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Hitoshi always knew that, with his quirk, he was probably going to be an underground hero.
He wasn’t anything spectacular, his quirk subpar. While his brainwashing quirk was something that could possibly come in handy, he was always painted as a villain. What could he do with that quirk? What couldn’t he do with that quirk? His quirk held him back, and thus he realized he would be forced to become an underground hero - if he became a hero at all.
If you asked, Hitoshi would tell you he got into the hero course by pure luck.
His testing scores just so happened to be higher than that of the average hero course student. He managed to get as far as he could in the Sports Festival because of how manipulative he was. His training with Aizawa was something that was kept secret - but in the end did little to help his quirk.
It was pure luck.
Hitoshi knew this.
And it hurt him.
Everyday, he sat in the same seat in class, and watched as his peers successfully strengthen their quirks. Bright, flashy, likable quirks.
Midoriya Izuku had gotten a hold of his quirk that entirely destroyed his body, and somehow managed to now lessen the effects of said quirk.
Bakugou Katsuki’s quirk, basically perfected since he entered U.A., only grew since the time of his entrance exam.
Even Ochaco, Iida, Kirishima, everyone’s quirk was friendly, soft, likable. They were the ones who were going to be put on pedestal upon pedestal. They were the ones who were going to rank and everyone was going to ask for their autographs and signatures, because they saved their lives .
But, who was the person who he was jealous of the most?
It was the one and only Todoroki Shouto.
He could hardly be called Todoroki anymore. Shouto was adopted by Aizawa and Present Mic, however that was under wraps and the only reason Hitoshi knew was because he, too, was adopted by Aizawa and Present Mic.
How pathetic.
To be jealous of your own goddamn brother.
But how could he not be?
Shouto was, is, the epitome of all things pure. He was attractive, his heterochromic eyes captivated everyone. His split hair colors were interesting, and his soft, slightly pudgy face made him seem utterly, and completely defenseless. Oh, but how it was the opposite for Shouto.
He wasn’t defenseless at all. His quirk was otherworldly. A split quirk, his left side that could emit powerful flames and his right side that shot out dangerous ice. Together, the two made a mystic yet deadly combination and everyone was in love with the youngest Todoroki child.
Everyone knew he was going to become a hero, surpass everyone to number one
Including his deadbeat father.
Everyone knew this.
Aizawa knew this.
And perhaps that’s what hurt Hitoshi the most.
Aizawa would never compare the two. He saw them, and will forever see them, as two completely different entities with two different personalities and quirks and backgrounds. They would never be able to be compared to, for the simple fact that it’s like comparing an apple to an orange.
Hitoshi knew this, he could read Aizawa easily.
But he also never missed how, over the time of Shouto’s adoption, Aizawa would practically beg the class to be more like him.
It wasn’t directed at him, Hitoshi would remind himself, those comments about how amazing Shouto was wasn't directed at him, it was to everyone else.
He could never believe himself.
The spiraling of jealousy, the anger had led Hitoshi to distance himself from Shouto.
And all these events led them to here, Hitoshi had opted to skip dinner for the fourth time that week. Instead of interacting with the family, he lounged on top of his bed, mindlessly scrolling through his phone. Hitoshi was just about to turn off his lights to at least pretend to be asleep when a soft knock came from his door.
Hitoshi grunted, “Come in,” he called out, assuming it was Aizawa coming to say goodnight, or Eri coming to ask for a bedtime story.
As it turned out, it was neither.
Instead, Shouto walked in. In his hands he carried a plate filled with food Hizashi undoubtedly cooked. He gently placed the plate on Hitoshi’s desk and returned his gaze to meet Hitoshi.
“Thought you might be hungry,” Shouto whispered.
Hitoshi, childishly and all, murmured a, “thanks,” before going back to look at his phone.
Despite blatantly ignoring Shouto, Hitoshi knew he was still there. The subtle, awkward shifts from the corner of the room was noticeable and made him uncomfortable.
“Do you need anything?” Hitoshi asked, finally, after a few more moments of intense silence.
“Yeah,” Shouto responded, “I wanted to ask you a question,”
Fuck. Hitoshi thought bitterly. Pushing himself so he sat on his bed, he threw his phone off to the side and clasped his hands together. “Shoot,” he drawled lazily, “What do you need?”
“Did I do something?”
Blunt, and to the point. Hitoshi sometimes hated that.
“What?”
He pretended to be shocked, because what else could he have done.
“Did I do something?” Shouto repeated, emphasizing each word as if it was register more clearly into Hitoshi’s brain.
Yes.
“No, why do you ask?”
Shouto looked unconvinced. “You’ve been distant, lately. Uh, Mr. Aizawa has seen it too. I felt I should ask,”
“Well, I’m fine,” Hitoshi hissed, he admits a bit too bitterly, and laid back down on his bed. “Turn off the lights when you leave,”
Shouto didn’t move. “Hitoshi, I’ve done something. I can tell,” this time he did move, but instead closer into the room.
Hitoshi felt on edge.
“If I can fix it please tell me,”
Hitoshi grumbled a response.
“What?”
“I said you can’t fix it,” Hitoshi repeated, this time louder, angrier. “You can’t fix it, Todoroki. So, leave,”
Todoroki. Todoroki. Todo roki . He hasn’t called Shouto that since they first were acquainted. It’s always been Shouto, never Todoroki. Todoroki placed too much emphasis on Shouto’s father, and he hated that. Hitoshi knew that Shouto hated that name.
“I’m…” Shouto stuttered out a response.
Hitoshi was going to regret his next move.
“Why aren’t you leaving?” Hitoshi whispered.
He knew it.
“I want to-”
Oh, how he already regretted it.
Shouto’s eyes glazed over instantly, his arms falling limply to his side.
“Leave, please,”
Shouto pivoted around on his back foot, trudging out the door with slow movements. Only pausing when Hitoshi ordered another command,
“Turn off the lights,”
Shouto’s arm reached out robotically, turning off the lights and leaving the room.
Hitoshi released Shouto from his quirk, knowing that he wouldn’t be back.
The three series of knocks that came from his door sent a small chill down Hitoshi’s spine, cause there was only one person in the whole household who knocked like that.
He decided not to answer, wrapping the blankets over his face to feign sleeping as if this was some childish game.
That didn’t stop the person at the door to open it, and flick on the lights unceremoniously.
“I know you’re awake, kid,” came Aizawa’s tired drawl, “Get up, I need to talk to you about something,”
Hitoshi knew better than to deny Aizawa. So, he unraveled himself from the sheets and glanced up at Aizawa with tired, and somewhat terrified eyes. Aizawa had taken a seat next to him on the bed, running a hand through his hair and down his face, an almost exasperated look on his face.
“What’s wrong?” Hitoshi asked, although he knew very well what was wrong.
“You used your quirk on Shouto?” Although it was phrased as a question, it most certainly wasn’t a question. Aizawa full well knew what happened.
“He was in my room,” Hitoshi mumbled, eyes avoiding Aizawa’s gaze. “I wanted him out,”
“You’ve never minded before,”
“Well I mind now!” Hitoshi snapped, this time raising his head to glare at Aizawa.
“Don’t,” Aizawa warned, giving Hitoshi a pointed look.
“Sorry,”
Aizawa sighed, “You’re upset about something, and it’s something to do with Shouto,” he began, “I don’t know why you’re upset, but I want to know. I’m not leaving till you tell me, Hitoshi,”
Hitoshi didn’t response, for what felt like a few years. Aizawa seemed dead set on his promise to not leave until there’s a resolution. The two of them sat there in silence until Hitoshi broke, his entire body launching itself into Aizawa’s arms as he uncharacteristically sobbed out everything that has been on his mind.
About being a hero.
About his quirk.
About not being good enough.
Never good enough.
He tried to stop the words, but he couldn’t. And when he began to spill his thoughts about how he felt inferior to Shouto, he knew it was over for.
When he finished, Aizawa sighed again. “You need to talk to Shouto,” he said, “You know that right?”
Hitoshi nodded, still not looking at Aizawa.
“It’s not fair to treat him this way because of your jealousy,”
Another nod.
“Hey, kid,” Aizawa nudged Hitoshi with the back of his knuckles, causing the teen to look up with watered eyes. “You are enough, for me, for Eri, and Hizashi and Shouto. Anyone who knows you , knows this,” he continued, “You need to stop comparing yourself,”
Hitoshi nodded obediently, more tears springing to his eyes as he hugged himself into Aizawa tighter.
“I love you,” he whispered after sometime.
“I love you too, kid,”
The next morning, Hitoshi found Shouto sitting on the couch just like every morning. He was reading a book, waiting for Hizashi to finish breakfast before he went upstairs to wake up Eri.
“Hey, Shouto,”
“It’s Shouto now?” Shouto quirked an eyebrow up, putting his book down to give Hitoshi his full attention.
“Could you, uh, ever forgive me?” Hitoshi asked, softly.
Shouto didn’t response.
“I won’t do it again,” Hitoshi offered, “I’m sorry, that was wrong,”
Shouto hummed.
Hitoshi rounded around the couch, and sat on the floor right in front of the couch. Purposely facing away from Shouto. “You were right last night, I’ve been distant. You’re wrong about it being your fault. It was completely my fault,” Hitoshi sighed, “You’re an amazing person, you know that?”
“Do I have to answer that?”
“You’d already be out of it if I was using my quirk,” Hitoshi quipped.
“Fair enough,”
“I’m jealous of you, Shouto,” Hitoshi whispered, “I want to be like you but I can’t,
“I won’t be anything like you,”
“No,” Shouto stated, moving to wrap his arms around Hitoshi in a hug, “You’ll be better,”
Hitoshi gave a choked laugh, rubbing his eyes violently to remove anymore tears that’d threaten to spill.
“I’m sorry,” Hitoshi offered again after a few more moments of comfortable silence.
“I know,” Shouto answered back, unwrapping himself from Hitoshi’s back and moving to walk to the kitchen. “I forgive you,”
Hitosh got up to follow, “I love you, you’re one hell of a brother,”
Shouto smiled, calling from over his shoulder, “I love you too! Even if you won’t ever be as good as me,”
“That was just cruel, Shouto!”