Chapter Text
UA’s entrance exam is hell, but Mashirao is used to putting himself through hell. This exam just happens to be a different kind of hell, but he can adapt.
That said, adapting isn’t enough. Mashirao might be getting decent scores via destroying the 1-point robots, but there are plenty of other kids who are doing an even better job. There’s no point in Mashirao doing a decent job if everybody else is doing an excellent job. So he’s gotta grit his teeth and work as hard as he can.
He’s just about to finish off another robot when he sees a kid trying to fend off a 2-point robot with scrap metal, backing himself up against a wall, and Mashirao knows this kid is going to get knocked out in a matter of seconds.
Mashirao doesn’t even hesitate; he ducks under the reach of the robot he’d been fighting and goes barreling into the one that’s been cornering the other kid, using his tail to slam into a one of its lower joints as he delivers a solid kick to the other weakest point of the robot: the part attaching its head to its body.
The robot doesn’t go down easily, but it actually seems to have sustained some damage from something else to its back, so it takes less time than Mashirao expected to eventually crack it into two pieces with his tail.
“Jeez, are you okay?” He asks the kid backed up against the wall, who’s looking a little frustrated. He’s taller than Mashirao is, and has spiky purple hair and bags under his eyes that makes Mashirao wonder if he got any sleep at all last night.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” The other boy sighs, gripping tighter onto the long scrap metal that obviously used to be part of a robot. “Thanks.”
Mashirao is about to nod and go finish off the robot he left behind, but he pauses at the sight of the other boy’s knuckles. They’re a mess, cut up and bruised, almost as purple as the boy’s hair. From there, Mashirao’s gaze travels to the boy’s wrists, arms, shoulders. He’s not skinny, but he’s not well-built, either. He doesn’t have the physicality of somebody who can do physical combat. He must have a quirk that allows him to avoid direct confrontation, then.
But why is he fighting with mere scrap metal as his weapon if he has a quirk that is effective enough to save him from actual combat?
“Your quirk,” Mashirao realizes, “it doesn’t work against robots?”
The boy’s mouth drops open, then he closes it with a pained look and shakes his head. “No.”
“Oh.” That really sucks. Mashirao doesn’t ask what his quirk is, because it’s none of his business, but he feels really bad for the boy.
“Three minutes and forty seconds remaining,” an announcement echoes through the site.
Mashirao knows he needs to hurry up and break down more robots before the timer runs out. But something is making him drag his feet, and he doesn’t have time to be in denial about what that something is, so he grabs the boy by the wrist and hauls him towards the 1-point robot Mashirao had already half-beaten. It’s teetering, aiming an attack their way, even though Mashirao disabled its firing mechanism already.
“What,” the other boy chokes out.
“Go for the joints when it opens up,” Mashirao instructs. “Use the metal to slice sideways in an arc for maximum impact. Go for the neck if you can reach it, and if you can’t, go for the midriff!”
He pushes the boy forward, and thankfully he doesn’t freeze up; he does exactly as Mashirao instructed, and manages to break off the head of the robot.
“Don’t use your fists,” Mashirao adds. “Not if you don’t have the quirk or training for it. Try sneaking up on them from behind.”
“I, what?” The boy looks at him, wide-eyed. “Why are you helping me?”
Mashirao has no idea why, to be honest, and he doesn’t have the time to be wondering why he’s helping out a random stranger when they’re technically competitors. All Mashirao has in his favor is a tail and his extensive training in martial arts, and that’s barely noticeable in the face of all the flashier and more powerful quirks present at the exam site. He doesn’t exactly have the luxury of time or power to be helping the competition, but he knows he would’ve regretted it if he’d turned a blind eye to this kid’s struggles. He wouldn’t be able to go into a heroics course in good conscience if he did nothing.
“Because heroes help people, right?” Mashirao huffs an incredulous laugh at his own words. He scratches his cheek, then nods and turns away. “Okay, then. Good luck!”
With that said, he sprints away.
He doesn’t see the boy again during the remaining three minutes, and after the exam, he’s so tired that he’s forgotten about the boy entirely.
-
It’s only when Mashirao gets his acceptance letter to UA and realizes that rescue points were also a factor in his acceptance that he remembers the purple-haired boy and his bruised knuckles.
Mashirao wonders if he’ll see the boy at UA. It seems unlikely, but he hopes he does.
-
Four days into the new semester, Mashirao actually sees a shock of purple hair across the cafeteria and recognizes the boy from the entrance exam. Before he can even second-guess himself, Mashirao is moving towards him, unheeding of Kaminari’s confused question as to where he’s going.
It’s only when Mashirao is a few steps away that the boy turns and sees him. He freezes, purple eyes going wide as he meets Mashirao’s gaze.
“Hey,” Mashirao says with a smile, “you made it after all.”
The other boy opens his mouth, then closes it. His gaze darts to the side, as if he doesn’t want to look at Mashirao directly. “Well, not exactly. I’m in general studies.”
Mashirao’s smile slides off. That means the boy failed the exam. “Oh. Um, sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed.”
The boy waves the apology off, still not quite meeting Mashirao’s eyes. “It’s fine. whatever. I’m guessing you’re in the heroics course?”
“Yeah.” Mashirao knows he shouldn’t feel guilty about it, but he does, just a little. He stomps on that feeling and crushes it under his heel. He knows from firsthand experience that having someone feel sorry for you is an insult to injury. “Right, well, I’m still glad to see you again. Sorry for, uh, interrupting.”
He realizes that there’s a few other kids standing a couple feet away, clearly waiting for the boy so they can get in line for lunch, and Mashirao is about to leave them to it when the other boy blurts, “Wait.”
Mashirao stops mid-step. “Huh?”
“Wanna, um…” The boy rubs the back of his neck, his gaze flickering to meet Mashirao’s once then darting away again. “Wanna eat with me? I kinda want to talk to you.”
“Oh.” Mashirao blinks, a little taken aback, but there’s no reason for him to refuse. “Sure.”
The boy turns to his friends to tell them he’s eating with Mashirao today, and it’s only when one of the girls says, “Have a good lunch, Shinsou,” that he doesn’t know this boy’s name.
“My name’s Ojiro Mashirao, by the way.” Maybe it’s a little late for introductions, but late is better than never. Mashirao extends a hand with a small smile. “Nice to meet you.”
The other boy stares at Mashirao’s hand for a second, then takes it for a brisk handshake. “Shinsou Hitoshi.”
-
They end up getting curry and chicken karaage, sitting at one of the tables by the windows, not quite escaping the curious stares from some of Mashirao’s classmates and Shinsou’s friends, but at least he’s reasonably sure none of them will be eavesdropping from that distance.
“When you helped me back during the exam,” Shinsou says over their food, “you said you did it because that’s what heroes do. Was that your only motive?”
It’s a very blunt question, and some people would probably be offended by the implied accusation of ulterior motives, but Mashirao doesn’t really mind. It’s a reasonable question, after all. “Honestly? I don’t even know what my motive was. I was kinda working on auto-pilot.”
Shinsou stares at him. “Your auto-pilot was…helping your competition.”
“I guess?” Mashirao pokes at his karaage with his chopsticks. “I just…I knew I’d regret it if I didn’t.”
“Was it a pity thing?” Shinsou asks, and there’s a slightly defensive note to his voice that Mashirao finds familiar. He used to sound like that, too. “You felt bad for me?”
Mashirao shrugs. “More like…I felt it was unfair?”
This makes Shinsou blink and lean back a little in surprise. “Unfair?”
“I don’t know what your quirk is, but I assume it would’ve won you a lot more points if we were going up against people instead of robots.” Mashirao gestures at Shinsou in general. “You don’t look like you’re trained for fighting, so I’m guessing your quirk is your best weapon.”
Shinsou makes a small, pained noise. “Yeah.”
“So yeah, the exam was kinda unfair to people like you,” Mashirao points out, his tail swaying upright behind him in emphasis. “And I just wanted to make things more even, or something like that.”
Shinsou’s gaze flickers down towards his food, then back up to Mashirao with a newfound determination. “I can brainwash people. That’s my quirk.”
Mashirao raises his eyebrows. “Wow, okay. That definitely is the worst quirk to try use against robots.”
Shinsou exhales a huff of laughter, his shoulders slumping in what might be relief. He looks a lot less stand-offish than he did earlier. “Yeah, it really was.”
“Hmm.” Mashirao chews on his karaage slowly, deep in thought, then swallows as a thought occurs to him. “You’re still aiming to become a hero, though, right?”
Shinsou hesitates, then nods. “Yeah. I won’t be trained in the heroics course for now, but I’ll find a way.”
“You need to work on your combat abilities,” Mashirao says, not bothering to beat around the bush. “Your quirk might be pretty powerful, but you can’t just rely on that. Our teacher can erase quirks just by looking at people. If you went up against someone like that, you’d lose instantly.”
“I know,” Shinsou mutters. “I did try training, but it’s hard when you have no idea what to do.”
“There are dojos and classes,” Mashirao starts.
Shinsou shakes his head sharply. “Nobody wanted to teach me. Or train with me. I was on my own.”
“What?” That’s bizarre. “Why?”
“My quirk,” Shinsou reminds him, his tone bitter. “Nobody felt comfortable enough to train with me because of it.”
Mashirao goes very still. Cautiously, he asks, “You don’t have to answer this if you don’t want to, but…how exactly does your quirk work?”
A corner of Shinsou’s mouth quirks up in a crooked, cynical smile. “I can brainwash anybody who verbally responds to anything I say. I could’ve brainwashed you at any point during our conversation just now.”
Mashirao processes that and lowers his chopsticks. A small amount of fury bubbles up in the pit of his stomach, and he has to take a slow breath to calm himself down. “So it’s not activated by physical touch or even by one-sided force. Nobody gets brainwashed as long as they don’t verbally engage with you.”
Shinsou suddenly looks a little taken aback. “Um, yeah?”
“And people still didn’t want to train with you? That’s so…” Mashirao takes another calming breath. “Whoever those people were, they were cowards.”
“You sound kinda mad,” Shinsou ventures.
“I am mad,” Mashirao confirms. “You didn’t deserve that.”
Shinsou swallows hard, ducking his head a little. “Uh, well. Anyway, you’re right. I should do more physical training.”
For the span of time it takes Mashirao to chew and swallow his food, he debates an idea in his head, then he makes a decision. “I can help you out with that. I’m not exactly going to be as good as a real teacher, but I have a lot of experience in combat training. I could use a training partner, anyway.”
Now Shinsou is looking at Mashirao like he’s grown a second head. Or a second tail. “You want to help with my training? Are you serious?”
“I wouldn’t suggest it if I weren’t serious,” Mashirao tells him.
Shinsou looks a little lost. “Because you feel sorry for me? Is that why you’re doing this?”
“Because it’s not fair.” Mashirao knows his code of honor can be hard to understand from another person’s point of view, but that’s the truth of it. Just as much as he wants to earn victories on his own merits, he doesn’t want to earn them just because the competition was deprived of the opportunity to reach their full potential. “It’s fine if you don’t want my help, but that’s my offer.”
“You really wanna train me even though you’ll get nothing out of it?” Shinsou asks.
Mashirao smiles. “Who said it’s for free?”
-
“Ow, ow, ow.” Shinsou sprawls onto his back on the gym mat and looks up at the ceiling. “I don’t think I can walk home after this.”
They’re in one of the smaller training rooms provided by the school. Mashirao’s been able to reserve the place for early Tuesday mornings and Thursday afternoons after school. UA really has a lot of helpful facilities.
Mashirao laughs. “You’ll be fine. Now it’s your turn. You can run me ragged if you want.”
Shinsou huffs. “I’m gonna make you regret saying that.”
“You can try,” Mashirao says, and then his mind seizes, his body going still as Shinsou takes over.
“Go stand in front of the punching bag,” Shinsou says, and Mashirao’s body moves without his permission. “Now kick it.”
Mashirao lands a blow on the punching bag with a roundhouse kick. It jars him a little, gives him an opening to break out of Shinsou’s brainwashing, but he doesn’t take it. Not yet.
“Do that again without using your tail for balance,” Shinsou commands, and Mashirao’s body moves, and when his foot strikes the punching bag sideways at an awkward angle so that the impact throbs through him, the spell breaks and Mashirao is back to himself, collapsing on the the floor with a plaintive ow.
“You okay?” Shinsou asks from where he’s still lounging on the gym mat.
“Yeah, I think so.” He didn’t sprain anything. He just landed the kick wrong because he couldn’t balance himself correctly. “Again?”
In exchange for Mashirao training Shinsou in one-on-one combat, Shinshou is helping Mashirao try to find new ways to fight using or not using his tail. It’s Mashirao’s way of trying to develop a combat style that doesn’t rely too much on his tail or is too predictable, and brainwashing prevents him from subconsciously using his tail. It’s a pretty good trade, in Mashirao’s opinion.
“You’re so weird,” Shinsou says, grinning.
“I know,” Mashirao answers, and lets Shinsou take over once more.
-
The day after the entire USJ incident, Shinsou arrives at their reserved training room before Mashirao does—which is rare; Mashirao is usually here first—and greets him with concern. “Hey, I heard about yesterday. You okay?”
Mashirao’s been asked that question several times since they managed to make it out of USJ unscathed, and he’s given the same answer every time: yes, he’s fine, or as fine as you can be after a sudden villain invasion and half an hour of facing off mediocre villains by himself. But the moment he meets Shinsou’s cautious gaze, Mashirao’s mouth opens and words tumble out without his permission. “Honestly? I’m exhausted.”
“Yeah, I bet.” Shinsou doesn’t move an inch from where he’s sitting on the gym mat. “Wanna take a break for today?”
Mashirao considers it, but he shakes his head in the end. “We can’t skip your combat training. The sports festival is coming up, so you need to step up your game.”
“I appreciate the consideration,” Shinsou drawls as he stands up from where he’s been sitting on the gym mat. “Okay, wanna tell me what happened while we go through stretches? Or not, if you’re tired of talking about it.”
“No, it’s fine. I don’t mind.” Mashirao rolls his shoulders. “Okay, so it started with this teleportation quirk user…”
He relays the general gist of the villains’ plan and how All Might obliterated it easily as according to what Mashirao’s classmates had reenacted, and then he talks briefly about his own experience. Alone in the conflagration zone, using hit-and-run tactics to evade the villains, trying to find his classmates and failing.
“I hate to say this,” Shinsou says once Mashirao is done speaking, “but I guess it’s a good thing I didn’t make it into your class. I don’t think I would’ve survived that.”
“Don’t underestimate yourself,” Mashirao says, tapping Shinsou’s hip chidingly with the tip of his tail. “If you’d been there, you could’ve just ordered the ringleader to knock himself out or something. You might have changed things for the better.”
Shinsou pauses. “You think so?”
“Yeah, I do.” Mashirao moves into a fighting stance. “So let’s get you in shape, just in case villains decide to attack the whole school next time.”
“Great pep talk,” Shinsou snarks. “Not a terrifying prospect at all.”
For the first time since the villains invaded USJ, Mashirao finds himself smiling.
-
The sports festival is a lot more nerve-wracking than Mashirao bargained for. He didn’t realize how many people would be watching them in person at the arena. There’s a part of Mashirao that wants to hide, the part of him that tells him to blend in and not stick out like a sore thumb. But the entire point of the sports festival is making an impression, and there’s nowhere to hide, so Mashirao grits his teeth and runs through the obstacle race the best as he can.
It’s only when the race is over that Mashirao gains back the breath and mental bandwidth to observe who else has already crossed the finish line and who else is coming in to make it to the next round. Three minutes later, he sees Shinsou jogging through the finish line, and he can’t help but grin and wave.
Shinsou smirks and waves back.
-
When the second round is revealed to be a cavalry battle, Shinsou and Mashirao immediately meet eyes and nod.
“I don’t know if anybody would wanna team up with the general studies kid, though.” Shinsou frowns as he looks around them, scanning the other students who’re busy finding their own teams. “Should I just brainwash somebody into our team?”
“Please don’t,” Mashirao says, exasperated.
In the end, they recruit Aoyama and a kid from Class B named Shouda, and they agree that Shinsou should be the one on top, given his quirk.
It works pretty well. While the other teams with higher points are fighting amongst themselves, Mashirao’s team takes their time circling the place, occasionally stealing a headband or two, but mostly moving and looking for the best final bait.
When the clock starts ticking down, Shinsou quietly directs them towards the team that has the metal quirk guy at the head.
“Hey, metal dude, what was your name again?” Shinsou asks.
“It’s Tetsutetsu,” the other guy says, which is as far as he gets before he freezes in place. Beneath him, his teammates react in confusion as Shinsou easily retrieves the headband and every other headband Tetsutetsu’s team collected.
“Thanks,” Shinsou says, confirming that their team just made it into the top four, and soon the timer counts down to zero.
“Man, that’s a useful quirk,” Shouda comments. “We barely had to fight anybody.”
“Oui, it is good to save energy for the next round,” Aoyama says.
Shinsou rubs the back of his neck. It’s his nervous tic, Mashirao has realized. “Yeah, well. Thanks for teaming up with me.”
The four of them part ways amicably, returning to their own friend groups to eat lunch and watch the recreational activities unfold. It’s nice, and Mashirao momentarily forgets about the pressure of performing in front of literally hundreds of people and national television.
It’s only later when he sees the tournament chart that the nervousness returns tenfold. He hisses through his teeth when he sees Kaminari’s name beside his.
“Midoriya Izuku?” Shinsou reads aloud from beside him. “That kid who was first place in the obstacle race?”
Mashirao winces. “Oh boy.”
“What’s his quirk?” Shinsou asks, looking momentarily confused. “I don’t remember seeing him using it at all today.”
“Super strength.” Mashirao doesn’t see the harm in telling Shinsou this much. Then, after a moment of dithering, he adds, “But he can’t control it very well, so he tries not to use it.”
“So it’s not completely hopeless for me.” Shinsou hums, then smirks. “Gonna tell him not to answer me?”
Mashirao thinks it over. “If he asks me what your quirk is, I’ll tell him.”
“Rats,” Shinsou deadpans.
“It’s your job to get a response out of your opponent.” Mashirao shrugs. “And hey, maybe the two of you can have an old-fashioned fight. You better use the moves I taught you.”
“I will.” Shinsou glances at the chart one more time. Their names aren’t too far apart, but there are formidable opponents separating them. “What’re the chances we’ll get to fight each other?”
“Pretty low,” Mashirao admits. “But you never know.”
Shinsou clicks his tongue. “Right. Don’t lose to lightning guy, okay? I wanna be the one to kick your ass.”
Mashirao laughs. “Good luck to you, too.”
-
He watches Shinsou’s match against Midoriya with bated breath. Predictably, Midoriya had come asking for information on Shinsou’s quirk, and Mashirao had been honest about its mechanics, including the fact that the spell would break with enough of a physical impact. So Midoriya knows better than to answer Shinsou’s provocations.
In return, Shinsou knows that Midoriya won’t use his quirk unless absolutely necessary, so they’re basically two people fighting each other without using their quirks.
“What would a guy like you know?” Shinsou snaps out, and Mashirao feels his own hands clench into fists. “You have a quirk that everybody thinks is heroic. Me, nobody thinks I’d make a good hero, because of my quirk!”
While Mashirao’s been distantly aware that Shinsou’s methods of getting people to respond to him sometimes involve hitting where it hurts most, it’s hard to listen to this. To listen to Shinsou haul out his own wounds just to provoke a reaction out of Midoriya—it’s a devastatingly honest and desperate move.
Mashirao tries not to think about how he used to be told his quirk wasn’t special enough. How he should just try to blend in quietly, be a good boy, don’t stick out like a sore thumb. The teasing words of his middle school classmates. You’re so ordinary, Ojiro. Shouldn’t a hero be someone who stands out more?
Mashirao buries the memories deep. They don’t matter. Mashirao has made it into UA and he’s walking the path he chose for himself. He’s doing the best he can, and that’s good enough for now.
He watches Shinsou put up a good fight, trading blows with Midoriya until Midoriya manages to throw Shinsou over his shoulder, just out of bounds. It was inevitable, Mashirao figures. While Shinsou did have a fair chance as long as Midoriya didn’t use his quirk, in the end, Midoriya’s stamina and core strength had been stronger. Shinsou’s been training with Mashirao for barely a month. This was the logical conclusion.
But Mashirao still wishes it’d ended differently. He wishes he’d met Shinsou earlier. When they were younger. So that Shinsou would’ve had someone to believe in him, so that he wasn’t still carrying such a painful chip in his shoulder, so that he would’ve had a fighting chance today.
As if you could make such a big difference, something hisses inside him. You’re not that special, remember? All you have is a tail.
Mashirao takes a careful breath, then crushes those whisperings under his heel and buries them away. He has a battle to win.
-
Facing off against Kaminari is a challenge, because all Kaminari needs to do is unleash his quirk at full voltage, and Mashirao wouldn’t stand a chance. Mashirao doesn’t have the kind of quirk that can block or withstand Kaminari’s lightning.
The easiest solution, Mashirao figures, is beating Kaminari before he uses his quirk. Which would still be near-impossible given that Kaminari’s quirk doesn’t need time to charge up or anything, but Kaminari is easily distracted and useless when flustered. So he decides to take a page out of Shinsou’s book.
“Kaminari,” Mashirao says in his most disapproving tone as soon as the match begins, “is it true that you tricked the girls into wearing cheerleader uniforms so you could ogle them?”
“Um,” Kaminari says, stuttering to a halt for a second, and that’s enough time for Mashirao to fling his gym uniform jacket at Kaminari, smacking him in the face. With his sight blocked, Kaminari squawks and lets out a pulse of lightning, but he’s off-kilter enough to have forgotten to turn up the voltage. Mashirao rushes through the crackle of electricity and doesn’t let the sting of it slow him down, instead pivoting and wrapping his tail around Kaminari, then throws his classmate out of bounds.
Midnight declares Mashirao the winner of the match, and the crowd murmurs. Mashirao reckons that most people had their money on Kaminari, if only because his quirk would be deemed superior.
Mashirao is fairly certain he’s making an impression on the spectators. He just isn’t sure if it’s a good one or a bad one.
-
He might have won against Kaminari by distracting him, but it’s impossible to distract Iida when he’s moving faster than Mashirao can even speak. As soon as the match starts, Iida rushes him, grabbing him and moving to haul him out of bounds. Mashirao puts up a good struggle by wrapping his tail around Iida’s waist, refusing to let go even when Iida cranks up the speed and pivots, trying to throw him off.
Still, it’s not enough, and Iida finally manages to shove one of Mashirao’s feet just the slightest amount out of bounds, and it’s game over.
As he offers Iida his congratulations and walks out of the arena, Mashirao can’t help the disappointment crawling up his spine. He knows he was lucky just to get this far, but he still wishes he could’ve made it to the top four.
But then again, Mashirao’s never been good at being outstanding.
-
“Good job today,” Shinsou says after the hectic awards ceremony. They’d been sitting with their respective classes for the rest of the festival, so they hadn’t had a chance to talk since their matches. “Too bad we didn’t get to fight each other, though.”
“Maybe next year,” Mashirao says. He pauses. “Hey, Shinsou. About what you said to Midoriya in your match.”
Shinsou’s mouth presses into a thin, flat line and his arms cross over his chest defensively. “Yeah?”
“Is it still true?” Mashirao asks, because it’s the only thing that really matters. It’s useless to offer Shinsou pity or sympathy for bygones, and there’s no point in trying to offer encouragement that will only sound like empty platitudes. So he questions the most immediate, practical matter. “The people around you—your classmates and everybody else at UA, do any of them say you have a villain’s quirk?”
Shinsou blinks. His defensive posture relaxes as he blinks. “Uh, no. Why?”
“Just making sure.” Mashirao’s smile is a little sheepish. “I figured Aizawa sensei might be interested in putting the fear of UA into whoever was dumb enough to think that.”
A half-choked laugh tumbles from Shinsou’s lips. “You were gonna sic your teacher on the people who badmouthed me?”
Mashirao shrugs. “No, I was going to report poor student conduct, is all.”
“Oh my god, lawful evil at its finest.” Shinsou is laughing harder now. “No wonder they say beware the nice ones.”
Pleased at the sound of Shinsou’s laughter, Mashirao grins and says, “You’re gonna become a great hero and prove them all wrong.”
“Long way to go, but I sure will.” Shinsou bumps his shoulder against Mashirao’s. His laughter fades away, leaving only a crooked smile that’s soft around the edges. “Hey. Thanks.”
Warmth spreads the Mashirao at the contact and the sincerity of the words. “You’re welcome.”
-
It’s the Tuesday after the sports festival and Mashirao is in the middle of teaching Shinsou how to execute the perfect shoulder toss when Aizawa walks into their training room.
“Oh,” Mashirao says after he’s thrown Shinsou into the gym mat. “Hello, sensei.”
“Hello,” Shinsou echoes in a dazed voice, still on his back.
Aizawa observes them with his usual keen, neutral gaze, and Mashirao has to resist the urge to fidget. “I was wondering where he’d learned basic combat. It wasn’t bad for a beginner.”
Mashirao blinks. Aizawa must be referring to Shinsou and his match against Midoriya. He grabs Shinsou’s wrist and hauls him upright onto his feet. He has a feeling that Shinsou should be standing for this conversation. “I’ve been teaching him since the beginning of the school year.”
“And you’re quite capable at hand-to-hand,” Aizawa says, which makes Mashirao’s tail wag a little in spite of himself. Straightforward praise from Aizawa is a rare thing. “You both should keep it up.”
“Thank you, sensei,” Mashirao says. Shinsou echoes the sentiment.
“Actually, I have a proposition.” Aizawa crosses his arms. “Shinsou Hitoshi. I’d like to train you, one-on-one.”
Mashirao inhales sharply. From beside him, Shinsou goes wide-eyed and very still.
“Since Ojiro here can cover close quarters, I’d like to teach you mid-to-long range combat. Specifically, how to use my capture weapon,” Aizawa says, tapping said weapon that’s wrapped around his neck. Mashirao can feel his eyebrows shoot up at that. As far as he knows, Aizawa’s capture weapon is unique and nobody else knows how to best use it. To teach that to Shinsou…
“Me?” From beside Mashirao, Shinsou sounds a little like he’s forgotten how to breathe. Mashirao smacks his back lightly with his tail to knock more words out of him. “Um, yes, please teach me.”
Aizawa almost looks amused. “Drop by the teachers’ office today after class so we can sort out a schedule.”
“Yes, I’ll be there, sir,” Shinsou says in a single breath. Aizawa nods at him, then at Mashirao, and then leaves the room, shutting the door quietly behind him. As soon as he’s gone, Shinsou wobbles down to a sitting position, looking utterly gobsmacked. After a long inhale, he asks, “What just happened right now?”
“Aizawa sensei said he wants to teach you.” Mashirao follows Shinsou down to the floor and sits cross-legged facing his friend. “He’s even going to teach you how to use his capture weapon! Do you get what that means?”
Shinsou blinks rapidly. “No?”
It’s not a no, I don’t understand this; it’s a no, I can’t believe this is happening. The terror of accepting that something so good has dropped into your lap because you can’t believe it’s real. Mashirao has gotten better at reading Shinsou these days.
Grinning, Ojiro pokes Shinsou’s knee and says, “This means he sees potential as a hero in you.”
“I can’t,” Shinsou chokes out, and he puts his face in both hands. “I can’t believe this is happening. Eraserhead wants to teach me personally. Holy shit.”
“This is amazing,” Ojiro says. His tail wags in excitement behind him, and for once he doesn’t even care how silly he probably looks. “Shinsou, you’re going to learn how to use his capture weapon. He’s practically making you his protege!”
Shinsou curls up into himself. “Stop it. I wouldn’t go that far. He’s just—he’s being nice.”
“Nice?” Mashirao snorts. “Aizawa sensei isn’t nice. He doesn’t sugarcoat anything and he won’t teach you anything unless he’s sure about you. Shinsou, he’s sure about you. Enough that he’s teaching you how to use his signature weapon that nobody else knows how to use. You’re the chosen one, so you better answer that call.”
He punctuates that past bit with a playful shove from his tail, and Shinsou laughs, even if his voice cracks a little under the weight of emotion he must be feeling. Mashirao feels his own heart swell at the sound.
“Shit, now you gotta train me twice as hard. I don’t wanna make him think I’m not good enough after all.” Shinsou lowers his hands from his face and looks cautiously at Mashirao. “I mean. If you still want to train with me.”
Mashirao blinks. “Of course I do. Why wouldn’t I?”
Shinsou looks at him for a long moment, and right now, he’s unreadable. An utterly blank, neutral face that betrays nothing. It lasts long enough for Mashirao to start feeling nervous, but then it’s gone, replaced with Shinsou huffing a relieved laugh and flopping backwards onto the gym mat. “No, just checking.”
“You should still prioritize lessons with Aizawa sensei, though. If you need to train more with him than with me, do that.” Mashirao ignores the odd twinge in his chest at the thought. “Okay?”
Shinsou opens his mouth, then closes it, swallowing down whatever he was about to say. Then he opens his mouth once more. “Yeah, okay.”
-
So Mashirao only gets to train with Shinsou once a week—and then not at all, because final exams are fast approaching, and both him and Shinsou need to take time off from training to study. Still, Shinsou informs him that he’s training under Aizawa when he can make the time, which is…good.
The thing is, it is good news. Shinsou is getting the training he sorely needs to catch up with other hero students, and Mashirao can focus on studying for his final exams so that he can actually make it to the summer camp. It’s a great arrangement.
Except.
Mashirao barely gets to spend private time with Shinsou anymore. The most interacting they do in person is saying hi in the hallways or sharing short conversations in the line for lunch. They don’t eat together, because they have their own friends to sit with, and Mashirao doesn’t want to demand Shinsou’s attention, no matter how badly he wants to in the most fleeting, random moments. That are increasing in frequency. Rapidly.
It’s just—Mashirao misses Shinsou. Which is so stupid because they literally go to the same school and say hi to each other on a daily basis, but. It’s not the same as getting to have Shinsou all to himself, to see him at his most honest without the prying eyes of everybody else, and Mashirao misses that.
He misses having Shinsou all to himself. Because—
“Oh god,” Mashirao hisses to himself, feeling his face go hot at the revelation.
Okay, so maybe it’s a good thing Mashirao can’t talk to Shinsou this week, because he doesn’t think he’s capable of looking Shinsou in the eye for a while.