Work Text:
That's the price you pay
Leave behind your heart and cast away
Just another product of today
Rather be the hunter than the prey
And you're standing on the edge, face up
Natural - by Imagine Dragons
It's March, and Shouta’s counting down the days until graduation. One week left, and he’ll be done. Out. Free. Somehow, the school days grow exponentially longer the closer he gets to the finish line. It's time to build experience out in the real world. It feels like there’s nothing more for him to learn here.
Like today. They’re teamed up for capture exercises in Ground Beta, a teaching method which has become so familiar, it’s routine. Boring. Uninspiring.
School in general is. If he could, he'd drop out and get to work already. Skip the whole graduation thing. Alas, he needs his diploma if he’s going to be legally allowed to work as a pro hero.
It's the only thing tying him to UA at the moment.
Today, he’s teamed up with Present Mic, Arwen, and Fleeze. It's a good team, sure. They've got Arwen for defence, Yamada is basically a wrecking ball with Voice, Shouta evens out the playing field and kicks ass in offence, and Fleeze’s Wool quirk is perfect for trapping their opponents.
Yeah. He feels confident. Bored, but confident.
Right now, they’re huddled up on one of the higher floors of a concrete building, having taken it as a stronghold and shelter.
Yamada’s doing one of the things he does best, scouting the scene outside the windows to make sure no-one tries sneaking up on them. Shouta sometimes wonders if his restless personality makes him preset to be on the look-out for anything new and interesting.
Meanwhile, Arwen explains her plan, smiling and confident. She's the designated team leader, because she's approachable and easy to work with. There’s a reason she's the class representative. “Mic, blast anyone you see to keep them at bay-”
“Aye,” Yamada agrees, but then holds a hand up. “Hold on. Thought I saw something. Tone it down, guys.”
As he keeps his focus on the ground, Arwen lowers her voice to a whisper so anyone outside the open windows will be unlikely to overhear.
“Eraser. Stick to the shadows, you’re strongest there. Sneak attacks when there's an opening, and watch my back. When you apprehend someone, hand them over to Fleeze, so you get your scarf free for the next attack.” She turns to Fleeze who holds their thumbs up.
“I'll roll the prisoners out of the way in my yarn.”
Shouta can't wait until he’s done with school, and can call all his own shots. For now, he too nods.
“Mic, you see anyone?” Arwen asks, a little louder.
Yamada jumps, and turns to look at her. “Sorry, what?”
“Anyone approaching?”
He wobbles his hand. “I thought I saw someone, they might be sneaking up on us.” With a frown, he turns back to scout. “Maybe we should move further up? Get a better view,” he mumbles, probably as much to himself as to them.
Arwen nods, lowering her voice again in case any classmates are too close for comfort. “Lets move to the top floor. Better to scout from up high.”
She's always been the type to humor everyone's suggestions, even if they aren't the best ones. A personality flaw their teachers have sanded down over the years, but not managed to get rid of all together.
If you ask Shouta, it's a dangerous habit, and they should’ve tried harder. Arwen has potential, but if she ends up going along with any crap suggestion from the side lines, she might regret it in the field.
Arwen takes the stairs first, Fleeze right behind her and Shouta next. It's always a good idea for Yamada to be the tail, giving him free reins to howl without a teammate in the way. Shouta’s been on the wrong end of Voice more than enough times, he doesn’t need a recap.
They make it to the top floor, with only the final stairs to the roof left as an emergency exit. Personally, Shouta thinks they've wasted precious seconds retreating when they should’ve made their way downstairs to attack, but he’ll work with what he’s got. It’s not like it’s the real thing, and the final exam isn’t until next week.
Part of him almost wishes something will go askew, only enough that Arwen will learn from her mistakes. Once again, he’s reminded why teamwork isn't for him. Yamada has a sidekick gig already lined up the moment he finishes school, but there’s no way Shouta envies him.
It's a good agency back home in Tokyo with lots of sidekicks. Because unlike Shouta, Yamada enjoys working in a team and having people to rely on, people to watch his back. Friends…
Shouta’s heading to a different district of Tokyo, back to his home turf in Naruhata. The crime rates are high there, and no-one keeps eye contact with antisocial strangers on the street after sundown in case someone’s looking for trouble. Lots of people are, because there’re so few heroes residing in the district.
It's perfect.
Arwen checks the view through the windows. “Alright. Now, back to the plan-” When she turns around, her face settles in a frown. “Where's Mic?”
Shouta glances over his shoulder. “Wasn't he right behind me?”
They share a wince, and Shouta moves to peek down the stairway they came from. Could someone have been sneaking in behind them, capturing Yamada without him hearing?
“Stay here, I'll check downstairs. Come after me in a minute,” Shouta says, knowing Arwen won't stop him. He doesn't even bother to look at his teammates when he says it, just heads straight for the stairs and starts making his way down on silent feet. There’s no need to have them captured as well, if there’s a trap.
Once he’s made it back down the stairs, he peeks around the corner to check the room they just left.
Yamada’s still scouting out the damn window! What’s worse, he doesn't seem to notice Naiad from the other team sneaking up on him. Her uniform rustles enough that Shouta feels he should hear it, despite those ridiculous headphones he insists on wearing. What the hell has got him so distracted?
He briefly considers calling out, to spur Yamada into action; but all of his attacks are loud enough to disclose their location to the whole building, not to mention the training grounds. Instead, Shouta takes the silent approach.
As Naiad lifts her palm up to strike with her water quirk, Shouta aims his glowing glare at her.
“Oh, crap,” she hisses, and she spins on her heel to attack him instead. By then, Shouta’s already thrown his binding cloth out, and it wraps around her wrists.
It’s her loud cursing that finally makes Yamada turn to look over his shoulder, jaw dropping with surprise “What the-”
His wide eyes flicker above the rim of his sunglasses, between Shouta wrapping Naiad up like a fly in a spider's web, and the stairway from where Fleeze rushes out to help. Arwen scouts the stairs going down, checking for more opponents.
He still looks bewildered when Shouta can finally take his eyes off their prisoner, now safely wrapped up in Fleeze's yarn instead of his binding cloth. More so when Yamada sees Shouta's frown.
“What?”
“The fuck were you still down here for?” Shouta snaps, trying to take in every detail of Yamada's body language. Has someone on the other team done something to him after all? Is he compromised?
“What do you mean?” Yamada frowns.
Arwen too looks like she’s taking stock of him when she comes over. “We went upstairs, Mic. Like you suggested.”
“You guys went upstairs? Why didn't you tell me?”
“We did,” Shouta says slowly, watching Yamada's eyebrows go through a whole range of emotions.
There’s a sound from below, as someone on the other team clearly gets sick of waiting, and opts for making their way up to check on their teammate. Shouta, Arwen, and Fleeze all turn to look in the direction of the approaching footsteps, but in the corner of his eye, Shouta notices how delayed Yamada's reaction is.
“You guys see something?” he asks, too loud in Shouta's opinion. Especially with an approaching threat.
“You don't hear them?” Shouta asks in a hushed whisper, and dread settles in his stomach when Yamada answers-
“What'd you say, man?”
Recovery Girl shakes her head, releasing her hold on Yamada’s ear after checking him over.
“Ear drums are fine, no wax to speak of.”
Shouta’s leaning against the wall, arms crossed, hiding how he’s chewing his lip behind the binding cloth as he watches Yamada and Recovery Girl closely. He still hasn’t come to terms with how they lost the battle training fifteen minutes ago. It should have been a breeze, an easy victory. By the end of it, it was clear to their homeroom teacher and everyone on their team that something was amiss, and Shouta had been allowed to drag an arguing Yamada off to the nurse. Because Yamada seems to think they’re all being more than a little over-protective. He stays seated on the examination table, but rolls his eyes.
“See,” he scoffs, throwing his arms out wide in an exasperated, over-the-top gesture as Recovery Girl steps away from him to rummage in a drawer. “Ain't nothing wrong. Some bruises from being captured is all. Kiss on the cheek and candy in hand, right?”
“I don't know about that.” Recovery Girl says, and takes out a small speaker, setting it up on her desk. “Your mother’s hard of hearing, right?”
Yamada shuffles in his seat on the examination table, but his mouth spreads out into a wide grin anyway. “Yeah. Legally deaf. She got implants, though.”
Actually, a lot of Yamada's family have either speech or hearing impediments. Mama Yamada has been teaching Shouta some handy sign language, whenever he visits.
Had been, when he visited. It's been a while. Probably more correct to use past tense.
“Close your eyes. Hold your hand up in a fist. I'll play various sounds. Put your finger up when you hear the tone, put it down when you don’t.”
Yamada scowls, but does as instructed, and holds a closed fist up ready to signal.
“Alright,” she says, and turns to her laptop standing open on the desk next to the speakers. “We start now.”
It's quiet at first. The only thing that convinces Shouta there’s actual sound coming from the speakers, is the computer program on the laptop displaying the frequency and volume. Maybe if he had a dog quirk he would’ve heard something. As it is, Yamada's hand stays still in the air.
Shouta watches the display as the frequency drops, becoming an annoying, high pitched sound, just audible enough to drive someone insane as they try to pinpoint where it’s coming from.
Yamada's fingers stay firm in their fist.
The noise drops lower, now more akin to a mosquito trapped in a bedroom in the middle of the night. Constant and agitating.
Shouta barely registers how he peels himself off the wall, somewhat leaning in instead. He searches Yamada’s face for any trace of reaction to the high pitched sound that’s almost painfully irritating to his own ears.
There’s nothing.
He wants to get closer, though there’s no rational reason why he'd need to be. Some part of him just thinks he should be; should be sitting next to Yamada with a hand on his back. Feeling the rise and fall as his lungs draw breath, and the constant beating of his pulse beneath Shouta's palm. Instead he stands frozen, not daring to make a sound in case he ruins the test.
The speaker keeps working, sometimes upping the frequency and volume again, then working its way back down. Eventually, and far too late for comfort, Yamada's finger rises.
“I think that's all I need to know,” Recovery Girl says, turning off the speaker. Her voice is steady, but firm.
Yamada opens his eyes. “Yeah? How was it?” Then his attention drifts to Shouta, and his eyebrows threaten to squash together into a tiny monobrow with how deeply he frowns. “What, bud? What’s with the scowl?”
Shouta can't answer. Can't say anything. His stomach is in knots, churning with uncomfortable feelings that he doesn't know how to put into words right now. They coil and twist, and make him feel slightly nauseous.
Instead, Recovery Girl clears her throat.
“It seems, we ought to call your mother. And then schedule an audiologist appointment.”
Yamada isn't at school the next day, and since it's a Friday, it means Shouta has plenty of days to not think until Monday.
His preferred method is training. It's become his preferred method for handling most things, really. No reason to change something if it works.
While he pushes, and pushes, and pushes his body through exercise after exercise, there are two questions burning in his mind. Loud, painful and on repeat, still stubbornly refusing to shut up.
When did it happen?
And how come it's taken him this long to notice?
If he pushes himself a little bit harder, the drumming of his own heartbeat and constant sound of heavy breathing does the trick to drown out his thoughts. When done, he’s exhausted enough to fall right asleep, curling up in his sleeping bag or in the bed in his one-room apartment.
Monday morning is chilly. Even though it's late March, February has stopped by to visit them before April is allowed to come around. Shouta's body is exhausted, and his mind is as clear as the icy blue sky.
He waits outside the gates of UA, staring down the road leading to the train station from where Yamada will arrive. His phone had been uncharacteristically quiet all weekend. No memes. No links to recently discovered songs. No random pictures of Mama Yamada's home cooking. Nothing. Only a ‘Thank you!’ after Shouta had sent him a copy of his notes from Friday’s lectures.
It feels uncanny, when Yamada goes radio silent.
Classmates pass him, offering morning greetings, and he grunts out one in return without removing his eyes from the road. Any second. Any second now.
There.
Yamada’s wearing a beanie, a bright green one that throws Shouta off a little, because he was scouting for blond hair. It's such a rare sight, that he instantly considers it a bad omen. Yamada’s a lot more lenient to wear ear muffs, because it won't mess up his carefully styled hair. On more than one occasion, he has argued that his headphones do the trick, especially considering the added advantage of music to ‘keep his soul warm.’
All through the weekend, Shouta has waited to hear of any news about the audiologist appointment. Now, he can finally ask in person, only to find he has no idea how he's supposed to do it. His throat feels increasingly tight and dry as Yamada waves, speeding up his walk. After scouting for so long, Shouta can finally avert his eyes and look down at his shoes.
“Hey, bud!” Yamada cheers, walking up to him. “Who has the winter quirk, eh? Thought we were done with the cold for now.”
Shouta forces himself to lift his head, to look Yamada in the eye-
-but he can't. Because Yamada’s wearing those ridiculous sunglasses that never come off.
It’s a relief, and he hates that he feels that way, but at least he won't have to lock eyes with Yamada. To have the knowledge burn in his chest that he didn't realise sooner, while looking into those captivating eyes at the same time.
This is easier.
It's honestly made the past few semesters easier too.
“Hey.”
Yamada slings an arm around him, making sure they’re both walking in the same direction through the gates.
“Let's hurry up inside, I’m freezing my balls off! Gee, ain't it funny though, if it was January I'd say it was a warm-ish day, but now I'm longing for a hot chocolate. Oh, with whipped cream!”
Shouta doesn't care about the cold, or about hot chocolate. He cares about Yamada's appointment.
“Well?” he asks, hoping it's clear what he’s asking about.
“Well what? Dude, thanks for sending me your notes, you're a life saver. Ugh, I can't believe I missed out on entertainment lessons! Bad luck, eh? Sorry for ditching ya, I know it ain't your fave subject, and I like being your emotional support extrovert in classes you hate, but I'll make it up to you, help ya get ready for the practical exam. Wow, did it occur to you that it's kinda our last entertainment assignment? Almost makes you prematurely nostalgic-”
“Yamada,” Shouta interrupts, glaring at the orange lenses that shield Yamada’s eyes. “The audiologist. What did they say?”
Somehow, Yamada doesn't falter. Doesn't hesitate, or even change his smile. For a second, it conjures up a memory in Shouta's mind, of making plaster masks in arts and crafts when he was a kid. The way they couldn't move their faces until the plaster dried into an expression that would never change. The thought leaves Shouta almost as soon as he imagines it, washed away in the never-ending flood of words that pour from Yamada’s mouth.
“It's not a big deal. I had to do lots of tests, like check the pressure of my eardrum and repeat stuff from an audio track-”
It's not a big deal. Something in Shouta's stomach unclenches, and he lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding.
“-and then they fitted me with some hearing aids, so now I tots match my favourite cousin, we can like, form a club or something. Going to start pulling the hard of hearing card when Mama accuses me of ignoring her, hah! Oh wait, oh damn, is that what she does whenever she ‘ forgets’ to turn on her cochlear implant? I’m so onto her-”
Shouta's stomach re-clenches.
“What?”
“The support department guys said they'll incorporate hearing aids into my headphones for my uniform, though. Ain't that awesome? Cause, like, it ain't that comfortable to wear headphones on top of these. Man, it's been so boring on the train here, you've got no idea, because the headphones I got aren’t a good match. But mom insisted I have to keep the aids in, no taking them out on the way to school, she said, like she thinks I might get hit by a bus or something if I don't! And then she made me wear this” - he points at the beanie - “because apparently wearing hearing aids means I'm more at risk for ear infections. It's totally cramping up my style! Man, you gotta come shopping with me, I'll need one that’s way cooler. Do you think I could pull off flame patterns? No? How about a black one, and then I can bedazzle it? Oh yeah, that could totally work!”
Yamada pulls off his beanie, inspecting it carefully while proposing one ridiculous design after the other, but the words become background noise. Because finally, Shouta can see the small, innocuous device. It wraps behind and into Yamada's ear, hardly noticeable at all except for the way it catches Shouta’s eyes like a neon sign in the dark.
“Yo, ya heard me?” Yamada's hand is suddenly waving back and forth in front of Shouta's face.
“Huh?”
With an exaggerated roll of his eyes, Yamada steps inside the school building. “I know fashion ain't your thing, Aizawa, but I'm going to look good enough for the both of us, just you wait and see. By the way, did you watch the whole debate on Saturday about Kayama's outfit? She was sooo not happy. Yo, Sensoji, my man, looking forward to busting some eardrums during the practical exam! I got the number for a good audiologist in case you need one, hey-o!”
And so it continues. Yamada's still loud, he’s always been loud, but now it's tuned down a notch or two. Probably because he can hear himself better. The amount of words per second are the same, though, if not somehow more. Whenever there’s a minute to spare where Shouta could have probed for answers, it's filled with an ever flowing string of thoughts that make it impossible to get a word in edgewise. It's like Yamada has started talking even on inhale.
So Shouta tries, really tries, to pay attention to what he’s saying. If there’s anything he can grab on to or learn from it; but everything sounds shallow and unimportant. The regular quips, the usual fresh gossip from hero or music magazines, the scheduled awe after battle training.
It suddenly strikes him that this has become a mundane routine. He tries hard to remember when he last spoke to Yamada about anything important. Anything real. Anything that didn't turn into a joke in Yamada's mouth. Something personal.
He can't remember.
And he can’t bring himself to ask for it either. Because if he does, if he demands it of Yamada, he too may have to open up and talk.
That's something he can't stomach thinking about.
Still, after almost a week of listening to Yamada rambling on, Shouta has picked up on a few of the pieces of the puzzle that is his hearing loss. Yamada's quirk hasn't harmed him directly, but indirectly. It's mostly the effect of Voice being thrown back at him that's the main issue, not Voice itself. His ears are protected from noise from within, not from without.
Combined with years of other loud noises, it’s all added up to partial hearing loss. One that he might have developed anyway, in due time, considering his family's medical history.
It's not going to get better from here on. It’ll likely gradually get worse.
And how does Shouta find out? Not directly from Yamada, that's for sure. No, based on what the guys at Support say when they hand Yamada his new headphones and explain all the design choices they've made. Words like directional speakers, and noise cancelling, and surround sound are thrown back and forth.
If Shouta didn't know better, he'd say Yamada isn't taking this seriously. Sure, he joins in the discussion of future functionalities, of the pros and cons of them; but even though the smile sits plastered on his face like his sunglasses, Shouta knows there's no way Yamada’s fine. There's no way, when the words cochlear implant are briefly mentioned in conversation about way-into-the-future support items, that it doesn't make Yamada feel at least a little bit of the dread Shouta does. Especially considering what it’ll do to his ability to listen to music, should it come to it.
Shouta knows losing one’s hearing doesn’t stand in the way of a good life. He’s visited the Yamadas often enough to know that; loud, warm, and welcoming. It won’t make things any easier either, not when Yamada’s still insistent on working in entertainment. Hell, he’d asked Shouta to read through three open applications to radio stations in Tokyo just this week.
He reminds himself that Yamada has a support network, one that’s stronger and better than Shouta alone. He has his family. He has support items. He has all the comforts that his future workplace can offer him, when he officially joins as a sidekick next week.
The best thing Shouta can offer is to train a little bit harder, so he can have both their backs should anything ever happen in the field.
He sees no other way he can be useful to Yamada right now. Sees no way to approach him, considering the way Yamada rebuffs questions from anyone outside the support department with lame jokes and laughter.
The days go by so fast, Shouta feels whiplashed when graduation is suddenly upon them. Last week was dreadfully long. Now, it's as if time got caught in the flood that has been Yamada's constant chattering between classes.
Suddenly they’re there, outside the school building, done with speeches and formalities. Classmates are hugging each other or being hugged by family members. Some are even crying.
The weather has shifted again, but the warming sun seems to be only minutes away from being covered by rainclouds. Shouta closes his eyes, inhaling deeply. He can smell it in the air.
It smells like change. He’s free.
Yamada seems cheerful about everything, as always. He high fives several classmates, celebrating by being, well, Yamada.
Or… Shouta has a hard time unhearing and unseeing what has been nagging him all week. How ever-present Yamada’s smile has become, how shallow his conversation topics are. Even in their few private moments outside of class.
When did it happen?
Why didn't he realise sooner?
Raindrops start falling, and one of the girls shouts out in indignation. Arwen pulls out her phone.
“Let's get in some group shots before the weather really turns! Huddle up!”
Yamada whoops. “Yeah! Killer idea!”
Group photos? Not Shouta's scene. He pulls up the goggles, covering his eyes, and smirks to himself as he uses Erasure on Yamada as he's about to call him over.
“Hey Aiza-” He watches Yamada cough, trying to get his voice back on track, before casting wide eyes at Shouta as he lifts his hand in goodbye.
There's a moment, a short moment, where he thinks Yamada's expression might be something akin to sadness. Where the surprise wipes his smile off his face, and his eyes are large and doleful over the rim of his sunglasses. By then Shouta’s already kicked off and thrown himself into the air with his binding cloth. So he tries not to dwell on it.
He’s free. Free to make his own decisions, to do things his way. To feel the wind in his hair as he works his way across rooftops towards the station. There’s a train going to Tokyo in twenty minutes, and he plans to be on it with his pre-packed suitcase. All he has to do is pick it up and leave the key for the landlord. He’s also leaving a box with stuff for Yamada to collect, things he no longer needs that his friend can have if he wants. Otherwise, Shouta’s landlord will throw it out for him.
The rain has really set in now, but when he's far enough away that he feels certain he's out of sight, he turns around to throw a final glance at the UA school building in the distance. This is it. His fingers clench around his hard earned diploma and he’s free to go.
There's nothing holding him back anymore.
Yet in his mind, he can still see Yamada standing there, surrounded by their classmates. Right now, he’s probably smiling for the camera, flashing a great, big grin that'll be forever commemorated in the group photo of eighteen, maybe even thirty-eight, young and promising heroes.
Then he’ll join them, or his family, in celebration. On Monday, Yamada will show up at the agency that's his new workplace, announce himself as Present Mic, and be welcomed by co-workers and new, friendlier faces than Shouta's.
And three years together at UA with Shouta will be but a memory, slowly fading and dimming in comparison to the flashy life of a pro hero.
It occurs to him then that maybe there were two things tying him to UA. Getting his diploma, and Yamada Hizashi.
And now there are none.