Throw a Chair Through a Window and Call It a Day

Thank You For Listening To My TED Talk

Shota knew what he was getting into as soon as he chose to be an underground hero rather than a spotlight hero, even if he didn't really have a choice with a quirk like his. He knew that he wouldn't be dealing with those big flashy villains that flew around with capes and shot lasers at people like the ones in the movies, or rather, the ones All Might used to deal with before Kamino. After all, what's the point of operating in the dark when the person you're chasing is trying to shine as bright as a nuclear bomb. Still, that's not to say he doesn't get his fair share of criminals.

He wouldn't call the night shift police officers friends, but they were far from strangers. He'll bet that by now, all of them have seen him trudge into their station at 2:00 a.m, hunched and panting, dragging in a bruised and unconscious body of a villain. Twice. He doesn't want to know how each of them felt the first time they saw it happen, but he guessed it must have been pretty disturbing. But that's beside the point. Deli robberies, alley muggings, attempted murder, actual murder , and even vigilantism; he's seen it all. He works under the cold blanket of the night, taking care of all the nitty-gritty crimes that daytime heroes can't be bothered to think about. That no one else seems to think about, either. And despite how the crimes all differ from each other, Shota knows the culprits all share one thing:

A motive.

No one does something for no reason, there's always some sort of butterfly effect going on in their lives that led them to that moment. The man robbing the deli because his boss screwed him out of his job and he needed money to support his children. The teenager who held a knife to a woman's throat and screamed for her wallet because he was kicked out of his home and he hadn't eaten in two days. The young girl who swung a bat at her stepdad's head because he had been nothing but abusive ever since he moved in. The teenage boy that grabbed a hoodie and a mask to fight crimes on the streets, all because he had no chance of becoming a hero with a quirk like his that society just can't seem to accept and-

Jesus Christ, Shota, just shut up .

But yeah, you get the point. And even though all of this doesn't make what they did right, it does help a person understand that at the end of the day, they're just humans. Humans who made a mistake when they were backed into a corner and left with no other options. Of course, one could argue that this only applies to small-time villains, whatever they consider "small", that is. And that the major ones, ones who manage Yakuzas and blow up cars in a traffic jam just for the hell of it, are simply psychotic. And you know what, he agrees. It's psychotic and scary. But still, one has to ask the question of why.

Why did they go insane? What was the last straw? Who made them snap?

They're uncommon questions, but questions nonetheless. Important ones, too. And Shota wished more people would ask them instead of completely bypassing them and jumping to conclusions. He wished the victims themselves would ask the questions, too, since apparently, no one was going to do that for them. They need a push in the right direction to do it, though, 'cause it's harder than most people think to get the help you require.

Hopefully what he's doing today is the little shove that these kids need.

But anyway, It's not like he can blame society for not asking. After all, it's how the majority of the population was raised. They grew up believing that the word was just black and white. Good and evil. Hero and villain. And they refuse to have their beliefs shaken because they know it'll only cause themselves harm. It's kinda like what he said a couple of days ago, during his inner monologue: You take what's given to you and you don't question it, or else you'll learn the dirty little truths that your conscience tried to shield you from.

However, beyond the dominating yings and yangs, there lies a small little space in between, the space he's talking about when he mentions all of these motives. A gray area that the not-quite-heroes and not-quite-villains toe the perimeter of. He wanted more people to pay attention to that area. To look not only at the big picture but at each pixel that makes it up. More people like Nezu. Like Shota. A scribbling sound from the left side of his desk draws the underground hero's attention, and he's left staring at the scene of his green-eyed student, jotting notes down in his seventh notebook with his tongue poked out in extreme concentration.