Work Text:
Hitoshi had prepared for this day for a few weeks now, but he was still buzzing with nervous energy as he approached the time machine.
It was a privilege to get to use it, he knew. Perks of being a pro hero in addition to being friends with Mei. He wouldn't get a second try at this, and he would have to be very careful not to screw anything up when he did what he did. Just the concept of meeting himself seemed like it would tear the very fabric of the universe apart.
But Mei assured him that he wouldn't destroy the entire world by visiting his younger self, and she knew a lot more about physics than he did. She merely had him make a list of all of the things he wasn't to talk about, and double and triple check it to keep the timeline as neat as possible.
Hitoshi wasn't planning on doing much talking, anyway. He was going back to listen.
"All set," Mei said, typing nonstop into her laptop, which was hooked up to the machine. "Whenever you're ready. You have half an hour, don't forget."
"I'm ready," Hitoshi said, entering the machine. He had the exact time, date, and coordinates set for him. All he needed now was to go through with it.
The machine door slid shut, and a blue light blinded him for a few seconds. When he opened his eyes again, he was outside, and it was nighttime. He recognized the alleyway that he was standing in as the one right by his old apartment. It shouldn't have surprised him that the machine worked, but just seeing the old area - and smelling the old godawful smell that used to haunt him on his walk to school every day - really made it sink in.
He was there. And in a few minutes, so would the first year version of him.
He left the alleyway, trying to find a good place to stand. At fifteen, he knew his stranger danger rules better than most teenagers, and he also carried a pocketknife and pepper spray with him whenever he went out. So it would be dangerous to approach him unless he made sure not to look threatening. Hitoshi was wearing a hoodie and jeans, casual clothes to blend in, but they also didn't made him look any less dangerous.
While he was pondering the dilemma, Shinsou Hitoshi the younger walked past him.
He would be able to spot him a block away, His hair was huge, for one - how had he ever thought that was a good look? - and he hunched his shoulders like an old lady. Plus, he always wore the same outfit when he went out: a navy hoodie with a giant cat on it, and black sweats.
"Hey, kid!" he called, and Shinsou stopped in his tracks. He looked over his shoulder, appraised him, and then started walking even quicker. "I said hey! I need to talk to you."
"Not interested," Shinsou replied shortly, and that was all Hitoshi needed. He latched onto his younger self's mind, holding tight.
"Come to me," he said, and waited for Shinsou to comply. But rather than blankly follow his orders, Shinsou's mind slipped from his grasp, and the boy stumbled a few steps. He supposed that answered the question of whether his quirk would work on himself; Izuku would be interested to hear, at least.
For now, he had to focus on doing what he came to do before he got himself arrested for public quirk use.
"Just a few minutes," he said, and Shinsou stared at him.
"That was my quirk," he said slowly. "I could feel the same itching in my head like when I use my quirk, only this time it was aimed at me. What did you do to me?"
"I used your quirk," Hitoshi said. "Or rather, our quirk." He stared back at him, and a slow realization settled over Shinsou's face.
"Fuck," he whispered. "Dad?"
Hitoshi recoiled like he was slapped. "No, fuck no, I'm not your dad. Dad sucks. I'm you."
Shinsou's face went through a complicated series of emotions, beginning at confusion, tottering through anger, and settling on disbelief.
"Nah," he said, turning to go again. "I don't know what kind of scam you're pulling or how you're doing it, but I'm not having it. I'm just gonna go and-"
"And get your spicy shrimp instant ramen and a diet coke?" Hitoshi asked. "Or maybe add a pack of chocolate chews, since today was an important day."
"So you're a stalker and a criminal. Great." Shinsou reached for his phone, presumably to call 911, and Hitoshi started speaking as quickly as he could.
"Your name is Shinsou Hitoshi, and that's your mother's last name, since your dad isn't in the picture. You go to UA high school and you're in the gen ed program because when you controlled other people to fight the robots for you, they got the points instead of you. Your dream is to be a pro hero, and your favorite hero is Mirko because she kicks ass and talks back in interviews. Your toothpaste is strawberry flavored and you don't brush your hair most days and you don't get enough sleep because you watch too many movies and if you ever got a cat you would name it Miso!"
He stopped, breathing heavily. He should've prepared a list for this part, honestly, but it had slipped his mind. Somehow, he thought that he would just believe himself on sight, or at least that his quirk would work properly.
"Look at me," he said, and Shinsou stared at him once again, eyes even wider. "I'm you."
Shinsou dropped his phone, swore, dusted it off, and then started walking again.
"Where are you going?" Hitoshi called after him.
"I need to sit down," Shinsou said. "Follow me."
They ended up by a bus stop, and Shinsou settled down on the bench. Hitoshi stayed standing for the time being, not wanting to startle him.
"So you're me from the future," Shinsou said, not looking at him. "Huh. So they invented time travel."
"It's pretty limited for now, but yeah," Hitoshi replied. Shinsou glanced at him, then looked back down.
"Your hair is short." He grimaced. "I guess I should say our hair is short."
"Whatever you're more comfortable with," Hitoshi said, running his fingers through his hair, which was cropped pretty close to his head. He had grown it out for a time, but then felt too much like he was copying Aizawa, and chopped most of it off. "It's easier like this, for-" He stopped himself before he said hero work, which was number one on the "do not mention" list. "For keeping clean."
"I guess," Shinsou said, tugging at his own hair. "Mine is getting pretty shaggy."
"It looks good," Hitoshi said, so he wouldn't feel self conscious. He didn't need another thing for his younger self to be anxious about.
"Well of course you'd say that, you're me." Shinsou clutched his head, and Hitoshi felt a little bad that he was springing all of this on him. But if any teenager was tough enough to accept all of this time travel shit, it was him. "Are you going to wipe my brain when you're done with all of this?"
"Why would I bother stopping in to talk to you if I'd wipe your brain after?"
"I dunno, to protect the space time continuum?"
"The space time continuum is made of stronger stuff than that," Hitoshi assured him, completely baselessly, just as Mei had reassured him earlier. "Don't worry about it."
"Alright, fine. So what's the big important mission that you were sent back in time to do?" Shinsou asked. "Or is it a top secret message that you have to relay to me to save the future?" Despite his cool and collected face, his eyes were sparkling. Hitoshi was almost sorry to not have a super secret future-altering mission for him.
"Actually, I just wanted to check in on how you were doing," he said, scratching his neck.
Shinsou considered this. "Lame."
"I forgot what a little shit I used to be." Shinsou stuck his tongue out at him, and Hitoshi remembered how young he was. Even though he was mature for his age - as all adults used to tell him - and did his own laundry and food shopping, he was still just a kid.
"So what's been going on with you?" he asked, remembering his original objective.
"You tell me, you're the one from the future."
"Hitoshi."
"You can't scold me like a father figure when you are me."
"Somebody has to."
Shinsou sighed, long and dramatically. "Fine, I'll cooperate. But don't expect me to call you dad or anything."
"Good. That would be weird." Hitoshi sat down on the bench, and Shinsou didn't move away, although he did lean a little in the opposite direction. Hitoshi didn't take it personally; he used to do that with everyone.
"So I just had the sports festival today," he started, staring up at the sky. "It was pretty shitty. I got my ass kicked."
"I remember that," Hitoshi said fondly, which made Shinsou turn to him in surprise. "Izuku really did a number on us."
"Don't sound so pleased about that. Now I can't get into the hero course." He analyzes Hitoshi's face carefully. "Unless we do get into the hero course somehow..."
Hitoshi mimed zipping his lips shut. Shinsou rolled his eyes.
"All I'm going to say is that I know myself," Hitoshi said. "And I know that I don't give up on things that I really want. And I also know that I never wanted anything more than to be a pro hero."
"Can you at least tell me if I become a pro hero or not? Because if I never end up getting it then I don't know why I should even bother."
"That's exactly why I can't tell you."
Shinsou narrowed his eyes at him, and Hitoshi looked away. "Tell me more about the sports festival. It's been ten years, I barely remember the details."
After a moment, Shinsou began speaking again. He talked about the initial race, where he had a few quirked kids act as his personal fighters and transport vehicles. Then the group cavalry battle, where he actively controlled three hero course students and used them all to fight for him. And then, finally, his fight against Midoriya and his crushing defeat.
"I still have the bruises," he said, pulling up his shirt to show Hitoshi his purpled torso. "Recovery Girl was pretty busy with all of the broken bones, so I didn't want to bother her with my bruises."
"Of course you didn't," Hitoshi sighed. He remembered how anxious he used to be about being a bother. If he was bleeding out on the floor, he still wouldn't raise his voice to ask for help.
"A hero student is supposed to be able to take a few punches, anyway," Shinsou said, and his face darkened a little. Hitoshi intervened quickly.
"Regardless of how the last battle went, I'm still super proud of you. Of us. You know that you're the only gen ed kid to have made it to the last round of the sports festival."
"Yeah, they told me that after I lost," Shinsou said, a little sourly.
"Yeah, and did you also know that you're the only gen ed student to make it to the last round in the last five years?"
"That too." He scowled. "I only got there from using the hero course kids around me, though."
"And what of it?" Hitoshi had gotten enough therapy over his lifetime to know how to stop his own self-loathing in its tracks. "The objective was to do whatever it took to make it to the end. You think that the hero kids were trying to be ethical when they destroyed everything in their path? No, they had one goal in mind and they did whatever it took to make it there. So did you."
Shinsou was speechless for a moment.
"Whatever," he finally said, in true teenager fashion. "I still wish I won."
"Of course you do. That loss hurt like a bitch. But it also made us stronger." Hitoshi patted him on the back, feeling Shinsou tense up beneath him, and pulled his hand away. Right, he wasn't used to touching yet. That would come with time. That, and so much more. "Your training wasn't for nothing."
"Why are you actually here?" Shinsou asked, ears turning red with embarrassment. "There's no way you just decided to pop in to ask me about my day."
"That's all there is to it," Hitoshi shrugged. "Today was a big day for me, and I remembered that I didn't have anyone to talk to about it. So I decided that I would be that person."
"You're crazy," Shinsou said, covering his mouth with his hands. "So you really were trying to be like a father figure to yourself. Freud would have so much to say about that."
"Maybe. I don't regret it, though." He smiled at his younger self, all big hair and sharp tongue. "You sounded so proud of yourself. I remember not feeling that way for a very long time."
Shinsou blushed. "Whatever, old man. I'm glad you're enjoying your time hanging with a fifteen year old."
"Of course I'm enjoying it. I'm great company." Shinsou reached into his bag and chucked a bread roll at his head. "Ow, watch it, smartass, that's your own head you're hitting."
"I'll deal with that later," Shinsou deadpanned, and then hesitated. "When do you have to go back?"
Hitoshi checked his watch. "In like ten minutes. Why?"
For the first time in their whole interaction, Shinsou looked nervous, although he tried to cover it up by pulling his hood over his head, as if Hitoshi hadn't invented that move himself. "I still haven't eaten dinner since you interrupted me on my walk. Do you want to come eat with me?"
Hitoshi got a flash of memories then, endless suppers eaten in front of the TV, or his laptop, or in public parks if it was late enough that no one else would be there. He never once invited any of his friends over to his house when he was younger. He was too embarrassed.
"Sure," he said. "I could eat."
"Spicy shrimp instant ramen with a diet coke?"
"Really? That shit is so bad for you." He waited for Shinsou to scowl at him before laughing. "I'm just fucking with you, it's still my favorite comfort meal."
"At least some things never change," Shinsou said, elbowing him hard in the side as they stood up together.
Hitoshi looked down at his younger self, so full of passion and hunger and fear and and longing that he looked fit to burst, and felt a pang in his chest for the both of them.
"Yep," he agreed. "Some things really don't."