Chapter Text
Izuku had been writing hero notes for quite some time and he knew he was good at it. In fact, one of the only times Izuku felt comfortable acknowledging his own skill was in regards to his hero notes. But slowly, his abilities surpassed skill, and became something… more. It developed so gradually not even Izuku himself could pinpoint when it started.
But at some point, people started listening to him.
He would ask questions about their quirk, about their limits, about their… weaknesses, and they would answer.
Izuku didn’t exactly know why but he did know that it felt like a force urging him forward. Urging him to ask, to learn, to look. And when he had torn people apart, forced himself into the cracks of their being and seen all there was to see, the force would lessen, and a warm sense of satisfaction that wasn’t quite his would settle on his shoulders, content.
It started with heroes, of course. Just some notes here and there, then it switched to classmates, questions about their weaknesses. (He doesn’t question why his peers seem so well-spoken when answering.) Then, once he has notebook upon notebook, he starts asking teachers, starts approaching random people on the street, desperate to learn, to see.
Then, Izuku starts knowing.
There’s an order to Izuku’s notes, because of course there is.
He lists information as follows:
Hero Name
Civilian Name
Quirk Name
Quirk Description
Quirk Theories
Costume Description
Costume Suggestions
Extra Notes
These components are always labeled, sometimes indicated with a blank space if the information is unknown. These days, however, the information is never unknown.
It wasn’t until updating the hero information in his notebooks that Izuku looked for more of a challenge.
So he turned to the news, he turned to villains. His villain notebooks was a secret, because it proved just how much of his notes was no longer speculation, how much of it was simply knowledge . But after a while even that wasn’t enough. Izuku longed for the satisfaction that came with knowing . The contentment, like a warm bed and a nice meal, that came after seeing .
So he started leaving at night. He would roam the streets, careful to not be seen by to many people and he would WATCH. He took notes for a while, but after a few days he realized that he didn’t have to, that he would remember. So, he stopped, he didn’t take notes anymore he would just look.
It took a few weeks before Izuku encountered anything directly, but before he knew it the force was stronger, urging at the back of his mind, telling him where to go. And he listened, he went into an alley and he saw. Izuku wasn’t deluded enough into thinking that he could win in a fight, but for some reason he knew what to do.
“Mario Kugutsu” Izuku called out, feeling a sick and unfamiliar satisfaction in the man’s flinch. “Mario Kugutsu,” Izuku started again, “Villain alias: Colossal Villain, age: 32, height: 182cm, quirk: playtime.”
He paused, and so did the villain. He got no response so he continued.
“You do not know who I am. And you likely never will. But, Mario Kugutsu, I KNOW who you are. And I know what you’ve done. I suggest you leave now, preferably turn yourself into the police department for… one of your many crimes. Because I do not believe you will enjoy yourself if I choose to handle you.”
Izuku is… unsure of this approach. He knows how short, how unintimidating, he seems. But the urging in the back of his mind, the guiding force of his actions, seems to know this will work, and Izuku isn’t one to disagree.
What Izuku does not know, however, is what he looks like. He may be small but his figure is obscured by dark baggy clothing that helps him blend into the equally dark night. A large hood obscures his face so he seems expressionless, except for his eyes, which glow a toxic green as he looks into the alleyway.
Deeper into the alley Mario Kugutsu shivers. He is not used to fear, even more so because he does not know why he is afraid. But he is. He feels eyes pressing down on him from all directions and he feels so horribly seen . So despite the pride that he’s at risk of choking on, he… listens. He leaves the alleyway and is in prison by morning. Because the eyes that rattled in his mind were closed, and he is not willing to risk them looking at him fully.
Once Mario is gone Izuku looks at the smaller figure, pressed against the wall. They do not look injured, so Izuku doesn’t approach, he wasn’t here for them anyway.
After that incident, and a few more of a similar nature, Izuku gains a reputation, and a name. ‘The Watcher’ they call him, and Izuku attempts to ignore the itch in the back of his mind that hums, pleased with the notion. But despite his attempts, as soon as he hears the name, Izuku can’t help but feel… claimed.