What Makes A Hero

2

    (An: Is like to add that what happens is technically- not even technically, it is blatantly- kidnapping. Once again, Izuku may semi-look up to him later on, but Nox is a horrible role model, frequently breaks laws, and is just generally not a good role model. Don't.)

        Izuku sat in the room in complete silence for he wasn't even sure how long. By the time he exited the room it was no longer lit by the sunlight that shone between and through the curtains. He padded out of the room to find the other again, not noticing that once more he had left his stuff. The man was still in the room he had left him in.

"Oh, you're still here. You know they think that you died." The voice was just too uninterested to have said what Izuku thought it just had.

"W-what?" Izuku froze where he stood at the threshold. The man was sitting on the single chair again, this time with the open laptop balanced in his hand. The screen dimly lit up his face as the sun had gone down and yet they still hadn't bothered to turn on any lights.

"You were saved from a slime villain by All Might, yes?" Izuku nodded uncertainly in response, "Well it escaped and clearly it appears to believe that it killed you after being captured again. It's admitted to it even, if you want a chance at continuing your life you need to hurry; your mother has clearly already been informed. Crying all over the news about the tragedy." They sighed- still sounding not in the slightest bit comforting or even upset at the thought.

"I-I'm.... dead?"

The man looked up fixing him with a deadpan stare, "Clearly; no."

"Wh- oh, uh, I'm so- no- I did- so-" He cut himself off as the other just kept staring at him with a raised eyebrow, they went back to skimming the article.

"What should I do?"

"You should decide on your plans for the future, a dead man struggles to get a job since any identification they once had isn't valid, but there are other options that don't require it. You'd never live a normal life and always be in danger though. Of course you could fake an identification to buy yourself time to decide, but then you could never go back to your home. You could, of course, go back to your mother and whatever other friends or family you have. It's hardly my decision. At this point only you can decide, it's hardly as if they've posted a reward for your corpse's return."

"I-I didn't have any friends or other family..."

They hummed noncommittally, a small amused look flashing across when the younger didn't even seem to register the suggestion in that final part. Izuku slowly wobbled over to the couch and plopped down in thought. The older returned to his screen without a word, a few minutes later closing the screen and leaving the room. Izuku walked back to the room he had woken up in and went to bed shortly after. He didn't see the other in the morning. Yet for some strange reason he didn't try to leave, he didn't go back to the misery of trying to stand strong on his own. To ignore his mother's teary looks his way, Bakugo's threats, the other students' sneers. Instead he sat there trying to figure out what he had to go back to, what he wanted to do with himself. Questions normally reserved for someone far older than himself.

He glanced up as he saw the door open showing the man dressed similarly to how he had been last night, once more in all black. They blinked upon seeing him, but continued into the kitchen, "You're still here."

"I- I don't think that I want to go back."

"I see."

"I'm sor-" he stopped when piercing eyes shot up from what they had been working on to glare at him, "I don't mean to disturb, but can I... is it possible if I stay here... just for a little bit, I won't cause any trouble and I'll stay out of the way if you want and he-"

They returned to their work sounding resigned as they asked, "Why would you want to stay here?"

"I, uh, well I don't have anywhere else to go."

" Very well," they put something down on the counter and moved to a cabinet, pulling out a worn book and flipping it open to a page they set it out of view on the counter, "You won't stay for free however, in return for food and board you will keep this place clean and cook dinner every evening, you are responsible for making your own meals otherwise- you may help yourself to whatever you like. What you do with your remaining time is up to you. I'll give you directions to the market in town and money to make purchases- I expect receipts. You are to spend time socializing there as well. Humans need interaction, and clearly I won't be around all day. Do you want to continue your schooling?"

"Er, well, uh y-yes."

"Good I'll set you up with a fake identification card and enroll you online, name?"

"Midoriya Izuku...?"

They stared at him before closing their eyes and directing them to the sky as if asking the heavens for patience, "You're fake name. What you will be enrolled under. If you truly take this path Izuku is dead."

"Oh, uh, so- I mean," he paused before he came up with one, evidently taking too long as the other spun towards the door. "Wait!  Izumi, Kobayashi Izumi."

"That will do. I'll create the identification card now then. While you work on dinner think of how you'll say you ended up here and why you're shopping for groceries for two by yourself. The recipe is on the counter." The man made to stride out of the room again.

"W-Wait!"

"Yes?"

"What do I call you?"

"Nox. You may call me Nox."

Nox blinked, his always slightly annoyed expression softening, his eyes widened fractionally at the other as he was given a bright, sunny smile by Izuku, "Thank you very much, Mr. Nox, for all of your help. I appreciate it."

His guard returned after a short moment, "Like I said; it's not for free, you're cooking and cleaning, you have nothing to thank me for. And it's just Nox." He exited the room.

Izuku beamed even brighter than before  at the shut door and then stood, heading to glance at the recipe that had been left. The page was old, not just a passed-down-from-a-grandmother old, but a this-could-be-older-than-even-quirks old. He stared at the paper before him, laminated onto the pages of an unbelievably old black notebook. The only words written on the page itself was in thick, blocky lines of black ink. 11-7-89.

The black notebook could be considered new however when compared in relation to the recipe that had been attached to it.  Taped and later on laminated to the notebook paper was a recipe for what appeared to be a stir fry. It was  written in a distinctly different handwriting than the date had been. It was thin and spindly, with unnecessary loops and curls, Izuku quickly found himself mentally comparing the second handwriting to his own although his was far more messy and nowhere near as elegant. He quietly reminded himself to work on mimicking it. This second one looked like a work of art despite parts showing discreet signs of being rushed. He smiled slightly at the bright although faded colors and the cute little drawings of stars and smiles added around the outside on the notebook's pages in both sets of handwriting. He picked up the knife Nox had abandoned and set to work cutting up the vegetables left beside it as the instructions directed.

He was Kobayashi Izumi now. So now he just had to figure out; who exactly was Izumi? What was his story?

He ate dinner after waiting fifteen minutes for Nox to return. He would have waited longer, but he was famished. It had been over a day since his last meal and despite his quite far from perfect cooking skills, it still tasted like the best thing he had ever tasted. In part, maybe, just maybe because he had made it and it proved... it proved he could at least do something for himself, even if it was just cooking dinner.