Chapter Text
Izuku knows that his dad is calling again even without the personalized fleetwood mac ringtone his mother had set cluing him in. That was always his habit. If Izuku rejected his call one time, must have been a bad time. Twice? That was a coincidence. Three times, and then it was time to whip out the big guns. It was time to call his mom.
He groans when he hears his mom answer it- entirely too happily, too. She was much too cordial to the man who had essentially abandoned her, In Izuku’s humble opinion. Just because the abandonment hadn’t extended to financially didn’t mean he wasn’t a deadbeat. A lowlife, too, for divorcing her without even showing up in person. For all of his talk of ‘incompatibility’ and ‘no hard feelings’ you’d think he’d at least have the spine to look her in the eye instead of sending her the papers in the mail. His mother might have forgiven him and kept the relationship friendly- but Izuku wasn’t in the mood to. Hadn’t been in the mood for six years and counting. When would he be in the mood? Unclear. Better say never just to be safe.
The sounds of his mother making dinner die down as she answers the phone, turning off the water and turning down the stove so the bubbling water of the boiling potatoes silences. His mother is cheery with her ex-husband, asking politely how he had been doing and if his job in America was still treating him well. Izuku was impressed by his mother’s ability to forgive and forget, as she had never once asked him about whatever American woman must have seduced her husband out from under her to the point where they had never met in person again. Whatever he says back makes her laugh, which only irritates Izuku further.
He focuses on the notebook in front of him. Waterway, a newly debuted hero who could sense and control water, was half-sketched on the page in front of him. Izuku had captured the navy blue and cyan bodysuit with his oil crayons, and the flaxen tinge of her hair before it was covered by her blue hood, but he had stalled on her hands. They weren’t gloved, he had been able to see skin from his glance last week, but there had been a blue tinge he couldn’t quite remember the origin of. Her skin? Was it a flash of water in her hands? Maybe it was just that her nails were painted blue. Whatever the case, it was holding up his sketch. He’d need another look to determine what the cause of the blue was before he finished it. After all, it could matter. Another aspect to her quirk. Despite being already a few years out of Shiketsu, she hadn’t made it into the news cycle in any meaningful way, preferring to spend her time in back-alleys with the other underground heroes. Why she chose to do that in such an eye-catching suit, Izuku wasn’t positive. Maybe it was a fashion statement, or maybe she was one of the many heroes dedicated to a fault to matching the color scheme of their quirk. If he got the chance to talk to her one day (if he could ever work up the nerve) maybe he could ask. He’s filling in more details on her boots when his mother knocks lightly on the cracked-open door.
“Izuku? Honey?” Her voice is tentative, as it always was when handling the live explosive that was the topic of his father, “can I come in?”
“Yeah, you can,” Izuku allows her entry, but stays curled up in his desk chair with his notepad firmly on top of his folded knees.
The door swings open, and she stands in the doorway with a troubled little frown, holding her phone close to her ear while she examines her son. After a few seconds proving he wasn’t going to look away from his sketch, she spoke.
“Is something wrong with your phone, honey? Hisashi says he’s been trying to call you all week to wish you a happy birthday, but you never answer….”
Izuku huffs, keeping his eyes glued to the drawing. Though the longer he looked, the more he got irritated that her hands weren’t done. He really needed another look at her. When his mother doesn’t speak again, he tries for a response.
“I’ve been busy,” It’s a lame excuse, and more than a little petulant. Maybe it was his way of giving some trouble to his dad after all the trouble he caused him.
“Too busy for one call?” She calls him on his bullshit, in her own motherly way.
Izuku finally looks up at her, and whatever angry, sad, childish expression he must be making is enough to soften his mother’s frustrated face. She sighs, turning away from him and slipping outside of his room, bringing the door to an almost-close behind her. Izuku can still hear her through the gap.
“I know, Hisashi. I know. He’s just- he’s angry, okay?” Her voice is gentle, almost consoling, “I thought he was doing better, too. I think it’s- Hisashi, can I be honest? I know why you might not want to see me, but you shouldn’t stay away from Izuku. He hasn’t seen you in person in years. Hasn’t even seen your face. I think he’s starting to feel rejected. You know he’s still insecure about-”
Izuku gets up, shutting the door to stop the sound of her pitying words. He clicks the lock on instinct, walking over to his bed and grabbing his all-might emblazoned pillow. He smothers his face in it, letting out a deep groan as he clutches the fabric. Even muffled through the door, he can still hear the slight lilt of his mother talking to his father. No clear words, but he could imagine. He’s still insecure, honey. He’s just dealing with it. He knows you left because he’s quirkless. He knows if he wasn’t so useless it might have been different. He knows you probably have a new wife and a new son in America- one with a quirk you could examine and talk about.
It was a cruel trick of fate that a man like his father, so gifted in Quirk Analysis, had a child with no quirk so to speak of. He may lie and pretend that it didn’t matter, but the writing had been on the wall. After all, it was shortly after Izuku was diagnosed that he spent more time at work. Shortly after he had to be pulled out of Aldera Elementary from the bullying that he suddenly spent more time on business trips. The distance grew and grew, and by the time Izuku had turned nine years old, Hisashi Midoriya had departed for his ‘business trip’ to America that turned into relocation, and now his family hadn’t seen him for six years. None of Izuku’s efforts had worked. Not his increased effort in quirk analysis, not his efforts to get on any of the sports teams at East Musutafu Elementary, and not even his requests for more time together. There was nothing he could do to stop the drifting of his father. No monthly phone call or child support check could dull that ache, even if the exclusive All Might pillow cases it bought him were doing their best. He knew what his father must view him as: a dud.
He pulls his face out of the pillow to wipe away the few errant tears that had slid down his face. When he sits up on his bed, he sees that the light peeking from under his door has dimmed. The tell-tale sign his mother had gone to sleep. Early, though, for her. Barely nine thirty. Izuku liked to think Hisashi exhausted her just as much as he exhausted him. Normally he’d turn in for the night too, but it was still pretty early. Plenty of time to go out and still get enough sleep for school. But maybe he shouldn’t, his mom didn’t like him going out on school nights. Though, if she was already asleep….
His eyes darted toward the window. Then back to the dim light from under his door. He was on thin, thin ice after his last late-night escape, but that had been so worth it. He had never gotten such good quirk data before! This time he would be more careful. With that in combination with all of his recent gym and self-defense efforts, surely nothing could happen to him. Surely.
Grabbing his hoodie from his desk chair, he slides it on as he grabs his ‘go bag’ from underneath the bed. Perfectly equipped for anything an on-the-go analyst might need. Blank notebook, pencils, a few colored markers, several disposable cameras, and a flare gun. His father may not have appreciated his efforts to get closer, but Izuku wasn’t going to let his hobby go just because it failed to get him paternal affection. He was damn good at it- and one day he’d be even better at it then his dad! He’d be the greatest quirk analyst the world had ever seen- and the greatest hero! The greatest multitasker!
With how carefully greased he keeps the window, it slides open silently. Shimmying out onto the fire escape, Izuku makes his way down from the fourth floor apartment in just a minute or two, landing the slight jump onto the sidewalk with only a little ‘oomph.’ He slides one earbud into his ear, the radio it’s connected to in his pocket giving him a steady stream of hero activity. It was a quiet night, the chatter sparse and not overly important. One or two comments from the sidekicks that drew the short-straw on suspicious men in hoodies or loitering teenagers. He stays near his apartment, waiting for anything to pique his interest. No point in dragging himself out into the city for no action. He’s leaned against the wall of the apartment twenty minutes later and considering returning inside when finally, his radio picks up something interesting.
“...Three men at 47th south speaking over a briefcase. One mutation type and two men of average build. Content of the case is unclear. Closing in now for a better look, over.”
He perks up. That was Waterway! 47th street was close, too! He’s moving before he can even try to think better of it, half-jogging in and out of alley shortcuts to get there before the situation resolves itself or a fight starts. Thankfully the gym has paid off, because he isn’t panting loudly enough to alert everyone in a ten-mile radius when he slows to a stop as the men in question come into view. Izuku ducks behind a dumpster in a kneel, peeking out as discreetly as he can.
It’s as Waterway described. The man holding the case had a mutation quirk that gave him the appearance of a squirrel- only a very big and very violent squirrel. Not the kind you’d want to throw an acorn to. It was propped open only enough for the two men he was speaking to to get a look inside, and whatever it was clearly had them interested. They talk in hushed voices, things Izuku can’t really catch. Something something ‘five grand’ something something ‘trigger’. The murmured and hushed words didn’t interest him as much as trying to get a look at Waterway. He couldn’t tell where she might be, as all of the dumpsters and trash cans nearby were decidedly unoccupied aside from him. The buildings bracketing the alley didn’t have any windows, either, and he couldn’t get a good glance at the rooftops on either side, where he figured Waterway might be hiding. Though that wouldn’t be the best option, given her costume was so eye-catching. Though maybe she had a second suit, and relied on people thinking she’d be very visible? No, no, because the first time he had seen Waterway she had been in that same white suit, and that would have been a good circumstance to be easily hidden in since it was her bright suit that allowed that magma guy to give her a nasty burn on her leg. If there were ever a time to reveal your trick, it was to avoid the guy made out of lava.
Izuku scoots out a little bit more to try and catch sight of her. The radio was silent, so he couldn’t try and use her reports to figure where she might be. He’s rising just slightly into a higher crouch to arch his neck up to look at the rooftops again when his phone buzzes in his hoodie pocket- his one warning before it begins to blare ‘material girl’ at full volume for the alley to hear.
The only thing louder than Madonna’s top ten hit was Izuku’s shriek in response to it. He dug his hand in his pocket, desperately trying to turn off the ringtone that heralded his best friend’s calls. It slips out of his hand, managing to land a foot away on the concrete as it continues to play.
Izuku’s heart pounded in his chest as he heard the men respond to the sound. He scrambled back, pushing himself into the brick wall behind him as he put a hand over his mouth to try and muffle his panicked breath.
“The fuck is that?” The high, squeaky voice invades Izuku’s ear. Clearly the squirrel. His voice was quite cute for his murderous appearance. Perhaps a part of the quirk? Maybe it was used to lure in unsuspecting people, how insidious! Though it was a very good part of the quirk, and very hidden. You wouldn’t expect it from such a plain-presenting quirk….
“What are you mumbling about, kid?” Izuku slowly looks up, coming face to face with the squirrel in question. His body goes cold, his heart seizing in his chest as the beady amber eyes burn into his soul. His hand (paw? Did squirrels have paws?) is in his own hoodie pocket, and Izuku doesn’t have that many guesses on what might be in it. His heart goes a million miles an hour, his brain even faster, and he blurts out an answer before the squirrel can decide to make wall art with his brain matter.
“Drugs!” He shouts, awkwardly, “that I would like to purchase! From you?”
“Hah?” The squirrel is confused.
“Yes, I was told you sell very good drugs and I’m someone who appreciates very good drugs because I….do drugs.” Izuku nods, squinting at the squirrel while doing so. His unsure tone does not seem to persuade the man. His expression squirrels, beady eyes narrowing down at him.
“You were told I sell drugs, hm?” he asks, his hand shifting inside of his hoodie pocket again. Izuku’s eyes can’t help but dart to it. “Mind telling me exactly where you got that information?”
Izuku’s heartbeat is surely audible. It thumps in a panicked rhythm, and the rhythm is that of Material Girl. He was going to die in this alley all because he forgot to put his phone on silent. He opens his mouth to try and think of another lie, but his mouth and throat are so dry all that comes out is a frightened croak. He fists his hands tightly in his hoodie pocket, trying to ground himself when he feels a small can of deodorant in it. Oh, his peppermint body mist. A gift from his mom. Well, at least he could die smelling good. Well, he wouldn’t smell good to his murderer. Squirrels hate peppermint. Maybe-
Wait. Squirrels hate peppermint. Peppermint mist was in his hand. Huh. Well, the squirrel was going to shoot him anyways clearly, so if there was ever a time for last-ditch efforts….
The Squirrel makes another taunting remark, but with his blood rushing in his ears Izuku can’t hear it. With a very warbling battle cry, he pulls the spray from his pocket and presses down on the release, the minty spray filling the air instantly. The Squirrel hisses, and Izuku takes the chance to throw himself to the left with clenched-shut eyes as it takes a swipe at him. His knee hits the concrete painfully, the skin exposed by his shorts becoming bruised and scraped in an instant. He doesn’t let it distract him, opening his eyes to see the now very angry and very blind squirrel taking swipes at the area where Izuku used to be, clearly trying to kill. Izuku stumbles to his feet, making a dash for the end of the alley after swiping his fallen phone. He almost gets there, too, if it wasn’t for the meddling underground hero who seemed determined to force stupid ideas onto Izuku’s dreams like ‘logic’ and ‘regard to basic safety.’
“Eraserhead, you get the kid!”
Waterway and Eraserhead descend from the rooftop, landing in between the squirrel and himself. Before Izuku can continue his race out he’s stopped by the constricting strands of the capture weapon, wheezing as it tightens until the air is knocked out of him. He falls to his knees, groaning when the erasure hero steps in front of him, lifting his yellow goggles to glare at him with dry, judgemental eyes.
“I thought I’d already warned you about sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong, troublemaker,” he speaks through grit teeth, arms crossed and foot tapping an impatient rhythm on the concrete. Izuku can hear the sounds of Waterway dealing with the squirrel behind him. He can’t resist.
“I promise to listen to whatever lecture you’ve prepped for me, really. But would you do me the mercy of turning me around so I can see Waterway fight first? That way it’ll feel more worth it.”
He says it as earnestly as possible, but it isn’t satisfactory to the underground hero. He smacks him lightly on the side of the head, just enough to rattle him a little bit. He is condemned to starting the lecture early as the fight continues behind them, all of that precious quirk data wasted. By the time the fight is finished, so too is Eraserhead’s lecture.
Izuku had a history with the erasure hero. The first time he had snuck into a crime-infested alley to watch underground heroes at work, the hero had saved him without much comment. Clearly he had assumed he was a stupid kid who had wandered in accidentally. The second time, coincidence. The third time he had gotten a lecture, and the fourth time a stern warning. The most recent time had resulted in his harshest penalty yet: a snitching. The hero had marched him home and told his mom of his crimes, and gotten Izuku grounded for a month. Izuku was nearly scared to think what he might do this time. He waits, sufficiently abashed, for the bitching to stop. It does with a deep sigh from the pro, and when Izuku’s eye opens again he sees the man grumbling as he pulls out a pamphlet from his belt. He releases the capture weapon, and when Izuku’s hands are free he shoves the pamphlet into them.
“If you are so determined to learn about quirks, do it the proper way. This is an information pamphlet on UA, and you should consider the support course. You’d be able to analyze quirks without risking your life.” Izuku gapes down at the pamphlet, more than a little misty eyed in front of the hero, “This is not an invitation to keep doing this. It’s not safe for a kid to be at these fights, and the next time you are, I'll be telling your mother to invest in window locks. Now get home, do you hear me? No detours.”
“Yes, sir!” He gets to his feet, pushing the pamphlet into his bag. “Thank you, Eraserhead, sir!”
“You can thank me by staying away from these fights! Listen to me, troublemaker!” Eraserhead’s voice blends into the background as Izuku makes his way out of the alley, jogging back to his apartment as quickly as he can.
By the time he gets back, crawling into his propped open window, he’s panting. He collapses on the floor, still holding in his inner fanboy that the coolest underground hero had pitched UA to him. To him! If only his father could see him now. He could do this. He could get into UA through the support course, figure out Step Two to get into the hero course, and show his dad exactly what he was missing out on! For sure, and absolutely nothing could go wrong!
Right?