Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

     A few days after the Sludge Villain Attack, there was talk of a new vigilante running loose on the streets.

     What most people expected, when they heard the news, was another Puppeteer, a talented young vigilante of two years who relied heavily on his unknown Quirk, and popped up sporadically. Despite the time gaps, whenever Puppeteer showed up, those in the wrong automatically knew there was no way out.

      No one knew what his Quirk was, but he always managed to subdue the villains and criminals in record time, turning them in without a hassle.

     This new vigilante was not like Puppeteer.

     This vigilante was known for taking down small time criminals, to mob bosses, to super villains, tying them up with a nice bow, and leaving them on the police’s doorstep. This vigilante was quickly identified as the same vigilante that had gone MIA a few months ago, after a staged murder. They had gone by the name Spider. They now called themselves Machiavellian.

     ‘They’, because no one has actually seen them.

     There have been many people claiming they have seen Machiavellian, but every alleged ‘fact’ never helped the police find them in the slightest.

     Most of them were the same, “They were too quick for me to see.” Meaning exactly what you’re thinking. The police had absolutely no lead on who they were, and weren’t they happy about that? The only thing that let everyone know that Machiavellian’s vigilante work was theirs , was the symbol that was pressed into every turned in criminal’s shirt.

     It was a simple ‘M’, made out of a silver-colored substance that shines like a mirror, but wiped off like pancake batter on a spoon. No matter how many times they test it, the substance— they’re calling Machiavellians’ Mark, or M Mark for short— seems to dissolve and evaporate into thin air as soon as they touch it.   

     It only left those in on Their case more and more frustrated, because they had absolutely no lead on the vigilante that was swamping them in paperwork.

     If only they were ready for when Machiavellian actually decides to make an appearance

                  _________

     A figure clad in all black slipped into an abandoned building, unnoticed by all around them.

     The figure walked deeper into the building, stepping over  decaying tables and chairs, along with spray paint cans from some delinquent who decided to leave their mark on the building, before being way too creeped out at the shadows that seemed to claw at you.

     They stopped in what could have been a conference room, and lifted a well-oiled trap door that was hidden behind a decaying couch. The figure then began climbing down the steps, silently closing the trap door behind them.

     The person dropped down to the ground in a crouch, completely silent, ears straining to pick up any sound, before determining they weren’t being followed, and they stood back up and continued walking. As the figure walked down a seemingly endless corridor, with a million different tunnels on either side, it seemed to get brighter and brighter, as if they were walking towards a light. It was a fake, to throw off people who weren’t supposed to be there.

     They counted hallways, left arm outstretched to graze the walls, before suddenly turning a corner to continue their journey down a pitch black hallway. Near the end of the hallway, there was a barely visible ladder hanging from a hole that would take them back above ground.

     The figure climbed up the ladder, after a quick check around, because you could never be too paranoid, and came up into a small room the size of an apartment bedroom. Instead of taking the door that was right in front of them, they turned around to face the hole they just came out of, and pressed an almost camouflaged button above it.

     The wall slid silently to the right, leaving a barely noticeable crack between the two walls, big enough for a small person to squeeze through, but small enough to overlook it if you don’t know what it is.

     They slid through the crack, and pressed another button, making the wall slide back into place and shutting them in utter darkness. Only when the wall was securely shut, did another wall open up across from the figure, this one allowing almost-too-bright light to spill out, but the person didn’t flinch, seemingly used to the transition of utter darkness to light.

     The person walked into the light, and was greeted with the sight of a surprisingly clean warehouse-looking room, with mechanical objects strewn everywhere in an organized chaos kind of way. The sound of a monkey wrench being used was the only sound in the room. The person stepped over certain tools on the floor with ease, like a practiced dance that was so engrained into your muscles from so many failures.

       “Why are you being so quiet?” A sudden voice sounded, making the black-clad figure jump. They hadn’t realized the monkey wrench sound had stopped.

     A head popped up from behind a large shiny, white thing , her once pink hair dirty with soot from a failed project, along with grease stains smeared across her face, grey shirt, and cargo pants. She pulled the goggles around her eyes up to rest on her hair, allowing the person to see her assess him in suspicion.

     The sight of the girl with the opposite of raccoon eyes would’ve amused the figure, if she hadn’t figured out why he was trying to be stealthy.

     Her eyes narrowed dangerously, causing the figure to shift uneasily.

     “Midoriya Izuku, so fucking help me, if you lost one of my precious babies, I’m going to turn your ass in and expose you as Machiavellian.”

       “Meiiiiiiiii~,” the figure- Midoriya- whined. “Why do you have to be so mean?”

Her eyes glinted with malicious intent. “So you did lose one?”

       “No!” Midoriya cried, tossing his hands up as if he was trying to prevent his death, which he basically was. “I didn’t lose any of it, I swear!”

       “Why are you shaking?” She asked, deadly calm.

       “.....well. You see...”

       “What did you do, Zu-chan ?” The tone of her voice was enough to force him to answer.

       “I...

mayhavehadaruninwithanewbiecriminalandbrokethetaserknife.”

     Hatsume blinked. Then she hummed and pushed herself up and out from behind her latest project to stand in front of Midoriya. She silently held out her hand, and had to suppress a chuckle when the boy scrambled to grab said knife from his thigh scabbard. He handed it to her, before recoiling as if she was going to hit him.

     She looked down at her precious baby sitting on her palm, and giggled, reveling in the way this famous vigilante, strong, smart, cunning, and dangerous , seemed to shrink into himself at the sound.

       “Don’t sweat it Zu-chan. You didn’t break this baby. It just ran out of electricity. I might have to install some kind of solar panel that picks up moonlight instead of sunlight to make sure it never dies again-“ her mumbling was cut off at the sound of Midoriya slumping to the floor with a relieved cry.

       “I didn’t break it?! Why would it scare me like that?! I honestly thought my days on this earth were over !” Hatsume laughed, and they lapsed into comfortable silence. Well, as silent you could get with a salty boy muttering about babies.

     “Hey, Zu-chan,” she said, getting his attention before Midoriya could start complaining about babies out to get him, and he looked up at her from the floor. “You know you’re going to have to make an appearance soon, right?”

     Said boy dropped his head back to the floor with a defeated groan. “I knowww, but I don’t know how . I’m a quirkless nobody-“ she glared at him. “-and if they search quirkless kids around my height, they’ll find me I KNOW it, because there is no quirkless kid my height, and you know one of the police officers has a lie detection Quirk, so I’d never be able to lie to him if he outright asks me if I’m Machiavellian and oh god whatiftheyfindoutI’mmeandtheysendpeopleaftermeMeiwhatamIgoingtod-“

       “Zu-chan,” she said. “Breathe.”

     He sucked in a huge breath, and said, “Sorry. Getting worked up for no reason.”

       “It’s fine, just remember, that no one has seen you yet, and technically, you’re dead.” Midoriya hummed in agreement, and they both sat there for a moment, lost in their own thoughts, before a light bulb went up over the inventor’s head.

     She slammed her hand down on the table, ignoring Midoriya’s instant reflex to grab his knife, and cried, “I have an idea!” The vigilante looked at her and motioned for her to continue.

       “Alright,” she said, putting her hands on her hips. “But you’ve gotta listen to me all the way, okay?” He nodded.

       “Okay, so your main reason of panic was because of your quirklessness, and the fact that you’re so gosh darn small.” She ignored the indignant, “Hey!”, and continued. “So, what if you dressed as a girl-“ he opened his moth to object, but Hatsume cut him off. “You said you would listen! So shut your mouth and listen!”

     She started pacing, tapping a finger to her lips. “We can finally create an actual uniform for you, but it would be modeled for a female. Obviously, you don’t have the bust to fill a female model, but that way we can fill the cups with a strong but light substance to protect you from any bullets to the heart, since it will have to come up to your collar bones for realism. You already have a slim waist, and and an even slimmer butt, so I’ll create pants that have more padding around that area, along with hardened parts for the hips, so if someone grabs you, again, realism. You have nicely toned legs and arms, so I won’t do anything there except for elbow and knee pads, because heaven knows you need them. And then maybe some sort of high platform shoes to add to your height and throw them off-“

       “Mei-chan! You’re a genius!” Midoriya cried, cutting her off mid ramble.

     Hatsume stared in shock, before she grinned. “I know I am! I didn’t think you would warm up to the idea so quickly!”

       “I didn’t at first!” Midoriya jumped up, and bounced up to her, placing his hands on her shoulders and shaking her. “But it makes sense! They’ll be searching for a quirkless girl , and even then you could fake a Quirk because you’re so amazing, and then I’ll really be off the radar, because of the me  in the suit, and the me out of it and— oh my god Mei-chan, you’re so freaking smart.”

     Hatsume beamed. “I know I am. Now, I’m going to get started on your uniform and voice changer right now, so if I see your sorry ass in the next five seconds, you’re getting a monkey wrench to the head.”

       “W-wait! Shouldn’t you sleep or something?-“

       “4, 3-“

       “BYE MEI-CHAN, CALL ME WHEN YOU’RE DONE!”

     The boy turned around and hauled ass to get back to the door, and when the wall slid shut behind him, Hatsume set off to start Midoriya’s voice changer and uniform. She smiled, and thought of the person he turned her into. She was much level headed now, and it allowed her to think through her babies, instead of powering through them and exploding the entire city. (Again). She shook her head to clear her mind before she got off track, and got to work.

     After all, quality products take time to perfect.

         ____________

    The walk back to his apartment was peaceful. He took his time getting back, taking in the way the plants, not at all affected by the incoming clouds, shone beautifully in the diminishing light, because he knew that no one was waiting for him when he got home.

     Well, technically, if he went home home, he would have his mother losing her shit and consciousness at the fact that her dead son just walked through the door. She would cry, make him explain everything, call the cops, hug him, and then he’d have the one and only Tsukauchi Naomasa sitting across from him, who had a lie detecting Quirk , and-

     Yeah, maybe not.

     There wasn’t a day that passed that he didn’t entertain the idea of him going home. Back to his mother’s smile and warm hugs, her delicious cooking and giggling laugh, their late nights spent throwing popcorn at each other instead of actually watching the movie, dancing in the kitchen when their favorite song comes on, sleeping in a pillow fort during a typhoon, making silly faces across the dinner table-

     Something wet dropped onto his face.

     He looked up, at the swirling grey clouds above him, casting a dark shadow over the entire city, the telltale of a storm, and couldn’t help but feel relieved at the distraction.

     He didn’t want to think about it, about how strong he was because his mother was so protective. It sounds counterproductive, but Midoriya went from having everything done for him, from having his hair washed and shoes being tied for him, to being nine, living on the streets and working his first job.

     He didn’t blame her. He didn’t blame the fact that that damned villain Zònghuǒ had decided that he was going to take his rage out on their old apartment complex, that Midoriya was going to get crushed in an alleyway a few streets down due to an explosion from Zònghuǒ‘s fire reaching a gas tank, that when he finally finds his mother’s hospital room, she’s crying with two hero’s trying to comfort her because, ‘They found her baby’s dead body, burnt beyond recognition , and his funereal is being held next week.’

  ....he really tried not to blame her.

     Because she had so readily believed Endeavor and the Water Hose in his death, he had to try and work his first job to buy some sort of hair dye to hide who he was, because he had seen his mother come to terms with his death, had seen her move on, and he really didn’t want to try and reconnect with Baku-

     He cut off again. That train of thought would only hurt him.

     Looking back to earth, he continued his slow pace back to his apartment, everyone utterly unaware of his seemingly meek presence as they scurried around him with their busy life. Unaware of the danger he possessed, that he could kill 30 people, maybe 40, before any of them could look up from their screens.

     He could smell the petrichor get stronger in a weak breeze, so he flipped his hood up in a weak attempt to protect his expensive, sound-canceling headphones.

     It started raining down hard in the next second, and people began complaining about not bringing an umbrella, rushing to get under something to protect their clothes, while Midoriya just stood there. His black hoodie was starting to stick to his skin uncomfortably, but he ignored it.  He stood, eyes closed, with his face tilted up to the sky, each raindrop falling on his skin effectively covering three of his tears.

     He took a deep breath, and began to squash those feelings back down. He would deal with them later, he told himself, but deep down, knew he was lying. Only when they were successfully bottled up with a pretty ribbon, did he open his eyes and enter his apartment complex.

     His years as a vigilante gave him Quirk like senses, which were a blessing and a curse in one. He could hear, smell, and see as well as someone with a heightened senses Quirk, which had many downsides, and his flexibility, speed, and agility were off the radar.

     It was one of the main reasons he had to wear his sound-canceling headphones. Even with them on, he could hear about as well as he guessed a normal person could. If he took them off, his eardrums would probably burst, even if he was sitting in a quiet room, let alone standing in the middle of the street. That’s how good his hearing was.

     His agility and flexibility were the only good parts. His agility had saved his butt when the all-amazing Eraserhead almost saw him, and allowed him to jump off a two storied building, ( No Mei, your shoes didn’t work, I still hit the ground hard), and twist himself through a super tiny space to wiggle away like some sort of karate worm.

     Hatsume had found a video of his said karate worm moment from a street camera, downloaded it, deleted it from the camera, and still laughed about it, five years later. He was going to find a way to delete that horrible blackmail materiel if it killed him.

     He could hear all the noise his neighbors were making while he was walking up the stairs, and once again wished he had money to buy a better place, preferably sound proofed.

     Anytime he begged Hatsume to soundproof his place, she would respond, “You’re just gonna move when you have the money, what’s the point in me putting in all the extra work?” She would then wiggle her eyebrows suggestively. “What kind of sounds do you need to keep your neighbors from hearing, Zu-chan?” To which he would shove her, she would squawk in indignation, and they would end up in a tickle fight. She would always win, the dirty cheater.

     He successfully evaded all of his annoying wonderful neighbors, but he could hear the old man across the hall walking to his door, and he did not want to hear another rant from his homophonic ass. He practically lunged at his door like a lion to a deer, and almost snapped his key three times before managing to pry open his door.

       “Akatani-“ Midoriya slammed the door shut on his nasty greasy face, and slid down until he was sitting on the ground, curled up into a ball. The man’s face was printed onto his eyes, his shocked face, and Midoriya was shaking, he couldn’t stop it, the feeling crawling up his chest, no matter how much he suppressed it, every time he saw Christophe, it just boiled in the pit of his stomach, and usually, he can suppress it, but it seemed that today, he couldn’t.

     He threw his head back, and it slammed into the door, making a loud thud sound, but he couldn’t hold it in any longer, so he let go. Christophe’s facial expression flashed against the back of his eyes.

     He laughed.

     He howled with laughter, letting it rip from his lungs, undeterred by the sound of Christophe getting increasingly pissed off, only cutting it off when he heard his heavy footsteps march closer to his door before his disgusting heavy hand knocked on his door.

     Maybe it was supposed to be knocking, but with all of Christophe’s thousand pound glory, it sounded like mini explosions to Midoriya. He shuddered at the thought of Christophe exploding, before a flash of red eyes passed his mind and he cut that line of thinking like it had burned him.

     But it did burn , a small part of him whispered, and he tried shutting it out before it got worse, and thankfully (or not, depending on his mood) Christophe was still outside his door.

       “Akatani! When’n elder’s shpeaking with’u, you ansher you brat!”

     Yeah, not thankfully.

     He schooled his expression into one of indifference, one that would later rival the love of his life’s, and opened the door.

     He immediately wished he hadn’t.

     With about three feet between them, Midoriya could smell the alcohol on Christophe’s breath like they were nose to nose, and it immediately made him nauseous. A Midoriya with his head spinning like a merry-go-round on an electrical high made for a very rude, sassy, idgaf ‘Akatani’. He was currently trying to push that part of him down, didn’t want to blow his cover this early in the game.

       “Can I help you, Christophe-san?”

     “Auh, you c’n getchur lazy ass outta m’a house and getta job.”

     Midoriya just stared at him, and couldn’t help but wonder why Hero’s do their job if this is the kind of people they’re saving. He pinched his nose when Christophe swayed on his feet.

     “Christophe-san, you’re drunk. I think it would be best if you-“

       “Don’ ‘ell me whadda do, ya ungrateful brat!”

     He reached his disgusting hand out, probably to try and grab Midoriya, but the boy was already up to his head in irritation. He jerked to the side and snatched the hand, pressing wrist downwards, as if he was trying to show off his nails, and twisted his arm until it made a sickening pop.

     Christophe cried out and dropped to the floor like the overweight sack of potatoes he was. Midoriya leaned over him as the pathetic sniveling man cradled his dislocated shoulder and wrist.

       “Even if you’re drunk Christophe-san, you should know to never touch me. Try that again, when I’m not levelheaded, and you won’t have time to regret it.”

     He turned away from the whimpering man and shut the door on his snotty face. Then he snickered.

     He would tell that one to Hatsume, she loved hearing stories about him messing with Christophe, before remembering her tiny little threat of him keeping away, and he sulked while taking his shoes off. He wouldn’t see her until she’s done with his costume and voice changer. At the thought of his costume, he felt giddiness swell up in his chest. He was going to crosssdresss and fool the entire police station on who he was.

     He took of his shoes, before quickly running into the kitchen and snatching a trash bag. He took off all of his sopping wet clothes, chucked them into the bag, tied it up, before tossing it with the rest of his dirty laundry. He looked at the pile with disdain. It looked like he’d be doing his laundry sooner than he thought.

     He shook his head, and made his way to his room to grab clothes for a shower. Looking at his two boxers, one pair of pants and a t-shirt, he concluded that he would be doing his laundry tomorrow. He grabbed them before making his way to the bathroom.

     As he turned the shower on and waited for the water to heat up, (curse you apartment complex water), he began putting together an act for when he was in costume. He never really had one before now, because no one ever saw him in action, but he decided he would keep his cocky, confident facade in costume, and confident but shy one out.

     He was lucky Christophe was so darn drunk, if he wasn’t, he would remember the dangerous aura that Midoriya was excluding, and that was a no-no if he wanted to stay under the radar. A part of him wondered if he should fake a stutter, like he one he had when he was younger, but he would be easily traceable then, and that’s bad for business.

     He sighed as he stepped into the still kind of cold water. If only he could remain incognito for the entirety of his career, (is it even? It’s kinda of considered illegal?), but he also wanted in on the rush of lying to everyone and no one suspecting him. The thrill of tangling people in his metaphorical spider web, lying to them, getting their trust, all the while slipping underneath their radar undetected... wow. That made him sound wonderful , didn’t it?

     Completing his shower, he continued the rest of his bedtime routine and collapsed onto his bed. He barely had enough time to slip under the covers before sleep pulled him under.

                 __________

     He knew that a uniform and a voice changer was a lot of work, but Hatsume had created a freaking teleportation device, so what was taking her so long? (Before she smashed it with a screw driver on accident. And no, it wasn’t Midoriya’s fault. What was he supposed, stand there and take the hit? No thank you, he rather likes his face how it is— screw driver dent free.)

     He knew he was being pushy, especially since it had only been three days since she sprouted the idea, but he was bored waiting for his laundry to dry, and he couldn’t help but think that he could be in his costume breaking the law to save people. (Hatsume built that device in two days but nooooo.)

     You read that right, three days since he had also said he was going to do his laundry. And here he was: sitting here in the laundromat sulking.

     The only good thing was the little boy sitting across from him. He looked super sour sitting on the bench, his spiked brown hair sticking out from underneath a red hat as he glared at the floor like it had just said that his waifu was trash. Every time the boy looked in his direction, Midoriya would make the most bizarre face he could, and at first, the kid had stared in shock before glaring, but after Midoriya persisted in his little game, the boy started smiling and giggling, sometimes making his own faces back.

     Eventually, he had to end his game, because the timer for his clothes went off, and he did not want to be here any longer. Screw folding clothes, what was a couple of wrinkles? It’s not like he had a reputation to uphold. (That anyone knows of.)

     After tossing all of his burning hot clothes into his little bag, he waved goodbye to the kid, and promised himself that he would buy a washer and dryer. Three steps away from his freedom, he felt something tug at his shirt. Looking down, he realized it was the little kid he was entertaining with his amazing facial features.

       “What’s up, little dude?” He asked, before he could realized that this child might not take well to being called little.

     He was wrong.

     The boy’s eyes instantly glinted mischievously. “I’m little alright. I’m small enough to fit through your windows and steal all of your snickers bars while you’re sleeping.”

     Midoriya gasped as if the boy had just asked if Pepsi was okay when he clearly asked  for Coca Cola.

       “You wouldn’t.” He whispered, dropping his laundry bag and crossing his arms, leaning towards the kid with a fake scowl to try and add to the playful intimidation act.

       “Come at me.” The boy smirked, and Midoriya busted out laughing, unable to hold his facade any longer. This little kid reminded him of himself way too much. The kid joined in, before a gasp cut them both off.

     A woman was standing across from them, with her hands pressed to her mouth as tears ran down her cheeks. She was wearing a simple turtleneck white shirt, with a red pencil skirt covering grey leggings. Her hair was cut into a bob, the same shade of brown as her eyes, and Midoriya recognized her in an instant.

     Sōsaki Shino, hero name: Mandalay. She was a part of the Wild Wild Pussycats, and— she was still crying.

     Midoriya instantly shoved back his fanboying, “Oh my gosh! Mandalay-san, are you okay? What happened? Why are you crying? Is there anything-“

       “Kota...” she said, cutting Midoriya off mid-ramble. “Were you... laughing?”

     The boy—Kota—looked up to the hero and nodded. “He made me laugh.”

     With the heroine’s attention on him, Midorya didn’t know what to do. When she quickly closed the space between them, he instantly tensed, thinking that she somehow found out he’s a vigilante, how he’s been breaking the law, and oh my gosh he didn’t even get to test Hatsume’s uniform he was goingtodieunhappyhewasreallylookingforwardstothat-

     Warm arms wrapped around him and his eyes widened when he realized she was hugging him. A hero was hugging him. Holy sh-

       “Thank you,” she whispered,  her mouth hovering over the part of the headphones covering his ears. Her voice was soft, the crack loud enough for only him to hear. “He hasn’t even smiled since his parents died.”

     Ah. Who needs a heart anyways? It’s so overrated. His not-heart clenched in pain and understanding. Even though his mother was still alive, if felt like she wasn’t, considering he was  dead and she was out of his reach. Those kind of emotions were hard for him to handle, and this kid was going through the same thing.

     A tear slipped down his eye.

     The hero pulled back, startled. “Oh I’m sorry,” she said, her voice still thick with tears. “I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

       “I lost my parents too.” He whispered. Mandalay paused, before looking at him in shock. He turned to Kota, who had a blank look on— and didn’t that hurt. Someone so young shouldn’t have to wear such a mask .

     He kneeled down in front of the little boy, and placed his hand on top of his head. Instead of seeing spiked brown hair and dark eyes, he saw curly green hair and sad green eyes. He said what he wished someone had said to him when he was Kota’s age.

       “You’ll get through this, I swear. At first, it will be hard, and it will hurt a lot. There will be times when you just want to lay in bed and cry, but eventually, you’ll find the strength to keep going, I promise you. Wounds like these just need time.” He whispered, placing his other hand on top of Kota’s hat. The little boy looked taken aback, searching his eyes for lies, but only finding understanding , before tears welled up in his eyes and he threw himself into Midoriya’s arms, wailing out all the pain and loss and misery that he let fester deep in his chest.

     He curled his arms around the tiny, fragile boy in his arms, and swore he would help him get through the misery that was running through his veins. Kota’s hands strangled the back of his shirt, as if he could pull Midoriya any closer than he already was. Midoriya just curled his body around him more, as if he could protect him from all the horrors in the world.

     Some of the people in the laundromat began to give them weird looks, so Midoriya glared at them until they turned away, uneasy. A kid shouldn’t be able to look like that, but unbeknownst to them, Midoriya was anything but a kid.

     When the little boy had let out all of his pain, it was almost half an hour later and Midoriya’s knees were aching from pressing into the concrete for so long. He picked up the drowsy boy and handed him to his teary-eyed aunt.

       “Let him cry it all out,” he said. “Don’t praise his parent’s deaths, but don’t apologize to him. Let him cope in his own time.” The heroin nodded, not realizing that he knew exactly who his parents were, and thanked him.

     As she turned to leave, a thought struck her.

       “What is your name? How can I get back into contact with you?”

     Midoriya’s heart stopped. A hero was asking for his name and a way to communicate. He really wanted to tell her, but he could be putting the two of them into a lot of danger just by talking to them. He could be the cause of their deaths one day because he failed in his hunting down of that damned villain who ‘killed’ him and then what is he going-

     Kota shifted in his sleep with a small whine.

       “My name is Akatani Midoriya.”

     ..... shit.

     The heroin smiled, “Thank you, Akatani-san.”

     She turned around and left after Midoriya gave her his number, leaving Midoriya to wonder why the fuck he  thought it was a good idea to give a hero his real surname. Before he could put all these bad scenarios through his head, he snatched all of his clothes, leftover soap and dryer sheets, (don’t think he didn’t see you eyeing them, Sujin-san) quickly leaving the place and running back home. He almost took out a grandma, (100 pts), two kids, (50 pts), and a dog, (1 pt). 151 points anyone?

     Honestly, he didn’t know why he was panicking so much. He should be fine. He normally went by ‘Midori’, but two letters could literally be the downfall of everything he’s worked for. ‘Midoriya’ wasn’t a common surname, and if Mandalay decided to run his name through the system, she would either not find anything, or she would find pictures of nine year old Midoriya Izuku and his mother Midoriya Inko.

     God that name hurt to think about.

     He dropped his stuff by the door, locked it, tossed his headphones somewhere behind him, and collapsed on his couch, letting sleep take him into her sweet embrace. He was not gonna deal with the stupid thing called ‘emotions’ today or ever, no thank you.

     An annoying beeping yanked him from his nice dream of being asphyxiated. He jerked up away from the couch, a nice Midoriya-was-drooling-here- imprint left in his wake, before stumbling towards the beeping sound. He traced it to his phone, and sleepily put it to his ear before registering the slickness against his cheek. With the most disgust a fifteen year old boy can manage, he wiped off all the drool and pressed the green button.

       “Hello?” He slurred groggily.

       “IZUKU YOU LITTLE SHIT. IVE BEEN CALLING YOU FOR THE PAST THREE MINUTES.”

     He cringed away from the loud noise, darting into his room to find his smaller earbuds to block out her yelling. “Oh?” He said smartly once they were in.

       “WHAT DO YOU MEAN, ‘OH?’ YOU STUPID, FLAT CHESTED CROSSDRESSING LITTLE-“

       “Mei-chan, I’m not a cross dresser.”

     There was a moment of silence from the girl. “Well, starting tonight, you are. Get your butt over here and check out my awesome work.”

     She hung up.

     Midoriya will never admit to the fact that he stood there for a good minute, staring at the phone in shock because it didn’t happen, you hear him? It didn’t happen, or that secret you’ve been hiding from your mom will be spilled in an instant.

     He didn’t even remember if he locked his house, because the next thing he knew he was impatiently waiting for the stupid, slow wall to open, hurry the fu-

     The wall opened.

       “Where is it?!” He cried, running into the workshop and almost killing himself on all of Hatsume’s unfinished babies. “Where is my unifor- HOLY CRAP-“

      He didn’t shriek like a girl, you’re hearing thing. HEARING THINGS. The threat, remember it well... or else your mom will know.......

     Said girl was standing proudly in front of three dress forms covered in a sheet. Her hair was disheveled, somehow even sootier than when he last saw her, to the point where she didn’t even look like she had pink hair. (Did she even shower?! Umm, hygiene?!) She had dark eye bags that looked like they would drown her at any moment, ( god Mei, those are worse than mine) but her eyes were shinning brightly.

       “Normally, I would scold you for not even greeting me, but I am too excited to even care ohmygoshZuchanyou’regonnahatemebutit’sokaybecauseyoucantchangeanything-“

      ...he wasn’t scared.

    She ripped the sheet off of the dress form in the middle with a flourish, not unlike a blondie Midoriya would meet later on, and he blanched when he saw the main piece.

     He was fucking scared.

     The form only had the chest piece, so Midoriya was safe to assume one of the other ones had his pants and maybe shoes and his voice changer? But the chest piece, my god Mei .

     It didn’t have shoulders and it cut off right between his ribs. Hatsume. Put. Him. In. A. Crop top . She was so dead.

     It was unnerving, seeing breasts in a shirt but not having it connected to anything, and listening in on Hatsume’s rambling, she had made it to look like skin, and it even had a small layer of red dye underneath it that was sensitive to temperature to make this ‘skin’ flush or pale in certain temperatures. That was besides the point.

     The actual tough but flexible material was a dark forest green, and it stopped just below his collarbones, before going out like an off the shoulder shirt but without the shoulder. There was a triangle cut out in the middle of his chest, showing where his ‘breasts’ would begin, the ‘Y’ looking far too real for Midoriya to be comfortable. The material then went down, following the fake curves like a second skin, before cutting off right in the middle of his ribs with a loose ‘v’, following the curve of the breasts and would further accent the tiny waist he had.

     Everything else, his very feminine-looking stomach, his shoulders, up his neck— was that a fucking choker?! What the actual hell, Hatsume?!— was covered in this black fishnet-looking material that Hatsume said was made of steel covered nitinol. Flexible, but strong.

       “So?” Hatsume said after a few minutes of Midorya gaping at the skimpy outfit he was going to be wearing on the streets kicking ass. Suddenly, the thought wasn’t as bad as it was earlier.

       “It’s gonna take some getting used too, but it’s absolutely gorgeous, Mei-chan. Thank you.”

     She beamed with pride, before ripping off the next sheet. “And now to your pants!”

     Again, she needs chill on the dramatics, she isn’t getting paid for this. Midoriya suddenly felt a not-really-but-kind-of-pit in his stomach. Hatsume wasn’t hacking his bank account, was she? Not that it would bother him, random jobs and under the table payments, along with the fact that he wasn’t paying to go to school meant that he could live pretty comfortably if he wanted to. That’s besides the point though, was she?...

     ...well, he wouldn’t put it passed her.

     The pants were also slim fitting, and—thankfully— had no skin showing. They were a darker, grenade color, but they had a strip of grey running down the side of his thighs, which then connected to a weird looking rectangle thing. He didn’t know what it was, but it looked awesome.

     While he was inspecting it, she had pulled the boots from the other dress form and Midoriya blanched.

       “Hatsume Mei.” He said, his calm voice not betraying the inner turmoil that was his emotions. “ You do realize that those are heels , right?”

     She shifted at the tone of his voice, before her excitement overran any of her previous doubt. “I said I would earlier, to throw the police off of your super tiny-ness.” She again, ignored his indignant cry.

     “Besides, you’re 5’5, and these are only three inch high heeled boots. They’re form fitting, and these silver bands right here will cinch the fabric like a second, tougher, layer of skin without any crinkles, guaranteed!”

     She handed them to him, and ran off to god-knows-where, and he took the time to feel the smoothness of the boots, like water resistant shirts, but harder and minus the discomfort. Gosh, he was so ready .

       “Zu-chan! I got your mask and voice changer!” Hatsume came running back with a white top mask in hand, and a green bottom mask in the other. She displayed both for him to see.

     The top mask was a shiny white, looking almost like porcelain but feeling more like plastic. It would cover his face like a basic Columbia mask, but on the left side, it had three sections coming up like curved claws. There was a black see-through sheet over the eyes, thin enough for him to see through, but thick enough to keep most things out.

     The bottom mask covered everything the top mask didn’t, and would protrude over his face for extra protection. It had an oval in the middle of it, and upon touch, felt like a speaker. The other two ovals on either side of the middle one were smaller, and Hatsume explained that one would take in and purify air, and the other would release the carbon dioxide.

       “Well? What are you waiting for? Let’s get you suited up!”

     His head snapped up, and he stared at his best friend in awe. She tossed her hair over her shoulder with a condescending huff.

       “I know it’s amazing, but let’s hurry it up, yeah? I still have to straighten your hair. We don’t have all night.”

     Tears welled up in his eyes. “Mei-chan...”

     She shook her head and took the mask from him. “None of that Zu-chan. The best way to thank me is to wear it, and kick ass in it.”

     She turned around to grab the rest of his uniform, and Midoriya took that few seconds to wipe the tears from his eyes. He clenched his fists and stared determinedly at the mask. He was so freaking ready .

     He was not ready.

     First of all, if you’re a woman, and you have to live with the god awful things called breasts ,  Midoriya pities you. They were heavier than he was expecting, putting a weird weight on his lower back that he did NOT like, and they limited his movement .

     And the straightener?! SENT FROM THE DEPTHS OF HELL ITSELF. That thing was hot , and Hatsume kept burning his ears , and the hair that Hatsume finished burned his skin —

     He was so regretting this.

       “Hush your whining,” Hatsume shushed, fixing the top after she squeezed it over his head . It was a shirt for crying out loud. A crop top sure, but a SHIRT. It shouldn’t need to be squeezed over his head because god that is so freaking tight air where have you gone—?!

     She slipped the sleeves on with no problem, since there was no alteration to them, and the elbow pads went on without much complaint as well. The sleeves connected to the main piece by a strap, and were to provide extra padding if he were to fall on his shoulders. The elbow and knew pads had an ‘M’ on it, and they were lined with gold that would glow depending on how much light it was exposed to.

     The pants were easier to put on than the shirt, only because he wasn’t getting suffocated while putting it on. Well, a part of him was but it wasn’t deadly.

     ...Right?

     ..... right?

        “Quit your muttering. I swear you’re not gonna die. No woman has ever died from putting on skin-tight clothing.”

       “That you know of!” Midoriya cried, three seconds away from saying screw it and becoming a streaker vigilante.

     Suddenly, the pants become suffocating , and the padding keeping him safe to have children in the far future was suddenly feeling like he was never going to be able to have kids.

       “Mei-chan-“

       “Midoriya fucking Izuku if you don’t shut your goddamn mouth right now, I swear to god, I will stick a monkey wrench so far up your ass you will thank me when it comes out of your mouth.”

     ....remind him to never mess with a girl on her period.

     He wisely kept his mouth shut.

       “Good boy,” she cooed, and Midoriya was not scared. Nope not at all, what is fear? “Now, how does that feel?”

     She had finished getting the pants on, (because Midoriya couldn’t do that himself hell no), and was grabbing his boots to put on. He brushed the hair out of his face and hesitantly twisted a bit to the side, scared for any pain. He was surprised to find none, that he could move quite easily, the only downside was his breathlessness because, I don’t know, his lungs are being squished to a minuscule of their normal size?

       “ Its surprisingly easy to move in this.” He said in awe, twisting side to side just a bit quicker than before.

     Hatsume chuckled, coming back and kneeling down in front of him, motioning to put his leg in her lap. “Don’t sound so shocked. Women do this all the time.”

     Cue the awe. Women willingly did this? Granted they have the curves, so they don’t need the torture device Hatsume had called a waist-trainer , but still. The idea of doing that every day sounded horrible.

     Hatsume clicked the last boot shut with a, “There we go!”

     She stood up and patted down her clothes, dust and soot coming off of her like her own personal ash from a volcano. She grabbed a little container and showed it to him.

     “These are contacts.” No shit Sherlock. “The sclera is black and the iris is a luminescent blue that will glow like a light when you press this button.” Damn those look badass. She held up a tiny container that looked like a can of spray paint, but was small enough to fit in his hands without being detected. When she pressed the button, the contacts lit up like someone seeing the love of their life.

     Putting them in was a whole new different story.

     To save you the trouble, we’ll just say Hatsume had to pin Midoriya down like the little sub he was, and put them in herself, ignoring the thrashing and crying. They weren’t that bad, so hush Midoriya.

     Fast forwards the whole Contact Problem would see Midorya pouting on a table with his arms and legs crossed like a petulant child. His eyes were red rimmed from crying but otherwise there was no other indication.

     What once was bright green was now a dark blue iris with lighter luminescent blue flecks and black sclera covering the rest of his eye. He has yet to have seen it, and he better look good because those were a PAIN to put in. Literally and figuratively.

     “C’mere Zu-chan. Come into the white room and I’ll take a picture.”

     He turned to look at her in confusion, before seeing the monkey wrench in her hand and deciding that he was not going to question her.

     He flicked his hair out of his face and pushed himself off of the table before almost breaking his ankle when he hit the ground much quicker than he was expecting too. Hatsume bursted out laughing.

     “Har har,” he huffed, throwing his hands out and wobbling over to Hatsume like a newborn fawn. She apparently thought this was hilarious, as her laughter doubled back twice as hard, and she wrapped her arms around her stomach as she fell back against the wall.

       “Keep laughing, don’t worry, I don’t have feelings.” He muttered, before his ankle gave out and he fell to the right with a, “Fuck-“ as his shoulder connected with one of the tables Hatsume just had laying around. He clung to the table like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to the real world, his face probably way too scared for someone wearing heels for the first time, as he tried to get his feet to stay underneath him.

     He turned to Hatsume, and busted out laughing at her face. She had slid all the way to the ground, still clutching her stomach as her silent laughter shook her body, her face turning redder and redder until it was borderline blue. Tears were streaming down her face as she tried to gain her bearings one again.

     His laughter ended up making him loose his very hardly worked for balance, as he tipped over and fell on his bottom, the cushion that made him look like he had hips making sure he didn’t feel anything, and his shock was very clear on his face.

       “T-Tim-timber!” Hatsume wheezed, before they locked eyes and a new round of laughter sent them both rolling on the ground like it could give them the air they needed.

     After the Laughing Incident TM, Hatsume had gotten Midoriya safely into the white room, (which was exactly what it was, a room with white walls), she told him the secret to waking in heels.

       “Trust the heel.” Which was very helpful, thank you very much. But he had gotten the hand of it, and no longer looked like a fawn. He looked like a little girl wearing her mother’s nine inch platform heels for the first time, according to Hatsume. But, who listens to Hatsume anyways. (Cue Midorya pouting.)

     She dimmed the lights in the room after handing him his mask, and Midoriya was half expecting to hear that old song ‘Lets Get It On’ by Marvin Gaye  to start playing from hidden speakers.

     Half to his disappointment, it didn’t happen.

       “Alright, press the top button and pose for me.” She said, putting the camera up to her eyes to take the picture.

     Midoriya did as she said, slipping on the mask as well, before he put one leg in front of the other, one arm behind him and stuck his other one out, twisted just enough to see the small canister thing that held the button for his contacts.

       “You’re so boring,” she sighed. A click signified her taking the picture.

     He excitedly bounded over, ignoring the fact that he did that without tripping, and stuck his face in Hatsume’s camera.

     “Lemme see!” He cried, and Hatsume laughed while she tried putting the camera above his head. A flawed plan, since naturally, Midoriya is three inches taller than her, and including the three inch boots she made him, six inches. He snatched the camera like candy from a baby.

     He was shocked.

     It didn’t even look like him! It didn’t even look like a him. He turned to Hatsume.

       “This is me?!” She nodded, and he looked down at the picture again. “This isn’t me! I’m a man!” He cried.

       “Not it that suit you’re not. You’re a female vigilante by the name of Machiavellian.” Hatsume snickered. “Who wears a skimpy outfit to distract the criminals.”

     He screeched indignantly, and began chasing her around the room, screaming about how it was her idea.

     After he had calmed down, Hatsume walked him to The Wall.

       “Are you ready?” She asked, her weird canister in hand. He nodded.

       “Alrighty. Remember, you’re supposed to be making an appearance, so if you can, when taking down a criminal, let yourself be seen by a camera.” She handed him the canister. “You already know what the top button does, and the bottom one will give you a distraction if you get caught by Eraserhead. The other end will give you the Mark, just proceed as usual, okay?”

     He nodded again. Hatsume laughed,

     “What’s a matter? Cat got your tongue?”

       “Mei-chan, I’m nervous.” He admitted. She tilted her head to the side.

       “About what? You’ve never been seen before, let alone caught. What are you worried about?”

       “...I honestly don’t know. Thank you for that, Mei-chan.”

     She beamed. “No problem. Now, get out there and make your mark.”

     He nodded. “Thanks Mei-chan!” He called as he slipped between the wall and disappeared into the tunnels that would lead him to his great debut.

       This is gonna be great.