Rats

"Hold your horses dumbass, you said tonight right? What time specifically?" Katsuo needed more information if he was joining in on this shitshow.

Kotawe rolled his eyes, slicking back his crimson hair and smirking, "Eleven, but they said be there by ten. Again, all we have to do is move some stuff and then we move up the chain, Okokiri is more of an idiot than any of us and got in, so we should be fine."

Katuso grimaced, wondering why he was agreeing so readily. Yeah, he wouldn't leave his only friends out to dry and in such a dangerous situation. However, for all he knew, this would make him a full fledged criminal.

Keyword criminal, seeing as he didn't have a Quirk to use, he couldn't be labeled as a Villain.

A small positive in all of this, but Katsuo still held some disbelief, there being too many unknowns for him to think everything would go well.

His doubts were there, but if the job was to only move a few crates, and the reward was a superpower; then maybe he could get it into a hero school and actually make a difference. Of course, Shiketsu and UA were off the menu, but not every Pro Hero graduated from the two schools, there were six others that were mid to low ranked he would happily attend.

"Okay, just text me the rest." Katsuo remembered he needed to get some things done before he dedicated his night meant for studying, to being a henchman for some upstart Villain.

Rin placed his hand on Katsuo's shoulder, the almost seven foot tall black haired teen stoic as always, "This could be it Katsuo, you won't regret it."

Kotawe patted his other shoulder, though significantly harder, "Yeah, maybe we could get some powers, lay low, go to some shitty hero school and start our own agency together. Think of the money, the girls, the fame."

Katusuo was tempted to tell Kotawe he wouldn't be joining the hero biz for any of those things, but he dropped it, everyone had their reasons afterall.

With a quick clapping of hands and fist bumps along with plenty of insults, Katuso was heading home.

Just as before, he had an earbud back in, hands stuffed in his pockets and eyes that wandered around constantly.

He chanced a glance up at the sky, noticing the clouds were starting to clear for what would be a full moon, meaning that they wouldn't have much cover in the night.

Katuso huffed, shelving the information for later, following a familiar path that led him to his glorious humble abode.

A run down apartment complex with once white painted walls now beige, cracked concrete steps with weeds happily growing inside them, and windows with blinds already closed despite the time of day.

One flight of stairs later, Katuso found apartment 117, producing a key from his pocket and lazily putting it in the lock. Twisting and then pushing, Katsuo relaxed his shoulders as he stepped in, shoes already coming off as he shut the door behind him.

"I'm home." He called out loud, eyes scanning the dark apartment with slight worry.

No answer came, and Katsuo's chest clenched, hand instinctively reaching behind the plastic plant by the door and gripping the small yet hefty softball bat.

"Grandpa?" Katsuo asked, his knuckles white as he tightened his grip on his weapon, sticking to one wall as he silently moved forward.

He could hear faint breathing.

Someone was inside.

Thankfully, a familiar cough made the tension shatter, Katsuo exhaling and rightfully glaring.

"Yes Katsuo, I'm here." A gravelly stale voice cut across the darkened apartment.

Katuso placed the bat back where it belonged, flicking on the lights and immensely relieved to see the old fart he had been raised by since he was four okay. The old man, with the same metallic gray hair, sat on the couch in the living area wearing a simple shirt and pants; eyes focused on nothing in particular.

Despite looking malnourished and sickly, Katsuo knew he would be fine, his Grandpa always had more energy than any old man his age.

"You scared the hell out of me Granps, the fuck is up with the light being off?" Katsuo huffed as he set his bag down and went to the pile of dishes next to the small kitchenette sink to clean them.

"Language boy, I have told you again and again about how words carry intentions." The old man grumbled about a few other things that Katsuo didn't catch but knew contradicted his first statement.

"Yeah yeah, but that didn't answer the question, I might have attacked you if you hadn't answered." Katsuo turned the water on, donning yellow latex gloves and immediately starting to wash a plate.

"To save money." The words felt cold as they lingered over the room. "How else will I be able to afford to send you to a Hero school."

Katsuo stood silent, hands moving on autopilot as he turned to look at the back of his Grandpa's head.

"We talked about this Grandpa, I'm Quirkless, they won't-"

"Jammer, Cloak, Taser, they were Quirkless Heroes when I was younger."

Katuso scoffed, as if he would ever know Pro Heroes from almost sixty years ago, "That was when the population of Quirked to non Quirked was sixty-forty. With the generation above me and the current one, it's almost ninety nine percent to one, it doesn't take a genius to see we are a dying breed Granps, let it rest."

"No, you-" A short coughing fit stopped him, and only after wheezing while leaning back into the couch did he continue. "I remember when you had so much spunk in your step, went around the block at the young age of seven, stopping bullies despite being Quirkless. Talking about how you would see to making good innocent people have good lives. Look at ya' now. You have given up Katsuo."

Katsuo stayed silent, staring holes into the bowl that wouldn't be rid of its egg yolk stains, words to refute his last living relative dying in his throat.

His Grandpa was right, but that was mostly just an old man stuck in his own memories, 'the good old days' he always said. His Grandpa always rambled on about anything or everything, sometimes going on hour long tangents about one topic or another.

Though, everything seemed related to Pro Heroes one way or another, and that at one point made Katsuo curious.

However, after some research, he did not discover that his Grandpa was secretly once a great hero or something. No, he was just a fanboy through and through, eighty years be damned.

"You stink of cigarettes."

Katsuo grimaced, "Sorry, I will change."

With that, and finally done with the dishes, Katsuo left the living room, going into the bathroom and just staring at the mirror. His dark blue eyes stared back, accompanied by pushed down eyebrows that made him look like he wanted to murder someone.

Katuso let his face relax, though it did little to stop himself from looking like a thug. Well, he guessed if tonight went poorly, it wouldn't be false.

"Stupid, this has 'murphy' written all over it." Katsuo admonished himself for going along with it, but those two idiots Kotawe and Rin were his friends, people who understood how it felt to be lesser.

Yeah Kotawe needed to learn how to shut the fuck up, and Rin needed to learn how to voice his concerns and not be so passive. Even then, they had a three year bond that wouldn't be gone any time soon.

"Let's just get this over with."

Katsuo showered, but he also made sure to not use soap or put on deodorant. Smelling or sense enhanced Quirks were only uncommon, but they were still prevalent. He wasn't gonna be sniffed out if he had to bail on the operation.

He echoed this sentiment by texting his two friends, receiving a 'this is why we pay you' response from Kotawe and a simple 'good idea' from Rin.

Katuso smiled at the stark difference in personality, but soon lost it as he once again looked in the mirror.

He wore a gray hoodie, black joggers, and yellow worn sneakers that had once been white.

"Hero, Villain, leave that to the wolves and bears, " Katsuo repeated what Kotawe had told him. "While rats at the bottom of the barrel like us, do what we have to."

He affirmed his resolve to see this through, stupid idea or not he was gonna live with the consequences like a man. He would not leave his friends hanging, they had come to his aide in street brawls without any merit before.

"Going somewhere?" His Grandpa asked as he shuffled down the hallway to his room, catching Katuso leaving the bathroom.

"Yeah, going out for a run, gotta clear my head."

His Grandpa grinned, "Or is it some late night hero training?"

Katsuo rolled his eyes, "Don't die in your sleep Granps, I ain't gonna clean your shit and piss before the cops show up."

His Grandpa chuckled at the remark, turning and using his cane to continue to his room, though he did say something as he went.

"Language Katsuo."

He huffed, "Whatever."

Conversation done, he had closed the door to his apartment, the small audible click like the final nail being hit by a hammer.

If it was for his grave, or for a railway to a bright future, Katsuo couldn't tell.