RENEGADE [Izuku Midoriya x OC]

Chapter 2 - Symbol

The stranger at the checkout counter was an imposter.

And he asked for her by name, which only furthered her suspicions.

Without hearing him speak, seeing his face, or looking at him, Noriko Ikeda knew that he didn't belong. Everything about him screamed out of place, from his immaculate designer jeans to his crisp button up shirt (barely concealed beneath his black brand name hoodie) to his limited edition red high tops. Even Noriko knew that if he didn't keep an eye on those shoes, they'd be gone in an instant, sold for thousands on the black market or the dark web, serial numbers conveniently destroyed for untraceable movement between seller and buyer.

Noriko kept an eye on him for a while as she served a few more people, handing steaming bowls of soup across the small countertop. Special of the day: chili. Her mom's recipe. A handful of customers ate at the café tables along the wall near the soup counter, and a few more browsed the clothing racks, looking for discounted items. The man at the checkout counter didn't move; he waited patiently and tried to make himself look smaller. Invisible.

Suspicious. 

When she finally pried herself away from the soup counter, replacing herself with an overly chipper volunteer, and plucked up the courage to make eye contact, every ounce of oxygen squeezed from her lungs. She knew him. Those green eyes were all too familiar. Those freckles lay in patterns that she could draw by heart.

Izuku Midoriya.

He brightened as she approached, waving a little with his free hand. In his other fist... her notebook. Noriko's heart jumped to a double time rhythm, but she kept her facial expression neutral and stern as she approached the handsome hero, gripping his elbow and steering him toward her back office without a word. "Where are we- I guess we're- O-okay then," he stammered and protested, dragging his heels as she forced him into the small, dark room.

Noriko flicked the light on. Ignoring the embarrassment that her messy office forced upon her, she avoided eye contact with her former mentor. "Midoriya," she sighed, running her fingers through her crimson hair, and seating herself behind her desk, "Why don't you explain why you're suddenly fucking here, of all places, after five years of radio silence... and why the hell you have my notebook?" She pulled her waist-length hair into a messy bun as she eyed the man in front of her, questions upon questions chasing themselves around her mind.

"Uh, well," he said, smiling sheepishly as he lowered his hood and rubbed the back of his neck, excited to hear her say his name again, even if it was only his last name, "You left this behind at my friend Sato's café? He asked me to return it to you." Midoriya slid the yellow notebook onto Noriko's desk and watched her fix her hair.

"Riki could've just held onto it for me..." she muttered, sliding the notebook closer and flipping it open, inspecting the pages. Everything seemed in order. Not a hair out of place... But something still bothered Noriko. "Wait, how do you know Rikido?"

Midoriya jolted away from touching a framed, city-given achievement award - Humanitarian of the Year - hung on Noriko's wall, and took a seat across the desk from his old protégée. "He was in my year, my class at UA. All three years." He watched as the information washed through her, softening the furrow in her brow. The gesture was so familiar that it hurt, that he felt bad about how long it had been since he'd last seen it happen. "I, uh, It's good to see you, Ikeda," he added, avoiding her golden gaze as he blushed, scratching at a phantom itch at his temple. "Last I heard, you-"

"...Were a villain?" Noriko finished for him, stopping to frown at his stupid perfect face, "Still am, Midoriya. Sorry."

"I was going to say 'vanished'... but that makes a lot more sense."