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Shinsou was in Mathematics when Aizawa pulled him out of class. Ever since he'd gotten the thumbs-up to join the hero course at the start of the second year, it was all he could think about. Even before Aizawa had gently disrupted his lesson, he'd been staring out the window to where he could see Class 1-A's classroom, the outlines of their heads just visible in the distance.
He'd been getting extra training from Aizawa ever since he'd approached Principal Nezu about joining the hero course.
"I won't lie to you, it's not going to be easy," Aizawa had told him while teaching him the best technique for navigating the capture weapon mid-air. "Class 1-A has been through a lot together. They've had time to hone their quirks and been thrown into situations even most third years would have a hard time coping with. As a result, they're closer than some families would be. They're a tight-knit group and you're an outsider to them."
And Shinsou had clicked his tongue at that. They were more like a clique than a group. Parading around school looking all high and mighty. General studies envied them, business courses hated them and hell, even their fellow hero Class 1-B felt inferior to them with their flashy powers and arrogant aura.
Not that it mattered. If putting up with 1-A was the price he had to pay to be a hero, then the cost wasn't so high after all.
"Aizawa Sensei," Shinsou bowed a greeting as he lingered near the closed doorway. Aizawa offered him a stiff half-bow in return.
"Sorry for disrupting your studies," Aizawa muttered, though the twitch of his mouth into a smile showed he was anything but apologetic. "I thought you might favor something a little more energetic."
Shinsou raised a brow at him but Aizawa was already walking past Shinsou, silently motioning for him to follow.
"Get changed into your training outfit," Aizawa said. "And meet me outside the training center in fifteen minutes."
“Yes, Sir.”
As Shinsou changed, he wondered what Aizawa had in store for him. As far as mentors went, he was kind of a wildcard. He knew everything Aizawa did was to help him succeed but he had scary ways of going about it sometimes.
Aizawa was waiting for him outside the center when he arrived, one leg bent against the wall, arms crossed with his usual sullen look draining his features. Shinsou wondered sometimes if that's how people saw him .
"You're late," Aizawa noted. Shinsou checked his phone. He was late… by two minutes.
"You'll have to do better than that to keep up with your new classmates," Aizawa said, kicking off the wall and pushing open the center's heavy metal door.
The training center was one huge expanse of concrete. The ceiling was twenty meters off the ground - for those whose quirks involved flying and floating - and probably half that across. Scattered around the center was various training equipment - targets, punching bags, mannequins that were only slightly charred.
Aizawa and Shinsou wandered over to a spot in the center that acted as a makeshift dojo. There were mats to soften the blow from being thrown against the floor, ropes for climbing, a bench for lifting weights.
Shinsou heard grunting and looked up. Hanging off the uneven bars was a familiar face, which was currently screwed up in an expression somewhere between determination and pain. He was shirtless, sweat beading across his chest and abs wearing only stirrup leggings with a hole in the back for the long tail that snaked around the bar, holding him up.
Great, Shinsou thought. This guy.
Ojiro leapt from the bar when he saw them approaching and even out of breath, managed to drop down into a formal bow of greeting, tail curling up over his head. When he looked up he was still red-faced from the exercise but his expression had changed, from one of surprise to barely concealed contempt.
“You probably already know why I brought you together,” Aizawa said, standing between them. “For the final year practical exam, I paired up the class into teams of two to fight their teachers. You no doubt remember how difficult that was, Ojiro?”
Ojiro nodded but he wasn’t looking at Aizawa. He was still staring at Shinsou or rather, eyeing him up. After passing the joint training test, most of Class 1-A had tracked Shinsou down to congratulate him on making it into their class, even when he tried his best to brush them off.
Ojiro hadn’t been among them.
Shinsou flashed him a devious smile and Ojiro finally looked away with a huff, directing his attention back to Aizawa.
“And though you won’t be fighting me today,” Aizawa continued, sounding almost disappointed. “The same logic applies. I picked people based on their grades, their quirks, and their relationships to each other.”
Aizawa put emphasis on the word relationship and Shinsou and Ojiro looked at each other despite themselves.
“You and Iida had similar quirks involving movement,” Aizawa told Ojiro. “Kaminari and Ashido flunked their written exam and they're also close friends. I wanted to see if that would hinder or improve the way they worked in the field.”
“And Bakugou and Midoriya,” Ojiro looked pointedly at Shinsou, “are rivals.”
“Precisely,” Aizawa said. “I know the sports festival has left some lingering resentment, I’m not blind. But whatever hang-ups you may have about each other, you can’t let it interfere with your hero work.”
“So I took this opportunity to kill two birds with one stone,” Aizawa continued. “Shinsou’s quirk is useful but he can’t just rely on his capture weapon and voice modifier, he needs practical fighting skills.”
He turned to Shinsou, “Ojiro is the best hand-to-hand fighter in Class 1-A. He can train you to hold your own in a fight when you can’t rely on your quirk alone.”
Shinsou glanced over Aizawa’s shoulder, noticing Ojiro’s brow furrow, though he offered no complaints.
“You’re both hard workers,” Aizawa admitted and Shinsou smiled around the fact that a little bit of pride had worked into his voice. “And I hope you find you’re more alike than you think.”
Shinsou doubted he’d have much in common with the tail-guy-come-karate-kid standing in front of him. And judging by Ojiro’s narrowed eyes and clenched jaw, he didn’t think they’d be talking about movies or boys any time soon.
“Aoyama and Tokoyami are using this space from five,” Aizawa told them. “I suggest you use this time wisely. Otherwise, I’ll leave it to you what direction this lesson takes, Ojiro.”
Ojiro bowed once more.
“Yes, Sir!”
Shinsou watched Aizawa leave, then turned back to Ojiro with a sheepish grin, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Does this mean I have to call you sensei now?”
Ojiro ignored the jab. He wandered over to a bench by the far end of the mat and took reams of white cloth out of his bag. He began wrapping the cloth around his knuckles, hands, and wrists. Shinsou gripped his scarf instinctively and shifted his feet.
Back still turned on Shinsou, Ojiro asked, “do you have any formal martial arts training?”
“I got into a couple of fights back in middle school, does that count?”
Ojiro shot him a grave look over his shoulder.
“I’d appreciate it if you took this seriously.”
Killjoy.
“Mr. Aizawa has been showing me a few things,” he gestured to his capture weapon. “Mainly with this.”
Ojiro nodded. “I was watching during joint training with Class B,” he said. “You’re pretty agile.”
Shinsou shrugged.
“We can’t all have flashy powers.”
Before he could react, Ojiro was tossing him a bo staff, which almost hit him in the face.
“You need to work on your reaction time,” Ojiro said, twirling his own bo staff as his tail twitched like an agitated cat. “And your body language - you’re not confident, you’re hunched over.”
Ojiro struck Shinsou’s shoulder with his staff, causing him to drop his hand from his neck and grip the staff with both hands. He scowled at Ojiro.
“Hey-!”
“No one’s going to take you seriously if you arrive at a fight looking like a girl who got stood up at prom,” Ojiro goaded.
Then he smiled.
“Allow me to educate you.”
Shinsou had just enough time to bring his staff up to block Ojiro’s blow. He’d launched himself into the air by his tail and raised his bo staff over his head like a samurai. He felt the shock rattle through his arms as Ojiro’s staff connected with his own staff.
“Shouldn’t we be working on something more beginner-like, like how to throw a punch?” Shinsou reasoned as Ojiro backed off but stayed on the offense, striking out here and there. Sometimes Shinsou blocked him but sometimes Ojiro’s staff connected with his hand or his knee and he let out a groan of pain.
“Class 1-A had a trial by fire,” Ojiro said. “I don’t see why you’d want special treatment.”
Shinsou gritted his teeth. The monkey guy was obviously taking this way more personally than he was.
Ojiro kept attacking him. Shinsou did his best to stay on the defense, blocking his attacks but Ojiro was fast, leaping from mat to wall and even over his head at one point. His tail brushed so close to Shinsou’s face at one point that the puffy tip almost made him sneeze. If Shinsou knew one thing, he knew he did not want to be hit by that tail. Every time Ojiro bounced off a surface, it left an indent behind where his tail had been. He’d seen that thing smash through solid stone and even metal. He knew it would hurt like a motherfucker.
So it was true. All of Class 1-A really were crazy assholes.
Maybe if it looked like he was going to get seriously hurt, he could use brainwashing. It was his quirk, after all, he couldn’t just stop using it because it made some guy with a tail uncomfortable. Still, a part of Shinsou wondered if he deserved this. Maybe using it at the sports festival with his teammates had been the wrong move.
Shinsou dropped the bo staff and went for the capture weapon. He knew he had to act quickly. Ojiro was already leaping towards him, eyes burning and jaw set in a hard line. Just as Aizawa had taught him, he pivoted on his feet, letting the scarf lift off him and… if all went to plan…
The scarf found a target, just not Ojiro. Shinsou cursed as the scarf tangled around his feet and then Ojiro was on top of him, landing with enough strength to knock the wind out of him. Ojiro threw his own staff aside and it hit the mat with a muffled clatter.
Ojiro caught his wrists and pinned them together above his head but not as harshly as Shinsou had anticipated. Ojiro straddled him, knees either side of his hips, Shinsou’s legs still tangled in the capture weapon. It was difficult to move around but not unpleasant. Ojiro was still panting heavily, sweat glistening on his skin. He had a nice body. Toned — like an athlete. Even the tail was endearing, the way it twitched and swayed behind his head. It reminded Shinsou of his cats at home.
“Why didn’t you use brainwashing?”
“Because I didn’t want to.”
“Then why did you brainwash me at the sports festival? We were on the same team!”
The grip on his wrists tightened. Shinsou gave him a lazy smile and it seemed to unwind some of the tension coursing through Ojiro because he let his frown drop and his hands went lax on Shinsou’s wrists, though he still held them to the mat. Ojiro shifted his weight and Shinsou wished he’d stop moving because he was coming dangerously close to rubbing against his dick.
“I wanted to give our team the best chance at winning,” Shinsou sighed, staring into Ojiro’s dark eyes.
He didn’t owe Class 1-A anything but Ojiro was looking down on him with this genuinely pained look and he felt it like a pain in his chest.
“You have no idea how hard it is,” Shinsou bit down on his lip, turning his head to stare defiantly at the wall. “How hard you have to work when you’re born with an ordinary quirk… or with a power everyone associates with being evil.”
Ojiro let go of his wrists. He leaned back a little, resting on Shinsou’s thighs. Ojiro’s hands cupped his cheeks and Shinsou’s eyes widened as Ojiro turned Shinsou’s head gently to face him.
“Shinsou…” Ojiro said delicately and his hands were so soft against Shinsou’s cheeks he could feel his face getting hot. “I know how you feel. And I don’t think you’re evil.”
Shinsou frowned at him.
“How could you possibly-?”
“Hello,” he moved one hand from Shinsou’s face to gesture at his tail, letting it wag enthusiastically behind him. “This is my quirk. This is it. This is all I’ve got. Everything else… all the martial arts… was all me. Just like with your quirk… you have to work ten times harder just to keep up, right?”
Shinsou turned the thought over in his mind. He’d never thought about it like that before. Even the bird guy had a shadow monster living inside him… but this was all Ojiro had.
“So,” Shinsou finally said. “You’re pretty mediocre, right?”
Ojiro’s face immediately dropped into a haggard expression as Shinsou grinned up at him.
“Wow.”
Ojiro rolled off of him and helped Shinsou untangle himself from the capture weapon. “We should take a break,” he announced and helped Shinsou get to his feet, pulling him up with both hands.
“Ojiro,” Shinsou ducked his head, hand rubbing anxiously at the back of his neck. “I am sorry. About the sports festival. And everything, I guess.”
“Thank you,” Ojiro said sincerely and his tail started wagging again. It was very endearing and Shinsou was tempted to grab it and pet it, potential bloody nose be damned.
“Sorry I was a little rough back there,” Ojiro admitted, handing him a bottle of water. “We really should have warmed up. I was kind of pissed off.”
“I noticed,” Shinsou hummed, taking a swig of water and smiling at Ojiro. “I liked how worked up you got over me.”
Then Ojiro was blushing and a lot faster than Shinsou thought he would. He tried to shrug it off as over-exercise, laboring his breathing but Shinsou had caught him hook, line, and sinker.
He sat beside Ojiro on the bench, shoulder to shoulder with him, legs splayed out as he let his head loll back against the cool concrete wall.
“Do you like cats?”
Shinsou perked up at that, staring at Ojiro as he pulled his phone from his bag.
“I have some cute videos on my phone.”
“Okay, so this one I took of some street cats in Hosu City,” Ojiro explained excitedly and Shinsou shifted closer to him to look, a small smile playing on his lips. “And this is Kenji. He’s the secret dorm cat. Koda brought him home - please don’t tell Aizawa.”
The cat videos were very cute but Shinsou couldn’t help but watch Ojiro’s face, animated in sheer joy, his defenses down around Shinsou so quickly. He was clearly well-loved and someone people enjoyed being around, judging from the number of people laughing in the background of the video of the dorm cat Kenji trying to reach up and play with the fluff on the end of Ojiro’s tail.
Ojiro was a surprising person.
“Do people try to play with your tail?”
“Oh,” Ojiro said, glancing up from his phone with a confused look. “Oh, yeah. Toru and the others. Denki, especially.”
“Denki?”
“Kaminari.”
Oh, Shinsou thought. The one who tried to flirt with me in joint training.
“He uses it to focus,” Ojiro elaborated. “For his ADHD. Though he does get a little too handsy sometimes…”
“Can I touch it?”
Ojiro gave him a long, measured look. Then he smiled.
“And if I said no?”
“I could always just brainwash you.”
“Are you that desperate to touch the tail?”
“Yes.”
Ojiro sighed and motioned for Shinsou to lean back off against the wall. Then he wrapped his tail around Shinsou’s waist, the tip flicking up to his face and giving him a gentle whack.
“Ow.”
“That’s what you get for calling me boring.”
“I said mediocre-”
Ojiro whacked him again.
The fur on the end was soft like a cat's. No wonder Kaminari liked messing with it. He thought about rubbing it against his face but considering Ojiro had just been trying to smack him with a bo staff and would continue to do so for the next few weeks, he decided against it. Still, he carded his fingers through the fur, watching for Ojiro’s reaction.
Ojiro bit down on his lip and Shinsou smiled. So he was sensitive there.
Ojiro unfurled himself and put his water bottle down.
“Come on,” he said. “We better get back to work.”
Ojiro restarted their lesson the right way. They started with ten minutes of stretching and warm-ups, then Ojiro had Shinsou punch Ojiro’s palms over and over again while maintaining the correct position. It was all pretty boring and repetitive but he was glad he’d reached some kind of peace with Ojiro who now seemed genuinely interested in helping him.
“You’re doing great,” Ojiro noted as he leaned into his space to gently kick Shinsou’s foot back into place. “You’ll be a good student.”
Shinsou grinned.
“And you’ll be a good teacher-”
“Don’t say it.”
“ Master. ”
Ojiro blushed and looked away, folding his arms over his chest.
“
Why.
”
Shinsou slipped his hand between Ojiro’s crossed arms. He took Ojiro’s hand in his own and turned it over to trace the lines along his palm. Ojiro shivered.
“Come on,” Shinsou said with a wicked grin. “Let’s fight.”
“You don’t have to prove anything to me.”
“I’m not trying to prove that I’m as good as you,” Shinsou goaded. “I’m trying to prove I’m better than you.”
And with that, Ojiro’s smile dropped and he was all business again. The face of a hardened hero who’d been through hell and back with his classmates.
“I’ll try not to hurt you,” Ojiro said, face twitching up into a half-smirk.
Ojiro lunged at him but Shinsou side-stepped him. He was better without the staff, more agile but so was Ojiro, who bounced around like a pinball in an arcade machine. He struck out at Shinsou and missed. Shinsou even got a half-decent hit in, using some of the techniques Ojiro had taught him.
“You’re not punching right,” Ojiro informed him, even as he kicked Shinsou in the ribs. “Punch like that and you’re more likely to break your own bones than your opponent’s.”
Shinsou let Ojiro move into his space, fooled him into thinking he was completely open, then he released the capture weapon. He watched it happen in slow motion, Ojiro’s fist traveling towards his jaw before Ojiro’s face morphed from steely determination into dawning realization. Then Shinsou tugged and the bindings closed around Ojiro, locking his arms and his tail tight against his torso.
He stumbled back and Shinsou kicked him to the ground, landing on top of him with smug satisfaction.
“See what I mean, monkey?” Shinsou purred. “I’m already better than you.”
Ojiro’s face was one of pure confusion until he closed his eyes and nodded, letting his head fall back against the mat.
“You won this fight,” he conceded. “Which I guess makes us even.”
He couldn’t help but savor the feeling of Ojiro underneath him. He looked down at Ojiro, whose gaze was still locked on his, breathing a little labored thanks to the constraints. He looked good, hair mused, lips parted. Maybe the next few weeks wouldn’t be as hellish as Shinsou had thought.
He let his hands run through Ojiro’s hair, watching as his eyes widened.
“Shinsou... ” Ojiro sighed but then Shinsou was leaning down and Ojiro was tilting his head up as much as he could to meet him. He brushed against Ojiro’s lips tentatively and a feeling like an electric shock ran through him. It wasn’t totally unpleasant. He was surprised to see Ojiro still trying to reach for him even as he pulled away and it gave him his most devious smile yet.
He decided to play with him a little, touching his lips to Ojiro’s as lightly as possible, watching him whine and try to reach for him despite the bindings. He pushed a hand into Ojiro’s hair and held him down against the mat, sprinkling soft kisses against his lips, his cheekbones, his jaw, and then his neck.
He tugged the capture weapon and it came loose, freeing Ojiro, who wrapped one arm around Shinsou’s back while the other snaked into his hair, pulling him close as Shinsou continued to kiss his neck.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured, voice reverberating through Ojiro’s throat. “I’m sorry if I made you feel violated.”
“It’s alright,” Ojiro said in return, pressing down on Shinsou’s back until he was flush against him. “You’re forgiven. I don’t hold grudges.”
His tail curled around their legs and Shinsou kissed him deeply this time. Ojiro’s mouth was hot and warm and he was placid underneath him, practically melting into his mouth. Shinsou moved Ojiro’s hand out of his hair and threaded his fingers through Ojiro’s pressing Ojiro’s hand down onto the mat. Shinsou opened his eyes briefly to look at Ojiro and he was so pretty underneath him, so flustered and malleable.
He could feel Ojiro’s erection against his leg and smirked into his mouth, rubbing the leg not ensnared by Ojiro’s tail against his crotch, enjoying the gasp he let out against Shinsou’s lips.
Then Shinsou felt something tighten around his throat and he opened his eyes to see Ojiro’s head turned to the side, red with embarrassment.
Shinsou was yanked backward, almost strangled by Aizawa’s own capture weapon.
“Stop messing around,” Aizawa said plainly. Ojiro buried his face in his hands, while Shinsou coughed, rubbing his neck as Aizawa released him.
“I told you to use this time wisely,” Aizawa scolded, glaring at Shinsou. Then he directed his venomous gaze to Ojiro who looked ready to melt into the floor.
"I expected more from you," Aizawa said and Ojiro looked crushed.
"It was my fault," Shinsou offered, staggering to his feet. "I was the one who kissed him."
"No," Ojiro said, standing and holding his hands up. "I should have shut that behavior down-"
"Don't let it happen again," Aizawa replied sharply. "At least not during training."
Aizawa stayed to watch them spar for the rest of their allotted time. Tokoyami and Aoyama arrived at some point, Shinsou noticing them as he tried to writhe out of Ojiro's headlock, tail wrapped around Shinsou's arm like an anaconda. Shinsou tried not to get too distracted but Aoyama's naval laser burned into his retinas, not to mention the bird-shaped shadow monster that kept interrupting their training to ask for snacks.
Eventually Aizawa disappeared and Ojiro decided to call it a night. They changed, then walked in silence back to the dorms. It was a peaceful night, the moon illuminated through the cherry blossom trees. Shinsou would occasionally bump Ojiro's shoulder and Ojiro's fingers would ghost towards his skin but never quite touch his hand.
"This is my stop," Shinsou sighed, looking up at the 1-C dorm's doorstep.
"Not for long," Ojiro was beaming and his tail wagged behind his head before coming to curl over his shoulder. "You should come over Sunday and hang out with the rest of the class. We do karaoke and have a Best and Worst singer competition with Class B. You haven't lived until you've seen Bakugou singing ‘ Stay With Me.’ "
Shinsou chuckled and looked away, hand rubbing the back of his neck.
"I'd like that."
"Okay," Ojiro said softly. "I'll let you sleep. Goodnight Shinsou. Thanks for today."
Ojiro turned to leave but Shinsou caught his arm gently before moving swiftly to pull Ojiro's face to his lips. He kissed him under the moonlight as Ojiro wrapped his tail around Shinsou's waist, holding him close. His hands rested on Shinsou's shoulders and he was a perfect shade of red when Shinsou pulled away.
"Um, are you doing anything this weekend?" Shinsou asked, feeling Ojiro's breath hot against his face, a warmth filling him for the first time in a long time. It felt like a connection. Belonging.
"I am now," Ojiro grinned, unfurling his tail and wagging it like a puppy.
This is what he needed now and probably for the rest of his life. To be standing in the moonlight kissing a pretty boy, on the precipice of his most treasured dream, about to enter the best class UA had ever seen on the path to being a pro hero.
The wait for the second year would kill him.