Chapter Text
Déjà vu hit Izuku like an explosion to the head.
Probably because it was an explosion to the head. And, oh boy, how could that not be familiar?
Izuku tumbled to the hardwood floor, his classmates letting out scattered yelps and shouts from the disturbance.
“Deku!” Bakugou growled. “You're a little bitch, you know that? I guess we can add that to the list,” he sneered.
Izuku scurried backwards. “W-wait, Kacchan—!”
“Shut up! Who the hell do you think you are?” he barked, forcefully yanking Izuku off the floor by his right wrist. “You're a quirkless nobody, and you better remember it! What the fuck did I tell you about staying out of my way, huh?!”
Izuku winced in pain, shrinking away.
“Woah, what did Deku do to piss you off so bad?” someone asked.
Bakugou's head snapped toward them. “None of your fuckin’ business, Extra,” he spat.
Izuku had a feeling that he knew what it was. He couldn't help but feel a rush of pride at the fact that he'd gotten under Kacchan’s skin so much, although he couldn't outwardly display it. Besides, he was still in danger right now.
“K-Kacchan, please—” Izuku tried.
Scalding, white hot pain spread throughout Izuku’s wrist. He felt like the skin was melting directly off of the bone.
Izuku screamed.
~~~~~
A mangled sob forced its way out of Izuku’s throat as he cradled his hand against his chest. He was on his knees, choking on his own tears.
It burns, it burns, itburnsitburnsitburnsitburnsitburns—
The room was spinning and everyone’s voices were like nails on a chalkboard. He couldn't decipher a single thing. Izuku could only feel the radiating pain. One moment he was on the floor of his classroom and the next he was in the infirmary.
He sat there in a daze, his burn already rinsed, treated with an ointment, and then bandaged.
His wrist still throbbed but it was nowhere near as bad as before, even if it hurt to move around. The nurse had told him it was just a nasty second-degree burn, but it would heal within the next month or so.
None of that really mattered to Izuku, though. What he was really worried about was scarring. It wasn't in a place he would easily hide it, even with long sleeves. Not only would his mother notice it, but it would make him easier to identify if a hero ever got a good look at him.
The saying is “whenever one door closes, another door opens,” but Izuku is starting to think the opposite goes for him. The moment he finds something fulfilling, something that might make things worth it, his dreams are nearly crushed.
Again.
God damnit.
~~~~~
Izuku’s chronic pain was much worse now whenever he left his body. His entire being ached, still adjusting to the result of the burn. It had only been a few days since it happened, so he hadn't expected much, anyway.
His mom, however, was alerted to the incident at school the same day. As soon as Izuku was in her sight, she pulled him into a crushing hug and began fretting over him like only a mother could.
The worst part about his injury was that he knew he couldn't go out at night for his usual patrols like he had been for the past week.
God, what he wouldn't give to go out again. But he couldn't. Not with the current pain and the possibility of scarring. It would make him vulnerable and put his identity at risk! Additionally, his mom had made a habit of randomly checking on him overnight to make sure he was okay. If she found her child limp and unresponsive, she would probably have a heart attack. Izuku couldn't do that to her.
The only solution was to wait. He'd do what he could where he could, but for now, he was on temporary leave.
Izuku sighed. This was going to take a while.
“Thanks, Kacchan,” Izuku mumbled, frowning.
Even after all of that, school had remained moderately shitty. On the bright side, Bakugou had gotten a week of in-school suspension. It also seemed like the administration was keeping an eye on Izuku, which was much more than anything they'd done in the past (he had a feeling his mother had a part in that).
Izuku had gotten bad injuries in school before and had to learn how to take care of them himself. The difference here was that it happened in class with witnesses, and not isolated in the back of the school or after everyone had left like it normally was.
It wasn't something he could hide and figure out himself.
Honestly, he preferred it when nobody knew. Nobody would be worried, nobody would be mad, nobody would get hurt.
That's how he'd been living for years. What's one more?
~~~~~
Shouta Aizawa was a man of little sleep and lots of caffeine.
He could expect to get even less sleep after being asked to assist in a new case by his police detective comrade, Naomasa Tsukauchi.
Something about a new vigilante with an unknown quirk popping up in the area.
Shouta sighed. He'll ask Hizashi to pick up more coffee on his way home.
~~~~~
The days felt extensive and drawn out, each vivid sunset marking another day in which he couldn't go out on patrol.
On the bright side, each sunrise meant he was another day closer to going back out! His wrist had pretty much healed and his mom had calmed down a bit. Additionally, her nighttime check-ups had become infrequent, much to Izuku's relief.
He had continued training while he was out of commission. Over two weeks had passed and his swords were getting easier to use. He had to be careful to keep them and his holster hidden from his mother’s sight, though.
He was steadily building muscle, improving his skills, and learning more everyday. He even turned his analyzing hobby into something more intensive and research oriented. He found that the more he analyzed, the better he was at it with people who weren't just pro-heroes.
And, oh man, Izuku was practically having a field day whenever he went online to do research. No hero could omit information from him if they tried. All of it ended up jotted down in his notebook one way or another. He did his best to analyze each person with the info he had, things like strengths and weaknesses, values, quirk usage, techniques, fighting style, and so much more.
Even Kacchan hadn't had much chance recently to put anything other than smaller burns and injuries on him.
Then one night, around three weeks after the burn, he finally decided it was time to put himself back out there.
The excitement he was missing out on each night was the only thing his mind seemed to circle back to. He tried not to think about the people he couldn't save while he was gone.
The thought of letting innocent people down and subsequently making them suffer a terrible fate made Izuku's blood run cold.
He crawled into bed with his usual outfit on, swords in their designated spot underneath his pillow, and left his vessel.
He shot into the sky, inhaling as if he could somehow breathe, before sheathing his swords into their places on his back.
“God, I missed this. I am so back,” he grinned.
Izuku began to survey the surrounding city, keeping an eye on the ground for anything amiss.
He really needed to get back into the swing of things after this. He had been constant in his efforts for about a week, catching whatever crime he could in that time before he had to stop for almost a full month.
He planned to stay consistent this time around.
Izuku rolled up his right sleeve a bit, staring at the distasteful scar. He had a feeling it wouldn't be going away. He frowned slightly before pulling the fabric back down to conceal it.
He wandered for a while longer, finding himself back in the alleyway where it all began. He wondered if Kiyo came out alright.
Izuku continued moving, scanning the streets below for suspicious activity.
A crouched figure beside a storefront caught Izuku’s eye. He sped down to the ground, an adrenaline-like feeling already spreading throughout his being.
It was a masked woman outside of an antiques store. She had something in her hands, but it was hidden by the shadows.
Izuku was still in the Spirit Plane when he approached, trying to observe before making a move. It was clear that she was about to break in or rob the store, but he needed to figure out more.
What was her quirk? Was she working alone? Is she doing a job for someone? What is she trying to steal?
Izuku leaned in. The woman was holding a knife.
This wasn't just a robbery.
~~~~~
Shouta leapt from rooftop to rooftop on his nightly patrol. It had been fairly quiet. He stopped an assault and got a civilian to the hospital after a car crash, but that was pretty tame compared to some of his worse nights.
Bad nights were rare nights, but he'd still seen far too many of them. Villains, death, terror, screaming, destruction . . . they would all combine into what became a fraction of living hell on Earth. A fraction of which he'd witnessed far too many times.
Shouta shook his head. He wasn't going to let those thoughts spoil a pleasant evening.
On the bright side, there had been no signs of that new vigilante he'd been assigned to nearly a month ago. It was probably just some kid in over their head that realized that they couldn't keep it up any longer. Radio silence wasn't unusual for something like this, but he hoped it wasn't because they got injured or killed.
In all honesty, vigilantes didn't matter to him, so long as they weren't murderous like Stendhal— more recently rebranded as Stain. Although, exemplifying good morals and staying out of the way of the actual heroes were pretty much the only ways a vigilante could get on Shouta’s good side.
Heroes. Speaking of heroes.
The new school year was rapidly approaching with the start of the third term. It made him wonder if the upcoming batch of U.A.'s newest hero students would have more potential than this year’s group, whom he had promptly expelled after a brief evaluation.
The brats needed a reality check, anyway.
Of course, just because he had expelled this year’s class didn't mean he had no duties. Hero work kept him busy on top of the fact that Nezu would rather keel over dead before allowing Shouta to rest during teaching hours. Hell, even outside of teaching hours.
Shouta jumped across another building top. He glanced down to see a stray cat slinking down the sidewalk, casting a long shadow against the streetlight that illuminated the surrounding area. Warm light washed over brick and glass. He gave a slight smirk beneath his scarf, tempted to take a detour to pay the feline a visit. He decided against it.
His breath billowed into the cold night air.
For a moment, everything was still and calm. Just him and the wind in his hair.
Until a shrill scream rang through the air.
Shouta bolted in the same direction.
~~~~~
Izuku gaped, watching as the woman suddenly darted out from her hiding spot in the shadows, tackling an innocent woman to the concrete and brandishing her knife.
The victim screamed in horror as her attacker fastened her down.
Stab.
Izuku reached out, the ongoing shriek adapting a bloodcurdling edge.
Stab.
Izuku yanked the knife from the woman's hands in a panic, tossing it to the pavement behind him.
He could tell that the knife has been laced with something. Before any contact was made, the knife was already covered in a sticky substance. Izuku figured it was the aggressor’s quirk. Perhaps poison? A tranquilizer?
The poor woman was foaming at the mouth as she lay on the ground with two different stab wounds. One was placed on the side of her abdomen and another at her shoulder. Definitely poison, then.
Shit, that meant that he'd have to be fast. This was a medical emergency, and blood was already seeping into the ground.
Izuku struggled as he dragged the thrashing attacker off of her victim. He pinned her and gave her a sharp jab in the jaw with his elbow, consequently knocking her out cold.
Fuck— what was he supposed to do in this situation? Surely he'd prioritize the victim? Should he try getting her to a hospital and risk leaving the villain alone? What if the poison is needed for an antidote? What if the attacker woke up while he was gone and got away? God damnit, he didn't have time for this, she was bleeding out!
With a quick breath, he made himself visible and crawled the woman's side, examining her symptoms and the gashes currently leaking blood. Izuku put pressure on the wounds, attempting to slow the flood. The stab on her abdomen was worse. He hoped that no organs had been hit.
“Hey, you’re gonna be okay! Can you see me at all? H-how many fingers am I holding up?” Izuku asked breathlessly, holding out two fingers in front of her face. He received no response. “I-I'm gonna get you some help! Crap,” he said. His hand fumbled as he reached for his burner phone. His fingers were covered in blood that smeared the screen.
“Oh, God, I'm going to throw up,” Izuku grunted, wiping the blood onto his pants to type better. The text was short and jumbled, spitting out basic information about the location and the need for medical attention.
If Izuku weren't a mess at the moment, he would've thought through the fact that a scream would attract attention.
A tall figure dressed in black and silver sprang from the darkness, surveying the scene with eyes that didn't need to speak in order to convey experience. Thank God— it must be a hero!
The hero's dark brows furrowed, but no questions were asked when he quickly knelt across from Izuku, taking control of the situation.
“Explain,” the man commanded.
Izuku trembled, helping to press into the woman's side. “U-uhm, uh— first responders have been alerted, er- the woman was assaulted with a knife, likely laced with poison from a quirk. Perpetrator is unconscious behind me, um, I've been applying pressure to the w-wounds in her side and shoulder,” he gasped. “Victim is unresponsive and f-foaming at the mouth, but seems to be conscious. I, um, I think she's lost her motor functions?”
“Where is the weapon?” the hero questioned.
Izuku's eyes widened. Shit, he forgot about the knife. It was somewhere on the ground behind him, right? “B-behind me,” he stuttered.
The man nodded. “Fetch it. Keep it out of reach from the perpetrator. I've got the victim until police arrive,” he directed. His voice was calm, if not a little rushed.
Izuku quickly flew away to search for the knife. His brain was scattered and frantic, going haywire from the stress. He spotted it and snatched the knife up, relief filling him when he had it in his hands.
“I’ve got it!” he shouted.
The man grunted in acknowledgement, briefly glancing up at Izuku, who was still shaking like a leaf. “What’s your name, kid?” he asked, his gruff voice colored with slight concern.
“M—” he cut himself off. He was talking to a fucking hero! Get it together, Izuku! He hadn't come up with a name yet, but no better time than the present, right? “Er— Phantasm!” Izuku blurted. Phantasm? Really? At least it didn't sound fucking idiotic, but he could've done so much better! Izuku internally bashed his head in.
“‘Phantasm?’” the hero repeated skeptically.
Izuku mentally groaned. “Uh, yeah! Well— technically, I’ve never thought of a name for myself until now, but . . . ”
“Jesus Christ, you’re that vigilante, aren’t you?” the tired-looking man asked.
Izuku blinked. “‘That’ vigilante?” he repeated. What the hell was that supposed to mean?
Sirens blared a few blocks away. Izuku’s worries were briefly alleviated.
Until he saw it.
The attacker was no longer unconscious. She was pretending to be knocked out, but Izuku knew better. Her limbs subtly twitched, as if bracing for something. He skin welled with pustules about to burst.
Izuku moved.
“Kid, wait–!” a voice shouted.
The sirens were louder now, but that only frightened him further. He collapsed onto the woman’s body, blocking her from spraying the poison that threatened to shoot from her pores.
He couldn’t obstruct the entire spray with his small body, so he made his goal to shield the victim, especially while she had open wounds. Izuku focused, keeping his entire body solid so none of it would phase through.
Unfortunately for Izuku, the woman was going feral, thrashing and hitting and grabbing and pulling and scratching at him like a wild animal. Thankfully, it seemed that the poison had no effect on him since he had no real body to react to it (he was essentially just a wall right now), but her violent strikes resonated in his soul. He winced, flinching back before remembering the purpose of this in the first place.
He had to protect them.
The sirens weren’t far, but Izuku literally couldn’t care less about running away and concealing his identity right now. Not when he had people to save.
Izuku tried and failed to grab onto the woman’s wrist, maybe create an opening for himself to get a free hit in, but she was relentless in her battery.
“I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you all! I’ll kill you!” she wailed below him, repeating it like a mantra.
He shook with effort, struggling to stay tangible and avoid her hits, all while trying to be a human (ghost?) shield. Thankfully, her torrent of poison had lessened into a harsh mist that clouded around them. He stood fast for as long as he could.
It took a while for Izuku to realize he had been yanked off of the perpetrator by some grey cloth that was squeezing around his waist.
~~~~~
A flash of movement caught Shouta’s eye. “Kid, wait–!” he warned.
He watched as the child jumped onto the criminal, selflessly using his body as a barrier against the spray of poison.
A child.
He has been distracted and let his guard down. Shouta had known that the criminal’s quirk had something to do with poison, and he had known that she'd been knocked out a few minutes prior by the same kid protecting them. He should've noticed the way her fingers twitched or the small uptick on the corners of her mouth.
On instinct, he nearly activated his Erasure to stop the poison, but he knew the effect wouldn't be immediate if it was a transformation-type quirk. He didn't even know if it was a mutant-type quirk, in which case he would have no effect on. Plus, the kid was in the way. He didn't know his quirk, nor did he want to deactivate it when he was in such a dangerous situation.
God, he was an idiot, wasn't he? The boy was obviously young—much too young to be a vigilante. He was probably a year or two younger than the first year students at U.A., yet here he was doing Shouta’s job for him.
He was Eraserhead.
He was a hero.
But he didn't feel like a hero. He didn't want to be the reason for someone else dying when he could have saved them. Someone else far too young to die.
As soon as the paramedics screeched to a stop and had their attention on the victim, Shouta shot up and gripped his capture weapon, sending it forward.
This kid was just that; a kid. He didn't deserve this. So Shouta tugged him away.
The body weight of a young vigilante never found him when he did (why was the kid weightless?). Shouta quickly stepped in front of him and activated his quirk on the woman. The production of toxic waste slowed and fizzled out—thank goodness it was a transformative quirk—and he swiftly knocked her out before restraining her.
When he turned back around, the woman was already being lifted into the back of the ambulance and the kid had disappeared, a puddle of poison and blood mingling where he had stood.
God damnit.
~~~~~
Izuku switched to Spirit Plane. It was a good way to make himself invisible and intangible at the same time without having to focus too hard. He watched as the layer of poison and the sheen of blood that had coated his form dropped to the ground into a small pool.
He had gotten slight whiplash from being pulled back so suddenly, but the moment he caught up, he realized his help wasn't needed anymore.
Maybe if Izuku had stuck around, he would've seen the subtle disappointment on the hero’s face at his own disappearance, but Izuku was too preoccupied worrying about the woman who'd just been loaded into the ambulance.
He considered following her to the hospital, but that felt like he would be overstepping, especially after failing her so badly. If he had just paid more attention, she wouldn't have gotten stabbed.
It was Izuku's fault.
Yeah. Maybe he should just continue patrolling for now. That was dangerously close. Plus, he couldn't risk getting his identity figured out.
~~~~~
Sleep deprivation is a real thing.
Izuku has been going out pretty much every night for a week now. He usually tries to be back in his body and asleep by two or three in the morning, but he had a busy night last night.
He stopped two drug deals and a robbery, which quite frankly, took a lot out of him. On top of that, he saw a mother and her teenage son getting mugged when he was on the way home, so that held him up even longer.
Izuku felt his face tingle in embarrassment as he remembered what happened.
Izuku made a total fool of himself during the mugging. He didn't think that memory would be leaving his mind anytime soon. When he flew in, he made a corny line that you'd only expect from a poorly written movie—or an awkward teenager. Hm.
“Phantasm’s here, phantastic!” he had exclaimed, right before nailing the mugger with a graceful kick to the chin.
Yeah. He felt like throwing up after saying something so stupid.
Izuku had decided to stick with Phantasm after telling that hero his name a while ago. The damage was already done, wasn't it? Might as well be consistent in his failure.
Usually he wasn't too drained after patrolling. His body was basically resting whenever he wasn't using his energy or interacting with the Human Plane, but the sheer length of some of his encounters last night had left him tired even after getting back home to his body and sleeping for a couple hours.
Izuku trudged to school with his legs feeling like lead. He kept his head down to avoid drawing attention to himself. The less he stood out, the less he got hurt.
Izuku trekked up the school’s stairs to his class, deep in thought.
Some words have lingered in his mind since last week. That hero he met seemed to have an idea who he was. He hadn't been doing vigilante work for too long, but it seemed that the police were already building a file for him. It made Izuku nervous. Was he sloppy? Did he not cover his tracks well enough?
Izuku grimaced, clenching his jaw. He'd been rapidly improving through field experience. His sword technique had gotten better, he was getting great at combat and live analysis . . . was that not enough?
He'll just have to be more careful, then.
Besides, when he’s a ghost, he can't actually get captured. He would just have to make sure his identity wasn't discovered. That's simple enough!
Izuku was on defense here.
He would be okay.
Izuku slid the classroom door open, making a gentle rumble against the floor. He stepped in and shut the door behind him.
His lethargic mood made him a little later than usual, so the classroom was nearly full. The students seemed to be buzzing with more energy than usual. Everyone was talking excitedly about something.
It made Izuku curious. Was it a villain attack? If everyone was talking about it, it must've been on the news, right?
When he sat down, he pulled out his cracked phone and began looking at recent headlines from this morning.
Izuku's face paled.
He was staring at himself.
BREAKING NEWS: NEW VIGILANTE KNOWN AS PHANTASM CAUGHT ON CAMERA
Shit.
~~~~~
“I'm assuming this is because of what's on the news?” Shouta sighed, entering Naomasa’s office with a coffee cup in hand.
It was early in the morning, sunlight filtering through the windows. Usually Shota would be at home sleeping or at school working, but not everyone gets what they want, do they?
Naomasa didn't look up from the desk drawers he was sifting through, frowning. “Yeah, and it's giving me a goddamn headache. You got any pain medicine on you?” he grumbled.
“No,” Shouta said.
“Great, thanks,” the detective mumbled dryly, standing up straight. “Moving on. We don't have any new leads besides last night's leaked footage. It's going viral online so we're making sure to analyze the source material.”
The black-haired pro paused. “Have you considered opening the line to tips? Now that the case has received some public attention, you might as well take advantage,” he said.
“I figured as much. We’ll be making our own announcement this afternoon. I still want you on the case, though, got it? You've had the most luck so far with your encounter last week,” Naomasa said.
“Yeah, I know,” Shouta frowned. “Sucks that he's just a kid, though.”
Naomasa eyed Shouta knowingly, a pointed look on his face. “We gotta get Phantasm off the streets. He'll end up dead before he gives up, based on what you told me.”
“Detective—” Shouta started.
“It's too dangerous, we talked about this. I don't care if his quirk keeps him from injury. He's young, breaking the law, and going to get himself killed one way or another.”
At the pro’s silence, Naomasa sighed. “Look, I get it, you're worried. We're not going to lock him up, we just need to keep him from sticking his nose where it doesn't belong.”
“I get that, I really do, but isn't there a better way to do it? If I'm already on his case, I might as well try to talk to the kid. It's evident by now that he's not just going to turn himself in. He's stubborn,” Shouta reasoned. “Just let me try this, Tsukauchi.”
Naomasa’s eye twitched. “ . . . I don't think I could stop you even if I wanted to,” he finally sighed, exhaustion edging his voice. “Just be careful. If you're going to do this—”
“Then do it well, I’m aware. Build a connection, establish trust, gain information. Keep him safe,” Shouta mumbled the last part to himself.
The detective nodded curtly. “Fine. Good luck, Eraserhead.”
“Thanks.” Shouta turned and left.
~~~~~
This was not good. Izuku scrutinized the video that was currently being rapidly spread online. He was able to determine it as last night's mugging with the teenage boy; the one he happened to make a corny catchphrase on.
So that's how they knew his name.
Ugh, kids and their phones.
Izuku wished his past self had more forethought, but hey, at least he had still been wearing his mask and hood.
However, a glimpse at his burn scar and he'd be done for. Izuku was going to have to make a stop for some long-sleeved compression shirts later today. They might be a little uncomfortable on his burn, but it was worth it.
Izuku would also need to limit the time he is visible, especially in public.
The future felt unclear, but Izuku knew that he didn't want to give up vigilantism.
He still had a job to do as long as there were people to save.
~~~~~
Izuku felt a bit lighter after another visit at Kacchan's house. He didn't do too much for the sake of being inconspicuous, mainly just whispering insults, but it was enough to unnerve the blonde. That was more than satisfactory for Izuku.
He flew through the night sky, enjoying the sight of moonlight melting on the rooftops.
Izuku’s dual swords sat comfortably on his back. The handles had finally grown familiar to him. In fact, the grip was nearly instinctive by now. His technique had gotten so much better compared to when he first picked them up. He was ecstatic.
He continued flying, getting lost in his thoughts.
His thoughts happened to lead him to where it all began.
He stood on top of the school roof, past the fence and on the ledge.
How nostalgic.
To think that suicide, meant to end a life, had given him another chance at it.
Sometimes he still hated it. But sometimes, just sometimes, it was bearable. The only thing to make him happy was no longer just his mother’s smile or a glimpse at a hero who would never recognize him.
It was himself, too.
He always wanted to save people with a smile on his face. Now he could.
With a real smile.
Izuku pretended to crouch, teetering on the edge of the concrete.
He made himself visible, watching to see if he'd have a shadow where he sat.
He didn't.
Izuku zoned out for a while, thinking.
“It's dangerous to be up here, especially in the dark,” a familiar voice said behind him.
Izuku vanished immediately, swinging around to look at whoever spoke. How did he not notice them? His hearing was much better in the Ghost Plane!
The translucent boy froze. Staring at him was the pro hero from a week ago.
The man kept an oddly stoic expression, seemingly unperturbed by the sudden disappearance. “That’s a pretty cool quirk you got there, kid. I don't believe it's been registered, has it?” the pro continued.
Izuku’s brows furrowed. What was this? What was he trying to do? Is he investigating Izuku like he'd thought?
The silence seemed to drag on long enough for the black-haired man to keep speaking unprompted.
“I never got to properly introduce myself when we last met. I’m Eraserhead, an underground hero. I'm assuming you already knew that, though,” he said. Eraserhead’s hands were tucked loosely into his pockets, but he didn't move. He seemed quite confident that Izuku was still there and listening.
And Izuku didn't like that he was right.
Izuku floated around the hero in slow circles, observing him.
Black hair falling a bit past his shoulders in crumbly waves. Tall, likely just above 180 centimeters. A thick grey support weapon on his neck, the one that has been used on Izuku when they first met. Yellow goggles sat above his forehead. Eyebags, he was clearly sleep deprived. A support belt, too. Shit, was that a knife slotted in the back of it? Smart.
Now that he got a good look at him, it really was Eraserhead. It took a lot to not freak out on the spot, because holy crap, this was a real hero! Not just that, but they had temporarily partnered up! His quirk was insanely useful by itself, but when it wasn't applicable, he fought quirkless! Izuku was shaking in excitement.
Technically, Izuku wasn't supposed to know who Eraserhead was. He was an underground pro for a reason. But Izuku wasn't just anyone now, was he? He'd learned a lot of things he probably wasn't supposed to know these past few weeks.
“Y’know, I’d appreciate a response if it's not too much to ask for,” the hero sighed.
Izuku’s face fell into a scowl. What did he expect? He appeared behind him without warning and started overloading him with personal questions.
He gently floated down until his feet were level with the rooftop, stationed on Eraserhead’s right. He made himself visible after making sure his burn scar was hidden by his sleeve. “What do you want?” Izuku questioned cautiously.
The pro turned to face Izuku with a nonchalant expression. “You're a wanted vigilante now. You'll probably have to get used to heroes coming after you.”
The freckled ghost bristled. “So you're going to try to arrest me?”
“I never said I was,” Eraserhead scoffed.
Izuku’s expression turned bitter. “But you are still planning to? Dodging my questions won't help you.”
He sighed. “Yeah, you're right. Technically I'm supposed to arrest you, but I won't,” the man admitted.
Izuku huffed dryly. “How comforting.”
“I get it, you don't trust me, I wouldn't either if I were you. I just want to talk. You don't even have to answer anything I ask,” Eraserhead elaborated, his tone slightly gruff.
Izuku raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms and staring directly into his dark eyes. “Why would I answer anything that you ask?”
“I told you that you don't have to,” the pro replied simply, shrugging.
Izuku’s brain nearly short-circuited. He blinked. “So you just want to . . . talk?”
Eraserhead flashed a brief smirk. “We already are.”
Izuku still hated that he was right.