To Be Vigilant(e)

Better Than Them

(From now on, assume its 3rd person omniscient (all knowing) unless its said so otherwise
Also, when a word looks like this: pewter(¹)   
that means theres a note about it at the end of the chapter.  It could be a fun fact or I could explain something in greater detail.)

A small breeze moves through the streets, carrying small pieces of disgarded trash with it. People walking by pay no mind. No one cares though. This area has always been terrible. Its nothing of value so why would they go out of their way to get it?

A hooded figue is seen walking down the cracked, gum-covered pavement with their hands stuffed into their pockets. They seem to be short in stature, head down and curled in on themself. Only a bit of dirty, matted green hair shows. The hoodie has clearly seen better days. Stains and small holes mar the probably once clear fabric.

The plastic bag catches their eye. Just as it was passing them by, its caught. The mysterious person silently puts in it their pocket and moves to remove the hood.

A long sigh of resignation whispers out of the boys lips. How many bags has it been so far? Like 13? Why can these dumbasses just pick it up? I guess its just too much to ask. He thinks as he looks up to the sky, squinting as the sun appeared from behind a cloud.

This boy i̶s̶  was Izuku Midoriya. Izuku Midoriya is dead. He is now Akatani Mikumo, a homeless 14 year old. An orphan. A vigilante. Dekiru.

Around him, in hushed whispers, people talked about the new vigilante in town. Dekiru. How this Dekiru is doing more than the heros ever did even if it was small. How they supported this newcomer.

However, during his nightly escapades, he saw some things that made him sick. Like a hero, Hercules, he thinks his name is.. assaulting a woman. He made an exception to his rule and called the police. Dekiru knew that even if he ambushed this hero, Hercules' brute strength would make easy work of him.

So he decided to train. He started making his 'base' bigger. Slowly but surely, it was getting easier to carry heavier loads. Small muscles were starting to form and grow. Walking in the sand and climbing over trash heaps all dayworked wonders on his body. His legs had more muscle. And it helped with minor parkour, flexibily and awareness. It was hard work. He needed to eat more. Alot more- which was hard, to say the least. Dumpsters arent notorious for their 3 course meals. If he was lucky, he would get half an apple and some bread. Boil some saltwater, clean out the tiny peices of metal, glass and sand- got some 'fresh' water. That term is being given generously. It tastes like shit.

He also discovered that he can melt pewter(¹) with a simple fire and use it to reinforce his 'costume'. Instead of steel-toed boots, he has pewter-toed goodwill-sneakers. Some ratty gloves were forged into something resembling iron knuckles.

After painfully teaching himself how to sew with a sharpened paperclip he definitely did not steal and some thread from an unusable t-shirt tied to the end, he sewed old mattress padding of some sort onto his new fit. It was not the most comfortable thing he'd ever worn and was in no way easy on the eyes but given what he had and his age and experience, he'd say its pretty good.

He looks to his left at the broken mirror in his base. It was a nice mirror, if not for the spiderweb of cracks and missing glass creeping it's way up from the bottom.

It's time to head out. He turns around and exits his trash house.

(Hes been working for hours so it's about 8-ish and the sun has just about set.)

Akatani runs quietly through the streets, only the dim shine of twilight on pewter giving him away. He'd have to fix that later. His ears are perked(²) and alert; body tensed for if or when danger makes itself known. Ready to spring into action at a moments notice. It may also be because he is alone, at night, in one of the worst parts of town. And very clearly a child. But that's why Dekiru exists. To stop the things that go bump in the night. To stop the boogeyman and pedophiles and burglars and kidnappers. So who cares if Akatani Mikumo is in (-shuffle-)danger if others are not.