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There are a lot of things in Izuku Midoriya’s life that he doesn’t plan on doing. Those things, however, just seem to happen anyways without any regard for how Izuku may feel about it.
For starters, he never planned on being Quirkless. That’s a big one, and of course, that happened anyways. Another one was being rejected from Yuuei High, both in the hero course and general course. That one…yeah, that stung a lot.
Now, the most substantial and life-changing thing that had happened to Izuku was being bitten by some whacked-out spider one otherwise peaceful night at home and subsequently developing a Quirk. Izuku hadn’t the slightest idea why this had happened, but he wasn’t about to question it. After all, he’s always wanted a Quirk. Why not just take it when it was presented to him on a silver platter?
Well, if a silver platter came in the form of some creepy little thing with eight hairy legs, that was an accurate term.
As if this wasn’t crazy enough, Izuku had somehow, by some weird coincidence, run into a boy named Eijirou Kirishima in a convenience store and hit it off with him. A week later, Izuku had been fully introduced to the entirety of Yuuei High’s class 1-A and become friends with them.
Which brings us to the present, where Izuku sits across from Kirishima in a booth evidently meant for more than two people. Leaning forward on his arms, gesturing vaguely with a french fry, the redhead exclaims, “Seriously dude, I can’t believe Bakugo hasn’t ever dated anyone before. He’s gorgeous. It’s absolutely nuts.”
Taking a sip of his iced tea, Izuku hums in response. “Kacchan’s never been into that sort of thing. It’d take someone ridiculously special to crack his shell enough for that.”
Kirishima pops the french fry in his mouth, throwing his head back with melodramatic flair. “Dude. I was trying to get you to drop some advice here.” He immediately flops forward on his folded arms again, brows furrowed seriously, “You knew him when you two were kids. What’re the deets, man. I need to know.”
“There’s not much to tell, Kirishima. He treated me like the scum of the earth, and nothing I did scored me any Kacchan Points.” Izuku sighs in response as he steals one of Kirishima’s fries.
Unbothered by the theft, Kirishima snorts, “Oh my God, I need to use that.”
“What?”
“Kacchan Points.”
“If you call him Kacchan, I can’t guarantee the safety of your face,” he pauses before adding, “Or your life, actually. He hates it that I call him that, so I don’t know what he’ll do if you call him Kacchan.”
Izuku’s thoroughly surprised when Kirishima reaches over and steals a chicken nugget from Izuku’s tray, probably in retaliation for stealing his fries. “So why call him Kacchan if he wants to lay you out for it?”
“I don’t know. It feels weird to call him anything else after all this time.” Izuku sighs with a shrug. Then, watching as Kirishima pops the nugget in his mouth, he groans, “A chicken nugget and a french fry aren’t weighed the same, Kirishima. That was cold.”
Snickering, Kirishima pushes his fries closer to Izuku. “Take as many as you need, bro. Equivalent Exchange, right? I don’t want you taking my arm and leg.”
“Did you just reference Fullmetal Alchemist?”
“Maaaybe.”
Their chatter devolves into mindless conversation about Fullmetal Alchemist and fast food, which Izuku is perfectly fine with. Kirishima is a good friend, after all. He exudes happiness and has about the same therapeutic properties as a room full of puppies, so Izuku is perfectly fine to talk the day away with the young hero-in-training.
Izuku is quickly yanked back into his ever-present anxiety when Kirishima suddenly changes the subject.
“Dude, I know I haven’t mentioned this before but that new vigilante dude is super cool.” Kirishima practically wheezes, flashing a jagged-toothed grin as he watches Izuku expectantly.
Raising his straw towards his face again, Izuku nonchalantly replies, “Which one? There’s quite a few vigilantes. I honestly like The Crawler best. His Quirk is pretty versatile and he does small jobs as well as major villain-tackling ones.”
“No, man! The Crawler is cool and all, but that one with the weird spider quirk! Spiderman!”
Izuku chokes on his drink, slamming the cup down on the counter as he leans forward and coughs forcefully. In the middle of his hacking fit, Izuku hunts desperately for the right words to respond with.
The only reason this caused Izuku to nearly kill himself with iced tea is because he just so happens to be the vigilante Kirishima’s referring to. Kirishima lunges forward over the table, patting Izuku’s back firmly as he exclaims, “Bro! Don’t die on me here, you’re my only source of dating advice!”
“I’m glad you value my company so much.” Izuku wheezes dryly as he regains his ability to breathe.
Kirishima sighs in relief as Izuku stops coughing, slumping down in his seat again. “I’m just messin’ with you, my dude. You’re really damn good company, y’know. Can’t have you dying on me here!”
Just when Izuku’s beginning to believe that Kirishima’s dropped the vigilante talk, he sits upright abruptly and launches into it again. “But yeah, whatcha think of Spiderman?”
“Spiderman…?” Izuku begins, clearing his throat once again as he keeps his voice level enough to pass as his usual excited muttering, “Well, his quirk’s definitely an odd one. The ability to walk up and down walls and across ceilings is interesting, but I’m not sure what could explain that. I’m also unsure whether the web-shooting is a result of his quirk or a modification to his hero costume. Maybe it’s both? He also appears to have heightened physical abilities.”
Kirishima’s mouth makes an ‘o’ shape and his crimson eyes go wide with awe. “Midoriya, bro, are you-” he takes an exaggerated gasp, but Izuku still feels the urge to scream that he’s not Spiderman. Curse his perpetual anxiety.
Voice just above a whisper, Kirishima continues, “-a Spiderman fanboy?”
Izuku blinks once, dumbfounded for a moment. “Y-yes?” He squeaks out, yet it sounds more like a question than a solid response.
Kirishima snorts, then devolves into laughter for a solid ten seconds. A nervous titter escapes Izuku as well, and he finds himself hoping to God that Kirishima doesn’t wander into the realm of dangerous questions. Thankfully, he just continues chattering on about Spiderman without crossing too many lines.
“I think Bakugo thinks he’s cool. Er-at least he acknowledges the guy’s strength. He doesn’t say stuff like ‘that bastard’s fucking weak’ but he does say ‘I’m gonna kill him’ which, you know, is par for the course with Bakugo but he says that about a lot of people he likes!”
“Charming. I’m super Spiderman’s going to be thrilled to one day get a face full of detonating nitroglycerin.” Izuku replies in a dry tone.
Kirishima shrugs. “This is just me but like, I dunno man, I’d be thrilled.”
“That’s because you find explosions attractive.” Izuku laughs with a vague smile. The redhead leans forward, resting his head on his hands with a sly grin as he teases, “Uh, yeah, I do. But at least I’m not drooling over a real-life Princess Elsa and Zuko fusion.”
Izuku jerks back with wide eyes and slams his cup down on the table. Again, Kirishima wheezes with laughter. “You should see your face!”
Clearing his throat, Izuku mutters, “It can’t be worse than yours when Kacchan told you he doesn't hate you as much as everyone else.”
Kirishima rises to his feet, gathering up both boys’ trays as he snickers, “I’m not kidding when I say I’m really, really into him, you know that!”
“I know. So are you still down for tonight?”
“Uhh, bonding over our sappy one-sided affections and playing videogames? Hell yeah I’m down!” Once again, Kirishima flashes a blinding grin, almost making Izuku wish he had sunglasses.
After a brief goodbye, Izuku slumps back into the booth and pulls his cell phone from his pocket. On the screen, a wall of notifications stares back at him, the majority of them coming from the Discord server belonging to Class 1-A. Amongst those, however, there are a few messages from Koichi Haimawari.
This piques Izuku’s interest, and he unlocks his phone to look at the messages the vigilante sent him.
The_Crawler: How’ve things been going with you, Midoriya?
The_Crawler: You’ve been pretty active lately. Spiderman’s all over the news haha
The_Crawler: Hope you’ve been paying attention to school stuff too.
Heaving a relieved sigh, a smile crosses Izuku’s face. He’s glad Koichi’s begun texting again. He hadn’t been available as of late, having had some difficulties in class and needing time to catch up. This likely meant that Koichi had finally gotten his marks back to a satisfactory grade.
Deku: It’s going good!
Deku: And yeah, it’s mostly just minor stuff and convenience store robberies, nothing too crazy. I’d like to keep my guts inside my body as long as possible lol
Deku: But how about you? Your classes going good?
It takes a second, but Koichi’s icon shows up as ‘online’ and he responds.
The_Crawler: Yeah, I’m back in the green
The_Crawler: S a m e @ the guts thing tho
Deku: Haha, you say that but you’re out here doing crazy risky work. Are you sure you can relate to that?? :P
The_Crawler: Actually you’ve got me there. This past week’s been gradually sucking out my will to live too, actually.
Deku: Omg how much have you even slept
The_Crawler: Maybe eight hours over the entire week. Maybe.
The_Crawler: I think if I really felt like it I could astral project into the past and punch myself as premature punishment for pulling so many all-nighters.
Deku: Oh my God
Deku: Ok, I’ll patrol today, you sleep. You sound like you need it.
The_Crawler: Bless you
Almost immediately, Koichi’s icon changes to ‘offline’ and Izuku puts his phone away. He’s almost tempted to order another box of chicken nuggets but considering he’s going to be quite active for the next couple hours until his designated meeting time at home with Kirishima, he decides against it. He’d rather not buy more and end up throwing them up. That would be a waste of perfectly good nuggets.
Izuku takes a moment to tidy up the booth as nicely as he can, before nodding politely to the young employee coming to clean up and exiting the fast food restaurant. Yellow backpack slung over one shoulder, he feels a broad smile trying its darnedest to creep across his face. He fails to stop it, instead breaking into a light jog in his excitement and heading into a narrow alley between two apartment complexes.
Upon reaching it, he skids to a halt and drops his bag on the ground. A stray cat’s eyes glint curiously at him as he reaches into his pocket and brings out a few colourful hair clips. This part of prepping for his work as a vigilante is always tedious, as his hair tends to defy gravity with a vengeance 99% of the time no matter what he does. He’s learned the hard way that the only way to not cause an accident due to obstructed vision is to use twelve or more hair clips to tame his mop of forest-green hair. He’d rather not swing face-first into a parked SUV again.
Once he’s satisfied with the placement of his hairclips, he pulls an elastic band from around his wrist and pulls the back of his hair into a small ponytail. Tightening it one last time, he bends over and opens up his bag with a grin. His homemade costume, folded neatly at the bottom of his bag, stares back up at him.
All right, time to go.
It was meant to be just another patrol.
A chance to let loose, shoot through the city at dizzying speed, and feel the rush of adrenaline as he uses his quirk to his heart’s content. Just a chill evening, followed by a videogaming session with Kirishima.
So why in God’s name am I in this situation again?
Sidestepping to hastily dodge a sharp projectile, he keeps his eyes trained on the villain he’s encountered. It’s a grown man, firing what looks like jagged quills from his shoulders and back. His face is covered by a dark ski mask, his dark eyes burning with murderous intent. Izuku groans in exasperation.
The villain does as well, sending four more quills hurtling in Izuku’s direction. In one swift motion, he shifts his weight to one side and extends one hand, catching the farthest quill in a length of web and yanking it into the other ones, knocking them off-course. They clatter noisily to the ground, rolling out of reach.
“Fuck!” the villain spits venomously, shifting to once again fire more quills in Izuku’s direction.
Again, he dodges them and counterattacks, breaking into a dead run and firing another web in the villain’s direction. Quills tear the web apart, but it’s enough of a distraction to let Izuku slip behind the man and - carefully - tackle him to the ground. They scuffle for a moment, Izuku trying to overpower the man and force him down. A quill fires off the man’s shoulder, grazing Izuku’s left cheek and making him hiss with pain. He’s just about got the villain on his back when he lets out a frustrated yell and fires off five more quills at once.
Feeling sharp pains sprout from his sides and one along his right thigh, Izuku stiffens for a moment.
Anything serious…?
Seeing as he’s not dizzy with pain or bleeding out, he quickly regains his senses and secures the villain to the ground with an absurd amount of web. The man kicks out, throwing his head from side to side and screaming bloody murder. Satisfied with his work, Izuku rises to his feet and stumbles backwards a few steps. He lets out a short, huffing sigh, inspecting himself for injuries.
Well, the dirt patches on his suit can easily be fixed with some soapy water, but the rips and mild bloodstains around those rips are a bit of an issue. Prodding at one of the rips along his ribs, he winces.
“Look, if you’d just left me alone we wouldn’t be in this mess. Is it really so hard to say ‘hey, maybe I could be a vigilante instead of a villain’? But nooo, you just have to inconvenience me, right?” Izuku’s irritation is beginning to surface, and for once, Izuku lets it.
The villain blinks at him in mingled confusion and surprise. “What are you talking ab-”
“Here we are.”
“Hey-”
“You, glued to the pavement.”
“Kid, listen-”
“Me, with holes and blood in my suit.”
“Spider-Man, just-”
“My mother has no idea that I do this. DO YOU UNDERSTAND-”
“Hey, look-”
“HOW HARD IT’S GOING TO BE TO FIX THIS WITHOUT BRINGING HER ATTENTION TO THE FACT THAT I AM INDEED MOONLIGHTING AS A VIGILANTE?”
Izuku glares daggers at the villain before him, crossing his arms. Of course, the villain has no idea how angry Izuku’s expression is at the moment, but he’s pretty sure from the way he shifts uncomfortably that he either has a rock lodged against his back or he can somehow feel the sheer disdain radiating off Izuku’s entire being.
Swallowing once, the villain slowly replies, “Look, I thought you were going to attack me first, so I took the opportunity,” he sighs, “I just need money, all ri-”
“GET A JOB YOU ABSOLUTE TURNIP.”
The villain shuts his mouth, and Izuku pinches the bridge of his nose with a groan. He waves his free hand, “Okay, no, never mind. Getting jobs is hard.” he pulls his hand away from his face, “Why am I giving job advice to a villain, again?”
The villain shrugs, expression completely dumbstruck. He appears to be just as confused about this latest development as Izuku is, but too nervous to say anything. With one last sigh, Izuku kneels down beside the villain and says, “Ok, have you got a cellphone?”
“...why?”
“I’m ordering you a pizza, obviously.”
“You’re calling the police.”
“Of course I am, but a pizza does sound nice right about now.”
The villain is going red in the face with agitation as Izuku reaches into one of the man’s jacket pockets and withdraws a cell phone. He unlocks it, wheezing internally with relief at the lack of a passcode. Usually this takes a lot more time and interrogation to get access to a villain's phone.
It only takes 30 seconds for Izuku to phone the police with the villain’s location, leave the phone stuck to the webs crisscrossing the villain’s chest, and be halfway down the block. As he moves through the city, he rubs ruefully at the cut on his cheek.
This is going to be a pain to deal with.
It’s just after dark by the time Izuku returns home, stealthily sliding open his bedroom window and creeping into the room. He’s pulling off his mask, muttering to himself in agitation, when he feels the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. For a few moments, he’s confused by the sensation, brow furrowing.
He stiffens, one leg through the window, when he sees Kirishima lying on his bed, PSP in hand and eyes wide as dinner plates. His mouth is opened the tiniest bit, as though he wants to say something, but it won’t come out. Izuku swallows, holding up a hand.
“Ok, I know what this looks like-”
“Oh my God.” Kirishima breathes, PSP slipping from his fingers with a whump against the bed.
“Kirishima-”
“OH MY GOD YOU’RE-”
Izuku scrambles through the window, leaving it to bang shut behind him as he frantically reaches forward and slaps a hand over Kirishima’s mouth. Hissing ‘SHOOSH’ repeatedly for about five seconds, Izuku waits until Kirishima resigns himself to silence. His crimson eyes still remain absurdly wide, however, and Izuku feels tension creeping through every fibre of his being.
“Holy shit dude you’re the Spider-Man?!” Kirishima hisses, a grin spreading across his face.
“No, no, I’m-”
Inko’s voice calls from the living room, cutting off whatever half-assed excuse Izuku was planning to throw out, “Izuku, are you home?”
“Y-yeah, mom, sorry!”
“I didn’t hear you come in!”
Izuku’s sure he’s sweating bullets.
“O-oh, really? I’m sorry!” He stammers, hoping his voice isn’t quite as high pitched as he thinks it is.
Tension in the room seems to grow in the moments it takes for Inko to reply, and Izuku’s not sure he can take it. His tension floods out his feet and into the floor, however, when Inko nonchalantly calls back, “No worries, there’s leftovers in the fridge for you!”
Izuku sags with relief, letting out a wheezing sigh and tangling his fingers in his hair. He’s so preoccupied with what he’d call a god-tier save that he’s nearly forgotten about Kirishima sitting on his bed. That is, until he whisper-shouts, “Your mom doesn’t know?!”
“NOBODY DOES! And I'd like to KEEP IT THAT WAY, PLEASE. I BEG YOU, KIRISHIMA.” Izuku hisses back, flailing his hands to emphasize his point.
Kirishima tents his hands in front of his nose and mouth, taking a deep breath before meeting Izuku’s eyes and saying, “I can keep a secret, dude. I’m just…really shook.”
Izuku moves across his room to his dresser, pulling off his suit hastily with one hand and rifling through his drawers with the other. Without looking back at Kirishima, he sighs, “Ok, that’s the big thing. But I mean it, you can’t. Tell. Anybody.”
“And I won’t, bro, don’t worry. I just…I thought you were quirkless?”
“I was. I’m not anymore. Can we please not talk about this right no-”
“Oh, hell, you’re all cut up!” Kirishima exclaims as Izuku begins stuffing his suit in the back of his underwear drawer.
Grabbing a pair of sweatpants, Izuku mumbles, “It’s fine, Kirishima. I’ll deal with-”
His words are wasted on his friend, because the redhead is already leaving the room and heading for the bathroom. Presumably to grab a cloth and some bandages. Izuku groans.
Kirishima is going to be the death of me.
He’s pulling on an Iron Man t-shirt when Kirishima reappears, holding a wet rag and a handful of bandaids. Izuku almost laughs at the worried yet enthralled look on his face. It’s so…well, the worry is uncharacteristic for Kirishima, but the excitement is normal. The redhead tosses the rag on the bed with a wet slap before grabbing Izuku’s shoulder and practically dragging him to the bed.
“Sit.” Kirishima practically commands.
Izuku’s so startled by the tone he uses that he sits down without really meaning to. Lacing his fingers together in his lap, he dumbly stares at Kirishima and watches him mutter worriedly to himself as he dabs the warm rag at the four-inch cut along his cheek. For a time, the only sound is Kirishima mumbling, but Izuku chooses to break the silence after he’s almost completely relaxed.
“So.” he says, with a lot less conviction than he intended.
“So this is why you always have bandaids on every inch of your skin.” Kirishima picks up the slack in the conversation, to Izuku’s relief.
Izuku laughs awkwardly, bringing a hand up to fiddle with a tuft of green hair that had somehow wrestled free of Izuku’s hair clips. “Y-yeah.”
“Well this answers a lot of questions I had and a lot that I didn’t have.”
“Oh. I’m..glad, I guess?”
Kirishima’s eyes briefly flick to Izuku’s face and a shit-eating grin forms on his face. “Sooooo…”
“I’m not liking the look you’re giving me.”
“This means you might have even more of a chance with Todoroki now~” Kirishima teases in a singsong voice. He opens his mouth to say something else, perhaps something even more embarrassing, but he doesn’t get the chance
This is because Izuku grabs a pillow and hits him square in the face with it, sending him sprawling across the bed.
The redhead squawks in surprise, and Izuku stifles a snicker. Satisfied that Kirishima won't rat him out, he finally feels completely relaxed here, with his friend reaching behind him to grab a pillow and retaliate.
If it’s Kirishima who knows about me, it’ll be all right, Izuku thinks to himself with a smile moments before he himself is sent reeling by the impact from a pillow to the face.