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It wasn't exactly planned.
Tomura was, as usual, minding his own fucking business -something the rest of this prejudiced society should really pick up as a hobby. Really, he was only there to check out the in-store pre-order for an upcoming RPG and to get away from Kurogiri's nagging after he'd accidentally decayed a barstool that morning. It wasn't his fault that the new recruits were getting under his skin in a way proven to heighten the constant itch that was his Quirk. Destruction always seemed to quiet his overactive brain in a way that his more mundane hobbies never managed. Unfortunately, that only made way for more infuriating thoughts about his latest in a long list of problems. A certain spotlight-hogging Hero Killer.
Stain.
He didn't understand what was so special about that jerk. As much of a Rogue as he acted like, he wasn't anything special compared to Tomura. They both just got rid of the things they despised! Atleast Tomura put some effort into his quest, Stain just dragged those clueless Heroes off in the night and stabbed them a few times. There was no strategy, no drama, just death. Tomura wanted people to know his goals. To tremble at the name of the League of Villains. To watch as he turned the world to rubble on a whim. And yet the media treated him and his party like a joke. Implying Stain, a man Tomura hated vehemently, was part of his League... it left a bitter taste in his mouth, and made the itch flare up when he thought about it. Someone who didn't even want it got all the attention. All the glory and renown. It wasn't... right! It wasn't supposed to go this way. So why did it?
Surrounded by the idiot NPCs Sensei had insisted he fill the base with, Tomura knew he wasn't going to find the answers he was looking for. They all seemed to revere the Hero Killer like some sort of God. Even Dabi, that asshole, who seemed like he only showed up to meetings to poke at Tomura's appearance and make him lose his temper. None of them would be willing to say anything on the topic of Stain without singing his praises wholeheartedly.
So, with one less barstool and thankfully no splinters, Tomura set out.
The Kiyashi Ward Shopping Mall seemed like as good a place as any to people-watch while he debated with himself -which was not the same as brooding, Toga. It also had the game store and a cafe that never seemed to have too long a line despite it's surprising quality.
So he bought a hot chocolate, muttered a reluctant 'thanks' to the teenage cashier who was staring none-too-subtly at the way he carefully kept one finger lifted from his drink and the handfull of coins he dropped in the tray on the counter, then set out to find somewhere he could blend in and relax for a few minutes.
Only he saw something that stopped him in his tracks. Or, rather, someone.
That green-haired brat from the USJ, standing alone by the fountain. Freckles, or whatever the hell his name was.
And suddenly Tomura was reminded all-too-harshly of how that reckless kid had near-singlehandedly made his whole mission go to absolute shit. He took some pleasure in knowing that hand had been broken for trying, but he was soon thrown back into his rage and moving before he even knew what he was doing.
"Don't move, and don't scream. If you try anything I'll kill everyone here before you can even blink."
Tomura knew he couldn't actually do that. His skill with his Quirk was nothing to scoff at, but he hadn't yet mastered decaying more than one target at once, let alone something on the scale of an entire fucking mall.
Still, as he wrapped four fingers around the base of the kid's neck and leaned over his shoulder, he knew the threat had landed. He felt the boy's breath hitch in his throat, prompting a shakey exhale. Wide green eyes flickered wildly before landing on Tomura's own red ones.
There's a pause, where his impromptu hostage seems to come to a decision. He nods, jerkily, and let's Tomura lead him over to sit on the -thankfully deserted, he doesn't need eavesdroppers- edge of the fountain.
Tomura takes a second to watch the shoppers ahead of them go about their day. They're so oblivious. He could do almost anything, and half of them wouldn't even turn to look.
He takes one last sip of his drink and puts it down beside him. He takes a breath, and begins.
"Explain something to me."
The Hero brat is looking at him now, giving him his full attention. His hands are clasped tightly in his lap, and his right foot is shuffling anxiously, but he doesn't seem about to run.
"The Hero Killer, Stain," he almost spits the name, it fills his mouth with venom, "why are people so obsessed with him?"
The kid's eyebrows are scrunched together just a little bit in confusion, and it only makes him look younger. Maybe it was a stupid idea to look for the answers he needs from a child, no matter how strong. Oh well. He's already gotten this far, might as well continue even if this whole interaction only ends in him venting about his frustrations.
"Everyone seems to think he has these noble intentions, when, really, he's just getting rid of what he hates, same as me. We aren't working together," the kid's eyes widen a bit at that, "and yet the media is giving him all the credit for what happened in Hosu. What about that blade-wielding jackass makes everyone think he could pull off an attack on that level? I put in double the work, and get none of the recognition. He has devoted followers all over the place while doing nothing to deserve the attention, and I don't get it. What is he doing that I'm not? What is it about him that makes everyone think he's so great?"
Tomura can feel himself getting angry. He's already reaching up to scratch at his neck, a habit he knows he should kick but can't seem to stop, when the kid shifts beside him to face him a little more clearly. He drops his hand to his cup instead, taking another sip to try and calm himself enough to listen. He savours the warmth that runs through him, and the hint of seasalt and caramel he knows the cafe likes to add to anything on their menu containing chocolate.
When he's done, he turns back to the boy beside him, who opens his mouth to speak.
What comes out is a voice softer than he expected, and the first hint of intelligence he's heard all week.
"The most clear difference between the two of you is your conviction." This is said while staring at his shoes -which Tomura would insult, but they happen to be the same garish shade of red as his own, so he chooses to let that particular fashion choice slide without comment. The kid chances a brief glance upwards, and Tomura gestures with his cup to show that he's still listening.
"Right. So, Stain has made it very clear that he does what he does to 'rid the world of False Heroes'. And, while I definitely don't agree with his methods, as I'm sure a lot of people don't, or his very narrow worldview and his criteria for what makes a 'False Hero' or his decision to sentence them to death rather than allow for improvement and reform or even his idolization of All Might as this One True Hero who can do no wrong even when that's blatantly not true if you pay any attention at all and- I'm rambling. You get the point. I don't agree with what he's doing. But I do agree with the core concept of his beliefs: that there are an overabundance of Heroes who are only in it for personal gain and don't actually care about helping people. Of course, he doesn't acknowledge that the two aren't mutually exclusive, and, well, murder is murder no matter what fancy reasoning you give, but he has a message. And it's one that pretty much anyone can interpret to suit how they see the world. He's pointing out a problem with society that a lot of people agree with, and, in his own way, he's doing something to 'fix' it."
The kid unclasps his hands and smooths them over his legs while he pauses to breathe.
"And that's where the difference comes in. Why he's garnered so much support and attention. You said yourself that you see what you're doing as 'getting rid of the things you hate'. That's an issue and a goal that's personal to you, and you alone. You may have your own internal reasons, and this all may be more complicated than it appears, but from an outside perspective it just looks like baseless, unorganized, and, frankly, unsuccessful destruction. Where Stain is starting a conversation about a greater issue, you seem to just be breaking things for the sake of it. People don't know why you're doing this. What your goal is beyond the one task you've named. If you made it clear that you were looking to enact some sort of societal change, that would set you apart from the other... um... criminally-inclined individuals that you've been lumped in with. If you're asking for an outside perspective, there must be more going on. But you haven't proven it to the world yet."
So that's it then. Purpose and image. Tomura thinks he can work with that.
"You're awfully calm for someone being held in a literal death-grip."
The kid scoffs. Scoffs! The audacity-
"I've spent pretty much my whole life being threatened on the daily. If anything, this is a refreshing change of pace."
Tomura isn't going to question that answer. Yet.
"I could just kill you." He squeezes his hand briefly, to emphasize his point.
"Better me than anyone else."
And isn't that just sad. This boy, already so brainwashed by society that he'd be willing to give his life for any stranger around them. Would probably revel in the chance. Talking with a 'Villain', speaking so casually about his own death... Tomura would hazard a guess and say that the lack of self-preservation the kid displayed at the USJ runs deeper than anticipated.
Tomura takes another sip of his drink and returns to people-watching. It dawns on him that throughout his entire speech, not once did the boy next to him try to condemn Tomura for his actions. He'd even suggested ways to improve, and seemed genuinely interested in Tomura's reasons.
The conversation resumes.
"For a Hero in training you're awfully sympathetic to my case."
Said student snaps his gaze back over, pausing before he replies in a quiet tone.
"Well, I know what it's like to be an outcast. To want to change things... and even get back at the people who wronged you."
The last part is said with such hesitance, as though it's not something he'd usually admit, even to himself, let alone a stranger.
Tomura has never been one for tact.
"With a Quirk like that? And your obnoxious can-do personality? I find that hard to believe."
The kid lets out an irritated huff. It's the most reaction he's given so far, come to think of it. Tomura thinks he should be offended that the kid isn't trembling in his presence, but finds himself brushing it off.
"I've only had a Quirk for a few months."
What.
"I don't wanna test it, but with the way people have treated me since I was four, I've really gotta assume that the only reason my new classmates don't act like my old ones is because they don't know I used to be Quirkless. God, even my mom has treated me different ever since that damn doctors appointment. I might be a glass canon now but before it was like everyone thought I was porcelain. I can't even tell you what's worse: the pity, or the hatred. I can't believe my first friend and worst bully still thinks I've been 'looking down on him' all this time. I was just trying to get through each day without getting my stuff destroyed or crying myself to sleep! I'm not the one who drove off any potential friends before they'd even met me. He's the asshole who told me to- ...and after tormenting me for years, now that I finally have what he said I was missing, he still hates me. Says I was hiding it this whole time just to mess with him. Not everything is about him. Why does it all have to be a competition? Why does there even have to be something 'wrong' with me? Why don't I ever just get to be happy the way I am?"
Tomura is still reeling from the idea that such a small kid developed a bone-breakingly powerful Quirk at such an unheard-of age. The kid doesn't seem to realize he's ranting. Tomura doesn't remember when his hand went from the other boy's neck to sitting loosely around his cup. He doesn't put it back.
"Sorry. That was... A lot. You definitely didn't want to hear all that. Sorry."
He's looking at his shoes again, all curled in on himself. Tomura even hears a faint sniffle before he decides to break the sudden silence.
"Damn, Freckles. With a story like that why are you even going to a Hero school? That's some tragic backstory stuff if I've ever heard it."
And he has. Being outcast from society, mistreated for something you can't control, beaten down while your attackers are praised for putting you in your place... It's all too familiar to Tomura, and many like him.
"Wh- Freckles?!"
The kid seems a little bit offended, reaching up to run a hand over his cheeks and the bridge of his nose, but at least he's not so gloomy anymore. Tomura doesn't deal with crying children. Not even when they're surprisingly good conversation partners.
"Yeah. Freckles. I don't know your name." He shrugs.
"Seriously? You could have asked!" The kid pouts. Fucking pouts.
Tomura rolls his eyes and takes another sip of his hot chocolate to hide the amused smile threatening to creep up on his face.
"Just answer the damn question, kid."
The boy sighs.
"...I guess because when I think about the future, I've never been able to imagine myself doing anything but helping people. Being a professional Hero is about as straightforward a career as it gets, in that respect."
Tomura's cup is empty.
"But Heroes don't actually care. They don't actually do anything to help the people who need help! All they do is beat up disenfranchised people, slap their name on a cereal box, and call it a day. They're all a bunch of fakes, hiding behind government support and clueless civilians with stars in their eyes."
The kid gives him a brief sympathetic look, and, strangely, it doesn't feel like pity.
"It's a flawed system. Of course it is. Any society with such a black and white divide between 'good' and 'evil' is going to have an unjust power imbalance that people take advantage of for their own personal gain. The financial incentive, media attention, and lack of real accountability for negligence only worsen the problem. But I don't think it's a system that's broken beyond repair, you know? Or, at least, not one that can't be altered to better do what it always should have: Protect people. Help everyone, no exceptions. And maybe that's naive, I don't know. But that's what keeps me working at this. The hope that, even if I can't do it myself, I can at least inspire others to fix what this world has become, and end this horrible cycle of prejudice and condemnation. I think that's something worth trying. Something worth working for."
There's a softer version of that hopeful smile Tomura has never been able to emulate. The kid is looking at him, but not like he's expecting a response. Like maybe he's waiting for Tomura to call him an idiot, shoot his response down. Hope mixed so thoroughly with resignation shouldn't be possible, but it's there on his face, plain to see.
The kid looks at him quietly, and Tomura stares back. He isn't sure he'll ever understand how this kid ended up where he is, but he's gotten the answers he was looking for today and then some.
He turns back to the crowd, but tilts his head to the kid.
"Tomura."
If he's surprised, the boy doesn't show it. He simply responds in kind and turns to watch the crowd as well.
"Izuku."
The peace lasts all of five minutes until it's broken by a girl with brown hair and a too-loud voice, calling out, "Deku! There you are!"
Izuku flinches. It's a blink-and-you'll-miss-it motion, but Tomura saw it.
The girl approaches.
"Everyone's already at the food court, come on!"
She hauls Izuku up by the arm and starts to drag him off in the direction she came from. He lets himself be dragged, but turns around after a few steps and pauses, just briefly.
He looks at Tomura with that same sad smile and waves.
It's a small action that the red-eyed boy returns in kind.
And then Izuku is dragged away.