“Ain'tcha a bit ta young for this stuff, squirt?”
Lazily he removed his eyepatch and exposed his milky eye with the ghostly green remains of an iris in its middle. Two nasty, red scars crossed over it.
He had awoken with the cuts on his face after getting blackout drunk for the first time.
He figured that he did it himself with his own knife while still being on his high.
“Do I look like I give a fuck about my age?”
The man shuddered at the gruesome view and shoved the bottles of alcohol into his hands and received some coins and bills in return.
Both, Izuku Midoriya and his trade partner left the alleyway satisfied.
None of them knew the other's name nor were they going to remember each other's faces.
Everything went this way for them, as usual.
With a sigh on his lips, the boy shuffled into an alleyway nearby to where he had his new “home” next to a big trash container.
Of course, it wasn’t the best place to be but it was way better than the parks where everyone got noticed and chased away.
The whole city was plastered with flyers and posters of him. At first, they would mention him in the news as well, yet nobody spends a second thought on another straying kid on the streets.
With a hat, it was easy to cover his noticeable hair and even if it was summer, a lot of people wore Caps and stuff like that.
Thoughtfully he took one of his notebooks and flitted through the pages as he opened one of the bottles - he didn’t really care about what he was drinking anymore, the only thing that mattered was the percentage.
He had started to sort his information.
Of course, he knew everything but it couldn't hurt to have some kind of system if he forgot something.
Without hesitation, he took a big swing while he read his collected knowledge.
The alcohol burned his throat but he was way past the point where he needed to gag or cough after drinking and his eyes didn’t tear up by now as well.
Alc was a great thing.
Like an eraser.
Everything one wanted to forget drowns and gets swallowed by euphoria and bravery.
Sadly…
these five bottles were everything he could buy.
Homeless, quirkless and flat broke.
Clicheé.
Somehow even someone like him should be able to make money, shouldn’t they?
Again he paged through the notebook.
Each of these quirks was something he would die for.
Even the most useless and dumb one would be his way into society.
Who was he kidding?
His way into society was a burned bridge!
He swallowed his next mouth full in a haste and this time his throat burned.
At least his thoughts were numbed.
Maybe he could work as a prostitute?
He was sure he could steal some of the not-existing clothes or maybe even borrow them?
If he managed that, he just needed some customers and he’d have money.
Skeptically he looked over his arm, touched his face and raised his hoodie to inspect his scarred right-body-half.
There won’t be many men who would be turned on by such a gruesome and pathetic sight, so selling his body was out of option.
“Ladies and Gentlemen! We’re happy to…!”
Surprised he looked up. What’s with this noise?
The voice was drowned out by the city, yet it sounded like a fight announcement.
Slowly he rose from his seated position, still holding onto his bottle like a lifeline before walking in the direction where he had heard the sounds from.
After a short walk, he heard cheering and upset voices.
Carefully he peeked around the corner and saw an old, forcefully opened garage that was filled with people.
In the middle, two men were fighting, both bled from several small wounds and both of them had some heavy bruises. Panting they stood in front of each other before starting with a new vigorousness – like there had been a soundless signal.
For a while he just watched from far away then he approached the building and dived into the crowd.
It was obvious for him who was going to win.
The man with the black hair and some kind of rubber-quirk – it seemed like he could stretch his extremities to his will when he applied the according to force.
It was a small miracle that the greenette in the ring was still standing because his arms, which were turned into swords, had a lot of cracks and weren’t going to work for long anymore.
After mulling over his thoughts for a short while Izuku searched for his last money which he had stored away for dire situations.
The last money he swore he would never spend on alcohol.
This fight was illegal so it wouldn’t be a surprise if there was some way to bet.
“Hey, Squirt..”
Startled he looked up just to see a woman with rather exposing clothing and right in front of his face were her… yeah…
Heavily blushing he turned away.
"H-hi."
The woman smirked and he found that his arms were the safest place to be.
“If you’re going to stay you need to bet or fight.”, was her explanation. She wasn’t even irritated by his behavior.
“Going to do any of that?”
A deep breath then he lowered his safe, safe arms.
“I… I wanna place a bet. The one with the red shirt’s gonna win.”
Hesitatingly he held out his last Bill.
She laughed. It rang clear and sounded fake.
“Well, aren’t cha a genius, Squirt? Nobody placed a bet on this underdog “Monkey”.
You’d get all of the money if he wins.”
Was the likeliness of his analysis being correct worth 2.000¥?
He hoped so.
"Miss?"
"Name’s Flora, Squirt."
"Uhm... Flora? How does fighting work? And does it always happen here?”
The woman smiled and bowed down to his level.
“Aren’t cha a curious one, squirt?
As you see, there are fourteen places we switch in between every third day.”
She handed him a map with some marked buildings that had dates written next to them.
“It starts at 23 o’clock and ends at 3 in the morning.
Everyone can fight and can be challenged to fight even though nobody needs to accept the challenge. If one just says that they want to fight, the winner of the last round is their opponent.
In the ring there are no rules, just don’t try to kill anyone. Quirks are allowed as well as long as they aren’t 100% deadly.
You’re getting money for fighting.
Every minute lesser than the Max of ten minutes gets 25.000¥ and you start with 30.000¥ all the time.”
“If everything’s allowed, would it be okay to use weapons?”
She looked at him confused.
“Nobody without a quirk would be dumb enough to enter this ring.”
“Well, I am.”, he responded.
Flora blinked and smiled knowingly after a moment.
“Knives, shields, brasses and everything like that would be allowed, Squirt. But only one thing. And no firearms like guns or pistols. You sure you wanna fight? It’s illegal after all.”
After some thinking, he nodded slowly.
Monkey had predictable attacks and patterns. The Quirk was simple and he was bleeding where he had been cut by his opponent.
“I want to fight against the winner of this round and I’m going to use my knife.”,
he explained while showing the weapon,
“Oh. And please call me Deku.”
“Interesting name, “Deku”. I’m going to register your bet and fight.”
After that, he carefully stored away the map in one of his many pockets and concentrated on the fight again.
The greenette was bleeding heavily now from a lot of big wounds while swaying threateningly.
Monkey pulled his arm back again in the now-familiar motion before he let his fist swing forward.
The force of the punch didn’t just throw the other fighter out of the ring, but directly into the land of dreams.
For a heartbeat everything was quiet then the whistles and yeers started while a lanky man screeched into a megaphone: “Swordsman Zorro loses against rubber-human Monkey! To the one person who betted for this winner, the money is yours, Deku!”
Unbelieving he stared at Monkey who was looking around in the garage questioningly – most likely knowing that nobody would think he could make it.
Flora and a woman with orange hair made it over to him and the stranger shoved a bag filled with money into his hands with an annoyed face.
“Thanks!”, exclaimed the boy from the fight and waved in his direction with a grin.
He returned the gesture after a short time of hesitation and looked up to the woman.
“Would it be possible to bet even if one’s fighting?”
The one who gave him the bag shrugged.
“That’s what most of them do.
And if nobody is rooting for you, not even yourself, then you’ll get half of the betted money.”
For a short while, he thought about that until he came to a conclusion and emptied the content of the bag to its half.
“I bet that I’m gonna win.”
“Good luck, Squirt.”, said Flora and vanished with her colleague whilst he went toward the ring.
Following a sudden impulse, he pulled a black cloth from one of his many pockets and tied it around his head so that it covered his mouth, nose and blind eye before he threw his hood over his head to cover his hair.
He knew there was a reward on his head and there was no honor between criminals.
“And now the quirkless Deku is going to fight against the first winner of the night: the rubber-human Monkey!”, screeched the tall man at the border of the ring into his megaphone and made some people laugh.
It hurt to hear these words again but he pulled himself together.
This fight was important if he wanted to make money.
The faster he won the more dough he got.
And they all were going to bet for Monkey.
He was pretty sure that this was the intelligent choice but he would be damned if he didn’t try to aim for the highest goal and maybe even made it.
“Fight!”
He checked his grip on his knife for the last time and let it spring open.
Rubber can be cut.
The methods of his opponent were simple - the young man in the red shirt attacked his foes like a savage bull, just like Kacchan.
“Quirkless, huh?”, repeated his combatant.
It was this moment that he saw the scar underneath Monkey's right eye.
“Yeah. Problem with that?”, growled Izuku and crept nearer towards the other over the rim of the ring.
“No. You’re a dreamer. That’s something to be respected.”
Confused he examined the young man in the red button-up shirt.
Respect? Because he won't give up?
He snorted.
Monkey was the first human being that didn’t laugh at him or humiliated him for that.
“Thanks!”, was everything he said before he jumped, the knife secure in his grip, ready to sink it into flesh.
His opponent reacted instantly and exactly like he thought he would: He searched the distance and struck out.
In the same moment where Monkey reeled his arm back, he jumped aside and jabbed his knife into thin air.
Murmurs and cheers arose when his opponent gritted his teeth.
And on the ground remained a trail of thick, red drops.
The whole arm and upper hand of the rubber-human were cut open.
He almost felt sorry but what won’t one do for money?
He didn’t listen to his conscience anymore and threw himself at Monkey again.
This time the ravenette backed off and studied his covered face.
Everyone seemed to hold their breath but it didn’t really matter what the people outside of the fight thought.
He was sure he would win. It was easy.
Monkey seemed to think that he wasn’t paying attention because he started to launch a new attack – at least he tried to. Yet, Deku twisted out of the way effortlessly and swayed his knife again.
Cussing and panting the young man stumbled backward and took in his damaged, bloody wrists.
The greenette simply grinned beneath his cloth and pulled it down to show it.
He wasn’t unathletic. The constant running away and avoiding hits and the training after his jump left him with a decent amount of muscle and stamina - besides, his opponent was using his full strength which left him vulnerable with exhaustion.
He examined his opponent thorough.
Two, three at most, assaults of the same strength and Monkey would be done for good. But without provoking him he wouldn’t start another attack.
Unfortunately the other had a good idea about his way of approaching an attack.
But if he’d ignore his defenses and start to act purely offensive his opponent might get thrown off but he would leave himself out in the open and he was a rather weak attacker - that was something he would have to work on.
His eyes flitted over the garage.
Nobody said that he couldn't use his surroundings to his advantage.
What should he…?
His hand searched the bag of his hoodie. Jup. The bottle was still there.
When did he put it there? Would it be okay if he drank, now that he found it?
His hands started to shake.
Stood it really that bad about him? Did this month on the street leave him addicted already?
Well, there was no other reason for him to stand here and brawl for money.
Shortly he mulled over his options of what could happen when he drank in front of everyone.
As fast as he could he ripped out the bottle and cut off the head of the flask with his knife before chucking down the remaining third of its content.
As soon as the last drop left the bottle he threw it away, making it burst into thousands of tiny crystals.
He jumped away even before the flask broke, his knife cutting through thin air.
Monkey screeched. Two fingers splattered onto the ground only a bit away from the glass.
Blood dripped from the blade of Izuku's soaked knife and Monkey fainted.
It is a typical reaction of the body to shut down when it lost parts of it.
Smiling he looked at his knife. The color shined in a rather fascinating way and this fight just proved that he wasn’t a dumb, quirkless Deku.
A dreamy smile remaining on his face he looked up when the crowd started to cheer and his victory was called out.
He just won 180.000¥ at least.
Maybe these fights were going to turn out beneficial.