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Chapter Text

Shouta levels a pissed off glare at the folder Sansa drops in front of him, ignoring the other officers and pros positioned at the briefing table. The folder is just like any other case file that Shouta has ever been given, but somehow it annoys him more. The picture of a graffiti star paper-clipped to the front seems to mock him. Or maybe that's just the lack of coffee talking.

"So, you all know what this is, but I have to tell you anyway." Sansa announces, placing down the last file and moving to the front of the table. He pauses to give everyone at the table time to focus on him. They've all been here for a while, getting information for ongoing cases that the police need pro hero help with. "For the last three years we've been dealing with a new vigilante, who's first known act was to catch Hisashi Midoriya—who had recently burnt his wife alive and killed his son, as I'm sure you remember."

A pair of pictures flash onto the board behind Sansa—one of the burnt out husk of the old Midoriya apartment, and one of the dumpster that Midoriya had been found in, hog-tied and pumped to hell and back with quirk suppressants. Graffiti on the dumpster labels Midoriya a FAMILY MURDERER, signed with a star. Shouta thinks that it's no wonder the public had chosen his vigilante name to be Starry, with that signature and the ridiculous galaxy hoodie he insists on wearing as a costume. Sansa motions and a graph replaces the pictures.

"According to Analytics, Starry's activity spikes around that time of year before dying back down to his normal schedule. That's next week." He stresses, making eye contact with each of them. Shouta sighs and crosses his arms, glancing at the others at the table. The officers are the picture of obedient attention, but Shouta can tell they have heard this all before and are bored out of their minds. The other heroes are in varying states of attentiveness, with Valhalla apparently distracted with a doodle and Kamui staring Sansa down. "He'll be working himself to his limit, which means it'll be the best time to catch him off guard and finally bring him."

The screen changes to a map, a few areas highlighted.

"You're all here because Starry is frequently spotted in your patrol areas—" Here Sansa glances at Shouta, an amused look in his eye, "—With the exception of Eraserhead, who the chief insisted be here because he's the only one Starry has let see him."

One of the other officers snickers. They all know Shouta isn't exactly needed at these Starry meetings, since his interactions with the vigilante are sporadic and brief enough to not be of importance. Shouta glowers at Sansa, silently demanding that the catlike detective move on.

"Hem, right, anyway, we need you all to have your agencies be on the lookout. No lethal force. He might spread outside of your areas, but that won't matter." Sansa nods to the tech and the screen behind him shuts off. "You can keep the files, look over them and share information as you see fit. That's all we have for this today, so you're free to leave."

Shouta is the first to stand, grabbing the Starry file given to look over as he heads home, even if he is annoyed to be included. As a rule he tries to not interfere with vigilantes. Vigilantes and underground heroes work too closely for Shouta to risk messing with them, lest he wants to lose valuable sources of information and backup. Even if a vigilante makes his life harder by gaining a reputation for never being seen by heroes, ever, then appearing multiple times to wave or shout a greeting at him. Even then. 

The sky outside is dark when he steps out of the station, scattered with the few stars that can be seen, what with the light pollution in the city. Shouta keeps one eye on his path and one on the file in his hands. It's all reports on the many civilian sightings they have on Starry—things that Shouta has seen before. There is only one new piece of paper included in the manila folder, which Shouta almost glances over. It's a list of, apparently, possible hide out locations that Starry may be occupying.

Interest piqued, Shouta begins to read over the list. He skips over the first few suggestions,—because they're the ones that are always suggested on lists like these—impatient to get to the actual theories. He barely has time to read the words Dagobah Beach when a small body hurtles into him, full force. The file goes flying out of Shouta's hands, papers scattering on the ground.

"I am so sorry!!!" A tiny boy with a gauze taped over most of his left cheek squeaks, looking up at him. The kid has bushy dark hair and a smattering of freckles across his cheeks. His anxious, vivid green eyes somehow register as familiar in the back of Shouta's mind, though he's sure he's never seen this kid before. He jumps away from Shouta to start scooping up the fallen papers, babbling nonsense apologies. Shouta leans down to help him, and the two of them have his file back in one piece fairly quickly. Once it's in Shouta's hands, the kid bows. "I'm really sorry I bumped into you, sir, but I'm in a hurry, so I have to go!"

"Sure." Shouta says, excusing him from the interaction. The kid gives him a beaming smile, wrinkling the gauze on his cheek without even a wince of pain, and then takes off past him at a breakneck speed. Shouta sighs tiredly. Proximity to energetic people always makes him a bit more exhausted. Giving the folder a disdainful look, he starts walking again. He isn't looking forward to going through and reorganizing it again.

Hizashi is asleep, snoring softly, when Shouta gets home. Despite knowing that he has most likely taken out his hearing aids to sleep, Shouta sheds his capture weapon as quietly as possible, then slides into bed. It's dark enough in their room to make reading difficult, but Shouta thumbs through the folder anyhow. He tells himself that he'll read the list of places that Starry could be staying and then go to sleep for the night. 

Though first he actually has to find the damn thing.

After three fruitless scans, Shouta closes the file and tosses it down on his side table. The list is nowhere to be found. He and the kid must have missed it when they were picking everything up. Shouta is glad his husband can't hear him grumble to himself as he fishes his phone out of his pocket to shoot a text to Sansa, requesting another copy of the list to be sent to him. He doesn't really need it, because for the most part, Starry isn't in his patrol area, and thus not his problem. Still though, he figures it's only logical to look into Starry if the vigilante insists on messing with him.

A particularly loud snore interrupts Shouta's thoughts, jarring him back to the present. With a small smile, he put his phone back and laid down, finding Hizashi's hand in the dark. Even as he drifts off for his precious few hours of sleep, something nags at the back of his mind. Like he's missed some crucial detail. 

Shouta presses against Hizashi, pushing the feeling from his mind.

Chapter Text

Across the city, inside the sprawling Yuuei campus, Nezu sits at his desk. It is well after midnight, and the office is deathly still but for the principal himself, clicking away at his computer. With the lights having long since been shut off, the chess game that has Nezu so focused is the only source of light, enough to see the few papers on his desk but not much else.

Nezu's opponent makes his final move, and the screen flashes a colorful message.

YOU LOSE.

Chuckling to himself in delight, Nezu clicks off of the chess window to the chat one just under it. Nezu's face doesn't emote the same way as a human's does. He's just not built for all of the micro-expressions that humans are capable of, not that he minds. Despite that, he does his finest impression of a fond smile when he sees the three new messages already waiting for him.

Starry Eyed
OH MY GOD
I BEAT U AGAIN?
ITS 12-5 BUT S T I L L

Pulling over the paperwork he discarded to play with Starry, Nezu taps out a response. The game was meant to be a brief break, a way to refocus on the work he still has yet to do for the day. Nezu sends off his message, picking up his pen.

PlusUltraRatBear
Well done! Maybe one of these days you'll be in the lead!

Starry Eyed
yeah fuckin right you rat bastard
im still half sure youre just letting me win some so i dont stop playing with u

Nezu chuckles to himself, resisting the urge to answer back as soon as Starry replies. He has a system in place for these after-game conversations already. For every two pages of paperwork he completes, he can send one message to Starry. It is a rather efficient way of doing things, as talking to the vigilante always seems to speed his work along considerably. Nezu knows that Starry doesn't mind the pauses that occur as his pen races across the papers.

PlusUltraRatBear
I would never :)
Should you be asleep? Kids have school in the mornings after all.

Nezu puts aside yet another request to alter the heroics entrance exam, put in by Aizawa, to deliver to the school board. The board of directors is mostly comprised of old, change-adverse men who consider flashy quirks the peak of heroics, though, so Nezu doesn't hold out much hope for the proposal. Rescue points have been difficult enough for Nezu to convince them to implement.

Under Aizawa's forms is a request from Thirteen. Nezu scans over their request for USJ repairs, as a result of an incident involving their quirk, and signs off. Another sticky note finds itself stuck to the frame of his computer screen with a note to send Cemetoss within the week. Nezu will actively deny it if confronted, but he does have his favorites of the Yuuei staff.

Starry Eyed
[udumbfuckinhorse.jpg] 
i dont Go To School you know that already
stop fishing for clues 
or i might get the impression u only keep me around for the police investigations

There are a selection of very interesting quirks in the batch of recommended students this year. Half-Hot-Half-Cold and Whirlwind are both strong quirks, with the possibility of great adaptability. Creation, Softening, and Lizard Tail Splitting are all incredibly pliant powers with great potential as well. Nezu jots down another note, this time reminding him to watch the recommendation exam in person this year, and sticks it with the others.

PlusUltraRatBear
Why I would never :)))
anything interesting happen today, Starry?

Starry Eyed
uhhhhhhhhHHHH
helped a cat. kicked someone in the face. ran into my favorite hobo hero. Some old lady gave me 500 yen to "buy myself a nice meal" and i spent it on so much 30¥ melon pan
fr. so much

PlusUltraRatBear
You live like a homeless college student. It's fascinating.

Starry Eyed
thats me babeyyy

A laugh slips from Nezu's mouth at Starry's antics. The vigilante is always refreshing to talk to. Their conversations are like a chess game of their own, with Starry giving just enough information to be friendly and personable, but never any concrete evidence on his identity or location. Nezu hasn't even been able to track Starry through whatever device he uses—though he's sure that if he actually put his mind to it, it won't be much of a challenge. 

Starry keeps Nezu entertained and in return, he indulges in the lack of morality need to report what information he has on Starry to the authorities. Pro hero license or not, Nezu has no love for the majority of humanity. He knows all too well the cruelty they are capable of, after all. So he is overall fine with keeping this secret from them.

Starry Eyed
Oh i was gonna ask
do you think that
a) i could distract sansa with catnip
b) he has to fight an urge to try and catch you

PlusUltraRatBear
Why don't you try the first one the next time you see him?

Starry Eyed
GREAT IDEA. 
ALSO I NOTICE U IGNORING THE SECOND PART RAT BASTARD. ILL TAKE THAT AS A YES

Another bonus to their conversations is Starry's interest in quirks. Though the vigilante is careful not to share too much of his analysis with Nezu, he lets enough interest show for Nezu to piece together that Starry really loves quirks. He can never hold himself back from asking questions about the quirks of people he knows Nezu interacts with. Most of the queries are detailed, ingenious things that Nezu himself has never even thought to ask.

A quick glance up from his paperwork confirms that Nezu has been thinking for far too long. Two hours has passed since the game ended, mostly filled with paperwork, and Starry has gone idle. Nezu hopes that he's asleep, because humans need their eight hours. Somehow he doubts that Starry ever gets that many, but there is nothing he can really do about that. 

After another hour, Nezu carefully puts away his paperwork, sorting the completed from incomplete. He puts his pen up just so, like he does every night, and checks the school security systems one last time. As usual, there is nothing out of the ordinary, but Nezu knows it's better to check. He doesn't want to become compliant and miss something!

Nezu taps out one last message to Starry before he finally turns off his computer.

PlusUltraRatBear
Goodnight, Starry.

Chapter Text

Izuku awakes to sun in his eyes and the taste of ash on his tongue. The minivan that he calls home still has a sideview mirror intact, and it often wakes him up like this, so he just grumbles and pulls one of his salvaged blankets over his head to stop the glint of light. The taste of ash is also a common experience, one he deals with by feeling blindly for the water bottle that lays on the floorboards for this exact reason. 

Once he's washed the memories from his mouth, he sits up, shedding his blankets and dropping the bottle back on the floorboards, next to his clunky Frankenstein'd phone. The gauze from the night before, covering the burn that marrs a good portion of his left cheek, joins them there when Izuku remembers to peel it off.

He sits in the backseat for a while, staring blankly at the collection of things at his feet, before he's actually awake enough to remember anything besides flames—to remember the piece of paper in his pocket.

He has to smooth it against the back of the seats in front of him before he can really read it, as crumpled as it is from when he unceremoniously shoved it into his pocket. But that doesn't take long, and soon he's scanning over the list of possible hideouts for the vigilante Starry Smile.

Apartments, homeless shelters, and certain neighborhoods are first, but they're not what he's look for, so they are glanced over. The words he has been hoping not to see are right in the middle of the list. Dagobah Beach, sitting plain on the page in neat 12 point font. Izuku crumples the paper again and tosses it out of the minivan, through the missing door. 

His beach being on that list certainly isn't good news, but he refuses to panic over it. Dagobah is miles long, mostly made of mountains of garbage, and definitely not occupied by only Izuku. If the heroes check his beach, it will take weeks to do it completely, and he'll be able to move. Nothing to worry about at all.

Izuku crawls to the middle row of seats, dropping into them with a soft grunt and wincing when he lands on a buckle poking out of the cushions. He puts on his old, beaten up red shoes before he climbs out of the minivan, so the sand doesn't scorch his feet. The area directly around his minivan is a small clearing, clear of any large amounts of trash, and about half of it is covered by a large piece of sheet metal that is wedged into two mountains of trash at an angle. It protects the back of minivan from the sun, for the most part, keeping Izuku from baking on hot days.

He snags his backpack as he passes it, slinging it over his shoulder and holding on tightly. There are a few different ways out of his clearing, including scaling the trash, going through poorly defined pathways, or making his way to the water and wading to a less compact area. He's on a bit of a time crunch this morning though, according to the sun, so Izuku opts to take a pathway. He doesn't really have time to slip off of piles of trash and get a mouthful of horrendous tasting sand and maybe even scrap metal. 

In the end he barely makes it to the soup kitchen in time to get anything. Luckily the lead volunteer—the pro hero Valhalla, though he tells them to call him Jotun—takes pity on him when he sees Izuku's shoulders slump, and scrapes together the last of the food for him. All in all, Izuku considers it a success, despite the smaller portions. He eats quickly so he can borrow the kitchen's shower and still have time to make it to today's meeting.

Giran still jumps whenever Starry creeps up on him, despite the fact that by all accounts he should be used to it by now. It's one of the little things Izuku has decided to enjoy, so he makes the most startling racket he can when he jumps down from the roof onto the closed dumpster that Giran has his back to. True to form, he jumps, then tries to play it off like he hasn't almost bitten his unlit cigarette in half when he turns to the now squatting Izuku.

"There you are, Starry." He greets, staunchly ignoring the grin that Izuku sports, obvious even under his mask. He has a folder in his hands, one that's a bit thicker than the ones he usually brings. "Was starting to think you'd be late for once. Your nap run long?"

"Well I had to get all nice and squeaky clean for you, gramps." Izuku jokes back, moving to sit cross-legged on the dumpster cover, keeping his eyes on the folder. "Especially since I haven't visited in a week or two. Only the best for you, Giran."

"Yeah yeah, you toddler. I'm assuming you've already burned through all of the cases I found you? Again?" Giran asks, as if he doesn't already know the answer. Izuku props his head up on his hands and shrugs, tracking the folder with his through Giran waving it about for emphasis on his words. It isn't his fault that he has a surplus of time and the ability to hyperfocus on things. 

"I also took out that guy you told me about." Izuku hums. One of the things that Izuku does to get Giran's information is going around and knocking some fear of god—but like if god was a physically stunted 14 year old vigilante—into people who give Giran any shit. The man he was sent after last was someone who looked tough, but... "I don't know how he was 'giving you trouble;' the guy practically wet himself the moment I picked up a crowbar!"

Giran's ruined cigarette twitches in his mouth.

"A shortie like you with a crowbar is more terrifying than you think, Starry. But I appreciate it."

"Sure thing gramps. That folder is kinda big." Izuku says. Giran sighs in a way that sounds like you aren't subtle, are you? and holds it out, which makes Izuku sit up straight, his normal excitable energy making an appearance. He takes it and begins flipping through, drinking in the information printed inside.

"I added some extra cases and people who are bugging me this time, free of charge." Giran explains, pulling his broken cigarette out of his mouth finally and flicking it to the side. "Since I know you're about to go on your crazy week."

"Aw, thanks gramps." Izuku snaps the folder shut and gives Giran a big smile, trusting him to know what it is despite the mask. Giran shakes his head in response, his own smile growing in response.

"Keep yourself from getting killed, kid." He says as a parting, as he turns to leave. Strolling away, he calls over his shoulder. "Remember to call me if you need anything else."

Izuku yells an affirmation at his back. He hops off the dumpster and crosses to a nearby fire-escape, shoving the folder into his hoodie pocket as he goes. The smile on his face refuses to fade as he starts up the ladder, mind racing with plans for the next week.

At least he'll have something to do on the anniversary of the worst week of his life.

Chapter Text

Toshinori nods to a pair of woman staring at him as he passes them on the sidewalk. He pretends he doesn't hear the way they start whispering about his 'creepy' emaciated form as soon as he is past. He's used to it, and determined to enjoy this beautiful Tuesday. After about two weeks, he finally has his new apartment in Musutafu fully unpacked, so he figures he deserves this little stroll today. He plans to use it to grab some groceries before someone like Chiyo pops in to berate him on his near-empty fridge.

He's barely ten feet from the small locally owned store he discovered last week, when a youthful voice shouting in pain catches his attention. It comes from across the street, behind a fast food restaurant, and Toshinori can hear other sounds of struggles as well. It's second nature to sprint across the road, puffing up to his hero form the moment he realizes that someone is in trouble. He has used some of his time today, but he ought to have plenty to spare for this.

Whatever 'this' is.

"DON'T WORRY—" He bellows, bursting into the space behind the restaurant. "I AM—"

The scene is not one he is expecting. A young boy in a galaxy-patterned hoodie and black half-face mask stands in the middle of a ring of unconscious thugs. His hood is down, showing off a mess of dark curls and a cut on his forehead, which is dripping blood into one of his glittering emerald eyes. He's gripping his arm, right under where Toshinori can see the handle of a pocket knife, the blade sunk through the fabric of his sleeve.

"—Here...?"

The boy and Toshinori stare at each other with wide, shocked eyes for a moment.

Then the boy throws his head back and starts bawling. The quantity of tears that suddenly start pouring from him is frankly alarming, and Toshinori rushes to his side. 

"It's alright, my boy!" He says, a bit panicked, as he kneels next to the kid. His hands hover over his shoulders, uncertain if he'll be okay with a comforting touch. He's usually quite good with kids, but most kids don't look at him and start sobbing. Not in hero form, anyway. 

"NO IT'S NOTTTT." The kid wails in response to his encouragement. Toshinori's smile gains a bit of a strained note. Right. The boy has a knife in his arm, which needs to be taken care of, along with the cut on his forehead. However, the tears don't look like they're going to stop any time soon.

Think, Toshinori, think. He berates himself, patting down his pockets as if that will help. What would Chiyo do?

His frantic patting comes to an abrupt halt when he feels the shape of a lollipop in one of his pockets. It's one of Chiyo's special Recovery Girl brand lollipops, meant to help with the energy drain that accompanies her quirk. She had shoved it into his hands last time he visited, and he had forgotten about it. It's presence today is a stroke of good luck, and he quickly pulls it out and offers it to the kid.

The kid, though still sobbing and bleeding into that one eye, manages to look at it and Toshinori with a heavy bit of suspicion. 

"Yo-you shouldn't give candy to strangers." He mutters, shuffling forwards anyhow. Toshinori keeps his smile wide and friendly and does not point out that he has the saying all wrong.

"Why don't you tell me your name, and then you won't be a stranger?" He says instead. The boy considers this, shifting from one foot to another, then shrugs. Toshinori winces, glancing at the knife still sticking out of his arm.

"Mikumo." The kid says, and then snatches the lollipop from him. Toshinori barely stops himself from starting in surprise at the sudden movement, but Mikumo doesn't seem to notice. He's busy unwrapping the candy—with his teeth of all things, as if Toshinori wouldn't help if he asked—then slipping it under the bottom of his mask. His unobstructed eye closes in delight, shoulders slumping.

Toshinori takes the moment as a chance to slip his phone from his pocket and send his location to Naomasa. By the time he's put it back up, Mikumo is back to staring at him. The tears have stopped, at the very least. Toshinori is grateful for that. Even if Mikumo is still shifting like a caged animal about to charge off.

"I was just informing a friend of mine about this situation!" Toshinori explains in a boisterous yet gentle voice. "He and a few other officers will be around soon to take these ruffians away, and we can get you treated. There's a hospital not far from here. Can you wait until then?"

Mikumo's face scrunches up at the word 'hospital,' but he nods anyhow. Toshinori grins again and stands. He can hear a siren not too far off, which is hopefully Naomasa. Toshinori decides to use a bit of his strength to pull all of the thugs together, for ease of handcuffing and catching should they wake. The siren is much closer now, and Toshinori peers down the alley to watch the police car stop in front of the restaurant.

"Here they are, young Mikumo." He calls, watching Naomasa climb out of the car. "Naomasa!"

"Good morning, All Might." Naomasa greets in return, approaching with a few other officers. "What mess have you gotten into now, old friend?"

Toshinori laughs, gently patting his friend's shoulder.

"Nothing very large. I have a few ruffians who were accosting my young friend. He needs medical attention." He explains. Naomasa glances around him, and Toshinori turns as well, mouth open to introduce him to the boy.

He finds an area devoid of children.

"He—where did he go?" He gapes, looking around as if Mikumo is merely hiding behind one of the trashbags leaning against the restaurant walls. Naomasa strides past him, to about where Mikumo had been, and leans down to pick something up. His shoulders slump at whatever he's found. Toshinori steps forward to look at it over his shoulder.

It's the wrapper for the lollipop, with a message scribbled on the blank side.

thanks for the candy, all might! ☆=(ゝω･)/ 

"Sansa is going to love this." Naomasa sighs, pulling an evidence bag from his pocket. "Toshi, have you heard of Starry Smile?"

Chapter Text

Shouto breathes out a puff of cold air, activating the ice side of his quirk as he follows his father. Endeavor, in full hero regalia, is stalking down his patrol route in the same way he walks around their house. Shouto hates seeing it in the house, and he hates seeing it out here. Endeavor looks ready to hurt, willing to do anything to get the number one spot, even if those things are morally reprehensible. 

Even if those things are destroying his family.

"Keep up, Shouto." Endeavor barks as he turns a corner. Shouto sighs, but follows his father's order. If he's lucky then all of Endeavor's ire will be directed at criminals for the night and not at Shouto himself. This is supposed to be a look into how heroes conduct patrols, and thus another part of his training, but he can hope this time won't end with him injured.

Endeavor leads Shouto down a series of alleys, following a bizarre path that probably has no rhyme or reason. If Shouto asked, he would most likely be told that Endeavor is following a "hero's intuition" and then to shut up. He doesn't ask.

Eventually, they hear the sound of glass breaking and a woman shrieking. Endeavor takes off towards the noise, leaving Shouto to trail behind in his t-shirt. When he catches up to his father, he has a thief pinned to the ground. They clutch a purse in one of their hands, though the contents have fallen and scattered across the ground. 

Shouto waits until Endeavor has cuffed the thief and dragged them up to their feet to move in and start collecting the scattered contents of the purse. He avoids looking at the crying thief—they're young. Maybe only a few years older than Shouto himself. It makes his stomach turn.

Endeavor is growling something threatening at the thief when a sharp whistle echoes from the end of the alley. Shouto looks up at the sound, and is treated to the sight of a flying crowbar smacking his father in the back of the head.

Endeavor goes stumbling, relinquishing his grasp on the thief's arm to grip the back of his head. His beard and costume flare up, but the person who whistled—is that a vigilante?—shouts 'DOWN' and the thief drops, avoiding the worst of the flames. Shouto has to crank up the ice portion of his quirk to compensate for the blistering heat in the air. He squints down the alley to try and see who attacked Endeavor.

It's someone wearing a worn hoodie with some sort of galaxy print, layered over normal jeans and scuffed red shoes. There's a simple black face mask covering the lower part of his face. Other than that, there's nothing. No equipment, no weapons—aside from the crowbar laying at Endeavor's feet. There was nothing about him that screams vigilante, but Shouto recognizes him anyway.

Starry Smile is shorter than Shouto expected.

He's also rather expressive, even with the mask and shadows. Shouto can see the anger on his face—along with something like detached horror. Shouto almost expects him to take off running while Endeavor is stunned. Instead, Starry squares his shoulders and clenches his fists by his side, bouncing on the balls of his feet. 

Ready to run.

Endeavor spits a mouthful of blood and stands up straight, flames coming down to a more manageable heat. He looks down at Starry, and Shouto knows he recognizes the vigilante. He keeps up to date on the police reports of local vigilantes, mostly to find them and fight them. He forces Shouto to do the same. They both know that Starry has never let any limelight hero see him at all.

"Finally decided to show yourself, vigilante scum?" Endeavor spits venomously. Shouto can tell by the way he's watching that Endeavor has also noticed that Starry is prepared to escape. Starry shrugs with faux confidence.

"I usually only avoid heroes, and...." he trails off, making a point to scan the alley. Shouto blinks at how young he sounds. "Well, wouldn't you know, I don't see a single hero here!"

One of the many things that Shouto knows about his father is that he has a quick temper. In relation to home, this means pain. In hero work, this means that plans go out the window at almost the slightest provocation.

Endeavor snarls, lunging forward with a ball of flame. Starry turns to run.

He almost makes it out of the alley.

The scream that comes from Starry's mouth when the flames engulf his back is raw and loud and inhuman. Shouto finds himself taking a few steps away, then a few more towards him, hand outstretched as if he can do anything but watch.

Watch as Starry collapses, hoodie and shirt burning away. Watch as Endeavor stalks forward. Watch as Starry brokenly sobs. Watch the so-called hero reach down to grab the vigilante with no mercy, even though Starry is burning alive.

Watch as a pillar of ice bursts from the ground and extends from one alley wall to the other, making Endeavor jump back and cutting him off from Starry Smile.

"Don't." Shouto says without meaning to. Endeavor turns to face him and the world slows with him, moving like molasses.

(The purse-snatcher has escaped.)

Shouto watches the curve of Endeavor's scowl and knows it to be a promise of punishment. 

(Distantly, thunder booms.)

"I will deal with you later." Endeavor growls at him. Shouto stares back and tries to keep his face as neutral as possible. He will not let his father see any of the fear this sentence brings. 

(The sobbing has stopped.)

Endeavor throws another burst of fire at the wall of ice, melting a large hole in it in a few short seconds. He climbs through. Shouto briefly thinks about running away now, so he doesn't have to watch his father drag a scorched Starry through the wall. He won't make it far though, so that plan is stored for later. Instead he just braces himself.

Then Endeavor screams in rage, the flames on his suit flaring high enough to melt the remainder of the ice and to light up the area rather well. Shouto looks at him, then the puddle, then the ground where Starry Smile should be, but isn't. Instead, there's a small piece of paper floating in the remains of his ice. 

Endeavor slams his fist into the brick wall, then takes off. Obviously he thinks he can still catch up to Starry. Shouto doesn't follow this time. He's too busy scooping up the piece of waterlogged paper. It's a note, written in shaky marker.

thank you

Shouto looks up at the night sky and watches as dark clouds roll across it, smothering stars. He picks the brightest one he can see and makes a wish.

Chapter Text

Sansa doesn't end his call with a curt good DAY to you, sir, because he's talking to number one hero All Might and also on duty, but he wants to. He also feels like reinacting one of those dramatic ripping-hair-out scenes but luckily by virtue of having fur and not hair, he cannot. Instead he must sit in his chair and try his best not to scream.

This case is driving him insane.

Sansa usually deals with cases that involve scared kids in bad homes. Vigilantes aren't really his thing. But the precinct is always stretched thin, and vigilante cases add a little more to his paychecks, so he accepted the Starry Smile one without much fuss. He told himself that it couldn't be that much trouble. Vigilantes usually don't last very long.

He regrets taking this case. He regrets it so much.

Starry Smile, as Sansa has informed the heroes also working on this case, does not have a schedule. This week is the one consistent thing they've been able to pin down. This week, the anniversary of both the time Inko and Izuku Midoriya died, and a year later, when Starry Smile captured Hisashi Midoriya. Sansa can hardly begin to guess what emotional ties Starry might have to this week. It's not all that important in the long run, anyhow.

What is important is that this week is when they have the highest chance of spotting and capturing him.

Spotting him they've got down—there have been plenty of civilian statements in the last few days. They track him up and down the city—and sometimes out of it—yet none of the heroes he has on the case has seen hide nor hair of him.

And now Tsukauchi has called him for an on-the-phone statement from motherfucking All Might because motherfucking All Might saw Starry. Sansa can't even be annoyed that All Might insisted on a phone statement instead of coming to the station in person. He finally has a general description to run beyond Starry's outfit, skin color, and vague height.

The general description is of a kid, or course, but that just means that he and the heroes need to capture Starry even faster. They'll never keep this kid from hurting himself if they can't even catch a glimpse of him.

Sansa is in the middle of editing the heroes' vigilante reports on Starry when someone knocks on his door. Eraserhead opens the door without waiting for an answer, shuffling in and looking dead on his feet.

"They told me I had to come in for a new copy of that hideout list." Eraserhead grunts. He reaches one of the chairs that are set up in front of Sansa's desk and eyes it. After a second he shakes his head, obviously deciding to just stand for the duration of this little meeting.

"Oh right, someone mentioned that." Sansa answers, clicking open his files to print off a new copy. "Not sure why you want it though. You don't like this case anyway."

Eraserhead just shrugs.

"If I'm going to be called in everytime the kid so much as sneezes, I might as well keep up to date."

Sansa hums in response, watching the paper print. It's a logical reason. Eraserhead is known for those, after all. Sansa pulls the list out of the printer as soon as possible and holds it out over the desk.

"You know, they might not call you in anymore. You aren't the only hero that's seen him now." He comments as Eraserhead takes it. "I got an on-phone statement from All Might."

The paper crinkles ever so slightly where Eraserhead holds it, and only Sansa's inhuman eyesight lets him catch the faint wrinkling of Eraserhead's nose at the name. It figures that an underground like him wouldn't like the overall flashy-ness of All Might.

"We have a better description and a possible name now." Sansa continues instead of asking about Eraserhead's scowl. "Starry called himself Mikumo. It's probably an alias but it won't hurt to look into it, you know?"

Eraserhead grunts again, seemingly in agreement, as he looks over the list. Sansa quietly goes back to editing Starry's profile while Eraserhead reads.

Dark curly hair that "seems as if it hadn't been brushed or trimmed in ages." Seems to be young, possibly between the ages of 11 and 17.

"How old did he look?" Eraserhead pipes up after a bit. Sansa looks up to find him seated in the chair, staring back at him. "I always said he looked too short and tiny to be that old."

"Closest idea we have is that he might be around 13." Sansa says. Eraserhead's scowl deepens a bit, which has Sansa nodding in agreement. "Way too young to be doing this stuff. Hopefully we can get him in sooner than later."

"Right." Eraserhead stands again, tucking the folded list into a pocket in his black hero suit. "Until next brief."

"See you."

Eraserhead opens the office door just as a younger officer is about to barge in. The officer barely stops themself before running into him. They're redfaced and panting like they've run from down the block, and they barely glance at Eraserhead. Instead they duck around him to face Sansa. It takes him a second to place them as a newer recruit, Officer Riley Griffin.

"Sansa, there's," They pause to take a deep gulp of breath. Sansa exchanges concerned glances with Eraserhead while they collect themself. When they continue, it is with a grave face. "There's a new Starry sighting. By a hero."

"What? Already?" Sansa questions, already standing to grab his coat. "Who, where, how?"

"In some alleys next to a commercial area." Griffin hurries to explain. "But sir. The hero—it was Endeavor, sir."

Both Sansa and Eraserhead still immediately. Endeavor is the second top hero for a reason, but that position comes with an extraordinary amount of injury and damage to his surroundings. Endeavor is a hero focused on bringing villains down no matter what. If that focus extends to vigilantes, then...

He motions for Griffin to continue.

"Endeavor roasted him alive, sir." They say without preamble. "No one can find him to administer first aid."

Sansa swears vehemently on his way out the door.

Chapter Text

By the time Izuku makes it back to the beach, lightning has cracked open the sky and rain is pouring down in sheets. The rain pounding down on his back does so with unforgiving force, making everything hurt worse instead of relieving his pain.

Everything is hazy but Izuku still knows not to try going through the trash when it's raining. Things will collapse and then he'll be dead—though some part of him pushes through the pain to remark that the nothingness of death will be a welcome change from this hellish pain.

Izuku blinks and opens his eyes to find himself sloshing through choppy waves. Another blink finds him slamming shoulder-first into a pole sticking from the sand. He stays there for what he thinks is only a moment, swaying back and forth dangerously. Eventually a wave pushes him to take another step. When his foot goes to land, that same wave steals the sand from under him. He topples.

The sea swallows him even as he crashes to the shallow bottom of it, replacing his breath with stinging water. He is battered by the waves for a few precious moments before he finds the strength to lift his head out and pull himself haphazardly onto the sand. He only gets halfway before collapsing back down but that's enough. The sea only splashes up enough to touch his chin. He can just focus on trying to breathe through his soaking-wet mask.

The ocean splashes up to lap at his inflamed back. The burn hurts like all of the worst things in his life, but when the water gently covers it, it gets a little more bearable. Izuku wriggles further down towards the water he just escaped, sparing not a thought of drowning to the tide. All that matters is getting even just a bit of relief. The water rises, the water retreats. The cycle repeats until Izuku passes out, sobbing all the while.

Izuku, unfortunately, dreams.

Sparks and flame swirl through his apartment, glowing with malicious intent. Smoke scratches at his lungs and embers scald his fingertips, a punishment for trying to play the hero. The smell of burnt flesh and dreams and a home that Izuku so desperately craves even now invades his entire being and causes a flood of tears to fall towards the ground.

His mother screams, sobbing as well, and begs him to run—run Izuku baby—until the fire burns that away too. Until all Inko Midoriya can say is helpmehelpme and pleasedon'tleavemehere. The last words Izuku hears his mother say are a final, quiet i don't want to die.

He watches his mother die a thousand times, then watches her charred corpse rise from the ashes and scream that everything is your fault, Izuku, all of this is YOUR FAULT!

Izuku tells her that he knows and he is sorry. He cries it as his forearms sizzle and burn under the weight of a beam that is pinning his mom to the floor. He lets the words become scarred imprints on his arms. He never stops crying.

Every once in a while, after his charred-mother has collapsed into vengeful ash, Hisashi will show up in her place. Izuku's father is a giant made of embers and smoke, and Izuku is terrified of him. Hisashi's mouth sparks and vitriol pours from it, in the form of flames. They hiss insults, scorch quirkless, useless, good-for-nothing deku into Izuku's soul.

Hisashi keeps going until Izuku is choking—until Izuku is drowning. Is it flame or saltwater that he's coughing up? The difference hardly matters when it burns.

You are worthless. Hisashi growls. You should die just like your bitch of a mother.

Izuku cries and cries and barely registers someone yelling over the sound of a storm.

"Starry!" The unfamiliar voice is calling, getting closer. Hisashi crumbles into nothing and the cycle is reset.

Izuku! His mother cries out from her position under the burning beam. Izuku drops his backpack and rushes into the blazing apartment. The beam is heavy as always, the smoldering wood burning through his uniform to sear his arms. Izuku, no, Izuku run—run Izuku baby—he'll get you too—

"Starry!" They yell, so close and so concerned.

Izuku, please, you have to go! Inko begs him, but he sees the fear in her eyes. He tries to lift the wood again. If he can just get it up a little bit, mom can climb out and they can escape. He can see her trying even now, pulling at the burning floorboards as if it will help her slide out from under the beam. Together, they can do this. He just has to lean closer, pull harder. Even if that puts his face too close to a wall of flame. It doesn't matter as long as his mom escapes. Izuku—!

"Starry." Someone gasps. There are hands on his shoulders, his arms, pulling him across sand. The motion aggravates his back despite the gentle hands and he cries out. He's swimming in a haze of pain and nightmare, with reality and memory merging until he can't tell which is which.

"We have to get him out of here, quickly." Says a voice that doesn't belong to his mother, even if it is her mouth moving in time. The fires around them flicker, fading in and out of view. Their apartment disconnects from the rest of the world.

"Mom—I'm sorry—" Izuku tells Inko. The beam is heavy and burning and his grip is slipping. "I'm sorry, please—"

Please make it stop.

"He's conscious enough. We'll have to risk this." A third voice says. They sound grim. Something touches his forehead, ever so softly, and fatigue crashes down on him. He buckles, nearly dropping the beam back down on Inko.

Izuku. She reaches up to brush his hair out of his face. When he looks down at her, her face is no longer covered in ash and tears. She looks calm, albeit sad. It's okay now, baby. It wasn't your fault. You can let go.

I love you. She tells him, smiling like she always used to.

Izuku drops the beam. The blazing apartment disappears, and the pain almost completely follows suit. He drifts to somewhere dark and quiet.

Izuku, fortunately, does not dream.

Chapter Text

Nezu considers himself a patient creature. He has to, when so many of his plans involve setting something up and then waiting—sometimes years at a time—for results. Waiting games are something he excels at.

He doesn't understand why this one is making him so jittery.

After three days of checking the infirmary security cameras almost obsessively from his office, Nezu has relocated to sit beside Starry's bed. It's the only way he's been able to get any work done, and even then his productivity has diminished slightly. The world won't notice. His unproductive is the human's 'faster than I want to think about'.

Nezu sits in the chair and does paperwork and waits and fidgets. The child known as Starry Smile sleeps on, occasionally whimpering at whatever nightmares haunt their mind, but never stirs. There's a folder on the little bedside-table, full of information on Starry—who they are, what their known past is. But Nezu hasn't picked it up yet. He can't bring himself to, even though he's oh so curious about his young friend.

Nezu finds himself staring again and has to consciously stop his tail from anxiously swishing back and forth.

It's when Nezu is not looking at them when Starry starts to wake up. The low shff of their hand against the sheets is enough to have him looking up. He meets Starry's half open, clouded eyes and freezes for one precious moment.

"Hello!" He chirps, once he's realized just what's happening. Without breaking eye contact, he reaches to press a button attached to Starry's bed. It will alert Recovery Girl that they're awake and ready for a check up. "I'm PlusUltraRatBear, also known as Principal Nezu! He/them pronouns please!"

Starry, mind addled by pain medication and sleep, merely squints at him for a long minute. Nezu hopes that they'll take the bait—though the examination and such says one thing, Nezu isn't the type to assume someone's gender identity. Luckily, Starry decides to work with him, though they do sigh in a very put-out way.

"Starry Eyed, aka Starry Smile," They mumble quietly, "aka Izuku. He/him."

Nezu nods cheerfuly and, deciding now is as good a time as any, finally picks up Izuku's folder. He flips it open and corrects the deadname listed while Izuku takes in the room. He ignores the name Midoriya for the time being. There's time to address that connection later.

The two of them sit quietly as Nezu marks things in Izuku's file.

"Where th'fuck is my shirt? 'N hoodie?" Izuku asks, breaking the silence suddenly. Chiyo has him on his stomach, shirtless and without any blankets that might irritate the shiny red scarring on his back. Nezu glances up at him.

"I'm sure Recovery Girl will bring you a hospital gown, to not aggravate your skin. It's very sensitive right now!" He replies instead of telling Izuku that his clothes were so burnt that they had to be cut off of him. Izuku grunts, turning his head to press his face into the pillow below it. The door to the infirmary opens soon after, saving them from another quiet pause. Chiyo walks in briskly, making her way to the side of Izuku's bed without hesitation. Nezu hands over Izuku's annotated file and hops off of the chair.

Izuku peeks at the two of them.

"Recovery Girl is going to check you over and give you a rundown of your future treatment plans and such!" Nezu explains readily, muzzle splitting into his version of a smile. Izuku turns his attention to Chiyo, watching her read his file with suspicion. "I'll be going back to my office to wait for y—"

"Can you stay?" Izuku interrupts. Nezu blinks, smile faltering. The young vigilante meets his eyes, and Nezu is surprised by the vulnerability there. "...Please?"

"Yes yes, of course he can stay." Chiyo answers in Nezu's stunned stead. She shoos him away from the bed to draw the curtains and give Izuku as much privacy as they can afford him. "He'll be waiting right outside the curtains, dear."

Chiyo moves into the check up, narrating her actions as she does them. Nezu listens to the low murmur of her voice and thinks about the warmness he's feeling. Something about Izuku trusting him enough to feel safer with his presence... it's nice.

"Nezu?" Izuku whispers underneath the sound of Chiyo's chattering. 

"Still here." Nezu calls back quietly. Chiyo does them both the favor of pretending that she hasn't heard a word.

"The salt water you were in helped keep the burns from becoming infected, and I was able to heal them a bit when we arrived on the scene, but there will be a fair amount of scarring." She instead continues to say. "You'll have a bit more of a limited range of movement, especially while you're still healing. No gymnastics or anything of the sort, understood? You'll hurt yourself more."

"Mm." 

"Good. Now, I know you've just woken, but I'm going to use my quirk on you again. After this, you'll have to come to me once a day for further treatment as we move on." Chiyo tells Izuku. "This will make you feel tired, but that's normal. I have things to give you a bit more energy ready."

"Okay." Izuku agrees. There's a moment's pause before he speaks again, audibly more tired. "Ah. Cooties."

Nezu lifts a paw to his mouth and coughs to disguise his chuckling. Chiyo laughs without hiding it.

"You can come back in, Nezu." She says, pulling the curtains open enough for her to slip out and him to take her place. Izuku is sitting up in the bed, now wearing an oversized and loose All Might t-shirt, with his hands over his face. Even so, Nezu can tell that he's blushing. 

"My life is over." He groans dramatically. Nezu hops back into his chair, chuckling again. "I can't believe I said that to Recovery Girl."

"I'm sure she's heard worse." Nezu assures, though it doesn't seem to make Izuku feel any better. He sighs deeply, dragging his hands down his face in a way that stretches his features for a moment. Then he looks over to meet Nezu's eyes again. 

"So what happens now?"

"What do you think happens now?" Nezu inquires. Izuku shrugs gently, putting on airs to seem unbothered.

"I'm an injured, underage vigilante that's wanted by the police. You're the principal of Japan's best hero school and a pro hero." He summarizes with a frown. "Now you turn me in?"

"That's the logical conclusion to come to." Nezu agrees. "However, I have no love for most humans. Their authority only matters to me when I can twist it to my advantage, or get a laugh with it. I have no intention of handing over my beloved chess buddy so easily."

Izuku sits there for a moment, watching him. There's a calculating look in his eye, and Nezu knows that Izuku is arriving at a new conclusion. The conclusion that whatever Nezu is about to say will be outlandish, and most importantly, entertaining.

"To answer your question; now," Nezu says, grinning sharply, "We enroll you in Yuuei and see how long it takes the pro heroes to notice that there's a vigilante in their midst."

Chapter Text

Sansa leans back in his chair and clicks his laptop's spacebar, restarting the video on his screen once again. The angle of a dark alley is slightly grainy, as most security camera footage tends to be, but it's clear enough to watch as Endeavor sets Starry Smile aflame out of pure cruelty. The video doesn't have audio, thank god, but he can see Starry's mouth open in what had to have been a bloodcurdling scream.

As Starry falls to the ground, Sansa's gaze flits over to Endeavor's son, Todoroki Shouto. Even through the pixilation, Sansa can see the horror on his face. Starry is a child, and watching his father torture someone younger than him has to be terrifying. Shouto takes a step back, and then jolts forwards, sending a wave of ice to block Endeavor from picking Starry up.

As Starry picks himself up, painfully limping to a nearby, unlocked door and slipping inside, Endeavor turns to say something to his son. Having already witnessed Starry's escape a million times, Sansa focuses on the youngest Todoroki this time around.

Shouto flinches and goes stiff at whatever Endeavor growls at him, face blanking carefully.

Everything about this footage leaves a bad taste in his mouth. Whether that taste is bile from watching a child being set on fire by a so-called hero or his intuition screaming that something about the Todoroki situation is wrong depends on what he focuses on during his re-watches. Then there's the fact that the police didn't get this footage themselves—instead, it was pulled from the cameras by anonymous person and posted on multiple websites. The web is in a frenzy over it, debating its authenticity and denouncing or defending Endeavor.

Everything about it is a massive headache. Sansa has a mountain of tasks to get done in a short amount of time. Since he's the lead officer on this case, the chief has left writing up an official statement to give to the public to him. He's also in charge of managing the couple of search parties looking for Starry, though Eraserhead has been helping out with that a surprising amount. And top of all of that Sansa has decided to dig into the past of the Todoroki family because something is wrong there.

"Why did I become a police officer?" Sansa groans, dropping his head in his hands. Tsukachi, who happens to passing by, snorts at his pain.

Sansa slumps farther into his seat so his agony is less visible from the door, lest more of his co-workers pass by. He makes up his mind to do the rest of his work just like this, despite the discomfort radiating from his spine, because he is a dramatic and stubborn bitch, thanks.

It's as he's doing his best to type out a statement from his uncomfortable position that he gets the notification for a new email. He stares at the little red circle with a 1 on the email icon for a moment. It's mocking him there, a promise of more work or complications. He kind of wants go ignore it completely—maybe if he deletes it real quick, he can pretend it never arrived in the first place.

He clicks on to the app to maybe do just that, and the subject of the new email prompts him to sit up in his chair the proper way.

Endeavor Abuse Accounts.

Sansa wants to cry. He can't actually cry, because that's not how cat tear-ducts work, but he really wants to. Honestly, he has been hoping that his unease about Endeavor has just been a misunderstanding; he hasn't wanted to truly think that such a popular hero is abusing his children. Mostly because he never wants children to go through that, partially because it will be so difficult to get them out if that's the case. Endeavor has so much pull in the industry. He can hire the best lawyers, or even just have the HPSC cover it up—which is probably exactly what has been happening up to this point.

The cowardly part of Sansa wants to dismiss the email without even reading it. The rest of him remembers exactly the way the youngest Todoroki flinched in that video. This isn't something he can make himself ignore, not with his experience. He clicks the email open.

It's from a 'ttrokiflame', and when Sansa clicks on the address to view the profile attatched, all he finds is a blank icon and the word 'cremation'. He makes a mental note to look into it further when he has the time and moves on to the body of the email.

Yo detective, it starts, i dont actually think you'll look at this or care. but i decided to send this anyway, just in case not all of you cop bastards are crooked. havent seen any proof of you being swayed by the old many yet in any case.

The tone denotes experience with being dismissed by authority someone thought would help—specifically from officers who have probably been paid off. Sansa frowns at the implications and pushes on.

attached are video and transcript files of endeavors kids talking about their experiences and photo proof of some injuries. also some records about the cover-ups of touya and rei todoroki. use this shit well, or i'll find you and see if charred cat smells different from human.

The email ends without a proper sign off, but Sansa can't bring himself to even pay attention to that. He's drawn to the files that, as promised, are attatched. There's five different ones, each unnamed. While Sansa doubts the contents have been attained by legal means, considering the type of person ttrokiflame seems to be. What's in these files won't hold up in court if his suspicions are correct, but... it'll give him a place to start. He can go himself and get legal records afterwards.

This side project will probably take every ounce of time he has outside the Starry case. He won't be getting much rest if he dives into this.

Sansa resigns himself to a sleepless night and opens the first file.