Journey For Trust (Vigilante Deku)

Chapter Twenty-Five: Research Pictures

Izuku scurried up the oversized public library stairs, holding his vigilante analysis journal close to his chest, awkwardly shifting it so it wouldn't touch the cast Toshi gave him. Though the cast was very sturdy, and would take a beating before the tiniest dent was made, it was something that somebody else made for him. It didn't matter how closely the shell hugged his arm or how well it protected the most vulnerable part of him—it wasn't his. It was Toshi's. So if touching the cast as little as possible somehow rid the chances of ruining it, then he wouldn't touch it. He couldn't ruin it. Especially not after all the trouble Toshi went through to get one made by a quirk, let alone one made just for him.

Izuku didn't deserve this, and Toshi didn't deserve to have to put up with the hassle of helping him; to make it worse, he couldn't do anything to repay Toshi back. Not only that, but he's so stupid he made Toshi worry even more about him and now also his living situation. He might have even made Toshi think his father is abusive just because he can't have one damn normal conversation! Izuku pushed through the metal library doors, swallowing the pit in his throat while he traveled through the oversized maze of bookshelves.

It was his fault that Toshi had to worry about him—because he couldn't tell one stupid lie correctly! He only had to lie because his father burning him would've sounded too far, but that's only because Toshi wouldn't have context! Izuku sped over to a back corner of the library, hidden on either side by shelves stacked full of forgotten books, and slid down to the floor. The towering shelves encased him in a void, suffocating space. It was his fault his father burned him in the first place!

Izuku covered his face as much as he could with one arm. Though he appreciated—or maybe even wanted—Toshi's help and company, he'd have to break off their routine if he screws up again. Which he will, he always does. His journal slipped out of his grasp.

But it'd break off itself soon, right? The moment he accidentally told Yui about where a lot of his injuries come from was when their 'meetings' ended. But when he said he'd dealt with plenty of burns before, Toshi didn't leave him. Of course, his father didn't cause those burns, but he's so awkward he made Toshi think that. Toshi's reaction to his screw up tormented his mind; he tugged and pulled at his hair in a vain attempt to erase the image. Maybe he's already hurting Toshi the same way he hurt Yui.

How terrible can he be? To make someone who helped him make such a face? And over something that's not even true! His father isn't some dangerous person, and definitely not dangerous enough that he needs 'a safe place to stay' away from him. He's not abusive.

Despite Toshi worrying about his home life—which he needs to correct the next time he sees him—Toshi still didn't leave or push him away like Yui did. So how could he break off their agreement? He couldn't just not show up. That'd be incredibly rude, especially after he agreed to Toshi's offer of a daily routine. Izuku pulled in a gallon of heavy air. He should break it off like he did with every friendship he had.

Tell Toshi he's quirkless.

All he had to do was wait for the 'what's your quirk?' question. That way, Toshi would understand he's wasting his time on some worthless lost-cause kid. Izuku's mouth went dry. Something inside Izuku hated every part of the thought that Toshi might think that of him. Of the fact that Toshi will think of him like that.

Izuku stuffed that 'something' deeper inside him, somewhere it wouldn't get in his way. Somewhere it would be silenced. Somewhere he kept a lot of emotions. It was his fault for being quirkless, anyway.

He picked himself and his journal from off the floor and walked to the computers lining the wall in the library corner. No one came to this part of the library when there's less than a half hour before closing time; a perfect time to research as much as he can about Junpei. Izuku pulled out the rolling chair from under the desk which one computer stood on, sat down, and logged into the boxy, twenty-something year old computer.