Chapter Text
Life was capable of being cruel and unforgiving, this was something Shinsou Hitoshi knew intimately well. Sometimes, when he would let his mind drift to better times, he could still feel the warmth of his mothers arms wrapped around him, her voice whispering soft reassurances to him as the stars shined above in the night sky. It was a bit silly now, looking back at things, how terrified he was of the darkness - the mysteries it held, the monsters hidden from the moonlights shine, something waiting to snatch him from his bed. But his mother would always softly kiss his forehead, his cheeks, and his nose before tucking the blanket snug around him - her lilac eyes soft with love as she soaked in the sight of a tiny Hitoshi, still innocent and ignorant of the worlds horrors. And sometimes, when sleep still wouldn't come, he'd crawl out of his bed to look out his window and count the stars. What simple times those were.
But then there was a sickness. First it was coughs and sneezes, then Mama complaining of chest pains and always mentioning about how she should head to see the local doctor - and then Papa began to lose weight at a rapid pace. Poor little Hitoshi remained unaware of it all, terrified and hidden away in his room, little lilac eyes similar to that of a frightened rabbits and tears always on the verge of running down his cheeks. He could still remember the last of his time with Mama and Papa. Her lilac eyes dulled and teeth stained red, her smile weak as she sat beside Papa while he lay with his eyes closed on the bed. Mama tried to smile, as wide as she could, just for him - but Hitoshi knew it wasn't real. Mama lost her real happiness, her hope, a while ago - around the time Papa got sick too.
She bid Hitoshi goodbye, told him to be a good boy for his aunt and uncle, told him she couldn't hug him because then he might get sick too. With a little suitcase in his trembling hands, tears falling as he sniffled and tried to hold them in, Hitoshi had to say goodbye to the only home he'd ever known, had to part ways with the one who loved him most. And when the time came, his aunt nor his uncle wanted to take him in - leaving him at the mercy of an orphanage located in some little fishing town. Of course, as a child, he couldn't understand why they didn't want him - he didn't know that he had ghosts in his shadows and echoes in his eyes. He just wanted a home. And the orphanage was far, far from home.
-
Hitoshi was soon thirteen and knew very well that no-one truly wanted him, why would they? He was apathetic and angry, he didn't like socializing with anyone, especially the other children, and he never talked unless he was forced to. He never made an effort to try and bond with anyone that may want to give him a home - and he never let them make the effort either. They wanted to pretend, to replace the role of his Mama and Papa, they wanted to put on masks and act the part of a perfect family. But Hitoshi wasn't perfect, and neither were they. The masks they offered him were too small, too bright, too tight, never quite right. He didn't want to wear masks, he wanted to be himself. But nobody wanted the child with ghosts in his shadows and echoes in his eyes.
He was fourteen when he finally decided to run away - packing what little he had in a small rucksack and disappearing through an open window at the first glimpses of moonlight. By morning, there was no trace of him - and he knew his presence wouldn't be missed. It was better that way. He was quick to adapt to life on the streets - who was safe to know and who wasn't, which store and which butcher would give their scraps and which would chase you off with threats. He was quick to learn where each shelter was for every seasons weather - where to find old clothes that (sometimes) managed to fit. It wasn't an easy life, nor was it kind, but it was better than having to wear a mask, to have to pretend.
-
It was in the middle of winter when he met the boy that now kept his heart under lock-and-key. Dirty, blonde hair and eyes as red as the fabric that rich women wore draped over their shoulders - he had a temper worse than the meanest butcher and was more cunning than a fox. Originally, they had wrestled and growled and fought like rabid animals, tearing and biting at each other and struggling to survive - until they were torn apart and scolded by someone he couldn't bother to remember the face of. They had parted on nasty terms, the blonde threatening to be more severe in his attacks the next time they met. But that next time came sooner than either of them would've thought. Running from a particularly nasty butcher and racing through the streets in a desperate bid to escape, he was snagged and hidden away by a familiar head of blonde, those red eyes daring him to make a sound.
He'd merely glared back until the blonde deemed it safe to let him go, hissing a "be more careful, idiot" before turning his back - only turning to look over his shoulder when Hitoshi quietly grumbled out an offer to split the stolen meat, to repay his saving. It was over that quiet meal, hidden away from the public sight and huddling together for warmth as the sun began to set and cold winds swept through, that he learned his new 'friend's name. Bakugo Katsuki. Bakugo, who was also a stray, a well-known menace to every shop and port known on this side of the little island. If only he'd known how strong he'd come to care for Bakugo, how long he yearned to hold his smaller frame closer and intertwine their fingers together, hidden away from the world and holding each other in a desperate bid of warmth. He'd wanted nothing more. But fate felt differently.
It was a warm night in summer when Bakugo asked him to call him Katsuki, something he did gladly, and Katsuki was the name he held close to his chest as the blonde told him that he'd have to leave town soon. He'd apparently heard news of his family from a local fisher, one he talked to often, and the fisher offered him a free ride on the old boat to visit them. Hitoshi had long known Katsuki wasn't a stray by choice, unfortunate circumstances he never elaborated on left him separated from his family and alone on the streets. Hitoshi knew he should've been happy for him, that he'd finally heard news about his family and that they were indeed alright, but he only felt a cold bitterness. He'd put on a fake smile and nodded, encouraging Katsuki to venture out and try to reconnect with the family he'd thought he lost. The last words spoken that night between them was Hitoshi silently begging to not be forgotten, and Katsuki kissing the back of his hand with a whispered 'never'.
-
Soon, too soon, Hitoshi was alone again. The next four years after Katsuki leaving to reunite with his family, he continued to grow and adapt to life on the streets - taking in more strays under his wing and showing them just enough for them to survive, sometimes leading them to the old church that sometimes would take in strays and 'show them the right path'. He, personally, hated the church and the liar that ran it, but it was food and shelter and a refuge for those that needed it. He never went past the gate nor did he ever look into the eyes of anyone that emerged from between those large doors. He knew what they'd think of him if they ever found out about the boy that kissed his hand in goodbye, he knew what they'd call him if they ever learned about how he so desperately wanted to kiss Katsuki and beg he stay with him in a fit of selfishness. It was best he keep a safe distance, merely a shepherd to the lost sheep that needed a flock.
There were wolves on these streets, and sometimes he couldn't tell if he was one - simply hiding his fangs and claws in the wool of a sheep.
-
He'd heard stories of the one that lived in the lighthouse - a recluse who only came to town when they desperately needed to restock on supplies, sometimes even coming down to sell whatever they managed to sew while hidden away in that tower on the edge of the cove. Some said they were a witch and hid their magick from a large distance - and that rumor was the most hilarious to him, and then there were those that said they were so lonely and miserable they simply hid themself away from the world. He was curious, like everyone else, and wanted to meet the keeper, but that was just a dream. For now, he'd steal from the butcher and share it with the few strays he'd currently taken in, and then he'd drop them off at the church so he could return to his lonesome habits.
If only he'd known how that one decision would change his life in a very unexpected way.
-
Confusion. Anger. Everything was a tangled mess and it left him feeling dizzy. Meeting Keeper in such a fashion, if he cared just a bit more he'd be embarrassed, but he just wanted answers. Why did the keeper care about him, someone they didn't even know? Why did they help him? Did they think they could keep him in their debt? No, the way they smiled was too kind and too sincere for them to be hiding malicious intentions. To make such an offer - opening ones door and inviting a stray into your home, this keeper either had to be an idiot or had a faith that Hitoshi had long since lost. He honestly couldn't see a downside to this - at best, he had shelter for a night and possibly a warm meal. At worst... well, at worst he'd be fish-food and wouldn't have to worry about anything anymore. The dead don't have thoughts, after all.
-
After he'd insulted them, called them an idiot and a fool, shown them he clearly didn't trust a word they said - Keeper still gave him a blanket and a place at the fire, still offered him fish after it was cooked, never pointed out when he would flinch at movements too fast or sounds too loud. Hitoshi had never felt this comfortable and safe - not since he'd last been wrapped up in the arms of his mama. And as his eyes began to flutter with the whispers of sleep, he inwardly panicked when he fell against Keeper's side in a slump, silently waiting for them to become angry and remove him. But they didn't. Merely scooting aside and letting his head fall into their lap, a warm hand moved to run through his lavender locks, sorting and playing, another hand even joining it to make small braids. The movements so soft and kind, it was enough to allow him to finally let his eyes fall closed.
It brought back better memories, of when he would count the stars and sing along to his mama's lullabies - and for a second, if only slightly, he swore he could feel the blanket being tucked just the tiniest bit tighter around him. And the last coherent thought in his fleeting mind - '... maybe this can be home.'