The Analyst

𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝙾𝚗𝚎 𝚑𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚃𝚎𝚗: 𝙰𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝

TRIGGER WARNING: SLIGHT GORE
PROCEED.

Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!

"Pick up, pick up, pick up!" I muttered, waiting for Izuku to answer my call.

"Hello?" He answered. His voice was deep and scratchy, and I could tell he had just woken up, probably from a nap before a graveyard shift.

"Izuku, you're gonna think I'm crazy, but hear me out," I stated more than requested, deadest on getting my theory across.

"I'm hearing, I'm hearing," he muttered, too tired to care about grammar.

"I think we're dealing with Stain."

The line was silent.

"You what?"

"Let me rephrase. I think we're dealing with a copycat of Stain, some super fan."

Is what I said. But something in my gut told me no, that we were dealing with Stain. The real, honest-to-god Hero Killer: Stain. I don't know, maybe I was crazy, but Stain was smart enough to do this. And yes, he died five years ago in prison, but he's smart what if he faked it? His whole death seemed sketchy to me.

What if someone with influence helped him fake it?

The line, again, was silent.

"You what?"

"The stab wounds on the victims body were created by something similar to a steak knife, but it was way too long to be a steak knife. Who had steak-knife-like swords and even said they were custom made? Stain. The Hero Killer: Stain. Does that make sense?" I explained it all in a hurry, knowing full well he would have many questions.

Why now? Why wait so long after Stain's death or even his imprisonment? Why go into quirk trafficking? Why not carry out Stain's old mission?

"You what?"

(/)/(/)/(/)/(/)/(/)/(/)/(/)/(/)/(/)/(/)/(/)/(/)/(/)/(/)

Izuku held his wrist tightly, knuckles turning white as he stopped his hand from shaking.

Stain huh...?

He still remembered how it felt. To be stuck in place, hunched over at the waist, trying and failing to move a finger, a toe, flex a muscle, anything.

He felt so... helpless.

He had to watch as Shoto fought the villain off and then Iida as he regained movement, Iida was fine, so why can't he move?

Move goddamn it, move!

He couldn't. He was forced to watch as his friends did everything for him, he couldn't do a thing.

Move, just move! Goddamn it, why am I so useless?! Move!

He gasped slightly, his head dropping and shaking as he waved the memory away.

No. I'm not useless because... because I helped in the end. Yeah... I used my right arm and I helped.

"Izuku?"

His attention snapped to his phone once again, hearing the detective's voice on the other end. Relief washed over him as she pulled him from the middle of a downward spiral, his mind quickly shoving the potential breakdown into the back of his mind.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah," he said, swallowing thickly, "yeah I'm ok. You just caught me off guard."