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Shouta hates coming back to his house after a long hospital stay. He hated the suffocating staleness that filled the air, the stench of rotting food greeting him as soon as he steps inside, the piles of unwashed dishes, and overflowing trash. The mess was a constant reminder of how sudden and impromptu these visits always were. How unprepared he was to abandon his house for days or weeks at a time.
The worst part was, he couldn’t even do anything about it. His various injuries always made it impossible to clean right away, so he was left to sit in the stench, letting the mess burden him, continuously getting on his nerves until he was healed enough to tackle deep cleaning his house.
Shouta has been living alone for nearly six years now. Moving straight after graduating from U.A moving into a small little house located on the outskirts of the city. Diving head first straight into his new life as a pro hero. Back then, the house he lived in was never important, it was just a place to eat and sleep. As time went on, this house started to become more than just that. It became a retreat, a place where he could isolate himself from the outside world. Yet, it always felt like it was missing something.
After Oboro’s death, Shouta had decided it was better to be alone. No connections, no ties, no one to lose. If he avoided getting close to people, he wouldn’t get hurt, not again. Isolation had been a deliberate choice. It was as simple as that.
Or so he thought.
Shouta had done everything in his power to isolate himself, keep his walls up, and keep them up high, but Hizashi was a wrecking ball. He was a force of nature who refuses to be ignored, managing to weasel his way back into Shouta’s life.
It all started with a joint undercover mission that threw them into working together for weeks on end, being in constant close contact with each other. After so carefully isolating himself from Hizashi for six years, it was all down the drain within a month. Shouta had hoped their partnership would end the moment the mission did, but in typical Hizashi style, he had other plans. He wedged himself back into Shouta’s life, piece by piece. Finding a way through every crack in Shouta’s well crafted wall.
There were the joint patrols that became a new normal, occurring at least once a week. The coffee outings that Shouta was never able to find an excuse to decline, and the random movie nights where Hizashi would just show up uninvited with popcorn and a stack of pre-quirk western DVDs.
The worst part?
Shouta didn’t even know how Hizashi had even found his address.
Hizashi became a new constant in Shouta’s life, always there, time and time again. Chipping away at Shouta’s carefully constructed wall of solitude.
That is how they ended up here, Hizashi driving Shouta back to his house from the hospital. Again.
The injury wasn’t as bad as some of the other injuries Shouta has endured in his time as a hero. A broken leg and a few bruised ribs, nothing life-threatening this time.
Still the thought of hobbling around back into the disaster he calls his house was enough to fill him with dread. He could already picture the rotting half cooked food on the counter, the dishes that have crusted over with dried sauce, the fridge that was once full of expensive vegetables Hizashi bought him now turning to mush. Not to mention the smell, he is not looking forward to the sensory onslaught.
“Okay, and we are here,” Hizashi announced as he pulled up next to the curb. He hopped out of the car with ease, making his way around to the passenger side, opening Shouta’s door. “Let me help you out.”
Shouta grumbled something unintelligible under his breath but didn’t protest as Hizashi slung an arm around his shoulder to steady him. Together, they slowly made their way towards Shouta’s front door, Shouta’s crutches clicking softly against the sidewalk. When they eventually reached the door, Shouta started to pat his pockets, looking for his keys. They weren’t there.
Panic started to flare in his chest. His eyes quickly darted up towards Hizashi, who was standing there with a sheepish smile holding up his keys.
“Okay, now don’t be mad,” Hizashi started, holding up both hands in a mock surrender position.
“What did you do?” Shouta grunted out, his tone heavy with suspicion. A headache was already starting to form.
“Why don’t you just see for yourself?” Hizashi siad, stepping forward to unlock the front door.
Shouta braced himself, preparing for the onslaught of smells that would assault him the moment the door opened. He even turned his head slightly, attempting to breathe through his mouth to avoid the stench. Yet, when the door swung open, there was nothing. No stench. No rotting food or piled up dishes. There was no mess.
His house was clean.
Shouta blinked, and then blinked again, thinking maybe his eyes and mind were playing tricks on him. The dishes were gone. The countertops were spotless. The trash cans were empty, and the air smelled faintly of mint. He stepped inside, his movements slow and calculated, his eyes scanning every corner of the room in disbelief. Everything was perfect. Just perfect.
“You cleaned,” Shouta said, his voice thick with emotion. Shouta made sure his voice didn’t waver.
“Please don’t be mad,” Hizashi said in a rush, mistaking Shouta’s stunned silence for anger.
Shouta turned towards Hizashi, tears glistening in his eyes, threatening to spell over. “You cleaned.” He repeated, this time the words came out just above a whisper.
“Yes?” Hizashi replied, his tone uncertain, clearly confused over Shouta’s reaction. “We already established that fact.”
The dam broke, tears starting to spill over, sliding down Shouta’s cheeks. “I hate coming back after being in the hospital,” he said, his voice now trembling.
“I know,” Hizashi said softly, his usual wild and animated energy replaced by something more gentle.
“I hate how messy it is.”
“I know.”
“I hate the smell.”
“I know.”
“I hate never being able to clean it straight away.”
“I know.”
Shouta stared at him, the tears now freely flowing down his face. It was such a simple act. Such a simple, ridiculously thoughtful, completely selfless act. This simple act meant so much more to him than he could even put into words. Hizashi had taken time out of his very busy schedule, had taken it completely upon himself to make Shouta’s life just that little bit easier, to make his house a place of comfort instead of a place of chaos. It was more than what Shouta deserved.
For the first time in his life, Shouta truly saw Hizashi. Not the obnoxious first year he fought at the sports festival. Not the person he knew when Oboro was still alive. Not Present Mic the pro hero. For the first time he saw his friend, he saw the person he had tried so hard to avoid. He saw the kind, caring, deeply loving and compassionate person he truly was. This realization hit him like a truck. A foreign feeling fluttered deep in his chest, an unfamiliar almost unsettling feeling that floated around before settling in his stomach. Almost feeling like butterflies were flying around his insides.
Hizashi was just casually leaning against the doorframe now, his arms crossed and a soft smile playing across his face. The golden hour sunlight outlining him, making Hizashi look like an angel. He looked beautiful, completely at ease, as if he just belonged here.
Maybe he did. Seeing him standing like this, Standing in Shouta’s house, it just felt right. All Shouta’s puzzle pieces lining up.
“Thank you,” Shouta finally said, his voice barely above a whisper.
Hizashi’s smile widened. “Anytime.”
Shouta’s eyes drifted around the room again, taking in the impossibly clean surfaces. The neatly arranged furniture, the dusted shelves, even the kitchen sink was shining. The subtle but comforting smell of mint was probably the best part.
For the first time in a long time, this house, Shouta’s house, didn't just feel like a house. It was no longer the place he isolated himself from the world.
For the first time in his life, this house, it finally felt like home. He had found his missing piece, he had found Hizashi.