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Hitoshi stumbles into the genkan of Aizawa-sensei’s apartment, his limbs shaky and tired. Aizawa-sensei offers an arm to steady him, but Hitoshi opts to lean against the doorway instead, doing his best to seem nonchalant. 

(Of course, having the opportunity to go on patrol with Eraserhead was enough to throw any semblance of nonchalance out the window. Even if the man watched him like a bear watches its cub the whole damn time.) 

Hitoshi had been hit by a rather unpleasant dousing of sewer water during the patrol, thanks to some idiot thief with a water manipulation quirk. In all honesty, it was Hitoshi’s fault for not being quick enough to dodge, like Aizawa-sensei had. It’d been both an exciting and humiliating night.

(There had to have been fresh water nearby, but the thief had summoned water from the sewers underneath them. Probably for petty reasons, seeing the glare he’d given Aizawa-sensei after he’d captured him.) 

Aizawa-sensei had then declared that it was too late (roughly 1 AM) for Hitoshi to go back to his foster home, instead inviting him to his house for the night. It wasn’t the first time Aizawa-sensei had extended the invitation, though the invitation was normally for dinner, as he’d been training with him, not quite ready to shadow a patrol yet. Hitoshi had no idea why Aizawa-sensei (or Yamada-sensei) welcomed him into their home so readily, trusted him so easily around Eri, and even seemed concerned for him at times with the way they always asked him how he was doing, which would normally annoy Hitoshi, but for whatever reason, he minded it less when it came from them. It gave him an odd feeling whenever he happened to be in their home, with them two, Eri, and their two cats. 

The feeling was a sort of heady lethargy. It lolled his body from his normal guarded posture to soft shoulders and occasional smiles. He’d feel this light warmth that spread from his fingers to his toes, and it made him want to curl up and bask in the feeling for as long as it lasted. 

The feeling also frightened Hitoshi beyond belief. He wasn’t used to feeling that way, normally entering his foster home on pins and needles, ready to hide and deflect at a moment’s notice. 

(He wondered what it was about this place that made him feel so…Hitoshi didn’t know how to describe the feeling. It was like a state above relaxed.) 

Hitoshi took off his dirty shoes, placing them by the genkan. Aizawa-sensei sighed, cracking his back and yawning. He took off his shoes too, fixing Hitoshi with a tired glance. 

“You alright, kid?” 

Hitoshi nodded quickly. “Yes, Aizawa-sensei. Thank you for letting me stay here, and letting me shadow you.” 

Aizawa-sensei nodded. “You did well for your first time, though as I thought, your reaction time and speed still need work.” 

Hitoshi rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry. I should’ve dodged it.” Hitoshi winced, smelling the stench emanating from his own clothes, a reminder of his failure. 

Aizawa-sensei shook his head, and there was a softness to his gaze that made the warm feeling Hitoshi always felt in his home amplify tenfold. “Don’t beat yourself up over it. Worse mistakes will happen, and as far as this one goes, a shower will fix it.” Aizawa-sensei placed a gentle hand on the small of his back, squeezing gently, before removing Hitoshi’s capture weapon from his neck in one light motion. “The guest bed and bath are ready for you. Hizashi made sure of it.” 

Hitoshi nodded, and they both padded down the hallway. Hitoshi stopped, hearing another voice as he and Aizawa-sensei made their way into the house. Aizawa-sensei caught his gaze, and the smallest of smiles grazed his face. “One more stealth challenge,” Aizawa-sensei whispered, and he pointed to the room where the voice was coming from. Hitoshi nodded, fighting back a tiny smile. 

Hitoshi looked at the closed door, reading the little glittery sign that read “ERI” on the door in glitter glue, adorned with tiny finger painted animals. It was a reminder that this tiny house was becoming her home now, with her own room and everything. (Eri had painted the sign with Midnight-sensei, Hadou-senpai, and Togata-senpai. She’d bragged about it all throughout dinner.) Eri fit into the family like a glove, and Hitoshi could see that. She deserved it, after everything, and despite the wistful feeling it gave him to see Eri’s room, all official, it also filled him with the same warmth he felt from before. 

As they approached, footsteps quiet on the wooden floors, Aizawa-sensei gently turned the doorknob. They opened the door to Yamada-sensei telling a story to Eri, whose eyes were rimmed red, as she lay in bed. The smallest Yamazawa cat, an American Ringtail (appropriately named Ringo by Eri), was curled on Eri’s stomach, while Rōzu, a golden maine coon, curled around Yamada-sensei’s ankles. 

“And then,” Yamada-sensei said, giving Eri a smile, “Momotaro approached the angry dog and offered him some of his dumplings.” Yamada-sensei barked like a dog, and his voice dropped low. “‘I’ll join you to defeat the Ogres, Momotaro!’ the dog said. ‘I’ll be your very best friend!’”

Eri giggled as Yamada-sensei barked again, and Rōzu let out a petulant whine, before padding over to where Aizawa-sensei and Hitoshi were standing. Yamada-sensei began to turn towards them, and something inside of Hitoshi seized up. That warm feeling was threatening to eat him up alive as he stood with Aizawa-sensei and listened to Yamada-sensei tell Eri about Momotaro. 

It scared him, that this feeling could exist so strongly within him. 

This feeling was foreign and scary, and it crept up on him when he’d never even considered it a possibility, and it made him go outside of himself. He felt disembodied, as if he knew this feeling shouldn’t be his. 

“I’m going to shower,” Hitoshi whispered, abruptly turning heel and walking away before Yamada-sensei could see him. 

Hitoshi, once he quickly rounded the corner, could hear Yamada-sensei exclaim a happy “You came back!” to Aizawa-sensei, and from what Hitoshi knew of their surprisingly (and nauseatingly) mushy home life, giving him a kiss on the cheek. 

“Cat gave me away,” Aizawa-sensei sighed wearily, though his voice was harder to make out. “Hitoshi is here too. I thought it was too late for us to head back to his place.” 

“Oh, that’s great!” Hitoshi could hear the genuine excitement in Yamada-sensei’s voice. “I’ve gotta start breakfast planning, seeing as we’re going to celebrate a successful patrol with sensei!” 

Yamada-sensei’s tone was a light, airy teasing one, and he could hear the weary sigh from Aizawa-sensei, which was definitely accompanied by an eye roll. (The fact that Hitoshi knew this so easily didn’t help that warm feeling.) 

Hitoshi froze when he heard Eri chime in. “Shin-chan is here? D-does he wanna hear about Momotaro too?” 

Hitoshi knew that if he showered quickly and went back in there now, wearing the sweats he’d already had left here and were ready for him, there’d be no stopping that warm feeling from completely engulfing him. Eri would ask him for a hug and he’d oblige, and she’d make space for him to sit with her on the bed, as she leaned into him while Aizawa-sensei and Yamada-sensei would have those warm looks on their faces and he’d be a complete goner. Hitoshi couldn’t let that happen. 

It didn’t feel fair, that he could feel at home in a home that he knew logically wasn’t his. 

So, instead, he quietly shut the door to the room. 

Much to his chagrin, Hitoshi couldn’t escape that gentle, soothing feeling, even doing something as simple as going on his phone before bed. All he’d done is check in with the 1-C group chat. It’d become something of a habit. 

He’d feel oddly warm whenever his classmates from 1-C rallied around him as he trained to apply for the hero course. Not one of them had been anything other than supportive, even naming the class group chat “Shinsou’s #1 Fans” which had turned him into a tomato when Fukawa Maki, the normally nervous and timid class president, had approved the name change in chat with unusual vigor. They’d demanded updates from him about his hero journey (when not talking about whatever gossip they’d heard, or whatever scene Monoma had caused in the hallway that day) and whenever he’d text them updates, the messages were never what he’d expected. 

Shinsou’s #1 Fans

Me: Fucked up patrol, got hit with sewer sludge while Eraser took in the villain. 

Fukawa4Prez: Woah, sounds scary! I’m glad you’re alright, Shinsou! If you like, I could use my quirk to see if you die brutally in your next patrol!

TogeikeNotTogepi: Fukawa we’ve talked about this. 

Fukawa4Prez: Sorry! I figured I’d offer. It’s not my fault I can only see a worst-case-scenario!

LongtimeAgo-yamato: Dude Paranoia is a cool quirk. Mine is literally an extended chin you got so lucky. 

Kubo-Chan: At least you don’t have glitter sweat! When it’s hot I’m an one-man glitter bomb. 

FushiDAMMN: Kubo you’d be such a hit at pride

Kubo-Chan: Yeah but if some homophobic villain attacks I’d be useless

Me: Mic-sensei would have an aneurism if he saw this. We agreed not to get down about our quirks in the chat. 

Fukawa4Prez: Mic-sensei’s lecture about our quirks being what we make of them was the highlight of my fucking year. 

LongtimeAgo-yamato: CLASS PREZ CUSSED MARK THE DATE!!!

MessWithTheBullYouGetTheKaoru: Well, now we’ve got hope anyway! Shinsou’s on patrol and everything! Way to represent, dude!

Me: Okay but did you miss the part where I got sludge-bombed. 

TogeikeNotTogepi: A+ for Pokemon ref

FushiDAMMN: Well you got through it and you lived to tell the tale That’s a win

Kubo-Chan: Besides, heroes fail all the time. Remember that clip of Hawks flying into one of those clear sliding-glass doors during his debut? 

Fukawa4Prez: We’re so proud of you, Hitoshi! No matter what, you’re gonna do it! Just pick yourself up and move on. I still remember when you couldn’t use the scarf. 

Fukawa4Prez: img.ShinsouPretzel.jpg

FushiDAMMN: THAT’S A HERO LADIES, GENTS, AND DISTINGUISHED PEEPS

MessWithTheBullYouGetTheKaoru: No seriously way to go Shinsou. You’re doing great, dude!

Kubo-Chan: I trust Shinsou to handle any potential homophobic villains at pride

FushiDAMMN: SAMESIES

Me: I can sense this chat is getting off the rails again. 

CryptidLurker: I blame Fushida. Also, blowing up my phone at 2 AM? Shame. 

FushiDAMMN: Tsumiki you finally pipe up in chat just to obliterate me wtf

Hitoshi sighed as the banter continued onwards, and even just holding his phone, the warmth spread throughout his body. He knew it would go on for a while, seeing as 1-C was a fairly tight-knit class. Hitoshi had tried his best to be distant, but after the sports festival, they’d made that impossible, rallying around him and supporting him so much, he’d relented to the warm feeling it’d brought him. Sighing, he shut off his phone and went to sleep. 

Feeling that feeling, like home…around friends? Friends that he wasn’t even with in person? Hitoshi groaned, throwing a pillow over his face. 

This was not fucking normal. 

The next day was a Sunday (Aizawa-sensei had specifically planned the patrol to align so that he’d have a rest day before school). Hitoshi awoke to a tiny poking on his cheek, and a weight being dropped onto his stomach. 

He abruptly sat up, sending Rōzu, the offending weight, scrambling to stay on his lap. Hitoshi blinked and rubbed his eyes to see Eri, in her Ganriki Neko pajamas (a colorful onesie with cat ears which Hitoshi definitely didn’t want in his size), looking up at him with her finger still outstretched. 

“Shin-chan!” Eri smiled. “I brought you a cat.” Eri’s adorable little face scrunched up, as she tapped her finger to her cheek. “Oh! Papa told me to wake you up. He made American breakfast!” 

Eri bounced on her heels, and the warm feeling promptly punched Shinsou directly in the fucking face. It was like being zapped with a gigavolt of electricity that made him want to scoop up Eri and tell her how happy it made him that she was able to smile so easily now, and that she had a family that loved her. 

(Oh how badly he wanted to be a part of that–no. He’d already gotten so much from them, in just this warm feeling that he leached from their presences like a parasite.) 

Hitoshi yawned and bundled Rōzu into his arms, standing up to face Eri. “You wanna hold her?” 

Eri squinted at him, and the warm feeling promptly vanished when he saw she was studying his face with a perplexed expression. “Shin-chan,” she mumbled, with a tiny but surprisingly worried tone, “Did something happen to your face last night? You’ve got cuts.” 

Hitoshi was hit with the horrifying realization that staying over at the Yamazawa residence meant his concealer was at his foster home, and he’d washed the only remaining concealer he’d had off his face last night. He knew he had small but visible cuts along the bridge of his nose and his jaw. It wouldn’t take a rocket scientist to connect the dots, and realize he’d been weak enough to let himself be silenced. 

He blamed the warm feeling. It’d put him in a trance where he’d abandoned all reason for some fleeting feeling that was now showing it’s true colors as something that’d only hurt him. 

“Shin-chan?” Eri mumbled, looking down at the floor. Her wavering voice and sad expression snapped Hitoshi from the increasing panic rising in his chest. “I-I’m sorry, I-I shouldn’t have-” 

“It’s okay,” Hitoshi said, both for Eri and for himself. “It’s um…” 

“HEYYY, MY LITTLE LISTENERS,” Yamada-sensei exclaimed loudly, “My MAGNIFICENT MIC-IES, MY-” 

“Hizashi, we’re going to get noise complaints again. Breakfast is getting cold,” Aizawa-sensei droned in a much more acceptable indoor voice. 

Hitoshi froze, feeling what a trapped coyote must feel like. He had two options, either stay in the trap and hope for the best, or knaw off his own fucking leg and bolt. Luckily, Hitoshi had been in similar situations, where he knew the best solution was to kneecap that warm feeling and shove it away. To bite off his leg and flee while he had the chance. 

“Shin-chan!” Eri cried suddenly, and wrapped herself around his legs. Hitoshi felt a soft wetness hitting his sweats. “I’m sorry. Please don’t go because of me. I promise, I wasn’t trying to be mean.” 

“Eri?” Hitoshi mumbled, that warm feeling slowly creeping up into his throat, and guiding him to wrap his arms around the tiny girl. “What’re you talking about?” 

“I saw the way you looked…” Eri mumbled. “You looked scared, like you’re gonna run away.” 

Eri released her grip and rubbed at her eyes. A few tears fell from them. 

Hitoshi didn’t want to think about how Eri would know that look so well. The implications made him ache for the girl, and long to punch Overhaul, even though Midoriya and Togata had already done so numerous times.

When he was just concerned for his own survival, Hitoshi wouldn’t have thought twice about making an escape. Now, however, he was faced with the conundrum of Eri surely blaming herself for frightening him away, when she hadn’t done anything wrong. For some reason unknown to Hitoshi, Eri liked having him around, and breaking her heart wasn’t something Hitoshi could find in himself to do. Maybe, a coyote in a trap wasn’t quite the right way to think about it. 

That warm feeling was muted by dread, but it was still there. If he were truly trapped, there would be no warmth at all. 

So, Hitoshi decided he’d be Eri’s hero, even in doing something so small compared to what the other, better heroes in her life had done for her. 

He knelt down, and gently brushed the tears from her eyes. “I’m not going anywhere, Eri. You didn’t do anything to scare me away. It’s just…these are from a long time ago. They’re, uh…” 

“A villain?” Eri sniffled, looking up at him.

Hitoshi nodded. “Yeah.” 

Eri patted his cheek, so gently it didn’t even phase Hitoshi, when normally an unannounced touch to the face would’ve freaked him out. “It’s okay, Shin-chan.” Eri rolled up her pajama sleeve, to show the scars that laced her arms like ribbons. “I’ll show mine too. If Dad or Papa say yours are ugly I’ll…” Eri’s face scrunched up. “I’ll be mad.” 

Hitoshi let out a tiny laugh before he even registered the joy bubbling in his chest. 

Eri smileed back at him. “Don’t worry, Shin-chan. Dad and Papa are really nice. They’ll be nice.” 

Rōzu meowed and headbutted his leg, as if to agree with Eri. The warm feeling exploded in Hitoshi’s chest, and like a man possessed, he scooped up Eri, who giggled as he pushed the door open for them to leave. 

The warm feeling carried Hitoshi out into the tiny dining/living room without much trouble, as Eri’s tiny hands latching onto him only fueled the feeling like kindling to a fire. The feeling was coupled with relief when he sat next to Eri at the table and Aizawa-sensei wished him good morning without commenting on anything. 

Yamada-sensei then came in with a plate of pancakes, humming a tune and placing the first plate in front of Eri. Eri immediately dumped syrup on them and dug into the stack, while Aizawa-sensei did his best to help her cut her pancakes. (It’s a slaughter despite his efforts.)

Hitoshi knows his scars are fairly light. There’s a chance he could get out of this unscathed, and this little domestic song and dance can continue uninterrupted. He’ll just have to remember to bring concealer with him whenever he comes here and-

The sharp sound of ceramic hitting the tile and shattering snaps Hitoshi from his temporary security. He can feel Yamada-sensei’s gaze on him, for the briefest of moments, but Hitoshi knows exactly what the man must’ve seen. Hitoshi can’t bring himself to meet his eyes. 

Yamada-sensei chuckles, though it’s the most forced thing Hitoshi has ever heard. “Whoops! Sorry about that, listener! Guess I got too caught up in my own sweet tunes!” 

Aizawa-sensei snaps his head up from where he’s helping Eri (who’s also looking at him with a mouthful of pancake). He looks at Yamada-sensei with harsh worry. 

(Hitoshi has seen what their dynamic is like. After he got over the initial mindfuck of Eraserhead and Present Mic being married, he soon came to realize that Present Mic was the professional persona of Yamada Hizashi, and Yamada Hizashi was someone who was surprisingly thoughtful, sarcastic, and very kind. Surprisingly compatible with the surprisingly caring, introspective, yet still grumpy nature of Aizawa Shouta. Yamada was still upbeat and loud, but with less pre-planned catchphrases and a more relaxed aura about him. 

That someone was one that Hitoshi only ever saw here, when he was in his own home with Aizawa and Eri, and for some reason, him as well. What’d just come out of his mouth, however, sounded more like Mic than Yamada.) 

“Hizashi,” Aizawa-sensei started, before Yamada-sensei flitted around the table to pat Eri’s head and warn her about not stepping on the plate shards. 

“I’m sorry,” Hitoshi blurted out. The feelings of warmth, the ones he knew all three of Yamada-sensei, Aizawa-sensei, and Eri had here, had been cut with a knife, because he’d intruded on him, with his obvious problems that manifested their ugly form on his own face. 

He wasn’t one who got to take warm feelings, not when he knew his presence only brought dread and nerves. The three didn’t deserve to feel like that here. 

“Don’t apologize,” Yamada-sensei says, his voice serious. “I’m sorry I startled you. You did nothing wrong.” 

“I ruined your breakfast,” Hitoshi countered. 

“I dropped the plate,” Yamada-sensei replied, shaking his head. “It’s my fault, Shinsou. Now, I’ll get you another plate, and take care of that one. Please, don’t worry about it.” 

Hitoshi made the mistake of looking him in the eye, and found a gentle sincerity there, along with a spark of what seemed to be understanding. Hitoshi was sure that warm feeling had fooled him into seeing things that weren’t there yet again. 

Aizawa-sensei stood up from his seat, and came back with the dustpan and broom. Hitoshi found himself still sitting when Yamada-sensei came back with another plate of pancakes. Dread twisted his stomach in knots, but he still forced himself to at least try and eat, to try and put the other three at ease.

“It’s okay if you’re not hungry, kid,” Aizawa-sensei said, from where he was sweeping up the last of the shards and pancake from off the floor as the cats attempted to paw at it. Aizawa-sensei was looking at him too, and Hitoshi knew his luck had truly run out. There’s no way he didn’t know now. 

“I don’t want to waste them,” Hitoshi gestured with his fork to the pancakes. “Yamada-sensei worked hard and they taste good.” 

“They’re maple flavored,” Yamada-sensei said, though his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Though they’d taste better if you had the appetite for ‘em. If you want, I can finish them for ya. No waste, right?” 

Hitoshi nodded, sliding his plate to Yamada-sensei. “I’m sorry.” 

Yamada-sensei shook his head, and Hitoshi could’ve sworn the man’s eyes looked misty. “Shinsou, what’d I say about apologizing when you’ve done nothing wrong?” 

“You don’t have to!” Eri chimed in, now eating her remaining pancake with her hands. 

Yamada-sensei looked at her and giggled. “Very good, sweetheart. Shouta, uh, can you help Eri wash up?” 

Aizawa-sensei took a look at Eri, increasingly covered in syrup, and now leaning over to pet the cats, and swiftly picked her up. Eri squealed and laughed as Aizawa-sensei placed her on his hip and took her to the bathroom sink, cats in tow. 

This left Hitoshi with Yamada-sensei, who hadn’t made much work of the pancakes either. “Hitoshi,” Yamada-sensei said gently, “Can you look at me?”

There was a small warmth, the lingering feeling that spurred him on, telling him that Yamada-sensei was kind, and a hero, and someone Hitoshi felt truly safe around, that prompted him to look and meet Yamada-sensei’s gaze, despite the overwhelming dread in his gut screaming at him to turn tail and run. 

“Hitoshi,” Yamada-sensei’s voice was quiet. “How long has this been going on?” 

“Huh?” Hitoshi managed to choke out. “Yamada-sensei, I-” 

“Hitoshi, I know what those scars are from. As your teacher and as someone who cares about you, I need to know if you’re unsafe in your own home.” Yamada-sensei is doing his best to stay composed, and Hitoshi can see, despite his calm demeanor, there is a quiet fire brewing in his eyes. Hitoshi, for a split second of delusion, wonders if it means the man is protective of him. As if he was part of his family. 

No, you’re not allowed to think like that, this is too good for you, when all you’ve done is lie to them and make them upset.

“No,” Hitoshi answers, fighting the urge to cover his mouth, despite the fact that Yamada-sensei is looking him in the eye and not staring at his scars. “Everything is fine now, Yamada-sensei.” 

“Now?” Aizawa-sensei interrupts, pouncing on the word. He sits down, evidently having left Eri to play with the cats at the moment. 

Hitoshi feels his throat get tight. It’s one thing for Yamada-sensei to question it, but for the hero he’d looked up to since he was a child, Eraserhead, and now mentor in Aizawa-sensei to see him being so weak about something that happened in the past makes him want to curl up and die. The gentle warmth he feels from being in their home now feels shameful. 

“It was a long time ago,” Hitoshi said quickly, wanting to get rid of this version of himself so Aizawa-sensei and even Yamada-sensei (who’s known for being unapologetic about his voice and quirk and Hitoshi had always admired Present Mic too) wouldn’t have to see it. “I’m over it.” 

Yamada-sensei rubbed his eyes. “It’s alright if you aren’t, you know. I’m still not, and it’s been years for me.” 

Hitoshi nearly chokes on his own spit. He has to get his ears checked or something, because there’s no way someone as strong and cheerful as Present Mic, (or as intelligent as Yamada Hizashi) went through the same thing he did. He’d never let it happen. 

(He was so caught in his own thoughts, he neglected to realize he’d mumbled them aloud. And Yamada-sensei had his very high-tech hearing aids in for the day.) 

“I appreciate your sentiment, Shinsou,” Yamada-sensei said, his voice downcast, as he pushed aside the now cold plate of pancakes and reached across the table to lightly squeeze Hitoshi’s hand, “But it’s not about being weak or strong. It’s about those with power failing to be responsible with it. We aren’t weak for being hurt when we were children, too young to defend ourselves, or to understand that a lot of people are scared…when it comes to quirks like ours.” 

Hitoshi opened his mouth to speak, but only a small whimper came out, and he instead found himself clutching Yamada-sensei’s hand like a life raft. His words mingled with that shred of soft affection and hope that refused to fully leave him, even when he knew logically it had no place with him, but Yamada-sensei’s words fused with the warmth and it threatened to bowl him over. He felt the gazes of Yamada-sensei and Aizawa-sensei, but they didn’t make him feel wrong-footed. They made him feel seen in a way that didn’t leave him completely ridden with shame. 

“Are your current fosters helping you through this?” Aizawa-sensei asked gently. 

Hitoshi shook his head, and Aizawa-sensei’s neutral face dipped into a scowl. 

The Itos were far from his worst foster family, but the same sentiment of fear still lingered around him. It was something he noticed, that he took all the warmth from that house when he entered: the way Mr. Ito would look at him, like he was waiting for Hitoshi to slip up and brainwash him, the way Mrs. Ito would herd the other children away from him when he got home, and their peering eyes and small whispers would be fueled by the little things the Itos did to make sure they all knew he had the power to rob them of their free will. It strangled him, wrapping him tight in a cold coil of humiliation and indignation that caused him to clam up there, as if speaking would break the fragile, frigid truce and they’d descend on him like the Shioharas and their muzzle had. 

The dorms had been a welcome reprieve, though the weekends and holidays had now turned into burdens for him, with the Itos both expecting his help at home and loathing his presence there with a silent vitriol. 

“They should be,” Yamada-sensei said, his thumb stroking over Hitoshi’s hand. “You shouldn’t feel this afraid to even admit that you’ve been hurt.” 

“I could’ve hurt others,” Hitoshi offered weakly, though he hardly believed his own words, the words that’d been force fed to him by others and that he’d decided to fight head on by becoming a hero, despite how they haunted him. “My quirk is-” 

“-What you make of it,” Yamada-sensei said softly. “And from what I’ve seen, Shinsou, you’ve done nothing but good with it. There’s no justifying what was done to you. There’s no justifying what was done to me. Or to Eri. It’s all abuse. No child should be hurt and made to feel like it’s their fault.” 

“How’d you…” Hitoshi mumbled, “I…” 

“It took me a long time to really accept that fact,” Yamada-sensei soothed. “My moms got me and my sisters in therapy, and well, when I told my first friend in first year, he was quick to say the same thing. My other friends…I told a few of them later, it took me time, but they had my back too. It didn’t happen overnight, and I second guessed the safety and security I felt with my friends and family all the time, but I worked towards it because the people who loved me had my back, even when I was worried they wouldn’t. It’s normal to think this is too good to be true, but one day, it’ll click that the feelings of security and love you get around them, they’re real and you deserve them.” Yamada-sensei smiled, leaning his head against Aizawa-sensei’s bicep. 

Aizawa-sensei seemed to fight with a smile of his own, before relenting and swinging an arm around Yamada-sensei. “We’re here for you, Shinsou,” Aizawa-sensei said, “Whatever you need.” 

“We can start by enrolling you in some sessions with Hound Dog,” Yamada-sensei said. “Or another therapist, if you want. I know Hound Dog would take off the muzzle, though, if you asked him to.”

“Did you know Hound Dog cried after Marley and Me ?” Aizawa-sensei said, rolling his eyes. “Honestly, the man is a total softie. Him and Vlad King were a teary mess.”

“If that movie starred a cat, it would’ve been over for you,” Yamada-sensei quipped with a smirk.

Hitoshi snickered, even as Aizawa-sensei huffed with a tiny glare. “So, are you guys going to spill secrets about the entire Yuuei faculty now? I’ve been dying to know if the rumors about All Might being Midoriya’s dad are true.” 

“Todoroki isn’t a reliable source,” Aizawa-sensei sighed. “He thinks your class president is Sir Nighteye’s illegitimate child.” 

“They both have precognition quirks,” Hitoshi responded with a raised eyebrow. “I should ask Fukawa.” 

“You can’t be actually considering-” Aizawa-sensei sighed. “Anyway…therapists. We’ll help you decide, and as for your living situation…Hizashi and I have foster licenses. We’re also authorized caregivers as heroes. We’d be glad to take you in, if you’d like. For as long as you need.” 

Hitoshi’s eyes widened. He nearly blurted out how he never wants to leave this house ever, even to go back to his dorm room during weekdays. 

“SHIN-CHAN IS STAYING?!” Eri exclaimed, standing in the hallway, wearing her sunhat and a flower-print dress. (Clearly ready for her day at the park with the Big Three.) She ran up to Hitoshi, nearly vibrating with excitement. “Are you? We can play with the kitties and go to the park together and-” 

“Eri,” Aizawa-sensei said gently, “Don’t pressure him. This may not be what Shinsou wants, and that’s okay.” 

Eri stopped jumping and her face melted into her usual gentle and thoughtful expression. “I’d really like it if you stayed, Shin-chan…but if you don’t wanna, that’s okay.” 

Hitoshi felt a lump growing in his throat as he felt the heady, tender feeling course throughout his body in gentle pulses, like a warm hug. It was like something had begun to settle in him, and he’d finally let those warm feelings that built up inside him whenever he crossed the genkan of the Yamada-Aizawa household to finally be recognized. 

Maybe, he’d finally believe he could coexist with those feelings, and not leech them from others. They could all be happy. Right now, him staying would make them happy. He could see that, he knew that. Staying would make him happy too. 

Hitoshi smiled, the feelings of overwhelming fondness guiding him to scoop Eri up into his lap. “I’d like to stay here too,” he said. 

At that, Eri broke out into a wide grin. 

Shinsou’s #1 Fans

Me: I forgot to say thanks last night. 

Fukawa4Prez: For what, Shinsou?

Me: For having my back. And, well, all the mushy crap you guys say on this chat about how you’re gonna buy out my merch when it drops. 

Me: P.S. Underground heroes normally don’t have a ton of merch. 

Kubo-Chan: I’m gonna make so many glitter shirts

FushiDAMMN: img.shutupandtakemymoney.jpg

TogeikeNotTogepi: Putting the sweat in sweatshirt

LongTimeAgo-yamato: lol

Kubo-Chan: …nvm

FushiDAMMN: Don’t listen to them this is a great idea

MessWithTheBullYouGetTheKaoru: Can we focus on the fact that Shinsou is finally accepting us as his fanclub?

FushiDAMMN: WE’VE DONE IT FOLKS. WE’VE PEAKED EVERYONE PACK IT UP

CryptidLurker: I agree. 

Fukawa4Prez: We’ve gotta throw a party for the occasion. As class president, I’m putting my foot down on this one. 

Me: You don’t have to throw a party just for me. 

Kubo-Chan: You can’t weasel your way out of this one, future hero. 

LongTimeAgo-yamato: You should enjoy hanging out with us before you have to go join explosion mcmurder or monoma.

FushiDAMMN: Dude you have to get us the inside scoop on these hero guys Like, does Midoriya break his bones every day, or weekly, and is he All Might’s kid? The people need to know!!!

Kubo-Chan: Ask if that animal guy hosts petting zoos. I’d pay for that. 

MessWithTheBullYouGetTheKaoru: Ask if Shiozaki brushes her hair or uses a weedwacker.

Me: If I agree to this party, will you all stop asking me to become your gossip trojan horse.

CryptidLurker: No promises. 

Me: …fine.  

Fukawa4Prez: Well, it’s official! We’re throwing Shinsou a party!! :)

MessWithTheBullYouGetTheKaoru: :)

FushiDAMMN: TURN UP SHINSOU FANCLUB

Me: Okay, speaking of 1-A, Fukawa, I need to ask you something. 

Fukawa4Prez: ?

Me: Todoroki thinks you might be related to Sir Nighteye and I wanna verify if that’s true. 

Fukawa4Prez: I’ll tell you at the party. 

Me: Touché.

TogeikeNotTogepi: Wait Fukawa, you’re not actually related to Nighteye, right? 

Fukawa4Prez: …..

FushiDAMMN: holy shit.

Kubo-Chan: 1-A wishes they’re as cool as us. 

Me: You guys are the weirdest and best fanclub a guy could ask for. Just don’t give my name out when I go underground or I will hunt you all down for sport. 

MessWithTheBullYouGetTheKaoru: Aw, dude! That’s so sweet!

FushiDAMMN: Yeah, compared to our first month together that’s like the equivalent of a love declaration

Me: Don’t test your luck. 

Fukawa4Prez: We’re always gonna have your back, Shinsou! Even if we’re sworn to secrecy. 

Me: Thanks. :)

Kubo-Chan: Shinsou with the emote….we’re in the Twillight Zone now. 

LongTimeAgo-yamato: This and Fukawa cussing are proof the end is upon us. 

Me: Good thing we’re having a party then. 

Me: img.catinpartyhat.jpg

Fukawa4Prez: How long have you had that in your phone? 

Me: None of your business. 

Me: img.grumpycat.jpg

FushiDAMMN: Okay so like hypothetically how many of these cat pics do you have

Kubo-Chan: Bro shut up I need to see more cats. 

Me: img.babykittenwithdaisy.jpg

Kubo-Chan: This is proof you’re gonna be the best hero ever.