Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

“This is your new classmate, Shinsou Hitoshi.”

It’d taken over a year to get to this point.

Over a year of his entire life being upturned, uprooted, and everything in it changing enough that the life he had now was entirely unrecognizable from the life he’d had before—the life he’d come to UA with.

The only sound Hitoshi heard in the deadly silent classroom was himself drawing in a deep breath, stirring the rumbling anticipation inside him as he raised his eyes to the nineteen pairs of eyes trained on him, watching his every move, studying him. He held the class’s gaze for a long moment, standing in front of nineteen desks, nineteen pairs of eyes, and nineteen students, now his fellow classmates.

He let out that breath he’d taken slowly, and even under the close scrutiny of his new classmates, Hitoshi had to fight to keep his usual sotic, neutral expression. A strong, unrelenting gaze, a slight frown—to any of the nineteen other students, it might look flawless, effortless, but Hitoshi knew better.

He’d wanted this his entire life.

Sixteen years. Sixteen years of focusing almost solely on getting here and not much else. Sixteen years of being told it was impossible, that he couldn’t do it, that a person like him would never become a hero. Years and years of hearing that and every combination thereof from the people surrounding him, until he’d come to UA and people had started believing in him. And now he was here, standing in front of nineteen other students—heroics students.

It’d taken sixteen years and a year of training and having his entire life uprooted to get here. Here, to the hero course. But his transfer was complete now. The paperwork was done and accepted and this was his class now. In the very back of the classroom there was an empty desk, a desk designated for him. He’d finally done it.

Hitoshi had a reputation to uphold, though. He couldn’t show his excitement or his anticipation for this moment, no matter how many months he’d spent looking forward to this very moment, when Aizawa-sensei introduced him as the new heroics student to his class.

Hitoshi bowed, letting out another breath as he tried to contain himself. There was a lot going on inside of him, a lot stirring and flowing through his body, making him feel a little too full, like he had too many emotions and they were threatening to spill over the edge. It wasn’t like he’d never dealt with this; this year had been a lot of changes—a lot of good changes, changes that had caused Hitoshi to feel emotions at a scale that he wasn’t sure that he was capable of.

“Thank you for having me,” Hitoshi said, standing back up to face the class once more. He could recognize most of them, but couldn’t put names to faces or quirks for the vast majority. These were the people he’d be learning with for the next two years, until the day he’d graduate from UA with his hero’s license.

The people he’d met before, during the sports festival, in the hallways, and during the joint training exercise. Every one of them stared at him, silent and almost unmoving. Hitoshi was suddenly acutely aware of the fact that not everything inside of him was positive.

He opened his mouth. Nothing more came out. Just silence. Horrible, deafening silence.

The words were right there, right at the front of his head, but they stuck in his throat, forming an unmoving lump whenever he tried to speak—

I’m not here to make friends.

The words wouldn’t come. He tried and tried, but they wouldn’t. Hitoshi swallowed hard and glanced back, over his shoulder, eyes quickly finding Aizawa.

“Go take your seat,” Aizawa said simply from behind his desk, pausing as he flipped through the papers containing his morning announcements. Hitoshi was almost immediately filled to the brim with relief and gave him a short nod.

He ducked his head, ignoring all the eyes on him. The silence still hung heavy in the air, reminding Hitoshi of what he hadn’t said. He shook it off, keeping his shoulders high and his gaze trained on his goal as he started to move towards his new desk.

His seat was at the back of the classroom, right next to the black-haired girl with the Creation quirk. He’d known beforehand that he’d be in the back, since he’d seen the seating chart at home. At least in the back, he could hide away from other’s eyes, where no one could stare at him without being called out by their teacher.

The relief from before just flooded Hitoshi more when he actually took his seat. A few students did turn to look at him, but he just ducked his head away, resting his cheek on his hand and fixing his gaze on the front of the classroom, where Aizawa-sensei was writing on the chalkboard. He measured his breathing, in and then out, slowly, and as the moments of silence dragged on, the students gradually returned to looking at the front of the classroom where their teacher was.

Once their eyes were away, Hitoshi ran a hand through his hair. Everything inside of him was clashing—the excitement to be here, the relief he felt at finally hearing himself be introduced as a heroics student, the pride at the ride it’d taken to get here, and the anxiety at the other students’ reactions to him. None of it seemed to fit together and each of those emotions stirred and demanded to be felt, each in full and with seemingly no connection to the others.

There was one thing Hitoshi didn’t plan for. One thing he didn’t know how to plan for. One thing that took him off guard every single time he interacted with heroics students.

The students themselves.

There was something about them, something so conflicting, something that frustrated Hitoshi to no end, and it didn’t even concern their behavior. No, that was fine. Some of them could be more energetic and enthusiastic than others, but that wasn’t it. It was something else entirely, and it was that something that had reminded Hitoshi of the speech he’d made at the beginning of the joint training class. The same something that had made him want to make the very same speech just a few moments before.

He wasn’t here to make friends. He had a lot going on right now. In just a year, he’d gone from a kid tossed around in foster care and shoved down at every chance to a heroics student who had a stable home life for the very first time in his life. He had a lot going on right now. A lot to focus on. Friends weren’t something he needed, and the students trying would just make an unneeded distraction for him.

And a distraction was the last thing Hitoshi needed right now.

There were three things he wanted to focus on—becoming a hero, excelling in school, and his life at home. There was no room for anything else. Hitoshi was sure of that much.

“Onto regular business. As you all know, this is the first semester of your second year and the school is having…”

Aizawa’s voice made Hitoshi snap to attention once more, bringing him out of his own little world and back into the classroom. Hearing him helped—Aizawa was a constant, always so sure of himself, and when he talked, Hitoshi immediately listened. It was natural. Eraserhead had been his childhood hero, and had then taken Hitoshi under his wing after the first year’s sports festival. Over the course of the last year, Aizawa had become a lot more than just a teacher or a mentor to him and he’d given Hitoshi a chance at something better, and not just with regard to giving him a chance as a hero.

It was surreal, sitting in this classroom, listening to Aizawa start to go through the announcements of the day—and thinking that this was the new normal, that this was going to be what it would be like for the rest of high school. He’d be with these kids, with Aizawa as his teacher, and he’d be a part of every heroics class exercise and every part of their training. He was a little late and maybe still had a bit of catching up to do, but that was alright. He was here now.

It’d all be alright, even if there were still parts Hitoshi hadn’t quite planned for. Even if he didn’t know what to do about the other students yet.

The other kids would eventually get used to him, too, he knew. Eventually, they’d stop staring. They’d stop whispering. They’d stop approaching him. They’d get used to him and they’d realize that Hitoshi just needed to be left alone so he could focus on school. Hitoshi was polite to them and had worked with them when put on a team, but he had to remind himself that he was here to become a hero and learn, not to make friends with others.

Hitoshi could make friends after he graduated, after he started to establish himself as a hero in a world overflowing with villains. For now, he had a full life, and a lot of things to focus on. He didn’t need to add one more thing.

It was exciting. Here, in the back of the room, Hitoshi felt that excitement bubbling up again now that the other students had looked away, and he fought to keep it down. He wasn’t sure what to do if the others saw him acting so excited, and he wondered if any of them even had an inkling of the type of work it’d taken just to get here. He doubted it and though he’d begun to abandon his previous mindset of everyone else being blessed, all these students had to do was have a physical quirk that allowed them to pass the physical entrance exam. Nothing more.

He was excited, but he just… didn’t exactly want to show off his emotions quite yet. He was just beginning to learn how to do that again and he wasn’t quite ready to show it to people he barely knew and was trying to keep his distance from in the first place.

“...I’m sorry, I wasn’t aware that you all find your new classmate more interesting to stare at than your teacher. Maybe I should just end the announcements here and not tell you all when your next exam is.”

Hitoshi startled in his seat, too, at the tight-voiced scolding from Aizawa at the front of the classroom. It wasn’t directed at him, he knew, but it still managed to drag Hitoshi back down to earth. Lost in his thoughts about his fellow students, Hitoshi hadn’t noticed that a few more heads had turned towards him again and some gazes had drifted back to staring.

He was grateful for Aizawa’s scolding and let out a small sigh, sitting up more and keeping his eyes on the front of the classroom, even as a groan of unhappiness and protests erupted from the rest of his nineteen new classmates.

More excitement managed to creep into his body, taking root in his stomach and making him feel strangely giddy.

Was it going to be like this all day? It wasn’t like Hitoshi hadn’t been at UA for the past year. It’d be different if he was an entirely new student who hadn’t been here at all last year. The general education classes weren’t too far away and Hitoshi had even had actual classes with Aizawa before, besides their training sessions, since Aizawa taught an ethics course. But Hitoshi still found this all to be so new, exciting and nerve-wracking all at once, and he couldn’t seem to get over the notion that he was in the heroics course—and it seemed that his new classmates were preoccupied with him being here, too.

“Now that I have all your attention,” Aizawa went on at the front of the room, after the class had quieted down once more. “You’ll be having a school-wide exam at the end of the month. In order to prepare, I suggest you all—”

Hitoshi could feel the bubbling in his chest again, warm and filling him to the brim.

He glanced around the room, finding that the rest of the students had finally stopped looking at him and at last, Hitoshi let a small, genuine smile spread onto his face. He just hoped that none of his new classmates caught it.

It was like that all day. All day, Hitoshi caught other students looking at him, staring, caught a couple whispers here and there. All day, he avoided the others, ducking out of their way when they tried to approach him. And all day, his introduction to his new class stuck around in his head, refusing to leave, and by the time Hitoshi got home, he couldn’t stop thinking about it.

He sat at the dining room table, a blanket draped over his lap and his math homework open in front of him. The sounds of his parents’ usual back and forth chatting over cooking dinner filled the room. The dying light of an April evening shone through the open front windows, a breeze tickling the exposed skin of Hitoshi’s arms as he tried to focus.

Hitoshi usually didn’t have much of a problem with focusing, but every time he looked down at the problems he was supposed to be solving, the numbers and formulas just seemed to get more and more jumbled up. He was starting to think it was useless to try. It wouldn’t be bad if Hitoshi didn’t get it done tonight, since it wasn’t due until next week, but… he just hated how horribly, completely distracted he was.

Focusing seemed completely impossible. This was rare. Shinsou Hitoshi was a good student who threw himself into any work he was given, even if he wasn’t a big fan of math. That was something that he prided himself on, and that was something his teachers liked about him, too. But right now—it was just so hard to focus, and Hitoshi’s mind felt like it was going around in circles, turning itself over again and again.

Hitoshi shivered as the breeze reached through the open windows again and chilled him, and he finally threw his pencil down at his notebook a little too hard, and pulled the blanket on his lap up over his shoulders. He stared down at the notebook and the pencil pathetically laying on the page, and it still refused to tell him the answers, or even let him focus on it. Even now, staring directly at the page, eyes narrowed and mouth set into a thin frown, Hitoshi still drifted, every time, going back to earlier today and what had happened when he’d been introduced to the class.

It felt like he’d been sitting here for hours, struggling to even complete two math problems, stewing about what he’d said and what he hadn’t said. Finally, he just blurted it out, head snapping up to face his new adopted parents as they were getting dinner ready in the kitchen.

“Don’t you think I should’ve said something more? Something like what I said at the joint training class?”

The chatting stopped, as did the banging of pots and pans and the rhythmic sound of a knife cutting vegetables. Everything stopped the moment he blurted it out, and suddenly, two pairs of eyes were on him.

There were a lot of things his new classmates didn’t know about Hitoshi. There were a lot of things that Hitoshi wanted to keep to himself, not really because they were secrets, but because these things belonged to him and right now, he didn’t want to share them with anyone. Hitoshi was peculiar about things he considered his, after not having things he could consider his own for a long time, and sometimes he just wanted to hide those things away for a while and not tell anyone. It was his, private and for himself, and there were some things he didn’t want to share.

One of those things was the fact that Hitoshi’s parents were their strict homeroom teacher and their loud English teacher, both of whom turned to look at him the second Hitoshi blurted his troubles out.

Aizawa Shouta and Yamada Hizashi were standing in the kitchen together, both of them looking and acting completely different from how they usually did at school—and different entirely from how they acted as heroes. Yamada was dressed down, without his ridiculous hairstyle, with an apron tied around his waist and a small, quiet grin on his face. Stranger still, Aizawa-sensei was softer around the edges while at home, when he wasn’t in costume, and Hitoshi couldn’t help but to think that he looked particularly dad-like right now, with his hair pulled up into a ponytail and a set of reading glasses sitting on his nose. It was still odd to see, after a few months of living here, the two of them like this, because it clashed completely with the way Hitoshi had viewed them before. At home, they just looked—and acted—like normal parents, like a normal family, and Hitoshi wasn’t completely sure that any of his classmates would believe him if he told them what they were like at home. Even he wouldn’t have believed this if someone had told him back at the beginning of his first year at UA.

Aizawa and Yamada had told Hitoshi that them adopting him wasn’t a secret. They’d made that much clear. But they’d also given him the option of telling any of the other students about it, and Hitoshi had immediately decided not to, at least for now. It was one of those things he wanted to hold close and keep to himself, locked away and belonging to him and only him. He wasn’t sure when he’d tell anyone—or if he ever would.

At first, neither one of them replied to Hitoshi’s outburst. He’d been living here for a few months now and had started to grow used to his parents and the way they were and Aizawa in particular liked to take his time in responding to things, and logically, Hitoshi knew this was just a case of that, but it didn’t help his nerves at all.

Hitoshi stared at his two surprisingly normal parents, drawing his bottom lip between his teeth and momentarily glancing away, embarrassed at his sudden interruption. He broke the short silence, his voice coming out even more nervous than before, “I didn’t really say much. What if they forgot what I said before? Should I have said something more?”

Aizawa just raised an eyebrow at him, snorting in amusement and leaning on the kitchen counters where he’d been cutting up vegetables in preparation for dinner, “Are you asking if you should’ve told everyone that you don’t want to be friends with them again? Because in that case, the answer is no. You saw that it didn’t work the first time.”

Hitoshi frowned, leaning forward to rest his chin on the dining table. In front of him was his homework, barely even half done. He wanted to push it away from him or shove it back into his schoolbag, but he hated the thought of giving up on it. He knew he was too distracted to really get anything of use done, though. He kept thinking back to earlier today and wondering if he should’ve said something more, or even if there was anything more to say.

“It… It did work, right?” Hitoshi asked, more worry settling deep into his stomach, gaze flickering from Aizawa to Yamada. “They have to understand, right? I don’t want to make friends with them. There’s no reason to make friends with them.”

Truthfully, he didn’t think that making another speech about not wanting to make friends was the best thing to do, but he just couldn’t think of anything else. What else could he say?

It… wasn’t like he did want to make friends. He was there to learn and train and become a hero. Friends didn’t work into that. He had real parents now, a family, and was exactly where he wanted to be. He needed to focus on his studies and not let the other students distract him at all.

But, he still kept feeling like he should’ve said something. After that joint training exercise, Aizawa’s class had been nothing but nice to him. His teammates had thanked him afterwards. Some of them more tearfully than others, given that he’d stopped Midoriya from injuring himself during the mishap with his quirk in the second set of battles Hitoshi had been in. A couple of them had even gone out of their way to try to talk to Hitoshi in the halls or in the lunchroom ever since then. They obviously liked him, and Hitoshi was a little afraid that just like earlier today with the staring, they weren’t going to leave him to his own devices, like he was going to somehow become a victim of their friendship, whether he liked it or not. Like he had no choice in it.

He just felt like he should’ve said or some something more. Maybe if he had, he could’ve gotten his point across clearer. Maybe they would understand that Hitoshi just wanted to learn, keep his head down, and give his classes his all.

“Maybe it’d work this time?” Hitoshi continued, his voice a little hopeful. He was hoping, praying that maybe Aizawa at least would agree with him, but he knew the answer before Aizawa even said it.

“It won’t,” Aizawa told him solidly. He was always so sure of himself, yet another thing Hitoshi admired about him. He really did wish he could be like that, instead of sitting at the dining table second guessing everything from earlier today, going over again and again what he’d said and didn’t say.. Things would be much easier if only he was more sure of himself, if he could just be more like Aizawa.

Beside Aizawa, Yamada laughed, drawing Hitoshi’s attention to him. He hoped that at least Yamada would have some advice, given that he tended to be better at giving social advice than Aizawa-sensei was. This wasn’t the first time Hitoshi had asked him about what to say in a situation. This time was just more… serious. Much more serious, since for the first time, Hitoshi was really at a loss for what to do and Aizawa didn’t seem to think that just laying out that his goals didn’t include friend-making would work.

“Sorry, kid,” Yamada grinned at him, throwing a pointed look at Aizawa. “You know, Shouta gave that speech when he was transferred to the heroics course. ‘I’m not here to be friends with any of you.’” Yamada imitated Aizawa’s voice, and then laughed again, “Now he’s married to me! So unless you want your classmates to try their hardest to prove you wrong, don’t go around telling people that you don’t want to make friends. Maybe… try to talk to them about something you’re interested in. Be friendly.”

Hitoshi made a face, sticking out his lips and wrinkling up his nose in a pout. “But I don’t want friends.”

Yamada only laughed again, but Aizawa gave him a sympathetic look. Hitoshi managed to look at him, gaze connecting with his, and part of him just expected Aizawa to try to give Hitoshi an out of the conversation by changing the subject or letting the subject drop. To his surprise, he didn’t, though.

“You can tell yourself that all you want—” Despite all the joking from just a few moments before, Aizawa-sensei sounded oddly serious, though his voice was still much softer, much more affectionate than the tone he used in class. “—But I did the same thing when I was a kid. As it turned out, I actually did want friends. I just hadn’t had any until that point. So I didn’t know what it was like.”

Hitoshi raised his head from off of the table, fixing his new foster father with a curious gaze. Aizawa didn’t talk much about his childhood. Hitoshi had heard bits and pieces about he and Yamada’s days at UA in the form of the occasional story, but Aizawa talking about his family or what he’d been like back then was rare. It caught Hitoshi’s attention, even though he’d been wanting the subject to drop. Hitoshi couldn’t deny that he was curious—extremely curious—about Aizawa’s previous life.

Aizawa seemed to realize that he’d caught Hitoshi’s attention and his tone became a little less serious, a little more amused, “What? Does that surprise you? Hizashi was my first friend. I was a weird kid, Hitoshi. I didn’t even know I wanted a friend until Hizashi started bothering me everyday. Maybe it’ll be the same for you.”

“‘Maybe’?!” Yamada scoffed, voice loud in disbelief, making Hitoshi startle a little. Yamada frowned at Aizawa, putting his hands on his hips. “You’re kidding, right?! He’s, like, an exact copy of you when you were in high school! At this rate, we’re gonna end up with him marrying another kid from your class!”

“No way!” Hitoshi immediately spoke up, voice squeaking as he nearly yelled it. He stood, suddenly, barely having time to react to Aizawa’s comforting words before he was hit with the total shock of what Yamada said. “I don’t want to get married to any of them! I don’t even want to be friends with them! I don’t want them to distract me! They probably don’t even want to actually be friends. They probably just… want something from me, or they’ll figure out that they don’t like me.”

It all came out in a jumble and he was met with silence.

They both stared at him again, and Hitoshi felt his face burning hot as he sat back down. Aizawa looked away from him, shaking his head in disapproval at Yamada with a sigh, “Come on, don’t scare him off like that… If you keep that up, he’s never going to want friends. Hitoshi, they do like you and they don’t actually want anything from you. They really aren’t that bad, anyways.”

Hitoshi still wasn’t convinced. It wasn’t that he didn’t like Aizawa’s class—now his class, though thinking of it that way was still hard to get used to—it was just that making friends with them didn’t align with his goals. It had no purpose, so Hitoshi wasn’t sure why he should make friends with them or accept their friendship if they tried to force it onto him. No one in the past had wanted to be friends with him, and up until coming to UA, his previous classmates had either been afraid of him or just wanting something to do with his quirk. Once he’d gotten into the general education course, his classmates had been friendly, but even then, Hitoshi was so deadset on his goals that he’d just wanted to be left alone.

“Really?” Yamada apparently still wasn’t giving it up, and laughed again at Aizawa. “Because Hitoshi seems to think they have cooties. Maybe he’s right. They’re a class of trouble-making cootie-filled kids. Except Hitoshi, of course.”

“Stop teasing him. You’re embarrassing him. Look, he’s all red.” Aizawa pointed, and Hitoshi just felt his face heat up more as they both turned to look at him. The embarrassment took over the uncertainty from before, though, giving him a much-needed relief from it. He didn’t mind being teased like this either, and he was just happy to have parents who could joke around with him and not make him feel bad.

“Sorry, sorry.” Another giggle, but Yamada quickly stopped and caught his breath, the house falling quiet again. It was only for a moment, before Yamada stepped over to the table, giving Hitoshi a gentle smile as he glanced down at his notebook of half-done homework. “You seem a little distracted, kid. Why don’t you come help us with dinner and work on that later?”

Hitoshi was a little too eager to close up his math homework and take Yamada up on his offer. Aizawa quickly gave him a cutting board like his own and split the vegetables with him, showing him how to cut them as the three of them talked. Hitoshi was relieved to not have to think about what had happened earlier, but it stuck around in the back of his mind, and by later that night, when Hitoshi was trying to sleep, he just felt even more confused than before.

“You’re up early.”

It was the first thing Aizawa said to him when Hitoshi crept out of his room after hearing the noise in the kitchen. Hitoshi felt like he was sleep walking, and he stopped in his doorway, peering out into the main room with a dazed look. Aizawa had only turned the kitchen lights on and it was still mostly dark outside, with only a little bit of grey-blue light coming in through the curtains covering the windows. Hitoshi raised a hand to try to rub the sleep from his eyes, but it didn’t do much to help, leaving him staring blearily at Aizawa, only halfway comprehending what he’d said to him.

“Hitoshi. You don’t have to be up yet,” Aizawa’s face twisted into an expression of concern. He sat at the dining table, right where Hitoshi had sat last night when he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about what he could’ve—should’ve—said, holding a cup of what he could only assume was coffee. Abandoned grading was spread out on the table before him, and Hitoshi knew he’d interrupted whatever he’d been doing. “You don’t have to be awake for another hour or so. You should go back to bed.”

“You’re—” He paused, words lost in a long yawn. “—You’re up.”

His eyes burned a little, but he shuffled his way to the table, flopping down in the chair next to Aizawa. He leaned forward, crossing his arms on the table and resting his cheek on them, turning his head so he could look at Aizawa, who only sighed at Hitoshi’s refusal to go back to bed.

“It’s different,” Aizawa tried instead, but Hitoshi just raised an eyebrow at him, and Aizawa quickly abandoned that. “Are you having trouble sleeping again?”

“Mm. A little.” Hitoshi admitted. He was still only halfway awake, though he was fighting to wake up more. He felt like he was drifting, like if he let his eyes fall shut, he would fall right asleep immediately, without even meaning to. He didn’t really want to try again, since at this point it felt useless, and his thoughts were keeping him up, anyways. “It’s not nightmares or anything. Just hard to sleep. And stay asleep. It’s too late to take my medication. I’ll be fine.”

He knew medication was the first thing Aizawa was going to suggest—Hitoshi had medication to help him sleep and medication he could take in the case that he had trouble staying asleep, whether because his mind wouldn’t quiet down or because Hitoshi had another bout of night terrors. Given that it was only a little more than an hour before he was supposed to get up, Hitoshi would just deal with it. He’d dealt with this all his life, and at least he had someone to talk to. He’d come out here almost as soon as he’d heard Aizawa in the kitchen.

“Are you alright after last night?” Aizawa set his cup down on the table, instead reaching over and putting a hand on Hitoshi’s head, feeling his forehead like he was checking for a fever. Hitoshi let his eyes fall shut for a moment, telling himself that he’d open them again once Aizawa pulled away, but instead, once he felt that Hitoshi didn’t have a fever, he gently touched Hitoshi’s head in an affectionate pat, and softly ran his fingers through his hair. “I know you were worried after our talk. Is that keeping you up?” “A little.” Hitoshi leaned into the touch, wondering if he actually would just doze off here. Aizawa, surprisingly, wasn’t really shy about affection at home. He’d pat Hitoshi’s head, pull him in for a hug if he knew it was alright, let Hitoshi fall asleep on his shoulder. Yamada was even more touchy with him. But after a lifetime of being starved for affection, Hitoshi felt like that was what he needed.

He still wasn’t used to it, though. Sometimes, it still made him nervous, and sometimes, it was weird to think about the fact that Eraserhead, the hero Hitoshi had idolized since childhood was now his father, who was nothing like he was out on the field when he was at home. Aizawa existed here, at home, while Eraserhead the hero existed out in the rest of the world and sometimes at school, too. Connecting the two of them was difficult, as was connecting Yamada with Present Mic. He wasn’t used to it, even after a few months, but he was trying, and he appreciated the affection and the touches from both of them, no matter how much he struggled to process it.

“You’re overthinking things, Hitoshi,” AIzawa told him quietly, but firmly, in a way that Hitoshi could immediately trust that he was telling him the truth. “They’re friendly kids. They’re probably going to try to make friends with you. You can do what you want, but I don’t think telling them you’re not there to make friends is the best option. I know it’ll work out just fine for you if you just let things fall into place.”

“You just want me to make friends,” Hitoshi murmured, sinking further into his seat. Aizawa was still gently touching him, just petting his hair in a comforting, fatherly way. It was the type of affection Hitoshi had always wanted from someone, and he was a little disappointed in himself for being so quickly lulled to sleep by it.

“It’d be good for you. Is there another reason you don’t want to make friends?”

Well, at least Aizawa hadn’t lied to him and told him that wasn’t what he wanted. Hitoshi appreciated that. His question got to Hitoshi, though, and he raised his head enough where he could look at Aizawa.

“Friends aren’t bad things,” Aizawa added on. “I used to think they were, but that’s not true. You need other people in your life. You know that. I know you think they’re a distraction, but I don’t think that’s the entire reason you’re so hesitant.”

“I have you and Yamada.” Hitoshi frowned a little deeper. Aizawa was being serious, really serious, and Hitoshi shook his head at the insinuation that there was another reason he didn’t want friends. “It’s just because they’re a distraction. I just want to focus on school and things here at home. I have you and Yamada and I don’t really need anyone else.”

“Yeah, you do have us, but being around kids your own age is good, too. Are you sure, Hitoshi?”

It was odd to think about how in just two hours, he’d see Aizawa in a school setting, and this part of him would be completely absent. Aizawa was much stricter in school, and much more aloof. He’d told Hitoshi before about how he was much different outside of school than when he had to take on the responsibility of the strict teacher at UA, but it was still so strange to see how different he was at work than at home. He didn’t think any of the other kids would ever believe him if he told them that this morning, Aizawa had sat with him and talked with him about Hitoshi’s worries in the way a loving father would, just to try to comfort Hitoshi and help him get some sleep before school. At least, Hitoshi knew he never would’ve believed it before experiencing it.

“I guess,” Hitoshi was really starting to drift off now. He knew he shouldn’t. He knew that it’d just make it easier to wake up when he actually had to get up. But he was so tired, that it seemed impossible to fight. “You’re really different at school, Sensei.”

He heard a quiet snort of amusement, “Someone has to be the mean teacher at school, right? Otherwise all you kids would be running around breaking rules and trying to be pros way before you’re ready.”

Hitoshi hummed in a hesitant agreement. Aizawa pulled away from him and Hitoshi heard him sit back, heard the sound of him picking up his mug again and drinking for it. He couldn’t deny that he was a little disappointed that the affection was gone, but he didn’t have the energy to do anything about it.

Aizawa beat him to it anyways.

“Come on. You should at least lay down on the couch. You’re going to hurt yourself slouching over like that.”

“I can’t move,” Hitoshi groaned, not even willing to open his eyes. He’d barely slept and he wanted to just stay here, at the table, with Aizawa beside him. “I don’t wanna.”

“I’ll carry you since you can’t move.”

Hitoshi couldn’t find it in himself to put up much of a protest against that.

By the time the lunch period came around, Hitoshi was worried that this would never end.

The staring, the whispering, the people trying to talk to him—it wasn’t any better than it had been yesterday and Hitoshi almost thought that it might be worse. Avoiding the other students took up a lot of energy and Aizawa and Yamada had been right yesterday; the others didn’t seem to care about him not wanting to make friends. Midoriya tried to approach him over and over, in the hallways, between classes, before and after classes. The girl Hitoshi sat next to—Yaoyorozu, he’d learned—greeted him in the morning with a bright smile and Hitoshi found it impossible to just ignore her and had mumbled a quiet greeting back. Avoiding others took a lot of energy and by the time lunchtime arrived, Hitoshi was exhausted.

So he did the most logical thing he could think of and went back to the classroom, lunchbox with his homemade food in hand, and knocked softly at the sliding doors.

His knock was answered just moments later by a very stern-looking Aizawa, whose expression almost immediately softened when he saw Hitoshi standing in the hall, clutching his lunchbox and slouching, fighting off the exhaustion from both this morning and from the other students.

“You look tired,” Aizawa said bluntly, stepping aside to let him in.

Hitoshi didn’t immediately go, tilting his head to look up at him, “Can I eat lunch in here…?”

He needed a break. That Midoriya kid had made a beeline towards him at every free moment he got, and Hitoshi had been spending most of his free time avoiding him. He had no idea what he wanted from him. During the joint training class, Hitoshi had helped in stopping him from using his quirk after it’d started to unintentionally hurt him, but Hitoshi had just been trying to win and helping had been an unintended side-effect to that. It was over and done with—or so Hitoshi had thought. Now that same kid was trying desperately to talk to him and refusing to give up, no matter how many times Hitoshi walked away from him or dove into bathrooms and supply closets to avoid him.

That kid wanted something from him. He had to. There was no other reason for him to be trying so hard to talk to him. When people wanted to talk to Hitoshi, it was because they wanted something. Sometimes that thing was more innocuous, like in the case with his general studies class—short clarification on homework, an opinion on something, a request to be on a team for a group project—but other than that, it was usually something different, something worse, whether it was asking him to use his quirk for something or seeking him out because he’d done something wrong. Regardless, Midoriya wanted something from him, and Hitoshi didn’t know what it was.

Their lunch period was the biggest amount of free time they’d get in the day. Hitoshi wasn’t about to take his chances. So, tired and looking for a little bit of rest from constantly having to dodge and avoid people, Hitoshi had come here.

“That’s fine,” Aizawa agreed, without even taking a moment to think about it. Hitoshi let out the breath he’d been holding and his shoulders dropped as some tension left his body. He stepped inside the classroom, glancing around.

Unsurprisingly, there was a sleeping bag spread out on the floor by Aizawa’s teaching desk, bright yellow and plush and incredibly familiar. Hitoshi almost laughed a little at it. That explained why he’d been so surly opening the door—Hitoshi had interrupted a nap, an offense that would definitely earn any other student a strict scolding. Aizawa did nap at lunchtime often, from what Hitoshi knew, and he’d been taking a chance in coming here because if he wasn’t napping in the classroom, then Aizawa would spend lunchtime in the teacher’s lounge with Yamada and the others. That was going to be the next place he’d go if he didn’t find Aizawa here.

The blinds on the windows were drawn open, letting the warm afternoon light into the classroom. From the looks of it, the sleeping bag was laying half under the desk and half in a patch of sunlight, and Hitoshi suddenly understood why Aizawa slept here so much during lunchtime. He could use a nap himself, too, but he quickly shook that thought from his head. He’d be fine.

“Thanks,” Hitoshi nodded at Aizawa and quickly took his usual spot—sitting beside Aizawa’s desk, also in the small patch of sunlight. This wasn’t the first time he’d come here during lunch, and it probably wouldn’t be the last, either. Usually, he’d sit with his general education classmates, since they knew that Hitoshi mostly just wanted to be left alone and kept a friendly distance from him, but occasionally, Hitoshi needed something quieter and more comforting and he’d find himself here, in Aizawa’s classroom.

Aizawa raised an eyebrow at him as Hitoshi sat down, but didn’t immediately say anything. It was just the two of them here in the room and while any other student would probably find it nerve-wracking to be alone with Aizawa, Hitoshi found it comforting, like he could finally breathe after a day of tight nerves and being on high-alert in order to keep avoiding people. Hitoshi didn’t say anything, either, sitting cross-legged on the floor and setting his cat-decorated lunchbox in front of him before he looked up at Aizawa, meeting his eyes.

“Are you going to be alright to train today?” Aizawa finally asked him, crossing his arms over his chest. “You look exhausted.”

“I got some sleep,” Hitoshi insisted, unlatching his lunch box. He frowned, remembering back to this morning. He’d wound up sleeping on the couch for a bit before having to go to school and besides that, he’d slept a little during the night. It wasn’t that bad. “It’s not like I was up the entire night.”

Besides, he’d trained with Aizawa before where he had been up the entire night. That’d been before, before Aizawa and Yamada had taken him in and before Hitoshi had learned he could talk to Aizawa about things. He knew now that Aizawa would never let him train after a sleepless night, even if Aizawa didn’t sleep well at night himself.

Aizawa stared down at him a moment more, silence falling over them again. Hitoshi glanced away as he felt his stomach growl, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten much this morning—Aizawa and Yamada wouldn’t let him get away with no breakfast, so Hitoshi had given in and eaten a bagel begrudgingly, though he was now regretting his small appetite this morning, given how hungry he was.

“We’ll take it easy today,” Aizawa decided, using the tone that told Hitoshi there was no room for argument. “We can just train your quirk today. Nothing physical. There were a few techniques I wanted to work on with you anyways.”

Hitoshi was alright with that. It felt like a compromise; Aizawa obviously felt Hitoshi was too exhausted by everything happening to train while Hitoshi knew he’d be fine. So they were still training, but not doing anything physical, and Hitoshi was more than happy with that. Hitoshi even felt a bubble of excitement in his chest, almost making him forget about his worries with the other students in his new class. There was something about quirk training that made Hitoshi even more enthusiastic than usual. He’d gone most of his life not using his quirk and being told that it was villainous and now—not only had he transferred into the heroics program, but he was allowed to train his quirk, as well, and actually use it. After so long of having it pent up inside him, stewing in frustration and having it pull at him, that was nothing short of relieving.

In the safety of the classroom that was empty except for the two of them, Hitoshi let a small smile onto his face. He tried to not make a big deal out of it, instead looking down at the food neatly packed into his lunchbox. He knew Aizawa noticed, though, and could feel him still looking at Hitoshi.

But Aizawa chose to not say anything about it, changing the topic rather than pointing out Hitoshi’s obvious excitement, “We won’t be able to go too late tonight, though. We’ll have to leave for your appointment.”

The smile fell from Hitoshi’s face.

It wasn’t that he’d forgotten. There was no real way he could, not with the calendar that he had hanging up across his bed at home, with his weekly appointments written in with red ink. He’d even glanced at it this morning, bleary-eyed and half-asleep, before he’d wandered out into the living area. It was routine, a constant thing that happened on the same day each week at the same time, something that stuck around in the back of his head. It wasn’t something that could be forgotten, but it was something that had a way of creeping out of his mind and fading against all his other thoughts and worries.

Hitoshi wasn’t completely sure if it’d been a condition of his adoption or not from the people handling his case. Aizawa and Yamada hadn’t shared every single detail of the process with him, intentionally since they hadn’t wanted to stress Hitoshi out more. This seemed like something his old caseworker would require, but something told him that even if it hadn’t been required, Aizawa and Yamada would still make him go to therapy every week. So he wasn’t sure, and he didn’t quite think it mattered, because if the two of them were on board with it and as adamant as they were about it, then there was no way Hitoshi was getting out of it.

“Don’t make that face.”

Hitoshi frowned harder, “I’m not making a face.”

He knew Aizawa was joking around in his own weird way and he also knew that he probably was making some sort of face at having to remember that his therapy appointment was scheduled for tonight, but that didn’t help the dread that’d taken root deep in his stomach.

“It’s good for you,” Aizawa reminded him, repeating the same thing that he told Hitoshi every week. And Hitoshi knew that was true, too, logically. Unfortunately, logic and emotion were two very different things and Hitoshi knew that far better than anyone. As much as he knew it was good for him and that his parents wanted him to go and that in some weird, slow way it was probably helping him, that didn’t stop him from wanting to dig his feet into the dirt and refuse to go until someone dragged him.

Therapy wasn’t torture—at least it wasn’t the type of painful that Hitoshi was used to. In some ways, that made it worse. Because Hitoshi knew how to deal with painful things. But this? This was an entirely new and different demon. An hour every week of having to sit in his therapist’s office, struggling for words and for things to talk about and trying to figure out what everyone wanted from him. An hour of struggling between knowing he was supposed to open up and not being able to, of trying to do what Aizawa, Yamada, and his therapist wanted him to and simultaneously trying to tell them that it was impossible. Hitoshi knew his emotions for the most part. He knew himself and the ways he experienced things. But what he didn’t know was how to put them into words.

As it turned out, talking about emotions was much harder than just feeling them. And not being able to talk about his emotions made weekly therapy a painfully awkward experience. Hitoshi dreaded that hour and he dreaded that trip to the appointment and he dreaded even remembering his weekly appointment. But it couldn’t be helped.

“I know, I know,” He told Aizawa, eyebrows furrowing together as he turned to look at him again. “I know it’s good for me.”

He dreaded it so much that it was almost enough to drain out the previous excitement of quirk training. Almost. It was more of a nuisance than anything, something Hitoshi would have to get through tonight and then not have to deal with for another week. Even if it felt like it dragged on forever, it was still only an hour and Hitoshi supposed that it could be much, much worse.

With a small sigh, he sat back, leaning against Aizawa’s desk and turning his attention back to his lunch. The warm sunlight from the uncovered windows shone down on him, warming his skin and making him feel sleepier than before. It was easy enough to fight off, but Hitoshi leaned his head back, letting his eyes fall shut for a moment as tension started to drain from his body once more. He took the moment to be here, to let it fully sink in.

Even if he was dreading his appointment tonight and even if Hitoshi was trying to deal with the other students not leaving him alone, he was incredibly happy. He still couldn’t quite fathom it, couldn’t quite wrap his head around the fact that he was part of the hero course now. It still felt like a little bit of a dream; Hitoshi wondered when it would start to feel real. Maybe sitting here, in the empty classroom with Aizawa, eyes closed as he sat in the sunlight and took everything in—maybe it was starting to feel more real now, gradually, and maybe as enough time passed, Hitoshi would start to realize that it wasn’t a dream.

He hoped so at least. Maybe things weren’t perfect, but they were pretty close, and HItoshi just wanted it all to feel real.

“Shinsou! I didn’t see you at lunch!”

Hitoshi visibly cringed at the loud, excited voice belonging to Midoriya Izuku, not even having to look up from the textbook open on his desk to know it was him. The footsteps running gleefully at him was all he needed, and the sound of his voice just gave fuel to the fire. Hitoshi narrowed his eyes, staring down at the print of the textbook, wondering if it was possible to just ignore him. Deep down, he knew it wasn’t and Midoriya had cornered him. Sitting at his desk just after the bell to return to class had rung, there was nowhere for him to run now.

Slowly, he raised his head, fingers knotting in the back of his hair as he looked up. MIdoriya was right there, smiling down at him with a grin that seemed to take up half his face. Hitoshi opened his mouth, preparing to tell him to go away, to leave him alone so he could go over the material before class started, but—

Nothing came out.

The words wouldn’t come out. It was right there, so easy to say and readily available. For some reason, Hitoshi couldn’t force it out and stopped himself, harsh words lingering on his lips and refusing to come out.

“I… ate lunch in here,” Hitoshi glanced away, shifting his gaze away from Midoriya. His face burned hot and he wanted to kick himself. Why was he telling Midoriya this? It’d just make it easier to find him in the future. That had to be the last thing Midoriya wanted. Telling him to go away would’ve been so much easier.

“Oh!” MIdoriya chirped, as if that explained everything. “I was hoping you’d sit with us at lunch! I kept looking and looking, but I couldn’t find you. I thought I just missed you! Maybe tomorrow you can sit with us, right, Shinsou?”

“Uh…” No, he wanted to say. He’d rather sit with his general education classmates, who generally left to his own devices when he sat with them. Sitting with Midoriya and his friends sounded like a lot. Midoriya was a lot. Hitoshi hadn’t had that many interactions with him and even he knew that much.

But even a simple no wouldn’t come out.

“I’ve been trying to ask you all day if you’ll sit with us,” Midoriya carried on, as if Hitoshi wasn’t a total loss for words right in front of him. “But I keep missing you! I guess I’m just not very good at catching up to you. Anyways, please sit with me tomorrow! A bunch of us want to welcome you to the heroics course! And you should talk to Iida—he wants to give you a tour of the heroics department, even though we all told him you probably don’t need it.”

“...I don’t know if I’ll be in the cafeteria tomorrow…” There was a lot to unpack in Midoriya’s jumble of words and suggestions. Instead of dealing with it all, Hitoshi just focused on the one thing he sort of knew how to deal with. “I might be... In here again. Or something.”

Everything would be easier if he could just tell Midoriya to go away. Maybe he’d actually listen and leave him alone and even if he didn’t, at least Hitoshi would have an excuse to ignore him. Would he leave him be if he told him no? HItoshi wasn’t sure, but it didn’t matter—for some reason, he couldn’t just say it.

“That’s okay!” MIdoriya’s smile didn’t falter even a bit. Hitoshi stared up at him from his desk, hands balling into tight fists at his sides. He glanced to the side of him, eyes flickering away for a moment, and saw the classroom starting to fill up. The second hand of the clock ticked, inching closer and closer to the bell that would signify the start of another class period. He wouldn’t have to stall for much longer, hopefully.

“You can sit with us whenever!” Midoriya went on, not seeming to notice Hitoshi’s reluctance at all, or getting the hint that Hitoshi didn’t want to sit with him and his friends at lunch. “I can’t really imagine that sitting alone in this classroom is fun at all. I promise it’d be a lot more fun to sit with us!”

“Fun…?”

Midoriya paused a moment and Hitoshi realized that he’d repeated it without thinking. Hitoshi’s mouth twitched into a deeper frown, regretting speaking up further. He hardly knew Midoriya, but he knew enough to tell that it was just going to encourage him to talk more, rather than leaving and sitting down at his seat.

Even if that was the last thing he wanted, it didn’t change the fact that he was curious. He’d never really thought of the lunch period as fun, and the thought was nothing short of perplexing. Relaxing? Sure. Hitoshi tried to take his lunch periods to relax. He brought homemade food from home and spent the period either in quiet solitude or sitting with Aizawa in the classroom. It was a chance to wind down and he genuinely enjoyed making his own lunch each night and getting some time to himself to eat. He didn’t want that to be interrupted, especially when he’d gotten into such a routine since moving in with Aizawa and Yamada. It was relaxing and a well-needed break in the schoolday—but it wasn’t the first thing that came up when Hitoshi thought of fun.

“Haven’t you sat with friends at lunch before?” Midoriya’s wide grin gave way to an expression of total bewilderment. Wide green eyes, mouth slightly agape, eyebrows pushed up. At this point, HItoshi wasn’t entirely convinced that Midoriya was capable of hiding any emotion.

“I—” What was he supposed to say? ‘I don’t have friends’? Even if the truth was that he didn’t have friends and never had and much preferred the company of his new family over people his age, he couldn’t just say that. What if Midoriya thought that was some sort of weakness? He didn’t want to give away something like that about himself. That was something for him to know and for others not to find out and Hitoshi was determined to keep it that way.

Unfortunately, that left him without anything to say.

His luck wasn’t all bad, though. Just as Hitoshi was struggling, trying to find the words, the loud, high-pitched ringing of the bell split through the air. Hitoshi startled, sitting straight up at the sound of it, and Midoirya jumped, freezing, before finally scurrying off towards his seat.

Hitoshi let out a small breath as the door to the classroom opened, settling back into his seat and preparing for the lesson. Everything having to do with his new classmates was confusing and even frustrating, but classwork and listening to the teachers grounded him, reminding him of why he was here and reminding him of why he was focusing so much on school and his life at home.

Or, at least, that was what Hitoshi wanted. In reality, the first few minutes of the lesson were lost on him as Midoriya’s words stuck around in his head.

If Hitoshi had to describe his performance in school, the word he’d use definitely wouldn’t be unfocused. But today was an outlier, and for the rest of the day, Hitoshi had that same feeling he’d felt last night sitting at the back of his head. Just like when he’d been sitting at the kitchen table trying to do his math homework, there was something keeping him from giving the lessons his all and paying attention. His eyes kept drifting away from the board, staring blankly at his textbook without reading the words there, gaze falling to the classroom windows and the bright, sunny grounds of the school.

If Hitoshi had to describe his performance in school, the word he’d use usually wouldn’t be unfocused, but today he couldn’t deny that he was.

Things worked in his favor, though. Hitoshi had no problem doing the school work assigned during the classes, even with half the lesson being lost on him and having to constantly remind himself to focus on the lesson. He didn’t give up, but he was definitely relieved once the final bell rung and Aizawa dismissed them all from the end of the day homeroom.

Hitoshi waited, watching the other kids gradually file out of the classroom. Some were quicker than others, many eager to go outside and hang out with each other. Hitoshi watched all of them, each individual classmate, catching bits and pieces of their conversations as they made their way out. Midoirya glanced at him, but Hitoshi made himself look busy and he didn’t attempt to approach him, instead going back to excitedly talking with the Todoroki boy about their afternoon plans.

From what he could gather, most of the kids had plans with each other. They made no secrets of it, filling the room with enthusiastic planning and talking, voices fading as they left the classroom and walked down the hallways together, leaving Hitoshi in the classroom.

“Shinsou-chan, aren’t you going to leave?”

The voice startled him out of his staring stupor, and he turned to face it. He recognized it almost immediately as coming from the girl who sat next to him—Yaoyorozu Momo. She’d hung back, too, though unlike him, she’d packed up her books and things and was leaning on her desk, fixing him with a curious stare. Hitoshi glanced around, looking away from her, and realized that the last few kids had left the classroom and were just lingering in the doorway talking amongst themselves. The only ones left in the classroom were Yaoyorozu and Hitoshi—as well as Aizawa.

He tried not to look at Aizawa, instead glancing back up at Yaoyorozu, rubbing the back of his neck as he tried to search for words. Of course he was leaving; it was an odd question to ask. But he’d been waiting for everyone to leave so he could talk to Aizawa and wait for him to be ready to do their after school training. They all already knew he was being trained by Aizawa, but they didn’t know that he’d adopted Hitoshi, and Hitoshi wanted to keep it that way.

“Yeah, I’m—wait, what did you just call me?” It finally hit him: the cutesy nickname she’d called him by. Shinsou-chan—? What a weird thing to call him.

“Oh, sorry! That’s what Tsu-chan calls you. I suppose it’s just a little contagious.” Yaoyorozu noticed his shocked, confused expression and smiled at him. Hitoshi narrowed his eye, studying her, trying to work out what her motives were for talking to him and calling him… that. Did she want something from him? She must. But this was definitely a weird way of getting whatever she wanted.

“Who—?” Tsu-chan… He recognized most of the students in the class and knew their quirks, but names were lost on him. He knew a few and had learned a few more today, but he still only knew over half the class by their quirks alone.

Yaoyorozu didn’t seem the least bit fazed by him not knowing, though, and didn’t even hesitate in reminding him, “Asui! Froppy. The one with the frog quirk.”

“Right. Her.” That immediately rung a bell and Hitoshi sort of wanted to slap himself for forgetting. Yaoyorozu just continued to smile at him and Hitoshi paused, biting his bottom lip as he stared at her. Would she tell Asui that he’d forgotten her name? He didn’t know the names of the majority of the class, but that didn’t mean he wanted them to know that. It was rude and made him come off as meanspirited and uncaring and—

But logically, there… wasn’t a reason to care. He didn’t want to be friends with the other students. So he shouldn’t care. It wasn’t as simple as that, though. It never was.

Being a heroics student was way more complicated than Hitoshi had ever imagined it would be—and it wasn’t because of anything actually having to deal with the heroics courseload. It was the other students. They were hard to figure out, hard to analyze, and for some reason, Hitoshi couldn’t bear to tell them to just go away and leave him alone. Whatever he was doing, it wasn’t enough. What he’d said at the beginning of the joint training course hadn’t been enough. And Hitoshi wasn’t sure what was enough.

“I didn’t… forget her or anything,” Hitoshi muttered, glancing away again. It was far easier to stare at the tiles of the floor than look Yaoyorozu in the eyes. He scratched at the back of his neck, wanting nothing more than for this conversation to end. “I’m just really bad with names.”

“Don’t worry, Shinsou-chan.” There was that nickname again. Hitoshi’s eyes flickered upwards and then back down to the floor tiles, and he said nothing. “There’s so many of us; no one blames you for not knowing everyone’s names!”

“I remember yours,” Hitoshi suddenly blurted out, not sure what else to say. It wasn’t the best thing to say and he instantly regretted it, but he wasn’t able to think of anything else. Aizawa had told him her name this morning, causally mentioning it while telling Hitoshi to go to the classroom early. Hitoshi had managed to remember it throughout the day, but it was really only due to the fact that she sat next to him.

“Really? I’m honored!” She chirped, clapping her hands together in what looked like glee. “If you ever need to know anyone’s names, please just ask me, even if they’re not in the class! I know everyone in the heroics course. I promise I’ll help you with whatever you need!”

What did she want—? He couldn’t figure it out. There were a multitude of things people wanted from him. Not all of them were nefarious. Sometimes they were, especially in the case of his classmates in other schools before he’d come to UA, but other times it was just help on homework or short favors. With Yaoyorozu, he couldn’t figure it out. She hadn’t asked him for anything yet, or hinted at wanting anything, and for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out why she was talking to him.

“Yaoyorozu, aren’t you supposed to be meeting with someone for a potential internship today?”

Hitoshi nearly jumped at the sound of Aizawa’s voice and Yaoyorozu did jump, startling at the gruff, tired voice of their teacher. Hitoshi finally looked back up, finally daring to look at Aizawa, and found him still sitting at his teaching desk, pen in hand and the class journal in front of him, staring at Yaoyorozu with an expectant expression.

“O—oh right! Sorry, Sensei. You’re right. I have to go meet Fatgum today…”

“Better not keep him waiting,” Aizawa commented pointedly, and Yaoyorozu quickly got the hint and scurried to finish putting her books in her bag. Hitoshi watched, breathing a quiet sigh of relief at the fact that he’d been saved again from a conversation where he was doing nothing but making things awkward.

Before finally leaving, though, she turned to Hitoshi and gave him one more bright smile, “It was nice talking to you. Please don’t hesitate to come to me if you need anything!”

Like that, she was out the door, running off to the meeting that had evidently slipped her mind. Hitoshi watched, sitting in his desk in the back of the empty classroom, his own awkwardness lingering in his body and just making him more and more confused, and in the few moments of silence after watching her all but run out the door, Hitoshi found himself wishing that he’d at least told her goodbye.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really.”

Hitoshi covered his shame by hiding his face in his capture weapon, pulling it up enough that it covered his mouth and nose. His cheeks burned hot and Hitoshi cast a quick glance at Aizawa, catching his eyes for a moment before snapping his gaze back forward once more.

At the very least, they were out of the classroom now, Hitoshi following Aizawa as he led him into the city-simulation training grounds. The area was deserted without another person in sight, another relief that hit Hitoshi hard. After a long day of dealing with his classmates, he was looking forward to not having to see them for another day. Aizawa, Yamada, even the therapist he’d have to meet with later today—they were all people Hitoshi knew how to be around. To Hitoshi, it seemed that he just worked better around people older than him rather than those his own age.

That thought made him want to tear his own hair out, and he couldn’t quite figure out why. He’d been fine earlier today, telling Aizawa that he didn’t need anyone else besides the little family he had now. Suddenly, he hated the way he was, the way he struggled for words, the way he didn’t know how to react when talking to people. It’d be so easy to just tell them to go away. So, so easy. But the words stuck in his throat and wouldn’t come out and Hitoshi was left confused and not knowing what to say.

“Hitoshi—” Aizawa stopped and Hitoshi instantly halted, too, following his lead—though he didn’t expect Aizawa to turn on him and fix him with a hard stare. “I know something’s wrong.”

Nothing’s wrong, he wanted to say. He bit down on his bottom lip, letting a hissed sigh out, searching for what to say. He wasn’t going to lie to him and tell him nothing was wrong. A few months ago, that was exactly what he would’ve done, but a few months ago, he was just coming out of foster care and still feeling like he was two steps away from messing everything out and getting himself thrown back into the system. A few months had taught him a lot, and a few months had taught him that for once in his life, he had people he could talk to, even if talking about what he was thinking and feeling was one of the hardest things possible.

At least it was easier to talk with Aizawa and Yamada than a therapist. They were family, the two people Hitoshi now knew he could trust with anything and everything no matter what. Just a few months ago, Hitoshi had been cautious in everything, but now he knew that if he opened up here, in the grounds of the empty training area, it’d be alright, and that alone was the most reassuring thing possible.

The warm April son shone down on the open ceiling of the training grounds, making Hitoshi sweat in the long-sleeved gym uniform he still wore, but he still hugged his arms around him anyways, no longer able to look Aizawa in the eyes as he measured out his words.

“I… don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“Nothing’s wrong with you,” Aizawa answered almost immediately, like it was a fact.

“Yes, there is.” It wasn’t an argument; Hitoshi didn’t argue with Aizawa. Aizawa just didn’t seem to understand, though, or maybe he just didn’t see. “I can’t talk to anyone. I can’t tell them to go away. I don’t know what to do.”

“It seemed like you were talking to Yaoyorozu perfectly fine.” Aizawa said.

Hitoshi frowned at that, staring at the road they were standing on, arms wrapped around himself. The sun above felt hotter than ever, but Hitoshi wished he had more to cover up with. He was vulnerable, putting himself out in the open, without anything but the capture weapon wrapped around his neck to hide with.

“I didn’t know what to say. I could barely talk to her. She must think I’m weird and won’t want to talk to me again and—”

“Hitoshi. Stop.” Aizawa cut in, and Hitoshi instantly fell silent. At least he hadn’t pulled on his capture weapon to get his attention this time. “You always think you did worse than how you actually did. Just stop for a second.”

Hitoshi did what he was told and shut up. For a long moment, it was silent between the two of them, the air of the empty training grounds filled with nothing. The lifeless buildings and streets lining the fake city blocks never felt so huge and looming and at the same time, small and threatening to close in around him. He let out a long breath, dropping his shoulders and trying to get himself to relax.

He was pretty sure he was supposed to save this stuff for therapy instead of having it all come out when he was supposed to be training his quirk with Aizawa, Hitoshi thought with an almost bitter amusement. Maybe he should’ve saved this all for therapy, but the thought of sitting on a couch and struggling to spill all this out to a therapist that barely knew him was an impossible task. He’d much rather be doing it here, with Aizawa, than anywhere else.

“Sorry,” Hitoshi said quietly, nodding in partial agreement. This wasn’t the first time he’d heard Aizawa say that. Even Yamada had talked to him about it before.

“It’s fine; don’t apologize. I just want you to be aware of it. I used to do the same thing when I was your age.” That caught Hitoshi’s attention and he managed to pick his head up slightly, sheepishly glancing to look Aizawa in the eyes. He was fixing Hitoshi with a look that Hitoshi was used to—but only at home. It was a warmer expression, involving less of Aizawa’s teacher side and more of the parent side of him.

It was jarring to hear about Aizawa’s past, especially here, in the training grounds with Aizawa still in his hero costume, talking to Hitoshi in the same way he did at home. Still, Hitoshi liked it. He wanted to hear more, wanted to know more about Aizawa and what he’d been like when he was Hitoshi’s age.

“I didn’t know that.” Hitoshi tilted his head up, fully looking at him now. Somehow, Aizawa had stopped him from spiraling so much, like Hitoshi had been teetering on the edge of doing before Aizawa had told him to stop.

“You’re a lot like how I was as a kid. You were fine when you were talking with Yaoyorozu.” Aizawa paused, staring at Hitoshi before going on— “Hitoshi, do you not know how to talk to kids your age? Is that what you’re so worried about?”

Hitoshi suddenly felt like he’d been thrown over that same edge he’d just been pulled back from.

He really honestly did like that Aizawa was blunt. It left little room for overthinking and questioning his motives and the hidden meanings beneath words. Hitoshi knew better than anyone that words had a lot of power and shouldn’t be wasted, and he genuinely appreciated that Aizawa seemed to think the same and put things in such a way that he always sounded sure of himself. But sometimes—sometimes that led to him saying things that Hitoshi didn’t want to hear. Things Hitoshi knew were true but didn’t want to even admit to himself, much less out loud.

“I just don’t want friends.” He didn’t want to answer; he just fell back on the same thing he’d been repeating to himself and his parents over the last couple days. It was far easier than answering Aizawa’s questions. “That’s all.”

Aizawa raised an eyebrow at him, “I thought you were worried about Yaoyorozu thinking you were weird and not wanting to talk to you again? If you don’t want to be friends with her, then that shouldn’t worry you, right?”

“I…” Hitoshi trailed off. Silence fell between them again, and over the empty training grounds. It was only the two of them and the empty city blocks, the sun shining high above them and Hitoshi’s heart beating hard in his chest.

Aizawa was right. It was all illogical. His life had somehow gotten a thousand times more complicated since joining class 1-A and he wasn’t sure how to fix it.

Hitoshi’s heart beat harder, fast enough that he was terrified Aizawa could hear it. The silence was more telling than anything, feeling as though it was hours and hours long before finally, Aizawa broke the silence when it became clear that Hitoshi couldn’t.

“Alright, Hitoshi. Try to relax. We can do some training.”

Instant relief filled him, like a rush crashing over him. He snapped back to attention, nodding, eager to shake the rest of the thoughts from his head and focus only on training. That, he knew. That was easy to deal with. He could put all his effort into training and not think about anything else until it was time to stop.

“What are we doing today?”

“Training your quirk. We’re going to play a game. I want to see if you can use your quirk in a search and rescue situation.”

Night fell. Aizawa didn’t stop him early, like he usually did, and Hitoshi appreciated that. He didn’t need time to wind down today—it was the opposite; Hitoshi wanted to keep busy, too afraid of falling back into a spiral of thoughts he didn’t want if he had even a moment to himself. The sun started to set overhead and by the time they were done and in the process of leaving the school grounds, night had fallen above and the dying lights of twilight were beginning to disappear over the horizon.

Exhaustion sat heavy in Hitoshi’s bones, a pleasant sort of tiredness that nagged at him. He welcomed it, because if he was exhausted, it was easier to rest, easier to deal with his thoughts, and it’d be easier to deal with the hour of therapy he was supposed to do today. They hadn’t been focusing on anything directly physical today, but running all around the training grounds in Aizawa’s weird version of hide and seek had the effect of tiring him out. Which, Hitoshi guessed, was probably the plan, due to his parents’ concern about him not sleeping much the previous night and their general worrying about him.

He just had to get through an hour of therapy. Yamada picked them up from the school campus and Hitoshi was all too happy to lean his head back and close his eyes for the drive. He didn’t nod off—couldn’t nod off—but at least he could focus on Aizawa and Yamada’s quiet conversation rather than his own thoughts. It was being alone that got to him, and that was the thing Hitoshi was worried about. When he was alone, there was no one else to drown out his head.

Well, it was being alone and therapy that he was worried about. But therapy was just an hour long, no matter how excruciatingly long it felt. Just an hour of awkward talking and trying and failing to express his feelings. He half wondered what it’d be like, if his therapist would question him about how school was going—and if she’d ask about Hitoshi’s lack of desire for friends.

Just an hour. Sixty minutes. That was all he had to get through. It wouldn’t be that hard.

Time just seemed to slow down in the office, though. Even just waiting felt like it took forever and suddenly, Hitoshi was more awake than ever, staring up at the clock on the wall in the little waiting room, waiting, waiting for the hour to turn so those dreaded sixty minutes could start. The door to his therapist’s office remained shut, but Hitoshi could see a strip of light coming from under it, signifying that she was in there.

Aizawa and Yamada were here too, of course. Part of him was glad he didn’t have to come to this place alone. The other part of him was embarrassed, embarrassed that they had to take an hour out of their free time to come here with him every week—an hour that would undoubtedly be better spent elsewhere. Yet, they insisted on being here with him, and with the part of him that was glad he wasn’t here alone, he wasn’t going to argue about that.

The clock passed the hour and right on the dot, like always, the door to his therapist’s office swung open and she poked her head out, giving him her usual smile and calling him.

“Please come in, Shinsou-kun.”

Hitoshi cast a glance at his parents, almost wanting to not go. As much as he thought he’d prepared himself for this, the moment that door opened, that all went out the window and was just replaced with dread. He said nothing, Yamada giving him an encouraging grin that reminded him that he was here doing this because he wanted to do what his parents asked of him and if they thought this would help him, then he was willing to suffer through it.

A pit of dread opening wide in his stomach, Hitoshi got up and followed his therapist to her office. She shut the door behind him.

Kanjou-sensei was a woman he’d only known for a few short months. Once a week, always on the same day, at the same time, in the same office. She always looked the same, sounded the same, and very often said the same things. He supposed he should appreciate the routine, as he did with most routines he was provided with, but he found himself desperately wishing he could cut this weekly therapy session with her out of his routine. He’d much rather be spending it at home, with his family, and no matter what Aizawa-sensei said, Hitoshi wasn’t exactly convinced it was helping at all.

Her office looked the same as it always did. Things moved occasionally. Sometimes she’d add another board game to the stack or another colorful poster to the wall or a new blanket to the couch. He guessed it was supposed to look welcoming, and in a way, it was. It wasn’t like Hitoshi hadn’t been dragged to mandated therapy sessions before in his life—though only for one or two sessions, with his unlucky caretakers complaining the entire time—but those had always been different, more intimidating and impersonal, always leaving Hitoshi feeling like he was just being taken to an appointment just to be sat on an uncomfortable couch and be talked at or scolded by a therapist that didn’t care about him in the slightest.

This was—different. It wasn’t that he didn’t like Kanjou-sensei. He liked her perfectly fine. He was sure she was good at her job. She certainly seemed like it. She was kind and did sound like she genuinely cared. Her office was bright and decorated, colorful and filled with little splashes of life. Her other patients probably felt safe and at home here. No, his therapist wasn’t actually the problem, as much as Hitoshi dreaded seeing her and being here.

The problem was him. It just didn’t work for him. He wasn’t sure why therapy didn’t work for him; maybe the circumstances of his life had just fucked him up too much for even a trained professional to be able to fix him. Maybe he’d always be the way he was.

“How are you, Shinsou-kun?” Kanjou-sensei sat in her chair opposite the couch, rousing Hitoshi out of his daze. He let out a breath, sitting in his usual spot on the couch. Kanjou-sensei, as far as he knew, specialized in children, and her office was decorated as such. He had to move a couple colorful pillows and smalled stuffed animals to make a place for himself on the couch, settling in quickly.

“I’m alright,” He said automatically, barely even having to think about the answer. Above her head on the wall was the clock, putting him in the perfect position to watch it as he sat across from her. In the silence, he could hear it slowly ticking away, sixty minutes now feeling like an impossibly huge amount of time.

“Anything new going on? You transferred into the heroics course at school this week, didn’t you?” She’d apparently learned that the answer to ‘anything new going on?’ was always ‘no’. He was actually a little impressed that she’d remembered about his transfer. It’d been upcoming for a while and he hadn’t talked much about it with her, but he knew she’d occasionally talk with Aizawa and Yamada.

He wondered if she had to ask what to talk to him about. He never volunteered much information. It wasn’t exactly on purpose; being here just had a tendency to send him back into a similar mindset he’d had in foster care, where he had to lock down all information about himself and all emotions he felt. He really felt bad for Kanjou-sensei. There was no way she could like him as a client, no matter how nice and welcoming she always was to him.

“Yeah,” Hitoshi nodded, glancing back at the clock in an effort to avoid her eyes. Even this, telling her a little about his transfer, was hard. After spending a decade being careful to not speak up too much or give anyone any information about himself that might be used against him, trying to open up in therapy about even the smallest things was like hitting a brick wall. “I’m in Sensei’s class. There’s nineteen students in the class.”

“Twenty now with you, right?”

“I guess so.” That was, of course, logical. But something about counting himself with the rest of Aizawa’s class felt off. Weird. Like he hadn’t been there long enough to be considered part of the group. “It’s only been two days.”

“It must be exciting! This is what you’ve wanted since you applied to UA, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

He knew she was trying to get more out of him and get him to talk more about his feelings and experiences. Usually, she’d try to get something out of him regarding his years in foster care and what he’d been through for the past decade. She didn’t typically focus as much on school, but she would sometimes ask him about his life at home.

He felt bad for not talking more or expanding on what she’d said. He could tell her that it’d been his dream since he’d been a little kid, since he’d first realized that he could become a hero. Since it’d first become a possibility. None of that felt useful, though, or even relevant. There was no reason to talk about things that didn’t matter to her or whatever therapy she was trying to do with him.

“Are you liking it?” She kept on the school questions. Hitoshi wondered if there was a way to get her to change the subject, and how to do it.

“I like being in Sensei’s class.” He finally offered. “The classes are still fine. But I like having him as a homeroom teacher. I get to see Yamada in English class now, too.”

Those were honestly things that he liked. He was proud to be in the heroics course. He liked having Aizawa as his homeroom teacher and he liked having Yamada as his English teacher. The general studies English teachers were fine, as was his old homeroom teacher, but Hitoshi liked this a lot better. He was much happier being in Aizawa’s class than he’d be in class B.

“Good! It’s great you’re enjoying things in your new class,” Kanjou-sensei smiled brightly at him, in a way that made him think that she might be genuinely happy for him. Or maybe he was just being a little less difficult today. “How are the other students?”

Hitoshi’s expression fell into a frown. He should’ve known that’d be coming. He’d wanted to change the subject, to steer her away from the frustrating topic of his new classmates, but hadn’t found the right way to do it in time. He knew she’d ask.

“They’re…” He searched for the right word. ‘Fine’ was the first one that came to mind, but that was a total lie. His classmates were far from fine. It was the word that would make her stop asking questions, but every time he tried to say it, he remembered Aizawa and Yamada out in the waiting room, waiting for him, here because they wanted to encourage him to make progress in therapy. He just… didn’t want to let them down.

“They’re frustrating,” He decided finally, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Frustrating and a little annoying.”

Across from him, his therapist pursed her lips, her eyes widening just enough for Hitoshi to notice. That clearly hadn’t been the answer she’d expected from him. He couldn’t blame her; saying what he was actually thinking was rare, especially when she hadn’t pushed too much. Guilt stirred in Hitoshi’s stomach, making him think twice about admitting that to her.

He had a really bad feeling he’d opened the floodgates to a hurricane of other questions. He tried to shove that guilt down, quieting it into the blanket of frustrations and confusion that he’d hidden everything else in.

Kanjou-sensei paused, and he waited, keeping a straight face and refusing to let his emotions betray him.

“How are they frustrating?” She prodded him, tone curious. “Are they upset that you transferred into the class?”

“No. Or… I don’t think so.” He had to stop. He was talking too much, giving too much information. But that blanket of frustrations inside him felt like it was bubbling and boiling, forcing words out of his mouth before he could stop it. “They just keep trying to talk to me. They won’t go away.”

“Do you want them to?”

A pause. Hitoshi looked at the clock. Only five minutes had passed. He was beginning to feel hot, like someone had suddenly turned the heat up in the building without warning. He took a deep breath in, letting it out through his nose.

“Yeah.”

“Why is that?”

So many questions. Only five minutes. He had fifty-five more. He’d already talked too much. He wanted desperately to go back and take back what he’d said, to tell her that the other kids were fine and everything was fine and nothing was wrong with him being in the heroics course. He should’ve never said anything.

“Nevermind,” He tried.

“It’s okay, Shinsou-kun. We don’t have to talk about this if you—”

—if you don’t want to. He didn’t let her finish, cutting in instead.

“I don’t want to be friends with them.” No, no, no. He had to shut up. This was too much. He knew better than this. He thought he did, anyways. “They’re just distractions. I just want to tell them all to go away. I can’t even talk to them, anyways. I don’t understand why they won’t listen to me.”

The room just felt like he was growing hotter and smaller, like the walls were closing in around him. Hitoshi swallowed hard, trying to force down the hard lump in his throat. The words felt loud and sticky, and more and more just kept coming, like he couldn’t stop.

Kanjou-sensei leaned forward in her chair, though, fixing him with a soft smile. The silence hung between them, growing with each and every tick of the clock, Hitoshi’s skin getting hotter and hotter until he felt like he was going to explode. The frustration had been burning over the past two days, growing as he tried to shove it down and now coming out when he least wanted it to.

“Have you told them all this?” Kanjou-sensei asked him. “Why do you think you can’t talk to them?”

“I just… can’t.” He wanted—needed—to stop answering. He wanted silence again. He wanted to be out of this suffocating room. It was no longer bright and colorful and welcoming, but instead mocking and closing in at a rapid pace, threatening to crush him within its four walls. He itched to get out of here.

The door was right there, so close to him, and yet, it felt so far away. Despite the burning in his body, Hitoshi was frozen in place, unable to get up and leave.

“I told them once,” Hitoshi continued, his voice louder, more frantic. “A few months ago. When I was getting tested to see if I could transfer. But they all just ignored that. They keep talking to me. They won’t go away. There’s this kid that… wants me to sit with him at lunch. And this girl who I sit next to in class. I tried talking to them but I can’t. I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what they want from me.”

He stopped, shutting his mouth with a quiet choked sound. His heart beat rapidly in his chest, threatening to burst right through his skin. His eyes widened and he looked at his therapist in horror, silence enveloping the room once more.

This was the most he’d ever spoken in therapy. All she’d been able to get out of him before were one word answers and the occasional short sentence. Even that was better than this. His heart dropped, the pit of dread from before opening up wider as his skin crawled with the realization of what he’d just done.

“It sounds like you’re wanting two different things here,” His therapist commented, still giving him that horrible soft smile. “You said you don’t want friends, but at the same time, it seems like you’re upset you can’t talk to your classmates. You’ve never talked about having friends before; have you ever had a friend before? Do you really not want friends, or do you think that maybe that’s just a way of protecting yourself?”

Quiet. The clock ticked on. Hitoshi coudn’t even bring himself to look up at it and see how long he’d been sitting here.

His shoulders slumped. His head dropped. His hands balled into fists at his sides. His nails dug into his palms, hard enough that he distantly wondered if he was drawing blood. All he could hear was the thundering sound of his heart and the second hand of the clock ticking away, echoing through the small room. He stared down at his lap, eyes still wide, the pressure he felt inside of him finally starting to die down bit by bit, replaced only with regret that he hadn’t just kept quiet and suffered through his sixty minutes of therapy like he did every other week.

“...Shinsou-kun?” She prompted when he didn’t reply or move. “It’s alright if you want to talk about something else or—”

“I want to leave,” Hitoshi said, voice weak and barely more than a muttered whisper. He couldn’t look up, nor did he want to. He couldn’t stand to see the disappointment on her face. “Please let me go home. I don’t want to talk anymore.”

He took a deep, shaky breath in. He couldn’t get enough air into his lungs, but he had to steady himself. He’d done enough damage already. The silence felt worse than ever before, and all Hitoshi wanted was to leave this office, to go home and hide away from the world. He wanted his parents, wanted to be comforted, and he could barely stand to think about the way he’d disappointed them, too.

“Okay. I’ll take you back out to the waiting room.”

“...Thank you…”

If there was a way to shut off the entire world, Hitoshi one day hoped to find it.

There were no arguments about going home. Hitoshi didn’t exactly expect there to be, but the possibility had worried him. His movements were robotic in nature, stiff and automatic and also weighed down with an exhaustion from the past two days. His limbs felt heavy and dragging himself from the office to the car felt worse than any sort of feat he’d taken on before.

He didn’t talk. He just shut down. Yamada and Aizawa didn’t push too much; they knew him well, knew that sometimes Hitoshi just couldn’t talk, that the state he reverted to in times like this was just silence. Yamada talked, but didn’t expect an answer, and Aizawa rode in the backseat with him.

There was one question on his mind, but he didn’t dare to ask it until he was through the front door of the house.

“Are you mad at me?”

He directed it at both of them, standing in the entry way of the house, schoolbag still slung over his body and jacket still zipped up. He felt stiffer than ever, and it was almost like the past hour hadn’t even been real, like nothing had been real since leaving the school to the time he walked through the front door of the house. He wished nothing that had happened had been real, that he hadn’t just asked to leave therapy early and completely shut down.

He didn’t get a verbalized answer, but he got an answer all the same. It was in a form of a hug, and Hitoshi suddenly found himself being pulled against Aizawa in a tight hug, Yamada joining in soon after.

For a moment, Hitoshi stiffened more, freezing up, but as soon as he realized what was happening, he relaxed, letting himself be hugged by his parents. Maybe he still wasn’t used to affection like this, but that didn’t mean he didn’t want it. It was the opposite, actually, something he needed and here he knew he could be weak and vulnerable. He didn’t get an answer in words, but actions often spoke louder than words and even with all of Hitoshi’s anxieties and worries, he knew what this meant.

They weren’t angry at him.

Hitoshi had made it through ten minutes of therapy before needing to leave. He’d made it through two days of being in the heroics course before his frustrations spilled over. He felt like a failure, like a disappointment, but even with his own feelings, he had his new family and a safe home he could come back to every night.

Things were confusing. There was no doubt about that. Hitoshi still wasn’t sure what to do about it or how to fix his issues with the other students in the class, and thinking about it made his head pound. But he was still happy. He had this and he was in the heroics course, following his lifelong dreams. That was what mattered.

Hitoshi let himself relax into the arms of his parents, letting out a shaky sigh. He could feel the wetness at his eyes and buried his face in Aizawa’s sweater, not wanting to deal with crying right now.

There were nineteen students in his class. Nineteen plus one. Nineteen people who didn’t understand, who didn’t know anything about him. Nineteen. Nineteen and him.

He wanted that number to be twenty. Somewhere deep inside, he wanted to be part of that group. He’d never been part of a group before, never had people treat him like this. He had no idea how to deal with it and now—he wasn’t sure how he wanted to deal with it. He’d tried getting himself to tell them to just go away, but in reality, he didn’t actually want to. So he had to come up with something else, and figure things out.

If only things were easier. If only those nineteen students would just treat him like he was used to everyone else treating him.

He knew that definitely wasn’t going to happen.