the other side. As he crawled up to the top, the light bruises that bloomed on his skin felt like torture on the lack of energy left in his body.

Tying it to the other roof, he took a breath before using his hands to get back to the other building. This was an incredibly dumb idea. He knew it was. Yet it was also his only way to get them all out of there. He just had to not fall or break the rope. He also had to make sure the knot was secure each time. If he did anything wrong, then someone could get seriously hurt.

If he didn’t do something, they could all die.

“Okay, you’re going to need to hold on to me as I carry us over to the other side,” Fox said. The heartbeats were all more rapid than they had been when their building was getting engulfed by flames, and that might not be a good sign.

“Take Ochaco first, please.” One of the heartbeats pushed forward a girl around his age.

“Dad!” She tried, tears still drying on her face.

“It’s safe, I promise.” Izuku lied, then checked the knot again for the seventh time as she wrapped her arms around his neck. A scream rang out when he dropped onto the rope and started moving across. His bare skin started to burn as he moved across the rope. Skin peeled off and scabbed over as his hands went numb under the pressure. He really wished he hadn’t forgotten to add gloves to his Fox ensemble right now.

“This is the third time you’ve saved me.” The girl whispered. Her heartbeat was going far too fast and her hands were shaking where they were locked on his back. Izuku didn’t know how to help her except to get to the other roof where she wasn’t in danger.

He did recognise her voice, however. A voice that normally cornered him in some alleyway and asked a million questions.

“Camera girl?” He asked between struggling breaths. One hand in front of the other. Numbing and burning aside, just one in front of the other. Don’t think about how he would have to do this five more times.

“Ochaco Ururaka.” She corrected.

Getting to the other edge of the rope, he had to crawl up to the top of the rooftop sideways to not hurt Ochaco. Which took more out of his still regenerating hands than he expected. “Fox,” he replied when they finally got back onto solid ground.

“Thank you, by the way.” Ochaco hugged him. Izuku took the moment to let his hands regenerate more before he would have to crawl back. “I know some people give you a hard time, but you’re a good hero, okay.” Fox had heard that sentiment twice today. Something about near-death experiences made people respect vigilantism.

“Thanks, Ochaco.” He said, pushing back to get the other five heartbeats still trapped. “I’ll be back. This is going to take a while.” Groaning, he jumped back to the rope and started crawling across. Taking less time to get back due to the weight pushing down on the rope decreasing.

“Okay, who’s next?” Forcing a smile to the still panicked people, a boy walked up, a year older than him. Crawling across the rope became a grueling habit of a routine. One hand on the rope while the other heals quickly from the burn before grabbing back on. Over and over as the roof became closer in sight. Ignore the heartbeats and the screaming miles away and the still going on fight with two of his own kind.

They’d fight him if they ever found out…

He kept on pushing anyway.

“What’s your name?” The boy asked when he finally got onto the safe ground once again.

Ignoring the urge to collapse where he was standing, he just grunted a “Fox.”

His heart was still beating. Closer to a normal rhythm now. He was safe. The people stuck inside weren’t. Getting ready to go back over, Izuku checked over the rope again when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Thank you, Fox.” The boy was smiling. He was happy to be alive.

Fox didn’t get to reply.

Fire came barreling past like the forceful ambush it always was. Taking and stealing to mangle any remnant of human it could get its greedy hands on. Biting past his side to crawl onwards straight into the boy’s chest. Creeping up slowly and precisely to infect from his hip to his neck. The small fire catching on the side of Fox’s wooden mask was of little importance as the boy fell to the ground he thought he was safe on. Izuku promised he was safe on. With a heartbeat a little more than a tap in his chest.

The fire had come from a hero. The hero called for help in a voice he recognised. Endeavour was fighting an Izuku and almost killed somebody.

Fox had failed. Oh, he had failed horrifically.

Chapter Text

Everything ached. From his head to his legs, nothing wanted to keep on moving. His head felt like it was submerged in water in the aftermath of his drop in adrenaline. Back was the ringing in his ears, which drowned out everything else around it. Muffled and silenced him. Muzzled his brain. He wanted to just collapse onto the rooftop without another thought.

The increasingly fainter heartbeat of the boy was the only thing stopping him.

He didn’t know what to do.

Bringing the boy straight to medical would leave the other four heartbeats to die in the fire, but going back for them would basically leave the boy for dead. No matter what he did, someone was going to lose their life. It was all up to his own choice. He was playing the game he swore off the day he ran from his father. Playing with lives was a despicable thing.

Yet despite all his moral stand-points he’s still here. With no choice and five lives to choose between.

He jumped down to get to the body, and his ankle got caught on the edge of the roof. Sending his face plummeting straight down into the ground in a more embarrassing display than anything else he had done that day. Until Ochaco leaped in front of him and made his body just sit in the air. As light as a feather.

“Sorry. I can take gravity off the things I touch. I just didn’t think…” Ochaco stuttered. Her words came out between hastening breaths. Seemed Izuku wasn’t alone in his panic over the boy as tears were stumbling out of her eyes too. “Oh my God, is he okay?”

Getting gravity back was strange. Like a weight sewing itself into every inch of your skin to drag you straight down to the ground against any will. He’d never really noticed how pushy gravity was until it got taken away from him.

Pulling on the few hairs at the back of his neck not singed off, Izuku brought his mind back to the matter at hand. Fox couldn’t save the four heartbeats and get the boy treatment at once. Maybe he didn’t have to do both of them himself.

“Ochaco, I need you to carry him down, okay.” He put his hand on her shoulder to ground her in her panic. The fire was getting higher in the other building, and his heart wasn’t taking the stress well. A soft pattering of a heart getting even softer made his muscles move as fast as he could make them.

The source of the fire was unrelenting. Determined to burn everything in its sight to a crisp. The second time it came, he was prepared. He covered Ochaco and the boy with his own body and shot his arm up to let out a force field around it. The light circled his arm and created a barrier for the fire to bounce off of as he screamed bloody murder at the pain that jolted down his arm like an electric shock. After the fire was gone, he fell to his knees at the lack of energy, took three breaths, then got himself back up to keep on working. He couldn’t give up yet.

He helped Ochaco pick the boy up and get him on her back. Getting her down the stairs and outside of the actual building took only a few seconds with how fast he was moving in that moment. “Turn left and keep on going until you see ambulances. Just run, okay?” Izuku explained as they ran down the stairs.

Ochaco was taking the gravity away from the boy as they ran down the stairs. In his haze of thoughts, an idea came. “Can you take my gravity away?” He asked.

“Yeah, I just throw up if I overdo it.” Izuku didn’t know how much was “overdoing” it, but he had to hope it was enough to get four heartbeats across.

“Just keep my gravity away as long as you can, okay?” He said.

She nodded before placing her hand directly onto his chest. All at once he felt no longer tethered to the earth. A flying nothing. “Good luck, Fox.” He could hear her heartbeat run off into the distance with a smaller, weaker one in tow.

“You’ll need it a lot more than me.” He whispered before running back to this god-forsaken roof. It’s harder than he expected it to be to run without gravity. Luckily, his adrenaline made it work anyway.

“Is he okay?” Were the first words shouted at him as he got to the other end of the roof. Two hands gripping his shoulders and shaking him, which he assumed to belong to the parents of the boy.

“He’s being taken to the medical bay.” Izuku didn’t know how to comfort people. A science he never really mastered and never expected to from within his solitude. Sometimes the best way to learn was through action.

“You can go see him yourself once you’re across.” He emphasised. The fire was getting far too close for comfort, and he couldn’t deal with another failure on his conscience tonight.

With only one person weighing the rope down this time, he could get himself across much quicker. The burn deep in his palms subsided into an itch. He just had to ignore the speeding heartbeats of the person holding onto his shoulders far too tight. The exacerbated breaths, which felt like they thought every single one was their last, and the occasional scream freed when they looked down to what they were being carried across.

Ignorance became a tool for survival.

None of them seemed to notice the fire increasing. Crawled an inch closer to its new prey every time it blinked, all just out of eyesight. Every second it got a step closer to being ready to pounce.

All of this was a race against time. Time was never in his favour.

Each time he would get a person to the other side, it became a routine to tell them where to go, check the knot, get back over again. Soon the heartbeats dissipated from four to only one. His shoulders thoroughly soaked with tears, and his hands that shook at the amount of rope burn and how many times that the curtains had to be pulled back over to fix them. Izuku was ready to get this over with.

The last heartbeat was the old man’s. He stole a laugh from Izuku when he threw his cane across the other rooftop before holding onto him. Checking the knot one last time, he dropped down to the rope to begin his shuffle against it once again. Next time he did something like this, he’d going to wear some gloves.

Izuku never considered himself a luck person. This event only confirmed his analysis.

About halfway across his rope, the hand that reached out to keep him going across slipped on the rope because of his new weight adjustments. Ochaco had reached her limits only a few minutes before the end. He couldn’t even fault the girl. She had done a good job holding on this long at such a long range. So he readjusted, got his hands gripped back onto the rope, and kept on crawling. After a joke made at his expense by the old man, of course.

Then he heard the telltale sound of a rope shuffling. Slipping against its bonds to free itself. His additional weight pulled harder on the knot that already begged to be let go.

He sped up as fast as he could. One hand in front of the other at a pace that made the numb feeling from his hands begin to crawl up his arms. Every movement further pulled the ends of the rope and got them closer to coming loose. Closer to getting both of them subjected to a fiery blaze. Each movement rang out in his ears at a volume not even noticeable by his passenger. When he finally got his hands on the edge of the roof and the rope went flying back into the fire infested building, his heart felt like it was going to give out.

Fox couldn’t even blame it.

It took more than he thought he had in him to pull himself up to the rooftop. He instructed the old man where to go and barely got the man his cane back before Izuku collapsed onto the ground. The stars danced above him, and a fire around him that couldn’t even harm him.

He just needed a moment to catch his breath. He told himself that over and over again as he stayed there, heaving with tears rolling down from his mask.

The fight was still going on. People still needed help. Yet his body wouldn’t get up.

The faint heartbeat in the distance couldn’t be distinguished from the many others echoed in the area. Yet his body wouldn’t get up

Fire was circling him, ready to pounce. Yet his body wouldn’t get up.

A feeling of patheticness washed over him. Taking away his mask and any other sign of him being anything but a useless nomu. His Fox ensemble was in shambles. The mask was cracked and burned around the edges. A coat discarded and pants ripped and charred. His hair had been taken, and the fire was still ravaging. Never full. Never done. Always moving.

Forever in need of more.

Maybe Izuku was like a fire. Not in any way that mattered. Just the selfishness. Selfishness that wracked his body every time he heard a scream, and not even a twitch came from his limbs. An ache that evolved into a burning, piercing throb.

He wanted to go home.

He didn’t deserve to go home.

Inaction was the guilt that plagued his heart every night for two years. Inaction was the consequence of the tens of thousands of excuses that dragged his selfish self to this moment.

He grabbed a knife from his hip and stabbed it into his chest. Pushing it down from his ribcage to his hip before forcing himself to sit up as he dragged it out. A scream hauled straight from whatever inky centre made him use his quirk every second of the day to keep himself alive.

Izuku didn’t want to be weak anymore. So he forced himself to have a purpose to be strong for.

The nomu’s fight was escalating. One of them was down for the count and locked in what he could only assume were quirk suppressant chains. Chains that would soon hold nothing but goop as it was decided that the nomu wasn’t of use anymore. They were made to destroy, and when they were found to no longer be useful, they’re gotten rid of. That was the only fate of a nomu. A fate that would come for Izuku one day.

Endeavour had the second one locked in combat. Shooting fire straight at him without a care in the world. A sense of importance that swallowed up all of his shreds of rational thinking. Most of the heartbeats in his line of fire had been evacuated. Most of the heartbeats in the entire area had been evacuated, actually. He could only hear a few strays here and there. Strays, which predominantly belong to heroes that were actually supposed to be there.

Fox’s heartbeat was one of the few outliers left.

He shouldn’t be here. His not-really-a-promise promise with Eraserhead weighing on his exasperated heart. Rescue was all he was here for. The rescue was over. His use was over.

A train of marred breaths accompanied with a heart pumping enough blood to fill an ocean caught his attention despite that. His brain didn’t even try to keep up as his body jumped down to help her without a moment’s hesitation. In moments like this, hesitation got people killed.

“Can you walk?” His voice didn’t feel like his own as it got dragged out of his throat. Crumpled and raspy, it came out with enough resistance to take his lung out with it. The hero glanced at him for a few seconds before speaking — likely weighing up her options for talking to a random boy who had just jumped in front of her.

“Villian fucked up my leg.” She winced.

“Fucked up” could be considered a downgrade with the amount of blood he could hear leaking onto the ground. The ends of his pants were so charred anyway that he could rip them off with ease. He tied them as tightly as he could around her leg to stop the bleeding. It wasn’t working well enough.

“I can help you walk to the med bay.” Izuku couldn’t stop the blood from joining the puddle of its brethren on the floor. The hero only nodded and started limping forward when he put her arm over his shoulder.

His senses didn’t work as well as he wanted them to. Some combination of exhaustion, stress and falling levels of adrenaline culminated in his getting betrayed by his own body. “One foot in front of the other” soon became a mumbled mantra as they kept on walking.

“I’m cable.” The hero said after a few steps. Fortunately, Izuku knew who she was. Well, Izuku knew a lot of heroes. Yet he still couldn’t get the energy to nerd about how cool she was.

“You’re a daytime hero.” Izuku stole Shinsou’s way of asking questions. Then he ignored the panic seeping into his bones at even a thought crossing his mind about Shinsou. One problem at a time, after all.

“We all get called in for something of this scale.” She explained.

“You’re not a hero, are you?” Izuku shook his head and kept on walking. The hero only laughed. “Thought I recognised you.” Well, wasn’t that terrifying?

“When this is over, I suggest you get into civilian clothes and pretend to be someone who got caught up in the incident to go the hospital.” He tried to tune out her words and focused on getting her closer to actual medical attention. If he did go to the hospital, he would only be wasting its time. Even if he couldn’t tell her that, she kept on talking anyway. “I would tell you to turn yourself in, but you are the only reason I’m able to walk right now, and something tells me you don’t want to do that.”

“Not in this century.” Izuku only mumbled.

He didn’t have time to talk right now. There would only be a small window of opportunity between getting the hero to an actual doctor and getting away in time not to be caught by a frazzled Eraserhead. He didn’t want to think about the consequences of getting caught. One of the few people in his circle had already left tonight. He couldn’t take two.

He needed to learn to stop getting lost in thought.

“DUCK!” was the last thing he heard shouted at him before his head became close friends with the pavement. A nomu many hundreds of pounds heavier than him being sent flying directly into his back — because that’s just his luck — should’ve hurt far more. Unfortunately, the nomu made up for it by digging its claws into his back before pouncing back into the fight.

Voices screamed directly above him, but his eyes barely wanted to stay open, never mind his arms actually being able to get him up. His back was crying out, in the middle of it sat two large puncture wounds, which sent waves of stinging, shooting pain up to his neck. His shirt was absolutely useless now, and his tool belt was officially the last piece of gear still intact. A fleeting panic-induced thought came to his mind that the Nomu had got to his spine.

“Kid! Are you okay?” Cables’ words finally filtered through. Some traitorous part of his brain wished the voice belonged to Eraserhead.

Like an aged, withered hand, his back started sewing itself up at an ungodly slow speed. Taunting his idiocy of not having stopped despite everything. Finding a way to force his own body to get up took even longer. “I’m fine.” He said, coughing up dust mangled with his own blood and mucus onto the pavement. Cable’s hand refused to leave its spot on his back. Rubbing in circles as Izuku continued to cough. The blood painted his back and tainted her glove.

“That’s a pretty nasty scratch.”

“I said i’m fine.” He insisted once again. He would be fine. She just didn’t know that. Couldn’t be told that for her own good.

“Let’s get going before the monster decides it wants another go at you.” She sighed as Fox forced himself up onto his own wobbling legs.

“It won’t unless you get in its way.” None of them were the nomus’ mission. Lives were collateral damage in the chase for chaos after all. Fox was just at the wrong place at the wrong time. A nomu would even hurt another nomu without hesitation. “Nomu’s can’t really think, only do what they’re told to.” He elaborated.

“You researched these things.” Her stumbling steps added to the rhythm in his head. Keeping him in that moment. Stopping him from focusing on the writhing pain across his back.

“You have no idea.”

“Tell me some more.” Izuku ignored her request. That would be dangerous. Izuku knew far too much about these things — even more than the police did. Being one himself did that. The doctor’s research was barbaric, but it still captivated his childish interest. How he had gotten these results could almost be ignored by the sheer interest in the answers. Almost. “To get my mind off the pain.” She continued on despite his silence. “Please?”

It was Fox, not Izuku, that started talking. “Well they follow the orders of whoever made them to a fault.” One foot in front of the other. “They’re violent and frantic and don’t speak for the most part.” Him and his papa were the only exceptions he knew. “They have a couple quirks baked into them and—.” He got interrupted once again by a burst of heat surging against his back, pushing away everything in its path.

“Ow.” Was all his rasp-coated voice could get out that time as he once again found himself on the floor. Later, he would find out that it was Endeavour’s last move on the Nomu. Later, he would find out that the fail-safe for that nomu was never even needed because it had been burned so thoroughly that nothing but burned flesh could’ve been scavenged from it. Burned flesh, which in this moment had covered his sense of smell like a rainstorm in an open field. Unable to run away from. Consuming and inevitable. Either embrace it, or sit there and get drenched. Neither one got him to safety.

His regeneration didn’t have much fuel to work with. He was only still conscious through sheer force of will, and not even that was strong enough to keep him up for much longer.

“You’d think he didn’t have control over that fire of his.” Cable laughed.

“He just likes to flaunt it.”

Fox didn’t talk the rest of the walk to the medical area. With the last of his measly energy being used on making sure he could take the next step, everything Cable said went in one ear and out the other. Pure, unintelligible mumbles. Not even the smell of burnt flesh could be computed properly in his brain. The crunch of his own bones as he walked couldn’t even get him out of the trance he was in. It was like nothing even mattered. Like the world could implode around him and he wouldn’t even have enough energy to blink. He didn’t remember being this exhausted in years.

The thoughts that were going through his head barely made sense. Rambles and rants about how much pain he was in and how every single thing he had done that night was a complete and utter mistake.

At some point, Cable was taken out of his arms. The small weight pressing him down to the ground dissipated from his arms and leaving him flying out into the air with no tether. People moved around him as heartbeats rang out somewhere far away. Somewhere he couldn’t get to, full of somebodies who didn’t care what he did. He was about to collapse onto the ground before his shoulders were grabbed.

Nothing even felt real. Some muffled part of his brain was aware that he was being hauled over to an ambulance. Why or by whom didn’t compute. It was just a faint ring in his ears and a pins and needles feeling left where their hands were to inform him that his body even existed.

“Hungry…” He mumbled to the heartbeat behind him. Hunger and exhaustion made his brain unusable. He never liked when his brain was useless. At least he thought he didn’t. Nothing made sense in that moment. “Eraser?” Eraser had his jelly packets. The jelly packets always helped when he was hungry. His mind put two and two together that he needed Eraserhead.

His mind was rewarded when the jelly was then put into his hands.

After getting some sustenance into him, words started filtering in through the constant ringing. Only a few words and never enough context to understand. His brain made up conclusions to fill up his well of confusion.

“Not responding—…”

“Check pupils—…”

“Mask off—…”

“Could die—..”

His mind only decided it was time to wake up when a hand came forward to try to tilt his mask off. A mask with no cover underneath. The mask that was his only solace.

He grabbed the arm and twisted until he heard a scream.

There were three heartbeats in the room. The one screaming his head off, the one who had given him the jelly, and the one who mingled at the edge of the room, completely still like he was a science experiment. He wasn’t really a fan of them. There was still only the stench of blood, flesh and fire around, and his nose wanted to set itself alight every time he breathed in.

“Hey, problem child! Problem child, it’s me—. It’s Eraser.” The jelly-giving heartbeat — Eraser, his brain supplies — said while he extricated the first heartbeat’s arm from his grip. He let go almost as immediately as he latched on. Taking stock of his surroundings, he realised how big of a mistake he had made. He missed his chance to get away.

His small window of time to get away from Eraser was dead and gone. Left in the dirt with all the skin he had lost tonight. Now he was stuck in the medical area. An area surrounded by heroes and the media. Oh, he was fucked. His small amount of relief at Eraser being there was swamped by that realisation.

“I need to go.” He announced alongside his attempt to jump out of the seat he was stuck in. Three hands then proceeded to force him back into the chair with little resistance. He was so fucking tired.

“You need to sit.” Eraser fumbled through his pockets before handing him another jelly packet. “Here, eat.”

The other heartbeats didn’t get very close to him. They kept their distance. Maybe not to freak him out, maybe because he looked like an absolute mess. Perhaps they just didn’t want him to injure them again. Izuku could not read minds, however, so he sat there silently and ate his food. Running through plan after plan in his head to get himself out of this mess. If he had stayed with Shinsou, he wouldn’t even be in it.

Izuku didn’t know why his mind kept going to Shinsou when he was stressed. It must’ve been because Shinsou was his only genuine sense of normalcy. The anchor to keep him on earth as he lived as the dead son of a myth and a vigilante reaching for the stars. Now his normalcy was gone, and soon the stars would only be a dream.

He did it to save people. That’s his biggest flaw. He could live on in torture, solitude and whatever else as long as he knew that it all saved someone else. He wanted to think he had helped people tonight. However.

“What happened to the kid?” His voice was more drenched in rasp than he thought it would be. Every word dragged itself out of his throat like a razorblade. The worst part was the pain was just added to the list.

“What kid?” Eraser asked. His hands sat on Izuku’s shoulders. Not grasping, not holding. Just sitting. A soft contrast to the pressure behind his eyelids waiting to burst if he kept on staying awake.

“Got burned badly by Endeavour. He—he got brought in by a girl. Is—is he okay? Eraser, please say he’s okay.” Izuku’s stutter came back full force. His mask did nothing to stop his words from sounding truly pathetic. What was the difference between Fox and Izuku right now? Neither of them could save the kid from getting burned.

“There was a kid brought in by a girl who said she got saved by the Fox.” The heartbeat who had been staring at him piped up, and Izuku held onto her every word.

Ochaco got there in time. Ochaco was safe.

The boy got to the medical area.

There had to have been about fifty paramedics on the scene. Someone must’ve gotten to him. He had to look awful with the amount of burned skin on him. They must have helped him.

“I’m so sorry. He didn’t make it.”

His father would’ve been proud of the amount of plans he made up on the spot of ways to kill Endeavour. Completely and finally. They could find a new number two—really, he wasn’t that special. He was arrogant and useless and violent and—.

Eraser brought him into another hug when the tears started to fall.

They were tears of rage. Tears of pure unbridled rage. Endeavour couldn’t just get away with ending a life. No matter the circumstances. No matter anything—if they die on your watch, it’s your fault. It’s his fault too. He could hear the boy’s heart start to damper in front of him. If he just moved quick enough or—dived in the way. He could’ve taken the fire blast easily. A minor burn, which would’ve healed in no time if it were him instead, took someone’s life.

“Kid… It wasn’t your fault, alright.” Eraser lied. Lied through his teeth and scarf. Lied through every small moment they had together because it was all his fault. If Eraser knew he couldn’t die, he would blame him too. Why didn’t he just jump in front of it? He was an indestructible human shield, and he still let someone get mortally wounded on his watch. Why didn’t he just — Why?

Eraser couldn’t even stop him as he jumped outside. Nothing but anger fuelled his exhausted veins. There were sobs that hung in the air. His sobs, families sobs, loved ones’ sobs. It was pure sorrow holding up the sky.

People were dead or dying, and Endeavour stood a few feet away talking to a bunch of cameras like he was their saviour. It pissed Izuku off beyond belief.

“ENDEAVOUR!” He screamed. Every coarse word ripped out his throat from the inside. Eraser tried to warn him, but the words didn’t reach his ears. He stalked towards a man three times his size who could burn him to a crisp, and Izuku felt no fear. Like a predator stalking its prey, Fox was fueled by anger, spite and desperation.

Endeavour must’ve understood Izuku’s resolve on some level, as when he got closer, Endeavour turned to the reporters and said to “Cut the cameras.”

“No!” he shouted. He took his hammer out and pointed up towards Endeavour. “You don’t just get to cause someone’s death and then get away without a care in the world!” Fox threatened. The hammer’s head was placed against Endeavour’s chest. He tried not to imagine pulling it back and hitting the man repeatedly until there was a hole in his chest.

Izuku didn’t—Fox didn’t kill. That’s his line to never cross, no matter the emotions and the pure rage fueling his body in the moment was still not an excuse. Endeavour was a hero. The number two hero, and yet.

Fox didn’t feel like he was talking to the number two hero. A man to be respected and revered for helping and saving people. There was no fear in his mind. No care in his voice. Any withers of prestige for the title long gone. No. Fox felt like he was talking monster to monster.

“Who’s this?” The reporter chimed in. Izuku had almost forgotten they were there. He was giving them so much more material to hate him right now, and he couldn’t even find an inch of himself to care. If this was the end of Fox, then he was going out in a rage-induced bang.

“Illegal criminal.” Endeavour grunted.

“Vigilante.” Fox corrected.

“That’s a crime.”

“So is murder!”

A silence, heavy and strong, hung over the scene like a swinging corpse in every moment one of them wasn’t shouting. Some kind of dam that kept Endeavour’s image up being battered against without remorse whenever he brought it up. Endeavour had killed somebody. You couldn’t ever come back from that.

“Accidental casualties are an unfortunate consequence of battles of this scale. All measures must be taken to ensure the safety of the many, and sadly this comes at the expense of the few.” Endeavour’s words came out in the most monotone voice he had ever heard. Like he was reading it off a teleprompter. A well oiled PR friendly excuse to throw out whenever someone died because of his actions.

No remorse, no care for the life stolen all too soon. The life of a young boy who deserved to keep on living. Endeavour didn’t care about individual lives. He only saw them as means to an end. A way to get ahead and stay ahead. Izuku understood why Endeavour would be the type of hero to sway for his father.

“Boy, I’m going to have to ask you to turn yourself in.” When endeavour grabbed hold of his arm, the bruising blooming under his grip was barely even registered. Set aside amongst the multitudes of pains wracking his body as the blemishes were erased as quickly as they were made.

What did register, was how screwed Izuku was. Endeavour was notoriously impossible to get away from. Fox is a lowly vigilante who just insulted and threatened him on camera. He couldn’t think of a way out of this. If he got caught, then it would be game over. Over for his Fox life, over for his Izuku life. Done for any life not spent inside the doctor’s lab or in his father’s hand. The only way he could think of was getting Endeavour pissed off enough that he tried to kill him. In the commotion he could slip away. He may finally give Eraser that heart-attack.

“I’ll turn myself in when I see you rotting behind bars next to me! You murdered someone—got them killed — and you don't even show any remorse. That's the worst part — you don’t even care!”

Izuku knew very little about Endeavour. Small tidbits here and there that made it to his ears. Mostly about his aggression, lack of care for public property and his proficiency at catching villains, no matter the consequences. Part of what got him so many arrests was his not caring about the casualties.

He did know something, though. A fact he learned that, if it weren’t for the situation, he would never bring up.

“Did you kill your son too?” Fox had about two seconds after the words came out to register the shock before fire was blasted into his face, sending him absolutely flying. Chaos rang out as people started searching or screaming, or just overall panicking. Izuku, with enough burn scars to rival a literal fire, took the opportunity to slip away with his creaking and crunching legs. The bones barely held up on his own anymore as the anger allowing him to move started to fizzle out.

Everything started to evaporate.

Stumbling back to his apartment took even longer than usual. With his senses all out of whack and his brain turned to mush, his directions began to lack any truth to them. He must’ve walked in about three circles before he finally got himself to the building. The sirens, chaos and fire still rang out, muffled far off into the background.

He scowled down at the lock when it refused to open. Stupidly, he had left his keys inside his apartment with the assumption that he would come back in through the window. On the side of the building, he found a fire escape he never remembered even being there. With a shrug, he chalked it up to the pain and exhaustion that wracked through his body must’ve made his brain forget things. He hadn’t been this tired in a while. The burn marks, bruises, and even the claw marks from the nomu were still healing and practically begged him to just pass out onto the ground.

So when he pried open his floor’s window, he basically crawled inside of the apartment and took all of two seconds before he was out like a light on the soft, carpeted floor. A floor completely different from his apartment’s floor.

An apartment that held a blonde boy about to electrocute the intruder with enough volts to wake up an elephant.

Chapter Text

The boy woke up three days later.

Denki Kaminari was many things — a snitch was not one. So the boy in the Fox mask sleeping under his bed was kept a secret from the rotation of neighbours, family friends and the occasional hero who came to see him in his mother’s absence. Everyone assured him that his mother was fine. That everything would be fine. Every time it was repeated, it only got him more worried that everything wasn’t fine.

He’d only had one conversation with his mother since the fight. A phone call where half the time was spent assuring him that she was fine—if he hears the word “fine” again he might punch someone—and the other half telling him to ignore the news outlets talking about Fox. Denki didn’t really know who this Fox was until three days ago when he barreled in from his bedroom window. He assumed it was an accident, but the vigilante hadn’t woken up to actually ask him yet.

After throwing enough volts into the guy to wake up a gorilla and still not getting any reaction but the re-stitching of his skin slowing down, you could say he was intrigued. Interested in who this Fox was. However, online he got barely anything. Fox was elusive and secretive. He didn’t talk on camera much, only saying that he “wants to help” one time then he shut himself up. Until he went off it at Endeavour, of course.

Fox was reckless — he jumped on top of moving vehicles and threw himself in front of knives — but he was also, downright irrefutably, cool as fuck. He didn’t get affected by injuries, like a stab to the chest was simply nothing to him, and so kept on going. Denki would have to be an idiot not to find that cool.

When he looked at the boy’s unconscious body — he was not weird, he promised — he thought he figured out how nothing affected him. His quirk allowed his body to just stitch itself up without a care in the world. Denki could watch as burn scars evaporated into normal skin in a few hours. It was extremely lucky that he could do that because Denki’s medical knowledge was not the best. He made an attempt at stitching up the boy’s back to stop the blood, and although it didn’t look awful, once he could see the rest of the boy’s body was healed, he took out the stitches and let his quirk do its thing.

Denki’s knowledge of first aid extended to how to stitch up wounds and what to do if you get stabbed, then stopped. A minor interest he had when he was younger that never did fully fade.

Even after the boy’s body seemed mostly healed, he still didn’t get up. That was what scared him. He checked his heartbeat almost every ten minutes to make sure he was still alive and even shocked him to wake him up, but nothing. Denki really didn’t want the boy to die on his watch. No matter how many people online called him a “reckless criminal” or an “anarchist”—it didn’t change how he had saved his mom. Besides, not everyone hated Fox anymore. After the whole monster fight fiasco and his blowup with Endeavour, some people started seeing him in a different light. Die Hard Endeavour fans hated his guts more than anything, but anyone with a working brain could see how he helped. How he was doing good. Over the three days of the boy’s slumber, Denki watched in real time as public opinion swayed.

Denki planned to tell the boy that when he finally woke up.

Three days later—that happened, and it started with a hammer to his throat. He had never been more overjoyed with one of his decisions than he was for taking the vigilante’s knives away. Getting a slit throat from his guest really wasn’t on his agenda. Fox looked different up close. Denki had tried his best not to stare at the boy, but he really couldn’t help himself.

Fox looked around his age—he was shorter than Denki, and the part of his face he could see didn’t look like it belonged to an old person. There were light freckles spattered across his cheeks and a frown so persistent as he slept it looked painted on. His hair was an absolute mess—even more so when he first appeared in his window. Charred and split ends galore. He could’ve also very much used a shower, but Denki couldn’t do much about that when Fox had been unconscious for the past three days.

“Hi,” Denki said as he stared at the head of the hammer that pushed against his neck, and got persistently more threatening with every second that passed. He had trouble reading people’s emotions as it was, never mind with half their face being covered by a mask. He resigned himself to looking like an absolute idiot and decided to just smile at the boy. What’s the worst he’s going to do? Murder him with a hammer? He’ll live.

“Where am I?” Fox said, like he actually might kill him.

“My room. You’re welcome, by the way—”

“Why should I thank you for kidnapping me?” Fox cut him off with a tilt of his head to the side. A tilt that caused his charred hair to swoop onto his shoulders and visibly annoyed him.

“Excuse me—I would never—you’re the one who broke my window lock and collapsed onto my floor for three days.” Denki defended himself—getting quite annoyed as well. If he got killed because he was nice to a vigilante who broke into his house, he’d never live it down.

However, Fox seemed to believe him as the hammer got dropped to his side and a soft “Oh shit.” was mumbled.

“Yeah, oh shit—wait, no, that was mean. Are you okay?”

Fox acted okay as the hammer was deposited into his tool belt, and he stalked out of his room like a man on a mission.

Denki had made a horrible first impression here. He wanted to vigilante to think he was cool, and here he was making a mess of himself. Fox had found the courage at their age to make himself be a hero—without a license—no matter what anyone says. It was awesome, alright. Denki looked up to the boy in a way. That didn’t mean he couldn’t also find him to be incredibly stupid.

“I’m fine.” Fox rummaged through his own pockets before moving on to the drawers in each room he went into. His clothes had definitely seen better days, but they were holding on, so Denki wasn’t complaining. Denki followed him around like a lost puppy as he searched in each room of his apartment until he realised what he was looking for.

“Oh, right—I took your knives out of your pockets. Didn’t want them to stab you.” Denki then had to guide Fox to where he had hidden the boys’ excessive amount of knives. Well—he was a vigilante, what did he expect?

“I would’ve been fine,” Fox repeats. He’d realised one thing about Fox on this escapade — his body always moved so straight, so robotically. Like his bones were on hinges. He didn’t move like that on the videos, so he’s tempted to chalk it up to him being asleep for three days.

“You’re fine a lot, aren’t you?” Denki guessed Fox had glared at him from under the mask based on how he stared at him. “Okay, yeah, your body can heal itself, can’t it?”

Even just saying that got Fox’s body even more tense than he thought was possible. An actual knife to his throat this time as Fox says, “You can’t tell anybody.”

Denki was nodding quicker than he could blink. “Listen, Foxie—can I call you Foxie? Oh well, if I wanted to tell people about you, Foxie, I would’ve before you woke up.” His reasoning must’ve gotten through to Foxie as the knife was put down with little of a fight. Or any fight really. Denki did not think he could fight this guy. He’d go idiot mode and get stabbed to death. Not a very thrilling fight, really.

“Yeah, I guess so.” Fox mumbled, his hands much more focused on his mask and charred hair than anything else. Keeping the boy’s mask on as he slept must’ve endeared him to Denki, as the knives were put into his pockets—never to be seen again.

They’re silent for a while after that. Fox found his way to the couch in the living room and sat down with a wince. His head found itself at home in his hands as he wallowed in his own despair. Denki sat down next to him and tried not to buzz with excitement at sitting next to such a cool person. Fox was really who Denki had always wanted to be — assured, strong, independent. A hero or vigilante in his own right, who’ll stand up to who he likes and do what he likes. Denki wanted — needed — to talk to Fox. Even if his only way of doing that was keeping his unconscious body a secret for three days.

“You’re a very heavy sleeper.” Denki comments after the silence became too much to bear. He never was any good with silences. His mom used to say he was a bundle of energy waiting to burst his whole life—always running or jumping or talking people’s ears off. Denki Kaminari was born to take up space. When he’s forced to do anything else, it messes with his brain.

“I was tired.” Fox didn’t even look at him—presumably he liked his silences.

“Yeah, that cool-ass fight with Endeavour was all over the news.” Denki wasn’t one to give up.

“Wasn’t much of a fight.”

“Well, you did amazing anyway, Foxie.”

“I got mad and shouted at a hero. What a saint I am!”

Denki started to think this boy feeds off of sarcasm. That, and he was a tad blind to how much his actions affected others.

He had to physically stop himself from shouting at the boy that he had in fact done good and had in fact helped people. Instead, he just rolled his eyes — prayed Fox didn’t notice — and took in a deep breath before speaking.

“Whatever you did with Endeavour—you saved my mom beforehand. So thanks.” His head perks up at that. Cogs turning behind his mask to figure out who he was talking about—how he had to do that and didn’t think of himself as a hero, Denki didn’t know.

“Cable?” Fox asked, and Denki nodded again before replying with a “yeah” when his nod got no reaction.

“I’m Denki Kaminari—by the way. Dont worry, you don’t have to tell me your name, Foxie.” He got a grunt in response.

This time it was Fox that broke the silence. “Do you have an electricity quirk like she does?” Denki smiled as wide as he could as he nodded. They were bonding—actually bonding. He would be jumping off the walls soon if he didn’t need to keep this conversation going.

Denki got about two seconds before getting bombarded with mumbled questions.

“How many volts can you get out? Can you do long range and short range attacks? Can you focus on where the electricity goes, or does it just spread out? What would happen if you used it in water? What happens if you use it on a person? Can you repeatedly shoot out electricity or is there a limit to how long you can shoot it? Is there a cooldown period? Can you decrease the cooldown period with training?”

Denki blinked before he spouted off himself.

“Around a million volts—I’m better with long range. I can’t really focus on where it goes—it just covers my body. I’ve always been told not to use it in water. Normally people just get shocked—it slowed down your healing quirk though. Don’t know why—I can shoot small amounts repeatedly. It’s less about time and more about wattage used. There might be!”

He stumbled over each word to keep up with the other boys’ mumbled words. Each answer off the top of his head as before he could think about one, another was thrown at him. Then, another, and the list went on. Whether Fox remembered any of that—he did not know—nothing got written down, and Denki barely even remembered half the questions once he stopped talking. He did, however, remember the smile it brought to Fox’s face — that’s what mattered, really.

Denki loved making friends.

Sadly, Fox got right back to a frown again after.

“It slowed my healing?” He asked, his hand running up his bare arm before shoving his nails into the skin.

“Hey don’t do that, Foxie.” Denki leaned forward and pulled Fox’s hand away from his arm—which caused Fox to flinch and made him feel like an absolute shit-head. He leaned back in his own chair with a muffled sorry—the boy had just been in a massive fight, of course he was jumpy. His mom had drilled into him how dangerous hero work could be from when he was seven and he first proclaimed to the high heavens he wanted to be one like her. As he grew up, the wonder and want to do hero work never faded—he was just more cautious about it than other kids.

So he leaned away and he let Fox have his own space to breathe and process. He ignored his every basic instinct to race forward and hug him until he couldn’t breathe. “That’s why I stopped trying to wake you up using it.”

They were back in an awful silence after that. Denki’s foot tapped against the ground every five seconds, and his hands fidgeted to try to occupy his brain. Fox needed his silence after everything. Denki was not the best person to give him that.

Before he could find something else to say, Fox was up on his feet and walking towards the kitchen. “Can I steal some food?” he shouted back to the still scrambling up Denki.

“Do your worst!”

He most definitely did his worst. While he mentally prepared himself for another shopping run—he watched as Fox completely raided his kitchen. So much so that he had to give him one of his bags to carry it all. His quirk must’ve relied on energy or something to make him this hungry. Either that or it was because he hadn’t eaten in three days because of being asleep.

Denki hadn’t fussed about the reason. He was hungry, and Denki had the food for him and money for more. So Denki left him in the kitchen to do as he pleased and set up his favourite movie in the living room. No matter how good Fox’s healing quirk was—he would still need to rest after getting that many injuries. Denki just had to convince him to crash here. Easy as that—don’t be annoying and get someone as cool as Fox to actually talk to him for a few days.

He walked back into the kitchen with a grin that his mom always said could light up a galaxy on its own. “My mom’s going to be away for a while—oh, you’re gone.” The grin left his face in a second. Replaced by a pout—Denki found the kitchen completely empty of both a Fox and a lot of its food. He had closed the cupboards and organised the little food left in there—as well as washed the two dishes Denki had left in the sink — before he had jumped out of the open window. How he got away from there—he didn’t know. Denki’s apartment was a few floors up, and the fire escape was outside his room. So unless he had jumped to the floor and broken his legs, he might as well have just vanished.

Denki just shook his head, closed the window, and walked away with a pout on his face. Fox would be back—maybe not to his apartment but definitely back on the streets. He would see him again.

Besides, he had just helped somebody. No matter what—that’s still a good thing to do.

All for one did love when ants did what they’re told. Two small nomus ripped out of his hands and melted into nothing by one of his favourite “heroic” ants. The pure chaos of that night brought a smile to his disfigured face. Fire and destruction seared through the streets and brought back the fear he had been missing for the past two years.

The nomus were back—no one could deny that now. His next moves needed to be thought out and planned around new circumstances, but phase one was done and through. The start of a plan always got him giddy.

Endeavour made his job so much easier. The arrogant composure of a man so assured that he’s invincible was so easy to mold for his purposes. If he weren’t, he wouldn’t still be around. All for one would have to make sure his little ant stays properly in place. The calls for justice against the man were getting too loud to just ignore. As long as he did as he was told, he would be just fine. All for One never got rid of toys until he was done with them.

The nomus couldn’t have served any bigger purpose. He needed stronger ones—better ones. Nomu’s that could bring the world to its knees and ripe for his taking. Fear wasn’t submission, but it could be easily molded into it if one is persistent enough. If he made their fear so vibrant, so passionate, that the measly hope they had in their heroes eroded into nothing. Then he would make them have hope in him. Hope he didn’t crush them into smithereens.

All for one didn’t like when ants improvise—but he could recognise when an ant puts on a good show. Or a Fox in this occasion. His little tantrum at Endeavour was breathtaking. In a few words, he dragged the darkness people oh so loved to ignore and threw it up on a glowing sign. The unrest he created was something Tomura could learn from.

“Sensei, are you sure about this—this NPC?” The boy had watched the video of Fox screaming at Endeavour six times before he opened his mouth. He had to gain his courage to ask why.

“Yes, Tomura. The boy still believes in flimsy ideals, but he can create a cause.” Teaching the young boy how to become the perfect anchor had become one of his highest missions since he lost his son. Even if it came with certain hiccups. For all of his sons’ rebellious behaviour — he could understand things much quicker.

Tomura needed more of a guiding hand. Someone to praise him for every little step and show him the way past his childish ideals. The boy had always dealt with a lack of attention — All for one kept him that way to make sure that each time he wanted Tomura to bend to his will — it was quite easy to do so.

All for one placed his hand into the boy’s hair and gave it a soft ruffle. Almost like magic, any tension in the boys’ body dissipated into nothing. Pure trust and loyalty—just as he needed. “I need you to create a cause. It’s the best way to gain followers.” A soft touch under his chin to get him to look up at him. No resistance from the young boy—he listened to him without hesitation.

His son and Tomura were from two different extremes. Tomura was loyal and unwilling to step past his borders—a good soldier despite his lesser intelligence for certain things. His son was the opposite. Intelligent and able to work through any problem he gave him with ease—but there was his streak of pure unbridled disobedience. He blames his mother. She was beautiful, amazing and perfect, but some part of her bestowed this innate love of heroism onto her son. That was something he couldn’t wipe away no matter how much he tried.

“So he’s like an NPC that gives you extra XP for charisma points,” Tomura said, a smile wide on his face as he explained in those idiotic video game terms he insisted on.

“Sure, Tomura,” All for One agreed. Getting the boy to give up talking like that was near impossible. Even for him. Tomura saw the world through the lense of a video game. Each person was a disposable player on the way towards his goal—the big boss. It was a mindset that All for One could easily mold towards his goals.

Aside from Tomura—All for One had a busy three days. Sending small orders to his few boots on the ground to get intel on how the heroes at large had taken the attack. Panic and discord at their reappearance was expected, and as it seemed his attack had taken the lives of or hospitalised a few of their major players.

He knew his nomus were not indestructible. No plan was perfect, and so mistakes should appear here and there. He was also aware of a few heroes with pesky quirks able to blunder his creations.

Erasure—for example—erasing the nomu’s quirk could cause their bodies to short-circuit if held for a long enough period. Most nomus were made from deceased bodies pumped full of quirks to get their bodies to move again. Erasing them messed up his plans in a way he couldn't always foresee. He still did wish he had got that boy’s quirk instead of Kurogiri’s.

Some quirks he wasn’t as aware of before that night. Muscular was a villain he hadn’t focused on—but with the right motivation—he could be an excellent soldier for Tomura.

Then there was shock absorption. He looked into her—new hero, not any media attention. She was flamboyant and carefree—yet extremely lonely. All for one cared very little about her, far too interested in the capabilities of her quirk. His brothers quirk stockpiled energy after all. What happened when the energy did nothing against his nomu.

“Kurogiri.” All for One shouted into the empty space next to him. Soon after a purple portal sizzled into existence next to him and out came the nomu.

“Sensei.” The nomu bowed as he spoke.

“I need you to talk to Giran. Tell him to get information on the Phantom.” All for one ordered. The limited information online about the hero was a small barricade to overcome.

“Yes, sensei.” The nomu repeated.

All for one waved it off before going back to his research. He needed to get more bodies for the doctors’ nomus. More waves of battles were needed to fully wear down society’s defences. Make them weak enough that All Might had no choice to respond—then send the worst nomu yet. The thief won’t last much longer—he knew that.

The nomu didn’t move, however. It stayed still. Avoiding orders.

Orders being avoided by this specific nomu was dangerous. Avoidance was close to disobedience, and disobedience was what lost him his son. He thought that after he put the thing through the doctor’s many rounds of treatment, he could get it to obey him again. If it ever disobeyed him again, it would not be given another chance.

“Why are you still here?” All for One shouted. The thing didn’t flinch, but the fear—in whatever form it could feel it—was there. He revelled in it. Enjoyed watching the terror in the thing that lost him his son.

That was the only reason he kept it around these days. Once it finished any measly use it once had, All for one would smile as he pummeled it down into nothingness. Laughter having left his throat as it left this world, the way it lived—with nothing and no one.

“Giran dropped these off for you.” A portal appeared over his hand and dropped a small container out. The nomu stayed completely still—he had ordered it long ago to never step near him without explicit permission. Having seen its face was enough to bring up immense anger in his blood on a good day. Killing it now would only lead to a bigger mess.

Inside the container sat three bullets. Nothing seemed too special about them at first glance, but he didn’t touch them to be safe. “What are they?”

“Quirk removing bullets. Created by the leader of the Shie Hassaki.” It said.

“Leave me.” He ordered.

Once he was alone again, All for one took out the three bullets and laid them out on his table. Then he shut the case and crushed it into a ball before melting it. He let the melted metal drip off his hand before he examined the bullets. When Giran first brought him the files detailing their inception—he thought the man was ludicrous. An insane madman who rambled about dreams that could never come to be.

He didn’t look away from them, however — All for one knew better than most the gold mines that could be found in a madman. Some consider him one.

The bullets were dangerous. If they got into circulation and found their way into his head—then that could actually be a problem for him. He wasn’t an arrogant man, just a realistic one. There were ways to best him, and he knew that. Circumventing them was the only way to win.

Destroying every trace of them could also end in a mess, however. The bullets were too useful to throw away after nothing. If he could bring Chisaki onto his side—then he could make sure the bullets were kept in only a few safe hands. Maybe even figure out this “lamb” figure the man was so obsessed with. It would all work out eventually.

All for one had options. He always had options.

Chapter Text

Hair was important to many people. It could carry memories and shape someone’s view of themselves. Izuku used to be one of those people who cared about hair—he should’ve learned a long time ago that he couldn’t hold things near to his heart like other people could.

It hurt to cut off his hair. He tried to cut off as little as he could, and it still had to be cut up to his ears. Then it scratched against his ear so much that he had to cut off the ends around there as well. He hated having his hair short. Every time he looked at himself, he saw who he was when he first got free. By the time night came around, just about every mirror in his apartment had been smashed. Getting his anger out worked wonders.

He was pointedly ignoring the news. Just imagining the sheer volume of shit on there about him during his three day long involuntary nap made his head woozy. He had shouted at the number two hero for God’s sake—you really couldn’t get dumber than that.

He failed to save somebody. He must’ve known the day would come that he spectacularly failed to save a life and got someone killed — but it didn’t make him feel any better in that moment. Someone was dead — a child was dead. He didn’t even know their name.

Eraser was probably worried out of his mind, and Shinsou… He didn’t want to think about Shinsou. Izuku wasn’t scared to think about him; he just hated missing things. His friendship with Shinsou was something he was going to have to miss for a while. He knew about him now—about Fox. That was the line he needed to keep far away from anyone because that was the layer that would get people hurt. Would get him hurt.

So he had to not think about Shinsou. He didn’t think about Shinsou. Shinsou didn’t matter.

He ate about half the food he had gotten from that Denki kid before his brain decided it had enough energy to function properly again. Denki had been nicer than Izuku deserved—he felt awful about just running away from him—but making anymore relationships right now would only end in a train wreck. Everything he did ended in a train wreck.

Fox was really his only reprieve. A reprieve that he only had the charred remains left of. He dropped his head onto his worktable. A cold draft slithered in through the open window.

Fox was more than just an outfit. Fox was a part of him. The part of him that wanted to do good. To make up for every mistake he had made. His mother wouldn’t be proud of him if he bowed under the smallest amount of pressure—of hate towards him. He didn’t even regret shouting at Endeavour. The thought of killing the guy still intrigued him.

Not everyone could be saved. He had tried his best. Endeavour was the one who was reckless and got him hurt, but Endeavour wouldn’t have even been fighting if it wasn’t for the nomu. Because of his own kind, this mess got made. Izuku was a monster. He’d gotten people killed before, but somehow this one just hurt more. Could it be because it was Fox who got someone killed? Fox who failed to save a child’s life. Fox who wasn’t good enough for once.

Izuku wanted Fox to be a paragon of the speck of good within him, and not even he could save him. He hated himself sometimes. Well, most of the time.

He hated himself for being a monster, for forgetting his mother’s face and for being such a fucking hypocrite.

He missed the time before all this mess. When Fox had saved everybody. Still, he couldn’t go back.

His mask was still intact. Charred on the edges, paint chipped off and cracked down the middle but still intact. Broken but not ruined. Just like him.

The streets had quieted down since the attack. A collective mourning mixed with the fear of the nomu’s return made the mood of the city become eerie and depressing. He didn’t even have to dodge and weave to get through the crowds of people as the crowds had dissipated into almost nothing. Izuku would’ve enjoyed it if he hadn’t known the circumstances that got them like that. The sound of a fading heartbeat still rang out in his ears.

Yet the sun shone anyway. Spring was coming, and not even death could stop the blooming. Izuku had always admired the permanent nature of the seasons. One would always come no matter what occurred in the last one. They’re their own being, independent from anything else on the earth. Unbothered by plague or famine—the trees still wilted and then grew again. The land always bounced back. One day, Izuku was going to come back from a mess even better than he went into it.

That day was not today.

Izuku was again smacked in the face with the reminder of how poor he was when he tried to replace the Fox coat. His favourite old lady wasn’t working that day, and the store was basically barren. He stole it without a second thought. Threw it on and walked out with a pair of cargo pants and a black shirt underneath it like he owned the place. Confidence was key in places where you have no right to be there. The few souls left inside the hell called a mall didn’t even glance at him as he walked out in clothes completely different from what he came in with. His unremarkable self saved him once again.

There was a man stood on a box outside the mall’s doors. He shouted through a megaphone, which hurt his ears when he got too close. His small field of vision had already burned up with the sun, and the man was too far away to make out anything about him visually. He could hear him though.

“Heroes should protect, not hurt!” was shouted out to the ten people still walking around outside of the mall. It was getting late by now, so the number of stragglers had dropped rapidly. The man kept shouting regardless. “Endeavour has got to be held accountable!”

Izuku turned around after that and turned down his hearing—the scent of bleach becoming much more present. He was probably just an outlier. The anti-Endeavour movement had been small but persistent for years. From people who didn’t like his attitude to being downright appalled by his blatant apathy towards human lives and collateral damage. Endeavour wasn’t the kind of hero kids looked up to; he was the kind of hero villains feared.

He did well in making villains fear him. His arrest numbers and ranking over the years increased despite his bad image because of the people who enjoyed having someone like that to save them. The fans who would rate his moves in a battle and ignore how many people got injured because of his recklessness in using said move. Ignored the homes that were levelled and how much money was needed to rebuild because of how flashy he was. How powerful.

Endeavour was a man with too much power—his shouting at him probably did nothing but make Fox look pathetic.

Pathetic was the only thing he felt like as he walked by Dagoba Beach. He prayed, despite his better judgement, that Shinsou would be there. To shout at him or tell him to fuck off or any other perfectly reasonable reaction—he didn’t care. When he had gotten so dependant on other people, he didn’t know, or like.

Izuku had spent two years in solitude; he could live without the only surface-level friendship he had. It was surface level, for God's sake. He shouldn’t have cared about it this much.

There was no one on Dagoba Beach. The small pathway they made down to the ground hadn’t been touched. Their spot in the middle of the chaos was still empty. A ping-pong table was left with no one to play on it. The beach was abandoned. The sun continued to set beyond the ocean, and there wasn’t a soul to watch it on the sand with him.

It had been three days since Shinsou had seen him. Some people had to think he was dead. He got blasted with Endeavour’s fire and then he wasn’t seen again—it was a logical conclusion that he had died in a ditch somewhere. Did Eraser think he was dead?

He could go back to being dead.

It wasn’t a pleasant thought. He had been so wrapped up in the forward momentum that he did not even think if doing it was worth it. The laugh of a boy left with the wind. What had Fox even done, anyway? Gotten people hurt and stressed them out? Fox had been hated since his inception, and Izuku had never slowed down to think that through. Was it even worth it to keep putting himself out in the open?

If he had gone through any other window than Denki’s, he could have gotten tortured. Or arrested and gotten found by his father. He got incredibly lucky—he won’t every time.

“Whatever you did with Endeavour—you saved my mom beforehand. So thanks.”

Izuku sighed and walked past the beach. He had done too much good to turn back now. Besides, Eraser would get annoyed at him if he up and left. The feeling after helping someone was quite addictive, as he had found out. He didn’t want to give it up, so he didn’t. He didn’t want to fall prey to inaction again.

His mask felt perfect on his face. Like it belonged there. No matter what—some part of Izuku’s soul clung to heroism and a dream to do good. At this time, however—his need to do good had to be balanced with his need to live. The grey space bar was as suffocating as ever.

His ears couldn’t pick up Giran’s voice yet, so he had to walk even further inside. A strong vodka smell attacked his nose again. The noise of music blasting drowned out the whispers of people in the dark corners. As well as the shouting downstairs that went on in fights. Why that place even existed was beyond him.

Izuku tried to think he was being paranoid when he thought all eyes went to him. To his little mask. Izuku is a short guy walking into a bar—of course he is going to get stared at. Sure, the whispers seemed worse, but he’s also a very dramatic person.

Air got staler around the edges of the room. The taste of spilled alcohol and the smell of cigarette smoke were more potent at the back tables. The smell had likely wafted in through the stairs. Giran could be down there. Too bad he promised himself to never go there again. Never again.

He won a few fights, sure. It felt exhilarating, and all but the last fight he had still haunted his nightmares.

Last time, he got his arse handed to him. Absolutely lost that fight. He was an eleven-year-old trying to snake by and thought he could fight anybody with his father’s training. He most definitely couldn’t. In fact, he lost so badly people thought he was dead, and some shady people were going to sell his corpse. He ran away from there as fast as he could once his legs could work again. That event must have messed him up as he could never calm down fully inside the grey space. He was always on edge. A thought at the back of his head lingered that if he showed any vulnerability, he could get shipped off just as easily.

There were whispers about him in the grey space. It wasn’t just his paranoia telling him that.

“He’s alive?” slipped into his hearing as he walked past a booth with a couple.

“How is it walking?” Snapped a drunk dude next to the bar.

“He doesn’t even look injured.” Laughed a girl, downing beer like it was her job.

Fox needed to leave. Giran wasn’t here, and if he got into trouble this early after his last incident, it wouldn’t be good. He sighed before turning towards the door.

“Oi, Fox!” a voice shouted from the bar. Behind the bar. Dabi had shouted at him. The roughness of his broken voice was still there—but it was more elated. Like someone had put him in a better mood than he had been in years. Fox turned away from the door and walked up to him. What was the worst that could happen? Izuku’s life was already a mess.

“Apple juice?” A glass was put into his hands before he could respond.

“What do you want?” Izuku asked, his nose scrunched up. Nothing was free around these places. Last time Giran had paid for it—he wasn’t here anymore. He was a Fox all on his own.

“Okay then, brat.” Dabi’s fake positivity was gone in a light. “Listen, I hate Endeavour, you hate Endeavour.” He patted the top of his mask as he spoke, and Izuku had to hold back the urge to bite his hand.

“Good observation.”

“Thank you—”

“That wasn’t a compliment.” If someone ever said you couldn’t sense a scowl, they were lying. There was something brutal in the way a person’s whole body language changed with their face. As pure annoyance seared through their bones and made it more and more obvious what was going on with their face even without sight.

“I’m trying to be nice to you right now,” Dabi whined.

“I’m trying to understand why.” Izuku drank the whole glass and then got it replaced with a full one. If Dabi wanted to waste his time, then Fox was going to waste his apple juice.

“Listen, I have a pretty big reason to hate Endeavour.”

“Does that reason have to do with the burns on your skin?” Izuku attempted to press his finger against the part of Dabi’s arm that was singed. His finger could barely graze it before he dragged his arm back and out of reach.

The burns were awful. He could hear every tug of skin when he moved, every harsh pain as the exposed skin moved against the air. No one deserved to live like that.

“I’m quite a fan of someone who can make Endeavour look like that much of an arse.”

“Didn’t have to do much, actually.” Dabi snorted at him. Fox couldn’t stop himself from smiling.

“He is an arrogant dick, isn’t he?”

“That’s putting it lightly” Izuku felt more giddy whenever Dabi laughed at one of his jokes or smiled at his words.

“Trust me, I know.” Dabi’s smile tugged against the staples around his face, and the sound echoed into his ear. A squishy, uncomfortable sound that crawled up his skin.

“Is that all you wanted to say?” Izuku asked before finishing his second glass. His want of free food knew no bounds.

“You know, I like you Fox,” Dabi said as Izuku tried not to squirm out of his seat.

“So do quite a few people—the approval of Stain around these parts is nothing to scoff at.” Izuku scoffed in reply solely out of spite. “Very funny. All I’m saying is — if you need something, I might be obliged to let some information slip.” Dabi filled up his glass once again in a gesture he could only guess was goodwill. An olive branch between a vigilante and a bartender in a bar full of criminals. Truly not the worst friendship someone like Izuku could make.

“Convenient friends.” Izuku held up his glass for a toast.

“Friends of spite—more like.” Dabi tapped a glass of what he assumed from the smell was vodka against his.

“I liked mine more.”

“Drink your apple juice, brat.” Izuku laughed—a smile haunting his face. Truly wasn’t the worst friendship he could’ve made.

Izuku’s only other friends were a hero and a hero killer—so the competition was scarce. Shinsou would’ve been good competition, but…

Fox wasn’t going anywhere. Sure, the nomu incident had been a disaster for him, but disasters could always be learnt from. If the nomu were going to keep on coming back—then he needed to figure out a way to incapacitate them. Not kill them as that triggers their fail-safe and makes them melt. Something like his darts would work. Izuku knew more about the nomus than anyone else, so if he could test them against himself, he could find out a way to get them out of a fight completely. That could save more people than punching the nomu repeatedly with only a prayer would.

The only problem was where exactly he would get the chemicals. He did jobs for over a month straight to get enough money for them last time.

Izuku tapped Dabi’s arm when he had another moment not running around actually doing his job. “Would you happen to know where I could get some specific chemicals for cheap.”

“If you could make a list, I could ask some people I know.” Dabi filled up his glass for free for a fourth time, and he got more grateful for being friends of spite with the guy each time.

“I’ll get it to you.” Izuku nodded.

He would need to make a full list of all the ones he used last time. Probably in higher quantities to account for experimenting. Nomu anatomy was always strange—a nomu would almost always be on the edge of death. Kept on this side by only the dragging claws of quirks that their bodies couldn’t shut off. There would be a fine line between incapacitating a nomu and actually killing it. He just had to figure out the line.

Izuku was too deep in his thought to notice as a guy walked up to the bar beside him. Something about him just felt familiar. Too far away to be someone specific he knew but too close to be a complete stranger. Izuku didn’t know many people—someone flying under his radar like this wasn’t very common.

“Two beers.”

“Got it.”

Dabi left to actually do his job—the traitor—and Izuku was left wondering who the fuck the guy was. He wore glasses that every few minutes he cleaned methodically—it took about a minute for him to finish one frame.

Izuku wasn’t the only one who recognised the other, however.

“Hey, I know you.” The man shouted down at him. He looked up at the man and felt like the eyes he had gotten off himself by sitting there in silence came back full swing. “You robbed us!” That jogged his memory.

“Snail!” Izuku shouted out. He remembered him—he was the Shie Hassaki guy who took ten years in the filing room. His elation was almost immediately squashed as he got picked up off his feet by his collar. The collar of a coat that drowned his body on a good day.

Before Fox could figure out what to do, Dabi once again came to his rescue. “Hey no fighting in here, man!”

“He stole very important files from us.” Izuku’s body got shaken about in his hand.

“I don’t give a rat’s arse if he killed your mother. You don’t fight inside. Understood.”

Snail looked down at Fox. Back up at Dabi. Then scoffed as he dropped him back into his seat.

“You’re dead, Fox.” He whispered into Izuku’s ear. His head had been a steady stream of fucks since he first got grabbed. Izuku had done jobs for Giran before, and none of them have gone after him. Izuku didn’t know what to do if someone went after him. What if they figured out who he was? What if they found out about his father? What if they had someone like the Doctor? Izuku contemplated getting himself stabbed in the leg to stop his rapid breathing.

“I’d watch your words.” Izuku didn’t even notice when it happened. A man up in his face one moment—and a katana against the man’s neck the next.

If they were getting attention before—Stain’s arrival only increased it tenfold. Stain was a sort of omen around these parts. The hero killer, a man as feared as he was revered. His name got whispered in the far corners whenever he kills another hero thought to be indestructible. For as many people becoming villains for love of the game—there was another person with emotional motives to push them into villainy. Stain’s morals called out to people. His culling of the ones meant to stop them—meant to be unbeatable—scared more people than they liked to admit. Even if you didn’t agree with Stain, or didn’t follow him, everyone knew not to piss him off.

“Hi Stain.” Izuku waved to the killer.

“Fox.” Stain nodded.

A smile came to his face without warning. Maybe being liked by someone so terrifying was getting to his head.

Snail was in a very different predicament. A katana at his neck, held by a man not afraid to cut. “Listen, man—”

“Hero killer” Stain corrected, his hand pushed the katana further into the man’s chest. With no change in his heartbeat, Stain watched as his knife ruptured the skin and droplets of blood pooled onto his katana.

“I don’t want any trouble.” Snail said, his heart raced underneath his skin. It was pounding hard enough to ring out in Izuku’s ears. He couldn’t stop the smile that came to his face at that. That was wrong—he knew it was wrong. Someone feared for their life, and he had smiled about it. Forcing his face into a frown did nothing for the righteous joy in his heart. Having seen someone who thought themselves so high and mighty crumble was just beautiful.

He really hated bullies. The Shie Hassaki had likely hurt hundreds if not thousands of people before—one of them deserved to have a little fear for their own safety. Even if he wouldn’t let Stain actually kill them.

“Then you’d do well to leave the Fox alone. I normally cull those less forward with their dark and evil ideals but just know my willingness to stain my soul for the good of the world has no limits.” Stain’s body barely moved as he spoke. The speech came out as second nature—like the words were just a part of him. His hands didn’t shake, and his heart rate didn’t increase one bit. Not a single part of him hesitated or feared as he threatened a man’s life. That was the part that scared Izuku.

“That goes for all of you!” His katana moved away from the man’s neck in an instant—who immediately took his opportunity to run away without another threat. “The Fox is under my protection! Understood!” Oh, there had to be something wrong with him. If there weren’t, he wouldn’t have felt so happy about a literal murderer who cared about him.

It was pure silence in the bar after he spoke. Only the crappy music overhead and the sound of heavy breaths filled the space. People were afraid of Stain—yet Stain liked him. He came to his rescue. He wanted to help Izuku.

Oh, his brain was fucked.

“You missed our training.” Stain stated, like their training times were anything but informal.

“Sorry, I was dying.” Izuku said for dramatic effect—a grin rife on his face. Stain snorted at his words before turning around without warning.

He only shouted for Fox to “come” when he was almost out of the door. Fox scrambled out of his seat and waved to Dabi before he followed him outside. If this were some convoluted murder plan, he would respect it.

“You know, thanks for doing that—” He got two words out before his legs were swiped out from under him. His head crashed against the floor and cut open part of his scalp. He laid there, with his head leaking blood onto the ground until it got itself stitched back up.

“Don’t mention it.” Stain deadpanned as his eyes bore into his head from above.

“What was that for?” Izuku whined as he got himself back on his feet. Stain’s head followed his every movement. Pierced into his limbs and looked for any sign of hesitation or fear or—what the man was looking for was unknown to Izuku.

“I was checking if you had gotten rusty.”

“It’s been three days.”

“Three days of bedrest, I presume,” Stain said, far too close to the actual truth.

He couldn’t very well tell him that he’d been unconscious for the past three days—that’s embarrassing—so he mumbled, “Not voluntarily.” Then elaborated after Stains’ silence got uncomfortable again. “It’s been a rough couple of days, okay.”

“Yes, that fake hero Endeavour seemed to do a number on you.” There was something degrading about Stain’s stare. He couldn’t see him, but he could feel the way his eyes were always on him. Like every move was being examined, tested, made to perfection. He couldn’t do anything wrong around Stain because he didn’t want to make himself seem useless.

“I made a mistake, I know.” Fox mumbled.

“The only mistake you made was not being willing to finish the job.” Izuku listened as Stain put his katana back into the sheath. It clanked against the entrance and rang out as it got to the bottom. He knew the threat of taking it back out was still there—he just truly didn’t care.

“Shouting at a hero will only do so much—I would cull Endeavour myself if ever given the opportunity.”

“I don’t like killing.” Fox said. He wasn’t going to kill anyone—he drew the line with himself there. No matter what happens with him and Stain, he won’t kill a soul. If that hurts him in the end, so what?

Yet someone still got killed because of him. He couldn’t save him, and his heart stopped. That wasn’t his father, and that wasn’t Izuku—that was Fox. His mask of good crumbled around him. Izuku was a monster—a nomu and the son of a killer. That fact had spread across his life and stained Fox with the same ink it stained everything else in his life.

“Yet you still talk to me.” Stain’s heart was interesting. A slow heart that never sped up no matter what. Or at least, it hadn’t yet. The man was a bastion of calm, and still all he felt around the man was unease and fear. Nothing would ever be good enough for him.

“I liked you more when you were defending me.” Izuku mumbled, his arms crossed against his chest.

“I like you more when you don’t deflect with sarcasm.” Stain countered.

Silence around Stain was never comfortable, not like it was around Shinsou or Eraser. Around Stain he always had to be ready for him to pounce. With Stain, he always had to be prepared to fight. His heart didn’t calm around Stain, yet it was happy around him. He flinched when Stain grabbed his sleeve, and he kept dragging him to sit next to him on a curb despite that. The same alleyway he had met Stain in was so close and felt incredibly far away at the same time.

Izuku felt like a different person from who he was when he first met Stain. A person with more experience, more relationships and less money. But he also felt like the same little kid he was when he got paralysed by Stain. As well as the same little kid he was when he ran away, or when his body first started dying, or when he got taken from his mother for the first time. Nothing about Izuku ever truly changed, and sometimes it feels like nothing would ever be the same as it used to be. Fox was one of the biggest changes, and it still feels like he’d been with Izuku his whole life.

“He had gotten somebody killed—a kid I was trying to save. It—it was my fault as much as his — but I needed to blame someone, so I let myself get blinded by anger.” Izuku stuttered. His hands clenched into fists on the cold, wet sidewalk they were sat on. The wind had picked up around them, and he could feel it against his newly bared neck.

“Is that what you think?” Stain didn’t mention his stutter. He didn’t mention any of Izuku’s faults. Leaving it up to the boy to figure out which parts of himself he hated from the vague comments he made.

“Stop being cryptic.” Izuku snapped at him.

“Endeavour does not care for life. He deserved to be culled.” Stain barely reacted to him. A soft laugh that made his spine straighten out was all he got. Most of the time he just got a held too long stare.

“I got someone killed.” Izuku mumbled.

“Did you? Or did you just fail to save them?”

Coming here was a mistake. Stain’s breathing was soft and timed to perfection. No notice of panic or stress in there. Izuku was the opposite. He tried his best to hide it.

Whether Stain noticed would be a mystery to him forever as he kept on speaking without a care to Fox’s condition. “Endeavour is an incredibly violent foe—you can’t blame yourself for his kills.” His words were muffled by the sound of his katana as it once again clanked against the opening of its sheath as it exited. “Just as you can’t blame yourself for mine.”

There was a katana against his throat as he listened to Stain, and that didn’t even affect him compared to his words. “Nothing you say to me can stop me, Fox. No speech, or friendship or gesture of goodwill will change my mission. Nothing you do will stop me.”

Izuku’s stomach was a mess. Some parts of him wanted to help Stain. Stop his killing and shape him into some sort of good person. A louder part of him didn’t even care. Stain was a murderer—that was a fact he had accepted and internalised easier than he expected. In the grand scheme of his life, Stain simply wasn’t as awful as others. Just as deprivation could make something better when he got it back, being given too much of something could make him numb to it.

Stain’s murders didn’t matter because Izuku had been at fault for deaths before. His actions didn’t count because he wasn’t as bad. Izuku was well and truly a hypocrite. He hated himself for it and yet kept on doing it.

Izuku was a criminal. Had been for years. If he clung on to any sense of morality beyond no murder, it would only hurt him in the end. He stole, fought and got people hurt. He wasn’t a hero and never would be. His mother would hate so much about him.

He could shout at a hero because they got someone killed, but somehow as he sat next to a murderer he wanted to do nothing but make sure Stain liked him. Stain didn’t pretend—maybe that was what he liked the most about him. No matter what happened, Stain was still Stain. A murderer and maybe a cannibal with iron-clad morals. He hated people who lied more. People who pretended to be heroes while not even squirming in his father’s grip.

“I could fight you.” Izuku argued while pushing the katana closer to his throat.

“You could also lose.”

“There’s still a chance.”

“There’s always a chance of anything, Fox.” Stain tapped his katana against his collarbone, letting the metal sit lazily against his skin.

“I’m not going to fight you.” Izuku felt as the katana cut against the bone. A small sting, not even comparable to anything he had experienced in the past three days and sent a shiver through his bloodstream, regardless.

“A shame.”

“You want me to fight you?”

“I want to get killed by a proper hero.” Fox pushed away the katana to let his cut heal itself. His collar being used as a good disguise over it. Stain had to know by now that Izuku had some sort of healing ability with the amount of times he’d stabbed him and it stopped bleeding within a minute. Somehow, that hadn’t terrified him to his core. Stain just didn’t seem like the type of person to go tell his father. Or tell anyone really. For all of his faults, Stain was nothing but loyal to his morals—no matter how different his own morals were to the man, he liked someone who wasn’t a hypocrite.

“Real heroes shouldn’t kill people,” Izuku said while wiping his own blood onto the curb.

“There are always circumstances, Fox.”

“Like taking one life to save millions?”

“Morals are a fickle thing.” God did Izuku know that. There was a small hope in him that if Stain ever tried to kill someone in front of him, he would be appalled and disgusted. Ready to fight for a life like he did whenever he puts on his mask.

There was a bigger part of him that feared that he would just stand there and watch. That his relationship with Stain would override any rational thinking and make him just be complacent. Izuku couldn’t live with himself if he did that.

He was so deep in thought that it took him a moment to come back when Stain dropped his katana in Izuku’s lap. “What are you doing?” He asked, his hands shifting to pick it back up. The thing was much heavier than he expected it to be. It shifted out of his grip if he didn’t put his entire weight into moving it one way.

“Have a good night, Fox. Try not to die.” Stain didn’t even look back. Didn’t let him reply or give him his massive, very sharp knife back. He was gone before Izuku could get himself onto his feet, and his katana is left behind. The handle was colder than he expected. Its ridges didn’t exactly fit into his hand, and it was incredibly heavy.

Next time he saw that man, he’s telling him his presents suck.

Dragging it back to his apartment was a challenge in itself — never mind how suspicious it was to run around at night with a sword. He did not want to have to tell Stain that he had to ditch his katana because he almost got arrested ten minutes after getting it.

His arms started to cry out a few blocks away from his building. He wanted to take a break, but the end was too close to give up his momentum. When he finally got himself up the stairs, his door didn’t even get locked before he fell onto the floor.

After a much needed rest, he decided not to sleep on a floor again. He dropped the katana onto his bench and then took off his mask and blindfold to just stare at it. Staring was not an activity he did often.

There were bloodstains wrapped around the sharp side of the blade—mostly long dried up. It took him about ten minutes to wipe them off before he moved onto the rust around the hilt. The blade hadn’t been kept in the best condition. It wasn’t something pretty to be babied or cased. In his hands was the weapon Stain had likely used for murder. He should’ve thrown it out the window—even thought about it for a while.

Izuku had quite a few weapons in his apartment that he didn’t use. A stun gun he made at twelve, a drill he got in a tool set he stole, and the quirk-powered rope he stole alongside his hammer that he had decided not to use until he mastered it. Too many things could go wrong if he didn’t. His katana could just go with them—hidden away in drawers until he got them out when he was desperate.

The katana got placed under the couch he slept on. Uncovered and unkept. Away and out of sight.

Maybe one day he would get the courage to take it out and get rid of it forever. That just wasn’t the day.

Maybe the princess and the pea had the right idea as he couldn’t get sleep to overcome his eyes that night. His head knew he was sleeping in the pillow fort he slept in every night, but his brain also knew that the weapon was right underneath him.

What if Izuku died? The question came to him in the dead of night and refused to leave. He wanted to figure out how to incapacitate nomus, but what if he found out how to kill even the strongest of them? A way to circumvent his regeneration. Would he take it?

If he were being honest with himself, he probably would. He would try to take it another day at a time and keep on living for his mother, but eventually everything would catch up to him in the dead of night. A simple thought he had years ago — that the world would be better without him — would tumble into his heart.

His death would take all his knowledge about Nomus with it. The only people who knew as much as he did were his father and the doctor. Maybe his papa. Definitely not his brother — he never cared about them beyond what they could do. Eraser and the other heroes would be at even more of a disadvantage. They wouldn’t even understand what was coming.

Izuku sat up and moved to his desk in distinct silence. The siren call of the katana under his bed got muffled with the sound of him pulling out a new notebook. He opened it to the first page and just wrote.

It was jumbled and distorted. He went from one topic to another with barely any connection to get everything down. There were things written down that didn’t even correlate to the nomus but were things that he needed off his chest. From how much he hated himself to him getting his mother killed and how much he missed his papa. Stain came up a few times. He steered away from mentioning his being a nomu, but his father was a repeated topic. He didn’t call him father in the book.

“All for one” Even whispering the name into the dead of night felt like a crime against nature. Like he could hear it miles away and come get him as he slept. Writing it down brought less fear to his brain. One page just had his name written over and over again like a maniac.

He wrote down anything he could remember about the doctor’s experiments and about his findings. Multiple pages were experiments done to him were edited into the third person. Edited away from being about him like the book didn’t have so many of his feelings just word vomited onto a page. Tear stains polluted those pages, and yet he kept on writing.

When he finally felt he was done with only three pages left in the book, he took a marker and wrote in big letters, “If Fox is gone — give to Eraserhead.” The journal was moved under his couch next to the katana. Two of the most incriminating things he had in his apartment were in the same place.

If someone were to snoop around in his apartment, they could find them both easily.

Izuku barely even cared.

If someone got into his apartment despite his existence, then it could just be the perfect conditions to give the journal to Eraserhead, anyway.

Chapter Text

Japan's obituary database had been getting frequent visits from Aizawa since Fox ran away. The spinning circle as it reloaded had become a good friend of his. Endless scrolling to try to catch a glimpse of anyone with green hair that matched Fox had become a pastime.

Aizawa didn’t know what he would do if his problem child’s face did darken his screen. He knew he would be distraught. Probably would need to give the kids’ parents a piece of his mind but be held back because they were grieving too. Every time he didn’t see Fox’s face among the dead, it didn’t alleviate his stress anymore—only made him worry about the next time he went back on.

If Fox wasn’t dead — please don’t let him be dead — then he would be incredibly lucky. Not everyone got that lucky. A shot from Endeavour at that short of a range should’ve burned part of his face off. The reporter who stood next to them had even got third-degree burns.

Then there were the other casualties of the night. Aizawa had just been discharged, but he was at the hospital when Mandalay arrived with her nephew. He was there when she was told that her sister wasn’t alive anymore. There, when her son had a meltdown, and started lashing out at anyone he could see for not saving them. The poor thing was only four at the most. A tiny face with baby fat prominent on his cheeks. Tears rolled down from his eyes as he threw his fists out in any show of his emotion that he could. 

Aizawa had been one of the last people to see her alive. The water hose heroes went off to fight Muscular, and neither of them came back alive. He told Fox that they would be fine. He believed they would be fine.

He and Mandalay hadn’t been that close until then. A few missions together was all they had in common. He lent ‌himself ‌as a shoulder to cry on, anyway.

Hizashi had been a mess. He had been called in for the search and rescue and only got there after Fox was gone. If Fox really was dead, then his husband would never forgive himself for showing up too late. Aizawa had spent the last night holding his husband as he sobbed. Something in him said that it would be a regular occurrence until Fox showed up again.

He would show up again. Aizawa was sure of that. Fox wasn’t one to go down easy. Definitely not to Endeavour. He had taken much worse injuries than some burns and kept on walking. Fox was resilient—he was alive. That was the only train of thought that let Aizawa sleep at night.

If the problem child’s parents didn’t realise something was wrong with their kid after this, he was going to be extremely concerned. If they didn’t, then UA could always take wards.

Hizashi had already gone home when he started walking around the hospital. He was looking for somebody—Cable, a hero who Fox had been carrying to the medical bay when Aizawa got to him. There was something wrong with Fox when he last saw him. He was delirious and probably concussed. It was terrifying watching his problem child—his honorary student—like that. He couldn’t do anything to snap him out of it but try to speak to him, to no avail. He was unapologetically ecstatic when Fox twisted the paramedic's arm to stop them from taking off his mask.

There was a hope in him that Cable could shed some light on what was wrong with him.

There was a smaller hope that he would see a boy with green hair sitting in one of the hospital beds.

That dream didn’t come to pass. He moved through the wards and saw each one stacked full of people from the attack. It had been three days, and people were still coming in with injuries from it. The burn ward was the worst. Heroes and civilians alike lined the halls. Some of them had gotten burned from the fires the nomus caused in their warpath. A much larger amount got caught up in Endeavour’s cross fires. The way he went about it was idiotic, but Fox shouting at the guy was extremely warranted.

Even if the problem child was never going to find out that he thought that.

He already knew that Tsukauchi was pissed at the kid for it. The man called him the second he was discharged and informed him of a meeting they were having about Fox. He had already prepared himself for the train wreck the detective was going to tell him about—he just needed to make sure Fox was alright.

Turning the corner, he listened in ‌on the room he was told that cable would be in.

“I’m going to be back in the next few days, sweetheart.” She was talking on the phone. Likely to her child—Aizawa hadn’t met him but was expecting to see him in the next few years for the recommended exam. “Don’t watch too much Tv alright.”

He took the longest breath he could before knocking on the door. “Cable?”

She sat up when she saw him, then flattened out her duvet before ending her phone call. “Oh, Eraserhead! What do you need?” He could see her eyes following his as he sat down in the chair next to her. Like a raven, he stared back.

“I wanted to talk to you about Fox.” Her face dropped its usual forced smile as he spoke.

“I’ll tell you what I told the detective. The kid is a good person trying his best, and I won’t throw him under the bus.” She said, turning away from him in her own act of defiance. Aizawa knew from that moment that he liked her.

“Good.” Aizawa smiled. “Fox is a good problem child even if he’s an extremely reckless one.”

Cable’s leg was wrapped in so many bandages it was basically mummified, and it was hanging to stop the swelling. He had glimpsed ‌the state her leg was in when Fox brought her in. The nomu had really done a number on her. If it were left any longer, it might not have been able to be saved. It was almost a miracle Fox could get to her on time. Something in him said that Fox didn’t see it that way.

“You close with him?” Aizawa nodded in response to her question, and her eyes filled with pity. It wasn’t hidden that vigilantes—good vigilantes trying to help people—sometimes get close with certain heroes willing to turn a blind eye.

“He hasn’t been seen for three days. I haven’t been able to go out in them, but I’m going to find him again.” Aizawa explained, pointedly ignoring his excessive checks of obituarys. He wasn’t going to tell Fox about that. The kid he knew would be dealing with enough guilt without adding his own worry on top. “I just wanted to ask—did he seem okay? When talking to you. When I got to him, it was like he was completely out of it.”

“He was tired. Exhausted really.” Cable said, her hands braiding her hair almost unconsciously. “He knew who I was, and he had researched the monster—.”

“Nomu.” Aizawa interrupted.

“Those things.” Cable finished.

He wasn’t shocked. Nomu’s may have little to research online, but Fox would look into anything he could after the first smaller scale nomu attack. He likely knew about the fail-safe and the inability to study what the nomu were. Fox was the kind of kid who just knew about these things.

“What do you mean by researched?” Aizawa asked anyway.

“Well, he knows that they follow the orders of whoever made them and can’t really think for themselves and they’re frantic, almost.” Cable sat up as much as she could in her predicament.

“Anything else?”

“Well, he did say something else, but—it’s impossible. He must’ve been delirious.” 

“What did he say?”

“That they have multiple quirks—which is impossible.”

His jaw was lucky he had practice keeping his face neutral or it would’ve been on the ground. It was impossible. Sure, the research claimed there were multiple quirk factors in the brain of the one nomu they could get their hands on—but that was impossible. A misread that they couldn’t repeat because there wasn’t any more nomus. It was brushed aside. Ignored. Never released to the public.

How on earth did Fox know about it?

“It’s impossible, right?” Cable shoved him out of his thoughts as she pressed on. Worry apparent and caution absent in her tone.

“Yes, impossible.” Aizawa affirmed despite his own worry. He forced himself to stand up and say goodbye to her despite his mind racing towards conclusions completely unjustified. “Excuse me, I have a meeting to get to.”

He didn’t give Cable any time to respond before he was out of there.

Fox shouldn’t have known about the theory—that was all it was, a theory—of nomus having multiple quirks. Sure, the fact that the nomu’s were created with dead bodies had been released to the press, but even now the leading theory was that they were quirk made. Using a human person's DNA to create monsters that follow their command. 

Then why would Fox think they had multiple quirks…

Fox wasn’t an idiot. He was irresponsible, headstrong and even rash at times, but he wasn’t an idiot. It made no sense for him to believe something with little evidence. Fox noticed the little things, he learned easily, was resilient and had a good mind for quirk analysis. He figured out Aizawa’s quirk and could distinguish enemies' weaknesses well. Phantom had described in excruciating detail when the kid asked her a million and one questions about her quirk.

Unless Fox had been told by someone he trusted that they did. Someone like Giran. Which meant that they knew about the classified research done on the nomu two years ago. That meant that Fox had been a lot deeper in this crime riddled rabbit’s hole than he thought, and for a lot longer as well. The thought terrified him.

Oh, Fox, what have you gotten yourself into…

He knew Tsukauchi would be foaming at the mouth to hear this. Anyone knowing this would be such a massive breach of security they would have to do a full search of anyone who was authorised to know it. The commission themselves had classified it. If Fox blabbed to the wrong person, then—he didn’t want to think about that.

As he walked into the meeting room, he saw someone else he knew would be foaming at the mouth if he found out. Nedzu was sitting on Tsukauchi’s desk, nose deep in the growing file on the nomu while sipping on his tea. The detective himself was sitting behind the desk looking stressed out of his mind. Whether that was because of the rodent in his office or the nomu attack, he really didn’t know.

“Oh, Aizawa, please come sit!” Nedzu finally got his head out of the case file to stare those beady little eyes at him that haunted his nightmares.

“Nedzu, I didn’t know you would be here.” Aizawa nodded at his boss before taking his seat.

“With the nomu’s back and causing more chaos, I have been added to the case to help find out who is behind all of this.” Nedzu closed the case file which was noticeably larger than when he had seen it all those weeks ago. The only thing both times had in common was Aizawa thinking Fox was dead.

“I hope you’re alright after your injuries, Eraserhead,” Tsukauchi piped up as Nedzu stayed sat on the edge of his desk.

“I’m not the one I’m worried about.” Fox would be fine. He just had to keep telling himself that until he saw the little guy.

“Fox still has had no sightings yet, but we have all of our nighttime heroes after him.” Aizawa scowled as he listened to the detective speak.

“What’s with the sudden care?” He snapped. He had no real reason for snapping beyond his fear for his honorary-students safety, but it still felt good.

“Eraser—” Tsukauchi tried.

“My doing, Aizawa.” Nedzu interrupted before taking another long sip from his cup. “I believe Fox has great potential, and with the Commission president's latest speech.”

“What speech?” He cut in. Aizawa hadn’t been keeping up with online news well, ever, but especially not in the last few days. Between obituary searching, comforting his husband, worrying about Fox and scouring the hospital for tufts of green hair, he had had no time.

“Have you not seen it?” Aizawa shook his head, and the detective pulled out his phone. On the video was the president of the Hero Commission in what looked like a press conference. She was flanked on all sides by guards as shouts from the crowds in front of her became too garbled to be heard through the speaker. She raised her hands and, like puppets, the crowd quieted down enough for her to speak.

“Here at the Japanese Safety Commission, we take civilian casualties very seriously. The recent nomu attack is nothing short of the most fatal mass murder incident since the Musutafu earthquake. Part of that casualty number is sadly because of the actions of our own heroes.”

Aizawa was shocked to say the least. He tried his best to keep his face neutral, and his eyes widened anyway. The commission was notorious for keeping the amount of injuries heroes themselves caused in battles away from the public. No need to anger the public against the ones meant to save them after all. Madame President took a prolonged sigh before speaking again.

“Endeavour’s hero license will be temporarily revoked as we undergo an investigation and further training to amend the errors made.”

He couldn’t stop the smirk at that. Endeavour was going to get his license back—this was likely a cover up to get the public off the Commission's back until it died down enough for people to start to forget. Yet this was also‌ a step forward. It was the first time public backlash had been bad enough to make the commission respond after all. People had to be angry. His honorary student, his Fox, was the reason. Fox would be so happy when he found out. Then, the president kept talking.

“We do not in any way condone the actions of Fox or anyone like him. However, we cannot ignore the sheer amount of lives he saved that night. If the boy is willing to come forward, we are willing to wave most charges and have the vigilante rehabilitated with the help of UA High. That is all. Thank you.”

She walked off with hundreds of questions being hurled at her about Fox, about Endeavour, about heroes and vigilantes‌. Not a single one was answered when the video went to black.

“Oh.” Aizawa shut his mouth to stop his gaping. They were offering Fox a way out of vigilantism. Fox would never believe it, but it was still happening. “How did this happen?” Tsukauchi brought out the growing file about Fox and handed it off to him. The top pages were statements after statements of people he had saved the night of the nomu fight.

“It seems after Fox’s tantrum—”

“Don’t call it that.” He interrupted.

“After his moment with Endeavour, many anti endeavour pages have come rushing to his defence.” The detective explained as Aizawa combed through the rest of the pages lining the file. Many of them he had to hold back a grimace from.

“Fox is getting more approved of by the day. If he were to go legal, that would only skyrocket.” Nedzu offered him a cup of tea, which he declined.

“He’s thirteen. He can’t become a hero yet,” Aizawa pointed out. That would be the main reason the kid would decline apart from his self-esteem issues. Fox wanted to do good now. Save people as soon as he could.

“He can be guaranteed a place at UA, however.” Nedzu pushed on.

“If his parents approve.” Nedzu scowled at his comment before filling back up his cup.

“You don’t think they will? This is an amazing opportunity.” Tsukauchi said. They were both staring at Aizawa—waiting for an explanation. He sighed before sitting fully back up.

“I don’t think the problem child is in a suitable home environment.” He admitted. The fear of what was going on in Fox’s life outside of the mask had been a common one since he stopped ignoring Eraserhead like the plague. Fox wasn’t in any meaning of the word—a normal kid. He always seemed on the edge of running away and never coming back. A loner with a heart of gold. Someone who’d risk his own life ten times over to give someone else a chance to live.

If someone had hurt that kid, he was going to make them suffer. Aizawa had dealt with far too many abusive parents in his time as a teacher. He was going to make sure Fox was okay. The best way to do that was to lay his concerns onto the hero who could take the problem child in at the snap of his fingers.

“Elaborate.” Nedzu said while he stared at Aizawa with eyes he swore never blinked.

“He has a very high pain tolerance—he can take almost any injury without a care in the world. Then there’s his self esteem issues. It’s like he thinks his life matters less than others—that he deserves to be hurt. He’ll let himself get stabbed to save somebody or let a civilian punch him just so they feel better.” Aizawa ranted about all his fears about Fox. A conversation that had come about with his husband more times than he liked to admit. “He doesn’t think of himself as a kid. It takes a lot to do that to a child's mind.”

Nedzu tilted his head to the side as he spoke, his head turning downwards to watch as his spoon stirred his tea. He looked lost in thought. A state that had led to many conclusions before.

“Has he had any injuries you think could be signs of abuse?” Nedzu asked.

“No, but I also think he has some sort of healing quirk.” If he did have a healing quirk, then that meant Fox was still alive. Fox had to be still alive for his sanity, so Fox also had to have a healing quirk.

“Yes, I’m aware of the incident when you erased his quirk.” Aizawa tried not to gag at the thought of it.

“I think it’s keeping him alive somehow.” He continued to speak despite the vomit at the back of his throat.

“Do you think his parents are the ones keeping him on the edge of death?” The detective asked as his fingers clacked away on his computer.

“They must be.” Aizawa nodded.

“If they were, then why would they let him go out as a vigilante at night?”

“They must not know.” He shrugged. Neglect was more than likely if his parents hadn’t even noticed how many injuries their kid got daily.

“Normally you don’t have a child on the edge of death and not at least one eye on them.”

Aizawa stared up at his boss and was left wondering what the hell was going through his brain. Methodical stirring of his tea, which Nedzu only did when he was lost in thought, only made him more anxious about Fox.

“He also has strange fears.”

“What kind?” Nedzu asked, his eyes boring into Aizawa’s skull.

“He’s terrified of snow. Caught him having a panic attack when it snowed the other week. As well, he’s horribly claustrophobic—he said he almost ripped someone's arm off because of it.” Aizawa listed them off and tried to glare the rat into looking somewhere else.

“So he’s violent.”

“He thinks he is.”

Tsukauchi sighed. “There’s no self-healing quirks on the database that match Fox’s description.” 

“Could his parents be keeping him off the database somehow?” An abuser with a child who no one knew could heal himself on command would just make it all that easier to get away with it. Could explain some of the kids' issues if he had tried to tell someone before and no one believed him.

“Or he could be keeping himself off of it.” Nedzu pointed out. “There is always the possibility he doesn’t have parents—anymore, that is.”

“You think he’s living alone?” The detective asked.

“It would explain how light he is. As well as his relationships in the underground.”

“Who?” Nedzu perked up.

“Giran.” The rat hummed after Aizawa spoke.

“He could be a runaway from an abusive household.”

“Or something worse.” Aizawa mumbled, then immediately regretted as all eyes went to him.

Nedzu cleared his throat before he spoke. “I do admire your loyalty to the young vigilante, Aizawa, but I do have to ask if you’re keeping something to share it with us all.”

Aizawa looked up, then back down at his scarf. Before he blurted out, “He knows about the multiple quirk factors in nomu’s theory.”

“What.” Tsukauchi’s eyes turned into dinner plates while Nedzu just looked back down at his cup.

“Well, that is concerning.”

“The multiple quirk factors were wrong, Eraserhead. A mistake why—how would he know about that.” The detective stumbled out his words with enough panic in his eyes to give him grey hairs.

“He told Cable before he went fully delirious that the nomu’s have multiple quirks.” Immediately after hearing that, Tsukauchi went back to his computer with hands that moved faster than he’d seen them in years.

“Well, there's only three possibilities here.” Nedzu started with a voice remarkably calm for the situation. “Fox was fully delirious when he said that and making stuff up on the spot—”.

“Which is unlikely as everything else he said was true.” Aizawa cut him off.

“So either the child somehow obtained the classified discarded files that propose the multiple quirk theory and was shut down.”

“Or?” Aizawa prompted him after he took an agonisingly long drink from his cup after speaking.

“Or Fox is intrinsically involved in the creation of Nomu’s and knows far more than we do.” Nedzu smiled after he spoke. Like it was all one joke without a child’s life at stake.

“You don’t believe that,” he said, scowling.

“I’m afraid I don’t know what I believe.” Nedzu’s smile was persistent.

“That theory implies that the nomu do have multiple quirks.” Tsukauchi pointed out while sucked into his computer.

“Yes, I suppose it does.”

Tsukauchi swallowed before staring right into Nedzu’s eyes. The staring lasted much longer than was comfortable until the detective whispered, “That’s impossible, he’s dead.”

“Who’s dead?” Aizawa asked. From the stares he got, he guessed he wasn’t supposed to hear that. He looked between them as the silence dragged on. “Whatever you’re talking about involves my student, so I’ll ask again, who’s dead?”

The detective looked at Nedzu and then back at him before he swallowed again. “There was somebody who could give quirks—but he was killed years ago, and we even double checked when we found the multiple quirk factors in the nomu’s brain.”

His eyes widened before he hid his face in his capture scarf. He truly did not know how to reply to that. Back when the multiple quirk factors were proposed—Aizawa had laughed. Sure, myths had circled since the dawn of quirks of that being possible, but that was all they were—myths. It wasn’t possible to give quirks. Tsukauchi had laughed with him. Turns out all this time he was being idiotic. Blind, abrasive—all qualities he tried to get out of his students.

There was somebody who could give out quirks. He may be dead, but he had still existed.

“Did he have a kid—somebody to give his quirk to?” Aizawa asked with his face still obscured in his scarf. If he could give a part of his quirk genetically, then Fox could be onto something. It could also explain the two year gap in nomu attacks.

“Not that we know of.” Tsukauchi shook his head.

“Well…” Nedzu turned to stare at the detective.

“Well?” Aizawa joined the rat.

Tsukauchi glared at Nedzu before explaining. “He implied he had a son in his last battle. We didn’t find anybody afterwards and assumed it was a last ditch attempt to keep his life.”

Aizawa sighed before collapsing into his chair. He had just found out a major secret kept from him in one of his own investigations. A major secret kept from all of society, it seemed. Someone who could give and presumably take quirks. If Fox knew about that…

He was worried enough with Fox maybe having an eye in classified case files, but this?

“Wouldn’t it be funny if that was Fox?” Nedzu laughed.

“Don’t even joke about that.” Aizawa cut him off. Nedzu just smiled at him with the look of “I know more than you” that was common from his boss and went back to drinking his tea.

“I’ll talk to the kid about the vigilante reform programme, but I think we shouldn’t tell him about this unless he agrees to join.” Aizawa proposed after the silence dragged on too long.

“No need to scare him off.” Tsukauchi agreed.

“If this meeting is over, I have to get on patrol.” He got out of his chair and walked over to the door. The floorboards creaked underneath his feet. If Fox was going through what he thought he was, then he had another hero who might talk to him.

“See you on Monday, Aizawa,” Nedzu called out. Aizawa looked back at those black eyes before he nodded and shut the door as quietly as he could.

He didn’t know how long it would take for Fox to show up again. Still, a small part of him hoped he’d get to see that mask today. Just to get a little proof that he was alive. Any proof that he hadn’t lost the kid that night. Aizawa was no stranger to his students weaseling their way into his caring about them. He would probably throw himself into a tsunami to save one of them. Fox was one of his students in his head. If all went well, then Fox would be one of his students in a few years.

He just had to not die until then.

Going back on patrol was confusing. He had expected gall and hatred thrown his way like rotten tomatoes. The internet was something he had steered far away from since he had woken up two days ago, and now he wished he had at least Googled his own name.

Someone had hugged him. He had jumped on top of a mugger and was about to write a Post-it for the police when the victim had just run forward and hugged him.

She smelled of lavender mixed with a bout of vanilla in her hair. She was much taller than Izuku, and his head went onto her shoulder. Her heartbeat was racing inside her chest, and the bracelets on her arms jingled as she wrapped her arms around him.

Izuku had come out that night expecting to be hated beyond belief. Yet there he stood, getting nothing but affection.

Another person he saved gawked at him, and another giggled. One started shouting at him, calling him a “career ruiner,” but he ran away before he could finish his sentence. The guy had a cane, okay, he got scared. It all came to a halt when he was jumping across a rooftop and a group of teenagers shouted up at him. He thought they were talking to someone else, but as it turned out, he was the only person on that rooftop.

They asked him to come down, and he obliged out of sheer curiosity, with his hand wrapped around the hilt of his knife behind his back.

There were four of them, two boys and two girls, and he didn’t recognise any of their heartbeats. He could’ve taken them easily. A well placed kick there or a punch to the gut of the taller ones. They were giggling among themselves as he approached until eventually one boy got pushed forward. He was taller than him, and smelt like musk mixed with dirt. His feet shuffled back and forth as he whispered an argument with his friends before he finally spoke to Fox.

“Can we have a photo with you?” He asked and shoved a phone into Fox’s face. Izuku’s nose scrunched up as he searched for a reply.

“What?” Fox mumbled. He didn’t understand one part of what was happening, and something told him the teenagers weren’t going to explain it to him as they were still whispering amongst themselves.

“I’m taking that as a yes!” shouted one girl as she rushed forward and put her arm around Fox’s shoulder. Another girl then complained she wanted to do that, and the other boy said that he had two shoulders. He ended up with four teenagers huddled around him with their knees bent to get him in the photo properly because of their height difference. There was a frown on his face when he heard the boy had taken multiple photos of them. He hoped he was at least facing the camera.

Almost as quickly as they had appeared, the teenagers left his side to form a huddle again. “Thank you so much, mister Fox.” The original boy said. Fox replied with a nod, his hand gripped back around his knife when he heard footsteps getting closer to the alleyway they were in. Soft footsteps with a recognisable heartbeat. Then he smiled for the first time that night.

“I’m pretty sure vigilantes have more important things to do than stand around for photos.” Phantom said after sneaking up on the teenagers. They jumped up, shrieked and one fell back into Fox’s arms before giggling uncontrollably again. Phantom stood with her arms crossed and her ponytail swaying in the wind. They looked between Fox and Phantom a few times before the girl he assumed was the bravest of the bunch stepped towards Phantom to shout at her.

“You better not arrest him, lady!”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Phantom laughed.

That must’ve been enough for the girl as she huffed before walking back to her pack of friends. “Bye, Fox!” one boy called out before giggling yet again as all four of them ran out of the alleyway. Izuku hoped they got home safe.

“What was that?” Fox asked, his footsteps as light as he could get them as he walked up to Phantom.

“The price of fame, my fiery friend.” She wrapped her arm around Fox’s shoulder and Izuku leaned into it. Phantom smelled of coffee grounds and smoke.

“Is that why you went underground?” Phantom only shrugged in response to his question. Her knee clicked as she kneeled down in front of him.

“You okay?” She asked as her hands dug into his shoulders. Izuku was more averse to touch after widespread regeneration. Something about his new skin getting used to pressure.

“Endeavour barely touched me.” Fox lied. Half-lied. Endeavour himself didn’t touch him, and his fire didn’t affect him anymore. He was fine. So he barely even lied.

“Didn’t look like it from the outside.” Phantom’s laugh echoed through the alleyway. Fox couldn’t find it in himself to join her. What did everyone think of him now? He had expected vitriol and had been given almost acceptance. Fox didn’t know what to do.

“Why do people like me now?” Izuku posed the question with a laugh. He hadn’t expected Phantom to tense up at it.

“You didn’t see it?” Fox shook his head, and she pulled out her phone in response.

He took a guess that the person speaking was someone from the Hero Commission. Someone, his father either hated or had in his pocket. Izuku prayed it was hated. She was talking about Endeavour. Endeavour, who no longer had a license.

So that’s what that guy meant when he called him a career ruiner.

His tantrum had contributed to a hero losing their license. Guilt waged war with joy in his chest at getting some revenge on Endeavour. It wouldn’t be forever, but baby steps could still get him forward. Endeavour couldn’t just get away with mass casualties anymore. Stain may not think of it as his due punishment—but for Izuku? It was enough. It was enough for Fox too.

“Woah.” Was Fox’s very astute reply as he gaped at her words. They wanted him to be a hero? He couldn’t do it for a multitude of reasons, but some people thought he was good enough. His father would be eating this up if he knew. The son of death and misery incarnate somehow tricked the literal hero commission into thinking he was good enough.

The only thought that his brain allowed to linger for more than a few seconds was that he had tricked them. Unintentionally, he had tricked people into thinking he was worth anything. That he wouldn’t destroy everything he touched. He’d tricked so many people. It came crumbling down with Shinsou—it would with everyone else too.

“Yeah, turns out calling the number two hero a murderer can get you fans!” Phantom ruffled his hair then mumbled about how it had gotten shorter.

“I don’t want that.” Izuku pushed her away. He didn’t need to trick anyone else. His world wind of chaos and depression would take in everyone eventually, and it would all be his fault. Because he constantly tricked people. Some subconscious, selfish, ugly part of him that always needed more. Always wanted more lives to ruin.

“It doesn’t hurt.” Phantom offered—her voice more placating as she must’ve realised his imminent breakdown. Izuku needed someone to push him away. To tell him how useless and destructive he was. Someone who he wasn’t able to endlessly trick into not despising him like they’re supposed to.

“I’m not turning myself in.” Fox stepped back towards the head of the alleyway. He never thought he would miss the days when heroes tried to arrest him. At least back then, they were wary of him. Careful with him.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Phantom spoke softly. She didn’t move to catch him. Her heartbeat didn’t even start to race. She was calm.

Izuku wasn’t.

So he ran. He made sure he stayed within his own city's limits, but, by god did he run. He ran until his lungs couldn’t hold it anymore and he kept on running.

Birds flew overhead, and the wind caught up to him as he kept on going.

People screamed as he saved them. He didn’t give them anytime afterwards because he had to keep on running.

Endeavour was temporarily no longer a hero.

People liked Fox.

Izuku didn’t know how to make them stop.

Chapter Text

Izuku knew only one person who truly hated him. His own brother. Whatever bond may have laid dormant underneath them both—the only emotion Izuku ever brought up in his brother was pure, unbridled hatred. How to translate that anger into hundreds of people who were mindlessly loving him online, he didn’t know.

People liked Fox. Ochaco’s blog had soared in followers, and articles talking about his mistakes were flooded with vitriol and hatred so intense they had to get taken down. Izuku felt awful, but he didn’t know how to get them to stop. He didn’t know how he had tricked so many people — gotten so many to actually like him.

The easiest answer was that none of them knew him. Nobody knew Izuku, and the only person they liked was Fox. Shinsou may not fully know Izuku, but he knew far more than anyone else—that must’ve been why it hurt so much to lose him. His phone blew up with messages that he couldn’t get it from within himself to open by a boy he wished he had never even met.

It had been three days since he had woken up and six days since the nomu attack. Almost a week and Shinsou had sent him over a hundred messages asking where he was and if he was okay. Izuku didn’t know why he was keeping up the image of caring about him, but he wasn’t going to let it get to him. He had lied to Shinsou. The only boy who actually knew his identity. If he really wanted to, he could go online and tell everyone how much of an arsehole Izuku was, and he couldn’t even deny it. He held a knife up to his throat, for God's sake!

He had made a mistake. Good thing he was known for making mistakes.

The only way to make it right that he could think of was to get Shinsou to shut up. To not tell anybody about his screw ups and to just forget about him. Easier said than done, but Izuku was ready to be pushy. He just had to get rid of the only surface-level friend he had made in years. Let the boy scream at him and tell him how useless he was for a few hours, then pray he didn’t go squeal.

If he did squeal, Izuku still had plans. Not getting his face onto the police database for his father to find was number one priority—so he would have to hide out in his apartment for a few weeks. Then he’d take a train down to Hosu and sneak on a totally legal flight over to any country he could lie low in. Not Canada—it snows too much up there.

Izuku had plans ready for any and all situations. It was the only way his legs didn’t give out from worry underneath him as he jumped across rooftops toward Dagoba beach.

He was wearing his new—not burned to a crisp—Fox getup with his mask tucked into the back of his tool belt. Just like it was when all this mess started. The wind was light as the sun set in the distance. He had decided to wear his sunglasses to cover up his eyes instead of his blindfold—something he regretted as soon as he locked eyes on Shinsou. He looked exactly as he had a week ago when he had last seen him. Izuku didn’t know why that shocked him so much.

It had only been a week, and yet Izuku felt like everything had been flipped upside down so heavily that nothing could be the same anymore. People had started acting weirdly around Fox, Shinsou knew one of his many secrets, Endeavour was no longer a hero. Izuku didn’t get how people could just be the exact same even when his life had been completely changed.

Yet there stood Shinsou, his hair the same length and his eyes with the same glow they always had whenever Izuku saw him. The sunset framed him like a piece of art that not even the rubbish surrounding him could ruin. Like a piece of gold amongst the stone. The only thing that looked any different was the deeper eye bags. Izuku couldn’t help but feel like he was partly at fault for that.

He truly didn’t know what to say. His throat tightened whenever he tried to get words out, and his brain just didn’t want to work as he got closer to the other boy. They didn’t keep eye contact very long, but the one moment they did was almost burned into his retinas with how much it made his mind go blank. Even just for a moment—not even his fear could get through to his head. No matter how short it lasted, Shinsou always had the ability to just make Izuku feel okay.

He didn’t want to lose that.

But if he stayed with Shinsou, then he would inadvertently ruin his life eventually.

He took a few steps closer to him.

Shinsou was supposed to stay on the outskirts of his being. Far away from anything that could hurt him. He wasn’t meant to know anything about him. This was supposed to stay surface-level.

His breath hitched when they make eye-contact again, and his hand itched for a blindfold that he didn’t have. Whatever he could get his hands on to cover his eyes. To stop seeing Shinsou. To stop seeing those eyes that dragged him out of his thoughts. A drop of his head, and Shinsou was locked into the darkened sides of his eyes.

Izuku had failed to keep any of his relationships surface level, hadn’t he? He’s been to Eraser’s house and gone to a fucking cat cafe with Shinsou. None of his attempts at keeping people safe by keeping them away from him had even worked. Nothing he did worked.

A part of him was happy it didn’t work.

A hypocritical, selfish, and destructive part of him was overjoyed at the thought of having people actually close to him. People who he could point to and say they had his back. He was going to drag them down with him into the rotting, and he wanted to stay with them, anyway.

He wanted to listen to that part of himself so badly. The part of him that was done being alone. The part of him that thought he could protect them. He would have to protect them. If he couldn’t keep them safe at arm’s length, then he would need to drag them down to the middle of the eye of his rotting soul and bear the storm himself.

Izuku couldn’t see anything around him—his vision issues made Shinsou the centre of all he could see. A tunnel straight to the boy’s face. He followed it until he was a few steps away from the boy. Shinsou’s eyes bore into his head. Studying him. His head tilted to the side like a cat, and the silence bore on.

“I’m sorry for threatening you with a knife!” Izuku shouted at the same time Shinsou sighed, “I’m so sorry.”

He blinked up at the other boy before water began to crawl up to his eyes. A hand wrapped around his lungs and pushed out sounds up his throat that he couldn’t stop. He burst into laughter. Laughter he was completely alone in as Shinsou stood silently.

“Why are you sorry?” Izuku got out between his giggles, his hand covering his mouth to stop the sound as he took a breath to calm himself down. He found the absurdity of that unnecessarily funny.

When he finally got his laughter under control, Shinsou actually began to explain. “Because you have a lot going on with being a vigilante and all, and I stressed you out more by getting in the way.” Shinsou’s hands fidgeted over his stomach. Izuku had to look up to get a glimpse of his face, which was filled with remorse. Shinsou felt bad for getting in his way? Sure, he was in the wrong place at the wrong time, but that wasn’t his fault. None of it was his fault. Izuku was the one who overreacted—it was his fault.

“You weren’t in the way, I just didn’t want you to get hurt.”

“Besides, I’m the one who put a knife to your throat.” Izuku pointed out and watched as Shinsou brought his hand up to wrap around his own neck.

“It was fine.”

“I still shouldn’t have done it!”

Sure, he was stressed, and okay, he didn’t know what else to do, nevertheless, having Shinsou scared of him in any capacity wasn’t something he ever wanted. It was something that horrified him. He wanted to protect Shinsou after all. He needed to protect him.

Shinsou’s hand ran up his arm to squeeze his shoulder. “You are okay, aren’t you?”

“I am now. I was passed out for three days at a friend’s place.” Izuku placed his own hand on top of his.

“What friend?”

“Just a friend.” Izuku smiled up at Shinsou. “He doesn’t know my identity, if that makes you feel better.”

“It does actually.” Shinsou squeezed his shoulder before taking his hand away. The sleeve of his jumper caught on Izuku’s tool belt for a second. It was a cute jumper — a lilac colour with a cartoon image of a cat on the front. They should get a cat. Shinsou smelled of cats and coconut.

Izuku brought his gaze down to the tin cans scattered around at his feet.

“So you do all this blind?”

“Peripherally blind, but yes. I wear a blindfold so it’s easier on my quirk.”

“Which is?” Shinsou’s head tilted to the side again like he was listening out for something. Shinsou knew that he was blind—it would only make sense that he had super senses. It would make sense! At least for once he hadn’t shoved himself into a corner.

“Super senses. Basically, I have a certain amount of points that can be distributed across my different senses. If I turn one up, then the others get worse. Since my sight is mostly fucked, my other senses are much better.” When he first got his super senses quirk, he was ten. His brother had used his stupid video game logic to explain this specific quirk away, and for some reason his words could never really leave his memory. He guessed it was because it was one of the few nice memories they had. “I wear a blindfold as Fox just so my hearing can be better and the little bits of light soaking through the mask don’t disorient me.”

“That’s really cool.” Shinsou had a small smile on his face—the best that could be expected from him—and Izuku held back a grin in response to it.

“You wont…” Izuku mumbled. “You won’t tell people… right?”

“Never,” Shinsou said almost immediately.

Izuku wasn’t going to push him away, was he? Nothing he did was going to work. He almost didn’t want it to work.

“Besides, I don’t even know your last name,” he laughed.

“Midoriya,” Izuku said it before he could stop himself. Pulling Shinsou further into his chaos of a life.

“I swear I’ve heard that before.”

“Don’t Google me,” Izuku knee-jerk responded as soon as he heard him speak. From the look Shinsou gave him, he guessed he was screwed.

“Why not?”

“Dont freak out!”

Shinsou nodded in response, and Izuku swallowed before opening his mouth again.

“I’m sort of—legally dead.”

“What.” Shinsou’s face dropped even more than he thought possible.

“Surprise!” Izuku exclaimed as he watched Shinsou drop to sit on the floor in one of their safe spots that didn’t have rubbish cluttering it. His hair looked even more fluffy from above.

“Oh, what have I gotten myself into?” Izuku heard him mumble as he joined him sitting on the floor.

“You said you wouldn’t freak out, Shinsou!”

“Hitoshi.” Shinsou—Hitoshi cut him off. Hitoshi. His first name. That’s what people he actually cared about him called him. Izuku had somehow tricked him into liking him that much, and the joy of it almost outweighed the guilt. “Call me Hitoshi. I’ve been calling you by your given name all this time.”

“Well, I didn’t tell you my last name.” Izuku laughed as the obnoxiously enormous smile on his face only grew.

“Well, yeah, it is on a tombstone.” Hitoshi deadpanned.

“You joke about that, but it actually is.”

“Oh, my God.”

Hitoshi started to laugh, and Izuku joined in. They were laughing together, and suddenly it felt like Izuku was lighter than air. That all of his problems were easier to break than glass. They could cut him as much as they liked, but Izuku would be fine because he was right there—laughing with Hitoshi.

“Do you have, like, a fake name or something?”

“Shirakumo, Izuku.” He ignored the pang in his heart when he said it.

Hitoshi raised his eyebrows and stared at him for a few moments before he spoke. “You didn’t even have the energy to make a fake given name.”

“I was panicking! Leave me alone.” Izuku pushed him away when he started to laugh again, a faux grumpy expression on his face. However, he joined in the laughing eventually.

“So you’re fully a vigilante?”

“You don’t have to keep hanging around me if you don’t want. I’d get it. You want to get into UA after all.” One last shot. One last reminder for him to run as far away as he could from him.

Hitoshi bumped his shoulder against Izuku’s. “I couldn’t leave my surface-level friend in the dumps. Actually, we should graduate to real friends one of these days.”

Now he really wanted to get a cat with him. Friends get cats together, right? Real friends. They were real friends. Izuku Midoriya somehow got a friend. His best friend—and only one. Hitoshi knew far too much about him, and somehow Izuku had still tricked him.

“I only wanted to be surface level, so you didn’t get caught in this mess.” He pointed at himself to emphasise the said mess.

“I thought you were going to hate me.” Izuku mumbled.

“You’re doing good, Izuku. What kind of wannabe hero would I be to leave my friend behind for doing good?” Hitoshi wrapped his arm around Izuku’s shoulder, and he felt as if fireworks went off in his stomach. Was this what people actually caring about him felt like?

“You are a very strange exception.” He dropped his head onto Hitoshi’s shoulder.

“You’re a stranger exception.”

Hitoshi’s shoulder was warm—all of him was warm. It was like he was walking out of a freezing cold tundra right onto a star. He didn’t want anything else but to sit there for hours and listen to his friends (he had friends!) heartbeat.

However, that want only paved an easier path for guilt to get through. Hitoshi didn’t fully know what he was getting into. He wouldn’t know until he got hurt, and Izuku was determined to not let that happen. Izuku didn’t deserve this. His selfishness wanted to take it anyway.

“I have a lot of baggage. I'm basically cursed.” Izuku lamented on Hitoshi’s shoulder.

“Cursed?”

He painfully extracted himself from the other boy’s arm to look at him. “Whenever I get close to someone, they get hurt.” Izuku took his friend’s hand into his own. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I won’t—if you tell me what’s going on.” Hitoshi squeezed his hand.

“You know more than anyone else in my life right now.” Izuku didn’t have very many people in his life—but Hitoshi didn’t need to know that.

“You cut your hair.” Hitoshi moved his other hand to run through the ends of his much shorter hair. It had been a few days, and he still didn’t like it. He would go to pull on the ends whenever he got stressed and would grasp onto nothing before he remembered to reach up higher.

“It got burned off when I was saving people.” Izuku explained.

“I think it’s nice.” Hitoshi hummed before taking his hand back.

“Izuku, I need you to promise me something.” He looked up at his friend and nodded. He heard Hitoshi before he talked again. “I’ve been left by a lot of people in my life—I’m guessing you have too.” He unclasped their hands to hold up his pinky towards Izuku. “Just promise me that no matter what, we stay together.”

Izuku smiled before wrapping his own pinky around Hitoshi’s

“And don’t die.” Hitoshi added on.

“No promises.” Izuku snorted. Then, when Hitoshi glared at him, he added, “Listen, last time I promised not to get stabbed I got stabbed the same day—I’ve sworn off promises about things I can’t control.”

Then they laughed again. He didn’t know which one of them had started it, but he truly didn’t care. They were laughing. Hitoshi knew all of this and was still laughing with him. When the laughing stopped and they decided to just sit there in comfortable silence—he also didn’t know. It just faded in and out like it was always supposed to be there.

He needed to go out as Fox soon. However, he wanted to just sit there with his friend forever.

He indulged his selfishness a bit longer.

When he finally did go out as Fox—he did with a smile and a pep in his step. He was going to find Eraser that day. Normally, Eraser had some magic way of finding him when he least expected it, but on his second day of patrolling since he had woken, Fox decided he had to find him.

He was hungry, bored, and his interaction with his friend (FRIEND!) had given him a newfound confidence that maybe Eraser wouldn’t hate him.

Eraser had been tricked a while ago. His soft spot for children, mixed with the guilt of the time he had almost gotten him killed, had made him more endeared to Fox’s shitty personality. He also thought his jokes weren’t half bad.

Fox had caught onto the hero’s heartbeat a few blocks back. Then he got distracted saving a woman who then stole his Post-it note and made him write a new one for the police. After that, when he finally did latch onto Eraser’s heartbeat again—it was when he was in the middle of a fight. There were two heartbeats going at him in the alleyway, which he could easily fight off.

Who would Fox be if he didn’t shove himself into situations he didn’t need to be in?

The rooftop he was on seemed quite bare. He contemplated just jumping down directly onto one villain before his hand grasped a pipe. After he had prayed the pipe wasn’t needed for anything—Fox lined up his hands and dropped it directly onto the villain behind Eraser’s head. Then he snorted as Eraser whipped his head around when the villain crumpled to the ground.

What Eraser looked like when he laid his eyes on his Fox mask—he would never know—but he did hear the man’s heart rate decrease for a few moments before he remembered he was fighting someone. He counts that as a win.

Fox sat on the edge of the roof and waited as Eraser gave the two villains off to a police car. His legs swung over the edge as the wind blew past his face. It hit against his bare neck and made the ends of his hair fly up. He didn’t mind his hair being shorter anymore. Even if he had to move his hand up a little higher to tug on the ends.

It was a warm night—spring was coming in, and soon he wouldn’t even need his coat anymore. Eraser’s arms around him the second the hero got up onto the rooftop were even warmer. He didn’t even have to say anything. One moment he was listening in on Eraser’s footsteps as he climbed up the ladder, and the next he was being grabbed into a hug. He didn’t even mind it. Eraser smelled like coffee, cats and how the morning after it rains all night smells. The calm after the storm. Izuku dipped his head into the man’s shoulder and let him hug him without a tense bone in his body. He couldn’t will his arms to hug the hero back—but he let the interaction go on. He didn’t run away. Baby steps.

“I told you not to fight Endeavour.”

“Actually, you told me not to fight either of the nomus.” Fox argued with a laugh at the bottom of his throat.

“It was implied, and you know it.” He squeezed Fox’s shoulders before letting him out of his grip. Izuku fought every urge in his body to beg him to not let go and brought a smile to his face.

“You’re okay, aren’t you?” Izuku got asked for the second time that day.

“I’ve had worse.” He assured Eraser. He guessed this did very little to actually alleviate his stress as his heartrate only increased.

“You shouldn’t have.” Eraser argued as his feet scuffed on the floor before he got to the edge of the roof. Fox quickly joined him in sitting on the edge when he handed him a jelly packet. Just like nothing had changed at all.

Except a few things had changed. There was someone in Izuku’s life who he had actually shown one of his rough edges. Actively opened up a door in one of his walls to let him in. The labyrinth of Izuku’s being was one that could take years for him to traverse, but he’s closer to it. The only reason he did anything with Shinsou was because of Eraser. At the base of all of his baby steps, Eraser was standing there with jelly and a head pat.

“Are you okay?” Izuku asked—returning the favour.

Eraser laughed before ruffling his hair—almost on cue. “I’m a hero, kid. This is my job.”

“I’m a vigilante—I made it my job.”

“Unpaid labour.” Eraser mumbled.

“I don’t want to get paid. I don’t deserve it.” Fox’s legs swayed in the wind again. Moved against his control. He was Fox to make up for the years he spent doing nothing. The years he spent idle. “I don’t even really want popularity—I just want to do good. People like me now, and it’s weird.”

“Yes, well, you did make the number two temporarily lose his job.” Eraser pointed out.

“Is it bad I don’t feel bad about that?” He asked. No matter what he did or how many posts he read of people defending Endeavour—he just couldn’t get himself to feel a hint of remorse. Endeavour made his own bed after all—he could lie in it.

“No, that man has been needing someone to bring him back down to earth for years.”

Fox focused his hearing. Listening in on the patting of the hero’s heart. Listening to how he was going to react. “Is he going to get his license back?”

“Most likely.” No jump in his heart. So he wasn’t lying then. A frown came to his face despite his willing to keep it away. The logical solution was that, of course he would get his license back. Endeavour was the number two hero—for every person slandering him to the high heavens there would always be another defending them with everything they had. Nothing he did to the man would make his expulsion last forever. Endeavour knows how to follow the rules to the right people’s faces.

“Then did I really do anything?” He lamented.

“You’ve done more than anyone else.” Eraser jabbed Fox’s chest with his finger—emphasising his words as he spoke. “You got it onto people’s radar—you got him to answer for his own actions. No matter how little time he spends doing that. What you did matters, Fox.”

“I’d love someone like you in my class.” Eraser added almost like an afterthought.

“Too bad I’m a criminal.” Fox mumbled. Eraser wouldn’t really want him in his class if he found out that Izuku was one of the nomu. A monster. A brainless killing machine.

“There is the commission president’s offer.” Izuku’s breath hitched in his throat. Of course, Eraser would bring that up—why on earth did he think he wouldn’t bring it up? He’s a hero who just found out the vigilante he was mildly fond of could become a legal hero. Eraser didn’t know how much trouble everyone around him would be in if his identity got out. If Izuku Midoriya was no longer considered dead. His dad would come after people like Eraser first. People who could put up a fight in defending him. Then he’d make him watch as they failed over and over again and he could do nothing to stop them.

Since he couldn’t tell Eraser all of that—Fox took a breath before he said, “I can’t turn myself in.”

“UA is willing to take you in as a ward.” Eraser argued. “The commission just wants you off the streets so people stop idolising a vigilante, but we can protect you.”

“Protect me?” Izuku spat out with the most ungrateful tone he could muster. No one could protect him. He had to protect others at his own expense—he didn’t need protecting. He couldn’t even die.

“From your parents, from whoever you’ve made friends with in the underground.”

“I don’t have any friends in the underground.” Izuku got out through gritted teeth.

“Acquaintances, people you’ve stolen for.” Eraser corrected himself. Fox bit the inside of his cheek and felt it regrow a few times before he spoke again. He knew what the hero was talking about—he just didn’t want to think about it.

“You know about Giran?” Fox asked with all the guilt of a cold-hearted criminal.

Eraser only sighed. “Sneaking into the Shie Hassaki is dangerous, problem child. Everything you do is dangerous.”

“I was fine.”

“Yes, because of your miraculous healing quirk—but can it get you back from anything, Fox?” Yes! He held himself back from screaming that yes—his healing could get him back from anything and everything. From getting his limbs ripped off and burned off from an explosion he himself set to stabbing himself in the heart over and over—nothing could kill him. Nothing that’s done to him could affect him for more than a few minutes. None of his pain counts because it’s only for a few moments. Izuku Midoriya couldn’t kill himself if he wanted to.

He didn’t say that, however. He didn’t do anything to raise anymore questions. Just turns his head away from him with a frown, dead set on the space below his mask.

“I can’t turn myself in.” Fox grasped the hero’s hand to stop him from placing it on his shoulder. One step forward, two steps back. “Not yet.” He dropped the man’s hand to his side.

“I get that.” Eraser sighed before his joints clicked as he stood up. “The offer is always open.”

“Just be careful with people like Giran.” He missed Eraser’s hand the first time but eventually could catch it and use it to help him stand up. “You’re a kid, I don’t want people taking advantage of that.”

Izuku nodded before jumping off the rooftop. Fox was needed—loved or loathed, he saved people. That was what he was made for. Not to be a hero or a shining virtue of goodness. He’s someone who did whatever he could to save people while he stole to keep on breathing. Something he didn’t even want to do in the first place.

He took another breath and waited for Eraser to catch up. These days, Izuku didn’t even know if he would let himself die if he could. No time to dwell on impossibilities—after all, he made a promise.

Eraser and he plunged back into a rhythm. Find someone—save them—Eraser deals with the police as Fox tries to find someone else or mills about. It’s something they’ve done hundreds of times since Fox started this months ago. He’s gone from unknown to hated to almost admired, and it still felt like his first night sometimes. Like he still thought Eraserhead was going to come around the corner and turn off his quirk until he was a screaming pile of nothing. Then, Eraser would put his hand on Fox’s shoulder and ask if he was alright while his body made all of his injuries gone in a snap.

No matter what Eraser didn’t know and no matter how much he pushed Fox to do the right thing and go legal—Izuku still cared about him. That was one of the first mistakes he had made. Let himself get caught in some kind of mentor relationship. Now Eraser was on Izuku’s keep close enough to protect list. He just had to wish that if the day ever came he did have to protect him—Eraser would take Shinsou and run as far as he could in the opposite direction.

Chapter Text

Izuku had a few ideas to help Hitoshi get into UA. The best one was helping him train, of course. The idea of getting him out with Fox spun off completely unintentionally from there. A long, hard laugh they had together when they saw someone selling different animal masks in the style of the Fox mask only got worse when he told Hitoshi how he actually got his mask. Needless to say, they got him a cat mask, for the fun of it all.

Then Hitoshi called him when he was about to go out as Fox and said he had snuck out.

From what he saw before he plunged himself into darkness—the mask fit him well. It made his hair poof up more because of the strap, but Izuku thought he looked fine. The little cat ears peaking out from the top meshed into the shape of his hair well. Hair that was getting blown away in the wind as they jumped from rooftop to rooftop. Well, Izuku jumped, and Hitoshi leaped across the shorter distances and occasionally would resort to asking Fox to catch him on the further ones. He happily obliged. He didn’t want his friend to actually get hurt.

This was training. They had planned for Fox to help him with his knowledge of how to actually fight people, but if he was going to try to become an underground hero, then how to jump across rooftops was a necessary skill. Fox had the added luxury of being able to brush off all injuries he got—Hitoshi didn’t have that luxury.

So he helped him as much as he could. Taught him what he knew about momentum and how to get his footing right. Helped him as he adjusted to the falling feeling when he jumped between them and demonstrated all the jumps before Hitoshi tried them to make sure they were actually doable.

Occasionally, Fox would have to run off to go save somebody, and Hitoshi would sit on top of a rooftop and watch. One time he got noticed by a mugger, and Fox had to jump onto the villain’s back to stop him from going after him. He even got Hitoshi to doodle on some of his post-it notes to the police.

As the night carried on and the people down on the streets died down, they found themselves just walking along the edge of rooftops. Hitoshi would ask about different heroes, and Izuku would relay what he knew about them. Izuku was about two minutes into his ten-minute speech about Nighteye when Hitoshi cut in.

“You’re smart.” He said without even lifting his head—almost like an afterthought.

“I’m okay.” Izuku shrugged. He could retain information about certain things, sure, but most of his decisions were so thoroughly wrapped in idiocy that he really couldn’t be seen as anything but stupid.

“You’re more than okay, but whatever.” Hitoshi mumbled with his concentration far too focused on making sure he didn’t fall for anything else at the moment. Fox could tell he was stressed just from his heartbeat.

“Wait, do you even go to school—?”

“Hey let’s teach you how to fall!” Izuku interrupted him to not have to deal with that line of questioning. Hitoshi already knew he was dead and all his little dirty crevices that came with that, but that didn’t make it any less embarrassing when he found out just how isolated he had been.

Hitoshi sighed and accepted his change of subject. “What do you mean, how to fall?”

“Like how to fall without hurting yourself, just in case.” Izuku had to find some kind of drop point that wouldn’t hurt Shinsou to fall from. His regeneration had sort of knocked off his sense of how much certain things hurt regular people. In his search, his ears picked up a faint heartbeat thumping on a rooftop close to theirs. He momentarily contemplated picking Hitoshi up and running off into the night, but then he recognised the heartbeat mixed with his smell. “Eraser taught me after he started getting worried about me breaking my bones.” Izuku kept track of the hero’s steps as he got closer—he wanted to hear his friend’s reaction more than anything.

“Now I’m worried about you bringing your friends into your escapades.” Eraser groaned as he landed on the edge of their rooftop, and Hitoshi jumped silently and fell into Fox. Who then spent the next minute laughing his lungs out. Hitoshi quickly got himself back on his feet and stood silently as Fox got the rest of his giggles out.

“Hi—hello… Hello Mister Eraserhead, sir.” When he finally stopped laughing, Hitoshi stammered over his words as his heart started racing more than it had when a mugger had tried to attack him. Did Eraser really make him that worried?

“Hello child.” Eraser deadpanned to him as Hitoshi’s heart only got faster under his chest.

“Sup.” Izuku stood between them and listened to the contrast between Eraser’s steady heart and Hitoshi’s racing one.

“Okay, now that that’s over—hi Eraser, bye Eraser!” Izuku grinned before latching onto Hitoshi’s arm and attempting to run away with him. He’d had his fun, and now the worry of his friend being found out by the hero was settling in. Even if it didn’t happen now, what about a few years down the line when Hitoshi was in UA? If Fox did something and got his rose coloured light washed off, Eraser could be more likely to chase any leads to find him. He didn’t seem like the kind of guy to forget a voice, and Izuku needed to protect Hitoshi.

Eraser latched his scarf around his arm and dragged him back anyway. “Wait, problem child.” Fox forced on the cheekiest grin he could manage as the silence between them dragged on. “What is he doing here?” Eraser asked, emphasising each word with disdain.

“He’s not fighting anyone, don’t worry!” Izuku wrapped his arm around Hitoshi’s shoulder and made him lean down so they could stand side by side. “We are just hanging out.”

“Yeah, I love hanging out in the dead of night.” Hitoshi spoke as deadpan as he nodded.

“You shouldn’t, cat.” Eraser took his scarf back with a grunt. Hitoshi’s grip on his arm tightened, and his heart raced in what he could only guess was anxiety.

“Oh, lay off him. I dragged him out here.” Fox poked Eraser in the chest with a frown. Yes, he liked Eraser, but going after Hitoshi crossed a line he didn’t realise he had. “Also, you told me to make friends.”

“To make them, not to endanger them. I’m quite happy you have friends, but I can barely tolerate one of you.” Eraser sighed with his hand being put on Fox’s shoulder. Not grabbed, not crushed—just sat there. He hated vulnerability and even physical contact to an extent, but maybe some of the only people in his life were just magic as his shoulder didn’t even tense up at it.

“You know, just for that, I’m gonna get two more of me just to annoy you.” Fox threatened with a grin that took over his face.

“You do that, and none of you get jelly anymore.”

“You’d starve me?” He gasped as dramatically as he could.

Fox whipped his head back around to Hitoshi. “Are you seeing this, Cat? He’d starve me!” He dropped his head onto Hitoshi’s shoulder with a pout on his face.

“Oh, that is just abhorrent.” He shook his head as he wrapped his arms around Izuku.

Eraser stood there and looked at their dramatic display before he spoke. “Go home.”

“Thanks, Eraser!” Fox waved at him as the hero jumped off the rooftop to go do his job like a loser.

“Well, here’s hoping he doesn’t remember your voice!” Fox patted Hitoshi’s shoulder, a frown on his face. That would stay a persistent worry in the back of his mind for a while.

“Hm…” Hitoshi hummed and perked up.

“You know, when you go to UA,” Izuku explained, “he teaches first years, so that could be awkward, but even if he found out, I could convince him to not tell anyone!” He was more than willing to use Eraser’s apparent fondness for him for all it was worth.

“If I go to UA,” Hitoshi mumbled, his hands ruffled in his hoodie’s pocket loud enough that it annoyed him.

“When.” He corrected him while he grabbed his friends’ hands to make them stay still. “I know you Shinsou, you’re dedicated and kind, and you were given a bad hand in life, but you don’t let it get you down. I’m going to help you get through to UA, and then you’re gonna become a hero for both of us, got it?”

He could hear the crying as it affected Hitoshi’s speech. “Thanks, Izu—Fox.” Hitoshi corrected himself as he tried in vain to wipe his tears from under the mask.

“Come here, kitty.” Fox laughed as he wrapped his arms around Hitoshi’s frankly far too tall shoulders and brought him into his best attempt at a hug. It was the first hug he had initiated in years, however, so it was clunky and extremely embarrassing.

“Never call me that again.”

“Too late!”

In that moment, Izuku thought hugs had to be addictive because of how impossible it felt to break away. His arms wrapped around Shinsou as tight as he could get them without hurting his friend, and he kept them there even as the minutes ticked on. The appropriate time to break away had long left them and Izuku didn’t want to move away anytime soon.

When he heard another sniffle come from above, he reached his hand up under the cat mask to wipe away the water from his eyes. After he heard a muffled thank you, his hand trails down his face to come back down so his side. Except it caught on something. A ridge in his skin right on his jawline. Rough, hard skin that created a line up to his nose and then onto the other side of his face. It was scar tissue—Izuku had enough of his own over the years to recognise it. He felt his heart drop.

“What’s that?” Izuku’s stutter came back full force.

“It’s nothing.” Hitoshi snapped and pushed him off. He could hear in perfect quality as his friend’s heart raced once again. “Old scars.” He heard his strangled breaths and his vacant attempts to stop his heart from going so quickly. It was all he heard in that moment. His need to protect Hitoshi took over anything else.

“They’re irritated. You sure it’s—”

“I’m fine, Fox!” Hitoshi snapped. Then he watched as Izuku flinched in a reaction that didn’t feel like his own. He breathed in and out until his unbothered tone came back to him. “I said I’m fine—and who are you to talk about self preservation, huh? You throw yourself in front of knives with no care for how much it worries anyone.” Izuku took a step back, and Hitoshi stood as still as a statue—his heart, which still beat like it was running a marathon, was the only indicator he was stressed.

“I’m—I’m sorry.” He apologised. He didn’t know what to do but apologise.

Silence with Hitoshi used to be calming. Was it ever really silence if their breaths were loud enough to pierce his ears? “Don’t—” Hitoshi tried.

“No, we don’t need to go in this circle again!” Izuku said as his hands covered his own ears. A flimsy barrier between his brain and the constant noise that streamed through from the air all around him. He’d gotten used to the noise years ago. If he couldn’t handle the noise, then he would just shut it off until he stopped being a baby. In that moment, he didn’t want to shut it all out. He needed to hear the racing heart that was the only sign Hitoshi didn’t mean what he said. It was the only fact that kept his tears at bay. So he took three breaths, lifted his head back up and tried to talk to his friend. “We promised to stick together.”

“We are.” Hitoshi grunted.

“I thought talking to each other about our issues was part of that deal?” Fox tried to stay cool. Attempted to stay calm as his volume went up despite any of his attempts.

“When have you ever talked to me about your issues?” Hitoshi shouted at him.

“You know more than literally anyone else on the planet about my issues.” Izuku shouted back.

“Yet the fact that I know so little is telling.” Hitoshi took another step towards him, and he flinched before his mind could even register what had happened. A knife was in his hand, pulled out of its holder in a matter of seconds. Izuku’s overreactions dampened Hitoshi’s anger as he took a step back from him.

“There are parts I can’t tell you.” He bit back an apology as he put his knife back. The part of him still hard-wired for violence fought for any piece of control it could have over him.

“There are parts of me I’m not ready to tell either,” Hitoshi sighed. His heart still thumped too fast as it crawled deeper into Izuku’s ears. He got that—Izuku couldn’t hide so many parts of himself from everyone around him and then get mad when someone did it back. It hurt him anyway. Then he hated himself for that hurting him.

“I’ll always be here—to talk.” Izuku wanted Hitoshi to open up. To tell him everything that ever troubled him and lay himself bare so that Izuku could pick him back up. So Izuku could make himself feel useful. So he wasn’t a burden.

He wanted to do all of that without even a hint of vulnerability from himself.

“Same here.” Hitoshi said, his feet taking small steps closer to Izuku each time he breathed in. He met him halfway and accepted the incredibly awkward hug. Not everything in life could be solved in one night. Izuku would still repeatedly try his darndest to do it.

Hitoshi cleared his throat before pulling out his phone. “I should get home before my foster parents wake up.” He let his friend extricate himself from their hug and ignored the empty feeling in his chest that was left in his wake. They retraced the steps they had been going over all night. From rooftop to rooftop and fire escape to fire escape. Silence juxtaposed to the journey leaving.

Did Hitoshi not like his foster parents? Izuku’s parental situation had been rocky since he was five, so his knowledge of a normal familial relationship was out of whack. Scars were a bad sign no matter what, though, right? He just wanted Hitoshi to be okay. He needed him to be okay.

“Hey, if you’re gonna come out here more, I got you something.” Izuku slowed his steps to walk side by side with his friend. His hands fidgeted with the pockets on his tool belt to find the present he had brought for Shinsou. Fox had his own weapons — his hammer and his knives. They worked for him. If Hitoshi was going to be training with him — then he needed his own weapon too.

Fox pulled out his rolled up rope and dropped it into Hitoshi’s hands. “A rope?” He grasped the handle in one hand and stood still with it in what he could only guess was pure confusion.

Izuku sighed before he took it back. “It’s a quirk-enhanced rope. It can latch around things. Like see?” A bigger knife was taken from its holster before he threw it up into the air and shot out the rope to wrap around it and bring it back right into his hand.

“Okay, that is cool.” Hitoshi took back the rope and tried it himself. Izuku had to pick back up the knife and help his friend with his nosebleed when the rope backfired and hit him in the face.

“We can practice with it at training.” Izuku held in his laughter as Hitoshi held his head back to stop the blood. When the bleeding subsided and Izuku’s restraints on his laughter withered, Hitoshi met him halfway and they laughed like maniacs on the top of that roof.

“Thanks, Fox.” He ended up taking the rope — “he wanted a challenge to overcome,” he said. Izuku just smiled at his first successful present to his only friend.

“Anytime, Kitty.” Fox patted the top of his head when they got to the rooftop of his house.

“Stop calling me that.” Hitoshi shouted as he ran away from him at full speed.

“Never!” Fox called back, laughter left floating in the wind in his absence.

He tried to ignore the gnawing loneliness left in his chest by Hitoshi. It was a lot harder than he expected it to be. He jumped between rooftops and saved people like he had almost every night for months, and yet he still thought about Hitoshi.

Izuku got attached to people easily. His undying want for friends, paired with the subconscious need for more lives to ruin, had dragged him directly into Hitoshi at record speeds. He would get over it. Get as close to a sense of normalcy as someone like him could.

He repeated that over and over again as he kept falling asleep thinking of Hitoshi, and when he woke up, he’d think of Hitoshi. It was a cycle he barely wanted to get out of. He’d see the boy as Izuku and smile like he hadn’t in years, then he’d go out as Fox and still think of him as he walked across rooftops.

A bleat that came from directly below him drew his attention. A soft, high pitched bleat, which continued on as he guessed the animal down below got more worked up. He prepared himself to jump down when another heartbeat rounded the corner. It was a heartbeat that he recognised who whispered to the animal to try get it to calm down.

When he jumped down to meet her, Phantom didn’t even turn around.

“Hey, you’re gonna be okay, little lamb.” She whispered, with her hand out towards the animal. Her hand moved to pet its head to calm it down. Izuku could hear the lamb's heart rate decrease as it was petted. “Fox, can I borrow one of your knives?” She asked, her other hand out towards him. He quickly obliged and dropped the knife into her hands.

“How did you know it was me?” He asked as he listened to the sound of ropes being cut, likely from the lamb’s legs based on where the sound was coming from.

“Everyone else is more careful when jumping off roofs.” Phantom laughed.

“My bones are stronger than most.” His bones had actually completely healed from his fall as he dropped down next to her.

“I bet they are.”

The ropes came off the Lamb with a little tug after they were cut. The animal’s legs hadn’t been used for a while as it swayed on its feet before it collapsed back into Phantom’s arms.

“Are they alright?” Fox crawled closer to where she was sitting to reach his hand out towards the lamb. The fluff around her face was tangled and quite soaked, but Izuku couldn’t bring her hand back as they pushed their face into his hand for more. The tangles in their fluff came undone as he scratched them.

“They will be once I get them to a vet.” Phantom held the lamb as softly as she could. The animal seemed tired in her arms, and Izuku’s sympathy for it only got worse.

“How did a lamb get out here?” He asked after the lamb bleated happily at the scratches they were getting. It was late at night, and they were in the middle of a city. A lamb couldn’t just bring itself out here. They would’ve had to be brought.

“Not a single idea.” She sighed as her fingers worked on untangling the lamb’s fluff.

“At least we caught them before someone else.” Izuku shrugged.

“I’ll never understand people who hurt animals.” Phantom said as her fingers repeatedly got caught on the tangled fluff around the lamb’s waist. “Damn, it’s matted,” she mumbled.

“People are cruel.” Fox still thought about that gorilla sometimes. The guy had been put in UA custody after an investigation was done, and luckily, his charging in didn’t negatively affect the guy. Izuku liked animals. They didn’t lie or have malicious intent or even cared that he was a monster.

“You would know about that.” Phantom said, then her heartbeat quickened, and she followed it up with, “Being a vigilante and all.”

If Izuku could scowl from behind his mask, he would be doing it to her in that moment. He did not need vague side comments being thrown his way.

“Do you?” He asked.

“I’m an underground hero. We see the worst of the worst down here.” phantom said, with a facial expression he would have no chance of seeing, nevermind figuring out. Her voice had a hint of sadness that leaked through, so he guessed her face matched it.

“Is that why Eraser wants me to turn myself in?” Phantom was warm. Not just her words or her hands but every part of her just radiated warmth. He found himself leaning into it the more she talked.

“I think he just cares about you. A parent should’ve noticed your injuries by now, but they haven’t.” Fox opened his mouth to defend his dead parents when she continued speaking and wiped away any defence he could think of. “If they have, then they’re still letting you be a vigilante, which is also neglect.”

He shut his mouth.

If his mom were here, she would’ve been worried sick if she ever found out. He would have to hide it from her — sneak out of windows and leave behind dummies of himself in his bed. Then again, it would be hard for her to find out considering his regeneration would destroy most of the evidence. Would he even have regeneration if his mom were here? Father wouldn’t have been able to take him away or give him any quirks. He would’ve just been like any other thirteen-year-old quirkless person. Would he have met Eraser? Shinsou? His Papa? Would he have been able to see properly?

He didn’t let himself drag on the what-if’s too long. This was his life after all.

“You don’t have to talk about that if you don’t want to.” Phantom patted his shoulder when he didn’t reply quickly enough. He flinched out of her grip without a second thought. She took her hand back to wrap her arms around the lamb.

“Here you go.” She sighed as she dropped the lamb into his arms.

“Why do I have to hold it?” He whined while his arms instinctively wrapped around the animal.

“Her,” she corrected, “and because she’s soft. Petting an animal can help with stress.”

Izuku scoffed and kept petting her anyway. Lambs were soft, really soft. He had to keep his hands away from her middle since the fur got matted there and she would get upset if he touched it. He called the lamb Inko in his head after she snuggled her head into his shoulder.

“Is it helping?” She asked, her voice on the edge of a laugh.

“A little.” He smiled. His arms wrapped tightly around the lamb, and he was not going to let go anytime soon.

“My father wasn’t very nice either.” Phantom supplied after she considered him calm enough. “He should not have had kids. He hated me. I had lice for two months straight once.” Izuku’s nose scrunched up as she spoke. He had never had lice. Never had many diseases because his father didn’t like having to deal with a sick child. Pain was always used in increments for him to learn a lesson. Most of those lessons were “obey your father.”

“How’d you deal with it?” He mumbled.

“Well, I tried persevering anyway. Keep on keeping on and all that.” She said and Izuku’s heartbeat quickened. “But no kid should have to take care of themselves. When I was fifteen I told one of my teachers at UA about it.”

“Did you ever regret it?”

“Not once.”

“You’re not alone, Fox.” She lied. Izuku snapped back to reality.

If Izuku even thought of telling someone about his father, then it would get back to his father in the blink of an eye. He would be there sneering down at the child who thought they’d gotten away. The child who was dumb enough to trust. He couldn’t have any missteps with someone finding out about his father. That was the line.

If that ever got crossed, then Izuku was good as dead anyway.

“I’m claustrophobic.” He said. If Fox opened up about something dumb, then she might leave him alone. Go deal with another vigilante with too many issues to be functional. “When I was younger, I’d get shoved in a closet sometimes as a punishment.”

“I’m so sorry.” She apologised.

“Don’t apologise.”

“I’m proud of you.”

“Don’t do that either!”

“I think Lamby is proud of you too.” Phantom’s voice went up in pitch as she leaned forward to baby talk the lamb.

“Have you named her already?”

Phantom leaned forward to scratch underneath the lamb’s chin, and in response, she kicked out her front leg to hit the hero in her face. She sat there, a deer in the headlights, as the lamb’s Force rolled right off her.

“Now, that wasn’t very nice.” She loosened her grip to let the lamb move where she liked — most likely not wanting to get kicked again. Like magic, the lamb swayed on her legs straight from Phantom’s lap to his.

“Well, she likes you.” Izuku scratched the lamb’s chin as an experiment and she immediately leaned into it with a bleat.

“Why did you go underground if you have such a cool quirk?” He tilted his head to the side. Whispers from miles away leaked into his earshot. He had analyzed his own quirks too many times to count, and his head had run through so many possibilities of Phantom’s quirk that he basically knew it front to back. Izuku needed to know the weaknesses of any quirk he came across so that he could fight it if his father stole it. He figures out ways to help them use it to make himself feel useful. Attempts to reclaim the skill his father made him use for evil for years.

“I don’t like the spotlight. Out in front of millions, I’d crack up and mess up my words.” She mumbled, then reached out a hand towards the lamb and got brushed off by the animal.

“Stage fright?”

“Something like that.”

“I just want to help people, no glitz, no glammer.” She said.

“I get that.” The lamb yawned as it sat in Izuku’s arms. Phantom cooed about how cute it was.

“What’s UA like?” He asked for Shinsou. The boy had shown him video after video made by UA students as he ranted with withheld passion. His friend really wanted to go there — so it was his priority to get him there.

“Hard, but fun,” she laughed. “My perspective might’ve been skewed, but it felt like a breath of fresh air.”

“I guess that’s how that mask feels for you, huh?”

“Fox feels like taking a step out of lava.”

She placed her hand on his shoulder again. He didn’t shrug it off that time as he didn’t want to disturb the lamb. “We are always here to talk, you know?” Phantom moved her hand to ruffle up his hair. “Or you could talk to that cat friend of yours.”

“He’s already told you about him?” He groaned, and an annoyed blush crawled onto his face.

“Oh, he ranted about it.” She laughed at his reaction. Pure belly laughed at his annoyance. “It wasn’t bad, don’t worry. He’s happy you’re making friends, alright, just maybe don’t put them in a load of danger.”

“I won’t let him get hurt.” Izuku asserted. If Hitoshi ever got hurt, then he wouldn’t know what to do with himself. So he had to protect him. Make sure he was always okay.

“Oh, you won’t, huh?” Phantom snickered.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he argued, and the lamb in his lap bleated in annoyance when he turned to face her more.

“I’m just saying you seem to really care about him,” she emphasised as she poked his cheek.

“I don’t know what you're implying.” He admitted.

“Who said I was implying anything?” She shrugged before she leaned towards him to whisper. “I do want to come to your wedding, though.”

“HEY!”

“That is not — no. Shut up!” he stuttered out as she laughed at his offended response.

“Okay, okay, shutting up.” She cackled, and he held the lamb tighter in his arms as he turned away from her.

She was being stupid.

Once she finally finished her laughing fit and Izuku was done ignoring her, she stood up, and her knees popped on the way up. “Old,” he laughed and got pushed in response.

“Come on, we have to get the little Lamby to a vet.” She scratched her chin as she spoke, and Izuku held her up higher to make it easier. Phantom made him hold her the whole way to the vet, which started to hurt his arms halfway through. He persevered as the lamb worked surprisingly well at calming him down.

So well, in fact, he had already planned on going back to the cat cafe with Hitoshi in his head. He hadn’t been this calm since he was in there. Animals did work wonders.

He snuck away from Phantom as soon as the lamb was taken out of his hands. No need to stick around. He had people to save after all. If he stayed still too long, the loneliness would creep back up on him again.

After he saved someone from a mugging, he had put the post-it note onto the criminal’s head when his phone buzzed in his pocket. Shinsou had texted him saying he had snuck out again.

He couldn’t keep the grin off his face as he ran right back to his cat.

Chapter Text

The clock chimed on and the sun rose on a morning that he didn’t want to wake up on. A date that shone from his phone and made him bite back tears as he forced himself onto his legs. A knife shook in his hands as he wiped the crust from his eyes. He was still half asleep as he stabbed the wall and dragged his knife down in a line next to the eight other lines on his wall.

Nine lines.

Nine years since he was with his mother.

He was fourteen now.

He held back a sob as he turned away from the wall. There was a two inch difference in how tall he was when he turned thirteen to now. Another scratch of his knife just above his head onto the doorframe where he kept his height markers. It was a tradition he only got himself to keep up because he knew how much his papa liked it.

He didn’t even want to think about his papa right now. Or his mother, or his stupid birthday. Nobody knew it was his birthday, so what was even the point of doing anything for it? The day was just a miserable reminder that his quirk still worked.

Izuku hated birthdays. Not other people’s, just his own. He hadn’t been able to celebrate any birthdays in years. His father was never a fan of them beyond the cake, but Izuku just liked people being happy. Yet the universe liked his being miserable. It was a birthday that started all of this after all.

His Fox uniform was a slug to get on. The morning sun was still in its ascent by the time he jumped out of his own window. He left his winter infested apartment behind without a second thought. Without considering that Fox didn’t go out in the day. Or that this meant that if he got too tired, he would be stuck in his apartment at night with only his thoughts.

He didn’t think about any of it because he didn’t care.

Izuku just needed something to do. Something kept his his brain busy and kept the adrenaline pumping through his veins. It wasn’t much harder to be Fox during the day than at night, anyway. Not with people who looked up at him without disgust and let him get on with his day as he jumped from rooftop to rooftop. He would hear clicks and screams and videos being taken as people tried to talk to him. A simple wave or a smile would get them off him, and he thanked whatever he could for that.

His warmth could only be faked so far when the darkness of the day was so thrilled to cling onto him.

Every time a camera clicked around him, he hated it more and more. He just wanted to go from moment to moment without any reminders that there was anything stringing them together. If he could have convinced himself that nothing even mattered outside of the cycle of saving someone, post it note, run away, then maybe it wouldn’t matter anymore.

He just had to not think about it.

A punch to people about to get into a fight, stopping a robbery in broad daylight, it was all he needed to think about. Then, when he jumped between rooftops in search of anything he could help with, he just needed to think about the next step — the next jump. Keep ongoing. He couldn’t stop.

Around midday he grabbed a burger out of a dumpster and ate it on a rooftop as fast as he could. Then he was off again without a single thought in his head.

There were less crimes during the day. When the sun was up, it just seemed to repel them away. He had to search through back alleys and dark corners to find anything. After about an hour of running around and finding nothing, he decided to focus on the smaller things. He saved about three cats in trees, fed six birds, and even unintentionally stopped a few pickpockets.

Fox was doing well. Shinsou had buzzed his phone multiple times, but Fox was doing well.

His friend sent him dumb little cat images, and he sat on the edge of a roof and laughed along with them. It was his only genuine piece of joy in the day before he dragged himself back up to stop his brain from racing away from him. Izuku would’ve invited Cat out with him if he hadn’t known how irritable he got on these days. The days where his memories seemed two steps behind him and he was in a constant state of getting bitten by the cold.

He would go somewhere with him when it wasn’t this horrible of a day. The only thing that would make it worse was if it snowed, but he never vocalised this in fear of the world playing another sick prank on him.

“You okay?” The girl’s voice shot out on the rooftop, and he didn’t know if his day had just gotten an immense amount of worse or not. Ochaco came and sat next to him with an open air, and Izuku already knew he was going to mess this up. She had a ripped strap attached to something around her neck that brushed across his arm as she sat down. He ran his hand down it and found a camera at the end.

“I wanted to try to get some photos of you for my blog, but you seem upset.” Her words came out mumbled, almost nervous as she took her camera out of his hands.

“I’m fine.” He barked out his words as his fingertips dug into the concrete. It scratched deep into his skin and kept him in the moment. Ochaco was nice. He didn’t want to be mean to her, and yet here he was anyway.

“Normally, you aren’t out this early.” She continued. “There’s been videos of you being out all day. I mean—that can’t be good for you.” He held back a sigh. If Aizawa or Shinsou saw them, then they’d fuss over him the next time he saw him. He had severely underestimated how much he had done today.

It was one big blur, truly. Move. Move. Move.

“I had food.” He shrugged. Izuku didn’t feel that tired. His legs were numb underneath him, and his brain still buzzed with activity. If he could keep thinking, then he just wasn’t tired enough.

“You still need rest.” Ochaco’s words brushed off him.

“I need to get back out there.” Fox stood up on the edge. A few inches from the ledge. With two simple steps and he was off entirely. “Bye, Ochaco.”

“Bye, Fox.” He waved her off and jumped off the roof the same time a click rang out from her camera.

There were a lot of clicks as the day dragged on. Clicks of his bones as he made bad jumps, clicks from cameras as he got caught again, clicks from criminals as he beat them down. It all came together in one gigantic pile he couldn’t make heads or tails of. He could barely make heads or tails of anything as he kept on running. His speed decreased as the day went on, and his reaction time got longer, but he didn’t stop. There was always more.

More muggers, more criminals, more people to save.

There was a pang in his skull. It started barely noticeable, then it grew on the side of his head until it was like a bang. A fireworks show inside his own head that never stopped. Exploded over and over again and spread from right above his eyes until it wrapped around his brain and pushed. Pang after pang that dragged down his eyelids. His hands felt more affected by gravity than they had in a while as he brought them up to his head. A head that fell further down by the second as sleep clawed at his closed eyes.

Izuku sought solace on top of the first rooftop he could find. His Post-it notes were running dry, and the people on the streets had dwindled as time went on. There wasn’t anyone who needed Izuku, so he laid back on his rooftop and imagined what the shapeless blobs in the sky were saying. He got a few words in until his headache panged again and he decided it was easier not to think.

An excellent decision, as thinking was what got him into this mess.

Shivers ran through him as the wind carried on, and he shuffled himself around to stop his hammer from digging into his back, which only hurt his head even more. There was too much going on in his head to pay much attention to the heartbeat coming closer to where he was. If it was a heartbeat he didn’t recognise, then he might’ve, but he didn’t freakout at the sound of this one. His own heartbeat didn’t even speed up as it got closer.

“Fox?” Eraser landed on his rooftop with a thud. Every step he took closer to him echoed out and beat into his head with a nauseating pain. Fox forced a smile on his face anyway despite the nerves under his skin screaming out at the movement.

“Erase—Ow.” He sprung himself up into sitting properly and immediately felt the repercussions as his head felt like it did when he cracked open his skull after having not ate in three days—like someone had sawn into it and left the blade behind.

“Hey, hey. Slow down.” Eraser was by his side in seconds. A hand sat on his shoulder and another on the back of his head. “What’s wrong?”

“Just tired. Headache.” Izuku smiled to cover his teeth as he lied. It hurt like shit, and he could’ve ripped his entire brain out there and then to get it to stop if it would’ve worked. He dug his nails into his legs in the hope that the pain would distract him from his head, but it barely even felt like anything next to his headache.

Izuku was dissapointed in himself — he could normally deal with pain so much better than this.

“I get that problem child.” Eraser sighed as his hand slipped away from the back of Izuku’s head and then came back moments later to drop a bottle into his hands. “Drink.”

Izuku followed his orders and brought the cup up to his lips. Then, the second it went into his mouth he was reminded of how dehydrated he was. The water was empty in a matter of seconds. His throat was happier, and while his headache was still there — it was more manageable.

“You’re out early.” Eraser took the bottle back without a qualm.

“I was just messing about.” He said with a twinge of pain framing his words. A hand came to his forehead and then dissapeared again with a sigh.

“You don’t have to speak too much if it hurts.”

“I’m fine.” Izuku shrugged — then decided never to do that again based on how much his head killed with any movement — he wasn’t going to die, anyway. Eraser could be a pleasant distraction from the overall dark fog that carried him through the day.

“I find that hard to believe.” Eraser laughed. Izuku tried to laugh with him but was silenced by a sharp pain stabbing into his eyes. Pushing past the tissue and muscles and skull to pound just under his skin. A sob ripped out from his throat as he brought his hand up to his head, and it only got worse.

They sat like that until his throat could calm down. Until he could breathe properly and go back to pretending that the pain in his head didn’t matter. Eraser gave him jelly packet after jelly packet and eventually he got his head to allow a thought through without feeling like a forest fire was going on in his brain.

They sat in silence. Izuku could hear Aizawa’s stressed out heartbeat and feel how tense his arm was whenever he handed him a packet of heaven in a jelly. He stressed the man out — Izuku always knew that. Reveled in it sometimes.

Why his heart dropped at the thought of it only confused him.

“Fox, why don’t you go home?” He asked, his hands taken away from Izuku’s destroyed skin. “Don’t say anything—just listen to me.” Eraser cut Izuku off and then the silence dragged on as he closed his own mouth.

“You’re obviously in immense amounts of pain and you’ll just be hurting yourself more if you’re out here.”

He just didn’t understand. Izuku wanted him to more than anything, but Eraser wouldn’t ever understand. He had been tricked so thoroughly by something Izuku hadn’t even intended to do. It was too late to just disappear from Eraser after all — he was far too attached for that.

He liked having Eraser tricked. It felt horrible whenever he thought about it, but he enjoyed having someone who sided with him despite how disgusting he was. That was why he needed to protect him — protect Shinsou and Phantom and even Ochaco and Denki. They all needed to be protected from his whirlwind, and he was the only one who could do it.

“I want to help people.” The old excuse came to his lips easily.

“I know you do.” Eraser sighed, not having bought him for a second. “I also know that you understand that if you’re in lots of pain, you won’t be able to help anyone out here.”

“Why are you really out here, problem child?”

Every muscle in Izuku’s body was tense. His blood flowed quicker than it had during his gallivanting all day, and his headache still pounded — even worse with his stress barging through anything in its path. He didn’t know what to say. His lies dried up, and his throat needed more water. Water that changed its path right to his eyes. Pulled at his tear ducts and pushed against the blindfold meant to stop their descent. Fox wasn’t supposed to cry. Not again. Not so soon.

“I don’t wanna be alone.”

It came anyway.

“Then you won’t be.” Eraser’s arm wrapped around his shoulder. The pressure somehow helped the pain slightly alleviate as Izuku leaned to the heroes side. His head rested on his shoulder as Fox tried his best to keep himself anchored to the world of the awake. A few minutes listening to Erasers bated breathing and sleep came over him anyway.

The suns light warmth stop it’s dance on his skin and dissapeared off into the horizon. Fox woke up to Eraser’s breathing still level next to him and the nipping wind of a night sky that pushed onwards.

“Morning, problem child.” Eraser mumbled before Izuku even had the chance to move his head off the man’s shoulders.

He sat up as quickly as he could — internally cried out in joy that his headache had mostly numbed — and looked to the hero with a start. “How long?”

“An hour and fourty, you’re alright.”

Izuku nodded. He knew he wasn’t going to get any sleep tonight now. Not unless he got rid of all his energy again and actually got to his apartment this time. Fox frowned and turned back to Eraser. “Are you missing your patrol?” He asked.

“I came out early when I saw you were.” Eraser waved him. “Wanted to make sure my student was alright.”

To not deal with how much his chest warmed up at that statement, he forced a grin on his face. “Oh, so I’m your student now?” Fox laughed.

“It’s how I think of you, Fox. Even if you’re a lot more chaotic than quite a few of my other students.”

His grin kept up the walls for a few seconds before it all crumbled.

“It’s my birthday.” He truly did not mean to say that. His own heartbeat spike matched up with Eraser’s as they both realised what had spilled out of his mouth.

“What?”

“I’m fourteen now, one year closer to being a problem adult!” Izuku laughed. An awkward, wobbly and desperate laugh that sounded anything but natural. His nails dug right back into the marks long gone from regeneration. He remembered where they were. Middle of his forearm, two inches below his wrist and right under a mole. Blood bloomed out from under his sleeve, and then the skin stitched itself right back up.

“Problem child I—.” Eraser started, and every word felt like a small stab right into his heart. He dug his nails harder into his harm to make it stop.

“It’s fine.” Izuku interrupted. “I haven’t celebrated it in years.”

“Did you used to celebrate it?” He asked.

Sometimes Izuku forgot how much he hadn’t told Eraser. How many lines he kept between people. Something as simple as a birthday would be nothing if they weren’t as broken and useless as Izuku was.

“My papa loved it.” Izuku spilled. His papa would’ve liked Eraser. He might not have liked what Izuku had done with his life, but he would’ve liked Eraser.

Might have even baked some cookies for Shinsou if Izuku had asked nicely enough.

“What would he do for it?”

“He’d bake a cake from scratch.” Fox smiled. “It would always be green.”

His birthday didn’t used to be so miserable. Before he got his papa killed, he loved his birthdays. Sneaking out to get cake ingredients and stealing time to make it. Whispered love you’s in the dead of night with only a candle to light them up. Blanket forts that became a symbol of peace and safety for him that stayed for years after.

“Why green?” Eraser asked.

“I asked for it to be.” Izuku shrugged, a smile cracking at the edge of his lips. “He’d sing the stupid song then we’d sit by the fireplace and just talk.”

“Why doesn’t he do it anymore?” The wind got stronger as their conversation piled up. Eraser was just there — his heartbeat pounding into Fox’s ears as he tried to find a way to respond. He was asking questions didn’t want to answer. Not now. Not today. Probably never.

“He’s too busy these days.” The sweet lies roll off his tongue with a rotting, sour taste.

“Surely he isn’t too busy for you?”

“Not me, just birthdays, or any holiday really.” Being dead tended to do that. That thought pulled at the fake smile he tried to keep up on his face. Tearing at the seams and stitches that he had worked so hard to make.

“He shouldn’t be neglecting or ignoring you, Fox.” Eraser pulled harder at his stitches. Merciless. Uncaring. A sob carried from the bottom of his chest that only stayed down with anger.

“He isn’t.” Izuku bit back. His hand dug right back into his arm until he felt the blood drop onto his fingertips. “I love him more than anything, and it wasn’t—it’s not his fault he can’t anymore.” The “it’s mine” was kept in his head after that as he sniffled and wiped his nose onto Eraser’s scarf.

“okay okay, I get it. I’m just in your corner, alright, problem child.” He offered up his scarf without a qualm, and Izuku used the probably very expensive hero support item as a tissue without a care.

“Thanks, Eraser.” Fox mumbled with a quick adjustment of his mask, and it was like he was never even crying. Just a slight wobble deep in his throat that gave him away if he opened his mouth. So he did the impossible and kept it shut.

It was a chilly night. Night? Maybe afternoon. He just knew the chill that passed through his shoulders every time the wind picked up. The sun was long gone, hidden behind the clouds or replaced by the moon. He couldn’t tell. He didn’t need to know — yet he still prayed it was nighttime. The closer to the end of this miserable day, the better.

Fox was stuck on a rooftop late into the day, exhausted and fighting.

Izuku was sitting on a rooftop, miserable and had given up.

Both of them hated his birthday.

A rustle came into his earshot from Eraser. He was tempted to write it off until the man dropped more cash than he had held in a while into his lap. Followed by two more jelly packets when he couldn’t get any words out of his gaping mouth quick enough. “Go get yourself something.” Eraser ruffled his hair, and Izuku’s stitches came back.

“Thanks, Eraser.” He forced himself onto his feet before his tears could come back. Legs that had long since gone to sleep, complained underneath him until he got his footing — a tingly feeling lingering with each step.

“Bye, kid,” Eraser said, with the whispered “happy birthday” after being lost to the wind.

Izuku forced his legs to wake up as he kept on running. He was running home, then to the beach, then straight to the moon until he decided to just haul himself to a store. A hunger pang in his stomach thanked him for that as he walked in. After he played his notorious soup Jenga game, he added a packaged cupcake onto the top with some candles. The cashier’s voice stayed dry and uncaring even as he had a guy in a Fox mask walk into his store — something Fox was extremely thankful for.

The walk was in silence. As silent as it could be as he kept his ears open to every heartbeat in a five mile radius — just in case. Conversations of fortunate people, safe and laughing, filtered in and out of his earshot as he kept on walking, vulnerable and alone.

It was his birthday, and he was fucking alone.

The stares were fucking awful to climb. He tripped about seven times and kicked three steps on his climb up to his apartment. Many curse words were sent out during his ascent, with growing anger behind them. His soup cans got thrown into his cupboards with a bang that satisfied his anger. Anger that was only there because of the date. Easier to deal with then soul crushing exhaustion and sadness, so he let it fester.

The cupcake was chocolate. He hadn’t realised when he bought it, so he only sighed after he threw his blindfold off and saw it. Nothing against chocolate — he just hoped, without any attempt to, that he would get vanilla. Papa always made vanilla.

A few minutes with his hand under his lit lighter got the tears to disappear.

There was a green candle in the pack he bought, one swipe and he pushed it into the centre of his cupcake. Another, and there was a small fire to light up his apartment. It was dark outside, so he knew it was nighttime. He knew that Eraser had waited for him to wake up in the dead of night when he should’ve been patrolling.

Izuku stared into the fire without his mask and with a frown dead set on his face. The burn on his hand long-healed and unable to hold back the feeling of despair.

He hadn’t done this in years. Last time he was with his papa and his brother, the latter left not too long after he got his cake, and so he and his papa went to sit in their pillow fort. It was dark and cramped, but Izuku could deal with it because he was safe — he was always safe when his papa was there. They would sit for hours and just talk. Talk about anything they could — Izuku didn’t know much about life being young and papa didn’t know much outside of being with father but they made it work.

Papa would have flashes of a life outside. Like long-lost memories that dragged themselves back from the abyss. The doctor never liked them, so Izuku eventually convinced him to hide them. Keep them secret and only whisper them dark in the night in the safety of their pillow fort. He was safe there. He wasn’t safe anywhere else.

Izuku couldn’t tell you what possessed him in that moment. There was a lit candle in front of him and an undisturbed room around him but for a moment all he knew was rage. Pure unadultered rage that flowed through him at a speed he didn’t understand. There was shadows that looked too much like his father and light that resembled what he would wake up too after an expirement just a little too much.

He threw knives at anything he could see. Ripped down any wallpaper that he could get his hands on and threw any glass he could find. Clangs and bangs rang out as he threw things off the table and kicked anything he could see. The black side of his vision crawled right into the middle and covered everything he could see in red. He used up all his energy in just destruction. Chaos. Anything and everything he could ruin beyond recognition — he did.

Then he saw it. Right in the middle of his chaos — saved and preserved by the grace of a soul long gone — was his candle in his cupcake. Perfectly preserved. Unharmed and lit. Right as he had left it.

The image got blurry as tears clouded his vision.

Izuku got two steps closer to the cupcake before he collapsed. His legs buckled underneath him, and he fell right to his knees by the table. Sobs wracked his chest and fell to the floor as the candle stared at him unbothered.

“Why did you leave me?” He whispered into the night. The candle didn’t respond.

“WHY!” He shouted with a bang onto the desk, and the candle jumped in response. Tears fell unrelentingly to the table. It was Izuku’s fault — always was. His nomu father wasn’t supposed to be able to remember his name. Nothing in his life before father. He trusted Izuku with the secret that he could, and within a few hours of experimentation, Izuku spilled it just to be free. His selfish brain couldn’t just deal with it.

Then his father knew that his papa knew his name was Oboro Shirakumo.

He didn’t see papa for a month after that. Izuku nearly starved to death in his worry.

After his birthday, everything seemed normal. As normal as it could be.

Izuku Midoriya hates birthdays.

“Happy birthday to me.” He mumbled in the most sing-song voice he could manage. His voice cracked every few seconds with the tears that crawled out of his throat, but he kept on going. Papa liked them after all. “Happy birthday to me.”

“Happy birthday, dear—” His voice cracked, and he was forced to think about his next words. The name used at his birth, the one used for his life, or the one he’d been hiding behind for years. “Fox.” His mask was the only thing that felt right.

“Happy birthday to me.” He blew out his candle without bothering to wish. All he wanted was something not even magic could give. Papas don’t fall out of the sky.

Izuku spent all his days saving people. Anyone who was distressed around him, he would fight to save them with all his might. So why couldn’t someone have saved him?

Izuku Midoriya fell asleep on his first day of being fourteen, on the floor, surrounded by mess and broken things. He would spend his time the next day cleaning it up, but for that moment — in that moment he just needed sleep. With a brain that was too exhausted to think and a nose that didn’t mind the smell of a snuffed out candle just under it, he went asleep with his head against the table.

The cupcake, like all things, was stale in the morning.

Chapter Text

Sadly, as all things do—time goes on. Long nights turn into longer days, and the sun becomes more prominent as they move to the middle of the year and spring passes on. Months go by, and Izuku’s interactions with Stain become more sparse by his own design. The guilt that wracked his body every time he came near him just became too much to bear with the weight of every person who he had tricked into liking him on his shoulders.

With every nomu fight, Fox was there. Fox would go around and save people, and when the nomus were around, people didn’t even care if he had a license. People didn’t even care who he was or what he was doing because he helped people. He would save people from his own kind and try to ignore the amount of lies that spilled out of his mouth every time. Izuku was a monster, but Fox could save people.

Stain ruined that. A murderer who followed his mask like a north star and he couldn’t get it in him to tell him to fuck off.

Izuku was a monster who desperately crawled his way to good and always came short. He walked the line between good and evil as an outlier that Stain knew all too well. He was just like Stain in too many ways to mention.

Fox was a criminal — he had only ever denied that once with Endeavour — but Izuku knew the truth. He was a criminal far deeper than anyone even knew.

Far deeper than he ever wanted Hitoshi to find out. The boy was still his friend. His only friend and he wore that like a badge of honour right next to his still beating heart.

Izuku wanted to protect him — wanted to have him as the only thing he could see in his small vision with the sun beating down on them both. God, he loved the sun. The light always hit Hitoshi’s face just right whenever they got to the beach to clean up. A glint that shone in his eyes whenever that smug smile passed over his face for a few moments before he calmed himself down. Highlights that ran down his soft purple head of hair when he looked up at the sky.

Next to him, Izuku looked like a mess.

Hitoshi kept hanging out with him anyway.

They would come down to clean the beach almost every afternoon. Meet up and have coffee or food or nothing even — Izuku didn’t care as long as he was with Hitoshi. It had been so long since he had had friends that even one felt like a shock to the system. A good shock — a warm shock. A kind of warmth that dragged itself over his chest and made itself at home under his chains.

“You know we’ve cleared a good section of this place.” Hitoshi announced in the deadpanned voice he had learned to love. He was right. Back when Izuku first joined him on this endeavor, you couldn’t take a single step without walking into piles of rubbish. Now they had at least a fifth cleaned and easily marked out walkways for ease when cleaning. Their ping-pong table sat solitary on the clean section of the beach. Izuku thought he had been getting better over the weeks — he had even beaten Hitoshi four times already.

“We make a good team.” Izuku nudged his shoulder against Hitoshi’s. The taller boy’s face was obscured by his sunglasses, and he was gutted when he had to imagine the vague grin Hitoshi would send his way.

“I guess we do.” Hitoshi offered him his arm, and Izuku took it as they walked over the path to their ping-pong table. A routine they had picked up when Izuku’s peripheral blindness got too much in the way when walking through the polluted beach. When he’s Fox, these things almost never bother him, but as Izuku on this landfill of a beach, he can barely take two steps before tripping, barging or bumping into something too close to him.

“I’m gonna need sunglasses like yours soon because this sun is bright.” Hitoshi complained once they got to their table. Hitoshi jumped up to sit on it, and Izuku joined him. They faced the sun whenever they sat like this — Izuku hardly minded with the blacked out sunglasses that were practically welded to his face whenever he was outside, but Hitoshi readily complained about it.

“You can borrow mine.” Izuku shrugged — feigning a nonchalance that was truly not there. He had known for a while the inevitability of Hitoshi getting a glance underneath his glasses. To the mess of scars just beneath the surface. The thought terrified him to his core and kept him awake long into the night. But with him — he knows the inevitability of everything going wrong is only around the corner.

So he needed to open this layer himself. His hands shook at the thought, so he sat on them to stop Hitoshi from seeing. Hitoshi was too far down his layers to shove him out now and maybe — just maybe — this would be like every other time Izuku peeled back a layer and the boy wouldn’t care. He was Izuku’s closest friend, and everything he kept from him for his own good weighed on his shoulders like nothing else.

Not everything could be told — but maybe one more wouldn’t be so bad?

“Seriously?” Hitoshi asked, looking more shocked than he’d seen him in a while. “I’ve never seen you without those things.”

“Well, the underneath isn’t very pretty.”

“I doubt any part of you isn’t pretty.” Hitoshi mumbled under his breath. The silence in the moments after was blocked out by the warmth that ran to Izuku’s face like it was a sprinting race. “Well—I didn’t mean—just that, you know.” He stutters over his words in a way he knew all too well.

“You sell yourself short, that’s all.” Hitoshi sighed with his face hidden behind his hands, the purple hair at his roots wrapped around his fingers and captured his attention.

“You aren’t so bad yourself.” Izuku laughed, his hands reaching up to take Hitoshi’s off his face before he could stop them. He flinched away from the touch, and Izuku took them back without complaint. Izuku wouldn’t want him touching him either.

“Well, I’m sure your eyes are fine and look proportionately good to the rest of you.”

“Thanks, Hitoshi.”

Blood rushed into his mouth as he bit down on his lip. The feeling of the skin rearranging underneath his tongue gave him a sense of normalcy as his safety blanket was ripped away. He moved his sunglasses between his hands.

“I know they’re bad.” Bad was an understatement. Cracked skin and dark scar tissue that ran up and down his eyes. Lines from his brother’s disintegration quirk. A broken face that held broken eyes. He’d seen it in a mirror and cried about it for days. When it first happened, he wasn’t able to see it for a month. He was nine with only a regeneration quirk left, and the doctor had full rein over him. A month later, he stood in front of a mirror, and the bandages were taken off. Yet the darkness in the corners stayed, and his eyes were broken. Disfigured.

“No, no! Your eyes are just—very green.” He snapped himself out of whatever trance he was in halfway through his words. There was a noticeable shift in where his sentence was going halfway through.

“I meant the scars.”

“They aren’t bad either.”

“Scars like these next to eyes like those just proves how much you fight to be alive. Now, I quite like you alive, so if you could stay like that—” Izuku cut him off with a hug. A full hug. A hug that he initiated. Hugging Hitoshi felt different from hugging Eraser in a way he couldn’t put his finger on.

They hugged under the sun, and yet Izuku’s best source of warmth was the boy. His hand was sat on his shoulder, right next to where his hoodie ended. Move his hand a few inches to the right, and he could feel the boy’s skin.

Izuku jerked away as soon as the thought came to his mind.

Hitoshi must’ve noticed his outburst as he dragged his vision over to his arm. “Hey, here.” Izuku squinted at his arm before his eyes landed on a long scar. A scar that travelled from the middle of the outside of his upper arm almost down to his wrist.

“What happened?” He lurched back towards the boy to look at his arm properly.

“They’re old. Don’t get all vigilante on me.” Hitoshi rolled his eyes, tugging back down his sleeve before he could stop him.

“What happened?” Izuku gritted out between his teeth, feeling an anger he hadn’t experienced since he lost it at Endeavour. Whoever did it was not going to have a working jaw soon.

“Got thrown down the stairs by an old foster family and cut my arm on the railing.” Hitoshi sighed, his arms wrapped around his stomach in a way Izuku knew well. It was how he used to stand to placate the doctor. Or his father. Look as small as possible and pray they didn’t decide to get angrier.

“Hitoshi…” It looked horrifically wrong on his friend.

“Hey, I’m fine now.” Hitoshi spoke, and Izuku prayed he was telling the truth. That it wasn’t the sweet lies he knew so well coating his only friend’s teeth. “I just wanted you to know you aren’t the only one with scars here.”

“Very strange exceptions.” Izuku held his pinky up.

“Very strange exceptions.” Hitoshi took it with his own pinky.

The sun was setting in the distance when they started to actually use the table for ping-pong. Hitoshi won about three games in a row before Izuku even won one. One game that he was endlessly excited about. He threw his arms up into the air and whooped unnecessarily loudly and proceeded to get beaten horrifically in the next game.

“You know, I wanna hear about your vigilanteing.” Hitoshi said after his fifth win.

“Seriously?” Izuku groaned. He had gotten himself out of this conversation endless times during their training sessions. An abandoned warehouse Hitoshi had found was repurposed into a small training ground where Izuku tried to impart all of his wisdom about fighting onto the other boy. The first rule he imposed was that he couldn’t ask about the dumb things Izuku had done as Fox while they were in there purely for Izuku’s own measly crumb of a pride.

“Listen, you said not to in the warehouse—nothing about while we were here—and I’ve been seeing some things online, mister Perfect.”

“Oh, shut up!”

“What’s up with the gorilla?”

“Oh, come on!” Izuku groaned and hit his head against the table. When he looked up, Hitoshi was just looking at him with a raised eyebrow. Eventually, Izuku gave in and told him the story of how he got pummeled into the ground by a gorilla, much to Hitoshi’s enjoyment. Truly watching Hitoshi laugh his lungs out almost made his embarrassment worth it.

If Hitoshi enjoyed himself, then most things were worth it. Izuku went on and on about different stories that had him laughing out loud. He went on and on, his mouth trailing on before he could stop himself.

His vision began to crawl in on itself. Warmth crawled into his head and wiped away his thoughts. Word after word that went into his head went away as pain slowly took over everything.

Shit, no — not now! He knew this feeling all too well.

Izuku had been experimenting recently. He used chemicals he had gotten from Dabi to find out how to make a tranquilizer for the nomus. There hadn’t been a successful attempt yet — he thought this morning’s attempt was another failure.

He was rapidly finding out the ramifications of using himself as a guinea pig.

He swung his arm as the ping-pong ball came closer to him, and his arm dragged him to the ground as he missed the ball.

“Izuku!” Hitoshi’s words felt echoed as he lay against the ground. Sand crawled its way into his mouth, and his hands couldn’t even move to wipe it away. They were stuck. All of him was stuck.

He felt like a prisoner in his own body again. The terrifying crawling feeling that came with Stain's quirk and the buzz of his body trying to get free. It was all there again. He searched his eyes to get a glimpse of the killer and found nothing. Just his friend’s frantic face as he turned him around and shouted things into his ear to wake him up.

“Purple…” Izuku mumbled, reaching his hands up to run his fingers through that soft purple head of hair he could see. The only thing he needed to do in that moment was feel his hair. Then it turned into feeling his face. Then his neck. All throughout he heard words being shouted out of Purple’s pretty face but couldn’t make them out. He was down to the boys’ shoulders before his sentences started to get through the fuzz around his ears.

“Zuku, what’s wrong?” Purple asked frantically with a scared expression that didn’t belong on his face. Not Hitoshi’s face. His face was far too nice for that.

Izuku wracked his brain to think of an answer. What was wrong? The answer felt right on the tip of his tongue, but every time he went to reach it. It blurred and flew away. He had the answer a few minutes ago. Where did it go?

After biting his lip hard enough to taste blood, something finally came to him. He needed food! Why or how it would help didn’t come with it, but the fact he needed food was there. In its own little anti-blur bubble. He smiled up at the boy. The boy who still looked stressed. The boy he didn’t want to look any less than full of joy.

“Food, purple!” Izuku shouted as he swung his arms up. Words that slurred on their way out of his mouth and arms that came back down like jelly seconds after.

“Okay, okay, I’ll be back.” Purple complied, getting up onto his feet and leaving Izuku on the ground. A whine left his lips as that purple head of hair went out of his view. The puny sun left in its place held nothing in the comparison. He gave it the middle finger until the Purple hair came back into view.

“I found this.” Izuku didn’t care much about the words and just took the nachos out of Purple’s hands with a smile. A few shovels of nachos later, he actually started to think clearly. Then he ate the whole thing so his legs could actually work. A tingly feeling travelled its way up his legs as they gained the ability to move back and made itself home in his stomach.

“What the fuck was that?” Hitoshi complained way too loudly and way too soon as the words cut into his head and made it cry out.

“I need a nap.” He covered his eyes with his hands, running his fingers down the scar lines he knew well enough to give himself a sense of normalcy. It was still Izuku.

That’s a shame.

“You passed out on me!” Hitoshi grabbed his shoulders and kneeled over him as he stared into his eyes. He looked into them for a few minutes before shoving his sunglasses back on with a huff. His knees were budged up against Izuku’s thigh. For some strange reason, he didn’t mind it.

“Hence, why I need a nap,” Izuku explained.

“You are so not funny right now.” He scoffed before taking his knees away and sitting next to Izuku on the sand.

“You’re not dying, are you?”

“Very much alive, sorry.” He shrugged.

“Then you need to take more breaks.” Hitoshi said rather forcefully for someone who barely changes their tone of voice. “Eat food, don’t pass out in front of friends.”

“Well, I can promise you that wasn’t my intention.” Izuku nudged his shoulder.

“You’re more snarky when you’re tired.” Hitoshi rolled his eyes with a groan.

He wasn’t trying to be snarky. Just the humour of his being unable to die was both utterly hilarious and unable to be shared with his friend at all. Sure, he could tell him about his regeneration, but then Hitoshi would know he had multiple quirks, and the spiral only got more dangerous from there.

“It’s getting dark.” Izuku said, his hands itching to go back home. This was a breakthrough. A poorly timed, quite scary breakthrough, but a breakthrough, nonetheless. Izuku had found a way to immobilise himself. Or at least turn him into an idiot. His brain stopped working. If he could do that to a nomu, then they might stop their orders. He could save them. This could be even better than an actual tranquilizer if he did it right! He just needed to get home and write it all down quickly.

“I can take you home if you want,” Hitoshi offered.

“No, I’m good.” He answered as quickly as he could without being rude. Hitoshi knew enough already — his house was off limits. That was his. All his.

“You just passed out.”

“Well, I’ve had worse.”

“That isn’t a good thing.”

“Listen, Hitoshi, I’ll be fine. I just need a nap, okay.” Izuku huffed. “Trust me.”

“Fine.” Hitoshi conceded. “Text me when you get home.”

“I promise.” He offered his pinky again, and Hitoshi took it. Hitoshi was warmer than he was. Why his brain latched onto that knowledge was unknown to him, but it was there anyway. His friend was warm.

Izuku always did like being as close to Hitoshi as he could. When he did finally peel himself off his friend, a shiver went through his bones despite the warm temperature outside.

It didn’t take long for him to categorise his thoughts away once he got back to his apartment. He spent too long writing down the formula he used and ideas to make it speed up to focus on any of his feelings for more than a second.

Izuku cared about Hitoshi. He had to keep Hitoshi safe — that was how far his brain was willing to go down that train of thought about Hitoshi. It was happy enough as it was, and his penchant for destruction made it too scared to think of anything else.

He injected himself with the formula again after eating enough to fill up an elephant and ended up asleep against his floorboards for twelve hours before it washed out of his system. It took two hours to work this time — eight less than last time. That was an improvement.

His notes seemed like scrawled nonsense as he came up with idea after idea to get it to work faster. He wouldn’t have two hours with a nomu — he likely wouldn’t even have more than five minutes. That’s if he was lucky.

What if he used electricity? He grinned into the darkness before he jumped up to scramble together parts. If his regeneration slowed down because of electricity, then maybe some other nomu’s would have their defences lowered because of it.

He had taken bigger stretches before, so he spent until sunrise putting together anything he could that would make a spark. Then he almost threw his tech out the window when it didn’t work.

It needed to be fully plugged into an electric source for to work, and the batteries he had just weren’t cutting the power he needed. He kicked his table in his frustration and put a dent in it.

Nothing ever worked!

Izuku sat against his couch as fought back tears — crying over it wouldn’t fix anything. He wracked through his lousy head to think of a solution until he latched onto something. Denki Kaminari.

A groan left him as he got back onto his feet. If he thought about it too much, then he would stop his legs from just running to ask the boy for help. The boy whose house he had broken into. The boy who he had left without a word. Left with pounds of his food, mind.

It was a stupid idea. He got into his Fox uniform and left anyway. The rising sun burned down on his skin as he jumped from roof to roof back to the apartment he had mistaken for his own. Somehow.

It wasn’t that far away, but the apartment itself was so different from his, he never would’ve looked twice at it if he hadn’t been as exhausted as he was.

There was a heartbeat in the room. Another heartbeat off in the living room watching TV. Likely Cable. Izuku took a deep breath in and out before Fox knocked on the boy’s window. His heartbeat skipped a beat for a moment and then began to race as he ran to open the window. His feet scuffled on the carpeted floor as he got to him, and multiple things got hastily thrown into the bin on his way.

“Fox! Pleasure to see you here!” Denki shouted out his window without a care in the world.

“I need your help,” Fox said, his feet dangling out of the window, scarily close to falling off. “Please.”

“Sure, come in—but be quiet though. It’s early, and my mum is making breakfast.” Denki finally moved away from his window and raced around his room, picking up random things and storing them away.

“I’ll try my best,” Fox nodded. He moved himself over to Denki’s desk to get away from his cleaning tornado, then looked down at what he could feel were papers to make himself look productive.

“Don’t mind any of that. Dumb things, really.” He then proceeded to dump all of his papers into a box and kick it into his wardrobe without a second thought. In that moment, Izuku wished he could see more than anything. “So what do you need?”

“Your electricity slows down my regeneration, yes?” Izuku asked, already tugging on the gadget to get it out of his tool belt before Denki could even nod. “Then I need you to electrocute me with this thing.”

“What is it?” He asked, not even a change in his heart’s rapid beating at his question.

“It’s supposed to hold your electricity over a longer period and continuously shock me.”

“Why would you want that?” Denki asked.

“Science.” was the only reply he could come up with.

“Would your science include that very scary looking syringe in your pocket?” Denki’s heart rate increased when his coat unintentionally slipped back to reveal the syringe.

“Oh, that’s for me, don’t worry.” He patted the syringe with a smile.

“That made me worry even more.”

Izuku bit the inside of his cheek. “Please?”

“Alright, fine as long as you don’t sleep for three days again.” Denki sighed dramatically as he sat down on his bed. “Or die! That is a requirement!”

“Damn.” He huffed and chucked Denki his gadget. Then the boy almost dropped it three times in the time it took Izuku to walk over to him.

“So do I just shock it?” Denki asked, flicking at the edges of it and sending out a clang sound. “One Denki special coming up.” Electricity cackled around the room. Izuku could hear its echoes as crisp as walking on crunching leaves. It was warm as well — it snuck underneath his coat and mask and warmed up his face and arms until Denki turned it off.

Then — thankfully — the gadget did it was supposed to and contained the electricity inside of it. Letting him pick it up without it shocking him.

“That should work.” Izuku took the inside of his cheek between his teeth and let the blood flood his mouth when he stuffed the gadget into his waistband. A shock sent itself through his stomach, climbed down his legs and up his arms. It didn’t stop — every second was agony as the electricity sucked at the host it was given. He already felt more sluggish. Felt the pain in his core as it tried to take over as his regeneration slowed down. Slowed — didn’t stop — that was confirmed when his cheek stitched itself over agonisingly slowly.

“Does that not hurt?” Denki asked, worry dripping off his words.

“Immensely.” Izuku spat out and then apologised when blood spilt out of his mouth.

Denki’s heart sounded like it was going to race itself into an attack when he pulled out his syringe. “I am not looking at that!”

“I’ll leave once I’ve done this. I just didn’t want the electricity to run out.” Izuku agreed, stabbing himself on the other side of his stomach with the syringe. He’d found over the years that it hurt less there even if his stomach loved to protest the syringe even going in. Forty seconds after he took the syringe out of his stomach, the skin wiped away and repaired itself. A lot longer than it normally took. At least the electricity was working now.

“You can stay. If you want?”

“I have science things back at home.” He shrugged. With any luck, the tranquilizer would take over soon, and he said not to fall asleep for days here, so he moved over to the window without a second thought.

“Eh, no, I get it,” Denki said, sounding more upset than Izuku could bear. Fox huffed before he turned back around.

This will be quick.

“Give me your phone number.” Fox demanded as he took out his own phone. He needed this to be quick. Then Denki’s heart got into the attack zone after he asked that. “Calm down.”

“I’m calm—I’m so calm. There’s never been anyone calmer than me.” He laughed, not at all calmly, as he put his phone into Izuku’s with lightning speed. See, quick. Izuku had to keep himself breathing in and out to ignore the raging pain in his abdomen whenever he took a step.

“Bye, Fox!” Denki shouted.

“Bye, Denki.” Izuku winced.

The buzz in his core became part of his rhythm. It was painful, but soon his brain learned to block it out. With every step slowly wiped away at the building, stress piled up in his stomach. He texted Shinsou about bringing someone else along to their training session almost absentmindedly. The words flowed off his fingers without a thought behind them. He knew he was thinking about doing it, but with his brain starting to turn to mush much faster than before — nothing really made sense.

Fox jumped down to the ground of an empty alleyway out of pure reflex, then decided it would be smart to hide his mask. If he collapsed in the middle of the street and was out for gods knows how long, then it would be better to do it as little blind Izuku Shirakumo than Fox. That made sense in the moment, so he took off his mask.

Then had to whip it back down as someone ran into his side.

Someone small — they only went up to his hip — and someone scared. Their heartbeat was racing, and he could hear small tears as they trailed down their face. Izuku was extremely out of it, but he knew a scared child when he heard one.

“Hey, you’re okay.” Fox spoke as softly as he could, using all techniques he had heard Eraser use on him onto the small child. He reached his hand down to place on their shoulder, and their heartbeat raced even more — pure panic spreading through their bones.

Izuku was going to be close to murder if someone had hurt this kid. “What are you doing out here?” He kneeled down to be on her level. Less threatening — like Papa used to do after a dangerous experiment.

Footsteps became clearer as another man speedwalk down the alley before slowing as he noticed the child hadn’t run far. “Come on, Eri, let’s not bother the nice man.” He called out, far too relaxed for someone who had made a child this scared.

“She’s not a bother.” Izuku tried to assure. He needed her to give him something, anything. Right now, she was out of it. Nothing but a fast heartbeat and raced breaths. His words were going in one ear and out the other, which wasn’t helping his case of getting her to trust him.

“I know you…” The man whispered and sent a chill down Izuku’s spine. “Vigilante, right?”

“I’m getting a name for myself, aren’t I?” He laughed.

The man was tall. His muffled voice — he was likely wearing a mask — was coming from a high angle above Izuku’s head. Most likely the girl’s father if she hadn’t been kidnapped. Whatever his quirk was, was a mystery to him. There were no indicators on him, which only spiked Izuku’s heart. He refused to let himself be terrified of another father.

The man took a step forward, and Eri broke out of her trance. In a show of self preservation and bravery, she latched around Izuku’s middle and whispered into his ear. “Don’t… go…”

Izuku wrapped his arms around Eri and promised to not. In a simple move, he threw away his gadget like it was worthless and not made of all his last remaining money from his last job. It didn’t matter anymore — nothing mattered but keeping this girl safe. The tranquilizer running through his veins would put him at a definite disadvantage, but he could run quickly enough to get the girl to the police station with a fucked up head. Or at least entertain this guy with a body that can’t die long enough for Eri to get someone who didn’t poison themselves at the worst possible time.

“I’m sorry for my daughter again. Now come on, Eri.” The man — her supposed father — sighed.

“Your daughter seems scared.” Izuku bit back, picking the girl up. He needed to get as close to the mouth of the alley without him noticing as he could.

“She has just gotten a scolding. It’s nothing really.” He brushed it off like she wasn’t trembling. Brushed it off like how Izuku’s pain always got brushed off. Did Eri have a papa? Someone to hold her as she cried and act as her light between the curtains of pure misery that every day brings.

Izuku would be that if he had to be. “What are you doing to her?”

He didn’t like that. Any pretence of calm was gone the second Fox opened his mouth, got to his feet, wanted to protect a child from a life she didn’t deserve.

“You’re not a hero, boy, I don’t have to listen to you.”

“Neither do I, you.”

The man laughed at his words. He found pure humour in his daughter’s terror. “Well, you see, I’ve had a lot of problems with Eri recently. She just doesn’t want to listen to me.” Like a codeword to get into some innate part of Eri’s being, she wiggled against his hold and jumped out of his arms without a second thought. Running to her father, with a heartbeat that betrayed her terror. “Oh, done with your tantrum now?”

“Eri—” Izuku tried. He wasn’t going to just let her go. He wasn’t going to let her get hurt. Then his right leg fell in on itself, and then he was kneeling on the ground. God, why was he this stupid?

“Silence, boy.” He cut Izuku off.

“Be lucky I’m not cashing in your theft from me, Fox.” He said, latex gloves hitting against his wrist at a volume too small to be heard by a normal person. “Stain’s protection can only take you so far.”

He wracked his brain for who he had stolen from as Fox. It wasn’t a long list. He could’ve figured it out in seconds if he hadn’t taken that stupid tranquilizer. Instead, it took a minute of his legs falling down on him as he tried to stop the man from taking Eri away.

Then he figured it out. Too late. He was always too late.

Theft. Snail. Kai Chisaki.

Shit.

If that was Chisaki — if that was the Yakuza. Then he’d just let a child get taken by a mad scientist. A man with no limits. A man like the doctor. Izuku wanted to run after him — needed to — but he was weak. God, he was so weak. He kept running through memories of his own experiments when he was as young as Eri to even take a few steps before the two of them were gone. He’d let her get taken. Fox had done that. Another child was hurt because of him.

He wanted to run. Run far away from everything and forget the world even existed, but the pain in his side stopped him. The blur in his mind that dragged him home against any rational thoughts.

Izuku had let her go with him.

He was going to get her back, no matter what it took.

Chapter Text

Aizawa had expected Endeavour getting his hero license back to be more of a momentous occasion. When it was a simple handing over of his badge back with suppressed media coverage — he couldn’t help but be completely and utterly unsurprised.

What did surprise him was Fox’s lack of care for the ordeal. It had only been a few months since it had been taken away after all. Aizawa had expected him to be a little upset — yet something else had taken over in the kid’s mind. Something the hero had been terrified of Fox meddling in since he first went to the grey space asking about Fox.

He had met the leader of the fucking Shie Hassaki and tried to fight him. A man with a criminal record through the roof and the leader of a Yakuza group. His heart had nearly beaten out of his chest as Fox told him about it, stumbling over his words with shaking hands as he described the little girl he had found. Aizawa took notes on his phone, writing as quickly as he could to not make the problem child repeat any of it.

Eri was a small, terrified child in the hands of a criminal overlord. Aizawa already knew this was going to be a big case. The case of the Shie Hassaki had spanned years already, searching behind any trail they left to figure out how to get rid of them but always coming up short. It was common knowledge that the Yakuza were careful — too careful. They were hiding something.

Turned out it was a child.

With a possible abuse situation, the police could — carefully — figure out a way to raid the building, and with the mounting evidence, Fox could even be the reason the Shie Hassaki got tackled over. His problem child.

Aizawa sighed as he thought about Fox on that rooftop. He was beating himself up because he couldn’t beat someone the police hadn’t been able to in years. Fox held himself to a high standard that no one could be expected to achieve. It just wasn’t logical. Yet, for how smart Fox was, most of his logic went away once it came to his own wellbeing.

His husband called him out on his hypocrisy the second he told him his thoughts.

So Endeavour getting his badge back was simply forgotten about. Tucked into the back of his mind, where he could acknowledge it every so often and stay focused on what he needed to. Eri needed to be found.

The police station was in chaos. The quiet and forgotten cases of the Shie Hassaki suddenly being drummed up again made the station more cramped than ever. Heroes, detectives and cops alike. Eraser was technically on the case now, but only as a consultant. That was all he needed really — updates every so often he could give to Fox and the knowledge that he’d be at the raid when it finally happened.

That also meant, however, that the case mostly ran without him. So he’d come in from his patrol and see a huddle of about ten people in the investigation room working through different leads almost on the daily. It also meant he saw Nedzu more, but he chose to ignore that.

Chaos had just become his new normal since a certain problem child had walked into his life, anyway.

The door to the detective’s office opened, and Tsukauchi speed walked his way towards the hero the second they locked eyes. “Eraserhead.” He nodded.

“Detective.” Aizawa kept his eyes on his paperwork.

“I don’t have long. I’ve got Izuku back again.” Tsukauchi sighed as he took the seat opposite him, his hat crumpled in his hands as he fidgeted with it.

“Who?” Aizawa took his time re-dotting his I’s and redrawing over the letters in the hope that the detective wouldn’t have noticed that he had finished writing it up already.

“Bad luck kid.” He explained. Aizawa let himself take a glance over at the detective’s door. Through a small crack in the door, he could see the kid’s shoulder from where he was sitting and the fluffy jacket he had on his shoulders. Then, the door abruptly slammed before he could get a closer look.

“What happened this time?” He asked, moving his sight back to his fully filled-out paperwork.

“Drunk sales worker accused him of shoplifting, and after he proved that he hadn’t, the man decided to punch him.” Tsukauchi explained with a scowl. His hand almost broke the pencil he was holding.

How bad was this kid’s luck?

“How old is this kid again?”

“Fourteen now according to him.”

Aizawa scoffed. He and Fox would probably be friends.

“Is he alright?”

“Yeah, the punch wasn’t very hard, and he’s already been seen.”

“So what am I needed for?” Aizawa looked the guy in the eye — he looked exhausted. Eyebags formed under his eyes, and a slight stubble on his chin. There were red lines that circled his eyes that had been growing for weeks now.

It had started back when Fox first showed up during a nomu attack and only got worse as more showed up. The detective started to emulate himself in a way that scared him if he thought about it for too long.

“How’s Fox doing?” Tsukauchi asked, forcing a smile on his face that didn’t meet his eyes.

“He’s still wearing the mask.” Aizawa shrugged. He’d been asked this question too many times to not know what he meant by it. The detective wanted Fox off the streets — in the commission’s hands. While there was nothing Aizawa wanted more than Fox safe and in UA custody — the problem child, unfortunately, didn’t want that.

The hero had promised himself a long time ago to never break his trust. Even if it broke a part of him every time the kid walked away.

“Come on, Eraser,” Tsukauchi sighed, the lines in his face becoming more prominent. “Look around. A major Yakuza group might get brought down because of him. The Commission wants to snap him up like a shark by now.”

“He doesn’t want to. I think we need to let the kid make his own decisions.” Aizawa waved him off. He’d been given this spiel too many times by too many people at this point. Fox was his own person, his own problem child chalked full of so many issues he may overflow, but they were his. The kid was already in a vulnerable position. If Aizawa betrayed them, then that might push him over the ledge. Shove him back into the house that doesn’t notice when their kid almost dies.

“What happens when he does something dangerous?”

“I hope he’ll get help.”

Tsukauchi ran his hand over his face, then shoved a news article onto him that detailed Fox saving a cashier from a robbery. A robbery where he got shot at the end. Aizawa gritted his teeth and drank from his coffee cup to try to loosen them. “Then what happens when this all becomes too much? He’s thirteen for—.”

“Fourteen,” he interrupted. “His birthday was back in the spring.”

“Oh, so you know his birthday but not his quirk.”

“Eraser, listen. Fox is well known by now. From Nomu attacks to robberies, people get excited when he shows up. The commission is being nice now, but we all know how fast they can turn around.” Aizawa knew a threat when he heard one.

“I don’t want the kid to make a teenage mistake and end up on the wrong side of them.”

“I won’t let him.” Aizawa spat out.

A thought had been lingering in his mind for a while — the what if’s that seemed to plague his every moment? What if he could’ve saved his friend? What if he never let Yamada in? At the moment, the question that was plaguing his head was what if Fox did go too far? If he killed someone, Aizawa didn’t know what he’d do.

His training and the protocol said to bring him in. Let the judges deal with the punishment. But then again, this was Fox.

The scary thought was that he’d let the problem child get away with it.

All his years of training, bitten down by a kid who threw him off a roof — who would’ve guessed?

“Good luck with the impossible then, Eraser.” The detective took back his paper with a scowl etched so deep it would probably stick if he held it much longer.

“Have fun with your teenager.” He bit back as he walked out the door. It was well into the night by now. He’d give Fox an hour and then go back to Hizashi.

It’s all on his terms anyway.

Hearing the detective complain about Fox to Eraser, then come back into his office to talk to Izuku like it everything was fine was a fresh experience, to say the least.

He gave a nod to the offered cup of tea and held back his discomfort as the file under his shirt rubbed against his skin. Izuku had been busy since his first (he’d promised himself there would be more) meeting with Eri, but it seemed the police had been even busier. Normally, when he gets brought in here, it’s almost eerily quiet as he waits in the waiting area. Today, he got taken straight to the detective’s office since the main entrance was so crowded.

Something he was extremely thankful for since it made his job so much easier.

Endeavour had gotten his hero license back — something that mildly irritated Izuku and pissed off Dabi beyond belief. The man almost broke three glasses while cleaning them in the half hour Fox was asking him questions on The Shie Hassaki. Questions most people seemed too scared to answer.

Fox didn’t take no for an answer, however, and that was how he’d ended up in this predicament.

Dabi knew things — some bullets he had gotten his hands on that revealed something and some information that would apparently help. The catch? Fox had to sneak into Endeavour’s hero agency and find some incriminating evidence against him.

The most heavily guarded hero agency in the country — not even All Might’s — does as much as his does. Every entrance had a security checkpoint, and every door had about seven locks. Or they did at least. When Endeavour lost his license — that meant his agency couldn’t function properly until he got it back or applied for an agency license. Even with it opened back up — the security is still taking a moment to bring itself back up to par.

It was just the opening he needed. The only hitch was the police checkpoints around the building now because of a few anti-endeavour attacks on the building. A police checkpoint that had a shift change every 2am, 7am, 12pm, 5pm, and 10pm. Which he knew now because of the detective being so kind to leave them lying around his desk!

Truly, Fox should give him a post it note thanking him.

Izuku’s conversation with the detective didn’t last long. He asked him about the drunk sales assistant he had pushed into punching him so he’d have an excuse to come to the station. It took about walking into four stores to find someone with alcohol strong on their breath and a strong enough temper to punch him if he stole enough things and hid them well enough on his person for them not to get found.

He held back a laugh as the detective went on about pressing charges and shit that Izuku would never do. The guy didn’t even really have that strong of a punch. Izuku was just waiting for Eraser’s heartbeat to get far enough away that there would be no chance the two of them crossed paths. They’d been together far too much the past few months for the hero not to put two and two together if he properly saw Izuku. Then there would be a whole new mess even if Izuku Shirakumo was a fake name.

A fake name they’d look into and realise was fake.

Once he was far enough away, Izuku stood up, mumbled some excuse about his parents needing him home and walked out with the file Dabi gave him with the notes of the shift changes hidden in his waistband.

Truly, it shouldn’t have been that easy.

He shrugged the feeling of uneasiness and kept on walking away. One foot in front of the other to get far enough away that no one from the police station could catch up to him if they tried. Then he kept on walking until he found a suitable enough dark alley to slip his mask on. It was getting dark. Fox had to make an appearance if he wanted an alibi to get away with this.

Like the vigilante needed an alibi to do criminal things.

Fox only groaned and got back to work.

Eraser would get so mad at him if he found out about this. The hero thinks of him as some paragon who could never do any wrongdoing. An assumption that couldn’t be even further from the truth. He stole to get ahead. To live another day and to get what he needed to survive.

Fox wouldn’t survive much longer if he didn’t find Eri.

The girl followed his every thought and impulse. Every reflex and every fight reminded him of what he should’ve done. What he could’ve done to help her. To save her. Anything he could’ve done to have stopped her from going back to him.

That’s the strange thing — she went back. Fox was holding her, ready to fight for her, and she went back anyway. She must not have believed in him. Or she didn’t want to let him get hurt. That then sent him on a thought spiral that mirrored his own to an almost uncomfortable degree. The girl was tiny. Around about his age when his father first got him. Dragged him away calmly from the last person who could really love him before the ink stained his soul, before everything went wrong.

Izuku would’ve gone back to his father if it meant someone didn’t get hurt at that age. He probably would then if he were being honest with himself.

He took as long as he could on each rooftop before he jumped to the next one to get his breathing right. An impossible task, as he came to find. His lungs just didn’t seem right. Always a bit off in a way he couldn’t properly figure out. He jumped down to the floor, and then he’d be wheezing before the fight was even over. A noise stuck in the back of his throat that came out whenever he let his guard down. A mix between a gasp and a hiccup.

“You okay?” The lady he had just saved from a mugging asked. She must’ve been a lot taller than him as her voice came from much higher up. He tiptoed around the unconscious body of a criminal he had left on the ground.

“Fine…” he mumbled, his words contorted around the strange lump in his throat. A lump that crawled up whenever he went too long without attempting to keep it down.

“You don’t have to be.”

There was a sting in his eye. A sting that bit down on his already shut eyes and made his blindfold more uncomfortable. He reached up behind his mask to wipe them and was met with wet, hot tears.

Izuku wiped them away without a second thought and turned away from the lady.

“Call the police,” he said before leaving. It was easier than he expected it to be.

Fox had been out long enough, hadn’t he? It was edging close to 2am, and there was something that he needed to do. Dabi better have something worthwhile after he did all this.

The Endeavour hero agency was loud even late into the night. Marketing and PR worked overtime to try to salvage any piece of Endeavour’s reputation that they could. Most of his frankly too many sidekicks had already clocked out for the day as the night shift was nowhere near one people liked to do.

Endeavour was downstairs kicking at a punching back, burning it to a crisp, and making some person put another bag onto the hook so he could repeat the process.

Sounded like he’d be there a while.

Fox was crouched behind a bush, facing the back door that two police officers were standing by. They seemed exhausted. Their shift was only a minute from ending, and that would be his opening. He just had to do it right.

So he sat there silently. Listened to the slow heartbeats of the cops and the rustling of insects and waited for his moment.

“Oh, thank the heavens. My eyes were about to give out.” Officer number two called out as footsteps approached them both.

Bingo.

The two police officers offered a few words to the new two. Barely more than a few seconds where they all faced away from the door that he snuck into with ease.

It shut silently behind him, and he stood still for seventy-two seconds before he waved his hand to make sure there weren’t any sensors. Then, when his ears didn’t blow out, he sighed and began to climb the too many stairs he was met with. According to Dabi’s schematics, Endeavour’s office was at the very top of the building. His office would have his computer in, which Izuku could swipe with the hard drive in his pocket.

Small bursts of light flickered through his mask from the fluorescent light fixtures that beamed from the ceiling quite obnoxiously. He hadn’t put his blindfold on so he could take a peak on what was on the computer himself. Call him a cat and kill him, he wanted to see.

Dabi had made him more curious than he had been in years by just existing. It was a fake name. That much was obvious. All he could find was some shady records that placed someone with his scars in a hospital room under a coma for multiple years, then poof. Gone up in smoke. He existed, then he didn’t. Izuku knew that feeling all too well.

The echoes of his footsteps were louder than he would’ve liked. It only took one person who decided to take these too many stairs and came across his very much not supposed to be here behind to ruin this whole thing. Security would be back in a flash, and Fox wouldn’t get another chance like this.

He ran up the stairs as quickly as he could, taking two at a time to get up quicker. Endeavour’s office was on the sixtieth floor. He didn’t have to dilly daddle. Voices went in and out of his earshot with heartbeats of people he didn’t care too much about. His lungs ran out of breath multiple times, and he still didn’t stop, stitches rapidly appearing in his side and being healed just as quickly.

His feet tripped over themselves as he dropped to the floor, sharp edges of stairs jabbing into his side and head, when a door only a floor above of where he was hiding opened without warning and the two heartbeats he heard on the other sidewalk through. It was only a few seconds after that a door near the bottom of the staircase opened and another two heartbeats walked through.

The recognisable scent of guns wafted through the stairwell. They were close — too close. All four of them were guards who would put up a fight if they found him, and he didn’t have many places to go in a stairwell. Then both pairs started to march up the stairs.

Izuku wanted to strangle Dabi. He was told that they had guards at all entrances of the stairwell, so they felt no need to patrol it. Yet, here they were, doing it anyway and ruining his plans.

This is why he doesn’t like to trust people.

He listened as the echoes of four sets of footsteps travelled up the stairs. The patrol group ahead of him was up four floors, and then the one below him was down fifteen. Izuku took a breath and tried to think of a way out of this.

Both patrol groups likely wouldn’t go up to the top, right? One goes from the middle to the top, and the other goes from the bottom to the middle. So if he snuck up a floor or two above the middle floor without the guards noticing, then he might be able to sneak away.

Then, of course, came the problem of getting up the stairs without being loud. These people got paid a lot of money to guard this shithole, and they’d notice his loud echoes if he let them.

Fox got onto his stomach and crawled up the stairs in time to the steps of the guards below him. If he went in time to the ones above, then they could look down and see that the slight echo below them wasn’t the guards, but the ones below couldn’t see the ones above so — hopefully — he could get away with it.

When he got three floors above the door the set of guards above him started on, he laid there and held his breath in waiting. If they kept on going, then he’d be screwed. Dabi wouldn’t get his information and Izuku wouldn’t get his. He couldn’t let Eri down again.

He almost screamed out in joy when both sets of guards left through the doors, leaving him in the silent and empty stairwell again. His hand clamped down on his mouth as he jumped up to run up the stairs as quickly as his legs could take him once again. Izuku didn’t want to risk being there when more guards decided to patrol through. Luck had a habit of not being on his side once, nevermind twice.

The floor in Endeavour’s office is hard. Hardwood flooring, with a rug in the middle that he ruffles up a bit when he walks on it to deafen his footsteps. He’s tempted to lift up his mask to help find the computer but decides against it for fear of cameras. There’s a small field of vision through his mask, tiny and mostly useless, but it’s there. He squints through it to locate the laptop in the middle of Endeavour’s desk. It’s surprisingly quaint considering the man who owns it.

Izuku’s computer is much more bulky but that might be because he stole it from a library. He would steal this one if he had any idea how to get into it — as well that would put an even higher target on his back than just sneaking in here would.

Fox was only here so he could help Eri — stealing Endeavour’s laptop did not help Eri.

The flash drive Dabi gave him thankfully didn’t need him to hack into Endeavour’s laptop or that would’ve taken hours. As it was, the drive only needed six minutes to take in everything on the computer. An incredibly stressful and boring six minutes. He resisted the urge to spin around in Endeavour’s chair.

There was barely anything on the man’s desk. He reached his hand around the surface of it to make sure it wasn’t just his eyes not working and could only find a notebook, a few pens, a newspaper and a bloody ruler. No cute photos or normal desk things. The thing was barren. And absolutely boring.

He eventually gave in to a spin of the chair until a heartbeat in the elevator kept on climbing the floors. Shit.

The drive still needed a minute and a half to save everything. If he hid, then the drive might get taken, and he’d be back at square one again.

Fox let out a groan as he rounded the desk to pretend to look through the drawers, and totally coincidentally covering the hard drive stuck in the side of the computer. Izuku could keep him busy while being as annoying as possible for a minute and a bit, then he was out of there. Maybe he’d run down the stairwell, maybe he’d jump out of the window. Whatever got him away was whatever he needed to do.

An elevator ding had never been that nerve-wracking before.

“You.” Endeavour’s voice crawled out from behind him and sent a shiver up his spine and down his arms. Every hair on his arms was up as a cycle of shits and fucks circled through his head. The drive needed sixty four seconds.

“Endeavour, my man! How you been?” Fox shot some finger guns at the man — trying his best to not show his complete and utter fear. He was told to stay away from this guy, to not get in his way. Yeah, sure, he broke into the man’s building, but he hadn’t expected him to be there! Eraser was gonna kill him.

The floor felt like it shook whenever Endeavour took a step closer to him. The very earth ruptured every time he got closer with that murderous look in his eyes. Fifty-two seconds. “I know it must’ve been pretty hard with that whole license being taken away business. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay—”

His words were cut off as the hero wrapped his abnormally large hand around his neck and squeezed. A knuckle under his chin forced his head up, presumably to where the unfairly tall man was. He couldn’t see the computer anymore and was forced to count in his head. Fourty six and he can run until his legs give out again.

“I was told to stay away from you,” Endeavour snarled.

“You’re not doing a very good job at it,” Izuku choked out while his windpipe was being actively smashed. He felt the familiar tingle of his quirk around his throat — combating the bruises the hero was crushing into his skin.

“I was told to let you keep up your villainy.” Endeavour carried on, rudely ignoring his interruption. “Scum like you don’t deserve that.”

“Scum to scum, I quite like living.”

Fox was pushing him — he knew that. He just needed him to be so angry that he could take any opportunity to get out of his grip and out of this stupid building. Twenty-eight seconds. The same anger that had filled him the night of the nomu attack was there, lingering under his surface and ready to pounce. Like a buzz on his skin pushing him to fight back — to be dumb and punch the man until his heart stopped beating. The pen on the man’s desk would look so pretty poking out of his eye.

“You never shut up, do you?” His one hand could reach almost all the way around Izuku’s neck. His other hand rested by his side. Unassuming, asleep, yet could come up and join his assault at any time.

“It’s my most endearing trait.” It took a while for Izuku to realise he didn’t have any idea what he was going to do to escape. The man was in his hero costume — it would be impossible to just kick him wherever he could and hope for the best. He was strong. He couldn’t be the number two hero and not be. The only reason Fox got away last time was because of the press and the commotion.

In here, he was alone, weak and vulnerable.

Izuku couldn’t die, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t want to.

Fifteen seconds.

“I want to thank you, Fox. For walking right into my building and giving me a reason to do this.” He could hear the smile in his words as his left hand met his right around Izuku’s neck. One moment he was on the hardwood floor, and the next his feet were dangling in the ground and heat was being radiated from the hands that were holding him up. Heat that wanted to spark into a flame.

Ten seconds.

“Is this how you killed your son?” He pushed out through the sheer numb feeling that grasped his throat, likely because of the burns that ripped through his skin quicker than his quirk could heal it. His taunt didn’t get to him like it did last time. It only made him push harder, made the growing flames in his palms hotter.

Five seconds.

“Or is this why your wife left you?” Endeavour moved his hand from the neck right up to his hair, leaving a trail of burns up his face in its wake. His eye met the edge of the table quicker than he could brace for. The burns that littered his skin stung when they met the blood that erupted from under his mask, dripping down to his mouth and forcing him to taste the metallic liquid. It all felt numb, his mouth and jaw limp with the lack of nerve ending left.

It always killed to regrow nerves.

Fox grabbed the hard drive from the laptop and stuffed it into his pocket. The edge of his coat was wrapped around his face to stop the cameras from picking up his regeneration. No matter how obvious it was at this point that he had one — the extent was still hidden. Izuku wanted to keep it that way.

He thanked whatever he could when his legs actually cooperated with him. Endeavour’s heartbeat stayed at an eerily slow pace as he ran at the door and found it locked. Locked. Oh shit, he was stuck in here.

“There isn’t a way out, Fox,” Endeavour said, his voice as neutral as always. No sadism, no joy, no unrest — nothing. He was as calm as ever. Fox was stuck here with him, and Endeavour was as calm as could be.

When his breathing refused to calm down, Izuku decided to just do what he did best — wing it. He couldn’t hear much in the room, but he ran around the edge of it anyway, probably looking crazy to Endeavour, but he didn’t care what that man thought. Then his hand latched onto a window. A window that could open.

Izuku Midoriya would like to apologise to his bones for what he was about to do.

“Now there is!” He slurred his words because of his jaw still healing, but Endeavour must have got the message as his heartbeat ran towards where Fox was. Only being a few seconds too late as he jumped out of the window.

The wind blew past his small strands of hair, ripping off his hoodie and attempting to take away his coat entirely. He could’ve tried to use it as a parachute, but it was far too late for that. The floor was getting closer and closer by the second. Give it a few minutes, and he’d be nothing but a pile of broken bones. Then there would be proper questions about the nature of his healing abilities. Oh shit. What if his father found out through that? Surely there can’t be many people with healing quirks.

Fox pushed down his rising panic to focus. He had to focus. There weren’t many heartbeats around on the ground — it was late at night by now. Maybe he could use his force field? It hadn’t been used like this before, but he had to at least try it. It couldn’t break his bones anymore than they were about to be.

He reached his arm out below him. The wind blew his sleeve up to his elbow and making his skin even colder. The energy was zapped from his chest and started to pile up at his fingertips, ripping at the skin to get out. To keep on feeding on him and dispel any of the excess energy.

When the ground seemed close enough in his small slit of vision, he let it spill out. A chasm of light that dragged all of his energy and yet, somehow, pulled him to a stop a few meters above the ground. A whoop of laughter came out of his lungs without him meaning it to.

Even when the light dissipated and his head hit the ground anyway, he kept on laughing.

Until he heard heartbeats coming his way from the building and he started running.

Fox would have to do a few loops to get rid of them before he went to see Dabi, but the adrenaline running through his veins was more than enough to deal with it. He was alive. He had gotten the info, and he hadn’t gotten taken. Getting caught was a small price to pay so he could help Eri.

Dabi took the hard drive without a second thought, plugging it into a computer in the back of the grey space and cackling as he read through it all. His mind was only half-involved as Dabi pointed at things he couldn’t see and explained in great detail how Endeavour had been taking bribes from someone. Promised to not let any heroes get involved with a fight for something that he wouldn’t mention.

Izuku didn’t want to jump to conclusions how who that could’ve been. Not yet anyway.

So he stood there silently, taking it in. Then, when Dabi had a copy, he took the hard drive and asked for what he came here for — his information. Instead, he got given four bullets that could take even his own life. Take his own quirk.

Kai Chisaki’s research wasn’t just mad science. It was real.

He was going to help Eri. No matter what it took.

Chapter Text

Fox couldn’t keep himself out of trouble for more than two minutes. He spent one day outside of Eraser’s eyes and decided to break into the building of the one hero who wanted to kill him.

Nedzu's being there for the meeting about him only hurt more.

Aizawa was about to go out to look for the kid when Tsukauchi pulled him aside. With a grim look in his eye as he brought him into his office, the man in a suit shook his hand and introduced himself as Endeavour’s lawyer.

He wiped his hand on his pants afterwards just in case. The man was short and bald, with a bushy mustache under his nose and glasses over his eyes.

Nedzu looked straight ahead with eyes that gave away nothing, and Tsukauchi didn’t even look at him as he played the video. The video of his idiotic honorary student inside of Endeavour’s agency. More than that, inside his office!

A stream of swear words passed through his head every second that Fox wasn’t running. Was just standing there like a deer caught in the headlights. For a moment he didn’t even care why Fox was in there — only prayed for him to get out as quickly as he could.

He didn’t blink during the whole video. His hair floated up, and his quirk turned on at some point, but never once did he blink. Not when Endeavour grabbed the kid’s throat or lifted him off the ground or slammed him into the table. Not a wink. Fox got up — of course he did — and then jumped out a window at the top of a multi-story building. Aizawa’s nails were digging into his wrist.

The video cut to a camera in the front room with a perfect view of the outside. A clear view of Fox falling, then light wrapping around his arm and stopping him midair. Then Aizawa finally blinked as the computer shut off. The black of the computer screen reflected his own torn face back to him. He wanted to kill Endeavour. He also wanted to kill Fox for being stupid enough to go back there.

His list of murder victims got longer when the lawyer cleared his throat.

“Well, from that video I’m sure we can all see this boy’s criminal behaviour,” he shrugged. An air of apathy permeated him with every word.

“Can we?” Eraser gritted through his teeth.

“Eraser.” Tsukauchi warned. Whether he warned him to calm down or warned him not to murder the man was up for debate.

“Endeavour wants to have him arrested for breaking and entering, as well as assault.” The man listed out, like the kid had done anything to Eraser but be inside his building. Like Fox wasn’t the one who almost got beaten to death. Endeavour was getting far too risky — that move he pulled could’ve killed someone if they didn’t have Fox’s healing.

A regular old petty thief who strolled into his office didn’t deserve an execution on sight, no matter what Endeavour’s rotten conscious told him.

“We can have that done.” Nedzu shrugged. “At the same time, we arrest Endeavour for assault and endangerment of a minor, of course.”

Eraser scowled at the lawyer’s face, watching and searching for any sign on his face of him being caught out, nowhere to go. He didn’t find any.

“We can easily argue self defence, the boy is a notorious criminal after all.”

“As far as the records show, Fox has never once assaulted a hero—” Tsukauchi tried.

“Wrong, he assaulted Eraserhead.” He pointed at Eraser, who had to stop himself from biting off the finger. “Multiple times, if I’m correct. A tarp and a rooftop.”

“He didn’t mean to.” Eraser hissed.

“His intentions don’t matter to me nor my client.” Aizawa dug his nails into his own arms to stop himself from punching the living daylights out of that lawyer’s smug face.

“Does the commission know about this?” Nedzu asked.

“Endeavour is making them aware.” He nodded.

“I meant about Endeavour’s lack of care to their orders. As far as we know, Fox could’ve been there to give himself in and Endeavour decided to assault him with no prior threats,” His boss continued. He started a staring match with the beady black holes in his head, and the lawyer barely lasted two minutes. Eraser let himself grin at that — at least other people thought Nedzu could be terrifying.

“Sir, I cannot arrest this vigilante without the sanction of the commission—so I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” Tsukauchi demanded, an expression on his face that dared the man to question him.

“Fine, be that way. My client will be in touch.” The man shrugged before he slid a card onto the detective’s desk. Eraser leaned forward to read it and only saw the name “Dr Garaki” before Tsukauchi threw it into one of his desk drawers.

Garaki shut the door silently behind him and left the three of them in silence for quite a few minutes. Fox had done something so irresponsibly dumb. So stupid he wanted to rattle it into him to never do it again, and yet he wanted to defend him with everything he could.

Maybe it was the fact that Fox didn’t have anyone else properly in his corner, but Aizawa refused to leave it until he was made to. The vigilante was his student. Nothing else really mattered.

“He’s not going to get the commission on his side, right?”

“Hard to say. The argument that Fox was going to turn himself in is a smart one that would likely get him more supporters.” Nedzu complimented himself with that carefree smile. “He tried, but was shut down by the hero who unintentionally boosted his popularity, how poetic.”

He moved over from his chair to jump into Aizawa’s scarf without a comment from either of them. Aizawa was simply too deep in his own head to even care that much.

Fox could create light around his arms. He’d never seen him do that before, ever. The only semblance of a quirk he showed was his healing. If he could’ve done that the whole time then, why didn’t he?

Aizawa thought back to one report from the nomu fight. A report that had been shuffled into the problem child’s too big folder and forgotten among the never-ending piles. A report that said the kid somehow used a light to stop some of Endeavour’s fire. It was from an old man that Fox had saved — he said he had seen it from across another building. Eraser thought it was just his eyes tricking him.

Now he wasn’t so sure.

More details flew into his head. Two villains with speed quirks that Fox had taken down said they both saw a bright light before they passed out. Ingenium said that Fox almost knocked him off a building and blinded him for a moment with a bright light.

Aizawa had laughed when he heard about it. Said to consider himself lucky and scratched the light off as Fox using a diversion.

Could he always use light like that, and he just hadn’t noticed?

“Play the video again—the part where he landed,” Aizawa asked. Nedzu moved around in his scarf to face the computer.

“That’s a quirk all right.” Tsukauchi nodded, pausing the video directly when Fox stopped midair. His mouth hung open, and the burns on his neck retreated. The blood that no longer dripped down from under his mask — it had all dried up. The wound had healed.

“How does he have a light manipulation quirk and a quirk that can heal himself?” Aizawa ran his hand down his face. Nedzu’s hand on his chin just in his peripheral vision almost made him lose his thoughts, but he stopped himself.

“Unless he can’t heal?” The detective offered.

“He’s gotten life threatening injuries and been fine a few days later,” he pointed out. “And look, the blood is dry here. With an injury that bad, it should’ve still been dripping.”

“Maybe the light is his healing quirk?” Nedzu jumped out of his scarf to stand on the table, directly in front of the computer. “He has a sort of light manipulation quirk that can work as a force field, but also can be used to heal himself.” His hand traced Fox’s shape on the video before he moved to the light that spread around his arm, not even blinking the whole time.

“That’s why he wouldn’t show up on the registry.” Aizawa had a grin on his face. Then it fell as he realised.

If Fox’s identity was found out, then he would be forced into the vigilante reform programme.

But if it never got found out and Fox stayed in a potentially abusive home, he could die before he even got the courage to tell Aizawa his name.

“Perhaps.” Nedzu shrugged. “Unless you want to go down the route of multiple quirks, then that is the only possibility I can think of.”

“That’s not possible—” Tsukauchi cut himself off. He ripped the computer from Nedzu’s eyes and was back to typing in a few seconds. “I’ll look on the registry for green haired kids with light manipulation quirks.”

Aizawa’s knee bounced up and down, almost hitting the table, every second Tsukauchi spent scrolling. He didn’t have time for this. Fox could be out there right now, and Aizawa had questions. Such as why, for the love of the sun, did he go into Endeavour’s hero agency? And what the hell is up with his light? A screech echoed through the room as he pushed back his chair.

“Where are you going?” Tsukauchi asked.

“Looking for my student.”

He lingered at the door, a sigh caught in his throat. “Thank you, Nedzu.”

His boss only giggled. “No worries, I have my own interests in the boy.”

Aizawa slammed the door behind him without a second thought.

“One more rep, come on!” Izuku encouraged as Denki struggled to pull himself over the makeshift pull up bar they made in their abandoned warehouse. When he finally did finish, he fell off almost immediately, and both he and Hitoshi ran to catch him.

“That was torture.” He whined and dropped out of their hands to slump to the floor quite dramatically.

“Oh, calm down.” Hitoshi laughed before a yawn snatched his words right off him.

“You alright, Hitoshi?” Izuku wrapped his arm around Hitoshi’s shoulder, dragging himself as close to the boy as he could without making it weird.

“Yeah, just tired.” Hitoshi brushed him off. A movement that cut deeper than he expected it to. “Well, at least we’re done.”

“Well…”

“Fox.” Denki sat up.

“I wanted you two to spar!”

“Oh, come on!” Denki flopped back onto the floor with a loud sigh.

“Grow up, Kaminari.” Hitoshi riled him up. He had figured out in one day that it was the best way to get Denki to do anything and with a smile. Whether Denki knew that himself was up in the air.

He shouted words that Izuku didn’t really take in as he jumped back onto his feet. A heart rate through the roof and apparently enough determination to get his arms up again. The miracle of making fun of people.

“All the dirty moves you want, I’ll stop it if it gets too violent. You have to get the other person’s back onto the floor,” Fox explained, sitting on the bench he had hauled in this morning for the three of them. “Have fun!”

The two of them sparred using moves he had taught them. His heart warmed up at the thought of those two going to UA together, heroes and friends. It would be a dream come true after all. All either of them wanted was to be a hero, and Izuku was going to help them do it. Fox was going to. Maybe he can get them to teach him stuff they learn there! If they have the time, of course.

They wouldn’t leave him, right?

Izuku tried to dig his nails into his arm to run the thought away to no avail. Denki liked him, right? Hitoshi wouldn’t do that. He couldn’t do that. After all this time, Izuku couldn’t lose Hitoshi or he might just go crazy.

“How do you do that?” Hitoshi asked after Denki landed a high kick on him and sent him a few steps backwards.

“Well—” He got one word into the response before his eyes went blank. Izuku let out an unapologetic snort. The boy had fallen for that six times already and he hasn’t learned once.

“Lay down on the floor.” Hitoshi ordered, and Denki complied without a second thought.

“Oh, that’s cheating!” He complained once his mind snapped out of it, Hitoshi far too deep into containing his silent laughter to even reply till moments later.

“He said dirty moves were allowed.”

“He’s right, I did.”

“Oh, come here!” Denki grabbed around Hitoshi’s hips and dragged him down to the ground as the boy shouted for him to get off. The pair had barely even known each other a day, and they were already acting like friends — Izuku liked that. Even if his hands balled into fists when Denki touched him. He was worried beyond belief that this thing would be the most awkward interaction he’d had in years. The whole inviting Denki to their training sessions thing was something he had sprung on Hitoshi after all. He wouldn’t have blamed him if he got annoyed about it. But then his friends just got on with a smile. Denki’s electric and energetic personality somehow meshed with Hitoshi’s better than he could’ve dreamed of.

Once the boy was finally lying on the ground, Denki turned to Izuku with a grin. “You as well, Fox, come on!”

Fox made a small show of annoyance before he dropped down to the floor next to Hitoshi. He didn’t feel like getting tackled by Denki. His head rested against Hitoshi’s arm, and he held back the urge to pull off his mask and blindfold and see if Hitoshi had noticed it too.

He was mentally preparing the training schedule for next week before Denki spoke again after he got his breath. A run for him and Hitoshi was added when the boy’s heart rate didn’t go back to normal despite it being minutes since they had even been standing.

Izuku had too much to do, really. Find Eraser, ask him about the Eri case, tell him about Endeavour and look into him more, figure out who he was taking bribes from, keep up with his patrols and somehow shove his friends into that time. He wasn’t used to having all this to do, so he compartmentalised. While he was with Hitoshi — nothing else mattered. Then the second he was out of the boy’s space — he was fox, and he had people to save.

“Is this what you guys do all day?” Denki asked, not taking the dragging silence too well.

“Mostly, I have to go out to save people soon, but I do spend a lot of my time here.” Fox shrugged, the material of his coat brushing against the material of Hitoshi’s shirt and scratching his ears just right.

“Don’t suppose I can ask where you live?”

“Nope.”

“You don’t live here, right?”

Izuku shook his head. The answer that he lived in another abandoned building that was actually the site of a horrible natural disaster was swallowed before it could get past his throat. “Oh no, this is the training spot. It smells too much like sweat to sleep here.”

“I blame Denki.” Hitoshi deadpans.

“This is my first time being here!”

“And yet it stinks.”

Fox only laughed as those two bickered on. They’d only been together a few hours, and Izuku reckoned they could fight about the colour of the sky if they really wanted to. He wanted to zone out and just let himself think — it was the perfect, and only, opportunity he would have before he had to go out as Fox. And yet, any attempt to drift his mind away was blocked by the fear of how quickly bickering could become fighting. How small of a push it would take for the shouting to start and for Izuku to be trapped in the middle of it all.

Hitoshi’s hand moved away from his side, was carried up and then it pushed down at the top of Fox’s mask in a movement he didn’t understand. “What are you doing?”

“Fixing your hair. It’s over your mask.”

“As long as it’s not over the slits, I’m fine.”

“It was.” Hitoshi took his hand away, and a breeze filtered through the open door of the warehouse.

He sat up before he realised he was doing it. “It’s getting late—I really do need to get out there.” Izuku stuttered out, blubbering for an excuse to run. What he was running from he didn’t know, but his heart was going quick and his body wanted nothing but to flee.

“Come on! The sun is still out, Fox-bro!” Denki complained, sitting up himself and making Hitoshi sit up. Their shoulders touched again. Izuku had to stand up so he could breathe again.

“I’m meeting up with a hero friend tonight.” He lied, knocking on his mask to make it bump into his nose to remind it to breathe. It worked seventy percent of the time and made his panting get better, so he called it a win.

“Tell Eraser hi for me!” Hitoshi said, lying back down on the floor with a heartbeat almost as fast as his own as the only sign he wasn’t completely at ease.

“Will do.” Fox nodded.

“Say hi for me too!” Denki argued.

“You need a codename for that.”

“I want a codename—” Their bickering faded out as he got further away from the warehouse. Fox didn’t know what he was looking out for, but something about the hairs that stood up on his neck said that something was wrong. Whatever it was, he probably wouldn’t be able to sleep until he figured out what it was.

It took walking a few miles and stopping a few muggings in what he guessed was dusk for the embarrassment to crawl back down his throat. He had run away — so what? His dumb body had ignored any logical conclusions and jumped straight to running away just because his heart was racing for reasons he couldn’t explain, even to himself.

Izuku had done far worse things to Hitoshi, and for some unknown and unable to be figured out reason, he still wanted to be friends with him. Friends — best friends. The only friend he’d had in years. That was all they were.

The bullets sat inside his third drawer. At the very back, where you’d have to go searching to find them. He’d hidden them there when he ran home the night before in a frenzy.

The lamb particle, whatever Chisaki needed to make his quirk removing bullets, he found it. A terrifying feeling in his stomach said that Eri might’ve been the lamb. Why else would an insane murderer keep a child around?

The familiar burning smell of a gun wafted through the air.

Shouts from miles away and faint, terrified heartbeats filtered in as he got closer. What he was getting closer to, he didn’t know, but it had to have been something. Anything to explain the egregiously loud pops that rang out of his ears that coincided with screams.

As he got closer to the building, his mind started to fill in the blanks from where he was. Up four streets and right two before continuing up, he was near the mall. A few streets down the left and up four more, he was closer to the grey space than anything. Then up seven streets and right four, he was at the bank — sounds of rapid heartbeats and bated breaths clogged his senses.

There was a van outside with one heartbeat in it. His foot bounced on the floor, and he wiped his own forehead of its sweat multiple times in the few minutes Fox spent waiting outside. He needed to find a way in. There weren’t many windows in the bank in the first place, and he didn’t feel like breaking one just to stop it from being robbed. He could’ve easily just gone through the front door like a moron, but where was the fun in that?

A bit of searching later and he found an emergency exit door with a few heartbeats on the other side. With a knife braced in his hand, Izuku pulled down the handle and pushed open the door. He only gave a moment of concentration to the blaring alarm sound when he opened it and focused on knocking out the two robbers (he hoped they were robbers) that went to attack him.

He made quick work of the two of them with his hammer before he moved onto the main room of the bank. Where, who he assumed was the boss of this operation, was shouting orders to anyone who would listen.

“And would someone get that bastard alarm off!” He shouted, walking away from the door Izuku had just walked through as he did so. The man had a dog’s face — literally, he could hear his growling and sniffing since he had come in — it must’ve been his quirk.

“I can try, but it might take a minute.” Fox shrugged, throwing his hammer from side to side. A lot of heads whipped towards him in that moment. A few guns were raised towards him but were stopped from shooting as the dog-man turned to face him, heart racing.

“Fox…” He snarled, spit flying out from his snout.

“Aww, you know my name,” Fox cooed. Truth be told, he didn’t have a plan here. There were five of them and one of him, each with guns held tight in their wrists. He was too focused on figuring a way out to notice when the dog-man lifted up his own gun and shot it right through his thigh.

“Fuck!” he shouted, falling down to his knees and feeling around his leg. He looked desperately for an exit wound. The entry wound had almost fully stitched itself back up before he gave up. The feeling of flesh trying desperately to tie itself together around metal burned itself into his mind again.

“I’m not having my operation broken down by a little squirt, got it?” Wolf-man snarled. Each step he took towards Izuku’s crumple of a body reverberated up to his head. He grabbed Fox’s hair and dragged his head up to look at him. Izuku only saw darkness. “So, be a good little boy and bleed to death quietly.” There was spit on top of his mask once he had finished speaking.

“I don’t work well with quiet.” Izuku mumbled. Laughter came from around the room as he sat there in the man’s grasp. His heartbeat didn’t even stutter as he reached around his tool belt to grab a knife. The man was completely calm until Fox stood back up onto a leg that by all means shouldn’t have worked. He stabbed the knife into the man’s thigh to call it even before he put him into a headlock. The knife by the man’s neck was an empty threat, but he didn’t have to know that.

The wolf man snarled and writhed in his grip, but Fox held on firm until he gave up. Panting and with a knife to his throat, he grumbled. “What do you want?”

“Now let’s all put our guns down, eh?” Fox encouraged. He didn’t need another bullet in it anytime soon since he could already feel his his quirk squirming inside his flesh to try to fix it no avail. “Or the big man gets it!”

“What are you doing! Don’t listen to this asshole!” He shouted as his associates actually followed his orders.

“Nighty night!” A whack to the side of the head with the handle of the hammer made him go unconscious in his grip.

“Alright, here we go!”

Fox ran towards the first two heartbeats as fast as his legs could take him. The bullet still lodged in his thigh screamed out with every step — desperate to heal. The floors must’ve been newly waxed as he fell over right in front of the first guy, and to regain some of his pride back, he grabbed onto the man’s collar to drag him down to the ground with him and knock his head on the floor. Once he stopped moving, Fox threw the body at the girl’s legs. She reached back for her gun once she’d fallen on the floor, but Izuku grabbed it before she could and used it to whack her in the head. Once she was down, it didn’t take long for the two other villains to come to their senses and start shooting at him.

He got a bullet in the shoulder before he got himself hidden behind a counter. His hearing instinctively came down as the shots came one after another. Once the shots resided into a simple ringing in his ears, he sprung back up and threw his hammer right at one of their chests. They fell to the ground and knocked over the second one with them. Fox took the opportunity to jump on top of them and bash their heads into the ground once, knocking them out.

Someone was shouting. That was all his brain could register in the post adrenaline high mixed with the pure agony of his skin rearranging and contorting around two bullets still lodged deep into the muscle. Bullets were dogshit to get out. His hand squirmed at the thought of reaching into the sealed up hole to drag it out.

Then there were sirens.

He got back on his feet. The floor below him felt like a numb illusion as jabs were sent up his leg with every step. There were camera clicks that mixed with the shouting of orders by police officers. He got a few steps outside of the door before he had a police officer grabbing his arm and about seven reporters shouting questions at him.

So he did what he always did. He ran as fast as he could. Onto a rooftop where he couldn’t hear any heartbeats. Where he could find the courage to get his knife to start getting the bullets out. He just needed his hands to stop shaking first. And maybe some more food in him. Or even just a little less noise. When Eraser got closer to his rooftop, he didn’t even fight it. Didn’t want to. After all this time, the hero’s steady heartbeat was among the few that could calm him down.

“You’re supposed to be helping the police.” Fox laughed up at the man. He didn’t laugh back.

“That’s been delegated.” Eraser sat down next to him, his scarf wrapped around Fox’s wrist before he could even think of running away. “I’m not going to beat around the bush, okay? Why on earth did you think it was a good idea to break into Endeavour’s hero agency? I mean, come on, problem child. He hates you, wants you gone more now than he did before.”

Izuku felt like a scolded child as Eraser went on. He shouldn’t have been surprised, but still every word felt like a punch of pure malice straight to his heart. It hurt, and he had no one to blame but himself.

“I needed to.” Izuku mumbled. Head down, words small, just like he had to before he ran away. It was easy to get back into character when he had never really left it.

“Why?”

“I was promised information on Eri if I could find dirt on Endeavour.” Eraser’s heartbeat sped up. Izuku focused on the reliable thump of it to ignore the man’s words.

“Did you?”

“Taking bribes, don’t know who from.”

“Give it.” Izuku reached into his tool belt to get the hard drive out, his only piece of evidence, and he was just handing it away. His own body seemed to be repulsed at the idea, either that or the amount of energy he was losing from the bullets stuck in his muscles had gotten to him as his head almost dropped straight to the concrete as he reached over to the hero. “Hey, hey what’s wrong?” Anger forgotten as easily as that, Eraser grabbed onto his shoulders to help him stay upright.

If he wasn’t actually falling unconscious, then this would be the perfect excuse to run away.

“I’m—I’m fi—.” He stuttered over his words as his vocal cords refused to get them out properly. Each one ground against his throat like an executioner’s axe.

“Problem child?” Eraser shook him lightly, and vomit came up in his throat. Izuku reached for his knife almost like a reflex and held onto it afterwards, anyway. He wasn’t going to stop this until he cut the bullets out. Simple as that. “What are you doing?”

Eraser’s words barely registered as he stabbed his knife into his thigh. The thump of his heartbeat got quicker as he reached his fingers into the hole, ignoring the uncomfortable squelching noises that came with it, and searched for the bullet. It was like a needle in a haystack, or metal in a flesh stack. The nerves in his leg felt like they were on fire. His lips were scarred with bite marks that he refused to let heal as his leg screamed and shook out with every movement of his fingers in their search. Blood coated his hands like a slimy blanket. Refused to come off even as he got his hand out and threw the tiny piece of metal onto the ground.

He had to keep the knife out. There was still another bullet.

“Can’t heal properly when the bullets are still inside.” He coughed, the blood that coated his lips sprang out and mixed with the stains of it already on the roof.

“You could’ve told me that,” Eraser groaned. “Got any more?”

“Shoulder,” Izuku said, gathering the strength to lift his arms up to do it all again when Eraser took the knife off him and lined it up to his shoulder.

“Here?” He nodded, and like that his shoulder was on fire again.

Izuku didn’t mean to cry out. The noise came straight from his rotting, infernal core that he could never control, even if he tried. Eraser took it as an opportunity to whisper whatever comforts he could as his hand searched for the metal in his flesh. Flesh that tried to constrict and heal around his hand to no avail repeatedly. “Hey, hey you’re okay. It’s gonna be alright. Just give me a second, kiddo, just one. You’re gonna be fine. I promise.” Erasers said repeatedly as he tried to get the bullet out. Tears came down from his eyes without him even meaning them too and he wiped them away before he hoped Eraser even saw them.

When the two blood-stained bullets met each other on the rooftop, Izuku wanted to pass out then and there. He felt over the rip in his shirt and felt as the curtain of skin pulled itself over properly.

“Your healing is remarkable.” Eraser whispered after his hand brushed over his shoulder to check for the stab wound and found nothing.

“Quirks are extraordinary.” Izuku mumbled, his own heartbeat racing in his ears.

Eraser knew about his healing now. No ifs, ands, or buts, he knew.

“Nedzu wants to know how yours works. Just warning you.” Eraser sighed, his hands moved to pull Fox’s coat over his exhausted body when Izuku couldn’t get the energy to move his head from leaning against the hero’s shoulder. “We saw the security footage of you jumping out of Endeavour’s office.” His mangled, broken and rotted out heart jumped straight up to his throat.

“What…” They knew he had multiple quirks. Nedzu had to know. He was fucking Nedzu. If they knew about the multiple quirks, then they were already too far down. Too close to finding out the truth for Izuku to still be around them. He didn’t want to leave Eraser. To leave behind Fox. Why was he this much of an idiot?

“I just don’t get why you don’t use the light part of your quirk more.” The word part echoed in his brain repeatedly. They thought it was one quirk. It wasn’t as bad as he thought it was — he still had a chance. A small, measly chance, but he had one. Izuku couldn’t stop being Fox, not yet, not when people like Eri were still in danger. “I mean, the healing seems to be quite passive, but the light part could be extremely useful.”

“Takes a lot of energy.”

“Listen, problem child, I’m in your corner, all right? You can tell me things.” Izuku wanted to open his mouth and never shut it again. He wanted to scream and shout and get everything out of him all over again.

But he still wasn’t that kid who wanted to die. He couldn’t die. And if Eraser ever found out how, then he could be dead before he could even blink. Izuku needed to have Fox long enough to save Eri. Then he’d stop. Run away, never see Eraser again, and dissipate until he was nothing but a faulty memory. A nightmare that haunted his life for a while. Fox just needed to be around that long.

So he only nodded, his head against Eraser’s shoulder and pain rife across every cell in his body.

He hoped the night sky was pretty. It was one of the last ones the Fox mask would ever see.

Chapter Text

When the leaves began to fall, Izuku knew his time was running out. His time alive, his time being free and his time as Fox all felt like they were on some kind of hourglass that he could just make out when the sand began to run out.

He could see them quite clearly when he finished his notebook on Overhaul. A week long study into the man after Dabi dropped those hideous bullets into his hands. Bullets that could kill even him.

It would’ve been a dream come true if he hadn’t had too much to live for. Eri, Hitoshi, Eraser. After he saved Eri and Fox was gone, maybe, but not now. So he kept on writing.

His hand started to hurt when he got to the nineteenth page of his notebook. He only had four bullets, so he kept his tests to the two of them and left the other two intact. Just in case. Every experiment was detailed in full, line and line of findings filled each page. It looked crazed, manic and almost exactly as insane as Chisaki’s research was.

He should’ve paid closer attention to those files, and he might’ve known more of what to look for.

At the end of his experiments, he still didn’t fully know what to look for, and his two bullets had been reduced to nothing but disfigured metal and ash. After his failures in his experiments, he snuck out of the highschool science lab he was using and went back out into the night. If he couldn’t figure it out himself, then he might as well ask. Even if the information he got was dull and useless, he still wrote it down. Most people were too scared to even talk about the Shie Hassaki but he just put a knife to their throat and asked them as politely as he could to talk. He didn’t even have to draw anyone’s blood to get more than enough answers to fill about seven pages.

It was all for Eri.

That was what got him through the long nights. Pass the icy winds that snuck into his apartment and the hunger that crawled at his chest. It was all for Eri. Nothing else mattered.

Hitoshi was worried. He knew that from the stares and the held too long touches that he wished lasted even longer. Worry and pity were emotions he was used to being felt towards him, so he sucked it up, pushed it down and kept at his work. He had only told the boy little bits of his case with Eri. Small secrets he whispered as the day at Dagoba Beach ran late and the tears took their welcome even when they weren’t wanted.

Fox hadn’t been going out as much either. It started with an experiment running too late for him to go out and ended with multiple nights in a row spent as Izuku without a Fox in sight. People got worried, Ochaco got worried, and so he forced himself up even as exhaustion coated his eyes and he did his job.

Some people shouted at him for breaking into Endeavour’s building. Others praised him. Some just ignored it all together. Only a few media outlets had even reported it. “The heist in the dark,” they’d taken to calling it because of the lack of information about it. The only reason they knew it had happened was one interview with Endeavour that had been practically scrubbed off the internet (except for the copy he had, of course). Some people were bitter. While others were even closer than normal. A lot of it didn’t even matter.

It was all for Eri.

The girl was his responsibility. No matter what, he would be there to help her. It had been a few weeks since he’d seen the girl, and the thought of what could’ve happened even in that space of time terrified him. Memories of weeks spent in darkness, days spent with pain as the only thing he knew, years of his body being shaped, turned and forced into something he wasn’t against his very will flashed in his brain methodically whenever he thought of taking a break. Willing him to keep ongoing.

Eri was what kept him going.

There were two working bullets left in his drawer. If he took them both to Eraser, then he’d have more of a chance to figure out how they worked. But then Izuku would lose the chance to have one for himself. Eraser would never let him. No one would let him. This bullet was Izuku’s only chance to die, to let the death that resided in his chest, a vacant, beating, gaping hole that needed more quirks to feed it, take over and leave nothing but the corpse that he was behind.

He wasn’t going to use it yet. It was just always good to have a failsafe. A way for his father to not be able to take him.

So he kept one in his drawer and brought the other one to Eraser on a rooftop with his notebook. The hero was none the wiser.

He didn’t know any of his plans. About how Fox was leaving for Eraser’s safety after Eri was saved. Of how easily Izuku could get rid of himself now.

Something about having people close, yet no one knowing, gave him a thrill he wasn’t expecting.

His legs swung back and forth over the edge of a rooftop he never had seen and yet been to more times than he could count.

“You’ve been very thorough with all this,” Eraser praised. The sound of paper scratching against paper hit his ears as he flicked through the pages of scrawl he’d made.

“A lot of villains are scared of me for some reason.” Fox shrugs, a lighthearted joke that makes the heroes heartbeat he’d been passively hearing jump a beat. Then he decided to focus on it.

“Fox?” He put the book down between them. Close enough for him to grab if he wanted to run. “You’d tell me if you were in real life-threatening danger, right?”

“Why?” he asked, listening to the soft, quickening patter of a heart in the hero’s chest. Waiting for a lie.

“A villain I brought in said you were Stain’s lapdog.” He frowned. Well, that was just rude. Sure, Fox may have let Stain train him for long periods of time and followed what he said and — oh shit — he might be his lapdog.

He hasn’t killed anyone for him though. Or even broken the law, he’s just tried to fight the guy and learned what he could from him. If Stain decided to go around saying he liked him, that was a Stain problem, not a Fox problem.

“I’m not if that’s what you’re asking.” Fox didn’t know what he was. Stain was one part of his life that he wasn’t proud of, and Eraser was another. Izuku always knew it was wrong, but so was being a vigilante. Everything he did was wrong, and where can he draw the line if Stain gave him that attention he wanted? Stain said he was doing well.

“Good. You shouldn’t be anywhere near Stain.” Eraser ruffled up his hair. The hero also thought he was doing good. The air felt less stalled and shaky around Eraser than it did Stain. Izuku liked Eraser more.

That had to count for something.

“He just likes me, I guess. Follows me around, made a speech in a bar about me once.” Izuku had to make it count. Lie and scratch away any evidence from getting out that he liked Stain. Was close to Stain. If it never got out, then it didn’t matter, and maybe the guilt of every time he had and would see Stain and not bring him in would stop weighing his head down whenever he tried to look up at the sun. “I don’t like him. I ignore him if anything.”

“I believe you,” Eraser said, as calm as could be. There Izuku went again, tricking everyone he could.

He didn’t let himself linger with the weighted feeling in his chest. In the warm feeling that crowded his head or the muffled print it left on his thoughts. He was lightheaded, but he wasn’t hungry. Stressed but not in danger. It all just felt wrong. Vomit crawled up from his stomach, latching its claws into his throat on its way up.

“What does this say?” Eraser leaned in front of him. The heat from his arm radiated across Fox’s arm. He pointed at something on the page and made it rustle.

“I’m not sure.” Izuku shrugged, the only excuse he could come up with. He could have probably figured it out if he had run his hand over the ink and given himself a few minutes, or if he had just taken his mask off and looked, but he didn’t. Instead, he just sat there, useless as ever.

“These bullets could be extremely dangerous in the wrong hands.” Eraser moved on.

“Not even All Might could stop them, heroes as we know it would be useless.” Izuku followed his lead.

“If they have lots of these, then every hero involved in the raid could lose their quirk.” Eraser spun the bullet back and forward from the plastic bag he put it in to look professional (he’d stolen it the night before).

“You could try to figure out a cure?” Fox shrugged. If he couldn’t figure one out, then he had to pray they could find something.

“The raid is in a week. We don’t have enough time.”

“A week?” Eraser’s heartbeat didn’t speed up despite his slip. He only scoffed and nudged their shoulders together.

“Yes, a week. We should inform all the heroes involved of the possibility of losing their quirks. It might cut our numbers in half, but it’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

“I’m going to be there.”

“Didn’t think I could stop you.” Eraser laughed, a belly laugh that Izuku soon reciprocated. Not even death itself could stop him from being there to save Eri. It was going to happen. A few days and Fox would be just a memory. He picked his stomach off the ground and kept on smiling at Eraser. He had a week left after all.

“Don’t get shot, alright.”

“I’m not gonna promise anything. That’s bad luck with you.”

“I’ll get you the schematics of the building, we have a guess where we think Eri is being held but it will take quite a bit of fighting to get there.” Eraser promises, taking away the notebook and bullets he’d spent so long on.

“Fighting that would let them get away with her.”

“That’s where you come in.” Eraser patted his shoulder, and Izuku let himself lean into it just this once. For old times’ sake. “Sneak in however you can, get in there, get Eri and get out. Got it?”

“She’s the priority.” He nodded, his legs still swaying despite any attempts to get them to stop.

This was good. Izuku was going to save her, help her from the horrific fate he had been subjected to for too long. It was perfect. This was what he wanted.

He just didn’t know exactly how to get to her. Her room would be heavily guarded, especially so during a raid. Their first order of business would be to get her out. That was what father did to him whenever there was a fight. Get the thing you need out, then focus on the fighting. Izuku would have to get into the building before the Yakuza even realised there was a raid. Which meant getting in there without being caught at all. Not exactly his specialty.

Fox could slip away during the raid. Convince Eri to come with him despite his failing her last time and run to the high heavens to get her out.

Eraser was going on and on about how dangerous Chisaki’s quirk was, but all Izuku heard was that he could heal from it. He’d be fine, and he could save Eri. The millions of quirk analyses he could’ve done set aside just to make himself feel more sure that he could save her. Could protect her like no one could’ve for Izuku.

Kai Chisaki was a monster, but he was no All for One.

“Do you happen to have a blueprint of the ventilation system?” Izuku asked, a cheshire grin on his face as usual. This was going to work. His claustrophobia would have to deal with it. It had to. For Eri’s sake.

A week can feel less than an hour if you spend every waking minute of it planning, stressing and re-planning when you realise how dumb your original plan was. The vents were complicated and small and cramped, but nothing he couldn’t get through if he just got over himself and stopped panicking.

He had the route mapped, had snacks in his tool belt for both him and Eri, and he had more than enough knives to throw some if worse comes to worst.

The girl was going to get out of there, no matter what it took.

In his planning, however, he had forgotten about his scheduled training session with his friends and had to rush over while leaving his apartment in an even bigger mess than normal. There were papers and blueprints spread across the floor, post it notes scattered on the walls, and his designated bin was filling up with more rubbish as the days went on. He could clean after the raid. When his life was oh so less full.

When he got to the warehouse, the two heartbeats were already there. They were sitting on the floor and chatting away as they waited for him. He smiled at the thought of it. People actually cared about him. The feeling almost made him squirm from the foreignness of it all.

“Well, there you are!” Denki shouted the second he creaked open the door. It hadn’t even shut properly before he was up on his feet, practically buzzing on the spot. Silently begging to get moving.

“Sorry, lost track of time!” Izuku apologised.

“It’s fine. We can wait for you.” Hitoshi spoke softly and got up without even squeaking his shoes onto the floor of the warehouse, truly just elegance in a bottle.

“Okay—what was the plan for today again?” He coughed, cutting off his train of thought before it went too far. Thinking too far about Hitoshi only led to the tugging feeling in his chest getting heavier.

“Sparring mostly.” Denki sighed. “We do a lot of sparring.”

“Fox is good at sparring.” Hitoshi pushed him, but his disappointment was still clear. He’d disappointed someone else.

After about two seconds of worthless thinking, he blurted out, “What if we fought me, yeah? That works!” in an attempt to get them happy again. It was his second last day as Fox. He wasn’t going to let it be this much of a bummer, alright?

“Oh, let’s go! Me first, me first!” Denki shot forward, getting into the fighting position on their makeshift mask before Izuku could even say anything else. He dropped his tool belt onto the ground next to Hitoshi so he wouldn’t accidentally pull a knife on his friend. Sparring, not real fighting, he reminded himself as he got ready.

No need to seriously hurt him — Izuku’s life wasn’t actually in danger. He repeated it in his head until it was ingrained. Until Denki’s heartbeat so close didn’t make him want to fight until the threat was completely gone.

The second Hitoshi said go, Denki rushed forward. He got a good hit onto Izuku’s shoulder, and he had to catch his arm as he pulled back to try to throw him onto his back. In return, he got a kick to the stomach and an overconfident Denki. That was his biggest flaw. He got cocky. Assured that he could win no matter what once he had the upper hand, with no idea of how easily that could be used against him. Despite all his drilling into him to stay vigilant, the boy still stood too calm after getting a good kick onto him.

With an easy kick to the back of the legs and they buckled underneath him, he grabbed onto his shoulder and threw him in his best impression of a judo throw onto the mat. A thud rang out as he fell down onto his back.

“Good kick, you’re still getting too overconfident.” Fox explained, his hand out to help him up.

“That was so cool, Fox-bro.” Denki awed, a giggle spilling out of his mouth as he stood back up. “You fight like that and you’ll get all the ladies.”

“I’m not that fussed.” He shrugged, pulling on the ends of his hair again.

“Seriously?” Hitoshi asked, louder than he had meant to as he covered his mouth before the sound had even stopped echoing around the room.

“I like helping people, men or women. I don’t mind.” There were a lot more problems in Izuku’s life for him to deal with than who he liked. For Izuku, people were just that — people. Everyone was worthy of love and happiness unless they did something abhorrent to ruin that. People were beautiful until they uglied themselves, yet Izuku was too stained himself to even judge sometimes.

He liked people. Hitoshi was just one of those people.

“Oh… Good to know.” He mumbled. His foot tapping on the floor wasn’t loud enough to echo, but he still caught it. Every last tap.

“Well, I for one wanna see Shinsou get his arse handed to him, so!” Denki pushed Hitoshi onto his feet, and Izuku wiped his hands on his pants to get rid of the sweat that refused to disappear.

They both stood on the mat. Not any closer than he and Denki were, and it still felt like they were too close. It was warmer now than it was when he was fighting Denki. His brain seemed to overheat at the thought of standing there any longer.

Hitoshi ran forward only two minutes after Denki shouted, start while Fox seemed to be stuck in some sort of haze. A mumble in his brain that wouldn’t go away no matter what he did. His arm got grabbed, and he retaliated with a kick to the back of his leg out of pure reflex.

After he shoved down the urge to apologise, Izuku jabbed his elbow into the boy’s ribs to make him fall to the side. Sadly, he got his balance back before Izuku could get another shot in, so he got a good kick to the stomach after that. Hitoshi didn’t have Denki’s overconfidence problem, so he’d have to figure out something else.

He grinned, then started punching. Anything he could collide his fists with, he did in a mad blur of movement. There was a kick to his leg and a slap to his side, but it barely even registered as he kept on hitting. It was as simple as grabbing his collar and shoving him to the ground after that. Except Hitoshi didn’t let go, and he grabbed his coat to drag him down with him.

His heartbeat was close. Too close. Their faces were only inches away from each other, and it was only his own arms keeping him up. Stopped him from crashing his face into Hitoshi’s chest and never looking back. Hitoshi didn’t push him away.

He was looking too far into it. That was the truth. If he tried to tell himself anything else, then he would just be setting himself up for failure. Crashing and burning all alone again.

“You’re good.” Izuku laughed. His hair had fallen onto his face and scratched his cheeks. He couldn’t move to wipe them away though, then he’d fall and then Hitoshi would hate him and everything that could go wrong would.

“You’re better.” Hitoshi laughed, his heartbeat almost as fast Izuku’s “I don’t think anyone could be better than you.” He whispered only loud enough for him. Then, he reached his hand up and tucked Izuku’s hair behind his ears. In his mind, Hitoshi moved his hand down, pulled Izuku towards him and didn’t let go until he was sore.

His face warmed up quicker than a wildfire.

He was far enough away that Hitoshi’s heartbeat didn’t burst his eardrums in a matter of seconds. An excuse — he needed an excuse. “Well, we obviously need to do some more training—”

“Damn! Shinsou, what happened to your arm?” Denki decided to interrupt him before he could get too far into his excuse making. Loud enough to cut him out of his Hitoshi-filled daydreams.

The sound of a wool jumper scratching against skin carved itself into his ears. “Hit it on a door.” He shrugged, the skip in his heartbeat telling that he was lying through his teeth. Lied. Why did Hitoshi lie about how he got his injury? If he paid attention, then Hitoshi always seemed to lie when it was about his foster parents. Why the fuck was he lying? For a moment, concern mixed with a frightening amount of anger overpowered any blooming teenage feelings that took over his dumb mind every once in a while.

Hitoshi was lying — he would find out why.

“How bad is it?” He asked, grabbing onto his sleeve to not let him run away. Not this time.

“It’s fine, barely even hurts.” Lie. All a lie.

The hypocrisy was spelling itself out to him in big letters on his conscious, but he barely even cared. Izuku could handle himself. He couldn’t die. Hitoshi could. If he was getting even a tiny bit hurt at home, then he swore to anything he could that he’d make them suffer. Suffer far more than even he had.

“That thing is like the size of my forehead.” Denki shouted out, obviously appalled by the lies just as much as Izuku was. Except he could see the bruise. Could see how bad it was, and he was shocked, crazed, angry. He had to hold back the urge to pull his mask off just so he could see it too.

“Oh, shut up!” Hitoshi fought back, divulging the two of them into meaningless bickering that didn’t matter. Didn’t get to the core of the issue. None of it mattered — Hitoshi was what mattered, not how clumsy he must’ve been to fall into a door hard enough to get that bad of a bruise or how bad his hand to eye coordination was.

It didn’t fucking matter, and they were still talking about it anyway.

Was Hitoshi like Eri? Like him? If he were, then he’d have to save him too, and then he’d be stuck as Fox even longer. Endangering people even longer. All he ever did was get people hurt. No wonder Hitoshi didn’t want to talk to him, to tell him these things.

“You okay Fox?” There was a hand on his shoulder and it took every piece of will he had not to throw it over his shoulder and stamp until the heartbeat stopped.

“Yeah, sorry, preoccupied.” He laughed and shoved the hand off his shoulder with a smile.

“Want to talk about it?” The little hypocrite said and filled his blood with anger once again. He had to take multiple deep breaths in and out just to get them to go away. The voices in his head that said to scream until his own ears were raw from hearing.

“I’m here too, if you wanted to talk.” Denki piped up, still lying down in his spot on the ground, as calm as ever.

“He can talk to me.”

“You don’t own him.”

“Guys,” Izuku warned, their bickering getting to his head now that he could hear it. Fighting over him was against the rules. Fight about something normal. Like ice cream or whatever. His little knowledge of social interactions was more glaringly obvious every time he hung out with two normal people. He doubted either of them had begged their father to not have them strapped down to a table and experimented on for days on end, so they were just as out of their depths with him as he was with them.

He just knew all about it. In excruciating detail.

“We aren’t fighting.” Hitoshi said, his foot tapping against the ground once again.

“Yes, actually, Shinsou is staying round my house tomorrow night.” Denki sprung up as he spoke, no longer finding his spot on the ground entertaining enough, apparently.

“Are you?”

“I was promised free food.” Hitoshi shrugged. “If you wanted to swing round—”

“I’m busy tomorrow.” Izuku cut him off almost immediately. Remorse only came afterwards when he’d realised what he’d done. “Not that I wouldn’t like to come—I would love too—I just have something really important tomorrow. Like life saving important.” Eri came before anything else. Something told him that even if the mission went perfectly, then Izuku would want to be alone. Completely alone to think about how he could keep on helping people even not as Fox. The feeling of saving someone wasn’t something he could live without anymore. He needed it to sleep at night, and going back to his complacency would just make him more likely to grab that bullet that sat in his drawer even quicker.

Maybe he’d bury his mask in his grave — it would be fitting after all this time.

“That’s our Fox, always off saving someone’s life.” Denki sighed, his feet still scuffing on the warehouse floor as he walked in circles.

“It’s the job, ain’t it.”

“Well, we could keep the windows open. If it goes well or even if it goes badly, you could come over.” Hitoshi wrapped his arm around Izuku’s shoulder. It was tighter than he normally liked physical contact to be, but somehow, it didn’t even affect him. The race in his heart wasn’t fear or stress, just warmth. A warmth he couldn’t control and needed to stomp out. He indulged in his own selfishness and leaned in anyway, resisting the urge to bang his own head into the floor multiple times every second he sat there listening to the boy’s racing heart.

“You know where I live.” Denki laughed, sitting down on the ground in front of them and tapping his foot against the ground repeatedly.

“Sadly,” Izuku sighed.

“Hey!” they laughed. For a moment, it felt like he was even lighter than air.

He wanted to take off his mask. It was dumb and would get Denki in even more trouble, but he wanted to, anyway. Denki’s training couldn’t be stopped. He needed to help the boy get into UA. That was his dream — Izuku wasn’t just going to squash it.

The mask would come off after. Once the air had died down and Fox was nothing but an old whisper — Izuku would make it up to him for stopping. He could find some programmes where he could volunteer to help people. It would be a lot less dangerous than Fox was and would definitely make Eraser happy. Even if he’d never know about it…

That train of thought was torn away before he could do any more than dip his toes into it. The tears could come later, when Eri was safe and Fox was gone. When Eraser said his last goodbye without even knowing it and Izuku would go back to starving in the cold. It had been a year, for goodness’ sake. A year of wearing this stupid mask and running around during the night. Yet it only felt like a few weeks since he first went into that warehouse. Did they ever notice they were short a mask?

Training ended at the usual time, and he ignored the clawing feeling in his chest that said he was running out of time. Rope that was in the tips of his fingers yet too far away for him to grasp — to take hold of and keep. It was going to slip away from him no matter what he did. All he could do was watch.

His apartment felt smaller as he shut the door behind him, the air thinner and the floor more cluttered. The windows were shut, and yet it felt cold enough to turn his skin blue.

As he placed his mask onto his table, he took a deep breath and whispered out into the empty, dark, cold night.

“I have to do this”

It was about seven PM. He needed to get Eri around nine AM the next morning. His alarm was set for four am, and after about an hour of tossing and turning, he was thrown into a fretful sleep. It didn’t matter. He just needed to sleep. Wouldn’t be much use to Eri if he didn’t.

After that, he cleaned his room for two hours. Moved things around and brushed away dirt to make his apartment look more presentable for when he got back, in pain and tired. He would be too busy for any of this after the raid. Getting rid of Fox entirely would be a workload in and of itself.

After he’d be fine. After he wouldn’t really have anything to do. Back to the eternal loneliness that plagued his bones before he put the mask on.

A shiver ran through him, and he kept on cleaning. The dark just outside his window painted his room in a purple hue that he liked. Looked like Hitoshi’s hair, really.

After all that, he only had to do the easiest part — leave his bloody house. The vans must’ve looked inconspicuous this early in the morning to a normal person — but Izuku could hear the voices inside. Could hear the frantic heartbeats. He knew what was happening.

He just had to pray he could actually save the girl he had put the mask on one last time for.

Chapter Text

Eraserhead surveyed the scene around him. The heroes were pushing forward into the Shie Hassaki building at monotonously slow speeds, but baby steps were still movement. Some people were getting worried about Eri, about if she was getting taken out through some secret entrance that they didn’t have ten heroes surrounding.

Aizawa had trust though, Fox would make sure she was okay. Eri was basically all the kid had even thought about the last few weeks. Every conversation, every movement, every interaction was about her. How to keep her safe, how to get her out of trouble. Fox had latched onto the girl like nothing he’d seen in the entire year of having the kid behind him in his shadows.

He almost smiled when he realised it had been a year. He and Hizashi were sitting together on their couch — Bell lounged between them without a care in the world — as the clock struck midnight. Midnight on the day that three hundred and sixty five days ago he had run to a warehouse at a kid’s terrified insistence, and met the kid who’d caused his every piece of stress since then. He wouldn’t have changed a thing.

Without Fox, so many more people would’ve died in nomu attacks, in night time fights and muggings — not to mention Eri. The girl who no one knew existed until weeks ago. Until Fox told them.

His group was scouring the outside. The perimeter around the building was locked tight — people with X-ray quirks had looked for every secret or underground exit or entrance weeks ago, and now there was no way in or out without ten heroes on your tail. He doubted that had stopped Fox. If it did, he would’ve swung round to Aizawa, and he would’ve had to let him in as sneakily as he could. With a look around at the people in his group, he knew that they’d let him slide by. Rocklock, Nighteye — truly, he it wouldn’t have been that hard.

But Fox wasn’t with them — which meant that he had successfully snuck in. That meant there was a way to sneak in and, presumably, a way to sneak out. He didn’t let that thought haunt him and continued to patrol his designated exit, the sounds of fighting from the inside echoing through the walls. His eyes stayed peeled, looking for that green hair and orange mask that always seemed to mean trouble.

The raid had started almost half an hour ago. Legions of heroes jumping upon the unsuspecting Shei Hassaki building and fighting their way through while starving out any other means of entry. It was a good plan — just not one that accounted for a child. That was why Aizawa had taken things into his own hands anyway.

“He’s inside, isn’t he?” Rocklock mumbled as he sat down next to Aizawa, his patrol just ending and another for a different hero beginning.

“Who?” Aizawa kept a straight face as he feigned ignorance, tapping on the mics they had strapped to them in case they needed to radio someone. An unwanted side effect was that anyone could be listening in on their conversations at any given moment.

“Fox! Come on, man, don’t play dumb with me.”

“I have no idea what you mean.” Aizawa scratched his nose and sent him a thumbs up as discreetly as he could.

“You told him to be careful?” He asked, the look of a man who cared on his face. Rocklock had been asking him questions on and off over the past year. The hero just cared about him, Aizawa reckoned it had something to do with the man’s new baby making him more paternal to everyone else around him.

“When does he ever listen to me?” he sighed. Truer words never had been spoken.

“You’d like him, Nighteye!” Rocklock shouted to the hero, still pacing back and forth despite it not being his patrol. He scowled down at the two of them. His posture was as straight as a statue as he stood at attention.

“Would I now?” Nighteye mumbled, his glasses gaining a glare as he tipped them down at the two of them. Aizawa hadn’t spent too much time around the number one hero’s old sidekick, but he knew one thing — the man was good. He was a skilled detective who got results almost all the time — he was the kind of guy they needed on a case like this.

Aizawa also knew, from a friend who used to work for the man, that he loved humour almost religiously. Give him a day with Fox and he’d either start a fan club for the boy, or start a hero fan club with the boy. He already had to fend off Nedzu from snatching the boy up — he didn’t expect Nighteye to be much better.

“Yeah, he’s the kid who got Endeavour put in his place.” Rocklock grinned, his fist punching the ground to make his point.

“Well, I’m sure he’s a great kid.” Nighteye nodded, not meeting his eyes. A solemn frown etched onto his face.

“I’ll try to get you two to meet after this.” Eraser laughed. The kid would be in charge if he did or not, but any interaction between those two would be a story for the ages. It’d probably make his dumb problem child happy as well. There weren’t many lengths Aizawa wouldn’t go to for that outcome.

Nighteye refused to look down, his hands clasped behind his back and his scar straying over his glasses. “I doubt I’ll be able to.”

“What do you mean?” There’s a solemn look in Nighteye’s eyes, remorse, regret. Complete acceptance of what was to come shone through it all. It was a look that Nighteye had to get used to in his career. Being able to see the future, every last step, last death and last tragedy and being unable to stop it. He couldn’t stop whatever he saw about Fox, but how could he know that if he never tried? “You saw something.”

He was looking at something far away. Something forever out of his grasp. “I saw a fox mask, left and abandoned, and a body rotted to nothing. pure dust.”

“You’re lying.”

“What reason would I have for doing that?”

The silence, sharp as needle, was cut through by their radios crackling into existence. “Group Alpha, prepare to move in.” Group alpha. Phantom was in that group.

“Phantom!” Eraser shouted into his radio as quickly as he could, god damned whoever else was on the call.

“Eraser, what’s up?” She whispered through the line.

“Fox, he’s in there. Make sure he’s okay, alright.”

“Will do, Eraser.” Her voice didn’t waver. Pure determination seeped through every word. Just like it did every time. “See you on the flip side.”

“That won’t do anything.” Nighteye sighed, his stance unchanged in the past five minutes despite his issuing a death sentence to a teenager. A child. His student.

“Just shut up and do your patrol!” Eraser bit, an anger running through his blood that wanted to reach out and strange Nighteye until his eyes showed even a tad of emotion. Then he’d run into the building, no matter what the plan was, and get Fox out. He shouldn’t have let him come in the first place. Should’ve arrested him, pushed more, stopped him more. It never should’ve gotten this far.

“He’ll be fine, Eraser.” Rocklock tried to console him, a hand on his arm that did nothing but burn.

“You can’t promise that.” No one could. Fox could heal remarkably well. A stab wound was nothing he couldn’t brush off, and a gunshot was only annoying. But those were wounds. This was pure disintegration. Nothing. Could he really come back from nothing? The thought of his students’ body withered to dust within his hand was nothing short of horrific. His nightmares brought back right into his life, now forced onto the hundreds of heroes around him as well.

One thought was plaguing his head. Ripping through any of the haze he tried to wrap around himself, and forced itself in front, centre stage, where the memory had been for years, anyway.

It would be Oboro all over again.

—

Movies never tell you how fucking small vents really are. Every second he spent crawling through them had the walls pushing on every part of his body. His hair kept getting caught as his arms had to push himself on the memorised path to where Eri’s room was. When he’d gotten in there, the raid hadn’t even started yet. Then he got sidetracked with about three panic attacks from the constricting walls that were even smaller than he’d tried to convince himself they would be.

By the time he’d punched himself in the face enough — he didn’t want to waste energy healing a stab wound — to calm down, the raid had started and he had to hurry up. His breath was too much, and his heart was too fast with every little movement. The walls just never left.

The guilt didn’t help his panic riddled brain as every little movement just reminded him of being trapped. Trapped in his name, in his room, in closets and nooks and crannies. Stuck under his father’s gaze with nothing to do about it. The walls enclosed on him, and he couldn’t tell if he was imagining it or the vents were just getting smaller around Eri’s room.

When he had to keep his head down to keep moving, he guessed it was the vents actually closing on him, and his heartrate only got quicker after that.

His arms wanted to push. To punch and scratch his way out of here, but that would bring attention. Eri didn’t need more attention while she was still being kept in her room. Alone in her room where he could get her. The plan was to crawl through the vents with her, but that became more unrealistic with each second he had to push down his own panic.

He could tell her where to go and find himself another way out. But if she got caught doing that, then it would be like they were at square one. As well, there wouldn’t be heroes at the entrance since he had to jump from another building to even get in there.

With each turn, he wanted to cry, and with each bang of a limb against a piece of metal, he wanted to scream. Mentally, he ran through the plan. Sneak in through the vents, convince Eri to come with him, crawl back with her before handing her off to a hero and dropping his mask for good. At least after that, he wouldn’t have to be in vents ever again.

No more long nights outside jumping between rooftops, no more jelly with Eraser, no more annoying heroes. It would all be gone.

If he said it enough, eventually he knew he would be happy with this outcome.

The vents were too small. It wasn’t even his exaggeration. The vent just above Eri’s room was too small for him to fit anymore than just his head in. A few more inches and he’d be directly over the top of her room. It seemed too sudden to be a coincidence, especially as he could see a few feet away that the vent got big again when it got past the boundaries of the girls’ room. Seemed almost intentional.

Nothing he could’ve done about it then, or the rest of what had happened to the girl, so he simply got the saw he had picked up for this mission and got to work cutting. He could lean into the too small vent to cut through it, so then he only had to deal with the constricted space as long as it took him to cut through the metal. That and the rapidly increasing heartbeat of the girl got his arm working quicker than it had in years.

His tool belt was scarcely packed. Three knives, his hammer, the saw he was planning on dropping the second he got through this bloody roof, and his bullet. Just in case. What exactly compelled him to throw it into his pocket he didn’t know, but the compulsion was there, and he had too little time to fend it off. He didn’t want his belt to weigh him down as he shuffled through the vent with his heart loud enough to wake up a country and his head warm enough to burn his own hand.

When he finally got through the wall, then he had to start sawing in a square big enough for him to jump through. As quickly as he could. The tiny, terrified heartbeat that was curled into the corner couldn’t have anything else.

Sawdust crawled into his lungs and made him cough profusely as he jumped into the room. It was small, but cluttered beyond comprehension. Toys wrapped and untouched lined every wall in a perfect line. The floors were sterile, he could smell the bleach, and it was incredibly clean. Almost too much. It didn’t look like anyone lived here, nevermind a small child. Maybe a doll collector, but not the small girl that was shaking in the corner. Her heartbeat rang in his hears. Fast — far too fast. Tears ran down her face as silently as she could make them. The only indication of them was the sound of the water meeting the floor.

“Fox?” Eri mumbled into the room, as silent as a breath. Izuku could hear it though. And it broke his cold, rotten, miserable heart more than anything else could. She had remembered him — was waiting, had prayed for him to save her. To take her out of this hellhole like he had so many times with so many people. So many sleepless nights just wishing someone would care.

He cared. Fox cared about her and he was going to make sure she knew that. If this was going to be the last thing Fox ever did, he was going to save a little girl who reminded him of himself at every turn. At least then one of them could move on.

“Yeah, it’s me Eri. I’m so sorry it took so long.” He kneeled down next to her, speaking as softly as he could to keep her calm. “I’m so sorry for everything.”

“You didn’t do anything…” she whispered, tiny hands scraped against the skin under her eyes as she wiped away her tears.

Well, if that wasn’t right on the money.

“I’m gonna get you to safety, alright?” He promised and softly placed his hands on her shoulders. Before he could figure out how to get the girl to agree to crawl through some vents, she screamed. Jumped out of his arms like a terrified bunny and screamed.

“NO!” she cried. “No—Daddy, he’ll hurt you! He’ll hurt everyone here—please run… Please leave, I—I don’t want you to get hurt. Please. Please go!” Eri crawled away from him with shaking hands and a heart that pushed far too fast. It was all too much for her. She was scared, terrified, and Izuku was only piling onto that.

“Hey—Eri, you’re okay.” Izuku tried to copy every little thing Eraser had ever used on him to calm him down. Breathing, speaking slowly and being open. He kept his hands away despite every want to wrap her up in a hug and keep her safe from anything and everything that had ever wanted to hurt her.

“He’s going to hurt you…” She was hyperventilating. Izuku didn’t know what to do. He was absolutely useless.

“Eri, look.” Izuku took a knife out of his tool belt as slowly as he could. He let her see it leave his pocket. The smallest one he could, and it still terrified her. He pushed through anyway. His palm stung as he dragged the sharp edge of his knife across it. Blood bloomed out of the cut for all of five seconds before it was locked out of his hand, the door shut behind it with a quiet stitch.

“Woah…” She awed, her breath calming as he watched his hand heal in seconds.

“He couldn’t hurt me if he tried, alright?” He said, wiping the blood away onto a floor that had probably seen far too much blood already.

“Then I’ll hurt you—my quirk it’s dangerous.” Eri sniffled, terrified and shaking. She said words that reminded him of himself all too much this time. Maybe even dangerous people need protecting.

“I knew a boy with a dangerous quirk once…” He whispered, barely loud enough to let her hear him. His voice creaked as he spoke, puberty hitting him hard at the moment he didn’t want it to. The memory of the boy opening a lock in his head he didn’t want. “He could disintegrate anything he touched—he was also my brother.”

“What happened to him?”

“One day, I had disobeyed our father. He was angry—so angry—so he picked my brother up by his hair and ordered him to keep his hand on my face until he said to stop.” His hand shook as he pulled his mask off. The orange safety vest that he knew so well was ripped away from him by the hand he called his own. He stuffed it into his tool belt for easy access — an easy way to gain his own safety back.

Eri gaped up at him, stared at his eyes with big red, glowing eyes that belonged to a child too young to have experienced anything she had. Long blue hair flowed to the floor from the tiny girl’s head — oh, she was so tiny. Izuku had to have been that tiny at some point, and still no one even cared. He was still hurt. He wouldn’t let anyone hurt her again.

“The scars are still there, but it did nothing to stop how much I love my brother, alright?” He chose his words carefully, quick to sidestep around how much his brother had hated him. Had revelled in the act. Had been giddy to follow their father’s orders no matter what. Because that was just who his brother was under their father, sometimes — when they were alone — he was nice. Only when they were much younger, whatever kind streak Tomura had was wiped away long before Izuku turned ten.

“I need you to trust me, Eri. I can get you out of this. I can make you safe.” Slowly, unbearably slowly, he placed his hands onto her shoulders again, and this time she didn’t run. Only leaned into the touch.

“I don’t want anyone to get hurt for me…”

“You don’t deserve to be hurt either. I’m not going to let you be hurt again, that’s my job.” He said, honest in every last word and feeling too much like Eraserhead for comfort. Izuku was different — Izuku’s father could murder everyone with a flick of his hand. So he had to be alone, had to work hard to be seen as anything but a monster. He had to. If he didn’t, then why had he suffered so goddamn much?

“You promise?” She mumbled, only loud enough for him to hear, as she looked up at him with tear-lined eyes filled with so much trust and hope that he had to wonder how anyone could even think of hurting her.

“I swear it on my mother.” Izuku nodded, the pit in his stomach getting deeper with every second.

“You’re my hero…” Eri dropped into his arms. Still shaking, but too exhausted to fight against the hug she desperately wanted. Izuku only held her tighter and let her silently cry again. He soaked in the moment for as long as he could, the last nice one of Fox’s short-lived career. There hasn’t been a hero with only one year under their belt in ages.

Pat. Pat. Pat.

Heavy shoes on cold metal floors. Rehearsed breathing as he stalked down the halls. A heartbeat that betrayed his stress with every beat. With sterile gloves on his hands that he was slapping against his wrists, the closer he got to them, the faster and louder they got. The closer to Eri.

“We need to leave.” Izuku bounced up onto his feet. Eri was tight in his arms as he brought her away from the door. The locked door. She started to squirm as he lifted her up to the hole in the ceiling. A tight hold around his neck that wouldn’t let go no matter what. They were going up together or not at all. “Come on, I have a claustrophobia problem, so if I stop, just keep on going, alright.”

“I’m scared…” she mumbled, unaware of the heartbeat only getting closer.

“I am too, but we need to go—” He was too late.

“Put down my daughter.”

Kai Chisaki’s voice echoed across the room. Each word emphasised as he clicked the gun held tight in his hand — pointed directly at Izuku’s head. Scarily close to his own child’s. He wrapped her in his arms and hoped that would be enough. That his flimsy limbs could somehow stop her from being killed.

“Let’s all be calm about this, hey Chisaki?” He recycled a move that had never worked before in the insane hope that, for once, it would. Pure insanity. Trying over and over again.

“My name is Overhaul.” Overhaul said, his voice muffled by the plague mask over his mouth. The purple and green jacket clung to his arms that held a gun too close to Eri for comfort. He was ugly — so goddamn ugly with his stupid hair and stupid eyes that covered his only vision in pure brutal ugliness. “Pretty face, by the way.” He waved his gun around Izuku’s face. His still exposed face.

He could deal with how fucked he was later.

“You’ve been a pain in my side for a long while, you know that? Ever since you showed up in my building, I’ve had people knocking on my door for my research. My life’s work is to rid the world of disgusting quirks.” Izuku didn’t know nor care what he was talking about, but the longer he let him jabber on, the longer he had to think about how to get Eri out. If he let himself get captured so Eri could get out, then that would be worth it. He could live with that. He just had to convince his body of that first to stop himself from running away. “Pawning off my research to the highest bidder was smart, even if you probably had no idea who he was. But they never could get the lamb particle, the thing I needed to make the bullets.”

“Is that because she’s in my arms?” He asked, taking a step backwards to get them both closer to the hole he’d made. Worse comes to worst, he shoves her up in the vents and stalls him until she’s long gone.

“I’m not going to ask again. Give me my daughter.” The gun was cocked. Ready to shoot at his own daughter.

“Why so you can break her apart for your own purposes again?” Anger filled his head like it hadn’t in a while. Since Endeavour, since god knows when, but it hurt. It killed him to watch someone so flimsy with his supposedly own child’s life. “So you can play mad scientist for a while at a little girl’s expense.”

“You don’t know what you're talking about—”

“I know exactly what I’m talking about. Trust me.” He was an Eri. The whole point of Fox was to let there be no more Eris. No more Izukus. No more Yoichis.

There wasn’t going to be another one as long as he could stop it.

“I did try to warn you.” The gun shot. Louder than any gunshot he’d heard before. The roar of a demon let loose from its eternal binds. Free and in so much pain to share.

Izuku turned to hide Eri behind him, but the shot landed nowhere near her. In his leg, right by his calf. The bullet even came out — a perfect outcome, really. With his healing, the hole should close up in a matter of seconds.

So he waited.

And waited.

It didn’t close up.

He was on a rooftop being glared at by a hero, then he was in a warehouse running from one, then he was nine having the very thing he was told made up his worth being ripped away from him and leaving behind mass amounts of blood in their wake. Metallic blood poured out of his mouth. A rainfall of death that twisted into a tempest. The bones in his legs couldn’t hold him up much longer, and screams were battering out of his mouth like it was the Rapture. His stomach was going first, the closest organ it could get its hands on. His throat ran raw and contributed to the blood still flowing out of his mouth. The screaming went silent long before the pain did.

None of it mattered where he was, or what he was doing. All it cared about was collapsing. Falling down onto the space left behind by evolutions long gone. Rotting as it gorged itself on the sweet taste of death. An immune system left to fight itself with no stopping.

It hadn’t lasted this long those times.

With his father, he shoved the regeneration quirk in the second he noticed the blood and the doctor said he was going to die. A ruthless man who couldn’t let his weapon just perish. Eraser didn’t even know what he was doing. Both times it was stopped within seconds, and he still had suffered for what felt like eternity.

This wouldn’t stop.

There was laughing above him and a little girl — Eri, his mind supplied — pushing on his shoulder to get him up. To work on his bones so close to disintegrating. Except he couldn’t get up. He couldn’t fight. Izuku Midoriya was dead. Izuku Shirakumo was dead. He was only what his father called him, and that Izuku was weak. Pathetic beyond belief. A nine-year-old who thought they could just run away without dying first.

God, Izuku was dying.

Fox was dead, and Izuku was going with him.

“It appears the Fox does have a weakness.” Overhaul laughed. A sadistic, monstrous chuckle that barely cut through his own screaming head. Howling nerves and sobbing muscles. “Your disgusting quirk keeping you alive, huh?” There was a foot on his head. Pushing him into the ground. Blood pooled out of his mouth and drowned his throat from the inside out.

“That’s the problem with society. We rely on these gross aberrations of nature to bring us through the day and ignore the stains they all stamp onto our souls. But don’t worry, I’m sure a pretty little kid like you will do just fine in hell with the rest of them.”

A pretty speech for a man whose only listeners were a dying child and a child who would die if he didn’t help her. He needed to help her. She was still there. Breathing and crying and shaking. She needed help that only he could give her. His legs screamed. Dead or dying didn’t matter. They didn’t work.

The foot on his head would only go away if he made it. He could only live long enough to get her out if he made it. Things only happened if he made them. Destructive or downright implosive, Izuku was a boy who saved people.

His arms tingled. He could barely even feel them as he wrapped them around Eri. The only actual pressure was the shooting agony that pushed onto his chest as he held her as tightly as he could. His legs were shaky, but the addictive feeling of adrenaline worked to keep him moving. Keep him pushing. So he pushed, punched and ran. Ran until his legs refused to hold him anymore and then ran even further. Kept on running even when the floor broke and scattered under his feet at Overhaul’s command. Didn’t stop no matter what.

When he finally did fall into Phantom’s arms, he was convinced his right leg was devoid of bones entirely.

Izuku Mydoria was getting his wish.

Izuku Mydoria was dying.

Izuku Mydoria was terrified.

Chapter Text

“Come on, kid, time to wake up.” There was a light. A tiny light, shining off a horn and bouncing off the light blue hair of someone he couldn’t quite see. “Eraser will kill me, kid, come on.”

A voice. A hero’s voice. Not Eraser’s. Someone else’s voice was chanting words up above him. Through the fog and the haze that covered his head and ears and his pain riddled body was a voice he recognised. He was in pure darkness. Izuku was dying, but somehow now he wasn’t. Somehow now there was a light.

It was a girl’s voice. A soft, high pitched voice that if he blocked out the words she said well enough, then it could be his mother. Beckoning him forward. Taking him off to where he could hold her again and all would be well. No more fighting, no more pain, no more sleepless nights where his stomach roared and almost broke his bones from shivering so hard.

No more nice people on the streets. People who used to hate him.

No more Eraser. The hero could live without him. The man had students upon students, and maybe he’d mourn him, but he could move on.

No more Denki. A boy who could easily find a new trainer.

No more Hitoshi. He let out a sob at that. Sure, he could live without him. Happily and forever onward, but by God, Izuku didn’t want to be anywhere he wasn’t.

Would he get a memorial? A body buried under the name Fox — the world too wrapped up in grief to care for his identity. That was the only way his body wouldn’t be repurposed by his father. Again and again, until nothing he did when he was alive even mattered. Until the hand of his father plucked off his wings and graced his soul to the depths of hell with him so he could hold his hand one last time before it was chopped off.

A mask, a photo and a few candles — that was all he wanted.

When he told the voice this, it told him to get up. Tiny hands pushed on his shoulder, begging and crying for him to lift up his head. His mother had much bigger hands than that.

He never could say no to children.

“Eri?” His words came out muffled. Tired and exhausted, just like he was. Then there was a light again, and suddenly he had energy. There was a metal roof above him, and the sounds of fighting came from just a few feet behind the two of them. He was lying down, and there was blood drenching the ground underneath him, probably from his own mouth, and his jacket was stained beyond belief. It made a disgusting squelching sound as he sat up.

“Hero!” Eri shouted, unaffected by the mass amounts of blood that cornered every part of him. There were large spots of it in her hair that likely came from it cascading down his mouth while he ran with her. Izuku had bled on her, and she barely even cared.

He put his hand to his mouth — the blood was gone. It coated his lips, but it had stopped falling. His leg was the same — the bullet hole was gone, and the bone was back in place, a tingly feeling the only evidence that something was ever wrong. “How the…”

Eri stiffened, a look of remorse flashing across her face. “I can rewind people… It’s dangerous, but you were hurting…” She sniffled. Oh, lord that quirk was powerful. He couldn’t even stop his head from going through every possible use it could have. No wonder Overhaul was so passionate about wanting to keep her. With a quirk like that, he could bloody well take over the underworld.

With a quirk like that, his father could make him suffer in ways he couldn’t even fathom. He could turn him back to when he was nine — when a regeneration quirk wasn’t needed. Maybe even back to four so he could repeat the whole quirk giving process all over again. Nothing would ever be final — everything could be reversed.

Were minds affected? If so, then his father could turn him back to five, and then he’d be none the wiser to anything his father had done to him before. To the facades he covered behind head pats and pride filled lines. He wouldn’t care about Papa. Izuku would be all alone.

If it didn’t work, then he could just turn it back again. Over and over in an endless loop he would be trapped in until his father died. So basically never.

“I’m sorry—”

“Hey no, you’re okay.” Izuku cut her off from trying to apologise for saving his life. It was Izuku’s fault for all this anyway — how was he dumb enough to think that the man with quirk removing bullets wouldn’t use them on him? It was a split second, adrenaline—filled, idiotic decision to put himself in front of a bullet instead of dodging it that would’ve cost him his life if it weren’t for Eri. For his little saviour.

“Oh, thank the gods you’re up.” A voice — Phantom’s voice. Oh shit. Phantom was here. He looked around to see her, but she was facing away from him. Then he realised he could see — fuck, he could see. His mask was still on his tool belt, and his eyes were out. Free in the air.

“What’s happening?” He asked. Phantom was still turned away from him. She faced the door, ready to pounce. Her long black hair was tied up in a bun, and her all black costume almost blended into the dark walls of the warehouse.

“Get your mask on and get ready to run with the kid, got it?” She ordered. Izuku nodded. As soon as his mask was latched onto his face, the stench of blood filled his senses like it hadn’t in a long time. It was just there, wrapped around every part of the building. Cold blood, warm blood, blood above him, beneath him — god it was everywhere. It clung to his back, to Eri’s hands and to Phantom’s side. It was behind a bandage, but Phantom was bleeding.

“I’m gonna go dance with a monster.” She sighed, uncaring of the blood, and left to join the screams. The fighting. The blood that Overhaul was bringing to the surface just a few rooms down. He was being held back by heroes, but who knew how long that would last?

Another hero unnecessarily helped him get up after Phantom left. Eri clung to his leg like it were a lifeline, so he picked her up to make it easier. Ignoring the blood that still lingered on the both of them. “There should be an exit near here for the girl—”

“What happened to Phantom?” he asked, holding back the urge to just run to help her. They needed to leave — logically, Eri needed him more than Phantom did. She was a hero. A minor wound wouldn’t hold her down. Except…

“She got shot while we were walking in. We bandaged it. It should be fine.” Shot. Most likely with the same bullets that he was. Would she have even noticed if she had lost her quirk? If such an integral part of her was wiped away?

If she had, she wouldn’t have gone in, right? Wouldn’t offer herself up to death without a qualm. Phantom wasn’t like that. She wouldn’t do that.

Her heartbeat was racing. Something was wrong.

Exit be damned, he ran to open the door — to stop her. He needed to do something before Phantom got herself covered in blood when he could’ve stopped it. Could’ve taken it for her.

“PHANTOM—” The words fell on deaf ears. A woman stood up to a beast thinking she was invincible, and could do nothing when it smashed down on her. Like a deer in the headlights, Phantom got hit. Clawed, smashed, impaled — whatever word you could use for dead, she was it. Izuku listened with bated breath as her heartbeat stopped, and then the heart itself was smashed into nothing. There was more blood on him than there’d been in years.

His questions never did get answered. There was no heartbeat to listen to and no mouth for her to explain herself with. If she knew that her quirk was nothing but a memory when she ran in? He’d never know. Just as he never saw her face. Or heard about her life. Did she have a family? Partner, kids? Maybe even a dog? Someone who’d cry themselves to sleep each wintry night because Izuku wasn’t fucking fast enough.

His breath hitched, and he wrapped Eri’s face into his chest to stop her from seeing it. Whatever it looked like — his eyes were screwed shut. His ears tried to listen out for the heartbeat but only got the sound of shoes squelching as they walked through blood. And blood, and blood. So much blood. He could almost hear the blood, smell it, taste it, feel it.

Something in him refused to let him see it. Blood was a sight he was almost used to, but now, now he let tears cloud his vision. Silent sobs fall down his face to not scare Eri even more than she was.

Phantom was gone. There was nothing Izuku could do but cry about it. Yet there was even blood in his tears.

Overhaul’s heart was out of control. It pumped blood around his body even faster than normal, the blood ran straight to his hands. Clawlike and with parts of the walls embedded in. Heroes were down all around him at various levels of unconsciousness. Yet Phantom was the one dead. His foot didn’t even move one inch forward before it hit against a gun. A bloody gun that once belonged to Phantom — still did belong to Phantom. Dead people can still own things, right?

“Now look what you made me do.” Overhaul laughed, his voice gruff and unforgiving. He was happy. Blood was on his hands, and he was fucking happy. There was a knife in Fox’s tool belt that almost siren-songed him into throwing it. The only thing that stopped him was the tiny, vulnerable, terrified and shaking girl in his arms who needed to be safe. “You could stop this. Stop all this. Come on, Eri, do you really want another hero to die for you?

Eri tried to leave his arms. That snapped him out of his blood-filled haze. “I’m not letting you go with him.” That was all he said as he took Phantom’s bloody gun off the floor, placed it into his toolbelt, dropped Eri off on the ground behind him and waved for the hero to take her.

Then he let the blood take over.

The anger that latched onto his very soul and that he forced himself to numb, to ignore. Not now. Phantom was dead, and in his eyes, Overhaul was just another All for One. He’s wanted nothing more than to beat his father since he was nine. Overhaul could be an excellent substitute.

It took three lashes to his face for Overhaul to start fighting back. He grabbed his knife tighter and kept on slashing at anything he could grab, even as the ground beneath him shook, Overhaul pushed back and metal from the pipes molded into spikes then stabbed right through his heart. Izuku took a breath, pulled the metal out, then threw it straight at his face. His blood met Phantom’s on the cold floor, where he deserved to be.

He cut Overhaul’s ear off and listened to his screams with a sense of satisfaction. Not joy — he couldn’t feel joy while Phantom’s blood still painted his shoes — but definitely not anything near remorse. The man deserved this.

For a moment, he was finally getting a jab at the doctor, then at his brother — that one made him go lighter on the man — then he was stabbing his father and listening to his screams. A smile came to his face at that. If his eyes could be seen behind his mask, then they would’ve been glowing. His father screamed as he held his ear, shot out a mangled piece of wall at him, and he dodged it without a complaint. Izuku even laughed. Full body cackled, looking like an absolute lunatic, as he shot knife after knife directly at his cold, dead heart.

At least they had that in common.

They fell into a rhythm. Overhaul would break things, roofs, floors, walls — even a person that made Izuku want to throw up at the sight of it — then remake them into some sort of weapon and Izuku would dodge them, break them again, and get right back to punching him. He liked the feel of it. Of being on top. He could beat Overhaul into the ground over and over, and as long as he stayed on his feet, he’d be fine. He kept people safe and kept him away from heartbeats fighting with his workers. The fight stayed as far away from Eri as he could make it.

She had refused to leave. He caught that up in his ears in between checking for every slight change of wind from Overhaul’s attacks. If she wasn’t going to run, then he had to beat Overhaul to such a little pulp that he couldn’t go after Eri if he tried. He’d never be able to go after anyone ever again. Not an Izuku, not an Eri, not even a Papa. Especially not another fucking Phantom.

He kicked his foot directly into the man’s neck, then hit his other foot into the side of his head, and jumped off to get ready for another attack. He needed to be weak, helpless to anyone who wanted to beat him up as badly as Izuku wanted to.

Overhaul wasn’t going to die. Not by his hand. Not if he could help it. Izuku didn’t want to kill him, but as each attack went on and on, the line between “knock out” and “kill” became even thinner. The man’s voice became far too much like the gravelly, terrifying one that had gotten him into this mess. That had pawned him off for another man to raise and then called his father.

That Izuku still wanted nothing more than to be a real son to.

His father got a hold of his arm halfway through, and a small thought in the back of his head freaked out at it. That he’d lost, that he was dead. Gone. Soon to be forgotten. But then his kicking and screaming worked, and he still had his quirk in the aftermath. Overhaul was truly no All for One. He laughed again, even as Overhaul got a hit on his face. He laughed.

“Now you’re really pissing me off.” Overhaul spat out. His arms more like claws as he dragged anything he could into his own body. For offence or defence was truly a mystery. Whatever it was, he didn’t like it. “I care quite a lot about my cleanliness, and you’re one of the dirtiest people I’ve ever met.”

“You’re the one covered in blood.” Izuku spat right back, throwing another kick right to the side of his face. He’d hurt Eri. He’d…

Overhaul had fucking killed Phantom. Ripped her to pieces and showed no remorse. Izuku and Fox both were going to make him regret it. If Stain were here, he could’ve made him regret it too. Far more than Izuku could’ve. Stain would’ve done nothing but smiled as he ripped into the man. Would’ve played with him as he froze him in fear, unable to move.

Izuku didn’t even know if he’d stop Stain from killing him. That was the scary part. He could never do it — could never do that to Eraser or Hitoshi or Denki. But god. There was nothing more that he wanted than for Overhaul to suffer for everything he’d done.

“You’re infected, the damn hero disease that runs rampant in every person who has one of those fucking licenses. Oh, and you—you misguided little shit—who runs around at night, spouting as a hero while dragging the world and my organisation down to the ground!” Every word was emphasised with a swing of his arm, attached to the wall sized claws that threatened to take his head off if he moved even a tad bit slower. Was a little less smart, less ready. Then he’d have to wait for him to grow himself a new head, a long enough time for Eri to get taken.

He ducked under the arm again. “So that’s it, huh? You want money?” He cackled, couldn’t hold it back. The thing that pushed this man to experiment on his own daughter was a bloody need for more. Greed.

The laughing stopped when his footwork got sloppy and his claw latched onto his hair. Dragged him straight into the man’s face and no amount of kicking or screaming could stop it. As long as he kept the man’s attention, it would be fine — he reasoned with himself. Even as Eri still stood close enough to be able to get taken back if Overhaul tried hard enough.

“I’m going to kill you, and I’m going to enjoy it.” Overhaul must’ve been smiling behind his mask because his joy seemed to just irradiate from out of his mouth. Every word laced in it. He was enjoying every single bit of this. Izuku knew that Overhaul liked to make people suffer, but it still disgusted him to see it in action.

“Maybe have a shower after. My blood isn’t very clean.” Izuku said, his words as tired as ever even as his energy was redirected into making a force field around his foot. Adrenaline carried him through even as Overhaul’s hand got tighter. Then he kicked, light pushed off in a wave that knocked Overhaul back and through a particularly thin wall.

He was exhausted after that, he knew that in the logical part of his head, but he also knew that there was a girl to save and a fight still to be won. So he pushed himself onto his feet, kept his fists up, and ran to keep up on the fight. He knew that the spikes coming up from the earth would hit him, he just didn’t have the time nor energy to maneuvre himself.

Blood was coughed up as they punctured through his chest and leg. Overhaul was aiming directly for the kill. Only a few inches from his heart was a spike reaching from the ground almost to his jaw. Another only got to above his knee, but it ripped through his calve, nonetheless. It didn’t even hurt that much, but he took the opportunity to let his head hang. He didn’t even want to move. Eri was away, right? It was all okay now.

“Someone else is going to die for you! Is this want you want, Eri!” Overhaul shouted, not out of his mouth, but he shouted anyway. Then there was silence, followed by small pats of little footsteps against the hard ground. Accompanied by a racing heartbeat and terrified tears silenced by pure will.

It was not at all okay.

Where the fuck was everyone else?

He listened out, and only found heartbeat after heartbeat fighting their way through lower members or following orders and staying by their exit, unaware of his fight going on. The other heartbeats were of a few heroes stuck on the ground. Close to dead, or in the case of warm bodies that no longer had a beating heart, were dead.

“She doesn’t want your help, Fox.” Overhaul laughed. The sadistic, cruel laugh he knew so well.

“That truly doesn’t even matter to me anymore.” He said, blood accompanying the words as they spilled out of his mouth. His healing covered up the holes as he pried himself off the spikes as quick as humanly possible, and then ran.

Fox ran as quickly as he could, arms held open to wrap around the little girl. He’d gotten his anger out over Phantom’s death — the tears in his eyes were still there — but the hero wouldn’t have wanted him to risk a little girl’s life over anger for her death. If he’d gotten control of his emotions before then, the two of them might’ve been safe by now. Sobbing and shaking and angry, but safe.

Here they were instead, bleeding, terrified, shaking and in danger. Eraser would be so pissed at him.

He barely got his hand close enough to touch the girl before a claw, molded from the broken ground beneath her feet, snatched around her and pulled her backwards. Back towards Overhaul. His path changed immediately. His legs got the memo and ran towards the two heartbeats without a second thought, nor a first. Pure adrenaline filled reflex. So were his hands grasping onto the rising column that was taking the two heartbeats higher into the air.

Izuku would give it to the bastard escaping through the broken warehouse ceiling was smart. With a hero at every exit and entrance, it would’ve been impossible for him to run out. So he went over the problem, leaving his workers like lambs for the slaughter and taking the only lamb he cared about up with him.

Overhaul could get more workers. Eri was what he needed.

Fox kept on climbing. A feeling akin to rope burn dug into his palm with each grasp of the block upwards, but the Eri’s cries kept him going. His arms kept on reaching upwards even as his muscles cried out and threatened to fail him. He must’ve been incredibly high up by now, but the genuine fear clinging onto his stomach was that of him getting away.

There were little pieces of metal sticking out of the mangled pillar Overhaul had made. Nails, skirting boards, sharp things that he had to manoeuvre past with every time he reached up higher. More than one time, he reached his hand up to find a place to grasp, and a sharp metal wire met him. Piercing through his hand without any resistance. The first time, Izuku flung his hand back and almost fell off. He only recovered by pulling as close to the pillar with his other hand as he could. Even then, two more sharp pieces of metal nicked his throat and cheek and drew even more blood.

After that he learned to just take the pain and keep ongoing.

Izuku was a few feet below them when he stopped to listen. Eri, crying and trying to get away while being held in the monstrous claws of a man with a mask of fatherly affection. It took a lot in him not to let his mind sway back to one of his own memories. To get lost in the familiarity and forget to act.

Overhaul said he’d keep her safe. He lied through his teeth.

God, he hated liars.

There was only one way out of this if Izuku didn’t want to kill him. A simple solution he should’ve done before.

He held onto the pillar with one hand, and the other reached into his tool belt for two things. A gun so covered in blood he had to wipe off the handle on his pants to stop it from slipping out of his hands, and a bullet hidden deep in his pocket. This whole fight had been an over-complication. A delay of the inevitable.

Overhaul would get out of this fight alive. But he would not get out of this fight with the so called disease he used so rampantly.

Izuku jumped with the little strength he had left. Up to the top of the pillar, where Overhaul was holding onto Eri in a vice grip. Then he shot. The words of the man as he caught on to Izuku were lost. Something about Eri being an asset that only made his smile wider as Overhaul’s heart rate shot through the roof when the bang went off.

A bullet cruised through the air and lodged right in his shoulder. A harmless hit. It would’ve been if it hadn’t made his quirk disintegrate out of his grip. Gone and forgotten, never to be found again. Like sand on a beach, lost to the meagre dunes.

The pillar went with it.

He didn’t need to think to get himself to grab Eri. Overhaul’s grip had faded as he processed the loss of his quirk. Izuku had to tune out his rapid heartbeat so he could focus on Eri’s. She wrapped her arms around his middle, sobbing into the coat he used to wrap around her. Then he fell, with his back to the ground and his mask to the sun. It enjoyed the show as always.

Fox could handle the fall. He’d be beaten up and in a lot of pain, but he’d survive it. He could cushion the fall for Eri and help her survive it. Then they’d all be safe. Overhaul would be fine. They’d all be fine.

For once, he’d done something right. He’d saved the person he’d set out to save, and she’d be okay. Everything would be okay. For a moment, he even let himself smile as wind whipped past his ears, stronger with every inch they got closer to the ground.

His joy only lasted so long. There was a break in the wind. A pause in the air. The whirring of some metal contraption mixed with the squelching sound of containers. Big containers. Containers he thought he’d blown up completely. It was the same break he knew so well. The same soft mist that would cradle his head and sing him bedtime stories then would send him off to face the wrath of his father the next day.

“Papa,” he mumbled off into the mist. His eyes wanted nothing more than to see again so he could confirm it. To prove to himself that he was there — that this wasn’t some exhausted hallucination he was having. His papa was here. He was alive.

The mist didn’t reply.

Izuku reached out to the mist, and a hand reached back. To hug him, to console him, he tried to convince himself. But then the hand reached further. Past his hand, past his heart — down to the little girl he was meant to be protecting. Then they took her. Snatched out of his grip even as she screamed and cried. Took the beating heart he’d been willing to die for and took her through the mist that had taken Izuku away at her age.

He shouted. Pushed himself forward despite the adrenaline that ran through his blood being long faded and tried to drag her back. The mist closed on him, taking his hand with it. Then the scream came without his permission. He fought as he fell through the air against a foe long gone. A foe or a friend or a family, he didn’t know, but they took Eri. They fucking took her, and they left him falling through the air, with only Overhaul’s unconscious body to keep him company.

Izuku didn’t know which hurt more — the crack of his own spine as he hit the ground, the sound of Overhaul snapping in a way that couldn’t have been natural, or the fact his arms were empty when he landed.

Eri was gone.

Overhaul had lost his quirk.

Izuku wished he were with him.