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Chapter Text

Everything had begun around the same time students were transferred to the dorms inside U.A.’s large and secure campus. Shinsou Hitoshi had happily claimed his room in the General Education building, second floor, and proceeded to ignore his classmates giving each other tours and settling in the communal living room to play games or hang out. They didn’t invite him, either.

Only around half of the General Education students had accepted the move into campus, since they weren’t as high-risk as those in the hero course, and they all had complete freedom to go back home if they felt like it. Hitoshi, of course, wasn’t planning on it. Mostly because he wasn’t welcome anymore in the place he had never even called a home.

After changing families so much, one stopped considering anywhere ‘home’ at some point.

Everything had been normal for a week; he went to class, trained with Aizawa and steadfastly avoided his classmates, whose interest in Hitoshi had quickly died down after the sports festival. Even the stares and general reluctance to talk to him were normal, something he had endured his whole life.

Enter Midoriya Izuku.

Hitoshi had gone for a walk around the small, forested area when he had bumped into the green-haired student and, before he could even try to turn around and leave, Midoriya had flagged him down with a smile that had no right being that bright.

“Shinsou, right?” Midoriya jogged to catch up with him, clad in sports clothes and looking only slightly out of breath; he probably had been training for a while.

“Yeah… hi.” Was his awkward reply. Midoriya didn’t seem to mind.

“How’s everything going? I haven’t seen you since the sports festival, it’s been a while!”

He shrugged, not really knowing what to say. Things hadn’t changed much, apart from being practically kicked out of his foster home, and he definitely wasn’t telling Midoriya that. Not even Aizawa knew about it, and it was all for the better. What if he got transferred to another home, with new, possibly worse people, or that was too far away from U.A.? No, Hitoshi was not risking his dream. Living in the dorms should suffice for the next two years, until he became a hero and was able to figure something out.

Midoriya didn’t seem to have noticed him so lost in his thoughts, as he was rambling about something or the other – Hitoshi caught the words ‘summer camp’ and got lost soon after – so he let him. Listening to someone else speak was always better than the awkward silence that Hitoshi seemed to carry around his classmates.

“Oh, I forgot to ask! You’re living here in the dorms now, right?”

Hitoshi nodded in confirmation. “It’s closer to the school.”

“Well, it definitely is.” Midoriya laughed, and Hitoshi couldn’t help but feel like smiling a little – even if he didn’t. “You should come to ours sometime! Iida is a bit strict with the rules and Kacchan will yell at you if there’s noise after eight, but we have some fun too! Satou is quite good at baking and ever since Kaminari set his console in the living room television we have been holding Mario Kart tournaments…”

“Sounds fun.” Hitoshi interrupted him, speaking before thinking it through. Thankfully, Midoriya beaming, to which his shoulders relieved some of the tension that had been accumulated with the realization that he had spoken out of turn.

There were some habits that he should shake off, but he was fine. No one would berate him for speaking, or going out for a walk, or eating…, not at school, at least. Hitoshi told that to himself, repeating the words over and over in his head.

It couldn’t have been more than a minute, but Hitoshi noticed immediately that Midoriya wasn’t speaking when he stopped his own train of thought.

“Are you alright?” Midoriya blurted out, surprising the both of them.

Why would he ask that?

“I’m fine.”

Somehow, the words were hard to believe. Midoriya didn’t seem to buy it either, but he started talking again at least, not prodding the subject.

Later in the day, as he laid down in bed with his eyes wide open, Hitoshi wondered why saying that he was fine had felt like such a lie. He held up a hand, staring at its outline in the faint light that came from the window, and wondered if it would get better.

Of course it will, you idiot, a voice in his head said, everything will be fine as soon as you get into the hero course.

Hitoshi didn’t know if he believed that.

By the time of his next training session with Aizawa, on Monday afternoon, Hitoshi had pushed all the doubts and weird spiraling thoughts to the back of his mind, trying his hardest to focus into his goal. The hero department didn’t accept anything less than the very best, so he had to train hard, both mentally and physically.

Aizawa was waiting inside the gym, as per usual, scrolling through his phone while leaning against the wall. For someone who looked like he had just rolled out of bed permanently, Aizawa Shouta really was cool in Hitoshi’s eyes. He admired both his career as Eraserhead, the underground hero, and U.A. teacher, and he had always had an underlying longing to impress the man ever since they met.

“You’re early.” Aizawa said, pocketing his phone and crossing his arms in front of his chest. “Good.”

Hitoshi allowed the corners of his mouth to quirk up slightly. Any praise from the aloof teacher was rare, so he held them in high regard.

“Have you trained with the scarf?” Aizawa asked him after their warm-up routine, the both of them standing in the middle of the gym. Hitoshi nodded. “How much?”

“I can now grab things easily with it.” The student replied, adjusting his weapon and taking a nearby water bottle with it as demonstration. “I also figured out what you meant about the shoulders, if I adjust it like this…”

Their sessions usually went by smoothly, and this was no exception. Aizawa taught him how to reach the higher beams and keep his balance with the scarf, as well as how to swing from one to another. Hitoshi was proud to have gotten the hang of it after so many failed lessons, even if he still slipped once or twice, and he wondered if the level of mastery that the pro hero had with his own capture weapon was within his reach.

“Let’s take a small break.” Said the teacher after more than two hours of practice. Hitoshi agreed, even if he wasn’t that tired yet thanks to the exhaustive stamina training that they had done in the past month.

The two of them sat on the lowest benches of the bleachers, drinking water and resting. Those moments usually came and went in silence, so Hitoshi was surprised when his teacher started talking to him.

“Are you living in the dorms now?”

“Yes.” He bit down the why, reprimanding himself for almost asking a question.

“I’m temporarily on campus too. We could increase the number of sessions, if you’d like.” Aizawa proposed, his dark eyes fixed on the teenager and making him feel like he was undergoing some kind of examination.

“Fine by me.” He simply replied.

Aizawa didn’t add more than a nod to that.

As the break came to an end, Hitoshi reached for his capture scarf, but Aizawa stopped him with a shake of his head that stilled him into place. Had he done something wrong? The sudden bout of anxiety must have reflected in his eyes, because something briefly crossed the teacher’s stare, going away as quickly as it had appeared.

“We’re sparring now. You can’t be a hero without knowing how to throw a decent punch, come on.”

Hitoshi tried to shake his worries away and followed him to the middle of the gym again, positioning himself in the same fighting stance as Aizawa and letting the teacher correct the angle of his arms or how his torso was facing the enemy.

“You should swing like this,” Aizawa gave a demonstration, arm rearing back with his fist closed. Hitoshi stared at it, a sudden memory playing in his head.

He was ten and had accidentally asked a question to his second foster father. “I’ll kill you if you use that villainous quirk of yours in me” he had said, and the next thing Hitoshi saw was an arm swinging towards his face, hitting him squarely in the nose.

Hitoshi blinked the memory away, his whole body shaking as he blankly stared at his teacher’s fist. Or, more like, the empty space where the fist had been. He hadn’t even tried to cover up with his arms, having learned the hard way that it just led to more hits.

His gaze drifted upwards and found Aizawa staring at him, a strange expression crossing his eyes. Hitoshi only hoped he hadn’t acted too embarrassingly, quickly straightening up and trying to act as if nothing had happened. His body was still slightly shaking.

Stupid, stupid, stupid, his mind echoed. He just had to be weird in front of his teacher, his mentor, the only person that had believed in him after the sports festival. Everything was probably ruined if neither of them acted like nothing had happened.

“Are you…” Aizawa talked slowly, almost pensively. Hitoshi felt like a scared animal of sorts. “… alright?”

That damned question again. Why did people keep insisting on asking him if he was alright? Didn’t he seem alright? Okay, maybe the getting-lost-in-thought part wasn’t the most normal thing ever, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t fine. He was just thinking about the past. About things that were over now, because now Hitoshi didn’t have to go back to that place, or anywhere remotely similar.

He was at the dorms now, safe and alone. It’s fine.

“Yes, I’m fine.” Once again, the words tasted untrue in his tongue, but Hitoshi pushed through. “Show me again how to do it, please.”

Aizawa didn’t press the issue, thankfully, but the strange look lingered in his eyes for the rest of the session.

Christmas was approaching. Hitoshi didn’t care about the festivities in the least, not having really celebrated anything in the past decade or so, but there was one thing that had started to bug him during the first two weeks of December.

Holidays.

A simple word that contained so much meaning.

Apparently, U.A. had granted all its students, including the ones in the hero course that were supposedly under stricter vigilance, the permission to go back home during the holidays to see their families. Everyone in General Education had already signed the form to leave for a few days, everyone except Hitoshi.

He still had a home listed in the official paperwork; his foster parents hadn’t retired their custody yet. They had simply told him that he shouldn’t come back, for his own good. And, frankly speaking, Hitoshi didn’t want to go back to that house full of eerily silent children and drunk parents that beat him for less than nothing.

The problem was that, if he stayed at the dorms while supposedly having a family or a house to go to, it would be highly suspicious. There wouldn’t be much security on campus – and that was yet another issue, because Hitoshi didn’t want to force any teachers to stay away from their families or friends during the break just to look after his security – and no one else he knew would stay at the dorms, so the staying-with-friends card wouldn’t work either.

Between classes, training sessions and reassuring himself that he was alright, he was perfectly fine (and if he flinched when someone got too close or never spoke unless prompted… well, that would eventually go away, right?), Hitoshi didn’t have time to formulate a plan for the holidays. So, he let it be for the time present.

Aizawa had asked him the same question a couple times, never pressing or insisting, only asking once and moving on when Hitoshi assured him that everything was fine, but that look never left his eyes.

At least he hadn’t bumped into Midoriya again.

The next time someone asked him was not during a training session or in a chance encounter with a too-bright student. It was, unexpectedly, after English class.

“Goodbye listeners!” Present Mic ended the lesson in his usual cheery manner, grinning broadly and waving as the students trickled out of the classroom. Hitoshi was last, not wanting to get caught in the crowd that usually clogged up the hallways leading to the cafeteria.

He slowly gathered his material, ensuring that the bag was zipped up completely before hoisting it over his shoulder and making a beeline for the door as soon as the last student had left the classroom.

Present Mic was faster.

“Shinsou, one moment!” He said, standing next to the door and virtually blocking the way out. The teenager couldn’t help his eyes darting towards the window briefly, the thought of it being a viable way out crossing his mind before he steeled himself.

Instead of inquiring why he was being stopped (don’t ask questions, don’t ask questions, don’t ask–) Hitoshi stayed silent, looking at his teacher with a look that he hoped was enough to convey mild curiosity or, at least, not straight up rudeness.

“It won’t be long.” The hero reassured, still smiling. Hitoshi wished he could see the man’s eyes clearly behind those sunglasses; he felt as if they were tracking his every move. “I just wanted to offer some help, maybe a tutoring?”

That surprised Hitoshi. He had been almost certain that Mic was going to reprimand him for choosing to do the assigned project alone, or that he had somehow done something wrong, but that didn’t seem to be the case.

Tutoring lessons in English. Hitoshi mulled it over for a couple seconds, knowing that, while he definitely wasn’t the best at English, there were a few people below his level at least.

“Nakamura is having trouble too.” He finally said, hoping Mic caught the indirect question. Why me?

“She has a private tutor at home.” Replied the teacher, the smile not faltering for a second. Now Hitoshi was really caught off guard.

“I, uhm…” Hitoshi hesitated. He really didn’t want to bother Mic with extra lessons, and it made him feel a little uncomfortable. “I’ll think about it.”

“There’s no rush.” Mic seemed to catch on Hitoshi’s feelings, leaning back against the doorframe with a relaxed stance that seemed way too casual. “It wouldn’t be a bother, you know. It’s my job as a teacher to make sure my little listeners are doing alright.”

Hitoshi latched onto that last part of the sentence, wondering if it was a thinly veiled question or if it was just Mic’s way of speaking. The man was more intelligent that it seemed, that much was clear.

“I’m fine. Thank you, but I think I’m good for now…”

Mic simply nodded and said a cheery goodbye that Hitoshi returned half-heartedly, too focused on breezing past his teacher and leaving the classroom that was started to feel a little too overwhelming.

Since it was lunchtime and everyone would likely be at the cafeteria, Hitoshi set off for the gym he always trained at, hoping to find a small space of peace and quiet there. On the way, he checked the news on the phone, but nothing remarkable had happened in the past few days, so Hitoshi turned to a forum about underground heroes he usually frequented.

There was a new thread about Eraserhead patrolling a nearby area just the past night, and Hitoshi was so focused reading it that he didn’t notice the small group of students until it was too late.

“Hey!” Someone called at him and, as he looked up, green was the first thing he saw. Midoriya.

It was only polite to see what the other student wanted, Hitoshi told himself, so he pocketed the phone and waited for Midoriya as he approached, that bright smile always present on his freckled face.

“Hello.” He simply said.

“Are you having lunch by yourself?” Midoriya quickly asked, the words tumbling out of his mouth as per usual. Hitoshi didn’t really mind that. “I’m with Uraraka, Iida and Todoroki over there, you can join if you want!”

It was the first time in years that Hitoshi had been asked to join someone for lunch. The last time he recalled having friends was before his quirk manifested. After that, no one had wanted anything to do with him, in fear that they could get brainwashed for answering a simple question. It had only accidentally happened twice, but Hitoshi would bear the consequences for the rest of his life, or so it seemed.

“Uh…” he hesitated, and Midoriya mistook it for a yes.

“Great! They’re cool people, I swear!”

Hitoshi let himself be dragged to the aforementioned group of friends, avoiding Todoroki’s dual-colored stare and feeling confused at Uraraka’s friendly smile, not used to people wanting to spend time with him.

“Hey guys, this is Shinsou!” Midoriya introduced him excitedly, then proceeded to point to each of them and recite their names. Hitoshi already knew more or less who they were – especially Todoroki, he was hard to forget – but appreciated it all the same.

“You were great at the sports festival.” Uraraka said conversationally, but instead of fear or rejection, all he saw in her round face was curiosity and slight admiration. “I would have lost against you for sure!”

“I didn’t expect Midoriya to break his fingers.” Hitoshi replied, not knowing if that was the right thing to say.

“It is a bad habit of his, unfortunately.” Iida interjected, friendly enough, but his eyes turned serious when Midoriya chuckled in embarrassment. “Your arms could be useless forever, you know.”

While Midoriya sputtered something about his new training, Todoroki turned to Hitoshi, who felt uneasy under the intensity of his stare.

“Are you still aiming for the hero course?” He asked, tone mostly flat with an underlining of curiosity that led Hitoshi to believe he was genuinely interested.

“Yes. I’m going to earn that spot, just you wait.” Hitoshi replied, realizing a bit too late that he sounded more challenging that he intended. As per usual, his pride had gotten in the way, but Todoroki didn’t seem to mind. He had been equally defiant on their first meeting at 1-A’s door, anyways.

Todoroki nodded, whatever curiosity he’d had satiated now, so Hitoshi tuned in briefly to the others’ conversations.

Midoriya’s group was a bit weird, he thought. They weren’t loud or explosive like he thought all heroics department students were, nor they ignored him like his General Education classmates did. It was a good sort of weird, with Todoroki’s intimidating silence balancing Midoriya’s incessant rambling and Iida’s seriousness contrasting with Uraraka’s cheery disposition.

Hitoshi didn’t talk much, staying only a bit longer with them before making up an excuse and leaving in search of the solitude he had been craving. Midoriya, however, insisted on exchanging numbers as a symbol of their new friendship – Hitoshi had his doubts about how long that ‘friendship’ would last, but oh well – and assured him that they could talk over text whenever they wanted.

It was strange. Some other time, maybe a couple months ago, Hitoshi would have been offended at the thought that someone wanted to approach him with unclear reasons, but the fact that he had bigger problems to worry about made him relax a little in that aspect.

After all, maybe everyone wasn’t out to get him.

That last message was a mistake, Hitoshi knew it immediately after he sent it. There was no turning back, though, so he just stared at the three dots that meant Midoriya was typing a response. He had probably just blown his chance to be friends with him and, as much as he tried to act like he didn’t care, Hitoshi internally berated himself for it.

With a huff, the purple-haired teenager threw his phone to the side of the bed and stared up at the ceiling, as he had taken to do lately. It was different from the one at his old house, which was full of cracks and damp spots. This one was clean and new, and if he looked at it long enough, he could imagine phantom shapes and spots dancing just in the edge of his vision.

His phone beeped and Hitoshi reached for it, dread settling on his chest at the prospect of an angry or, even worse, a sad message from Midoriya.

It was neither of those.

The message rendered him speechless. Hitoshi tried to type an adequate reply, to convey his true feelings in a message while fighting his own thoughts (why would he want to be friends with me, I’m a loner, people look at me weird…), but it was fruitless. Everything sounded bad or fake, so he settled for a short response instead.

Midoriya Izuku

oh... ok then. sorry.

If he smiled a little when Midoriya replied with a bunch of happy emojis well, that was only for Hitoshi to know.

“You look stressed.”

Hitoshi stopped in his tracks, caught in the motion of pulling the capturing weapon from his bag. Aizawa had made a simple – but correct – affirmation after only ten seconds in his presence, and Hitoshi had known he was scarily observant, but it still caught him by surprise.

The worst part of it all was that he really was stressed, very much so. The winter holidays started in exactly two days and Hitoshi still didn’t have a plan or a feasible excuse for him being the only student that wasn’t going home. No one had asked him yet, but it really was a matter of time. He just hoped to have time to make up some story before being asked.

“Are you going back home for the holidays?” Aizawa asked suddenly, and something in his tone made Hitoshi realize that his mentor might already know about his lack of signature in the forms.

Well, fuck.

“I don’t know why you should care.” He tried for the rude approach, making sure to avoid phrasing it like a question. Aizawa definitely caught on that too.

“I care about all of my students.” The man simply said, still leaning against the gym wall as he awaited a reply.

Hitoshi stayed silent, trying to think of a coherent excuse about why he couldn’t go back home. He could always say he was leaving and then live on the streets, but the winter cold didn’t make that a tempting idea, especially during the entirety of the break.

“I prefer the dorms.” He simply said in the end, shrugging with fake nonchalance.

“No one is staying here, though.”

“I don’t care.”

There was another beat of silence between the two of them, Aizawa looking at him with that look in his eyes, as if he had noticed something and was trying to figure everything out. Hitoshi didn’t like that. He didn’t want anyone to discover the truth, to know that he was practically homeless and facing physical abuse if he ever went back to that home.

His eyes drifted down to the floor beneath his feet, finding the scuffed sneakers far more interesting than whatever conversation Aizawa was trying to have with him. It didn’t work.

“Should I try and contact your parents?”

The question made him snap back up, looking at the teacher dead in the eye and trying to appear as convincing as possible.

“Don’t. Everything is fine.”

The more he said it, the less Hitoshi believed things were fine.

After a moment of quiet consideration, Aizawa finally gave up, switching to the training routine they usually did, much to Hitoshi’s relief. They practiced swinging with the scarf and then a bit more of punching and overall self-defense, with the promise that next session they would actually start with physically fighting and using the capture weapon at the same time.

Hitoshi ended up going back to the dorms feeling exhausted, but more relaxed. Exercise was always a good way of venting when he was too stressed, and the thought made him start to jog on the way, if only to complement the training routine a bit more.

That night, as he once again stared at the ceiling feeling unable to sleep, Hitoshi thought back to his short albeit tense conversation with Aizawa. He wasn’t used to people poking into his business with the pretense of caring about him, and the teacher’s aloof personality had led him to believe that there would be no problems in that front.

He was wrong, apparently. Aizawa hadn’t pushed for more after Hitoshi’s insistence that things were fine – were they, though? –, but he expected him to bring up the subject again at some point. And there was no avoiding their training together, if he truly wanted to achieve his lifelong dream of becoming a hero and proving wrong all those who had called him a villain because of his brainwashing quirk.

Sighing, Hitoshi rolled over. It seemed like there was no right answer for anything lately.

The day before the holidays started, Hitoshi and Aizawa had their next training session. His teacher was relatively quiet, only speaking to help him with the momentum while swinging and fighting or when helping with his quirk, which the teenager was still a bit reluctant to use.

Hitoshi was already beginning to think he was off the hook by the time they finished. He should have known better.

“Shinsou,” Aizawa called him, the seriousness in his tone enough to make him stop in his tracks. “We have to talk.”

Repressing a groan, the purple-haired boy turned around expectantly, putting his hands in his pockets to at least try and give an image of utter nonchalance. He didn’t say anything, so Aizawa kept talking.

“Listen, I looked into your file.” To his surprise, there wasn’t disappointment or disgust in the man’s voice, only a soft understanding beneath the slightly flat tone. “It’s not an ideal situation, and I understand, but I cannot help you if you don’t say anything about it.”

“There’s nothing to say.” Hitoshi snapped back. He shouldn’t talk like that to his teacher. He didn’t care.

“I can help you. The school can help you. But you have to let us.”

Already tired of a conversation that had just begun, Hitoshi turned around, not wanting to be under the scrutinizing stare of his mentor. A myriad of emotions swirled inside him, muddling his thoughts and making the situation all the more confusing. One part of himself wanted to tell everything to Aizawa and get it over with, but there was another, one with a stronger, insidious voice, that insisted everything would go downhill if the secret was revealed.

Decisions, decisions.

“Why… I don’t understand why it is so troublesome for me to stay here during the break, anyways.” He finally said, clenching his fists. Aizawa sighed heavily.

“You would be the only one staying. There has to be something really wrong for you to prefer an empty campus-”

“They don’t want me.”

The words spilled out of his mouth before Hitoshi could think twice about the repercussions, about the what ifs, about everything, really. When he turned around, Aizawa was very still, looking at him once again in that strange way, and Hitoshi could feel the familiar anxiety constricting his lungs, messing with his mind, telling him that he had fucked up, that Aizawa would now contact the authorities and his hero career would end right then and there.

That it was the end, and he had brought it on himself.

“They are listed as your current foster parents.” Aizawa said slowly, as if considering every single word. “If they kicked you out…”

There was a calmness in his voice that unsettled Hitoshi, and he soon found out why: the man was almost trembling with fury beneath it. He had done that. It was all his fault, and now he had to find a way to fix it.

“N-No, it’s just I… I was too much trouble.” It was a lie, but at least one he was used to. Every foster family he’d had said the same. “And I’m fine now. I live in the dorms, so there’s not a difference.”

“Except when we’re on holidays.” Aizawa reminded him.

Hitoshi kept his mouth shut. There was something prickling at the corner of his eyes, except it couldn’t be tears, because he never cried, because crying meant trouble, and he really didn’t want to cause even more trouble. Aizawa shouldn’t be worrying about his home life, or lack thereof. He was just burdening his teacher.

His hand shot up to try and wipe a single tear that had spilled – why was he crying anyways? Everything was fine – and the man’s eyes followed the movement closely. There was a moment of silence, and then…

“Come here.”

Before he could process what was going on, Hitoshi felt himself being engulfed in a one-armed hug, head resting on Aizawa’s shoulder as the tears leaked from his eyes, running free down his cheeks and creating a mess that, had he not been in such a state of utter anxiety, he would have been ashamed of.

“I-I’m sorry…” He choked out, but Aizawa shushed him.

“Don’t.”

They stayed like that for a short while, Hitoshi silently crying in his teacher’s shoulder like it was a perfectly normal thing to do. A long time had passed since someone had last hugged him like that, so he selfishly stayed several seconds more than necessary, basking in the warmth provided.

When they finally separated, Aizawa’s expression was grave. Hitoshi knew they would have to talk about it, as much as he wished they just forgot the entire subject and moved on to better things, so instead of waiting for the man to speak, he beat him to it.

“I can’t go back there.” He just said, desperation clear in his tone.

They had kicked him out, after months of abuse, after making him wear that muzzle to avoid the usage of his quirk entirely, having read the detailed descriptions of past accidents on his file. There was no way on Earth Hitoshi was going back. He would rather sleep under a bridge if it was necessary.

“You can’t stay here either.” Aizawa replied firmly, effectively dashing any hopes the teenage had. He still looked thoughtful, though, but not any less angry. “Give me a couple hours, okay? I can fix something for you. Here, put your number.”

He handed Hitoshi his phone, a new contact ready to be added, so he quickly tapped the digits while trying not to think about the fact that Eraserhead, the underground hero, was asking for his number. There were so many conflicting emotions at the same time for him to handle.

After handing back the phone, the teenager hesitated. Aizawa would certainly send him to another home, which was a really stressing thought in itself, but he recognized that the teacher was actually trying to help and do the best he could. And for that, Hitoshi was grateful.

“Thank you.” He said quickly, then scurried away before his mentor could say anything else.

There was no knowing if he had made the right decision yet, so he would just have to wait and see what happened.

After all, life could always hold a surprise or two in store.

Chapter Text

Feeling jittery with nerves, Hitoshi made his way towards the gym where they always trained. Aizawa was already waiting for him there in his usual posture leaning against the wall, looking like he would rather be sleeping as he always did. They nodded at each other and settled in a somewhat uncomfortable silence, broken only ten seconds later by the teacher.

“I’ve come to a solution for a place where you can spend the holidays.” He said, and Hitoshi felt dread pooling out inside him. Wherever it was, it would be the same as always. A new foster home with people that only wanted to either discipline or ignore him.

“Okay.”

Another beat of silence.

“If you’re not okay with it, I understand. There are more foster homes out there that could take you, but personally I feel like this is the safest option, considering the current situation after what happened in Kamino.” Aizawa looked at him seriously, and Hitoshi only nodded. He tried his hardest not to care about where they put him. “You can stay with me. And… my husband. If that isn’t an issue.”

Hitoshi’s thoughts stopped dead on their tracks, as he felt his eyes staring at Aizawa wide open with disbelief. There was no way that his teacher had just said that. He must have been imagining it, projecting into the man, making up those words in his mind.

Maybe he was dreaming. Or having a nightmare. Or it was all a joke, and Aizawa would now say that he was too gullible for a hero. Or…

“Just say yes or no.” Aizawa’s words snapped him from his thoughts, and Hitoshi realized that the man must have been waiting for him to say something.

“Yes.”

Something flickered across Aizawa’s face at the simple word. Hitoshi couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but he would say it was akin to relief, or maybe happiness.

“Then come on. Most students have left already anyways.” The teacher said, starting to walk towards the dorms while Hitoshi followed him, feeling as if in a haze.

“I hope you’re sure.” He said, staring firmly at the ground.

“Completely.” Aizawa replied.

It didn’t take long for Hitoshi to gather all the necessary stuff for the break – it was a short time, after all, so as long as he had a change of clothes, the necessary textbooks for assigned homework and his capture scarf, he would be alright. Aizawa waited for him at the entrance of the dorms, not looking impatient in the least when Hitoshi finally emerged after a final sweep of the room to make sure he wasn’t leaving anything important behind.

It still didn’t feel real, to be invited like that to the home of someone whom he had admired for quite a long time – ever since he was six and had seen a report on the news featuring an underground hero with a ‘villainous’ quirk like his own – and he had a husband, no less.

Well, it surely couldn’t get more bizarre than that.

The car ride was quiet, with Aizawa silently watching the road and Hitoshi checking the news in his phone, and it was not long before they arrived at the man’s apartment. He was still nervous, but masked it with an indifferent expression, reminding himself that it was temporary, just because he didn’t have a place to go during the holidays.

Why Aizawa was willing to take on such a burden as himself, Hitoshi didn’t know.

“I’m home.” Aizawa greeted as he opened the door to the apartment, slipping off his shoes and gesturing for Hitoshi to do the same. Someone replied from inside the house – the husband, he thought nervously, what if he didn’t like him? – and Hitoshi focused his eyes on the sneakers he was currently taking off.

When he looked up again, there was a new person in the living room, a man with long blonde hair that was grinning brightly and somehow felt familiar in a way Hitoshi couldn’t really put his finger on.

“Welcome Shinsou!” The man greeted happily. “How are you? Want me to show you your room? What –”

“Hizashi, you’re overwhelming the kid.” Aizawa interjected flatly, tugging off his scarf and hanging it near the door. Hitoshi just kept staring at the man, wondering where he had seen him before.

“Right, sorry. Let me show you to your room, though, you might want to put your stuff down. My full name is Yamada Hizashi, by the way, but you can call me however you like.”

Hitoshi nodded and followed him down a hallway. The bathroom door was open, allowing him to spot a cat litter box, which made him instantly perk up a little. Aizawa’s husband instantly noticed.

“We have two cats.” Yamada happily replied to the unspoken question, “they’re called Tofu and Sleepy. As you see, Shouta isn’t the most normal person when it comes to names.”

“Can I pet them?” Hitoshi instantly blurted out, too excited to remember that he shouldn’t ask questions. He immediately stiffened after noticing, but there seemed to be no problem with the older man.

“Of course, if they dignify us with their presence.” Yamada simply laughed. “Anyways, this is your room, listener!”

A door to their right was opened, but Hitoshi didn’t quite register it, eyes fixed on the blonde man as if seeing him for the first time. He had a strange mustache now that he paid attention; one he had seen before… 

“You’re Present Mic.” He blurted out, stunned.

Mic – no, Yamada. Hitoshi was sticking to Yamada on his head to make things easier – was surprised for a second before breaking into a smile again, making finger guns with his hands in the trademark gesture of the Voice Hero.

“Yeah, that’s me!”

Learning that Aizawa was married was a shock on its own. The fact that he had also offered a house to Hitoshi when he had nowhere else to go was enough to throw his own little world off its axis. And now, seeing that the man Aizawa was married to was none other than Present Mic, his English teacher, Hitoshi was starting to think everything was a product of his imagination.

Either he was dreaming, or he had accidentally been hit by a hallucination quirk. There could be no other explanation.

Hitoshi snapped from his thoughts and decided to at least see where the situation took him, so he awkwardly stepped into the room and glanced around. It was rather plain, with a bed, a dresser and a small desk to the side, the white painted walls helping to the feeling of cleanliness. He wondered if they had cleaned everything up just for him, and the thought made him feel somewhat warm inside.

“Um, thanks.” He turned to Yamada, who grinned at him from the doorway. Without his sunglasses and usual hero attire, the man looked more his age.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll be in the living room with Shouta, you can come whenever you’d like.” Yamada told him, then left him to his own devices.

The door was left half open, and Hitoshi didn’t bother to close it all the way. His old foster parents used to either lock him in or leave the door wide open to avoid any possible privacy he could have, depending on their mood, so having the option of leaving it just like that was a bit of a relief.

Hitoshi wondered how long it would be until Aizawa and Yamada realized that he was a burden and kicked him out. Maybe they were already regretting their decision, since he hadn’t been exactly the most cheerful or openly grateful person upon being invited to their house.

A quiet meow pulled the teenager back to reality, who grinned automatically as he noticed the black ball of fur that was currently peeking at him from the door. Hitoshi sat on the floorboards with slow and deliberate movements, extending his arm with the palm of his hand upwards. To his delight, the cat quickly approached him and nuzzled the hand, allowing him to pet its soft head.

“What’s your name?” He mumbled, searching for the collar. There was a simple metallic charm on it that had Aizawa’s contact information written on it and a name: Sleepy. Hitoshi chuckled a little, the droopy-like eyes of the cat making justice to his name. “That’s cute.”

He spent the good part of twenty minutes playing with the cat, mostly petting him and letting the animal sniff him as much as he liked. The sun was setting outside, its last dying rays filtering through the window and giving the whole room a rather nice glow that made Sleepy’s fur look even shinier. Once it was dark, Hitoshi stood up and stretched, deciding to venture outside so as to not push his luck by seeming too rude.

Aizawa and Yamada were both in the living room, grading papers and watching the news respectively. It felt like he was intruding in such a domestic scene, but neither man seemed bothered that Hitoshi had decided to join them. If anything, Yamada expressed his good spirits by beaming at him and motioning for him to sit on the sofa.

There was another cat there too, so Hitoshi didn’t hesitate.

“That’s Tofu.” Yamada said, scooping up the off-white cat with care. “Would you like to hold her?”

Hitoshi nodded eagerly, quickly accepting the fur ball in his arms. Tofu seemed much younger than Sleepy, probably less than one year old, but after a couple moments of sniffing him around, the cat made herself comfortable in his arms.

“He seems to love cats as much as you do.” Yamada turned to Aizawa, who let out a small snort from where he was sitting at the dining table. Hitoshi had never seen the usually serious teacher so relaxed before, which inclined him to think that maybe that was how a home worked.

They made an odd pair, Present Mic and Eraserhead. While the former was loud and bright, with enough energy to lit up an entire room and a contagious smile that put most people at ease, Aizawa was usually standoffish and strict, not allowing people to approach him easily and certainly preferring to stay in the shadows due to his underground status.

In a way, it made sense, Hitoshi thought. Both complemented each other somewhat, with their different personalities, and seeing them so relaxed in their own home made him feel both slightly jealous and happy at the same time.

“There’s still some time until dinner, so what do you want to do?” Yamada suddenly asked, his voice not as loud as Hitoshi was used to. The teenager shrugged, thinking back to the pile of homework he had to do during the break.

“I have homework.” He replied. It wasn’t the most ideal of plans, but it would at least give him an excuse not to intrude too much in both men’s lives for the time being.

Not looking even close to bothered or taken aback, Yamada smiled at him. “Oh, alright! Feel free to ask me if you have any questions.”

Hitoshi nodded and stood up, but before he could scurry out of the living room and into the quiet hallway, Aizawa spoke up again.

“Take Tofu with you, she makes good company.” He said, making Hitoshi almost smile in surprise.

Quickly scooping up the small animal in his arms, the teenager left the room and entered what would be his own space during the break, settling down Tofu near the bed and feeling even better when she didn’t try to leave. Sleepy was nowhere to be seen, but Hitoshi was happy to have at least one cat nearby, even more when she jumped into his lap the moment he sat on the desk.

“Sorry I won’t be much fun.” He quietly apologized to the cat, who didn’t seem to mind one bit and actually looked like she was preparing for a nap.

All of his teachers had sent some homework for the break in varying quantities, so Hitoshi decided to start with his favorite subject: mathematics. Ectoplasm was a good teacher, patient with his students and willing to explain the most difficult parts over and over until everyone understood, something that Hitoshi respected. The fact that things were so thoroughly explained also meant that he didn’t have the need to ask any questions, so that was a bonus.

Delving into the sheet of math problems, Hitoshi lost track of time until there was a soft knock at his half open door, startling him slightly. Aizawa opened the door just as he turned around, poking inside with his usual tired expression.

“Hizashi made dinner.”

Indeed, the smell of curry wafted inside the room, making Hitoshi’s stomach grumble hungrily. He hadn’t eaten anything since lunch, and even though U.A.’s meals were more than enough to cover for all his food necessities, the teenager still wasn’t too used to having more than one meal a day.

Wordlessly, Hitoshi capped his pen and stroked Tofu until she woke up and left his lap, following Aizawa outside the room and towards the kitchen, which was openly adjacent to the living room. Yamada was there, putting the final touches in their meal, the smell of curry stronger and making Hitoshi’s stomach growl once again. If anyone noticed, they didn’t comment on it.

“I hope you like it!” Said Yamada as they sat down to eat, clearly excited to show off his cooking – which, judging by the smell, was bound to be delicious.

“Thank you.” Hitoshi mumbled, and it was enough to make the blonde man beam.

They ate in silence at first, Aizawa quietly acknowledging how good the food tasted and Yamada glancing at Hitoshi every so often as he pretended not to notice. He tried to mind his manners as best he could, feeling slightly nervous with the situation, but no one seemed ready to snap at him or tell him how he should be grateful for the meal.

“So…” Yamada started tentatively after a while, looking like he was minding his words more than anything. “Aizawa told me about your parents –”

“Foster parents.” Hitoshi interrupted, startling himself in the process as fear took over him. He had spoken out of turn, rudely interrupting Yamada, who had kindly made dinner for him; they were surely going to be angry at him for that.

It must have been reflected on his face how scared he was, because Yamada immediately tried for a reassuring approach.

“It’s okay, it’s okay.” He promised before repeating what he had begun to say, “Aizawa told me about your foster parents throwing you out.”

Hitoshi shrunk in on himself even more, his appetite suddenly lost. Telling Aizawa had been a mistake; now both pro heroes would get involved and it would only annoy his previous foster parents, his current caseworker and probably the next family that had to take him in. Nothing good could come from it, except for the chance to spend the break with Aizawa and Yamada. That in itself had been enough of a miracle for Hitoshi.

“I’m living at the dorms now, so it’s fine.” Hitoshi repeated what he had told to Aizawa before, and the words tasted as wrong as they had all the other times that he had insisted on being fine.

Yamada and Aizawa exchanged a subtle look, Hitoshi too focused on his food to notice, but didn’t push the issue anymore. Instead, Yamada started talking about his next shift at the radio station and the brand-new playlist he was making, doing the immense majority of the talking while his husband nodded along or hummed a vague monosyllabic response. That seemed to be their usual dynamic, Hitoshi noticed.

He wondered how it would feel to have someone with whom he could be comfortable to that level. It must be nice.

Once they were finished, Aizawa stood up and gathered all their dishes, piling them up in the sink. Hitoshi followed his lead, feeling relieved that at least that was something he was used to in his daily life, and was about to start washing the first one when his mentor’s voice interrupted him.

“What are you doing?”

For the first time since he had known the man, Aizawa seemed surprised. Hitoshi hesitated, looking between the dirty dishes and both adults with wide eyes, internally panicking as he tried to pinpoint exactly what he had done wrong.

“I’m… washing up…” He said slowly, cringing when his voice betrayed just how tense he felt.

“You don’t have to do that.” Yamada stood up from the table as well, brows furrowed in confusion. Aizawa just stared at him. “We invited you. Besides, it’s Shouta’s job anyways.”

Hitoshi was puzzled. In all the homes he had been, cleaning up had been his or one of the children’s duties, never belonging to the adults since they had to go through the hassle of making food for them. He had assumed that the way to show proper gratitude and good behavior to both his teachers would be to wash up after them, but it hadn’t seemed to work.

A hand fell on his shoulder and Hitoshi flinched, much to his embarrassment, but Aizawa didn’t seem to mind, since he didn’t comment on it.

“Go do some homework or something, I’ll clean up here.”

Hitoshi didn’t hesitate in scurrying away and into the hallway, eager to get out of the uncomfortable situation caused by his own failure to know what it was expected of him. As he closed the bedroom door, Yamada’s words came floating from the kitchen, clear as day in the man’s usual louder-than-normal tone:

“Did you have to be so rough?”

All things considered; Hitoshi didn’t think Aizawa had been rough with him. Sure, the man’s default expression was a scowl or a glare, depending on the day, and he wasn’t known for his kind words towards students, but seeing how bad he had failed at dinner – interrupting Yamada, trying to clean unprompted… – the teenager thought he deserved a bigger punishment than being sent to his room.

Finally closing the door all the way and blocking the conversation that was filtering in from the kitchen, Hitoshi set about doing some more homework. The math problems sheet still wasn’t entirely done, so he opened the calculator app in his phone and started to work on it. However, before his eyes could turn to the paper, a notification caught his attention.

It wasn’t every day that his foster father sent him a message, so Hitoshi’s curiosity took the better part of him and he immediately opened the conversation.

His finger hovered over the ‘block contact’ button, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Two years had he lasted with the Matsumoto family and, while they hadn’t been caring people in the least, Hitoshi still felt strange about the whole situation. It was like a chapter of his life had suddenly ended, way too abruptly and without a clear continuation.

Sure, they had told him he wasn’t welcome at their home right after the dorms were built, but seeing that message, having to talk to his caseworker… it made everything real. Hitoshi wasn’t sure if he wanted it to be real that much.

He tried to focus again in the math exercises after that, to no avail, his mind wandering and considering every possible scenario that now seemed to be much closer than before. Hitoshi hadn’t been lying when he said that he would be alright living at U.A. without having a family on paper, but now he was having mixed feelings.

You’re never going to have a family, and it was stupid of you to think so. Becoming a hero is your most important path right now, don’t get delayed with useless things.

Was a family useless? Hitoshi had no way to know, his own parents had given him up right after his quirk manifested, so he had no tangible memories of what it was like to have a functional and loving family.

Aizawa and Yamada seem happy together, his traitorous brain nagged at him, images of the two adults being outright comfortable and happy with each other flashing through his mind. Hitoshi sighed heavily. Whatever they had; he couldn’t – didn’t even dare to – aspire to being part of it.

A knock on the door pulled the teenager from his spiraling thoughts, rendering him silent for a couple seconds until he realized that whoever was at the other side of the door was waiting for Hitoshi to say something. Weird.

“Come in.”

The door opened and Yamada poked his head inside, a smile on his face. Hitoshi wasn’t fooled, though, not when the corners of his eyes were crinkled with worry behind the prescription glasses he wore when out of costume.

“Hey,” he said, tone notably softer than what Hitoshi was used to hear from the hero, “I was thinking on watching a movie or something, you up for it?”

Hitoshi thought over the question, trying to decide what to reply. It hadn’t been phrased like an order, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t one. Then again, why would they want to watch a movie with him? Was he asking out of obligation only?

Just say something.

“Okay.” Hitoshi surprised himself by accepting, having spoken almost subconsciously. Yamada didn't seem like he noticed.

“Great!” Now the man seemed way happier than before, clapping his hands excitedly. “Let’s decide on one then!”

They went back to the living room, where Aizawa was already sprawled in the middle of the sofa, looking the most relaxed that Hitoshi had ever seen him, even if he still had the usual air of tiredness around him. Upon entering, they locked eyes briefly, before Hitoshi averted his gaze towards the floor to not seem disrespectful.

Yamada instantly threw himself in the corner next to Aizawa, inviting Hitoshi to sit on the remaining space on the couch at the left of his husband. He hesitated but eventually complied, sitting stiffly as far from the adults as he could as to not intrude on their personal space.

Choosing a movie to watch was next. Yamada and Aizawa bickered lightheartedly for a small while, trying to account for Hitoshi’s opinion even if he didn’t really care, until they finally settled on a science-fiction film.

Exactly five minutes into the movie, Hitoshi felt his eyes droop, all the emotional exhaustion of the day finally catching up to him. The sofa was comfortable enough, and the soft sounds of the movie playing soon lulled him to sleep, head falling to the side and into Aizawa’s shoulder.

The moment something hit his left shoulder, Shouta stiffened. He wasn’t used to physical contact that didn't come from Hizashi, who was currently on his right side, but as soon as he saw the wild mass of lavender hair, he forced himself to relax. If Shinsou’s permanent eyebags were anything to go by, it didn’t seem like the boy got much sleep on the regular.

Shouta could relate to that.

To his right, Hizashi was happily watching the movie, the light and color reflecting on his glasses. Shouta stared at him for a small while, enthralled by the soft smile and the relaxed features of his husband and wondering how he had managed to get so lucky.

“Hey, didn’t that actor appear in the series we saw last week? The one with the beard…” Hizashi suddenly spoke, pointing at the television and trailing off when he turned to Shouta. His eyes widened at the sight of Shinsou sleeping, a torrent of emotions crossing his face before settling on fondness. “When did that happen?” He whispered.

“Around five minutes ago.” Shouta muttered back.

Shinsou’s expression was, for the first time since they both had known him, peaceful. The indifferent façade he used to wear had been replaced by a softer expression, mouth relaxing and eyebrows unknitting. Shouta felt a pang of sadness at the thought that the boy had probably not been that at peace in a long time, and one look at Hizashi told him that they were both thinking the same.

“He was so at edge around us,” Hizashi voiced the thoughts they had been having all evening, brows furrowing in concern, “almost like he was waiting for something bad to happen…”

“And he never asks questions or speaks when he strictly doesn’t have to.” Shouta added, letting out a sad sigh. “Learned behavior.”

Hizashi sighed as well, feeling every bit as concerned as Shouta was. They had talked about Shinsou before, mostly when Shouta mentioned the bruises that the teenager always seemed to have during training, or how he wasn’t the most confident of people despite the front he tried to put up, but nothing had prepared them for the extent of it. They should have known better.

He remembered being fifteen, having been told his quirk was villainous and not suited for a hero during the entirety of his life. Winning the sports festival and gaining a well-deserved spot in the heroics course where not everybody was happy with his presence. Shouta also remembered a fifteen-year-old boy, his first friend ever, who was scared to use his quirk during training, not wanting to hurt anyone’s ears, not again. A boy who tried his hardest to contain his enthusiasm when talking, who never wanted to go home because of what awaited him there, who evolved into one of the brightest and loudest heroes.

Aizawa Shouta and Yamada Hizashi, two hero aspirants that had been told their quirks were bad and destructive in different ways, that they didn’t deserve to be a hero or to have any career that helped people. Two teenagers that had proved everyone wrong by working as hard as they could and being the very best in their year. Shouta remembered that, and he didn’t want anyone else to go through the same thing.

History was repeating with Shinsou Hitoshi, he had known that since the very first time he had seen the purple-haired boy standing in the sports festival tournament arena, fists clenched and determination clear on his face. Shouta had seem himself there, fifteen years ago, and had made the decision that Shinsou wouldn’t go through that without help.

Shouta let his head fall back, leaning against the sofa fully while making a gesture for his husband.

“Come here.” He mumbled, Hizashi immediately leaning against his right side, blond hair tickling at his stubble. Shouta carded his hand through it, a habit he had picked up many years ago.

Closing his eyes and feeling the pressure of two bodies against his, Shouta allowed himself to relax. He was determined to keep them both safe, and nothing in the world would stop him from doing so.

Chapter Text

It wasn’t the smell of breakfast being cooked nor the timid rays of sunlight filtering through the curtains that woke Hitoshi up, as nice as that would have been. What dragged the teenager away from his sleep was, instead, two felines landing right on top of his chest and stomach, while happily meowing.

“What…” Hitoshi groggily opened his eyes, startling at the sight of Tofu staring right back at him. It took him a moment or two to regain his bearings and remember that he wasn’t at his room in the U.A. dorms; he was in Aizawa and Yamada’s spare bedroom.

This prompted the question of how he had gotten there, since the last thing Hitoshi remembered was watching a movie on the sofa with the two of them and then… falling asleep into his teacher’s shoulder. The memory made his cheeks redden slightly with embarrassment.

One of them must have carried him to the bedroom, he realized. Either that, or Hitoshi was a sleepwalker and had noticed just now.

While Tofu and Sleepy played within the blankets of the bed, Hitoshi sat up and rubbed at his eyes, feeling more well-rested than usual. His insomnia wouldn’t be cured after one night of decent sleep, of course, but it certainly was nice to sleep more than a few hours for once.

His stomach grumbled as he climbed out of the bed and changed from his uniform – in which he had slept, surprisingly not that uncomfortably – into a set of clean sweatpants and a random T-shirt. Those were the only decent clothes Hitoshi had apart from the uniform, the rest being a collection of worn T-shirts, a pair of ragged jeans and some pajamas several sizes too small for him, all of which he had decided to leave behind at the dorms. Neither Aizawa nor Yamada needed to see that.

“Should we get some food?” He spoke softly to the cats, smiling when they let him pet them. “I bet you’re hungry.”

The darkened hallway that awaited him when he stepped out of the room suggested that maybe not everyone was awake yet, which Hitoshi honestly preferred. He wasn’t sure if either adult would care about him going out of his room and looking for food, but if they didn’t even find out, all the better. As long as he was quiet and didn’t leave any evidence behind, things would be okay.

Tofu and Sleepy followed the teenager as he entered the kitchen, stopping at their bowls to drink and eat some as he looked for something to eat silently. There was a half-opened packet of cookies in one of the cabinets, very conveniently, so Hitoshi happily munched on it while observing the cats. Everything was quiet, which made him feel uncharacteristically calm.

“Good morning, early riser.”

Hitoshi almost jumped a foot into the air. Heart racing, he turned to the doorway, where Yamada was standing with a tired smile, hair pulled into a messy bun and wearing comfortable clothes. Instead of the anger or annoyance Hitoshi expected to be met with, the older man simply stepped past him, humming happily as he started making a pot of coffee.

“Good morning.” Hitoshi finally said, rather awkwardly. Yamada’s smile didn’t falter one bit. The packet of cookies was still by his side, so he figured it would be best to be honest and come forward than try to hide it. “I took some cookies.”

“Cool. Want some coffee?”

Still taken aback by the lack of negative reaction, Hitoshi nodded faintly. Coffee always sounded good, no matter the occasion, and he wasn’t about to pass up on the offer of a free cup so early in the morning.

A glance at the clock made him realize that it was way too early, indeed, which piqued his curiosity as to why was Yamada up so early. From what he had gathered about the pro hero, he had radio shows past midnight, worked as a teacher on weekdays and fulfilled hero duties when he could, so it would make sense for Yamada to sleep as much as he could.

“I like waking up early when I can.” The man’s voice startled him again, and Hitoshi turned to see Yamada staring at him, having probably guessed the unspoken question that lingered in the air. “Besides, I had plans for today.”

Hitoshi nibbled on another cookie, staring from the window at the rising sun that bathed everything nearby in a golden tint. He had seen way too many early mornings in his life, but the sunlight was always something to look forward to.

“I understand.”

There was a beat of silence in which Yamada finished the coffee, offering a mug to Hitoshi and sitting on the table with his own. The mug he had been handed was official Present Mic merchandising, Hitoshi noticed, and the sight of the trademark sunglasses and mustache almost made him smile.

“We could hit the mall later, there’s a couple things I need to buy.” Yamada casually said after a while, nursing his coffee.

“… Okay.”

The mall. Hitoshi had been there only once before, but he had a good memory of it. Of course, he had never been allowed to buy anything, and he had felt jealous when seeing other kids happily hanging out with friends or window-shopping with their parents, but the environment was nice enough for a change.

While Yamada finished making the rest of his own breakfast, Hitoshi excused himself and returned to his room, pondering whether he should go out dressed in his sweatpants or in the U.A. uniform. He should also take a shower, but neither Yamada nor Aizawa had given him permission to do so. It would definitely be rude to take a shower without asking first, Hitoshi thought, but he also didn’t want to have another awkward conversation.

“What do you think?” He asked Tofu, who had slipped into the room after him. “Sweats or uniform?”

Tofu simply meowed and stretched on the bed, so Hitoshi took that as the only response she would give him and decided on wearing the sweatpants. It was more comfortable, anyways, and it was nice to be out of uniform from time to time. Once he decided that, Hitoshi sat again at his desk and continued with the work that had been left unfinished the previous night, idly scrolling through his phone every so often.

Aizawa was already up by the time Hitoshi appeared on the kitchen again a couple hours later, tiredly sipping on a steaming cup of coffee and dressed in his hero uniform sans the scarf and the goggles.

“Hey.” Hitoshi said, receiving a nod in response from his teacher, then went to sit on the sofa at the lounge space.

It wasn’t long before Yamada made his appearance too, wearing a casual outfit consisting of a T-shirt with the Put Your Hands Up logo – that was his radio show’s name –, some jeans and a leather jacket. Hitoshi didn’t think the clothes were exactly weather-appropriate, but refrained from saying anything.

“Are we ready!?” Yamada half shouted, a huge grin spreading on his face at the murderous look that his husband gave him.

“It’s too early for this.” Aizawa grumbled.

“Actually, it’s the best time to avoid the crowds!”

Hitoshi started to put on his green and white sneakers as the two adults talked in the background, then stood up to see they were almost ready. The three of them left the apartment in silence, Yamada fumbling with the lock before they set off.

The car ride was filled with upbeat music from the radio that Yamada turned on almost immediately when they climbed inside. The blonde himself was driving since, as he put it, "Shouta cannot be trusted to drive in the mornings". Seeing how his teacher looked half a second away from dozing off, Hitoshi couldn't really blame him. He stayed on his phone the entire time, quirking one eyebrow in surprise when a notification from Midoriya popped up.

“We’re here!” Yamada exclaimed, prompting Hitoshi to close the message app and pocket his phone, leaving the car at the same time his teachers did.

“What did you want to buy?” Aizawa asked his husband as the three of them made their way out of the parking, climbing up the mechanical stairs.

“Well, my headphones are already kind of old, so I was looking for some new ones! Plus, the radio Secret Santa, and… maybe we could get you some new clothes, Shinsou?”

Hitoshi stiffened, not having expected the question at all. Both Yamada and Aizawa were looking at him, the latter’s expression tired but lacking his usual glaring look, which didn’t help too much. He didn’t want them to pity him, even if that was most likely the case, much less burden them with having to buy him clothes.

It wasn’t as if he was his son or anything. They didn’t owe Hitoshi that.

“You don’t have to decide now, kid.” Aizawa broke the silence, putting a hand on his shoulder that felt alien and, at the same time, familiar somehow.

Hitoshi shrugged and let himself be led through the mall, listening to Yamada’s idle chatter as they walked by various shops that displayed wildly different things in their windows. There weren’t many people around, since it still was a bit early, so they could stroll around as much as they liked.

Once Yamada found his desired headphones and bought an adequate gift for his colleague, the trio decided to take a look at a nearby clothing store, since, in Yamada's words, Aizawa needed to stop wearing the same three hero uniforms all the time. Hitoshi didn’t see anything wrong with the black – and probably very comfortable – outfit, but then again, he had always been more of a practical guy, even if it was mostly due to his circumstances.

“Oh, this would go so well with your hair!” Yamada said almost immediately as they entered the shop, holding up a pastel blue hoodie. Aizawa rolled his eyes behind him.

“I don’t know…” Hitoshi tried to refuse, but the item was already being shoved in his arms – and the material was quite soft, he instantly thought. Suddenly, rejection wasn’t such a clear option.

Yamada smiled knowingly and kept browsing the aisles, but Aizawa stood briefly by Hitoshi’s side, eyeing the hoodie with an unreadable look.

“You know you can say no, right?” He said flatly. “Hizashi can be a pain in the ass sometimes, but he’ll understand if you don’t want something.”

Hitoshi looked up at his teacher, trying his best to not let the feeling of surprise show in his face. Saying ‘no’ hadn’t been an option for him in a long time, and he didn’t want to disappoint either one of his teachers, since they had been so kind to him. In the other hand, though, Aizawa really sounded like he meant it…

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Was what he finally said, nodding once then turning towards Yamada, who was excitedly waving another garment in his general direction.

“Good.”

Fifteen minutes later, Yamada had managed to convince Hitoshi into trying a good amount of clothes, which included two hoodies, five T-shirts with cat motifs on them – Aizawa had even picked a similar one to himself, much to Yamada and Hitoshi’s amusement –, two jeans of different colors and a jean jacket. It felt like too much, and Hitoshi was set on leaving at least half of behind, too embarrassed at being indulged like that.

Once Yamada and Aizawa left him alone to try on everything, Hitoshi stared at himself in the mirror for a long time. The eyebags under his eyes were less pronounced than other days, probably because of the good night’s sleep he had had for once. The clothes he wore were slightly too big for his frame and looked, if not old, at least used. It hadn’t bothered him before, but one look at the pile of brand-new clothes made him feel a little self-conscious now.

He tried on the T-shirts first, the small cats printed on some of them actually dragging a tiny smile out of him. They were all quite comfortable, and his favorite was definitely one that had a small pocket with a kitty poking out from inside.

Trousers were next, fitting nicely and not looking near as scuffed as the jeans he had back at his dorm room, despite the blue ones being fashionably torn at some points. The other pair was black and plain, and Hitoshi liked how it looked with the jean jacket. All in all, he looked like a completely normal teenager, and it was a good feeling.

Right as he was pulling the pastel blue hoodie over his head, Yamada’s voice echoed from the hallway, calling out for him. Hitoshi quickly finished putting it on and stepped out of the dressing room, hands inside his pockets and a neutral look on his face.

“I was right, you look great on it!” Yamada beamed when he saw him, gesturing excitedly. “Did you try on everything? We can get a few more things if you want!”

Hitoshi shook his head. “… no, it’s alright.”

Yamada looked slightly crestfallen at that but, behind him, Aizawa seemed almost proud. Hitoshi felt his cheeks heat up in embarrassment and retreated into the dressing room, changing into his own clothes quickly as to not waste any more of their time.

“I liked the jacket.” He said unprompted, holding up the jean jacket and trying to keep his anxiety to a minimum. Neither adult seemed annoyed at him speaking or indirectly asking for something, so Hitoshi took that as a good sign.

“It suits you.” Yamada smiled, then gestured to Aizawa. “I tried to get him to try wearing one, but it was no use.”

“It felt uncomfortable.” Aizawa grumbled, crossing his arms and looking almost offended at the mere idea of him wearing something like that. “Plus, I already chose enough clothes.”

“You picked two cat T-shirts.”

“More than enough.”

The adult’s lighthearted arguing made Hitoshi feel like smiling, for some reason. He liked seeing them interacting with such ease, something about it feeling natural and fine. The fact that they didn’t either push him to join them nor alienated him completely was great too – it felt almost like a family.

Hitoshi tried to push those thoughts away. It was out of place for him to think like that, and both Yamada and Aizawa would probably feel appalled if he ever suggested something remotely close to it.

Probably. Most likely.

Right as he tried to force his own thoughts to shut up, another thing came to mind; he still had to tell them about Midoriya’s plans.

“Um…” He said, catching the adults’ attention rather quickly. “I kind of… made plans with Midoriya too. If that’s alright. He said that he and his friends were coming to the mall and we could have lunch so…”

To his surprise, neither Yamada nor Aizawa seemed bothered at all that he had chosen to make plans in the middle of their outing, which was a relief. Hitoshi had been quietly trying very hard not to panic about that anyways.

“That’s great!” Yamada exclaimed at the same time Aizawa muttered under his breath:

“Of course it’s Midoriya.”

As they kept walking around the mall, Yamada asked him questions about Midoriya and the 1-A kids – if they were friends and if he liked them, that sort of stuff – while Aizawa huffed and tried not to show too much that he cared. Hitoshi knew he cared about his homeroom a lot more than he let on, so it was always fun to watch the teacher struggle and try not to reveal that he had emotions after all.

Time passed by as they wandered through stores and, much to Hitoshi’s surprise, he found that he was actually having a good time. He could count on the fingers of one hand the good times in his life, so it was a bittersweet feeling to see that being with Yamada and Aizawa was so nice, but he would have to leave them at some point.

A buzzing coming from his pockets – his jeans pockets, because Yamada had insisted that he changed into the new clothes, so he was now wearing the black jeans and pastel blue hoodie –, and Hitoshi pulled out his phone to see that there was a new notification from Midoriya.

“He says he's here already,” he informed the adults, pocketing the device again, “so I, uh, I’ll get going…”

Before he could say goodbye, though, Aizawa stopped him.

“Wait a second.” He said, rummaging through his pockets until finding what he was looking for. “Take this.”

Hitoshi stared at Aizawa’s outstretched hand with wide eyes, not entirely registering what was going on. There, held in his teacher’s fingers, were a couple of bills. He was giving him money.

Seeing as the teen wasn’t saying anything, just staring at the money in disbelief, Yamada decided to intervene with an encouraging smile.

“You can’t go have lunch without any money, yo!” He said, making Hitoshi’s eyes snap towards him instead.

“I have money.” Hitoshi lied. He actually didn’t have any, at least not on his person – there were a couple thousand yen stashed somewhere in his U.A. dorm – and had just been thinking on watching Midoriya and the others eat to simply hang out with them.

“Nonsense. Here.” Aizawa had gotten impatient, it seemed, because he thrust the bills into Hitoshi’s hand with an air of finality. Reluctantly, the teenager put them on his pocket. “You should get a wallet at some point too.”

“I’m fine.” He didn’t need a wallet. What for? Just to see it empty all the time? No, thank you.

Not wanting them to buy him more stuff than necessary, Hitoshi quickly bid his teachers goodbye, promising to meet them later in the afternoon at the main door, and then made his way towards where Midoriya had suggested they met.

The money felt heavy in his pocket, even if it was a couple of weightless notes. It felt jarring to accept money from his teachers, although they had already given him a place to stay during the holidays and bought him clothes, and Hitoshi wondered how – and if – he could ever repay the favor. He walked quickly while thinking over everything that had happened, and soon he was at the place Midoriya had indicated.

“Hey, Shinsou!” Midoriya called him from the other side of a fountain, waving happily. Hitoshi felt the corners of his mouth quirking up slightly.

“Hi.”

Midoriya was dressed in casual clothes, looking pretty thrilled to be there, and suddenly Hitoshi was hit with a wave of gratefulness towards Yamada for forcing him to wear his new outfit instead of the sweatpants. He would have felt very self-conscious otherwise, and it being one of the first times someone had asked him to hang out wouldn't help with the nerves anyway.

“How was your day? I’m so glad we could meet here, the others are almost here too and by the way, I like your hoodie!” Midoriya spoke fast and with honesty, which made Hitoshi’s heart lift a little and eased his anxieties slightly.

“It was cool. Thank you.” He replied quietly, shrinking a bit into his hoodie sheepishly. Midoriya’s grin widened.

“I’m happy to hear that! My day was cool too, I’ve been training…”

Hitoshi listened to him as he rambled about his day and the holidays while they waited for the others. It was refreshing to have someone that didn’t expect him to talk or ask questions but accepted his input when given, nonetheless. Midoriya was nice like that, and Hitoshi soon found himself wanting to be his friend.

Todoroki arrived not long after that, followed by Uraraka and Iida shortly after, all looking happy enough to see Hitoshi that his intrusive thoughts about being unwanted lessened a little. Deciding on where to eat didn’t take too long, all having a pretty unanimous vote in a fast-food place that made, according to Uraraka, the best ramen with a pretty good value for the money. Hitoshi was fine with anything, so he trailed after the group while listening to their conversations.

“By the way Shinsou, who did you came with?” Midoriya suddenly asked once they ordered and sat on a booth, making all other three pairs of eyes turn to the lavender-haired boy, who tried his hardest not to blush under the unexpected attention – because blushing was ridiculous, and he had an image to maintain.

The question, however, worried Hitoshi more than the potential embarrassment. He quickly racked his brain for a plausible answer: saying that their teachers were hosting him for the holidays and buying him clothes didn’t seem like the best option, but speaking about a made-up family didn’t feel right either. A traitorous part of his brain told him to just say ‘my parents’ and deal with it, but Hitoshi pushed it down. He didn’t want to consider Aizawa and Yamada his parents.

He didn’t want to get his hopes up.

“Uh, just some friends. They left already.” He said instead, trying to look as nonchalant as possible.

“Cool! Are they from class 1-C?” Uraraka immediately asked. Hitoshi shrunk a little on his seat, nodding.

“We should make more friends from other classes, broaden our horizons.” Iida intervened then, making a chopping motion with his hands that had Hitoshi arching one eyebrow.

“I don’t think…” he started saying, but Todoroki interrupted him in a quiet but serious voice:

“Maybe they wouldn’t hate us so much that way.”

Both Midoriya and Uraraka seemed surprised by his statement, which honestly baffled Hitoshi. Were they not aware of how the atmosphere was at U.A.? Literally every other class except from maybe Management and Support disliked them, and the sports festival had done nothing to diminish that general feeling. Hitoshi had been like that too, thinking that everyone from class 1-A was a pretentious idiot that didn’t know just how lucky they were to be there.

After the thorough training sessions with Aizawa and the knowledge that he could also earn a spot in Heroics, he didn’t exactly feel like that. Midoriya had also weakened that antagonizing feeling – turns out there were nice people in 1-A – but Hitoshi still knew that not everyone deserved their place there.

“They hate us?” Midoriya had asked while Hitoshi was lost in thought, his expression so comically sad it almost made him laugh.

“Well, it’s not exactly hate… more like jealousy or dislike, that sort of stuff.” Hitoshi shrugged, very much aware of everyone’s stares.

Thankfully for him, the waitress of the restaurant chose that exact moment to bring them their orders, so Hitoshi let them get distracted by that and made a comment or two to steer the conversation away from the previous topic. He was content with eating and listening to the others talking, butting in every now and then so they didn’t think he was uncomfortable.

After a while, having finished their meals and paid for them, Todoroki reminded Midoriya of the heroics store he wanted to visit, so the group unanimously decided on going there to take a look. Hitoshi had been thinking about getting a support item to go along with his scarf anyways, so it wouldn’t hurt to see what was around, even if he ended up getting it from the U.A. Support Department.

“Look, they have plushies on sale.” Iida commented as they entered the flashy shop that had a huge sign that proclaimed a discount on several hero figures – Endeavor was among them and, honestly, Hitoshi didn’t blame anyone that hadn't wanted to buy them.

“Can you make voodoo to a plushie?” Todoroki asked, his face completely serious, and Uraraka laughed a little.

“You could try.” She replied.

Hitoshi didn’t comment on it. Some other time, he would have maybe said anything about Todoroki wanting to do voodoo on his own father, but his attention had been drastically drawn to a shelf that was half-hidden behind a huge picture of All Might. There was a sign on top that read “Light Support Items”, and a variety of things displayed underneath.

Looking around him, Hitoshi noticed that Midoriya had zeroed in a display of All Might figurines with Todoroki trailing behind, while Iida and Uraraka browsed a T-shirt section, so he deemed it safe to linger there for a while. He turned back to the items then, examining each one with curiosity.

There was a pair of goggles, quite similar to the yellow ones that Eraserhead used, gloves and boots of many kinds, as well as some sort of wrist brace that allowed directionality with an emitter quirk. Hitoshi was wondering if there could be something for his quirk, when he saw it.

A voice modulator.

It looked like a hybrid between a muzzle and a mask that strapped at the back of one’s head, the description announcing that it was capable of lowering or heightening one’s voice to some extent, as well as to change the pitch. Something like that would be useful for his quirk, Hitoshi realized, but the idea of wearing something that resembled a muzzle so much wasn’t exactly appealing to him. He at least had managed not to flinch, but there was clear tension in all his muscles as Hitoshi examined the item carefully.

After giving it some thought, the boy snapped a photo of the item with his phone and typed a couple things on his notes app, attaching the picture to them for later reference. He would definitely pay the Support Department a visit after the holidays.

“Oh! That would be useful for your quirk, wouldn’t it?”

Uraraka’s voice surprised him, making Hitoshi almost drop is phone. She seemed to have wandered towards where he was from the clothing section, where Iida was still looking at an Ingenium T-shirt, and was now looking at the voice modulator with interest.

“Yeah… I’ll get one made at U.A.” He replied, feeling a bit unsure. Uraraka wouldn’t mock him for needing a support item, right? It didn’t make him weaker or anything… right?

“Power Loader’s class always makes the best items! I requested for something to ease my motion sickness and they made my suit so that it helps a lot with that, which was honestly a relief.” The girl rambled happily, waving her hands around as she talked.

Hitoshi wasn’t used to having around someone so full of joyous energy, but Uraraka felt like she was the embodiment of the sun sometimes. He could see why she was such good friends with Midoriya. The girl's excitement actually prompted him to talk a bit more about his ideas for the support item, and the two of them made conversation for a while until the others joined them.

The five of them left the heroic store after a long time of browsing through merchandising and examining all the different stuff it had to offer, and Hitoshi walked calmly with the group as Midoriya talked about some new All Might figurine he had just bought. Outside the glass roof of the mall, the sun was already setting, its dying rays of light shining dully and giving an otherworldly tint to everything around them.

Hitoshi let himself bask on it, a calm feeling washing over him between the nice atmosphere and Midoriya’s voice. He was exhausted after a whole day of walking around but, for the first time in very long, Hitoshi felt good. Maybe he still wasn’t feeling completely fine, as much as he had claimed to be, but being surrounded with people that seemed to genuinely care about him made the boy feel way better than before.

He realized in that exact moment that, even if he wasn’t fine then, he would be at some point. And that was alright.

Chapter Text

Ever since the day spent at the mall, time seemed to pass by much more quickly for Hitoshi. Slowly but steadily, the teenager opened up more to Aizawa and Yamada, even if he still spent a good deal of time isolating himself in the room they had given him. They didn’t seem to mind one bit, and it really baffled Hitoshi that there was hardly any negative feedback whenever he did something that would be punishment-worthy in his previous foster homes.

In fact, the more Hitoshi spoke out of turn or dared to ask a question – which had only happened twice, by the way –, the more both his teachers seemed happier and prouder. No one had been proud of him before, not that he could recall. It was nice.

Midoriya also kept texting him all through the break, sending pictures of his collection of hero merchandising, rambling about his classmates or someone’s quirk, or simply asking Hitoshi about his day. He made an effort to follow the conversation the best he could, getting more comfortable with his new friend little by little. Aizawa seemed pleased with his and Midoriya’s friendship, even if he tried not to show it, and that was more than enough to make Hitoshi happy.

However, as the days passed, something dark and unpleasant also started to take up space in the back of Hitoshi’s mind. The holidays were soon coming to an end, which meant that everyone would have to go back to the dorms, and also that his fostering process would start up again. A new home would be waiting for him and, seeing how his file didn’t exactly sing praises about him or his quirk, Hitoshi was fairly certain that it wouldn’t be a particularly nice place.

There was something else about it too; he found himself not wanting to leave Aizawa and Yamada. The three of them had settled into a nice dynamic around the house, watching movies together at night and helping Hitoshi with his homework, plus the conversations didn’t feel nearly as stilted or awkward as they had been. Both heroes had to go to work several times, but they trusted Hitoshi alone at home – it was almost as if they had lived together for a much longer time than a week.

“I’m going to be placed at another home after the break.” He told Aizawa one night when it was just the two of them, Present Mic’s radio show filling the silence in the house.

They had both been lounging in the sofa, Hitoshi reading a book and Aizawa looking over some reports, but the moment the words left the teenager’s mouth, he had his teacher’s full attention.

“I talked with your caseworker a couple days ago.” Aizawa said, leaving the reports aside and crossing his arms. “They’re having trouble finding a home.”

Hitoshi looked anywhere but his teacher, feeling both ashamed and slightly angry. If Aizawa had happened to read his file or heard something about him, then he would surely know about how much of a nuisance he was and about the many problems Hitoshi had caused in the past – even if many of them was because of people provoking him first or dumping all the blame on him.

“I thought as much.” He muttered, eyes trained on his lap where the book rested, now closed. His whole body was tense, like it was getting ready to jump up and run. “No one wants to take a problematic kid with a dangerous quirk.”

“You’re not problematic, Shinsou.” Aizawa replied firmly. “And your quirk isn’t inherently dangerous either, especially since it belongs to you.”

The man’s words were enough to make Hitoshi spring from his place in the sofa, fists clenched at his sides. Sure, Aizawa was an experienced pro hero and a teacher at U.A., but that didn’t mean he knew just how bad Hitoshi could mess things up. He had been told all his life that his mere existence just bothered everyone and made things worse, and who was Aizawa to say that wasn’t true?

He hadn’t been there; he didn’t know how much trouble Hitoshi was.

“I’m just trying to be a hero,” Hitoshi said, voice strained with the effort of holding back all the frustration, all the anger and sadness that had been built up there not in that particular moment, but during the past years. “That means taking responsibility for myself, and my quirk. I don’t need anyone to babysit me.”

Before Aizawa could say anything else, he turned on his heel and stormed out of the main door, only stopping to grab his shoes on the way out.

“I’m going for a walk.” Was the last thing he said before closing the door behind him.

A cold breeze greeted the teen as soon as he stepped out of the building, making him shiver slightly and briefly regret not having taken a jacket on the way out to wear over his hoodie. That would have ruined the effect, though, and Hitoshi was too prideful to go back inside just because he was a little cold. He could deal with cold. It was nothing new anyways, after all the times his old foster family had locked him out for one reason or another.

After a pause to put on his sneakers, Hitoshi started walking without a destination in mind. He only wanted to clear his head a bit, to make sense of all the confusing thoughts that seemed to have popped up ever since Aizawa and Yamada took him in for the holidays. On one side, there was the wishful part of himself that had somehow survived after years of abuse, the one that had helped with following his dream of being a hero, along with his own stubborn determination. On the other side, however, was the more realistic part of his brain, reminding Hitoshi that things weren’t going to be any different now.

Stewing on his own thoughts, Hitoshi walked for a long while, keeping his hands inside his pockets and trying very hard to ignore the cold. At least the sky was clear, he thought with an upwards glance, everything would just get more depressing if it started to rain all of a sudden.

It was only when he grew tired of wandering around that Hitoshi realized he didn’t have any idea where he was. Aizawa’s house was situated in a part of town he wasn’t exactly familiar with, but by the looks of the buildings it didn’t seem to be as nice as his teachers’ neighborhood. In fact, one glance at a street sign that was almost covered by graffiti let Hitoshi know that it was part of Eraserhead’s usual route.

Eraserhead always patrolled in the less privileged districts.

Sighing tiredly, the teen leaned against a random apartment building’s wall and let himself slip down to the floor, resting his legs for a while. The streets around him were quite similar to most of the neighborhoods he had grown up in, even if it was in a completely different part of the town, so Hitoshi resolved to make himself look as inconspicuous as possible, in case anyone tried to bother him.

“Hey man!”

So much for trying to keep a low profile.

Hitoshi took his time before looking up, blinking slowly at the approaching figure. It was a young man who looked only a few years older than him; he had short spiky hair and walked casually with his hands in his pockets. There was something off about him, though, that made Hitoshi immediately tense up. He hoped he wouldn’t need to make use of Aizawa’s training.

“What do you want?” He asked, making an effort to keep any suspicions out of his seemingly bored voice. It was always best to act oblivious.

“Just wanted to know what’s a kid doing out here in the cold.” The man stood in front of him, a smirk on his face. “Name’s Tanaka Yuto, by the way.”

“None of your business.” Hitoshi replied.

“Aw, come on, don’t be so mean. What’s your name?” Tanaka insisted.

Hitoshi stood up, deciding that he was done with the conversation. He could always use his quirk to make the man go away, but using it so carelessly made him uncomfortable. Best to go the civilized way first, especially when the other’s quirk and intentions were unknown.

“Harada Makoto. Now leave me alone.” He said the first name that came to mind, turning around and walking away.

Showing his back to the man could have possibly been a big mistake, but thankfully for him, Tanaka just caught up with his pace, that unnerving smirk still on his angular face. Upon closer inspection, Hitoshi realized his pupils were slits, and wondered if he had some sort of lizard or snake-related quirk.

“Tell me buddy, what’s got you all upset?” Tanaka insisted, going as far as to bump his own shoulder with Hitoshi’s, who flinched slightly and made a point of keeping a certain distance between the two of them.

“Nothing. I’m not your buddy.”

“Come on, you can tell me.”

Growing irritated with the pointless conversation, Hitoshi narrowed his eyes at the man and made sure to give an edge to his tone as he next spoke.

“Just leave me alone.”

To his annoyance, Tanaka’s smirk only grew bigger, both of them stopping in the middle of the sidewalk. Hitoshi started going over possible questions in his head, considering using his quirk and ending the interaction for good.

“What if I told you I have a way of making you feel better?” The man said then, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small bag that Hitoshi eyed suspiciously. “It’s a new substance in the market, and I can give it to you for a reasonable price…”

“Not interested.” Hitoshi cut him off abruptly, briskly walking away once again. He didn’t want anything to do with that.

Tanaka seemed aggravated at this, running up to Hitoshi once again and grabbing his arm. The teenager didn’t hesitate to swiftly turn around and aim for a punch, but the man dodged. A streetlamp hovered over the both of them, illuminating their features, and realization dawned on the man’s face.

“Hey, I know you! Weren’t you in that U.A. festival last year?”

Hitoshi groaned internally. Of all the things he could have remembered from the festival, it had to be his face. Not Midoriya breaking his bones, or Bakugou kicking up a fuss, but the unassuming kid that was beaten on the first tournament round. And it had been such a long time ago! It was just his luck. Or his signature gravity-defying lavender hair, probably.

“Go away, man.” He replied. Tanaka didn’t even seem to hear him.

“An aspiring hero, huh? Well, that’s unlucky. Are you gonna snitch on me?”

“Listen, I don’t want anything–” Hitoshi took a step back, the very intention of running away clear on his stance. Aizawa always said that if you weren’t sure you could beat a villain, it was always best to look for reinforcements instead of going in on your own, and Hitoshi was ready to follow that advice.

“Shut up!” The man screeched, cutting him off. His smirk morphed into a horrifying grimace, and before Hitoshi could react, Tanaka was lunging forward.

The skin around the man’s fingers turned into dark scales as the appendages elongated and sharpened, Hitoshi dodging just in time to avoid them sinking into his body, but a sharp pain in his left cheek told him that they had managed to graze it.

Thinking fast, he regained his balance and turned to Tanaka, whose arm was getting ready to attack again. Hitoshi only had one chance.

“What’s your quirk anyways?” He asked the first thing that came to mind, a firm grip on his quirk.

Unfortunately, the man seemed way too pumped up to even acknowledge his words, charging again with his arm. Hitoshi swerved in the nick of time, but then Tanaka raised his leg and kneed him right into his stomach.

Trying his best not to throw up, the teenager stumbled on his feet, bracing himself against the building right beside them. Tanaka approached again and he punched the man with all his strength, feeling the claws hit his left arm at the same time. Pain flared in the open wound, blood starting to drop from it, and Hitoshi grit his teeth.
He had to try again.

“Why are you attacking me?!” Hitoshi wheezed during the last part of the question, clutching his stomach, but that didn’t make it any less effective.

“Shut up, hero!” The man shouted back, arm rearing up again to strike. Hitoshi smirked.

Activating his quirk was as easy as moving any of his limbs, Tanaka adopting a blank stare and dropping his raised arm immediately while Hitoshi sighed in relief. Without releasing his hold in the man, Hitoshi leaned back against the building and clutched his wounded arm, from which blood kept pouring, some falling to the ground and dirtying his clothes. He sat down, not caring about the mess.

“Fuck.” He breathed out. His stomach hurt, and so did his cheek and arm. When leaving Aizawa’s house, Hitoshi hadn’t even taken his phone, so there was no way of contacting either him or Yamada, and he didn’t even know how to go back home.

Hitoshi had definitely fucked up everything now.

Well, he had tried to warn Aizawa beforehand.

Some time passed as he leaned against the dirty wall, taking off his hoodie and T-shirt and tightly wrapping the latter around the arm wound before putting on the sweatshirt again to avoid the cold, even if the adrenaline was making him run hot at the moment. Exhaustion crept at the edges of his mind from the strain of using his quirk over an extended period of time, and Hitoshi wondered how long he would have to stay there.

Tanaka was still standing in the middle of the street, eyes blank, and Hitoshi contemplated just telling him to go away and drop his quirk after a while. However, the possibility of the man coming back was a very likely one, so he decided to hold on for a little longer in case someone walked by the currently empty street.

A muffled thud snapped Hitoshi from his thoughts, making him look wildly in every direction. It had come from the alleyway a couple feet from where they were, so he stared at it until a dark figure stepped out and walked towards Tanaka’s still form.

Even in the dark of the night, Hitoshi instantly recognized that silhouette.

Eraserhead.

The underground hero slowly approached Tanaka, putting a hand on the man’s shoulder warily. There was no response, of course, Hitoshi was making sure of that.

“What happened?” Aizawa asked suddenly. His back was to Hitoshi, but he immediately knew the question wasn’t aimed to Tanaka at all.

“Tried to sell me something, then attacked me.” Hitoshi quietly replied, subconsciously clutching his arm.

Aizawa hummed and finally turned to him, crouching so they were at the same level. A look of concern appeared on his bloodshot eyes as he caught sight of him grabbing his arm and the scratch on his cheek, and Hitoshi let him brush his fingers lightly over the latter.

“Can I see?” He looked at the arm. Hitoshi nodded, rolling up the sleeve of his hoodie.

Carefully, Aizawa unwrapped the T-shirt and exposed the wound to the cool night air. Hitoshi shivered, but tried his best to keep still as the teacher inspected the three identical cuts that run down the length of his upper arm. They seemed superficial at least, Hitoshi thought with relief. After a short moment of deliberation, Aizawa covered them up again and stood from his crouched position, taking out his phone.

“I’ll call a taxi; we can get these looked at home. Tell him to stay here, the police are on their way. You can let him go once they get him.”

Hitoshi nodded and did as told. The two of them waited in silence until the car arrived, slipping inside quietly. He slumped in relief once Tanaka’s mind was let go from his mental grip, exhaustion quickly catching up to him, and Hitoshi made a mental note to train his quirk more – if Aizawa wanted to keep training him, that is.

After all the mess he had caused, Hitoshi wasn’t so sure about that.

They arrived at Aizawa’s apartment not long after that, and Hitoshi was surprised to see that Yamada was already waiting for them there, concern creasing his brows as he ushered them inside. His green eyes widened when he saw the boy’s cheek and how he held his arm, then turned sharply towards Aizawa, who was too busy receiving a call to answer. Hitoshi wondered if it was the police, and if he would get in trouble for using his quirk without a license.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, come on.” Yamada gently steered Hitoshi towards the bathroom, seeing that he wasn’t getting any answers out of Aizawa.

The silence lasted for approximately half a minute as Hitoshi sat on top of the toilet and Yamada gathered some medical supplies, but the second the man turned to him, Hitoshi knew he wasn’t getting out of some questioning. He wondered if Present Mic’s radio show had ended early because of the man’s concern for him, or if it was just a coincidence.

It felt weird to think that someone could care about him to that extent.

“What happened? Shouta told me you ran away after an argument or something, but it took him a bit to find you.” Yamada asked while cleaning Hitoshi’s arm wounds. The disinfectant stung a little, but the teen was used to ignoring the pain.

“I walked for a while, then some guy tried to sell me drugs.” He replied through gritted teeth, recalling the eventful night with a pang of regret at the problems he had caused both men. “He recognized me from the sports festival, got all angry and did this with his quirk,” he gestured to his arm with his head, “I managed to brainwash him though, and after a while Aizawa showed up.”

Yamada hummed in understanding, cutting a strip of gauze to bandage Hitoshi’s injure carefully.

“I don’t think you’ll get in trouble with the police,” he looked up from his crouched position, locking eyes with Hitoshi. “Self-defense is taken seriously, especially if the guy still had the drugs with him, and with Shouta backing you up…”

Hitoshi gave one-armed shrug in response. He was exhausted after everything that had happened, his stomach still hurting after the fight and embarrassment creeping up every time he recalled the stupid argument he had had with Aizawa – it seemed more and more stupid each minute, and Hitoshi felt like a spoiled child for getting frustrated with his mentor like that. He shouldn’t project his own issues into others so much.

“I just have one more question, though.” Said Yamada after cleaning the scratch on Hitoshi’s cheek, leaning back on the opposite wall. “Why did you run away?”

There was a short stretch of silence while Hitoshi tried to put his own thoughts in order. Whatever he came up with to explain his own feelings sounded pathetic and childish, and some things were way too personal to tell his English teacher, even though the man had been nothing but understanding and welcoming so far.

“I… I don’t want to go to another foster home.” He finally blurted out, eyes firmly set on his own lap. Yamada waited patiently until he felt ready to speak again. “Group homes suck too. And I’m old enough to take care of myself, especially now with the U.A. dorms. I don’t really need anyone else.”

“I understand how you feel.” Yamada replied softly, making Hitoshi’s eyes dart up with a mix of surprise and mistrust. “Yes, I do. My parents hated me and kicked me out at seventeen, I haven’t spoken to them ever since. Shouta helped me through it; I don’t think I’d have made it this far without him and some other friends. So yeah, I know how it feels.”

Hitoshi stared openly at Yamada now, surprise clearly reflected in his widened eyes. Seeing how Present Mic often carried himself in public, no one would ever say he had that kind of past behind him. It put the teenager at ease somewhat, seeing that he might not be the only one with that experience, and that he could become a hero anyway (Hitoshi had been willing to fight for his future hero career regardless, but it certainly eased the worry about his private life that he had tried not to think about too much).

“… why?” Hitoshi finally spoke, his voice merely above a whisper. Yamada smiled melancholically, leaning his head back against the bathroom wall as he recalled all those past events.

“I blew both my parents and doctor’s eardrums when I was born. Not everyone liked my quirk growing up and being bisexual certainly didn’t help.” He let out a sad laugh, then recomposed himself. “This is all just to say that you aren’t defined by what others say to you. What all those foster families have done to you is awful, but that doesn’t mean you have to alienate yourself and bear the weight of it on your own, Hitoshi.”

The mention of his given name was enough to make Hitoshi’s throat close up and a prickling feeling to appear at his eyes, filling him with emotion and pure, utter sadness. He felt stupid for wanting to cry, for wanting to believe Yamada’s words. Experience told him that none of it applied to him, that he was different and underserving of nice things unless he worked hard to get them.

Yamada seemed to sense the teenager’s overwhelming emotions, because he stood up and motioned for Hitoshi to do the same. Once they were both standing in the middle of the bathroom, the older man pulled Hitoshi in his arms and, for the second time in a week, Hitoshi cried in the shoulder of one of his teachers.

By the time they entered the living room, where Aizawa was still doing something on his phone, both Yamada and Hitoshi had red-rimmed eyes and stuffy noses, but the teenager felt way better after letting his emotions run free. Aizawa immediately dropped the phone and approached them, concern flashing through his usually unreadable face.

“We’re fine.” Said Yamada with a small smile, Hitoshi nodding along. “What’s the situation with the police?”

Aizawa seemed unconvinced but didn’t press on the issue yet. “Turns out they had been looking for that guy for some time, he tried to coerce vulnerable minors into the drug business and has always slipped by somehow. You acted in self-defense and I vouched for you, so there won’t be much more to it.”

He said the last part directly looking at Hitoshi, who felt a wave of relief almost immediately, having feared that the guy would press charges or that he would get somewhat punished for using his quirk without a license. Yamada seemed to be physically relieved by that too, shoulders slumping and sighing lightly.

“Thank you.” Hitoshi looked at his mentor, fidgeting with the hem of his T-shirt. “And… I’m sorry.”

Aizawa huffed something unintelligible and simply pulled the teen into his arms. He, too, seemed relieved, and Hitoshi felt guilty once again for having worried both men with his dramatic antics.

“We just want you to be safe.” Aizawa muttered. Hitoshi felt like crying again.

They stood like that a bit longer than necessary, until Aizawa pointed out that it was quite late into the night and Yamada agreed that they all should go and get some sleep after the tiring experience. Hitoshi would have to go back to the U.A. dorms the next day, and he needed to be well-rested.

As soon as he slipped into bed, Hitoshi buried himself under the covers, feeling almost overwhelmed after crying so much and with everything that had happened. He tried not to think about all his confusing feelings too much, letting sleep claim him quickly for once.

Everything went as if nothing had happened for the first part of the next day, Hitoshi gathering all his things up and then clearing the last of his break homework, finishing up an English vocabulary exercise with some tips from the English teacher – Yamada never outright said the answers to the exercise, but drew comparisons or gave helpful definitions, and Hitoshi found out he had a much better grasp on vocabulary that way once he finished. However, by the time the three of them finished eating lunch and were sitting together at the dining table, Aizawa brought up the subject that Hitoshi had been dreading.

“I got a call from the social worker earlier.” He said, rummaging through a nearby drawer and pulling out several papers that Hitoshi wondered about. “You’re getting a new home, and–”

“Is it too far from U.A.?” The teenager couldn’t help but ask anxiously, forgoing momentarily the behavior patterns that had been drilled into his head in favor of finally getting an answer to the question that had kept him awake for days: would he be able to be a hero?

“If you’d let me finish,” Aizawa replied in a bored tone, but there was a hint of something in his eyes. “Hizashi and I got our foster licenses some time ago, and we were hoping you would like to live with us.”

Hitoshi stared at him, stunned into silence. Not for the first time that week, he wondered if he was having some kind of hallucination or vivid dream, because it just couldn’t be real. There was no way.

“We would understand if you felt weird living with your teachers, of course, there could be more options…” Yamada spoke in a rushed voice, seeing as Hitoshi wasn’t saying anything yet. Both him and Aizawa looked expectant and hopeful, he noticed.

They wanted him.

“It wouldn’t be weird.” He finally replied, stumbling over his own words. “I mean, of course I would like to live with you.” Hitoshi let out a disbelieving laugh, looking between the two men. “But… are you sure?”

“Wouldn’t have asked you otherwise.” Aizawa replied bluntly. To anyone else, his tone might have put them off, but Hitoshi knew he was just being straightforward while trying to suppress any ‘illogical’ emotions in order to get it done.

For the first time in quite a while, Hitoshi smiled genuinely and didn’t do anything to hide it. There was a new feeling blooming inside of him, gaining weight over the most pessimistic part of his brain. He felt hope.

Shinsou Hitoshi never let himself be hopeful about things. He thought that the only way to achieve something, especially in his position, was to work hard and alienate himself from others but now, seeing the equally hopeful and happy expressions clear in Aizawa and Yamada’s faces, he realized he had been wrong.

Sometimes, a little hope was alright.

In that moment, as Aizawa and Yamada – now Shouta and Hizashi to him – signed the paperwork, Hitoshi knew one thing for certain: he was going to be fine. The road ahead of him might be complicated and long, but he wasn’t alone on his journey. He had people that cared about him now, like Shouta and Hizashi, or Midoriya and his friends.

Hitoshi smiled and signed the paperwork as well. A new path had already opened up, and he was going to make the most of it.