i think this might tick banana / that one king doge dude off so I'm gon do it B)

Link to my Discord (quality): https://discord.gg/BrUDYXu

Link to the Villain!Deku Discord (have fun if you like, sadists and writers [this is literally for anyone]): https://discord.gg/X7anX8W

yep

anyways

lEtS a Go

---

The wind whipped at Izuku's skin as he plummeted towards the ground, the sound of his heartbeat reverberating through his eardrums. Still, he felt laughter bubble up in his chest before escaping from his throat as he watched an enraged Shigaraki peer from the window above.

"FUCKING BRAT!" he rasped, voice cracking and melding with the harsh winds.

He tossed a halfhearted smirk up at the man, watching as he huffed before turning to bark at the shadow that loomed behind him in a fit of childish rage.

Just as the man turned, Izuku felt the seriousness of the situation swallow him whole - adrenaline thrumming in his veins. His breaths became quicker and his eyes stung with uninvited tears that were brought on by the lashing air, eyes instinctively squeezing shut to blink the moisture away.

Without wasting any more time, Izuku sucked in a sharp breath (though it felt as if it attempted to flee his lungs to join the outside winds) and reached out towards the wall.

His arms stretched out desperately, fingers clawing at the concrete. No one was going to save him. Not heroes. Not vigilantes. Not villains.

He was alone.

It was just himself and the endless expanse of the night sky, barely lit by the blobs of light in the city below.

Izuku gritted his teeth as his fingers scraped down the side of the wall, blood bubbling from his fingertips and nails chipping. Even as his hands scarred, he forced himself to keep pushing, a coppery taste filling his mouth while his teeth sunk into his tongue.

He was running out of time. In only a few moments, he'd be nothing but another statistic. A crumpled body being pushed away from the concrete, blood stain washed away by the cleaning crews of the city.

Nobody would even know that he had died.

Refusing to resign himself to such a fate, Izuku pressed his palms against the wall, only hoping that he could somehow manage to catch himself. Hoping that, somehow, a quirk would spring to life within him, catching him just in the nick of time.

It seemed like a fantasy.

Or, it would have unless...

Izuku curled his fingers further, brushing aside the mangled skin that hung from the tips and attempting to force out any power that he could muster. And, just as all seemed hopeless, a black, oozing substance began to seep from his hands.

Much to his surprise, Izuku's fall began to slow, a sort of black webbing transforming his panicked thoughts of certain death into a flutter within his chest.

The terror in his mind broke hold once the boy finally came to a rest, just barely hanging onto the wall by the thin layer of sludge that stuck to his hands.

A long, rattly breath escaped Izuku's lips, a sort of glee surfacing inside as he realized that he was alive.

While the terror subsided, the boy began to slide from the wall, legs frantically kicking out to stop himself only to give out from under him and bring him to a groaning heap on the concrete.

Still, though, better than being dead.

His adrenaline subsided after a few moments, leaving him nothing more than a random child laying on the sidewalk, gasping for air as if any of them might be his last. And, although his eyelids drooped, body begging for rest as his energy fizzled out, he reached out and dug his bloodied hands into the concrete before forcing himself onto his knees.

Allowing himself to pause for a moment, Izuku began to laugh. A deep, hearty laugh that escaped from his throat in a sort of madness that only such a near-death experience could bring.

He was alive.

But, he realized, he didn't have much time to waste. He couldn't bask in the feeling of surviving - he had to leave.

If Izuku was right, then All For One and the doctor must still be in the building - and he imagined there were more than one Nomu residing inside as well.

So, with a sharp inhale, he pushed himself onto unstable feet and braced himself against the wall. His fuzzy vision tuned into a dim street light, and he bit the inside of his cheek as he hobbled towards the source.

Despite the strange glances that he was receiving while people thought he was looking away, Izuku continued pushing through. His blood boiled inside of him, fist instinctively clenching only to relax as a sharp pain shot through his fingertips.

Still, one thought brewed in his mind, shooting itself to the front of the line.

He was so fucking sick of this.

Of being bullied so constantly and so ruthlessly that it had left him numb to the feeling - always ready to take a punch as if he didn't have a care in the world.

Of being used as some sort of toy for someone else's gain as if he wasn't a living, breathing person himself.

Of being ignored by everyone else in the world - cast aside as a nobody while they looked the other way. His bloodied body somehow being both the center of attention and the most disregarded thing at once every single time he left his home.

Of being objectified against just because he was quirkless. Treated like some sort of animal to be put on display in a cage for the whole world to see.

He didn't want to pretend like everything was perfect in the world anymore. Like there wasn't evil and the world was black and white.

But most of all, he was sick of labels.

Heroes. Villains. Quirked. Quirkless. Strong. Weak.

He wasn't a lowly Deku, and he wasn't going to pretend like he was.

Nobody had the right to treat him like shit. No one had the right to make him suffer through everything while everyone else acted like everything was fine.

He wasn't going to be saved, he realized. People who hurt others were supposed to be the villains - that's what he was always told. Yet somehow, throughout everything, he had always been left alone.

Where had heroes been when he was diagnosed as quirkless like it was some sort of fucking disease? Shouldn't they have told him that he was still normal? Told him that he could still do what he wanted?
Where had the heroes been when he was beaten bloody by not only his classmates but his own father? Weren't they supposed to be there for people in need? Protect the weak?

Where had the heroes been when he was forced to watch his father torture people? Watch as Hisashi would kidnap innocent people and slaughter them like mere farm animals?

Where had the heroes been when he was about to leap off the roof of the building? Ready to take his own life, and yet they were still gone.

Where had the heroes been when his childhood friend was about to be murdered right before his eyes? Why had they stood there, doing nothing as he watched helplessly?

Where had the heroes been when he was attacked so many fucking times? Kicked to the ground by teenagers. Mugged by some random man on the street. Kidnapped and half-tortured while he sat alone with his thoughts.

Instead, Izuku had to solve all of his problems by himself.

He had to force himself to get over his quirklessness. Accept that, no matter how hard he tried, he wouldn't be treated the same as everyone else.

He had to stand up for himself, or, more realistically, allow himself to be beaten until they got sick of his lack of response because he had been hurt so often that he didn't even care at that point.

He had to stop his father by murdering him - something that the heroes said was wrong. And yet, somehow, it made everything stop. The abuse, the torture, the murder - all of it. Just because Izuku finally stepped up.

He had to convince himself to step down. Tell himself that, eventually, even though he didn't believe it himself, things would get better. Come to terms with the fact that the Number One Hero himself was a liar and a fake - and that he told Izuku that he could never be a hero.

He had to jump in - a mere quirkless child in order to save his childhood friend. And, even after the situation, the only one that showed him any attention told him how he hated him more than anyone else. Even after saving someone, he could still never be a hero.

He had stopped the ruthless attacks. Taken the beatings until they finally gave him the opportunity even though he had no experience with any of those situations.

He had been left alone through it all - scared and only making it through on pure instinct.

And he realized that things were always going to be that way. The only one that would help Izuku was himself.

So yeah, he was done.

He should've realized the fact sooner.

A sad truth that had first implanted itself in his mind at a mere five years old.

That all men were not created equal.

---

Izuku ducked his head within the crowd, string looped around his ears and leading to the medical mask placed on the lower half of his face.

"...A prominent businessman in Musutafu, Midoriya Hisashi, was found murdered in an alley near his home just 3 days ago," a news reporter said, catching the boy's attention. "His coworkers have provided numerous statements about his generosity in the community, going as far as to say that the one who killed him must've been a heartless demon." Izuku's fingers twitched as the line fell from her lips, and he had to swallow back a growl as she glanced up. "Hisashi Midoriya's son, Izuku Midoriya, has disappeared in the chaos. The police are unsure of his whereabouts, and therefore assume that he is responsible. However, it's just as likely that he was a victim as well."

The freckled boy scowled, knowing that her words were majorly untrue - he was the number one suspect.

"If anyone spots Izuku Midoriya," she continued, a family picture of him and Hisashi - Inko removed as she had been long dead by that point - plastered on the top right corner of the screen. "The Musutafu police force would ask that you turn him in or, at the very least, call in sightings so he can be brought in or, in dire circumstances, have his body be recovered." Izuku took in a sharp breath as she rambled on about his family life, her praise bringing a phantom pain to his burns.

While his hands rose to touch his scar - or rather, the part of his sweater that sat above it - the woman spoke further about Hisashi's death. He chewed on the inside of his cheek as brief flashes of the crime scene was shown - bloodstains splattered on the sidewalk and chalk outlining where his crumpled body had once lay. "Hisashi's murderer was unforgiving, with twenty-two stab wounds found scattered throughout his chest area, along with several other injuries scattered throughout his body. This leads the police to believe that the crime was one of passion - either by a family member, an enraged lover, or a very close friend."
Izuku's lips pursed as he read between the lines. Izuku Midoriya is guilty.

Shaking his head, the boy adjusted his hood further and tuned out the mutters of the crowd as he made his way through the sea of people. He didn't have the time to be waiting around in broad daylight - even if he was half-disguised.

He glanced backwards as he allowed himself to be swallowed by the shadows of an alleyway, weaving through the intricate twists and turns while his heart pulsed.

After everything that had happened to him, Izuku had come to a conclusion: If no one was going to help him, he was just going to have to help himself.

So, the boy had done his research. He was in an undesirable situation, yes (if the overwhelming tiredness and homelessness were anything to go by), but he wasn't an idiot.

He had laughed to himself a day or so earlier upon realizing that Hisashi had done some good in his life. Thanks to him, Izuku now knew how to dive into the dark corners of the internet and find the inner workings of the underground.

Somehow, he had managed to get into the higher tiers of the dark web even in a public library (that he would never be returning to for obvious reasons) and struck himself a deal with an information broker that went by the name of 'Giran.'

Long story short, as long as Izuku could provide some information on a hero or two, he'd be paid for his efforts.

It wasn't a whole lot, he'd admit, but it was better than nothing. At least enough to hide himself within the crowd and create an environment in which basic conveniences were more available to him (aka: he would get on Giran's good side in the hopes of striking a partnership, thereby giving him the opportunity for more stable work).

He'd have to throw away his morals and pride for the opportunity, but he couldn't afford to lose it. Izuku turned, scowling to himself. It's not like they ever had any interest in helping me.

So, he had reasoned with himself that it was fair. Payback in a way. He wouldn't ask what Giran needed the information for - though he could take an educated guess - as long as it kept him safe.

A safety that the heroes could never provide.

"You're just a kid," an half-amused voice said, breaking Izuku free from his thoughts.

The boy stiffened as he pushed himself off from the wall, eyes darting around in a sort of brief panic.

"Relax, kid," the man said, allowing Izuku to pinpoint him. He stepped forwards - a man that was probably somewhere between 30 and 40 - with smoke coiling around his figure, a cigarette placed loosely between his lips. His entire form was dressed in purple (from his hair to his shoes) and a small smirk was placed fittingly on his face.

Izuku narrowed his eyes, cautiously stepping backwards. "Are you Giran?"

The man hummed in reply, taking his cigarette in between two fingers. "That'd be me. And you're Deku, then?"

The boy just barely winced at his name - it was the first thing that came to mind when he had been prompted for a screen name, and he didn't really mind at the moment. Though, if he was going to continued to be called by his childhood 'nickname,' he might have to rethink that.

Still, Izuku swallowed his pride and nodded. "Yeah."

Giran stepped forwards, taking another drag of his cigarette and causing Izuku's nose to scrunch up as the smell infected the air. "And you have the notes?"

"That goes without saying," Izuku replied, attempting to give off a more confident air, which likely seemed more than out of place given his small form. "What about you? Do you have the money?"

The man chuckled. "Of course." He began to step forwards, putting his hand up as Izuku raised his guard. "Now now, kid. I don't plan on getting tangled up in petty fights. I'm just a broker, after all."

Izuku's stomach churned at his crooked smile, but he shook the feeling off. "How are we doing this?"

Giran paused for a moment before offering a suggestion. "How about you read off a few of your notes there," he said, gesturing towards the papers that were clenched tightly in Izuku's hand, "And I'll determine if I want to buy them off of you."

The boy pondered the idea for a moment. Neither of them knew each other or what they might pull, so he supposed it was a decent idea. Normally, he wouldn't be so willing to give up the information without taking the money first, but he wanted to offer some sort of goodwill in order to get on the man's good side.

Not that much goodwill, though.

"Fine," Izuku finally replied, only to gesture towards the man. "Give me a third of the money first, though. Just in case."
To his surprise, Giran's lip twitched into a smirk. "I see you're not incompetent." He put his hand on the back of his neck, leaning back for a moment before straightening himself and handing out a wad of cash. "Makes sense."

Izuku blinked at the money. Even though he had known he was trading for it, the thought was still a bit unreal. However, once he realized that Giran was staring at him, he shook his head and snatched it from the man's hand, barely brushing his fingers against the other's palm.

"Alright," the boy said, clearing his throat and bringing the papers to his face, "Pro Hero: Kamui Woods: Civilian name, 'Shinji Nishiya," he started, internally groaning. It had taken him ages just to dig that much up, as the man hadn't gone to any prominent schools (or at least that Izuku knew of since it was partly under wraps for whatever reason), so his name wasn't readily available on the books. He supposed it wasn't entirely unheard of (for the best example he could refer to All Might, whose name that nearly nobody knew), but it was annoying for someone who needed to find it.

"His age is around 26 to 27," Izuku continued after a moment, "Additionally, his height is 168 centimeters and his blood type is A." While his height wasn't too difficult to figure out with the help of other heroes for scale, his age and blood type had required thorough digging. Peering into hospital files was difficult enough, and he had to do it for a hero.

Izuku glanced up, chewing on the inside of his cheek as his eyes connected with Giran's. The man looked rather... Uninterested.

"Based on the records by the hero commission," he continued, attempting to gain some interest, "His stats are as follows: His strength at the moment is labelled as ⅖. His speed is ⅘, his technique is ⅘, his intelligence is ⅗, and his cooperativeness is ⅗. Overall, relatively basic, but nothing to scoff at," he finished off. "A-"

Giran put up his hand. "This is nice and all, but most of this information seems irrelevant. I'll admit that it was impressive that you were able to dig all of it up, but how is any of this supposed to help? And," he mentioned, smoke drifting from his lips, "What is that scale even based on?"

Izuku's heart fell, only for a hint of confusion to rise in his expression a moment later. He could've sworn he saw some sort of phantom smirk flicker on the man's face.

Ah, he realized, eyes widening by a fraction, He's testing me.

Lowering his papers, Izuku relaxed his shoulders and made eye contact with the man. "For one, age could determine how much further he could grow as a hero, as well as how flexible, strong, and so on he might be. As for height and blood type," he continued, "They can both be considered with quirks. For example, 'Stain the Hero Killer,'" he said, offering up information that he hadn't intended to give away (but was clearly a good choice given the man's peaked interest), "Has a blood-related quirk that allows him to paralyze his enemies. After thoroughly examining reports - as well as seeing several fights through (annoyingly fuzzy) security cameras - I came to the conclusion that his quirk's time limit depends on blood type. I'm sure it could factor into other areas as well."

Giran was visibly grinning by that point, and Izuku cleared his throat. "Even the smallest factors can give someone the advantage - and that upper hand is what could win it all." He paused for a moment, allowing the man to process everything, before semi-explaining the stats. "As for the rankings, they're all based on the hero association's examination - along with some input of my own - and, in short, are used to compare heroes' abilities to one another. A more thorough explanation can be found on their website and," he looked up, "In this analysis if you end up paying me for my work."

Giran chuckled. "I see."
Taking in a breath to hide his smirk, Izuku glanced back down at his papers, deciding to spill a bit more information. He had already caught the man's attention, but he wanted him to trust him as much as possible. "Kamui's fighting style is medium range support. Basically," he explained, "If you corner him with a decent-sized group while he's alone, he'll likely become overwhelmed at some point. Additionally, his quirk 'Arbor' can be countered with something as simple as a strength-enhancing quirk or, more effectively, a fire-related quirk."

Izuku paused for a moment, but didn't bother looking up from his paper. "His quirk allows him to generate and control a flexible type of wood anywhere on his body," he continued, "And not only does he have full control over the tendrils' actions, but this allows him to multitask extremely well. His biggest strength is binding a villain before they can act, which is where the weaknesses come into play. Strength would allow you to break free, or," he considered, "Even a speed-related quirk would allow you to dodge. As for fire, the strength against wood is obvious."

Once finished, Izuku raised his head, waiting for Giran's response.

His shoulders relaxed immensely when the man broke out into a grin. "You've got a real brain on ya, kid. Tell me," he asked curiously, "Where'd ya get all of this info?"

"Ah," he replied, slightly surprised at the praise (considering he had only ever been ridiculed for his notes before), "I...," he finally settled, "I have my sources. Analysis has always been a hobby of mine."
Giran chuckled. "I can tell. Anyways," he said, stepping forwards and holding out the cash, "Here's the money: as promised."

Izuku didn't waste any time in swapping the notes with the money, smiling as he flicked through the small stack.

While he was preoccupied, Giran leafed through the notes before raising his head and eyeing the boy. "...Hmmm... How would you feel," he asked, catching Izuku's attention, "About a sort of partnership?"

The boy hid his reaction by biting the inside of his cheek. "And what would that entail?"

"Exactly what it sounds like," Giran replied, tucking the papers inside his pocket before snuffing out his cigarette with the heel of his foot. "I'd like to offer you a deal," he'd finally said, "Stay in contact with me, and I'll spread word of your analysis. I'm sure that eventually you'll be recognized for your work."

Izuku suppressed his eager grin, instead pressing his lips into a straight line. "I'll think about it."

"Good to hear it," the man smirked, and Izuku began to wonder if his face ever changed from the smug look. "Anyways," he mentioned, "I'm curious; is there a reason why someone as young as you is working in this sort of business?"

The boy paused for a moment before sighing. "I've got to make a living somehow."

Giran chuckled. "That's fair." After a moment, he dug in his pocket and handed out a small card to Izuku. "If you ever need anything - a costume, information, items, whatever - let me know, kid." Once Izuku took the card from his hands, the man turned around, beginning to walk away.

"Ah, wait," the boy stopped him, looking up from the card. "If you know a 'League of Villains,'" he said with a hardened expression, causing the man to look visibly intrigued, "Don't mention me or I'm cutting contact immediately." Giran remained still as Izuku's footsteps descended further into an alley, his casual smirk finding its way back onto his face once his initial surprise had disappeared. Interesting.

---

okay so there was supposed to be another part to this chapter

it really sucked though so i decide to lengthen the rest and redo it so it'll go at the beginning of the next chapter

merry christmas

aaand

Thanks for reading! <3