Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The sound of laughter echoed through the Yagi family home — a modest house in the suburbs of Musutafu. It was a calm, sunny afternoon, and in the backyard, two children played happily under their mother’s gentle gaze. Izuku and Sasha were racing across the lawn, competing to see who would conquer the small green slide first.

“I won, Izuku! Again!” Sasha cheered proudly.

“Only because you pushed me!” the boy shot back, though his tone was more playful than angry.

“Kids, watch out for the mud!” called Inko from the porch with a tender smile. She was happy. Those simple moments were the ones she cherished most.

Toshinori — the man known as the Symbol of Peace — had spent the entire day with them. They played, cooked together, watched cartoons. They were an ordinary, happy family… at least for a little while.

But everything changed on the day of the exam.

The hospital was far too quiet for a place that treated children. Inko sat in the waiting room, holding both her children’s hands, as the doctor reviewed the results.

“Mrs. Yagi,” the doctor said, his expression a mix of surprise and embarrassment, “your daughter Sasha possesses an exceptionally rare Quirk — Psychokinesis. She ranks at Class 4 on the Lentz-Model Scale. That’s remarkable for someone so young.”

Inko’s face lit up with relief and pride. Sasha clapped her hands, thrilled.

“And what about Izuku?” Inko asked, a trace of hope in her voice.

The doctor hesitated.

“...Unfortunately, we found no signs of Quirk manifestation in your son. Not even late-onset or vestigial mutations. Izuku is classified as Quirkless… to be clear, it’s very unlikely he’ll ever develop one,” the doctor said gravely.

Silence fell like a heavy curtain. Izuku looked down, trying to understand what it meant.

On the way home, Inko drove in silence, lost in thought. In the back seat, Izuku clutched his All Might action figure tightly, while Sasha chattered excitedly about all the training she was going to do to control her powers.

When they got home, Sasha couldn’t stop talking about her ideas — floating toys, lifting people, maybe even flying one day. Toshinori — a tall, broad-shouldered man with tanned skin, blond hair, and bright blue eyes — listened with pride shining in his gaze.

“That’s wonderful, Sasha!” he said, lifting her into the air as if she were the hero the world had been waiting for.

Izuku sat quietly in the corner, hugging his All Might doll against his chest. Toshinori didn’t say a word to him. He tried once, but Sasha always cut him off — and even Inko didn’t seem to notice him anymore.

And so, the silence began.

A few days later, at school, Sasha walked down the hallway holding Bakugo’s hand. They laughed and talked, sharing stories and mischief like they had since they were toddlers. Their mothers had been close friends, and the two had grown up together — inseparable. Their friendship only deepened once their Quirks awakened, forming a quiet bond of rivalry and understanding.

“You see the nerd today?” Bakugo asked casually, though his eyes were sharp.

Sasha sighed, frowning. “He still talks about wanting to be a hero…” she muttered, rolling her eyes. “I’m worried about him. What if something happens? He doesn’t even have a Quirk.”

Bakugo raised an eyebrow, thinking for a moment. “Pathetic. He needs to accept reality. There’s no place for people like him in our world.”

Sasha bit her lip. Part of her felt guilty for agreeing, but fear for her brother outweighed her doubts. “Maybe… you’re right. But still, it doesn’t feel right…”

Bakugo smirked. “Then we’ll give him a wake-up call. Teach him that being a hero takes power. He’ll understand real quick.”

Sasha hesitated, startled by his tone, but his confidence was infectious. After a pause, she nodded. “Okay… just—don’t really hurt him, alright?”

And so, the bullying began.

As years passed, Izuku’s presence in the house seemed to shrink. First, his toys disappeared. Then his birthdays went forgotten. Soon, even his name seemed to weigh on everyone.

He spent his days locked in his room, scribbling analysis after analysis about heroes, filling notebooks with dreams of a life he could never have.

By the time he was fourteen, another ordinary day at school played out.

“Hey, check this out,” Bakugo sneered, snatching Izuku’s notebook. “‘Tactical Analysis: Endeavor vs. Aerial Opponents’? Seriously, nerd? You still think you can be a hero?”

He tossed the notebook out the window and grinned cruelly.

“You don’t make heroes with words, trash. If you want some advice, jump off a roof. Maybe you’ll be reborn as something useful.”

Sasha froze behind him. That crossed a line she never meant to reach. But she said nothing. She just looked away.

Izuku ran down the stairs, found his notebook crumpled on the ground, wiped off the dirt with shaking hands, and walked home in silence.

At home, voices drifted from his father’s office. Curious, Izuku crept closer, careful not to make a sound. What he saw made his heart stop.

Sasha was sitting across from All Might.

But what truly froze him was what happened next — the hero’s form began to shrink and fade, revealing a tall but frail man with sunken cheeks and tired eyes. Toshinori Yagi — his father.

His once-mighty frame looked worn and thin after his last battle with All For One, yet his gaze still carried that same fierce determination.

“Are you sure I’m ready for this, Dad?” Sasha asked, her voice trembling between excitement and awe.

Toshinori smiled softly, though the weight of exhaustion pulled at his face.

“Of course. Your control over Psychokinesis is incredible for your age. The One For All will bloom in you like never before. It’s your right — your destiny,” he said, his tone low but firm. “One For All isn’t just power. It’s legacy — a strength passed down from one to the next, carrying the might of every predecessor… until it’s time to pass it on again.”

Izuku’s notebook slipped from his hands.

The truth hit him like a blade: One For All was transferable. His father — the hero he worshipped — had chosen Sasha.

The brave one. The gifted one.

Not him.

Not the boy who always tried to help, who dreamed and believed and never asked for anything.

Tears burned his eyes as he ran to his room, the words echoing in his mind like a curse. It wasn’t fair. His dreams — denied again, this time by his own father.

That night, he packed his bag in silence: a notebook, a pen, a change of clothes, and a pack of cookies. He left the house without looking back.

The night wind howled between the buildings of Musutafu as Izuku walked across an abandoned bridge. The city lights below looked impossibly far away.

That’s when a mass of green sludge burst from a sewer grate and engulfed him.

“Give me your body, kid! I need a disguise! This’ll only take forty seconds!” the Sludge Villain growled, wrapping around him.

Izuku tried to scream, but no air came. His vision faded—

And then, silence.

When he woke, he was lying on the cold pavement, gasping for breath. The villain was trapped inside a cracked fuel container nearby.

Standing over him was a figure he recognized from the internet: The Crawler.

“Hey, you alright?” the vigilante asked, kneeling beside him.

Izuku tried to answer, but his voice broke. The tears came first.

“I… I hate my life. No one cares. My family… my sister… they all forgot I exist. I’m useless. I’m nothing. No one ever listens…” His words dissolved into sobs.

The Crawler didn’t interrupt — he just listened, eyes soft with understanding.

“...And I don’t even know why I’m telling this to a stranger,” Izuku muttered between breaths.

The vigilante smiled gently.

“Because you needed to say it. And I just happened to be here,” he said, his tone warm and calm.

He extended a hand to the trembling boy.

“My name’s Koichi. People call me The Crawler. And I think… I might have an offer for you.”

As Izuku took his hand, his notebook slipped from his bag. Koichi picked it up and flipped through a few pages.

“‘Urban Combat Tactics under Limited Support’? You wrote this?”

Izuku nodded, wiping his tears.

Koichi’s smile widened.

“Then forget my first offer. I’ve got a new one.”

[End of Chapter 1]

Chapter Text

The cold wind swept through the streets of Musutafu as Izuku stared at The Crawler in confusion.

“What kind of offer?” he asked, his voice heavy with exhaustion and uncertainty.

The Crawler simply adjusted his hood and replied with a calm smile.

“Come with me. If you don’t want to stay, you can leave. Simple as that.”

Izuku hesitated. But faced with the emptiness his life had become, the unknown seemed less frightening than the familiar. He nodded, and the two walked off together into the shadows of the city.

After a long walk, they arrived at an old abandoned warehouse in the industrial district. A single flickering light buzzed above the rusted door. The Crawler pushed it open with ease.

Inside, two familiar faces awaited them — Knuckleduster, arms crossed, and Pop☆Step, perched on a crate and swinging her legs.

“You brought company, Koichi?” Pop☆Step asked, her tone bright and casual as always.

Pop☆Step had a light, athletic build — lean but defined, her figure perfectly suited for agility and precision. Dressed for acrobatics and speed, she blended function with flair: reinforced sneakers for shock absorption, compression socks for support, flexible shorts, and a light tactical vest. Her non-slip gloves gave her full control over her movements, and her jacket — lined with programmable LEDs — worked both as a distraction tool and a statement of her vibrant, urban idol aesthetic. Short pink hair, clipped with glowing pins, completed the look of a true street vigilante.

“This is Izuku. He needs help,” Koichi said.

Before anyone could respond, Izuku spoke, his eyes wide.

“The Crawler... Pop☆Step... and you’re Knuckleduster. You’re the Vigilantes of Naruhata! I’ve read everything about you — the Villain Factory battle, the Naruhata Park operation…”

Knuckleduster raised an eyebrow. Pop Step blinked, a surprised smile on her face.

“Someone’s been digging around the right corners of the internet…”

Izuku flushed.

“S-sorry. I talk too much sometimes,” he mumbled, shrinking slightly — a habit born from years of trying not to draw attention.

Koichi gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

“It’s okay, Izuku.”

Pop approached, scanning him from head to toe, noticing how thin he looked for his age.

“Why did you bring him here?”

Koichi took a deep breath and told the whole story Izuku told him earlier — from the Quirk examination to his family’s rejection, the years of bullying, the isolation, and finally, tonight… when Izuku ran away from home and nearly lost his life.

Pop clenched her fists. Knuckleduster picked up the boy’s notebook and began flipping through it. A heavy silence filled the room.

 “This kid... wrote all this himself?”

Knuckleduster was a towering figure of raw strength, his body marked by a lifetime of combat. His face was hard, unshaven, and tired, yet sharp with focus. He wore a reinforced black leather jacket with hidden shoulder plating, tactical pants full of pockets, and heavy boots. A black mask covered the lower half of his face, while titanium knuckle-dusters — his trademark — glinted faintly under the dim light. His belt carried short knives, smoke bombs, and improvised first-aid kits.

Koichi nodded.

Knuckleduster closed the notebook.

 “We have a meeting right now. And we’re already late. I’ll show this to the others. Pop, stay with the kid.”

She nodded, giving Izuku a gentle look. Koichi and Knuckleduster disappeared through a steel door at the back of the warehouse.

Hidden deep within the forests of Musutafu lay the Vigilantes’ Den. It wasn’t just a hideout — it was a legacy. Originally built as a bunker during the Second World War, it had once sheltered persecuted mutants, rebel militias, and later, dissidents who defied the regimes of All For One and the old Meta Liberation Army.

Now, it served a new purpose.

Koichi and Knuckleduster hurried down the dim corridors until they reached the underground meeting chamber — a circular room of steel and concrete, centered around an oval table bathed in cold white light.

 “Apologies for the delay,” Knuckleduster said.

A figure clad in ceremonial armor of deep crimson and bone-white, marked with templar insignias, spoke in a deep, almost theatrical voice:

“Tardiness is a sin against discipline. War does not wait for the hesitant.”

The hooded speaker sounded like a prophet of the apocalypse. Beside him, a person with lupine features remained still and silent — a shadow made flesh.

 “Relax, drama queen,” a blonde woman muttered, chewing gum lazily.

Beside her, a punk-looking girl was scrolling through reports on a portable screen.

“Delays can be inconvenient,” said the unmistakable Mr. Compress, swirling a glass in his hand, “but not fatal… not yet.”

Next to him, Gentle Criminal inclined his head politely, a charming smile on his lips.

“Every warrior deserves a grand entrance. Let us enjoy the performance.”

Across the table, a man who looked straight out of a steampunk novel spoke without looking up from his tablet.

 “As long as this doesn’t become a habit.”

At the head of the table sat two figures — a young blond man radiating confidence, and a dark-haired girl whose calm, shadowy presence commanded quiet respect.

The blond man raised his hand with a polite smile.

“No problem. Now that everyone’s here, let’s begin the meeting of the Council of Shadows.”

A holographic map of Japan flickered to life above the table.

The hooded knight spoke first.

“The QLF, CRC, and ISP factions have gone suspiciously quiet. It troubles me.”

The blonde woman added:

“Weird rumors coming from Hokkaido. Nighttime tremors.”

The steampunk man tapped his screen.

“A new strain of Trigger is circulating — unlike anything we’ve seen. The genetic markers are... synthetic.”

Gentle raised an eyebrow.

“Ah, a tragedy in the making.”

The blond at the head of the table leaned forward.

“And there’s more. The World Hero Association just issued new regulations — they’re raising the minimum age for hero school enrollment to eighteen.”

The girl beside him exhaled softly.

“Honestly, that’s for the best. People were starting to see the hero academies as child-soldier factories. At least now, students will enter with a more mature mindset.”

It was then that Knuckleduster placed Izuku’s notebook at the center of the table.

“Sorry to change the subject, but this needs to be addressed immediately. If things go well, we might have a recruit — a boy invisible to the system… but with eyes that see everything. Maybe more than anyone should.”

All eyes turned to the notebook.

The silence that followed was absolute.

[End of Chapter 2]

Meanwhile, back on the street where Izuku had been saved by The Crawler, the Sludge Villain still lay trapped inside the cracked red fuel container. After hours unconscious, he began to stir.

“Hmmm? Where am I… why can’t I move?” he wondered, struggling to break free from his forced confinement. He thrashed and fought, but nothing worked. Hours passed and he finally gave up.

“Shit… that damn vigilante will pay… when I get out of here I’ll kill him for sure…” he spat, furious.

More hours went by and night fell again. The villain’s anger dissolved into sobs.

“Someone… please save me… All-Might, please… someone…” he whimpered, sinking into despair.

“Mom was right… I shouldn’t have become a villain,” he muttered, defeated.

Chapter Text

The notebook rested at the center of the table like a sacred relic. Silence filled the underground chamber of the Shadow Council as every pair of eyes turned toward Knuckleduster. Recruiting new members during an official meeting was unusual — the fact that he’d even brought it up was enough to make everyone pay attention.

The blond young man broke the silence, reaching forward to pull the notebook closer.

“Let’s see…”

He flipped through a few pages, frowning in concentration. After a few minutes of quiet reading, he lifted his gaze.

“Who wrote this?” he asked, his tone more serious than usual.

“His name’s Izuku. Didn’t mention a last name. Fifteen years old and quirkless. From what we know, he ran away from home after years of neglect and bullying. The Crawler found him right after he escaped — the kid was being attacked by a sludge villain,” Knuckleduster replied firmly.

The blond’s eyes widened in surprise.

“A teenager without a Quirk… or any formal training… wrote all this?”

A few members of the council shot him annoyed looks. None of them judged anyone based on mutations, Quirks, or the lack thereof — but the note of surprise in his voice drew a few frowns.

He noticed and quickly clarified himself.

“I don’t mean that in a bad way. It’s just… these analyses are on a professional level. You’d expect this from someone with an analytical Quirk or years of field experience. This is… extraordinary for someone so young.”

The tension in the room eased. Suspicious gazes softened.

“I agree,” said the older woman, taking the notebook and skimming through a few pages. She let out a low whistle. “Smart, methodical, creative. We’ve been lacking refined strategic minds lately. Most of us specialize in specific operations — command, fieldwork, organization. But a real tactician, someone who can see the broader picture… that’s rare. He’d be an asset.”

She handed the notebook to the hooded figure beside her, who studied it in silence before speaking in his deep, ceremonial tone:

“I concur with the bird. We have swords and spears, but few generals. This boy’s mind could be sharpened into a weapon.”

Mr. Compress took the notebook next, flipping through it with the poise of a stage performer.

“A notebook like this is like a well-written script — rich in detail, full of nuance. I must agree with our resident templar: the boy is a rough diamond, waiting to be polished.”

The blond turned back to Knuckleduster.

“And what do you think of him? You’re not exactly known for recommending recruits.”

Knuckleduster crossed his arms, thoughtful.

“I haven’t seen much yet. The Crawler brought him in minutes before the meeting. But the kid’s sharp. Knows a lot about the Naruhata incidents from five years ago. He’s knowledgeable, but clearly underweight, dealing with low self-esteem, and hiding fresh burn marks under his clothes. He’ll have trust issues. It’ll take time. But there’s potential.”

The blond frowned slightly.

“With that analytical ability, wouldn’t he fit better in Innovation? Unless someone else wants to take him.”

Koichi spoke gently.

“The Canary Network only takes women. The Hunters and Levelers would be too harsh for him right now. And the Vigilante Alliance members don’t even know about the Council — only Knuckleduster’s inner circle does. Plus… he’s not great with traumatized kids.”

The steampunk-looking man, still scrolling through his tablet, added:

“Innovation could support him technically, but he needs emotional grounding first. The Vigilante Guild functions like a family — a dysfunctional one, but enough to make him feel like he belongs.”

The Crawler then spoke up:

“There’s another issue. If the QLF — the Quirkless Liberation Front — finds out about him, Starlight could twist him against everything we stand for. And you all know what she’s capable of.”

The blond nodded, understanding the weight of that statement.

“Then I call for a vote.”

He stood, scanning the room.

“All in favor of bringing Izuku into the Council’s inner circle, under the supervision of the Vigilante Guild, raise your hand.”

One by one, every hand rose.

The blond smiled.

“Then it’s settled. The recruitment motion is approved.”

Meanwhile, with Izuku and Pop☆Step

The warehouse was quiet again after Knuckleduster and The Crawler left. Izuku sat on a pile of old blankets, tense, his hands flat on his knees as he avoided Pop☆Step’s gaze. She watched him from a supply crate, legs swinging lazily, a playful smile on her face.

“Are you planning to stay silent until the apocalypse, or are you gonna talk to me before that?” she teased, raising a brow.

Izuku flushed and hugged his knees tighter, as if trying to make himself smaller.

“S-sorry… I’m just not used to…” He trailed off, unsure how to finish.

Pop sighed, but her smile softened.

“It’s fine. Let’s start simple. My name’s Kazuho Haneyama — also known as Pop☆Step. Ex-idol, current vigilante. My Quirk’s called Leap, Class 2. It lets me jump long distances and great heights.”

Izuku blinked, surprised.

“Leap… so during the Naruhata incident, you probably used it in combination with flash bombs to create tactical windows for The Crawler. The tank-type villain had low auditory response, so the light displacement would’ve created the perfect angle for a lateral strike—”

He started muttering so fast she could barely follow.

“Whoa, whoa! Breathe, kid!” she said, waving her hands.

Izuku stopped, blushing hard.

“S-sorry! I just get nervous and start… talking too much…” he murmured, shrinking in embarrassment.

She laughed and shook her head.

“It’s fine, really. I’m glad you care enough to study all that. Just… try not to hyperventilate.”

He managed a small, awkward smile.

“It’s just… you’re being nice to me. People usually aren’t. I can’t even remember the last time I talked to someone like this…”

Pop tilted her head, a flicker of warmth in her eyes.

“Welcome to the vigilantes, little nerd. We take care of our own.”

Then her communicator buzzed. She checked it and smirked.

The Best of Naruhata  

OldManFist: Kid, bring the boy to the Den. Everyone wants to meet him.  

IdolGirl: On it. He already talks more than you.

She pocketed the device and stood up, grinning.

“Time for you to meet our leaders.”

Izuku blinked. “Why do I hear boss battle music?”

The underground passageway was cold and twisting, straight out of a horror movie or a treasure hunt. They moved through reinforced tunnels, narrow corridors, and spiral staircases as Pop explained casually:

“This place’s been used for everything — a military bunker, mutant hideout, rebel base, weapons depot. Now, it’s the heart of the resistance. Welcome to the Vigilante Den.”

When the final steel door opened, Izuku almost gasped. The vast circular room was filled with improvised yet advanced tech — holograms, digital maps, cables everywhere. At the center, a round table waited… surrounded by eleven people.

Suddenly, that boss battle music made perfect sense.

His eyes scanned each figure, recording every detail with almost obsessive precision:

First, a woman in her thirties — blonde, green-eyed — wearing a tight, reinforced black jumpsuit with a modest neckline, a short black jacket with rolled-up sleeves, a sleek black mask covering her eyes, and combat gloves. Her presence was sharp, confident — she looked like a living homage to Black Canary from a pre-Quirk comic.

Beside her stood a punk-looking girl in her twenties, sporting a blue mohawk and a translucent blue visor over her eyes.

Next, a man clad in full templar armor, a glowing red cross emblazoned on his chest, his face hidden beneath his helmet. Standing at his side was a lupine figure — a wolf mutant dressed in stealthy ninja-style gear. Izuku blinked, unsure what to make of that one.

Then, his gaze caught a blond teenager wearing a fitted black combat suit with matte finish and gold details, a radiant sun emblem glowing on his chest, a long golden coat with reflective lining, and a black mask covering his eyes. The boy radiated confidence — presence.

Beside him stood a young woman with dark hair. Izuku’s eyes widened in shock as he recognized her outfit — a bold, modern reinterpretation of his grandmother Nana Shimura's hero costume. The emblem, the cape, even her stance — all of it pulled at memories carved deep into his heart. His chest tightened painfully.

Next came a man in his thirties, straight out of a steampunk novel — goggles, gears, and a tablet in hand, eyes flicking across streams of data.

At his side stood two unmistakable figures: Mr. Compress, the first villain to ever reach S-Rank status without taking a single life, and Gentle Criminal, the viral sensation of the underground net.

Izuku blinked again — Pop☆Step was gone from his side, now standing with The Crawler and Knuckleduster. Before he could process it, a theatrical cough cut through the air.

“You’re smaller than I imagined,” said the blond boy with the sun emblem, smiling. “But that’s fine. I’m Solaris, the Radiant Knight — leader of the Vigilante Guild and a High Councilor of the Shadow Council.”

He extended a hand, gesturing toward the dark-haired girl beside him.

“This is Entropy, my second-in-command.”

One by one, the others followed suit:

“Black Canary, leader of the Canary Network and High Councilor,” said the older woman before nodding toward the punk girl. “This is Blue Bird, my second-in-command.”

“Azrael, leader of the Hunters and High Councilor,” said the hooded man, motioning to the wolf mutant. “That’s Hati, my second.”

“Mr. Compress, leader of the Levellers and High Councilor,” said the masked illusionist with theatrical flair. “And this is Gentle Criminal, my second-in-command.”

“Professor Clockswork, leader of Innovation and High Councilor,” said the steampunk man with a calm smile.

Finally, Knuckleduster stepped forward.

“Knuckleduster, leader of the Vigilante Alliance and High Councilor,” he said, gesturing toward his allies. “The Crawler and Pop☆Step, also of the Alliance.”

Izuku could barely breathe. These were urban legends — names whispered in online forums and conspiracy boards — standing right in front of him.

Solaris crossed his arms, the golden emblem on his chest gleaming in the low light.

“You’re smaller than we expected, Izuku. And it’s clear you’ve been through more than anyone your age should have to face... but what impressed us most is your mind. Your analytical ability surpasses that of most seasoned professionals. And the fact that you don’t have a Quirk?”

He smiled.

“That doesn’t matter here.”

Entropia gave a small, reassuring nod.

“Everyone here was, at some point, discarded, ignored, or hunted for something they couldn’t control. If anyone understands what you’ve been through — it’s us.”

Solaris leaned forward, resting his hands on the table. His voice softened, but his eyes glowed with conviction.

“That’s why we’re offering you a proposal. A chance to start over. A family. A cause worth fighting for. Will you at least hear us out?”

[End of Chapter 3]

Chapter Text

Silence ruled the underground chamber of the Vigilantes’ Den. Every eye was on Izuku. He stood stiffly, shoulders tense, gaze wary.

“I… I’m sorry, but why would you want to recruit someone like me?” he stammered. “I’m just… a useless Deku with no Quirk. I can’t even fight.” His voice trembled, caught between disbelief and fear.

Solaris picked up the notebook lying on the table and flipped it open. He read aloud:

“Patrol patterns of Pro Heroes in the Musutafu Metropolitan Region show critical gaps between 1 a.m. and 3 a.m., coinciding with a rise in opportunistic crimes…”

He lifted his eyes to Izuku.

“We have plenty of skilled fighters,” Solaris said calmly, “but very few minds like yours. That’s what we lack.”

Azrael stepped forward, his templar-like voice resonating with solemn weight.

“We are tacticians — trained to command the battlefield, to adapt our Quirks in real time as situations change. We are organizers — capable of maintaining networks and operations. But strategists? Those who can design grand, multi-layered operations involving countless variables and contingencies? Those are rare. And rarer still are those with eyes like yours.”

Solaris nodded, adding with a faint smile,

“You’ve shown the ability to create at least three different plans for the same scenario — one of them surprisingly creative, even unconventional.”

Izuku swallowed hard, uneasy and a little embarrassed. This all sounded too good to be true.

“But… why now? Why do you need a strategist?”

Mr. Compress twirled his glass, smiling thoughtfully.

“Tell me, boy — how much do you really know about the current state of Japan?”

Izuku hesitated.

“I… well… Japan’s at peace, right?”

The reaction was immediate — sighs, grimaces, disbelieving looks.

Black Canary scoffed.

“Peace? The current state of Japan is hanging by a thread — that’s the best you could call it.”

Izuku frowned, confused.

Solaris spoke up.

“We’re on the brink of internal collapse. The system is rotting from within, and the people don’t even see it.”

Azrael gestured passionately, like a preacher on fire.

“The Clan of Creature Rejection spills mutant blood in the streets under their fanatical creed. The Party of Inhuman Supremacy rapes, kills, and corrupts under the banner of ‘mutant rights.’ And they devour each other like starving beasts.”

Knuckleduster crossed his arms.

“Don’t forget the Quirkless Liberation Front. Three months ago, they bombed a shopping mall in Tokyo. Nearly two hundred injured.”

Izuku winced, disgusted.

Black Canary continued, her tone sharp.

“Drug trafficking — especially Trigger — is at an all-time high. Streets overrun. Teenagers being used as human couriers.”

Mr. Compress added softly,

“The Glass House, the Golden Empire, and other crime syndicates are at each other’s throats for every inch of territory. A new kind of silent civil war.”

Solaris raised one hand.

“And at the center of it all — a cold war between Nedzu and the President of the Hero Public Safety Commission. Nedzu being... Nedzu, and the Commission backing increasingly questionable policies that are splitting hero society in half. The honest heroes side with U.A. or go independent; the corrupt ones align with the HPSC. Underground heroes operate separately altogether. and the Council is 90% sure that complex mutant heroes and users of so-called ‘villainous Quirks’ have formed an organization of their own... not to mention the HPSC’s secret operations, which only keep expanding.”

Izuku listened, eyes wide. None of it was entirely new to him — but he hadn’t realized how bad it had become.

“But… we still have All Might, right?” he asked, uncertain.

He might be a terrible father, Izuku thought bitterly, but he’s still a good hero.

Solaris sighed.

“And that’s exactly the problem. The world has become too dependent on him. It’s made other heroes complacent — split between glory hunters and those who actually do their job. You’ve noticed he’s been patrolling less, haven’t you?”

Izuku thought for a moment. It was true.

Solaris continued quietly,

“All of us here believe he’s preparing to retire. It makes sense… he’s over fifty now.”

Izuku lowered his eyes, a thought flashing across his mind: Or maybe he’s gravely injured.

Solaris concluded,

“And when he retires, Izuku… everything will crumble. The villains who feared him will rise. There’s no other hero strong enough to fill that void.”

Izuku nodded slowly. All Might was the pillar of society — but he hadn’t realized the entire foundation was cracking.

Solaris turned to him again, voice firm.

“The Commission thinks vigilantes are weak and disorganized. That’s why we’re preparing — in secret — to bring them down. But we can’t do it in Japan’s current state. So we’re gathering intel on criminal syndicates and corrupt heroes to weaken them enough that they can’t pull off a coup.”

He extended his hand.

“So, Izuku… will you help us in that mission?”

Izuku looked around the room. He saw courage behind those masks. Determination. And above all… humanity.

He thought of the emptiness he called home, the pain he carried, and the tiny spark that still burned in his chest.

With a trembling sigh, he nodded.

“Y-yes. I’ll help.”

“Wonderful,” Solaris said warmly. “Welcome to the Shadow Council, Izuku — more specifically, to the Vigilante Guild.”

Izuku barely had time to process the words before Solaris raised a hand to dismiss the meeting.

“That concludes today’s session. You’re all dismissed.”

One by one, the Council members stood. Professor Clockwork was the first to leave, typing rapidly on his tablet as he approached a door to the left. It opened with a hiss, revealing a deep purple glow pulsing with energy. When he stepped through, the light vanished — as if the structure had recognized his exit and shut itself off.

Moments later, a bright rectangular shimmer of golden energy formed beside the chamber — like a piece of reality had been cut away. A warp portal, Izuku thought.

Azrael and Hati stepped through first, followed by Black Canary, Blue Bird, Mr. Compress, and Gentle Criminal. Once the last one crossed, the portal snapped shut with a soft crackle.

Knuckleduster, The Crawler, and Pop☆Step exchanged a few words, then turned to Izuku.

“We’ve got a few things to handle in Musutafu before heading back to Naruhata,” Knuckleduster said, giving Izuku a light pat on the back.

“You’ll be fine, kid,” Pop added with a grin. “We’ll see you soon!”

They disappeared down the concrete hallways toward the surface.

Now only Solaris, Entropy, and Izuku remained in the vast chamber, lit by dim, indirect lights along the black metal walls. Silence returned — but this time, it wasn’t awkward. It was respectful, solemn. This was more than an introduction. It was the beginning of something.

Solaris approached, smiling confidently as he extended his hand.

“My real name is Kenji Abe. Officially nice to meet you, Izuku.”

Izuku hesitated for a moment before shaking his hand. The name sounded oddly familiar.

“Izuku… Yagi.” The surname slipped out like a guilty sigh, heavy with something he couldn’t quite hide.

Entropy stepped forward, posture calm and composed.

“Hana Shimura.”

Izuku’s eyes widened. Shimura. His grandmother’s surname.

Hana seemed to notice his shock but said nothing — her gaze steady and calm.

Kenji caught the tension in Izuku’s expression but didn’t press him.

“Come on,” he said. “Let’s introduce you to the rest of the Guild. Better get used to the chaos before your training starts.”

He pulled out his phone, opened the Guild’s group chat, and typed:

Vigilante Guild

RadiantSun: Bringing the new recruit to meet everyone. Try not to scare him — he’s a bit jumpy.

CatLady: Does he play Mortal Kombat?

CardQueen: I’ll put on a card show to welcome him!!

SoundGuy: Someone lock the tool cabinet before he sees the mess.

G-Force: …

BurnBurnBurn: If he’s as quiet as *her*, he might survive.

LivingRifle: I’m eating. Don’t involve me.

DeadlyTouch: Be nice. Or at least try. The kid’s been through a lot.

Izuku was still a little dazed as the three of them walked down one of the side corridors, through a steel door that opened with a magnetic click. The place looked like it had once been a military bunker — now half home, half hidden base.

They arrived in a large lounge area filled with couches, arcade machines, a massive screen showing a fighting game, and a long table piled with food. It felt somewhere between a living room and a rec room.

Seven figures were scattered around the space.

First, a girl around Izuku’s age with a complex feline mutation — blue hair and eyes, cat ears, tail, and visible claws — playing video games with an older boy with an athletic build, black hair streaked with white, and turquoise eyes. His arms bore light burn marks. The game was clearly Mortal Kombat. A black cat perched on the back of the couch, watching the match with piercing eyes. Izuku was almost certain it knew exactly what was going on.

In the opposite corner, a pink-haired girl with violet eyes, wearing a tank top that revealed arms tattooed with playing cards, was playing solitaire against a young man a few years older, with messy black hair and hollow dark-brown eyes — he looked dead inside.

On another couch lay a short-haired brunette, idly scrolling through her phone, barely paying attention to her surroundings.

At the table sat someone Izuku recognized instantly — Lady Nagant, calm as ever, eating a sandwich like someone who’d survived too many wars to be impressed by anything anymore.

Kenji raised his voice.

“Everyone, this is Izuku Yagi — our new recruit. Please, try to be nice.”

The cat-girl was the first to speak.

“Name’s Harumi Ito — nickname Chimera.” Her tone was wary but not hostile — like a cat deciding whether to let you pet it.

“Toya Todoroki, also known as Dabi,” said the black-haired boy without looking up from the screen. “Didn’t expect a new recruit.”

Izuku swallowed hard. The eldest Todoroki? Alive? And somehow terrible at Mortal Kombat?

Before he could process that, a voice echoed directly in his mind.

Call me Despair.

The words reverberated inside his skull as the black cat stared at him from head to toe.

Izuku almost stepped back, but Kenji placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“You’ll get used to it. He does that to everyone.”

At the card table, the pink-haired girl threw her hands up dramatically.

“Yoko Saito! The Puzzler, master of boredom and dealer of patience!” she announced with a grin at her own joke.

No one laughed.

She sighed dramatically, pointing at her cards.

“Seriously, people! Cards? Puzzler? Patience? It’s a pun — patience, as in solitaire! Come on!”

Still, no reaction.

The dark-haired boy beside her sighed softly.

“Yoshi Sueko. Wave. Uh… hey.”

On the couch, the brunette mumbled without looking up from her phone,

“Aoi Uraraka. Quasar.”

Izuku couldn’t tell if she was just naturally like that or if she didn’t like him already.

Finally, Lady Nagant raised a hand in a small, calm wave.

“Kaina Tsutsumi. But I think you already knew that,” she said, taking another bite of her sandwich as if she weren’t a supposedly dead, internationally wanted assassin.

Izuku just nodded, still trying to take everything in.

“I’m… Izuku Yagi.”

He said his surname softly, almost choking on it, with a bitterness that didn’t go unnoticed.

Harumi raised an eyebrow. Toya crossed his arms after losing yet another match. Yoko tilted her head curiously.

Then Toya lifted his controller and looked at Izuku.

“You play? Because I’m getting tired of losing to this cat.”

“You mean being defeated,” Harumi shot back with a toothy grin. “Score’s thirty-four to nine, remember?”

Everyone laughed.

And for the first time in a very long while, Izuku felt something warm flicker inside him.

Hope.

Hope that maybe — just maybe — he’d finally found a place to belong.

Chapter Text

The sound of mocking laughter echoed through the halls of Aldera Middle School, mixed with the ripping of notebook pages. Izuku knelt on the floor, his eyes wide with a mix of fear and sorrow. Sasha Yagi, his sister, stood beside Katsuki Bakugo—both wearing smug, condescending smiles.

“ You’ll never be a hero, Deku,” Bakugo sneered, snapping his fingers to create a threatening spark. “You’ve got no power. Why don’t you do the world a favor and just disappear?”

Sasha hesitated for a moment, then crossed her arms and nodded silently in agreement.

Izuku felt a sharp pain in his chest. He wanted to scream, but no sound came out. He wanted to run, but his legs wouldn’t move.

Then he woke up—gasping for air.

Izuku sat up abruptly. He was drenched in sweat, his heart pounding in his chest. It took a few seconds for him to realize he wasn’t in his old bedroom. The walls were polished concrete, a small desk stood in the corner, an empty shelf, and a soft glow came from a bedside lamp.

Slowly, the memories returned: his escape from home, meeting The Crawler, the sludge villain attack, the underground base, the Vigilante Guild...

And, surprisingly, he hadn’t been rejected.

He’d been accepted.

Even against all odds, a group of people had taken him in—quirkless and broken.

It felt too good to be true.

He stood up and noticed a set of folded clothes, a towel, and a small note written in neat handwriting on the chair beside the bed.

Izuku, you looked exhausted, so I let you rest.

There’s a bathroom next door.

If the clothes don’t fit, let me know.

– Kenji

Izuku brushed his fingers gently over the note. It still felt strange... that someone actually cared about him.

Meanwhile, in the base’s kitchen, most members of the Guild were already gathered around the table: Kenji Abe, Hana Shimura, Harumi Ito, Yoko Saito, Yoshi Sueco, Aoi Uraraka, Toya Todoroki, Kaina Tsutsumi, and the ever-watchful Despero, perched atop a cabinet.

“So, what’s his deal?” Harumi asked, biting into a slice of buttered toast.

Kenji sighed, resting his elbows on the table.

“No quirk. He’s been physically and emotionally abused by his ex-best friend and twin sister. Neglected by his parents. Ran away after a mental breakdown.”

Yoko frowned, anger flickering in her eyes.

“That’s ridiculous. Just because he doesn’t have a quirk? He seemed smart yesterday.”

Toya folded his arms, exhaling.

“Another one rejected by the system. Figures.”

Yoshi, who rarely spoke, said softly,

“He seemed... kind.”

Kenji smiled faintly at the unexpected support.

“He is. The kid has notebooks full of analysis on heroes and villains that would take us weeks to compile. Let’s see if we can train that potential.”

Kaina, calm and thoughtful, leaned her chin on her hand.

“And what are you going to do with him now?”

“I’m calling the Good Doctor to check him out before we start training,” Kenji replied.

At that moment, a timid voice came from the doorway:

“T-training?”

Everyone turned. Izuku stood there awkwardly, wearing clothes slightly too big for him.

Hana smiled softly.

“Almost got the size right.”

“I-it’s okay. I like loose clothes,” Izuku said, pulling the collar up slightly to hide a burn on his neck. Everyone noticed—but no one said a word. They didn’t want to make him relive the past.

“Yes, training,” Kenji confirmed. “Even if your main role is as a strategist, you still need to learn how to defend yourself. We won’t always be around to protect you. And on missions, we need to know you can hold your own.”

Izuku nodded slowly and sat beside Yoko, who smiled and handed him an Ace of Hearts card. He smiled back shyly.

After breakfast, Kenji gave Izuku a full tour of the Vigilantes’ Den: the living room, game area, underground gym, workshop, meeting rooms, and a small laboratory.

Izuku was awestruck.

Despero, the cat, followed them in silence. Suddenly, his telepathic voice echoed in both their minds:

The Doctor has arrived.

Izuku flinched slightly—though less than the first time. Kenji laughed.

“You get used to it. Despero’s... straightforward.”

They entered the medical wing. A man in his seventies stood there—gray hair, sharp eyes, and an elegant cane. His expression was one of constant irritation, as if he’d rather be anywhere else.

“Ah, the nameless patient. Those idiots called me to check you out, kid. Name’s Naoki Kaneko,” he said with a dry smirk. “For some reason, they call me the Good Doctor. Now sit down.”

Izuku obeyed nervously.

The examination went on in silence: blood pressure, heartbeat, reflexes, physical assessment.

With each check, the doctor’s frown deepened, disbelief written on his face.

When it ended, he motioned for Kenji to follow him into an adjacent room. Izuku sat on the cot, trembling. He never had good experiences with doctors.

Kenji entered the side room, worried.

“What’s his condition, Doctor?”

The old man’s tone was unusually grave.

“He has multiple fractures that healed incorrectly—or didn’t heal at all. Several old burns, clear signs of malnutrition. Not fatal, but... far from good. The pain tolerance this kid must have to walk around like this is concerning.”

“Can you treat it?” Kenji asked, arms crossed, trying to stay composed.

“My quirk can fix the fractures and burns, but not the malnutrition. I’m a doctor, not a miracle worker,” he said dryly. “I’ll give you a list of supplements and foods to help. That part’s on you.”

They returned to the room.

Naoki began explaining the diagnosis and treatment plan including his Cell Duplication Quirk.

Doctor Naoki Kaneko (The Good Doctor), Cell Duplication Quirk (Class IV): Allows its user to use a combination of their own stamina along with that of their patient to accelerate and multiply living cells to regenerate tissue, heal wounds, and even restore limbs given enough time and energy.

Izuku listened silently until he frowned, confused.

“But... why are you wasting your time treating a quirkless Deku like me?”

The doctor froze.

“Quirkless? What are you talking about, boy?”

Izuku blinked.

“I was diagnosed quirkless when I was four. They did an X-ray and said I had the extra joint in my pinky toe.”

Naoki went still—then slammed his fist against the table, startling Izuku.

“My license was revoked, but some idiot who still uses that outdated test gets to practice medicine?!”

Kenji frowned.

“Wait. What do you mean?”

Naoki turned toward them, fury in his eyes.

“That X-ray test was discredited over twenty years ago. It gives false negatives all the time. Plenty of people with dormant quirks were misdiagnosed because of it.”

Izuku’s eyes widened.

“What... what does that mean?” he whispered, terrified and hopeful all at once.

Naoki’s tone softened slightly.

“The bloodwork I ran showed traces of quirk activity in your system. You do have a quirk. It just hasn’t awakened yet.”

Kenji’s jaw dropped.

“When will it?”

“If I had to guess—six months to a year. But I’m no specialist,” Naoki replied, glancing carefully at the boy.

Izuku began to shake. Tears fell silently down his cheeks.

Years of suffering, rejection, abuse, loneliness...

All because of a lie.

Because of a lazy doctor who didn’t do his job right.

Kenji placed a gentle hand on Izuku’s shoulder.

Naoki continued:

“Late awakenings often result in Class 4 or higher quirks—powerful, but unstable. He’ll need supervision.”

Izuku nodded numbly, tears streaming, unable to process the weight of it all.

It was everything he had ever wanted—yet he didn’t know what to feel anymore.

Naoki scribbled something on a slip of paper and handed it to Kenji.

“A therapist I trust. The kid’s going to need help dealing with this.”

Kenji nodded solemnly.

The Good Doctor activated his quirk, and within moments, Izuku’s fractures and burns faded as if they had never existed.

On the way back to his room, they passed through the hallway near the common area. Izuku started laughing through his tears—not a laugh of joy, but of disbelief, anger, and exhaustion.

“My whole life was a lie, wasn’t it?” he asked quietly.

Kenji stopped beside him.

“In some ways... yeah. I don’t have words that can ease what you’ve been through, Izuku. You never should’ve suffered like that. But now... now things will get better. You just need to stay calm.”

Bad choice of words.

“Stay calm? Calm?!” Izuku shouted, swatting Kenji’s hand away.

“My whole damn life was a lie and you want me to stay calm?! I lived ten years in hell because I didn’t have a quirk! Ten years being treated like trash by my own family—ignored, beaten, rejected! And now I find out it was all because some lazy doctor didn’t do his job right?! No—I WON’T stay calm!”

By now, everyone in the Guild had gathered in the corridor, drawn by his shouting. Kenji just stood there, letting the boy release everything he’d held inside.

Izuku’s voice broke as he slid down the wall, sobbing uncontrollably.

“Do you know how many times my dad hugged me in the last ten years? None. My mom pretended I didn’t exist...” His voice trembled. “They didn’t even look at me when I came home after that stupid diagnosis... I just... wanted to be a hero...”

Then his body went limp—passing out from pure emotional exhaustion.

Kenji knelt beside him and gently lifted the boy into his arms.

Kaina approached quietly.

“Would you care to explain how a kid this small managed to scream so loud for so long?”

Kenji sighed.

“Not tonight. I’ll explain everything

tomorrow. We all need rest.”

He carried Izuku back to his room, the hallway falling silent once more.

Chapter Text

The next morning, the training room of the Vigilantes’ Den was alive with the sound of impacts and muffled explosions.

Harumi moved with feline agility, dodging Yoko’s attacks as energized playing cards sliced through the air with deadly precision. Across the room, Toya released small blue flames from his hands, vaporizing simulated target projectiles.

Hana watched the three intently, standing tall and composed like a silent sentinel — until the door creaked open, and Kenji stepped inside.

The leader of the Vigilante Guild didn’t need to say a word — his presence alone was enough for the four to stop immediately.

“We need to talk,” he said, his voice calm but serious.

The four approached, wiping off sweat and catching their breath. Hana spoke first:

“Where’s Izuku?” she asked, her tone laced with quiet concern after last night’s outburst.

“In his room,” Kenji sighed. “Still processing some things.”

“What kind of information makes a calm kid blow up like that?” Yoko asked, one brow raised.

“He’s going to awaken a Quirk within a year,” Kenji replied flatly.

Toya crossed his arms, his expression softening as he understood the reason behind last night’s explosion.

“So he’s probably rethinking everything he’s been through… everything he’s suffered.”

Kenji nodded, staring at the floor before meeting their eyes again.

“It’s my fault. I said the wrong thing. I told him to stay calm — when even I wouldn’t be calm in his situation. I was… a hypocrite.”

Harumi quickly stepped in, her tone gentle but firm.

“It wasn’t your fault, Kenji. You couldn’t have known he’d react that way. He didn’t look angry at you, he looked angry at life. Don’t blame yourself for something you couldn’t control.”

Kenji gave her a faint smile.

“Thanks, Harumi. But that’s not why I called you here. I want to give Izuku some time to calm down before I take him to therapy. But… I need a favor from the three of you.”

He looked at Toya, Harumi, and Yoko.

The three exchanged glances — confused, but attentive.

“You’ve all faced abuse and neglect before joining us,” Kenji continued. “That’s why you’re the best ones to connect with him. He needs something familiar — something to help him trust not just us, but people in general. It’s not going to be easy… it’ll be personal and demanding. If you don’t want to, I’ll understand.”

Without hesitation, the three nodded. Kenji continued:

“Before I forget, the Good Doctor ran some tests on him. And… it wasn’t pretty. Old fractures that healed wrong, others that never healed at all, burn scars, and clear signs of malnutrition. The Doctor already fixed the fractures and burns with his Quirk. Nutrition we’ll handle with food and time. But the mental damage… we still don’t know how deep it goes.”

Everyone’s reaction was immediate.

Yoko ripped one of the tattooed cards from her arm and hurled it at a punching bag, slicing it clean in half as if it were made of paper. She was furious.

Toya clenched his fists, fighting off memories he’d rather forget.

Harumi simply lowered her head — empathy shadowing her expression; she’d lived something similar.

And Hana murmured under her breath, her voice trembling with restrained anger:

“Some people shouldn’t be allowed to have kids.”

Kenji sighed and nodded lightly.

“I agree, Hana. So… can I count on you to help him?”

“Always,” Toya replied without hesitation.

“Of course,” said Harumi, her cat ears perking up with resolve.

“Don’t even need to ask,” Yoko added, arms crossed, still fuming at how Izuku had been treated.

Hana frowned thoughtfully.

“Kenji… do you know why he looked so scared when he saw me in the meeting? It was like he’d seen a ghost.”

Kenji scratched the back of his neck, thinking.

“Not sure. But I think he recognized your costume. Knowing him, he probably studied a lot of old heroes. Your outfit’s a modern reinterpretation of your grandmother’s — Nana Shimura, right?”

Hana nodded slowly, her face still uncertain.

“Maybe it just startled him. I’ll talk to him later.”

“Alright,” Kenji said, rising. “You’re dismissed. Get back to training. I’ll check on him.”

Kenji walked to Izuku’s room and knocked softly.

No response.

“I’m coming in, okay?”

He opened the door slowly. Izuku sat on the bed, hugging his knees, staring blankly at the wall. Kenji approached and sat beside him — not too close.

“I was going to ask how you’re feeling,” Kenji began, “but that’d be a stupid question, wouldn’t it?”

Izuku let out a small, bitter laugh.

“Why?”

Kenji blinked.

“Why what?”

Izuku looked down, trying to organize the storm inside his head.

“Why are you all being so kind to me? Why did they hurt me? Why did they ignore me? Why did my Quirk show up so late?”

Kenji stayed quiet for a moment, then spoke carefully.

“Why are we being kind? Basic human decency — empathy. Most of us have gone through something like what you did. Because of how we looked, or because of our Quirks. And why did they hurt you? Simple. Your classmates, your family… they were idiots. They only saw your Quirk — or your lack of one — not you. They trusted an outdated test without ever asking for a second opinion.”

He paused briefly.

“I’m no expert, but if Starlight — leader of the QLF — awakened her Quirk at twenty-five, anything’s possible.”

Izuku hugged his knees tighter. Kenji placed a hand gently on his shoulder.

“And by the way… you’re going to therapy. No arguments.”

Izuku only nodded, knowing he needed help.

“When?”

“Tomorrow morning. I got an emergency session with a specialist who works underground.”

Izuku didn’t reply, but leaned slightly against Kenji — which surprised the blond vigilante, yet made him smile.

The next morning, Kenji and Izuku sat in a modest waiting room with metal chairs and old magazines.

“This therapist works off the grid,” Kenji explained. “She lost her license to use her Quirk in therapy, so she started helping vigilantes and low-income folks.”

Izuku nodded. Soon, his name was called.

He entered a cozy office where an elegant woman greeted him with a gentle smile.

“Shall we begin, Izuku?”

An hour later, Izuku walked out visibly drained, collapsing into a chair beside Kenji without a word. Kenji went in to speak with the therapist.

“So? How is he?” he asked, his tone tense.

The therapist’s expression was calm but firm.

“Honestly? He’s in pieces. But he isn’t dangerous to others — only to himself. His life has no personal value; as long as others are safe, he’ll risk his own without hesitation if it means helping someone.”

Kenji clenched his fists but forced himself to breathe deeply.

“Can we work on that? I don’t want him going out on missions with that mindset.”

“You’ll have to insist — a lot,” she replied. “He’s dealing with PTSD, shattered self-esteem, sensitivity to noise, and mild social anxiety. But living with your group is already helping. It’ll take constant effort.”

She paused before adding softly:

“Frankly, I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s already thought about ending his life.”

Kenji’s stomach dropped. He remembered Izuku mentioning how his ex–best friend told him to kill himself — and his sister had just watched. The thought made his blood boil.

“But I’ve seen worse cases,” the therapist continued, offering a small, hopeful smile. “He’ll be a challenge, but he can recover. One step at a time.”

Kenji nodded, determination hardening in his gaze.

 “I’ve asked Harumi, Toya, and Yoko to get close to him. They understand that kind of pain.”

“That’s a good move,” she said kindly. “You’re building him a support system — and that could save his life if he ever falls too deep into depression.”

They spoke for a few more minutes before parting ways.

As Kenji and Izuku left the clinic, the blond vigilante knew the road ahead wouldn’t be easy.

But at least now… there was a road.

Chapter Text

A few days had passed since Izuku’s session with the therapist, and he already looked noticeably better. There were still moments of hesitation, but he smiled more often now; his eyes were brighter, and there was a new lightness in his step. That morning, Kenji was leading him to the training room.

“You’ve made good progress in just a few days, Izuku,” Kenji said with a proud smile.

Izuku gave a shy grin. He wore a simple T-shirt that said, in large kanji letters: ‘Gym Clothes.’

Kenji glanced at the print and muttered,

“And people say I have a bad sense of humor…”

When they entered the training room, Izuku was surprised to see all the members of the Vigilante Guild already gathered. Harumi, Toya, Yoko, Hana, Aoi, Yoshi, Kaina, and even Despero were there.

“Today’s training will be different,” Kenji announced, looking at Izuku. “Before we start the physical part, I want to test something important — one of the reasons we brought you into the Guild: your analytical skills. I want to see what you can do through observation and deduction.”

Izuku blinked in confusion.

“What do you mean?”

“Simple. I want you to try to figure out each person’s Quirk just by watching them. No direct questions — only observation and reasoning.”

Izuku hesitated and looked around at everyone.

“You’re all… okay with that? No one’s ever asked me to analyze people before…” he said nervously — people usually intimidated him into stopping his analysis, not encouraging it.

Harumi smiled softly, her feline ears twitching.

“Go ahead, detective.”

Yoko crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow.

“We’re curious to see if it’s true you’re some kind of analysis genius.”

“Hit me, kid,” said Toya, leaning against the wall.

Kenji cut in, grinning slightly.

“Start with me.”

Izuku nodded, focusing on Kenji carefully, murmuring to himself as he pieced together the possibilities based on what he’d seen so far.

“You don’t have any visible mutations. When you comforted me, I felt warmth coming from you. Maybe something thermal… but I also remember you lifting a couch with one hand like it was nothing. Maybe a strength-based Quirk?” he reasoned. “No… that doesn’t explain the heat. What if it’s an accumulation-type Quirk? You absorb heat and convert it into physical enhancement?”

Then, remembering Kenji’s vigilante name — Solaris, the Shining Knight — Izuku’s eyes widened.

“You have an accumulation-type Quirk! But you don’t generate your energy, do you? The heat I felt wasn’t from your body… it was from the sun! You absorb sunlight and turn it into strength!”

Kenji clapped, genuinely impressed.

“Very close — almost perfect, actually. You only missed one small detail.”

Izuku blinked.

“I got it right? What detail did I miss?”

Kenji smiled.

“My Quirk’s called Bright Sun. I absorb solar radiation, not heat, and I can convert it into strength, endurance, energy blasts… and flight — though, uh, steering is still tricky.”

Izuku’s eyes lit up, and in a blink, he pulled out a notebook from who-knows-where and started writing furiously, pencil smoking from speed.

Everyone stared in disbelief. Hana, Harumi, Yoko, Toya… all watching the scrawny green-haired boy fill page after page like a man possessed.

Yoko, intrigued, asked, “Where did you even pull that notebook from? You weren’t carrying it when you walked in.”

Izuku blinked, confused.

“I don’t know what you mean. I’ve had it the whole time,” he said, still scribbling without looking up.

Kenji raised an eyebrow but shrugged. “Never mind. Next — Hana.”

Izuku turned toward Hana Shimura, codename Entropy. He noticed her gloves, the way she avoided touching things, always keeping her pinky finger slightly lifted.

“Your Quirk must activate through five-point contact. Something destructive… you wear gloves and never touch things directly with all five fingers. I don’t know the exact effect, but I’m certain it’s destructive.”

Hana nodded, not surprised.

“Nicely done. My Quirk is called Entropy. And I can accelerate the aging process of any solid matter by touching it with my five fingers. The gloves prevent accidents.”

Izuku’s eyes sparkled as he jotted everything down.

“Fascinating…”

Then, he turned to Harumi Ito — and immediately noticed her feline ears, eyes, and tail.

“Clearly a feline mutation. But…” — he pointed at a light burn scar on her arm — “that doesn’t look accidental. Maybe a complementary Quirk — something with fire? In Greek mythology, the Chimera was a creature that breathed fire. Do you breathe fire or manipulate it?”

Harumi chuckled, crossing her arms.

“Close. I don’t breathe fire, but I have a complex mutant Quirk with feline traits — agility, sharp senses, claws, tail, reflexes — plus a complementary Quirk that lets me generate and control the four elements: fire, water, earth, and air. I call it Elemental Cat.”

“Incredible! Can you combine elements? How many can you use at once? Do you generate them or need an existing source?” Izuku asked, fascinated — making Harumi blush slightly under his focused attention.

“W-well… I can control two at once. And I can't control external elements, only the ones I generate. But I can use my elements to influence external elements. I’ve never tried combining two.” She averted her gaze, which earned light laughter from the group — Harumi was rarely flustered.

Izuku turned to Yoko Saito, immediately noting the tattooed playing cards running down her arms.

“Tattoos — rare in Japan, especially at your age. The way they move… they’re part of your Quirk! You pull cards from nowhere not because of sleight of hand — you’re drawing them out of the tattoos, aren’t you?”

Yoko smirked dramatically.

“Bingo. It’s called Royal Flush. I can convert the nutrients I consume into playing card tattoos on my body, which I can then print out into the real world. And if I concentrate, I can alter their properties.”

Izuku scribbled frantically, clearly enjoying himself.

Next was Yoshi Sueko. Izuku hesitated.

“No visible mutations. No active Quirk signs… Your vigilante name is Wave, so maybe something with water or sound waves?”

Yoshi smiled softly.

“Good instincts. My Quirk’s Soundwave. I can vibrate my cells at high frequency, producing sonic waves through my body — mostly through my voice, but I can emit them anywhere.”

“That’s amazing!” Izuku exclaimed, delighted.

Then came Aoi Uraraka. Izuku studied her carefully.

“The other day, I saw you move your phone with a gesture. I’d guess something psychic — maybe telekinesis? But your vigilante name is Quasar… quasars are cosmic phenomena that release immense energy — maybe you manipulate gravity or energy fields?”

Aoi blinked, mildly impressed.

“Close enough. My Quirk’s called Gravitational Zone. I can create a spherical zone and manipulate gravity inside it. Make things float… or crush them.”

Izuku was awestruck.

“Wow… can you do both at once? Can you make yourself float? How much weight can you lift—?”

“I’ll answer later. Not in the mood right now,” she said flatly, eyes glued to her phone. Everyone sweatdropped.

“Don’t worry, kid,” Toya said, laughing. “She barely talks to us either.”

Aoi flipped him off without looking up.

Izuku sighed. “Oh. Okay then…”

“Alright, kid, your turn to analyze me. Mine’s easy. You already know who I am,” Toya said with a half-grin.

“You have a fire Quirk,” Izuku said instantly, smiling like it was obvious. “But those burns… your Quirk’s too strong for your body, right? Or maybe you weren’t born resistant to heat?”

Toya nodded.

“Both. It’s called Cremation. I produce blue flames hotter than my father’s, but my body wasn’t made for it — I inherited my mother’s ice resistance. Every time I fight, I burn a little more, It was worse before, but the Good Doctor managed to fix most of the old damage.”

Izuku frowned, taking worried notes — already brainstorming ways to help him.

He skipped Kaina Tsutsumi — everyone already knew her Quirk — but still asked, “You use your Quirk like a sniper rifle, but where do the bullets come from? Do you produce them or buy them?”

“I make them from my hair. I pull a strand, and it turns into a ballistic bullet as strong as a real one. My hair grows back in a few hours. I can use real ammo, but my own is more reliable,” she said monotonously.

Finally, Izuku turned to Despero.

“You’re a telepath — conscious, intelligent… but today, I didn’t feel any discomfort when you spoke to me.”

Despero replied directly into his mind:

‘You’re adapting. Congratulations.’

Kenji smiled at the exchange.

“That’s rare. Most people need months before the discomfort fades. You adapting this fast is a good sign.”

Izuku nodded, jotting notes without noticing everyone once again staring at the mysterious notebook that appeared and disappeared without explanation.

Kenji cleared his throat.

“Alright, since you’ve impressed everyone, let’s start some light training — no pressure. We’ll go slow: basic strength work, cardio, reflexes, parkour… one step at a time.”

A few months later...

Izuku barely resembled the boy who had first arrived. The biggest change was him. His body was stronger, his shoulders broader, and his face — once marked by insecurity — now carried determination and a new spark of confidence. His room reflected that too. Once empty and lifeless, it was now covered with posters of both underground and pro heroes — Mirko, Ryukyu, Power Woman, Edgeshot, Best Jeanist, Eraserhead — replacing every trace of the Yagi family.

As he adjusted a Ryukyu poster on the wall, three soft knocks came from the door.

“Come in,” he said naturally. The base truly felt like home now — a feeling he hadn’t had since he was four.

Kenji entered, phone in hand, expression serious yet worried.

“We need to talk.”

Izuku turned, confused. It was rare for Solaris to sound that serious.

“What happened?”

Kenji showed him the screen. A headline glared at the top:

“Pro Hero No. 6 Emerald’s Son — Missing.”

Izuku’s face froze — disbelief melting into anger. His eyes scanned the article, and silent fury rose in his chest.

“Now they care? After more than three months? Only now they realize I’m gone?” He didn’t know whether to laugh or curse.

“The post is a week old,” Kenji said softly. “They probably just noticed… or were searching for you in secret.”

Izuku sat on the bed, fingers digging into the mattress. He’d always wanted his family’s attention — but now, all he felt was rage that it came too late.

“Why now? What changed?” he asked, exhausted.

“I don’t know,” Kenji admitted. “I just saw it and thought you deserved to know.”

A heavy silence fell.

“They ignored me for a decade. Called me useless. Treated me like a stranger. And now… now I’m a missing child?”

Kenji sat beside him.

“Can I tell you a secret?”

Izuku nodded slowly.

“I’m Power Woman’s son,” Kenji said quietly, as if sharing a distant memory.

Izuku’s eyes widened in shock.

“What?! But—there’s no record of her ever having a child!”

“And there won’t be,” Kenji said with a faint smile. “She chose to protect her family’s privacy. Didn’t want me exposed. Unlike Endeavor, she stayed discreet. I even faked my death to keep it that way.”

Izuku listened silently, absorbing every word.

“That’s why I understand heroes who hide their families,” Kenji continued. “But I’ll never understand a hero who abandons their child. Who lets this kind of pain happen.” He touched the spot on his neck where a burn had once been.

Kenji stood, looking at Izuku with purpose.

“Come with me. There’s someone you should talk to — someone who’ll understand.”

Toya, Harumi, and Yoko sat around a table playing cards.

“Guys,” Kenji said, “Izuku needs to talk. You three… know what to do.”

They nodded immediately. Kenji left the room.

Izuku explained everything — the article, his feelings, his frustration at still being tied to the Yagi name. When he finished, Harumi spoke first, voice steady but kind:

“My mom died when I was little. My stepmother — a CRC fanatic — raised me. She hated me for being a mutant. Called me a freak. My father just… stood there, never defended me.”

She exhaled deeply.

“My life only got better when I ran away and joined the Guild. I use my real mother’s surname to remind myself who I truly am.”

Toya sighed.

“I hate my father. He’s a bastard and deserves to die. But my siblings… they’re innocent. I keep the Todoroki name for them.”

Yoko snapped her fingers, pulling a Jack of Hearts from thin air.

“I made up my last name after I ran away. My past doesn’t own me. Like the saying goes — ‘If you live in the past, you’re either a museum or an archaeologist.’ I’m an illusionist, baby.”

Izuku thought quietly.

“I… don’t want my mother’s name. And I hate my sister’s. So… I’ll make a new one.”

“We’ll help!” Yoko said enthusiastically.

Ideas came and went until Harumi smiled softly.

“What about Midoriya (緑谷)? Because of your eyes and hair — Midori means green, and ya means valley.”

“That’s perfect!” Yoko said. “It’s like you walked through a valley and came out renewed — like a tree that’s finally grown strong!”

Izuku smiled back.

“I love it. Thank you, Harumi.”

And in that moment, Izuku Yagi ceased to exist — and Izuku Midoriya, vigilante, analyst, and brother, was born.

Chapter Text

The soft glow of the training room lamps illuminated the sweat running down Izuku Midoriya’s face. His chest rose and fell rapidly as he struggled to catch his breath.

Standing before him, arms crossed, was Kenji—better known as Solaris—watching him with a satisfied smile.

“Not bad, rookie,” Kenji said, wiping sweat from the corner of his mouth with his fist. “Four months ago, you couldn’t even finish a set of jumping jacks without fainting. Now you’re actually making me work.”

Izuku laughed weakly, lying flat on the mat. His black gym shirt, with ジムウェア (“Gym Wear”) printed in kanji, was drenched in sweat.

“Still,” Izuku panted, “it would’ve been nice to land at least one hit.”

Kenji scoffed with a smirk.
“A rookie with four months of training almost hitting a veteran who’s been fighting since he was seven? Wow, what a tragedy!” he teased, extending a hand. Izuku grabbed it, and Kenji helped him to his feet.

Izuku scratched the back of his neck.
“Fair enough. But… can I ask something?”

Kenji nodded.

“What exactly is the Shadow Council? You explained it before, but… well, I wasn’t exactly in the best emotional state that day. And your explanation was kind of vague.”

Kenji studied him for a moment, then nodded again.
“Go shower. Meet me in the briefing room in fifteen minutes.”

Fifteen minutes later, Izuku found himself in the meeting room. Kenji was already there, organizing a few documents while the others were either getting ready or had already gone out on patrol. Noticing Izuku, Kenji gestured for him to sit. The moment he did, Kenji began to speak.

“The Shadow Council has existed for about four or five years now.”

Izuku blinked, looking puzzled.

“Five years? That’s younger than I expected,” he said thoughtfully. “But with all this structure, the resources, the connections in the underworld and beyond... you’re telling me you built all of this in just five years?”

Kenji chuckled at Izuku’s disbelief.

“Smaller organizations like the Levellers or the Hunters existed before that. The Vigilant Guild is the newest one. Some of us were already working together, but as a structured Council — with divisions, purpose, and coordination? That only started about four years ago, when we realized where things were heading and had no other choice but to unite.”

Izuku nodded, intrigued by the story behind such a vast network hidden in the shadows.

Kenji continued, leaning back slightly.

“I guess it’s best if I start with my own story. You already know I’m the son of Power Woman, but my father is an underground hero called HackTrap.”

Izuku frowned; the name didn’t ring any bells. It was strange — he knew nearly every hero in Japan, even most underground ones.

“Never heard of him,” Izuku admitted.

Kenji smiled faintly.

“I’m not surprised. My father’s always been good at covering his tracks and keeping his identity off the record. Anyway — when I was little, I was diagnosed with a Class V Quirk.”

Izuku’s eyes widened. Being born with a Class V quirk without going through an awakening was incredibly rare. It suddenly made sense why no one knew Power Woman and HackTrap were married. First, having a child with a powerful Quirk and second, Power Woman was Japan’s No. 5 Pro Hero, while HackTrap operated in the underground — separating their professional and personal lives was only logical.

Kenji sighed before continuing.

“When I was fourteen, two HPSC agents approached me after school. They offered me an exclusive training program — supposedly to help me refine my Quirk and skills so I could become a top hero. But I knew what they really wanted: to brainwash me, to control me. I had too much potential for them to just let me roam free.”

Izuku frowned deeply.

“I’ve heard rumors about that... but I thought it was just a conspiracy theory. I never believed the Hero Commission would go that far.”

“It’s true,” Kenji said flatly. “I refused right away. My parents had always warned me to stay away from the Commission — said they weren’t good people. And they were right. Not long after I refused, they came back with veiled threats — said my family might start having problems if I didn’t comply. That they wouldn’t hesitate to interfere with my parents’ careers, even as heroes.”

Izuku understood immediately. Blackmail.

“So I used a few tricks my father had taught me and contacted someone through the VillainNET — someone who, if the rumors were true, could help me: Knuckleduster. I was right. He helped me fake my own death, made it look like a quirk accident. After that, the Commission stopped targeting my family.”

Izuku’s jaw dropped.

“That sounds... extreme.”

Kenji shrugged.

“It was drastic, but it worked. It got them off my family’s back — and I’m sure it discouraged them from trying to recruit my cousin, too. But I couldn’t stay with the Vigilante Alliance. I needed to disappear, stay off the radar. That’s when the Vigilant Guild took me in. Back then, the leader was a vigilante named Rupture. Sadly, he died on a mission a few months after I joined — and the leadership fell to me. I didn’t think I was ready, but apparently I’ve got some sort of ‘natural charisma’ or whatever.”

He smirked faintly, unconcerned.

“Over time, I realized the HPSC wasn’t Japan’s only problem. Groups like the CRC, PSI, and QLF were getting bolder — more organized. I managed to get access to confidential intel and noticed the patterns. So I spoke with Knuckleduster, who had already turned his hatred toward the Commission into founding the Vigilante Alliance — his goal was to bring them down someday. with this information about the crime in Japan and pointed out the problems with their plan.”

Izuku tilted his head.

“What kind of problems?”

“A very simple one,” Kenji replied. “If we take down the HPSC right now, do you think Starlight, Apostrophe, or beastly would just sit quietly? No — they’d seize the chaos and start a civil war while the heroes are weakened.”

Izuku’s eyes widened again, finally understanding the implications.

“I see you understand where I'm going with this,” Kenji said. “As corrupt as the Commission is, right now they’re a necessary evil — a stabilizing force. So I proposed an idea to Knuckleduster: unite all the scattered vigilante cells, smaller independent vigilants, and morally gray villains into one secret network. Each group would have its own function, and those who contributed the most would form the High Council — the leadership you now know as the Shadow Council. To the public, the Vigilante Alliance seems small, irrelevant — just a rumor. But in the shadows... we are many.”

Izuku listened in awe.

Kenji smiled faintly, then began explaining each branch of the organization.

“The Canary Network, led by Black Canary, is our main information source in the underworld. It’s composed entirely of women — trained in self-defense, often working undercover in markets, bars, even schools in rough neighborhoods. You’d be surprised how much thugs talk when they think no one’s listening — or how much children overhear from their parents and repeat to friends. Some of them also infiltrate criminal groups to gather intel directly. Other vigilantes ‘buy’ their data, but in truth, they distribute it freely to others in need.”

“Innovation, led by Professor Clockwork, provides high-end gear and technical support. They build prototypes, monitor police and medical systems, and even track the VillainNET for data.”

“The Hunters, led by Azrael, are formed by defectors from extremist groups like CRC, PSI, and QLF. They might agree with their ideals, but not their methods. Their goal is to track and monitor those organizations’ movements — they don’t have anyone high-ranking enough to dismantle them, but they keep us informed.”

“The Levellers, led by Mr. Compress, are in charge of stealing data from corrupt heroes, shell companies, and villain networks — and ‘reallocating’ funds to keep us running.”

“The Vigilante Alliance, under Knuckleduster, handles recruitment — essentially our militia and public face, serving as a cover for the rest.”

“And finally, us — the Vigilant Guild. We train elite operatives and field lieutenants. Every Guild member can go toe-to-toe with a top hero and have a fair shot at winning. We develop tactics, analyze operations, and prepare agents for the front lines — just like how we’re training you to be our strategist and, depending on your quirk, a combat operative.”

Izuku sat there, both stunned and amazed.

“That’s... incredible. I never imagined vigilantes could be this organized. But I guess that’s the whole point, isn’t it?”

Kenji nodded in agreement.

“Exactly.”

Izuku leaned forward.

“I have one last question. How do you keep all of this hidden? After so long, someone must’ve noticed that vigilantes are more coordinated than they seem.”

Kenji smirked.

“That’s the easy part. We have a few associates who aren’t officially part of the Council. One of them is the Good Doctor. Another... is called Mindblank. His quirk manifested late, and it’s a powerful one — lets him alter memories through physical contact. He’s extremely paranoid about the government finding him. Or Starlight, for that matter. So he reached out to a few vigilantes, and we helped him disappear — in exchange for assistance when we need it.”

Izuku froze for a moment, eyes wide.

“So you’re telling me... if anyone — hero or villain — ever discovers your secret organization, you can just erase their memories of it... and make sure they spread the idea that the Council is nothing but an urban legend?”

Kenji nodded, checking his watch casually.

“Exactly. Now, enough talk — we’ve got to prepare. You’ve got an appointment.”

Izuku frowned.

“Prepare for what? What appointment?”

Kenji’s grin widened.

“No spoilers.”

Half an hour later, the two of them stood before a reinforced door that, at first glance, looked completely ordinary.

Izuku seemed visibly confused—until the door began to glow and opened on its own. The entire frame shimmered with a soft, pulsating violet light.

Suddenly, a bald head wearing dark sunglasses poked through the glow.

“Looks like I arrived right on time,” said the man as he stepped through the doorway.

He had a lean but athletic build, muscles defined yet not exaggerated, and an average height. He wore a sleek black suit with purple lines running across it, white gloves, and the sunglasses lent him an air of mystery.

Izuku took a startled step back, but Kenji approached him casually.

“Izuku, this is Tomoya Kuronuma—also known as The Doorman.”

Izuku snapped out of his daze and, almost by reflex, pulled out his trusty notebook. He began mumbling rapid observations and theories about the man’s Quirk.

The Doorman chuckled softly.

“Probably a Teleportation-type Quirk... unknown range, but it seems capable of transporting multiple people at once. Since he opened the portal through a door instead of midair, it might be easier to anchor portals to existing doorways… mumble, mumble, mumble…”

Kenji and The Doorman exchanged amused glances.

“Your theory is correct,” the man said, smiling faintly. “My Quirk is called Door-Link. I can connect two physical doors, as long as I’ve seen both before. It’s a fast, safe transport—no limits on passengers or weight. But if one of the doors is destroyed, I lose that portal.”

Tomoya Kuronuma (Doorman), Quirk Door-Link (Class IV): Allows the user to create an instant portal between two different doors. To activate, the user needs to touch a physical doorknob and clearly visualize another door they have seen before. The portal is bidirectional, lasting a few minutes, allowing the movement of allies, objects, or attacks.

Izuku was scribbling furiously, smoke almost rising from the pages of his overworked notebook.

The three of them stepped through the glowing doorway and emerged inside a fortified underground deposit.

Kenji spread his arms dramatically.

“Welcome to the Clock Tower,” he said, trying to sound epic.

Izuku blinked, looked around, and deadpanned:

“This... isn’t a tower.”

Kenji shrugged, unconcerned.

“I didn’t name it.”

They were led into a large workshop where three figures were busy working. One of them was Professor Clockswork, whom Izuku recognized from the earlier meeting—but this time, the professor was surrounded by a swarm of floating bolts, screws, and circuits, all orbiting around him like tiny satellites.

Takahiro Shotoku (Professor Clockswork), Quirk Assembly (Class IV): Allows its user to influence, command, and reorganize machines and mechanical structures through the mind. The power acts on mechanical and electromechanical components—motors, gears, simple mechanical circuits, articulated structures—allowing the user to levitate parts, control movements, separate assemblies, and reintegrate them into new configurations. The quirk is not hacking: it does not invade electronic systems when they require credentials, passwords, or digital protocols. Instead, it operates at the physical/structural and kinetic level of machines—sensing dynamics, applying force vectors, moving assemblies, disassembling and reassembling parts according to a precise mental design. The user needs to have a clear scheme/conception of what they want to assemble; it is not possible to improvise complex structures without a precise mental plan, and there must be sufficient parts/materials in the environment. The power rearranges and reconstructs what already exists.

The other two instantly caught Izuku’s attention:

A man in a gray hoodie, visibly augmented with cybernetic implants, multitasking across three separate holographic screens; and a gothic-looking woman with violet hair, green eyes, and an unreadable poker face, typing rapidly on a computer.

Kenji gestured toward them as he made introductions:

“You already know Professor Clockswork. This is Masato Matsumoto, a.k.a. Cytron, and this is Rin Fujimoto, a.k.a. Mystery. They’re part of Innovation—our tech division. They handle everything from our communication network to the gadgets we use in the field.”

Izuku’s eyes sparkled with curiosity as he examined each of them, clearly bursting with questions. Before he could speak, Kenji stepped in quickly.

“I wouldn’t ask Cytron directly about his Quirk,” Kenji warned lightly. “He’s not fond of the topic. But since I already know what you were about to ask—his Quirk is Techno-Control, a Class III Technopathy.”

Izuku frowned, confused.

“I’ve never heard of a Technopathy rated lower than Class IV.”

Kenji nodded.

“That's true, but do you remember that Quirks mostly come with vestigial mutations that help people's bodies adapt to their power?"

Izuku ascends

"Well, Techno-Control didn't come with those mutations, meaning that if he tried to communicate with any technology, his brain would end up overloading and he could die of brain death before he could even use his Quirk. The cybernetic implants mitigate this effect, which would make it a Class IV Quirk, even if he hadn't lost that upgrade.”

Masato Matsumoto (Cytron), Quirk Techno-Control (Class III): Allows mental communication with modern technologies (cell phones, drones, computers, cameras, digital locks). However, this ability does not come with the necessary mutations for the user's brain to handle the large amount of information.

Izuku went quiet, realizing what that implied. Some organization must’ve experimented on him—turning him into a living test subject just to stabilize his own power. Deciding to change the subject, Izuku asked:

“So... what are we doing here?”

Kenji smiled knowingly.

“We’ve got a gift for you. Now that you’re officially one of us, you’ll need a proper outfit for missions.”

Clockswork stopped his telekinetic tinkering, walked over to a mannequin draped with a dark cloth, and yanked it off with a flourish—revealing a black tactical suit reinforced with dark green lines, a crimson utility belt, and a black-and-green mask.

“What do you think?” Kenji asked with a grin.

Izuku’s eyes widened with pure wonder.

“It’s incredible!” he said, his voice filled with awe. He’d dreamed of having a hero suit like this since he was a child. Then something clicked in his mind.

“Wait... this design looks familiar.”

Clockswork nodded, amused.

“It should. It’s based on one of the sketches from your analysis notebooks. Now go try it on.”

A few minutes later, Izuku emerged from a side room wearing the full suit.

“This is amazing!” he exclaimed, stretching his arms and throwing a few test punches.

Clockswork stepped forward to explain the technical aspects:

“The suit is made of carbon fiber and abrasion-resistant polymers, with electrical insulation. It includes an internal biometric monitor, encrypted communicator, support for modular attachments, motion sensors, and shock absorbers in the impact zones.”

He pointed to each hidden system as he spoke, proud of his craftsmanship.

Then Mystery approached silently, eyes never leaving the tablet in her hands. She handed Izuku a sleek black smartphone.

“Finished coding it,” she said flatly, her tone detached. “Kenji will help you set up your VillainNET account.”

Kenji chuckled awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck.

“Sorry about the delay. I should’ve given you this two months ago. And, uh—sorry about her. She sometimes forgets to turn off her Quirk. It’s called Logic. It boosts her intelligence beyond normal limits—kind of like Nedzu’s Quirk—but it shuts down the emotional part of her brain as a side effect.”

Rin Fujimoto (Mystery), Quirk Logic (Class IV): Temporarily transforms the user's brain into an organic supercomputer. This allows her to analyze patterns, calculate probabilities in real time, and react with superhuman reflexes, making her a strategist and combatant of lethal precision, although it disables the part of the brain responsible for the user's emotional side.

Izuku nodded, looking between the phone in his hand and the suit he now wore. For the first time, he felt it—
That he belonged.
That he was part of something larger than himself.
A force working in the shadows for something greater.

For the first time, Izuku Midoriya smiled—not as a boy chasing dreams... but as a hero born from the dark.

[End of Chapter 8]

Then, suddenly, Izuku turned toward the camera—breaking the fourth wall.

“I am the Shadow of a Hero,” he said solemnly.

Kenji blinked. Everyone around stared at him.

“…Who are you talking to, Izuku?” asked Chimera.

“Huh? What do you mean? I didn’t say anything,” Izuku said, grinning at the unseen audience.

“…We might need to stop dropping him on his head during training,” Dabi muttered. “He’s not… right.”

“Yeah, I’ll call the Good Doctor,” Kenji sighed, eyeing Izuku, who was still smiling at the wall.

Chapter Text

Vigilante Guild

[[Def [[C-Ranked] send invitation to the chat to Midoriya [Unranked]]]

[[Midoriya [Unranked] joins the chat with default nickname of Midoriya]]

GreatSun: Attention @Everyone, I want to officially welcome @Midoriya to our group chat.

Midoriya: Hello @everyone.

CatLady: That didn’t take long, huh?

TheMusician: Agreed.

GreatSun: It’s Mystery’s fault — she took forever to encrypt his phone.

DeadlyTouch: Makes sense.

BurnBurnBurn: Anyway, kid, welcome. Get ready — @CardQueen will change your username soon.

Midoriya: ???

[[CardQueen changed Midoriya’s nickname to NinjaBroccoli]]

NinjaBroccoli: Why tho? (￣ー￣)

CardQueen: Nailed it on the first try. And it’s because of your green hair. d=(^o^)=b

BurnBurnBurn: Is it just me, or has @G-Force been really quiet?

G-Force: Don’t bother me. I’m tracking some Trigger smuggling activity.

LivingRifle: …..

GreatSun: Attention @everyone — @G-Force is right. Back to your patrols. Also, I’ll be taking @NinjaBroccoli on his first patrol tonight.

CatLady: Yes, boss.

CardQueen: Yes, boss.

TheMusician: Yes, boss.

G-Force: Yes, boss.

BurnBurnBurn: Yes, boss.

LivingRifle: You know I can’t patrol, right? But whatever.

NinjaBroccoli: Wait, what—

Izuku turned off his new phone and looked up at Kenji, who watched him with a smirk.

“Are you serious about taking me on patrol?” Izuku asked, frowning.

Kenji nodded.

“Yeah. But just so you know, you’re not wearing that suit Clockswork made.”

Izuku frowned deeper.

“Then what’s the point of having it?”

Kenji grabbed a backpack from the corner and handed it to him.

“Because that suit draws way too much attention. It’s more advanced than what any regular vigilante uses. We’ll go with something more discreet tonight.”

Izuku opened the bag. Inside was a reinforced shirt, a black-and-green hooded jacket, cargo pants, combat boots, gloves, a light armor vest, a mask shaped like Endeavor’s face, a bottle of temporary black hair dye, and pink contact lenses.

“For disguise,” Kenji explained. “Emerald didn’t notice your disappearance for three months, but now that you’re ‘back’ on the media’s radar, we can’t take risks.”

Izuku nodded silently and went to change.

Disguised, the two slipped through an old underground tunnel network that led to the outskirts of Musutafu.

The area was rough — cracked walls, faded graffiti, and flickering streetlights.

As they walked, Kenji said,

“In the field, we use code names. You already know mine — Solaris. But since we’re avoiding exposure of the Council, call me Def. You thought of one for yourself yet?”

Izuku mumbled,

“Not really... but why ‘Def’?”

Kenji chuckled.

“It just happened. On one of my first patrols with Rupture, someone asked my vigilante name, so I blurted out the first thing that came to mind. It stuck. But since you haven’t decided yet, I’ll call you Green for now.”

Izuku sighed, but didn’t argue.

Kenji continued,

“Night patrols are tricky. Fewer heroes around, more crimes happening. Our top priority is to stay unseen. And remember Knuckleduster’s rules:

‘Don’t attack anyone — just patrol and alert the heroes or police. Never act alone. Always move in pairs. If you’re spotted and attacked, self-defense is justified. And if the enemy seems out of your league — they probably are. Retreat immediately and call the pros.’”

He paused.

“‘Do small things — help pets, carry groceries for the elderly — and people won’t report you for using your Quirk illegally. It helps build trust with locals.’”

Izuku absorbed every word.

“But you don’t have a Quirk yet, so focus on learning.”

Izuku nodded firmly.

As they moved, they spotted three men cornering a woman in an alley.

Kenji stepped forward.

“Hey! Leave the lady alone!”

The thugs turned. One of them widened his eyes.

“It’s Def! That damn vigilante!”

One lunged at Kenji with blade-like hands, hoping to catch him off guard. Kenji dodged effortlessly and, using 5% of his power, landed a clean punch to the face, knocking the man out cold.

The remaining two injected themselves with something. One’s arms crackled with electricity; the other’s muscles bulged grotesquely.

“Green! Take the big one!” Kenji ordered, while dodging and attacking the fake Static Shock.

Izuku nodded and charged. The brute swung wildly, his overgrown arms heavy. Izuku darted around him, analyzing.

He noticed the man’s legs hadn’t enhanced — only his upper body. A plan formed instantly.

Sliding under a punch, Izuku kicked the man’s knee sideways, toppling him. Then, a quick jab to the jaw slammed his head against the wall — out cold.

Meanwhile, Kenji tossed a smoke bomb, blinding the electric thug. Within seconds, he burst from the haze and landed a powerful kick, knocking the villain unconscious.

After the fight, Kenji turned to Izuku.

“You good?”

“Better than I thought,” Izuku panted, glancing at the unconscious brute as the Trigger effects wore off.

The woman stepped out from behind a dumpster.

“Thank you... thank you so much!”

Kenji smiled under his mask.

“Call the police. We’ll leave before they get here.”

She nodded, fumbling for her phone. Kenji searched one of the downed villains and pulled out a syringe.

“Trigger. Common in the underworld — but not around here.”

Trigger → A drug that amplifies any Quirk, making the user stronger in every sense — but at the cost of losing rational thought. It drives the user into a berserker state.

Izuku frowned.

In the distance, sirens wailed.

“Time to vanish,” said Kenji.

They melted back into the shadows, leaving behind unconscious villains and one saved civilian.

Later that night, the two perched atop a tall building, watching the city.

The cool breeze brushed Izuku’s face as he gazed at the glowing skyline of Musutafu.

“It’s beautiful… from up here,” he murmured.

Kenji smiled.

“The city looks peaceful from this height. But in the shadows, there’s always someone moving — someone looking to hurt others. That’s why we’re here,” he said softly. “To fight in the dark. To protect the light. We’re heroes... just not by their rules.”

Silence.

Then Izuku asked,

“Kenji… do we really make a difference? Heroes fight so hard, and even with the vigilantes’ help, there are still so many villains. Do we really change anything?”

Kenji was quiet for a moment.

“That’s exactly why we fight,” he finally said. “Because no matter how many All Mights the world has, there’ll always be people who hurt others out of selfishness. We don’t fight to end evil — that’s impossible. We fight to protect people from evil.”

He looked out over the city.

“I once heard something in a pre-Quirk anime: ‘As long as there are winners, there will be losers. As long as there’s love, there will be hate — because hate is born to protect love.’ Translating the world is unfair, and that will never change.”

A calm silence settled between them.

“Another line from that same anime said: ‘As long as humans have free will, there will be conflict. Hate will never disappear.’ It means that as long as people have different opinions, conflict will exist. So it’s up to us — the strong — to protect those who can’t protect themselves,” Kenji added, smiling faintly at the green-haired boy.

They stayed there for a while longer before disappearing once more into the night.

Back at the Vigilantes’ Hideout, near dawn, Izuku scribbled notes in his journal.

Lessons Learned:

1. A vigilante must observe before acting. My analysis helped me take down that villain.

2. Never underestimate an opponent.

3. Even if we can’t destroy evil, we must fight to protect those who can’t.

He closed his notebook with a satisfied sigh just as Kenji walked in, carrying two mugs of hot chocolate.

“Thought you’d be asleep,” Kenji said.

“I can’t. Still processing everything — from taking down a villain without a Quirk to realizing we can’t actually erase evil,” Izuku admitted.

Kenji handed him a mug.

“Welcome to the real world, Green.”

Izuku laughed.

“I still can’t believe that’s gonna be my code name.”

“You’ll get used to it,” Kenji said with a grin. “Everyone starts with a dumb name.”

“Yours isn’t dumb, Mr. Def,” Izuku teased.

“That’s because I came up with mine.” Kenji winked.

Izuku chuckled, and for a brief moment, everything felt lighter.

The darkness outside was still real — but for the first time in a long while, there was a light within the storm.