Chapter Text
Denki didn’t know what to do.
In his defence, what on earth could he do, when his supposedly dead best friend was clutching onto him like his life depended on it, covered in burns, and bleeding profusely.
He just stood and stared at the silently-sobbing figure holding him tight enough to make it slightly hard to breath.
“Hi- Hitoshi?” he finally choked out, tears streaming down his face. The purple-haired figure didn’t reply. It was so slow that it took Denki a moment to realise the other teen’s grip was loosening.
It was only a second more that Shinso crumbled back into a lifeless pile on the floor.
Denki was certain that he must have done some seriously terrible things in his past life. He paced the front of Recovery Girl’s office, begging anyone and anything he could think of to let Hitoshi live.
He let out a nervous, slightly-gagged laugh. This is what he wanted, right? A chance to say goodbye. Here it was! He thought he’d been knocked out in Hitoshi’s last moments, but no! He got to be the one there when the brainwasher bled to death.
Lucky him.
He shook his head, trying fruitlessly to clear his thoughts. Hitoshi wasn’t dead, Recovery Girl would tell him if he was. The universe might hate Denki that much, but it wouldn’t really take away Eri’s big brother.
Would it?
He paced for a little while longer, trying not to break into hysterical (slightly deranged) laughter or start vomiting all over Recover Girl’s office (she probably wouldn’t be too happy cleaning that up).
Finally, after what felt like the longest century of his life, but was probably only a few minutes, Recovery Girl came back out into the front. “Relax,” she told him, her voice had returned to her usual timbre, one that always made you feel like everything would be okay. When Denki had first come in, she sounded more intense than Dadzawa telling Midoriya not to break any more bones. “Shinso is stable, and will likely make a full recovery.” she smiled sadly. “He’ll be left with plenty of burn scars, but that is common for a hero.”
Denki let out a relieved laugh, as if letting the rest of his panic ebb. “He’ll be okay?” he asked.
“He’ll be okay; just give me a second to contact his fathers.”
Hitoshi did not expect the exact reaction to his return that he was expecting. Sure, he knew that there would be a lot of crying, and more hugs than he was strictly comfortable with (but he accepted that his classmates needed that, and let it slide). He expected the bone-crushing hugs from his dads and teachers, and the understanding that his little sister wasn’t going to be letting go of him anytime soon (he was starting to worry he’d be bringing her with him to class at some point).
He definitely expected his friends to be skirting around the issue, and treating him like a thin glass sculpture. And he was certain that they were purposefully avoiding looking at his scars.
The first thing that happened that he wasn’t expecting, came in the form of Bakugou Katsuki.
He and Bakugou had never really been friends; they mutually respected each other, as people with powerful quirks and the ability to tutor their friends. But something was different when he got back.
Bakugou hung back for the first round of crying and hugs; but once Hitoshi got a moment to breath, he was dragged off to a secluded corner of the common room.
“Listen, brainfuck.” Bakugou began. “We’re not fucking friends, dickwad.” he insisted, to Hitoshi’s slightly annoyed frustration.
“I’m already aware.” Hitoshi drawled with a tired glare.
“Shut the fuck up asshole!” Bakugou snapped. “We’re not fucking friends, but I know that being kidnapped fucking sucks so if you ever need someone to fucking talk to or whatever, you know where my fucking dorm is.” his voice was so… aggressive. “And don’t fucking back out because you’re embarrassed or whatever, you have a fucking bondage scarf.”
And with that, Bakugou stalked off towards the boy’s-side elevators.
Hitoshi was confused, but he knew Bakugou well enough to know to accept his attempt at being nice. However, the moment of silence reminded him of how goddamn tired he was.
He followed Bakugou’s lead, bidding a tired goodbye to his confused classmates and returning to his dorm room.
He was really, really tired. He opened the door, expecting to find all of his things still right where he left them nearly a week ago, but the room was just like how he’d found it at the very beginning of his second year.
He sighed, at least the boxes were still there,
He was just about to unpack the one labeled Bedding, when he noticed a letter right next to his foot. He crouched down and picked it up.
It was… insanely nice paper, with a detailed wax seal and no writing on the outside. The seal’s design appeared to be that of a simple fire, and the wax was a slightly-orange red.
Inside, there was only a single piece of (also extremely fancy) paper, the note was as follows; You are cordially invited to the secret meeting; we meet at midnight in the empty fifth floor dorm. Be there -TKM in perfect cursive.
Hitoshi just grabbed his pillow from the box and went to sleep on the bare mattress.
He did, in fact, go up to the empty fifth floor dorm at midnight. He assumed they meant the boy’s side, since the girl’s side had two open rooms.
When he came, he noticed that the door was unlocked, and there was a strange sign on it. The sign appeared to be a more detailed version of the fire on the seal of the letter he’d received.
When he opened the door, he saw Todoroki, Izuku, and Denki all sitting on All-Might brand bean bags in the (mostly) otherwise empty room. They all turned to look over at him as he entered.
“Hey Toshi!” Denki called, looking far better than had when Hitoshi first returned. “Welcome to the secret meeting.” he greeted.
“Hello.” Izuku and Todoroki replied.
“What is this?” Hitoshi asked, sitting down on the newest-looking bean bag Denki was patting.
“A secret meeting.” Todoroki replied.
“Shoto!” Izuku chastised. “This is the secret meeting of the Fuck-Fire society.” he explained, as if what he’d just said made perfect sense.
“The what?” Hitoshi replied, suitably exhausted and confused.
Denki laughed. “I knew we should have been called Burn-Scar incorporated.” he said in his best ‘told you so’ voice. “We just meet and talk about random things with cold drinks.”
Hitoshi paused, looking between the three of them. “So why am I here?” he asked.
Izuku smiled. “Well, you’re an insomniac with burn scars now, right?” Hitoshi nodded, slightly uncomfortable.
“You’re stuck with us now.” Todoroki summed up, sipping from his iced coffee. “Want one?” he offered an unopened iced coffee from the mini fridge behind him that Hitoshi hadn’t noticed before.
“Does Dad know about this?” he asked slowly.
Denki nodded. “He decided that it wasn’t hurting us, and that this was the closest thing to therapy the three of us would accept.”
Hitoshi fought the smile threatening to cross his face, accepting the cold drink. Whatever doesn’t kill you lets you into a secret society of burn victims.
Apparently.