Chapter Text
Hitoshi has been in bad homes before, so he feels like this one is alright, comparatively.
When you’re quirk is labeled as ‘villainous’ from the moment it manifests, life takes some turns, and most of them aren’t great. But up until his dad died, he’d been navigating it just fine.
But, like he said.
His dad died.
His dad had been his number one fan and biggest supporter. He has no idea where his mom was, and he doesn’t remember her, so it never mattered much to him.
Dad was studying to be a doctor. He wore scrubs almost all the time, Hitoshi remembers. And he wasn’t really a great cook, and he was always tired. But he made time where he could for his son, and he stood up for him when his quirk came in and his teachers insisted he wear some kind of suppressor. Dad was always proud of him. He gave Hitoshi hope that maybe, one day, he could be a hero. He promised he would be there, the day Hitoshi became a pro. And Hitoshi believed him.
The thing is, though. The promises didn’t account for an aneurysm.
So, when Hitoshi’s nine years old, he gets put into the foster system. And with the foster system comes the muzzle.
It’s not always the muzzle. The particularly cruel bastards that he’d been placed with used it, but most of the time it was a quirk suppressing cuff, or a pill that sapped his energy and left him sleeping through classes. If he talked back, he got smacked, or worse, so he learned early on that there’s no talking once he passes the front door of a foster home.
This new family is better, in his opinion.
They’re an older couple with a university kid that lives at home, and as long as he doesn’t interfere with their lives, they leave him alone. He’s left a small allowance to get himself food, and a room with a bed that doesn’t hurt his back too much. He doesn’t talk to them, and in return they don’t muzzle or cuff him. The rules of the house were made very clear the first day here.
- Don’t speak.
- Don’t use any of their belongings.
- Don’t interact with other members of the house if they’re alone.
They’re very easy rules to follow.
When he gets into UA, there is no celebration. There’s not even an acknowledgement from the parents. The uni kid gives him a weird look and an extra 500 yen, like that makes any sort of difference. He doesn’t feel anything when the money’s slapped in his hand. This is technically a breaking a rule, as Hitoshi isn’t allowed to be alone with any of them. But no one notices.
Once the school year starts, life doesn’t change for him much. He doesn’t really speak to his classmates, even thought a few of them pester him. They most likely wanna rile him up enough to see if he’ll actually use his quirk, and he’s not falling for that trap again. He has one goal at UA, and that is to get out of general studies and into the Hero Course.
And that plan is absolutely ruined by Midoriya.
It makes him angry – angrier than he’s been a while, because what gives people with flashy quirks the right? Why do they always have everything so much easier? And Midoriya has the nerve to act like he doesn’t know how good he has it. Like it never occurred to him before, how much his quirk helps him. And for some reason, he keeps talking. Even though he knows what Hitoshi’s quirk is, his guard is never up. Hitoshi manages to catch him with his quirk multiple times after their fight. It’s like he has no sense of self preservation.
Why do you want to be a hero? What’s driving you?
He grits his teeth, hands curling into fists. The sport’s festival has been over for hours, but he's not ready to go back to that house and sit in silence for the weekend.
You can’t help the things your heart longs for.
He wants to be a hero more than anything. He wants to prove every stupid teacher and cruel foster family wrong. He needs to show the world that he’s not a villain.
He want’s to make his dad proud.
He probably won’t get the chance now, will he? He can participate in the sports festival for the next two years, but this was his only real opportunity. Second year might be too late to start heroics training, and now that Midoriya’s proved someone can break free of his quirk on their own, who would even want to take him on? It’s not like his test scores at the entrance exam were anywhere above average.
What do I do now?
He doesn’t have an answer to that one.
“Yo, little listener!” Present Mic’s voice comes out of nowhere, and he flinches violently, embarrassingly. “Ah – sorry, didn’t mean to scare ya! What’re you still doing here, the sun’s going down!”
His voice isn’t as… extreme, as it was before. Now that he’s not commentating on the sports festival or teaching class, it’s slightly more subdued.
He doesn’t know how to respond.
“He was recovering in my office. Midoriya gave him quite the back injury, slamming him into the ground like that.” Recovery girl pokes her head out of the infirmary. “You tell Shouta that he better be home resting, and I expect not to see him for the next week, at least.” She points a finger at Present Mic in warning. He lifts his hands, a nervous grin appearing on his face.
“Hey now! You know I can’t make Shouta do anything he doesn’t want to.”
“Mmhmm.” She narrows her eyes at him, then shoots Hitoshi a much kinder, gentler smile. “Go on home dear, you should be all healed up now.”
“Th-Thank you, Recovery Girl.” He bows.
“Oh, please. It’s my job.” She waves him away, disappearing back into the infirmary. Present Mic lets out a little sigh that Hitoshi’s certain he wasn’t supposed to notice, and then turns back to him with one of his signature grins.
“So, kiddo, ya need a ride? Don’t want you walking home in the dark.”
“Ah – no, thank you, Present Mic-sensei. I take the bus.” He gets out. “Um. Thank you for the offer.”
He reaches down and grabs his bag off the floor, hurrying away before he’s forced into more unnecessary conversation.
He doesn’t see the curious look Present Mic sends his way.
At the house, his foster parents aren’t happy. He doesn’t know if they watched the sports festival, or maybe just finally had enough of him, but suddenly there’s no more money left for him to buy his groceries. Or, if there is, it’s barely enough for a loaf of bread.
And that’s fine, he tells himself. The school provides lunch to the students at no additional cost, so at least he can eat there, and maybe save himself something for later?
His stomach aches when he lays his head down to sleep at night, but least he isn’t really starving.
It’s not the worst thing that’s ever happened, he tells himself.
At school, things are… different. Better? He’s not sure. Since the sports festival, more of his classmates try to talk to him. He’s the only general studies student to make it to round three, which makes him somewhat popular for some reason. And now Midoriya gives him a little wave and a smile when they see each other in the hallways, which Hitoshi has no idea what to make of. Why on earth is he being friendly? They just beat each other up a week ago.
He doesn’t really know what to do about his classmates, either.
He thinks maybe they’re trying to… befriend him? Maybe. Some of them seem wary when he asks a question, so he makes note and doesn’t ask things around them. Not that he ever really did in the first place, but if people keep insisting on trying to talk to him, a question comes out occasionally. The surprised looks on some of their faces when they answer and aren’t placed under his quirk make something cold settle uncomfortably in his chest.
Even after all this time, all he’s done. People are still afraid.
Is his quirk really a villain’s quirk?
“Excuse me,” the door to the classroom opens, and Hitoshi glances up.
“Ah, Aizawa. Did you need something?”
He sits up straighter. Why is Eraserhead is here?
“I’ve been given permission to pull aside one of your students.” Eraserhead sticks his head and arm into he class, passing a slip of paper to his teacher.
“I see.”
“Shinsou.” For a moment, Hitoshi thinks maybe he’s dreaming. “Come on, kid.”
No, he’s not dreaming. Eraserhead is really here, in his classroom, staring at him with tired, expectant eyes. Hitoshi sucks in a breath, then quickly gathers his things and follows Eraserhead out into the hallway. Eraser doesn’t say anything as they walk, leaving Hitoshi’s mind to wander.
Is he in trouble? He doesn’t know what he could be in trouble for, but this wouldn’t be the first time a teacher’s pulled him aside for no reason. Or maybe they need to give him a formal rejection from the hero course? Or they’re kicking him out of UA entirely. He’s heard Eraserhead expels a lot of his own students. Is he getting expelled? Is that why his favorite hero is here, now?
Fuck, he doesn’t want to get expelled. He has no idea how that’ll blow over with his foster family.
“Have a seat anywhere.” Eraserhead tells him, pushing open the door to class 1-A.
“Isn’t your class supposed to be here?” he blurts. Eraserhead sighs deeply into his scarf, leaning back against his desk.
“All Might is watching them.” He admits. Hitoshi sits in the first row, nerves making his heart pound.
Eraserhead stares at him, gaze accessing. His arms are crossed, expression unreadable under the hair and the capture weapon. He has no idea what this is about, and the longer the silence stretches, the more Hitoshi tries desperately to make it look like he’s not seconds away from a panic attack.
“Uh – Eraser-sensei? Is there a reason you pulled me out of class?” he finally forces himself to ask.
“I was impressed with your performance in the sports festival.”
Hitoshi freezes.
“I looked over your file, and I noticed you applied to both the Hero course and general studies.” Eraserhead continues. “Smart move. The hero course entrance exams are biased towards flashy, physical and strength based quirks. It doesn’t give kids like you a chance. Which is why I’d like to make you an offer.”
This isn’t happening.
“An offer?”
This is a dream.
“A powerful quirk a lone isn’t all you need to be a hero. You have determination, that much is clear, but you lack some basic training. As you are right now, you won’t be able to make it into the hero course.”
Okay, never mind. This is a nightmare.
Hitoshi nods stiffly. Even though he was expecting this, his heart still breaks in his chest. He doesn’t cry, he can’t cry in front of Eraserhead. He clenches his jaw and blinks.
“I understa –”
“Which is why I’m offering to train you and prepare you to enter the Hero course next year.”
He doesn’t know if he can handle the emotional whiplash, honestly. A distant, hysterical part of him thinks maybe Eraserhead should learn how to get to the point quicker, before he gives one of his students a heart attack.
“You are?” He can hear the shock and awe in his voice, and he’s kind of embarrassed, but not enough to get it under control. He’s still not entirely sure this isn’t some elaborate dream.
“Like I said, I was impressed. I think you have potential, and if anyone can get you out of general and into heroics, it’s me. That’s how I got into the hero course.” Eraserhead shrugs.
Hitoshi stares at him.
Eraserhead failed the entrance exam? He knows underground heroes aren’t popular, and they’re not supposed to be. But if they had hero rankings, Eraser would probably be in the top five, if not the number one. How could he have failed?
Well, he already said how, didn’t he? The heroics entrance exams are biased towards more physically destructive quirks. There was no way Hitoshi could have mind controlled a robot. He did his best and he got a handful of points, but Eraserhead was right – he lacks some basic training. There isn’t much opportunity to learn to fight when he’s bouncing between foster homes and studying to keep his grades up.
“I won’t lie, it’ll be hard. You have to continue keeping up with your general studies as well as train with me after school for several hours a week. But if you think you can do it, then I want to help you.”
(Shouta looks at this kid, with his tired eyes and the tense line of his shoulders, and sees himself. He sees his own fear, his own loneliness, and he thinks: I am not letting that happen again.)
“I’ll do it.” He doesn’t even have to think.
Eraserhead raises a single brow.
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure. With all due respect, Eraserhead-sensei, I really don’t care how hard it’ll be. I want to be a hero.” He says firmly. He sees the faintest twitch at the corner of Eraserhead’s mouth, and hope finally blooms in his chest.
“Call me Aizawa, kid.”
Eraser – Aizawa-sensei gives him forms to take home and have his foster parents fill out, and a new schedule to memorize. Thankfully, his foster parents sign off without a fight. He overhears them one night, saying they don’t care what he was up to, as long as he got out of the house. It’s better than nothing, he reminds himself. He doesn’t need them to be proud of him. He knows his dad would be, if he was here, and that’s enough for him.
(It isn’t)
The next day, he stops by class 1-A after the school day is over, hoping none of Aizawa-sensei’s students are still there. He waits at the end of the hall ass they file out, and – sure enough, there’s Midoriya, looking at him. He smiles (like always) and waves (why does he keep doing that?) before turning back to his friends. Hitoshi scowls.
Maybe it’s pity. That has to be why Midoriya’s doing this.
He forces it out of his mind. He can’t think about this now, not when he’s finally getting a chance to be in the hero course. Soon enough, he’ll prove to everyone he doesn’t need their pity, or their fear. He makes his way the class once he’s sure that all the students are gone, the hallway nearly empty.
“Shinsou,” Aizawa greets.
“Oh, hey, listener!” Present Mic says loudly. Hitoshi pauses at the door.
“Um. I can come back another time..?”
“No, it’s fine. Mic is just being annoying –“
“Hey!”
Aizawa-sensei rolls his eyes, and Hitoshi has no idea what to do in this situation. “Do you have all the forms filled out?”
“Yeah.” He steps forward and holds them out.
“Do your parents have any questions for me? Hero training is very different from general studies.”
Hitoshi’s pretty sure the only question his foster parents would have for Aizawa is if he could keep their villainous kid after school longer. Which he wouldn’t be opposed to, honestly, but he rather they didn’t say anything at all.
“No.”
(That is the first red flag, for Shouta. Not enough that he’s immediately suspicious, but he still makes a note of it.)
Aizawa looks the forms over for a moment before nodding.
“Aw, Shouta! You didn’t tell me you were training a new student.” Present Mic coos, and Hitoshi fights off the blush threatening to cover his face. Aizawa’s first name is Shouta? That feels like something he’s not supposed to know. He had no idea Eraser and Present Mic were on such friendly terms.
“Because it wasn’t official until just now. Not that it’s any of your business.” Aizawa sighs. He glances back at Hitoshi. “Alright, kid, everything looks good. You start tomorrow. Meet me here after classes end, and bring your gym uniform.”
“Don’t be like that! Come on, you never take on personal students.” Present Mic whines. Then, he turns to Hitoshi and points a finger gun at him. “Impressive quirk ya got, listener. Don’t see many voice heroes out there.”
Did… did Present Mic just call him a voice hero? Him?
“I’m not a hero yet.” He says. He feels awkward, unused to interactions that don’t end poorly.
“No, not yet. But with Shouta here as your teacher, you’ll be going pro in no time!”
He fights off the smile that threatens to appear at that. He has hope, but not that much hope. There’s still so much to do before he can even get into the hero course, and he’s not so sure he’ll be good enough.
“Yamada.” Aizawa grumbles.
“What? I’m being honest.”
“You’re free to go, kid. See you tomorrow.” Aizawa sighs again, a tired sound. He always seems exhausted – something the two of them have in common, then.
Hitoshi spins around to leave, and then pauses. “Thank you for the opportunity, Aizawa-sensei.”
“No need to thank me. Just promise you’ll do your best.”
Promise me.
“Of course.” He replies, voice gruff.
(“He could practically be your son.” Hizashi whispers in amusement. Shouta groans.
“Zashi. Enough.”)
When Aizawa says they’re starting with the basics, he really means the basics. How to breathe properly, stretching, how to properly form a fist, how to use it. There is no sparring, in the beginning. The first day of training, he hardly even breaks a sweat. It’s a little annoying, because he’s untrained by he’s not a baby. Still, he goes through the motions without complaint, because he’s being trained for heroics by his favorite pro hero, and that’s nothing that only happened in his wildest dreams.
From there, they move on to actual fighting techniques. Specifically, Eraserhead’s fighting style.
“I developed my fighting style around my capture weapon.” He explains. After a moment’s hesitation, he unwinds it from his neck. It’s long, and Hitoshi can’t help but think he looks strange without it. Aizawa is always wearing his capture weapon. His hair and his scarf obscure so much of his face most of the time. Now, with his hair pulled back and his scarf in his hands, Hitoshi realizes Aizawa isn’t actually that old. He still looks exhausted, and the stubble along his jaw is a little patchy. He almost looks like a different person.
“Here. Try it out.”
Hitoshi’s brain might short-circuit.
“Eh?”
“Take it. I want to see how you do.” Aizawa holds it out in front of him. Hitoshi hesitantly takes it in his hands. It’s soft, which he wasn’t entirely expecting. He’s seen it in action before, stopping a student from falling flat on their face running in the halls and fighting villains in older news clips, so he knew it had to be strong. He always thought it would be rougher.
“It’s called binding cloth. It took six years to fully develop this style, mostly because I didn’t have anyone to teach me. I was the first person to use this technique, and currently, I’m the only one.” Aizawa continues. “But you have someone who can help you, this time, so maybe it won’t take you as long as it took me. If you can manage to get the hang of it, that is.”
“Have you ever washed this thing?” He blurts.
Oh, god.
Aizawa gives him a flat stare.
“Sorry.” He mumbles. He wraps the scarf around his neck, and takes a moment to marvel at the fact that he’s holding Eraserhead’s capture weapon. He’s wearing it. It actually is kind of dirty, but he’s gonna keep his mouth shut about it. This scarf has apprehended hundreds of villains over the course of at least a decade, so yeah, its dirty. Actually, has he been using the same capture weapon this whole time?
That seems a little unsanitary.
“Now, it’s not really cloth, even though it looks it. It’s a carbon fiber and metal alloy blend. It’s light and flexible, but strong enough to hold down even particularly strong quirks, and pull objects to you.” He crosses his arms over his chest.
“How do you get it to float?” Hitoshi wonders. Aizawa sighs quietly.
“I have a minor secondary telekinesis quirk. It just makes anything around my head float when my erasure is activated, but it doesn’t do much in terms of actually using the capture weapon. You shouldn’t have any trouble once you get the basics down.”
Oh, fun. More basics.
“You think I could use one of these?” Hitoshi asks.
“With quirks like ours, we can’t rely on them all the time. For me, my quirk only works on emitter-type and some transformation-type quirks. So, a little less than half the time, I’m essentially fighting quirkless. For you, there’s always the chance that whatever villain you’re facing might already know about your quirk, especially if you decide to become a spotlight hero. In times like those, you’ll need something else to help you win a fight.” He gestures towards his belt. “I don’t rely too heavily on my quirk. I have multiple tools to use, including a knife and caltrops. The capture scarf isn’t just a weapon – it helps with transportation and support, especially in cities.”
He never considered what kind of hero he wanted to be, before.
The spotlight doesn’t look appealing in the slightest.
“What if I didn’t want to be a spotlight hero?”
He could be imagining it, but he feels almost like Aizawa’s trying to hold back a smile.
“Then I’ll definitely be easier for you to use your quirk, since less people will know who you are. A huge advantage of underground work is anonymity. But we’re not focusing on where your hero career is heading today.” Aizawa takes a few steps back, stopping once his back hits a tree. “Go ahead. Throw it forward.”
“You… just want me to throw it?” Hitoshi’s brows furrow.
“Get the end of it to go out as far as you can. This is just an assessment so don’t worry over it too much.”
Right. Yeah, don’t worry. He can definitely do that.
He takes the end of it and glances at Aizawa, but his expression is unreadable. He has no idea if he’s doing this right. He takes a moment to figure out how, exactly, he’s supposed to throw the end of a scarf that’s still firmly wrapped around his neck and shoulders, and then tosses it forward.
The fabric actually goes farther than he thought it would. He can feel it gliding around him, movement smooth and fluid. But it still only goes maybe a meter before flopping uselessly down through the air.
He risks a look at Aizawa.
“Okay. Not too bad.” But it was bad, then, wasn’t it? Three training sessions in and he’s already disappointing his teacher. That’s just great.
“I can do better.” He says, almost desperately. He winces at the tone, but Aizawa just gives him another unreadable look.
(This is another red flag, filled away to examine later.)
“You already did better than I expected, kid. Like it said, this is just to see how much you can figure out on your own. We’ll keep working on it today, and if you want, I can put in a request for you to have your own capture weapon made.”
His own capture weapon.
He never considered it before. It would be unmistakable who was training him, if he did get one.
A sign that at least one pro out there believed in him.
He doesn’t respond to that, but Aizawa doesn’t mind. They spend the rest of their two hours going through some of Eraserhead’s simpler moves. He mostly watches from the sidelines as Aizawa demonstrates something, but it’s still the best training session he’s had so far. He goes home that day with a small smile on his face and the promise that he’ll get his own capture weapon, eventually.
Even though his stomach still aches when he goes to sleep that night, the seed of happiness planted in his chest doesn’t go away. No matter how long it takes, or how hard it is… he’s going to get out of here.
After a month of after-school training with Aizawa, Hitoshi notices two things; His classmates aren’t actually as terrible as he thought, and the feeling of hunger is only getting worse.
He’s still not being given enough money to buy himself groceries. And now, with training, he finds himself getting hungrier and hungrier every week. He eats what he’s given at school and forces himself to s ave some for the weekends when he’s back at his foster home, despite how much his stomach grumbles and aches. He’s not really gaining much muscle, which is disappointing. But he’s definitely getting better at close range combat. He’s even sparred with Aizawa a few times. He’s always pinned within a few minutes, but it’s still amazing.
And his classmates.
His classmates don’t seem to be afraid of him like he thought. Maybe it’s because he doesn’t actually use his quirk, during school. Maybe it’s because they’ve seen him talking to Aizawa. He hasn’t told anyone he’s training for heroics, but it’s not exactly a secret. Several students have seen them together at this point, including Midoriya – who still smiles and waves all the time, the bastard.
Whatever the reason, he thinks he might actually have a few tentative friends, now. A boy in his homeroom asked for his number so they could study together, and another girl in his math class has been having pleasant conversation with him for the past week.
It’s not much, but it makes him feel lighter.
Like maybe he’s finally letting himself be happy.
He makes his way to class 1-A a few minutes after the final bell rings, just like he as been for the past month. But this time, he pauses at the door, hearing voices inside.
“…can go home, this time. But you still have a week of after school detention left, Midoriya.”
“I understand, sensei.” Midoriya’s voice sounds small, behind the closed door.
There’s a tired sigh, practically Aizawa’s trademark. “You understand you could have gotten seriously hurt, in Hosu, right? Much more than you already were.”
Hosu? Wait, are they talking about the hero killer incident? He knew that some of the hero students had gotten caught up in it, but he had no idea one of them was Midoriya. He guesses there was that week where he didn’t see that dumb smile pass him by in the hallway. Just how hurt did Midoriya get?
“I understand.”
“Next time you think your friends are in trouble, you tell a teacher, or a pro, got it?” this sounds like something Aizawa’s had to say multiple times.
“Yes, sensei.”
Another sigh. “Alright, problem child. Go home already, I’m sure your mother’s expecting you.”
Midoriya sputters at the nickname, but he does eventually make his way out. Hitoshi’s too caught up in trying to process what he just heard to remember to hide, and when Midoriya opens the door, they end up face to face.
“O-Oh! Hey, Shinsou!” He smiles, bright and warm and so damn annoying.
Hitoshi grunts.
“Right. Um, well, I didn’t mean to get in your way. Are you trying to talk to Aizawa-sensei?”
“Yeah.” He gets out. It seems he’s being forced into conversation, no matter how hard he was trying to avoid it.
“Okay, I’ll just – I’ll leave, then sorry.” He hurriedly steps away from the doorway, awkwardly scratching at the back of his neck. As Hitoshi makes to enter the classroom, Midoriya reaches out, hand stopping just above his arm.
Hitoshi quirks a brow.
“Listen, I – I wants to apologize. For the sports festival.” Midoriya pulls his hand back. “I know you were hoping to win and transfer into heroics, and I really hope I didn’t ruin your chances, because you quirk is incredible!” wait, what? “It’s so fascinating, I’ve never seen anything like it! Do you think you could take control of multiple people at once? Have you tried it? There are so many different ways it could be applied in both rescue missions and villain battles, and I think it’s kind of unfair that you didn’t get into heroics in the first place. I know the entrance exams were kind of biased, Aizawa-sensei says it all the time, and –”
“Midoriya.” Aizawa’s voice interrupts the word vomit spilling from Midoriya’s mouth. His green eyes widen, cheeks going pink.
“Right, uh, sorry. Again. for the sports festival, and for the rambling. Um. See you around Shinsou!”
With that, Midoriya beams at him, turns on his heel, and all but runs down the hall. Hitoshi is left standing in his wake, dazed.
“He’s right, you know.” Aizawa says after a moment.
“About what?”
“Your quirk. It’s extremely versatile, with a number of different situations it could be applied to.” He cocks his head to the side, a move that kind of reminds Hitoshi of Present Mic. “We haven’t incorporated much of your quirk into your training. I’ll have to adjust that for next session.”
He has no idea how that’ll do that, but it’s not like he’s gonna say no. He’s been feeling like shit, lately, so maybe a day spent working on his quirk wouldn’t be so bad.
“Okay.” He shrugs. Aizawa stands there for a moment, watching him.
“Are you ready?” He finally asks.
Part of him wants to say no.
But training with Aizawa is the highlight of his day. His only chance at being a hero. So, despite his aches and pains, he nods.
“Yeah.”
Hitoshi’s confused.
He could have sworn he was training with Aizawa just a second ago. And now he’s being cradled against a warm body, a callused hand smoothing over his forehead and hair. His head pounds, but that’s not new - it’s been hurting all day. For the past few days, if he’s being honest. What’s new is opening his eyes to see Aizawa’s worried face hovering over him.
“...you hear us, little listener?”
“M-mic-Sensei?” He croaks, squinting. Aizawa adjusts them so his dark hair blocks out the sun, which Hitoshi’s immensely grateful for.
Wait though.
Why are his teachers holding him? Why is Present Mic’s hand in his hair? Is that Present Mic’s?
“Hey, kiddo!” Mic’s voice is surprisingly soft, a far cry from the loud, obnoxious boom it usually is.
“You collapsed during training.” Aizawa tells him. “Do you remember?”
He does now.
He remembers being frustrated that he was being knocked down so easily today, and trying to get up. He remembers the black spots that danced in his vision, and someone calling his name before everything went dark. He doesn’t remember when Mic-Sensei showed up. Maybe while he was unconscious. It’s… It’s bad that he was unconscious that long, isn’t it?
“Yeah.”
“Good.” Mic says. Aizawa shoots him a look. “Well, not good. But good you remember what happened. Do you think you can stand?”
“He shouldn’t.” Aizawa’s hand wraps around his wrist. “His pulse is fast and irregular. He’s been clumsy and sweating since before training started. Haven’t you?” His teacher studies him closely, and he doesn’t have the energy to be embarrassed about it. “When was the last time you ate, Hitoshi?”
Oh.
“I, um...” he frowns, trying to remember. His current state isn’t really helping things.
“You don’t know?” Mic-Sensei asks gently. Hitoshi shakes his head, and the world spins. That was probably a bad move. Aizawa’s grips on him tightens, and he feels himself being lifted easily off the ground. He’s like a hundred and eighty two centimeters tall, how is Aizawa doing that?
“I’m taking you to recovery girl. Mic, can you call his parents?”
“No!” Hitoshi blurts. Both his teachers stare down at him. “I don’t - don’t bother them. It’s fine.” He tries, calmer.
It’s – it’s a rule. Don’t bother them. Don’t interfere. His foster parents are at work, their kid’s in class. If they have to leave work early to come get him, he’s done for. If they place his in a new house, there’s no guarantee it’ll be close enough to UA. No guarantee it’ll be as good as the one he’s in now.
His teachers share a look, and Aizawa’s scowl deepens.
(This isn’t the second red flag. Or the third, or the fourth. But it’s the last one, the final nail in the coffin. Shouta sees the look of fear on his student’s face, and all his suspicions are confirmed.)
“Okay. Okay, we won’t.” Mic-Sensei is being so quiet. It’s not natural - he’s always loud and energetic and shining. Hitoshi’s never seen him so subdued before. The Present Mic persona seems to have just vanished, leaving behind a gentle man in a costume. “Feel better, little listener. Sho –”
“Yeah.” Aizawa grunts, hoisting him up.
He has no idea what they’ve just silently conveyed to each other, nor does he currently have the brain power to figure it out. It’s... embarrassing, being carried through the school by his teacher. Thankfully, since it’s after classes are over, there are no students hanging around, and very few faculty members. Recovery girl is still there for whatever reason, and she makes worried tutting noises over him when he’s deposited on the nurses’ cot. She checks his pulse, his temperature, and asks him several questions about his day. But once she hears he can’t remember the last time he ate, she goes quiet and pulls Aizawa aside.
Hitoshi sits in silence and tries to steady his breathing. He still feels weak, and shaky, and like he’s just majorly disappointed the only important adult figure in his life.
He’s probably never getting into the heroics course now. Not after they find out he can barely take care of himself.
After a couple minutes, Aizawa comes back alone, holding a bowl of rice in one hand and a stack of papers in the other. He thrusts the bowl into Hitoshi’s hands and stares intently at him until he lifts some of the rice to his mouth.
“Do you remember what happened?”
“I fainted.” He replies, taking a bite.
“You collapsed because you’re starving. You’re underweight.” Aizawa’s blunt, but Hitoshi can see the concern in his dark eyes. He looks over the papers in his hand quietly while Hitoshi munches slowly.
“Sorry.” He gets out. Aizawa lets out a rough breath, brows pinched.
“Don’t be. I’m not angry.”
“You look angry.” Hitoshi points out. Aizawa scowls.
“I’m not angry at you.” He pins him with that piercing gaze again. “I’m going to ask you something, and I want you to be honest with me.”
“Okay.” Hitoshi frowns.
“Are your parents abusing you?” There’s a moment of shocked silence. He hadn’t expected him to be so direct, but considering who this is, maybe he should have. “On your file your listed as a foster child. Mic had a talk with your social worker while you were being checked out, and she told him you’d been placed with five different families in the past six years.” Hitoshi’s hands curl into fists. “I know how the system treats so called ‘difficult kids’, so please, be honest with me.”
The logical parts of him know that Aizawa does care.
He wouldn’t be training him for the hero course next year if he didn’t. Aizawa is a man ruled by logic, something that Hitoshi learned fairly early on. It wouldn’t make any sense to waste time on someone he doesn’t care for or see potential in. But why would he care about Hitoshi’s home life? Why would he care?
Why?
“They don’t.” He finally says. “They’ve never touched me.”
“Physical abuse isn’t the only kind. I know you eat at school - what about at home? Do they make sure you’ve had enough? Do you have a bed of your own, enough clothes, emotional support?” Aizawa’s looking at him so closely. Expectantly.
“Why do you care?” He hisses. “You’re just my teacher, and I already said, I’m fine –”
“It’s my job to care about you, as a hero, as your teacher, and as your mentor.” Aizawa’s expression softens. “And if it weren’t any of that, I still would. You’re a good kid, Shinsou. And you don’t deserve to be mistreated.”
“But I could be a villain so easily, couldn’t I?” He spits out. “I have the quirk for it.”
“No you don’t.” His teacher’s expression darkens, briefly. “No quirk is inherently good or bad. You don’t think it would be just as easy for me to be a villain? Cancelling someone’s quirk with just a look is pretty disturbing, isn’t it.” He leans forward. “And Present Mic? He could so easily shred someone’s organs so th his voice. Kaminari could fry the whole class in the blink of an eye. Midoriya could crack someone’s skull with his bare hands. One could say we‘ve all got ‘villainous quirks’ if you put it that way. But it isn’t your quirk that makes you a villain or a hero. It’s you.” He places a hand gently on Hitoshi’s shoulder. “Do you want to hurt people?”
“No.” Hitoshi whispers.
“Then why on earth would you be a villain?”
That makes it seem so simple.
Isn’t it, though?
He doesn’t realize he’s crying until the tears fall down to his hands.
“You can be a hero, Shinsou. I know you can.”
As soon as the words leave Aizawa’s mouth, Hitoshi falls forward, a jagged sob breaking loose form his chest. He clings to his teacher’s shirt, uncaring how ridiculous he must look. he feels arms wrap tentatively around his back.
Hitoshi lets himself break, just for one moment.