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Midoriya Izuku isn’t a fan of Musutafu’s back alleys. They’re dark, smelly, and overall just not very safe. His mom hates when he cuts through them to get home from patrolling, ever since that time he’d been attacked by a drunk rapist with a knife, but they’re just the best way of getting around if he doesn’t want to use the rooftops. He really should write another letter to the mayor’s office about getting municipal lighting ordinances passed - street lights are well and good, but less shadows to hide in statistically mean less crime. This time instead of just citing his sources, he’s going to include print copies of them in his letter. Or maybe he’ll bypass the mayor entirely and see if anyone from the Collective wants to take up the project; he can probably schmooze the Sentinel into backing him up when he brings the idea to the finance board. It may not be part of the group’s core objective, but neither were the sleeping pods he’d talked them into installing in the local branch office last year, and look how those had turned out!
He hears his phone ring and tugs it from his pocket, looking at the name. Just his mom, thank goodness. “Hi, mom!”
“Izuku, honey, are you going to be back soon? I thought your patrol ended ten minutes ago.”
“Yeah, I’m on my way, I took a shortcut and I’ll be home really soon!”
“Back alleys again? You know how nervous that makes me!” He doesn’t bother to respond to that, silently rolling his eyes. “I know, I know, I worry too much and you can take care of yourself. But I’m your mother, I’m allowed to worry about these things. Hurry home; I picked up some dango for you. Love you many!” Sheesh, he hasn’t said that since he was four!
“Love you too, mom. Bye.” He flips his phone shut and watches as the charm dangling from it catches the light, a green spirograph on a white background. It had taken an inordinate amount of work to get hold of such a tiny little piece of pre-Quirk merchandise, but he’s happy to have it. It’s also useful for making him seem distracted while he carefully looks around the alleyway for the source of intense bloodlust he can feel staring at him. He’s never had to use the high-voltage stun gun kept in his jacket pocket, but there’s a first time for everything. There’s nothing behind him, nobody in front of him crossing the alleyway… Above? No, that’s silly, who’s going to be stupid enough to perch on the rusty old fire escapes around here?
And that’s precisely when one of said rusty old fire escapes proves just how stupid it is to perch on it by pursuing a new career as a heap of scrap metal, crashing loudly to the asphalt and bringing whoever had been up there with it. He turns on his heel, and that’s when he spots her: a girl, maybe a little older than he is - certainly taller, though that’s not saying much - in a slightly faded seifuku and cardigan. Something about her catches his eye immediately, and he rushes over to help, ignoring the feeling from moments ago.
“Oh my gosh! Are you okay?!”
The girl groans loudly, signalling that she’s conscious, and shoves some of the scrap metal off of herself. “Ugh, damn it. They may have warned me about stairs, but not fire escapes I guess.”
… What?
There’s no way that a random kid in an alleyway just made a reference to his favourite pre-Quirk webcomic, in English. She has to have hit her head pretty hard to have started speaking another language, but he can’t help but laugh a little at the absurdity of the whole situation. “Hehehe, wow, I never thought another fan would just fall into my life like that! Oh, hold on, don’t move; I’ll get you cleaned up real quick, okay? I’m Midoriya, by the way, Midoriya Izuku. Can you tell me your name?”
“Toga, Toga Himiko. Good to meet you…”
That’s a really pretty name. He keeps that comment to himself, though; he doesn’t want to sound weird. Instead, he takes off his backpack, unzips the large pocket, and pulls out some basic medical supplies. Toga looks reluctant, but he just ignores it as he sets about cleaning and dressing the large cut on her knee, then pulls a small pen light out of his other pocket and flicks it on. “Here, let me do a quick check for a concussion.”
“Wait-!”
What he sees is something he mostly knows from medical texts, and a very small handful of people he’s helped in the past, in situations not unlike this. The girl’s pupils are thin slits, and the surrounding irises are a strong, iridescent gold-like hue. What startles him most, though, is the way they bounce the light back, like a cat’s might. “Oh my gosh! Tapetum lucidum! Oh gosh, oh gosh, hold on!”
He digs back into his bag, pulling out another bandage roll and cursing under his breath because he’s only got regular alcohol swabs and none of the special dry disinfectant ones. He grabs two of them anyway and rips one open with his teeth as he pulls his sweater back from his forearm, wiping it down and presenting the underside to the girl. “Here! I know alcohol swabs aren’t really the best way to clean skin for this but I don’t have any of the special disinfectant swabs on me right now; I need to restock and they’re kind of expensive and I wasn’t really expecting to run into anyone tonight? It’ll taste a little bitter but it’s not like it’s really bad for you or anything, just kind of unpleasant!” Damn it, he’s rambling. Focus, Izuku! He smiles invitingly, moving his arm a little closer to prompt her to bite.
The girl looks at it, confused. “What are you doing?”
He tilts his own head. Is that not obvious? “Offering you my blood?”
“Why?”
Does she… Not feel how hungry she is? He doesn’t want to insinuate she’s stupid or anything, so he just goes for a sort-of-answer by repeating himself. “Tapetum lucidum.” When he notices the look of confusion on her face, he just smiles even brighter, realizing she probably doesn’t recognize the technical name for her condition. “It’s the shine in your eyes. You’ve got chrysitis iridum - not amber or auric like an animal quirk - combined with slit pupils, meaning you have a hemovore-type Quirk, and the tapetum lucidum means you’re starving! So, drink up!” He cringes inwardly when he realizes he was rambling again, pushing past it in hopes he didn’t come off as offensively over-explaining the girl’s own Quirk to her. “And before you say anything, don’t worry about draining me; I’m only going to let you take a bit to slake your thirst and get you out of danger, and I know how to make you stop. Trust me.”
She hesitates, clearly at war with her Quirk, but it wins out in the end, as hemovore-types always do. With a tiny moan, she sinks her fangs into the flesh of his forearm and feeds. It’s not an unpleasant sensation, precisely, but it’s an unusual one. Her saliva mildly numbs the flesh around her teeth, so it’s more of a light squeeze than a sharp pinch like a needle might be, and he can feel the small spike in endorphins that comes along with being made a meal of. Which is of course precisely why he’d never let a stranger feed from his neck - it’s way too awkward; he’d let Luna do it once, and blushed any time their eyes met for a month. Toga moans again, louder this time. She must have been on the brink of total mania! He says a silent prayer that it had been him in the alleyway tonight, and not someone who didn’t know how to handle a starving hemovore-type.
He waits a few moments longer, then gently grabs the fold of skin on the back of her neck and tugs insistently at it. She doesn’t want to let go at first, but when he pulls a bit harder, she inevitably opens her mouth and he’s able to pull her away, careful not to rip his own skin. He gives her a quick once-over before cleaning his arm with another swab, hissing quietly at the sting, and wrapping his arm in a bandage. It’ll heal quickly enough, and his mom won’t even see it under his sweater, so it won’t worry her before he has a chance to explain. He texts her their shorthand signal for ‘someone has an emergency I need to take care of, talk later’. Toga, for her part, is high as a kite, the typical blissed-out expression of a well-fed hemovore on her face. It’ll be a bit before she comes back around enough to walk on her own, let alone answer any questions, so he packs up his trash and helps her gently to her feet, guiding her into the 7-11 at the corner of the street. Thankfully it’s one of the automated cafe locations, so there’s no cashier to give them any weird looks or demand any explanations. He gets her seated gently at a table, then moves off in search of a decent meal.
As luck would have it, there’s a two-for-one special on instant yakisoba and drinks. Nothing special, but it’ll definitely hit the spot for both of them. He grabs two, scans them in alongside a C.C. Lemon and his favourite Pocari Sweat, and sets them to cooking after he pays. He’s still got a handful of bills in his wallet, that’s good. He turns to keep an eye on Toga as their food cooks on the induction heaters, eyeing her critically. Almost certainly homeless, likely not from the Musutafu area. Blonde hair done up in two messy buns, Kansai collar on the school uniform, no obvious outward signs of abuse. Way too thin, but still pretty. Something about her… Well, whatever. With the food done, he slides into the chair across from her and plunks each portion and the drinks in place right as she’s coming back around.
“Sorry, you weren’t really responsive enough yet for me to ask a preference, and I didn’t want to risk waiting, so I just grabbed you that - it was a two for one special, and having some regular food will make it easier to digest the blood. Dig in!”
This time she doesn’t hesitate, using the chopsticks more like a fork to shovel a third of the whole dish into her mouth in an instant, and he clocks it as defensive. He hates everything about that realization, but he’ll let her speak for herself after she settles a little. He eats a bit of his own food, washing it down with the sports drink and waiting for her to do the same. When she does, she looks content, but still a little wary.
“How… Did you do that?”
… Huh, she really doesn't know. He’s glad to have the opportunity to explain the details of her Quirk, even if the fact that he needs to speaks to possible problems. “People with hemovore-type Quirks have a loose bit of skin at the back of the neck that you can grab, and it makes them instinctively open their mouth!”
Toga looks taken aback, and just a tiny bit offended. “You scruffed me like a cat?! Wait, no, what the fuck, why do you know that’s a thing? Why could you tell what my Quirk was just by looking at my eyes?”
He laughs again, trying his hardest not to seem condescending, wanting her to feel relaxed and safe enough to open up. “What, like you’re the only one with a hemovore-type Quirk? I studied! I have this friend, see, and he got me into Quirk analysis because of his own, I wanted to learn how to help him with it, I-. Toga? Are you okay?”
Her face has gone hard, cold, the total opposite of what he’d been going for, and she’s squeezed her chopsticks hard enough to snap them. Damn it, had he said the wrong thing? Had he gone too far in his teasing? Damn it! He should know better!
“What do you mean his own Quirk? You mean. Wait, you mean I’m! I’m not some… Some freak? That there are people out there like me, who feel like this?” Half stammer, half snarl, the words coming from Toga’s mouth hit him like a truck.
Oh.
Oh, shit.
This explains too much. Far, far too much, but still not quite enough. He has to make sure, has to confirm that his suspicions are correct. He very, very carefully keeps his emotions from showing on his face, gently taking the chopsticks from her hand and offering her a fresh pair. When she meets his eyes, she seems… Lost. “Toga Himiko. You are not a freak, and don’t you ever let anyone say otherwise, okay? Yes, there are other people who have similar Quirks to yours; blood drinking isn’t common by any means, but it isn’t unheard of either. Did… Toga, could you maybe. Tell me a bit about yourself?”
And she does. Her Quirk developing as a child, her first transformation. A sparrow in her yard. A boy at her school. And her parents. Dear kami, her parents. Isolationists of some kind. The type of scum who would force their own kid to suppress her Quirk, shoving a quack psychiatrist at her and making her bottle up her needs until she finally snapped from the hunger-induced Quirk mania. He can’t help but let a tiny frown cross his lips, a small fraction of the indignant rage boiling inside of him. How dare they? How dare they hurt their wonderful, beautiful little girl with the amazing, fascinating Quirk she has, just because it’s powered by blood? Izuku may not hate easily, but he does hate strongly. They both continue to eat as she talks, and as soon as she finishes both her meal and her story, a sudden look of panic crosses her face.
“Wait, Midoriya, before I fell you were on your phone telling your mom you were going to be home soon! Don’t you need to go?!”
He makes a show of checking the time slowly, making sure to appear relaxed as he tidies their trash. “Yeah, I probably should get going soon. But don’t worry, I texted my mom while you were still out of it - we have a special code for when I’m helping someone out. It’ll be okay.” He takes the thousand yen bills he had moved from his wallet from his pocket, and one of the phones he carries to give to people who are down on their luck when he encounters them on his patrols - which is frequently, he’s only got two or three more at home after this - and places them on the table. “Here.” He smiles again when she hesitates, waving a hand reassuringly. “No, really, take it; it has my number pre-programmed in, as well as the address for a low-rent hotel not too far from here. Stay the night, and then in the morning - if you want to - give me a call and I’ll come get you set up with a social worker, okay? If you don’t want to, that’s fine too, don’t worry too much about it. And keep the phone, that’s yours now - that’s why I carry them! I may not be a Pro Hero yet, but I try my best to help people in the meantime.”
She follows him out of the conbini as he goes, then throws her arms around him, sniffling into his shoulder as she’s hugged in return. She’s warm, and soft, despite being so thin. “I… I don’t know what to say,” she mumbles. “Other than, well, thank you. Thank you so much, Midoriya Izuku, for giving me a chance. You’re gonna make a great Pro Hero some day. Get home safe, alright?”
He nods, patting her gently on the back, then turns to leave, picking up into a light jog. He really hopes she’ll call in the morning.
The rest of his trip home only takes a few minutes, and he pauses to grab a couple sticks of dango from the fridge as he passes the kitchen, one for him and one for his mom. He plants a dutiful kiss on her cheek and settles in on the couch to tell her about Toga and why he’d stayed out so late before he washes up and crawls into bed. It may have been a long night, but it’s still going to be an early morning if he wants to do a daytime patrol for the last day of the long weekend and get extra sleep before he returns to Aldera Junior High the day after.
As he wakes in the morning, he grabs a bowl of pork katsudon his mom had made before heading out, then does something he doesn’t normally while eating: looks at the news show playing on the television, which his mom has on as background noise for folding laundry.
“- with the traffic. Hitsugaya, did you hear they picked up some delinquent with a knife the other night? Down by Ninth Street, maybe half a block from the 7-11; would’ve been an hour before midnight. We’ll see if that story goes anywhere. Next up-”
The rest of the newscast fades into static as panic grips Izuku’s heart. Ninth Street had been the main crossing he was on last night. That’s the 7-11 he’d been to with Toga. Toga, the hemovore-type Quirk. Who was carrying a knife strapped to her thigh.
She’d been arrested.