He was shaking, feeling as if his knees would give out at any moment, leaving him collapsed and in a heap on his enemy's floorboards. Breathing deeply, he gently tried to step forward without making any sounds whatsoever. After all, he knew that the Endeavor agency was constantly under surveillance. The three security cameras spanning Endeavor's office were proof of that fact. And by gosh, they were a pain in the ass to dismantle without setting off what felt like thirty billion alarms from all eight firewalls.

The last thing the vigilante wanted was to have his hacking trace found out by someone like Endeavor or Nezu. Because even though the man was brash and cruel, he was also a genius who rivaled Aizawa most days.

Swiftly the vigilante stepped towards the large oak desk at the room's farthest wall. The enclosure was organized and well arranged for someone who had severe anger management issues, the illegal crime fighter mused. He slipped behind the large oak desk and looked over what was there. Four picture frames, one large and three smaller. In the large was the whole family of Endeavor, smiling happily. Enji and Rei were side-hugging in the middle, Endeavor's free palm on a mischievous-looking Touya's shoulder. Rei had her delicate right hand on Natsuo's shoulder as he sent a side glance at Touya with a smirk. Clearly, after this photo was taken, something had happened at the hands of the teenage hooligans--most likely some type of prank, if the vigilante could guess. In between the two teenage boys, placed closest to the camera in front of the family, was a shorter Fuyumi looking down and gently holding a bashful toddler with the utmost care and adoration.

The family seemed almost normal, with no injuries and no hostile undertones between each other. It was almost...too good to be true. A malicious smile overtook the vigilante's masked face. He grabbed the picture with a firmly covered hand and slid it a couple centimeters to the right, just slightly closer to the computer. The second frame was a photo of Rei and Enji on their wedding day, standing beautifully tall, eyes wet with pure emotions racking over their bodies as both parties stood facing one another about to be united in holy matrimony. The vigilante analyzed the photo, not taking long to notice the Bride of Honor and the Best Man who were nearly cut from the photograph to fit the main couple. But the vigilante could still see their smiling faces to a degree. He almost snorted at seeing the Bride of Honor's beaming smile and long green hair blowing partially in front of her face. Across from her, the Best man was also smiling, though the mischievous face was glimpsing not at the couple, but at the woman behind them. The man's dark black hair and freckles did nothing to hide his resemblance to the groom.
To the vigilante, this office visit was getting better and better.

Quickly, his gaze moved to the other photograph, which just so happened to be a seemingly candid photograph of a heavily pregnant Rei sleeping in the crook of Enji's arm as they lounged on a large red couch cushion that was so large it looked like a bed. The funny part was how calm the duo appeared to be. Rei looked so peaceful while Enji grinned widely at the person behind the camera, eyes filled with excitement as he pointed to his wife. It was as if the man was showing her off proudly to a buddy behind the screen.

The vigilante wanted to scoff at the blatant show of affection captured within a photograph and frame. But he held his tongue and instead reached out, hands landing on both this frame and the previous. He moved one forward a centimeter while the other one was moved to the right about an inch.

After all, he didn't break and enter Enji's office to steal or vandalize anything. He just wanted to be a nuisance--a thorn in the abnormally tall hero's flesh.

Finally, the man turned to the final photo and almost shook with excitement. By now he was leaning heavily against the desk to stay upright. His hands were shaky and he could feel the corners of his vision fading ever so slightly. Nevertheless, this last photograph caused the vigilante to take in a sharp inhale and reach forward. Luckily enough, his voice changer didn't register the sound as a word and didn't broadcast it, but the man was caught off guard by the sudden whirring of three cameras starting back up, their power lights turning on, and signaling the start of a recording.

"Shit." The vigilante cursed right as an alarm began to blare. His ears were now ringing, shooting pain straight through his eardrums. In a second of pure desperation, the vigilante snagged the final photograph. Screw not stealing. Was his thoughtful internal dialogue. What's one more offense on the record? As a second thought, the vigilante swung his arm out and smacked a small plastic bowl of mints as well as a cup of writing utensils to the floor. He grinned at the disarray for a moment before panicking again when the office door swung open to reveal its owner busting inside.

The vigilante did not yelp. He did not. Endeavor stood stock still for a split second, eyes looking at the intruder with a mixture of shock and anger before morphing into a furious snarl after spotting the figure clutching one of his desk frames.

Nervously following the Number Two Hero's line of vision, the vigilante gulped and clutched the frame closer to his chest, and bolted.

Enji was not far behind, but the vigilante was closer to the back window and had no qualms about throwing himself into the glass with all the force his exhausted body could muster. The older windowpane promptly shattered in the center and allowed the small vigilante to slip out with a nervous yell of "I wanted it more!" as if it explained the reason behind his theft.

By the time Endeavor got to the window seconds later, the vigilante had seemingly disappeared.

The Pro-Hero looked all around, including the lower levels, down at the other rooftops, in crowds, and even up towards the top and sides of the building just to ensure the vigilante was gone without a trace. Endeavor felt how hot his face was, presumably from anger.

How dare that vigilante break into his office and steal one of his belongings, his personal belongings on top of that. He swiftly looked down one more time and upon finding no vigilante below, he turned on his heel, storming across to his desk. From there, he picked up his office phone and dialed his secretary. She answered on the first ring.

"Hey, contact Tsukauchi and tell him to come to my office. I'm going to need my back windows replaced. One is shattered and the others need to be replaced with added safety measures installed. More on this when the inspector gets here. Also, look below the south window for glass clean up and check for civilian injuries. I didn't see anyone injured by the glass falling, but check anyway. Thanks." He spoke, attempting to be calm but ultimately his frustrations were foretelling and leaked through his voice. He hung up, knowing his secretary of five years wouldn't take it personally and would be more efficient with less information muddling her mind.

With that done, Enji decided to survey the room and look for anything the vigilante could have done. His file cabinet keys were undisturbed in their hiding spot within a locked portion of the desk, so no case information was stolen. His computer was untouched and not even on. Further, it was locked and showed no activity since the last time he was on it. No bugs or viruses were implanted. He felt uncomfortable knowing nothing of importance was taken or messed with. Because why would a vigilante thief break into the Number Two Hero's office only to steal a picture frame holding a photo from Enji's personal life? It didn't make sense.

He spent a few more minutes searching his office to scout out if anything else was disturbed. Nothing.

Huffing from confused annoyance rather than the pure anger of before, Endeavor sat in his office chair, the cushion cold and as comfy as ever. It felt odd sitting in the chair after someone had broken-in--he felt unsafe with the window's breeze sliding throughout the room and enveloping the office with fresh air.

Taking a deep breath, Endeavor leaned over to pick up the bowl of scattered mints and pens the vigilante had apparently knocked over for kicks and giggles after the alarms started blaring. Enji had finished watching the camera footage from when it started back up but found nothing to help him determine the reason behind the break-in. After replacing the mints and writing utensils on the desk, he leaned back in his chair and took a scan of his photographs. It now dawned on him that he had not noticed which one had been stolen. He knew the family portrait was safe as it was the largest and still present. As he looked at the rest, he felt a sense of sadness well in himself when he realized who was missing. Carefully, with calloused hands, he rearranged the moved photographs to their original places, with one spot remaining blank. Dread pooled in his gut as he stared at the empty space on his desk.

He felt oddly empty and lonely in the vast room. Unable to handle it anymore, he swiftly stood up and began his walk out of the room. He decided to make his way to his computer room which hosted a couple of his buddies in charge of his online presence and online security of databases. For the immediate future, he was going to see how the vigilante wiggled through his system and turned off the cameras, entering the building so secretly that no one noticed. And he was willing to work on it until the repair man and inspector arrived.

***

"I really fucking hate that vigilante." Endeavor spoke on one of his patrols a week later. It was early in the morning, so little to no pedestrians were actively out. Hence his tendency to be boisterous and vocal when annoyed. He had no need to watch his tongue when he was only in the hearing vicinity of a few coworkers. In this case...a slightly less known coworker that he usually would refrain from being so outspoken with and his work rival. But his rising anger easily filled the uncomfortable gap.

"I'm sure he isn't that bad." Spoke up Toshinori in his civilian form. Since he wasn't allowed to legally be on patrol with the other two members, he was not permitted to be dressed in any hero garb or change forms unless he was oh-so willing to let the world know of his shifting appearances. And allow the Commission a reason to discontinue his license. They were just itching for a reason to strip his heroic license.

Other than that, he didn't quite know how he got to be walking in between the two heroes and in a civil conversation while tensions were soaring.

"I fucking hate him too." Vlad quipped from his stance on the sidewalk closest to the buildings.

For a second, Toshinori gaped at the Hero's agreement to Endeavor. But he quickly recovered, sending a swift jab into the man's side. He felt more comfortable with the smaller hero, knowing that Vlad held no grudge or rivalry with him. "You hate everyone though. Don't make the vigilante think they're special." He whispered with amusement.

"Touche," Vlad said, a mischievous glint in his eyes after being caught.

Endeavor grumbled from his spot on the far left edge of the sidewalk, his flammable body closest to oncoming cars. Which was, in hindsight, probably not the best considering how explosive the duo could become at a second's notice. "He's a nuisance is what he is."

"Oh?" Toshinori's ears perked, noting the pronoun switch. "They've figured out he's a man?"
Vlad also popped his head forward to get a good look at Endeavor as he awaited an answer.

Endeavor stomped along in silence for a few minutes, body tense as if he heard something from far away. Silently, the other two heroes picked up on the shift and listened as well. A beat of silence, where only the vaguest city noises, commenced. They continued the conversation a minute later.

"Voice changer broke one day. A stray villain he captured was all too willing to divulge for a lesser sentence." He chuckled deeply, knowing the police couldn't promise something a judge or the Commission had to determine.

Toshinori nodded at the new information.

"Still a fucking pain in the ass, though." Vlad King added on. "I can't tell you how much paperwork has been added onto my load just because of this stupid case."

Endeavor glanced at Vlad before grunting in agreement. "Nearly doubled."

"It's nearly doubled!" Vlad reiterated, hands moving around almost in an exasperated fashion. His face was incredibly animated at the moment due to his sleep-deprived state. They had been patrolling since the early morning with minimal sleep.

It was funny how different Vlad could act based on what time it was and who he was with. Especially when relating to his second job: working at UA. The man was generally all fun and games until UA got added to his plate, where he would become stoic and serious as he took the task of training the next generation on his shoulders. Still, he made time for fun in class and out. He was simply more serious when UA rolled around.

Toshinori almost laughed at the way Endeavor almost seemed annoyed at the repetitive way Vlad was speaking. But he tried to hold back his chuckles in fear he set off the seemingly paused one-sided rivalry between Endeavor and himself. Walking with the other two heroes was very calming right now, and he didn't want to be the one to screw things up. Apparently, his laughter was still overheard.

"No. No!" Vlad turned on the blonde, pointing a finger at him and shaking his head. "You don't get to laugh! Not when your workload is untouched by this shit!" He said, voice slightly echoing as they passed an alley clustered with some particularly tall buildings. Still, a couple more laughs left Toshinori's throat even though they were slightly more forced than before.

The rest of the patrol felt relatively tension free, with Vlad making pessimistic commentaries under an oddly optimistic tone and Endeavor grumbling acknowledgments. Toshinori was left as the middleman who kept the conversation going and kept both parties interested and sane.

It's funny, Toshinori mused, the world never turns out how you think it will.

Sideway glances at his "rival" and sometimes drinking partner, made him believe the patrol seemed progressively odd. Like a fever dream, he felt as if reality was warped into different strands. After all, during their UA days, Enji and Toshinori never got along. Ever.

Their feuds had somehow progressed so far as to breach the gap of three whole grade levels. When Toshinori was in his first year of Hero Apprenticeships, Enji was a first year at UA. And they always seemed to step on each other's feet even though Toshinori was understudying Gran Torino when he helped out at UA. Not to mention the semester he had to work with Recovery Girl for his License in Basic First Aid.

The blonde hero had to repress a snort remembering how infuriated Enji had been when he first saw Toshinori in Recovery Girl's office. Suffice it to say, Enji refused her first aid that whole semester to keep himself from stooping so low as to ask the blonde for help.

Yes, so much has changed since the early days. Toshinori mused sadly, stealing another glance towards Endeavor. The man had dark smudges under his eyes that showed off how many sleepless nights he had been having recently. His facial hair was less trimmed than normal, though that probably wouldn't have been picked up by anyone other than people close to the man. The fire upon his face was less bright and not as rowdy as usual.

Overall, the man looked downright fatigued and exhausted. So Toshinori completed the whole patrol with both heroes because he didn't trust the slap-happy state of Vlad and the horribly despondent state of Endeavor. It wasn't that he thought they were incapable but rather he worried about their initial reflexes before the adrenaline kicked in. So he stayed next to them and acted as a spotter for the duo until Vlad checked the time and noticed they were officially off the clock. He promptly headed home after that, leaving Toshinori and Enji to slip away and head home themselves.

"Everything okay?" Toshinori asked his rival with concerned eyes.

The only response he got was a noncommittal grunt. It was clear the redhead was unwilling to speak of what was bothering him so much. But something was inevitably wrong with the Number Two Hero--why else would he seem so...calm with Toshinori's presence? Outside of bar nights, that is.

"Stay safe," Toshinori spoke to the hero again, feeling as if he was flailing in a thirteen-foot pool while being unable to swim or grasp onto something. But he was also genuinely concerned with what was happening. He hadn't heard any gossip from the news channels, press, articles, or hero forums, so it had to be something in Enji's personal life? But he hadn't heard anything there either through mutual friends? He had no clue what was happening.

Enji finally reacted to something the Number One Hero said. It was in the form of an eye roll and a snarky comment. "When have I ever listened to you?" He asked before walking away and towards his home and Agency.

Toshinori was left behind in his spot on the sidewalk, observing as Enji departed without another word. He pursed his lips, feeling lonely and utterly lost.

Well damn.

***

Midoriya didn't know why he did it. He really had no clue why the impulse was so great. Or even worse: why he had acted on said impulse. Especially when the guilt was eating him up inside.

How could he take one of Endeavor's personal belongings--a picture no less!

But as green eyes trailed to the floor beside his bed, he couldn't help but feel like it was worth the theft. The framed photograph was one of the only objects in his makeshift, dirty room. And he had it right next to his small cot which was the equivalent of a thin mattress and a hole-ridden blanket that would have been soft and fuzzy if it wasn't so matted. Across the room was a broken chair Midoriya had scavenged around the dumps to find. Its purpose was as both a desk, chair, and counter, depending on the day and how sore his back was. Sleeping on the mat came with the price of both discomfort and joint pain, but the thin thing remained better than the floor.

Currently, the old, wobbly chair was being used similarly to a coat rack. Across the top rung was Midoriya's vigilante suit that was in dire need of a wash and across the bottom was his Heroz costume.

In another corner of the room sat a duffel bag that held most of his possessions. Of course, the bag was mostly filled with items he had recently pilfered from criminals or bought with stray change. He had jobs but preferred to save up and use the money only when necessary. Soaps and shirts and a pack of cigarettes were littered on the top layer of the duffel. Necessities, he deemed.

Until the frame, his most prized possessions included his collections of band-aids. He loved collecting hero merchandise earlier in his life, especially All Might Merch as a child. His mother had done so much for him and his hobbies, he reminisced bitterly, eyes shifting across his new, more practical collection of band-aids.

He looked at the seven boxes lined up by the chair and against the wall. So far, he has collected All Might, Gang Orca, Midnight, Present Mic, Ms. Joke, Ingenium, and Edgeshot. A decent spread of heroes that he looked up to. Sometimes if he had extra money for the week, he would splurge on buying more Hero-themed medical supplies. After all, having extra band-aids on deck could never be a bad thing.

His toxic green eyes shifted back to the frame by his bed, and he felt a small smile turn up the corners of his lips. He looked at two people in the photograph and immediately felt more grounded to the earth. Ever since he stole it, he had felt better.

Slowly he peeled himself off the cot and stretched as he sat up. His eyes were burning from lack of sleep and his body was still chronically fatigued but he felt better. He slipped from the small covers and stood up. Grabbing his work clothes with turbulent hands, he made his way to the bathroom, wanting to bypass the mirror. He hated seeing his body--he hated the discolored skin that patched over his muscles. He hated the way his ribs stuck out a little bit too much, he hated how dirty his hair had gotten recently. He hated how he couldn't afford to live in a place that had electricity.

But most importantly, he hated the number above his head. It was different from the number above most people's yet it made him feel terrible inside. Everywhere looked, at everyone he saw, in every nook and cranny of the world, he was followed by the deaths of people around him--or better yet, he was plagued by their future demise.

He felt his shoulder jerk upwards as a shiver trailed up his spine. He shook his head violently, almost causing him to stumble forward from both dizziness and pain. Nonetheless, he found his hand on the brass doorknob leading into the bathroom. He shakily inhaled, knowing he hadn't checked the date in quite some time. Honestly, Midoriya didn't even want to look at the number above his head for fear of treating it as a death sentence. But it was already one wasn't it? Besides, he needed to check his most recent wounds from Endeavor.

As it turns out, stealing a sentimental photograph from the Number Two Hero would cause the man to be overcome by anger at every interaction. Thus, the pyromaniac had been a bit less careful than protocol required when on his latest patrol almost a week and a half after the initial office break-in. As a result, the teenager was now sporting a few gnarly burns across his back and shoulder blades along with a plethora of scratches along his arms and legs which he obtained from his attempts at running away.

Midoriya pulled a deep breath into his lungs as he tightened his sweaty hands over the doorknob. He braced himself for what he was about to see because in order to treat his burns, he had to view them. And ultimately, he knew he would be assaulted by the knowledge of his own dwindling days.

Not allowing himself more time to think about it, he opened the door and entered the small room. He was right in being nervous, his bruised skin looked horribly taut against his young body. But even more than that, the life sentence above his head was in bold black font.

396 days.

A little more than a year.

He took a shaky inhale, feeling as if he wasn't getting enough air. No matter his knowledge of dying soon, the permanent reminder hung over his head felt so horribly cruel and so horribly inevitable. He quickly averted his gaze back down to his burns as tears pricked his eyes. The small mantra was bouncing around his head as he got ready to take a shower in the dark bathroom. A little more than a year. Just a bit over a year left.