Consciousness returned to Izuku Midoriya in a slow, throbbing wave, centered entirely around his poor brain. It was accompanied by two distinct sensations: the smell of soldering iron and stale ozone, and the very confusing realization that he could not move a single inch of his body.
He blinked his eyes open, fighting against the blurriness. The room was bathed in the soft, artificial glow of computer monitors—three of them—casting blue and purple shadows across the walls. Posters of obscure bands and Batman covered the walls.
He tried to lift his hand to rub his aching head.
Nothing happened.
He tried to shift his legs.
Nothing.
He looked down.
He was sitting in a rolling desk chair, but "sitting" was a generous term. He was trussed up like a holiday turkey. But it wasn't by rope. It was... cables. Miles and miles of cables. A thick HDMI cord was wrapped around his chest. A braided USB-C charging cable secured his left wrist to the armrest. A surge protector cord was looped around his ankles, and what looked like an Ethernet cable was keeping his torso pinned to the backrest. He looked like the victim of a Best Buy super villain.
"Finally," a voice cut through the hum of computer fans. "I was starting to think I'd have to poke you with a stick."
Izuku snapped his head up.
Sitting backward on another chair, legs straddling the seat, was the girl. The redhead from the warehouse. She had swapped her purple cowl for a pair of flannel pajama pants and a purple jumper with Batman-like ears, underneath it a shirt that read 'Gotham City Public Library: Shhh!' In her hand, she held a cast-iron frying pan, resting it on her shoulder like a weapon.
"W-Where..." Izuku's voice cracked. He coughed, his throat dry. "Where am I? And... why am I tied up with computer cables?"
"You're in my base of operations. Also known as my bedroom," the girl said, her tone trying for 'hard-boiled detective' but landing somewhere near 'stressed teenager.' She pointed the frying pan at him. "And you're tied up because you, my green-haired friend, are a walking tick time bomb. You have lightning coming out of your skin, you punch like a freight train, and you just took down a roided-out super-villain with a single hit. In Gotham, we call that 'Suspicious with a capital S.'"
Izuku pulled against the HDMI cable. It was tight. "I'm not suspicious! I saved you!"
"Which is the only reason you aren't currently in a holding cell at the GCPD," she shot back. "But saving me doesn't explain who you are. So, start talking. Name? Origin? Are you an alien? A meta-human experiment? Did STAR Labs lose another speedster? Cause I can count how many people I know with a quirk that strong on one hand."
"I'm not an experiment!" Izuku pleaded. "I'm just... a student. Or I was. Look, please, you have to let me go. If I stay here, I'm just going to cause trouble."
"Trouble is already here. I dragged it up the stairs and nearly gave myself a hernia doing it," she said, narrowing her eyes. "You beat Bane. Do you know who that is? He broke the Bat, it was in a comic. And you treated him like a punching bag. How? What is your quirk? Is it kinetic manipulation? Super-strength? Or is the lightning just for show?"
Izuku slumped in the chair, the Ethernet cable digging into his ribs. "It's... it's complicated. It's a power stockpiling quirk. It enhances my strength, speed, durability and all my physical abilities."
"Vague. I hate vague. Batman is vague, and it's annoying," she groaned, spinning the frying pan in her hand. "Okay, let's try the easy stuff. What is your name? I can't keep calling you 'The Green Blur' in my internal monologue. It sounds like a bad smoothie."
Izuku looked at her. Despite the weapon and the interrogation tactics, he could see her hands shaking slightly. She wasn't scared of him; she was running on adrenaline and fear for her father. She was just a kid, like him, trying to hold it together in a world that was too big and too dark.
He took a deep breath. "My name is Izuku. Izuku Midoriya."
"Okay, Izuku Midoriya. That's a start. Now, tell me why you were there tonight looking like a zombie, and why you stepped in to fight a monster like Bane when you could barely stand up?"
Izuku opened his mouth to answer. He was going to talk about All Might, about the guilt, about the need to save everyone even when he couldn't save himself.
"I..."
GRRRRRRRRRRRROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWWL.
The sound was not human. It sounded like a fault line shifting deep within the earth. It was a long, guttural, vibrating roar that echoed off the walls of the small bedroom. It was loud enough that the frying pan actually rattled on the desk.
The room fell into absolute, stunned silence.
Barbara stared at his stomach. Then she stared at his face.
Izuku's face went from pale to a shade of red that defied the laws of physics. He looked like he wanted to phase through the floor and disappear into the Earth's mantle.
"Hi, I'm..." He whispered, his voice trembling with shame.
GRR-RUMBLE.
"...Sorry. I haven't eaten for three days."
Barbara stared at him for three solid seconds. The tough-guy interrogation facade cracked, then shattered completely. She dropped the frying pan onto her bed and burst out laughing.
"Three days?!" She wheezed, clutching her stomach. "Oh my god! You're not a secret weapon! You're just hangry! I'm interrogating a starving person with an HDMI cable!"
She stood up, still giggling, and walked behind him. "Okay, okay. Timeout. The interrogation is suspended on the grounds of a rumbly tummy."
She began unlooping the cables. "You know, for a guy who can smash concrete, you really need to work on your knot escapology. Though, to be fair, I did use the 'Gordon Special.' My dad taught me how to handcuff perps before I learned to ride a bike."
As the last cable fell away, Izuku rubbed his wrists, wincing. "Thank you. And... I'm really sorry about the noise. It's... it's a high-calorie quirk. I burn through energy fast."
"Don't apologize for biology," Barbara said, walking over to her desk. Sitting next to her keyboard was a foil-wrapped cylinder the size of a small artillery shell. "My dad—he's the Police Commissioner, by the way, so don't try anything weird—bought these on his way home. It's from El Taco Hut. It's a 'Burrito Explosivo.' It's probably lukewarm by now, but it's packed with enough beans and steak to fuel a tank."
She tossed it to him.
Izuku caught it with reflexive ease. He unwrapped the foil, and the scent of cumin, salsa, and grilled meat hit him. It was intoxicating. He didn't hesitate. He took a massive bite, his eyes watering instantly.
"Oh my god," he mumbled, chewing frantically. "This is... incredible. It's spicy... but good..."
"Careful," Barbara warned, leaning against her desk and watching him with a mixture of amusement and pity. "That green sauce is basically weaponized chillis. I've seen grown men cry over it."
Izuku didn't cry from the spice. He cried from the relief. He finished the burrito in under a minute, wiping the sauce from his mouth with the back of his hand. He felt the warmth spreading through his chest, the energy returning to his limbs.
He looked up to thank her—and froze.
He looked at the digital clock on her nightstand. The red numbers glared back at him in the darkness.
03:17 AM.
He looked at the window, where rain was hammering against the glass. He looked at the girl—Barbara—standing in her pajamas, her hair messy, the room intimate and quiet.
The realization hit him like a Detroit Smash.
I am a boy. She is a girl. I am in her bedroom. It is 3 AM. Her father is down the hall.
Izuku's brain short-circuited. Steam practically erupted from his ears.
"Uhh... ummm..." He stammered, pulling his knees together and trying to make himself smaller.
Barbara blinked. She followed his gaze to the clock, then to the bed, then to herself.
Her eyes widened. The realization hit her with equal force.
I brought a boy home. I sneaked a boy into my room. A boy is sitting in my desk chair. If Dad wakes up... if he walks in... Oh my god.
Her face turned a shade of crimson that matched her hair. She grabbed the collar of her 'Library' shirt and yanked it up over her nose, her voice muffling.
"Oh god. This is... this is so improper. I didn't think about what would happen! I just focused on the 'don't let him die in the alley' part!"
"I have to go!" Izuku yelped, leaping out of the chair. He scrambled toward the window, nearly tripping over the discarded Ethernet cable. "I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to impose! I'll just leave! I'll jump!"
"Wait! Stop!"
Barbara lunged forward, forgetting her embarrassment for a split second. She grabbed the hood of his tattered sweatshirt just as he was unlatching the window.
"You can't go out there!" she hissed, trying to keep her voice down so she wouldn't wake her father. "It's freezing! It's pouring rain! You just passed out from exhaustion ten minutes ago!"
"I can't stay here!" Izuku whispered back, his hand on the glass. "It's weird! It's wrong! And... I don't have anywhere else to go!"
"Exactly!" Barbara yanked him back from the window with surprising strength. "You just said it! You don't have anywhere to go! What are you going to do? Sleep in a dumpster? Fight the Joker while you're half-asleep?"
"I've been sleeping in the Narrows," Izuku admitted, looking down at his worn-out red sneakers. "I... I can handle it."
"No, you can't," Barbara said firmly, crossing her arms. "The Narrows is bad enough when you're fully prepared. In your condition? You're bait. Look, my dad is asleep down the hall. He snores like a chainsaw, so he won't hear us unless we start a mariachi band. Just... stay here. For tonight. We'll figure it out in the morning."
"But... where would I sleep?" Izuku asked, glancing nervously at the single bed. "I can't... I mean... the floor?"
"Obviously the floor!" Barbara whisper-shouted, her face heating up again. "I'm not sharing the bed! I'm running a rescue mission, not a... a slumber party! AND WE JUST MET!!!"
Izuku nodded frantically. "Right! The floor! The floor is great! I love floors! Floors are my favorite!"
Barbara let out a long breath, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Okay. Good. Stay there. Don't move. I'll get the supplies."
Ten minutes later, the floor of Barbara Gordon's bedroom had been transformed. Using a spare comforter, two throw pillows, and a blanket printed with circuit boards, she had constructed what she would call 'The Fortress of Solitude.'
Izuku lay on the rug, staring up at the underside of her desk, wrapped in the circuit board blanket. Barbara was in her bed, pulled up to her chin, staring at the ceiling. The room was dark, save for the standby light of her computer.
"Hey... Izuku?"
"Yeah?"
"You're... you're a UA student, aren't you?"
Izuku stiffened. The fabric of the blanket rustled as he tensed up. "How did you know that?"
Barbara rolled onto her side, looking down at him from the edge of the bed. "I told you, I watched the news. The Sports Festival. The incident with the Hero Killer, with Superman Stain. The news footage was blurry, and they didn't get a clear shot of your face, but the green lightning? The way you move? It matches."
Izuku let out a long sigh. "Yeah. That was me."
"That is so cool," Barbara whispered, and this time, the coolness of her earlier persona was gone, replaced by pure fangirl energy. "I watched the live stream of the festival! You were insane! Crazy, using different powers and using the shockwaves? And fighting Superman with Batman !!!! I can't believe I'm with the same guy who beat Superman !! And fought beside my all time favourite hero Batman!!!! That's so cool!"
"I almost didn't win," Izuku muttered. "And Superman... we barely made it out. It wasn't cool. It was terrifying."
"But you did it," Barbara insisted. "You stood up."
"So... you want to be a hero too?" Izuku asked, turning his head to look up at her. "The suit... the moves you used on those thugs. You were really good."
"You think so?" Barbara beamed in the dark. "I'm trying. But... everyone tells me it's impossible. My dad... he wants me to be safe. He wants me to be a librarian or a data analyst. He thinks I'm too... fragile."
"You didn't look fragile when you jumped off that balcony," Izuku said honestly. "What's your quirk?"
"It's called 'Digital Smarts,'" Barbara whispered, her hands moving in the air as if manipulating invisible screens. "It's not a combat quirk like yours. I can't punch buildings down. But if I want to build something—a gadget, a computer, a vehicle—as long as I understand the basic physics behind it, the blueprints just... appear in my mind. It's like a HUD in a video game. I see the schematics, the code, the connections. I built my grappling hook out of a vacuum cleaner motor and a winch."
"That's an amazing intelligence quirk!" Izuku sat up, his nerd instincts overriding his shyness. "Do you realize how valuable that is? You could revolutionize support gear! What's the drawback? Every emitter quirk has a drawback."
"Migraines," Barbara groaned softly, tapping her temple. "Massive ones. The more complex the tech, or the more advanced the build, the worse it hurts. If I tried to build something like the Batmobile, my brain would probably liquefy. I have to stick to grounded tech. Realistic stuff."
"It's still amazing," Izuku said, awe in his voice. "You're incredible."
"I want to be like him," Barbara confessed, pointing to a poster on her wall. It was a grainy, black-and-white photo of Batman perched on a gargoyle, his cape billowing. "He saved me once. When I was little. Two-Face had taken over the bank where my mom and I were. Batman came in through the skylight. He didn't say a word. He didn't brag. He just... handled it. He was a shadow. A protector. I want to be that. I want him to look at me and see a partner, not a victim."
Izuku looked at the poster, then at Barbara. "He will. Knowing Batman... he sees everything. He saw you tonight, Barbara. I'm sure of it. He sees your spirit."
Barbara smiled, her eyelids drooping. "Thanks, Izuku. You're... you're a good guy. Maybe Gotham isn't so bad after all."
"Goodnight, Barbara."
"Night, Greenie."
The morning light filtered through the blinds in harsh, grey stripes. When Izuku woke up, the bed was empty. A bright yellow sticky note was stuck to his forehead.
Went to school. Dad is at the station (I think). There's cereal in the kitchen. STAY PUT. Don't die. Don't answer the door. - Babs
Izuku peeled the note off and smiled. He sat up, his body aching but feeling significantly better than it had in weeks. The food and the safety had done wonders.
He spent the morning as a ghost in the Gordon household. He moved silently, his socks sliding on the hardwood floors. He ate a bowl of Captain Crunch (painfully quietly) and then retreated to Barbara's room. He sat at her desk, opened her laptop, and began to type.
Gotham City Heroes.
Batman sightings.
Joker activity.
League of Villains connection to US.
He read article after article. The heroes here were different. No licenses. No fame. They were vigilantes, hunted by the police as often as they were praised. It was a darker, grittier world than Japan. The lines between hero and villain were blurred by the smog of the city.
Suddenly, the sound of a key turning in the front lock froze him in place.
Click. Thump.
"Forgot my badge... getting senile in my old age..."
Jim Gordon's voice.
Izuku's heart stopped. He looked around the room frantically. The window? No, too loud. Under the bed? Too tight for his frame.
Footsteps were coming up the stairs. Heavy, tired footsteps.
"Barbara? Did you leave your computer on again?"
Izuku scrambled. He dove into the walk-in closet, practically throwing himself behind a row of winter coats. He pulled a long, beige trench coat over his head and huddled in the corner, pressing himself into the wall just as the bedroom door creaked open.
Through the tiny slats of the closet door, Izuku watched.
Jim Gordon walked in. He looked exhausted, his tie loose, his face lined with stress. He looked at the unmade bed, then at the desk where the laptop was still glowing. He sighed, shaking his head. He walked over, picked up a few empty soda cans Barbara had left out, and tossed them into the trash bin.
He paused in front of the Batman poster on the wall. He stared at it for a long moment, his expression unreadable—a mix of respect and frustration.
"Teenagers," Jim muttered. He grabbed a file folder he had left on the dresser and turned around. "Need to tell her to clean this room."
He walked out, closing the door with a soft click.
Izuku let out a breath he had been holding for two solid minutes. He slumped against the back wall of the closet, shaking. That was too close.
Meanwhile, at Wayne Manor:
The private gym of Wayne Manor smelled of cold iron and sweat. Bruce Wayne was on the bench press, the bar loaded with enough plates to crush a normal man.
Clang. Clang. Clang.
Every rep was a punishment. Punishment for being too slow at the lab. Punishment for letting Bane escape. Punishment for not finding the boy Toshinori had told him about.
Where is he? Bruce thought, the bar moving rhythmically. A child. Carrying a power that rivals Superman, but with no control. He's out there, alone, in my city. If Ra's al Ghul finds him... If the Joker finds him...Midoriya...Where are you?
"Master Bruce."
Alfred's voice came over the intercom. "The signal is lit."
Bruce racked the weights with a harsh metal screech. He sat up, sweat dripping down his nose. "Report."
"Armed robbery at the First National. Two perpetrators. It appears to be amateur hour."
Bruce stood up, grabbing a towel. "I'm on it."
"Bruce!"
A young boy, no older than thirteen, burst into the gym. Tim Drake—Robin—was holding his collapsible bo-staff, a look of eager determination on his face. "I saw the signal! I'm ready! I've been practicing that disarm technique you showed me!"
Bruce looked at the boy. He saw the excitement. The innocence. And then, overlaid on Tim's face, he saw the image of the green-haired boy he was looking for. A boy who was likely broken by the weight he carried.
"No," Bruce said, his voice cold and final.
Tim stopped in his tracks. "What? Why? It's just a robbery! You need someone to watch your back!"
"Not tonight, Tim. I work alone tonight."
"But you've been solo for three nights! You're pushing everyone away again!" Tim protested. "Alfred says you're obsessing!"
"I said no." Bruce walked past him, his cape not yet on, but his presence already looming like the Batman. He paused, his hand hovering over Tim's shoulder for a second, but he didn't make contact. "Stay here. Monitor comms. That is an order."
Bruce disappeared into the shadows of the cave entrance, leaving a frustrated Robin standing in the gym.
"He's fighting ghosts again, isn't he, Alfred?" Tim muttered into his comms.
"I fear, Master Timothy," Alfred's voice replied, "that Master Bruce is fighting his own conscience."
Late Afternoon:
Barbara Gordon ran the last three blocks home. She ignored her friends asking to hang out, ignored the pile of homework in her bag, and practically vaulted up the front steps of her house.
"Izuku!" she whispered as she burst into her room, closing the door behind her.
It was empty.
The laptop was closed. The bed was made perfectly. The floor was clear of the 'Fortress.' The window... was wide open. The curtains fluttered in the damp, grey wind of Gotham.
"No..." Barbara's heart sank like a stone. She dropped her bag on the floor. "He left. He actually left."
She walked over to the window, gripping the sill. She had hoped... she didn't know what she had hoped. That maybe she'd found someone who understood. Someone who could be a partner.
She leaned out the window, looking down at the street to see if she could spot a green hoodie.
Clatter.
A sound came from above. The roof.
Barbara blinked. A small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. She grabbed the window frame, swung her leg out, and shimmied up the drainpipe with practiced ease. She rolled onto the flat tar-paper roof of the house.
There he was.
Izuku was sitting on the edge of the roof, his legs dangling over the side. He was hugging his knees to his chest, staring out at the sprawling, gloomy skyline of Gotham City. The wind whipped his messy green hair back and forth.
"You didn't run away," Barbara said, walking over to him.
Izuku jumped slightly, startled, but he didn't turn around. "I... I thought about it. I almost did. But... I didn't know where to go."
Barbara sat down next to him, dangling her legs over the edge too. She noticed how thin he looked in the daylight. His eyes were dark, sunken with exhaustion that food couldn't fix.
"You look like you're carrying the weight of the entire world, Izuku," she said softly. "You know, even Batman takes a break sometimes. Well, rarely. But he should."
Izuku didn't answer for a long time. The sounds of the city—sirens, traffic, distant shouting—drifted up to them.
"I can't take a break," he whispered. "If I stop... the thoughts come back."
"What thoughts?"
Izuku buried his face in his knees. "The thought that I'm a failure. That I'm dangerous."
Inside his mind, the vestiges were silent, except for one.
Nana Shimura: "Tell her, Izuku. You need to let this poison out. She's a hero. She can handle it.It's okay to trust someone other than Rokuro and the boys."
Izuku took a shaky breath. "I... I took an exam. Back at UA. It was the final practical exam. It was supposed to be a test of our growth."
Barbara stayed silent, sensing that he needed to get this out.
"It was me, a classmate named Bakugo... and two others. Elizabeth and Kendo," Izuku continued, his voice trembling. "We had to fight All Might. It was just an exam. But... I was so afraid. All Might would beat us but... We came up with a plan, a plan to win."
He gripped his knees so hard his knuckles turned white.
"We were going to make it out, we would have made it...But Bakugo shoved Kendo into All Mights path... she was in trouble. All Might was going to hit her. And I just... I panicked. I felt this rage, this fear. And my power... it took over. It wasn't the lightning anymore. It was black energy. Dark and cold. I lost control, Barbara."
He turned to look at her, tears spilling from his emerald eyes.
"I didn't just want to stop him. I wanted to destroy him. I nearly killed them. My friends. My teacher. When I woke up, the fake city was destroyed. They looked at me... like I was dangerous, like I was something to be feared, while a few were glad I was okay even after all i'd done. I saw it in their eyes... I'm not a hero. I'm a ticking time bomb. That's why I ran. That's why I'm here."
He waited. He waited for her to flinch. He waited for her to look at him with that same fear. He waited for her to tell him to get off her roof.
Instead, Barbara shifted closer. She didn't say anything. She didn't offer a cliché like "It wasn't your fault." She knew that words wouldn't fix that kind of wound.
She leaned her shoulder against his. It was a solid, warm pressure against his trembling arm. She looked out at the grey city, her expression fierce and determined.
"Gotham is full of monsters, Izuku," she said finally, her voice steady. "I've seen what real monsters look like. I've once looked into the Joker's eyes. I've seen Bane break people because he thinks it's funny. People like Victor Zsasz and the Mad Hatter."
She turned to him.
"You're scared of hurting people. Monsters aren't scared of that. Monsters enjoy it. You losing control... that just means you're human. And maybe you have a scary power, but right now? Sitting on this roof? You're just a guy who needs a friend."
She rested her head on his shoulder.
"And you've got one."
Izuku looked at her. The tears continued to fall, but the crushing weight in his chest lightened, just a fraction. For the first time since the exam, since Superman, since running away... he felt lighter.
He leaned his head against hers, and they sat there in silence, two young heroes watching the sun set over a city of shadows.
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