Chapter Text
The house was always quiet in the afternoon. His mother was typically in her office, working remotely, but his father was at work in person and his sisters were still at school, so the time between 3:30 and 5:00 belonged almost solely to Shota. Usually, he used it to patch himself up or get started on homework.
Today, Shota was busy with a long jagged cut down the inside of his forearm. It wasn't deep – certainly not deep enough to take to a doctor and risk malicious malpractice or artificially inflated bills – but it was long, and the skin was more torn than cut, leading to possible infections.
Shota worked through the motions methodically, applying liberal amounts of antibiotic. It wasn't the first time he had been attacked by Kemono Tsume, a boy in his class with a quirk that gave him long claws, and Shota knew that the cuts and tears tended towards infection. Shota wrapped a bandage efficiently around his forearm and taped it in place before moving to put away the first aid kit.
It was a sizable first aid kit, especially for a house of three responsible teenagers without dangerous quirks. But when going to a doctor was an absolute last resort, you had to be prepared to treat just about anything you came home with.
Shota had barely started clearing away his trash when the front door slammed open.
Kiken and Ikari's voices spilled through, taut with anger, and a moment later Mother's office door creaked open and her worried voice joined the turmoil.
"Suspended for getting into fights-!"
"-didn't even do anything!"
"-can't believe that self-righteous walrus would-!"
"-you're bleeding, Ikari-"
"I'm fine, should have just dodged better."
Kiken appeared in the archway into the kitchen, half-turned to talk to Ikari.
"If you had listened to me when I told you- oh!" She finally turned to look into the kitchen and caught sight of Shota, hovering awkwardly in the middle of the room with the first aid kit still spread out on the kitchen table.
"I guess I'll leave the first aid kit out…" Shota said, taking a single step away.
"Kiken? What's up?" Ikari asked, poking her head through the archway to peer at Kiken. Her gaze immediately snapped to Shota, and then to the white bandage wrapped around his forearm. "Shota, are you okay?"
Shota shrugged, "I'm fine. It was just Kemono again."
"Again?" Mother strode into the kitchen past Ikari, one eyebrow raised, "This is the first I've heard of it."
Shota looked away, letting his hair fall in front of his face, "It's not important. I bandaged it myself."
"Let me see," Mother held out a hand and Shota matched her, offering his arm. She took it carefully, inspecting the bandage.
"This is… really good," Mother said, "Shota, how long have you been patching yourself up like this?"
Shota shrugged again, still looking at the ground. "I don't know. A while."
"Why?" Mother asked, "You know either me or your sisters would be willing to help you."
"It's only logical," Shota said simply, "If I can do it myself, why bother one of you to do it for me?"
"It's never a bother," Kiken told him firmly, "We want to help you. Shota, why didn't you tell us?"
Shota didn't say anything, staring down at his house slippers. At least they didn't need to buy specialty house slippers.
"You're going to take first aid lessons," Mother declared, letting go of Shota's arm, "If you're going to insist on doing it yourself, you'll learn to do it well."
"But you said-" Shota started, eyebrows wrinkling with confusion.
"You did well for an amateur," Mother admitted, "But you need real training. Your sisters did it, you'll do it too."
Shota nodded, glancing at Kiken. She nodded encouragingly back at him, the corners of her lips tilting just slightly.
"Also, we're going to teach you to fight back," Ikari added.
Shota's head shot up, eyes wide. Ikari had a feral sort of grin on her face, almost baring her teeth.
"If you're going to get accused of picking fights, you might as well win," Ikari defended when Mother shot her a look. After a moment, Mother sighed.
"I can't argue with that. It is perfectly logical. You two, patch yourselves up first. And don't hurt each other."
Ikari and Kiken chorused matching 'hai's and Mother led Shota out of the kitchen to her office.
"Alright, Shota. Let's sign you up for first aid classes."
By the time they had found one that would accept a quirkless child, Ikari and Kiken were waiting in the doorway for Shota. All three of them pulled on bright red Primordial brand shoes and stepped into their backyards.
Ikari and Kiken started Shota out with the basics. How to twist out of any hold, how to incapacitate most people without leaving a permanent mark, the best way to deal with a group of attackers. As it got later, it got more advanced. They practiced free-running and did sprints, showed Shota how to run up a wall and walk quieter than he had ever managed. By the time night fell, Ikari and Kiken had to practically drag Shota back inside.
Something had stirred inside him at the promise of fighting back. Something angry and vicious, like a war cry in his blood. He wouldn't be hurt anymore.