The air hung heavy with the smell of wet concrete and exhaust fumes. The city lights, usually a vibrant tapestry of color, were blurred into diffuse halos by the relentlessly pouring rain. It was the kind of miserable downpour that seeped into everything, chilling a person to the bone.

Deku, or Izuku Midoriya, was well into his nightly hero patrol. His green-and-black hero suit, designed to withstand far worse, was slick with rainwater. Each leap across the rain-washed rooftops of downtown Musutafu was a calculated risk, his practiced control making up for the slippery surfaces. He was vigilant, not just for the spectacle of a major villain attack, but for the petty crimes, the break-ins, and the small-time thugs who thought the stormy weather provided perfect cover.

He landed with a soft, practiced thud on the edge of a thirty-story office building, water cascading off his hood. He shielded his eyes momentarily, the city's noise—the rush of tires through puddles, the distant, mournful wail of a police siren, the endless drumming of the rain—a constant companion.

"Of all days to rain, it had to be today?" he muttered, his voice barely audible above the deluge. His eyes narrowed slightly. He hadn't grumbled that thought out of true annoyance, more out of habit; he knew a hero's job didn't stop for bad weather. Still, the pervasive dampness was a distraction he didn't need. He took a deep, steadying breath, the air cool and clean in his lungs, and shook off the momentary lapse in focus.

With a surge of One For All—a subtle, barely visible green crackle beneath his soaked gloves—he pushed off the building's ledge and shot across the massive, wind-whipped gap to the next structure. He moved like a shadow, a blur of green against the dark skyline, mindful of keeping his presence subtle. He swept his gaze across the streets below, his enhanced vision cutting through the gloom, searching for any flicker of movement that shouldn't be there.

Suddenly his eyes caught something in a nearby alleyway.