apathy

the forms don't matter

Izuku tends to spend most of his day out of the apartment. He wakes up early, if he even sleeps at all. Depending on the day and his mood, he'll either go to a dojo he'd discovered two years ago across town, or he'll wander the city. More often than not he ends up intervening in some crime.

Contrary to popular belief, not even Izuku is sure if he searches out these instances.

Sure, the adrenaline rush from a fight is amazing. It's a rush of excitement that he can't get anywhere else, one of the feelings he misses nowadays. But afterwards, he's just as empty and numb as before. He always puts on a smile for anyone he's saved by butting in, but it's cheap and fake and fades quickly.

Whenever Izuku gets home late at night, the apartment is dark. There's no welcoming call when he opens the door, no questions about his day as he goes to the kitchen and prepares something to eat. He and his mother run on different schedules nowadays—she has the midnight shifts at her law firm, and she's never home when he gets there. He doesn't mind it. Ever since he'd left his middle school and sped through online junior high classes, he'd had ample time to himself. His mom's schedule meant she didn't have a chance to micromanage his activities. It was easy to tell her he was somewhere he wasn't so she doesn't worry or forbid him from leaving.

Not that he would listen.

Izuku retreats to his room, giving the inconspicuous packet on his bed only a passing glance before it's moved to the side so he can sit down and eat. Inko had left the papers at his door a week before. Application forms for the hero courses at Yuuei, Shiketsu, etcetera. Hero applications.

Izuku remembers his mother's tears when he had naively asked her if he could be a hero and his face twists to a sneer. Hero applications. Maybe Inko thought he would try and fail, finally give up on that career path, because for all she knew he never had. But he had. Oh how he'd given up.

He  turns on the tv to distract, taking a bite of his food. The home screen for his console pops into existence, and Izuku gets a glimpse of a message telling him his friend is online right before his phone starts ringing. It takes him just a few seconds to fish his phone from his jacket and untangle the earbuds before answering the call.

"Christ, Tomura, give me a moment to breath." He complains softly into the mic, reaching to grab his remote. A scoff comes from the other end.

"Don't make me wait next time, brat, and maybe you won't have to answer in such a rush." Tomura answers in his usual reedy, holier-than-thou tone. Izuku just rolls his eyes. The two of them having been playing games together since a few months after Izuku left middle school. At first they just happened to be in a server together, then it advanced to swapping codes and playing on other games. It took a while to start doing voice calls, and even longer to tell each other names. Tomura is a twenty-something shut in with strong opinions on hero society and Izuku is a quirkless wanderer with equally strong opinions—their friendship is a given.

"Whatever. Work on our base or what? I got some obsidian for a portal last time." Izuku clicks onto Minecraft, opening their personal world. Tomura makes a noise of confirmation as Izuku spawns next to him. He's already rifling through chests for the materials to finish a part of their sprawling mansion, in-game movements jerky in a familiar way.

They work for a while, trading insults and banter as easily as breathing. When Izuku's food is long gone and the two of them have just spent the last twenty minutes hitting each other with flowers, a muffled voice comes from Tomura's side. The older man grumbles but eventually says he has to go, and they both leave up the call. The rain has lessened in its downpour by now, just pattering against Izuku's window quietly lays back on his bed and stares at nothing.

He spirals.

Thoughts push and shout to be acknowledge, each worse than the last, crowding Izuku's head and making it hard to breathe. After a while of just trying to deal it's clear that Izuku has to get out of here. He doesn't have an umbrella; Eraserhead still has it, and Izuku hasn't exactly looked for him since their encounter. The hero seems like the nosy-for-noble-reasons type. Izuku has no interest in being picked apart and psychoanalyzed by him.

Jacket on and umbrellaless, Izuku leaves his apartment building and sets off through the drizzle. The clouds don't do a thing to lighten his mood, but the fresh air and exercise is nice. The knot in his chest slowly unravels and lets him breathe normally.

A flicker of light pulls Izuku's gaze to a nearby convenience store, one pretty far from home that Izuku happens to frequent because of the low priced snacks and high amount of attempted robberies. A fact that stands true now, Izuku notes, watching a pair of masked men push inside the store. Izuku has a 500 yen piece in his pocket; he can get a few things to eat while waiting in police custody.

The bell on the door doesn't work anymore, so the robbers don't notice Izuku slipping in. The cashier/owner does, but Jotun has dealt with this scenario a multitude of times, and he no longer gives Izuku away by glancing at the door. Izuku scans the store quickly to see if there are any other customers and catches sight of some guy with purple hair ducking back into an aisle, so he doesn't have to worry about that.

Izuku slinks up behind the two yelling for Jotun to empty the cash register and picks the one with the more dangerous knife hands quirk. A swift kick to the back of his knees topples him but also gets his partner's attention. Izuku has already grabbed the guy's head and smacked it into the ground, hard enough to maybe cause a concussion, before the other robber can react. He wastes a moment staring at Izuku, which gives Izuku ample time to dodge when he lunges. Izuku pops back up and slams an elbow into his passing back, dropping the guy onto his friend. Izuku plants one of his boots on the robber's back.

"Give up?"

The guy frantically nods and Jotun passes Izuku a few zip ties without being asked to. By the time Izuku has the criminals bound and sat against the wall, the purple haired boy from before has come out of hiding, staring at Izuku with an unreadable expression. Izuku gives him a once-over in return, only really retaining the hair and eye bags that rival his own when he turns back to Jotun.

"Can you check this guy out and let me get something before you call the police this time?" He asks. Jotun laughs heartily.

"Anything for my favorite customer, Midoriya!"

Detective Tsukauchi arrives to two docile robbers, zero purple haired teens, and Izuku having a chat with Jotun about school applications while he finishes checking Izuku out. Izuku can hear his sigh even over Jotun's naturally loud voice.

"—a shame you won't be trying for Heroics! You've saved my ass more times than I can count!" Jotun is saying, either not aware or ignoring the grimace on Izuku's face at the mention of Heroics. "Either way, Yuuei would be lucky to have someone like you, my boy! Oh, good evening, Detective!"

"Good evening, Jotun-san." Tsukauchi greets back, stepping farther into the store. He doesn't bother to get out a notebook for the upcoming conversation—he knows the outcome. "Are you planning to press charges against Midoriya for vigilantism?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Detective! The amount of people who try to rob my little store has dropped exponentially since I got my own little green devil!" Jotun booms with a laugh, reaching over the counter to ruffle Izuku's hair. He doesn't object, used to Jotun's casually touchiness, just readjusts his barrette. "And he's my best customer too!"

"Oh course." Tsukauchi sighs, turning to said favorite customer. "Izuku, you know the charges by now. I won't take you into the station this time because it's late and you should go home."

Izuku shrugs and agrees, waving goodbye at Jotun before slipping back out the door. He doesn't look back to see, but he can imagine that Tsukauchi has his head in his hands.