Chapter Text
It isn't that much, but it's a good start
So go and get your hands dirty
Do you love your neighbor?
Is it in your nature?
Do you love a sunset?
Aren't you fed up yet?
-Dirty, grandson
after chapter 1
The door to Izuku’s office closes behind Entropy and he sinks to the floor, burying his face in his hands. He might scream, just a little; he’s not entirely sure. A moment later the door opens again. Izuku peeks up through his fingers, positive with the way his day has been going that it’s Entropy back to witness yet another embarrassing feat or his secretary, Kobayashi, back to scold him some more now that he’s alone. Instead, it’s Hitoshi slinking in with a shit-eating grin Izuku doesn’t think he can handle at this particular moment.
Hitoshi steps around his crumpled form and drops into one of the office chairs – the same one Entropy was just in – and kicks his feet up on Izuku’s new desk. Izuku can practically hear the gears turning in his head as he takes in the clutter around them and the suspiciously clear desk he’s currently using as a foot rest.
“So how’d you break this one?” He asks in greeting.
Izuku wills himself to sink through the floor and disappear. Unfortunately, no latent quirks he was unaware of suddenly manifest and allow him to escape.
“It was an accident.” He mutters.
“It’s always an accident,” Hitoshi replies, unimpressed. “What happened? You got too excited about Entropy visiting and flipped it over? Spontaneously combusted, because you couldn’t contain your enthusiasm, disproving all of Toshinori and Inko’s worries about you not being fireproof, but tragically frying your desk in the process?”
Izuku’s head shoots up in surprise. “How did you even know Entropy was here? I didn’t tell anyone I invited him to be a part of the series.” Izuku bites his tongue, embarrassed Hitoshi got a rise out of him so easily before his other comment registers. “And I know I am not fireproof. I have never pretended otherwise.”
Hitoshi shoots him an unimpressed look, though if it’s about not “pretending to be fireproof,” or him asking Entropy to be a part of the series, he isn’t sure. Probably both, honestly.
“I ran into him on the way up here. I’m still not sure if I’m more surprised that you actually got up the nerve to invite him, or that he responded,” he muses. “But he looked pretty dazed on his way out. What did you do to him?”
“Nothing!” He pauses, tapping at his bottom lip in thought. “At least, I don’t think I did anything…”
“Was he here when you broke the desk?” Hitoshi doesn’t even wait for Izuku to try and answer. “That probably did it. So…again, how did you break this one?”
Izuku covers his face, muttering something unintelligible from behind his hands. Hitoshi nudges him with his foot until he says it again. “I bowed.”
“And your sheer respect for him caused the desk to shatter beside you?”
Izuku wonders what he did in a past life to earn this particular form of torture in his current one. “And I hit my head when I bowed.”
The office is unbearably quiet for a few moments. Izuku finally looks up, if for no other reason but to make sure Hitoshi didn’t somehow die or magically disappear over Izuku’s continued embarrassing existence. Hitoshi has a hand over his mouth and he is pointedly not looking at him. But his shoulders shaking with the force of his restrained laughter gives him away anyways.
Izuku flops back, laying on the floor completely. Waiting for the world to swallow him. “Can you just go? I need a few minutes alone to wallow in my sorrow at being a failure of a human before I have to teach my next class.”
Hitoshi makes a quiet sound, probably his best attempt at swallowing his laughter, and clears his throat. “I’m sorry for laughing, Izuku. I’m sure it’s not as bad as you think it is. He was probably impressed by someone being able to shatter a desk with their head.”
“I didn’t shatter it!” He protests weakly. He throws his arms over his face, kicking his legs out childishly. “Ugh. Why am I such a disaster?”
“Come on, Izuku. It’s not actually that bad. Did something else happen?”
Reluctantly, Izuku sits up again, turning his back to Hitoshi. He pulls off the borrowed cardigan, revealing the wide rip going up the back of his shirt. Hitoshi makes a small “hm” behind him, and says nothing else, but Izuku can practically hear the usual comment about his wardrobe he’d get if he wasn’t already freaking out. It wouldn’t be the first time.
Izuku pulls the sweater back up and turns around. “And…I can’t believe I almost forgot about this, I ran into Entropy – literally – outside of the building. Completely knocked him off the sidewalk. And because I was in such a rush to get to my office so I wasn’t late for my meeting with Entropy, I didn’t even realize it was him when I ran into him. I’m a fake fan!”
Hitoshi makes a face. “If you’re a ‘fake fan,’ no one else has any business calling themselves a hero fan.”
“I can’t tell if you’re trying to make me feel better or not.”
“I’m just stating a fact. Take it however you want.” Hitoshi finally sits up straight, ignoring Izuku’s half-hearted glare, and tosses him his backpack. “Here are the files for that case I mentioned.”
Distracted from his irritation with Hitoshi’s ambivalence to his embarrassing life, Izuku opens the bag. He pulls out a folder, almost shockingly empty for a case Hitoshi has been working on for weeks and flips through the pages.
“Why hasn’t your agency gotten more intel on them?”
Hitoshi slumps back in the chair, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m doing most of the intel gathering. Then they’ll send some big shot with a flashy quirk in to save the day.”
Izuku glances up at him from over the folder. “Is that some light resentment I’m hearing there?”
Hitoshi rolls his eyes. “If I had more time, more help, I could take them down. But they’ve put in all these limits and expectations and made me swear up and down not to make actual contact with them. It’s driving me crazy. I feel like I’m just sitting on my hands when I could actually help if they would just give me some slack on the fucking leash.”
Izuku winces in sympathy. “I’ll look over what you’ve got, see if I can make out anything you might have missed that can help.”
“I know you’ll find something I missed,” Hitoshi says like it’s a fact. “I just don’t know if anything can help at this point without going in.”
Izuku looks to the ceiling, trying to find the right words. He knows what he would do in this position, and what he wants to suggest to him, but he can hear Shouta’s voice in his head reminding him he doesn’t always “use his head” in a way that he should. But, Izuku’s desire to help, and his sympathy with Hitoshi’s plight, weighs out in the end.
“You know…sometimes it’s easier to ask for forgiveness than permission. Especially if acting gets results.”
Hitoshi stares at him for a moment before he starts to laugh, burying the sound in his shoulder. “You really are a terrible influence.”
“Just don’t tell anyone I suggested it, if they ask.”
Hitoshi glances at the clock on the wall. “Keep the folder and get back to me later. You have a class.”
Izuku looks up too, and swears. “I’m going to be late again.”
He rushes to his feet, almost taking out his new desk as he trips over a few papers he and Entropy missed in their clean up. Hitoshi snorts at his scrambling, but Izuku doesn’t have the time to bicker with him anymore over it. He shoves Hitoshi’s folder in his bag and heads for the door. Hitoshi follows him out with much less concern for Izuku’s tight schedule.
“Thanks Izuku. Don’t knock over any other unsuspecting heroes on your way to class.”
“I swear to god I’m going to stop helping you.” Izuku promises on his way down the stairs, not caring if Hitoshi hears him or not.
He makes it to his lecture three minutes late, but Izuku considers that a win considering how the rest of his day had been going