The streets felt colder on the way back, the faint chill nipping at my skin as I slipped through the maze of alleyways that had become second nature to me. The city never really slept, but at this hour, it yawned and stretched, the bustling chaos dimmed to a low murmur. Perfect for someone like me to move unnoticed.

I could feel my adrenaline draining now that the call was over, leaving behind a creeping exhaustion that weighed on my limbs. Hawks might have figured out who I was—or at least had a good guess—but there wasn't much I could do about it now. I'd given him the tip. If he wanted to waste time chasing shadows, that was on him.

When I finally reached the shabby apartment building I called home, it looked just as uninviting as ever. The peeling paint on the walls, the flickering light in the hallway, and the faint smell of... what was that? Burnt toast? Rotten eggs? Honestly, I didn't want to know.

The elevator had been out of order since before I moved in, so I trudged up the stairs, each creaky step a reminder of how much I hated this place. Still, it was mine. No nosy neighbors, no prying eyes, just me and my little fortress of solitude.

Unlocking the door, I stepped inside and kicked it shut behind me. The familiar clutter greeted me—half-finished projects, a pile of laundry I'd been ignoring, and the comforting hum of my PC still running in the corner. Home sweet home.

I slumped onto the worn-out couch, tossing my jacket onto the floor. My muscles ached, a dull soreness settling in from the night's events. That fight, the call to Hawks, the constant mental gymnastics of staying ahead—it was all catching up to me. My body felt like it was screaming for rest, but my mind was still buzzing.

I sat there for a moment, staring at the ceiling, letting the quiet settle over me. No neon words floating in the air, no footsteps chasing me, no voices barking orders. Just... silence. It was nice, in a way.

But of course, my brain couldn't leave well enough alone. The thought of that shipment, the guards, the possibilities of what was in that crate—it all nagged at me, like an itch I couldn't scratch. I'd handed the tip over to Hawks, sure, but that didn't mean I trusted him to handle it. Heroes always had their priorities, their red tape, their bureaucracy. They didn't see the world the way I did.

I shook my head, forcing the thoughts away. There was nothing I could do about it tonight. Tomorrow was another day, and I'd figure things out then.

Pushing myself off the couch, I dragged my feet to the bathroom. A quick glance in the mirror confirmed what I already knew—I looked like death warmed over. My hair was a mess, there was a faint bruise forming on my cheek from earlier, and I had dark circles under my eyes that could probably qualify as a fashion statement.

"Charming," I muttered to myself, running a hand through my hair.

After splashing some water on my face and brushing my teeth, I shuffled back to the main room. My bed—a mattress on the floor with a pile of mismatched blankets—looked more inviting than ever. I didn't even bother changing, just collapsed onto it and pulled the covers over me.

Honestly didn't take long for me to fall alseep too....unfortunately didn't last long....

I woke up to the kind of noise that makes your heart skip a beat—loud, angry hammering at the door. How do I know about the hammering if I am deaf?
Easy!

I might be deaf but I am not an idiot who can't feel vibrations. 

My body shot upright, sleep still clinging to me like a stubborn child. For a second, I thought it was some villain trying to bust in or maybe Hawks had sent someone to drag me out for that phone call.

Nope. Worse.

"KID!" the landlord's voice boomed from the other side, his tone already putting me in a bad mood. "Open up! We need to talk!"

Groaning, I dragged myself off the mattress and shuffled to the door, rubbing my eyes. "Yeah, yeah, keep your pants on," I muttered under my breath, but not loud enough for him to hear. Last thing I needed was him adding a "disrespectful tenant" note to his list of reasons to ruin my life.

I unlocked the door and cracked it open, squinting at the grumpy, middle-aged man standing in the hallway with his arms crossed. His gut stretched his shirt in a way that made me wonder if it was holding up better than this building.

"What?" I asked, trying to keep my tone neutral. No use poking the bear when you don't know what's coming.

His scowl deepened. "Pack your things. You've got two weeks."

Wait, what? "Excuse me?" I blinked at him, my brain still catching up to his words. "Two weeks for what?"

"To move out," he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "I've sold the building. New owner wants everyone out so they can tear it down."

My stomach dropped. "You're kicking me out?" I asked, my voice rising slightly despite my best efforts. "You can't just—wait, no, of course you can. That's exactly what you're doing."

"Look, kid," he said, clearly impatient. "It's not personal. I'm just doing what I have to. You've got two weeks. That's generous, considering."

"Generous?" I snapped, sarcasm slipping through before I could stop it. "Oh, thank you so much for the gift of homelessness on a silver platter. I'm touched, really."

He huffed, clearly not in the mood for my attitude. "Don't make this harder than it has to be, Midoriya. Two weeks. That's all you've got." And with that, he turned and stomped down the hallway, leaving me standing there in stunned silence.

The door creaked as I leaned my head against it, closing my eyes. Two weeks. Great. Just what I needed on top of everything else. Because my life wasn't already a giant dumpster fire or anything.

I pushed the door shut with more force than necessary and turned back to the room. My room. My crappy little safe haven that I'd somehow managed to make my own, and now I was losing it. The mattress on the floor, the PC humming softly in the corner, the half-finished costume lying on the desk—all of it stared back at me like some cruel reminder of how fragile this whole setup was.

"Perfect," I muttered, pacing the room. "Just perfect. Where am I supposed to go now? Back to the streets? Live in a box? Rent another crappy apartment I can barely afford? Yeah, sure, that'll work."

I kicked the edge of the mattress in frustration, only to immediately regret it as pain shot through my toe. "Ow! Fantastic. Add that to the list of today's wins."

Flopping onto the mattress, I stared up at the ceiling, my thoughts spinning. Two weeks wasn't much time, especially with everything else going on. Between the shipment, the vigilante work, and trying to keep my identity under wraps, I barely had time to breathe, let alone find a new place to live.

But wallowing wasn't going to fix this. If there was one thing I'd learned over the years, it was that you either adapt or you get crushed. And I wasn't about to let some greedy landlord be the thing that took me down.

I sat up, my mind already racing with possibilities. I could look for another place, sure, but that would take time and money I didn't have. Maybe I could crash somewhere temporarily? Kaito came to mind, but the last thing I wanted was to drag him into this mess.

Then there was the underworld. Not exactly my first choice, but I'd made a name for myself as GhostSoul. Maybe someone owed me a favor, or I could hack my way into a solution.

One way or another, I'd figure this out. I always did. But first, I needed to focus. One problem at a time.

I glanced over at my desk, at the pile of notes and half-finished projects waiting for me. The shipment. The villains. The tip I'd dropped off at Tsukauchi's doorstep. There was too much to do, and now I had even less time to do it.

"Two weeks," I muttered, shaking my head. "Challenge accepted."