Adrenaline in veins. Blood in his ears. Sweat pouring from his brow, dripping down to sting his eyes. Teeth grit in desperation, smiling all the while. Such was the traditional image of the Number One Hero in hot pursuit.

"Compress!"

After having finally put the League's major warp users behind bars, escape was far trickier for Shigaraki's band of crooks. However, the former entertainer had oft proven too slippery for even the best the Pro Heroes could offer. But this was personal for Deku. To him, Mr. Compress was the image of his failure to save Bakugou all those years ago, and everything that happened as a result. Shigaraki was his antithesis, undoubtedly, but Compress was the one who kept getting away.

Having caught sight of the mad magician breaking through a windowpane, Deku quickly followed in, attempting to end this cat-and-mouse game once and for all.

The room he now found himself in was empty, save for the mildew stains on the wall. Near as Deku knew, this building had been condemned for several years now. Hardly a hideout, more likely a place to try and lose green-clad hero.

Triggering a device on his belt, Deku's eyes swept across the room. He knew this trick by now, Compress using his powers to shrink himself into a marble, and wait for the enemy to give up or just be far enough away to escape. "I know you're still in here," he declared. "I thought you wanted to put on a show!"

No response. He had never gotten a straight answer from Bakugou or Tokoyami as to whether or not someone could see and hear while in one of the marbles. Compress would have to make a move soon, regardless. Deku had already signaled for back-up, so time was of the essence.

With no other recourse, the green-clad hero pulled up his hood. He had since grown out of the habit of hiding his face, but now that he had the money for it, a digital display system in his costume was now a worthwhile investment. The mask now firmly over his face, a series of displays could indicate trace energy trails, though no thermal imagery, suggesting that the isolated space of the marbles rendered them immune to such things. Following one of the energy trails, he eventually stumbled upon his prize.

A marble, lying just through a crack in the floorboards.

"Gotcha," he said with a smirk, marble now in hand.

"Are you sure?"

Before he could turn around, the marble in Deku's hand flashed to life, revealing a strange device, which exploded into a blinding light. Though his mask's immediate response system blunted the effects to prevent serious damage to the optic nerves, the momentary flash had been enough to stun him. Once he finally did turn, Mr. Compress had seemingly disappeared.

He'd chosen the wrong energy trail.

Cursing beneath his breath, he heard the sound of a few other heroes arriving on scene.

Taping Hero, Cellophane, was the first to speak, "Deku, you okay, buddy?"

"Flashbang," he muttered, "I'm not sure if he's still here."

Mudman, one Juzo Honenuki, acknowledged this. "We have a few sensory types on hand. If he's here, we'll find him."

"I can still-"

"Your shift's over for the day," Tentakole reminded him, "Furthermore, you've worked triple-overtime 3 days in a row."

"We busted five of the League's new recruits, and uncovered 8 possible hideouts," Deku argued back, "I'm seeing this through."

"I understand how you feel. Compress is a sore spot for me as well," the ever-masked hero shot back. "But you have other, equally important matters to attend to. If we find him, we'll call."

Deku took a breath to cool off and accepted reality. "Right. You're right."

"Come on, man," Cellophane cut in. "You may be Number One, but part of the reason we're here is so you don't have to do everything yourself."

"And I can't thank you enough," he replied.

"You can thank us by taking the rest of the night off. We'll get him. Him and everyone else," Mudman reassured.

Deku, flashing another of his signature smiles, took the assertion in stride. "They won't know what hit them."

This late at night, Izuku knew he had to be cautious, as he did everything in his power to close the door behind him without making a sound. Navigating without flipping a lightswitch, he made his way to his bedroom, hoping to avoid waking his wife.

Electing to only remove the most cumbersome pieces of his costume, Izuku attempted to sneak into the bed without lifting her out of some restful slumber.

"Didya get 'im?" she muttered, half-conscious.

Realizing his hollow effort as he barely made it under the covers, Izuku whispered back. "No, but they'll keep me posted. I'll explain more tomorrow."

"Mmkay. Love ya."

He yawned. "You too."

Compress may fancy himself a magician, but as far as Izuku Midoriya was concerned, his wife had a spell no one could ever match.

Somehow, someway, as soon as he lay beside this woman, his arm around her, feeling the warmth of her body, and just making out the sounds of her breathing, everything shifted. The adrenaline disappeared. His heart rate slowed to match hers. The heat of battle replaced with the heat of a comforting embrace. And the smiles he wore to please the crowds, suddenly didn't feel so forced.

This. This was what he fought for. Moments like this one. And all the moments to come.