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Hitoshi didn’t know why he was so nervous, if he was being honest- it wasn’t like he was in any danger or anything. He’d dealt with more blood draws than he’d care to recall, he’d been under general anesthesia a few times, and he’d even gotten a few EKGs done in the past.
Still, nothing could prepare him for the MRI he was about to get.
He dragged his feet across the tiled floor of the radiology wing of the hospital, his gown and pants shifting uncomfortably with the action. His fingers drummed against the edge of his seat until Takahashi-san slapped his hand away. He clenched his hand in his lap instead.
His heart thumped frantically in his chest. He closed his eyes and sucked in a breath, then another, and then another. It was routine, and it wasn’t like some big scary procedure. It was just a thirty-five minute MRI to make sure nothing was wrong with his head.
He glanced over to Takahashi-san, who was glaring at him. She had made it very clear how much she didn’t want to be here by complaining non-stop in the week leading up to the appointment. It made him feel even worse. He hated being a burden on everyone he met. Takahashi-san was spending her money on a procedure that probably wouldn’t actually confirm anything, and Hitoshi would be lying if he said he didn’t feel bad about it.
“Shinsou?” a woman called out, peeking her head into the doorway.
“Y-yeah,” he nodded, left hand shifting from his lap to grip at his collar, tugging until the fabric strained against the back of his neck. The woman smiled and walked into the room, leaving the door open behind her.
“My name is Dr. Tetsuya,” she introduced herself, “I’ll be helping you with your MRI today.” Shinsou flicked his eyes up to her face for a brief second, long enough to take in pale pink eyes and equally pink curls before his gaze shot down again. “Now, I see you’ve picked out a playlist, hm?” she reached a hand out to take the binder from where it sat on the table next to him. “Ooh, Imagine Dragons. Nice choice.”
Hitoshi let a hint of a smile tug at his lips.
Dr. Tetsuya continued. “Now, the MRI is safe and non-invasive. I can see you’re a little anxious, so why don’t I walk you through the procedure, hm?”
Hitoshi nodded, picking at the skin around one of his fingers. His leg bounced in front of him, practically vibrating from how fast it was going.
“Alright, so once you get in there, one of the nurses will give you a stress ball to hold. I’ll walk you into the room, and you’ll be fitted with a pair of headphones and some earplugs. Then we’ll get you into the machine, you’ll lay there for a little over a half an hour, and then you’ll be good to go!”
“Um…” Hitoshi hesitated, wringing his hands nervously.“I… I don’t know if I can do it,” he admitted quietly, careful not to phrase it as a question.
Dr. Tetsuya’s gentle smile never faltered. “A lot of patients get nervous before doing an MRI. It’s completely normal. If you can’t do it, we can always try some mild sedation. If that doesn’t work, then we can reschedule and completely put you to sleep.”
Hitoshi nodded, fidgeting with his fingers. Takahashi-san frowned and spoke up. “You’re getting it done today,” she cut in, “you’re not getting a reschedule.”
Dr. Tetsuya seemed a little put-off by Takahashi-san’s gruff words, shooting a confused look at the grumpy middle-aged woman. “Why don’t you follow me, and we can get it done?”
Hitoshi nodded again and stood on trembling knees, terrified that they’d give out at any minute. He trailed nervously behind the doctor, fidgeting first with his collar, then with the strings holding his gown together.
“Alright, here we are,” Dr. Tetsuya announced, pushing the door open. “Could you stand on that mat on the floor for me, Shinsou?” she asked, her tone gentle, “it’s a metal detector, just to make sure there’s no metal on you before you go in.”
Hitoshi stepped onto the mat, obeying the doctor. “And turn,” she instructed. He complied.
“Alright, we’re good to go,” she smiled, pushing open a second set of doors. Two nurses- or were they doctors? Hitoshi didn’t know the difference- hovered over a set of computers. One of them, a woman with frizzy dark hair and skin as dark as Nutella, looked up at him over her glasses and smiled. Hitoshi felt a bit of his nervousness fizzle out at the sight.
He followed Dr. Tetsuya beyond a third set of doors, this time into the examination room. His head swiveled around to look at all the gear, terrified of all the machinery. Dr. Tetsuya retrieved two packages from a cabinet- one with a set of disposable earplugs, and the other with a clear stress ball containing multi-colored beads inside. She tore open the packaging and handed him the earplugs first. He shoved them into his ears, making sure they were firmly in place.
She fitted the headphones over his ears and made sure they were secure. The noises around him dulled until they were barely audible. To his surprise, the pressure of the headphones against his ears was actually pretty comforting- it was something to hold onto, something he could use to ground himself in his body.
“Alright Shinsou, why don’t you climb onto the table here?” Dr. Tetsuya said, her voice muffled. Hitoshi gave a little twitch of a nod and obeyed, sitting down on the table and swinging his legs up on top. Dr. Tetsuya patted the small pillow at the top of the bed and adjusted the one at the bottom, hands coming up to the sides of his head to guide him down.
This actually isn’t too bad, he thought, closing his eyes against the harsh ceiling lights. The machine itself looked nothing like what he was expecting- it was much smaller than he thought it would have been, and it was quite open as well.
Everything was going decently- well, it was, until Dr. Tetsuya lowered the helmet onto his head.
Suddenly, everything felt like it was too tight, too closed-off. His breathing picked up, going from being deep and calm to frantic. His hands grasped the fabric of his hospital pants, wringing the fabric between his sweaty fingers.
“Hey, hey, you’re okay,” Dr. Tetsuya soothed. “Do you want me to take the helmet off?”
Hitoshi gulped, eyes flitting around the room. He choked out a small “Yes,” and the helmet was lifted away. He sat up, vision spinning, and hunched over. He gripped the sheets, then reached up to tug at his hair, nearly ripping out the lavender strands from how hard he was pulling.
“Are you gonna be alright if we do this?” the doctor asked, offering a stress ball. He took it and squeezed as hard as he could, noting that it was strangely durable.
To his horror, Hitoshi felt tears streaking down his face. “I don’t know,” he sobbed, scrubbing furiously at the tear tracks. Dr. Tetsuya held out a tissue, and he took it in his free hand. He wiped away the wetness on his face and sniffled.
“Why don’t we see about getting a sedative,” she offered. Hitoshi nodded. “Alright,” she smiled, “follow me. Have you had anything to eat today?”
“N-no,” he muttered.
“That’s perfect, actually,” she smiled, helping him off the table, “how about we try a mild IV sedative, then?”
“O-okay,” he nodded, cheeks burning. She lifted the headphones off his head and laid them down on the bed. He took the earplugs out of his ears and dropped them and the dirty tissue in the trash can. He followed the doctor out of the room, ignoring the pitying glances he got from the nurses. He tailed her down the hall, past the metal detector and the room where Takahashi-san was waiting.
“He’s a little nervous about the procedure, which is totally normal,” Dr. Tetsuya said, peeking her head into the room. Hitoshi shrunk under Takahashi-san’s burning glare. “We’re going to try a mild sedative and see if that does anything.”
“Do I have to come along?” Takahashi-san sniffed, tilting her head up. Hitoshi grimaced as her forehead wrinkled like it normally did when she was angry or upset.
Dr. Tetsuya paused. “You don’t have to, but most patients like having a family member present when we administer the sedative.”
“I’m staying here then,” she grumbled, “how much more do I have to pay for it?”
“After insurance, hopefully no more than five thousand yen,” the doctor answered, then turned to Hitoshi. “Alright, let’s go then. Follow me.”
Hitoshi nodded, shrinking down into himself. He shuffled after the doctor, quietly thankful that Takahashi-san wouldn’t be present. He followed the doctor around a corner and down the hall, turning into a small ward of checkup rooms. Behind the curtain of one of them, a child hysterically screamed. Hitoshi winced. A female voice- the kid’s mother, probably- attempted to soothe the distressed child, and a male voice spoke softly, “it’s okay! It’s over now! See? That wasn’t so bad. Just a little pinch.”
Hitoshi turned away and continued on. Dr Tetsuya opened the sliding glass door of one of the rooms and ushered him inside.
“Here, you can sit down,” Dr. Tetsuya said, gesturing to one of the chairs. She reached for a dispenser on the wall and pumped out a bit of what Hitoshi assumed to be hand sanitizer. “Now, I’m just gonna ask a few questions about your medical history, and then I’ll get one of the nurses in here to administer the sedative.”
Hitoshi nodded, tossing the stress ball between his hands, pausing each time to squeeze until his fingers ached. Dr. Tetsuya asked questions for what felt like an hour but was probably closer to ten minutes, everything from dental procedures to his allergies. He diligently answered each one as best as he could- no, he didn’t have any severe allergies; yes, he did have to have general anesthesia in second grade for a dental procedure, and yes it went well; no, he didn’t have a cochlear implant.
“Alright,” she smiled after she’d finished the questionnaire, “I’ll be right back. Sit tight for a moment.”
Hitoshi nodded, dragging his feet against the cold tile of the floor once he was sure he was alone. He was glad Takahashi-san hadn’t followed him- her nagging wouldn’t have done anybody any good. If anything, she’d only serve to make him even more nervous.
Now that he was alone, he allowed himself to fidget freely. His legs bounced up and down in a staccato rhythm, his fingers slapped against the cool metal of the chair, and he hummed a desperate tune to soothe himself. His therapist called it self-soothing behaviors, said it was his body’s way of calming itself down in times of distress. He called it fidgeting, and Takahashi-san called it a nuisance.
Outside the room, Hitoshi could hear bits of a faintly-whispered conversation between the doctor and another man. He couldn’t exactly hear what they were saying, but he picked up bits about “his guardian didn’t want to accompany him” and “he’s a little anxious.”
After a few moments, a man with deep crimson hair, a scraggly beard, and scales crawling up the left half of his body stepped into the room, a comforting smile on his roughened face. Hitoshi stilled his hands and feet, clenching the stress ball in his lap.
“Shinsou Hitoshi, right?” he asked, continuing after Hitoshi nodded, “my name is Nurse Abe. I hear you’re having some difficulties with the MRI?” Hitoshi nodded again, chewing his lip until a bit of skin flaked off. “That’s pretty common for kids your age! Nervousness is to be expected.” Nurse Abe sat down on the spinny chair, tapping his red-stained fingers against the arm rest. Hitoshi wondered if the gradient from skin-colored to red was natural, or whether it was a stain from something. “Now,” he continued, “we have a couple options. You can go with mild sedation, which is just a benzodiazepine, probably Valium, or, if you’re still feeling anxious, we can try a heavier IV sedative.”
“Okay,” Hitoshi whispered, unable to get his voice above a scratchy whisper. “Um,” he shifted uneasily, “c-can I try mild sedation first?”
“Of course,” Nurse Abe smiled. He looked at the clipboard on the table, scanning over its contents. He nodded to himself and stood. “You shouldn’t have any issues with being sedated. I’ll be right back. You hang tight, okay bud?”
Hitoshi nodded, the nickname unfamiliar but not unwelcome. When was the last time someone called him ‘bud?’ It had to be years ago at this point. His therapist didn’t use nicknames with him, and his foster parents certainly didn’t either.
Hitoshi’s thoughts quickly spiraled into an endless cycle of anxious what-if scenarios- What if I have an allergic reaction to the meds? What if I don’t wake up? Will I even be put to sleep? What if they don’t work and I’m still nervous? What if I fall asleep and someone does something to me while I’m out? Will I be out of commission for the day? What happens then? Will Takahashi-san be angry? What if the meds don’t work and I can’t talk to the doctors? What if they make fun of me? What if-
“Shinsou? Will you follow me?” Nurse Abe peeked his head into the room again. Hitoshi snapped out of his destructive cycle of anxiety-inducing what-if scenarios and jumped to his feet, following after the nurse on trembling legs. The coldness from the tiles seeped through the thin fabric of his brown-stained socks, sending a trail of goosebumps up his exposed arms. He shivered and quickened his pace. He was looking forward to the day that he got a growth spurt and finally grew past one-forty-nine centimeters.
Nurse Abe led him to yet another wing of the hospital. The winding hallways were seemingly endless, every corner leading him further and further into the building until he doubted he’d be able to find his way out on his own. After about three minutes of walking, however, he looked up to find himself in the lobby of yet another set of rooms. He trailed after the nurse into one of the rooms and stood awkwardly by the door. “You can sit down right there on the bed,” Nurse Abe smiled, reaching into one of the cabinets. Hitoshi sat stiffly, swinging his legs up so they were on the bed.
Nurse Abe retrieved a small tray from one of the cabinets and set a small blue pill onto it. He filled up a small paper cup with water from the sink and set it down next to the pill. He sat down at the end of the bed and held out the tray. “This is Valium,” he explained, “it’s gonna help you relax.”
“D-” Hitoshi cut himself off, inwardly berating himself for nearly asking a question. “It’s safe to take.”
Nurse Abe furrowed his brow, but nodded. “Yeah, it’s safe. It might make you a little dizzy and you might feel a bit spacey, but that’s all it’s gonna do. That anxiety you’re feeling is hopefully gonna go down, too.”
Hitoshi nodded, reaching a thin hand out to pluck the pill from the tray. He popped it into his mouth and grabbed the cup of water, downing it in less than five seconds in his attempt to swallow the pill. He grimaced at the chalky aftertaste.
“Alright,” Nurse Abe smiled, “now, it’s gonna take a little bit to kick in. Normally I’d have your guardian stay in the room with you for about half an hour, but since she’s not here with you, I’ll stay with you instead.”
“O-okay,” Hitoshi whispered, squeezing the stress ball between his hands again.
The nurse was actually pretty nice- he stayed with Hitoshi the entire time and talked to him and didn’t leave his side. Hitoshi found that his anxiety was slowly ebbing away, whether it was naturally or because of the medication Hitoshi had no idea, but he was glad it was calming down regardless. Around the twenty minute mark, Doctor Tetsuya came in to check up on how he was doing. She and Nurse Abe talked for a little, and she left soon after that.
Hitoshi rolled the stress ball between his hands, focusing his attention on the way the little rubber balls inside massaged the tension out of his palms. It was a bit of a strange feeling at first, but over time the motions became soothing.
After thirty minutes, Hitoshi was starting to feel the effects of the medication. His head felt like it was spinning. He blinked, trying to focus on any one thing, but he found that he couldn’t stay focused on anything for very long before he was spacing out. Everything felt weird and floaty, like he wasn’t really there and present in his own body. Was this what people felt like when they were under the influence of his quirk? He was starting to really understand how people thought his quirk was villainous. He didn’t like it.
After another ten minutes, Hitoshi started feeling funny. He couldn’t focus on Nurse Abe’s words enough to answer, but for some reason, everything that came out of the older man’s mouth was hilarious. He found himself giggling uncontrollably after the nurse made a comment about his gravity-defying hair.
“I think the meds are starting to work,” Nurse Abe smiled, “why don’t we head down to the room again?”
“Okay,” Hitoshi grinned, another fit of giggles bubbling up past his lips. He jumped off the bed, filled with more energy than he’d ever had before even though he was actually pretty sleepy. He wobbled a little and crashed to his knees. He stared at the floor, failing to comprehend what just happened, until Nurse Abe grabbed his arm and gently tugged him up. He leaned on the man, cackling hysterically at every wobbly step he took, and clutched hard onto his hand.
He let the man lead him down the winding halls again, exaggerating his steps. He shifted between little hops and giant leaps, eventually giving both up in lieu of skipping. Why was he skipping? He hadn’t done that since he was a little kid! Well, according to his therapist he was still little, but he was eleven! He wasn’t a little little kid, right?
He was so lost in thought that he barely recognized Takahashi-san’s scolding as he passed by the waiting room. He frowned, glancing over his shoulder. He pouted at her angry expression. “You’re mean, Taka-Takahashi-san,” he huffed, then turned back around. Nurse Abe giggled at that and squeezed his hand.
“Alright, step onto the metal detector,” Nurse Abe instructed.
Hitoshi pouted. “But I already did!” he whined.
“You gotta do it again, bud,” the man said with a twitch of a smile. He rubbed his hand over his messy beard and gently ushered Hitoshi onto the mat. “Aaaaand turn.”
Hitoshi stepped off after the metal detector flashed green and stumbled his way into the room. He waved at the dark-skinned nurse, grinning at the smile she sent him.
“Alright, let’s get you onto the table,” Nurse Abe smiled, gently tugging him into the MRI room. Hitoshi felt his heart skip a beat and turned to look up at the nurse. Nurse Abe offered a comforting smile, and Hitoshi felt his nervousness ebb away. Nurse Abe helped him shove the earplugs into his ears. He fitted the headphones overtop of them and helped him up onto the table.
Hitoshi frowned as something clamped around his head. Nurse Abe pulled the helmet down over him and suddenly that nervousness from before was back. His hand scrambled out and felt for something, anything that would be of comfort. Nurse Abe took his hand in his and massaged the back of it with his thumb. “You’re okay, Shinsou,” the man smiled, voice muffled, and Hitoshi wanted to believe him, but the helmet was around his head and he could barely see and the lights were too bright and he was uncomfortable laying down and-
“Hey, you’re okay,” Nurse Abe soothed again, repeating himself, “I can stay in the room with you, if you’d like.”
Hitoshi sniffled and nodded as much as he could with his head secured in place. “Alright,” he said, “I’m gonna lift the table up now and slide you back. Is that okay?”
Hitoshi bit his lip and nodded again. “I’m nervous,” he whimpered, “is the medicine working?”
“It is,” Nurse Abe reassured, “it’s okay if you still feel a little nervous. Want me to put on your music?”
Hitoshi sniffled. “Y-yeah. Can you hold my hand?”
“Of course,” he said without hesitation, and it was only after he felt the tug that came with his quirk did he realize he’d asked a question. Oh. Takahashi-san would be upset if he brainwashed the nurse, though, and Nurse Abe was really nice. He didn’t wanna get arrested for being a villain and using his quirk on a nurse, so he left the mental string alone and shuffled his feet against the sheets.
“Alright, I’m gonna push you back now,” Nurse Abe said, “I’ll get your music up and running in a minute. Would you like a blanket?”
“No thank you,” Hitoshi said, a tear making its way down his face despite the fact that he felt less anxious now. His words felt like they weren’t his own. His body floated off the table and suspended in mid-air, but when he looked around, he was still stuck firmly on the bed. Soft music flooded through his headphones, the calming beat of the song Believer taking over his senses and filling him with a temporary flood of relief.
In the end, Hitoshi made it through the exam, clutching onto the nurse’s hand for the first five minutes. He wound up laying alone for the rest of it- well, it felt like he was alone. Nurse Abe was right across the room to make sure he was okay throughout, so it wasn’t like he was completely alone. He didn’t want to look like a baby who needed his hand held, but as the time ticked on, he found himself wanting the comforting touch again.
“All done!” Nurse Abe chirped after what felt like hours. Hitoshi blinked his eyes open- when had he closed them?- and let the nurse pull out the bed. He could barely stay awake as he was helped out of the machine and into a standing position. “Now we can go back to the waiting room until you recover,” the man smiled, taking his hand again.
Hitoshi wanted to walk without support, but his muscles were barely functioning. His legs felt like jelly that had been smushed by a car. They were doing nothing to help keep him upright. So, tears pricking his eyes, he leaned on Nurse Abe.
“Hey, what are you crying about?” Nurse Abe asked, voice gentle. His tone was so soft that Hitoshi wanted to cry even more. “I asked one of the other nurses to go get you a wheelchair. Why don’t you just sit back and relax while we wait?”
Hitoshi nodded, climbing back on the table with Nurse Abe’s help.
In the end, he went back to the foster home and got a slap on the cheek for needing medication. He spent that night crying into his pillow and wishing that he’d had an actual loving parent to help him through it.
.
.
.
The second and final time Hitoshi needed an MRI, he was sixteen years old. Times were different- after the Sports Festival, Aizawa noticed his potential, took him in, and later, adopted him. Hitoshi still found it hard to believe that just three months ago he’d been a scared, scrawny foster kid in a neglective group home. Now, he had a warm bed, access to as much food as he wanted, two loving adoptive parents, and an amazing little sister. It brought Hitoshi to tears sometimes, if he focused too hard on it.
He didn’t want to relive any of the trauma he’d gone through as a child, and that included medical trauma.
Unfortunately for him, his chronic headaches decided to take a turn for the worse out of nowhere, and he was back at that same pediatric hospital, in the same scrubs, in the same wing, getting the exact same test.
Hitoshi wiped his sweaty hands on his hospital pants, leg jiggling uncontrollably. Aizawa sat away from him, on the couch, arms crossed over his chest and eyes closed, head leaned back against the wall. He was in a different waiting room from last time- it was a standard hospital room, except with double doors and an uncomfortable plastic-covered couch. Hitoshi sat on the hospital bed as a nurse fluttered around him, checking his vitals.
He barely comprehended as she wrapped something around his finger. The beeps that came from the heart monitor were so fast that they nearly fluttered. The nurse frowned to herself. “Your heart rate’s a bit elevated,” she murmured, “you’re getting mild sedation, right?”
“Uh- yeah,” Hitoshi nodded sharply. His gaze flitted over to Aizawa, who peeked an eye open.
“Alright,” she said, “roll up your sleeve for me.”
Hitoshi complied, his thoughts flying by nearly as fast as that Iida kid's hands from Class 1-A- too quick to make any sense of them, yet nonetheless putting even more stress on him.
The nurse attached a blood pressure cuff onto his arm. Hitoshi gripped the side rail of the bed as she unstrapped the heart monitor and stared at the screen. The pressure released after a moment. “Your blood pressure’s a bit elevated, too,” she informed, unstrapping the cuff, “why don’t you try to calm down a little, and I’ll be back with the medication soon?”
“Okay,” Hitoshi muttered, hands scrabbling against each other in a frenzy to ground himself. He let out a baited breath as she left the room and settled his head against the uncomfortable pillow, letting out an anxious sigh.
“Are you alright?” Aizawa asked, sitting up a little now that the nurse was gone.
“Fine,” he answered, clipped, and crossed his arms over his chest. His fingers tapped in a rapid staccato rhythm against his clammy arms. He could see Aizawa frown out of the corner of his eye and averted his gaze so as to not see his no-doubt disappointed glare.
“It’s okay to be nervous,” Aizawa said, “especially if you’ve never done this before.”
“I have,” Hitoshi huffed.
“Oh? When was that? It wasn’t on your medical records.”
“Like, five years ago,” he muttered, “same reason. I got all scared and shit. The doctor had to hold my hand like I was a little kid or something.”
“Hitoshi, five years ago you were a little kid.”
“I was eleven,” he protested, “I should have dealt with it.”
“You were eleven,” Aizawa echoed, “and you were doing a procedure that commonly terrifies adults, and on your own, too, it seems.”
Hitoshi let out a self-deprecating sigh, an awkward smile pulling itself across his face. “I should have been able to handle it. It was nothing compared to…” his voice trailed off. He and Aizawa seemed to come to an unspoken mutual understanding. Aizawa wasn’t oblivious to the abuse Hitoshi had faced over the years. Hitoshi still had the scars to prove it.
“It doesn’t matter,” Aizawa said, tone firm and leaving no room for argument, “medical procedures are scary no matter how old you are or what you’ve been through. Trapped in a small metal tube for a long time, unable to move? That sounds pretty damn terrifying to me.”
Hitoshi huffed again. Aizawa sighed, standing. His bones creaked and popped with the movement. He walked over to the exam table, crouching down a little so he was at eye level with Hitoshi. Hitoshi stared into the man’s dark eyes, searching for… well, he didn’t know what, exactly. Comfort? Security? He wasn’t sure.
Aizawa’s face softened. He reached out to ruffle Hitoshi’s limp hair, messing up the already-tousled strands. Hitoshi hadn’t bothered to style his hair that morning, so his bangs hung over his face like a curtain of overcooked pasta noodles. His eyes screwed shut at the contact like they always did. Aizawa let out a huff of amusement.
“You’re gonna be fine, kiddo,” he said, resting his hand on top of Hitoshi’s head.
Hitoshi felt tears prick in his eyes. “Thanks, Aizawa.”
The man barked out a small laugh. “How many times do I have to tell you to call me Shouta? We’re on first-name basis now, kid.”
Hitoshi shrugged. “Eh. It feels weird.”
Aizawa smiled a bit at that- not one of his creepy, soul-shaking grins, but instead a soft one that he reserved only for heartfelt moments. He stood back up, smoothing down his wrinkled clothes as best as he could. He’d opted to not wear his hero costume like he usually did. Instead, he wore a plain black sleep shirt and a pair of ugly pink sweatpants. He looked like he’d just rolled out of bed, and Hitoshi wouldn’t have been surprised if he had.
After a few moments of silence between the two, someone poked their head inside, toting a tray with a few items on it. Hitoshi felt his stomach drop.
“Shinsou-Aizawa Hitoshi?” he called, pushing the door open with his hip. Hitoshi nodded. The man smiled and opened the door all the way, making his way inside. “I’ve got your medication here,” he said, setting the tray down on a table near the bed, “take these with as little water as possible.”
Hitoshi nodded, reaching out with shaking hands for the two cups. He fumbled, nearly dropping the small plastic cup that held the medication. “Want me to hold the water?” Aizawa asked, voice low. Hitoshi nodded, cheeks burning. Aizawa took the cup, placing a hand over the one holding the medicine cup. “It’s okay,” he murmured, “it’s just gonna help you relax.”
“I know,” Hitoshi bit out, unintentionally ruder than he’d intended it to be, “I’ve taken this before.”
“Then you have nothing to worry about,” said the doctor- nurse- whoever he was.
Hitoshi took the first pill with great difficulty, having to try three times before it went down. The pill left a weirdly sweet taste behind. Hitoshi grimaced- he hated sweet things. He downed the second pill and handed the cup back to the doctor with shaky hands.
“I’m gonna put some numbing cream on your hands, just in case we have to place an IV.” Hitoshi nodded, knuckles turning white from how hard he was clenching his hands. The doctor piped a white lotion-like substance onto the backs of each hand and secured it in place with some kind of sticker. He peeled away the outer edge of the sticker and rubbed in the lotion a bit, then repeated the process on his right hand.
“Alright,” he smiled, patting his hand a little with his own gloved hand, “I’ll be back in about ten minutes. Give me a shout if anything comes up.”
The doctor left, leaving Hitoshi on his own with his adoptive dad. His eyes flitted around the room, and his breathing picked up. His hands scrabbled at his collar, tugging it down until he could feel the strings holding the gown together nearly snap. His nails scratched at his chest, then at his face, until they finally came to rest in his hair. Oh god, my throat is closing up. Water. Water. I need water. What if I die? It’s gonna kill me. Can I throw them up? Will Aizawa notice? I feel hot. Is the medication working? Did I develop a spontaneous allergy? Am I gonna die?
“Hitoshi, breathe,” Aizawa instruced, voice low and calm yet firm in its instruction. Hitoshi choked out a dry cough, nails scratching at his chest again. Aizawa placed a hand on his chest, his fingers cool through the fabric of his gown, and spread it out. “Breathe with me. You’re okay. Ready?” The man took in an exaggerated breath. “One, two- breathe with me- three, four. Hold it, and- exhale. One, two, three, four. Good. You’re doing good, Hitoshi. You’re okay.”
“I can’t breathe,” he choked, turning stinging eyes up to face his adoptive father. “My throat is closing up.”
“You’re okay,” Aizawa reassured, “your throat is not closing up. You’re just anxious. Can you tell me what you’re feeling anxious about?”
“I’m gonna die,” he sniffled, taking in another wheeze, “I can’t breathe!”
“Yes you can. Are you anxious about the MRI?”
Hitoshi frantically shook his head. Why didn’t Aizawa understand?!
“Then what? I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me, ‘Toshi.”
“The medication,” he choked, “I’m dying.”
“Open your mouth,” Aizawa instructed. Hitoshi complied- maybe the man would see his throat closing, his tongue swelling. Aizawa inspected his mouth, then nodded to himself. “You’re okay,” he said, “you’re just having a panic attack. Remember your coping mechanisms? The ones that Dr. Yoshino taught you?”
“N-no,” he cried, hands scrabbling at the sheets.
“That’s okay,” Aizawa consoled, “why don’t you try grounding yourself? Can you tell me five things you can see?”
Hitoshi’s gaze flickered around the room. The room spun, objects blurring together. He squinted, until he was just barely able to make out- “Bed. Doors. Lights. Couch. Sink.”
“Good,” Aizawa praised, “four things you can hear?”
“Um,” he sniffled, eyes coming back into focus as his breathing slowed down a bit, “heart monitor machine thingy. You. Footsteps outside. The sink next door.”
“You’re doing really well,” Aizawa said, hand moving from Hitoshi’s chest down to his lap to wrap his fingers around Hitoshi’s forearm. “Three things you can touch?”
“Your hand, um- the sheets.” He placed his other hand on the side rail, letting spindly fingers skate along the smooth metal. “Side rail.” He ran his hand over his hospital attire. “Gown.”
“Good. Two things you can smell.”
“N-numbing gel,” he answered, breathing slowing down even more, “something sterile. Hand sanitizer?”
“That’s good. Keep it up. One thing you can taste?”
“The medication.” Hitoshi let out a sigh, releasing pent-up tension. “S-sorry. I kinda freaked out there.”
“Don’t be sorry,” Aizawa countered, “how about I get your phone from my bag? You can listen to some music, maybe one of those American bands you like. Message your friends, look at cat pictures?”
“Okay.” Hitoshi fidgeted with his hands. Aizawa patted his arm as he released his grip and walked back over to the couch, retrieving Hitoshi’s phone. Hitoshi felt a wave of relief wash over him as the familiar weight was placed into his hands. With trembling fingers, he entered his passcode. He opened Instagram and clicked into the 1-A group chat. For some reason they’d anointed him as an honorary member of the class. Ever since the class battles, they’d been weirdly accepting of him, going as far as to kick out the little purple pervert whose name Hitoshi couldn’t be bothered to remember and instigate him instead.
It was nice, being accepted as part of the group. He couldn’t wait until his second year. If the grape boy got expelled, he’d be able to join Class 1-A with Midoriya and all the others. It was a pleasant thought that got him through the more difficult times.
He struggled to plug in his earbuds, stuffing them into his ears so tightly that all sounds from the outside were muffled. Aizawa sat back on the couch for another impromptu nap, eyes shifting shut in the way that told Hitoshi he wasn’t fully asleep, but he wasn’t fully awake either. It was the way he slept at school, too- deep enough that he would feel somewhat refreshed afterwards, but light enough that he could be awake at the first sign of anything being off. It was perhaps Aizawa’s best talent, aside from his ability to act like he didn’t care about people.
He closed his eyes, resting his head back against the pillow, and waited for the medication to kick in. His panic attack had left him drained, and he really wasn’t looking forward to the stress of the MRI. He tapped his fingers against his thighs, stretching his legs out, and let his playlist softly seep through his earbuds.
Four songs in, right in the middle of Beautiful Times, some English song about hope and never giving up, the doctor returned. “Aiz- Shins- ah, which name do you prefer?”
“Shinsou’s fine,” he answered, pulling one earbud out.
“Shinsou-kun,” the doctor smiled, “ready to head back?”
Hitoshi nodded. Oddly enough, he wasn’t feeling anxious, like, at all. It was even better than when he’d first got the medication at age eleven. His nerves just… weren’t there. Thoughts that would normally make him anxious had absolutely no effect on him. He wondered if he could take these all the time- maybe that would do something to quell his seemingly-always anxious mind.
“Now,” the doctor said, propping the door open, “would you prefer being transported on the bed or in a wheelchair?”
He really didn’t want to attract the attention he knew would come with being pushed on a bed, so he answered, “wheelchair.”
The doctor nodded. “Of course. I’ll be right back.”
Hitoshi turned to Aizawa, who had one eye squinted open to look at him. Hitoshi awkwardly fingered his gown, letting the thin material sift through his fingers.
A blond-haired nurse came into the room with a folded piece of material in her hands. The doctor came in behind her, toting a rather large-looking wheelchair. “You’re his father, right?” the doctor asked, pulling a lever on the wheelchair to halt the wheels from turning.
“Correct,” Aizawa answered. Hitoshi’s brows shot up.
“Why don’t you help him in?”
“Sure,” Aizawa said, standing from his seat. He walked up to the table and took Hitoshi’s hand. He settled his other hand on Hitoshi’s back and gently guided him up out of the bed and into the wheelchair. Hitoshi stumbled on his feet and collapsed into the chair. He could feel a dopey grin spread itself across his face.
“Wooow,” he grinned, “I don’t feel nervous like, at all! If this is what not having anxiety is like, I wanna take ‘em every day.”
Aizawa chuckled under his breath, something that caused Hitoshi to frown. What was so funny?
“I’m gonna put this heated blanket over you, okay?” the nurse said, her voice clear. Hitoshi nodded and felt her drape the blanket over his lap, tucking it into his sides.
“Ooh, this is nice,” he mumbled, rubbing at his eyes. The nurse laughed and patted his knee.
“Can you get your feet up on the pedals?” she asked as soon as she finished tucking the blanket around him.
Hitoshi frowned, trying to swing his legs up, but eventually gave up trying when all he managed to do was clip his ankle against something hard.
“That’s alright, I’ll help you,” said the nurse, bending down to lift his left foot onto the pedal, then his right. He wiggled his toes. The grippy hospital socks felt weird against the plastic.
“Okay, ready to go?” the nurse asked. Hitoshi nodded, flashing a dopey grin at Aizawa.
“Bye, ‘Zawa,” he waved, struggling to keep his head up.
The nurse pushed him out of the room and down the halls. The hallway was strangely bumpy, or was it the wheels that were uneven? The floors looked even enough…
“You remember this from a few years ago, right?” she asked, scanning her card so she could open the door to the MRI room. Hitoshi nodded.
“Yeah, but I was little,” he frowned. His head swiveled around, taking in the familiar setting. “Where’s the stress ball?” he asked, looking around.
“You want a stress ball?” the nurse asked, pushing him inside.
He shrugged. “I got one last time, but I don’t need one.”
“We can get you a stress ball if you want one,” she smiled, “it’s no problem at all.”
“Oh. Thank you, Miss Nurse lady.”
“Of course, Shinsou.”
“Hi, Shinsou!” one of the other nurses called. Hitoshi squinted, making out dark skin and an afro of frizzy brown hair. He vaguely remembered her from his first exam. He waved back, letting another smile pull itself over his face.
“Hi,” he called back. The nurse stopped pushing him for a second, and he went to stand out of the chair.
“None of that,” she said, pushing him back down, “I just need to open the door. The wheelchair won’t interfere with the machine at all.”
“Okay,” he said, fidgeting with his hands. He looked around at the equipment, not quite feeling fully there, but not feeling fully dissociated, either.
He was pushed into the room, body jolting when the nurse ran the wheelchair over the metal-thingy at the base of the doorway. He couldn’t remember what it was called.
The nurse helped him out of the chair, then scooted him forward. “I’m just gonna undo the tie at the back so you’re not laying on it,” she said, propping him up so she could do as she said. Hitoshi nodded, nerves suddenly flooding through him as he remembered what he was doing.
“I’m nervous,” he said, more blunt than usual.
“That’s okay,” she smiled, “you’re in complete control of the exam. If you can’t do it, we’ll go back and give you IV sedation.”
Hitoshi nodded, letting the nurse guide him back down onto the table. His head hit something hard, and he was gently yanked back by his legs until his head fit comfortably on the pillow. He stared up at the ceiling, hands clenching the sheets, and bit his lip.
“Are you gonna be okay if I put the helmet on?” she asked, tone gentle.
He blinked up at the ceiling, squinting against the lights, and let tears gather in his eyes in an uncharacteristic display of weakness. “Yeah,” he lied, gripping the sheets even tighter.
The heated blanket was tucked around him, providing minimal comfort. As the helmet was lowered onto his head, his breathing picked up for the second time that day. His eyes widened as he attempted to scoot his head out.
“No? Alright, that’s okay,” she soothed, taking the helmet off. “See? You’re in complete control, okay?” She sat him up, kneeling down next to the bed to look into his eyes. “Now, can you tell me if you want IV sedation?”
He bit his lip. Don’t be such a crybaby. You were fine last time. You just needed your hand held during the procedure. It’s nothing serious. You’ll be fine. It’s not a big deal. You’re just being sensitive.
He sniffled, then choked out a hushed “yes, please.”
“Thank you for being honest,” she smiled, “it’s not a problem. Don’t beat yourself up over it.” She helped him out of the bed, tying the strings on the back of his gown together again. He sniffled, furiously wiping his eyes, and felt himself being helped back into the wheelchair.
He was wheeled back down the halls, the nice nurse waving goodbye to him as he went, and felt his shoulders hunch up. What will Aizawa say? Is he gonna be disappointed that I need to be put to sleep like a baby? Why couldn’t I do it? I could do it last time just fine!
“Hitoshi?” came Aizawa’s familiar voice. He sniffled and looked up, tears in his eyes.
“He was just a bit too nervous for the MRI,” the nurse said sympathetically, rubbing his back. She helped him out of the chair and onto the exam table once again. Hitoshi sniffled miserably and hunched in on himself.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, “I don’t know what happened. I freaked out, I guess.”
“That’s okay,” Aizawa was quick to placate, standing up to be by his side, “you tried, and you just got a little overwhelmed. I know I’d be scared, too.”
Hitoshi coughed a little. Two more people came into the room, one toting a cart behind him. His left arm was tugged away from him and set on the side rails. Someone peeled the sticker off from the back of his hand and rubbed away the numbing cream with an alcohol wipe, then did the same to the other hand. Hitoshi fixed his gaze on the growing redness around where the sticker had been.
“Hey, don’t look there,” Aizawa said, hand coming up to gently turn his head away, “look at me.”
Hitoshi blinked up at Aizawa, tears filling his eyes. Something softened in Aizawa’s eyes, and he pulled him in against his chest. Someone brought a chair over for Aizawa to sit on as Hitoshi was poked and prodded like some kind of lab rat.
He felt something, another wipe, maybe, rub over the back of his hand. He winced as something pricked into his skin and turned his face into Aizawa’s chest. He berated himself for acting like a stupid baby, only to be hushed by Aizawa.
“You’re not a stupid baby, Hitoshi,” Aizawa gently scolded, “you just need help with the exam, and that’s perfectly normal and okay. It’s logical to want comfort.”
Heh. Aizawa and his logic. It didn’t matter whether it was logical or not- all that mattered was that Hitoshi was scared and in pain and he wanted his dad.
“‘Zawa,” he whined as the needle was prodded. He glanced over and saw a tube being attached. His breathing picked up when someone set a pile of syringes down onto the table. Most of them were empty, but some held strange liquids, some clear, and some in varying shades of other colors like white.
“It’s okay,” Aizawa soothed, “just focus on me, Hitoshi. You’re gonna be okay.”
“‘Zawa,” he whined again, right hand scrabbling at the man’s chest. Aizawa took his hand in his, rubbing soothing circles with his thumb. “‘M scared. I don’t wanna do it.”
“It’s okay,” Aizawa hushed, “you’ll wake up before you know it.”
Hitoshi wept, pressing his face into Aizawa’s chest as something cold was pushed in through the IV. He felt a wave of dizziness wash over him, though he wasn’t sure whether it was from the medicine or from anxiety.
He could feel something being wrapped around his finger, and soon the sound of frantic beeping permeated noisily throughout the room. Aizawa only soothed him, pressing a hand over his ear to block out the noises, and gently ran the same hand through his hair. He gently pet through the limp strands, pressing Hitoshi’s face further into his chest.
“Here’s the anti-nausea medication,” someone announced, and another wave of coldness was pushed through his IV. He let out another choked sob. Aizawa kissed the top of his head, lips pressed firmly in a way that said ‘I’m here for you, I won’t let you go.’
Hitoshi squeezed his hand as a third wave of chilled liquid was pushed in through the IV. He lifted his head from Aizawa’s chest, blearily looking around. The room twisted and faded away, like he was in a dream. He sobbed again.
“Nothing feels real,” he choked, letting Aizawa press him back against his chest.
“You’re okay,” Aizawa comforted, “just relax, okay? Think about Eri, or Yamada.”
“I don’t wanna,” he sobbed, pressing his face into his father’s warm chest. “Pl-please don’t leave me alone, Dad!”
Aizawa stilled for a moment, and another round of medication was administered. He was pulled in for an even tighter hug. Lips pressed against his hairline, a gentle hand smoothing back his purple locks.
“You’re gonna be okay, ‘Toshi,” he murmured into his hair, “just go to sleep.”
It took a few more minutes, but Hitoshi eventually succumbed to the medication, letting himself drift off with his father’s hand clutched tightly in his.
He woke up some time later, unable to speak aside from slurred words. With his head pressed against his father’s chest and the prick in his hand long gone, Hitoshi felt horrible, yet safer than he ever had before. It was a nice feeling, having Aizawa hug him close and whisper sweet words of comfort into his hair as he rocked them gently back and forth. He could almost forget about where he was. It was far more comforting than his previous MRI, and with hushed whispers instead of screams of anger, soothing touches instead of harsh slaps, gentle hands guiding him rather than forcefully pulling him out to the car, Hitoshi felt safer than he ever had before.
He had someone- multiple someones- who would look out for him and help him through the difficult times.
It was so much better than anything he’d ever experienced in his foster homes, and Hitoshi was, for once in his life, happy.