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Chapter Text

 “Plenty of humans were monstrous,

and plenty of monsters knew how to play at being human.”

― Victor Vale, Vicious

 Midoriya Izuku has pretended all his life. Pretended to smile. Pretended to be happy. Pretended that heroes were the best thing to happen to the world. Pretended to want to be like the number one hero, All Might. He figured the reason he did that was because he wanted to surpass All Might, to be the best hero. That was not the reason.

When Izuku was ten, he witnessed a fight between All Might, who only came to Japan to visit, and a villain who could pull weapons from his skin. The villain, Miyano Hikaru, one who refused to parade around in masks and silly costumes and did not use an alias, killed nine people in one day, using a mini-gun he made on the spot. He committed the crime in broad daylight and Izuku had been hiding in the convenience store with his mom when All Might came flying in. The villain—Izuku saw the irritated expression, for it was as clear as the glass of the window at their apartment that his mom polished regularly—seemed to realise that All Might would be able to thwart his bullets easily and dropped his mini-gun. The gun did not disappear. The villain skimmed his hands over the bare skin of his arm, from finger to the corner his sleeveless shirt, where a fair bit of muscle rests. Then, the second time he ran his hands down his arm, he stopped, pulling something big out. An RPG.

All Might's eyes widened when he realised that there were still civilians in the building behind him—where Izuku was. It was at that point did Inko pull him behind the shelves to shield him before the horror about to unfold.

The RPG didn't fire. All Might was too fast and had subdued the villain. People held him high. Sang praises for his never wavering, never panicking smile once again. The news showed him for ten minutes. He gave interviews. No one remembers the villain's name. Except Izuku.

All Might had achieved greater achievements than this. But this was the first time Izuku had witnessed it and it was when he realised he didn't want to be like the number one hero. He wanted to beat him. Wanted to surpass him in any way possible while looking down with a smug and satisfied smile. A hero would be the most efficient, but... how was one without a quirk supposed to be a hero? And it was just his luck when Sensei kidnapped him.

He was walking home. Beaten. Bloodied. Bruised. Blue. (damn them alliterations) Fresh out of a one-sided fight with Kacchan. He didn't really know why he put up with the bully. Perhaps he just wanted to keep up the facade of an innocent. Maybe he knew he was too weak to fight and found it less bothersome to just let Kacchan blow off some steam (and smoke). Or he was just simply too lazy to defend himself—after all, he was quirkless. That meant he was useless. He was Deku.

Kurogiri dropped him at the bar, with Sensei on the call. Now, five years later, he didn't really remember how exactly the persuasion went. Though he did remember Sensei offering him a quirk and him taking it. He remembered how Sensei called it one of the most powerful quirks to ever exist. He remembered him asking why Sensei won't use it for himself. He remembered Sensei saying it drives the user insane and that he took the quirk from a mental hospital. He remembered not caring as long as he can beat All Might and his beloved Kacchan—if he keeps the promise of becoming the number one hero.

 Now, Midoriya Izuku was not crazy. Even despite the fact that he was a psychopath. Or the time when Sensei said he was. Or the one time he jumped off a ten story building to escape even though Eraserhead had his eyes trained on Izuku's back because he had a sneaking suspicion that the underground hero would not let a kid die, even if they're a villain. Or the time he went to see a fight without a disguise when both the hero and the villain knows his face and he has a high chance of being discovered. Or the time he killed someone before Tomura could. Or the time he let himself get arrested because he found that breaking out of the precinct was more convenient than running away or fighting, even with his quirk. Or the other time when he walked into a building with a bomb strapped to his chest, confident he can just use his quirk to thwart the explosion even though he's never ever tried to use it that way before. No, he was not crazy. Reckless, yes. But not crazy.

One thing he is, though, is lazy. If you say that to his face, he would strongly deny it, claiming he just a big fan of not expending more effort than what it needs pass. He was intelligent, and rather than using that cunning to plan world domination and whatnot, he sat idle, thinking of ways to pass time and of the easiest and most convenient ways to get things done. He knew how to fight, but would rather not to, as his quirk was useful in many areas. On days he felt horrible, he wouldn't even use his quirk.

Today, he rests his chin on his knuckles, eyes darting lazily (like everything he does) across the monopoly board. Tomura sat across from him, restless, and handed him the dice. Izuku rolls, moving his shoe and landing on the chance box. 

He picked a card. "Suck it, Tomura." No honourifics. They were like brothers, after all. He threw the card down for his opponent to see, moving as it says to a railroad, passing go and collecting M200.

Tomura was not stupid. Despite his childish attitude, he was almost as intelligent as Izuku, which was already above average. He knew Izuku for five years already. He knows that Izuku is a lazy motherfucker and whenever the green-haired villain moved the pieces physically, warning bells starts to ring in Tomura's head. By now, he figured out that Izuku was cheating. Of course, Izuku can cheat whenever he wants, but just so it was still fun for Tomura, he would usually play seriously.

He called him out on it. Tomura knew that Izuku was a poker genius, he knows that the teen had rigged the chance cards, memorised the order of which they were shuffled, he knew he took more than one card because the card he was meant to take was not in his favour. Either that or Izuku just used his quirk to control the dice because he knew that the card was good.

Usually, Izuku would lie his way out of situations like these. He had a tongue like silver, almost as good as Sensei at manipulation. Bu today, he deemed it not worth the efforts, it seemed.

He mutters a you caught me and spun in the booth to lie down on his back, most likely to take a snooze.

Tomura huffed in frustration. He hasn't had a proper game with Izuku for a while now, and that was boring him

"Stop scratching your neck, Tomura," Kurogiri said from behind the bar. "We know you're quite restless now, but we will attack tomorrow."

"Ku-ro-gi-ri," Izuku piped up in a sing-song voice, "Can I fight the strongest person there?"

Looks of surprised registered the two other villain's faces. Izuku would usually ask for the easy ones so he doesn't have to expend any energy.

"I'm bored." He added to convince the black mist.

Kurogiri was quiet for a moment, before confirming with the teen, "How about Endeavour's son?"

Izuku sat up, grinning from ear to ear, albeit lazily. "That sounds like fun."

Chapter Text

"Fools who run their mouths off

wind up dead."

- Aaron Burr, Hamilton: An American Musical

Izuku bounded out of the black mist excitedly. He could almost feel the ripple of shock spread through the students at the villains' sudden appearance and a slight panic. For the first time in a long while, adrenaline course through his blood and his body shivered with excitement. He was going to have fun.

That day, he donned his usual villain 'costume'. A green hoodie, sleeves rolled up past the elbows and the hood with rabbit ears (a mockery of All Might's hair). His mouth guard covered the bottom half of his face, the front a metal plate and the sides, reaching his ears, were sharp teeth reminisce of a smile. Not to mention he was also smiling underneath. 

Eraserhead jumped right into the battle and Izuku stayed there for a while before Kurogiri gave his polite introduction to the students and he was sent to the Landslide Zone at the same time as the students being sent to their respective zones. Unlike the other villains who were already sent to their zone, Izuku had asked to be at the front where he can see the student's reaction.

Now, Midoriya Izuku was not a sadist. Sure, being a psychopath usually makes someone a sadist as he revels in all things immoral and others' suffering, but in Izuku's point of view, he was not a sadist.

Izuku perched on one of the buildings, fiddling with his many piercings, and watching the son of the number two hero freeze every single villain in sight. That's weird. Shouldn't he have a fire quirk or something? His eyes burned into the hero-in-training, unknowingly giving Todoroki chills going up his back. Izuku looked for anything abnormal, his eyes immediately picking up Todoroki's favour of his right side. He jumped off the building, trodding over to a frozen villain and catching Todoroki's attention.

Heterochromatic eyes followed Izuku's movements as he yanked a device from the villain. Villain: Bane. Name: Yamada Aki. Quirk: Fire Immunity. A female villain who's biggest crime is arson. Shouldn't she be at the Ruins Zone?

Todoroki put his right foot forward, ice spreading towards the young villain. Izuku smiles, adjusting the flamethrower and firing it towards Todoroki's ice. It melted.

Izuku took off towards Todoroki, his feet touching the ice for only a split second, too fast for the hero-in-training to freeze him. He dodged every spike of ice thrown his way and vaulted every wall of ice that slammed up in front of him. And before Todoroki knew it, the villain darted to his left side and tackled him. He discarded the flamethrower, instead favouring a throwing knife he kept strapped to his thighs. He pulled it out and held it to Todoroki's throat after Izuku straddled him. He was careful not to let the knife touch the right side of his neck.

"Todoroki-kun, was it?" Izuku said, rather disappointed at how easy this was. "I'd think you'd put up more of a fight, being the son of the number two hero."

Todoroki didn't move from his position, face and body stilling, the threat of the knife still there. 

"You know," Izuku talked through his metallic mask, making sure the boy beneath him can still hear his voice, "This should be the moment where I tell you our goals and what the League wants to do." He paused. "I guess Tomura would tell you, if he were here. But heroes have such good luck don't they? In fact, just me sitting here, shooting the breeze, I'm actually increasing your survival rate. Who knows, maybe the moment I decide to kill you, some random hero will come and help you."

Todoroki didn't react.

"You should have your father's quirk right?" Izuku asked, cocking his head. "Next time, fight me seriously. Without holding back."

Todoroki gritted his teeth. Did Izuku hit a chord? The villain made a note in the back of his mind—

"Holy shit." The words left Izuku's mouth as he leaned in to study the other boy's turquoise eyes flaring with anger. "Your left side is beautiful."

Todoroki's eyes widened, ice spreading from Izuku's leg to his knife so fast he didn't catch it.

Izuku managed to jump away rolling backwards and using that momentum to push off his hand and jump back on his feet. He applauded himself mockingly for that acrobatics stunt.

"Oya?" Izuku observed the hero-in-training as he got back to his feet. So he has something against his left side? Izuku racked his brain. His right side is his mother's undoubtedly, and his left is Endeavor's. So he can use fire too. There must be a reason he isn't using his flames. The scar—its only on his left, meaning someone must really hate that side of him. Did Endeavor do it? It could be a possibility, considering his flames and all. But no, Endeavor wouldn't hurt the left side—he probably wanted Todoroki to be a greater hero than him one day with the quirk. Izuku's seen how his name was spelt—Shouto with the kanji for burning and freezing. Someone else then. Someone that hates Endeavor? Izuku could really break the poor boy if he wanted to. Maybe he'd whip out his favourite weapon.

Ah, was he mumbling? He'd learn to control the habit and keep it all inside his head now.

"Are you fighting for real now, To-do-ro-ki-kun?" Izuku said tauntingly. "You finally going to take after Endeavor?"

The ice came faster this time, giving Izuku a harder time dodging it or melting it with the flamethrower that he picked up again. The ice on him had already melted as it was a thin enough layer for Todoroki to use it that fast. "I will never be like my father." He wasn't shouting it, Izuku mused. It's more like a cold fury.

"You want to be like All Might, don't you? A hero?" 

Bingo. Todoroki faltered. Izuku felt a lick of pride at being able to break the boy's cool facade when the other villains couldn't even make him lose his composure.

"Your mother," Izuku tested if the woman would spike a reaction from the boy. It did, to the villain's delight. Todoroki reached for the scar unconsciously. Originally, Izuku was going to ask how his mother was but now he had an even greater idea.

The ice stopped, the hero-in-training taking a break. "Your left side is beautiful," he started. "A shame your mother didn't think the same."

He lost it. Todoroki rushed forward, spikes of ice coming up from underneath Izuku, aiming to kill. His strikes came fast, his punches coated with ice in a style that was—Izuku noted with some surprise—quite similar to a villain he knew. Sawamura Hikaru—a mixed martial artist who fights underground quite often. Quirk: Drain—slowly (really slowly) drains opponent's energy with every contact. Despite the benefits it will have with their quirk, they don't use grappling much in the ring—claims it doesn't bring the same thrill as beating a well-rested opponent. Izuku could understand that. Affiliation: Not in the League of Villains—yet.

Izuku dodged every swing, jumping out of Todoroki's reach.

"Are you angry, Todoroki-kun?" Izuku said as Todoroki paused to catch his breath. He sure does have a lot of stamina—and he's almost as fast as Izuku. The villain might have an idea of what put him through such intensive training to match even his own. "Endeavor is trash, isn't he?" Izuku spotted the frostbite. So he needs a balance of both his quirks, then. "Why don't you use your flames? It'll lift a burden."

"I'll never," Todoroki drew back his right hand, "use my father's quirk in battle."

Izuku cocked his head to the side. "But it's your quirk, isn't it?"

Words. A weapon that relies heavily on intellect and gambles. Half the time, the opponent isn't even listening.

Unless it was Midoriya Izuku. When he speaks, the whole world holds its breath and listens. 

Todoroki's eyes widen and he sputtered.

Just when Izuku could almost convince the hero-in-training to use his flame, a portal opened near him. He sighed. Well, it looks like he'll go back to his lazy self soon enough.

"See you, Todoroki-kun," Izuku called out as he stepped into the portal. "And next time you'll fight me with your own power right?"

Chapter Text

 "In a world of locked doors, 

the man with the key is king.

And honey,

You should see me in a crown"

- Jim Moriarty, Sherlock Holmes

When they were first teleported to the Landslide Zone, surrounded by villains, Shouto felt a hand on his shoulder. He spun around, immediately taking on a defence stance, right hand closer to the opponent to effectively use his ice. He expected a villain waiting for him but was met with a pair of floating gloves.

"Todoroki-kun, I don't think—" the invisible girl started.

"Can you take off your gloves, Hagakure-san?" Shouto had immediately said.

"Uh—um," she pulled them off. "Here! Take good care of them."

Shouto took the gloves from her, stuffing them in his boots. "Can you hide?"

The barely audible pitter-patter of feet is his only reply as the villains started closing in on him. He waited a few moments before his ice spread to the villains.

When the green-haired villain disappeared, Shouto immediately felt guilt crawling up his back. He had held back just so he didn't hit Hagakure, but the moment the villain hit a nerve, he was prepared to unleash a glacier so big it'd break through the highest point of the USJ dome.

"Todoroki-kun!" The voice came from his left. "Are you all right? Why did the villain let you go? What'd he say to you?" Ah, so she didn't hear. That's good.

 Shouto looked down at his left hand. "The fight is probably over since the villain left. Or he could be going to help them at the centre."

"Either way," Hagakure said hastily, receiving the gloves from Shouto, "We better get going."

And so they did, with a villain's words ringing in Shouto's head.

But it's your quirk isn't it?

Izuku burst out laughing.

"Shut up!" dust fell to the floor as Tomura tapped his previously idle middle-finger to a glass he was gripping so tight Izuku was sure it would break even without a quirk. He had already calmed down, destroying the collection of ugly rocks that Izuku deemed unfit to continue existing.

"Was a Noumu really that useless?" Izuku collected himself and asked mockingly. He was still bitter about Tomura gaining the rights to be the one to kill All Might—but now, he was hiding his laughter because he just knew from the start that All Might was not going down that easily

"Did you—"

"Its because of the small-fry villains!" Tomura interrupted Kurogiri, shouting frustratingly.

Izuku shrugged. "I guess you haven't unlocked the a lot of the rare teammates yet."

Tomura scratched at the band-aid on his neck, angry still.  "Then what are you?"

Izuku gave a lazy grin, a thumb pointing to himself, "I'm already legendary."

Tomura blinked once through the hands attached to his face, a moment of silence passing through them before looking away. A breath that could've been a laugh was heard.

Kurogiri continued what he was going to say, "Did you beat the son of Endeavor?"

Izuku jumped to sit on the bar, his legs crossed and head thrown back. "Didn't wanna fight someone that's holding back," he said nonchalantly, "Besides. The guy's interesting."

 The two older villains snapped their heads in Izuku's direction, freezing. Izuku was a lazy and easily bored character—rarely anything excites him anymore. He found his fun in ruining people and fighting the strong, neglecting his quirk one too many times and getting beaten up pretty badly for it. Sensei had told him his quirk can stitch wounds back up of he knew how to do it—and he did, except he couldn't be bothered to gather that much focus to weave his skin back together. There had been only three people—including All Might and Bakugou—that attracted the attention of Midoriya Izuku, a terrifying villain to have the eyes of.

Izuku propelled himself off the bar, ignoring incredulous stares from Kurogiri and Tomura. "I'm going out for a smoke."

After Izuku bandaged the burns and scratches from handling the ice, he stepped outside the bar into a dank alleyway that smelled of rain from the night before. He dragged his feet across the wet concrete, coming to lean at the mouth of the alley, pulling out a cigarette box. He shook the box a few times, squeezing it when a cigarette jumps up and suspending it. He took it in his mouth, a lighter already in his other hand as he put the box away. When he lit it, he took a long drag, relaxing onto the brick wall behind him.

Smoking was not the only thing that can relax him. Sleep can, but that was inconvenient. He only preferred to sleep in a room where only his quirk can open a way into the room—like his bedroom of four walls with no way out save for when he moulds one into the plaster. He preferred smoking because it was fast and didn't require much effort as his... other method.

His other method was rather sinister. Though the end results were much, much more satisfying and euphoric, it takes months to do.

The last time he did it was with a child.

Izuku was coming back from scouting out the students attending UA and taking a walk, when he spotted the swing-set and the lonely girl sitting there, as if she came straight out of a movie. Izuku moved over and asked her what was wrong.

She sniffed. "Bullies," was her one word answer. That made sense.

"What did they do?" Izuku asked, swinging gently in the swing next to her.

"They say mean things to me and the other kids on the playground.

"What did they say?"

"They were calling me shrimpy and a coward."

Izuku hummed, as if contemplating it. "And are you?"

She paused, "I am small, but I wanna be a hero."

Izuku smiled the warmest smile he could muster without being disgusted and turning it into something more malicious. "Heroes help people. So you have to help and never hurt, except for beating up villains."

And so Izuku befriended the child. She was six and her name was Nishiyama Mamiko. Her quirk gave her an abnormally fast metabolism, making it difficult to grow muscles and meaning she needed more food and water than most. Izuku found out she was also from a rich background.

He met her for three months every weekend at the park they first met. Every time they talked, Izuku filled her head with how heroes must protect others and beat up villains. He told her villains were people who did bad things, like hurting people and stealing. Mamiko asked if the bullies were villains—Izuku never answered the question.

Izuku always stood opposite Mamiko when they talked. He'd nod to what she was saying. He would look interested in what she ate that day. He would subtly mimic her body language. And when he was sure the child had grown attached, he had told her that she should start doing great deeds and help people. He nodded and smiled every time she mentioned a villain and beating them up. Soon, all she talks about is how she was going to beat up a villain—and she must've thought that Izuku approved, as the day he was waiting for came a week early.

He walked to the park and saw Mamiko punching and kicking the kid Izuku had identified as the ringleader of the bullies. He rushed over to pull apart the their small forms, fussing over the crying boy. Mamiko looked confused.

When the boy went running home, Izuku turned to Mamiko. "Why'd you hurt him?"

Mamiko bit her lip to keep it from quivering and said, "He was a villain, saying mean things..."

"But did he hurt anyone?"

Mamiko's eyes widen her mouth forming an o.

"Only villains hurt people, Nishiyama-chan. And you hurt him."

Tears welled in her eyes.

Izuku closed his eyes sighing, then opened them again, holding an uninterested loose in his eyes, as if she wasn't even worth a thought. "I thought you wanted to be a hero. I'm disappointed in you."

And oh. The look she wore—as if her world came crashing down. 

Izuku loved words. They were more than his weapons. They were the key to the pandora box they call a mind. And he loved breaking it open to see what was inside.

Izuku frowned. He dropped the cigarette, crushing it underfoot and pulling out another one.

Izuku isn't a chain-smoker. Well, at least he wasn't. Not until a pair of heterochromatic eyes pierced through the thick armour protecting the facade he calls disinterest. He took another drag from the cigarette.

The I'm disappointed wasn't his favourite trick in the bag. If he had to choose, it would be either the surgery or the guilt.

It  wasn't too long ago that Izuku just happened to pass an old acquaintance. They chatted for a bit and she just happened to mention a man that recently started jogged along the beach regularly. Izuku decided to check it out to see if he would be a suitable plaything.

He wore a tracksuit and dyed his hair orange, then clipped it up. He ran into the man, a spindly, skeletal man named Yogi Toshinori. He told the man he always jogged here in the morning, but was hospitalised for a few days, hence his  absence. They became fast friends after that.

He built a story for himself. Saeki Rin, a boy who was going to UA. He told him he had a pyrokinesis quirk, though he can't create his own fire. The man encouraged him, said he would be a great hero and should follow his dreams. Izuku laughed and said maybe not, since he had a been ill for a long time since children.

The man had an injury—one that made him cough up blood. Izuku gathered from what he heard and observed that Yagi was a former hero. When Izuku confronted him on that, the man replied that he will be working a small job in UA and that he will see Izuku there. That only made Izuku happier as a plan formulated in his mind.

Over the months, he made sure Yagi knew of how much he wanted to be a hero and wanted to attend UA. Then the time came.

"Yagi-san," Izuku said one day.

"Yes, Saeki-kun?"

"I'm going into surgery soon."

The man looked surprised.

"I won't come for a jog until I get better. But I will get better before the entrance exam to UA, so I'll see you there."

Yagi smiled reassuringly.  But Izuku never showed up. To UA or to the jogging route.

He  monitored the man when he jogged the day after the entrance exam and saw the tight line of his mouth and his stiff expression. After a few days, his face crumbled and he punched a broken dishwasher on the beach, startling a homeless man who stored his belongings in a fridge. That satisfied Izuku enough and he left the man alone.

Izuku once met an obnoxious woman at a cafe. He  didn't need to work long on her and baited her. She was book smart—a brilliant debater and an aspiring prosecutor. That made it all the more easier.

He was twelve, called Saeki Guren, and a nihilist. He once said to her, "What is the point of doing small unmemorable things when you are going to die and in a few centuries no one will remember your name or that you existed and you will only be a name in a system forgotten and traded for a new one?"

She replied, "If you want people to remember you, you can always just break some world record."

"Do you remember who the discus-throwing champion of Ancient Greece, 1000 BC was?" Before she could reply, Izuku continued, "No, because no one cares. Besides, if someone breaks your record, you will forever be forgotten. Do you know who Asafa Powell is?"

"No."

"Well, do you know who holds the record for the fastest 100 metre run without a quirk?"

"Usain Bolt, of course."

"Well, Asafa Powell held the record before Bolt."

The woman, Tachibana Tamako, drained her coffee cup, still boiling hot liquid pouring down her throat, and said, "What you're saying is, there is no point in living. We should all just die because life is meaningless." She paused. "Well, why aren't you dead?"

Izuku dumped a sixth cube of sugar into his hot chocolate. "I've considered it. But you are right, Tachibana-san. We have no reason to live."

The woman laughed, thinking it a joke. The next Sunday, Tachibana asked the Barista where Guren-chan was and he replied. It didn't help when the Barista is a nighttime villain who owes Izuku for saving his ass once or twice in a run-in with Tomura.

"I heard he jumped off a building the other day."

Oh, the guilt on her face. It propelled him so high he felt his head was fuzzy and he would see clouds in all directions.

His third cigarette finished, Izuku headed back inside. Tragedy wasn't the only way to break someone. A boy he knew was a confident one, who didn't care what others thought. That is, until Izuku posed a suspicious question.

"Do you ever feel like... you're a bit... assertive?" 

Yoshimoto looked at him. "Pardon?"

"It's just..." Izuku kissed his teeth. "Do you ever feel like... you're annoying someone? That maybe you're a bit too loud, or too arrogant?"

"...No?" Yoshimoto cocked his eyebrows.

"Ah, its nothing." Izuku waved it off. "It's just... I thought you were maybe doing it on purpose. Or you should be aware of it."

The change was drastic. He became timid and his speech became so conscious. He stuttered way more and spends a lot of time rephrasing. Izuku was satisfied once again.

Izuku stepped into the bar, spotting the pink hoodie immediately.

"Izukkun." the hood bobbed in what appeared to be a cheerful greeting as there was no one under it.

"So," he started, "What have you got for us, Tooru-chan?"

Chapter Text

my Tumblr

"I am become death,

the destroyer of worlds."

- J. Robert Oppenheimer

A week after the USJ incident, Shouto asked his homeroom teacher about a certain villain he met.

"Aizawa-sensei," he had come up to him after class, pokerface unbroken like before. "Can I ask you about a villain I met at the USJ?"

Aizawa looked up from a stack of paper he was filing through and said, "Is it one of the villains you froze?"

"There was one that escaped," Shouto replied.

Aizawa contemplated it for a moment. "Tell me what they look like. It could be a villain I know of."

Shouto wasted no time telling him. "He has green hair. And he looks pretty young. There's a mouth-guard he wears—"

"Bonaparte," he said immediately, throwing the stack of paper onto his desk. 

"Bonaparte?"

"Quirk unknown, no known kills." He paused. "I met him a few times and he seemed to have no morals. But seeing him with the League of Villains, he might have a goal to kill All Might. Thank you for telling me, Todoroki-kun."

Shouto paused. "But why Bonaparte?"

Aizawa considered this. "We didn't name him. I learnt of him from my time as an underground hero and there was a particular reason that no one crossed him." He leaned back in his chair. "All we know of him are rumours and a possible identity. Some says he has a mind control quirk of a sort, or maybe a voice quirk. The name probably came from a French general during the pre-quirk period."

Shouto nodded. "Thank you, Aizawa-sensei."

When he made to leave, Aizawa called out, "When you next see him, run in the other direction."

Walking home, Shouto heard the call for help coming from a shady alleyway. When he ran to help whoever was in trouble, the woman ran out. His first thoughts were that she had been raped, but it looked like no one had even touched her. He investigated further.

When he entered the alleyway, he spotted a familiar mess of green hair swept to the side, head bowed over a book. That was when Aizawa's words snapped in his mind. He had to run, as he knew next to nothing about the villain save for his name.

" 'Understand:' " Bonaparte read out, " 'we tend to overestimate other people's abilities and we tend to underestimate our own.' "

Shouto froze.

"Don't run. Not after I gave all the effort to meet with you again." He could see the villain's eyes crinkle, a smile under the mask.

"Bonaparte." Shouto hissed.

"Ah," he put his book facedown on his lap, finger still wedged in between the page he was on. "So you have heard of me. A lot of rumours are untrue about my specific occupation in the villain world." He picked up the book again and flipped a page forward, reading out loud, " 'The key to staying unintimidated is to convince yourself that the person you're facing is a mere mortal, no different from you.' "

"What'd you do to the girl?"

"Oh, her?" Bonaparte crossed his legs on the dumpster he was sitting on. "Just scared her a bit. Was sure that'd catch your attention."

"Why do you want to meet me?" Shouto really wanted to run. He needed to. But Bonaparte's voice just seemed to captivate him—he spoke in a rhythm, poetically, and his voice was low and raspy, painfully slow as if he had all the time in the world.

"Did you know that scientists believe that the source of quirks relies on how much of that nasty nuclear power a particular place has?" Bonaparte turned another page. "That's why Russia and America are among the top in the world of the percentage of the population with quirks. But despite that, Japan still has the biggest population percentage with quirks. Sure, we use a lot of nuclear nowadays, maybe not in war weapons, but if you think about it, there is one particular event that stands out. Do you know what that is?"

"Why would I know?" Shouto's voice was cool and blunt.

The villain looked up, his eyes tired. He whispered, just loud enough for Shouto to hear through his mask, "Hiroshima and Nagasaki."

Shouto knew about pre-quirk wars. He marvelled at the crazy things that humans did to make up for the lack of power they had now. From nuclear weapons to firearms to airplanes—humans probably wouldn't have come that far if they had natural power that people these days call quirks.

"You know, I know a guy who thinks that quirks are a sort of special spreading sickness and a boy who believes—blames it for the halt of any of humanity's possible progress," the villain continued. "And in a way, I agree with their thoughts."

"You have a quirk too," Shouto retaliated.

"How do you know? Didn't Eraserhead tell you that no one knows what my quirk is?"

Surprise flitted across Shouto's face. A quirkless villain that people feared? Bonaparte laughed.

"I have a quirk. But unlike you, I don't really repeatedly rely on it." He pointed to Shouto's hands. "What are you going to do when you meet a ruthless, vicious villain who doesn't play fair and possesses an erasure quirk like Eraserhead. I use to know a terrifying criminal—not villain, he doesn't believe in such classic, threadbare theatrics—in Yokohama that could nullify someone's quirk and sometimes the effects of mutation quirks. But only if he touches them. I don't suggest facing someone strong like him with full reliant on your quirk."

"I'll defeat him before he can even lay a hand on me."

Bonaparte laughed once again. "Oh, precious. If you were his enemy, you wouldn't even see him coming. Besides, he has a leash on probably the most powerful man in Japan next to All Might. But we're gradually getting off topic, To-do-ro-ki-kun."

"Hah? You were the one that started talking about it."

"What's that?" Bonaparte leaned forward. "Am I getting under your skin without even mentioning your most mysteriously mental mother. Who drove her to act abruptly atrocious like that, more than physically scarring her own son?"

"Endeavor." What? Why did he say that? Did Bonaparte really have a mind control quirk? Because it wasn't that Shouto just wanted to hear his thoughts on it, wanted to hear him speak more. It wasn't the way he pronounced a T so clearly, emphasising it. Or his drawn out S. No, that must be his quirk—a kind of hypnotising.

The villain hummed. He propelled himself off the dumpster, gliding in terrifyingly silent walk towards Shouto. He handed the book to the hero-in-training.

"My quirk has nothing to do with the human mind, for your information."

Shouto looked down at the title, taking it and forgetting all cautiousness. The 33 Strategies Of War by Robert Greene. He flipped to the back. The book was dated to be published back around the early 21st century. That was almost two hundred years ago, just after the time the luminescent baby was discovered.

"My name's Midoriya Izuku, by the way." The villain pulled off his mouth-guard mask, a smile on his lips. "Call me by my name."

Shouto looked at him. Was he a villain? He didn't kill anyone as far as pro-heroes knew. He gave his name so easily. Is it that he knows he can prove he did not break the law if he were to be arrested? "Todoroki Shouto. But you already knew that."

Midoriya walked past him. "I expect you to return the book some time or another. It's one of my favourites."

And with that, he tucked his bandaged hands and mask in his green pockets and turned left into the street.

"Oh, Todoroki-kun," Izuku mused out loud, looking up to the sky, a rare grin of excitement appearing on his face. "My Bonaparte doesn't mean Napolean." He stopped on the nearly empty street and closed his eyes as the first rain came down from the grey sky. "It means Josephine."

Chapter Text

the idea of izuku's costume

 "Better one bad general

than two good ones."

- Napoleon Bonaparte

The problem for us is that we are trained and prepare for peace, and we are not prepared for what confronts in the real world—war.

This war exists on several levels. Most obviously, we have our rivals on the other side. The  world's become increasingly competitive and nasty. In politics, business, even the arts, we face opponents who will do almost anything to gain an edge. More troubling and complex, however, are the battles we face with those who are supposedly on our side. There are those who outwardly play the team game, who act very friendly and agreeable, but who sabotage us behind the scenes, use the group to promote their own agenda. Others, more difficult to spot, play subtle games of passive aggression, offering help that never comes, instilling guilt as a secret weapon. On the surface everything seems peaceful enough, but just below it, it is every man and woman for him- or herself, this dynamic infecting even families and relationships. The culture may deny this reality and promote a gentler picture, but we know it and feel it, in our battle scars.

Shouto sighed, closing the translated book. He hadn't even gotten through the preface and he already feels slightly depressed. This man seemed to have a very cynical outlook on life and he probably didn't have many real friends. When he was senile, the paranoia must've gotten to him one way or another. What Shouto wonders though, is if this is one of Midoriya's favourite books, how does he view life?

The hero in training stood from his too-soft bed. Aizawa had announced when he came back that, battered and broken, the Sports Festival was taking place in a few weeks. The effects of the USJ had barely just subsided and they claimed the Sports Festival cannot be cancelled. Even in his top form now, he can't afford to slack off his training, so Shouto slipped on a sleeveless shirt and headed off to break his muscles down and build them up all over again.

 "You know I can't skip Saturday so suddenly, Sawamura-san" Izuku said as he lay his head down on his arms, closing his eyes.

"Suit yourself," Sawamura said, wrapping their hands in bandages, "The tournament starts tonight. But I'm glad you're not participating."

Izuku laughed quietly. "Not a fan of my fabled fighting? Or is Muay-Thai just that annoying?"

Sawamura cocked their head. "I like fighting you 'cause you don't like grapples either." They shrugged. "But your Muay-Thai stance unsettles me."

Izuku hummed, his eyes still closed. He heard the underground-fighter leave with a see ya, the door closing.

The door to the bar opened again, but Kurogiri wasn't there to greet the guest. The person sat across from Izuku, prompting him to open his tired eyes to meet a familiar woman. Neith Soliman.

He hissed, sitting straight up, "Cleopatra."

The woman smiled and spoke in English, "Well, long time no see, Bonaparte."

"What are you doing in Japan?" Izuku schooled his features, replying in perfect English.

"Just visiting once I heard of the League." Neith rested her cheek on her knuckles, looking ten years younger than her 39. She was not the most beautiful woman, nothing worth noting in her appearance save for her dark eyes. But there was something—something that made a nine year old Izuku ask her how she did it. It was the way she walked, her enchanting voice. It was all theatrical, unnatural—but that seemed to seduce any man she laid eyes on.

"No," Izuku retorted, "you're not."

She laughed. "You got me, Bonaparte." 

"What do you want?" Izuku said sharply. He used to admire the woman—how she spoke her way into the top of her organisation with a quirk barely worth noting, how she doesn't resort to violence and used words to cool people down, to stroke their ego and tie them to a string you hold. He supposed that's what she did to him, telling him he had a talent for words and anyone would listen when he spoke.

"Calm down." She settled back in the booth. "Alexandria would like to ally ourselves to the League."

Alexandria, a villain organisation that has spread its influence all throughout Western Asia and Central Asia. The leader started out as an Italian man who used the alias Alexander the Great. He was looked up to by many and his followers were widespread. Few know of the origin of the name. After he killed himself so to not be taken alive, two men succeeded him.

Caesar and Antony, two villains that already discarded their names split control on the organisation. It was not long before they fell in chaos, they're goals and ideals colliding. Then came Neith, known to the world as Cleopatra, a woman with a quirk that lets her control her own body heat. She climbed her way to the two men's side, uniting them under one common goal—to continue on Alexander's legacy. And that made her dangerous with a tongue.

"If you want to do that, talk to Tomura," Izuku grumbled.

Neith smiled, "Very well.

She made to stand up, but turned back to Izuku, her voice dropping low as she asked, "You're still doing the thing?"

"The... thing?"

"The one where you pretend to sleep all day?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, Bonaparte," the woman stood, towering the sitting Izuku. "I know that you can't sleep—not without a warm human body by your side."

Izuku gritted his teeth.

"You might deny it, but other than psychopathy, you seriously have something wrong up here." She pointed to her head. "You don't get insomnia for no reason. You crave love—more than what your mother gave you. That's why you made everyone fall in love with you."

"Hah?" Izuku laughed. "Love? That's a pretty strong word, Cleopatra," he spat out.

"You take you showers boiling, you drink your hot chocolate without waiting for to cool, and your Saturdays."

"If you touch him, I will cut off your tongue." He understood how Neith would know about the first two—she knew him for a long time. But how did she know about his Saturdays?

"Protective much? You don't even care about him, you just relish his attention—what excuse did you give yourself, 'I need him on our side, his company will grow in the future', really? You pathetic—"

Izuku lunged across the table, his fingers closing around the other villain's throat. She choked, trying to pry his strong hands away from her windpipe.

"You should be prepared to die the moment you speak like that to me, ohime-sama," He whispered into Neith's ear, unaware he had reverted back to Japanese. She was so cold—her skin  so inhumane that he wanted to cut her open just to feel her warm blood—to prove she was mortal. He almost laughed. The irony in him telling Todoroki how your enemy is mortal and now this unsettles him.

"Y-you c-c-can't," She choked. "C-can't ke-ka-kill—" A breath in. "Kill me."

"Oh, I can."

"S-s-Caesar will—he... will get r-r-reven-revenge. An-tony... will—"

"Not if he doesn't know where you went." Her eyes widened. Izuku just purred on slowly, "Don't look at me like that, bitch. You might be this world's top seductress, but war is Caesar's strong suit, sadly. You should've told someone where you were going. But you always loved independence didn't you? More than you wanted the two men to forever fawn over you. You're not the graceful, good-natured, guileless girl that united a failing, falling empire, you were the sick, slippery serpent sneaking into the Garden of Eden and convincing the absentminded, eagerly earnest Eve to eat the fruit. You make them greedy, Cleopatra."

"I d-d-did tell... tell someone."

"Liar," Izuku hissed. "I can see the desperation in your eyes, ohime."

He let go of her. "Go," he said. "Get out of my sight, whore. Fitting, considering your name."

She coughed, gagging and rubbing her bruised throat. She stumbled over to the door, pushing through it.

Ah. Izuku looked down to his shaking hand. It hurts.

Something hurts. He didn't know what it was, but it hurts. It hurts so damn fucking much.

Izuku slid down next to the booth, clutching his chest. He felt nothing—no sadness, no frustration, but something just fucking hurts.

He was crying. He was laughing. Why was he crying? Why was he laughing?

Because ithurtsithurtsithurtsITHURTSITHURTS.

"Fuck..." Izuku whispered.

"Izukkun," Kurogiri said, appearing in mist from behind the bar.

"Kuro..." Izuku managed to say, "I should still have my tablets in the back. Can you—"

"I threw them out," Kurogiri said. "They're really harmful to you, Izukkun. You need to get your mental health checked—"

"No!" Izuku said a little too forcefully. "No," He repeated quieter. "I'm not—" He took a deep breath. "I'm not like that. I'm not... wrong."

Kurogiri was silent for a moment. "It's Saturday. I don't think you want to be high when you go."

Izuku slowed his breathing once again. "You're right."

Silence enveloped the two.

You're right.

Chapter Text

 "If the words are going to move someone by themselves,

they have to be pretty powerful."

- Todoroki Shouto, Boku no Hero Academia

 Izuku grew up realising that his mindset was not like others. He didn't know at first, of course, but he saw how other people reacted to pain and death of others. Izuku, in turn, felt a slight satisfaction at the headline he could barely read that came up on the news, and a slight disappointment at the pixelated gore. He never had a name to put on this strangeness—but then his mom muttered about how horrible it was and Izuku frowned. After that, Izuku perfected his mom's grin. He'd stand in front of the mirror and bare his teeth in a friendly matter, enough to outshine the sun—a carbon copy of his mom.

When the League of Villains took him, they thought he was an easy target to convert—quirkless and bullied and naive. They found that that was not the case.

Kurogiri noticed first that the boy smiled too much. He had told the boy that if anything was wrong, come to him. Then Izuku came and said it hurt. Kurogiri made to grab a first-aid kit asking where the injury is. The boy shook his head.

"It doesn't hurt," Izuku seemed to struggle for the write phrase. "Out here. I don't know why it hurts."

The next day Kurogiri found Izuku outside in the alleyway leading to the bar. He was surrounded by pigeons, their necks snapped by the boy thin fingers. There was another bird in his hand, where he stabbed a blade through—from the bird's body to sticking out of the back of his hand. Kurogiri had then asked why he hurt himself.

"It's less... It doesn't hurt as much—no. It's better if I know where it hurts."

Kurogiri left him alone.

We humans like to see ourselves as rational creatures. We imagine that what separates us from animals is our ability to think and reason. But that is only partly true: what distinguishes us from animals just as  much is our capacity to laugh, cry, to feel a range of emotions. We are in fact emotional creatures as well as rational ones, and although we like to think we govern our actions through reason and thought, what most often dictates our behaviour is the emotion we feel in the moment.

We maintain the illusion that we are rational through the routine of our daily affairs, which keeps us strong and apparently controlled, Our minds seem rather strong when we're following our routines. But place any of us in an adverse situation and our rationality vanishes; we react to pressure by growing fearful, impatient, confused. Such moments reveal us for the emotional creatures we are: under attack, whether by a known enemy or unpredictably by a colleague, our response is dominated by feelings of anger, sadness, betrayal. Only with great effort can we reason our way through these periods and respond rationally —and our rationality rarely lasts past the next attack.

Shouto looked at the clock. It was only eight and the sun just set, but he felt he should get a fair amount of rest for the upcoming days. He sat up from the position he had, lying on his side and reading the book. After wedging a random flat object on the floor between the pages he was on as a makeshift bookmark, he gently placed it on his nightstand. With that, he settled down for a sleep that wouldn't last long.

Shouto left his house at an ungodly hour in the morning, slapping the sleep out of his face. The Sports Festival was only a few days away and the anxiety of using his mother's quirk and proving to his father—who would definitely be watching—that he doesn't need that wretched fire quirk to become a hero was churning at his gut. He couldn't sleep for long so he took what was supposed to be a brisk jog.

His mind kept wandering to Midoriya. It was a mistake last time, accepting the book. He should've called the heroes in the moment he saw the villain. That would be what he'll do next time. Wait, no—he'll have to return the book first, otherwise he'd be technically stealing. But Midoriya might tell the heroes that he met on friendly terms with Shouto multiple times and Shouto didn't say anything about it then. Besides, it didn't seem like the villain did anything. He didn't even hurt him at the USJ. No, Shouto shook his head, he'd just tell the heroes the next time.

Shouto froze. And looked up. There, just peeking over the railings of an apartment complex was a head of green hair. Shouto sighed, abandoning all thoughts of calling the heroes.

Now, he stood surrounded by the astronomical twilight on a concrete roof.

"So seems safety isn't solid in your vocabulary," Midoriya said, his drawn out S sending chills down Shouto's spine.

"You don't seem to have any malicious intent towards me," Shout replied. "Unless I misjudged critically."

Midoriya hummed. They stood there, leaned against the railings, looking at the light just peaking over the horizon. A few stars spotted the sky.

"An acquaintance of mine," Midoriya started. "She believes that quirks are the faults of mankind." A pause. "We were not meant to have such power."

"We had plenty," Shouto said, thinking back to the pre-quirk wars.

"Quirks ensure we won't get more as fast as we did pre-quirk. Some believe there's a quirk for everything, that quirks will solve all your problems." He gestured to the vast blue stretched out before them. "We should've been up there by now. Sleeping, slumbering silently with the stars, unbothered."

Shouto didn't answer, instead unconsciously flexing his hands.

"Why don't you use your quirk?" Midoriya was looking at his hand.

Of course, the first thing that comes to his mind is his normal excuse—he won't use his father's quirk. But then—

It's your quirk, isn't it?

Your left side is unsightly.

Your left side is beautiful.

You are not a prisoner of your bloodline.

"I can't," he whispered. He didn't know what opted him to give that answer.

Midoriya seemed to understand. "It's your quirk."

Shouto looked up, startled.

"It's not your father's. Or your mother's. It belongs to you and you alone. "

"It made my mother lose it."

Midoriya raised an eyebrow in interest, leaving the silence unfilled so he can be prompted to continue.

"My parents' marriage was a quirk marriage. My father was obsessed with surpassing All Might—" Recognision sparked in the villain's eyes. "—and wanted a child with a quirk who could surpass him. When I was five, he trained me because of my half quirk. The training was hell for a kid I was at the time. I wasn't even allowed to see my siblings. My mother was always there for me, though, no matter the abuse she suffered. Then she snapped." The hero-in-training covered his scar with his right hand.

Midoriya looked out to the nautical twilight, a tired smile on his lips. "You're stronger than me in more than one way, Todoroki-kun."

"You beat me," Shouto pointed out.

"With half of your power," Midoriya argued. "Besides, I meant mentally. I might be blessed with a brilliantly blithe brain, but that doesn't say a lot about my mostly miserable, less mild mental fortitude. I would've snapped on someone like that."

Somehow, Shouto felt a little better at this confession.

"Can you show me your fire?" Your fire.

This wasn't in battle, Shouto thought. He could show it to someone who even cared a little about his tragedy, right?

When he lifted his hand and a small flame rose to life, Midoriya's previously dull green eyes shone so brightly. Pride gutted him—this was worth it.

Everyone needs someone to talk to and release a burden. Izuku lifted Todoroki's burden when he listened so intently to his story. That's why Todoroki trusted him more than he should a villain—because he was the first to listen and care.

Izuku kept people around for some reason or another. Sensei was a saviour, Tomura was a duty, and Kurogiri was a father he never had. Those three had their own reasons, different from what he would sort the others into.

Midoriya loved beautiful things. That was the biggest reason he tolerated people. Saturday, Todoroki's left side and his red flames, the flower of Kacchan's explosions, the sound of his mother's voice, the curl of Overhaul's eyelashes, the light movements of Eraserhead's graceful fighting, the prideful cries of Sawamura's clean victories, the softness of Eri's hair, the flair in Tooru's fashion. Now that Todoroki fit into the list, an unconscious part of Izuku told him that the hero-in-training belonged to him and him only. 

And so he felt anger. Unbridled anger. All Might and Kacchan slipped down a rank, Endeavour and his wife topping his hit-list.

But he filed his emotions away, keeping them on an easy to reach tab in his mind. Easy enough to use on a moment's notice.

Because no one touches what was his.

Chapter Text

 "You can set yourself on fire,

but you're never gonna burn

burn

burn."

- Panic! At The Disco, Crazy = Genius

 "So you want to add me to your numbers?"

Izuku holds two cards in one hand, trying to lean it against each other on the house of cards he was building on the bar. Kurogiri stood frozen behind the bar, a bloody wound on his sleeve.

"No matter what you want to accomplish, it is necessary to have conviction and desire."

Tomura was pinned on the floor by two knives, one of them going straight through his shoulder. A re-play of the finals of the Sports festival hums on the television above the bar.

"Those without it and those who are weak will be weeded out. It's only natural. That's why it turns out like this." The Hero Killer's voice was surprisingly clear and had a convincing lilt to it.

"Izuku, get rid of him!" Tomura said, annoyed and in pain.

"Don't wanna," Izuku replied stubbornly as his still hands placed a card on top of two pairs leaning on each other.

"Kurogiri–"

"I-I can't move," The black mist said.

Izuku hummed. "Must be his quirk." He studied the scene—Stain crouched atop Tomura, two knives poised to take his life and Kurogiri frozen with his hands lifting from his side a little. A blood quirk? He licked the blood earlier, so... "He can paralyse a person by consuming their blood." But there's more to it. What's the time limit? Is there a set or can he lift the paralysis at will? If it's a set time, does blood type effect how long they are frozen for? Does the time limit dwindle if he has a lot of people under the paralysis?

Stain gives a wary look to the teen at the bar. Was he a villain? Or just a crazy rebel who happens to know the villains? He looked back down at the villain beneath him. "This society overgrown with fake heroes, where the word itself has lost its true meaning, and the criminals who wave their power around idly, should all be purged."

Tomura's hand flew up to grab at the moving blade. "Wait a second." The blade cracked. "Not this palm... I'll kill you."

Stain's eyes widened as the spiderweb of cracks spread.

"You sure talk a lot." The knife turned a shade of brown. "Conviction? I don't have anything grand like that." The blade turned to dust just as Tomura squeezed his palm together. "If I had to say... Yeah, it'd be All Might."

Izuku turned around in his stool to see the scene unfold. He remembered when he was ten and his Nii was fifteen. Remembered the dust on the floor. Remembered Tomura's rage at All Might for bringing their Sensei down and disfiguring him so.

"I feel like I really want to completely crush this society, where trash like that gets worshipped." His red eyes shone with a manic gleam as his voice took on a facetious tone. 

Stain jumped away as a hand came swinging in close proximity to his face.

"My last injury was finally about to finish healing." Tomura stood up. "We don't have a healer in our party, you know?" He scratched his neck. "Will you take responsibility for this?"

"So that's who you are," Stain said.

"Huh?"

"It seems our goals oppose each other," the hero killer declares. "However, we do agree on one thing—to destroy the present."

"Stop messing around. Go home. Die," Tomura shot out rudely. "I'm the type of person you hate the most, right?"

"I was testing your true motives. People who their true colours when they're on the verge of death." Izuku almost said that it was because of Father, but he kept shut. "It's different, but there is a 'desire'—a warped sprout of conviction living inside you."

Izuku gave a smile, though no one saw through his mask. He was no different than his Nii.

"How will you bud?" Stain continued. "It might not be too late to wait until after I've seen that to dispose of you."

"Dispose of him?" Izuku burst out, laughing wryly. "Stain-san, if you value your sanity, you don't try to kill any of us."

"Kurogiri," Tomura said. "I don't want someone this crazy as a party member."

"Shigaraki Tomura, he will be a great asset if he joins us," Kurogiri said, turning to the hero killer. "The negotiations were successful."

"My business is done." Stain lowered his weapon. "Now, return me to Hosu. There are still things I must attend to there."

A portal opened.

"I suggest you take Bonaparte with you," Kurogiri said. "We are unleashing something tonight, and he can prevent you from getting caught up in it."

Stain eyed the grinning teen warily once again. After a moment, he decided against his gut instinct and replied, "Fine."

 "You sounded so cool, Nii."

"..."

"What?"

"It's been a while since you've called me that."

"Hmm. I guess  I've got the same vibes from the times I followed you around like a lost puppy."

"Why did you do that anyways?"

"Sensei said I had a duty."

"..."

"..."

"You sounded cool too, 'If you value your sanity, you don't try to kill any of us'. You know how to sound badass with threats."

"It's not a threat, it's a promise."

"... Damn. I don't know if you try to sound badass on purpose, or you just press the triangle button and that comes up."

"It's natural. Besides, you know I'd actually do it. He probably won't even be able to think straight when I'm done with him. You know the extents of my quirk."

"I know, Izuku. I know."

Chizome looked to the side at the green-haired villain sitting on a dumpster with his legs crossed. They had soared across rooftops, and the kid caught up, smiling like it was a walk in the park.

"You know, Stain-san," Bonaparte said suddenly. "You don't always need to be so wary of me. I'm seriously against stabbing someone in the back."

"Just stay out of the way when I do my work," he replied, not wanting to hear more of the kid's voice. He had noticed how the kid speaks—with a rhythm and occasional alliterations. It was like poetry. 

"I will. And that's why I'm here—to keep the noumus away from you. I won't try to help with an honestly hard profession as hero killing. Besides, that's your job, isn't it?" He laughed a bit.

There was something about the kid that seriously unsettles the Hero Killer. It might be the way he speaks, or the nonchalant way he sees things and talks. Or it could be the way his tired eyes reminded Chizome of a slumbering beast—a dragon guarding his hoard. If someone were to try and take what belonged to him, he'd wake and he'd burn down the world.

"And," he continued. "I won't be able to beat you anyways, Stain-san." The gleam in his eyes said otherwise.

"What's your quirk, boy?" Chizome asked.

"It doesn't matter, because I don't need it for the extent I'll be with you."

"Humour me anyways."

Bonaparte laughed. 

"I'm curious."

The teen hummed. "Well, it's a pretty powerful quirk, with some annoying drawbacks. Matter Manipulation."

"A sort of telekinesis?"

"Something like that." He started bouncing the leg he had crossed over the other. "I can control things on a grand scale, but I can also control individual molecules—I can even reshape matter on an atomic level. For example, someone with an ice quirk send ice towards me, I can expand the particles to melt it and control it. Then, I can then expand it more and make it vibrate to heat it up and boil my opponent. It helps when you have decent knowledge on chemistry." A pause. "And I can also tear someone apart and reduce them to mere shreds.

Chizome said, "Isn't that too big of a quirk for someone to use?"

"The drawbacks make me a bit crazy, I suppose."

Chizome scoffed.

"But it's not mine, though."

"What?"

"Sensei gave it to me."

A pause. "All For One, eh?"

"You know who he is?" Bonaparte said, a little surprised.

"Comes with being a villain for this long."

"The quirk used to belong to a hero in the United States—Phoenix or Jean Grey. She went mental because of using the quirk too much. And I'd rather stay as sane as I am already."

Chizome was about to ask more about this, but he heard his target. "Native's here."

Izuku watched from rooftop as a blade drove through Ingenium's brother. How tragic.

A noumu crashed near the alley, followed by Endeavour. The number two hero engaged with Stain, driving him back. It seemed he had a burning hatred for the pro-hero. Personally, Izuku would like to see the hero lose and die, but his job was to get Stain captured. Besides, he's already told the other villain that he wouldn't help with the hero killing.

Tomura said to just get rid of him (though he did say he didn't want to). But Izuku knew that the Hero Killers ideals are appealing to many—and his speech was a persuasive one. So he'd get Stain on camera. Tonight, people would think for sure when they spotted Tomura and Kurogiri that the Hero Killer was working with the League of Villains. And all who wanted to continue Stain's legacy would come to the League.

And they'd make their move.

Chapter Text

"I've grown familiar with villains that live in my head.

They beg me to write them so they'll never die when I'm dead."

- Halsey, Control

Izuku leaned on the couch, resisting the itching urge to reach for his empty cigarette box and lighter. There was that unknown pain again, and Izuku only smoked one brand that was rare in Musutafa. He would have to get rid of the pain using something else.

"What are you doing here," a soft voice belonging to the man on the couch floated up to him.

"Can I not visit a friend when I want to?" Izuku mocked offence, placing a hand over his heart.

Chisaki looked up from where he was sitting, his plague doctor mask sitting in the coffee table. "You don't visit me for no reason."

Izuku hummed low in his throat, making his way to plop down on the coffee table. "How's Eri-chan doing nowadays?"

"Nothing potent yet," huffed the Yakuza.

"I wonder, Kai-kun," said Izuku. "If when you find a potent solution to this hero-syndrome, will you also cure yourself?"

The other didn't answer, instead placing the Eight Precepts mask over his face, shooting a glance to Izuku.

"Do you think I'm sick?" Izuku continued. "That I'm dirty and disgusting? You wouldn't want me to touch you." The room was a chilling temperature that made Izuku crave any kind of human contact.

Chisaki made to get up, only to be pulled down by the wrist by Izuku, his hand holding firm. Chisaki winced at the contact, hissing. But Izuku ignored that, pulling the white gloves from his hand slowly. Izuku placed the hand—so much power in it—onto his neck, Chisaki's fingers instinctively wrapping itself around his freckled throat.

"Destroy me, Overhaul," Izuku whispered, just loud enough for Chisaki to hear. The teen's eyes gleamed malice—but the man knew from the many times Izuku had come to him that that was all a facade. "Destroy me and remake me."

Chisaki's grip tightened. He seriously wondered if the boy was a suicidal maniac or he trusted Chisaki that much to bring him back from the state of destruction. He could get rid of this nuisance right here, right now—but he won't.

"You're with the League aren't you?" Chisaki asked.

Izuku closed his eyes. "Depends on how you describe 'with'."

"Who's side are you on?"

Izuku hummed once again—he really liked to do that. "I am not with anyone. They are either on my side, or they are against me. Seeing as I'm sick, I take it you are my enemy?"

"I'll cure you," Chisaki replied. He knows about All For One—was proven by this smiling devil that the urban legend he knew was indeed real and powerful—after all, that was how he got his quirk. He was disgusted to learn that Izuku was completely clean and pure, only to choose to take on this sickness. "I'll cure you and make you holy once again."

"I'll look forward to that day, Kai-kun. But today," Izuku took a sharp breath as he said that.

The boy looked up, his dull green eyes staring into hazel ones that lie underneath dark lashes. Chisaki was surprised when there was the familiar desperation he had seen the first time he was ask to take the kid apart. It was almost like pain.

"Destroy me."

Overhaul gritted his teeth and activated his quirk.

 Kurogiri opened a warp gate into Midoriya's inaccessible room, making to call for him before realising no one was there. He sighed.

Before he left, he froze, looking to the neatly made bed. There was a thin coat of dust on it.

Kurogiri was going to have a talk with the young villain once he gets back about his sleeping habit.

Izuku stumbled in the rain, hair disheveled and body still shivering. Overhaul had destroyed him four times, and that was just enough to keep all other kinds of pain away. He leaned against a brick wall, blurry eyes looking up into the dark twilight, grey clouds covering up the sunset, breath shaky.

There was a child; a girl of five. She tugged on her yellow rain coat, looking up shyly to Izuku.

"Onii-chan, are you drunk?" She managed to say.

Izuku let out a puff of laughter. "What's your name?"

"Call me Natsu-chan!" She bounced on the spot, proud to get a laugh out of someone.

"Well, Natsu-chan." Izuku took a deep breath, sliding down the wet wall to sit on the concrete. "Where are your parents?"

"Oka-san and Oto-san are there." She pointed to the restaurant down the road, a fancy thing adorned with lights—unfit for these damp streets. "I went outside to play in the puddles, though Oto-san said I'd get the restaurant wet. This is their anniversary, so Oka-san was nice to us and let us out to play in the rain. Ne-chan—Kaoru said I can do anything I want, but she won't play with me. She's talking to her boyfriend." Natsu giggled at that as if she was spilling a big secret.

"Their anniversary? Then it must be a special day," Izuku said, finding that it was much harder to force out a smile.

"It is! Normally, Oka-san should put me to bed in an hour at eight." Another giggle that made his eye twitch with impatience. He was getting rusty when dealing with naive, gullible, too trusting children.

 "Here, Natsu-chan." Izuku pushed up onto one knee, shivering at the phantom pain passing through his body. The girl moved closer to see what it was he was holding; a five yen coin. With a sleight of hand, he slipped it in between his fingers, holding it so it wasn't visible from his palm.

"It disappeared," Natsu gasped.

Izuku reached behind the child's ear, flipping in between his thumb and forefinger, showing it to her.

"It was behind my ear!" She exclaimed. Izuku gave a strained smile.

The coin slipped out from his grip, something he did deliberately. The coin rolled into the alley beside them.

"I'll go get it!" She ran into the dark space without another thought.

Izuku stood up, flexing his hands the way Todoroki does. He looked up, savouring the rain on his face before it's gone.

"I found it!" A voice echoed from the alleyway. Izuku turned.

Blood stained concrete.

Izuku panted, leaning his head on the brick wall. He caught himself, then tried to calm his breath, feeling his slick fingers move over his equally slippery arms until he found his pulse. He felt the crazy rhythm in his chest and wrist slow to a steady beat.

He raised his head so he was looking up at the beings behind the dark clouds and night sky; the gods he defied. The rain stifled the scent of the blood that should've filled up his nose in the dank alleyway. Izuku reached into the pocket of his green jacket, rolled at the sleeves—only to stop halfway as he remembered the cigarette box was empty.

He sighed, careful not to get his bloodied hands anywhere near his clothes anymore so he doesn't have a hard time washing them. He had a weapon with him but reaching through living flesh and blood also had its own appeal.

Izuku left the alleyway, a tingling feeling swept through him in a shiver of the phantom pain of Overhaul. He passed a girl, just out of high-school probably, shouting out for Natsu! It seemed as though she'd lost her sister to the unforgiving rain.

The green-haired teen made it back to the bar without a hiccup—save for encountering a patrolling sidekick with night-vision. He left her in an alleyway, the rain that washed off most of the red not mattering as he dirtied his arms again; his blades remain clean.

Izuku kicked open the door to the bar, dull eyes sweeping over the scene. There were two villains he didn't recognise with their arms through Kurogiri's warp gate, along with Tomura's, all five fingers poised for the ready. Giran leaned against the wall.

All eyes pulled to him. The broker's red, Tomura's narrow ones, Kurogiri's slits, a pair of delighted gold, and—

Blue eyes that were just all too familiar.

Chapter Text

zuku's creepy smile is inspired by this fucker

 "You've always liked the taste of blood

and I get off when I point a gun

It feels so good to have someone to be so bad with."

- LOLO, Hit And Run

The moment that Dabi saw the ash-haired villain jump towards him with hand poised, ready to destroy; and the moment the crazy girl next to him pulls out a knife, its blade whining; he jumped into action, smoke already appearing as he summoned blue and black flames. He stopped though, as his hand went through the black mist from the warp gate, instead appearing above his head so if he activated his quirk, it would kill him.

A moment of silence passed, and the door was kicked open. Emerald eyes looked over the room, pausing only on him with a glint of recognition flicking across the newcomer's features.

All occupants in the room were taken aback by the green-haired boy's appearance. His jeans were almost soaked with blood and the rolled up sleeves of his green jacket were dark, along with the shining red surface of his arms. Flecks of blood scattered across his freckled face under his tired eyes.

Another crazy one, Dabi thought, shooting a glance to the named Toga Himiko.

"Ah, Bonaparte. So nice of you to join us," Giran said, his tone laid back, though it had a wary edge as he took in the young villain's bedraggled look.

The boy—Bonaparte—just gave the broker a look, holding out his palm face up. Without a word, Giran dropped a box of cigarettes into his hand.

Dabi, Shigaraki, and Toga pulled their hands out of the warp gate. Toga looked delighted, a crazy glint in her eyes.

"Who's the new one, Shigaraki-kun?" The girl's voice rasped as she asked the question, golden eyes following Bonaparte. The villain in question walked to the bar and sat down, never letting anyone out of his line of sight as he lit a cigarette and took a drag.

Shigaraki didn't answer. Instead, Kurogiri spoke to Bonaparte.

"These are the new villains that have joined us in the name of Stain's cause, Toga Himiko and Dabi."

Bonaparte looked up for a second before saying, "Just call me Izuku when we're in here. Midoriya Izuku."

"So nice to meet you, Izukkun!" Toga skipped over to perch next to Izuku. She giggled.

"Do you not like them, Tomura?" Izuku said. He looked Dabi up and down, lingering when making eye contact with the patchwork villain.

"I can't have someone crazy and someone rude in my party," Shigaraki said. Dabi caught the offended look that Izuku gave the older villain.

"If you don't want them, can I have them?" Izuku said, a visible shiver running through him.

The two held eye contact, a look passing between them that made the ash-haired villain say, "I'll recruit them."

Izuku smiled; a horrible thing—too wide and too thin, reaching the eyes in a weird sense.

After Giran and Shigaraki left, Dabi made to leave too.

"Leaving already, Dabi-kun?" Toga said, her voice near hysterical.

When Dabi didn't answer, she laughed. The dark-haired villain sigh, moving over to order a drink from the mist bartender.

"Can I stab you, Izukkun?"

Izuku hummed as if considering it. "Sure."

Faster than Dabi's eyes can follow, Toga had her butterfly knife through the green-haired villain's hand, pinning him to the bar. 

"Not the bar, please," Kurogiri bristled.

And that was how they ended up sitting in a booth, Dabi with a drink in hand across from two crazy fucker who just stabbed each other consensually. Izuku didn't treat his wound, instead, the blood slid down his arms over the dried blood from before he came to the bar. His hand shook as he pushed the cigarette butt into the ash tray.

What he found out was that Toga talked a lot. She talked about Stain, about how she wants to make the world easier to live in by painting it with red using the blood of fake heroes. Then about how she wants to be like the Hero Killer. Then about how she wants to kill him. Dabi frowned. He didn't like that this crazy girl was taking Stain's ideology and twisting it into her excuse to kill.

The conversation somehow diverted to Izuku and what he did to be covered in blood so.

"It's not mine," he said, a slight shiver once again passing through him. Dabi noticed that he did that a lot, but he didn't ask as it could be an illness. "I was just taking out some frustration."

Dabi didn't realise how much time has flown by until Kurogiri turned on the television. The trio had somehow gotten lost in conversation, most of which consists of Toga asking the two questions or talking about the people she's killed. Dabi, surprisingly, found himself laughing along with Izuku at some of Toga's antics. When Toga talked to Dabi about his flame quirk, Izuku hummed, contemplating something.

Villains have started filling up the bar, some of them talking to Izuku and the young villain introducing the two newcomers to them. Now, everyone had their eyes on the midnight news.

A girl, Hirayama Natsu, daughter of rescue pro-hero, Tranquil, was found with several of her organs scattered in an alleyway. The criminal responsible may have a grudge against the pro-hero, but it could just be a serial killer as pro-hero Star Gazer was found in a similar state in another alleyway. Almost all eyes in the bar turned to the bloodied Izuku.

Yet, despite this gruesome crime, committed against a child whose innocence cannot be questioned, no one stood up to Izuku's unreasonable actions. Dabi almost did, but his survival instincts made him see the way the villains diverted their eyes from the young villain. That stopped him from saying anything in a sense of self-preservation.

Izuku stretched his mouth into a thin smile.

"I should be going."

And with that, Toga and Dabi watched the back of the villain disappear behind a door.

Izuku looked down at the blood diluting in the boiling waiter bouncing off him onto the tiles of the shower.

You crave love.

Izuku's fingers curled into a fist.

You can't sleep—not with out a warm human body by your side.

Izukkun, you need to sleep.

He gritted his teeth as inside his head, Kurogiri's words overlaps with Cleopatras.

You take your showers boiling hot.

His skin was raw and red by the time he stepped out.

You seriously have something wrong up here.

He didn't. He wasn't crazy. He wasn't wrong. Yes, he wants love, but just because he is unable to feel it himself.

He donned a plain shirt, walking into their small living room and spotting Tomura playing games on his new device. Izuku stumbled over, falling onto the couch and curling around the other villain. Surprise resgistered in Tomura's face before he rested his hand in Izuku's fluff of hair, index finger outstretched.

"Sorry, Nii." He though about the two new villains—both of them beautiful. Toga's rapspy voice and those pale blue eyes belonging to such a familiar man. They were beautiful and they were his. That's why he asked Tomura to keep him.

Curled in the warmth of his brother, Izuku fell asleep for the first time since Saturday.

He was so warm. 

Chapter Text

"Did you miss me?"

- Jim Moriarty, Sherlock

Izuku hummed as he honed the blade of his knives. So far, the three people in the Vanguard Action Squad are Dabi, Toga, and Twice. He could also be included, but he'd rather not be an official member.

Toga fiddles with her mask and needles. "Izukkun, I don't like this. Can't I just have my knife?"

"The needles are more helpful."

"Serious?" Toga groaned walking over to Twice, who was crouched down. "Do I look bad?"

"Bad? That outfit is horrible. But you look cute!" Twice says all that in the span of three seconds.

Izuku looks over to Twice as he sheaths the blades on his thighs. "You've got all our measurements?"

Twice nodded in confirmation.

Izuku placed his mask over his mouth, covering his thin smile.

"Let's go then."

Dabi stomped his foot on the metal grating next to him. It clatters on the linoleum tiles beneath, drawing shouts from the guards centered in that area. Toga jumps through headfirst, grabbing a guard by the neck and sticking the needle into his throat. 

Izuku jumps after her, index and middle finger drawing one of his throwing knives and with a flick of his wrist, the blade embedded itself on the other guard, who was drawing a gun and holding the walkie-talkie to his mouth. Twice and Dabi follows through, landing in a crouch.

"You know the plan," Izuku says, running through the white halls with Dabi; Toga and Twice went the other way.

As Izuku ran, he yanked the knife out of the guard's windpipe, wiping it on his leather bracer before sheathing it in a smooth motion. Any other guard they encountered was immediately slashed by Izuku or burned by Dabi's blue flames with a temperature that even Izuku could feel.

So warm.

 "Himiko!" Twice shouted a warning, but before said villain turns around, a burst of blue flames burned the guard, their pained cries fading away as ash fell to the ground.

"Wooh! Dabi-kun's brother is fast!" Twice said, jumping around.

"Ne, ne, Jin," Toga said, voice hysterical in her usual tone. "Can you make Izukkun? I wanna see him."

"Are you sure?" Twice replied. "I don't think he can fight other than throwing knives."

"That's plenty useful!"

Twice sighed, Izuku appearing next to them.

The green-haired double hummed. "I though I told you not to make me unless its an emergency?"

Toga giggled while Twice rubbed the back of his head.

"Fine," Izuku sighed. He to a wall; roughly in the direction of the two's target. "Since this is a double, I can go all out. Toga?"

"Yes, Izukkun?" She rasped.

"Kill me once I make a way for you. My quirk's drawbacks are... troubling, to say the least."

"Huh?"

The wall ripped open, the tiles shaping itself like liquid to the side neatly. It opened into a room with a villain with bright red hair. He looked on in fear before scrambling out of the way as the wall behind him tore open into a hallway. And the next wall opened into a room, and the next into a hallway, and the next into a room.

Toga and Twice gaped at the continuing holes until it stopped.

"Himiko, stab him!"

Toga turned towards the fake Izuku, knife poised at the ready—only to be thrown back violently by an invisible force.

Izuku looked at Toga, eyes twisted into a crazy expression. He smiled and walked over.

"Aren't you a beautiful thing?" He laughed. Toga grinned uneasily. She always wanted to make Izuku laugh more—but not like this.

"You know," he continued, a finger trailing Toga's jaw. "I've always wanted to hurt something that was truly beautiful, and your voice..." He paused. "Speak for me, Himiko."

Delight filled the girl as Izuku spoke her name. He said her first name!

"Anything for you, Izukkun〜" Toga grinned, her face flushed red with love.

A thump came from behind Izuku and he melted right before her.

"Izuku, baby!" she cried out, trying to grab onto his remains. What appeared behind the evaporating form was Twice, holding a pipe he wrenched from inside the walls.

"I want to see that again," he managed to say. "But we must keep to the mission!"

Toga whined, pushing herself onto her feet.

 Leaving a trail of ash and dead bodies behind, Dabi and Izuku ran past criminals and crazy villains crying for the two to help them out. They finally reached their destination, a room with one-sided glass. Despite that, the inhabitant of the room darted their sharp brown eyes to the two villains outside. Izuku's grin widened as he recognised that white hair and almost red eyes.

Izuku didn't even try to pick the lock to the room, instead tearing a whole in the wall where the glass was with his quirk, causing the lookout Dabi to wince and look on in understanding at why he was so feared. He walked over to where the villain was on a table, black straps and chains over his straitjacket.

"Miyano Hikaru," Izuku breathed. "You don't know how long I've waited to come get you."

The villain's eyes narrowed.

Izuku held up a voice recorder, tapping the replay button. What came out was Sensei's voice, speaking three words in arabic. Miyano's eyes widened.

"Master," he said, addressing Izuku and schooling his features.

Izuku took off his mask, his malicious smile under it.

"My first order," he said. "Is for you to break out."

Miyano closed his eyes. "Yes, master."

Blades protruded out of the straitjacket, tearing it. Some tore the straps while some broke the chains. When all binding him to the table was released, he sat up, rubbing his wrist. Katanas and swords clattered to the floor, staying there as evidence. The villain stood up, he ran a hand down the bare skin of his arms, wrapping around his wrist and pulling out an AK-12. A smile stretched across his lips mirroring Izuku's in a fashion that made Dabi feel unsettled.

"Let's get out of here, shall we?" Izuku said, stepping over the line where the wall use to be into the dim hallway.

"Miyano Hikaru, Sensei?"

"That's him."

"I saw him once. Fighting All Might years ago."

"He never stood a chance did he?"

"..."

"He's a criminal who used to be in the military and would follow his superior officer's order to the very end, no exceptions. It was quite unsettling, actually."

"How did you get him to serve you?"

"With a bit of money, his general made him follow me."

"And he agreed?"

"He... had no morals. Nor any beliefs of his own. He was like an empty shell—a doll."

"Wow..."

"So I made him follow our beliefs. The loyalty he has to us is unwavering. His general won't even be able to bring him back."

"... And I can have him."

"Yes. Yes, you can."

"Thank you, Sensei."

Chapter Text

"Only one thing is equal for all,

and that is death."

- Johan Liebert, Monster

"His goals are not like ours. Nor Stain's."

"And what do you plan to do about it?"

"Tomura might not like what I do, Sensei."

"Lie. You're good at that aren't you?"

"..."

"Now tell me. What are you going to do about it."

"Kill him. He is only a hindrance. A soldier who puts his selfish desires above his team must be eliminated early."

"Good. No need to hide it."

"Yes, Sensei."

"A test of courage? Izukkun, I want to do that, too!" Toga crouches on the cliff edge, feet rolling so dangerously close to falling.

"You can be the one to scare them, Toga," Izuku said, tightening his bracer.

"Please," Toga giggled, "Call me Himiko again."

"You all know your objectives?" Dabi said, clapping to get everyone's attention. Izuku had made him the leader of the Vanguard Action Squad for the sole reason that he'd have to shoulder responsibility if he were to lead. And that requires effort, something he doesn't want to put in.

"Do your best," he continued when everyone nodded. They set off.

Miyano Hikaru runs with Muscular, catching up easily to him, much to the other man's dismay. Izuku's words thunder in his ears.

He reaches into his arms, pulling out a sniper rifle as they stopped on a rock. He sets up, Muscular spotting a dark haired child. The bigger man jumps down, startling the boy.

Muscular starts monologuing. 

Hikaru pulls out a tranquilliser, and walked over to the growing form of the villain. He places the tranquilliser's barrel and another gun that grew out of his hand against Muscular's back. He freezes.

"What are you doing, Miyano?"

"Following Bonaparte's orders." His voice was soft enough that the child could not hear him.

"And what exactly are those orders?"

"Get rid of the disloyal one."

He fired the gun, causing Muscular to jump away, falling. The taller villain turns onto his back, looking up at the looming figure above him. Half of Hikaru's face was obscured by shadow and the other half was veiled by moonlight. His brown downturned eyes looked red. The gun was pointed at Muscular.

"Get rid of the greedy one."

He fired three more times, all nowhere near the vital spots that would kill him. Then he shot the tranquilliser into the bits of skin showing under the overflowing muscle.

"You... a—are you..." Hikaru looks up to see the boy quivering and cowering, leaning away from Muscular. "Are you a hero?"

Hikaru raises his tranquilliser, the shot hitting the kid's leg, sending him down.

"Lead him to the two flames."

Shoji spins around, expecting a villain, only to find no one. The voice was young, likely muffled by something; a mask. He was sure he wasn't hearing things but...

Shoji turns his head to the sound of explosions in the opposite direction from the raging Dark Shadow. That's not a bad idea.

Himiko inspected the tiny bit of blood on her knife. "Too shallow. Not enough!"

"What kind of jerk comes out swinging a knife like that?" The frog girl said, instinctively stepping in front of the short haired one.

"I'm Toga! And you two are really cute," Himiko said, then pointed the knife at the girls, placing their names that she'd been briefed on. "Uraraka and... Asui."

"They know our names," Uraraka said, worry tinting her tone.

"Probably from the sports festival. We don't know them, they know us."

"Little blood is no fun," Himiko continues, ignoring them. "Usually, with a good wound, I can suck it all out." She made slurping sounds that sent chills down the two student's spine. She grabbed one of her needles. "With this machine, a little cut's all I need to drain you dry. Makes my job so easy. So I'm gonna stab you."

Himiko ran full speed.

"Ochaco!" Asui's tongue wraps around the other girl's torso, swinging her out of harm's way. "Run back to camp. We shouldn't try to beat the villains just because we got permission."

Himiko giggles. "Izukkun will be proud if I get blood, and call me by my first name!"

"You run too, Tsuyu!" Uraraka said.

Asui turns to her opponent, stance readying.

"Tsuyu," Himiko slices at the frog girl's tongue. "Little Tsuyu. Cute name. Imma call you that too."

Asui jumps away. "Only the people who are allowed to call me that are my friends!"

Himiko throws her needle to trap the other girl's hair. "That makes us friends, doesn't it? Call me Himiko too then."

The round faced girl shouts for her friend.

"You're bleeding already, Tsuyu my good friend!" Himiko traps Asui between her arms. "Isn't blood cute? And so are you. Your skin is so pretty. I hope Izukkun doesn't mind if I take a bite." Himiko licks her lips, leaning in so close she could kiss the student.

"Get away from her!" Uraraka runs. She dodged the incoming knife from Himiko perfectly, grabbing the outstretched arm, her hand cupping the villain's nape and pushing her to the ground, successfully wrenching the knife hand to Himiko's back. At Uraraka's command, Asui tried to get herself free to wrap the villain's hands with her tongue.

"Ochaco-chan," Himiko rasped, craning her neck and looking up to her captor. "You're a lovely one too. You know I have someone I'm crushing on." Uraraka looked puzzled. "And I wanna be just like him. Do you like someone too, Ochaco-chan? I used to love tattered guys reeking of blood. That's why I use to carve people up." The two looked horrified. "But now, I like the type that will carve me up!" With that, she stuck a needle with her free hand on Uraraka's leg.

"Suck," Himiko said as Asui's tongue lunged out to save her friend. "Suck."

"Uraraka!" A guy with multiple arms walks down the path carrying someone unconscious with a half-red-half-white haired guy leading.

"There are too many people," Himiko said, pushing the girl off of her and jumping away. "I don't want to die."

She runs off.

"A lot of good people are going to die."

"You don't try to gloss it over for me, do you, Sensei?"

"I can't fool you even if I tried. If I tell you that they're all fake heroes, you wouldn't believe me."

"Yeah. They're all heroes that want to help people. Good people."

"I see it in your eyes, Izuku. This is why I don't need to gloss it over—you don't care."

"Hah..."

"You don't care as long as you get to hurt someone."

"And I lie to my team that it was all for a greater cause..."

"..."

"A lot of good people are going to die tonight, Sensei."

BANG !

The shot rang out through the forest.

"Tch." Hikaru reloads his rifle, shifting a bit in his position on his stomach. "I missed."

He wasn't the best at every weapon. He was a well-rounded soldier, proficient in all types of artillery and and most blades.

He looked through the scope again, seeing the big cat on the ground, clutching his shoulder and screaming in pain. Bullets were painful and it was always a wonder why villains use mostly their quirks or blunt and sharp weapons. Guns are more efficient.

His scope moves, spotting Eraserhead. He refrains from pressing lightly on the trigger. He moves it again, training it on a student standing still. He pulls.

"Dabi."

"Yeah?"

"You get the first shot at Eraserhead."

"That was the plan."

"But if you fail, he's mine."

"But—"

"Mine."

"Vanguard Action Squad! The target has been successfully captured! Short though it was, our mission has come to an end. As planned, be at the evacuation point within five minutes of this transmission."

Izuku smiles, looking up to the sky with his hands in his pockets. "It was a good thing we recruited the guy. His speech has a certain charm to it. Did ya know he was an entertainer?"

He looks forward to his opponent across from him. 

"But enough about him."

Izuku retracts his hands, falling into his deadliest stance—Muay Thai.

"Let's have fun, Eraserhead."

Chapter Text

reference to fighting

"You're waiting for a train,

a train that will take you far away.

You know where you hope this train will take you,

but you don't know for sure.

Yet it doesn't matter.

Now, tell me why?"

- Dominick Cobb, Inception

Izuku was not the strongest fighter. His punches were not the heaviest and his kicks did not hurt that much. But that's one good thing about it. Izuku remembers delivering a straight hit to a vigilante's abdomen before, remembers the crushing on ribs beneath his knuckles. The vigilante would've retreated if she felt any pain, listening to her body's warnings—but she didn't. She kept fighting, confusion clear as her breathing hitched whenever she stepped forward, wheezing every sudden move.

More than that, he fights dirty. If he can't overwhelm the opponent with power, he will use his brain and speed. It also helps that he memorised almost every vital spot.

Izuku jumps back as he received a heavy blow to his face, a slight aching in his jaw. Of course, he barely noticed it. Spending a lot of time near Overhaul, it was no wonder as to why his pain tolerance was especially high.

Eraserhead was in front of him, offence sliding into defence, eyes glowing. Izuku attacked.

He kicked, the hero easily deflecting it, but was not prepared for the second one as Izuku twisted his torso, jumping off the foot on the ground and bringing it up in a kick, his whole body now in the air as he spun. The blow shoved Eraserhead to the side, but by the time Izuku landed, Eraserhead had recovered and delivered two punches to his solar plexus. Izuku jumped away. That happened in the span of four seconds.

"That hurt, Eraser," Izuku said, rubbing the spot he'd been hit.

"An eye for an eye. You hurt my students. Your friends killed my student." Anger was evident in the underground hero's face.

"That's not good, Eraser." Izuku slid his finger into the hole in one of his throwing knives, fishing it out and flicking it in the air. It flipped a few times before he swiped it, rushing in to meet the hero. He swung the knife, Eraserhead ducking under it just as Izuku's knees came up to meet his nose. Dirty. "You shouldn't let your emotions get the better of you."

Izuku may have sounded bored and uninterested to the hero, but inside, he was beaming. Excitement almost sent shivers down his body, a flush on his face as he readied for another exchange of blows. Eraserhead was one of the best heroes, if not the best, at hand to hand combat.

He rushed in again, this time doing another round house, then dropping his foot when Eraserhead ducked. The hero caught it, a barely audible uh oh coming from the villain as he twisted the leg. Izuku flipped, feeling the capture scarf wrap around his calves. Izuku threw his hands in front of him to cushion his fall, then threw his weight forward, rolling onto his back and kicking Eraserhead—surprisingly light—away. The hero landed far away in a crouch. Five seconds passed in the exchange.

This time, before Izuku could gather his bearings, Eraserhead charged. He threw a punch, which passed through the spot Izuku use to be. He swore as he noticed the lack of power behind the hit, realising too late it's a feint. When he sidestepped the feint, Eraserhead's left hand shot out to stop him from moving far, pushing him closer to his right. His left and right hand passed each other as Izuku was flipped sideways and onto his side. That exchange was two seconds.

Eraserhead immediately went down to trap the villain, but in the time gap, Izuku's legs shot out in an arc, flipping Eraserhead onto his side as well. He jumped on the hero. Eraserhead rolls onto his shoulders, kicking Izuku off above him. The villain falls, doing a military roll and standing on his feet. The hero also gets into a stance. Five seconds.

They exchanged blows again. Three seconds. Then one more that lasted a while and ended up with Izuku wheezing through his mouth. Eleven seconds.

Izuku runs, dropping his hands low. Eraserhead's stance unconsciously drops. Izuku smiles, his fingertips grazing the ground as he runs. When he gets in range, he grabs a handful of dirt and throws it into Eraserhead's eyes where he has no defence. The hero grunts, frustrated and surprised. Izuku skids before he runs pass him, jumping back on his palms and kicking off, hitting Eraserhead's chin as he did a backwards handspring.

Before Eraserhead recovered from the dirt, Izuku kicked, aiming for the abdomen. The hero sees through the pain, arms up to block it. But at the last moment, Izuku's feet made a swerve, hitting the solar plexus. A perfect cresent kick.

"Iida Tenya, was it?" Izuku said. "I saw him. It actually took him a while to bleed out after Stain stabbed him."

Fury. There was undiluted rage in those eyes, sending excited chills down his spine. Then cold. A dry anger.

Eraserhead looked messed up, dirt on his face mixing with the blood coming from his nose. His movements were slightly stilted, a visible pain on the solar plexus where Izuku has hit him countless times. There must be bruises all over his body by now. Izuku could also feel a numbness all over his body where he's been hit and a throbbing on the back of his head where he was thrown down on.

Even despite that, Eraserhead attacks and the blows come harder, faster. Izuku could barely dodge, bringing his arms up to block instead and feeling the sting as the hero's sharp knuckles even graze him little. After another exchange, Izuku bends backwards as a fist is swung with his whole body weight. He hooks his finger into another one of his knives, wrist flicking upwards. Eraserhead jerked his head just in time, but not enough prevent a line of red blooming on his cheekbones.

Izuku jumps back. He intends to take a step forward for another attack, but his legs give out from beneath him. His eyes caught the pro-hero as he fell. Despite the circumstances, he laughed,  the last thing his opponent and the students on the sideline see is his smile as he fell into a cloud of black mist.

Death is impossible for us to fathom: it is so immense, so frightening, that we will do almost anything to avoid thinking about it. Society is organised to make death invisible, to keep it several steps removed. That distance may seem necessary for our comfort, but it comes with a terrible price: the illusion of limitless time, and a consequent lack of seriousness about daily life. We are running away from the one reality that faces us all.

As a warrior in life, you must turn this dynamic around: make the thought of death something not to escape but to embrace. Your days are numbered. Will you pass them half awake and halfhearted or will you live with a sense of urgency? Cruel theatres staged by a czar are unnecessary; death will come to you without them. Imagine it pressing in on you, leaving you no escape—for there is no escape. Feeling death at your heels will make all your actions more certain and more forceful. This could be your last throw of the dice: make it count.

Shouto snapped the book shut. He thought of Iida, who probably couldn't even fight when he was paralysed by Stain's quirk. He thought of the four students in class 1B, shot through the head without even given a chance to fight back. Then he thought of Aizawa and Midoriya—Bonaparte fighting.

Then he thought of such familiar blue eyes looking at him.

"How sad, Shouto-kun." 

"Nii-san?"

He gritted his teeth.

Izuku opened his eyes to a familiar ceiling. He tried moving, wincing at the bruising and pain in his joints. He was tucked into his bed, he realised as he sat up. Kurogiri probably treated all his wounds when he was unconscious.

He donned his hoodie, a bit satisfied as he took in his clean appearance. Kurogiri also threw it in the wash.

He opened the plaster, stepping through the hole in the wall and molding it back. He was outside in an alleyway and it might be the drawbacks of his quirk making him not think straight, but instead of going to see Kacchan, he wandered to find a certain hero-in-training.

It wasn't hard. Todoroki was on his way back from the hospital, probably visiting all his injured friends. He made him catch a glimpse of green hair before waiting in an alleyway. Todoroki didn't take long to find him.

"Good morning, Todoroki-kun," he said in greeting, giving a tired smile.

Todoroki didn't respond, instead handing a book to the villain. It was the book that he had given him to borrow.

"Are you finished?" Izuku moved forward to grab it, seeing Todoroki tensing when he moved closer. He took the book.

"No," Todoroki said. "But, Bonaparte—" Izuku visibly winced, "—why?"

"What do you mean, why?" 

"Why do you do this?"

"Villainy?" Izuku hummed. "I guess it's because I can do whatever I want."

Todoroki gave him a look—one Izuku had never seen before that was almost akin to disappointment. "Don't ever try to find again."

He left.

Izuku stood there, a feeling bubbling in his chest. Ouch. That hurt. But why? Why was it hurting? What did Izuku even do to him? Izuku grabbed his chest, where it was tightening and suffocating. He stumbled to the wall, grabbing for purchase so he wouldn't tip over onto his face. His fingers slid against the wall as he fell onto his knees. Todoroki was his. He can't just reject him like this.

"Izukkun," a voice comes from the other end of the alley. Izuku looked up to see pale blue eyes.

"Dabi-kun," Izuku managed to say through laboured pants. "It's—ugh—rather em-embarrassing for you to see me like this."

He walked over to the green-haired villain. "Handy-man said you'd want to talk to the Bakugou kid first."

"I-I do." He took a deep breath. "Just n-not now. Please," he added.

Dabi didn't leave, instead coming to sit next to the suffering Izuku. "It'd be bad if you died on us. I'll keep an eye on you."

The alleyway was filled with Izuku's heavy breathing. When Dabi took out his cigarette box did Izuku realise he'd left his own back in his room. Izuku turned around to fall on his back onto the wall. Dabi took out a lighter.

"Can't you just light it with you quirk?" Izuku asked.

"Nah," the other villain replied, the sound of sparks clicking. "It gives me more of a mundane feeling when I do this." He raised the box towards Izuku in an offering, putting the lighter back in his jacket. "Want one?"

"Thanks." Izuku pulled one out and pushing it into his mouth, holding it between his teeth. He recognise the brand. "Did Giran give you this?"

"Yeah," Dabi replied, reaching once again for his lighter. He was stopped just as Izuku leaned over, leaning on the arm now placed on Dabi's other side and connecting the end of his cigarette to Dabi's lit one. His eyes widened, taking in half-closed emerald orbs locked on the cigarette. Izuku took the cigarette away from his mouth, tired eyes darting up to meet the villain's trapped between his arms. Dabi swallowed. Only did Izuku pull away when he blew a puff of smoke into Dabi's face.

"Tell me something, Dabi-kun." Izuku took another drag. "Are you loyal?"

Dabi glanced to the side. "I beg your pardon?"

"Are you loyal to Tomura?"

A pause. "I'm loyal to Stain's ideology. The League allows me to follow it."

"Even if we want to kill the one he recognises as a true hero?"

Dabi did not respond.

"You know," Izuku continued. "I don't really care if Tomura just wants to destroy the world. I have things that I want to protect—the rest can burn."

"And what would that be?"

"Mine. Anything that belongs to me. The League of Villains allows me to do that." At that, Izuku looked straight into the other villain's eyes, a pained smile on his lips. "And as longs as I can do that, I'd follow Tomura to the ends of earth. No matter where he takes me."

They sat there in silence until darkness enveloped the sky, unspoken words hanging between them.

Because Tomura knows; Sensei knows. They know not to touch what belongs to him because little as he may be, he was terrifying when angry.

And the world was not prepared to face the wrath of a god.

Chapter Text

 “Do I not destroy my enemies

when I make them my friends?"

- Abraham Lincoln

 "Lord

protect me from my friends.

I can take care of my enemies."

- Voltaire, 1694-1778

 Most people would assume that Katsuki's greatest fear would be something trivial, as he wasn't the deepest person around. Even if anyone did ask him what his greatest fear was, he wouldn't answer, instead telling them he's not afraid of anything. But right now, what he feared and hope would never happen just did. No, it was not kidnapping.

The earliest memory he had of Midoriya Izuku is the boy snapping a pigeon's neck. Katsuki shouted at the boy—why had you done that, don't you want to be a hero, heroes don't hurt others. The other boy just blinked at him, his mouth forming an O.

There was also one other time when he asked Midoriya why he never smiled and he just blinked once again.

"...Smile?"

"You know," Katsuki said. "Like this." He bared his teeth in a wide grin.

Midoriya tried baring his teeth too, but the corner of his lips did not reach his eyes and tilt up like Katsuki's. Midoriya stuck his index fingers into his mouth and pulled it higher so to mimic Katsuki's. Katsuki flinched.

"Not like that! You're so useless, Deku."

The next week, Midoriya came running towards him. "Kacchan, Kacchan! Look."

Midoriya smiled, making Katsuki's heart clench at how adorable it was.

"I practiced." Something about that statement didn't seem right to him, but he brushed it off.

Some time after Katsuki got his quirk, they sat on the Bakugou's couch and watched an All Might movie.

"He's so cool!" Katsuki gushed. 

"The special effects are good, but the American actor doesn't look that much like All Might," Midoriya mused. He turned towards Katsuki. "Kacchan, Kacchan, can you show me your explosions again?"

"Now?" he asked. "We're watching a movie. Later."

"Please?" It seems like the little devil knows that Katsuki can't resist the puppy dog look.

"FINE." Katsuki sparked some small explosions in front of him, the humming of the film now in the background.

Midoriya's eyes shone as looked at the flames. "Pretty."

Katsuki couldn't resist the red flush creeping up his neck at the compliment.

When it was discovered that Midoriya was quirkless, Katsuki lashed out at him. Calling him useless genuinely, saying his name with more venom, beating him day and day again.

But it was terrifying, seeing him get up and smile.

"Why aren't you fighting back, hah?" Katsuki asked.

"Kacchan, Kacchan, I would never hurt you." Midoriya grinned, one that actually reached his eyes unlike the hundreds of forced ones. But Katsuki could see the apathetic looks he shot everyone else except for him. "After all, your explosions are really pretty."

Katsuki punched him, knocking him to the ground. "Shut up, you creepy fucker!"

It wasn't really the fact that he was quirkless that made Katsuki so cold to the other boy. It was the fact that he still wanted to become a hero, even though he'd probably die on day one. Of course, he'd figure out soon enough that Midoriya never wanted to be a hero in the first place. By then, it was too late.

When Midoriya disappeared, people assumed he was dead. Katsuki did too, in a way. But there will always be a part of him that feared he would still be out there—the boy that gave him chills when he thought about him, that smiled aimlessly, that still woke Katsuki up drenched in cold sweat; that was his greatest nightmare.

And that fear came true.

Katsuki was speechless when his supposedly dead childhood friend sat on top of the bar across from where he was strapped to a chair.

"Kacchan, Kacchan," the tone in which Midoriya repeated his name twice was the same as ever, further paralysing Katsuki in fear. "Do you really have nothing to say?"

Midoriya frowned. That bastard Shigaraki had told Katsuki that they had plans for him, but not until he met a certain someone. They all left him alone with this green-haired bastard.

"Damn," he said. "I was really rooting for a more dramatic reaction from you. Like maybe, WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING YOU USELESS DEKU? WHY ARE YOU WITH THE VILLAIN BASTARDS?"

Katsuki winced as Midoriya broke from a slightly bored demeanour into this angry, crazy look.

"I'll tell you what they want to do to you." Midoriya reverted back to a laidback persona. "They wanna recruit you."

"Hah?" Katsuki finally snapped out of the paralysis as the villain just suggested something crazy.

"I know, I know." Midoriya rolled his eyes. "I know that there is no chance of you doing that. But who am I to tell people how to live their life."

"THEN TELL THEM IT'S FUTILE! I DON'T WANT TO FUCKING LISTEN TO SHITTYRAKI SPOUT SHIT!"

Midoriya laughed, then fell silent. "Do you hate me, Bakugou Katsuki?"

A moment of silence and a shiver as his full name was called, then, "Yes." It was the truth.

There was another long, dragged out silence as Katsuki studied the pained look on his enemy's face.

"Why?" Katsuki broke the silence.

Midoriya blinked. He knew what the blond was trying to say, not asking why he asked if he hated the villain, but rather, something else. "That is a difficult question to answer. Why..." he mused. "Because it was convenient."

"Convenient? Being a villain was convenient?"

"Kacchan, Kacchan. You don't understand," Midoriya said with a disappointed look on his face.

"Like hell I would!" Katsuki snapped. "If you don't fucking explain then how could I?"

"Good point." Midoriya hummed, the nostalgic sound sending shivers down Katsuki's spine as he got a vivid sense of deja vu. "You see, I was kidnapped."

Katsuki shut his mouth before he could say anything under the villain's piercing gaze.

"They were looking for a quirkless child that would be able to take on a powerful quirk. It had pretty nasty side effects, so Sensei wouldn't use it. A child because we were easier to manipulate. Imagine their surprise when I didn't need much convincing. I was more than eager!"

"You were pretending before, weren't you?" Katsuki spat. "After that villain—the one that All Might subdued—you acted even more of a fucking creep."

More humming. "They thought they were manipulating me. The villains thought I wouldn't betray them out of a sense of gratitude."

He laughed, a cold, dead sound. Katsuki's eyes followed Midoriya's hands as they picked up a thick orange book sitting on the bar beside him. He flicked through the book, stopping on one page and clearing his throat.

He read out, "'The Jaws of Ingratitude. Knowing what would happen if you put a finger in the mouth of a lion, you would stay clear of it. With friends, you will have no such caution. If you hire them, they will eat you alive with ingratitude.' Kacchan, Kacchan, do you know what that means?"

Katsuki clamped his mouth shut once again.

"You were always smart. But I guess this is too much for you. I'll make it simple: keep your friends close, but your enemies closer."

As Katsuki gulped, Midoriya frowned at the book.

"Well," he continued. "That was what I was aiming for, but this book basically says 'don't trust you friends—trust your enemies.' So the League made a horrible mistake when they made friends with me."

"What the fuck are you on about, hah?" Katsuki said through the dryness in his throat. "Enemies would be more likely to betray you, wouldn't they?"

"Kacchan, Kacchan," the green-haired villain tutted. "You're not well-versed in this game of power are you." He reached over, grazing the blond's jawline, making him freeze as the cold fingers touched the skin of his face. Midoriya shivered and Katsuki could've sworn the villain mouthed 'warm'.

"Friends," Midoriya said. "They are greedy. They think they could get away with more just because of being your friend. If you do them a favour, they expect more and they get jealous of you—you ask them for help not because of their proficiency but because they are your friend. Enemies on the other hand, they have much more to prove and expect nothing from you. After all, 'a man suddenly spared the guillotine is a grateful man indeed and will go to the ends of the earth for the man who has pardoned him'."

"Hah? You just said something about ingratitude—" Katsuki was cut off as Midoriya leaned over and put a finger over the blond's lips.

"Kacchan, Kacchan. What would friends be grateful for? They think the favours you give them are earned from their own merit. Humans like to feel like they earned something."

"Your enemies are human." This time, Katsuki was much quieter, speaking through the finger on his lips making his heart thunder at an impossible speed—from fear or something else, he didn't care.

"Always slow on the uptake. I said this before, but I'll say this again: your enemies expect nothing from you."

It took a moment for Katsuki to realise and his eyes widened.

Midoriya leaned in closer until their noses were almost touching. He whispered, his breath fluttering over Katsuki's lips, making him take a sharp breath, "Just like how you wouldn't expect me to not warn the other villains that the heroes have found our hideout."

The words slowly sank in. Midoriya leaned back, Katsuki almost furrowing his eyebrows at the lack of heat in front of him. "Why?"

Midoriya smiled—too thin and too wide. He leaned in once again, his mouth almost pressed to Katsuki's ear.

"Because when the end is this close, you just gotta have some fun."

Chapter Text

"An idea is like a virus.

Resilient.

Highly contagious.

And even the smallest seed of an idea can grow.

It can grow to define or destroy you."

- Dominick Cobb, Inception

 Shouta had a permanent scowl on his face as he roamed the busy streets lit only by the bright light of establishments in every corner. He squeezed past prostitutes and shady men, blending in with crowd even in his hero costume. Tomorrow he would have to answer questions from the press and he just knew that they were going to verbally slaughter U.A. and make their lives living hell. They'd have to settle this quickly.

Shouta snapped his head to the side as he caught a glimpse of dark curly hair and freckles. He pushed against the flow of the crowd, following Bonaparte. The villain didn't drift off from the crowd, instead following them to the train station. This gave the hero an unsettling feeling in his stomach—Bonaparte could always use the warp gate villain to travel long distances, no need to be spotted in such a sorry setting. What more: he was wearing a suit that looked to be better in a business setting than his usual scruffy outfit. What was he planning?

Before the villain could get on the train, Shouta grabbed his arm and pulled him aside—only to come face to face with a completely different man. Shouta blinked.

"Do you... need something?" The man asked, Shouta not noticing the twitching in his hand as it itched to reach into his coat.

Shouta studied the man. His narrow eyes were dark unlike Bonaparte's wide green ones and his hair was not green but pitch black with a streak of grey in the front. The freckles and curly mess of hair were eerily similar to the villain.

"Apologies," Shouta eyed the other man's hands now in his coat, looking to be holding something. "I thought you were someone else."

The man smiled, releasing whatever he was holding and letting his hands drop to his side. Shouta almost shivered at the less twisted version of Bonaparte's grin. "I'll be on my way then."

As he walked away, Shouta couldn't help but get the same curling feeling in his gut.

Sensei told him when he was twelve that they needed to find a spy to infiltrate U.A. When Izuku asked him when they needed one, he replied with three years at most—the time when the noumus would be finished. Izuku had smiled and asked if he could be entrusted with that position of finding a spy.

With the help of an online-hacker-friend, he managed to find quite a few candidates with the right age that possesses a stealth quirk. There was one boy who could hide his presence, which Izuku kept in mind. The most likely one at the time was a girl with a shapeshifting quirk that could turn into anyone she saw before, but he dismissed the idea as a second option when he thought of a certain hero who could blow her cover just by looking at her and erasing her quirk. 

In the end, he settled for a hopeless girl with a mutation quirk that made her invisible that was about the same age as him. He approached her when she was walking home alone from the mall after a hangout with friends who live in the next station over. After all, twelve was that threshold between really immature and really mature.

Izuku bumped into her when they were both looking down at their phones. They both looked up at each other, apologising profusely.

"Oh my gosh!" Izuku gushed, feigning that he had forgotten they even bumped into each other. "That's so cool."

"What?" The girl said, confused by his reaction at seemingly being bumped into.

"You're completely invisible," he said, looking in awe.

"Hehe," she giggled, her sleeves moving in a motion that indicated she was probably fiddling her hands in embarrassment.

"Can I ask some questions? That's like, the coolest quirk ever," he continued.

"Oh, no prob—"

She was cut off when Izuku quickly blurted, "Oh, I'm so sorry, you must be getting somewhere, I'm so so sorry—"

"It's fine!" She cheerfully said.

"I have to be somewhere too, but if you don't mind, can we meet up again?" He quickly added in embarrassment, "I mean, unless you want to, I'm not forcing you and I know it sounds weird that a complete stranger is asking you this, but I've never seen anyone that's completely invisible—and I'm not trying t—this isn't an attempt at picking you up by the way, I was just curious and oh god I'm rambling aren't I?"

"What's your name?" She asked, slightly amused.

"Oh, I-I'm Midoriya Izuku."

"And I'm Hagakure Tooru. Now we're not strangers, Midoriya-kun."

Izuku blinked and gave a smile he had perfected long ago.

They met up at the park the next day and Tooru listened to Midoriya's questions.

"How do you see?" He asked, this time more perplexed than the other questions he asked.

"Well, my eyes are invisible, but I can see like I can do anything else when my organs are invisible."

"No, I mean, how do you see?"

Tooru blinked, not really understanding the question. She always saw the way she did her whole life. She didn't think there was anything with the she saw even if her eyes are invisible.

"You are completely invisible. All light passes through you, with no bending, the air around you looks still. Nothing gets reflected, but then nothing gets absorbed either. Light has to travel to your eyes for you to see, since the information from the light reflected into your eyes allow you to see. You see colour, correct?"

"Yeah."

"But how?" Izuku looked like he was trying to figure out the question of the century.

"I don't know. I don't think I've learnt about light yet."

"That's curious."

They became fast friends after that, Midoriya always fitting right in beside her as if he was always meant to be there.

She learnt not long after that Midoriya loves. Whenever they went out, Endeavour just always happens to be fighting on TV and they would always happen to see it, Midoriya pointing out every single thing he could've done better. He also likes to show her videos of Gentle and talk to her about the vigilante Stendhal's ideals

Tooru didn't know when along the lines that the term villain and vigilante blended to mean the same to her ears—not when Midoriya was pointing out every little slip a hero makes. She didn't know either when she started to see heroes in a whole different light. Didn't know when a mistake from a hero not seeing someone in need of rescue became a hero ignoring someone in need of rescue because of their desire to fight the villains. She didn't realise of course that her ideals were carefully molded by this green-haired demon wearing human skin that she called her friend.

"Tooru!"

"Yeah," she turned, now thirteen, towards her friend.

"I have something to tell you," Izuku said, excited. "I know a villain that can help you."

"What?" She grabbed Izuku by the shoulders.

"So, there's this super nice villain who can take away people's quirks."

"No way," she exclaimed, not believing her ears.

"Yeah, but..." He looked away from her, unsure about something. 

"What is it?"

"You have to do something for them."

"Whatever it is, I will do it," she said, determined.

"Are you sure? It could be something—"

"I want this, Izukkun!"

He hesitated again. "Fine."

 "Please, Izukkun." Tooru looked at her friend—though that isn't something she could call him again. She wasn't stupid. She knew that Izuku had been with the villains for a long time after she actively worked with the League. But she knew that Izuku didn't ask her to become a spy for U.A. for his own intentions—he was too nice for that.

Well. That's what she thought.

"We still need a spy for U.A...."

"But..." Tooru looked down at her hands—or what's supposed to be her hands. "When I told you that the heroes have found you, you said that Sensei will probably not make it."

"There is a chance—"

"Please," she grabbed Izuku by the collar, only to be flipped on her back by the villain.

"Fine," he said from above her. He let her go and walked away, gesturing with his finger for Tooru to follow.

Tooru opened her eyes, feeling Izuku's hand in hers. She was sitting on a chair. She looked around, seeing Sensei standing in front of a Noumu with the Doctor Tsubasa next to him. Sensei reached his hand out and touched the Noumu, said creature disappearing from sight. She gasped.

Izuku handed her a mirror, which she took gladly. She looked at the stranger staring back in the reflection. The girl had short black hair and narrow cat-like brown eyes. Her skin was smooth. That was her.

"Thank you!" Tooru jumped up and enveloped Izuku in a hug.

"Your welcome." Tooru could hear a smile in his voice—though a different kind to what she thought.

Omake

"But how?" Izuku looked like he was trying to figure out the question of the century.

"I don't know. I don't think I've learnt about light yet."

"That's just lazy writing, now." 

Chapter Text

 "This is my design."

- Will Graham, Hannibal

Izuku watched the previously invisible girl walk away from the bar, sighing and turning back. If his estimation was correct, the heroes should be surrounding the place any moment. With that information in mind, he clasped his mask over his face and drew his hood up to cover his noticeable hair and headed in another direction. In the sweltering summer heat, Izuku rolled up the sleeves of his green hoodie, scratching at the bandages that covered every inch of the skin on his arm, minus the fingers.

He thought of some other place to go while the whole battle would be going on, going through the list of things he needed to do that he kept in his head. He hadn't visited Sawamura recently to congratulate him on the second place in the underground MMA fighting tournament. But he had no obligation to do so, so he filed that away for later. Visiting Kai (Izuku once tried to call Overhaul 'Chisaki' but he was considerably pissed to hear the name, so Izuku settled for Kai, which the yakuza accepted begrudgingly) was an option, seeing as Izuku hadn't seen him in quite a bit. Taking off a little edge with the man's quirk was an attractive offer, but Izuku still didn't think that was right.

There was one person in town that Izuku hadn't visited yet...

As if one cue, Izuku bumped into someone, immediately recognising the voice that offered a simple apology—only to cut off as the man recognised the green-haired boy.

"Izuku," he said, eyes uncertain, hands slightly twitching for the gun Izuku knew he kept in the inside of his suit jacket.

Izuku only smile, though no one couldn't see through the mask, it was noticeable in his eyes. "Hisashi."

Hisashi gathered his son into a hug, Izuku melting into the warmth that he offered. He remembered the nights that his father came back from his job overseas, the heat in his chest that became hotter every breath he took a breath and cooler every time he exhaled. It was amazing too, a little Izuku seeing his father's throat glow like a furnace every time before he sneezed, warning the other two Midoriyas of the small stream of flames that will shoot out his mouth as he sneezed.

"Let's walk," the younger offered, slipping off his mask as he decided to use the main streets instead of his usual back alleys.

Hisashi looked a great deal like Izuku. A lot of his features, including the mess of hair and the freckles came from this man. Other than that, Izuku's huge green eyes—Hisashi's was dark and narrow—and green hair—his father sported black hair—came from his mom.

"How's... work?" Hisashi asked, taking in the sight of his son.

He knew of his son's time as a villain—and he couldn't even chastise the boy or report him to the authorities. Inko didn't try either, even when Izuku visited her every holiday. After all, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree.

Inko killed before. She also tried to murder Hisashi when he saw her trying to dispose of the body. Instead of reporting her, he helped her clean up, giving her tips for future times.

Hisashi himself was a government employed killer, so he can't really say anything about Izuku killing.

They were a family of criminals. A murderer, a villain, and an assassin.

"Not good with the League," Izuku said nonchalantly, keeping his voice low enough so that the people they passed would not overhear. "Though I can always find a job elsewhere."

"Have you gained favours with any other group?" Hisashi asked.

"Yeah," Izuku replied. "I'm on good terms with a high-ranking yakuza. Ever heard of the Eight Precepts?"

"That's my boy." Hisashi smiled. "I used an informant from there once. Even if they fell from the height of their power after the discovery of quirks, the yakuza still hold a lot of influence over the flow of information in the underground."

Izuku hummed as he looked over to the screens displayed high on the buildings of Yokohama. "I assume you're here for a reason?"

"None I can tell you, son."

Izuku froze, still looking at the screens. It showed a UA conference with Eraserhead, Vlad King, and Principal Nedzu answering questions for the press. Izuku felt a smile on his lips as his mind ran a mile a minute. The sight of UA led him back to the thought of heroes, then leading him to Tooru's words. He pieced some things together, his eyes taking on an interested gleam. He wondered... the girl that tracked someone, as the information that Tooru had given him detailed, she was probably the one that found the Noumu and...

"I'm sorry, Hisashi, I've got to go. Maybe I'll find you before you leave?"

With that, he rushed off, leaving his confused father behind. Hundreds of scenarios and things that he could do to spice things up went through his head, the same thoughts plaguing him. What would happen if I did that? Will that still work if I do this? Can that happen if I try that?

He just wanted to see what would happen.

Izuku came to the warehouse just as Mount Lady broke in, grabbing at the various Noumus in disgust. Izuku snuck past them to get to where he knew Sensei would be.

"You knew, didn't you?" The man standing in the shadows said as the green-haired villain smiled a sickly sweet and toothless grin.

"Did I? Trust me to a spy and I make use of her, Sensei." Izuku took his mask to of his pocket before deciding against clasping it on and dropping it to the ground.

Sensei sighed. "You don't like masks, do you?"

"What you gonna do?" Izuku held out his hand in a mock imitation of an offer of a handshake. "Need the quirk to take them down?"

Sensei eyed (as much as he can without eyes) Izuku warily, giving him a command. "Get rid of them. Be creative." Black liquid appeared to take away the Noumus, causing the heroes great distress at their futile attempts to keep the monsters here.

Izuku's smile grew wider, thinner, more sinister under his mask. He turned towards the heroes, stepping into light. Ideas were already rushing through his head, about what could happen, how he could utilise this great gift of a quirk in unique ways and make them think he had some different quirk—or maybe not at all. The heroes spotted him, Best Jeanist already using his quirk to try and subdue him. Izuku let his immense power rest on the world, grabbing hold of every atom in the kilometre radius.

His eyes shone with a childish wonder that made the heroes let their guard down for one second—the one second that cost them their life.

Shouto, along with the others, turned to leave, silently shuffling out of the narrow alleyway once they checked that the pro-heroes have gotten the situation under control. During the training camp, he'd warmed up to a lot of his classmates and gained some semblance of friendship with them after Iida... That was what led him to team up with his classmates to find Bakugou and get out.

They were leaving peacefully when the warehouse disappeared. No, it didn't disappear; it was something much worse. The whole warehouse and the space in front of it where heroes and policemen were standing were ripped apart into molecular pieces.

The three, Kirishima, Yaoyorozu, and Shouto were paralysed in fear as they held their hands tight over their mouths to stop from screaming in terror. The figure Shouto recognised as Bonaparte stood with his arms wide open, head tilted towards the sky and laughing. It was that soft sound that froze the heroes-in-training to the spot, a terrible thing that mocked a human voice. The position he took—it was like he was laughing at the heavens where the gods stood, saying, what's a god to me?

Thousands, millions, billions of tiny barely visible particles that would've otherwise been invisible floated in the air, still as the dead. It was hard not to see them, considering the sheer amount of them that split—it was probably parts of everything from stone to blood to bones and anything solid or liquid. It was just plain terrifying.

"That's enough, my boy." A voice that, instead of snapping the students that were currently thanking the gods that they survived that one-sided onslaught out of their paralysis, only pushed them further down into the fear.

Bonaparte tilted his head in the older man's direction, eyes wide in a mad curiosity. "Did I, do I, should I, will I take orders from you, King of Spades?"

"It would be a most polite thing to do, seeing as you work under me."

"Have I ever?" All the particles that seemed to be still in the air moved as one, becoming a wave of colourless mass the flowed like water, flowing around Bonaparte. Shouto suspected that either the villain didn't take all or compressed them together so densely, because the flowing mass seemed a lot less big than the things that Bonaparte destroyed. "I'm the Joker, the wild card. Maybe I'm on your side. Maybe I never was. Maybe I've always helped the heroes. Or maybe I'm just here, dancing in the middle while all of you try to catch me." He stuck out his tongue and laughed in manic glee. "I'm free, Sensei. I'm a bird you can only watch from afar, my wings slipping from your grasp."

As he said the last word, the colourless mass divided into hundreds, all shaped like a bird. The whole flapped its wings in a random and natural order, moving exactly like a normal bird should save for the stone-like skin. Then, all the buildings around the warehouse lifted—all in pieces. They divided more, turning into birds again and flying to gather with the same flock above the two villains.

Yaoyorozu whimpered. The other two students snapped their heads round to face her, eyes wide in horror.

The birds, the people being torn apart, the buildings turning to pieces—everything stopped. The world went eerily quiet.

A curious pair of eyes landed on them.