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Chapter Text

They're not friends.

It's an easy conclusion to come to. Hitoshi has barely spoken two words to the other boy and said other boy has never spoken a single word back. He'd be a little offended by that if he wasn't already so used to it. 

Still, it's hard not to notice him. Hitoshi will see him sometimes in the hallways or during lunch, sitting silently beside the other hero kids but never really saying anything. He wonders if maybe it's less of a Hitoshi thing, then, and maybe more of a Todoroki thing. 

...orrrr maybe not.

"Are you just going to stand there?"

Todoroki blinks at him. He's blocking the doorway to the bathroom, and Hitoshi watches as he glances around briefly and a small wrinkle forms between his brows. He doesn't say anything, though, and Hitoshi is beginning to feel a little miffed (even though he shouldn't).

"Seriously. Can you at least go stand creepily somewhere that isn't the doorway?"

Todoroki finally looks at him again, that same tiny wrinkle still present, and then he just- walks past. Shoves right past Hitoshi without a word and continues down the hall. The other boy barely gets out of the way in time to avoid a shoulder collision.

"Rude," he huffs quietly. It seems that most of his interactions with Endeavor's son end that way, though.

Over the next few weeks, Hitoshi runs into Todoroki a surprising amount of times considering the only period they have that overlaps is lunch. He always offers up something to say, even if it's just a polite greeting, and Todoroki continues to be silent. Half the time it's like he barely even notices Hitoshi. 

It grates on him. Hitoshi should be used to such things by now--and god knows he's gotten much worse reactions from people than just being ignored before--but he had kind of hoped that Todoroki would be...well, he'd hoped to get to know the boy, that's all.

Ah, who was he kidding. Of course Todoroki, son of the number two one hero, rich as crap in a way Hitoshi could never dream of (the guy who had everything Hitoshi wanted), wouldn't want to interact with someone like Hitoshi. He shouldn't be surprised. 

(but he can't help feeling a little hurt)

***

Funnily enough, Hitoshi's first proper one-on-one interaction with Todoroki occurs on a Sunday when they're not even at school. That's the only thing amusing about the situation, though. 

"Todoroki? Are you okay?"

It's really clear that the other boy is very much not okay, but Hitoshi isn't sure what else to say. What's the appropriate social convention for when you find an acquaintance/schoolmate (not friend) having what you're pretty sure is a panic attack outside of a convenience store??

Todoroki, predictably, doesn't answer. 

Hitoshi won't hold it against him this time. The poor kid barely looks like he's aware enough to realize Hitoshi is even there. His eyes are cloudy and glossy with tears, his chest heaving as he gasps for breath. He's oddly silent about the whole thing, which is probably the only reason he hasn't drawn more attention. 

"Hey, Todoroki, you need to breathe."

It's a little awkward. Hitoshi isn't close with Todoroki, not in the slightest, but the hero student looks terrible and it's not like Hitoshi can just leave him there. There's a level of fear in the other boy's eyes that seems achingly familiar. He's seen it in so many of his foster siblings over the years, and he's seen it in the mirror more times than he can count. 

They might not be friends, but Hitoshi wants to be a hero someday. What hero leaves a scared kid alone on a sidewalk to break down in front of anyone who might see? Slowly, he steps closer, glancing around quickly to see if there’s anything nearby that may have triggered him. Todoroki is surprisingly quiet in his distress, but his chest is shaking with the effort he's making to try and draw a full breath, and Hitoshi can see the panic escalating the longer he goes without one.

"Whatever you're thinking," Hitoshi says softly. "I can assure you that nothing bad is happening. You're safe; we're both safe."

He really wants to get away from the front of the store like this. Hitoshi reaches out cautiously, telegraphing his movements really loudly, and grabs Todoroki's arm in a gentle grip. The boy still jerks on contact, and his skin is freezing, but he lets Hitoshi lead him down an alley a few yards away so they're at least not in plain sight anymore.

"Breathe, Todoroki. Do you know where you are?"

Finally- a response. Todoroki nods, his whole body shaking under Hitoshi's grasp. He curls into himself a little, his breathing so harsh it sounds downright painful. Tears are dripping off his chin, but he's still nearly silent. 

"Do you know who I am?"

Again, another shaky nod. Hitoshi feels a sliver of relief at that. He runs his thumbs in circles on Todoroki's arms, one noticeably colder than the other, and hopes that it's as soothing to the younger boy as it is when someone does it to Hitoshi.

"Okay. You're okay, just breathe. In your nose and out your mouth."

He always thought it was stupid when people said that. Hitoshi knows what it feels like to be so panicked you physically feel like you can't breathe. Being told to do something you're already trying desperately to do isn't helpful. But- there's really nothing else he can say. And at least if he keeps reminding Todoroki, keeps taking in huge gulps of air himself, he can maybe convince the other boy to follow along.

"Better. Keep going. I promise you're alright. You're safe, you're not dying, no one is in trouble or danger."

It's odd to be on the other end of this. Hitoshi has never actually tried to help someone else through this before, and he's mostly just repeating the things that Aizawa says to him when Hitoshi has panic attacks. A part of him thinks that maybe it's just Aizawa himself that's so calming, though, because Hitoshi can feel his own heart beating faster the longer Todoroki goes without improving.

Hitoshi keeps breathing, big exaggerated breaths where he pushes his belly out and holds it for several seconds. Todoroki seems to make progress after several minutes, but then he seems to fall back after just a few moments a tiny sob making it past his lips. It makes something in Hitoshi's chest ache in response.

Fuck, he thinks. He's not helping. Todoroki looks fucking terrified. 

"Todoroki? I- I might be able to help. It's your choice. But I might be able to make you feel better or at least breathe easier. You're going to pass out if you don't calm down. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

It's a long shot. Hitoshi has no idea if he can override such panic in someone, nor does he know if Todoroki is present enough to realize what Hitoshi is offering. But the boy nods frantically, bi-colored hair tangled and messy, and Hitoshi knows he must be feeling exceptionally awful if he's willing to give up control just like that.

"Alright. Can you answer me? You don't have to say much. Like- what's your name?"

Something easy. Something anyone would know even if they're deep in their panic. Todoroki's mouth opens to reply but-

Nothing comes out. He chokes almost, a sob ripping through him, and his pulse is racing under Hitoshi's fingertips. He seems to try again, but again, nothing happens. Todoroki jerks, flinching back into the wall behind him as he gasps for air and shudders. Fresh tears flow down his cheeks and he meets Hitoshi's wide gaze with tearful, desperate eyes.

"Hey, hey, it's okay. I know it's hard. You're okay. Keep breathing."

It would almost be funny, if it weren't so devastating, that the one time Todoroki wants to answer Hitoshi, he simply…can't. 

"Breathe. In and out. You're okay."

It's fine. They can do it the old-fashioned way. Hitoshi goes back to rubbing circles on the thin skin of Todoroki's inner wrist, where he can feel his heartbeat pounding way too fast. He breathes deeply, making a show of it, and continues to repeat the same mantra of it being safe, they're okay, nothing is wrong.

Eventually, after what feels like hours but is likely only ten or fifteen minutes, Todoroki seems to get it. His breaths get deeper and stay that way. The tears slow and then stop, the shaking fading into a slight tremble that Hitoshi wouldn't notice if he weren't standing so close. 

Eventually, Todoroki blinks mismatched eyes at him and Hitoshi has to fight the blush that wants to creep onto his face when he realizes they're only a few inches apart. He takes a hurried step back, letting go of Todoroki's arms, and watches as the other boy gathers himself. He seems to be fighting his own blush.

"I know you probably feel like crap right now, and I know you probably hate that I had to see it. But it's nothing to be embarrassed about. I won't judge or anything."

Todoroki's eyes shift over his face like he's looking for a sign that Hitoshi is lying. The younger student looks exhausted, tired in a unique post-panic-attack way that Hitoshi wishes he didn't know so well. He's stopped shaking, but he doesn't seem very steady on his feet.

"Do- Can I help you back to the dorms?"

If anything, Todoroki seems to sag further into the wall when he hears that. Hitoshi understands. They're not exactly close to the school right now. Hitoshi spends Saturday and Sunday nights at home, so he's much closer to his actual apartment than the dorms. He doesn't know why Todoroki is here.

It's that thought, remembering he's close to his apartment, that has him speaking before he can stop himself. "Or- my place is much closer. If you just need somewhere to nap for a minute."

Todoroki seems surprised, and Hitoshi finds he is as well. What's he doing? It's one thing to not be such an ass as to leave a fellow schoolmate fighting a panic attack on a public sidewalk. It's another to invite him to your house--that you share with your secret adoptive parents who are also said schoolmate's teachers --when this interaction is by far the longest you've ever had together.

He's about to take it back, sure that Todoroki must think he's insane, when the other boy gives a tentative nod. His head is ducked a little so Hitoshi can't see his eyes, but he looks seconds away from just collapsing into a tiny ball on the dirty alley floor, so Hitoshi thinks he's probably serious.

"Yeah, okay. Come on, I- it's not far."

It should probably be weird. Hitoshi rarely says this much to people who actually are kind of his friends, and Todoroki is nowhere near that status. There's also the fact that Hitoshi doesn't know if his parents are home and he's pretty sure that isn't a reveal he wants to drop on Todoroki right now. He's got one hand on the boy's elbow just to make sure he doesn't trip and faceplant onto the sidewalk. 

They make it to the apartment without any faceplants, thankfully, and Hitoshi decides, well-

"I promise we're not breaking and entering. I just don't think now is a good time to meet the parents, ya know?"

Todoroki doesn't seem to care. He shoots Hitoshi a curious look at first but dutifully climbs the steps of the fire escape to enter Hitoshi's room through the window. Thankfully, he left it unlocked from last night when he fed the stray cat that lives near the building.

It's only when they're standing in his room, Hitoshi moving to flick the light on and glancing around to make sure nothing too embarrassing is lying around, that he realizes he has no idea what he's doing. Todoroki is just standing there, looking awkward and unsure and utterly exhausted.

Well, that's one thing he can fix.

"You can take a nap if you want. Like I said, I won't judge. If you're tired, you're tired."

Todoroki eyes the bed. He seems caught between desperately wanting to sleep and also feeling uncomfortable about sleeping in Hitoshi's bed. Which- understandable. Hitoshi feels pretty awkward himself. What exactly is he meant to do while Todoroki is asleep (in his bed)?

"Sorry. Um. I know it feels weird, but I really don't mind. You looked like you needed a nap, and I...meant it when I offered."

There's definitely heat in Hitoshi's cheeks now, but he hopes Todoroki can tell that he's being sincere. The younger boy is swaying, his eyes half-lidded. He makes his way to the bed, shooting another quick glance at Hitoshi as though to double-check, and runs a hand over the comforter. 

Hitoshi busies himself with something in the closet so he doesn't seem like he's watching as Todoroki carefully settles down. By the time he exits, Todoroki has laid himself out, over the top of the covers but under the light blanket that Hitoshi keeps at the foot of the bed. Good enough. 

He's curled into the tiniest little ball. Hitoshi's pretty sure he and Todoroki are nearly the same height, neither of them that bulky, but Todoroki looks positively tiny curled up like that. His eyes are closed, even though he can't possibly be asleep yet, and there's still a slight tremor in his hands where they're clasped against his chest.

Hitoshi ends up in a beanbag in the corner, a book in his hands, with only the corner lamp on so it's dark enough for Todoroki to slip into sleep. He's not really reading, the words nothing but blurry alphabet soup to his eyes as his mind turns over the events of the past hour. 

Did that really happen? It must have- there's a boy with half-white, half-red hair asleep in Hitoshi's bed and an extra pair of shoes under the windowsill. It all feels a little surreal though. Like it shouldn't be possible.

By the time Todoroki leaves, a three-hour nap and a deep bow later, Hitoshi has come to terms with it a little bit better. The other boy takes the same way out they took to get in: down the fire escape with barely a whisper of clanging metal. 

In all that time, he still never said a word.

***

Somehow, it becomes a pattern. 

Not the panic attacks in alleyways (thank god), but the presence of Todoroki in his room. The extra pair of shoes under his windowsill. The sound of soft footsteps on metal. It becomes something like a pattern.

It starts exactly a week later, on a Sunday when Hitoshi is sitting at his desk. There's a whisper of sound from outside the window that he at first thinks is the cat before a light knock sounds and he's suddenly twisting around to stare incredulously at mismatched eyes.

"What the hell are you doing here?" he blurts out.

Todoroki looks a little embarrassed and a lot more present than their last interaction. Hitoshi yanks the window open, but the other boy remains crouched on the fire escape.

"I- I wanted to apologize. And say thank you. For last week." It’s almost a shock to hear his voice, deep and smooth.

Hitoshi frowns. "You don't need to apologize. You can't help having a panic attack, and I offered to let you nap here."

"I know, and I really appreciate it. I was being rude. So, um, that's what I wanted to apologize for."

Hitoshi tries to wrack his brain for what could've counted as "rude" about their strange interaction. "I didn't think you were rude. And I don't think I would've held anything against you under the circumstances."

Because, once again, the panic attack part kind of made it impossible to feel anything except really fucking bad for the guy.

Todoroki shifts awkwardly, his gaze somewhere near the windowsill instead of looking at Hitoshi. "I couldn't answer you," he mumbles. "Even when you asked."

Seriously? That's what he's so upset about? Odd coming from someone who has routinely ignored Hitoshi's attempts to talk before.

"It's fine."

"No, it's-" Todoroki's brow scrunches up, like he's trying really hard to get something across, but Hitoshi has no idea what it is. "I wanted to, I just couldn't. And, and I didn't, I didn't want you to think I was doing it on purpose."

The boy's voice trails off gradually until the last words are barely more than a whisper. His cheeks are a little pink, his head ducked as one hand fiddles with the edge of his t-shirt. It’s still weird to see him out of the school uniform.

"Oh."

It's not a very eloquent response, but what else is Hitoshi meant to say? Did Todoroki really come all the way over here because he didn't want Hitoshi to think he was ignoring him in the middle of freaking out? He takes a second to parse through the words once more.

I just couldn't.

Huh. "Look it's fine, I promise. Don't worry about it. I- I get it."

That finally gets Todoroki to lift his head. "Really?"

Hitoshi hopes he's not misinterpreting this. But he thinks of all the times he's run into Todoroki before, the way the boy couldn't quite meet his eyes, the glassy look in his own, the way he'd never really heard him say anything, even to his own classmates. 

"Really," he responds firmly.

He gets it. Hitoshi still remembers being the elementary school kid who went almost six months without saying a word because he was terrified of what people thought of his quirk. If he just said nothing at all, maybe they'd like him again. Maybe they'd be friends with him.

It hadn't worked, of course. He'd been slapped with a new foster home and a bigger target on his back (and in some cases just plain slapped) and eventually, he'd gotten over it. But that didn't mean he was immune to those days when everything seemed a bit too loud, too bright, too much, so it was just easier to retreat into himself so far that words didn't come so easily.

He doesn't know Todoroki very well, but from what he does know, he wouldn't be surprised if sometimes that other boy feels the same way. The hero students have been through a lot this year, after all.

"Do you, uh, wanna come in? Might as well hang out for a bit since you came all the way here."

"Oh. Sure, thanks. I was in the area already, don't worry."

He wasn't, but now he was a bit curious. He doesn't press, though, simply watching as Todoroki clambers into his room for the second time in as many weeks and kicks his shoes off under the windowsill. He's never had someone over before, and now Todoroki's been here twice.

"Are your parents home?" Todoroki asks. He shoots a nervous glance at Hitoshi's closed bedroom door. 

"Not at the moment. Don't worry, they wouldn't care about you being here."

They would have questions, though, so it's probably best they not find out regardless. Hitoshi watches curiously as a bit of relief seems to seep through Todoroki, the other boy relaxing a little more at the confirmation that they’re alone. 

Weird. Or- maybe not. It is a bit awkward, after all. Hitoshi wouldn't really know how to explain it. Hey, dad, one of your homeroom students just snuck up the fire escape and knocked on my bedroom window even though the only time we've spoken was when I talked him down from a panic attack and let him nap in my room. Oh yeah, and I didn't tell you about it. 

That would go over swimmingly, he's sure.

In the end, though, it's not nearly as awkward as he might've imagined. Todoroki only ends up staying for an hour. They switch places, Todoroki on the beanbag and Hitoshi on the bed. It's mostly silent, Hitoshi going back to his laptop and Todoroki pulling out his phone, but it's a companionable type of silence that Hitoshi finds himself enjoying. He can see Todoroki relaxing more and more, sinking deeper into the beanbag as the hour ticks on. 

When the boy finally leaves, out the window again, he seems to be in a much better mood than he was before. It was a bit weird, and Hitoshi was a bit unsure what two high school boys were really meant to do when they 'hung out,' but it was nice in its own way. He finds himself hoping they do it again sometime.

And...they do. Somehow, it becomes a pattern. They're still not friends. But they're not not friends now either.

***

Admittedly, Hitoshi doesn't actually know that much about Todoroki.

He knows that he's Endeavor's son, though. Endeavor's house is public knowledge, located a bit outside of the city proper and a decent trip from Hitoshi's apartment. And he knows that Todoroki is a hero student at UA. Which is also a decent distance away.

So he has no idea why Todoroki keeps popping up outside his window every weekend saying he was "in the area."

Hitoshi doesn't ask, though. He doesn't want to break whatever weird thing they've got going on. 

Let it be known that Hitoshi is well aware he's not a shining example of social prowess. He grew up being bounced from shitty foster home to shittier foster home until he hit high school, and he's rarely had any luxuries, games, or toys for himself. He'd been shunned by all his classmates since elementary school and had a quirk that most people hated on principle. 

Still- whatever tiny dregs of social skill and teen culture he has sure outweigh Todoroki's. By, like, a mile. It's something he's pretty sure everyone knows and has teased the boy about before. Class 1-A is well known for having "movie nights" on Fridays (the general education kids would never) but Todoroki still acts like he's never heard of Disney before in his life.

The whole 'sheltered, homeschooled rich kid' cliche is almost too much for Hitoshi. Todoroki has never played video games. He's only seen whatever movies the weirdos in class 1-A have picked for movie night. He doesn't know any pop stars or celebrities or famous books. He's never played cards or watched TV or fucking anything it seems.

"What the hell did you do growing up?" Hitoshi can't help but blurt out.

Todoroki just sighs, fingers picking at the edge of the card game that Hitoshi has been teaching him. "Trained, mostly."

"Like- with your quirk?" 

"Yeah."

Hitoshi can’t stop the frown that pulls on his lips. Parents are allowed, encouraged even, to teach their kids how to control their quirks when they come in. Especially the more dangerous and volatile ones like Todoroki's. However, the way he says it sounds more like the training that UA offers than just a parent coaching their kid on how not to set their bedroom on fire.

Perks of having a pro as a parent, he supposes. Is that not what Aizawa was doing with him? 

I'm sixteen, though, a voice whispers in the back of his head. Hitoshi’s eyes find the red scar that takes up much of Todoroki's face. He's always wondered (they all had) if it had simply been a childhood quirk accident. Now, though...

Did he get that in "training"? What exactly was he training for that young? Why wasn’t he allowed to play games or do normal kid shit?

Todoroki is beginning to curl into himself again, in that hermit crab way of his that makes him look even more like the stray cat Hitoshi feeds. Hitoshi doesn't like looking at him like that, seeing him so small. It clashes with everything he knows about the other boy, who usually stands with a spine straight enough to pass military inspection if it weren't for the carefully curated slump to his shoulders.

Everything about Todoroki at school seems carefully curated. Like he only shows the world exactly what he wants them to see. Several window-entrance visits later, Hitoshi thinks he's gotten better at realizing the difference between that performative version of Todoroki and the version of him that is real. 

It is the version that likes to curl up in beanbags and watch cat videos and thinks How to Train Your Dragon is the best movie in the world. It is the version that gives Hitoshi tiny smiles when he shares his secret chocolate stash and whose eyes light up when Hitoshi mentions the stray cat that lives nearby.

The real Todoroki has perfect manners and is both innately confident and deeply insecure. Hitoshi has learned not to push, and he isn’t about to start.

"Whatever. Don't think I'll go easy on you for being your first time," he finally says. It brings the mood back up enough for them to keep playing, and Hitoshi pretends like he's let the whole thing pass from his mind. Later, when Todoroki has slipped back out the window, not to be seen for another week, Hitoshi lets himself ruminate for a bit.

He's still thinking about it come dinner time. "Something on your mind, kid?" his dad asks. Both of them are home tonight, a fairly rare experience since one of them was often required to stay on campus with the rest of the students.

"Hm. Sort of." Hitoshi pauses, trying to figure out a way to word it as he scoops another bite of dinner into his mouth. "Hey, um, is what we do wrong? You training me, I mean. Since I'm not a hero student. Isn't quirk use like that sorta against the law?"

Aizawa blinks at him, a touch of a frown pulling at the edge of his lips. Even Hizashi has stopped eating to look at him curiously.

"No, it isn't," Aizawa answers. "It's on school grounds, and I'm an employee of UA. Whether you're in the hero course or not, it's all very above the books. Principal Nedzu knows I'm helping you."

"Oh." Hitoshi hadn't known that. "What if I were younger? Like- not in UA? Would it still have been okay then? Like if, um, we'd met earlier or something."

Aizawa is definitely giving him a strange look now. "Well, it depends. You mean if we'd adopted you when you were younger?"

"Yeah, exactly." Perfect, good cover-up.

"I would've waited until you were in high school anyway unless you were having major control issues. Generally, coaching minors in the way I've been coaching you isn't allowed until they're at least fifteen. That's why UA doesn't admit any students who have graduated middle school early."

"Even though you're a pro hero?"

"I wouldn't be acting in the position of pro hero, though, or even as your sensei. It happens in some capacity, sure; that's to be expected. But actual hero training is prohibited under child safety laws. You're just too young."

Aizawa exchanges a glance with Hizashi when Hitoshi doesn't respond right away. "Is there a reason you're asking?" his dad prods.

"Hm? Oh, uh, no, not really. I was honestly just curious. I feel it would be natural for pro heroes to teach their kids, kinda give 'em a head start, ya know?"

Now it's Hizashi who shakes his head and answers. "Most pro heroes know exactly how much this job takes out of you. Kids should have the chance to be kids! Enjoy your youth while you've got it, little listener, trust me." He shoots Hitoshi a grin and a wink.

"Yeah, that makes sense." And it does, now that he's heard it. But he can't help thinking of the way Todoroki mentioned training earlier. How it seemed like it was all he really did growing up, so much so that he never even learned to play the simplest of card games. Surely that was too much? 

But Endeavor was the number 1 hero. He wouldn't break the law...right?

Hitoshi eats the rest of his meal in silence and pretends he doesn't notice the careful way Aizawa is watching him. His dad had a knack for always seeming to know what was going on, even when Hitoshi's own brain couldn't really figure it out. This was something he knew he didn't want the teacher involved in, though.

Todoroki was his own secret to keep.

***

Todoroki had made it clear he didn’t want to discuss the circumstances that surrounded the first time he’d napped on Hitoshi’s bed. And he clearly didn’t want to discuss them for the second time either.

It was late, much later than he usually stopped by. Late enough that Hitoshi had honestly thought he wasn’t coming, and he’d been toying with the edge of his phone case in worry. It’s not like he needed Todoroki to come over every week. It just…felt like something was off for him to not be here.

Hitoshi had gotten so used to the other’s presence. He hadn’t even realized how much he looked forward to it.

Both of his parents are out of the house again. Hizashi will be back for dinner, he’s just wrapping things up at his agency. Sometimes, Hitoshi forgets that his dads are actual pro heroes who still have a responsibility outside of teaching. Hizashi technically has three jobs, really, since he hosts his own radio show as well.

A knock on the window jerks Hitoshi out of his thoughts, and he whips his head around to meet Todoroki’s gaze. The other boy looks…the same as usual. He ducks into the bedroom and toes his shoes off like usual. He’s wearing a light jacket and he nods a greeting to Hitoshi calmly, like usual.

Something still feels off though.

“You okay?” Hitoshi asks hesitantly. Comforting people isn’t exactly his forte, after all, but there’s an exhausted slump to Todoroki’s shoulders and a stiffness in the way he moves that seems wrong somehow. Even for a hero student.

Todoroki swallows, then nods. He sits slowly on the edge of Hitoshi’s bed, gaze wandering the room but not really taking anything in. He seems…distant. His eyes glassed over like he’s not all the way here.

“Todoroki? Do you want a snack or something?”

A shake of the head. Todoroki isn’t the most talkative person, but there’s an edge to this silence that’s making Hitoshi’s skin crawl.

“Um. Do you just want to take a nap or something? You seem tired.”

An understatement, really. Todoroki is pale, his scar standing out harshly, and there are bags under his eyes that could rival Hitoshi’s own. He’s not fidgeting, just blinking slowly and breathing slowly and sitting so still it creeps Hitoshi out.

It takes him a minute too long to process Hitoshi’s question before he nods again. It’s weird. 

“Okay, uh, that’s cool. I’ll just read or something. You can nap.”

Todoroki curls up on his bed in a way that seems way too reminiscent of the first time. But this Todoroki isn’t shaky and panicked, there are no tears or trembling hands. He’s just…blank. Silent and robotic and exhausted. Hitoshi would almost prefer a panic attack over this. 

The younger boy sleeps for an hour, Hitoshi trying to focus on his book but utterly unable to. His thoughts are whirring, trying to figure out what’s going on. There’s nothing, really. Todoroki’s just tired. He doesn’t usually speak much, so this isn’t that unusual. He’s fine. He’s not panicked or crying or bleeding. He’s just tired.

(No matter how many times he repeats it, Hitoshi still can’t make himself believe it.)

Hizashi isn’t back yet when Todoroki blinks his eyes open, but Hitoshi has made a trip to the kitchen to grab a bag of salty chips while he waits. He’s got a few in his mouth when he sees Todoroki’s eyes land on him, and he’s not really thinking when he raises his hands to speak instead of opening his mouth.

You want one? he asks, and it takes a moment of scrunched brows and silence before he realizes his mistake. 

“Sorry,” he says, quickly swallowing his mouthful. “Habit.”

Todoroki sits up a little, the blanket falling off his shoulders. It’s Hitoshi’s weighted one, and Todoroki eyes it for a moment as it slumps to the mattress. He seems a bit more…present, now. Hitoshi sees his throat move a couple of times, but he still doesn’t say a word. Instead, his hands come up in front of him and he stumbles his way through copying Hitoshi’s movements. 

“Oh. Um. It’s JSL. I was asking if you wanted a chip.” 

He holds the bag out, the chips rattling inside, and waits patiently until Todoroki reaches out and grabs one. Hitoshi hides a grin when he sees the teen’s eyes widen when he realizes how salty they are. 

There’s a brief pause where they’re both just chewing, then Todoroki finally starts to speak. “You know sign language?” he asks. His voice is barely above a whisper.

“Yeah. I learned for myself as a kid, but one of my dads is hard of hearing, so it’s become a habit by now.”

He doesn’t mention why he learned as a kid. Doesn’t mention how sometimes he still wakes up to the phantom feeling of metal clamped over his jaw or how some days the words get stuck in his throat because he spent so many years being beaten for daring to ask a question. 

Hitoshi eyes Todoroki again, thinks of the way he’d been so silent before, the way he’d told Hitoshi he couldn’t speak to him that first day, the fumbling of his hands just moments ago.

“I could teach you,” he offers. “JSL, I mean.”

Todoroki’s eyes widen just slightly. “You- you would do that?”

“Yeah, I don’t mind. It, um, it would be nice having someone else to talk to.”

Don’t make it about him, he thinks. Give him an out. 

“Plus, it’s a really useful hero skill. Like if you’re trying to sneak in somewhere or need a secret code or something. I bet not many villains know sign.”

Hitoshi knows Eraserhead uses JSL on the job. It’s more common for underground heroes to learn. He can still remember the strange, heavy warmth that had flooded his chest the first time he’d struggled to say something in training and his not-yet-dad had tentatively lifted his hands instead. 

Hitoshi had learned JSL so he would stop getting in trouble with teachers at school. He’d never expected someone to actually speak to him using it. 

The way Todoroki is looking at him right now is almost reminiscent of that feeling. The hero student nods sharply, an eagerness to his eyes that totally wipes away the glassy look from earlier. 

Good, Hitoshi thinks. He likes this Todoroki a lot better.

“Here, I’ll teach you a few basic signs. You’ll probably pick it up quickly.”

Todoroki is a fast learner, and he does in fact pick it up really quickly. By the end of another hour, he’s already got several basic sentences and signals down. He seems to be in a much better mood when he glances outside and tells Hitoshi he needs to get going.

“We can do a few more next week. Um. If you want.”

It’s the first time either of them have acknowledged that there’s a pattern, here. The first time they’ve put to words that there’s an expectation that Todoroki will be back. A head of red and white hair nods, and Hitoshi finally manages to get the barest glimpse of a rare Todoroki smile.

Before he leaves, halfway out the window again, Todoroki pauses and carefully brings his hands up in front of him. He meets Hitoshi’s eyes as his right hand taps his left wrist.

Thank you.

There’s something swelling behind Hitoshi’s heart, something he can’t or won’t put a name to yet. He grins, soaking in the tiny smile he gets in return. 

“You’re welcome.”

Chapter Text

At some point, Hitoshi knew he'd have to tell his parents that one of their students regularly snuck into the house through his bedroom window. Honestly, it was a miracle that it had remained a secret for as long as it had. 

"Hitoshi, come here a second," Aizawa calls. It's a Saturday evening, and they've just finished dinner. Hitoshi is lucky that he gets to spend the weekend at home. He knows the hero students have to get special permission to spend nights away from the dorms.  

"Yeah, Dad?"

There's a calculating look in Aizawa's eyes that has Hitoshi immediately on edge. Shouta and Hizashi would never hurt him, he knows that by now, but he can't help the instinctual way he tenses whenever they want to talk to him one on one. 

"You're not in trouble," his dad starts. He knows how Hitoshi gets. "But I do have a question for you."

"Hm?"

With a quirk of an eyebrow, Aizawa simply holds his hand up. Dangling in the air between them is a strip of cloth, torn on the edges like it's been ripped from a larger piece of clothing.

Fuck. 

"You okay?" Hitoshi tips his chin at the place Todoroki is rubbing his arm carefully.

"Yeah, just caught my arm on something while I was climbing up."

"Did you cut yourself?"

"No. It got a piece of my shirt, though."

Hitoshi tries for an embarrassed smile. "Ah, uh, yeah, I caught my shirt on something while I was feeding the cat."

Really, it's a moot point. He's never been able to lie to his dad.

"Try again," Aizawa responds.

Double fuck.

"W-well. I'm allowed to have friends over, aren't I?" Hitoshi shrugs, feigning nonchalance. 

Aizawa just lifts his other brow.

"It's not a big deal, Dad. Someone from school came over last week."

"And the week before."

Triple fuck.

"Yeah, uh, and the week before."

Aizawa sighs, leaning back on the couch behind him. "You are allowed to have friends over," he confirms. "But I would prefer if you let me know when there will be someone else in my home. And I would also prefer that they use the front door."

Hitoshi can't help but cringe slightly at the edge in his dad's voice. "Sure, no problem," he agrees quickly, hoping the questions will stop there. Of course, he's never quite that lucky.

"Hitoshi," comes his dad's cool voice.

Ugh, fine. "It…it's Todoroki. We're friends now. I guess."

"Todoroki?"

"Yeah. Figured it would be kinda embarrassing. Um. You being his teacher and all. And I wasn't sure if you wanted anyone to know about…all this." Hitoshi waves his hand around to encompass the apartment. 

There's a tiny little wrinkle in Aizawa's brow that lets him know his dad is actually surprised by the admittance. Figures. Hitoshi was pretty surprised himself, and it was he who kept letting Todoroki into his room every week. 

"I don't mind him visiting," Aizawa says after a moment. "But I don't want him, or you for that matter, climbing that old fire escape. He's perfectly welcome to use the front door."

"I'll let him know."

"And I would like to be informed the next time he's coming over."

"Right." Hitoshi nods, but he's wincing internally. He and Todoroki exchanged phone numbers a couple of weeks ago, but they rarely actually use them. Todoroki simply shows up every Sunday without warning. He's not really sure 'all this' is something he wants to try and explain over text, though.

"He's probably coming over tomorrow," Hitoshi admits. It's a fair bet.

"Good. I'd like to meet him properly, then."

"…you know who he is."

A tiny smile finally crosses Aizawa's face. "I'm your dad. This is the first friend you've brought home."

"Ugh, way to make it weird, Dad."

"Hey, it's my job, now."

"Whatever. Just- let me talk to him first. Then you can lecture him about the fire escape."

Because it's obvious that's what he's going to do. Hitoshi knows his dad a little too well.

In the end, the reveal isn't that bad. Aizawa takes the whole 'Todoroki' of it pretty well all things considered. And Hitoshi is glad that someone at school will finally know the truth. It was weird sitting in Hizashi's English class every week and not being able to tell anyone that it was his dad up there.

As he returns to his room, though, he can't help but worry slightly. There's probably a reason that Todoroki didn't ask about his parents. Probably a reason he preferred to sneak into Hitoshi's room each week like a lovestruck book character instead of knock on the door like a normal person.

Hitoshi thinks it may have something to do with the tiny note of trepidation he hears in Todoroki's voice each week when he asks if Hitoshi's parents are home. It's a familiar tone, too close to the way that the kids in Hitoshi's old homes would whisper under their breath, peeking around the doorway to see if their foster parents were in a bad mood.

Perhaps that is the weirdest part about this whole thing so far. The way that, no matter how he tries to brush it off, Hitoshi can't help looking at Todoroki…and being reminded of himself.

***

"Married?"

"Yeah."

"Aizawa-sensei? And…Yamada-sensei?"

"Yup."

"Eraserhead and Present Mic?"

"Yes, Todoroki, stop doing that."

"Huh."

Hitoshi wasn't sure why he was so worried. Of course Todoroki would just take everything in stride like he always did. 

Hizashi was out running errands, but Aizawa had made a point to stay home to 'meet his friend.' It went as well as could be hoped for, really. Todoroki had been polite (too polite) and not too shocked (that's suspicious). He'd taken Aizawa's fire escape lecture in stride and the only thing he'd really seemed surprised by was the revelation that Hitoshi had only been adopted a few months ago.

"Wait- you thought I was Shouta's secret love child?!"

"It seemed logical."

"How?!"

After that, Aizawa had let them escape back to Hitoshi's room, settling into their usual spots on the bed and beanbag. He'd expected it to be a lot more awkward, honestly, but he should be used to Todoroki's water-off-a-ducks-back attitude by now. In all the weeks they'd been getting closer, he'd never revealed what it was that set him off so badly that first day. And Hitoshi hadn't seen him be even remotely emotional or anything close to it since then. 

Their pattern continues, this time with Hitoshi waiting to hear the signature soft knock on their front door instead of his bedroom window. His parents aren’t always home, but when they are, they greet Todoroki politely and offer him a snack that he always declines. Then the boys head back to Hitoshi’s room to hang out.

It’s easy. Comfortable. Whatever lingering edges of awkwardness had been there the first few weeks have faded by now. Sometimes, Todoroki seems tired or sore from training and whatever craziness Class 1-A has been up to that week, but he doesn’t show up all spaced out and weird again.

There are still a lot of things that just seem off about the younger boy, though. Hitoshi's not one to judge, he's seen just about every version of 'quirky' there is growing up in foster care and attending too many schools to count. But his afternoons with Todoroki ping a tiny little warning bell in his brain that he's not really sure what to make of.

And it's not really anything in particular he can point to. Most of their afternoons, longer now that Todoroki isn't worried about exposing himself to Hitoshi's parents, are spent playing games or watching movies, things that Todoroki apparently missed out on growing up.

The teen wears designer tee shirts and his sneakers cost 150 thousand yen, but he's never even heard of Monopoly. 

He's overly polite with Hitoshi's dads (is that how he is in school?) and he refuses to stay for dinner even though Hizashi's offered a few times. It's been four months, and school will be out soon for the winter break, and for all he's learned about Todoroki in their time together, it still feels like he barely knows the boy.

***

"You should ask for your own Switch for Christmas."

The boys are actually out in the living room today because that TV has a way bigger screen than the one in Hitoshi's room. 

"Why?" Todoroki responds. "We don't need another one to play."

"Well, yeah, but then you could play your own games. Plus, you love playing on mine, don't you want your own?"

Todoroki shrugs, but that's as good as a yes in Hitoshi's book. They end up playing for several more hours, and it's dinner time by the time Hitoshi's dads burst through the door, Hizashi waving a bag of takeout through the air.

"Oh, Todoroki! Are you staying for dinner this time? We have plenty!"

Hitoshi sees the muted flash of panic in Todoroki's eyes when he whips around to look out the window. It's nearly dark already, and it will be fully dark before Todoroki makes it back to the dorms.

"I- I should go. I usually eat with my family on Sundays."

That was news to Hitoshi. "Can't you miss just one?" He blurts the words out before he can stop it, and he can feel a tiny flush of embarrassment creep up his neck. He can't help it though- they've been having a really good time all day, and he is tired of only getting a few hours with who has quickly become his closest friend. 

"I, uh, I don't want to impose," Todoroki tries. Like that would ever work on Hizashi.

"Nonsense. I bought way too much food, so you'd really be doing us a favor." Hizashi grins, brandishing the bulging bags in his hands. He moves to the kitchen to set them down, and then it's just Aizawa left giving Todoroki an appraising look.

"I didn't know you would be home this weekend," he rumbles.

Todoroki's shoulders tense (not a flinch, that wasn't a flinch, right?) and he eyes the ground. "Just for dinner. I wasn't staying the night or anything."

It occurs to Hitoshi, suddenly, that as his homeroom teacher, Aizawa is supposed to sign off on any excursions Todoroki makes off campus. Which means that Aizawa must've known he was in town every week even before Hitoshi revealed he'd been coming over. What had his dad been thinking the student was doing every Sunday? Or did he know something Hitoshi didn’t?

"You're still supposed to let me know, Todoroki. I thought we'd gone over this when we talked a few weeks ago."

Ah. So Aizawa had lectured Todoroki when he found out he'd been coming over. Figures. 

"Sorry, sensei." The words are wary and soft, Todoroki eyeing Aizawa like he’s worried he’ll get another lecture. 

Aizawa sighs. "It's fine. This time. And Hizashi is right- you're more than welcome to stay for dinner here if you'd like. Or I can give you a ride to your place."

Todoroki ends up glancing at Hitoshi before answering, and Hitoshi isn't really sure what expression his face is making at the moment. He knows family time is important, especially since it seems the hero kids get way less of it than the gen ed students, but…he really wants Todoroki to stay. He's not even sure why. 

Maybe because it seems that Todoroki wants to stay, too. And just can't admit it.

"Looks like Dad picked up from that place on third. It's really good," he tries. He can hear Hizashi humming in the background as he sets containers on the table. "He usually gets soba, too."

Checkmate.  Hitoshi can see the excited spark in Todoroki's eyes as he glances briefly at where Hizashi is unpacking the food.

"If you're sure it's alright," Todoroki says one more time.

Aizawa huffs and finally starts taking off his coat and shoes. "We wouldn't have said it if we weren't."

He makes his way into the kitchen as Todoroki pulls his phone out. Hitoshi eyes him curiously.

"Need to tell my sister. Otherwise she'll worry."

"Oh. I didn't know you had a sister." How has that not come up? "Older or younger?"

Todoroki blinks at him. "Older. And an older brother too. He's at university, though."

There's a weighted pause as Todoroki fidgets with his phone. "I, um, I had two. Brothers that is."

He doesn't say anything else, but Hitoshi isn't an idiot, and there aren't many ways to fill that kind of gap. "I'm sorry," he says, for lack of anything better. Todoroki just nods, sending off a quick text and stuffing his phone in his pocket.

He rocks back and forth on his heels for a second, something Hitoshi really only sees him do when he seems uncomfortable, and then seems to shake himself out of it. "Sorry. I can, uh, help set the table?"

Dinner goes fine. Todoroki is as achingly polite as he ever is in front of the adults. He sits ramrod straight, never saying a word unless Hizashi prompts him with a question or Hitoshi asks him to pass him something. Hitoshi can see Aizawa eyeing him, watching the way Todoroki pokes the food around his plate without really eating anything with the same attentive eye that Hitoshi's giving it.

"Are you sure you ate enough?" his dad asks. Todoroki had eaten some of the noodles, but mostly he just picked at his food, moving his chopsticks around enough that it gave the appearance that he'd eaten more than he really had.

"Yes, sensei, thank you for the meal."

"You don't need to call me sensei in my own home, Todoroki. You're here as a friend of my son, not a student. Just call me Aizawa."

The teen seems startled by that before a tiny blush coats his cheeks. He peeks at Hitoshi as he nods. "Yes, sen- uh, Aizawa."

Hitoshi's dad huffs, rising from the table with a brief pause to give Hitoshi's hair a ruffle as he passes into the kitchen. Hitoshi grumbles but otherwise lets the petting happen. He likes getting his hair played with, sue him.

Todoroki watches curiously, some odd little shine in the back of his eyes. "You're sure you're not related, right?" he asks.

"Oh my god, yes."

It's pitch black out by the time dinner is wrapped up. Todoroki had leaped in to help clean up and wash dishes even though Hizashi had said he didn't have to. There's an odd stiffness to the way he moves around the tall blonde that hadn't been there all afternoon when he'd been playing with Hitoshi.

"Come on, kid," Aizawa beckons. "I'll drive you back."

"Oh, you really don't need to. I'm fine to walk."

There's a layer of incredulity to Aizawa's signature eyebrow raise. "It's dark," he points out. As though that's all that needs to be said.

"It's okay. It's usually dark when I walk back anyway."

Oof, wrong choice. Hitoshi winces as Aizawa's glare sharpens. "You've been getting back to the dorms after dark every week?"

Hitoshi knows what time Todoroki leaves his apartment every Sunday, and there is always plenty of light out then. This is by far the latest he's stayed, which means he's probably been having family dinners every week. His house is a bit outside of the city and by no means super close to the school, even if he took transportation. 

Todoroki freezes, clearly catching on to the danger hidden in Aizawa's tone. He swallows hard but doesn't answer.

"We're going to have a talk about that," Aizawa says, and Hitoshi can see the tightness in Todoroki's frame. "…tomorrow. We're going to have a talk, tomorrow. For now, let's just get you back." 

If anything, Todoroki seems more uncomfortable about Aizawa driving him back than before.

"Why doesn’t he just stay here?" Once again, Hitoshi speaks without meaning to. Too late to take it back, though. He feels three pairs of eyes look his way as Hizashi emerges from the hallway.

"I've always wanted to have a sleepover; I never got to before. And he can ride back to school with us in the morning, right?"

 It’s always a fair bet, leaning into the whole ‘poor foster kid’ thing. Hizashi always falls for it, and sure enough, the voice hero’s eyes light up as everyone turns to Aizawa. His dad’s eyes narrow, clearly not as easily swayed and knowing exactly what Hitoshi is doing, but-

“Fine. Is that okay with you, Todoroki?”

The teen looks like he can barely comprehend what he’s being asked. He shoots an anxious glance toward Hitoshi. The older boy shrugs. “Only if you want,” he says. “I can lend you something to sleep in.”

Slowly, Todoroki nods. Hitoshi is 100% sure that he’s never had a sleepover before either. 

“Alright. I’m going to let the school know.” Aizawa heads down the hallway, and Hizashi bounces over to throw an enthusiastic arm around Hitoshi’s shoulders.

“Your first sleepover!” he shouts, jostling Hitoshi’s shoulders and beaming at Todoroki. “I’ll grab a futon and toothbrush for Todoroki. Do you guys want to watch a movie or something? I can make popcorn!” 

Hitoshi makes a show of cringing away and rolling his eyes, but inside he can’t help the pleased little flush of warmth. It is his first sleepover, after all. A few years ago, Hitoshi never would’ve believed he’d get the chance. 

Hizashi seems to be doing his best to make it both a big deal and not at all a big deal, a feat only someone like him could achieve. Hitoshi is grateful. He doesn’t want to make it any more awkward for the other boy than he has to, but he is excited. He doesn’t know when he got to the level of comfort with Todoroki to offer something like this, but it makes something warm and light stir through him at the notion that he finally, finally has a friend. 

A real friend.

“You can take the bed if you want,” Hitoshi offers, exiting the bathroom to the sight of Todoroki running his fingers across Hitoshi’s weighted blanket. He has to smother a smile at the sight of the other boy in Hitoshi's clothes. He looks...softer, somehow, in pale grey sweats and a plain cotton t-shirt. Younger and less serious.

“Oh, no, it’s fine," Todoroki says quickly. He backs away as though he's been caught doing something he shouldn't. "I’m actually more used to sleeping on the ground.”

“You don’t have a bed?”

“Just the futons. It’s how my family has always been.”

Ah, traditional household then. One of his foster homes had preferred futons as well. Hitoshi doesn’t have a true preference. There’s something safe about being above the ground, but it’s also easier to hear and feel people coming from on the floor. 

“Do you have a weighted blanket at home?” Hitoshi tips his chin at the one on his own bed.

“Hm? Oh, is that what it is?”

“Yeah. My dad, uh Aizawa that is, he got it for me. Said it might help my insomnia.”

It did, to an extent. There were still some nights that no amount of weighted blanket or tea or sleep music could help. But they were becoming more rare as time went on. Hitoshi certainly wasn’t an eight-hours-a-night kind of person, but he at least got enough to feel rested. The nights of painfully lying awake, begging his own brain to shut off, were thankfully few and far between. If Hitoshi stays up late now, it’s usually because he chose to.

“It’s nice,” Todoroki says, but Hitoshi can read between the lines. The boy had passed out under it a few weeks ago on that weird day when Hitoshi first started teaching him sign. Weighted blankets can also help with anxiety, and Hitoshi isn’t one to judge, but there was certainly something off about the teen that day. 

“You can borrow mine for the night. If you want.”

“I thought you said you needed it for your insomnia?”

“I don’t need it, need it. I’ll be fine if you want to take it.”

Todoroki shoots him a look he can’t quite decipher and shakes his head. “No, you keep it.”

Hitoshi wants to argue, not in small part because he thinks Todoroki might need it more than him tonight, but he takes a second to evaluate Todoroki’s stiff posture before letting it slide.  They get ready for bed in relative silence, Hitoshi pointing out various objects and actions and showing Todoroki the signs for them. The other boy tilts his head, a spark of curiosity in his eyes. 

“You said your dad is hard of hearing,” he says. It’s not quite a question. “Is it Yamada-sensei?”

“Yeah. And you can call him Hizashi, you know.”

Todoroki’s nose scrunches up at that, and Hitoshi can’t help the tiny snort of a laugh he releases.

“Trust me, I know it’s weird. Imagine going from calling him sensei to calling him D ad.”

That, at least, gets a little bit of a smile. Todoroki’s eyes grow a little distant when he says his next thought. “He seems good. As a dad, I mean. I wouldn’t have pictured it when I met him, but it actually really suits him. Aizawa-sensei too.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean.” He did, too. Hitoshi had been shocked out of his mind when he’d realized his senseis wanted to foster him, let alone adopt. 

Hitoshi knew Aizawa was protective of his students, maybe even more than the other homeroom teachers, but he was also the teacher at UA known for the most expulsions and the shortest patience. He may have been ready to leap into conflict to protect a student as a hero, but to go to battle in court for someone as a father? That was unexpected. 

“Is it- hard, at all? Him being your dad and him training you at the same time?” There’s some sort of edge to Todoroki’s voice, and Hitoshi would have to be an idiot not to make the connection to Todoroki’s confession about his own training growing up.

“Not really, if I’m being honest. When I train with him, he’s Eraserhead, you know? And when we’re at home, he’s just Dad. If anything, it’s nice to be able to train under someone who already knows your limits and vulnerabilities and such. It saves me from having to be that open with someone else.”

Hitoshi had spent the first few weeks of training desperately trying to prevent just that. His anxiety and stress had been at an all-time high as he struggled to keep his foster parents from finding out why he was staying late at school and Aizawa from finding out he had shitty foster parents. Between the sleep deprivation, malnutrition, increased exercise load, heaps of stress, and a plethora of bruises, it had all fallen apart within a month. 

He had been terrified that his one shot at becoming a hero would be taken away. Instead- he got the exact opposite. Aizawa took one look at the cuts on his cheeks and the bruises on his body and had absolutely refused to let Hitoshi spend a single hour more in that terrible house. 

They hadn’t really talked about it yet, had they? Todoroki hadn’t asked. But Hitoshi sits there for another moment and realizes, much to his own surprise, he kind of wants him to know. He’s not ashamed of his past- not anymore. Hitoshi wants to help people just like him someday. 

People who need a way out. People who the ‘system’ and society has failed. People who have been beaten down and kicked around and shoved into a corner that they can’t see an escape from. People who are stuck, trapped under the will and want of someone who has never had their best interests at heart. People who are hurting and who need his help. 

(People like…Todoroki. Maybe. If Hitoshi is right about the awful feeling in his gut.)

“Aizawa, um, he makes me feel safe, you know? He- he saved my life. I think. I grew up in foster care and none of them were all that nice. Or even just, decent, really. Sometimes…sometimes I wasn’t sure if I would make it to graduation. Either by their hands or my own.”

Hitoshi’s voice is barely a whisper. He’s never said that part out loud before. Not even to his therapist or his dads. He hadn’t planned on saying it now, either; it just slipped out. Todoroki’s eyes are wide wide wide as he stares at him, too bright for Hitoshi to look into. He keeps his own on the blanket instead.

“My mom gave me up when I was a toddler. I never stayed in the same foster home longer than nine months. I’ve broken nearly as many bones as Midoriya. I’ve lived in nearly every city in Shizuoka, and I could count them by the scars on my body. I-” 

Hitoshi cuts off, swallowing hard. He’s never been this open with someone before, and it’s both exhilarating and terrifying. His hands close into fists, and his eyes squeeze shut so he doesn’t have to see the pity that must be in Todoroki’s eyes.

“No one likes the kid with the ‘villain’ quirk,” he spits out.

There’s a heavy pause, long enough for Hitoshi to regret the past few minutes. God, what was this- trauma dumping 101? His first sleepover and he’s already checking off all the boxes for an emotional tell-all. No need for truth or dare here, Hitoshi can’t keep a lid on his own fucking mouth!

He opens his mouth to say something--an apology maybe, he doesn’t know--when Todoroki beats him to it. 

“I like the kid with the villain quirk.”

He says it so plainly, so simply, in that deadpan, matter-of-fact way of his that is so completely Todoroki. It knocks the words right off Hitoshi’s tongue, leaving him gaping at the younger boy beside him. He- what?

“What?” Hitoshi breathes. 

Todoroki meets his gaze steadily. There’s no pity to be found. “ I like the kid with the villain quirk. Although I wouldn’t call it that.”

Hitoshi isn’t a big blusher, he’s really not. But his cheeks are burning right now, oh my god. He- he can’t just say things like that! Not when Hitoshi had spent 15 years convincing himself no one would ever say things like that. Not to him. 

“Thanks…” Hitoshi trails off awkwardly, suddenly unsure of himself after that big reveal. Todoroki hums agreeably, hands idly picking at a stray thread, wrapping it around his fingers again and again. 

They have to move eventually and finish getting ready for bed. Both of Hitoshi’s dads pop in to say goodnight, Hizashi giving him a kiss on the head and Aizawa ruffling his hair. Todoroki watches with mismatched eyes, Hizashi giving him a soft smile as he tells them to sleep well. 

It’s a little easier to breathe once Hitoshi is tucked in bed, his blanket a comforting weight as he burrows into his sheets. It’s dark and still in a peaceful way that only those who appreciate the night can truly understand. It is Hitoshi's favorite time of day, the moonlight just enough that when he peeks his eyes over the edge of his pillow, he can see half of Todoroki’s hair glowing.

“Hey, Shinsou?” the younger says, voice soft as he breaks the silence. “I’m glad you ended up with Aizawa-sensei and Yamada-sensei. You deserve to have a place you feel safe.”

His tone is almost wistful, but his smile is genuine and warm when Hitoshi dares to take a look. They meet eyes across the expanse of Hitoshi’s bedroom, a distance that suddenly feels much too vast. Todoroki suddenly seems much too far away. 

“Hitoshi,” he finally says back. He ducks his head into his blankets when Todoroki releases an inquisitive hum. “You can call me Hitoshi. If you want.”

A beat, a blink, a tiny catch of breath. Then- “Only if you call me Shouto.”

Hitoshi has never had a first-name friend before. He doesn’t know what it’s supposed to feel like. But this? He wouldn’t trade this feeling for the world.

Chapter Text

“Bakugou knows sign.”

“Bakugou, the blonde who makes explosions, Bakugou?”

“Mmhm. Midoriya does, too.” There’s a pause, then- “I’m pretty sure those two things are related.”

Hitoshi snorts, mentally picturing the two hero students in his head. “Yeah, what’s the deal with them?” he asks.  

Shouto shrugs. “I'm not really sure. They’ve known each other since they were kids, but I got the impression Bakugou wasn’t all that nice to Midoriya.”

“Is he ever nice?” Hitoshi responds. “He’s always shouting. And cursing.”

Hitoshi hasn’t spent any significant amount of time with the 1-A kids. He’s still hoping he’ll make it into their or 1-B’s class next year, but it’s not like he’s gotten that many opportunities to just hang out with any of them. Besides, they’re such a close-knit group it would be hard to butt his way in even if he wanted to make friends. 

Bakugou, though…Bakugou he knows. Not just because it would be hard to forget the boy who won the Sports Festival or because Bakugou’s presence (and voice) was loud enough that the whole school surely knew who he was by now. No, Hitoshi would never forget Bakugou because he would never forget the utter horror that had washed over him when the boy had entered the stadium at the end of the festival.

A muzzle. They had chained and muzzled him, a hero student, in front of the whole country. And no one had said a thing. 

Hitoshi had been sick. He couldn’t even finish watching, his stomach so tied in knots over the terror and betrayal that had flooded his system, he’d barely made it to the nearest bathroom. He’d sobbed himself to sleep that night thinking that UA, his dream school since he was a kid, was no longer the safe haven he had imagined it to be.

In the end, it was Hizashi who told him the rest of the story. Hitoshi had almost refused Aizawa when the hero had approached him after the festival, too scared of what the teacher might do to him if he were to mess up or fail or get in trouble. He’s incredibly grateful to his past self for saying yes, but he also knows that he had a valid reason to be hesitant.

Hizashi was the one who revealed that neither he nor Aizawa had been aware. They had left the festival early because Aizawa was still healing and the day had taken a toll on him. The teachers responsible for the decision had been reprimanded and Bakugou had been formally apologized to by them and Principal Nedzu himself. 

It…still wasn’t great. Wasn’t really enough, in Hitoshi’s eyes. A simple apology wouldn’t erase the fear and panic that Bakugou must’ve felt, nor would it erase the knowledge of the incident from the minds of thousands of viewers. But at least he knew that his dads had nothing to do with it. That Aizawa had been absolutely enraged when he found out. 

“Hitoshi?”

“Hm? Oh, sorry. What were you saying?”

“Nothing, just that Bakugou is different once you get to know him.”

“Different how?”

“Just…different. I don’t really know if it would count as nice or not, but I think he cares about people more than he lets on.”

“Oh yeah?” 

“Yeah. Like- he always complains about how lazy and unhelpful we all are. But he still makes us food all the time and he remembers what everyone’s favorites are and he…fusses…almost when someone doesn’t eat enough.”

“Bakugou? Bakugou, fusses?” 

It’s a bit hilarious to imagine. Hitoshi can’t help but snort at the mental image of Bakugou in a cooking apron like Hizashi’s. Surprisingly, it kind of fits. Must be a loud blonde thing.

“Maybe that’s not the right word. He’s really perceptive, which is good for a hero student, but I think it means he knows more than you might think.” Shouto smiles slightly, eyes distant as he gazes sightlessly at his hands. “He brings me cold soba sometimes. On days when everything’s a little harder to manage.”

Oh. Hitoshi reaches over to clasp Shouto’s hand in his own, his thumb running over the other boy’s knuckles in silent reassurance. Hitoshi has days like those, too. He’s glad that Shouto has had someone to help him through it. 

Even if that someone is Bakugou. Though- maybe that’s unfair. Maybe Bakugou isn’t who Hitoshi thought he was. By this point in his life, he should know better than to judge a book by its cover. 

“He sounds like a good friend,” he says.

Shouto’s smile shifts into something closer to a smirk. “He would yell at you if he heard you say that. He doesn’t think we’re friends.”

Now that sounds like Bakugou. “He can yell all he wants. Hasn’t anyone ever told him that actions speak louder than words?”

They both laugh a little at that. It’s hard to imagine a quiet Bakugou. But maybe it’s because he’s so loud, so overwhelmingly present and bold, that the smaller actions tend to slip past notice. Shouto is an observant person too, and if he thinks Bakugou is caring, then Hitoshi is inclined to believe him.

“How did you figure out he spoke sign?” Hitoshi asks.

“Oh. I saw him do it.”

Well. Okay, yeah, Hitoshi walked right into that one. Sometimes Shouto had a habit of taking things a little too literally. 

“Yeah, but like, did you ask him or something? Or did you just catch him in the act?”

“You make it sound like something nefarious. He did it at lunch. His mouth was full.” Shouto thinks for a second, eyes twinkling with amusement. “I think he may have just been mad he couldn’t continue to yell while eating his lunch.”

Hitoshi snorts lightly. Sounds like Bakugou. He can’t decide if he wants or really really doesn’t want to meet the boy for real.

“I wonder if Bakugou is hard of hearing,” Hitoshi ponders aloud. It popped in his head just that second, but he watches Todoroki blink contemplatively and then nod.

“Makes sense. Explosions can cause hearing loss, right?”

“Yeah. Loud noises of any kind, really. That’s how Dad lost his.”

“Oh. Really?”

“Mmhm. That’s why he wears ear protection now.”

Shouto blinks, then blushes very slightly. “Oh, I- uh, I thought it was just for the look. Like, um, like music headphones?”

Hitoshi laughs lightly. “They’re definitely part of the aesthetic as well. But they’ve also got hero-grade noise canceling made custom for him by his support team. You can’t hear a thing with those on.”

“Huh.” Shouto tilts his head cutely, like an inquisitive bird. Some of his hair falls over the middle, tangling together in a mix of red and white. It’s pretty. “Does that mean anyone who works with Present Mic has to know sign language?”

What? Hitoshi shakes himself from his stupor, internally berating himself for staring. He replays Shouto’s question in his head. 

“Oh, uh, I never really thought of it. I’m pretty sure he keeps the headphones off until he needs to use his quirk. But I think he’s mentioned some of the other UA teachers know the basics. Probably a good skill for a hero and a teacher.”

Shouto nods, chewing slightly on his lower lip. He seems a little lost in thought. “Don’t you think it feels a little unfair?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper. “That some people’s quirks can hurt them that much?”

The hero student isn’t looking at Hitoshi and is running his thumb in circles over his pointer finger in one of many small self-soothing gestures that Hitoshi has learned he does often. 

“Well,” Hitoshi says carefully. “I think that’s just part of having a quirk sometimes. Most heroes have some sort of drawback, and they have to learn to overcome it to be a good hero. I think it’s just nature’s way of balancing giving someone that much power.”

Shouto keeps his mismatched eyes fixed firmly on his hands, and his voice is small when he speaks up. “I don’t have one,” he says. “A drawback.”

“Wha- wait, seriously?”

The younger boy shakes his head. “I can overheat or become too cold if I only use one side, but as long as I keep activating both, they’ll naturally offset each other’s drawback. So, in essence, I don’t really have one.”

Hitoshi just stares for a second, trying to wrap his head around that. He’s…right, he supposes. Hitoshi knows Endeavor’s biggest power drawback is the limit his own body can take before it begins to dangerously overheat. With his unique half-and-half quirk, Shouto could learn to keep his body from dipping too far in either direction. 

“Damn,” Hitoshi finally says. “That’s pretty lucky, man. I bet your dad is happy about that. Overheating is a big issue for him, isn’t it?”

Abruptly, it’s like a shadow falls over Shouto’s face. Whatever little bit of openness he’d been showing Hitoshi before slams shut so quickly it practically leaves Hitoshi with whiplash. His voice is cold cold cold when he replies. “Yes. He’s very happy.”

“Uh, sorry…” Hitoshi isn’t sure what he said that was wrong. Todoroki is all stiff now, muscles tense and fingers still.

“I-” Something conflicted passes through Shouto’s eyes. He sighs, relaxing just a touch. “Sorry,” he whispers. 

“No, it’s fine. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“You- you didn’t,” Shouto assures, even though it’s clearly not true. The tense silence lingers for a moment, uncomfortable where just a minute ago it was lighthearted. 

“My quirk is Perfect,” Shouto says, Hitoshi somehow feeling the emphasis. “It’s everything my dad was hoping for. Trying for. I’m his Masterpiece.”

“His…Masterpiece?” Something about the way Shouto said it leaves a sour taste in Hitoshi’s mouth.

Once again, he gets struck by those strangely piercing eyes. It occurs to Hitoshi that Shouto doesn’t actually make direct eye contact with him all that often. Perhaps that’s why it feels so intense every time he does. 

Then Shouto shakes his head and the moment is broken. “Forget it,” he says. “I should be grateful my quirk is so well balanced. I-I’m going to work really hard to be deserving of it.” 

The boy’s hands clench into fists in his lap as he nods sharply, once, like he’s making a deal with himself. Hitoshi still feels off kilter by the whole exchange, but he accepts Shouto’s attempt to change the subject and the two let the oddness fade as they get wrapped up in introducing Shouto to yet another new game.

Still. The words stay in Hitoshi’s head, and he finds himself running through them again and again late that night when he’s meant to be sleeping. Trying for, he hears Shouto say. His Masterpiece. 

It puts a bad taste in his mouth, something sickly and sour and wrong. Shouto’s blank eyes and dead voice and the tense way he’d sat as he’d let the words tumble out. It was all wrong. 

His Masterpiece, Hitoshi thinks. Who refers to themself like that? Like an object? Like a piece of clay that Endeavor has molded into a perfect hero son?

It takes hours before Hitoshi manages to fall asleep, and he’s thinking about Shouto the entire time.

***

Winter break looms closer and closer until Hitoshi walks out of class on Saturday and realizes- he doesn’t have to come back for two weeks. The halls of UA are alive with holiday cheer as all the kids chatter and cheer and wish each other farewell. They all get to go home- Principal Nedzu decided it was safe enough to let them stay with their families for the holidays.

“Todoroki!” he hears someone call. He stops, the voice pulling his attention across the hall where his gaze lands on a familiar head of white and red hair. Shouto has paused as well, turning towards where a short green blur is darting out of the crowd.

Midoriya is an odd one. He isn’t afraid of Hitoshi, nor does he seem bothered by his quirk. If anything, the boy is endlessly curious and had once spent an entire lunch period pestering Hitoshi with questions about how his quirk worked. He’d even asked questions about things Hitoshi hadn’t thought of before.

He can’t hear what the others are saying from way over here, but he notices that Midoriya, as per usual, is as animated as he’s ever seen someone, and Shouto is predictably the opposite. He wonders if the two are close. Shouto rarely ever talked about the other hero students except in small anecdotes about how class or training may have been that day. 

He called him Todoroki, though, Hitoshi notes. It makes something warm blossom in his chest. He’s the only one who gets to call Shouto by his first name. He’s never said it out loud, but Shouto is his best friend. He wonders if that makes him Shouto’s best friend, too.

He thinks he quite likes the idea of that.

“Hey, kid, you ready to go?”

Hitoshi nods, pulling his bag tighter across his shoulder as he glances up at his dad. His feet had taken him down the hall towards the teachers’ offices and he let them follow after his dad to the car even as he stayed a little lost in thought.

He wondered if being on break meant Shouto would stop coming over on Sunday. Or…maybe he’d be able to come over more often.

“Watcha thinking about?” Aizawa breaks in.

“Oh. Um. Shouto.”

“Anything in particular?”

“Just wondering if he has any plans for break.”

“You could text him and ask.”

Duh. Hitoshi mentally face palms and digs his phone from his pocket. “Hey, um, if he is free, is it cool if he comes over a few times?”

“Of course. Your friends are always welcome. Just make sure he comes through the front door.”

“Ugh, we get it, you don’t have to keep reminding us,” Hitoshi groans. 

Aizawa chuckles softly. “Just making sure.”

Hitoshi rolls his eyes good-naturedly. “Don’t worry,” he promises. “I’ll pass along the message.”

***

Shouto, apparently, doesn’t get said message, however, so Hitoshi doesn't hear from him for a couple of days.

It’s well into the wee hours of the morning when something pulls Hitoshi from his slumber. There’s a cool breeze brushing his exposed skin and it takes him a second too long to realize that means his bedroom window must be open. The window he knows was closed when he fell asleep.

Suddenly a lot more awake, he immediately rolls out of bed and yanks the cord to his bedside lamp, throwing light and shadows in stark contrast across his bedroom. His mouth opens to call his dads even as a dark figure darts out of the corner and slams a palm over his mouth.

“Shh!” comes a harsh whisper. “It’s just me!”

Hitoshi’s heart is pounding and his head is spinning at the abrupt awakening, but he recognizes that voice. Blinking blearily, he stares bewildered at a familiar pair of mismatched eyes. 

“Shouto?!” he yells, muffled to near silence by the hand still over his mouth.

“Yes, it’s me. Promise you won’t scream? I’d really prefer not to deal with Aizawa-sensei right now.” Shouto’s voice is as soft as it can be, and his eyes glitter in the lamplight as he shoots a nervous look at Hitoshi’s closed door.

Hitoshi nods, then proceeds to roughly shove the younger boy’s arm away. “Ugh,” he says, dramatically dragging the back of his hand over his lips. “What the hell are you doing here?”

It’s been two days since school let out. Shouto didn’t show up on Sunday like normal, and he hadn’t answered Hitoshi’s texts. He had been…worried, he supposes. Shouto’s usually pretty responsive over text.

Now, the boy is shuffling back and forth like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar, having clearly snuck across town and broken into Hitoshi’s bedroom in the middle of the night for no good reason. 

“I, um, couldn’t sleep. And you had mentioned you had insomnia…”

Fucking hell. Hitoshi is way too tired to deal with this shit. “That doesn’t mean you can just break into my house in the middle of the night!”

Shouto looks distinctly uncomfortable now. “Sorry,” he whispers. “I- I can go. I’ll just go. I’m sorry.” 

He turns back to the window where Hitoshi suddenly realizes his shoes are neatly lined against the wall. “Wait- no.” He grabs Shouto’s sleeve before he can take more than a single step. “It’s like three in the morning, man, I can’t let you walk across town by yourself. It was stupid as fuck for you to do it in the first place.”

Shouto winces but doesn’t shake him off. “Just- ugh, just stay here, okay?" Hitoshi says. "You can sneak back out in the morning.”

Shouto blinks. “Okay,” he agrees.

That solved, Hitoshi nods sharply and turns back to his bed, his hand still caught in Shouto’s sleeve so he ends up tugging the boy along. 

“Wha- Hitoshi, what are you-”

“Hush. It’s three in the morning and I sleep terribly as it is. I am going back to bed.”

“But where am I-”

“And you are going to join me.”

Shouto’s mouth snaps shut. He stands awkwardly beside the bed as Hitoshi smooths the covers back into place and slides himself in, shuffling until he’s pressed against the wall. “Come on,” he beckons. “Time to sleep.”

“I can just sleep on the floor,” Shouto says. “Like last time. I-”

Maybe if it hadn’t been three in the morning, Hitoshi would’ve felt differently. But as it is, Hitoshi is tired and confused and not entirely sure he isn’t dreaming this whole encounter up. He just wants to get back to sleep before his brain decides it’s incapable of shutting off again. 

“Shouto,” Hitoshi whispers. “Get in the fucking bed.”

Finally, the younger boy moves. He tentatively slides under the covers, stiff and hesitant. He radiates discomfort, even though it was his idea to break into Hitoshi’s room in the middle of the night. Hitoshi sighs, rolling over and staring at the boy with half-lidded eyes.

“Was there something you needed to talk about, Shouto?” he asks softly. “You can tell me.”

Shouto seems to hesitate for a moment, then shakes his head. “No, I just- I just couldn't sleep. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. I know what it’s like.”

Boy, does he. Hitoshi’s insomnia has been so bad before that he’s laid in bed practically crying with fatigue but completely unable to get the relief he needed. Thinking quickly, he sits up, startling Shouto, and reaches for the foot of his bed where his weighted blanket lies in a crumpled heap. 

“Here,” he says, pulling it over both boys and snuggling down further. His feet end up tangled in Shouto’s and after a moment of tenseness, he can feel the other boy start to relax. “This thing works like a charm.”

Indeed it does, and within ten minutes, Hitoshi can see Shouto’s eyelids getting heavier as his breathing evens out into something slower and deeper and more settled. He hadn’t even realized how on edge Shouto really was until the tension started draining from him and he sank deeper into the bed.

“Good night, Shouto,” Hitoshi whispers, his own brain foggy with sleep. He hopes his dad doesn’t wake him in the morning; he has no idea how he would explain this. He’s out before he can register Shouto saying ‘good night’ back.

In the morning, Hitoshi blinks himself awake and realizes his concern was unneeded. The place beside him is cool to the touch and the window is shut tight. If he didn’t know any better, he would think he dreamed the whole thing up. But there’s the lingering scent of strawberries on his pillow and a note left on his desk.

Despite the weirdness, Hitoshi finds himself smiling all through breakfast. “Someone had a good night,” Hizashi comments. “Did you sleep well?”

“Yeah,” Hitoshi answers, ducking his head so his dads won’t see him blush. “I slept very well.”

***

Somehow, this, too, becomes a pattern. 

Hitoshi would really rather it not, but alas, Shouto doesn’t seem to get the hint.

Hitoshi is at least awake the next time, headphones on as he plays on his switch. He’s already done his night routine and figures he can play for a while until he’s properly sleepy. Still, there’s no light except the one coming from his screen and the headphones dampen the outside sounds enough that Hitoshi nearly jumps out of his skin when a large shadow falls across his lap.

“What the fu-” he nearly shouts, but is abruptly silenced by the sight that greets him.

It’s Shouto, blinking at him from a few feet away. The window is open and his shoes are off and Hitoshi really needs to get better about his awareness of things if he’s going to be a pro hero.

“What are you doing here?” he whispers harshly. He scoots over to flick the lamp on, once again casting the two boys in its harsh light as Hitoshi wonders how late it’s gotten.

Shouto glances nervously at the door then brings his hands up in front of him. ‘No sleep,’ he signs clumsily.

Great. So he couldn’t sleep again. Insomnia isn’t contagious, is it? 

Hitoshi sighs and scoots over, patting the bed beside him. Acceptance of the situation comes quickly- by this point, Shouto practically feels like the fourth member of the house. “It’s fine,” he says softly. I’m not tired yet either.”

Shouto dithers for only a moment this time before he glides over and settles beside him, drawing his knees up so he’s curled in a little ball. There’s a heaviness to the silence, a weight that feels uncomfortably like their first encounter. Hitoshi wonders if this is one of those times when Shouto can’t speak. He feels the sudden, overwhelming urge to hug Shouto. 

“Hey,” he whispers. “You know you can talk to me about anything, right?”

Shouto peeks at him from over his knees and gives a small nod. 

“I mean it,” Hitoshi says. “You can trust me.”

Hitoshi is suddenly gripped by the need to know that Shouto does trust him. Because Hitoshi trusts Shouto. He’s not sure how that happened, but on the very short list of people in this world that Hitoshi trusts, he knows Shouto is there.

Shouto fidgets for a second, gaze downturned, and he opens his mouth twice before he manages to speak. “I do trust you,” he whispers, so softly Hitoshi is barely sure he heard it right. Something warms rushes through Hitoshi’s chest at the words, something he’s not quite sure he can put a name to yet.

“I’m glad,” he says, a bit awkwardly. He bumps Shouto’s shoulder and tries to contain how happy he is to see a wobbly smile in return. 

Hitoshi would love to ask Shouto questions, to figure out why the other boy has twice now turned up to his bedroom in the middle of the night. But Shouto is finally starting to relax, his fingers stilling where they’d been running over the edge of his pant seam. So Hitoshi pushes his desire to play twenty questions from his head and steps over to his closet instead.

“Here,” he offers. “Go get comfy and then we can play for a bit.”

Shouto shoots him a grateful look and takes the clothes without question. He darts over to the bathroom and slips inside. Hitoshi frowns after him, trying to figure out if he’d imagined the bobble in his step. Did he hurt himself on his walk over? Strain himself climbing up?

Or-

Hitoshi frowns harder. He hadn’t questioned it the first time Shouto slept over that the other boy preferred to change in the bathroom. Growing up in foster homes where he always shared a bedroom meant Hitoshi wasn’t all that self-conscious about changing in front of others. Plus, he had to do it in the locker room before gym class all that time.

He knows the hero course students have to do it as well, more so than the gen ed students even because they have to change into their costumes before their hero lessons. Hitoshi’s not one to judge other people’s insecurities, but it does make him wonder if it means something more than just Shouto being shy.

What if he has something to hide? Hitoshi wonders. If Shouto is hurt, would he tell Hitoshi?

If Shouto is being hurt...what is Hitoshi going to do about it?