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Hitoshi lets out a small sigh of relief as he unwinds the capture weapon from his neck. It's not like it's any true danger to him—he's learning to handle it and Aizawa would never let anything happen to him, but it's still around his neck and even though it's not a noose by design, there's always the possibility of an accident.
An accident that leaves the cloth tight around his neck, that cuts off Hitoshi's air, makes him choke—
He really has to stop thinking about this, he reminds himself quickly because his breath is already coming out shakier than it was before and Aizawa is still right there.
"Everything okay?" he asks just on cue and Hitoshi forces himself to nod, even as he fights the urge to reach up for his neck.
He has to remind himself again that nothing can hurt him here, even as he makes sure the collar of his uniform sits undisturbed and hides the rope burn and the ugly bruise on his neck.
Aizawa doesn't seem convinced at all but he doesn't press the issue, because he never does. He's a pillar of support for Hitoshi without being overbearing or stepping in when he's not wanted and Hitoshi is more grateful to him than he'll ever now probably.
Even though lately he finds himself wishing that maybe Aizawa would press the issue, if only so it's taken out of Hitoshi's hands and he can spill everything without feeling weak or like he's tattling.
But Aizawa doesn't and still, Hitoshi is grateful for him.
"I'm in your area tonight," Aizawa suddenly says, looking at Hitoshi with that sharp, calculating gaze he has and Hitoshi nods.
It's—an offer, as much as a promise, Hitoshi has learned.
He knows Aizawa would never swing by his house without due cause, but it does help to know that he's close, that he's patrolling the area and if Hitoshi should need him, he'd be right there.
"Okay," he whispers out, his voice raspy in the way it gets after a night being jerked around by the noose around his neck but so far he's been able to brush it off by claiming he just doesn't speak much.
He wonders if one of these days his vocal cords will be permanently damaged and he honestly thinks that day might not be that far off anymore. It's getting worse at home, and Hitoshi fears that his foster father might just snap one day and really hang him, instead of only playing with him.
"You still have my number?" Aizawa wants to know and Hitoshi's hand automatically goes to his pocket where he keeps his phone.
Hitoshi has Aizawa's number memorised by now because he can never be certain that his foster family will let him keep his phone, but Aizawa's number is also on speed dial so he nods in confirmation.
Aizawa simply nods in return, used to the way Hitoshi barely speaks outside of training and they pack up in silence.
Hitoshi is used to more uncomfortable silences, but with Aizawa he knows it's not because he's afraid of Hitoshi's quirk—afraid of Hitoshi—but simply because this is how he is in general.
"I'll see you tomorrow, sensei," Hitoshi mutters, slinging his bag over his shoulder and Aizawa gives him a once over before he nods and bids him goodbye for the day.
Hitoshi drags his feet on the way home, in no rush to arrive there and have the noose placed back around his neck, but he can't put it off forever and he knows from experience that things will be worse if he misses his curfew.
So his feet bring him to the house before he's really ready for it and still Hitoshi hesitates in front of the door. It's already dark out, probably closer to his curfew than he really cares for and Hitoshi finds himself thinking that Aizawa should be on his patrol already.
Hitoshi knows that he starts early during the week, so he can catch a little bit of sleep before classes and he unconsciously moves his hand to his phone. It would be easy, to take it out and call Aizawa and have him take care of this, but then what?
He imagines, just for a brief moment, what it would be like to come back to a loving household, to a family that cares for him and doesn't hurt him, to be placed with someone who wants him there, and his eyes burn when he realises that he can't even imagine it.
It's not something he's ever had, after all.
Hitoshi pushes those thoughts away as best as he can before he braces himself and opens the door.
Just like he expected his foster father is already waiting for him, the noose in his hand and Hitoshi can do nothing but bow his head and accept it.
It's always so, so much worse when he fights it.
The noose slips around his neck, tightening uncomfortable immediately and when his foster father yanks on it, Hitoshi stumbles, painful gasp cut off by the sudden pressure around his neck.
"Took you long enough, you fucking waste of space," his foster father drawls out and Hitoshi can smell alcohol on his breath.
Today is going to be a bad day, then. Hitoshi tries to prepare himself for it, but it's not working, it's never working. Especially not when The Gallows come into play, like his foster father so lovingly dubbed the free-hanging bar in Hitoshi's room and he just knows that he'll end up there tonight.
His foster father is already worked up, already beyond drunk and no matter what Hitoshi is going to do, it's going to be the wrong thing. If his foster father gets like this, Hitoshi can't even breathe right.
"What, nothing to say, you little monster?" his foster father sneers out, wrapping the rope hanging loosely down Hitoshi's back around his fist and pulling Hitoshi close.
Hitoshi mutely shakes his head because he knows better than to speak and his foster father's mouth twitches in disgust before he pushes him away, making Hitoshi stumble and fall to the floor.
"Get the fuck out of my sight," he growls out and Hitoshi scrambles up but before he can take more than two steps, the rope around his neck tightens again and he's yanked backwards.
The noose burns around his neck, and the pressure on it makes it hard to breathe and even so Hitoshi tries to follow the pull of the rope as best as he can to lessen the strain on his throat.
"You thought you'd get off easy tonight, didn't you?" His foster father's voice is mocking and Hitoshi wants to argue, wants to tell him that not once in this house has he thought he'd get off easy, but the rope is pulled tight again and it steals the words right out of Hitoshi's throat.
"Off to The Gallows we go," his foster father decides and Hitoshi goes cold with fear.
It's still early in the evening, and if he's already being placed on The Gallows now, he knows there's no way in hell his foster father will let him off early, too. He'll spent more time than ever being choked out tonight and tears prick at his eyes.
"Please, no," he manages to get out, his voice rough and breaking around the words but his foster father doesn't pay him any attention at all and simply strings him along.
Hitoshi starts to fight back when they reach his room, but he's weak, has always been weak in face of his foster father and when he yanks so hard on the rope that Hitoshi's sight blacks out, he simply falls limp.
He can't fight this, he never can, and the desperation makes him helpless.
"That's better," his foster father says as he throws the rope across the beam in Hitoshi's room and then pulls on it until Hitoshi has to balance on the balls of his feet to give himself enough leeway to keep breathing.
This is the usual procedure, but then he doesn't stop.
He keeps pulling and pulling until Hitoshi is barely able to stand on the tips of his toes and new panic claws at him.
There is no way he can hold this position for hours. There is no way he can keep this up for long enough to not hang himself tonight and he starts to scramble for the rope around his neck.
"Knock that off," his foster father snaps, slapping his hands down and Hitoshi chokes when he loses balance and suddenly his weight is help up entirely by his neck.
His vision is fading fast and it almost takes him too long to get his feet back under him and even then the relief is only minimal. It's only enough to ensure he doesn't die but it doesn't allow him to take a normal breath.
His foster father gives him a once over, his gaze distant and cold, before he turns around and leaves.
He simply leaves Hitoshi hanging like this and Hitoshi can't breathe.
Hitoshi's calves are already cramping up and he's shaking too much to keep this position for long.
He's going to die tonight.
The thought takes everything away for a moment, all the fear and desperation and all the hopes Hitoshi had for his future, but then he remembers Aizawa's words.
I'm in your area tonight, he had said and Hitoshi still has his phone.
Usually his foster father takes it from him before he puts him on The Gallows, but it seems that tonight he'd been too drunk to remember.
Hitoshi takes a moment, forces himself to be steady in his precarious situation and he wills his hand to stop shaking as he pulls out his phone. He only has this one chance. If he fumbles the phone he's dead.
Thankfully he doesn't need to look down at the phone because it's one of those very old, very obsolete flip phones with buttons instead of a touch screen and so it's easy to press on the number one until a call goes out.
It takes Aizawa three rings to pick up and Hitoshi lets out a sob when he does, which promptly makes him choke.
"Shinsou?" Aizawa's voice comes through and Hitoshi knows he has to answer, he knows he needs to give Aizawa something, anything, so he forces himself to speak.
"Aizawa, help," he whispers out and prays to all the gods he knows that Aizawa can hear him. "Please."
"Are you at home? I'm on my way," Aizawa promises him and Hitoshi shakes with something akin to relief and then that immediately turns into fear when the door to his room is being thrown open hard enough that it hits the wall.
"What the fuck are you doing?" his foster father demands to know, his eyes immediately falling onto the phone in Hitoshi's hand. "Who the fuck are you calling?" he asks but he doesn't really care seeing as he simply slaps the phone out of Hitoshi's hand and then punches him in the stomach for good measure, too.
Hitoshi's precious breath leaves him in a wheeze and the force of the hit knocks him off balance again and for a moment, a very long moment, he's dangling in the air before he manages to steady himself.
"Stop," he manages to get out, his voice faint and afraid and he reaches up again to get one hand between the noose and his neck, trying to alleviate the pressure that way while he reaches over his head with the other one, trying to pull himself up with his own strength.
It's a lot like working with the capture weapon, he reminds himself, and when he finally manages to do it, he manages to take two deep breaths before his foster father punches him in the face and Hitoshi loses his grip.
"You think anyone will come for a monster like you? You're dead. You're dead meat hanging, and nothing more."
If Hitoshi had the breath for it, he would laugh straight in his face, because right now there's only one monster in the room and it's definitely not him but all he can do is choke, choke, choke and pray that it's over soon.
One way or the other.
~*~*~
Shouta is afraid. It's not a feeling he is particularly accustomed to, though it has been happening more often lately, with his hell class and the apparent target they painted on their backs.
Still, the fear right now is crawling up his throat, flowing like ice through his veins and he pushes himself to go faster, faster, almost flying over the rooftops of the city, all in his haste to get to Shinsou faster.
He's not quite certain what's going on, but the call is still ongoing and Shouta can piece together enough to know that every second counts.
He can hear Shinsou's pained wheezing, can hear what he intimately knows is a fist meeting a body and then for a long moment there is nothing.
Shouta holds his breath until a ragged gasp reaches his ear and only then does he breath again as well. He doesn't know what's happening to Shinsou right now besides him being beaten but the way his breathing is audible over the phone still when Shouta is certain it's been knocked to the side is worrying.
Especially considering how unregularly it is.
Shouta goes a little bit faster still, and he doesn't slow down for a moment when he sees Shinsou's house coming up in front of him. He doesn't waste time knocking on the door, simply uses his momentum to kick it down in one swift movement because the call gives him enough leeway to act on his own judgement and then he runs up the stairs, following the sound of a beating.
He's still afraid, right until he arrives in the doorway and then all that icy fear is replaced with molten hot fury, licking up his throat and flowing out into the tips of his fingers.
Shinsou is hanging off a beam in the middle of the room while a man—presumably his foster father—is moving to hit him again.
Shouta flings his capture weapon, edges sharpened beyond what he usually does, while he moves into the room and bodily throws himself at the man. His attack slams him into the opposite wall just as the rope gives under the razor-sharp edge off his capture weapon and Shouta is right there to catch Shinsou as he falls.
His breathing is ragged and it sounds pained enough that Shouta winces, but before he can check if Shinsou's throat has been crushed the man lets out an enraged yell and moves in again.
Shouta twists out of the way, Shinsou still cradled in his arms, but as soon as he is out of the way, he lays him down, turning his full attention to the charging man for now.
It's incredibly stupid, to come after an enraged pro hero like this, but Shouta is not going to mention that and instead takes the opportunity to slam his fist into the man's face as hard as he can. He's aided by the momentum he still had and not even a second later the man falls to the ground, out cold.
Shouta fights the urge to make really sure that he's not getting up any time soon, but Shinsou's pained breathing stops him.
"Kid, I'm here," he says, because he's not quite sure if Shinsou is conscious enough to notice anything at the moment, but Shouta knows he is when Shinsou's hand tangles in his shirt. "I'm right here, you're safe now," he whispers again even as he reaches up and presses his earpiece.
He's immediately patched through to the emergency line.
"What's happening, Eraserhead?"
"Strangulation victim, at my location. 15-year-old boy."
"On our way. Any other injuries? Can he breathe?"
"He's been beaten, too," Shouta says, quickly checking Shinsou's visible injuries and pretending not to notice how his own hands shake. "No bleeding wounds, ribs don't seem to be broken. He's wheezing, I don't know how much actual oxygen he's getting."
He tries to keep it brief and short and prays that the paramedics will arrive sooner rather than later.
"ETA two minutes," is the court answer he gets and Shouta bites back a curse because he knows it wouldn't help.
They are coming as fast as they can and Shouta can just hope that Shinsou will be able to hold on for that long.
There is not much he can really do at the moment, so he simply sits at Shinsou's side, one hand over the one still tangled in his shirt and he hopes that his presence is enough to calm Shinsou down at least somewhat. Surely a panic attack is not going to help with the breathing problem.
"Eraserhead?" a voice from downstair suddenly calls out and he turns around.
"Up here," he calls back and he can hear feet on the stairs before the paramedics finally show up in the doorway.
They briefly take everything in before rushing to his side.
"The other guy?" one of the paramedics asks while his partner kneels at Shinsou's side and Shouta can't help the sneer.
"Is not the priority. He can be treated at the police station," he decides and the paramedic thankfully doesn't question him.
The police is not that far behind the paramedics and soon enough there's a flurry of activity in the house and between one talk with the police or another the paramedics whisked Shinsou away.
Shouta hates it, hates having to leave him out of his side, but he knows that he would only be in the way and he can always visit him at the hospital once he's stable.
And he will visit him there as soon as the police lets him go, so half an hour later and a promise to come in for a more thorough debrief, Shouta flags down a taxi to the hospital, though he takes the time to call Hizashi on the way there.
"Your patrol has ended forty minutes ago," is the first thing Hizashi greets him with and Shouta can hear the underlying worry in his voice. "I better not have to come visit you at the hospital again."
"I'm fine," Shouta gives back, trying to keep his voice even, but he was never that good at fooling Hizashi.
"You're not," he says after a deliberating pause. "What's wrong?"
"It's Shinsou. He called me today, asked for help. Hizashi, he—" he cuts himself off with some colourful curses before he manages to go on. "His foster father was hanging him in the middle of his room."
Hizashi sucks in a sharp breath.
"How's he doing?"
"He was breathing when the paramedics took him," Shouta whispers because he's been clinging to that ever since Shinsou was moved out of his sight. "I'm on the way to the hospital right now."
"You want me to meet you there?"
"Can you get the room ready for him?" Shouta asks instead of answering and Hizashi sighs fondly.
"Shou, you know the room has been ready for ages. You want me there or not?"
Shouta takes a moment to really think it over before he lets out a long breath.
"Not," he finally admits, because he feels as if he has to see Shinsou for himself first. "Bring breakfast, though?"
"Will do," Hizashi gives back without judgement. "Just keep me updated."
"I will. Thank you."
"Yeah, yeah. Just be there for the kid," Hizashi says and then hangs up without a proper goodbye which is just as well because the hospital is right there.
He pays the taxi driver and then walks in, flashing his license at everyone who questions his presence until he's pointed towards Shinsou's room with strict instructions to not upset him and not let him talk for more than four consecutive words.
Shouta nods, filing that away but the only real thought in his head is that this means Shinsou is alive.
He's alive and more or less well and he's not going to die.
Shouta still wasn't prepared for how bad he looks, even though he should have been, because this is not the first abuse victim he comes to visit at the hospital, but it's different because it's Shinsou.
And he looks as pale as a ghost, except for the ring of purple-black bruises around his throat and his swollen eye.
"Hey, kid," Shouta softly says as he pulls up a chair next to Shinsou, who is watching him with one wide eye. "I've been told you're not allowed to talk much, so here," Shouta says and hands him his unlocked phone, already open in a note app.
Shouta takes note of the rope burns on Shinsou's hands and wonders for just how long he'd been fighting for his life before he called Shouta, before he arrived.
"How are you feeling?" Shouta asks, forcing himself to look away from Shinsou's hands but he hears him typing. He only drops his gaze back down when Shinsou turns the phone to him.
Like shit but alive. Thanks for coming for me.
"Of course," Shouta gives back because that has never even been a question.
He knew he would be there for the kid no matter what, if only he asked. And for all that tonight has been horrible, he's still glad Shinsou did finally ask, because the alternative is unthinkable.
"Doctor's say anything about damage?"
Bruises, swelling, micro tears in my throat. Not allowed to talk or eat or drink anything too hot, too spicy or too cold for now. Bruised all over too, nothing broken, nothing lasting, Shinsou types out and Shouta slumps with relief.
"Good," he breathes out, closing his eyes for a moment to center himself.
He snaps back to attention when Shinsou pulls on his sleeve, holding the phone right into his face.
Can't be moved, can't lose my spot at U.A., have to go back! is written in bold black letters and Shouta gets the distinct impression that if this were pen and paper, Shinsou would have underlined the back several times.
"You're not going back, kid, your foster father is currently at the police station and he'll face jailtime for abuse of a minor. He'll never be allowed to foster another kid."
His answer seems to make Shinsou panic and Shouta watches for a moment how he frantically types on the phone before he puts his hand over Shinsou's.
"Hizashi and I have foster licenses," he tells Shinsou when he looks at him with wide, panicked eyes and it only seems to confuse him more. "We're going to take you in, at least for now. We can make it long-term, too, if you want that. But even if not, I'll make sure you'll get a foster family who actually cares. You don't have to worry about anything."
Shinsou starts to type and stops to erase whatever is written several times before he simply helplessly looks up at Shouta.
"With you, please," he whispers out, his voice scratchy and trembling and it sounds painful, despite the naked hope in it.
"Then you'll stay with us," Shouta immediately promises him and Shinsou slumps back in his bed, his eyes fluttering shut. "Try to get some rest, kid, I'll be here. Hizashi will bring us breakfast tomorrow, this hospital is not known for its culinary decency."
It brings a wry smile out of Shinsou, who seems about ready to collapse now, but before he fully relaxes, he reaches out for Shouta's sleeve and holds on, as if he's afraid that Shouta might leave at any moment.
"I'm here, kid, not going anywhere," Shouta tells him and wraps his fingers around Shinsou's wrist to underline his words and not at all to reassure himself with Shinsou's pulse faintly beating into the tips of his fingers.
Shinsou only nods and then promptly falls asleep and Shouta spends the better part of the night watching him breathe.
Today could have gone so incredibly wrong, but Shinsou is alive and breathing and Shouta has him now.
And he'll make sure Shinsou will be alright.