Recap

Koichi then spoke. "If that's the case, let's share with each other why everyone became vigilante."

Po-Kazuho looked excited, and that got me thinking. 

‘Why did I become a vigilante.’

"I always dreamed of being a hero, but my quirk wasn’t that good. I applied to many schools' hero programs but wasn’t accepted. So I instead turned towards helping people with my quirk by myself. 

Whether it be picking up the trash, returning wallets, or helping someone carry their groceries. Helping others is what it means to be a hero, and I believe that I don’t need a license for that. "

‘Helping others.’

"While my intentions aren’t as pure as Koichi's, I enjoy helping others. I sing and have "concerts" because I enjoy singing and people around the neighborhood don’t mind being my audience. 

One day, I met Koichi and decided that I could help him around the neighborhood on my days off. So we just went around and helped others. "

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(A/N: As a warning, this and the following chapters contain some potentially disturbing content, Viewer discretion advised.)

*Azure Pov*

As Kazuho was finishing up her reason, I reminisced on the circumstances that led to my becoming a vigilante. 

*Flashback to ten months ago*

I was wandering the streets after running away from where I once called home. Looking back, this wasn’t the smartest decision considering what I would face in the future, but it's what happened.

I walked towards one of the rougher districts that I heard had a lot of criminals on TV. The anger from my parents' death, the incompetence of heroes, and the overall desire to slay all villains was burning brightly in me.

But as they say, confidence and will are merely one part of achieving a goal. I chose to move at night since most people would be inside their homes, anyone who was out at that hour had better things to do than report a missing kid.

To further prevent my capture, I smeared mud and dirt on my face and clothes, making me seem like the endless number of orphans that littered the streets.

I had finally arrived in the district, but my confidence was already waning. I was weak, cold, and hungry with no place to sleep. Memories of my parents resurfaced, as did yearnings for time to go back. 

'Maybe I should go back. If I explain my situation, they may put me in an orphanage?’

My mind tried to convince itself to abandon this impossible mission, yet looking ahead, suspicious people, and groups of children fighting over what I would have considered a meager piece of food merely reinforced my view of this world.

‘My parents are dead. The police won’t care.’

I convinced myself that this was the best course of action to follow. I walked towards the group that was brawling at this point for shares of food.

A piece of moldy bread was the object of everyone's desire. Being someone who had everything he could have wanted a mere few days ago this bread didn’t peak my interest nor appetite.

The children there though saw something different. A weak competitor who wanted to join the competition for their food. “Weakness is a sin” I had yet to truly understand sich a statement, but my small hight and dirty looks gave others the impression that I was weak.

The orphans collectively decided to take me out of the running, and because I didn't want to fight I had already lost half the battle before it started.

Before I could walk away peacefully, I was ganged up upon, kicked, punched, and even kneaded in the ribs by people twice my size. Pain assaulted me past my tolerance rate. After the third kick, I passed out.

I didn’t remember anything past that, but my bruises suggested that those bastards didn’t stop even when I was knocked out.

By now the morning sun had come out, the raccoons of the night were gone, and so was the cover of darkness. I had woken up momentarily and seeing the current state of myself alarmed me. 

Despite my beat up body, I was afraid of someone finding me and putting a stop to my future plans, whether that be by calling the police and having them by some method take me into an orphanage or by more permanent means.

This paranoia caused me to move my aching, barely functional body deeper into the alleyway, behind the trash can and right in front of a family of rats that proceeded to scratch at my face before scurrying off.

Normally, a child in my position should be dead. I estimate that I had multiple fractured or broken ribs, almost no energy to begin the healing process and a fatigued mind. Alas, my quirk was to save the day. 

Over the past three years, besides battling with Bakugo and testing the heat of my flames, I didn’t know much about my quirk.

It had the ability to heal me depending on my stamina levels and its flames were hot. That was about the summative knowledge I dug up.

It used what megar stamina I had left and healed the most imminent of injuries. And so a week passed like that.

Whatever amount of energy I derived from the constant sleep went towards healing my ribs. And after a week, I was no better off in terms of mobility than I was before.

My body still lacked energy and even though my ribs were healed, the hunger I felt wasn’t bearable. I could barely move, talk, or even think.

This alleyway seemed to be my grave. I, of course, didn’t want my life to end like this, yet there was nothing around for me to sustain myself on.

‘Are you really going to die like this?!’

My brain went towards all types of crazy hypothesis using whatever thinking I could muster to come up with a means of survival, and I remembered an article I had seen on the web at my school.

“Meat is what is taken from animals and processed to give you energy for your day.”

A simple lesson, which was used to teach me and my classmates about the types and categorizations of food, is what changed my life.

Ants. A colony of them were in front of my head. I would have considered this an unfathomable act a few weeks ago, something only those in the most desperate of situations would do.

An anthill was being built within the cracks of the streets I was on. I stuck my tongue out and put it on the ant hill. Infections, diseases, and other such worries were in my mind, but I had to trust my quirk to deal with them.

The ants gravitated towards the moisture, and into my mouth they went. Although it wasn’t my most proud moment, the effects were useful.

My body gained energy after 3 days of continuous ant eatage, Enough for me to travel to the trash a few feet away and grab the significantly more moldy bread than I had seen before. Normal people would hesitate thinking of what diseases they would gain yet me in my hunger induced state scarfing it down.

I wiped my mouth and looked up between the tall buildings. I saw the yellow sky, heard the honks of distant cars, and the rustling of the creatures of the night.

‘Survive!’ 

That was the only thought and desire I had at that moment. I hadn’t abandoned my previous goals, but this one was deemed the most important.

(A/N: So as you can see, some not so friendly and nice topics. Throughout this volume, you are going to be introduced to what exactly happened after he left his home. This is part 1)