"Fuckin' hell." he cursed but didn't put any real heart in it. His cigarette hung limply in one side of his mouth, the lighter spluttering out pathetic glints that died quickly. He tried getting the thing to work - just in case, you know? - but, no matter how many times he clicked on the mechanism, nothing much happened other than bringing forth more of the aforementioned sparks.
Shaking his head, he resorted to heading to a konbini later on. For now, he'd have to live without comforting smoke filling up his lungs to stop the thoughts heading his way. To that bastard. He clenched his teeth hard at the mere memory of him.
"Muchi-san?" a neutral voice asked. It came out of thin air and had no visible owner. He knew it'd be coming but it still took him by surprise. It's the instincts, one can't help it. They made him tense up and revert to his fighting stance before the voice breathed out a laugh and it made click. This had to be Dare Mo. Nobody at all.
Muchi Jaku forced himself to relax. His mouth shrunk to its normal size and when it wasn't a gaping hole any longer, he hesitantly spoke up: "Yes? Are you Dare Mo?" Damn, it was disconcerting to talk to someone who had no presence. Most people with invisibility quirks had warmth or smell or something to offer that made them stand out from unoccupied space. Dare Mo didn't. Dare Mo truly lived up to their street name. They were nothing. One could only notice them through their directionless words.
(Jaku thought briefly about leading such a life - completely apart from everyone else. What a shoddy existence that'd be, he thought.)
"That I am." the voice spoke again, drifting wobbly into different directions as it did so. In the beginning, Jaku heard it to his left; in the middle it was to his right and at the end it hovered above him. A shudder ran down his spine at the sensation the voice left as it hung in the atmosphere without truly sticking.
"Good" Jaku said (to reassure himself - it was a good thing that he'd been granted an audience with the infamous Dare Mo... it had to be), "I need you to-"
"My prices are high, Muchi-san." they interrupted nonchalantly, "That you should know before you state your request."
"I..." Jaku swallowed, firming his stance, "I know you aren't cheap. But I also know you're the best and stealthiest in your field. No matter the price, I'm willing to pay if you... if you end his career."
"Very well then, Muchi-san. I think for this instance five hundred thousand yen will do." Dare Mo whispered into his right, left, right, left ear, leaving nausea behind them.
"Fi...Five-hundred thousand?! ...Well. Alright. If it ensures his downfall, then yes, I'll pay the sum." he meekly agreed.
Jaku breathed out in a shudder as that thing - that was no human - whispered just behind him: "Half of it now and the other half when it's done, Mu-"
It came now from under him: "-chi-"
And then it ended in his face: "-san"
"O...okay." He was prepared for this. Giran had told him as much ("Don't come with anything under three-hundred grand. DM's gonna pull your whole bank account apart, not gonna lie.") and he'd taken it seriously. Simply hadn't dared not to heed to the broker's words.
The fact alone that he had to resort to such measures - to book an appointment with one of the most mysterious vigilantes (or did they already count as a villain?) - was incredibly humbling in a sense. This was not Jaku's world. In fact, it was the opposite.
But it could become it if his ratings dropped even further. There was no doubt about it. He'd vanish from the media. Well, first there'd be the reduction of price on his few pieces of merchandise. Then there'd be the drop in the popularity polls; and he'd only been able to reach number 210 in his five year long career. He was already a face among many. A hero nobody would recall in a few years. Maybe some diehard fans would recognize his name but they'd probably not really remember any of his feats. (He'd always tried his best. Whenever the big names would destroy local businesses that couldn't afford the high Villain Destruction Insurance, he was the first one offering a hand in rebuilding them for a couple of bucks, sometimes even for free.)
Not only would he become obsolete, no, he'd lose his existence. He'd lose everything he'd ever worked for.
Muchi Jaku sealed the deal by handing Dare Mo, an unknown even in the midst of less-than-legal circles, 250.000 yen. That was on the 17th of April, 2238 - a Tuesday.
Dare Mo stayed behind and watched as their new client headed home. They shuffled through the wad of bills, once again, with a broad and satisfied grin on their invisible lips.
They heard a noise near them, something that sounded a lot like hooves clacking on pavement.
A shiver went down their spine. (A feeling that shouldn't be.) Curious. They weren't exactly caught off-guard but still. To make someone like them - a ghost in their own right - unsettled was a great feat.
A skeletal stallion materialized in front of their eyes.
"And who may you be?" they asked, a little awestruck at the sudden appearance. Their voice was for once almost tangible, in a way where one would be able to point to where they were standing. They had forgotten to let it drift.
What will you do with your client's target?
the stallion asked, fixating them with a cold stare.
"What does a horse care about my work?" the vigilante replied amusedly.
I have many interests.
came as a vague answer.
"Well. My codex is show, don't tell. I won't kill, that is all I will say."
Interesting. I will watch your steps.
The stallion vanished.
Dare Mo sighed. Went home. They had a sibling to take care of. Bills to pay. Meals to cook. It sucked, being an adult. But that horse... that fucking horse just wouldn't leave their thoughts.
...
"Tell me what you could have done better."
Thursday has Izuku sinking further into the beanbag as he ponders. It's his first lesson in Underground Heroics and Aizawa-sensei surprised him by explaining they wouldn't head into combat right away. He then showed the Midoriya a video on a very beaten up laptop: It was his performance in Vlad King's class. (When the one-on-one with Shiro came, he covered his face in embarrassment as Video!Zuku proceeded to replicate the pantomime's quirk activation. Aizawa-sensei had to hide his mouth in his scarf but Izuku clearly noticed how hard the hero was trying to suppress a laugh.)
Well. What could he have done better?
"I shouldn't have fanboyed over Shiro's quirk like that. That was... unprofessional and stupid. It made me vulnerable." Izuku admits.
Eraserhead hums in agreement. "True. What else?"
"I... I grew flustered when Vlad-sensei tried to set me straight - which cost me even more time and jumbled my thoughts?"
"Also true. And?"
Izuku's forehead wrinkles as he mentally goes through the duel. What did he do wrong? What made him lose in the first place? What was it that- oh. Right in that one moment he lost, hadn't he? "I didn't put any weight on their legs, even though I already knew they could mime stuff with them too. I sat down on their back and leaned forward instead and that was what made it possible for Shiro to send an attack at me. Had I distributed my body weight evenly on all critical spots, I'd have had a better chance of winning." To see whether he's gotten it right, he turns to his teacher who grins at him. (Still very unsettling but also reassuring in this case.)
The man nods. "One hundred percent correct. I'm also sure you would have actually won had you done so. In fact, I want to show you something."
Aizawa-sensei stands up from his yellow beanbag, works out a couple of cricks in his fingers and back and finally motions Izuku to rise as well.
The 1-A classroom is just big enough to fit a small training area - designed by Present Mic, as is everything in this very confusingly (but endearingly) decorated space - but, so far, they haven't used it. Now it seems like it will be christened by whatever Aizawa-sensei wants to do.
The teacher lies down on his stomach. "I want you to try to subdue me. Do it correctly, like you would've done with Shiro, had you not lost your cool."
Izuku cringes a little when he follows Aizawa's orders and pins the man down. He feels rather awkward doing it, to be honest, but at least Aizawa isn't one for unnecessary (and in this case uncomfortable) remarks. Izuku's sure Present Mic would've somehow found a way to make it weird.
So he carefully and slowly covers all, in his opinion, critical points that'd allow his teacher to fight himself out of Izuku's control. When he thinks he's done, he says so and Aizawa, unpredictably, starts to thrash around like one of those American mechanical riding bulls that had become popular in Japan during the late 21st century. Truly, it feels like a rodeo and Izuku's lips wobble as the image of Aizawa-sensei with bull horns and himself in typical cowboy costume enters his head without any permission at all.
He struggles momentarily at the abrupt in- and decrease of movement but, all the same, he keeps his teacher well restrained until, a couple of minutes later, the man's forehead hits the training mat and he completely slumps under Izuku's grip.
Thinking the exercise is over, the boy goes to stand up - which, of course, turns out to be the worst fucking idea he's ever had as Aizawa quickly takes advantage, turns and twists. Izuku lands on his back with an "oof", staring dazedly at his homeroom teacher who stands above him with his usual grin. "Did I say the exercise was over? No, I didn't. Rule Number One of Surviving Underground Business: Don't assume. Always be sure that your enemy is incapable of fighting back."
Izuku huffs out a small laugh. "Okay, okay, you got me. I won't make the same mistake twice."
Aizawa nods. "Make sure you don't. Now, up with you. I'll show you a thing or two about proper and improper technique."
After another hour of calculated motions and tricks, Izuku can say for sure that Underground Heroics is his favourite class. (He may or may not have asked for intimidation tactics next lesson next week and Aizawa-sensei may or may not have cackled like a maniac at hearing the prompt. "Sure, why not?")
...
Mu and Shimiru have invaded his phone's contacts. Izuku lies on his room's floor, his thighs leaning against his bed as he gently kicks his legs back and forth, and he listens to his General Playlist as he writes with both of the girls in their newly created TiedTM group.
[GROUP: Hardcore Heroes]
HYDRABOMB: WANNA GO 2 THE MOVIES WITH MEEEE GUUUYS? SUNDAY?
VanGoghsAbominableChild: What kind of movie would we watch?
anentireclass: i have football at 11-12:30, after that is cool. you both really wanna hang out with me? or have i like misinterpreted something and you just wanted to take shimiru with you? but why would you use the plural of guy then? am i stupid?
VanGoghsAbominableChild: ...Yes.
anentireclass: ruuuuude
HYDRABOMB: NAH SHIMIRU IS RIGHT YOUR STUUUUPIID WTF WOULDNT I WANNA HANG WITH YOU YOUR COOOOOOOOOOL
HYDRABOMB: no for real your cool
HYDRABOMB: VanGoghsAbominableChild THE NEW ENDANGERED SPECIES MOOOOOVIIIIEE!
anentireclass: *you're
HYDRABOMB: I TAKE IT BACK YOUR UNCOOOOL
HYDRABOMB: *YOU'RE
anentireclass: :)
VanGoghsAbominableChild: I don't like horror movies.
HYDRABOMB: WTF U LITERALLY LOOK LIKE A HORROR MOVIE CHAR! RIGHT KIWI?
anentireclass: she's right
VanGoghsAbominableChild: Rude.
VanGoghsAbominableChild: I looked at the program. What about the one that starts at 4?
HYDRABOMB: TWISTED TWISTER? YEAH Y NOT
HYDRABOMB: KIWI U IN?
anentireclass: yeah sure, meet you guys at like 15:40 in front of the cinema?
HYDRABOMB: YEEEEEEEAAAAH!
HYDRABOMB: imagine me yellin like mic sensei
anentireclass: i don't want to have mic-sensei in my head, thank you very much
VanGoghsAbominableChild: .class Sounds good, Izuku-kun. I have to go now. Family calls.
anentireclass: bye! see you tomorrow
HYDRABOMB: YEA SEE U SHIMIRUUUU
HYDRABOMB: that rhymed
HYDRABOMB: im so cool
HYDRABOMB: GONNA GO OFF AS WELL CUZ I HAVE TO FEED MY SNAKE
anentireclass: what
HYDRABOMB: NOT MY ASH SNAKE LOOOOL
HYDRABOMB: I HAVE A REAL SNAKE
HYDRABOMB: HEREE HER NAME IS SNECK
HYDRABOMB:
anentireclass: she's a cutie
HYDRABOMB: YEAH BUT SHES CLINGY TOO
HYDRABOMB: C U KIWIBOY
anentireclass: see you!
Izuku lowers his phone with a smile. He's never... he's never had this. Someone who gets him. Friends. Hell, even a group chat is an entirely new experience to him. When he was younger, he was invested in online chat rooms but he couldn't bring himself to press send. He always deleted his messages. Man, they must've thought he was a malfunctioning bot or something.
Writing like this, about things like meeting each other. Well. It makes his heart ache but in a very warm, very good way. As he lies there, with the beautiful feeling of a developing real friendship in his chest, he finally relaxes.
He finally forgets.
Lets himself forget.
(About that man. About that deer. Two crazy instances, nothing more, nothing less, now residing in a box in the back of his mind rather than in some dark corner, waiting to lunge at him like a predatory animal.)
He breathes and it's air filling his lungs instead of water.
Izuku's smile widens.