Chapter Text
Don’t save me!
Don’t save me!
‘ Cause you were never ever there before!
You can’t save me,
No ifs, no maybes,
I don’t need heroes anymore!
The final note soared into the rafters, the drums and strings continuing a beat longer before ending with a flourish. Down below the crowd roared in response, their applause nearly as thunderous as the music they’d come to hear.
Izuku Midoriya smiled at the audience, wiping the sweat from his brow with the green kerchief Atsuhiro had given him. He tucked it back into his pocket before addressing his fans. “Thank you, thank you! Really, you’re too kind. I just wanted to thank you all for coming out tonight to support our cause, and to protest against this broken system! The heroes have failed us, and we demand they face justice!”
The roar of the crowd grew louder, cheers and cries mingling with stomps and claps that rang through the warehouse, reverberating off of rusted metal and seeping into cracked concrete. Izuku tapped the side of his mic, signaling for Jin to adjust it to the crowd’s volume. “Heroes claim to save us, but who do they save? And when do they save them? When they need it? Or when it’s convenient?”
Himiko slammed the cymbals in front of her before pounding out a steady beat on her drums. “Tell it to ‘em, Deku!”
“The heroes say want to save us, but we don’t need them to, do we?!”
The noise reached a deafening volume, the crowd making their dissent known. There were too many faces to see all of them, but Izuku managed to spot a few closer to the center of the crowd, their expressions uncertain. He leaned forward, the audience doing the same. “Some of you might not be ready to say goodbye to heroes- no, no, don’t boo! It’s alright, I get it. I just want you to ask yourselves when the last time a hero came to your neighborhood was, and what they did to help the people there? Is a life only worth saving when it’s endangered by a villain? I don’t think so! I think you all deserve better!”
The crowd cheered him on, their voices combining into a raucous clangor. Some of the faces he’d seen had disappeared among the fervor, but Izuku spied a few that seemed to be considering his words. This made him smile.
He thanked them again and bid them goodnight, sauntering offstage with his band mates not far behind. Just beyond the view of the stage, Shuichi stood waiting for them with crossed arms. “Ten minutes over this time!”
Izuku had to bite back a smile; their manager was a stickler for keeping them on schedule. It was good to have someone so punctual managing them, even if it often turned into nagging before long. “Sorry Shuichi, I promise I’ll keep it short tomorrow night. How’d we sound?”
Shuichi was tapping away on his battered tablet, purple strands of hair falling into his face. “I’ve heard worse; your bassist could use some extra practice, though.”
There was a groan from behind him as a weight settled atop Izuku’s head. “No fair, you never criticize Izuku!” Rody had made a habit of resting his chin on Izuku's curls, though it seemed he had to crouch down lower and lower to do so as the years went on. It made for a funny sight, particularly when Pino, the brilliantly colored bird manifestation of Rody’s quirk, would rest atop his own head. Himiko and Magne brought up the rear, grinning from the post-show adrenaline.
“That’s because Izu’s always perfect!” Himiko teased, jabbing a finger into Rody’s side and cackling as he yelped.
Their banter wasn’t uncommon after a show, Izuku enjoying the buzz of their teasing washing over him. He could hear the crowd behind him begin to disperse, the warehouse falling eerily silent as the roar that had persisted all night finally quieted.
Atsuhiro came rushing over from the bowels of the warehouse, brushes in hand and a manic gleam in his eye. Izuku took an instinctive step backwards, bumping into Rody. “What now?”
“I have to make you presentable,” the man said, a flurry of powders hitting the freckled boy. “The interviewer wants pictures now!”
This got his attention. “Interviewer?”
“Got here twenty minutes ago,” Shuichi answered irritably. “This is why we have a schedule!”
Izuku gently pushed Atsuhiro away, straightening his shirt and ruffling his curls. “All of us?”
“Just you this time; the guy seems pretty tame, but you know the drill.”
He nodded. Shuichi directed him to the break room they’d set up earlier in the day, relegating the others to breaking down the equipment. The break room had once been an office, likely the old foreman’s from before the warehouse had shut down, with a large black sheet covering the window. Inside the interviewer was sprawled out across the dingy, battered couch they’d found when scoping out the venue. Himiko had added pink fluffy pillows that clashed a bit with the faded green of the seat, though not as much as the ugly lace she’d draped over the back of it.
Blue eyes opened and found Izuku as he entered, an easy smile slinking across the interviewer’s face. “Finally, I was beginning to think I’d be waiting here all night.”
“My apologies,” he replied evenly, though he eyed the man with suspicion. “I hadn’t been told I was to be interviewed today.” It was possible Shuichi had forgotten about the appointment, but his dedication to his schedule told him otherwise. Probably another tabloid journalist looking to make a scandal out of a simple protest…
He stood to shake Izuku’s hand. He was tall and lithe with a long chin and messy black hair, though his smile made him handsome in a way. “Taneo Tokuda, freelance journalist and photographer.”
“Deku, a pleasure.” He motioned for Tokuda to sit, taking a spot on the ugly couch as the interviewer grabbed a nearby chair.
“I caught the tail end of your performance; I gotta say, you’re a really talented bunch.”
Izuku gave him a guarded smile. “You should speak to the others as well, if you have the time; they’re the real talent.”
Tokuda’s grin never wavered. “You’re too humble! Those pipes of yours are something else, and those lyrics! I take it you’re the mastermind behind them?”
The lyrics… He’d written them with the help of his band mates as well as the others, but he wasn’t sure if that information would help or hurt him. “I like to think of our songs as a reflection of how the public feels; we want to amplify the voices of those who’ve been silenced by the current system and bring about reform through art.”
“How noble!” Now Tokuda was beginning to sound condescending. “You know, there’s some concern that your music might be, well, encouraging people to turn to villainy. I’d like to get your thoughts on that.”
I bet you would… “Our music is meant to inspire others to use their voices, not their quirks. We want to change our country’s justice system, not destroy it. Perhaps that message would’ve been clearer if you’d heard more than the ‘tail end’ of our performance.”
Tokuda’s easy smile stretched into a grin. “Perhaps; shall we begin?”
“I thought we already had.”
“Touché. The band name is interesting: the Dekus. What does it mean?”
“It’s short for dekunobu- useless- the way that many of us feel in our current climate.” He’d offered it to his band mates when they first began playing together, still figuring out their instruments and one another. He’d wanted it as his stage name regardless but was thrilled when his friends happily took up the moniker as well.
“And your music is a way for everyday citizens to find power in their own voices, right?”
Izuku’s smile became just a bit more genuine. “Exactly. We’re all Dekus in one way or another.”
Tokuda leaned forward. “So I would be right to say that your concerts are equal parts music and protest?”
“You would; music always has something to say and the Dekus want to tell Japan it has a voice of its own, one that doesn’t need heroes to speak for it.”
Tokuda pulled a small notebook from his jacket, scribbling down his notes quickly. His expression was intent, his eyes flicking up to meet Izuku’s briefly before returning to his notes. “There’s been some controversy surrounding your group, with concerns over your anti-establishment views and the crowds you’re able to amass at a moment’s notice.”
“We can’t help that we’re popular.”
Tokuda’s grin turned mischievous. “Guess not.” The questions were tame after that, focusing on the band’s underground success, their future goals and the skills of each member.
“Himiko’s a beast on the drums,” Izuku said earnestly, “and Magne and Rody are the best guitar players I’ve ever heard; really, next to them I’m almost talentless.”
Tokuda took everything in with rapt attention, only breaking eye contact to jot something down in his notebook before returning his gaze to the singer. Izuku praised his team some more, tried not to react when cameras shot forth from Tokuda’s body to take pictures, and the interview finally came to a close.
“This has been a real treat,” Tokuda told him with a lopsided grin. “I almost never get to do entertainment pieces anymore, and with this one I get a side of revolution with it!”
Izuku returned the smile; Tokuda was surprisingly easy to like. “If you ever want tickets to the full show just contact our manager, free of charge.”
“Hey thanks, I think I’ll do just that.”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Izuku rejoined the others after Tokuda’s departure, visibly brightening at the sight of two tall figures chatting casually with Rody. “You’re back!”
The two men turned to greet him. Tenko gave the singer a tight hug while Touya ruffled his green curls. “Told you it would only be a few days, brat. Giran had a job for us.”
Izuku poked his head out from Tenko’s shoulder. “Is he here?”
“Next time,” the grey-haired man promised, releasing him as Shuichi began tapping his watch impatiently. The group climbed into the rusted old van they used for transporting their equipment, the back half of the vehicle crammed full of instruments and wires and trunks. Touya deftly took the keys from an affronted Magne, only smirking in response. It was a tight squeeze with eight people in the back, with Himiko taking Magne’s lap and Izuku taking Rody’s. Shuichi sat in Atsuhiro’s, silently daring anyone to comment.
Their favorite restaurant was empty by the time they’d sauntered in, only a few regulars perched at the bar. The owner Mr. Sawayama was a kindly old man who kept the place running at all hours, capitalizing on the city’s bustling night life. He greeted them with drinks and his usual chastisements. “Late night again? You’ll fall over dead from the lack of sleep, mark my words!”
Touya scoffed. “You’re one to talk; isn’t 5pm the standard bedtime for someone your age?”
Sawayama gave him a playful smack, demanding the pierced man respect his elders. They bickered as one of the employees came to take orders for the table, bustling back to the kitchen without another word. Sawayama was kind to his employees but incredibly strict, as Rody had declared after working for him one summer.
“Are RoRo and LaLa upstairs?” Rody asked him once Sawayama finished his lecture.
“Sleeping, my wife stuffed them full of cabbage and sent them to bed. She says you don’t feed them enough!”
“We feed them plenty,” Izuku remarked with a smile, “but thank you for looking after them.”
After they’d ate and drank and squabbled with the owner some more the band collected the children from a cooing Mrs Sawayama in the apartment above the restaurant and bid their farewells, departing for home. Izuku shared his comfortable apartment with Rody, his siblings and Himiko, though she preferred to stay with the others in their rooms above Tenko’s bar farther downtown. They said their goodbyes as the rest of the band sped off, the tires on their old van squealing against the asphalt.
“He drives worse than Magne,” Rody muttered, hefting LaLa onto his shoulder. Once inside the children retired to their room without complaint, leaving the older boys to complete their nightly rituals.
The television played softly in the background as Izuku prepared RoRo And LaLa’s lunches for the next day, so softly he almost missed the mention of the Dekus. He turned up the volume, urging Rody to join him.
…and in entertainment news, the underground punk band the Dekus have released their second album last week to rave reviews! The controversial group has garnered quite the cult following with its unique sound and tendentious lyrics. It’s not yet clear whether they’ll be scheduling a nationwide tour, but be sure to keep your eyes peeled and your ears open if they do!
Izuku beamed; it warmed his heart to see their hard work paying off after nearly four years. He was about to turn the device off when a news bulletin appeared, a rather severe man with horns and glasses providing updates on a robbery.
…No suspects have been found at this time. Local law enforcement have teamed up with renowned hero-
Izuku switched off the television, his nose crinkling in distaste. “Since when do heroes get involved with petty theft?”
Rody laughed. “You mean besides their own?”
Neither of them were particularly keen on heroes, nor were any of their band mates, each and every one having too many reasons to distrust them. They’d seen many crimes ignored by both heroes and law enforcement, deemed unworthy of their attention unless there was profit or renown to be gained from their intervention. Izuku spared a glance to the hallway; they tried to keep their disparaging remarks out of earshot of the children who, while not hero crazy like most children, still held a good deal of respect for them.
“Might be the robbers stole something important to the heroes,” Rody commented idly. “Some fancy tech or state secrets or something.”
Izuku supposed it was a good thing the heroes were doing their jobs as opposed to simply talking about it, but couldn’t find it in him to be grateful to them. He let out a hum, turning back to the kitchen. “Whatever; let them have their glory while it lasts.”