Archive of Our Own

It all started with a phone call.

Aizawa had just settled down for his afternoon nap, exhausted after spending the night dealing with a villain incident. His eyes stung, dried out completely from overuse, and every muscle in his body cried out to be rested. He’d tucked himself into bed, black hair spread across the white pillows, a bundle of grey fur that was his cat Mari curled up by his feet. This state of bliss had lasted a mere five minutes when the shrill ringing from his hallway dragged him from his haven and he found himself stumbling bleary-eyed towards the phone in it’s dock. Mari started mewling at him, disgruntled after being woken up, so he covered his left ear while raising the phone to his right.

“Aizawa speaking,” he answered, voice gruff with both irritation and weariness.

“Mr Aizawa, I’m glad we managed to get a hold of you. I’m calling on the behalf of Musutafu social services. I have something important we need to discuss with you…”

---

“His last living relative? No way, dude. I mean, there’s gotta be someone else, right? Not a grandparent? An aunt or uncle? This is crazy!”

Aizawa really wishes that Hizashi would keep his voice down, but when has he ever been good at doing that? He looks down into his coffee cup: black, half empty.

“There’s no one else. I’ve gone through the family records. Grandparents on both sides passed away years ago, and neither of his parents had siblings. My link to him is tenuous at best, but I’m the best they’ve been able to find.”

Hizashi lets out a puff of air, shaking his head.

“So, what are you going to do about it?”

That was the question Aizawa had been going over in his head over and over in the last week. It wasn’t logical to take the kid in. He had his hero work, which left no time for looking after a child. It could put the boy in danger, a potential target for kidnap. Not that Aizawa’s identity was well known in public, considering he was relatively new to the world of pros. He wanted to keep it that way, too, unlike Hizashi, who loved to have his persona of Present Mic recognized wherever he went. However, even if Aizawa’s personal life was kept separate from his work, there was still the chance that he might not come home one night. That the worst might happen.

It was only logical to put the kid into care, right?

“I’m going to look after him. Tenuous or not… he’s family.”

---

Aizawa tapped his foot against the grey carpet, fingers lightly scratching against the fabric of the couch. Today was one of the rare occasions he’d put effort into his appearance. His hair was brushed, pulled back into a ponytail to keep it out of his face; he’d shaved, and his loose black clothes had been swapped for a suit and tie. It all felt so strange, so stiff and awkward. But he wanted to make a good impression. At least appear like he had his life put together enough to be somebody’s legal guardian.

The door opened and the social worker walked in, followed by a small boy. Aizawa had seen photos of him, but he looked slightly different in person: smaller, skinnier, eyes deeply sunken into his face. He looked too hollow to be a child so young.

“Hitoshi,” the social worker said, addressing the boy, “meet Mr. Aizawa. He’s the person who’s going to be looking after you.”

The little boy looked up slowly at him, eyes half-lidded as if he were about to fall asleep.

“You can call me Shouta, if you’d like,” Aizawa said, bending down onto one knee so he could look at the boy properly. Hitoshi’s gaze fixed upon him, but no expression changed on his face. It was as if there wasn’t anybody behind those dark eyes, no hope or happiness left. He had the eyes of somebody who had lost everything.

“Aizawa…” the boy murmured, his voice barely audible.

“Yeah, you can call me that, too, uh… Whatever you want.”

It was hard for Aizawa, trying to work out how to sound kind. He wasn’t used to talking with kids and didn’t know what to say to bring them comfort. He always took a straightforward approach to his life with little energy to spare on sympathy or compassion. Not that he didn’t feel those things – his heart wasn’t entirely cold, as he would have some people believe. He simply struggled to communicate his kindness. Up to this point, it hadn’t been a problem. Nobody in his life had so desperately needed kindness from him. Nobody had needed it like this boy in front of him.

“Aizawa,” Hitoshi repeated, as if he were trying to get used to the way the word felt in his mouth. Like he was dipping his toe in the bath to test the water.

Aizawa didn’t want to be the one that scalded him.

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s right. It’s… good to meet you, Hitoshi.”

---

This was the day that Aizawa had been dreading. He’d put his mind off it as much as he could, diving into his hero work and taking up as many missions as possible. Any time he hadn’t been engaging with villains, he’d been overhauling the spare room. It had been stacked with boxes, mostly containing old support items he’d replaced, a few photos, and general odds and ends that he had never bothered with. He wasn’t the materialistic kind, so he was surprised at just how much stuff he had had to work through in those boxes.

“Man, you can’t throw that out! I got that for you when we were in second year, remember? We had fun with it!”

“Hizashi, you know for a fact that I never had fun with this karaoke machine.”

Overall, Mic hadn’t been much of a help with the clearing process, deciding to instead plug in the karaoke machine and screech out an ear-splitting rendition of ‘Baby One More Time’. Aizawa had had villain encounters that had been less traumatic than having to hear that.

But, eventually, everything was shifted out of the room, with most going in the bin or to Hizashi’s – his friend seemed to take a lot of joy from the random crap Aizawa had no need for. In the place of the boxes, Aizawa had put together a single bed, a bedside table and a chest of drawers. He had no idea how much stuff Shinsou would be bringing with him. Considering the boy had only barely made it out of the fire himself, Aizawa doubted there had been much time to rescue his belongings.

“It was started by a villain,” the social worker had said. “Some kind of fire quirk. Nothing incredibly powerful, but certainly enough to set the apartment block ablaze. There were many people who had no hope of getting out. The Shinsou family were near the top; it was difficult for anybody to get down from there. His parents… they’d already died from smoke consumption. Hitoshi was lucky… a hero managed to get him out through the window.”

Aizawa had bought an All Might bedspread, hoping that Shinsou would be like most of the other little kids who were fanatical about the popular Pro Hero. Aizawa himself couldn’t understand the hype. Then again, when had he ever been keen on the kinds of heroes that had flashy quirks that were perfect for selling merchandise? He felt like he was giving in to the companies that mass produced that crap. But at least it added colour to an otherwise bare, white room.

He had just finished straightening out the couch cushions when he heard a knock on the door. Mari lifted her head for a moment, then went back to dozing in her cat basket. She didn’t seem to care, even though her life was about to be changed, too.

Aizawa opened the door and there was Shinsou. He stood by the feet of the social worker, clutching a single plastic bag in one hand, a ragged stuffed cat in the other. It was all that the little boy had left in the world.

---

Young Hitoshi Shinsou looked incredibly out of place in Aizawa’s apartment. It was as if he had been cut out of one picture and awkwardly pasted into another. He seemed lost, not knowing where to look or what to do. He hadn’t let go of his bag or his cat, gripping tightly to both even when Aizawa offered to put them in his new bedroom.

Shinsou had shown no change in expression when he’d been shown his room. Aizawa had no way of gauging whether he liked the All Might bedcovers or not. Perhaps, after everything, all that Shinsou cared about was that he actually had a bed. A room of his own.

“Would you like something to eat?”

Shinsou stayed quiet, giving no indication of an answer to his question.

“I’ve got lots of food in the fridge. You can pick something. I’ll make whatever you want, if I’ve got the stuff for it.”

Still no answer.

Aizawa sighed.

He sat down at the opposite end of the couch to Shinsou. The boy seemed as if he was trying to take up as little space as possible, squashing himself right up to the very end of the seat.

“You’ve got to give me something here, Hitoshi. I can’t help you if you won’t speak to me.”

Shinsou opened his mouth, then closed it. It was like he was hesitating.

“Can’t talk…” he whispered.

It suddenly hit Aizawa. Shinsou’s quirk. The social worker had discussed it with him.

“Be careful when you’re talking with him. His quirk is Brainwashing, activated when you respond to him. It’s hard to know when he’s going to use it, as we believe it only works when he wants it to. He may be young, but he’s already rather proficient with it. You’re a pro, so there shouldn’t be anything to worry about. Like I said… just use caution.”

“You can control people, yes? You can get them to do what you want them to.”

Shinsou blinked, then slowly nodded.

“And people are afraid of you because of that, am I right? They don’t want to talk to you, because they think you might get them to do stuff they don’t want to.”

Another nod.

“Hitoshi…”

That Aizawa kid is really weird, don’t you think? I don’t want him taking away my Quirk! Do you think he can erase Quirks forever? Imagine what he could do if he turned villain… even the most powerful of Pros wouldn’t be able to stop him if he erased their Quirk!

“Hitoshi, I’m not afraid of you.”

Shinsou looked up at him. He looked so sad.

I’m not going to be a villain. I want to help people.

“You don’t have to be what they say you are, Hitoshi.”

Aizawa? He’ll never get into the hero course! How’s a Quirk like that going to match up to all the kids with such physical strength?

“I understand. And I can help you. If you give me a chance to do so.”

I’m sorry, but due to your results in the practical exam, we cannot allow you to enter the hero course at this time. However, we’d be happy to offer you a place in general studies. There are plenty of opportunities---

Suddenly, Aizawa heard a soft meow. Mari had come to sit by Shinsou’s feet and started to nuzzle against him, purring as she did so. A smile flickered across Shinsou’s face – not a full smile, but at least the ghost of one. He reached down his small hand to stroke her head. She leaned into him, happy as usual to receive the attention of gentle fingertips.

“This is Mari,” Aizawa told him.

“Mari…” Shinsou repeated, looking from Aizawa back to Mari.

The grey cat jumped up onto the couch, pressing her head to Shinsou’s side. His smile grew, becoming more alive with each swish of her tail.

“You like cats?”

Shinsou nodded, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“Me too. In fact, I prefer them to humans most of the time,” Aizawa said, scratching Mari gently under the chin.

His eyes met Shinsou’s and, in that moment, they begun to understand each other.

---

“He’s a bit odd, isn’t he?” Hizashi said in a hushed tone.

He and Aizawa stood in the kitchen, the door ajar so that Aizawa could see through to where Shinsou sat watching television. He was hypnotised by a natural documentary about butterflies.

“Don’t say that,” Aizawa replied sharply.

Hizashi held his hands up. “Sorry, man. But I mean… he doesn’t talk much, does it?”

“I don’t think anybody does, if we’re comparing them to you,” Aizawa quipped back. It was true that Shinsou continued to be mostly silent, responding mostly with head shakes and nods. For now, it was working. Aizawa didn’t want to drag him out his shell, knowing how much he had hated it when people had tried it with him as a child.

“What did you say his Quirk was again? Mind control?”

“Yeah. It works when you respond to him, apparently, but only when he wants. He’s not tried it on me.”

“Hmm…”

“Hizashi, no.”

“If he’s not done it on you, what’s the chances he’ll do it to me? He doesn’t even know me!”

“Exactly. When people don’t know you well enough, you’re entirely insufferable.”

Hizashi huffed and walked back through to the living room. Shinsou didn’t look in his direction as the man sat beside him.

“Butterflies, eh, kid? They freak me out. Bugs are kinda creepy, don’t you think?”

Shinsou shook his head.

Hizashi shivered. “I hate ‘em. So, I gotta say, you’re pretty brave for watching this kind of thing. Though, I guess butterflies are kinda pretty. Have you got a favourite colour?”

The boy was quiet for a moment.

“What’s yours?” he asked softly.

“Orange! It’s just so bright and—”

Hizashi froze in the middle of his wild hand actions, voice cut off completely. Shinsou stared, and Aizawa thought he could see a hint of a smile pass over the boy’s lips.

“Hitoshi, come on. That’s not polite,” he chided, though he was holding back a laugh himself. He could see Hizashi’s eyes moving, as if he was screaming, ‘what’s going on?!’

Aizawa’s pupils turned red for a second, Quirk activated, and the other man was suddenly snapped out of his trance.

“Daaaamn, kid! You really can control minds? That’s way cool! Think of all the things you could get Aizawa to d—"

Aizawa smacked him with the back of his hand.

“For once in your life, please shut up.”

Shinsou almost looked as if he wanted to giggle.

---

“I’ve got to go out tonight, Hitoshi.”

It had been a year since Shinsou had come to live with him. In that time, Aizawa had tried to limit the number of mission he’d been on at night, even though that was usually when he worked best. This was the first time when he simply couldn’t make an exception.

Shinsou responded with a quiet hum, continuing to play with his action figure. It was one of All Might, featuring iconic the red and blue costume and a detachable cape. Turned out that Shinsou, like most kids his age, did love the Number One Hero. Typical.

“Yamada is coming over to watch you. Behave for him, okay. No tricks.”

That made Shinsou look up.

“He talks too much.”

Aizawa sighed.

“He does,” he agreed. “But he can be… fun, I suppose. He said something about DVDs and popcorn.”

That seemed to put Shinsou in a more positive mood.

“I’ll see you tomorrow. Don’t stay up past your bedtime.”

Aizawa turned to leave when he heard footsteps behind him. A small hand grasped his own, squeezing his fingers tight. Aizawa’s heart jumped.

“Don’t get hurt…”

He knew he couldn’t promise anything. In the world of pros, there was no guarantee of safety. Being a hero meant playing a dangerous game, one that he might not see the end of. But, now, it finally felt as if there was a strong excuse to make it through. A real reason to come home alive.

There were hundreds of heroes. But only he was there for Shinsou.

He closed his fingers around Shinsou’s.

I’m not going anywhere.

“I’ll try my best not to. Don’t worry about me, okay?”

I’ll be here to look after you. I promise.

---

“A teacher? You?!”

“Don’t sound so surprised, Hizashi.”

To be fair to Hizashi, Aizawa had surprised himself with the decision to become a teacher at his alma mater. His hero work already paid well enough, though he wasn’t earning nearly as much as the pros with the flashy quirks or the hot bodies – some, irritatingly enough, were blessed with both. Still, he didn’t want to do it for the cash.

“It’s just, you plus… kids? I don’t know, man. You’re kind of… how can I put this…?”

Aizawa raised his eyebrows, challenging Mic to choose his next words very carefully.

“Grumpy.”

Aizawa shrugged his shoulders and took a sip of his tea.

“Maybe I am. But some of the best teachers I had weren’t exactly rays of sunshine themselves. Being a pro isn’t a lot of fun, at least for those of us who take it seriously—"

“Hey, was that a dig at me?”

“Not at all. Present Mic.”

Aizawa smirked at him.

“But what I’m saying is that maybe they need someone to be tough on them. To teach them that hero work isn’t a game. I feel like… I’ve learned a lot about that in the last few years.”

Since I’ve had Shinsou. Since I’ve had something that really needs protecting.

Hizashi looked at him with understanding.

“If it’s what you want to do, then go do it! Hey, maybe I could be a teacher, what d’ya think?”

“For the sake of the future generation, I beg you to keep your professions strictly limited to hero and radio star.”

---

Mari was there at the door when Aizawa returned home to his apartment. She started rubbing against his legs, a clear sign that she wanted food.

“Hitoshi?” he called out into the quiet hallway. Aizawa couldn’t hear anything coming from the living room. However, when he came closer to the door to Shinsou’s bedroom, he was sure he could hear a soft sniffling sound.

“Hitoshi?” he asked again, softer this time, gently tapping his hand against the door. When no reply came, he opened it a little to peer inside.

Shinsou was sitting on his bed, face buried in a pillow. He was crying, though clearly trying to suppress the noise. He looked up when the door was opened, and Aizawa could see that his eyes were red and raw, tears still shimmering on his cheeks.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Aizawa took a step inside the room, though didn’t approach him straight away, knowing that there was a good possibility that Shinsou wouldn’t want him to be there. “Was it school?”

Shinsou had only just begun middle school a week ago and his mood seemed to have dipped. It wasn’t unexpected. Shinsou wasn’t the most confident of children and Aizawa worried that he might struggle to make friends. That, and people tended to be judgemental when it came to his Quirk. These were all feelings that Aizawa knew of too well.

When Shinsou didn’t speak, Aizawa moved closer towards him and sat on the end of the bed.

“Was it the other children?”

Shinsou nodded.

“What were they saying to you?”

The boy took a deep breath, then exhaled in a little sob.

“They… they said…” He gulped. “They said… my Quirk was creepy. That I should just be a villain!”

“You told them what your Quirk was?”

“I… I had to! They thought I was… that I was Quirkless! And they didn’t believe me when I said I wasn’t, so I… I…”

“You used it, didn’t you? Hitoshi…”

Fresh tears began to spill over, running down towards Shinsou’s mouth.

“I’m sorry…”

Aizawa slowly put his arms around him, tucking the boy’s head against his chest. He began to soothingly stroke the top of Shinsou’s head, while Shinsou cried into his scarf.

“You don’t have to say you’re sorry. It’s not your fault that people just don’t understand,” he murmured, shaking his head. It wasn’t fair, but he knew fully well that Shinsou would never get to live in a world where things were fair. The least he could do would be to try and prepare him for it.

“Look at me.”

Shinsou lifted his head.

“Even in a world where everyone is different, there will always be people who just don’t accept who you are. And you can either listen to those people and let them decide who and what you’re going to be, or you can tell yourself that you’re the only one who’s in control of your life, that you have the power to decide what you become. There’s going to be a lot of people who doubt you, doubt your abilities. Know that I will never be one of those people.”

Shinsou sniffed, wiping his face with his sleeve. His eyes continued to shimmer with unfallen tears, but Aizawa saw a change on his face.

“There is so much potential in you, Hitoshi. And I don’t simply say that as your d—as your guardian. I think you can do anything you set your mind to.”

Suddenly, Shinsou wrapped his arms around Aizawa’s middle in a tight hug, like he never had done before.

“Thank you…” His voice was muffled as he talked into Aizawa’s scarf.

“It’s no problem, kid. Now, I’ll go make us some dinner, okay?”

He stood up to leave. As he approached the doorway, he heard Shinsou clear his throat.

“Dad… I want to be a hero.”

---

Aizawa watched the screens closely, eyes tracking each of the potential students as they smashed faux villains left and right. Of course, there was one boy in particularly he was looking out for.

“I’m afraid we are unable to give any special considerations to Shinsou, Aizawa. It would be un—”

“I’m well aware, Principal Nezu, sir. I don’t expect you to be biased towards him. In fact, both he and I want the opposite. If Hitoshi is able to get into the hero course, he wants it to be on his own merit, not because I am a teacher here.”

“Principled as always, Aizawa! I had expected nothing less!”

But as Aizawa watched, he almost wished he had tried to sway things a little in Shinsou’s favour. The boy looked lost amongst the other kids with their powerful, physical Quirks, who could incapacitate the robots with ease. There was almost no way of making his Quirk work to his advantage in this entrance exam. Aizawa knew himself just how unfair it all really was and was angry that the school was unable to come up with an exam that didn’t stack the odds against those with non-physical Quirks.

Time was almost up and Aizawa could see the panic on Shinsou’s face. Most of the robots were lying destroyed around him.

Suddenly, the zero-point robot burst onto the scene and everybody began to scramble to get out of its path. Some knew that they had accumulated plenty of points already, while others began to run in the search of more one and two-point targets. Shinsou stood frozen.

“Come on, Hitoshi…” Aizawa murmured, holding his hands to his face. He wished he had been able to tell Shinsou about the nature of the entrance of the exam, about rescue points. But even if he had, would Shinsou have been able to do anything about it? Most of the kids were already running – it wasn’t like they needed brainwashing in order to get out of the way.

“Tiiiiiiiiiiime’s up!” Mic announced over his speakers.

Shinsou had earned zero points.

---

“You know, there are opportunities to move up into the hero course at a later time, Hitoshi.”

Shinsou slumped over the dining table, head resting on his folded arms.

“I thought… I thought maybe I could do it. Get into the hero course. But against the likes of them? I had no chance.”

Aizawa sat beside him, pushing a mug of tea towards him.

“Drink this and listen to me. You’re not weak, Hitoshi. Your Quirk has a lot of potential, more so even than those of the kids that get let into the hero course. There’s a reason I’ve cut students from my class many times before. And that’s because I see no potential in them.”

Shinsou smirked a little as he sipped his tea. “Brutal.”

“You could say so. But what am I always telling you?”

“To be logical about stuff.”

“Yes. I see no purpose in letting these kids hang onto dreams that they clearly can’t achieve. I would say the same to you, if that’s what I truly thought. But it isn’t. So, I want you to see your admission to general studies as an opportunity, rather than some kind of punishment. You still got into U.A, which is an achievement in itself.”

“Yeah, but it’s the shit course nobody cares about.”

Aizawa gave him a light tap on the back of the head. “What did I say about the language?”

Shinsou laughed and Aizawa shook his head.

“I won’t pretend like the hero course and its students aren’t considered the most important at U.A. Because they are, and everyone knows that. But, as I said, you have your opportunities to get there. Show them exactly what you’re capable of. You need to take those opportunities, you understand? Give everything you have.”

Shinsou was quiet, looking down into his teacup, contemplating.

“And you better not say to me that it isn’t possible. Because I know from personal experience that that isn’t true.”

Aizawa stood up and walked over to the fridge, pulling out ingredients for dinner. He waited, seeing if Shinsou would pick up on what he had just said.

“Wait…”

There it was.

“You moved from general studies into the hero course?”

Aizawa looked at him and smiled.

“Early in my first year, just after the Sports Festival – I placed third.”

---

Everything felt hazy. The last thing Aizawa could remember was erasing the Quirk of the hand villain before his head was crushed into the ground.

Now he was somewhere else. He could her a faint beeping noise. A heart monitor. Hospital.

He couldn’t see anything as his whole face was covered in bandages. Neither of his arms would move, each one shattered to pieces by the vicious villain with the exposed brain.

Had All Might arrived after he’d blacked out? Were the students safe?

Of course, he couldn’t ask any of this. He barely felt that he could breathe. Every part of him ached, particularly the elbow that had been disintegrated right down to the muscle tissue. Would that ever fully heal? Then there was the damage to his face, to his eyes…

He could hear a voice, muffled, coming from behind a door somewhere. It sounded like Shinsou.

Aizawa wanted to tell him that everything was fine. But, even if he were able to speak, he couldn’t do that. Maybe things weren’t fine. Maybe his students had been killed and he couldn’t stop it. How could he face a return to the real world if that were the case?

What if Shinsou had been there, too?

He faded out of consciousness again.

---

“Mr Aizawa, your son is here to see you.”

He attempted to sit up in bed, but the nurse’s hand pushed him gently back down onto the pillows. Despite his attempts to leave as soon as he could, the doctors had insisted that he say another night. He felt by no means better, but it was unbearable being stuck in bed when there was so much he had to sort out, so many people he had to speak to.

“Just rest, Dad.”

It wasn’t often that Shinsou referred to him as ‘dad’, at least not in public and much less frequently as he’d gotten older. But it always made Aizawa’s heart warm whenever he heard it.

“They told me everyone was fine, but I wasn’t sure if they were lying to save me stress.”

“It’s true. Everyone’s fine. Thirteen got it bad, but they’ll survive. All Might and that kid from your class – I think you said his name was Midoriya – were sent to Recovery Girl, and they’re fine too. Relax, okay?”

Aizawa breathed a sigh of relief.

“You look kind of like a mummy, you know. I thought people only got bandaged up like that in kids’ cartoons.” Aizawa could hear the humour in Shinsou’s voice. It was enough to make him smile, even though his lips were hidden beneath the white wraps across his face.

“Were you okay looking after yourself last night? Did you eat?”

Aizawa could almost hear the eyeroll.

“Yeah, I’m fifteen, you know, not a toddler. Have at least a little faith in me.”

“You know I have plenty of faith in you. Just not when it comes to making yourself a proper meal.”

“Who said I made anything?”

“Hitoshi…”

“Mic came over once he’d dealt with all the police stuff and we ordered takeout.”

“Tell him he’s a terrible role model.”

---

“Hitoshi’s been playing a good game. You’ve raised him to be a clever one, Shouta.”

“Nothing to do with my input. He’s always been smart, especially when it comes to using his Quirk. The real question, Hizashi, is how he’s going to fare when up against Midoriya.”

Aizawa had been impressed with Shinsou all the way through the obstacle course and cavalry battle, though he wasn’t exactly sure where he stood on the moral side of the boy’s tactics. But, then again, Shinsou was willing to do whatever it took, knowing that this was one of the few opportunities he’d have to truly shine.

Hizashi turned his microphone back on and waited for a moment as the cameras started up before screeching, “We’re back and let’s welcome our first fighters!”

Aizawa watched as Midoriya walked out into arena, then Shinsou. He knew that he had potential to win this fight, seeing as, to Aizawa’s knowledge, Midoriya had no idea how Shinsou’s Quirk worked.

 “Begin!!”

Aizawa could see that Shinsou was speaking, but nobody in the stadium, other than perhaps Midnight refereeing, could hear what they were saying. Whatever it was, Midoriya seemed to become riled almost instantly, yelling something back at Shinsou when…

“The fight has just begun and Izuku Midoriya is… completely frozen!”

Aizawa was impressed by just how surprised Hizashi was managing to sound, seeing as he knew fully well how Shinsou’s Quirk worked after having had it used on him on more than one occasion.

This should be it. All he has to do now is wait for Midoriya to walk out of the ring. But… Knowing Midoriya, there’s a chance it won’t be that simple.

Everyone in the stadium could feel the tension, watching Midoriya make his way slowly towards the edge of the battlefield. A few more steps and he’d be out, and Shinsou would have the first victory of these one-on-one match-ups.

Suddenly, a powerful gust of air whipped up from Midoriya’s fingers, sending the dust of the battlefield flying in Shinsou’s direction, the force of it almost knocking him over.

Aizawa’s eyes widened.

There was no underestimating Midoriya’s strength.

He watched as the panic and desperation seemed to rise in Shinsou, who had never had somebody break out of his brainwashing all by themselves.

Don’t lose your nerve, Hitoshi.

Midoriya rushed at him, and Aizawa could see that he understood the intricacies of Shinsou’s Quirk. Although Shinsou was continuing to throw questions at him, trying to get him to shout back, nothing seemed to be fooling Midoriya.

It was then that Aizawa wished he’d done more hand-to-hand combat training with him.

Shinsou was on the ground, flipped right over Midoriya’s head with a well-timed throw. He feet lay just out of bounds, and Midnight raised her hand to declare Midoriya the winner.

“Tough luck for Hitoshi,” Hizashi murmured, covering up his microphone for a moment before returning to his commentating duties, announcing to the whole stadium that Midoriya would be advancing to the next round.

In the stands, Aizawa could see the pro heroes muttering amongst themselves. He wished he could hear exactly what they were saying… But he could guess pretty well. Even though Midoriya had broken free, Shinsou’s power had clearly been on show for all to see.

Hitoshi, this isn’t the end for you. The world will know your strength the way I do. Be patient for now, that’s all I ask of you.

---

“I tried…”

“I know you did. There’s two more years of the Sports Festival, so don’t think this is the time to just give up.”

“I know…”

“I’m going to do more training with you. Your Quirk is powerful, but you still lack many basic combat skills and techniques. Knowing those things will give you the upper-hand if you come up against somebody like that again.”

Shinsou sighed as he tied up his shoes, now dressed back in his normal clothes following the end of the Sports Festival. He’d been to Recovery Girl for the minor bump to the back of his head that he’d received when Midoriya threw him, but apart from that, he had been watching in the stands with the other kids from general studies. Aizawa had told him to observe how the other students were fighting, not just with their Quirks, but with all their athletic ability, too.

“That Bakugou is really something, isn’t he? You’d think he would be happy getting first place. Some people are just never satisfied…” he grumbled, pulling his bag over his shoulder.

“Bakugou has a… Let’s say complex relationship with winning.”

“More like a complex relationship with being a psycho.”

“Hitoshi…”

“I know, I know. Don’t call people psychos. I got it.”

Aizawa sighed and gave his hair a little ruffle. It was getting long, seeming to grow outwards rather than downwards. But trying to get him a haircut was futile. Who knew where his adversity to hairstyling could have possibly come from?

“Sometimes I wish I had been born the same as people like Midoriya and Bakugou. Maybe then things would go my way. Just for once. Maybe all of this wouldn’t be so hard,” Shinsou said as they walked back towards the apartment. His shoulders were hunched, hands pulling on the straps of his P.E kit bag.

“Not necessarily. People have their own problems to deal with. Midoriya is powerful, but he can’t control his Quirk – you saw that. Bakugou struggles with his own pride and misguided motivations.”

“Yeah, so? Those are things that they can eventually control, probably. If they just work hard enough at it. But I can’t change what I’ve been born with, can I?”

Aizawa used his scarf to stop Shinsou in his tracks and turn him around to look at him directly.

“How many times have I told you to stop treating your Quirk like a curse?”

Shinsou looked at the ground. “It’s always felt that way, though.”

“Everyone has their own shit to deal with. And you either wallow in self-pity for the rest of your life, or you take that shit and you work on it. You work until there is nobody left on this earth who doesn’t know that Hitoshi Shinsou is a great hero, you understand?”

Shinsou’s big eyes looked up at him, the dark-circles beneath them emphasized in the glow of the streetlamp. He looked so tired, yet so determined. Aizawa could see that a flame still burned within him, brighter now than ever before.

Shinsou smiled, then started to laugh.

“What’s funny?”

“Whatever happened to watching your language?”

“Don’t think I won’t use this scarf on you, kid. You’ve been warned.”

“Bring it, old man.”

---

Epilogue

Aizawa fumbled with his keys in the lock, trying to juggle his two bags of groceries. When he finally did manage to get the door open and the food placed on the counter top, he noticed that a shadow had followed him into the kitchen.

When he turned around, he saw a tiny black cat looking up at him with luminous green eyes. It mewed at him, licked its paw, then scampered off towards Shinsou’s room.

“Hitoshi?”

“Yeah?”

“Where did this cat come from?”

Shinsou looked at him with feigned innocence. “Oh, you mean that cat?”

He pointed to the kitten who had curled up on the end of his bed, right next to the elderly Mari, who was fast asleep as usual.

“Yes, of course I mean that cat. The cat that has suddenly appeared in my apartment without my knowledge.”

“Dad, I think you must be starting to get forgetful in your old age…”

“Old-?”

“You came with me to the shelter to pick him up. You signed the adoption papers and everything.”

Shinsou pulled out his phone and held it up for Aizawa to see. He’d taken multiple selfies at the shelter with Aizawa in the background, looking in a daze.

“You little—”

Shinsou smiled sweetly. Or at least, as sweetly as it was possible for him to while masking a cocky grin.

“You’re grounded for a month. Two months. The rest of the year.”

“But I can keep the cat, right?”

Aizawa rolled his eyes.

“Don’t be ridiculous. Obviously we’re keeping the cat.”