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"You're sure you can handle it?" Aizawa said. He was still sitting on the couch, pressed down into the back cushions like he didn't really believe Yamada was about to drive him to physical therapy, like he wasn't sure Hitoshi could handle being left alone.
"Of course," Hitoshi said, trying not to slouch. He wanted the words to be stronger, but he wasn't sure how to say everything. The other heroes were busy, and Aizawa had no adult friends who were not heroes. Hitoshi couldn't drive. Aizawa couldn't drive. This was really the most rational setup. He could do it, he had to do it—he had to at least do just this one thing. How could he claim the competency to join the hero course if he didn't? And after everything, he couldn't cause Aizawa more trouble. He wanted to be a help. He had to be a help.
"If you change your mind," Aizawa said, reaching over the arm of the couch for his cane, "You can always call us. We'll come back."
"Just leave already," Hitoshi said. It didn't have quite the effect he was aiming for.
When the latch of the door clicked shut, something unknotted in Hitoshi's spine. A part of him hadn't believed they would really go, hadn't believed they would trust him enough.
Beside him, Eri stood staring at the door, clutching a stuffed cat in her hands. She was as silent as ever. It was sort of unnerving.
"Um," Hitoshi said, sticking his hands in his pockets to look casual, "Want to watch TV?"
Hitoshi slumped in the corner of the couch where Aizawa always sat, trying to discern the plot of a cartoon about a family of foxes. He wasn't sure if it was set in a fictional world populated by anthropomorphic animals, or if this was a family with a mutation quirk. It was hard to pay attention. His thoughts kept distracting him.
Eri had plopped down in front of the television an hour ago, but now she stirred, climbing careful to her feet and approaching, slow and methodical. Hitoshi felt himself transfixed as she stopped directly in front of him, blocking his view and twisting her hands.
"Hey," Hitoshi said, "What's up?"
"I—can we—is it lunchtime?" Eri said.
"Sure," Hitoshi said, dragging himself out of the cushions, "What are you hungry for? Do you like sandwiches?"
"Candy apples," Eri said.
Hitoshi paused halfway around the coffee table. "Candy apples? Do we have those? And isn't that more of a dessert?"
"We don't have them," Eri said, completely confident, "But we can make them."
"No we can't," Hitoshi said, and immediately regretted it. "I mean—I don't know how to make them."
"Oh," Eri said, somber and serious, "But I thought you were also a hero."
"I am," Hitoshi said, unsure what he was missing. Behind them, a fox child prattled on. "Heroes don't all know how to make candy apples."
"Heroes protect my smile," Eri said, like she was explaining how to count to ten, "And candy apples make me smile."
"Isn't there anything else?" Hitoshi said. "I really don't know how to bake like that."
Eri shrugged, pushing her hair behind her ear. "It's okay. Not everybody is as good of a hero as Deku."
Hitoshi stood over the sink, running cold water into the pan and begging under his breath for the smoke alarm to stay quiet. Apparently, spite was not a good baking teacher.
"Is it finished?" Eri called from the living room. He had made her a sandwich and banished her after he realized his incompetence was going to be obvious. He had still thought he could salvage something then.
"Just hang on a second," Hitoshi said, pulling his phone out of his pocked. For a moment he hesitated, deciding who he would rather embarrass himself in front of.
Midoriya picked up almost immediately. "Hi Shinsou!" he said, obnoxiously cheerful. "I didn't think—I'm really happy that you called me! What's going on?"
"Can you make candy apples?"
"Um, only if Sato is directing me," Midoriya said, "It's really difficult actually—hard candy is sort of a delicate process."
"But can you explain it to me?"
"Is this about Eri?" Midoriya said.
"Yeah," Hitoshi said, crouching to look for something under the sink he could scrape the pan with. "I told her I'd make some."
"Okay," Midoriya said, "Give me ten minutes."
"And everything's been going fine?" Aizawa asked. Against his ear, Hitoshi could hear the rush of the highway around him, the blast of the music Yamada was running through the car speakers.
"Yes," Hitoshi said, and it was true. They were all safe. "We're watching a lot of television. We had lunch."
Something tapped against the window above the sink. Hitoshi looked up. Midoriya was standing outside, waving his arm wildly.
"I'll see you soon," Hitoshi said, and hung up before he could think better of it. Then he opened the window.
Midoriya handed him a shopping bag through the gap. He was still breathing heavily.
"What is that?" Hitoshi asked, but he knew. The bag was pale, and the red candy shone through.
"Just take them out of the packaging," Midoriya said, "She'll never know. I won't tell."
"Society colapsed last semester," Hitoshi said, like he was explaining how to count to ten. "Are the hero students allowed off campus? Alone?"
"Um," Midoriya said, "Please don't tell."
Hitoshi stared at him. Then he shrugged. "Okay. Deal."