“Look, kid,” The slender woman with dark red hair and amber-colored eyes scratched the back of her head as she looked at him. This was the fifth tattoo shop that he had been to today, and it was the fifth one that was about to turn him down. “I get your sob story right, but like, that’s just all the more reason why I gotta say it’s a no-go.”

 

Izuku let his hands slide off the counter, the money his mother had given him for new clothes was burning a hole in his pocket like no tomorrow. He should have known that every single place would have refused him, and it wasn’t like he’d be able to get a tattoo today since he’d have to make an appointment first. 

 

Besides.

 

What was the point?

 

He couldn’t unfail the entrance exam. 

 

“Like, I mean,” the woman continued, flipping her hand around and exposing the beautiful tattoo of a female samurai on her arm that had drawn Izuku in. “I’m sure that every single artist would love to work on you.”

 

“What makes you say that?” He looked around the room for a moment. It was clean, as the classification of tattoos being a medical procedure made the few parlors in Tokyo as clean as a hospital. Numerous photos of tattoos decorated the room and an entire binder of designs sat ready for people to browse through. 

 

The woman snorted and laughed. “Are you kidding, kid? Do you have any idea how many tattoo artists would love to watch their artwork come to life? Shit, just thinking about it gets me all kinds of fired up. I’d pour my heart and soul into that piece.” She stretched her arms wide and spun on her stool. “Every single one of these would look like amatuer hour!” With her tattooed back towards him, he could see the intricate workings of something amazing on her back. Her arms fell and she let out a low and annoyed hiss. “But that’s part of the problem, yeah? I put my best work on you, and you start trying to be a hero, and people are going to start asking where you got it. That leads them back to me, and then I lose my license.” 

 

Bitterness and disappointment did not make for a good mood. A flash of anger tore through him, and made the fact that he hadn’t eaten yet send a wave of weakness over him. He nearly stumbled but stood strong. “Oh, well, what if I had my mother’s permission?”

 

“I’d consider it, but even with a parent’s permission, it’s still illegal, you know? But, like, maybe it’d be fine if you became a hero?” She waved her hand and then grabbed one of her cards. “But, like, legit, when you turn 20, show up and I’ll give you the biggest deal of the century.”

 

Izuku took her card and looked at it for a few moments. There was no way he was going to hold onto this for two whole years. “Thanks, but, do you really not know anyone that would at least be willing to talk?”

 

“Hmm,” She pouted slightly and kicked her leg against her desk. She gave a light wince and rubbed her knee. “Anyone that has a license isn’t going to be too keen on risking it.” She scratched the back of her head and let out a sigh. “I don’t really know anyone that would.”

 

Another card. 

 

Another dead end.

 

Why did everything feel two years away at this point?

 

“Well, thanks.”

 

“Oi—” A low, hiss-like sound drew Izuku’s focus towards the door, and there he saw a devil in a maroon suit. The man’s smooth red skin would make him stand out in any crowd. He also had two red horns that stuck out several inches from his forehead, black slicked-back hair, and a soured look on his face. He looked like a real demon. When it comes to quirks, there was a wide range for what humans could look like; Izuku’s homeroom teacher was basically a polar bear, but still, this guy just looked terrifying. 

 

He had an aura that choked the air with fear. 

 

“Oi.” The red-skinned man walked forward, hands in his pockets, shoulders slumped forward, and his lower jaw protruding ever so slightly due to the two tusk-like teeth. “Oi, oi, oi, oi.”

 

That was at least three too many oi’s. 

 

Izuku took a step back and watched the man for a few seconds. A few of the buttons on his dress shirt were undone, showing off the ink on his chest. A customer? 

 

“Oh,” The woman behind the counter, stood back ever so slightly. “Uhh, can I help you with anything?”

 

The red-skinned man placed both hands onto the desk and took in a deep breath. His voice was like the crackling of coals in the middle of a summer campfire. “Maybe, maybe. You the artist?”

 

“Yes?” The woman sounded very unsure about her profession. 

 

“Good, good. Now then, I have a very important question to ask.” The red-skinned man’s broad shoulders rose as he took in a deep breath. “What inspires you?”

 

“Huh?”

 

“Like, for tattoos and shit! Hell, art in general!” The red-skinned man placed a fist down onto the table. It almost looked like a beast was trying to be a man with how aggressive he was acting. “Like, what do you do when you’ve lost that inspiration and shit? What gets you excited to do what you do?”

 

“Umm, well, I mean, it’s my job.” The woman let out a low breath, visibly relaxing for a few seconds. “Most of the time, the customer knows what they want and I just draw that. It doesn’t really require inspiration.”

 

“Okay, but what if that doesn’t work? What then?” 

 

She shrugged. “I take a vacation.”

 

“Bahhh. None of that shit’s good.” The red-skinned man pushed off the counter and waved his hand. He rolled his shoulders and gave a short nod. “Thanks for your time.”

 

Despite the brief hint of relief Izuku felt when the man walked out of the building, Izuku found himself stumbling forward. His voice was caught in his throat for just a moment, and the fatigue from skipping lunch was catching up to him, but still he pressed forward. 

 

“Hey!” He shouted louder than he intended. “Wait!”

 

“Ehhh?” The red-skinned man glared at him. “What you want, Greenbean?”

 

“I’ve been looking for someone to give me a tattoo all day, but I’m underaged.”

 

“Why the fuck should I care?” The red-skinned man walked towards him again. He wasn’t exactly looming over Izuku, but he was still more than a few inches taller than Izuku’s own 5’8”. “She can’t even ink other members, this ain’t no charity case.”

 

“No, wait, you’re not understanding,” Izuku held up his hand like he was trying to push the man back. “It’s my quirk.”

 

“Ehh?” A single bushy black eyebrow told Izuku to get to the point.

 

“My quirk, it makes stuff drawn on me come to life, that’s why I—”

 

The growl of his stomach ended his sentence. 

 

The red-skinned man pointed towards a nearby ramen shop. “You wanna talk about it over some ramen?”

 

XXXX

“So you mean to tell me that—” The red-skinned man picked up the large bowl of ramen and began slurping like he had come crawling out of some anime, only without the mess. When he placed the bowl down, there was a noodle that had gotten wrapped around one of his tusks which he quickly slurped up. “You tried to be a hero but couldn’t cause you didn’t have a tattoo? And that you couldn’t get a tattoo because of the strict laws, and a strict mother? That’s fucking bullshit, uhh—”

 

Oh, they still haven’t introduced themselves yet. Despite the red-skinned man having polished off nearly two bowls of ramen already. 

 

Wait. 

 

Was he going to have to pay for this?

 

“Izuku,” Izuku said with a smile and looked at his own nearly finished bowl of ramen. “Izuku Midoriya.”

 

“Midoriya?” The red-skinned man’s eyes went wide for a moment. 

 

“Yeah?” Izuku raised an eyebrow in response. It wasn’t everyday that someone reacted to his last name like that. 

 

The red-skinned man shook his head and rolled his shoulders. “It’s nothing. Anyways, I’m Tanaka Yamato.”

 

“Nice to meet you.”

 

Tanaka grunted and leaned forward onto the table, signalling for another bowl of ramen. “I do just have to ask though. Why do you still want a tattoo? I mean, a place like U.A. isn’t going to give you a retest or anything, right? So like, why not just wait?”

 

“Because…” Izuku bit his lip; Tanaka had a point. Why did he feel so desperate to get a tattoo right now? Was it because he felt like he was owed one? Was he just frustrated that he failed? Why? “Because,” he repeated and stared at the ceramic bowl that had just been placed in front of Tanaka. He clenched his fist and then sighed. “I don’t know. I guess. I just want to know if I could have made it.”

 

“You want to test your limits? I can dig it.” Tanaka began to devour his third bowl of ramen with some loud slurping action. “That’s what I do every chance I get! But, another question.” The bowl was half-empty when it was placed down, and Tanaka gave Izuku a glare that on anyone else would have looked like a pout, but on Tanaka it looked like Izuku was half a syllable away from losing a limb. “How does this help me?”

 

Izuku felt his voice crack just by drawing in a breath. “Well, everywhere I’ve gone, they all talked about how much they wanted to tattoo me. That the idea of seeing their work come to life was an inspiration. So, I don’t know, maybe it’d be the same for whoever it is you’re trying to help?” 

 

“Hmmm.” Tanaka leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms, his yellow eyes closing while he stroked his chin. “I’m not the artsy type, so I really wouldn’t know how this inspiration stuff works, but I’ve been trying to get her inspired for a while now. I got her a computer, a bunch of paint stuff, and even a giant brush, but all she uses that for is whacking me upside the head. So far, nothing’s really worked.”

 

Izuku hummed and nodded along to what Tanaka was saying. “Can I ask about her?”

 

“Who?” 

 

“The girl you’re trying to inspire?” 

 

“Oh! Right, right, my little sister! Ori!” Tanaka leaned forward with a great big smile on his face. “She’s the best tattoo artist in all of Japan! It’s her quirk or something; I’m not one hundred percent sure about what’s going on with everything she does, but she’s unlike any other artist out there. Here, let me show you.” 

 

He undid a few more buttons of his dress shirt and revealed a tattoo he had on his chest. Rich vibrant colors, exquisite details, and a powerful design made the dragon on Tanaka’s chest look like it wasn’t a tattoo but a painting, or a still frame from a high-budget anime. That tattoo was everything Izuku had ever wanted: something that looked powerful, that looked solid, that looked like it was already alive. 

 

He could picture the dragon curling around his arm, a faint, almost unnoticeable sensation as it roamed around his skin, and the peeling sensation as the dragon launched from his arm attacking some unnamed foe. “That’s amazing.” 

 

“Right? She’s so talented. She’s inked most of the other guys too, but she put her best work on me, even if my skin isn’t exactly easy to work with. Apparently, the dragon is supposed to protect me or something.” Tanaka shrugged and buttoned up his shirt once again. “There’s a big one on my back too, it’s an oni mask,” Tanaka gestured towards his face and gave a toothy smile. “Not that I need a mask, am I right?”

 

“If it helps, you’re the nicest Oni I’ve ever met.” Izuku gave a small shrug. 

 

Tanaka let out a short laugh and slapped his knee. “Have you even met another Oni?” 

 

“Nope, but I had a crush on a tanuki before.”

 

Another fit of laughter escaped Tanaka. “Alright Izuku, I think you might just be worth a shot. What do you say, want to come with me and see if my sister will ink you?”

 

The answer was obvious.

 

XXXX

 

There were several indicators of wealth and power in Tokyo, one of which was using land in an inefficient way, especially in the center of a bustling commercial area. There were few things as inefficient as a traditional Japanese compound, complete with its own patch of forest woven into the concrete jungle that surrounded it. A large high fence that could almost be called a castle wall surrounded much of the compound, with a few buildings reaching two or more stories in height. 

 

It felt like that time his class went on a field trip to Edo Castle. 

 

Only there was one big difference. 

 

The people.

 

A thrumming sense of nausea overtook him as he had followed Tanaka halfway across Tokyo into the heart of the Amagi District. 

 

The more he looked at Tanaka, the less he looked like a demon, and the more Izuku could see him for what he really was: Yakuza. When Izuku was still little, All Might and the police led what might have been a purging of the former kings of the underworld. After being designated as villains, many Yakuza groups fell. Others simply vanished. 

 

There were still a few groups rumoured to have survived, closely watched by the police, and treated as something of a historic artifact. 

 

“Alright, Izuku,” Tanaka placed a red hand on Izuku’s shoulder and nodded towards the gate which had two men standing guard in front of it. They were dressed similarly to Tanaka, and even had some of his gruff disposition. “Ori’s in there, just do me a favor and keep your head down and try not to look too many people in the eye. And if anyone gives you shit, you tell them you’re my guest.”

 

Oh, good. “So you’re a higher up?”

 

“Nah, I’m just the muscle, but they’ll still respect me if I say you’re for Ori.” 

 

Why was Ori sounding more and more like some horrific beast he was about to be sacrificed to?

 

Izuku nodded and swallowed his fears. If he ran now, they’d probably chase him, then he’d be all kinds of screwed. He was just here to see if some crazy Yakuza guy’s crazy sister would be crazy enough to give him a tattoo. On the plus side, he could just say that he was kidnapped by the Yakuza and they robbed him and then forced him to get a tattoo. 

 

No. He wasn’t going to lie like that. 

 

If he got a tattoo, he was going to tell his mother that he got it. 

 

Hopefully willingly. 

 

“Yo!” One of the guys at the door raised a hand. “Tanaka, I swear you get uglier every time I see ya. You didn’t get into any fights today, did you?” 

 

“I told you Sho,” Tanaka scratched the back of his head and then gestured towards Izuku, “I was out looking for inspiration for Ori.”

 

“Ehh?” Sho glanced over towards Izuku. The cigarette in his mouth and the tight fit of his suit made him look like one of those classical high-up Yakuza members. That raised the question of why someone like him was guarding the door. “This kid’s the inspiration?”

 

“Yeah, his quirk is wild, just wait, Ori’s going to be so excited.”

 

“Tanaka, my man, you didn’t kidnap this kid, did you? Cause Granny ain’t going to like that if you did.”

 

“What?” Tanaka took a step back and looked at Izuku. “No, he’s here because he wants a tattoo. I mean, I even bought him ramen and stuff! This isn’t a kidnapping! Besides, he’s like seventeen!”

 

“I’m kidding Tanaka, sheesh. Anyways, just make sure he doesn’t cause any trouble.” Sho waved his hand and took back his position of leaning against the wall. 

 

They passed without incident through the first gate that led to a long, thin courtyard surrounded on all sides by high walls. On the other end was another gate, the actual main entrance to the compound. Tanka led Izuku through the main courtyard before they turned towards a garden, complete with a well-maintained koi pond. 

 

This place felt like it was far too nice to belong to the Yakuza.

 

Maybe they just all worked for that Granny person Sho mentioned? And she just really liked Yakuza aesthetics? Maybe she was the wife of one of the leaders that got taken out? There were so many questions buzzing through Izuku’s head, and answers seemed far too dangerous to get. 

 

They arrived at a small house, separate from the main building, but larger than his mother’s apartment. 

 

“Oi!” Tanaka shouted as they approached the building. “Sis! I got a surprise for you!”

 

The sound of bottles banging and a few curse words echoed from inside the building before the front door opened. 

 

“What the hell do you want, dumbass?”

 

Of all the things Izuku had been expecting Ori to be, attractive was not on the list.