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Bear No Malice(Unless it’s against the scum of the earth)

Chapter Text

A shadow sat perched on the fire escape of an apartment building. The metal cooled his sweaty palms through leathery gloves. He waited with patience until the faintest noise sounded in his ears. Waited, waited, waited. . . 


It was a grim night. Moon and stars overhead are obstructed by, assumingly, grey clouds. Made it easier to hide in the shadows. The streets below were far down, but dotted with bystanders, or not, who were passing to get home or to commit a felony. Either or were possible. Can never be too careful. 


Waited, waited. . . 


The figure on the fire escape pulled down his mask, taking a deep breath in…and out again, the ghost of the breath making a cloud in front of him. It deformed and twisted into the air until it was gone. It was indeed a cold night. Twenty seven degrees to be precise. The figure was nearly shaking, trying to do so minimally as to be nearly invisible. 


Waited. . . 


His ears perked up at the sound of rattling. A faint, deep  “God damnit” could be heard after a thud. Then the opening of a door. Footsteps, rattling, closing of the door. The target was home. The figure pulled his mask back up, eyes squinting as they never left the middle aged man that had just walked into the home of the balcony the figure was sitting on.


‘Moron should’ve shut the blinds.’  He thought, chuckling to himself. 


Minutes passed until the old man went to the kitchen, which was closest to where the figure was. The man hummed a nasty tune to himself as he pushed away the remains of a pink birthday cake, pulling out the loaf of bread. He made his way over to the refrigerator taking out some bologna. The figure icked to himself. From then on it’s self explanatory. 


Waited. . . 


“Daddy!” A young voice called out, alerting the figure. The man looked from his sandwich to the hallway. The figure calculated the position of. “Daddy guess what today was!” It was a little girl, from what he could tell. 


“Not now..” the man gruffed, taking another sloppy bite of his food. The girl pouted. 


“I said not now !” The man yelled this time, causing the girl to flinch, recoil. She nodded nonetheless.


The figure tightened his hold on the railing. ‘Not yet. Not the right time.’ 


About ten minutes passed until the man did something interesting again. The little girl was back from her room, the figure assumed. 


“Daddy! Can I watch my show on the television?” She asked, noticeably nervous. 


The man shook his head, waving his hand dismissively. “Fuck off, kid. Go back to your room and keep quiet.” 


“Please! It’s only one episode I really wanna-“ 


“I said fuck off to your room!”


The figure pressed a tiny red button on the pair of glasses over his eyes. 


The girl teared up. “I-I’m sorry d-daddy. I didn’t m-mean to make you u-ups-”


“You little shit, just can’t keep your mouth shut.” The man started stalking forward. The figure hopped off of the railing slowly, swiftly. 


“D-daddy please..n-no hitting. N-not again!” The girl cried. 


“Oh for fucks sake. Kids can’t listen to their parents these days.” The man seethed as he raised his hand. 


“Parents?” The figure whispered. 


The man paused, eyes wide as he looked around frantically. 


“Don’t consider yourself a parent. I wouldn’t even consider you a grown up. More like a child. A man baby.” They chuckled. 


“Where the hell are you?” The man bellowed. 


“Come on now, look a little harder. I’m sure you can find me. Sense me.” Taunted the boy. 


The man struggled, visibly more uncomfortable. 


“Look for something more…green.” 


The man looked around, suddenly pausing. He looked to the kitchen. Right by the knife block on the counter we’re two toxic green eyes that seemed to glow like two single super novas. 


“W-who the hell are you?” 


“Someone who really dislikes bologna. And you just ate it. Nasty.” The eyes moved away from the kitchen counter, a body coming along with them. A short body, yet slightly built. He was masked by a black hoodie that covered his hair. Black shorts with straps around one thigh with a knife in it. A green turtleneck rested beneath the jacket. The man started shaking, much to the boy's enjoyment. “You disgust me. How are you gonna eat whatever that is and hurt your child? Thats all sorts of fucked up.” 


“I-I know you!” He cried, pointing an accusing finger over at the boy whose head was now leaning. 


“Hm? You do? Then who am I?” 


“Y-your’” he stuttered pathetically. 


The boy rolled his eyes. “Uh huh. Yea, while you figure that out, sweetie, come here.” He called out for the little girl who hesitated, but made her way to him. She looked up at him with worried eyes. “I’m going to need you to go to your neighbors, alright? Knock on the door as loudly as you can and say that your dad turned himself into the police, okay?” The little girl nodded. “Good girl, now go!” He followed her to the front door, shutting it and locking it. 


He slowly turned to the man who was cowering in the middle of the living room. The boy scoffed. “Still struggling?” 


“I- you…Malice.” The figure perked up. 


“Oh! Oh good job! Only took you…maybe…twenty tries to form the proper word but yes! So you know what I’m going to do to you, right?” The man shook his head violently. 


“No! Please! I have so much I need to do!” He cried loudly. 


“Being a shit person can wait for you in hell.” Malice walked forward, tapping the knife strapped to their thigh on their thigh before swiftly pulling it out.


“Anyone who eats that nasty sandwich meat has a place reserved in the deepest pits of hell for them.” The boy slid the knife out of the strap, gliding his fingers along the blade. “I mean if hell even exists. I was never big on religion, y'know?”


 He was now standing in front of the man, before kicking him in his knee, causing him to buckle and break. Police sirens echoed loudly through the night, barely convincing the man he’ll live to see tomorrow.


The boy smirked and bent down, keeping a leveled glare and his voice turned venomous. “Any last words?” 


“I- please..I- uh…” 


“Oh god you’re taking forever.” the boy rolled his eyes before going behind the man and slitting his throat. 


The boy let the man fall face first onto the hardwood floor, stepping back and wiping the blood off his knife with his hand, slinging the liquid off blankly. 


“God, that was lame.” 




Chapter Text

Tsukauchi Naomasa currently rested his elbows on his desk, head between his hands in exasperation.

He was just given a report of another dead man.The second one this weekend. The detective needed a break. Tsukauchi grimaced as he flipped through the profile and pages of the man's death. The detective found himself needing to sigh every second he was reading the file, because who writes cute little notes on their victims giving them everything they caught them doing. Abusing their children, committing felonies, etc.

Tsukauchi pushed his chair back, deciding that maybe coffee would help with his deteriorating sanity. This one vigilante is causing all of it. Catching the bastard is harder than he thought when he started this case a month ago.

The detective held a paper cup under the coffee machine, yawning tiredly. He needed a breakthrough. All he got through these reports were deaths, captures, arrests, notes and winky faces in pen and sign off on the name “Malice”. He needed more. He needed a face. Eyes, mouth, ears, anything to go off of. But it was always the same snarky messages and doodles and one single name.

“Tsukauchi,” a tired voice calls. “The cup is overflowing.”

The detective looks to his hand and quickly pulls it away, hissing in pain. Hot coffee stinging his skin. He groaned, reaching for napkins, knocking over a tower of creamers in the process. He just yelled in frustration, collecting the curious gazes of his colleagues. He was too tired to care.

“What’s keeping you up at night, detective?” The deep voice returns. The detective looks over and sees his sleep deprived, underground hero friend.

“Aizawa, this is the most energy consuming case I’ve ever been on.” He said, wiping a hand in his face.

The man nodded. “So I see.” He says, eyeing the mess of the coffee table. “Which case is it? The Malice Case?”

“Yes, the Malice Case!” Tsukauchi cries, exaggerating with his arms. “How do you catch a genius?” He asked defeatedly, starting his way back to his desk.

Aizawa shrugged his broad shoulders. “Outsmart them?” He said, crossing his arms over his chest, leaning on the divider separating Tsukauchi’s desk from all the others.

“Yes, but how do you outsmart a genius?” The detective asks, picking up the case and glaring at it before tossing it down.

“It’s never simple. Let me see the case.” Aizawa lazily reaches out a hand. Tsukauchi hands him the folder. The underground hero scans through it, finally coming to the most recent one. His eyes had gradually widened throughout it.

“The vigilante caught more criminals in the last month, that’s how long you’ve been in the case I’m assuming, than multiple pro heroes?” Aizawa asks unbelievably, reading over the recent case. Tsukauchi just nods tiredly. “Last night he killed a forty one year old man who was yelling and obviously abusing his daughter and…eating a bologna sandwich?”

Tsukauchi cries, “Yes! Yes he did! What the hell!”

Aizawa sighed, continuing on reading. “He goes by the name Malice? Does he always kill his victims?”

Tsukauchi shakes his head. “Rarely. His usual is just injuring them to the point of immobility until the police can show up. A stab wound in the side or leg, always missing vitals.” He explains, now clicking a pen against the desk.

“Of course. All the other times, he’s just feeling murderous?” Aizawa asks.

Tsukauchi shrugs. “Never talked to the guy. We can only assume that’s why he kills them, but I feel there may be something deeper that we don’t know.”

Aizawa hums. “And who’s ‘we’? Who do you have on the case?”

“Me and Death Arms. Not many want to be part of this case, seeing as it’s a genius murderer. Who wants to be on this person's bad side?” Tsukauchi asks. “We don’t even know what they look like!”

“You..have no idea what they look like?” Aizawa asks, eyebrows raised. The detective nods. “So the last victim..”

“He was found with a slit throat in his apartment living room by his neighbors.” Tsukauchi sighed. “Luckily, though, his daughter didn’t see. Apparently the vigilante who did it told the little girl to go to her neighbors.”

“And no sightings of the person?” Aizawa sighs, scratching his neck.

Tsukauchi shakes his head. “And it’s not like he absolutely doesn’t want to be caught or seen. Why would he give us his name? Or at least his street name. I’m just a detective, and Death Arms is more of a day hero.” He ranted, sighing. “We need a more underground-..hero.” He said slowly, looking over to his friend who just tossed the case back onto the detectives desk.

Tsukauchi stared at his friend, mischief in his eyes. Aizawa returned the look before catching on. “Nope, no you cannot convince me to join this damn case.” Aizawa says, shaking his head no as he turns to walk away.

“But Aizawa please! If anyone can catch this guy, it’s you!” Tsukauchi begs, following right behind the underground hero. Aizawa just continues to shake his head, making way for the entrance doors of the police station.

“I’m not wasting my time with some grown guy going around choosing between killing or immobilizing bad guys. That’s a simple case! Get Hawks or someone!” Aizawa says, pulling the door open.

“We don’t think it’s a grown man!” Tsukauchi admits. Aizawa pauses. The detective sighs. “The notes seem too..snarky and childish to be a grown man who knows wholeheartedly what they’re doing.”

The underground hero turns around. “You think it’s a kid?”

Tsukauchi shrugs, nodding. “A teenager, yes. Middle schooler at the youngest.” Aizawa’s hand grips the door handle harder before the man turns fully around.

“What’s in it for me?” He asks, still unsure.

The detective hums. “You’d finally have a reason to wake up in the morning. Instead of just boring patrols, you’d be after a mastermind child.” He offers a handshake to his friend, who glares at it wearily. “Doesn’t that sound interesting?”

Aizawa rolls his eyes, finally shoving his hand into his friends, shaking it firmly.

Tsukauchi sighs in relief. “Thank god! Now we have a chance at solving this case!” He says. “Time to look over the little things Malice has given us. Then you go out patrolling and look for him. Night one.”

Aizawa sighs. “What have I gotten myself into..?”





“Laser pointers?”


“Various probably illegal liquids?”

“Also check.”

“Reason as to why my mom hates m- bless you!”

“Thank you. I just got a bad feeling.”

“You sneezed because of it?”

“It happens in the movies, right?”

“I don’t think-…never mind. It was probably nothing. Let’s continue with the checklist, ok Izu? We gotta get this down!”

“Ok Mei, let’s get this done.”

“Right, so suspicious white powder?”

“Baking soda..check…”

Chapter Text

Aizawa mumbled quietly to himself as he pulled on his hero suit and gear, eyebrows furrowed with concentration and slight annoyance. He stumbled as he pulled on his second boot, making his way out of his bedroom, almost falling.

“Shouta? You ok?” Yamada asked as he walked into the hallway in the middle of pulling his hair up into a bun.

“Yes, yes, fine. Just maybe regretting taking on this case. It was my off night.” The grumpy man groaned, fixing his scarf around his neck.

“Case? What case?” The blonde man asks, following behind his husband as the man whales his way towards the front door.

“I took on a case of a new vigilante that’s been helping arrest villains or criminals or just killing them.” Aizawa explains. “Tsukauchi wants me to make contact with them. I can’t say much though.”

Yamada’s eyes widened. “That one!? I think Tsukauchi was talking about it to Death Arms while I was turning in a villain at the station.”

“Yea, he’s on the case with the detective. Now I am too.” Aizawa sighs, pulling up his goggles that hid his tired eyes.

“I could join the case with you? It could make it easier.” Yamada offers, crossing his arms.

“Not until I make contact with the kid. I need to experience his apparent danger levels for myself.” The hero opens the front door. “Don’t stay up late. I’ll be back, love you.”

“Love you..”




The streets were dark and quiet this time of night. Criminals weren’t out yet and civilians were getting home. Aizawa sat perched on the edge of a room, staring down at the lights of cars and stores that stayed open.

He didn’t know where this ‘Malice’ was usually at, which made this case harder. Until that was figured out, Aizawa would have to keep all of his senses on high alert, which was tiring.

The only thing that would keep Aizawa awake was if he kept moving, which he decided he should do as he stood up from his spot.

As he turned around, he could’ve sworn he saw a head or something fall off the edge of the building. Aizawa ran to the other side of the roof, leaning over it searching for any sign of movement. There was none.

But there was a loud crash and a resounding ‘Fuck’ echoing throughout the alleyway. Aizawa quietly made his way down the fire escape that he saw connected to the roof. He made sure to stay in the shadows, avoiding alleyway lights.

Once he made his way down, he looked around carefully, seeing nothing other than a chartreux cat in the middle of the alleyway licking its paw quietly. Suspiciously enough, it was directly under a light, like someone placed it there as a distraction. As Aizawa walked forward to it, he realized it worked too well. Nevertheless. The man pet the cat on the head, looking around. His eyes caught the foot of someone turning the corner. If he hadn’t been looking he wouldn’t have ever known the person had gotten away. The hero picked himself up, dashing out of the alley and around the corner.

He nearly missed the bright green post-it note stuck to the side of a building. He halted his steps, eying the piece of paper. He remembered the bunch of evidence he was shown. Post-it notes being among some of the most sighted evidence.

He picked the note off of the brick wall, squinting to try and see what was written.

‘Thank you for the little bit of adrenaline, Eraser. I haven’t felt that nervous and excited in forever!!

Malice <3’

Aizawa’s hand clenched the post-it note and the man looked around the streets that seemed empty now compared to earlier. No one way around. Or whoever was around was incredibly silent and light on their feet. Malice was around. Aizawa knew it. Sensed it. But he knew he wouldn’t be able to catch the kid. He left no trace as to even existing on the street other than the cases of murders and arrests he held on his shoulders. To catch a kid such as Malice, he’d need a trap.

‘But what kind…’ Aizawa mumbled to himself.




Izuku cursed as he rubbed his shoulder, wincing at the scrape he received after jumping off of the railing of the fire escape to make it to the ground quicker. He had to get away from Eraserhead somehow, right?

He sat with his back to the wall on top of a kitchen counter, wrapping it in gauze to stop the bleeding. The warehouse he was in was abandoned, Izuku having to clean it up a bit so it was even remotely safe to stay in. He couldn’t follow in his mom's footsteps and die, now could he?

Now that he thought about it, it was tempting. The whole dying thing. He found it pretty peaceful.

But who else was going to give the scum of the earth what they deserve? All Might? No. That big fucking softie. Izuku couldn’t stand him.

His fake fucking smile, fake fucking media persona and his fake fucking quirk.

That was just a theory of his. He didn’t know for sure that All Might’s quirk had some sort of secret, but it was his theory and he’s never been wrong.


And he didn’t plan to start now.