Work Text:
Izuku doesn't have any friends. It's as simple as that. He's Quirkless and ugly and annoying, and he doesn't deserve to have friends or opportunities or happiness. The entire world has been teaching him that since he was four years old, which makes it almost a decade already. Lucky him.
And truly, his bad luck is holding strong, because on a Monday afternoon, not long after school ends, he picks up his rarely-used phone. Luckily the website he's looking at lists a mobile number rather than a phone number, so at least he can't embarrass himself with his stutter yet. Accordingly, he's trying to text a shoe shop. That's all. It's really not much to ask. He just wants to see if Yamamoto Toes stock Red Laces, since his usual shop has closed. But he's an idiot, a stupid Deku, and he mistypes a single digit. (Good things can come from bad luck though, as he'll learn.)
Midoriya: [Hi, I was wondering if you stocked Red Lace shoes?] Despite it still being within business hours, his phone doesn't ping with a text notification for well over an hour, and he's in for a bit of a shock when he actually reads it.
Shinsou: [Uh, wasn't gonna reply but I guess I'll let you know that you texted some random person, not whatever company or whatever you were trying for.] And Izuku immediately feels drenched in ice water, needle pricks shattering down his spine because oh Kami, what has he just done? Even worse, what if this person knows what he means by Red Laces and they're just another bigot and they publicise his phone number as that of a Quirkless person or something similarly awful? And then- No. No, he can't spiral now, he needs to try and damage control whilst also apologising because he's just messed up super badly.
Midoriya: [Wait, you're not Yamamoto Toes??]
: [Oh my All Might I'm so so sorry!!! It was a mistake!!]
: [I'm so stupid, I'm really sorry!!!]
: [I didn't mean to be such an inconvenience, I can't believe I'm always this useless I'm so sorry!!!]
Hitoshi, in his bedroom, is admittedly panicking slightly at the onslaught of equally panicked messages headed his way. He kind of wishes he hadn't replied at all now, but he's worried this random person - kid? they referenced All Might like a god - might end up in a panic attack or something at this rate, and he can't even help them out of it over the phone.
Shinsou: [Woah. Uh.] He pauses for a moment, backspaces a few early attempts, and manages to reply relatively quickly,
: [It's fine?]
Midoriya: [Are you sure? I feel so bad!!!]
: [I know I'm a Deku but still]
: [I'm so so so sorry!!!] Well, that's not concerning at all. Particularly on top of the fact that Hitoshi knows something about red shoes from specific shops.
Shinsou: [Dude, it's fine.]
: [And, uh, feel free to tell me to fuck off or whatever] Is it worth trying to ask? Might as well, surely, because curiosity is burning through him, the need for someone his own age who might begin to understand, to see him for more than a Quirk-
: [but are you Quirkless?]
There's a long few minutes where those dots just appear and disappear, and Hitoshi nearly types out a 'never mind' or an apology, because even over text he can feel the tension frissoning between them, the awful knowledge of distress.
Midoriya: [why would you think that?] Wow, suspicious much. It's fair, Hitoshi knows, but damn.
Shinsou: [because one of my foster siblings is. I heard my parents talking about trying to get her shoes and they called them Red Laces. Apparently they're built specially?]
Midoriya: [ahhh]
: [I- I guess I shouldn't lie, even to a stranger?] Despite that seeming resolve, there's still an elongated pause then, Hitoshi taking twelve full breaths before more text pops up on his screen
: [I'm Quirkless.] And yep. No surprise. Unfortunate for this person, admittedly, but perhaps, just maybe, Hitoshi could find someone a little bit similar to him in this?
Shinsou: [I mean I can't judge you, really.]
: [I've got a villain's Quirk.]
He nearly throws his phone the moment he presses send. But he steels his nerve, tries to be as brave as Eraserhead, and instead just stares at the shifting dots of the other person typing.
Midoriya: [What? What does that mean? I mean, unless you've been hurting people?]
: [Oh my All Might have I been talking to a psychopath this whole time???] Damn, that was a very quick escalation. Weirdly enough though, it doesn't hurt to read. There's such a blatant lack of malice behind it, just a return of that earlier panic, that Hitoshi can't even take offence from it, let alone feel hurt.
Shinsou: [No!] Even if it doesn't hurt to read, he's not going to let this person spiral into awful places, particularly not when it's assumptions about Hitoshi himself.
: [I haven't hurt anyone!] The pause then is stagnant, a little shocked, before a text comes in that Hitoshi can almost feel the hesitance in,
Midoriya: [...you haven't?] There's no chance to reply, because the next two messages pile in within a few seconds.
: [oh, good!!!]
: [so how's your Quirk villainous then? I don't understand]
Suddenly Hitoshi regrets everything he's ever said or done. He wants to delete their entire conversation, to run away from his phone or throw it away, because he never should have started this line of conversation, maybe shouldn't have even replied to this person in the first place. But he's here now, and leaving the conversation where it is without replying would leave an even more bitter taste in his mouth. He can already taste bile.
Shinsou: [It's fucking brainwashing, okay? I can control people.] Oh, he didn't really mean to sound so aggressive - okay, admittedly it's a defensive thing - but it's sent now, and those dots are immediately springing back up,
Midoriya: [that's so cool!!!] Wait, what?
: [you could stop villains so easily, depending on the exact mechanics]
: [not to mention that if someone was panicking or worse you could bring them out of it long enough for them to get help] Well, Hitoshi is ready to cry or something else similarly embarrassing, because he doesn't get told this by anyone except for his parents, and they're his parents. A random stranger is another story all together.
Shinsou: [uhh, thanks]
: [people don't say that about me or my quirk or whatever so yh]
: [thank you]
Oh no, he feels awkward again already now. It might be nice if his phone just imploded, rather than him being stuck kicking one foot in the air, resisting the urge to roll over and bury his face in his duvet for something close to a reprieve.
Midoriya: [it's only the truth!!!]
: [I really love Quirks and I think they're super cool!!!]
: [and yours doesn't sound villainous at all to me] Damn, Hitoshi had forgotten how good that is to hear. Particularly from someone other than his family.
Midoriya: [obviously I'm just a stranger saying that so maybe it doesn't really mean much at all, I'm sorry]
: [but, uhm, yeh, I think you know what I mean?]
Shinsou: [I do] One deep breath, two, then he manages to string together the words he more or less wants to say,
: [for what it's worth you seem pretty cool too]
There's an aching pause then, and they clearly go to type several different messages, or they keep on deleting their original text, but eventually a simple reply comes in,
Midoriya: [oh!!!] Hitoshi can almost picture the flustered expression of this stranger, because judging by how they've been talking this whole time, they clearly have even less confidence than him, which is frankly an achievement.
: [thank you!!!]
: [I need to go do and eat dinner now, but I really meant what I said about your Quirk!!!] Hitoshi, noting the time, takes no offence to that at all, because it's half past six, and honestly his dinner probably won't be far off ready either.
Shinsou: [right, yh fair. and same. bye then?]
Midoriya: [bye!]
From there, Hitoshi stares back over their conversation for several minutes, may or may not screenshot a few messages in particular, until eventually leaving his phone on charge to go and eat his own meal. That was weird but it definitely wasn't bad by any stretch either. Maybe he'll even be able to get a friend out of this.
However, the unfortunate thing about Hitoshi and Izuku is that both of them are horribly, dreadfully awkward. This initial conversation, for all of the hesitant camaraderie found in some simple texts, dissolves into half-fond, half-uncomfortable thoughts, into a possibility and a what-if and an unrealised hope, as thin and chilling as sea mist. It's unpleasant, and neither of them know how to deal with it, so they don't. They avoid it.
That fact is, arguably, stupid.
But it's a fact all the same, because it's not like they have any particularly good social examples to follow - no, they only have bad examples, really. It makes it rather difficult to even try and reach out to someone else, regardless of similarities between them. Given this, it's not surprise that it takes over a month later, when Hitoshi sends a text to someone that he relates to more than pretty much anyone else but who he hasn't dared to talk to since their initial conversation petered out. He needs a friend and he's a bit short of those. He can't drag his younger siblings along, but if he doesn't bring someone else along then he won't even be getting a Japanese Literature grade which is stupid and illogical and annoying, because he's literally spent a year lying successfully and now he's going to get caught out. He doesn't have the money to bribe someone to help him, he daren't use his Quirk, and he knows exactly zero other people.
So he spends half an hour fiddling with his phone, switching through his apps and tapping out the beginnings of a message or two, except none of them seem right.
Eventually though, he convinces himself that just giving this a go has to be worth it, that Eraserhead would be brave so he should too, and he forces himself to just put some words in the text box.
Shinsou: [Hey, uh, this is probably kind of a weird question, but are you free next Saturday? On the twelfth? I promise this isn't me trying to be creepy, but I've kind of got myself into this mess where I need a fake penpal for school?]
It takes a painfully long time to get a reply.
To be fair to the other person, Hitoshi's original text was incredibly out of the blue, and could easily be seen as something creepy or too forward, so Hitoshi isn't really offended. No, he's too busy being glad, when the next day has him receiving a text ten minutes after school finishes, partway through his train ride home. The notification interrupts his music, but his wordless grumble fades away as soon as he sees what the notification is:
Midoriya: [I mean, that would probably be okay??] Hitoshi almost grins then, because frankly he's pretty relieved to hear that, although he wants to check that it really is fine. They don't sound too sure.
Midoriya: [But could we meet somewhere else earlier this week???]
: [Just so I know you're not a serial killer and that we won't seem like complete strangers if I do turn up to school with you???] Yeh, Hitoshi can't blame them for asking that, it explains why they sounded so hesitant, and honestly he agrees. It would be good to know he's not about to bring someone completely ridiculous to his school, like a random adult or- Oh Kami, he really should have thought this through more, shouldn't he? Just because they sound like they're around his age doesn't mean they actually are, and he could do with not getting murdered, if only for the sake of his family. Makoto would cry.
Shinsou: [not a problem]
: [wait, you are about my age right? second year of middle school] Damn, that reminds him of something else he really should have asked before now.
Midoriya: [oh!! yes!!]
Shinsou: [good. oh, uh, and I'm Shinsou] The statement is awkward, clunky, and he actually manages to beat the other person to sending the next message,
: [Shinsou Hitoshi] Is that a little better? He's not entirely convinced, but it probably didn't hurt, and they're typing a reply already,
Midoriya: [sorry!! I'm Midoriya Izuku. Are we both in Musutafu?] Oh, Midoriya caught it before he could.
Shinsou: [Yeh, no, I am too]
: [thanks again then Midoriya]
Midoriya: [of course!!!]
: [where could we meet?]
They make arrangements from there. It's a bit awkward, but Hitoshi suggests a train station that he knows but isn't actually too close to his house, so he feels safe enough meeting a total stranger there. It's public, and close to a cat café, and at least he can just literally run away into the crowds or onto a train if he thinks he's going to get murdered. Luckily, Midoriya agrees with it happily enough, so presumably it's fine for both of them.
Accordingly, after school that Tuesday, Hitoshi takes the train five stops in the wrong direction, and waits, scuffing his feet on the pavement outside of the station, wishing he had been able to bring his bike with him. As-is, his rucksack is heavy on his back, but his worries are even more so, Atlas anchor points along his spine that pull him to want to go back home, where he doesn't have to worry about strangers and Quirks and trying to get a grade for something that was ruined by a bigot in the first place.
More than any of that, he wishes that he'd just talked to his parents when he'd received the original letter telling him that he wasn't worth writing to, that he didn't deserve the brat Takashi's ink, let alone attention.
But then he sees, in amongst the mess of people and bags and gaps in the crowds, a head of dark green curls and, when they turn in place, clearly looking for someone or something, a bright yellow rucksack that reminds Hitoshi of what he thinks Eraserhead's goggles look like. That must be Midoriya. Right, it's crunch time. Hitoshi really, really hopes that he doesn't offend or confuse Midoriya, or just fumble his words too badly or anything. It's been a while since he's had an actual conversation with someone new.
Before he can overthink it any more, Hitoshi has a hand in the air, waving the other teen over, who notices within moments, eyes widening and something almost fearful to his expression for a long breath. But then he visibly steels himself, hands clenching around the straps of his bag, and he weaves through the crowds to reach Hitoshi, waving a little awkwardly once he gets close,
"Uhm, hi?"
"Hey," he returns, scratching at the back of his neck,
"Midoriya, right?"
"Y-yeh!" He gasps out, flushing slightly, and they both linger in silence for a few seconds before Hitoshi scrambles for words again,
"Thanks for coming, I guess? I didn't exactly have anyone else to ask."
"Oh! No, it's fine. I told my Mum that I might be making a friend so- Ah, I probably shouldn't have said that? Sorry, that was really forward-"
"You're fine. Uh, I'm pretty blunt and awkward, so don't worry about it. We can both be socially stunted." Hitoshi freezes at his own words, because he probably shouldn't have just called someone that he needs to help him socially stunted, but after several seconds of them blinking at each other, Midoriya giggles, a hand coming up to muffle the sound but his freckles and eyes glint, and oh, maybe Hitoshi hasn't messed up. Cool.
"So, uhm, cats?" The first word is still marred by laughter, but grows more serious, albeit eager, by the final one. And damn, Hitoshi relates to that. Cats are a very serious matter after all.
"Yeh. This place has lots of cute cats, and I figured it was public enough for us both to feel safe for now?"
"That's fine with me!" This amount of liveliness, whether it be excited or nervous or just plain old energy, is a little startling to Hitoshi because even his excitement has a habit of being deadpan, although his parents have always teased him for how bright his eyes get when it comes to things like cats or Eraserhead merch.
"Uh, are you alright paying? I know I asked you to come so I don't mind covering it if you need?" Hitoshi doesn't feel quite as awkward any more. They're walking now, and Midoriya only comes up to maybe his shoulder, even when the greenette stands up straight enough to be able to look up at Hitoshi. He never meets his eyes though, and his fingers are tight around the straps of his rucksack, and suddenly Hitoshi wonders if he should be even kinder to his foster sister. Maybe spend more time with her. Check in more. He's long-since known that she doesn't have the easiest time at school, and he's glared away a bully or two when she wasn't able to walk home with her best friend, but still. This kid- this teenager, Midoriya's the same age as him, even if he is short and stumbling and stuttering - is four years older than her and visibly more crushed. It's not a nice realisation.
He's pulled out of such thoughts by an answer to his earlier question though,
"Oh! I- I should be fine, thank you?" He glances up at Hitoshi, the hint of vivid green beneath the dark fringe, and there's still something hesitant to him. But at least he doesn't seem scared. In fact, not once has he hesitated to answer Hitoshi's questions, nor to interact in any other way, so even though he doesn't know the activation requirements of Hitoshi's brainwashing, there's a lack of fear surrounding his Quirk. No, instead of that, Midoriya is just nervy in general. Which, honestly, mood, even if Hitoshi is too blank and tired to really show much of it outwardly.
"Sure. Let me know, I guess." They walk on in silence then. They're only a street away from the cat cafe, and both of them are quick walkers apparently, so it doesn't take long for Hitoshi to be holding open the door for his companion, tension already fading with the sound of cats in the room beyond the reception. And, yep, Hitoshi can see them through the next entrance, lots of fluffy bodies, swaying tails and glinting eyes. He's glad that he suggested meeting here.
They pay for two hours each without much thought or discussion, and then they're going through to sit with the cats. They tacitly decide on the corner nearest the staff entrance and exit because it makes a good escape route, although neither acknowledge as much beyond the privacy of their own minds, and they each take a side of said corner, settling on plush cushions with knees almost touching. Midoriya's rucksack gets tucked beside him, just out of Hitoshi's reach, and then they've got cats to think about it.
Their silence for the next twenty minutes or so is a comfortable one, actually. Purring cats make for a great way to relax, and Hitoshi is a little bit envious of how Midoriya almost instantly has seven cats all over him. One kitten even ends up in the mess of fluffy hair, which is the coolest thing ever.
Eventually, they do start talking. They share a plate of biscuits, little checkerboard ones and pistachio ones and some with blueberry icing in pretty little swirls. Hitoshi steals the last pistachio biscuit, but leaves the final blueberry-vanilla one for Midoriya because he noticed how the shorter boy's eyes had lit up with the first one. And he's dragged Midoriya out here already. Might as well let him have his favourite treats, particularly as he actually genuinely likes the other teen. Midoriya really does just seem nice. Honest and anxious and kind, with his red shoes and yellow bag and gentle hands. And he's clever, judging by the way he picks apart another customer's Quirk in moments, eyes flashing and murmurs racing at beyond a mile a minute. Hitoshi is kind of in awe.
Beyond that though, they just spend the first hour in quiet discussion. Midoriya mutters about some people's Quirks, but only ever loudly enough for Hitoshi to pick up bits and pieces, and the rest of the time they either eat their food, play with the cats, or piece together slightly ragged conversations about things like heroes and school.
But then, when they sit back down after paying for a third hour each, Hitosih bites the bullet and asks the question that has been lingering in his mind even more than whether or not Midoriya will even be willing to help him:
"They probably won't treat you the best if you're even just the penpal of a future villain, you know?"
"Nobody treats me very well anyway," Midoriya shrugs, a tremulous smile making itself known. And Hitoshi, for all that he doesn't like the thought of someone else going through similar shit as him, doesn't mind having someone that he can smile just as awkwardly back at. Maybe, just maybe, he'll actually make a friend out of this weird mess.
"Does that mean you don't mind helping?" Hitoshi keeps the question light, blank, trying to give Midoriya room to actually say no if he's really not comfortable.
It goes unneeded, for the most part,
"W-well, what sort of hero would I be if I didn't help other people?" The genuine confidence, even if it's still not overly fierce, is a welcome change, and Hitoshi reaches over to very delicately pat the top of the fluffy hair, avoiding the kitten still curled up there and glad that his companion doesn't flinch away.
"You can say no though. I- I wouldn't mind meeting up with you again either way," Hitoshi hedges, not really wanting to make his maybe-friend uncomfortable but also not wanting to lose a potential person that might actually be able to like him. Or, no, who is willing to look past his Quirk.
"No. I- I think I'd be happy to."
"You think so?" Hitoshi clarifies, not pushy or condescending, but rather with a soft tilt to his eyebrows and a gentle pat for the cat in between them both.
Midoriya straightens up a little then, something more certain to him then, a soft-steeled edge,
"No, I am sure. It would be, uhm, good bonding?"
"Sounds like a plan." They both smile then, slightly toothy in that way of people who know the same sort of pains, and it's a fragile, bright thing. A hopeful one.
Alas, their plan, they quickly realise, might not have been the best idea ever. In terms of the two of them directly, it's fine. Izuku is happy enough to read over the faked pen pal letters that Shinsou has been writing the whole time, and the fake handwriting isn't even too far off of his own. Shinsou has portrayed him as a pretty basic person, talking about pre-Quirk hero comics and trips to the beach with his parents, none of which is too difficult to remember. Answering to Takashi won't be as easy, but it's doable. No, the trouble comes in when there's other people involved.
And it's a fair bit of trouble.
People are staring at them both. Whispering and murmuring, hands covering mouths and glaring eyes unhidden by hair, little trickles of hatred and judgement. It's familiar to them both, admittedly, but to be beside someone else at the same time, to have another person being equally judged as them... It adds further layers to the discomfort.
"I'm sorry," Hitoshi eventually whispers, leading 'Takashi' to their seats in the hall,
"I should've just taken the bad grade. You shouldn't have to put up with this."
"When it might the one grade that will help you be a hero?" Midoriya hisses back, eyes alight with an ever-fiercer fire.
"When the system is already stacked against you in other ways? No."
"Still," Hitoshi tries, but the words fail him. He doesn't like the idea of having put somebody into a bad situation, whether they're used to it or not. Whether they were willing or not. He knows what his school life is like and inflicting it upon somebody else, directly or not, has something twisting in Hitoshi's chest. It isn't a good feeling.
But Midoriya, for all that he's nervous, scarred in some of the same ways as Hitoshi, currently looks like a warrior.
Perhaps that's an odd statement to make. The greenette still has thin fingers and a short stature, pale skin made stark by freckles, yet there's another edge to him, a jagged conviction found in the straight lines of his shoulders and the solar-flare to his eyes, all poison and aurora and absolutely ready to fight. It's a contrast to the hunched over bundle of nerves that Hitoshi has already grown used to. No, this is someone two seconds away from snarling. And somehow it makes Hitoshi feel safe.
Neither of them shy away from the rest of the day. When other students start to sit down around them, Midoriya loses none of the fire. No, he instead gathers it around them both, a veil of fierce eyes and sharp words.
Technically, Midoriya is only talking to Hitoshi. He's rambling about heroes, about Quirks, and somehow he's apparently got an entire mental list of heroes, be they limelight, underground or twilight heroes, that have Quirks along similar veins as Hitoshi's Brainwashing. Morpheus, Puppeteer, Mister Motivator, Caricature... all Quirks with similar themes to Hitoshi's, with control or voice mimicry or just something that would make it villainous by most people's standards. And yet, here, Midoriya is speaking of their apprehension rates and their rankings and creative uses of their Quirks to save people. And he's saying it all loudly enough for the students and teachers around them to be able to hear clearly.
Hitoshi has had his parents stand up for him before. Strangers in the street, occasionally, if school issues have spilled visibly out into the rest of the world, but never before has he been able to sit next to someone, to nod along to their words, genuinely interested in every single one, and know that it's all for the purpose of protecting him. This person, someone he has literally only spent three hours with in-person before (although, admittedly, they have talked a fair bit over text in the last almost-week since meeting up on Tuesday, and it's gotten easier and more comfortable with every conversation, whether it was about Eraserhead or schoolwork or Put Your Hands Up Radio, or even things that are more random again), is here, in Hitoshi's school, visibly ready to defend him, words flowing with the pace of a river yet the chill of a glacier-forged dagger, and his eyes are alight the whole time.
Midoriya is challenging the whole room, and doing so for Hitoshi's sake.
It's a far cry from the scared, self-deprecating person that Hitoshi had first talked with, nearly two months ago now. Sure, he can still see parts of that person in how Midoriya keeps his rucksack close between his feet, in how his eyes roam the room with the intensity of someone used to being hunted, but there's that lingering edge to it all. A prey-learned predator.
See, Hitoshi never saw any reason that being Quirkless should stop someone like Midoriya from being a hero in the first place. Eraserhead's actual fighting is almost solely Quirkless. But right now, in this moment with quicksilver-clever words a barrier around them, a defiant certainty that is just as determined as any of All Might's grins keeping Midoriya upright, it's impossible to see him as anything but a hero. To think that he might not be destined to protect people. To save them in mind and body.
"Thank you," Hitoshi murmurs, the words hidden beneath Midoriya's pointed rambling. They're almost inaudible, and Hitoshi almost doesn't intend for them to be said out loud, but then those green eyes are fixated on him completely. Midoriya doesn't pause, doesn't falter, but he smiles.
And that says everything, because there's a tremulous turn to it, a relief and melancholy and understanding all at once. A vulnerability. Yes, they're kindred spirits indeed.
Perhaps, knowing that, this won't be a fake friendship at all. Nor a temporary one. Maybe, just maybe, they can find strength and support and a safe place with each other, and one that will only grow over time rather than twist and snap and break into cutting shards. Their first conversation might have been an accident, and their first meeting awkwardly arranged, but that doesn't mean it can't grow into something more. That they won't make something of it.
(They do, of course, make more of it. Nicknames are found, parents are met and sleepovers are had. They train together, study together, and find a friendship far strong than they thought possible together. It turns out that there's something to be said for shared trauma because whilst neither of them would wish it upon each other, it's a foundation wherein they're able to find mutual ground. Understanding. And, well, Underground Heroics will benefit from a new duo, surely?)