Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“I just don’t think that kind of quirk should be allowed ,” Eiko hissed, looking edgily around her.  

“I know!” said her friend fervently. “I mean--I’ve heard that you can’t even remember what you’ve done after he uses it--for all we know he could have already used it on us!” 

The girl shuddered. “Stop it, Hina, I don’t want to think about it!”

Hitoshi let out a low sigh, then cleared his throat pointedly. The two girls froze, looking back at him with identical looks of terror on their faces. 

“H-h-hi Shinsou!” Hina said brightly. “How was your b-break?” 

Hitoshi raised a skeptical eyebrow. “It was alright,” he said evenly. “How about yours?”

Hina blanched and looked at Eiko. Eiko pursed her lips. Hina looked up at him and gave him a careful shrug. 

Hitoshi cursed himself inwardly for his mistake. How am I supposed to hold a damn conversation without asking a question? And didn’t she ask me a question first?! 

“Ok,” said Hitoshi finally when it was clear that no further response was coming. “I guess I’ll see you guys later.”

“B-bye!” chirped Hina.

“See you, Shinsou!” said Eiko. 

Hitoshi walked away, eyes trained on his feet, trying to ignore the beginnings of their whispered conversation about whether he’d overheard them. 

***

Hitoshi did his best to focus on his English lesson from his usual spot in the back of the room, but all he could think about was the sports festival. 

He’d experienced people fighting his quirk before, but overthrowing it entirely without an external shock or stimulus? It had never been done. What was so special about that average-looking Midoriya kid anyway? He seethed--he’d come so close to winning that match. 

Still, that fight was the first time he’d received any sort of encouragement from his general studies classmates. And that was something. He pointedly ignored the small voice in the back of his head that suggested they were only trying to get on his good side because he frightened them. 

Suddenly, English class was interrupted by a rap on the door. The general studies English instructor ceased her explanation of proper verb conjugation and went to answer it. To the surprise of the entire class, Aizawa Shouta entered, looking exhausted as usual. 

“Could I please borrow Hitoshi Shinsou for a moment?” he asked the general studies instructor, who looked faintly awestruck at the sudden presence of the pro hero. 

“Y-yes!” she stammered. “Shinsou--” 

“Please bring your things,” said Aizawa shortly. 

Hitoshi grimaced. What was he supposed to have done now? He tried to ignore the way that Eiko and Hina were staring at him, as if their worst fears had been confirmed.

Hitoshi followed Aizawa from the classroom. Was he taking him to the principal’s office? Was Aizawa there to erase his quirk in case Hitoshi tried to prevent Nezu from expelling him?

“Calm down, kid,” said Aizawa. “I can practically hear you worrying back there. You’re not in trouble.”

Hitoshi allowed himself to relax slightly as Aizawa veered towards his own office rather than Nezu’s.  

Aizawa settled himself in front of his desk. “Sit down,” he said. 

Hitoshi sat in the chair directly opposite. 

“We were impressed by your performance during the sports festival,” said Aizawa. 

Hitoshi blinked. Whatever he’d expected, it wasn’t this. Hadn’t he seen Midoriya throw off his quirk?

“Um--thank you, sir.”

“Did you know that I started at UA in the general studies course?” asked Aizawa. 

Hitoshi’s eyes widened in shock. “No.”

Aizawa nodded. “My first year at UA… I came dead last in the practical portion of the entrance exam. Couldn’t take down a single damn robot.”

Hitoshi sat in silence, waiting for more.

Aizawa continued. “Then, the sports festival came. By then I’d acquired my capture weapon, courtesy of a very gifted student from the support course. I’d sharpened my hand-to-hand combat skills. You’d never believe how much people rely on their quirks… once I’d erased them, winning the head-to-head matches was pretty simple. I stunned everyone by doing so well. But they didn’t have room for me in the hero course, you see. It was already full.” Aizawa sighed, then continued. “Then, one day a boy named Ito Akio was expelled for improper use of his quirk. My day had come.”

Hitoshi waited with bated breath, hardly daring to hope for what he thought Aizawa was building towards.

“Today is yours,” he said. “A boy named Minoru Mineta was expelled this morning for continuous sexual harassment of his female classmates. Therefore, a spot has just opened up in the hero course. I want you to take it.”

Hitoshi closed his eyes against the onslaught of emotions that threatened his maintenance of his typical stoic expression. “A-are you serious sir?”

“I am,” said Aizawa. “I take it you accept?”

“Yes!” said Hitoshi immediately. 

Aizawa gave him a sleepy grin. “Very well. My class begins in an hour. I don’t tolerate tardiness.” Aizawa stood, leaving Hitoshi sitting dumbstruck in his office. 

Chapter Text

Nezu sighed, gripping a mug of tea before him as he glanced over the file that Aizawa had prepared. “You’re sure Shinsou has hero potential?” he asked.

Aizawa nodded. He’d created this file the moment the expulsion order for Mineta went through. It included a detailed write-up of Shinsou Hitoshi’s quirk and Aizawa’s professional opinion of its utility as a pro hero. 

“He’d need to operate underground,” said Nezu thoughtfully. “This kind of quirk loses some potency if it becomes too well-known.”

“I know,” said Aizawa. “I’ll discuss it with him.”

“Which brings me to my next point,” said Nezu carefully. “Aizawa, you are aware of the rules regarding student transfers to the hero course?”

“I am,” said Aizawa. 

“You are aware, then, that Shinsou will need a faculty mentor to keep track of his progress, provide him with quirk counseling, and ensure that he doesn’t fall behind his peers?”

“Yes,” said Aizawa. “I’ll do it.”

Nezu blinked, looking slightly bemused. “Are you sure that’s wise? There are certain--similarities--between you and Shinsou, and I’m  worried that you might struggle to be...objective.”

“Struggle to be objective? Me? ”

Nezu smirked. “Don’t pretend to be so cold-hearted, Shouta. I’ve known you a long time. I’m sure you are aware of Shinsou’s social situation?”

Aizawa grimaced. “Yes. I promise, it won’t be a problem for me.”

Nezu looked thoroughly unconvinced, but eventually he sighed. “Very well, Shouta. I’ll entrust Shinsou to you. He can begin hero courses immediately, as discussed.” 

“Thank you, Nezu.”

The principal suddenly looked very tired. “As far as the matter of Mineta goes… I’ve given him one more day of campus access. He should be arriving shortly before your class begins to gather his possessions. Cementoss has agreed to escort him.”

Aizawa grunted his understanding and stood, giving Nezu a slight bow before leaving. 

***

Hitoshi’s stomach was bubbling with nerves. He wondered how his new classmates would feel about him joining. He tried to tell himself that it didn’t matter--that he was one step closer to his dream of using his quirk to be a hero--but he couldn’t fool himself. He was terrified of how his new classmates would perceive him. I’ll just keep my head down, that’s all . 

Hitoshi was walking aimlessly through the halls to kill time before Aizawa’s class when he heard it. A muffled grunt and a high-pitched shriek. He raised his eyebrows, looking around for the source of the noise. Classes were still in session, so the hallways were largely abandoned. He headed in the general direction of the noise, rounding a corner. What he saw made him stop dead.

A short girl with a bobbed haircut and round face stood crowded against the lockers, her arms and legs pinned to the wall with what looked like small purple beach balls. An even shorter boy with more of the purple beach balls in the place of hair stood inches from her, his hand traveling slowly up her thigh. They both looked somewhat familiar from the recent sports festival. Hitoshi thought they were from class 1-A.  He froze in place. They didn’t notice him. 

“Y-you’re not even supposed to be on campus!” said the girl. 

“Today’s my last day,” hissed the boy. “I know it was you that reported me, Uraraka.”

“S-so what if it was, Mineta?!” replied Uraraka in a trembly voice. “I’m glad I did it you--you--pervert!”

“I never even touched you,” sneered the boy. 

“You hid a camera in the girls' locker room!” the girl said, outraged. She pulled helplessly against the purple beach balls. 

“It’s not like you’re special!” roared Mineta. “I was trying to look at all of you! Except Hagakure--nothing to look at, you know.”

“You’re sick,” said Uraraka angrily. 

Mineta’s eyes took on a manic gleam. “I’ll give you something to report.”

Hitoshi could take it no longer. “What’s going on here?” he said loudly. Both Uraraka and Mineta visibly startled, looking up at him. Mineta’s hand froze just short of Uraraka’s skirt hem as he looked up in annoyance at the intrusion. 

“What’s it to you?” Mineta sneered in response.

Hitoshi hesitated. This boy must be Mineta Minoru, the boy Hitoshi was replacing. Which must mean the girl, Uraraka, was also a member of class 1-A. Yes… now that he thought of it, he could vaguely remember her fight with Bakugo at the sports festival. 

He put up his hands. “Come on, man. This is really uncool. Weren’t you already expelled for doing shit like this? Stop.”

Mineta leered at him. “Make me.”

Hitoshi’s eyes widened. Did Mineta not know about his quirk? Did he not remember him from the sports festival?

Mineta’s hand continued traveling up Uraraka’s leg and his fingers began to disappear beneath her skirt. She struggled helplessly against him, shrieking again in outrage.  

Hitoshi broke down and reached out with his quirk, feeling Mineta’s mind and forcing it under his control. He shuddered a bit as the boy’s psyche brushed against his own. When using his quirk on scum like this, it was nauseating how strangely intimate the experience was. 

“Stop touching her,” said Hitoshi. Mineta’s hand instantly fell to his side. 

“Release her.” Mineta touched the purple beach balls binding Uraraka to the wall and pulled them easily free. Uraraka instantly fell to her knees. 

“Give me your student I.D.,” said Hitoshi. Mineta calmly reached into his pocket, dug through his wallet, and handed over his student I.D. to Hitoshi.

“Stand there and don’t move.” Mineta stopped moving.

Uraraka was shaking now, massaging her wrists where her arms had been held over her head. 

“Thanks, Shinsou,” she said, bowing her head. Tears seemed to be falling freely down her face. 

“How do you know my name?” asked Hitoshi, surprised into asking a question.

Uraraka looked up at him, brow slightly furrowed. Hitoshi kicked himself mentally. Stop with the damn questions, she just saw you use your quirk!

“I saw you at the sports festival,” answered Uraraka. “You and Deku f-fought. He’s my friend.”

Hitoshi bristled at the mention of Midoriya despite himself. He took a short breath.  “And you’re Uraraka.” There. A statement, not a question. 

Uraraka gave him a watery grin. “Mmhmm. God, I’m so embarrassed. I can’t believe I let him sneak up on me like that! I swear, I’m not usually that--”

Hitoshi interrupted her, averting his gaze from her tear-streaked face. “You don’t need to explain yourself. That was--fucked up.”

Uraraka’s mouth twitched. “Yeah.” She looked as though she might cry again. Shit.

Hitoshi held out his hand to her, half expecting her to flinch away from him. Instead, she took it without hesitation. He helped her to her feet, then released her hand immediately. 

“I’m sorry if I scared you,” he said, jerking his head at Mineta, who was still standing stock-still, his face vacant. 

Uraraka looked confused. “What do you mean? You totally saved me!”

Hitoshi blinked and flushed slightly. “Ah--it was nothing--”

Uraraka looked at Mineta carefully. “So how does it work?” she asked.

“How does what work?” No questions, Hitoshi!

“Your quirk! Can you just control anyone you want, or--?”

Ah. That’s why she answered when I asked her a question. She doesn’t know. How can I tell her now? Will she assume I was trying to control her earlier? How the hell am I supposed to do this?

Urarka’s smile faltered at the panicked look on Hitoshi’s face. “Hey, I’m sorry, that was kind of rude, you don’t have to--”

“No, it’s okay,” said Hitoshi. “I’m just--my quirk makes people uncomfortable, generally speaking. I’m not used to people asking me about it.”

“Really?” asked Uraraka, her eyes wide and trusting. 

Hitoshi just grimaced, turning away from her and towards Mineta. “Come on, let’s take care of him.”

“R-right!” said Uraraka. 

“Follow us to the principal’s office,” said Hitoshi to Mineta, who shuffled obediently behind them. 

Chapter Text

“And that is why you should never, under any circumstances whatsoever, speak to the media without express permission from your hero agency,” said Aizawa.

His lecture was interrupted as the door opened. Uraraka sidled into the classroom looking contrite. Hitoshi followed just behind her, face expressionless as usual. 

Aizawa raised an irritable eyebrow.  “Uraraka. Shinsou. You are more than fifteen minutes late.”

Uraraka flushed. “S-sorry sensei! It wasn’t Shinsou’s fault--he was helping me out with s-something--uh--it’s kind of p-personal!”

Aizawa gave Uraraka a blank look. Class 1-A stared at Uraraka and Hitoshi. Hitoshi shifted uncomfortably.

Aizawa frowned. “Very well. We’ll discuss this later. Both of you, please take a seat.”

Uraraka looked mortified as she scurried to her desk. Hitoshi waited for Uraraka to sit down, then took the only remaining empty desk. He tried to listen to Aizawa-sensei, but all he could think about was using his quirk on Mineta. Nezu had said he wasn’t in trouble, but would Aizawa be angry with him? Would he rescind his spot in the hero course?

***

Finally the bell rang, signaling the end of class. Hitoshi leapt to his feet, picked up his bag, and darted for the exit. “Shinsou. Uraraka. Please stay back,” said Aizawa grimly. Hitoshi groaned inwardly, turning around to face Aizawa, who looked deeply annoyed. “Sit.”

Hitoshi sat back down, crossing his arms across his chest. Uraraka had not moved from her desk.

“Explain,” said Aizawa. 

Hitoshi looked over at Uraraka. Her eyes started brimming with tears again. Hitoshi looked away, remaining silent. This wasn’t really his story to tell, after all. 

In fits and starts, Uraraka told Aizawa what had happened at the lockers. “Principal N-nezu said he would talk to you about it--”

Aizawa held up his hand to stop her. She stuttered to a halt. Hitoshi’s heart sank. 

Aizawa was silent for a moment before speaking. He seemed to be gathering himself. “I’m sorry, Uraraka,” he said finally.  “I cannot express to you how furious I am about what happened. I will be speaking to Nezu about pressing charges against Mineta as soon as I’ve spoken with Shinsou. You are free to go. Please go see Recovery Girl.”

“I’m not hurt,” said Uraraka confusedly.

“And I’m very glad that is the case,” said Aizawa, an uncharacteristic gentleness in his voice. “However, Recovery Girl is also a licensed clinical therapist. And I--am… whatever the opposite of that is.”

“Oh!” squeaked Uraraka, brushing her tears away from her eyes. “Uh--yes. Thanks, sensei.” She gave Hitoshi a furtive look. “Aizawa-sensei, please don’t get Shinsou into trouble, he was only--”

“Shinsou is not in trouble, Uraraka,” said Aizawa firmly. Hitoshi took his eyes off the floor to look up at Aizawa incredulously. 

Uraraka gave a watery smile, nodded, and left the room. Hitoshi braced himself.

“Why do you look like I’m about to throw something at you, kid?”

Hitoshi scoffed. “I used my quirk on another student. On school property. Outside of a training exercise. Isn’t that super against the rules?”

“Why, yes, actually it is,” said Aizawa airily. “I suppose I’ll just expel you.”

Hitoshi’s eyes widened. He stared at Aizawa. “But--”

“Come on, Shinsou, do you think I’m honestly going to punish you for this?!”

Hitoshi looked down at his feet, scowling.

“Shit. You really do. Look--”

“You don’t get it,” muttered Hitoshi, interrupting his teacher.

Aizawa stopped. He regarded him carefully, then sighed. “This seems like the kind of discussion that needs tea. Do you want some tea?” 

Hitoshi blinked in surprise. “Um--okay?”

“And remember what I said, I’m not a therapist.”

“Um, yeah, got it.”

Aizawa smirked. He left the classroom and returned a few minutes later with two boxed lunches and two steaming mugs of tea.

“Oh--you didn’t have to--” 

“It’s fine. Nezu always over-orders for the teachers’ lounge.” 

“Thanks.”

Aizawa and Hitoshi opened their boxed lunches and began to sip awkwardly at Aizawa’s ridiculously strong black tea. Aizawa broke the silence. “Ok, I don’t get it. Help me to.”

Hitoshi swallowed, then sighed. “Growing up… everyone always said my quirk was perfect for being a villain. Kids were scared of me… when my quirk first manifested, I couldn’t always control it. I made people do things without meaning to.”

Aizawa nodded for Hitoshi to continue. 

“I sometimes wondered if, you know, that’s why my parents decided not to keep me. Maybe one of them had a brainwashing quirk too, and they were scared they’d passed it on. I don’t know. They didn’t leave any information with the orphanage.” 

Aizawa frowned.

“Anyway,” continued Hitoshi, “Everyone has been on edge around me since I was a little kid. I got shuffled from foster family to foster family, and finally they ran out of those and now I’m just in a group home. I never used my quirk in front of a foster family, but I think it made them nervous, you know? Knowing what I could do.”

“Then I came to UA, I thought things might be different, but everyone in general studies was just as scared of me as they were before.” He put his head in his hands. “And then--like, the worst part is I can see why they’re scared. Today, what that Mineta kid was doing… I mean, imagine if he had my quirk. I always noticed that girls were particularly scared of me, but…” Hitoshi lapsed into silence, his head still in his hands. “I try not to ask people questions, if I can help it, but sometimes they slip out. I mean… how am I supposed to talk to people without asking any questions?!” Hitoshi looked up to see Aizawa watching him intently. He flushed. He’d shared more than he’d meant to. 

Aizawa put out his hand as if to place it on Hitoshi’s shoulder but seemed to think better of it, letting it drop back to his side. “Shinsou. You are not Mineta. If you hear nothing else, at least hear that. What you did today proves it.”

Hitoshi sank down miserably in his seat. “Yeah, but they don’t know that, do they?” 

“I’m not saying it’s easy,” said Aizawa. “Your quirk is very powerful. And people will always be frightened of a quirk that challenges free will. But your quirk has so much potential for good, Shinsou! Today’s event proves that, too. I want to help you make use of your quirk.”

“Why are you helping me?” asked Hitoshi baldly.

Aizawa shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “Because I think your quirk has amazing potential for good,” he said.

“Oh,” answered Hitoshi, not knowing what else to say.

Aizawa sighed. “And… I know a thing or two about using a non-physical quirk as a pro-hero. I’ve volunteered to be your mentor for this transition because I think there are parallels between our abilities. We’ll need to get you caught up on hand-to-hand combat because you’ll have a lot to make up for, but--”

Hitoshi’s eyes widened. He’d stopped listening after “mentor,” hope and excitement blossoming in his chest. Was he really going to be personally trained by Eraserhead ?!

***

Hitoshi shuffled into the cafeteria where the rest of class 1-A was finishing up their lunch. Uraraka was there, her face slightly puffy but looking much happier. She was sitting beside Midoriya. Seeing him made Hitoshi’s stomach clench. 

“Shinsou!” called Uraraka, bounding up from her seat and hurrying over to Hitoshi. “Are you alright? You didn’t get into trouble, did you?!” 

She looked so earnest that Hitoshi smiled a little in spite of himself. “Nah,” he said, hoping that would suffice. 

“Are you okay with me telling the others what happened?” she asked, keeping her voice low.

Hitoshi hesitated, but then shrugged and nodded. They were going to find out anyway.

“YOU GUYS!” said Uraraka. “You will not believe how cool Shinsou is--!”

Uraraka launched into the story, seeming more relaxed going through it the third time. She left out some of the gorier details, but class 1-A looked deeply impressed. 

“Real manly, bro!” said a boy with red hair and sharp teeth, slapping Hitoshi on the back. “Name’s Kirishima!”

The others introduced themselves. 

“Ugh!” said Yaoyorozu, shuddering . “I can’t believe Mineta gave Cementoss the slip!”

“Shinsou,” said Midoriya, fidgeting with a notebook and pen in his hand. “Would you mind--I mean--can I ask you some questions about your quirk? I know at the sports festival, we--”

The look in Hitoshi’s eyes quelled his question. Uraraka seemed to notice the tension, as she launched loudly into a discussion about the day’s class that several of their classmates joined. Hitoshi sighed in relief. 

***

“The time has come to announce summer internship offers from the sports festival,” said Aizawa to class 1-A after lunch. “Please consult the blackboard for your offers. I will be taking a nap.” With that, Aizawa produced a sleeping bag from beneath his desk and slid down to the floor to sleep. No one else in class 1-A seemed to find this unusual. 

Loud chatter erupted as students began to discuss their offers (or lack thereof). Hitoshi scanned the blackboard as cursorily as possible to confirm his name was absent from the list. Even though it was expected, he still felt disappointed. 

He was lost in thought when Midoriya broke away from his friends to sit beside him. “Hi, Shinsou. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable earlier.”

Hitoshi didn’t know what to say to that, so he just grunted. 

“Um--yeah. But I think your quirk is really awesome! I mean, at the sports festival, I nearly--”

A sudden surge of curiosity made Hitoshi speak in spite of himself. “Yeah… how did you do that?” Questions, Hitoshi!

Midoriya’s face turned beet red. “I--um--”

Hitoshi raised an eyebrow. It seemed he wasn’t the only one keeping a secret. “Forget it,” he said. “I just--I’ve never seen anyone throw it off like that without something external to break them out of it. Maybe I was distracted--”

“N-no! I’m sure that wasn’t it at all!”

Hitoshi’s eyes narrowed. So there was an explanation, and Midoriya knew what it was.

“A-anyway, I’m really glad you’re here, Shinsou!” Midoriya bowed to him and scurried back over to his friends.

***

After class, Aizawa pulled Hitoshi aside to speak with him. “You’re going to do your summer internship with me,” he said. 

Hitoshi’s jaw dropped. “With you?”

“Yes,” said Aizawa. “As a consulting underground hero, I don’t typically take student interns… they’re better off at the larger hero agencies… but I think your quirk is best suited for underground hero work and I’d like to get you some experience in that area.”

Hitoshi’s eyes lit up. “Y-yes sir! I would be honored, sir!”

“Cut it out with the sir, you’ll make me feel old.”

“Yes, sensei!”

Chapter Text

The girl’s small frame perched on the guardrails of the bridge made Hitoshi’s stomach clench. The height didn’t seem to affect the girl in the same way, because she was leaning forward slightly. Her feet dangled over the dark churning river.

Since it was approximately three in the morning, traffic had slowed to nearly non-existent, even on the busy bridge. The few cars that did pass by didn’t stop--they either didn’t notice the girl or didn’t care.

Eraserhead made eye contact with Hitoshi, his eyebrows raised. Hitoshi nodded.

Shinsou and Aizawa approached the bridge, taking care to keep their footsteps quiet. Once they’d reached her, Aizawa cleared his throat deliberately. “Hello,” he said softly.

The girl startled as if he had yelled at her. Instinctively, Shinsou reached his hand out to steady her. “D-don’t touch me!” the girl screamed, her eyes widening in abject terror. Shinsou stopped, putting his hands up so she could see them. 

“S-sorry,” she whimpered, looking down at her feet. 

“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” said Aizawa, his voice uncharacteristically soothing. “But I would feel much better if you got down from there.”

The girl’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. 

“My name is Eraserhead. I’m a pro hero,” said Aizawa carefully, removing his hero license from his pocket and showing it to the girl. “This is my student,” he added, gesturing to Hitoshi. “We were here patrolling and thought you might need some help.”

The girl’s eyes widened. “A r-real pro hero! I never thought…” The girl bit her lip. 

“Do you like heroes?” asked Hitoshi carefully, trying to build rapport like Aizawa had taught him. 

The girl’s eyes immediately lit up. “Yes!” As quickly as it came, though, her happy expression dissolved. “I wish I could be a hero.”

“You still can be a hero,” said Shinsou carefully. “What’s your name? How old are you?”

“Nozomi. I’m thirteen.”

“Just a little younger than me!” said Shinsou, smiling at her in what he hoped was a reassuring way. “What’s your quirk?”

The girl’s face darkened. “You can’t help me,” she said quietly. 

Hitoshi’s brow furrowed. He looked to Aizawa for help.

“And why is that?” asked Aizawa.

“I can’t be a hero. I can’t be anything.”

“Why not?” 

Nozomi’s eyes filled with fresh tears, and she shook her head. “You should leave.”

Aizawa’s eyes widened, his pro’s intuition having grasped what she was going to do well before Hitoshi noticed anything. 

With one fluid motion, the girl had hoisted herself off the guardrails, but Aizawa was already moving, grabbing her torso and pulling her back. 

Aizawa began to scream, a horrible high sound that Hitoshi would never have believed his teacher was capable of producing. He fell backwards, still holding on to the girl as they both crashed to the ground.

Nozomi looked terrified, scrambling to extricate herself from Aizawa. Aizawa stopped yelling, panting hard on the ground as the girl got to her feet. Hitoshi reached for her but she recoiled. “Stop! Don’t you get it! Don’t touch me! I’ll hurt you!”

The girl was looking at Aizawa with something like disbelief. “No one has ever held on before,” she said tremulously. “They always let go right away… like burning yourself on a stove.”

“Wh-what happened?” asked Shinsou, trying and failing to keep the panic out of his voice. Aizawa was still on the ground, gasping for air. 

The girl looked down, tears now falling freely down her face. “I d-didn’t do it on purpose,” she whispered. “It’s my quirk… He’ll feel better in a minute. I’m not supposed to be in public without my coverings, but--”

“You didn’t think you’d need them,” said Shinsou softly, looking down again at the churning river. 

Nozomi bit her lip, nodding. “My quirk is p-pain,” she said softly. “I can’t turn it on or off, but if anyone has skin-to-skin contact with me, they experience horrific pain. It doesn’t actually do any damage to their bodies… it’s all in the mind. But it’s… excruciating .” She looked nauseous. “I thought that if I could control it… make it not hurt so much… or at least be able to turn it off then maybe I could help people… but… my quirk isn’t for helping.” 

Hitoshi grimaced. That last part sounded familiar. 

The girl was backing away, closer to the guardrails again. 

“Stay here,” said Hitoshi firmly. 

The girl continued to back away.  

Hitoshi grimaced, reaching out with his quirk and bringing the girl under his control. The pained expression dropped from her face, replaced by the eerie blankness that was the signature of his brainwashing. 

“Move towards us,” said Hitoshi. 

The girl shuffled forward obediently. As soon as she was a safe distance from the railings,  Hitoshi dropped his quirk. 

“What was that?! What just happened?” The girl looked frightened. 

Hitoshi pulled a pained expression. “It’s my quirk,” he mumbled. “Sorry. I should have warned you first, but I thought you might try to jump again.”

Finally, Aizawa seemed to come to himself. He got to his feet, clearing his throat. “I’m sorry,” he said to the girl. Hitoshi was startled to see that he was shaking slightly. 

The girl’s eyes widened in shock. “Most people can’t move for much longer than that…You should sit down!”

“That must have been scary for you,” said Aizawa, ignoring her comment. “Don’t worry--I’m fine.”

The girl’s eyes were swimming with tears again. 

“I have an erasure quirk,” said Aizawa. “If I look at someone, I can erase their quirk.”

Nozomi’s eyebrows rose. “Is it permanent?” she asked eagerly.

“No. Only lasts until I blink.”

“Oh,” she said, clearly disappointed. 

“Can I try it on you, though?” asked Aizawa gently.

The girl nodded eagerly, looking up to meet his crimson stare. 

Aizawa reached out with his hand, palm up, for the girl to take. She looked petrified. 

“It’s okay,” he said gently. 

Nozomi took his hand. She winced as her skin touched Aizawa’s, but her face lit up in a grin when he showed no signs of pain. 

“That’s amazing!” shouted Nozomi. She clung to Aizawa’s hand until he gently pulled back, blinking. 

“Don’t worry, Nozomi,” said Aizawa quietly. “We’re going to help you.”

Chapter Text

The fluorescent lights of the 24 hour diner flickered half-heartedly. Hitoshi sat beside Aizawa and across from Nozomi, who was now wearing Hitoshi’s jacket zipped up to her chin. It engulfed her small frame, covering most of her skin. The table was tacky beneath Hitoshi’s fingers, presumably from residual maple syrup. They appeared to be nearly alone in the establishment. Aizawa flagged down a waitress, ordering coffee for himself and Hitoshi and a hot chocolate for Nozomi when she mumbled that she didn’t drink coffee. 

“Okay,” said Aizawa carefully. “Nozomi, I’m going to need your parents’ phone number.”

Nozomi looked panicked. “I-- I don’t want to call home,” she said quietly. 

Aizawa’s expression softened. “I know. But we have to, I’m sorry. This is the only way that we can help.”

Sniffling, Nozomi provided Aizawa with her mother’s phone number. “It’s just me and mom,” she muttered. 

“Thank you, Nozomi,” said Aizawa. “I’ll just step out for a moment and give your house a call. Shinsou--”

“Yeah, we’ll be fine,” said Hitoshi, giving Nozomi a small smile. She looked miserable.

Aizawa stepped out of the diner, leaving Hitoshi and Nozomi alone until their drinks arrived. “Two coffees,” said the waitress, placing the coffees down in front of Hitoshi and Aizawa’s places. “And one hot chocolate!” She held the steaming mug out to Nozomi, who looked petrified. The waitress’s brow furrowed.

“I can take it,” said Hitoshi, accepting the mug and sliding it across the table to Nozomi. The waitress left. 

“Thanks,” Nozomi mumbled. 

The two sat in pained silence for a moment. 

“You know, my quirk is classified as ‘extremely dangerous’ by the quirk registry,” said Hitoshi.

Nozomi’s eyebrows shot up. “It is?”

“Yeah. I didn’t think I could become a hero, either.”

“But why?” asked Nozomi, her brow furrowed. “It doesn’t hurt people like mine does.”

Hitoshi looked away. “My quirk makes it easy for me to hurt people if I want to.” He cringed at the phrasing, hoping that he hadn’t scared her. “I--don’t want to. But other people don’t know that.”

Nozomi looked thoughtful. “I think your quirk is cool,” she said, flushing slightly. 

Hitoshi smiled. “Thanks,” he said quietly. “I’m okay with it now, but I wasn’t always. I--I’ve been where you were tonight, Nozomi.”

“That bridge?” asked Nozomi, confused. 

“Not the bridge, no.” Hitoshi flushed. He’d never discussed this with anyone. “I mean that I also… wanted to--I tried to...um...” he trailed off pathetically.

“Oh,” said Nozomi, very quietly. She bit her lip. She was silent for a moment. “I’m glad you didn’t,” she said softly. 

“Me, too,” said Hitoshi. “And there will come a time where you’ll be glad you didn’t either, I promise.”

Nozomi sniffled. Hitoshi reached out hesitantly, putting a hand on her arm through his sweatshirt. She flinched minutely, but relaxed as soon as she realized Hitoshi wasn’t hurt. “It’ll be okay,” said Hitoshi. “Aizawa-sensei can fix anything. He’s a real hero.”

“You’re a real hero, too.” 

“Not yet,” said Hitoshi. “Just training.”

Nozomi flushed bright red. “I just mean… you saved my life tonight. You’re a real hero… to me.”

Hitoshi’s eyes widened, his breath catching in his throat. His chest felt like it was rapidly expanding. Is this what it feels like… to be someone’s hero?   

***

Nozomi’s mother appeared at the diner shortly after her phone conversation with Aizawa, her face streaked with tears. The four of them arranged a plan to bring Nozomi to UA twice per week to meet with Aizawa, who would do his best to help her learn to control her quirk. 

With the help of Aizawa’s quirk erasing, Hitoshi hugged Nozomi, patting her on the head as he was leaving. She started to shrug off his jacket but Hitoshi waved his hand. “It’s okay, you can keep it,” he said. The girl beamed. 

To his great surprise, Nozomi’s mother also pulled him into a bone-crushing hug. “Thank you,” she whispered fervently in his ear. “Thank you, thank you.” She did the same to Aizawa, brushing tears from her eyes. 

Aizawa and Hitoshi said their final goodbyes and started back towards UA. For a while they walked in silence. 

“You did well, Shinsou,” said Aizawa as they were approaching the school building. “I’m sorry that you were put in a position like that on your first patrol. I--have never experienced anything like that quirk.” He frowned. “Starts to make me think that the quirk singularity doomsday theory might be onto something. Anyway, sorry you had to see me lose my cool out there.”

“Are you okay?” asked Hitoshi hesitantly. 

Aizawa scoffed. “Of course,” he said. “I should be asking you that.”

“I’m fine. Does that happen a lot?”

“What, pain-based quirks?”

“No… um…”

“Suicides?”

“Y-yeah.”

Aizawa frowned, then sighed. “Yes. All the time.”

Hitoshi was quiet for a moment. He had stopped walking without realizing it. 

Aizawa turned back to him. “Shinsou, are you--?”

Hitoshi felt bile rising up in his throat, his heart beating inexplicably fast. No, no, no, this can’t be happening… not now…

“Shinsou?”

Hitoshi  sank down to his knees, covering his face with his hands, trying and failing to stop himself from hyperventilating. 

Aizawa quickly knelt beside him. “What’s going on? Are you… having a panic attack?”

Hitoshi nodded miserably. 

“Ok, those I know about,” said Aizawa grimly. “I’m going to take your hand now, okay?”

Hitoshi nodded again as Aizawa gently pulled one of his hands away from his face. Aizawa placed Hitoshi’s hand upon his own chest and started taking deep exaggerated breaths. “Just match my breathing, kid, it’s alright.”

Hitoshi tried. He got through two deep breaths along with Aizawa before returning to quick panicked gasps. 

“It’s okay, that was a good start. Try again,” said Aizawa softly. 

As the minutes dragged by, Hitoshi made it through more and more of the deep breaths. Finally, his breathing was approaching normal again, if a little shallow.

Aizawa got to his feet. “Do you think you can stand?” he asked Hitoshi. 

Hitoshi nodded, averting his gaze. He was mortified. 

Aizawa seemed to understand what he was feeling. “Nothing to be ashamed of, kid. Happens to the best of us including yours truly. Are you calling me pathetic?”

Hitoshi’s head snapped up. “N-no! Of course not!”

“Good.” He extended his hand, and Hitoshi took it, allowing Aizawa to pull him to his feet. Aizawa let go quickly. “Let’s go up to my office, okay?”

Hitoshi nodded. 

Soon after, he sat in Aizawa’s office, once again clutching a cup of Aizawa’s signature scalding hot and unbearably strong black tea. 

“Now, do you want to tell me what that was about?”

Hitoshi shook his head firmly. He took a sip of the tea for something to do and winced at the taste and temperature. 

“What if I made some guesses and you just nod or shake your head?”

Hitoshi shrugged. He kept his eyes trained on the floor. 

“Do you know someone who’s died from suicide?”

Hitoshi shook his head. 

“Have you seen someone die from suicide?”

Hitoshi shook his head again. 

“Do you know someone who has been suicidal?”

Hitoshi didn’t move for several long moments. He swallowed. Finally, he nodded.

Aizawa was silent for so long that Hitoshi looked up to meet his gaze. 

“Was that person you?” asked Aizawa carefully. 

Hitoshi broke eye contact. He squeezed his eyes shut. Finally, he nodded. 

“Do you still feel like that now?”

Hitoshi shrugged. His voice cracked when he answered. “Not really.”

“That’s not exactly reassuring, kid.”

“I know,” mumbled Hitoshi. “I’m not--I don’t have like, a plan or anything. I’m just… things are--hard.”

“Hard how?”

For some reason, the question made an odd feeling of anger bubble up within Hitoshi. Hard how? “Oh, I don’t know,” he said sarcastically. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to have everyone tell you that you have a villain’s quirk? To wonder if maybe they’re right? To look in the mirror and wonder if the person staring back at you is a monster?”  

Aizawa was silent. 

Hitoshi knew that he should stop, but he couldn’t. The words seeped from him like a painfully extracted venom. “Have you ever been shuffled from foster family to foster family seeing the fear in their eyes even though you’ve never ever used your quirk on them? Wondered if your own parents got rid of you because they were afraid of what they’d created? Have you ever doubted every kind word or gesture because you don’t know whether it’s motivated by fear or genuine affection? Have you ever felt like you couldn’t--be… l-loved?”

Aizawa looked horrified. He opened his mouth to speak, but Hitoshi continued, cutting him off. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so angry. He felt sick with it. “NO. YOU DON’T KNOW HOW THIS FEELS! YOU DON’T! NONE OF YOU--” Hitoshi broke off, choking on his words as he lapsed into painful silence, staring at the ground once more.  

The tension in the room was palpable. Hitoshi was immediately ashamed of his outburst. Had he really just screamed at Eraserhead , the person who least deserved it? Maybe everyone was right, maybe there was something broken and evil inside of him. 

Finally, Hitoshi could stand it no longer. He looked up into Aizawa’s face, expecting an expression of indignation, maybe hatred, but instead his teacher simply looked thoughtful and sad.

“Shinsou,” said Aizawa carefully. “There is no one in the world who knows how you feel.”

Hitoshi’s jaw dropped. Wasn’t Aizawa supposed to say that he understood, that it was going to be fine, that everyone else had their struggles too, that he wasn’t unique, that there were people who had it worse? 

“That’s because no one in the world has experienced exactly what you have,” Aizawa continued. “I’m not going to pretend that I understand what it is like to be you, Shinsou. I do know some things, though. I know what it was like for me to grow up in the foster care system. I know what it’s like to have panic attacks. I know what it’s like to go to UA with a non-physical quirk.  I know what it’s like to want to die. I know what it’s like to feel incapable of giving or receiving love.” 

Aizawa’s voice was even and calm. He might have been reciting a grocery list. 

Hitoshi continued to stare. 

“I don’t feel like that anymore, Shinsou,” said Aizawa. “That doesn’t mean that my life is easy, or that I don’t still struggle, but I’m in a much better place now. I have a job I love. A husband I love. A life I love. I want you to have a life you love, too. I’d like to help you get there.”

Hitoshi opened and closed his mouth several times like a fish. He was flabbergasted. “I… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have--”

Aizawa put his hand up to stop him. “It’s quite alright. You don’t have anything to apologize for.”

Hitoshi thought for a moment. “A husband?” he asked. 

Aizawa smirked. “Present Mic.”

“Present Mic is your husband?!”

“For now,” said Aizawa long-sufferingly, but Hitoshi could tell he was joking. 

Hitoshi laughed a little, in spite of himself. 

“Shinsou… there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you, but I wasn’t quite sure how to approach it. I… care about you, very much. If you were ever looking for a more permanent home… I’ve already talked it over with Hizashi and we---”

Hitoshi stared again, hardly believing his ears. “Are you… asking me to live with you?”

“I’m asking to adopt you.”

Hitoshi felt the blood rushing in his ears. He was incapable of speech. 

“You don’t have to answer me right now. It’s an open offer. Will you think about it?”

Hitoshi didn’t trust himself to speak. He just nodded. 

Chapter Text

Hitoshi couldn’t believe he was actually considering Aizawa’s offer, but he was . If he didn’t know Aizawa better, he would have thought this was a joke. Is it really okay for me to have this?

Every time he and Aizawa met up for patrol, Hitoshi thought that Aizawa would bring up his offer again, but he never did. He seemed content to allow Hitoshi time to mull it over. By the end of the summer internship, Hitoshi had used his brainwashing quirk to great effect in a number of frightening situations: more attempted suicides as well as attempted physical and sexual assaults. It didn’t feel so wrong to use his brainwashing in these situations, when it was life and death and not training exercises with his classmates. 

As the summer internship came to an end, Aizawa finally mentioned his offer again. “Shinsou… have you given any more thought to what we discussed?”

Hitoshi bit his lip. He had considered it. He’d dwelled on it so much that it felt like having a near constant stomach ache. He’d dwelled on it so much that it had interfered with his already scarce sleeping hours. His ruminations always ended with the facial expressions of his previous foster families when they’d learned what his quirk was from the agency. 

Hitoshi opened his mouth, then closed it. “Aren’t you… do you really want someone like me in your house?”

“Well I wasn’t planning to make you sleep in the shed,” said Aizawa sardonically.

Hitoshi glared at him. “You know what I mean.”

“Your quirk doesn’t scare me. You don’t scare me.”

“Why not?” The question had slipped from him without permission, but now that it hung between them Hitoshi was desperate for the answer. 

Aizawa raised an eyebrow. He was silent for a moment. “Use your quirk on me.”

Hitoshi recoiled as if slapped. “No!”

“Shinsou, it’s okay. I’m asking you to. Use your quirk on me.”

“I-I can’t.”

“Yes, you can. I’m giving you my permission.”

Shinsou blanched. He felt bile rising up the back of his throat. “You don’t understand what you’re asking.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Why are you doing this?” Is this some kind of test? Please, not you. Never you. 

“Because I know that just telling you I trust you isn’t going to cut it. Now come on, kid.”

Hitoshi squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath. He looked up at Aizawa, searching his expression for any sign of hesitation or fear. He found none. If anything, Aizawa looked mildly bored. It was utterly perplexing. 

Slowly, Hitoshi reached out and brought Aizawa’s mind under his control. His teacher’s face went slack, his eyes unfocused. The consciousness that Hitoshi felt brushing against his own was one of the gentlest he’d ever experienced, like a cool breeze on a scorching hot day. For a moment, he savored it. Then, slowly, he released Aizawa.  

His teacher blinked, shaking his head slightly as if he had water in his ears. “Interesting,” he said blandly. He might have been commenting on the weather. “I was always curious about what it felt like. You really can’t remember it.”

Hitoshi’s eyes grew wide. He screwed up his face, trying desperately to stop the tears that were already forming. He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and fell to his knees. “Aren’t you going to ask what I made you do?”

Aizawa smiled. That was rare for him. “I know you didn’t make me do anything.”

Hitoshi looked up sharply. “You don’t know that!”

Aizawa approached Hitoshi, putting a careful hand on the top of his head. “Yes,” he said solemnly. “I do.”

And Hitoshi couldn’t help it. It wasn’t a conscious decision. He launched himself at Aizawa, and sobbed unrestrainedly into the older man’s chest. Aizawa held him, carding a hand gently through Hitoshi’s hair. Hitoshi had no memory of ever being comforted like this--as if by a parent. 

“Let’s go home,” said Aizawa softly.

Hitoshi clutched his teacher’s dampened shirt in his fists. Not trusting himself to speak, he nodded.

***

Shinsou was lost in thought, and perhaps that was the reason he ran straight into Midoriya as he approached the school building. 

Midoryia, characteristically, began to wave his arms frantically. “Sh-shinsou! I’m sorry, I should be more careful!”

“I walked into you,” Hitoshi muttered. He looked at Midoriya’s face. There was something slightly different in the boy’s expression, and Hitoshi wondered if it had to do with his internship. 

“H-how was your internship, Shinsou?”

Shinsou smiled. That was happening more and more these days. “It was great. How was yours?”

Midoriya tilted his head, giving his signature sunshine smile. “Amazing!” He furrowed his brow a little, looking quizzically at Shinsou. “You look…different.”

Shinsou raised an eyebrow. 

“G-good different! I mean, you didn’t look bad before! Obviously! I um-- shoot. I don’t know what I’m saying.”

Shinsou chuckled. “I feel different,” he said simply. 

Midoriya smiled again. “I heard you’re living with Aizawa-sensei,” he said carefully, peering up at Shinsou as if to gauge his reaction. 

Shinsou just nodded. 

“I’m really happy for you!” said Midoriya cheerfully. 

“Hey Shinsou!” Shinsou and Midoriya turned to the familiar voice. 

Uraraka ran to Midoriya, arms outstretched as she pulled him into a hug. Next, she went for Hitoshi, throwing her arms around his neck. Shinsou was surprised but pleased, returning her embrace.

“Uraraka. How was your internship?”

“SO COOL!” Uraraka immediately assumed a fighting stance, throwing her fist out in a punch. “I learned so much from Gun Head!”

“Can you extras shut the hell up? It’s too early for this shit.”

Shinsou turned and saw Bakugou, and was unable to restrain a snort.

“HAH? THINK SOMETHING’S FUNNY, EYEBAGS?”

But everyone else had started to giggle as well at Bakugo’s new hairstyle. 

“Um… that’s quite a new look,” said Uraraka, trying to stifle a laugh. 

Bakugo glared. “IT WON’T GO BACK TO NORMAL AFTER THAT SCUM MESSED IT UP!”

“I think it looks great! Don’t you, Shinsou?” asked Uraraka. 

Shinsou smiled his signature half smile. “Yeah. Dashing.”

“Oh, shut the fuck up,” muttered Bakugou, pushing them aside and storming past them into the school building. 

“Hey guys!” said Kirishima apologetically. “Don’t mind him, he’s just…” he shrugged helplessly and gave them both a sharp-toothed grin before hurrying after Bakugou. 

Kaminari was just behind, and stuttered to a halt when he saw Hitoshi. “H-hey Shinsou! You look--I mean, um-- heh. Hi!” 

To his own horror, Hitoshi felt a blush creep up the back of his neck. “H-hi,” he mumbled pathetically. Smooth, Hitoshi. 

Kaminari flashed him a grin and darted off to join the others. 

Uraraka gave Hitoshi a sharp elbow to the ribs, her eyebrows raised playfully. 

“Shut up ,” he moaned, elbowing her back. She giggled. 

As the remainder of Class 1-A joined them, Hitoshi felt a warm fondness for all of them bubble up in his chest. He’d even been happy to see Bakugou.  

Smiling, he followed the rest of his class into the school building.