Chapter Text
“Hey,” Hitoshi’s green-haired opponent says, offering a hand to him. “Good match- I mean it. Thank you.”
Atop the podium, Midnight’s cooing about sportsmanship and friendship, but Hitoshi pays her no mind, only staring straight at the boy before him (his name was Midoriya, wasn’t it?). Hitoshi sizes him up, turning every smile-backed word over as he tries to determine when the poison lies. No sane person would say such nice things after getting baited the way Hitoshi had baited Midoriya if they didn’t want something in return.
He has to admit, Midoriya does a pretty good job of hiding his intentions–whatever they may be–behind that sunny face. Hitoshi scoffs, spinning on his heel and stalking away, ignoring the blooming bruise on his left leg that’s definitely going to hurt when he gets back.
The bruise, after all, is the least of his worries at home. It’ll only be joined by many others.
With that thought in mind, he decides to skip the closing ceremony- it’s not as if his subpar performance will be getting him any kind of hero course transfer. What was he thinking, anyway?
~
His emotions are already tumultuous as he steps through the front door into what he instantly knows is a brewing storm. There’s an aura in the air, half from his foster sister’s mild fear quirk and half from the tension between his foster parents. Hitoshi does his best to sneak by unnoticed, but luck is never on his side.
“Brat.”
One word. That’s all it takes to strip away every ounce of the bravado he’d shown the world at the Sports Festival.
Hitoshi bows to his foster mother. He knows better than to speak in this house.
“We saw what you did at your little ‘school event.’” Her tone is quiet in a menacing way; she makes no effort to conceal her hate.
Ah, I’m done for.
“What was that, huh? Flaunting your villain quirk to the world? Brainwashing perfectly good heroic schoolmates to the point that they feel they need to drop out of the third round? They’re the ones who need this opportunity to showcase their abilities to the world.”
It’s nothing he didn’t expect. He begins to spiral anyway.
“As for you… We’ve told you time and time again, given you chance after chance. This is how you repay us- by embarrassing the whole family on national television?”
Hitoshi bites back a thought- you guys didn’t even let me take your surname; nobody’s going to be connecting me to you, and even if they do, nobody’s going to care.
“We were kind last time. This time, we’ll teach you a real lesson.”
“It’s for your own good, Shinsou.”
He sees the first slap coming and feels the sting. He wishes he could be numb to the rest. But that’s not an option, so he simply squeezes his eyes shut.
Soon enough, he’s plunged into real darkness as he distantly registers that he’s passing out.
~
“Shinsou. Get up.”
It’s his sister, as usual. He instinctively rolls away to avoid the kick that he knows is coming without even looking; despite that, he still feels the familiar sting of a cleated shoe colliding with already bruised ribs.
“I’m getting up,” he signs aggressively before throwing off the covers.
She’s standing there with her arms crossed, glaring at him as if he’s done something wrong.
I exist. That’s ‘wrong’ enough for them and pretty much everyone else.
He rolls out of bed, stiffly stepping past her to get to the bathroom, where he splashes water on his face, takes a two-minute shower, and brushes his teeth in front of the mirror, taking a moment to assess all the bruises littering his chest and face, before changing into his UA uniform.
Another day. Lovely. At least nobody really notices me in Gen Ed. And then they won’t notice the results of my foster family’s annoyance, either. Nothing to worry about.
First period went normally, with nothing out of the ordinary. But the moment he walked into second period with Present Mic, it was apparent that something was different.
First of all: Present Mic isn’t even bothering to hide his excitement as his gaze bores into Shinsou.
Second of all: his classmates are staring and pointing and whispering as well.
Third of all: they have a guest — a guest who just so happens to be Shinsou’s idol, Eraserhead.
“Mic, I need to borrow Shinsou,” he says, not even needing to look up to know that Shinsou arrived.
“Permanently or temporarily?” comes the cheery reply. And oh, isn’t that concerning.
Worse yet, Eraserhead has neither confirmed nor denied either, simply responding, “you’ll still get to have him in English class. Stop being so overdramatic.”
Hitoshi knows Eraserhead is a teacher at UA; he’s seen him around occasionally, and of course the man was in the announcer’s box during the Sports Festival.
But to have him come to Hitoshi’s homeroom and pull him aside? Borrow him, possibly permanently?
Ah, today’s not going to be normal at all, is it?
He follows Eraserhead out of class and into the hallway, of course. Despite his apprehension and confusion, his favorite hero did just single him out, and Hitoshi is certainly going to hear what he has to say.
“So, Shinsou,” Eraserhead begins the moment the classroom door closes. “How would you like to join the hero course?”
It’s a dream that he thought the universe would never allow to come true. It’s the first step to achieving greater things, the open door that leads to so many more. It’s a lifeline, a way out of this frustration and stasis that he’s been in all his life, and he grabs on with all his strength.
Meeting Eraserhead’s eyes, he nods resolutely. “I would love that.”
Later, he can ask the “but how” and the “why me” — for now, he’s going to allow himself to be pulled in; he’s going to say yes because this opportunity very well may never come again.
Eraserhead almost smiles through his scarf before his face turns serious and unreadable again. “It’ll take a lot of work.”
Shinsou manages to keep his voice steady as he responds. “I’ve come this far. I’ll do anything.”
Eraserhead pressed a large folder into his hands. “This is all the extra material that my class has learned. You’ll be with me, in 1-A, but you’ll also have daily training to catch up. Tomorrow, 8 a.m. sharp at Gym Beta, will be our first session.”
The don’t be late goes unsaid. Shinsou hears it anyway. He’s heard too many things in the hallways about the legendary Aizawa-sensei’s strictness and emphasis on punctuality, and he’s not going to make a bad impression on their first true meeting.
There’s only one problem, one thing dampening his euphoria: tomorrow is a Saturday.
He has no excuse to be out of his house — no excuse that his foster family will accept.
If he tells them, they’ll be unimaginably furious. Yet he can’t think of a way to hide it and sneak out for so many hours without facing repercussions when he gets home.
Tomorrow’s either going to go great or go great.
It’s all he thinks about for the rest of the day. But it’s all right. At least this is the start of something new. He’s getting somewhere.