Chapter Text
- One month ago -
“Shinsou Hitoshi?” The dark figure said as Hitoshi pulled his bike out of the rack after school. He knew that voice, all deep and drawn out as if perpetually begging for sleep. Relatable, if he’s honest.
“Aizawa Shouta?” He looked up, pinning the fresh scar on the man's face before anything else. Hard not to really, no one’s yet shut up about the USJ incident. The endless gossip that was a mixed bag of jealousy and fear about what happened to the hero course kids in 1A, this man’s class. The students he then challenged and failed to come out on top of.
Supposedly, Aizawa’s infamous for a lot around this school, mostly expulsions. Hitoshi suspected most of the rumors to be exaggerated accounts. It didn’t make sense to expel entire classes at once, he’d have no one to teach. It was perhaps more true he’s fairly gruesome when it comes to enforcing his expectations, but anyhow. This man is a hero who protected his students and that was the only conclusion to draw on the matter. Besides, he had no time or place to be jealous or fearful when his eyes were set to be a hero as well.
The teacher looked a bit taken aback by the sudden use of his full name, like it was some type of secret not listed on the schools directory. Aizawa brushed it off though and got closer, where only the metal bars of the rack separated the two. The man was much taller up close, and his scruffy, almost homeless, appearance veered more towards being a back alley thug, not aided by that fresh scar of his. Nor the putrid smell of smoke wreaking off his jumpsuit. Intimidating; he saw now why the tales painted the man as such.
He wonders if he'd done something wrong, not that he was scared he had done anything of the sort. No way. The school's biggest discipliner approaching him unwarranted wasn’t at all nerve-wrecking. He keeps his demeanor and expression more neutral than usual so as to not raise suspicion. Though truly he couldn’t name any rule he’d broken, unless the full use of name had truly been that offensive.
“Nothing bad,” He said plainly with a hand raised as if to stop his worries, like it wasn't at all weird he seemed to just read Hitoshi’s mind just then. He subtly let go of a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Aizawa pulled out some stapled papers from his pocket and held them out. “I took the liberty to sign these for you.”
Hitoshi took the forms from him, seeing that they were his application for transferring into the hero course. Just as he expected, he impressed at least someone during the sports festival. How couldn’t he with what even the pro’s in the stands were saying about him then? Yes! Holy shit! Yes! His eyes were swam with excitement while flipping through to see the teacher’s name signed in a couple places. He couldn’t process it entirely, having approval for the course, Eraserhead's approval. He was finally in and so soon as well. His heart fluttered with a chance to be a hero even with a quirk like his. Take that! Take a good hard look at that! He could hardly believe that he’s -
“Don’t get your hopes up just yet, it’s only an approved recommendation from me which fast tracks the process. You’re being put down as a priority consideration, but it doesn’t mean much has changed, nor that it will.”
Still not in. The feeling erases itself from his body in an instant. Either his subtly of expression is just that easy to read, or this teacher had a secondary quirk that really does read minds. He dropped his arms slack, stepping back and taking in the news again. He appreciated the man already for being blunt about it, hope is a pesky thing to believe in. They stared at one another as the bike clamored to the ground with nothing there to support it.
“The process?” He echoed, diverting his eyes from the other man's intense gaze. Neither paid the fallen bike any mind.
“Yeah, I don’t even think you’re ready yet but I signed anyway,” he crossed his arms, looking at the clouds up ahead, “for this to pass you’ll need to put in enough work to impress some of the other faculty so they can assess you’re fit for the hero course.”
That made more sense, the application had several slots available for teachers to leave signatures. Also, if it were that easy to get transferred into the hero course there’d be more students doing it. As far as Hitoshi knows, he’s the only one in his year putting in the real effort to try, even among those few who’d initially tried for heroics. Cop-outs. So in general studies terms he was ahead, but in hero course terms he was still far behind. That idea rotted in his stomach, because if not now when? Could he dare hope for it to be soon? He held the papers back out to Aizawa who took them.
“How exactly am I going to do that?” He asked, bending down to stand the bike back up.
“That’s actually what I’m here to discuss,” Aizawa stowed the papers back in his pocket, and then pulled out another form, “you’ve got real potential Shinsou. I’d like to train you to be a hero.”
Taking what was handed to him, the abused bike fell once more. Somehow this news was the most shocking to receive, and he had thought he’d gotten into heroics for a brief moment there. It'd normally be against his character but he’d have leaped to hug the man if not for the bike rack separating them. What little he knew about Aizawa Shouta, only those school rumors he couldn’t help but overhear, this was very out of the ordinary for his character. Fitting then, perhaps, to feel this way.
To think he would catch his eye enough for this kind of offer was tantalizing. All he had to do was sign the document to make the mentorship official for the school records. He immediately did.
To achieve his dreams, to be a hero, he’d do whatever it takes.
- The Present -
Apparently what it has been taking so far is putting on a lot of muscle mass through strength and basic combat training. Aizawa had reached the same conclusion he had: that, while he had quirk control on par with heroic students, he wasn’t at all battle ready. So this is their first step in getting him prepared for the assessment Aizawa mentioned.
Alongside the strict regime he did with the pro after school most nights, all of Hitoshi’s money has been going towards buying groceries for a meal plan the pro had cooked up. Supposedly all the top pros have their own nutritionists, but this is about pure results as Aizawa put it. These were all meals he’s had to prepare on his own as well, which he hasn’t minded much. Lots of things he does on his own anymore, and he prefers it that way. To say his efforts are his own makes him feel free, without fear, and in control of the situation.
The combined effort meant improvements were piling on quicker than the pro-hero could blink and reactivate his quirk. The difference visible, but also felt. Shinsou’s never been non-athletic by any means, it takes a lot to wear him out. Having high stamina and biking almost everywhere, even taking to pedaling the mountain trails for fun, he can go for miles. This, however, is much different from cardio, muscles aching and burning in ways he’s never experienced, not on the steepest of inclines. All necessary pain, Aizawa explained it well during their first week:
“It will just hurt all over for a while, but if you -” He’d said.
“No, I’m not giving up!” Hitoshi stood his ground before turning apologetic, “sorry.”
“Just remember, a quirk like yours won't save you from perishing in a real fight. So you have to save yourself.”
Hitoshi’s taken to the idea that part of training is a way of saving himself. It makes him feel less helpless on the worst days, where he’s stuck at the bottom of the summit unable to make his climb. So no matter how much it hurt, or how much he had to spend, he didn’t complain about it anymore. Smart enough to figure out what his mentor had meant; a hero can't save anyone if they can’t even save themselves. To put it another way, it didn’t pay to be reckless and unprepared no matter what your quirk was. Going down in a fight over something you could’ve easily prevented from would be idiotic. He already made that mistake before and won’t again.
Yet, nothing could rescue him from running out of money. The last of it eaten up in the grocery run the week before. He’d get his allowance again next month, but it wouldn’t be enough to cover everything, and there was hardly a chance to save up again. It dawns on him that his life circumstances are once again preventing him from getting anywhere close to where he needed to be, like Sisyphus and his boulder crashing down any time he gets close.
Hitoshi is lost in the wilderness, a canyon carved from disposition. He ruminates on solutions, has been all week, but nothing comes. Simple as that. He’s on his own to figure out what to do, but without much of any options to dig himself out. Fucking figures.
This is the only thing on his mind while they trained today, thoughts that made less and less sense. Urgency knotted in him. On a normal Friday, like today, he’d leave after this and head over to the store near campus, getting what he needed for the week before heading home. Yet, he’s broke, on the rocks, wandering into a desert where he has nothing. He can’t. Only a month in and he’d already found a way to fuck this up, or rather life did. There’s been only progress so far, which is good, but it feels meaningless now. It’s helpless.
He tells himself that realistically his allowance, when he next gets it, can still support a half-assed effort. It wouldn't be as if he’d starve either, only need to eat at least half his dinners with the old woman again, and likely skip some breakfasts. On second thought, maybe he would be starving. Whatever his grandmother cooked wouldn’t do him any good, seeing as she was always on some fad diet or another she didn’t actually need. Looking back now that’s probably why he was always so damn scrawny before, he wasn’t eating enough. Aizawa also wouldn’t be so kind about half-assing things either, and cast him off for failing to meet whatever potential the man saw in him.
Damn, he’s really screwed. His progress will disappear, and maybe even this opportunity if he isn't careful enough. He groans and takes a large swig from his water bottle, the ice inside has melted sitting in the sun but is still cold. It pours like silk down his fiery throat.
“You seem elsewhere today, let's call it early.” Aizawa says, perching up and striding over.
Hitoshi nearly chokes as he recaps the bottle. They’d only been out here half an hour, and Aizawa never cut things short, even the times he’d vomited from overwork. Also, there he went reading him again, freak. But it’s true Shinsou isn't focused on the exercises today, his form’s sloppy and he’s getting through reps slower than usual. Only needed eyes to see that. Still, he really doesn’t want to stop over something like this. He’s not injured, just elsewhere as the other put it.
“What? No,” he protests, “I mean, I have a lot on my mind right now but I can focus.”
The mentor crouches down to his level on the ground, a firm hand landing on Hitoshi’s shoulder, which he pushes off him. “You always have a lot on your mind,” he sighs standing back up, “get changed then come back.”
“Right, okay sensei.”
After stuffing the water bottle back in his duffle, he heads off to do what he’s told. He has yet to find a single excuse to ever argue with Aizawa’s logic, as this was. Right now he wasn’t injured, but could easily become so in this state where he had more weighing on him than usual. No doubt also getting only a few seconds into the sparring half of training before getting knocked out. Everything from his mentor is always sound reasoning, a strange comfort. The reasoning he got at home was much the same way, but hardly comforting and more so coldly calculated.
One of the perks of having an official mentorship status was access to the hero course locker rooms during his scheduled training hours. They’re much nicer than in general studies, smelling less like ass due to more regular cleaning. He’s had to avoid mentioning it to his classmates, because they all tend to be jealous types like that. The school policy at UA stating something about not giving special treatment towards particular students is clearly not followed though, he’ll give them that. Hitoshi often stares at the oversized lockers and pictures one belonging to him one day. Where he’ll be treated with the same kind of respect as these kids are. He feels really behind, like obsessively so.
Life would be so much easier for him had he been born with a heroic quirk, even something so plain like a tail seems to do. It’s a mile and then some between him and the ever so lucky chosen ones to prove he’s anything even worth considering. There’s Aizawa’s word against most everyone else’s in the whole history of his entire life, and that’s only because they just happen to have commonality in the quirks they’ve ended up with. Both controversial, nonphysical but powerful, and easily something that could’ve been more powerful in the hands of a villain. If he sees something in Hitoshi it’s for the fact that if he didn’t it would be his own ego death, or so the sad sack on the locker room bench reasons as to what sparked this whole situation between them.
Cause it could’ve been anyone really, but it had to be him who saw that potential to train his sorry ass up to get transferred. Funny how someone who is already at the final destination for Hitoshi is the one closest within reach. Achieving the goal of this mentorship is more than just the acknowledgment of his abilities, but his whole person as someone capable of being labelled a hero to begin with. His quirk, being what it is, can’t really claim that without going more than the extra mile and he hasn’t even gone running yet. Again, he feels really behind, like obsessively so.
If not now when? When? When? The sickly infestation in his core gnaws at him.
Sure, he knows he is progressing in some way but hardly enough. Most of the guys in Aizawa’s class are already massive, Midoriya for example, or especially the Bakugou kid. The girls packed some fearsome muscles too, but admittedly Hitoshi hasn’t paid them much attention. Then there’s the fact that those kids are practicing their perfectly heroic quirks every day, which Aizawa hasn't officially gotten around to yet. Could’ve been, if his quirk wasn’t less than ideal to be there in the first place.
He figures the teacher is just taking a while to build a plan around it based on the information and quirk registration records provided. Brainwashing isn’t exactly something you can measure the progress of on the outside like a physical quirk, not to mention hardly anyone would willingly consent to being the guinea pig. When he was younger he wouldn’t even think of wanting to train his quirk, it would’ve led to way too much trouble considering everything, but now it just seemed an open invitation. It’s full steam ahead, but there’s only ever been talk. The anticipation is killing him, obviously, and he can only hold out on this so much.
If he takes it in his hands, Hitoshi knows of ways to get people to speak, to get under their skin so he can get under theirs; basic psychological tricks.Training would be about sharpening those skills maybe, essentially meaning schooling himself on asshole. That doesn’t quite suit the hero he wants to be though, bitter maybe, he's always had reasons to be bitter, just not an outright dick. He feels guilty he might’ve come across that way before, even if it was good strategy.
There better be figuring this shit out soon, because Hitoshi would hate to find an actual reason for being bitter about Aizawa too. Besides a few odd and eccentric idiosyncrasies, the guy is surprisingly easy to get along with. He keeps his word, is training him effectively and efficiently to boot, just moves things along a little slower than Hitoshi wants. Which is hilarious given how explicit the guy is about not wasting time. If not quirk training, then why not a swing at the capture weapon he was promised a couple weeks ago? What was the hold up on everything?
Hitoshi shakes off his anger, it won’t go anywhere but down in the trenches to dwell on. He changes out of the UA issued gym clothes and back into his school uniform, then stands in front of the sink looking at his reflection. His shoulders are already starting to get broader, tugging the fabric of his jacket snuggly, and his limbs appear sturdier, stronger. Yet these eyes are ever plagued with sleepless nights. “You seem elsewhere,” he repeats Aizawa’s words mockingly, “Yeah, I’m behind.”
The rush of freezing water is a relief on his sullen face. Given the time is still nigh to the last time he was in here, hardly a sweat broke on him, but his skin was aflame over racing thoughts. Had this been going how it should have, he'd have showered the buckets of sweat and grime off and be satisfied with what he’d gotten done today. He’s not. This sudden stop in his day was humiliating to say the least.
‘You always have a lot on your mind’, was an understatement. Hitoshi was cursed with having far too much for someone his age to worry about. Oh , he thinks because he always is, to be blessed like everyone else . He curses it all, his pennilessness, the fact can't catch up, his quirk being difficult, antagonizing, and how he’s too in his head to focus on training because of the sunken reality that is his life. It’s no wonder he doesn’t sleep.
He forgoes putting on his tie and makes it back out to the field where Aizawa is waiting under a tree with a book in his lap. Taking a curious peek it appears to be another one on ethics, ‘The Ethics of Modern Quirk Psychology Vol. 2’. Research perhaps for the protege himself he could only hope, maybe it meant that training his quirk would start soon. Good, one less thing to worry about.
Though the field of modern quirk psychology, in Hitoshi’s own opinions, severely lacks understanding of how people don’t only become disordered due to their quirks causing them suffering in themselves, but also due to society's actions towards the quirks they have. Nature and nurture. The field has beliefs such as quirk-born neurosis is inheritable, because those quirks are inheritable. But quirks have less to do with any of that, and more just people and society.
“That’s all a bunch of quackery, you know?” He chides, pointing to the text in question which promptly gets bookmarked and shut.
“Really? I find it hard to believe Shinsou, of all people, doesn't believe in psychology,” Aizawa muses, standing to tower over him. Every time the taller does that he can only pray his next growth spurt hits, and was sort of hoping it would naturally coincide with building muscle. Wishful thinking, he really ought to stop hoping so much.
“No, I do. Just have strong opinions on certain types. Quirk psychology is bunk if you ask me,” he corrects with a shrug, looking away and over to the gates. Though they’d only been doing this a month, it felt deeply wrong to imagine leaving campus this early. Perhaps Aizawa-sensei has something in mind to fill the time, but maybe that's also wishful thinking.
“Well, you might like this book more than you think,” he stores the text away under his arm and stuffs his hands in his pockets. There's a moment of suspended silence where neither looks at one another, before Aizawa pops a question.
“Can I ask a favor?”
This is how Hitoshi ends up at the grocery store anyhow, with a wad of money that’s not his, as a favor. It’s a cruel joke, but there wasn’t much of an excuse seeing as he’d be heading this way normally, which is probably why he’d been asked. Plus, considering he really goofed during training today this owes Aizawa back for wasting their time. He can’t say no, not to the person he’s most indebted to.
Despite his disgruntled obligation, it’s still welcoming inside. The aisles of the store are emptier at this time of day, where it would be crowded an hour and a half from now with people racing to the after-work discounts; Shinsou included. Thankfully, he doesn’t worry about discounts today, having more than enough for everything on the list. Looking it over, there was no surprise Aizawa ate well, but a little more surprising was some of the weirder items on the list.
Jelly nutrient packets were a particularly perplexing addition that didn’t quite sound real. Yet, he ends up finding them next to the protein bars and meal substitutes. Out of curiosity, he checks the packaging to see just how nutritious they are. Shockingly they’re entirely legit, presumably made for the purpose of supporting people who had aversions to solid meals or quirk related reasons they couldn’t consume other things. Still gross though.
The other weird item was salmiak liquorice, found a couple aisles over. To his knowledge no one was supposed to like this stuff. Some found the taste to be a salty-sweet flavor while others a salty-bitter one, but in any case, an intense combination that infamously is hard to palate. He drops a package in the cart next to the jelly packets with some disgust. Personally, he didn’t care to ever find out what either tasted like, but to each his own.
The trip so far has been a relaxing and familiar task, regardless of feeling like he knew a bit too much about his mentor's more bizarre tastes. Snaking the aisles as he would the past several Fridays, he could forget it wasn’t a trip for himself. He indulges in imagining that maybe it is, and wouldn’t have to go back to how things were. Tonight, his grandma would probably let him have it with a series of I told you so’s over a meal of practically nothing. For now, he lets himself blissfully ignore such realities.
When he had come to her about the news of his mentorship she hadn’t initially believed him. Mostly in part to Eraserhead being unknown to the general population, which he’d explained was by design since Aizawa was an underground hero. The larger bit was the utter disbelief she had in anyone actually setting aside that amount of time for her grandson. Figures.
Not one to ever argue with physical evidence of the facts, she eventually came around. Though not without her own doubts and stipulations. The young Shinsou is on his own for anything regarding the training he’ll receive. So null on getting extra financial support, or support of any kind. He’d long since accepted that reaction, she never believed he could ever be a hero, and outright hates the idea so wouldn’t any time soon. Suppose neither did much of anyone else until last month. He’s just happy the woman hadn’t stopped him, would’ve been useless anyway. She knows that.
The cart was getting full by the time he stopped in one of the last aisles of the store where they kept the pet food and supplies. His sensei needed a shocking amount of cat food, like enough to feed at least ten. Odd considering Aizawa never brought up owning any cats, let alone that many, whenever they’d discussed their common interest. Perhaps it would be what is considered personal information, Shinsou could respect an underground hero for keeping private matters close.
He stares at the wet and dry food on the shelves for several minutes with a terrifying expression that turns workers drifting over to help away. This goes unnoticed as he works out exactly what to do with what's in front of him, a deeply worrying consideration. The volume of wet and dry foods he had to purchase could’ve been a typo, yet also too specific to be one. He thinks about texting to clarify, but there’s something about being able to complete an errand for Aizawa without any help that keeps the app closed.
“Sir, is there an issue I can help with?” The store’s manager asks with a smile, having been called upon by her staff due to their unwillingness to confront such an intimidating presence.
The question breaks Hitoshi from his internal debate, deciding right then and there to just say fuck it and buy the amount listed. Help over this? As if. He already knows there’s enough on him to pay for it, and if Aizawa is upset he’s only following what’s been given. That risk outweighed the potential of himself being the one screwing things up.
“No.” He finally replies after turning the cart back around and realizing there was still a person there. He heads off to the register after a quick, “excuse me,” paired with a polite bow to the confused manager.
Leaving UA early felt bizarre, but coming back for a second time is stranger. He prepares himself to waltz back into the main building to drop all this off with a looming fear of being caught in the act. The teachers lounge, he recalls, has a staff fridge in there to keep all this fresh, but there’s a strong possibility some of the UA staff could still be lingering. There’s a lot to be explained here and he considers if there’s some unspoken rule he’s breaking by doing this. Likely some bridge in student-teacher relations he willingly crossed without much thought into the repercussions beforehand.
All that for naught though, as he spots Aizawa puffing smoke by the gates, having finished that urgent task early. If he’s already done, why send me at all? And he’s smoking? I knew it.
Strange and bizarre perhaps didn’t cover the extent of events unfolding. Somehow it makes it worse he’s out here to meet him like this, as if his earlier worries were more than correct. The idea of making up for today cancelled out the initial weirdness of this whole situation but a student buying his teacher's groceries is unheard of. Though were it anyone else Hitoshi would’ve probably flat out said no, and perhaps all the same were it anyone else Aizawa wouldn’t have asked. When he thinks about the task given, it’s all turning out to be like a baby’s first errand saga you’d watch on tv. He tries not to think of the specifics of what all that implies about their relationship and parks his bike with his kickstand.
“I’m back,” Hitoshi calls out, while removing the sacks from his carrier. This gets the cigarette urgently dropped and squashed on the ground in a rush that speaks to its obvious secrecy. Seems a lot of his private matters have been confirmed this afternoon, weird.
“Welcome back.” Aizawa strides over, as if that didn’t happen, carrying some sort of metal case with him.
Too busy eyeing the object intently, he almost doesn’t catch it when the older man gestures to set the bags down by his feet. It felt wrong to get his hopes up about what could be inside, but the prospects were all exciting. Bags now on the ground, Aizawa drops the reciprocal and starts digging through the plastic. Any ounce of anticipation shifts into drastic realization. Was this all a test?
Suppose it’s stupid to think Aizawa would send him out without it pertaining to some type of training. That clears some things up, though he can’t parse what the task of grocery shopping for someone else is supposed to teach him. Most kids start doing this sort of thing for their families in elementary, so surely it’s nothing he didn’t already know by now. Hell, Aizawa specifically is aware he’s been buying his own groceries every Friday.
Before he can figure out what he’s being tested on, Aizawa’s moving stuff around, emptying sacks in order to place particular items in others. Hitoshi stands idly by as he places the jelly pouches and licorice into one and all the cat food in others. He resists the urge to drop his jaw, the purpose for such a thing outweighed all previous bewilderment. Even though he only wants to question just about everything that’s going on here, his mind just stalls.
“Looks like you’ve got everything,” Aizawa stands back up with the sacks he sorted and points to the rest. “Oh, the rest of those are for you.”
It hits like a freight train that, of fucking course, this is a classic Aizawa move: the logical ruse. Send the protege out as a favor to buy groceries only for it to really be mostly just the protege’s own groceries, a real good one. Recalling the list now he realizes how it’s exactly the things on his own meal plan sans what the teacher now carries. He feels stupid for not noticing it before, and angry about it as well, because what the fuck? Shinsou fights not to scream curses from the hills and remains composed.
“For me?” Hitoshi asks with suspicion, gawking in horror for a number of reasons. Firstly, all this man seemed to eat was jelly and liquorice; very concerning. Yet more importantly, how exactly Aizawa knew to do this right at his time of need, or even why. Previous thoughts about the man being a duel-quirked mind-reader come to him, but that still didn’t explain. Surely he’s dreaming, because there’s hardly anything here grounded to reality. People don’t do this sort of thing, least of all for him. He tries considering what logic is behind the gesture, as he would the previous ruses. Except nothing adds up, so his usual trick for putting up with such antics are snuffed. “Why?”
“You mentioned something Monday about running out of money for the meal plan right?” Aizawa goes on to explain, “I’m new to this so I wasn't expecting these kinds of issues, but I did promise to train you to be a hero and I meant that.”
“I see,” Hitoshi scratches the back of his head. He forgot all about that, meant only as a passing comment on how he was keeping up with training over the weekend. Things went well so his mentor hadn’t doted on it. Why he’s doting now is beyond comprehension however, like just about everything else that's been happening. He’s only known the man for a short time but Aizawa Shouta, Eraserhead, doesn’t dote. It’s hard to pin it all on the guy being new and inexperienced about the boundaries of one-on-one mentoring either, given it shouldn’t be all too different from normal teaching. Which Hitoshi seems to recall is his day job. “You shouldn’t have.”
He really shouldn’t have. Shinsou Hitoshi is not used to receiving much of anything resembling help in his life, not that he ever would ask for it either, because he prefers it this way. Things had to be done on one's own two feet or not get done at all, that’s just how he was raised. Besides, he’d stopped hoping for help to come a long time ago. Hope itself is the expectation of something that may never come. In his experience it leads to worries and restraints, all will they won't they, and a lack of control over the situation. Just doing things himself, now that earns results every time.
With this ingrained in him, he’s grown into being more independent and resourceful in comparison to his peers and he finds this liberating. People don't need to help him since he can help himself. Keeps things simple and without a lot of owed attachments. As for helping others, he’ll gladly go into hero work and have it be thankless, no sense owing him for what’s only his want to do.
That want got him into UA all on his own, and gave him this mentorship. Independent determination is how he moves forward throughout his life. He’ll be a great hero by his own merits and skills, and even if he needs guidance to get there, that’s what a hero school is for. Hitoshi’s not brain dead enough to believe he can go at life entirely alone, but beyond what’s required he resents needing people. They complicate things, so he won't go out of his way to get anything from them, and would even go as far as to say that would only be distracting to his goals.
Given all that, getting ahold of the funds for some groceries could theoretically be done on his own, so it shouldn't've been someone else's responsibility to take care of. Aizawa is overextending in a way that makes the boy uneasy. Guilty even, as if he were forcing him into doing it. He isn’t forcing anyone, that's the point.
“No actually, it would be unreasonable of me to set you up to fail over the things you have no control over,” Aizawa clarifies, “I’ll continue to give you some funds for groceries, though next time you need help with something ask for it.”
And like that, despite everything, Hitoshi just gives, something becoming a habit around his mentor. But it’s a long term solution he’d be stupid to fight back on no matter his feelings. Wrong and guilting as it was, Aizawa did also have a point, an obligation, and it’s logical, of course it is. He was forced to see things from that perspective. This is help he couldn’t easily give himself but the adult he’s in the care of could. Hitoshi makes a mental note to owe him back for this later down the line, however, no promises on the asking. There won't be next time for help if he can prevent it, because if he can’t do something for himself, how can he do something for others? That's what a hero is right?
“You're right,” he bows down and picks up the sacks while he’s at it, “thank you.”
After loading everything back up the boy climbs on his bike. Time has been eaten up quickly, he'll need to hurry and get these home so they don’t spoil. That doesn’t feel quite real. It will still be earlier than he’s expected back too. Hitoshi silently prays he’ll be alone once he gets back, so he can avoid mention of it. Better yet, it will be a night when the two ignore each other's presence entirely.
“Oi, Shinsou, don’t forget this,” Aizawa holds up the metal case, “we start training with it Monday. Now technically it’s a weapon,” he pauses as if to briefly consider it, “but, well, whatever. Don’t try anything, just take it out and get a feel for it.”
Lights go up in realization that his hopes were correct for once. The idea of using the same weapon as his mentor was initially not what he ever pictured for himself, but Aizawa made some good points in favor of it. He’s too good at that. Hitoshi takes it as a consultation for his troubles. Nothing has gotten done training wise, but grabbing the case and squeezing it in the basket meant real progress. Emotions climb upwards as he pictures whisking around in the air and entrapping villains sometime in the near but distant future, but a heaviness still weighs on his consciousness.
“Sensei, when will we practice with my quirk?” He lets slip, gripping tighter on the handlebars.
“Well, that was always allowed,” Aizawa turns to face the towering glass building on the other side of the gates and takes out his phone, “but we can work on it next week as well.”
“It was?” Hitoshi quirks an annoyed brow. Now there’s a second train colliding into the first one, to think that all this time he could’ve already been practicing with his quirk but this man never said anything about it. Hitoshi’s about had it with this not clarifying shit and it’s really pissing him off. Aizawa is best when he is to the point and tactful about the expectations. He can handle that version of him a lot better than all the ambiguous bullshit, and logical ruses. Figures that it was only a matter of time before shit hit the fan and he became bitter.
“Yes, while we’re at UA.” Aizawa responds nonchalantly, ignoring or just not noticing the aggravation seeping off the teen while he types out a text to someone.
“Sensei, with all due respect, given the nature of my quirk I couldn’t have without your explicit consent,” he huffs, “aren’t you all about ethics and such? Figured you’d be more conscious about the consent to your free will and all that.”
If not, the older man ought to be. Hitoshi is still young but he’s been around long enough to know people do have free will despite the choices they make with it not always being fully theirs, such is the give and take required of a society. But his quirk is different, it’s all take and no give - once he has them every choice is fully his. It disobeys the balance, gets called creepy, and villainous for that very reason; the sudden and imposing lack of control and choice. No one likes when someone has far more power than they ought to, since often those who do use it for the wrong reasons. Yet, he more than longs for it to help people, to change this quirk into something that can also give back, and to not only take.
When he’s a hero he can balance all of that back out, so he isn’t burdened any longer. For now, he acknowledges people's fears towards his quirk, perhaps better than most, but resents the implication that his quirk can't help people, and can’t belong to a hero. It just hurts to know what he might be doing, what he has done in situations like at the sport festival, even if it was free game then.
His hurt is his guilt, it reminds him how much he’s taken from people, why he’s never practiced his quirk before. He can’t be so lucky like those with heroic quirks who have it easy, brainwashing has caused more troubles so far than solved them. Anxious trembling sprouts in his arms and legs like uncontrolled weeds he can’t contain. Screams from many years ago replay in his ears, the ghost of an old wound burns. He swallows thickly over it. This gets his teacher's full attention, making his way to the student’s side, and a hand hovers over his back before thinking otherwise.
“Sure, but in the hero course you’re going to have to let go of all these hesitations you have. Then in the real world people don’t play by those same rules,” Aizawa states matter of factly, “say, if I held hesitations about the free will of villains to use their quirks, huh?”
That could get you killed, or others, and wouldn’t be very heroic. Shit.
“I don’t want you holding back.”
“Yeah, well, be more clear next time!” He yells at their shadows cast on the road. There’s not a shadow of a doubt about it, Aizawa’s always gotta be right about everything, and they are like casts of one another. Too similar in too many ways not to bring them together as mentor and student. So Hitoshi, like the inseparable companion of a shadow he is, follows that logic of Aizawa’s, again. Holding back is just gonna be reckless from here on out, he ought to get over himself.
Without a pause Hitoshi kicks the stand back up and rides off, not caring to look back. This is the first time he’s gotten actually mad at the man who’s helped him so much. Yet, because of him he’s able to go home without any hesitations, the money for groceries, his training progressing, and no more holding back. The towering walls on either side of him look more like a single slope again, and he shall climb it. He can’t regret his outburst, as today was a dumpster fire and he deserves to unbury his chest and yell a little. Seems only befitting given what he was just told. Ultimately, the fit of rage doesn't last through the weekend, he can’t remain bitter.
Life is looking up for him at last. Hitoshi can only hope it lasts.