Izuku had no idea how he’d been driven to do this.
Well, that wasn’t entirely true.
Technically, it started when he was diagnosed quirkless at four, and everyone in his life seemed to collectively lose faith in him. Or it could’ve been when All Might himself told him to give up and left him alone on a rooftop. Maybe when he, still quirkless, passed UA’s hero exam, only to be expelled on the first day after automatically failing a quirk apprehension test by nature of not having a quirk.
Anyone else would’ve cited any of the many misfortunes of Midoriya Izuku’s life as reason to give in. But if you asked him, Izuku would say he blamed everything about his current situation on the day his father tried to convince him to change his fashion sense.
He was ten, and his personal wardrobe consisted entirely of hero brand clothing and tacky t-shirts (that at the time he thought were genius, and peak comedy. His stance has not changed, but he's much quieter about it now). For some reason his father attempted to argue in favor of business suits to an elementary schooler, citing their general respected role in society. It was an hour long voice call, one that ended dramatically when Izuku said that a hoodie over a shirt and sweatpants was essentially the same thing. In most families, the conversation would've ended after that.
But Hisashi Midoriya had always been petty. So when he sent his son a bright yellow duck hoodie, it was supposed to be satire. Something in the spirit of Diogenes presenting a plucked chicken to Plato, declaring the newly featherless (and probably very displeased) biped a man. He wasn’t expecting Izuku to fall in love with the soft polyester, much less receive multiple photos of Izuku wearing it in his daily life. At the time, he cut his losses and declared it a win as he started referring to Izuku as his ducky.
Unfortunately for what could've been a happy ending, Izuku forgot two things: polyester melts when it is ignited, and his ex-childhood friend hated him.
The only reason Izuku didn’t suffer permanent damage from the burns was their family doctor, who was coming to pick up his grandson from the park the afternoon that it happened. When Izuku woke up in the doctor’s back room, the first thing he heard was his father’s worried voice asking what had happened. (His mother wasn’t there. He hoped it was just because the doctor found his father on his file’s emergency contacts first, and nothing else. He never asked.)
A few days later, the Midorya household received four large boxes. One with black long sleeved shirts, one with black pants, one with miscellaneous pieces including black socks and gloves, and the last containing a quite frankly ridiculous number of animal themed hoodies in a rainbow of colors. All fireproof, as well as resistant to just about anything that could possibly be a threat to Izuku.
Izuku once joked that, wearing everything his dad sent, he was better protected than even those treasures the bad guys in cartoons kept in vaults. His father had only laughed, agreeing before asking more about his week.
In his honest opinion, that was what started this mess.
Izuku wasn’t sneaking out the night after he got removed from UA’s hero course. He was simply taking a midnight stroll to clear his mind, far from his neighborhood, and avoiding the main roads.
(He left out his bedroom window.)
He definitely didn’t plan to interrupt a mugging, but at least his skin was completely covered by his clothes. Even his face was protected--this hoodie could be zipped up fully to reveal a cat face over his real one. It was breathable and didn’t hinder his vision, so Izuku would happily walk around in it when he didn’t want his face to be recognized.
Helping up the nice lady he saved with gloved hands, Izuku was about to leave when she stopped him.
“What’s your name? I don’t think I’ve heard of you before.”
Thinking fast, he gestured wordlessly to his face.
“Kuroneko?”
A little more detailed than he anticipated, but black cat would work. He nodded before walking deeper into the alleyway from where he came from. He was halfway home when it hit him: the greatest idea he had in his entire life.
(Across Japan, a number of people experienced a sudden feeling of dread.)
The part where things got complicated was about a week later.
Someone at UA messed up his paperwork and actually expelled him instead of just moving him to a different course, so Izuku saw no reason to end his nightly routine. His cat hoodie was in the wash (even immortal clothing needs cleaning), but he didn’t let that stop him. He wasn’t doing this for his image, and even if his vigilante name didn’t make sense that night, it wasn’t like there were a lot of people stopping crime in animal hoodies. So he threw on his bunny hoodie and departed, confident that he would still be recognized as the same vigilante as the nights before.
It wasn’t a problem until after he was cleaning up a fight. He was so used to just gesturing to his hood when asked for his name, that it wasn’t until he already nodded that he processed that he was given a new name.
Oh well. The police would probably figure out he was the same person, even if he was now Green Rabbit.
(They didn’t.)
Izuku only found out about the problem a month later, when he was spying on the police station instead of eating lunch and enjoying his accidental gap year. His attention was caught when they mentioned a sudden spike in the number of vigilantes on the streets. Izuku was debating the merits of seeking out the supposed group when he heard the list of known members. He knew those names. Specifically, he knew those names because they were assigned to six of his hoodies.
Rationally, he knew he should come clean. Maybe just stick to one costume, or stop being a vigilante altogether. Groups were treated much more seriously than lone entities, and he could get in serious trouble if they sent heroes after him expecting backup that didn’t exist.
But, a small, bitter part of him thought about all the people that called him useless. Every person that told him there was no way for a quirkless person to be a hero, or be anything worthwhile at all. A part of him that wished he had never idolized All Might for his smile or Eraserhead for his quirkless fighting style, that wanted to prove everyone that ever hurt him wrong.
(That night, he came to the conclusion that pettiness probably runs in the family)
A week later, there were characters designed for every hoodie he owned.
“The Hoods? What kind of organization name is that?”
“Hey, I’m just telling you what I read in the news. Apparently the police don’t know much about them, or even how many of them there are. Just that there’s a group of vigilantes in animal sweatshirts roaming the streets.”
“Just sweatshirts? I get that everyone has their own aesthetic, but that’s just lame.”
Hitoshi sighed, shifting his stance on the train as he waited for it to arrive at his stop. It felt like all anyone was talking about today was the vigilante group that the news covered on the morning program. Singular, one-time vigilantes were fairly common, but a whole group showing up out of nowhere was near unheard of. He didn’t expect them to be active long: with this much attention, heroes would be actively hunting them down just for the fame associated with the group.
Apparently the Hoods had been around for two months now, officially lasting longer than the average vigilante. There were at least six of them spotted across Japan, all at different times of day and dealing with different types of crime. It seemed impossible for anyone to get as much done as these people, even working together in a group. Hitoshi was already exhausted between regular schoolwork and catching up in training after transferring into class 1-A following the sports festival. He couldn’t imagine working as a vigilante while still maintaining any kind of civilian life.
(It would’ve taken longer to transfer, but there was already an empty seat after a student got expelled on the first day. How lucky.)
The train rolled into the station, and Hitoshi’s mind soon shifted towards dinner and homework as he made his way home. He probably would stay in his room for the night, though depending on what was in the fridge he could grab leftovers from yesterday before studying…
It’s been a while since I last fed the strays…maybe I can grab a few cans of food from the corner store and stop by the alley before going home.
Nodding to himself, Hitoshi took a detour. The store wasn’t far from the station, and soon he was walking to the alley behind the laundromat that stray cats liked to sleep in. At one point he could’ve sworn he felt someone watching him, but he dismissed the thought. He was probably still twitchy from school--all his classmates were so loud and had no sense of personal space, it was a wonder any of them had energy for the actual lessons.
Upon entering the alleyway, Hitoshi tensed. Something was wrong. There wasn’t any sign of the cats, even though there was almost always at least one around at this time of day. Before he had time to do anything--investigate, leave, call out to the cats--something solid hit him in the head and the world went black.
Hitoshi would like the world to know that when he complained about being tired, that wasn’t an invitation to knock him out.
When he woke up, it was to a killer headache, a blindfold, something restraining him, and yelling. He probably would’ve done something stupid like tell whoever it was to quiet down, but he was stopped by a suspiciously metallic clang silencing the last of it. Was that a fight? He hoped whoever won would untie him, or at least ignore him and leave.
Wait.
Holy sh*t, did he get kidnapped?
(In his defense, he was occupied by his headache. Ow.)
“Hey, you okay?” A deep, male voice that had no right to be so nice sounding asked from somewhere on his left. Hitoshi would’ve liked to respond (is that what Ashido meant when she described how good his voice was for his quirk? Not that he was listening), but it was at that point he noticed the gag in his mouth.
Thankfully, the mystery guy had that handled, gloved hands gently removing the ropes. “Close your eyes, I’m removing the blindfold and we’re under a streetlight.”
Nodding, (which was a bad idea, did he mention he had a headache?) Hitoshi kept his eyes closed, letting them slowly adjust before looking around.
There was a white van pulled into a side road he didn’t recognize, and at least five guys knocked out on the ground around him in various states of bruised (but surprisingly not too bloody). But what got his attention was the vibrant purple raccoon hoodie his savior was wearing.
He probably should’ve asked about the time (the sun was gone so it was probably well past his curfew), location, or really anything else. But what came out was, “Hey, we match.”
The man chuckled. “That we do, though your eye bags shouldn’t be nearly as dark as mine. How are ya holding up, kid? Anything broken?”
“No. I’m just sore, thanks.”
Raccoon man nodded. “Good. The authorities should be here right about…” Hitoshi heard sirens from somewhere behind him, and turned to see the flashing lights. “Now. Stay safe kiddo.”
He turned back to say something, but the man was already gone. He didn’t have any time to process the how he vanished into thin air (like a street magician that was actually a pickpocket with an illusion quirk and look, your wallet is missing) before the vehicles started to arrive and people began apprehending the bad guys and examining Hitoshi for injuries.
…he lost the cat food.
Momo wasn’t sure if choosing to intern with Uwabami was the best idea.
Not that she couldn’t learn anything from the snake hero! It was just that they spent more time on the celebrity side of heroics, even patrols were mostly her and Kendo standing back as Uwabami was swarmed by fans.
Momo wasn’t stupid, she knew what people thought of her looks and expected of her career. She knew why the costume manufacturers made her hero outfit the way it was. Momo knew most of her hero work would be on the publicity side of things. She knew it was worthless for her to train physically when she wouldn’t be on the field too often--she was going to be a rescue hero anyway.
(She didn’t know what else she could do, when she clearly wasn’t suited for combat.)
A hum made her look up from her lap. Uwabami had stopped fixing her makeup in favor of watching the news. It was civilian footage of someone in a yellow canary hoodie helping a kid on a playground, who was clutching their knee and crying. The person had a sweet, feminine voice, introducing herself as Kiiro and distracting the kid as she pulled first aid supplies from her sleeves. It was a nice interaction, but not one Momo expected to be on hero news.
At least, she didn’t think so until there was a commotion and the camera turned to show a man yelling at a woman. From the audio, it was something about a divorce and him not getting custody of the child hiding behind her. The woman shouted something about a restraining order, which angered the man if the way his arms turned to wood was any indication. Just as he lunged at her, the man suddenly froze and collapsed.
The camera whipped back to Kiiro, who was lowering a dart gun that she seemed to have summoned from thin air. The vigilante (because that’s what she was) jogged over to the mother and talked for a bit. The video ended when Kiiro sprinted away as the authorities arrived on the scene.
Momo looked back to her mentor for a reaction. Uwabami looked contemplative for a moment before she nodded in…approval? “That’s a girl who knows how to use her charm.”
“Huh?” Thankfully Kendo was just as lost as she was at hearing anything positive about a vigilante from a pro-hero.
“This Kiiro always had the moral high ground. The video started by demonstrating her kindness, showed she could be a fierce protector when she needs to be, then ended with her comforting the civilian. Honestly the only things she did wrong was not try to de-escalate with words and how she left the perpetrator unrestrained on the scene, but those can be excused. Notice anything about the end?”
“...she ran away at the last second?” Momo offered hesitantly.
“Nobody tried to stop her. There were dozens of adults watching, and not one tried anything against her despite Kiiro arguably being a threat. I would bet good money that the police weren’t called for the vigilante, but for the fight she stopped.”
Kendo nodded, “It was a park, and all the parents watching were fine with her being near the kids.”
“And the tranquilizer dart was a show of strength without any threatening or violence that would scare the children,” Momo added with wide eyes.
“Exactly. That level of thoughtfulness in addition to the display of trust is better publicity than any modeling job or interview. It was an unplanned show of character, and Kiiro passed gracefully. Now if only she would wear something nicer, I understand keeping to a theme but that hoodie doesn’t do anything for her figure…”
Momo didn’t mean to tune out, but she couldn’t help it as her mind kept wandering to the dart gun and bandages. Both coming from nowhere, like they were produced with a quirk. Heroes weren’t allowed to carry guns in Japan unless they had a license, and hero students weren’t allowed to access one unless it was related to their quirk. But if Momo could memorize the designs of a variety of ammunition types, she could hardly imagine the time and energy saved if all she had to carry was a gun…it would be so much easier than having to make and lug around a large metal staff everywhere she went. While other weapons like her favorite cannon were still an option, a gun wasn’t a bad backup plan.
She’d have to ask her teachers when she got back from internships. For now, she mentally thanked Kiiro for the inspiration and (though she wouldn’t dare say it out loud) hoped she was safe and didn’t get caught.
Stain approached the two fake heroes laying on the asphalt before him.
It was pathetic, honestly. He didn’t expect much from the adult, but the child was a fool without the power to back his resolve. He raised his blade, ready to do his duty by his namesake and stain his hands with their blood.
In another universe, another hero student would’ve intervened. If society was a little worse, another villain would have the chance to step in to spare the kid. In a particularly cruel world, nobody would come and Stain would gain two more kills that day.
In this one, Stain didn’t even have time to flinch before a cinder block was dropped on his head.
Thankfully, the world of quirks meant Stain had enough physical durability to not be killed by the blow. He would wake in a hospital meant for villains, to get treatment for his concussion before he was to be shipped to Tartarus. Akaguro Chizome only had one question: who was the hero that had defeated him?
One of the nurses brave enough to do checkups while he was conscious informed him that it hadn’t been a hero, but one of the Hooded vigilantes. Specifically, a loud girl in a red Shiba Inu hoodie whose voice could be heard clearly in all the recordings despite remaining on the rooftops, far from the reach of the heroes. Apparently she claimed to be providing air support during the Nomu attack, evidenced by when she knocked a winged one out of the sky with…another cinder block that she threw from across the street.
Akaguro was many things. An ex-hero student, an ex-vigilante, and now a soon to be imprisoned villain. But he was not a sore loser. He heard the alias of the vigilante who stopped him and saved lives in spite of the heroes, and he laughed harder than he had in years.
Her name was Aka.
A chat window was open on two screens, both as well as untraceable by any normal means. There were probably quirks out there that could track them down, but neither had access to those quirks and thus they were irrelevant.
To anyone else, the conversation seemed nonsensical. Random files exchanged without a word, containing information that ranged from evidence of corrupt heroes to the activities and locations of trafficking rings. Even the chat name, ‘Rodents’, didn’t really make sense from an outside perspective.
This would be because the real conversation took place on a somehow even more obscure server that was modified to contain dozens of worlds, where the two played a centuries old game and took turns showing off their new creations.
Rat_God
Excellent work on that last design, I see you’ve improved since the last time we met
Haiiro_No_Mousu_
Thank you. I found an old file where someone recreated the first Pokewon game in Mindcraft, so I got inspiration from that. It’s an interesting mix of coding and circuitry, though I think I prefer designing monster farms
I’m sending you a file. Shiro was patrolling the same red light district from the earlier human trafficking ring that went underground, they’re active again. I trust you’ll send more subtle and capable heroes this time?
Rat_God
Of course. Apologies again for the actions of Sir Nighteye, I had not anticipated him going out to gather evidence in spite of what you had already granted us.
Haiiro_No_Mousu_
That man is a fool that has grown too dependent on perfection and the reliability of his own quirk. I understand that he is used to investigating people that need legal evidence to be properly tried, but that logic is for drugs, not living beings. His actions might have been forgivable if using Foresight hadn’t alerted the villains, causing the bad future that he saw.
On an unrelated note, if one of us were to have encountered Nighteye in person, we would be completely justified in responding to the way he withdrew from the case the moment he thought it would fail
Rat_God
I don’t suppose that would have anything to do with reports about a girl in a white sheep hoodie that broke Nighteye’s nose completely unprovoked?
Haiiro_No_Mousu_
I did say Shiro was handling most of the night patrols this week. If Nighteye tried to use his quirk on her, she simply responded to being grabbed by a strange man in a dark alley. It would seem that Foresight fails when someone is capable of defeating you with their eyes closed
Rat_God
For having a sheep as her image, Shiro seems to be the most…physically confrontational of your group
Haiiro_No_Mousu_
I fail to see what sheep have anything to do with how Shiro should handle herself.
Rat_God
Simply that it must be difficult to remove so many blood stains from white fabric
Haiiro_No_Mousu_
Shiro is…well practiced. It may simply be a ‘girl thing’, as they say
Rat_God
I see.
Would you like to see my to-scale recreation of the Hero Public Safety Commission Headquarters? I recently was able to program villagers to go through an approximation of the monthly schedule, but there remains room for error in the timing and name tags
Haiiro_No_Mousu_
I would love to
Keigo would like it to be on the record that he was minding his own business for once, eating a bagel in a break room in the Commission's headquarters when it happened.
Growing up, he was trained to be ready for anything. The HPSC wouldn’t settle for anything less than perfect, so neither did he. Assassinations, natural disasters, muggings--he was taught to manage it all, sometimes at the same time. How to interact with civilians, villains, and other heroes to get information or simply improve his image. It would not be arrogant of Keigo to say that he was trained to handle everything and anything.
Which is why he definitely didn’t freeze when someone in an aqua colored dinosaur hoodie entered the break room.
Rephrase that: they casually strolled into the room that only Hawks and other agents with clearance could even access, wearing something that was so against dress code it dealt psychic damage to even think of it in a workplace setting, let alone a government office.
Keigo would never admit that it was twenty seconds before he even realized he should be apprehending them. That was a secret between him and the dinosaur, who had by then sat down at the chair across from him and laid their head on the table. Which brought him to where he was now, watching the vigilante wait alone in the interrogation room from behind a one-way glass panel.
The person brought in for the interrogation was a freelance agent, one with a quirk that could compel someone to tell the truth in response to questions. In theory, it was the perfect quirk for this situation and the interrogation should’ve been over by now.
In practice, it turns out verbal response quirks don’t work when the target is mute. The restraints on their hands kept them from signing more than what they could fingerspell, but that was more than enough to establish that there was a problem.
To make things worse, they couldn’t actually remove the costume. For some ungodly reason they were wearing a black morphsuit under the hoodie, which was irritating enough without the realization that it was made out of the most durable quirk-resistant material that he had ever seen (fifteen different quirks, including his own, were tried. All failed).
What bothered him the most was that their zippers were inversed.
Keigo could understand how that would work for the hoodie (which they were still working on removing, for some reason the zipper stopped working at the neck. The material was too stiff to pull over their head, indicating that some greater force out there hated them). But the skin tight morphsuit? How had the vigilante even put that on?
(Midoriya Inko’s quirk was quite special, in the sense that it didn’t actually interact with the materials she used it on: it only attracted objects, not manipulated them, which is why her quirk wasn’t labeled as telekinesis. This made her useful in hero costume manufacturing, as she could use her quirk around quirked items.
It also made her invaluable for maintaining Izuku’s wardrobe as he got older.
When he was a toddler, she used to sew his zippers inside-out so he wouldn’t be able to randomly ditch his onesie. She’d gotten so into the habit that she didn’t realize she still designed his clothing that way, or that Izuku had learned how to unzip them from inside the same way a kid learns how to defeat a child-proof lock.)
At this point, one might wonder why they didn’t continue the interrogation with sign language, or something written. Which they would’ve done, if not for the fact that they didn’t have anyone on-hand with a quirk that could ensure truth in those methods. So Keigo was left to guard a room with someone wearing the most stupid looking dinosaur hoodie that was somehow back to being zipped up fully. Just looking at those soulless, screen printed eyes was enough to make him wish he was anywhere else.
…the hoodie wasn’t too bad, if he was speaking honestly. It would’ve been funny if it didn’t interrupt the one break he had that day. But Keigo was spiteful when he wanted to be, so he continued his staring contest with something that couldn’t blink, or even see him. This is what his life had come to.
(If Hawks had taken the Hooded vigilante group more seriously, he might have thought more about the fabric spikes that trailed from the head down the spike of the hoodie.
Each Hood came with a unique element to their fighting styles that the others didn’t. Some were obvious--Kiiro had her feathered tranquilizer darts, Shiro wore brass knuckles, Kuro had metal claws, and Murasaki kept to his raccoon theme by weaponizing trash. Others were more surprising, like Midori’s knives or Haiiro’s taser. Aka had the tendency to throw heavy things and let physics do the rest, though her insults sometimes did just as much damage.
Really, Hawks’ first sign of trouble should’ve been how different the dinosaur’s hoodie was from all the others. But even that wouldn’t have prepared him for Mizuiro.)
The funny thing about nitrous oxide is that at room temperature, it is a colorless gas, with only a slight metallic scent defining its presence. It is one of the safest and most effective medicines in terms of fulfilling its designated purpose, which is for anesthetic and pain reducing effects. Of course, another funny thing about nitrous oxide is that it is more commonly known as laughing gas.
Hawks was out cold before he realized the spikes concealed a number of air diffusers.
By the time he regained consciousness, the only signs the vigilante was ever there were the misplaced coffee machines from all the break rooms, a missing wheel from every spinning chair on the third floor, a broken (and subsequently ransacked) vending machine, and a sharpie mustache drawn on Hawks’ face.
Ochako laughed as Izuku recounted the events of his week as they snacked on stolen vending machine food on her apartment’s fire escape. Sitting beside her ex-classmate-turned-vigilante, Ochako could admit that she didn’t see this coming when that man tried to mug her earlier that week.
Emphasis on tried. The whole routine kinda falls apart when the person you’re mugging has an empty wallet. That’s right, she was so broke the guy mugging her actually hesitated before frustration kicked in and he raised his knife. Ochako wanted nothing more than to move, to use what she learned in class for self defense, but the villain had used his quirk on some nearby chain link fence to trap her before she had the chance to fight.
Some hero student she was turning out to be.
When she was saved during the entrance exams, she had looked at that plain boy’s face and thought, ‘that’s who I want to be’. To save someone at the cost of yourself, for no other reason than it was the right thing to do. He didn’t even hesitate when he grabbed some rebar and used it to pry the concrete off of her, carrying her to safety before running back into the fray to help anyone else that might be stuck in the line of fire. Watching him direct the other examinees to make sure everyone was alright when the exam ended, she couldn’t help but want to know more about this boy who was already the hero she dreamed of becoming one day.
Ochako would not forgive Aizawa-sensei for expelling him on orientation day, before classes even started and anyone had the chance to learn.
So what if he was quirkless? Was she the only one who saw him fighting robots with random debris, saw him lift things she wouldn’t be able to manage without her quirk? He moved so fast, even when carrying her that day. When she heard that boy was quirkless, her first thought had been to wonder how to ask him later for his training routine.
Aizawa-sensei’s reaction was to get rid of him before she could even learn his name. Even after watching the man defend them at the USJ, after learning that he was a strict but accommodating teacher to everyone in class, Ochako could not bring herself to like him. She had asked every upperclassman she could about Aizawa-sensei, asking about his expelled students that he supposedly re-enrolled shortly after they addressed whatever issue he kicked them out for. The co*cky learned to accept criticism, the careless paid more attention, the lazy worked harder.
The boy who saved her was expelled for being quirkless. Despite what the UA website said about accepting quirkless students in the hero course, it never said anything about keeping them there. One couldn’t learn their way out of being quirkless, and the boy was no longer a student at UA.
It was unfair. If it was a hero’s job to face the odds and beat them, to correct that unfairness, the boy had already done that. He had proven himself to the already rigged system, and it still rejected him. Did she even want to be a part of something that actively worked against someone as kind and strong as him?
So here she was, pinned and waiting for a killing blow for the second time that year, not even sure if she wanted to be a hero anymore. Moral issues aside, how could she ever hope to be a hero when she kept getting stuck in these situations where she couldn’t do anything? Stuck at the mercy of someone uncaring of everything you’ve worked towards…was this how that boy felt, standing against Aizawa-sensei with the class watching silently as he was expelled?
(Why didn’t she say something, anything? It was so easy to speak up for him after the entrance exams, to offer up all her points if that’s what it took to repay his actions. So why couldn’t she bring her body to move in his defense that day? Was it fear, selfishness, shock? It kept her up at night, wondering if there was something she could’ve done that day to help the boy she wanted to become friends with.)
Ochako closed her eyes, and braced for pain as the man stabbed his blade. And for the second time that year, that boy saved her.
Of course, she didn’t know it was him at first. There was a thwacking sound, and she looked up to see the villain collapsing. Behind him, Someone in a brown bear hoodie lowered a wooden baseball bat.
“Apologies for the delay, miss. I didn’t know whether his metal manipulation quirk let him sense metal, so I dropped most of my gear to make sure I didn’t startle him while he was holding you. If you’ll forgive me, I must backtrack to collect my wire cutters.”
She sighed in relief and smiled at the vigilante as he promised to return soon. She followed the news, and recognized this one as Chairo. It was a surprise to see him on patrol--like the sheep Shiro, he generally specialized in taking down organized crime. Both were brutal, just in different ways. Shiro would generally fight enemies head-on, while Chairo set up literal bear traps and used other methods to thin out the crowd and deal with nastier quirks. Though they were never seen together (according to an interview Kiiro did, Hoods spread out to take care of as much as possible and ensure no two members could be taken out at once. It was a ruthlessly efficient model, though nobody could deny its effectiveness), it was accepted that wherever Shiro was, Chairo wasn’t far.
Apparently, the threat of never knowing where the second was hidden was more fear-inducing than actually facing two opponents in a fight. That's what was said in the interviews of captured villains, anyway.
Before long, Chairo was back. He talked her through what he was doing as he worked with his multi-tool. It would take a little longer since he was bending the cut endings so she wouldn’t get hurt if she fell. Ochako offered to make herself weightless to solve that problem if he freed one of her arms first, which he did. Before long, she found herself chatting casually with the vigilante just a few meters away from the villain that tried to kill her.
“I just wish there was some way to contact him, but he’s not even in the student files. Trust me, I checked--the principal caught me and gave me the detention of the year for breaking into the teachers’ office. He didn’t even say anything to the other teachers, just a warning to not get caught again.”
“Not a warning to stay out of the office?”
“That’s what I thought too! So then I broke into the school’s record room.”
Chairo snorted, “What was his reaction to that?”
“I didn’t say I got caught that time!”
“It’s Nedzu.”
“...touché. He actually was nicer that time? I think he was mostly amused I thought of it, let alone actually finding the place. He told me that if I could learn the boy’s name without getting found again or asking a teacher before the end of the semester, he’d mail him a letter I wrote and wouldn’t punish me for the record room thing.”
“Any luck? I imagine finals are approaching soon.”
“No. I don’t want to waste my last chance, so I’ve been looking everywhere a student is allowed to access. I swear that he’s using this as an opportunity to improve security as I try different ways…”
Chairo hummed, and the last of the fence was removed. Ochako gratefully took his hand as he pulled her out, canceling her quirk once she was upright. She regathered her things from around the alleyway as Chairo returned to the downed villain and double-checked his bindings.
“Well, I do believe now would be a good time to call the police. I must be leaving now…I trust you have this handled?”
She nodded, already taking out her phone. “Thank you so much, Chairo. For saving me, and staying to chat. You could’ve left me for the police, you know.”
Chairo shrugged, “I could help you, so I did. Speaking of…there’s an abandoned beach not too far from here, covered in trash. It’s called Dagobah Beach, and is very secluded in the evenings. If you have the chance, visit tonight. I think it’ll be rewarding.”
Ochako didn’t understand, but nodded. She got the distinct impression that he was winking behind that bear hood. Turning to face the downed villain, she dialed the emergency number and waited.
Later that day, Ochako found herself gaping at what used to be a beach. How did trash dragged in from the tides form piles so high? Were there vehicles down there?
“Yeah, isn’t it a mess?”
She knew that voice. Whipping around with wide eyes, she saw the boy standing there with a nervous smile. He was dressed in jogging pants, bright red sneakers, a hoodie tied around his waist, and a t-shirt reading ‘pajamas’. It was so dorky…she couldn’t help the wide smile on her face.
“I’m Uraraka Ochako! What’s your name?”
The boy blinked before smiling in return. “I’m Midoriya Izuku. It’s nice to meet you, Uraraka-san.”
“Can I have your number?” She blurted, not willing to leave anything to chance now that she finally found him again. Ochako didn’t think about how forward and strange this whole conversation must seem out of context, but thankfully Midoriya only laughed before taking out his phone.
“Only if you split some food with me. I kinda...acquired a lot of snacks but I don’t really like some of the flavors, and the people running the food donation center don’t accept anything without a receipt ever since that villain group robbed a bunch of warehouses and donated it all.”
“I get why that’s bad, but why would the center need receipts?”
“Oh, the companies that were robbed tried to sue the center by saying it was an inside job. They didn’t succeed, but it was a close one and they’ve been cautious with bulk donations ever since.”
“Ahhh, that’s awful! Well, I wouldn’t mind sharing if you want to come by my apartment this weekend. I wanna learn all about you, I really hope we can be good friends even if we don’t go to the same school!”
“Of course, it’s a deal!”
They talked for a bit after that, her quizzing Midoriya on what he was up to the past few months. He actually ended up blurting out his vigilante identity to try and calm her down when he admitted that no school would take in anyone that UA completely expelled, let alone someone quirkless. It was a bit of a shock, though not enough to completely quench her righteous anger.
It was his idea to work her emotions out by training her quirk on the trash below. They stayed up far too late, chucking weightless trash at each other and dodging through the stacks in the most intense game of not-dodgeball she ever played. It was a good thing Midoriya looked at his phone at around one in the morning: otherwise she might’ve slept through her alarm and missed the chance to burst victoriously into Nedzu’s office.
(She did feel a little bad about startling that scarecrow-looking man so much that he coughed up blood. Not bad enough to stop her from declaring her new best friend’s name with a sh*t-eating grin.)
Shouto was not having a good day.
Well, that was a slight understatement. A bad day generally consisted of a few things going wrong: a missed train stop, lost pens, having to talk to his father, and the school cafeteria running out of cold soba before he got there for lunch. Being kidnapped by the League of Villains was fairly more than an inconvenience, objectively speaking.
But at least he wasn’t alone.
“UNCHAIN ME SO I CAN KILL YOU f*ckING BASTARDS!!!”
…maybe being alone would have been better.
Looking around the bar, Shouto could observe the villains in various states of regretting Bakugou’s presence. The only person that looked to be happy was Shigaraki, whose wide grin at the screaming wasn’t exactly a ringing endorsem*nt of the blonde's behavior.
Maybe the villain liked Bakugou because they were so similar? They both had red eyes, dangerous hands, bad attitude, anger issues. If Shigaraki’s hair were lighter and his skin quality were better, he’d think they were related. Then again, those differences weren’t enough to convince him otherwise.
He was taken out of his thoughts by movement in the room. A member that Shouto hadn’t seen before, someone in a blue shark hoodie, was starting to pass around drinks for celebration.
“Aw, thanks Moonfish!” A blonde with two hair buns gushed before she began chugging her red drink.
Now, Shouto may make it a rule to not listen to his father, but that doesn’t mean he never looks at the files in Endeavor’s home office. Known by the epithet ‘The Death Row Inmate’, Moonfish was a deranged cannibal. Before he broke out of prison, the man was strapped in a straightjacket with metal clamps that were supposedly meant to block his quirk, blade-tooth. Judging by his subsequent appearances attacking civilians and heroes on the news, whoever designed those restraints should be fired.
He could see the confusion, considering sharks were fish and the large toothed smile on the hoodie, if one were to have only heard the villain’s name. But whoever that was, it definitely wasn’t Moonfish.
The person stopped by the bar’s television (the one not playing the news) to readjust their hold on their drinks before approaching Kurogiri. They offered him the last glass on the platter, everyone else already drinking theirs.
“No thank you. I have no desire to be indisposed while on the job.”
“It’s only a little alcohol, nothing that will get anyone drunk.” Shouto couldn’t place the otherworldly sounding voice, though it was easier to hear after Bakugou suddenly tensed and stopped screaming. “Everyone else is having some, there is no reason our leader would be against you treating yourself after all the work you’ve done for us today.”
This statement was met with cheers in agreement from the other members, Shigaraki himself pausing in his drink to nod. Kurogiri paused, waiting for any objections before slumping in defeat and taking the last glass.
“Wait, what about you, Moonfish?”
“Ah, I couldn’t carry anymore. I’m going to the back room to get more for myself and the guests, if Shigaraki is okay with that.”
The man nodded again, saying something about hospitality and welcoming new potential recruits. Shouto noted that he looked particularly pleased to be given the final say in the matter. Sure enough, after twenty minutes of rummaging in the back, not-Moonfish came out with three red solo cups.
After talking to Shigaraki about unchaining their arms (“They need their hands to drink, and they’re outnumbered. Besides, these cups I found won’t damage anything if they get thrown”), they walked towards the two hero students. Setting down the tray, the hooded person approached Shouto first, leaning over him as they messed with his chains.
“Wait for my signal,” they whispered. "I’m just giving you water, but pretend it’s alcohol."
He didn’t have many other options, so Shouto listened. He quietly accepted the cup, taking a small sip to confirm. It didn’t rule out drugs, so he was careful to not have too much. He relaxed when Bakugou miraculously decided to play along and didn’t use his quirk the second his wrists were unbound, accepting the cup. Surprisingly he seemed much more willing to drink from it, though in hindsight Shouto wasn’t sure what he was expecting from his hot-heated classmate.
Then, as if his life hadn’t already been weird enough, every villain in the room collapsed on the spot.
Shark-hood immediately got to work on the rest of their chains. “I’ll talk more later, we need to get out of here. I’m Ao, I use he/she/they pronouns, and I’m part of the Hoods. I drugged their drinks and temporarily blocked communications, but I don’t know how long it’ll last.”
Shouto stood as soon as…they (he’ll stick with ‘they’ to be safe) finished working on his chains. They led the way out the back door, passing the two black sweatshirts and instructing them to pull up their hoods in case they were followed. It wasn’t hard to keep up with Ao as they wound through the alleyways of what they explained was Yokohama city’s Kamino ward.
When they could hear the faint sound of traffic on a main road, Bakugou grabbed the vigilante by their shoulder and slammed them into the nearest wall. “What the f*ck were you thinking, Deku?!”
Before Shouto could react (to either stop Bakugou or help him, he wasn’t sure), Ao tucked one arm in their hoodie, reaching up from within to unzip the face portion of it. Shouto blinked as a vaguely familiar face emerged.
“In my defense, I didn’t actively seek them out, I was just patrolling and they offered me a spot on the team. I think they were short on numbers, I heard them talking about recruiting Muscular before Kiiro took him down…”
Bakugou actually growled. “Answer my f*cking question before I blast your face to hell. Why the f*ck are you a vigilante?! Does Auntie know?”
The boy (were they a boy? Shouto wasn’t sure where the vigilante persona met the real identity beneath) chewed his lip. “I…if I agree to tell you everything, can we do this somewhere else? Heroes are still combing the streets for you two, and if I say more you’ll have to work harder to get around any truth quirks when you go to the police for questioning on the kidnapping.”
For a moment, Shouto was sure Bakugou was going to kill them right there. After a few tense seconds of silence, he huffed and pushed himself off the wall. “Fine. But the second we're out of custody you’ve got a lot of explaining to do. Now get out of here before I change my mind.”
The vigilante quickly zipped up their hoodie and darted back deeper into the alleyway. Shouto turned to the other, “We?”
“Tch. As if you would just let it drop. I don’t wanna hear any of your sh*tty theories, so the nerd may as well tell both of us after revealing himself like that. Now let’s get this sh*t over with.”
Following Bakugou towards the main street, Shouto reflected on everything that brought him to this point. At least the day was turning out better than he thought it would an hour ago.
Despite popular belief, Katsuki could admit when he f*cked up.
You can’t be the best if you never learn, so--though he would rather die than admit it--that came with making a sh*tload of mistakes. Naturally gifted though he may be, Katsuki still had to work to claim his place at the top.
Ironically, he only realized how badly he miscalculated about Deku during the quirk apprehension test that sensei put them through. He wasn’t stupid. Even though he was against Deku, Katsuki knew that the nerd’s place on the leaderboard didn’t align with his performance. Sure, most of the extras that were his classmates competition excelled in at least one field, but Deku somehow got his sh*t together over the last year and consistently scored well in every event.
It didn’t click until Deku, when he saw his name at the bottom, asked their teacher if the test was measuring the amount of active quirk usage. Not their actual performance. That Deku wasn’t sent home because he failed, but because he wasn’t supposed to succeed in the first place. For what felt like the first time in his life, Katsuki couldn’t understand.
Why the f*ck was Ponytail at the top of the leaderboard? Sure, her quirk was useful as hell, but it didn’t change the fact that she was essentially using support gear for every little thing. She was thrown off easily, and built like she never did a day of physical labor in her life. As surreal as it was to think, after seeing his scores in the test Kastuki would bet money that Deku could take her in a fight.
Normally when he had thoughts like this, he’d find Deku and scream about it until something made sense. But Deku was gone, and Katsuki spiraled. If Ponytail’s quirk could be replaced by support gear, what about everyone else’s? You wouldn’t get perfect replications, but as he watched people during their heroics classes, Katsuki couldn’t honestly come up with a real reason for Deku’s expulsion. For f*ck’s sake, Kastuki sat down one weekend and figured out how to replicate his own quirk with some chemistry and pre-existing mechanics. With that kind of technology, Deku wouldn’t have to be fighting quirkless at all--he’d be at the same level that Katsuki started at, and the nerd was determined enough to make it work.
So why was Katsuki in heroics, when Deku got expelled from UA entirely despite surviving through the entrance exam?If a teacher at UA would intentionally remove someone who scored well, what's to say any other teacher in his life wouldn't? Did being at the top even matter if it was someone else putting him there?
Why couldn’t he stop thinking about this?
…Did he even want to know?
It turned out that Round Face was the first to learn of Deku’s vigilantism, and the two have been using the local trash beach for training as they clean it. It was clever, in the way he figured people were when they didn’t have access to anything better. So there he was, sitting on the tailgate of an old truck as Deku told him, Pink Cheeks, and Icyhot how he single handedly created an entire vigilante organization out of boredom and spite.
And that apparently, he was every single member. Because committing crimes in only one identity wasn’t enough for him.
What the actual f*ck.
“Wait, Mido-kun…how many identities are you working with here? Nobody online knows how many people are in the Hood group, it’s this whole thing.” She shifted in her position on a makeshift throne of old tires. He definitely was not jealous...there were probably all sorts of nasty things living inside of there.
Deku hesitated. “I mean, I have as many identities as I have hoodies. Some are more fleshed out than others, like I only wore the cow one to stand in for my Shiro identity when I lost my sheep hood. The unicorn was just for doing community service around playgrounds since the kids asked for it, and the butterfly for when I’m checking in on past victims in hospitals to make sure they’re recovering alright. I have about twelve main identities though.”
Ah. Only twelve f*cking idetities with different personalities, fighting styles, voices, and--
“Why do you change your pronouns so much?”
“Well, at first it was just to hide my identity better. If everyone was about my size and used the same pronouns, more people would think I was using a duplication quirk and pay more attention to the similarities across all my identities. Now I can not only hide better, but also play all sorts of different roles across my identities.”
Half-and-half nodded, “You tend to use your female personas more when interacting directly with people. It makes civilians feel more at ease and lowers the guard of villains, all while making it so nobody would suspect you. That’s…impressive.”
“Woah, Todoroki-kun!” Floaty Hands perked up, “I didn’t know you read about the Hoods, you always seemed above it all.”
He hesitated, before sighing. “I…was theorizing which identities were related to each other based on their apparent quirks, personalities, and appearances.”
“Hold up,” Katsuki suppressed a cackle. “Were you judging their relationships based on their outfits ?”
“...Shiro and Chairo could’ve been twins. Mizurio and Ao both appeared to have chemical quirks--”
“You grouped them based on their color like a f*cking matching game!”
“--and Aka could’ve been Bakugou’s long lost sister.”
Katsuki’s mind went dangerously blank. Deku was the only one to notice this, electing to zip up his plain black but equally explosion-resistant hoodie before dealing the final blow. “Yeah, Aka was what I thought a quirkless Kacchan would be like, I genderbent her so nobody would associate them, though I honestly wasn’t expecting her to be so popular. I guess there aren't many…intense female heroes in the industry besides Miruko, so Aka was a breath of fresh air.”
“Bakugou as a girl…yeah, I could see that.”
(Locals would later report hearing a loud boom, accompanied by the sound of several trash piles on the shoreline collapsing. Police would dismiss it as rebellious teens fooling around with their quirks, which wasn’t entirely wrong.)
For the rest of summer break, Katsuki spent far too much time at Uraraka’s apartment.
(He ran out of nicknames for her after the first two weeks of constant interaction. Besides, anyone that could kick ass and grant him free reign of their kitchen wasn’t an extra. He hadn’t forgotten the f*cking homemade meteor shower at the sports festival.)
Half n’ half practically moved in the second she offered her living room as a meeting place, and Deku would enter through the fire escape whenever there was time in between his patrols. Katsuki only went to get away from his parents, who wouldn’t f*cking shut up about his encounter with the league. That, and it was the only place they could talk about whatever was Deku’s newest stunt that made it on the news.
“You dung bombed the motherf*cking yakuza?! In a pink pig costume?!?”
“Well, I was going to use Mizuiro so I could just gas them all, but I didn’t know if the masks they wore would protect them. Then I found out the leader’s this huge germaphobe, apparently he’d use his quirk to subconsciously give himself hives when touching something dirty. I know pigs are actually relatively clean minus their habit of rolling in the mud to cool, but I just couldn’t resist using Pinku.”
Uraraka floated some more popcorn kernels to Half n’ half, who was manually popping them to train precision with his fire. Apparently the bastard finally started wanting to use it in combat after a shouting match with Deku in a fast food parking lot at 3 am, which ended when they accidentally took down the power for the surrounding area and had to run from the responding hero and police force.
“So you exploited that weakness by setting up mud bombs in their base, and then used the stink bombs to determine how well their masks protected them.” Half n’ half concluded as he tentatively chewed on a piece of popcorn, making a face when he realized how charred it was. Dumbass.
“Yep! You don’t need as much protection against diseases as you do for certain chemicals, so once I saw them react to the smell I used the new sleeping gas formula I made based on Midnight’s quirk. Went in, took all their research, destroyed anything they had on Eri, and tipped off the hero group that was investigating them. So that's how I stopped that line of trigger and got a new little sister!”
Katsuki was pretty sure that wasn’t how things were supposed to work, but he gave up on telling Deku what impossible meant sometime after he saw him move a broken down truck with his bare hands.
“How’d your parents react to the whole…” Uraraka gestured to Deku, who was sitting on the floor in his Midori hoodie and casually sharpening his knives.
“They already guessed that I was a Hood since they recognized my hoodies on the news, but Mom wanted to ground me when she heard that I was the only member. Dad coming home is the only reason she didn’t lock me in the house, apparently he did a lot of reading on the effects of locking someone inside for long periods of time.”
“...did he explainwhy he knows this, or…?”
Deku shrugged, “No, but he did say I was already safe as long as I wore my gear properly. He actually encouraged it as a better alternative to heroics.”
They sat in silence, processing that for a moment. “There’s no way Uncle Hisashi is on the right side of the law.”
“Five hundred yen says that he’s the head of a criminal organization,” Uraraka chirped.
Half n’ half tilted his head, ignoring Deku’s spluttering. “A thousand on him being a villain that works for the underground’s demon lord.”
Katsuki scoffed, “That old cautionary tale? There’s no way someone like that actually exists.”
Coming to the rescue of the conversation (and her apartment, in the likely case of it devolving into a fight), Uraraka started playing a video on her phone. “Hey, this herotuber is ranking the different Hooded vigilantes!”
Izuku vaulted over the coffee table, cramming onto the couch beside her and pulling one of his stalker notebooks out of thin air. Shouto leaned in on her other side, and Katsuki walked over like a civilized person and stood with his elbows supporting his weight on the back of the couch.
Watching someone put Shiro in A rank based on ‘fear and efficiency’, Katsuki thought back to orientation day. It made sense from a certain perspective to take out anyone with a weak quirk, but half of the heroes working at UA would be disqualified based on that alone. Hell, knowing what he does now Katsuki didn’t think their own teacher could beat Deku in a fight. If the f*cker only had his eraser quirk and freaky scarf going for him, he’d get wiped out facing any one of Deku’s vigilante personas. He didn’t even know if All Might himself could stop him now that the nerd no longer idolized the number one hero (he still didn’t know what happened, but he’d find out one day).
It was like some deity had taken one look at Deku and made him quirkless so that everyone else could stand a chance. He had more than proven to Katsuki that quirks were only a tool after they started sparring on the trash beach. It was a hard pill to choke down, but Katsuki wasn’t about to let some bullsh*t prejudice keep him from being the best.
Because that was the answer. Deku wasn’t a heroics student because their teacher thought quirkless people were weak. He wasn’t able to stay in high school because nobody wanted a quirkless person. Deku broke the law every night because society didn’t have a place for someone like him, so he carved one out for himself.
He knew he needed to apologize. More than asking Deku to show him a move the nerd used in a televised villain fight, more than researching and buying him easy-to-eat patrol snacks, more than gifting him new notebooks and that stupid looking duck blanket that Deku sometimes wore around the apartment like a cloak.
Tuning back into the video, he started cackling when Kiiro got A-ranked for cuteness and Murasaki B-ranked for being a trash gremlin. They collectively lost it when Haiiro got S-rank solely because ‘they can hack my account and give it to themselves if I don’t, and I’m not risking that’.
Until Katsuki figured out how to say it properly, he’d settle for this.
Shouta…deserved this.
He really had nothing to say in his defense. It was a slow night, he let his guard down, and now he was hanging upside down in his capture weapon, tangled up like he was a first year again. Normally, in the event of getting trapped like this, he’d use his knife to cut himself free.
Unfortunately, said knife was in the possession of a certain orange fox-themed vigilante, who was perched a few meters away on a window ledge to watch as Shouta struggled to free himself. The Hooded vigilante giggled as he tossed the knife into the air, catching it before it dropped too far down.
“Sorry for bothering you like this Eraser, I wanted to chat with ya but it seems you’re a little wrapped up right now.”
He sighed, wishing not for the first time that he’d gone home early that night. “What do you want now, Orenji?”
The vigilante had been a pain in his side for months now, playing pranks on him whenever there wasn’t anything happening on patrol. If Shouta hadn’t seen the videos of Murasaki and Aka harassing Endeavor with an impressive number of fire extinguishers and water buckets, he’d think he were the only hero targeted by a Hood.
As it was, Shouta wished he could figure out how to get him to stop. Arrest wasn’t even an option for the slippery vigilante that could vanish with the drop of a smokescreen, so Shouta stopped trying in favor of asking what he’d done to warrant the other’s dislike. After a few weeks of failed communication, they’d fallen into a routine.
Orenji would sneak up on him, and if he succeeded then he would get one question to ask that Shouta would answer truthfully. If he was noticed, then Shouta would get to ask. They didn’t waste their question with personal information that wouldn’t be given, instead opting for asking oddly specific and often nonsensical things.
“Hmm…well, Eraser, I’ve got this bet with the others on your answer this time. Personally I don’t believe you’ll answer right, but who knows?”
“Don’t waste your breath,” he huffed. “What is it?”
“Can a quirkless person become a hero?”
His blood froze.
Shouta knew he was being unfair to Midoriya that day. The kid did really well, all things considered. Certainly better than Shouta when he was that age. But no matter how much Midoriya trained, no matter how good the kid was at combat…well, there is nothing more cruel than letting someone chase a dream they’d never be able to reach.
“No. They cannot.” He braced himself for the backlash. No matter Orenji’s own opinion on the matter, he’d twist Shouta’s words and use them against him.
“Ding dong, you are wrong!”
Shouta sighed, “It’s not that they can’t fight, but the hero licensing process-”
“Requires a quirk to fill in the forms?”
“...yes. It’s harsh, but I refuse to string someone along, have them think they can reach their goals only to be denied at the very end. I will not waste their time by giving them false hope for something they cannot have.”
Orenji hummed, seeming to think about it. “‘Name one hero who was happy.’”
“Pardon?”
“It’s a quote, from a pre-quirk era book based on an even older story. Ever hear of the hero Achilles?”
“I assume you mean the one from the myths.”
“Yep! The quote is from a conversation between him and his lover, Patroclus. They talk about how all heroes have tragic endings, because one cannot be both famous and happy.”
Shouta considered it. Before, he’d say All Might was a clear exception. But now, after getting to know the man over the past few months… “I suppose that’s not wrong, even by modern standards.”
Orenji snorted, “Of course you’d think that, you’re an underground hero. Fame would be the unhappiest ending of all.”
“Then name one that was happy.”
“Perseus got his happy ending. Didn’t piss off the gods, repaid his debts, wasn’t an asshole, and lived a long and happy life.”
“Any real ones?”
“Well, there are plenty from just this last decade alone. But personally, I think I’m on the track to be one.”
“You’re not a hero.”
Orenji stopped tossing the knife. “Got my provisional license last week. I’m still gonna keep my secret identity, but soon I’ll be completely legal. Arresting me wouldn’t do sh*t, even if I got caught.”
“You can still be charged for past crimes.”
“Oh, I can certainly be accused. Charged, though? You’d need proof, and I have good lawyers.”
Shouta’s mind went blank, scrambling to make sense of what the vigilante was saying. “Your group is on tape, there’s video evidence of you engaging with heroes--”
“Are you sure? Nobody knows who is under the hood, it would be easy for someone to fake being one of us.”
“The HPSC requires your identities to be documented on paper, both hero and civilian.”
“Unless you choose to specialize in undercover work, in which you can create however many personas you need to investigate without having to officially record them until after you’re done. It’s a loophole made for someone else, but I’m fine with hand-me-downs.”
It was frustratingly genius, to use the ridiculous amount of power granted to heroes against them. There were probably dozens of arguments Shouta could make against Orenji’s plan, but the trickster seemed to have a counter for everything he could come up with. This was the result of months of planning, and there was nothing he could do to stop it once it was already in motion.
(Inko had suggested it during dinner two weeks ago after listening to her husband and son come up with elaborate schemes to make the Hoods a long-term plan. It was an elegant and simple fix, one that reminded the two exactly why Hisashi had fallen for her and where Izuku got his cunning from. Out of their family of four, Inko was definitely the biggest threat.)
“Why are you telling me this?” Shouta couldn’t rationalize it. Orenji could be taunting him, but this wasn’t the vigilante’s usual style. He generally went for the element of surprise, a hit-and-run technique that let him get away while your head was still spinning. Nothing this slow and calculated.
“...honestly, I don’t know.” Orenji shrugged, “You hurt me, but that doesn’t make you special. If I harassed everyone that tried to kill my dreams, I wouldn’t have any time for myself. I guess…I guess there’s a part of me that still feels like I could prove myself to you, that you’d change your mind if you just…I don’t know, tried to believe in me. It’s stupid, but I can’t stop looking up to you no matter how much it hurts.”
Something clicked in his mind. “You were one of my students.”
“You should keep better track of the kids you expel. Some higher up took one look at my records and completely unenrolled me instead of transferring me to another course like you said would happen.”
The feeling drained from his limbs, and it wasn’t just the side effects of hanging upside down for so long. Shouta’s head pounded as he processed what Orenji was saying. No wonder the vigilante didn’t like him. The worst part was that he honestly couldn’t remember who might’ve slipped through the cracks--he’d keep an eye out for former students in the school festivals in case they wanted to return to the hero course, but if they didn’t participate then he would never know. It wasn’t uncommon for students to opt-out of the competition.
“What happened?”
He barely heard the humorless chuckle, too caught up in his own thoughts. “I could rant about the unfairness of it all, but…I’ve got better things to do. My family and friends are having a movie night when I get back, and after that I’m investigating a new lead that might solve a case I’m working on.”
Orenji stood, hopping down to the ground below. He looked up at Shouta, seeming to think for a moment before unsheathing the knife and throwing it at him. He braced himself, but it only cut the scarf, freeing him from his restraints. Shouta landed roughly, barely able to get himself upright before hitting the pavement on his side. Raising his head, he saw Orenji standing at the mouth of the alleyway. The streetlight across the road made it seem like he was standing with the sun behind him, casting his shadow over where Shouta lay.
“I’ve done hero work that you wouldn’t dare to touch, achieved things in these past few months that you never will. It would’ve been nice to have you on my side, but…I don’t need your approval or help to be a hero. I’m saving people every day, and--” Orenji paused as he seemed to realize something.
“I’m happy.”
Shouta didn’t try to stop Orenji as he turned his back on him and walked away.
Izuku stood on the shore of Dagobah Beach.
After much debate on whether it was worth giving up the privacy of training where nobody else wanted to go, he and the others decided to clean it. Uraraka was able to get Nedzu to sign off on them leaving the campus dorms three times a week for the community project, which the rest of class 1-A and later class 1-B dogpiled on when they heard about it. So Izuku not only got to spend time with his friends, but got to meet everyone that he should’ve been classmates with.
(Shinsou had stiffened when the rest of 1-A recognized Izuku as the one who got expelled. Thankfully he relaxed once they talked about it, with Izuku reassuring him that there were no hard feelings and that he still found a way to achieve his dream. There was an overwhelmingly positive reaction when Izuku pulled out his provisional hero license, even though everyone already knew of his quirklessness. It was nice.)
Izuku tried not to hold grudges. But as happy as he was with the way his life turned out, he’d probably never completely forgive Eraserhead for not letting him get to know these people sooner.
Class 1-A as a whole instantly welcomed him back as an unofficial classmate, though 1-B (Monoma in particular) would argue that they already got their chance and he was part of 1-B now. It was fun to bounce between the different groups as they gathered trash, learning about their quirks and fighting styles and talking about ways to improve them. He and Yaoyorozu spent a whole afternoon talking about guns and bombs, only taking a break from their discussion to see if she could produce enough oxygen with her quirk to breathe underwater.
It worked, though Iida and Kacchan (an unlikely duo in the name of common sense) looked a second away from strangling them for swimming in such polluted water, especially with winter coming soon. Izuku was too busy cuddling up to Todoroki’s fire side to care as the others stopped cleaning and gathered around the heater Yaoyorozu made for them.
Their project was complete in just under a month, with everyone cheering as Izuku hauled the last abandoned car to the collection dumpsters that Uraraka’s parents organized and that Todoroki funded with his father’s credit card. The following picnic on the beach would probably remain as one of Izuku’s happiest memories for a long time.
He looked out across the ocean waves as the sun set. He’d just finished setting up the remaining League of Villains members with new identities. Apparently they lost a lot of their motivation after a few weeks in Tartarus without a trial, so he’d broken in and rescued them after making sure they were done with villainy. Some were harder to convince than others, but even Shigaraki (now back to Shimura) was willing after realizing that his Sensei had abandoned them.
It was amazing what a good, villain sympathetic set of therapists could do. He’d have to thank his father again for the suggestion, after he was done helping Touya in his case against Endeavor. Granted Nedzu was the main one taking care of that, but Izuku still helped out as Haiiro here and there.
Izuku was almost jealous of the speed in which a hero costume designing program accepted Toga. Apparently a model that could not only simulate their client’s build but also how their quirk worked was invaluable, and it helped that she had a good sense for a person’s preferences in addition to their general behavior. Last he heard, Toga had received an internship offer from the company his mother worked for.
He was distracted from his thoughts when he heard someone approach from behind. Turning around, he was only mildly surprised to see All Might’s shrunken form. The world seemed to be continuing its tendency to throw him curveballs whenever he relaxed.
“Hello there, young man. Would you mind an old man’s company?”
A thought struck Izuku. He doesn’t recognize me. I wonder if he even remembers that day, it’s almost been two years since the incident.
“Go ahead.”
They spent a few minutes like that, watching the dark waters in silence. After a while, All Might spoke. “I heard some of my students had completed a community service project on this beach. It was such a beautiful place before, I couldn’t resist coming to see their work.”
“You must be proud of them.”
“Of course! They’re all such capable young folk. I believe with them around, the future will be in good hands.”
Izuku hummed in agreement. All Might wasn’t wrong, his friends were the best people that he knew. The last time he saw them, they were making a petition to Nedzu to get Izuku a permanent visitor pass so he could see them more often. So that they can see him more often. Not to mention there were bets on how well he’d fare in the various training grounds. He wouldn’t be surprised if they figured out at least one of his identities by the end of the year, but the thought was more comforting than alarming. He trusted them.He couldn’t wait for them to join him on patrols one day.
“So, young man, what brings you here tonight?”
“Ah, I just finished a big project. I wanted to take a break before I went back to work, so I came here.” He was thankful he got in the habit of bringing a plain jacket with him when he left for patrols. It did wonders to hide the bright pink hoodie he was currently wearing, and it was good to have another layer of protection in the winter.
Not that he needed it. His last run-in with Endeavor was more than enough to prove how well insulated his gear was. Safe as a vault, indeed.
“Oh, what’s your job? If you don’t mind me asking.”
He weighed the pros and cons before deciding to go for it. All Might couldn’t break his dreams twice. Worst case scenario, his Pinku persona carried a gun in addition to the various mud and stink bombs. (And pepper spray, which he once called ‘Peppa Spray’ within Kacchan’s range of hearing. He didn’t make that mistake twice.)
“I’m training to be an underground hero. I have a provisional license, though there were some issues that delayed it a little. Some people didn’t want me going into heroics after they saw my quirk registration, so my father had to intervene legally when they sent a letter trying to disqualify me after I already passed.”
All Might made the appropriate disgusted sound in response to such blatant discrimination, though Izuku continued talking before he could ask for more details. “But yeah. I’m really going to be a hero, I’ll be able to help so many people like this. It’s not really a conventional type of heroics, but I look forward to making an impact.”
“That’s an honorable goal, young…”
“Midoriya.”
“Young Midoriya. Unconventional as it may be, I hold a great respect for those that work outside what is shown on the news. With a spirit like yours, I’m sure you’ll make a fine hero.”
He nodded, ignoring the choked feeling in his throat. “Thanks. I…I think I needed to hear that. It’s been a rough few years.”
“May I ask your hero name?”
“Oh! It’s Hood. I know the implications, but it just feels right, ya know?”
All Might laughed, nodding as he continued the conversation. They talked for a while about heroics and society. Nothing too deep, but it was interesting to hear the perspective of the very pillar their system stood upon.
Izuku left shortly after, citing that his patrol would start soon. Climbing the steps back onto the main road, he considered All Might’s words. The guy may be quirkest, but he sure had a way with words. Even if All Might would’ve taken it all back after learning he was quirkless, Izuku took a moment to pretend those words were really meant for him.
As he turned to walk towards the train station, Izuku couldn’t help but notice a pickup truck in the beach’s parking lot that hadn’t been there earlier.
He hesitated.
It was late by the time Toshinori decided to leave the beach park.
After his conversation with young Midoriya (who seemed familiar, but he just couldn’t remember where he’d met the boy. He was depending on the other to react to him in a way to give him some sort of context for the feeling of déjà vu, but he had no luck and pretended to be a complete stranger), he'd sat down at the pavilion on the pier.
He’d have to do some research, but Toshinori had a good feeling about young Midoriya. He had nothing against Nighteye’s protégé, but it was as if One for All itself were protesting whenever he spent time with the boy. Between that and the possibility of All for One still being out there, he’d put his search for a successor on hold.But after his dinner with Naomasa, he was starting to be on the lookout again. According to the detective, the villains had disappeared entirely following the Tartarus breakout, though there were a number of individuals matching their descriptions appearing on the streets. It would normally be cause for concern, except for the fact that they seemed to be pursuing completely legal civilian lives.
As he now strolled towards his truck, he thought about the Hooded vigilantes that young Midoriya’s hero name was inspired by (no matter how much he denied it, Toshinori could tell the truth). They were everywhere nowadays; from the yellow one that acted like a limelight hero on a news interview, to the ones that stuck to the shadows like they were underground. Informant types, support types, if there was a role in heroics there was a Hood to play the part.
He knew he shouldn’t condone breaking the law, but All Might himself had once been a reckless young vigilante before Nana found him. The Hoods did good work, and if their suspected involvement in rehabilitating the League of Villains was to be believed…All Might felt better about his upcoming retirement with citizens like that on the streets. True heroes were always the ones that volunteered to make the world a better place, without anything to gain for themselves.
Young Midoriya seemed well on his way to being a hero, which meant that he’d probably take better to One for All. There would be less of a learning curve, and being underground meant he’d attract less attention from All for One if he was still a potential threat. It was a loose plan at best, but it was still something to work with.
Swinging open the door on the driver’s side, Toshinori’s train of thought came to a crashing halt when he was suddenly assaulted by a putrid odor. Stumbling back, he coughed in surprise, blood hitting the ground. It took a moment to recover, clutching his side as his breathing evened out. Toshinori took out his phone, turning on its flashlight and holding his breath as he peeked in through the open truck door.
Somebody, likely a young delinquent passing the beach on their way home for the night, had stink bombed his truck. Sighing, he looked around for the nearest trash bin. His lung capacity wasn’t good enough to hold his breath for as long as it took to get there, but he could manage it with a break halfway over.
It wasn’t until he returned that Toshinori realized something was missing.
Izuku looked up from his laptop as his father opened his bedroom door. “Hey Dad! Did Mom tell you that you’re in charge of getting Eri ready for school today?”
“Yes, the little one just left now. You kids grow up so fast, I remember the first day you insisted you could walk yourself to school.” He looked like he was going to continue, but got distracted by Izuku’s new wall hanging. “Is that a license plate?”
Izuku very carefully kept a straight face. “No.”
Hisashi raised an eyebrow, “When I suggested that you replace some of your…hero decorations,” he said as if Izuku displayed any of his hero merch besides All Might. “I did not anticipate you going out and taking some fool’s plate.”
“You’re not mad?”
“Izuku, my little duckling, I will never be angry with you for breaking the law, so long as you do so properly and with good reason.”
“...good to know. But you’re mistaken.”
“Oh?”
“It’s still All Might merch. Very exclusive, one of only two produced.” Izuku took the time to enjoy the dumbfounded expression on his dad’s face before turning back to his computer.
After all, he still had work to do.
