So, I watched 'Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse' and the movie, on top of being great...
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Hanging by a Thread (My Hero Academia/Spider-Man)
- Thread starter Eternal Yujin
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Issue #1
Eternal Yujin
Not drowning in uni assignments... yet
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Issue #1
- - -
What is a hero?
It's a question we all have different answers to. Someone who follows the law? Someone who wins no matter what? Someone with a strong sense of justice?
Maybe.
To me, a hero always does their best to help someone in need – no matter the personal cost.
So that's what I do.
- - -
Vehicles rushed up and down Musutafu's streets. There he sat, a deep-fried pork cutlet in one hand and a police scanner in the other, chatter stuttering out of it in random bursts.
The cool chill of the summer night slid its way through his suit. Coiling through and across his skintight onesie. It filtered through the dark green hoodie he wore over the jumpsuit and tickled his open jaw.
His feet dangled over one of the buildings overlooking Tatooin Station's tracks. Business as usual. Rooftop dinner, patrol, foil a couple of burglaries and possible robberies, help a few lost souls and leave the criminals hanging for the police to find.
A part of him – a small part of him – felt bad about the lie he told every night. Study session at a friend's house – who this friend was, at least, wasn't a lie.
It wasn't the only lie he told either. He had a whole web of them built over a long, long time. A web so intricately threaded together that he knew just a single tug at one of those threads would bring it crashing down around him.
But he'd be fine. He was used to it. Always hanging by a thread, that was. So long as nobody found out who he was beneath the mask, he'd be fine.
He'd always get up.
Finishing the last of the pork cutlet, he pulled the mask over his face and dusted the crumbs off his hands.
He blinked through the wide lenses, sight shifting.
It was clearer. Focused. His mind no longer being pulled in several directions due to picking things up in his peripheral vision.
"Right," he muttered, dragging his yellow bag across the roof. He tossed the police scanner inside and slung it across his back. "No action tonight. Might as well go home. I still haven't finished Mrs Watanabe's essay."
"All units. Report of a break-in. Suspects may be armed. Officers needed north of Moriband Street. Proceed with caution."
The words played themselves over in his head and a slow excitement thumped in his chest. He shrugged off his bag, tossing it towards the wall of the rooftop entrance. Perfectly aimed webbing from his wrist struck true, securing the bag against the wall.
"I guess Musutafu gets some Spider-Man tonight after all," he grinned.
Spider-Man jumped. Skyscraper floors blurred past, the wind loud in his ears. He'd done it so many times now he barely had to think.
He jumped from rooftop to billboard and back to rooftop, his powerful legs carrying him through the sky. For the gaps he couldn't bridge, his webbing would be enough.
Vaulting off another ankle-high rooftop ledge, he dove towards the streets below, waving at those who recognised him and striking quick mid-air poses for the few phones aimed at his hurtling figure. It wasn't exactly heroic, but if he was going to end up in the tabloids anyway, why not give them his best side?
A shrill scream stole the silence, joined by the sound of shattering glass and a single, deafening bullet. He careened into the street, letting go of his web and hurling his body forwards.
He soared over the incoming traffic, using the top of lampposts to keep him from joining it. From what he could see, there were no Pro Heroes on the scene yet – there never were.
He crushed the swell of outrage at the thought. The Pro Heroes may not have arrived – but he was here.
He was here to be a hero. Not for profit or glory. He was a hero simply because he had the power to be one.
Like his uncles always said: power and responsibility come hand in hand.
He swung in through the broken shop window, landing atop a display case. "Excuse me, guys!"
Three masked faces turned to him. All donned matching ski masks behind balaclavas. Behind them, a terrified cashier cowered behind a shattered display case, the jewellery nowhere to be found.
Probably inside the rucksack at its foot.
One raised a gun. "You're gonna pay for what you did to our brotherhood, webhead!"
"Really? 'You're gonna pay'?" He effortlessly dodged a hail of bullets, sailing over their heads and pulling the gun towards him with a web. "I'll do you one better: catch!"
Attaching another web to the base of the gun, he spun around and tossed it across the shop. It slammed into the thug's forehead and he slipped, taking one of his partners with him in a heap of limbs and curses.
Perching atop another display case, he snuck a glance at the cashier. "You'll want to run to safety. Police should be on their way if you take a left down Moriband Street."
She stumbled to her feet, tear tracks glistening under the light above her head. Pulling her coat around herself, she bowed hastily, brown hair falling over her face. "T-Thank you, Spider-Man!"
"No worries," he said, attention ebbing away from her and returning to the fight. "But really, get out of here. I'll be your distraction."
Whatever she said next, he didn't hear. Arms outstretched, he leapt off the case, touching the ground for the first time in fifteen minutes.
The only guy left standing pulled out a knife, giving Spider-Man enough pause for the other two to get up. The one whose gun he snatched slid on a pair of knuckle dusters while the other pulled a baton out of his pants.
"Oh. I guess there was something in your pocket." Quick as lightning, he yanked the baton free from his grip, leering at it. "I was hoping you were just happy to see me. Guess not."
Tossing the weapon aside, he rushed in before the other two could do a thing about it, striking hard and fast.
They hadn't touched him once. They couldn't. To him, they were too slow.
"Is it just you guys?" Spider-Man ducked a sloppy straight punch. "Usually there are more of you. Wait… don't tell me you all got dumped in Asphodel? To be fair, you guys are an organised criminal group in possession of weapons. Not bad enough for Tartarus but Asphodel will do. Oh, hey—!"
Goosebumps broke out across his nape and back and he ducked. He looked up just in time to see the baton-less crook snatch the hurtling gun out of the air.
"We told you, you're gonna pay for what you did to us!"
He cracked Knuckleduster across the jaw, watching him fall like a sack of potatoes. His leg arced through the air once. The knife streaked across the shop. He snapped his foot against the wielder's temple and watched him fall as well.
"And then there was one. With a telekinesis quirk. Nice. In my defence, I really only busted your leader. The cops and Pro Heroes rounded up you minions."
Spider-Man walked until the crook yelled, his voice cracking, "Stop moving! I said stop, goddamnit!"
Even with a gun to his head, he didn't feel an ounce of fear. Not when he saw the shaking hand behind it.
"You've never killed anyone, have you?" he murmured gently. "You're not that kind of evil. I'll say this once. Put it down, man."
Spider-Man liked to think it was his charm that did it in the end. Regardless, torn, he'd lowered the gun just enough that he could stick his arm – and then the rest of him – to the wall.
After securing the two unconscious ones, he turned back to the terrified crook, pulling the ski mask off his face.
"You have a beard? I was 67% sure you were younger than that."
"I'm 23, asshole!"
Spider-Man nodded. "Right, right. My mistake. But onto more important things. You know this was stupid, right? The police will be arriving soon. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in court. I hope you remember your rights. See ya!"
Hopping over shards of broken glass, he ran into the street, and the flash of a police car caught his eye. Climbing the side of a building, he sprung across to the other side.
"Spider-Man!"
Arms outstretched to loop around a lamppost, Spider-Man settled atop it. A grinning schoolboy waved up at him. "Hey there, citizen."
"Can I take a picture of you?"
"Better be quick. I've got to run in… ten seconds."
"Thank you!"
"No worries!"
After he heard the click and flash of the boy's phone, Spider-Man swung around the lamppost like a gymnastic bar. Each turn building up his momentum, muscles tightening like a rubber band.
Cold air nipped at his back and thighs, and as he let go, it all rushed into his lungs. Glinting glass windows and streetlights rushed past. Police sirens howled after him, growing fainter and fainter. A wide grin stretched his face as he flipped in midair, keeping his momentum web after web.
A chilling flash rushed down his spine and put a stop to his fun. Spurred by a gelid weight in the back of his skull, he moved, jerked to the left by a web and ascended past the roofs of several buildings.
"Stop there, vigilante!"
Spinning around, Spider-Man took in the sight of the Pro Heroes, here at last. On the ground, he spotted Power Loader talking to a few police officers parked in front of the jeweller's.
He gasped, "Oh my god! Is that Kamui Woods? I'm a huge fan!"
Rapidly ascending, the Pro Hero stretched a limber arm, fingers lengthening into gnarled branches that he used to swing after him.
"Silence! Illegal quirk use, obstruction of justice, and damage to public property. Unforgivable. This is not your first offence either. When will you learn that breaking the law is not the way?"
They rushed across Moriband Street, the traffic momentarily stopping to peer up at them as they flew past.
"Not to be that guy," Spider-Man yelled, rolling across the flat of a roof and launching himself over two others. "But technically, I didn't obstruct any justice. You might even say that I brought the criminals to justice!"
"Two wrongs don't make a right!"
"Two negatives do make a positive, though."
At the peak of a swing, Spider-Man glanced around. So far, only Kamui Woods seemed to be chasing him but for all he knew, he could have backup. This wasn't the first time he'd been chased by Pro Heroes – specifically Kamui Woods – and it wouldn't be the last.
"Seriously, dude," he muttered. "You're such a stickler for the rules, huh."
Diving into an alleyway, he slid down the side of a building, leaping from one wall to another.
There was a metallic crash from behind him, followed by a pained hiss.
He felt a little guilty.
At the end of the day, he and the Pro Heroes wanted the same thing: to help people in need. But he'd be lying if he said he didn't enjoy the post-crime chases when they happened. Usually, he'd be in and out before any Pro Heroes arrived at the scene, but not always.
"Show yourself!"
Spider-Man stifled a snort, hidden by a shroud of invisibility around his body. It wouldn't mask anything else like the sounds he made or his scent, but it was perfect to make a quick getaway. "Man, I really won the superpower lottery. Invisibility, night vision, and a healing factor on top of the spider powers.
"Damn you, Spider-Man!"
Kamui Woods' howls tapered the further away he swung, eventually drowned out by the lifeblood of the city: the people, the traffic, the music, and the general clamour of everyday life.
- - -
Like I said, we all have different definitions of what a hero is.
To some, I'm a hero. To others – *cough* Kamui Woods *cough* – I'm a criminal or even a villain.
But if there's one thing I know for certain... after everything I've seen and done, it's that the world isn't so black and white.
Heroes aren't heroes because the government says they are. Villains aren't villains because they use their quirks illegally.
My story isn't standard. It's weird, confusing, and downright unbelievable at times.
But at the end of it all, I can say hands down that I did my best to be the hero I've always wanted to be.
- - -
He touched down on a familiar roof, suit and mask stuffed inside his beloved yellow bag. Pulling a sweater over his head, he unlocked the roof entrance behind him, welcoming the smell of cigarettes with a fond but exasperated smile.
"Damn it, Mr Sano. I thought you said you'd stop smoking."
A nail-biting, metallic scream tore free of the door's hinges as it swung shut, plunging the stairwell into complete darkness. Blinking, he waited a moment for his eyes to adjust, vision clear.
Running down a floor, he glanced around, leaping over the balcony and onto the fourth floor. It wasn't something he'd usually do out of the suit, but the chase with Kamui Woods had made him at least half an hour late.
A quick look at his phone told him he was actually 40 minutes late. Carefully sliding his key into the hole, he turned it slowly. "Mum is going to kill me…"
Pushing it open he peered around the corner, breath hitching in his throat.
"And where have you been, mister?"
Faced with his mother's palpable irritation and worry, a cloud of guilt covered his mind.
"U-Um… there was a robbery. Police taped up the street so my bus took a diversion."
He held her stern gaze until it melted, completely eclipsed by fatigue. She shuffled forwards, feebly wrapping her arms around the small of his back. He froze when she laid her head against his stomach, tentatively returning the hug.
He felt her exhale. "I… I know you think I'm nagging sometimes—"
"No!" He stopped, more surprised at himself than she was. "...No, mum. You're not. I understand, really. I do. Musutafu's dangerous enough as is when you have a quirk."
"Oh, honey…"
"But you don't have to worry about me. I have a good head on my shoulders, you know? Don't talk to strangers, look both ways when you cross, and keep an ear out for alerts on public transport."
"I know, I know," she laughed softly. "But I worry anyways. That's what parents do. Nag, worry, and ask for grandkids. Speaking of…"
He jumped back, heat exploding across his face at her laughter. "M-Mum!"
"I'm joking… kind of." She raised her hands in surrender, moving into the kitchen-cum-dining room to their left. "You're very lucky, young man. I was about to eat dinner alone."
He slipped off his shoes and placed them on the doormat beside his mother's sandals. "Lucky me. I'll be in my room, okay? Mind calling me down when you're ready?"
"Sure."
Running across the hallway and into his room he hung his suit on a coathanger, slotting it at the far end of the rack and covering it behind his coats. After making sure he knew where he'd tossed his school uniform hours before, he collapsed into his chair, rummaging through his desk.
Separating assignments, costume designs, and his journal into different piles, he pulled an audio recorder from underneath a stack of A4 paper.
He clicked 'record' once, clearing his throat, mouth awfully dry. "R-Right. This is the… thirteenth take. I'm not all that good with public speaking – not that this is public speaking but it's easier to speak my mind when I wear the mask. Doing this without it... it's an experience, for sure. But... let's do this one more time. M-My name is—"
His mother's voice travelled down the hallway. "Izuku, honey, dinner's ready!"
He clicked 'stop' and after a moment's hesitation, deleted the track, setting the recorder down with a wry smile on his face. "Coming, mum!"
- - -
Alright, let's do this one more time… for real, this time.
My name is Izuku Midoriya from Musutafu, Japan. When I was 16, I was bitten by a radioactive spider and ever since, I've been the one and only Spider-Man.
Yeah, my story isn't exactly what I'd call a happy tale, but I come out alright in the end. For all its lows – and trust me, there are a lot of them – I love being Spider-Man.
So no matter how hard it gets, I always find a way to get back up.
I have to.
I'm not the only hero around, but I can do things that the Pro Heroes can't – save people that they can't.
So, that's what I do.
- - -
- - -
What is a hero?
It's a question we all have different answers to. Someone who follows the law? Someone who wins no matter what? Someone with a strong sense of justice?
Maybe.
To me, a hero always does their best to help someone in need – no matter the personal cost.
So that's what I do.
- - -
Vehicles rushed up and down Musutafu's streets. There he sat, a deep-fried pork cutlet in one hand and a police scanner in the other, chatter stuttering out of it in random bursts.
The cool chill of the summer night slid its way through his suit. Coiling through and across his skintight onesie. It filtered through the dark green hoodie he wore over the jumpsuit and tickled his open jaw.
His feet dangled over one of the buildings overlooking Tatooin Station's tracks. Business as usual. Rooftop dinner, patrol, foil a couple of burglaries and possible robberies, help a few lost souls and leave the criminals hanging for the police to find.
A part of him – a small part of him – felt bad about the lie he told every night. Study session at a friend's house – who this friend was, at least, wasn't a lie.
It wasn't the only lie he told either. He had a whole web of them built over a long, long time. A web so intricately threaded together that he knew just a single tug at one of those threads would bring it crashing down around him.
But he'd be fine. He was used to it. Always hanging by a thread, that was. So long as nobody found out who he was beneath the mask, he'd be fine.
He'd always get up.
Finishing the last of the pork cutlet, he pulled the mask over his face and dusted the crumbs off his hands.
He blinked through the wide lenses, sight shifting.
It was clearer. Focused. His mind no longer being pulled in several directions due to picking things up in his peripheral vision.
"Right," he muttered, dragging his yellow bag across the roof. He tossed the police scanner inside and slung it across his back. "No action tonight. Might as well go home. I still haven't finished Mrs Watanabe's essay."
"All units. Report of a break-in. Suspects may be armed. Officers needed north of Moriband Street. Proceed with caution."
The words played themselves over in his head and a slow excitement thumped in his chest. He shrugged off his bag, tossing it towards the wall of the rooftop entrance. Perfectly aimed webbing from his wrist struck true, securing the bag against the wall.
"I guess Musutafu gets some Spider-Man tonight after all," he grinned.
Spider-Man jumped. Skyscraper floors blurred past, the wind loud in his ears. He'd done it so many times now he barely had to think.
He jumped from rooftop to billboard and back to rooftop, his powerful legs carrying him through the sky. For the gaps he couldn't bridge, his webbing would be enough.
Vaulting off another ankle-high rooftop ledge, he dove towards the streets below, waving at those who recognised him and striking quick mid-air poses for the few phones aimed at his hurtling figure. It wasn't exactly heroic, but if he was going to end up in the tabloids anyway, why not give them his best side?
A shrill scream stole the silence, joined by the sound of shattering glass and a single, deafening bullet. He careened into the street, letting go of his web and hurling his body forwards.
He soared over the incoming traffic, using the top of lampposts to keep him from joining it. From what he could see, there were no Pro Heroes on the scene yet – there never were.
He crushed the swell of outrage at the thought. The Pro Heroes may not have arrived – but he was here.
He was here to be a hero. Not for profit or glory. He was a hero simply because he had the power to be one.
Like his uncles always said: power and responsibility come hand in hand.
He swung in through the broken shop window, landing atop a display case. "Excuse me, guys!"
Three masked faces turned to him. All donned matching ski masks behind balaclavas. Behind them, a terrified cashier cowered behind a shattered display case, the jewellery nowhere to be found.
Probably inside the rucksack at its foot.
One raised a gun. "You're gonna pay for what you did to our brotherhood, webhead!"
"Really? 'You're gonna pay'?" He effortlessly dodged a hail of bullets, sailing over their heads and pulling the gun towards him with a web. "I'll do you one better: catch!"
Attaching another web to the base of the gun, he spun around and tossed it across the shop. It slammed into the thug's forehead and he slipped, taking one of his partners with him in a heap of limbs and curses.
Perching atop another display case, he snuck a glance at the cashier. "You'll want to run to safety. Police should be on their way if you take a left down Moriband Street."
She stumbled to her feet, tear tracks glistening under the light above her head. Pulling her coat around herself, she bowed hastily, brown hair falling over her face. "T-Thank you, Spider-Man!"
"No worries," he said, attention ebbing away from her and returning to the fight. "But really, get out of here. I'll be your distraction."
Whatever she said next, he didn't hear. Arms outstretched, he leapt off the case, touching the ground for the first time in fifteen minutes.
The only guy left standing pulled out a knife, giving Spider-Man enough pause for the other two to get up. The one whose gun he snatched slid on a pair of knuckle dusters while the other pulled a baton out of his pants.
"Oh. I guess there was something in your pocket." Quick as lightning, he yanked the baton free from his grip, leering at it. "I was hoping you were just happy to see me. Guess not."
Tossing the weapon aside, he rushed in before the other two could do a thing about it, striking hard and fast.
They hadn't touched him once. They couldn't. To him, they were too slow.
"Is it just you guys?" Spider-Man ducked a sloppy straight punch. "Usually there are more of you. Wait… don't tell me you all got dumped in Asphodel? To be fair, you guys are an organised criminal group in possession of weapons. Not bad enough for Tartarus but Asphodel will do. Oh, hey—!"
Goosebumps broke out across his nape and back and he ducked. He looked up just in time to see the baton-less crook snatch the hurtling gun out of the air.
"We told you, you're gonna pay for what you did to us!"
He cracked Knuckleduster across the jaw, watching him fall like a sack of potatoes. His leg arced through the air once. The knife streaked across the shop. He snapped his foot against the wielder's temple and watched him fall as well.
"And then there was one. With a telekinesis quirk. Nice. In my defence, I really only busted your leader. The cops and Pro Heroes rounded up you minions."
Spider-Man walked until the crook yelled, his voice cracking, "Stop moving! I said stop, goddamnit!"
Even with a gun to his head, he didn't feel an ounce of fear. Not when he saw the shaking hand behind it.
"You've never killed anyone, have you?" he murmured gently. "You're not that kind of evil. I'll say this once. Put it down, man."
Spider-Man liked to think it was his charm that did it in the end. Regardless, torn, he'd lowered the gun just enough that he could stick his arm – and then the rest of him – to the wall.
After securing the two unconscious ones, he turned back to the terrified crook, pulling the ski mask off his face.
"You have a beard? I was 67% sure you were younger than that."
"I'm 23, asshole!"
Spider-Man nodded. "Right, right. My mistake. But onto more important things. You know this was stupid, right? The police will be arriving soon. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in court. I hope you remember your rights. See ya!"
Hopping over shards of broken glass, he ran into the street, and the flash of a police car caught his eye. Climbing the side of a building, he sprung across to the other side.
"Spider-Man!"
Arms outstretched to loop around a lamppost, Spider-Man settled atop it. A grinning schoolboy waved up at him. "Hey there, citizen."
"Can I take a picture of you?"
"Better be quick. I've got to run in… ten seconds."
"Thank you!"
"No worries!"
After he heard the click and flash of the boy's phone, Spider-Man swung around the lamppost like a gymnastic bar. Each turn building up his momentum, muscles tightening like a rubber band.
Cold air nipped at his back and thighs, and as he let go, it all rushed into his lungs. Glinting glass windows and streetlights rushed past. Police sirens howled after him, growing fainter and fainter. A wide grin stretched his face as he flipped in midair, keeping his momentum web after web.
A chilling flash rushed down his spine and put a stop to his fun. Spurred by a gelid weight in the back of his skull, he moved, jerked to the left by a web and ascended past the roofs of several buildings.
"Stop there, vigilante!"
Spinning around, Spider-Man took in the sight of the Pro Heroes, here at last. On the ground, he spotted Power Loader talking to a few police officers parked in front of the jeweller's.
He gasped, "Oh my god! Is that Kamui Woods? I'm a huge fan!"
Rapidly ascending, the Pro Hero stretched a limber arm, fingers lengthening into gnarled branches that he used to swing after him.
"Silence! Illegal quirk use, obstruction of justice, and damage to public property. Unforgivable. This is not your first offence either. When will you learn that breaking the law is not the way?"
They rushed across Moriband Street, the traffic momentarily stopping to peer up at them as they flew past.
"Not to be that guy," Spider-Man yelled, rolling across the flat of a roof and launching himself over two others. "But technically, I didn't obstruct any justice. You might even say that I brought the criminals to justice!"
"Two wrongs don't make a right!"
"Two negatives do make a positive, though."
At the peak of a swing, Spider-Man glanced around. So far, only Kamui Woods seemed to be chasing him but for all he knew, he could have backup. This wasn't the first time he'd been chased by Pro Heroes – specifically Kamui Woods – and it wouldn't be the last.
"Seriously, dude," he muttered. "You're such a stickler for the rules, huh."
Diving into an alleyway, he slid down the side of a building, leaping from one wall to another.
There was a metallic crash from behind him, followed by a pained hiss.
He felt a little guilty.
At the end of the day, he and the Pro Heroes wanted the same thing: to help people in need. But he'd be lying if he said he didn't enjoy the post-crime chases when they happened. Usually, he'd be in and out before any Pro Heroes arrived at the scene, but not always.
"Show yourself!"
Spider-Man stifled a snort, hidden by a shroud of invisibility around his body. It wouldn't mask anything else like the sounds he made or his scent, but it was perfect to make a quick getaway. "Man, I really won the superpower lottery. Invisibility, night vision, and a healing factor on top of the spider powers.
"Damn you, Spider-Man!"
Kamui Woods' howls tapered the further away he swung, eventually drowned out by the lifeblood of the city: the people, the traffic, the music, and the general clamour of everyday life.
- - -
Like I said, we all have different definitions of what a hero is.
To some, I'm a hero. To others – *cough* Kamui Woods *cough* – I'm a criminal or even a villain.
But if there's one thing I know for certain... after everything I've seen and done, it's that the world isn't so black and white.
Heroes aren't heroes because the government says they are. Villains aren't villains because they use their quirks illegally.
My story isn't standard. It's weird, confusing, and downright unbelievable at times.
But at the end of it all, I can say hands down that I did my best to be the hero I've always wanted to be.
- - -
He touched down on a familiar roof, suit and mask stuffed inside his beloved yellow bag. Pulling a sweater over his head, he unlocked the roof entrance behind him, welcoming the smell of cigarettes with a fond but exasperated smile.
"Damn it, Mr Sano. I thought you said you'd stop smoking."
A nail-biting, metallic scream tore free of the door's hinges as it swung shut, plunging the stairwell into complete darkness. Blinking, he waited a moment for his eyes to adjust, vision clear.
Running down a floor, he glanced around, leaping over the balcony and onto the fourth floor. It wasn't something he'd usually do out of the suit, but the chase with Kamui Woods had made him at least half an hour late.
A quick look at his phone told him he was actually 40 minutes late. Carefully sliding his key into the hole, he turned it slowly. "Mum is going to kill me…"
Pushing it open he peered around the corner, breath hitching in his throat.
"And where have you been, mister?"
Faced with his mother's palpable irritation and worry, a cloud of guilt covered his mind.
"U-Um… there was a robbery. Police taped up the street so my bus took a diversion."
He held her stern gaze until it melted, completely eclipsed by fatigue. She shuffled forwards, feebly wrapping her arms around the small of his back. He froze when she laid her head against his stomach, tentatively returning the hug.
He felt her exhale. "I… I know you think I'm nagging sometimes—"
"No!" He stopped, more surprised at himself than she was. "...No, mum. You're not. I understand, really. I do. Musutafu's dangerous enough as is when you have a quirk."
"Oh, honey…"
"But you don't have to worry about me. I have a good head on my shoulders, you know? Don't talk to strangers, look both ways when you cross, and keep an ear out for alerts on public transport."
"I know, I know," she laughed softly. "But I worry anyways. That's what parents do. Nag, worry, and ask for grandkids. Speaking of…"
He jumped back, heat exploding across his face at her laughter. "M-Mum!"
"I'm joking… kind of." She raised her hands in surrender, moving into the kitchen-cum-dining room to their left. "You're very lucky, young man. I was about to eat dinner alone."
He slipped off his shoes and placed them on the doormat beside his mother's sandals. "Lucky me. I'll be in my room, okay? Mind calling me down when you're ready?"
"Sure."
Running across the hallway and into his room he hung his suit on a coathanger, slotting it at the far end of the rack and covering it behind his coats. After making sure he knew where he'd tossed his school uniform hours before, he collapsed into his chair, rummaging through his desk.
Separating assignments, costume designs, and his journal into different piles, he pulled an audio recorder from underneath a stack of A4 paper.
He clicked 'record' once, clearing his throat, mouth awfully dry. "R-Right. This is the… thirteenth take. I'm not all that good with public speaking – not that this is public speaking but it's easier to speak my mind when I wear the mask. Doing this without it... it's an experience, for sure. But... let's do this one more time. M-My name is—"
His mother's voice travelled down the hallway. "Izuku, honey, dinner's ready!"
He clicked 'stop' and after a moment's hesitation, deleted the track, setting the recorder down with a wry smile on his face. "Coming, mum!"
- - -
Alright, let's do this one more time… for real, this time.
My name is Izuku Midoriya from Musutafu, Japan. When I was 16, I was bitten by a radioactive spider and ever since, I've been the one and only Spider-Man.
Yeah, my story isn't exactly what I'd call a happy tale, but I come out alright in the end. For all its lows – and trust me, there are a lot of them – I love being Spider-Man.
So no matter how hard it gets, I always find a way to get back up.
I have to.
I'm not the only hero around, but I can do things that the Pro Heroes can't – save people that they can't.
So, that's what I do.
- - -
Right. That's it for this. I won't delude myself by saying I'll be posting this regularly; I'm not. It will be a sporadic thing, but I'll try and make chapter lengths worth it.
That's all from me.
Signing off,
— Ash (Ashtar29)
That's all from me.
Signing off,
— Ash (Ashtar29)