It All Depends On Your Definition

School Just Started And He's Already Done

School was just as draining as ever, with only a few changes or reprieves.

Firstly, he was right in thinking no one from his middle school would make it in. That was nice, he didn't have to deal with the risk of seeing one of them and it trigger a panic attack. Also, it meant a clean slate, no one had any expectations of how he was supposed to act.

Second, the teachers were actually competent here. Izuku wouldn't have to basically teach himself anymore, could actually go to class for what it was made for and not just mandatory attendance. They knew what they were talking about.

Third, it seemed that when you go to a school for the gifted, they were all much too busy to hang out-much less pick on someone else. They needed to focus, they had too much homework, no one could waste the precious study or practice hours. 

So while he did get looks after they learned of his quirklessness, it wasn't anything he couldn't handle. And no expectations meant he could duck his head, put in his earbuds, and sink into the background.

No more being sought out for someone to release their frustrations, no more montering his breathing and speaking so he didn't set off the ticking time-bomb that was his ex-childhood friend. Izuku could let go of the naive and optimistic persona and not have anyone call him out for it. He wouldn't run the risk of it getting back to his mom unless it became a problem for his teachers, which it wouldn't.

Izuku grabbed his bag and bento as the bell rang for lunch, slipping out of the door and between the crowd as he made his way out to the courtyard.

The school was large, the main body a massive square around the courtyard/athletics field with two wings that stretched out to frame the entrance. Kinmokusei bushes and Japanese Maples decorated both the front and the courtyard, breaking up the perfectly cut grass. The school favored the cloud grey of the uniforms for the walls, whereas door and window frames were the same crimson as the buttons and the floors and ceiling titles were left a sparkling white.

Izuku sat under one of the many maples in the courtyard, a ways away from the large fountain and seating area in the center. His music played as he took bites in between note taking. There were new hero debuts recently, considering the graduating classes there were always an influx this time of year.

Most of his Quirk analysis now was for if he ran into any of the heroes among the pages, or the villains he had done research over. Plus it helped keep his skills sharp for when he had to do on sight analysis during a fight.

Izuku tucked his, now empty, bento back into his bag. He had switched from his normal yellow one to a new, plain black one. His mother had been shocked at his request, but had understood his want of something less outlandish than bright yellow.

Sighing, he got to his feet, kept a tight grip on his notebook with one hand and his backpack's strap with the other, and headed back to class. Yes he'd be early, but that meant missing hallway traffic.

He was the first one back, as expected, so he sat his things down and got read for the next class. Izuku yawned from boredom, thinking about what his patrol route would be like that night. Well, he guess not everything could be as exciting as jumping rooftops and kicking villain ass. 'Heh,' Izuku chuckled to himself before the door opened again and the others of his class started filing in.

 ~|[-]|~

Yawning, the man slumped his shoulders as he perched on the edge of the roof. Yellow broke through messy, dark hair, the only color on the Hero as he kept watch. He had ended his first day of teaching for the year only a few hours earlier. Now, why would he, who has to teach again tomorrow, pick up an extra patrol?

He had asked himself that very question many times.

The answer was simple, yet complex.

There was a new vigilante on the streets, with a disturbing lack of information for the amount of arrests that had been coming out of their work. Usually, the more involved the vigilante the easier it was to find them.

However, somehow, this one had managed to enrage a seasoned detective so much that they'd dropped the case a month in . . . And cause the second one call in Pro Hero to help. 

Quite the feat.

Aizawa scanned the roof tops, capture weapon wrapped around his neck.

Nothing, nothing, and more nothing, quiet, and silence.

. . .

Aizawa was about to switch his watch position, check on other places that the patterns frequented, when he caught a shifting shadow. Not much, and maybe no one else would have caught it, but he was a seasoned Underground Hero.

So, he gathered himself for a fight, and followed after the glimpses of movement. Even if it wasn't who he was looking for, it was someone.

Jumping from rooftop to rooftop, always right behind and across the street from the figure, Aizawa catalogued all he could.

Which, in all honesty, wasn't anything that they hadn't speculated already. 

If he hadn't been paying such close attention to the hooded figure, not even Aizawa would have noticed when they shifted. Throwing their weight to the side, off the side of the building they had been standing on.

The best part of that little move?

The cheeky little shit had waved. They had turned around enough to face in Aizawa's direction, then disappeared from sight completely.

Shota huffed a laugh, standing still as he crossed his arms over his chest and smirked.

So, this was going to be more difficult than they thought at first.

He was about to cross the street, see if he could find a trail of some sort, though he doubted it, even then, when someone whistled from behind him.

Whirling, Shota readied his gear, eyes starting to glow. And there, standing on the other side of the roof, right on the edge that boxed in the rest of the area, was the hooded figure he had been watching.

"So," The voice was just as the reports detailed, robotic, choppy, detached. "They got so fed up, they sent EraserHead out . . . Wonderful." Shota could see the mask, just as described as well; black goggles connected to a mouth and nose guard, all black and nondescript. Same for the hoodie and cargo pants.

Smart.

First for not choosing anything recognizable, something that anyone could own. Second for knowing who he was.

"How'd you know my name?" Not many people even knew he existed as a Hero, and those were all either Heroes, police, or government officials.

"All Sports Festivals are public record, and it's not like there are many people with a Quirk like yours. Very simple to track down records once you know they exist." The vigilante cocked their head. "Why you?"

First; damn. They were smart, there was no doubt about that, even before hand, but definitely now. Second; answer for an answer. Again, damn.

"Because I'm one of the most skilled, I know the area, and why the hell not?" His voice was gruff, but relaxed, even if his arms stayed tensed at his sides. "Why did you come talk to me?"

Shota didn't know why, but he had the distinct feeling that the vigilante was grinning at him.

"Why the hell not?"