Mask
“Kid!” Shouta shouted from above, heart pounding in his throat.
His capture weapon was looped around this kid’s waist, pulled taut as he tried to heave him up over the ledge. It looked like the kid was actually straining against it, anchored to the balcony below and resisting the weapon.
“Eraserhead?” the boy whispered in awe.
“You know who I am, kid?” Shouta’s jaw nearly dropped. He didn’t think he had met a single kid who knew who he was, not even his students knew who he was at the beginning of each year. He pulled up harder on the scarf, needing this kid by his side so he could get him home safely.
“Yup!” The kid seemed to grin behind his sunglasses and surgical mask before pulling out a knife. He sliced through his capture weapon like it was butter and fell backward off the balcony.
“No!” Shouta shouted and tried to send out the other end of his capture weapon, but he just heard a giggle in return.
This kid was trying very hard to test his patience.
Shouta jumped over the edge of the roof, looping his capture weapon around a balcony to slow his fall a bit. The kid was scampering down an old fire escape, vaulting like a gymnast over rails and ladders. He moved like it was second nature, with an ease that came from racing around rooftops like the hero himself did every night.
The kid bolted for the mouth of the alley and Shouta sent another loop of fabric to the rooftop across from him, swinging up so he could keep pace with the kid on the roofs. He couldn’t see him, but he could hear the pounding of his clunky, red shoes on the pavement as he tried to run.
The shoes skittered around a corner and then there was silence. Eraser assumed that he must be hiding in there, so it would be best to drop down and get a hold of him with his scarf. He seemed to need that advantage with this kid.
The soft ping of a rock being kicked by a shoe echoed from his left and Shouta took off, eyes glowing in concentration as he kept his steps quiet and chased after the problem child.
He didn’t hear the tell-tale steps of a child running, but the kid could be keeping his footsteps quiet or hiding again as this didn’t seem like a normal child.
Shouta made it to the end of the alley, the bright lights of a small hotel blinding him as he stepped out of the murky darkness. No red shoes or dark hoodie in sight. The kid must have hidden from him or escaped somehow.
“Goddammit,” he grumbled before throwing his capture weapons and pulling himself up to the nearest roof.
---
“Who?” Shouta asked as he leaned back in the seat and sipped the black coffee.
It’d been a month since he tried to catch the teenager on the roof, the one that had somehow escaped him in a dark alleyway. One that was good enough at parkour to climb down a building, who carried a knife that could slice his capture weapon, that could silence his footsteps and breathing to hide.
Shaking his head, he tuned back into Tsukauchi’s ramble.
“Pay attention Eraser. We’re looking for a man that’s on the shorter side. He wears all black with black fabric tied around his head hiding his eyes and hair. He wears black combat boots that are steel toe and carries two white pipes that are about a foot long each. He also has a knife, but he seems to prefer breaking bones than leaving stab wounds. The underground is calling him “the man in the mask”,”.
Tsukauchi set the file down and leaned forward on his desk, hanging his head with a deep sigh.
“He seems to be doing good, taking out criminals and men connected to gangs, but I can’t tell what he wants. He doesn’t kill anyone, but he’s put quite a few people in the hospital. I’d classify him as a vigilante, but we’re not sure what type of quirk he has. We’re thinking it might be a strength or speed enhancement, but with the way he disappears, it could be something else like hiding in a crowd or invisibility. We’ve been scouring the quirk registries for someone with a quirk and matching physical description but haven’t come up with anything. Mask seems to be a ghost in the wind,”.
“Mask?” Shouta grunts.
“Yeah, we’ve shortened “the masked man” since it’s a mouthful. Anyways would you be willing-”
“Absolutely not,” Shouta cut the detective off. He knew exactly where this was going and he was not happy about it.
“Please Eraser? You’re the best at this. I’d ask Ingenium, but he’s over in Hosu now and I can’t have him in Musutafu all the time,”. Tsukauchi begged.
“No,”.
“Come on,” the detective looked ready to get on his knees, “he’s put ten people in the hospital in the past month. Ten, Eraser, Ten. We have to stop him and he keeps slipping away from the police. You’re our only hope,”.
“Obi-wan Kenobi,” Shouta chuckled under his breath. “Alright, I’ll look out for him. How hard can one vigilante be to find?”
---
Extremely difficult.
Shouta had obviously lied to himself about how hard it would be to find one measly vigilante. Especially if said vigilante was giving Tsukauchi’s men a run for their money.
He’d been chasing after the person for nearly a week now. He would swing in just as the fight was ending and the vigilante would tilt their head up, smile at him, and then leave him with the criminals.
The vigilante obviously knew hero protocol well enough to know that Shouta couldn’t go anywhere until the police arrived.
So, here he was standing above three thugs with zip-tied hands and several broken bones. He was currently waiting for backup and ambulances since the three criminals very obviously needed medical attention. One was wheezing in a way that suggested multiple broken ribs.
“What’d you do to get beaten to hell?” Shouta asked the one he was wriggling below his feet.
“None of your business, hero,” he spat.
Shouta sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He pointed behind him to the red backpack on the ground that had little baggies spilling out of it at the moment.
“So those drugs aren’t yours?”
“Drugs? No, that’s definitely sugar. I like to bake,” one piped up.
Shouta groaned and dropped his head back, cursing the sky for letting Tsukauchi rope him into this.
The red and blue flashing of police lights lit the alleyway and Shouta was finally able to step away from the three men.
He stalked straight up to Tsukauchi and punched him in the shoulder.
“Ow! Unprofessional, Eraser,” the detective grumbled and rubbed his arm.
“That’s the fifth time this week I’ve had to wait with an arrest that Mask took down,”.
“Yeah I know, I’ve shown up to all of them. Thank you for reiterating,”.
Shouta knocked his head against the top of Tsukauchi’s car. He just wanted this to be over, it didn’t have to be so damn difficult and suck up so much of his patrol. He’d never spent this long trying to catch a vigilante.
---
Izuku sat on the roof opposite the detective and Eraserhead, giggling like a mad man at the hero punching his colleague.
He’d have to set up a way to meet Eraser soon, get him to drop the whole vigilante case. Maybe he would just keep going until Eraser got frustrated and no longer wanted to catch him. It was getting slightly annoying to avoid the hero, but it was also almost as much fun as playing hide and seek with Sensei.
Izuku’s heart clenched and he had to grit his teeth from letting out a frustrated growl.
Not Sensei. Stendhal.
He hadn’t heard from the man since the day he had run from the shack and started his vigilante activities. He had come home a mess, sweaty and overtired, to Shinsou sitting in his bed and staring at him. It had scared Izuku so badly he had almost woken up Sato-sama. Apparently, Shinsou had covered for him and made it look like he was in bed for curfew. The boy had demanded an explanation.
Izuku finally broke down sobbing, his heart aching with the betrayal he had been carrying. He explained to Shinsou what he had been doing this entire time for the past two years. Words tumbling out, the hurt palpable as he tried to cover for the man he had basically given his life to, had dedicated his heart and soul to, had started to feel close to.
“I figured it was some kind of training, you got pretty buff,” Shinsou joked.
“Seriously, that’s what you get from this conversation?” Izuku huffed but still smiled up at the other boy with swollen eyes.
“Yeah, you’ve been training to be a hero without me. I’m going to tease you,”.
Izuku rolled over from where he had flopped on the ground, puppy dog pout pointed up at his pseudo-brother.
“He wouldn’t let me tell you, but I see now that he was just trying to manipulate me. I won’t let anyone do that to me again, I won’t ever lie to you again, promise,”.
But Izuku had lied.
He was indeed keeping a secret from Hitoshi. His current position on the rooftop was not known to Hitoshi. Instead of telling him he was out doing vigilante activities, Izuku had waited for the few hours that Hitoshi tended to sleep at night. If he was caught coming back, he would just explain that he found a way to get out of the foster home without being seen and had gone for a walk, that he was having trouble sleeping after the whole abandonment thing. Hitoshi had seemed pretty skeptical, which, to be far Izuku would be too, but he hadn’t said anything yet.
Now, sitting on the roof and watching Eraserhead bang his head against the car, Izuku was starting to actually feel guilty. He was dragging a hero around all of Musutafu and stressing his brother out. He thunked his head against the concrete of the building ledge, mirroring the hero below.
Izuku needed to move.
He tucked his billy club back into the holder at his hip that he had made for it and stood, stretching onto the tips of his toes to uncurl all of his muscles. Turning silently on his heel, he sprinted toward the far edge of the building and threw himself into the air, flipping as he fell toward the lower building that was beside the one he was just on.
His landing was silent, barely disturbing the ground below him as he started for the next rooftop. He felt free when he was using his parkour skills like this. Stendhal hadn’t let him actually run rooftops when they were training, preferring to stick to the ground when they practiced parkour, but up here Izuku could hear and filter all of the information he needed to help the city. His city.
He was flying through the air to his fourth building when thin, gray material wrapped around his middle and yanked him out of the air.
Izuku went tumbling to the rooftop, landing in a heap in the middle of the building next to an air conditioning unit. Groaning, he sat up and reached for his billy club, separating it into the two escrima sticks. He stumbled to his feet and into a fighting stance.
“Eraserhead,” Izuku grumbled, because who else would it be.
“Mask,” Eraser replied, whipping another piece of capture weapon at him.
Izuku jumped to the side to avoid the fabric, feeling it rush by his ribs. He brought his arms up to avoid it wrapping around his own weapons and started to run at Eraser.
“Mask?” Izuku asked and stuck at Eraser’s wrist with his left hand while blocking Eraser’s punch with his right forearm.
His opponent pulled back and snapped a kick at his middle, which Izuku stepped to the side of instead of back, keeping himself in the hero’s personal space. He countered with his own kick to Eraser’s hip.
“That’s what we’ve been calling you,” Eraser grunted and grabbed for Izuku’s middle with a loop of his capture weapon. Izuku flipped the knife out of the end of his escrima stick and sliced through the fabric.
Eraser snagged a foot behind one of Izuku’s knees and forced them to buckle, sending the vigilante to the ground.
“Fuck,” Izuku huffed and rolled out from underneath the hero’s leg as he tried to pin him. He got to his feet behind Eraserhead and spun around, attempting to loop an arm around the hero’s throat, but the man was too tall.
Instead, Eraserhead grabbed his forearm as it came around his shoulders and flipped Izuku over his shoulder.
The air is knocked out of Izuku’s lungs and he lays there gasping, escrima sticks crossed to block the foot coming to step on his throat. He tried to kick up from the position on the ground, but Eraser was already sending lengths of capture weapon to tangle around his ankles.
“Shit, shit!” Izuku’s voice cracked as he struggled. He’s trying to turn the sticks in his hands to reach the electricity button, but he hasn’t fought with the new support weapon long enough to be used to that. He trained with metal pipes and classic sticks, nothing like this.
The capture weapon tightened around his ankles and a foot came down on his stomach, the little bit of breath Izuku had gained escaping his lungs again.
“Stop wiggling, damn,” Eraserhead said under his breath and reached into one of his utility pockets. Izuku hears the soft rustle of plastic on plastic and assumes that the man is pulling out zip ties.
“No, no, no, no,” Izuku wheezed and squirmed in his binds harder, slamming his sticks into Eraserhead’s ankle.
The hero yelped but didn't pull his foot back, instead he cursed under his breath and forced his foot harder into Izuku’s stomach. He was rough when he yanked the sticks out of Izuku’s hands and tossed them across the roof behind them. Eraser snagged both of his wrists, even as Izuku fought and struggled, but the man is even stronger than Stendhal, easily restraining both of his thin wrists with one hand. He slipped a zip tie on and pulled it tight.
“Hold still,” he mumbled and started to pat Izuku down. Eraserhead huffed at each knife he pulled out, almost chuckling when he pulled the one out of the bottom of Izuku’s combat boot. That one makes him wince. His feet were a blistered mess from running around in shoes for quirked people and the rough way Eraser handled him didn’t help.
When the hero was satisfied that he’d taken all of Izuku’s weapons, he started to haul him up over his shoulder.
“No, no, please! Put me down, I don’t want to go!” Izuku cried and started to beat on Eraserhead’s back with his trapped hands.
“I’ll duct tape your mouth if you don’t stop, how would you like that?” Eraserhead snapped back.
“Kinky,” tumbled out of Izuku’s mouth before he can stop himself and he snickered before remembering what situation he was in.
Eraserhead didn’t even react. Probably not the first time he’d heard that one with his weapon being a fucking binding cloth. Izuku continued to kick his legs and slam his hands into the hero’s back, but it was to no avail.
They got closer to the edge of the roof that Izuku knew had a fire escape and he truly started to panic. He can’t get caught. He’ll be thrown into juvie and he’ll never see the light of day again. They’ll keep finding things to charge him with and he’ll end up in the adult prison. That’s if he isn’t killed by another kid first.
“No, please! You don’t understand-” Izuku tried to plead.
“I understand perfectly,” Eraserhead said calmly, as if he wasn’t developing bruises from how hard Izuku was hitting him, “You’re a vigilante wanted for unauthorized quirk use and aggravated assault. I’m taking you in,”.
“No, you really d-don’t,” Izuku’s lip wobbled as he tried to hold in stress tears.
He would be arrested and he wouldn’t be able to say goodbye to Hitoshi. They’d ship him off without a trial because quirkless people didn’t have rights, and he’d die before he turned sixteen. Sure, he’d make it a while. He could fight, he could take out wanna-be gangsters any day, but he couldn’t stay constantly guarded. He’d fall asleep at some point and someone would be able to get the jump on him.
And he’d have to leave Hitoshi behind.
His brother.
“P-please,” he sobbed, letting his head drop and the fight drain out of him.
The sudden lack of movement made Eraserhead pause. Izuku took his chance.
“P-please, you don’t get what they’ll do to me! You don’t know, I can’t go to jail. I can’t, I c-can’t p-p-please. What do you want? I’ll do whatever you want me to do, just don’t take me to the police station. I-I’ll um,” Izuku paused to try to think of what the hero would want. He could think of a few things his teachers had him do, but that made his insides hurt.
He hung limply from Eraserhead’s shoulders, tears soaking the man’s black jumpsuit. “Alright,” Izuku whispered, “just get it over with,”.
Eraserhead hadn’t said anything to him the entire time he had pleaded with him. Just stood there and let Izuku ramble.
“Get what over with?” The man said quietly.
“I don’t know, just whatever,” Izuku mumbled and hid his face in his shoulder. This was awfully embarrassing in a very strange way. He felt reminiscent of a toddler throwing a tantrum.
He tried to breathe deeply, calm his rapid heartbeat, but instead was hit with a wave of sensory information that was entirely overwhelming. His brain went into overdrive trying to sort through it and still focus on the fact that he was being arrested.
Screams, cries, laughs, cars, lights, water running, radios singing, tv’s blaring, all of it was a cacophony of noise that made Izuku’s head pound. Heartbeats echoed on the street below them, Eraserhead’s own steady one a drumbeat that pounded on his eardrums. It made Izuku force his face further into his arm as he tried to muffle the sounds and smells around him before he had a panic attack. It didn’t help all that much.
The panic that had settled in his gut started to crawl up his throat and he struggled to force it back, force himself to stay calm. He wiggled slightly, trying to find a way to ground himself, but all he felt were his bonds and the panic washed over him all over again.
“Hey, you alright?” Eraserhead grunted.
Izuku only whined in response, unable to fully form words with how thick his tongue felt. His muscles were starting to shake, tense from the amount of adrenaline that was flowing through them. He wanted to curl his knees to his chest, rock back and forth, and hear Hitoshi hum softly to him as he rode the attack out, but he couldn’t do that right now. Instead, he could only sob quietly into the crook of his shoulder and hoped Eraserhead would ignore him for a bit.
The hero didn’t.
Izuku was lowered gently to the ground, his hands placed on scratchy black fabric that moved slowly up and down. Two hands gently grabbed his cheeks and pointed his face up.
“Fuck, you’re just a kid,” Eraser realized.
“N-no shit,” Izuku forced out.
Eraserhead just chuckled and moved Izuku’s hands to his chest. “Follow my breathing,”.
He attempted to match the pace the hero set, but his breath came too quickly, going double the rate of the rising and falling under his hands. He tried to pull away, tried to curl into a ball to soothe himself, but the firm pressure of Eraserhead’s hand around his wrists held him in place. He struggled and whined again, needing to pull his arms into his chest.
Instead, he was pulled forward into the hero’s chest, ear against a thrumming beat and low rumble that felt like a balm on his fried nerves. His breath started to catch in his throat and he hiccuped, air rushing into his deprived lungs like he had just been drowning. He gulped it down, inhaling as deeply as he could as he settled back into himself.
Eraserhead had moved to sit with Izuku curled up in his lap, a hand rubbing slow circles into his back as he spoke softly to him.
“You’re alright, deep breath. There you go, you back with me now, kid?” Eraserhead mumbles.
Izuku realized he was sitting in the hero’s lap and scrambled back and away. “Ki-kid?” he manages to stutter out.
“You’ve got baby cheeks,” Eraser replies.
“H-hey! I d-do not have b-baby cheeks,” Izuku huffed and crossed his arms. He paused, realizing he can cross his arms. “You let me g-go?”
“You were having a panic attack. It wasn’t worth having you hurt yourself to keep you zip-tied. It was only logical,” Eraserhead tucked his chin into his capture scarf, his words coming out muffled.
“Aww, you’re soft aren’t you Eraser?” Izuku teased.
“Shut it Mask, you’re still going to the police station, just as a minor this time,”.
“No,” Izuku spat out immediately. He quickly uncrossed his hands and pushed off the ground, forcing himself to stand on shaky legs. He could definitely get away like this, totally. Stumbling toward the ledge, he felt the familiar loop of a capture weapon around his waist. He growled, reaching for the one knife that Eraserhead had missed.
“Stop that, I’m taking you in whether you like it or not. Just after you’re not a shaky mess,”. Eraserhead was also getting to his feet. “It’s not what you think, kid, let me help you,”.
“I don’t need help,” Izuku snapped. He finally caught the handle of the knife strapped to his bare back and pulled it out from the collar of his shirt. Falling into a sloppy fighting stance, Izuku pointed the knife at the hero. “I’ll go down fighting again, and this time I won’t hold back on hurting you,”.
Eraserhead just sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Izuku could physically hear the frustration in that sigh.
“Alright, I’ll let you go,” Eraserhead said.
Izuku narrowed his eyes, listening to the hero’s heartbeat for the lie.
Thump, thump, thump, thumpthumpthump, thump, thump.
There it was.
“Liar,” Izuku hissed through his teeth. He chucked the knife at the incoming length of capture weapon, pinning it to the rooftop before turning to sprint toward the edge of the roof.
He flung himself into the air, a shout from behind him echoing just as it had during his first vigilante rooftop session with Eraserhead, but Izuku didn’t laugh this time. Too angry to care.
Gritting his teeth, Izuku forced his muscles to help slow his fall down the face of the building, falling into the shadows to avoid Eraserhead coming down after him. He could feel a window behind him, half-cracked and a few centimeters above the ground. He shoved it open as quietly as he could and slipped in, pulling the window closed behind him.
Izuku heard the nearly inaudible landing of the hero and the pause in his footsteps as he tried to figure out where Izuku had gone.
The vigilante turned from the window and started to make his way through what must be an apartment complex’s laundry room. He stripped the black fabric from his head, shaking out his curls from being trapped and sweaty for hours. The escrima sticks he was able to scoop up before he jumped snapped together and unfolded further into a white cane with a red tip, just like all of his other guide canes. Izuku pulled his pants from where they were tucked into the tops of his combat boots and let them hang down over his shoes, and he snagged a sweatshirt that was in someone’s abandoned laundry basket. Disguise complete, he ran up the basement stairs and walked out the front door, slipping his sunglasses on at the last second.
Izuku tapped his cane and quietly walked down the street into the night, shoulders tense with seething anger.
Eraserhead was just like every other adult.