Chapter Two

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   The walk home seemed to drag by in excruciating slow repetition. Every step lasted at least an hour ground out the monotonous rhythm of scritch, thud, scritch, thud. The path Izuku normally took deviated from the usual civilians' routs and around the edge of the residential area, skirting the side of the wooded area that closed off the homes from the 'outside world' as Bakugou had once called it. The space beyond the civilised wilderness featured perfect picnic clearings, several rural parks and even a patch of slightly more dense jungle of closely packed bushes and trees — which Izuku and Bakugou had gotten lost in numerous occasions in their younger years — was vast expanses of farmland that eventually receded into the highway.

The Bakugou's lived nearer to the edge than Izuku did though, so after wasting time meandering past the dewy grass, and whispering trees rocking in the breeze lit by light hues of orange afternoon light, Izuku forcibly pointed his head back towards the more densely populated parts of the residential area.

Izuku may have also been delaying getting home, as the rare occasion of physically meeting and talking with the League was no small thing. Sure, Izuku played his slight nerves off with sass and humour, but he was always a little bit jittery before a gathering. Shigaraki always preferred texting like the unsocial neet he was, and since Izuku had decided to continue living at home as to not attain suspicion, he wasn't able to easily pop over whenever it fancied him.

Anyway, as the Plan centred greatly around Izuku attending and blending in at UA, he couldn't just disappear for a few years then expect no one to call fowl when he materialised back into existence for the entrance exams. But the main thing that really made Izuku stop and reconsider had been his own mother. He didn't want to do that to her — him leaving would have been so traumatic for her. As his father had already left, losing her son would have probably driven her into a downward spiral. He didn't even want to know where that spiral would have ended.

The path Izuku had turned down, that led a pretty straight line right back to his house, passed under a small bridge, the inside walls covered in graffiti and little hearts with lovers' initials in them. As Izuku approached, he kept a keen eye on the shifting shadows in the middle, always cautious of anything that lurked in the dark; normally everything was fine, he had nothing to fear — except that one time a girl with an invisibility quirk had accidentally bumped into him and nearly given him a heart attack. Apparently everything she touched or wore was cloaked as well so he hadn't seen anything until he had apparently knocked against a hard pocket of air and nearly pulled out his sharpened scissors. This time however there was something acrid, something almost stale and different about the air as Izuku stepped underneath the overhang, and into the duskiness of the tunnel.

He lifted his head warily, sniffing the air for Kurogiri's signature musky smell mixed with incense, but all he found was a disconcerting mixture of sewerage and rank mud. Izuku wrinkles his nose, frowning slightly as his brain ran over different possibilities but came up blank. He stilled, shoes scuffing the ground softly as he glanced around, body tensing. If there was anything he'd learned from being part of the League, it was to always expect the unknown wasn't going to be friendly, and probably wanted to attack him — especially if it was in a shady location or a place empty of normal, non-violent civilians.

This place annoyingly, fitted both scenarios perfectly.

With careful, practiced movements Izuku shrugged off his backpack and deftly zipped open the front pocket, pulling out a pair of silver metallic sewing scissors, hewn to a nasty point at the end. It was a bit strange to have a pair of sharpened scissors, but the practicality overweighted the peculiarity: no one would suspect scissors in a kid's school bag like they would a knife.

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