Sold into the Underworld when he presented Quirkless, he lived his life as an expendable asset until he turned against his masters. Retiring to Japan was... difficult. Inactivity didn't suit him. It was probably why he took the brat in. Mentor!Harry, Quirkless!Harry, Quirkless!Izuku. Slash.
Mild Kingsman, Black Lagoon, and Katekyo Hitman REBORN crossovers.
Slash. Quirkless!Disabled!former-villain!Mentor!Harry, Quirkless!Izuku, Character-Development!Bakugo-Mineta, Trans!Mic/Hizashi, Aro-Ace!Toshinori.
Pairing unknown, potentially Aizawa/Harry, Mirio/Izuku.
000
CHAPTER TWO
Izuku very nearly paid for the incident between Harry and Kacchan yesterday. But he managed to slip away without a beating, or Kacchan even noticing despite the blond's increasingly furious attempts to locate him and prove himself still top dog. Scary. He didn't want to know what his friend would do if he knew he was still going to go and see the strange foreign man again today.
Nervously, he checked over his shoulder as he jogged to the park where he could already see the strange man leaning against one of the fences that surrounded the children's play-area. There was a bag at his feet, and he wore a plain pair of baggy grey sweats, and a weird tunic kind of sleeve-less shirt belted around his middle, with his wild black hair, and heavily muscular arms patterned with various scars he looked like an off-duty Pro-hero at best, or a villain out on parole. The odds were tipped firmly into the latter by the resting bitch-face of a serial killer written across his expression. Yikes.
Izuku swallowed dryly, once again wondering what it was he had gotten himself into, but at the same time, he carried on walking, pushing forward to the first person in his life that hadn't doubted or brushed him off for being Quirkless.
Green eyes snapped to him, and the old man straightened up and nodded, almost approvingly, to see him. Was that nearly a smile? Izuku couldn't tell. But the lines around his eyes definitely seemed less harsh than before.
“Right on time, Midoriya,” Harii greeted before reaching down and hauling his bag up onto his shoulder, “This way. Training at the park will draw too much attention. We're going to the beach. Call who you need to,” he ordered as he gestured towards the path leading out of the park behind him.
The-the beach? That actual trash-heap?
He fought to keep himself from grimacing at the thought of future tetanus jabs, and rummaged for his phone obediently. He had done as he was told, and reluctantly told his mother that he met someone who wanted to teach him how to defend himself, which prompted her into asking why, and he had to come clean about some of Kacchan's more aggressive actions – not that he named names at all, but his mother wasn't an idiot. She'd seen him trying to tend to the worst of his injuries more than once. She was a bit hesitant, but gave her permission with only a request to please be careful, and no matter what he was taught not to go looking for trouble. She didn't want him getting into trouble with the Law. Izuku didn't have the heart to tell her that Harii-san was correct when he said that no one would believe a Quirkless capable of making trouble, so there was no risk of that.
Harry didn't wait for him for long, as soon as Izuku had finished texting his mother he started jogging away, forcing the thirteen year old to run in order to keep up with him. They didn't talk, and in the quieter moments Izuku could hear the ever ever so faint clicking and whirring of gears as Harry moved, easily keeping a pace or so ahead of him. Were they going to run the whole way to the beach?
Yes. Yes they were.
Izuku was pouring with sweat and on the verge of collapse by the time they reached the waterfront, gaping for breath and staggering on wobbly legs to the near-by bench. Harry looked fresh as a damn daisy.
“Not much stamina,” the foreigner observed in disappointment. “That's going to have to change. One of the best things to keep you out of trouble will be your ability to run from it. Jacket off, bag down. We're going to play a game,” he announced, making Izuku pause as he folded his school jacket. Game? He thought this was training? Harry gestured to his eyes as he explained, “Kids your age still haven't finished developing the cognitive memorisation of adults; you're better at it, but you don't have the staying power to keep your focus up. Games are just training made fun. Your memory retention is increased, and you find practice both more rewarding and interesting if it is enjoyable. Physical exertion also allows for increased - ” he cut himself off, seeming to realise he was explaining too much, and shook his head, “It helps you think better,” he finished simply.
Izuku pouted, “You don't have to dumb it down for me,” he pointed out nervously, a little put out. His grades were actually very good, he was in the upper percentile, and tied with Kacchan for most of it even though he didn't study as much as he probably should have – Hero Analysis was just so much more interesting.
“I wasn't,” the old man stated as he stretched his neck out, “I just over-explain things sometimes. Bad habit I picked up.” He looked sad all of a sudden, distant and regretful as he slowed his movements.
He shook himself suddenly, and looked down at Izuku, “Tuck your stuff just down here out of sight,” he suggested as he set his own belongings in the small corner of space between the stairs and the embankment that separated the beach from street level. “The game is Chase. You have to catch me.”
Chase?
Izuku had actually been really good at that as a kid, and hide and seek. This should be a piece of cake!
He paused, frowning when he saw the old man take out several bands from his bag. Weights? Did he expect Izuku to chase him while wearing – no, he was strapping them onto himself? Wasn't that dangerous to his musculature?
“Just to make it easier for you, I'll be wearing these. Don't worry, you won't have to. Your body is still developing, putting weights on at this young stage can permanently warp your bones and muscles so we won't be doing it. Ready?” he asked as he finished strapping his left wrist, and looked up expectantly.
Izuku nodded, and before he could even say or ask anything, Harry bolted.
The Middle School student yelped, scrambling after him.
Running on sand was Hard.
Harry though – Izuku was never going to catch him!
It was still fun though.
The old man was fast and agile, able to turn literally on a hair. He bounded up piles of trash and crouched atop them waiting for Izuku to catch up, calling suggestions of where to put his hands and feet whenever the Middle Schooler slipped. He stayed just close enough for the green haired boy to follow, to nearly snatch the back of his clothing once or twice, but always just out of reach.
An hour passed before Izuku even realised.
He was soaking wet after a few tumbles into the ocean, absolutely filthy with dirt and oil and sand, he probably had a few bruises here and there, and he'd broken two nails off trying to climb various trash piles, but he didn't think he'd ever had so much fun before! He, in all honesty, hadn't wanted to stop. Hadn't realised how much time had even passed as Harry discreetly lead him back to where their bags were until he slipped and tumbled down the side of an abandoned industrial fridge to land on his butt in front of the foreigner. Harry just smirked and handed him his water bottle.
“Break time,” he announced cheerfully as the Middle Schooler hesitantly accepted the bottle before greedily beginning to suck down a good half of it.
As they drank and Izuku caught his breath, Harry went through explaining where he needed improvement and what he was actually fairly good at. He moved well, he just needed to be more aware of his footing and surroundings. He was good at predicting Harry's movements, and developing methods in which to counter him, but not so good at coming up with something on the fly when someone defied those expectations, or when he didn't have the physical abilities to counter them.
“When you're chasing me, you need to focus on where I put my hands and feet. Not everyone is going to show you the best routes for getting up a slope, but at this point I am,” Harry explained as he sipped his waterbottle watching from the corner of his eye as the Middle Schooler frantically scribbled in a fresh notebook, “When you're better at figuring out how to safely traverse various obstacles I might start trying to mislead you, but for now my aim is to teach. Eventually, when I'm confident in your ability, we'll be swapping roles. I'll be trying to catch you.”
Izuku nodded, “Right. So, what you're teaching me right now are the basics of Parkour, right?” he asked curiously.
Harry grinned in approval, “Yes. I'm surprised, not many figure that out.” Or know the difference between Parkour and Free Running. So many got them mixed up, but yes, Harry was teaching Izuku the basics of Parkour – getting from Point A to Point B in the shortest amount of time possible in the most economical manner possible. Free Running was the flashier cousin to Parkour, same principle, but with a great deal more energy wasted. It took a lot more power and effort to flip over something than simply to vault over it, after all.
The green haired boy smiled, “I've done a lot of reading,” he admitted proudly, “I – I want to get into UA. I doubt I'll get onto the Heroics Course, though that would be really cool. But General Education would be fine, I think.”
“UA, huh?” the old man observed with a scowl, making Izuku flinch. “Forget General Education, kid. Do you want in on the Hero Course?” he asked shortly.
Izuku fidgeted, “There's nothing saying I can't, I mean, I know it's never happened, but there's no precedent saying I can't, I know I don't have a Quirk and there's never been a Quirkless in UA but there's nothing in any of the rules or entry requirements that say I can't,” he began to babble, his voice dropping into incoherent mumblings that the foreigner couldn't hear.
Harry jabbed him in the side of the head, making him yelp and nearly drop his water-bottle, “Do. You. Want. In. On the. UA Heroics. Course?” Harry asked again, slowly and firmly, glaring at him.
Izuku pressed his lips together, “Yes. More than anything.”
The foreigner nodded, “Alright then. Your goal is to be a Pro Hero then, yeah?”
He nodded.
“Then we've got a lot of work ahead of us,” the old man declared getting to his feet and holding a hand out to him, “On your feet. I've got a lot of training to cram into that fluffy head in the next two years if you're going to make it into the Heroics Course.”
000
Izuku cried all over him.
Harry wasn't entirely sure of how to handle that.
Emotions were more Knight's thing than his, he would have known what to do, the big softie. But it was his example that Harry never the less used when trying to deal with Izuku. He probably didn't do it right though, he thought. Awkward back-patting commenced followed by a gruff demand to get the hell off of him and get into the stance he showed the kid yesterday probably didn't do an awful lot, but the child stopped sniffling and settled into the rest of his day's training with single minded dedication.
Most of what followed was combat training, just the basic of basics. Harry tended to teach the intermediates who had finished Basic, so he was a little lost on how to teach a complete novice on how to handle themselves, but he figured the best starting point was teaching him how to fall without hurting himself, how to handle certain movements too. Best to minimise the risk of injury before they get into the kind of things that might cause that injury.
The next day, while Izuku was at school, he worked up the courage to approach the boy's family.
Harry knew he had a mother, and that she was involved enough with his life to care if he were late home or anything. But aside from that, he hadn't the faintest idea of what he was going to be walking into. Family was a strange thing. But if the woman had kept her son despite his being Quirkless, and he held no actual fear beyond normal teenage alarm at the possibility of being late home, then she was probably just a normal mother. Either way, he made a little bit of an effort before approaching her. He made sure he was showered, that he had shaved, he wore clean clothes that were at least semi-presentable, a pair of plain black slacks and a white button up shirt. He brought a folder of papers that he had been working on, his plans for the kid's training, explanations for it all, meal plans, things to teach him. He dug out UA's entry requirements, their examinations, which schools provided 'Recommendation' Slots – he didn't know what school his new student attended, but he doubted it was any of them. Just in case though, he provided information of what would net said student a slot.
He wanted the kid's family to see that he was serious about this, that he knew the kid had a chance and wouldn't be going into this half-baked or cocked. He had two years to get up to snuff, and Harry would make sure he got there.
Finding Izuku's address in his student handbook was easy, thankfully Japanese people were very particular about their personal details going where they should on paperwork. He waited until Izuku had left for the morning before approaching the small flat – surprisingly in the building behind his own. He could look out from his living-room window and see their front door on the floor below.
He rang the bell and took a step back to wait patiently.
“Izuku? Did you forget- oh, I'm sorry, I thought you were my son. Can I help you?” the older woman that answered the door asked, her green eyes widening. She was a portly middle aged woman who greatly resembled her son, possessing the same colouring and shape to her eyes, the same height as Harry himself, she was.... soft. The worn pink cardigan only added to his impression of her as she blinked up at him in confusion.
“Midoriya-san? My name is Potter Harry, do you have a moment? I'd like to talk to you about your son, Izuku,” he explained, backsliding into trained mannerisms of 'gentle professionalism'.
Alarm washed her face, quickly followed by concern, “Is everything alright?” she burbled anxiously.
He nodded kindly, “Everything is fine, Midoriya-san. Izuku is on his way to school, he's fine. But there is something I would like to speak to you regarding him, if I may? I hope I'm not interrupting your day,” he added now frowning a little. He didn't get the impression that she was part of the work-force, but she could be employed.
“No, no, please, come in. I was just cleaning up after breakfast, please be welcome, Potter-san!” the woman flustered, stepping aside to let him in.
“Thank you.”
He carefully nudged off his shoes as she bustled back into the living space and gathered up what remained of the small family's breakfast dishes. Only two places were set, meaning that it was only herself and Izuku – looking around surreptitiously, there were no photographs of anyone else present, only images of herself and her son, and occasionally another family of blondes. He paused at one in particular, his eyes narrowing as he recognised the aggressive little shit with the chemical quirk that had been brutalising young Izuku the day they met.
“Midoriya-san, you are familiar with this family?” he asked curiously, nodding to the photograph.
“Oh, oh yes. That's the Bakugou family. Mitsuki and I are friends from school. Is everything alright?” the woman asked worriedly as she set a kettle to boil.
“Yes, quite. I may just have to drop in and speak to the Bakugous about their son as well,” he explained slowly before turning away from the photographs and setting his papers on the table.
“Would you like something to drink, Potter-san? I have tea, water, coffee, some juice,” the ever gracious hostess listed as she flitted around the small kitchen.
“A glass of water would be lovely, Midoriya-san,” he told her calmly, and found a glass of chilled water presented to him shortly before she sat down at the table opposite with a cup of tea for herself.
“Now, what is this about Izuku?” she asked worriedly.
Harry nodded and opened his file, “Two days ago, I witnessed something of an altercation at the park between your son and a few delinquents.” She gasped in worry, her hands flying to her mouth, Harry shook his head and gestured her down, “I intervened, no one was hurt, though young Izuku-kun had a few bruises. Being that I'm Quirkless myself, I've seen that kind of behaviour more than once in my years, so I thought to give him some advice on how to defend himself, or at least on how to run away a little more effectively,” he explained. “He took to it.... fairly well. I've taught a great deal of Self-Defence to other Quirkless children over the years, he's far from the worst to reach me despite his reluctance to throw a punch,” he joked a little, managing to wrangle an upset smile from the boy's mother.
“And those boys.... You asked about the Bakugous.... It was their young son, wasn't it?” she asked, her voice full of heartbreak.
The former assassin nodded, “I am afraid so. The lad with the chemical quirk did seem to be their ring-leader. As I said, I plan on having words with his parents later if you would be kind enough to share their address when we're done?” he asked, watching as she nodded almost tearfully. “Thank you. Now. Over the course of teaching your son, he mentioned his desires to attend UA, and, I apologise, but I got a little caught up in the moment and promised to help him. I can't very well go back on that now, so I thought it best to approach you and inform you of what was going on, as well as share everything that I had planned.”
She stared at him, green eyes wide.
“You.... UA?” she asked weakly. Harry nodded. “You think he can make it into UA?” she asked, her voice breaking.
“At this exact moment in time? No. But we have two years. Izuku-kun is smart and dedicated, with two years I can get him up to standard. Whether he passes the entrance exams will be entirely up to him, but I have full confidence that I can get him to that level in the time allotted,” he declared firmly. He had worked with worse on shorter deadlines. Admittedly he'd also had more time in the day to teach said worse students, what with Izuku also having to adhere to a Middle School education on top of his training. However, it also meant he wouldn't have to worry about the boy's rest periods as they would already be handled via that school period, giving his muscles a chance to rest.
Midoriya-san drank her tea, draining it dry as she blinked rapidly against her tears. She took a deep breath and after she set her cup down, she folded her hands in front of her.
“What did you have in mind, Potter-san?” she asked, her voice still shaking, but that familiar steady look in her eyes that he had seen in her son when he asked him if he wanted into the Hero Course.
Harry opened his folder and showed her the pre-requisites for UA, his training plans, the meal plans, and his timetable, and began to explain.
000
One meeting with Midoriya Inko down, and a standing invitation to afternoon tea in his folder as well as her contact information in his phone, he went to go and speak to the Bakugous.
Neither were home, which was unfortunate, it would have to wait for another day. He should go home and get changed ready to meet with Izuku later. His chat with Inko took a great deal longer than he had anticipated as she had been very interested in knowing what it was he planned on teaching her son, and how she could help facilitate his desire to become a Pro-Hero. It was.... refreshing, and strangely pleasing to know that she loved her son wholeheartedly and without reservation or exceptions or 'regardless's.
Izuku was Quirkless. He was her son, and Inko loved him. There was nothing else to it, for it, or about it. She felt guilty about her lack of support in the past, and was now determined to help him go as far as he wished. His tentative training and meal plans were now in her grasp, and she had already expressed intentions of looking up appropriate recipes online to facilitate her son. Harry would be handling the rest. He certainly had the finances for it, part of his agreement to witness protection in Japan was financial support in exchange for Consultancy work on occasion. And he also had access to the remaining assets of the Order, the ones he didn't give up when he cut his deal. No matter how tired he was, he wasn't suicidal, if the Japanese Government rolled on him, he had resources to fall back on and a means to vanish. This was just..... easier, and safer.
He met Izuku at the park again, and they jogged to the beach where they played Chase for an hour and a half. Izuku was getting better at following him up the piles of garbage now that he knew Harry was going to show him the safest paths. When they sat down to rest and drink, Harry had him detail the safest routes over the near-by obstacles, identify loadbearing points, weak points, unstable ones, and places to avoid, places that were strong enough to use as a launch pad, places good enough to fight on, and places where he could obtain a weapon with a little creativity.
That last one had thrown the twelve-year-old through a loop, at least until Harry got to his feet and in two simple movements wrenched what looked to be the discarded remains of someone's backgarden renovation out of the pile. A length of stainless-steel piping crowned with concrete, and the lid of a metal compost-bin that he then held up as a shield.
“You're not always going to be in a position to either reach for a weapon, or even have one to hand. Being able to use your environment in a fight is key, either in procuring your own weapons to level the field, or using it to your advantage,” he explained, twirling the make-shift hammer and shield combo around and then proceeding to swing the length of metal hard enough that the concrete shattered with an alarming bang against the metal casing of a car-engine amidst the trash. When he lifted it, the concrete crumbled away, leaving just a few thumb-sized chunks stubbornly clinging to the slightly bent metal. “I've already started teaching you to utilise your environment in one way, Parkour and situational awareness. We'll be continuing that first thing, but after our little break, I'll be continuing your combat training in some.... varied ways. Your mother has also given me permission to visit in the evenings to help you with other things,” he added with a smirk as the boy jolted and stared up at him in horror.
“Y-y-you spoke to M-mum?” he spluttered.
Harry nodded, “Yes. She's completely on-board with your training. I've left meal plans with her, along with all my contact details and such. We don't want you to fall behind on your studies, so I'll be dropping by to help you with homework in the evening as well,” he explained almost cheerfully, the look of dismay on the teenager's face was surprisingly pleasant.
It was wholly different to the stiff blank faces he was used to seeing looking up at him from trainees, from children who had been snatched or sold by their families. Children who had been torn apart, their good parts thrown away, and the holes filled with obedience, with information, with orders and false understanding. When he had been younger, the way that the people around him just acted startled and alarmed him, it made him wary, fearful, anxious to be around these untrained, uncontrolled individuals who would get loud, who would move and act without thinking of consequences, who could be read so clearly, who changed what they thought and felt so swiftly and of their own volition. It was wholly jarring and unsettling to him.
But then as the years marched on, and the number of missions he had piled up, and the time spent out of the Order's grasp grew, the more he grew to prefer that harsh raw world. Of how honest the people around him were. Yes it could be frustrating sometimes, but he preferred it. It was bright and painful but real.
Whenever he was injured and forced to remain at the Order and train new recruits he couldn't hide the unsettled twist to his stomach when he looked across a sea of blank faces, and dull eyes. All in uniform straight lines, grey clothing, their backs straight, their arms at their sides, their feet together. Eyes and hair as varied as a colour wheel, but every face the same.
Like a room of dolls.
“On your feet, kiddo,” Harry declared as he casually tossed his shield at the green haired boy's feet, “I'm going to attack you with this pole, and you're going to use that lid to shield yourself. And just to warn you, I firmly believe that pain is a fantastic motivator. Better think fast to avoid some bruises.”
If he had his way, there would be no more dolls.
And if he trained Izuku right, then parents wouldn't automatically assume their Quirkless children were useless.
0000
Chapter two finished. Harry's going to be teaching Izuku a lot of stuff on top of physically working with him. Right now he's in his second year of Middle School and has two years before UA, so only the one before he meets All Might for the first time, IF he meets All Might this time. ;D
I’m still debating how much of his training I should be showing off. What do you guys think? Is there anything in particular you want to see?
