Chapter Text
Less than a minute of being awake and Hitoshi has already decided that today is going to be a shitty day. He’d hardly gotten any sleep considering the mix of pain in his hands and back from caning welts and his already generally awful sleeping habits thanks to his insomnia. He’d finally managed to fall asleep only to be awakened around an hour or two later by Honoka throwing a tantrum in the hall. He can’t blame her. She moved there, ‘Kaiji’s Home for Troubled Children’, only 3 weeks ago. Hitoshi refuses to believe that any 5 year old could have actually done anything to deserve being labelled a delinquent so he can only assume that her quirk was what landed her there. Like many of them, her quirk had likely been classified as ‘Dangerous’ even though they all know that actually means ‘Undesirable’. It was a pretty miserable place to end up on top of the fact that she was the youngest kid living there by 4 years. So, no, he can’t blame her, but couldn’t she at least wait 30 more minutes until his alarm goes off?
With a muffled groan he carefully navigates off his bed, avoiding agitating any of the spots on his back where skin had broken the night before. He gets up slowly to prevent himself from getting dizzy or his vision going black as it does when he stands up too quickly. Though he manages to get up without trouble, he winces when he straightens his hands. Any small movement irritates the parallel welts along the opposite sides of his knuckles as well as the blue and green bruises forming around them. Resigned, he shuts off his alarm half an hour before it’s meant to go off and walks into the hall to see what the problem is this time. The room he shares with the other boys doesn’t have a door so he just steps out through the open doorway.
As usual, it’s Yuri, the oldest of the girls, who is trying to do damage control. By the way Yuri is holding Honoka’s wrists away from each other, it seems like Honoka was trying to get her gloves off again. She wasn’t adjusting well to being forced to wear them all the time and they have been the main focus of her tantrums so far. Every kid in the home has their quirks suppressed in some way. Since they don’t know what each other's quirks are, their only hint comes from whatever is used to suppress them. Yuri’s is limited by what kind of food she eats so she gets no variety, Honoka’s comes from her hands so she has to wear gloves, and Hitoshi’s needs his voice so he wears a muzzle. ‘ It’s fine. I don't care.’ If he let himself care he’s sure he’d lose his mind.
Honoka continues to struggle against Yuri’s attempts to get her to calm down and Hitoshi can see she’s getting a little desperate as Honoka’s crying gets louder. “Come on, Hono. I need you to calm down. What if I promise to bring you a little something from work later? Hm? Anything you want.” Hitoshi can see that Yuri offering up any of her money frustrates her. Most of her money is taken by Mr. Emoto, Emoto Kaiji aka their primary caregiver and owner of the house, the moment she walks in the door on Friday’s after she gets paid. He excuses it by saying that delinquent kids can’t be trusted to handle that much money responsibly, how she’d probably go off and buy drugs with it, or whatever other bullshit he feels like spewing. Hitoshi knows, as does Yuri, that Mr. Emoto is just a greedy bastard. So the small amount that’s left to Yuri is treasured and most is slowly being saved up. In the 3 weeks Honoka has been here, however, it’s only gotten more and more difficult to satisfy her and they’ve had to get creative.
“I want them off !” Honoka shrieks, stomping her foot on the ground defiantly. “I want my mama! I wanna go home !” The last word breaks off in a sob and Honoka drops to sit on the ground. It seems that when her attempts to pull her wrists free from the other girl failed she decided that trying to kick her hands might prove more effective. “ I wanna go home !”
Yuri’s at a loss for words and simply holds the other girl’s hands in place, not phased by the small socked feet kicking desperately at her hands. Yuri, after a moment of just staring down helplessly at Honoka, turns to look at Hitoshi with a pained and pleading expression. All he can do is stare back, eyebrows furrowed, hoping to portray his sympathy. They both startle at the sound of a door slamming downstairs then share a panicked look. Yuri releases Honoka’s wrists and turns toward the sound of heavy footsteps quickly approaching. Hitoshi hates himself for the slight tremble in his hands at the all too familiar sound. Mr. Emoto levels a glare at Hitoshi as he approaches and it takes everything in him to not curl in on himself at the scrutiny. Hitoshi is taller than Mr. Emoto, but he doesn’t need a height advantage to make him intimidating. He’s an ex hero who keeps in shape. He has a broad chest and shoulders, a cold hateful glare, and a short temper that seems to run out from even the smallest of offenses. It’s clear that he views them in the same way he’d view a villain out in the field. His experience is what led to him being trusted to handle dozens of children and teenagers, over the years, that have been labelled as a danger in one way or another. Hitoshi has to bite back a sigh of relief when the man’s gaze flicks from him over to Yuri.
“You mind telling me what the the fucking problem is that requires waking up the whole goddamn house?” Mr. Emoto growls, gesturing angrily at the still weeping child on the floor without taking his eyes off Yuri.
Yuri doesn’t dare break eye contact while she responds. “Honoka is complaining about her gloves again. She keeps saying she wants to go home. I tried everything I could think of to calm her down, but she won’t listen.” Yuri speaks just loud enough to be heard, her voice wavering at the last few words. It’s clear to Hitoshi that she feels guilty for not being able to avoid Honoka getting in trouble, but trying to lie only ever makes things worse for all of them.
Mr. Emoto turns his glare to Honoka, sneering at her with disgust and contempt. After a moment he rolls his eyes at her distress and looks back at Yuri. In one fluid motion he slaps her clear across the face. Yuri stumbles back a step then regains her composure. “These brats won’t learn a damn thing with you babying them. When they start fussing you come to me and let me handle it. I won’t tell you this again. Now, since you’re awake already anyway and it’s almost time for the others to get up, go start on breakfast.” He waves a hand to dismiss her and turns his attention back to Hitoshi as she hurries away. “And you,” Mr. Emoto takes a step closer to Hitoshi’s tense form with a finger raised to point at him, “better not cause me any more problems today. You hear me?” Hitoshi nods stiffly and Mr. Emoto backs off. “Good. Go help Yuri with breakfast.”
Hitoshi only moves once Mr. Emoto’s eyes are no longer on him, quickly following behind Yuri down the hall turning left into the kitchen. Both are silent as they get to work, though of course Hitoshi doesn’t exactly have a choice in the matter. They pointedly ignore the sound of Honoka screaming protests as she’s dragged by the wrist down the hall after them. Hitoshi keeps his eyes fixed on his task to avoid looking at the two as they pass by in the corner of his eye. ‘ Fucking coward’. He doesn’t remember the other kids getting up, he doesn’t remember setting the table, he doesn’t remember Yuri mixing her portion in with Honoka’s set aside portion and excusing herself back to the girls room. He doesn’t even realize he’s sat down to eat until the muzzle is being removed from his face from behind. He glances back at Mr. Emoto who still has his signature glare plastered on his face.
Mr. Emoto sets the timer down in front of Hitoshi, sets it for 5 minutes, and presses start. Ever since Hitoshi’s first year living there, when he would intentionally eat as slow as possible to avoid having to put the muzzle back on, Mr. Emoto had gotten fed up with his shit and began consistently timing him when he eats. When the timer goes off the muzzle goes back on, whether he’s done eating or not. The texture makes his skin crawl, but he’s used to that and he just chokes it down. He suppresses a shudder once he gets the last bite down and swallows down the bile that starts to rise in his throat. ‘Don’t throw up, don’t throw up, don’t throw up’. That’s another thing he’d been trained out of doing. It wasn’t like anything was actually wrong with the food. Sure, it was bland as all hell, but that’s fine. For some gods' forsaken reason, Hitoshi couldn’t stand it. Any of it. Eating was always a chore for him. It all just felt bad. The taste didn’t help, but the texture never failed to make him gag. He had to learn quickly how to suck it up and deal with it though once the hunger pains and punishments become too much for him.
He takes a deep breath as the muzzle is strapped and locked back in place again. Mr. Emoto leaves after picking up the timer and Hitoshi takes his plate over to the sink to robotically begin cleaning all of the ones that had accumulated. The stinging pain as his hands hit the hot water shocks him fully back into his mind. He pulls them back out and looks them over. Right, the welts. He sighs in resignation and sticks his hands back in, fighting to ignore the pain pulsing through them. It’s not like he could use cooler water. Mr. Emoto is already in a dreadful mood so if today was one of the days he decides to check and make sure the water is hot enough, Hitoshi would rather face the pain in his hands than chance becoming the next target of that animosity.
The awful start sets his mood for the rest of the morning and every small thing grates on his nerves. Every sound, every shift of his clothes, every smell, just everything. He lets his mind go and operates through the rest of his morning routine on auto pilot. Occasionally the pain in his hands will bring him back to the present and he’ll glare at them as though they personally offended him, because they did. He gathers his school stuff, changes his clothes, tries and fails to tame his hair, makes sure the younger boys are ready and gets them lined up at the door. ‘ Yeah, today is going to be a long, shitty day ’.
\/\/\/\/\/
“All I ask is that you think about it. More room means more cats! Nothing but positives!” Hizashi chirps excitedly at his far less enthusiastic, and far more sleep deprived, husband.
“The positives outweighing the negatives doesn’t make the negatives stop existing, Zashi.” Shouta grumbles, taking a long sip of his coffee. He turns to narrow his eyes disapprovingly at the cat perched on his shoulder, Puddle, when she smacks him in the side of the head while attempting to bat at a few pieces of hair that had come undone from his ponytail. The expression only holds for a moment before it softens and he reaches up to ruffle the grey fur on top of her head. When he pulls his hand away her blue eyes stare back at his black ones with a look that is as close to judgement as you can get. Shouta huffs a laugh and turns his attention back to Hizashi. “I’ll think about it.”
Hizashi beams at him, clapping his hands together in elation. “Great! Okay, now that that’s settled we should get going before we’re late. Leaving any of our little listeners alone together is a bad idea . ” He chuckles at Shouta’s grunt of agreement. Hizashi finishes his adjusting gear and Shouta downs the last of his coffee before placing the cup in the sink.
—
The two arrive on time and part with a kiss on the cheek from Hizashi after he puts the car into park. Hizashi hurries to his first class, pulling up his lesson plan for today on his laptop. He frowns a little at the messiness of the plan, silently cursing himself for his inability to properly organize his thoughts then he tries to type them out. He really should work on finding a better system for himself considering he has this problem every week, but he keeps forgetting to. He should tell Shouta to remind him later. With the way he is, he’ll no doubt also forget to do that too if he doesn’t tell him now so he sends him a quick text just as he reaches his classroom and steps inside.
[8:22 AM] Siren Song: Jofwdnvqrvjdjdkls remind me to sort my shit out later, these lesson plans are unintelligible
[8:23 AM] Rainbow in the Middle of a Hurricane: Didn’t we have this same conversation last month?
[8:23 AM] Siren Song: Unimportant
[8:24 AM] Rainbow in the Middle of a Hurricane: I’ll set a reminder on my phone.
Hizashi can almost hear the sigh accompanying that last text as he just smiles down at the little names they’d given each other. After getting added to the class group chat that his students put together, Hizashi had insisted that he and Shouta had to make one between the two of them. When Shouta asked why his only reasoning had been so that they could come up with cute names to set for each other on it. It took a little convincing, but it wasn’t hard for his husband to see how much he wanted it and it was such a small thing that it would have been silly, or irrational as Shouta put it, to deny him. Hizashi already had his name for Shouta picked out before he proposed the idea, but Shouta took his time coming up with the one for Hizashi. When he finally got to see it he was in class and definitely got more than a few unimpressed looks thrown his way at how loud the quirk amplified squeal he’d let out was. Hizashi glances at the time and, realizing he only has a minute left until class starts, hastily runs over to the board and begins writing out the warm up questions from his plan.
—
By the time lunch comes around, Hizashi’s bones feel like they’re practically vibrating under his skin. Nothing bad had happened, in fact his first few classes that day were uncharacteristically calm to an almost suspicious extent, but that was kind of the problem. Well, not exactly. He doesn’t want something bad to happen, just something. So, by the time the bell rings at the end of his fourth class, he’s already out of his chair and collecting the assignments off each student's desk.
“Don’t worry if you weren’t able to finish today's assignment before the end of class, little listeners. I’ll hand them back tomorrow and give you a little extra time to finish them up at the beginning of class next week if you need it.” He makes his way back to his desk with the papers stacked neatly in his hands. He puts the papers in his desk drawer designated for his 4th hour class, gathers his things in his bag, then heads out to meet Shouta in his office for lunch. Some of the kids wave at him as he passes by them in the hall and returns the gesture with a broad smile. It takes him longer than he’d like to get there, having to navigate around students the whole way. Sometimes he forgets just how large this school really is, though it never hesitates to remind him. He forgoes knocking once he gets there and instead just bursts into the room, swinging the door closed with way too much force. Shouta doesn’t even blink at the noisy entry, long used to his husband's boisterous way of being. He’s already sitting at his desk with his lunch open to his left, a small stack of essays in front of him, and a large stack of graded essays to his right.
Without looking up from the paper he’s grading, Shouta sighs exasperatedly and says, “I’m going to expel every last one of them, I swear it.” He finishes marking the last page, flips it back to the front and writes a short note on the top, then leaves it with a big red 0% on the top.
Hizashi laughs, much to his husband's annoyance if the tired glare he receives is anything to go by. “That bad?” He pulls one of the chairs on the opposite side of the desk so close his knees almost touch when he sits down. He sets his back against the side of the chair then picks up the graded essays to glance over each of them. The numbers are pretty average, if a little on the lower side, except for a striking number of them with 0% scattered throughout. Once he’s flipped through all of them, he looks back up at Shouta with a brow raised in question.
Shouta moves his lunch to sit on top of the rest of the essays, and starts eating as he responds. “It’s like they didn’t even try to pretend they didn’t copy each other. It would be insulting how stupid they seem to think I am if I actually cared about what a bunch of teenagers think of me.” He slumps back in his desk chair and rubs a hand down his face. “Sometimes I prefer fighting villains.”
Hizashi snorts and shakes his head at his pessimism, smile settled into a smaller, more genuine one. He sets up his lunch across from Shouta’s. “Sure you do, Sho. It looks like the others might have had some issues with the assignment. You know why?” He picks at his food with little interest in actually eating it, not having much of an appetite at the moment. He’d just take it with him and eat from it throughout the day.
Shouta shrugs. “I had a concussion and hadn’t slept in 3 days when I explained it. I’ll curve the grades when I actually put them in the system.”
Hizashi stares at his husband, mouth agape and eyes widened. He really shouldn’t be surprised, he knows what Shouta is like at this point, and yet he still finds himself baffled when he hears him talk about his sheer and utter lack of even the most basic self care. “Shouta!”
\/\/\/\/\/
Despite having given up on actually trying in any of his classes a long time ago, his new Creative Writing teacher somehow managed to make her class the exception. Fukuoka-sensei, the replacement teacher that came in 3 months ago after his old one got arrested, really should scare him. She’s impossible to read, at least a few inches taller than him, she dresses more like some kind of business woman rather than a teacher, and she dishes out detentions indiscriminately. But he supposes that's the thing, indiscriminately . It’s kind of nice not to be targeted. Her expression is always a calm smile, paired with vibrant blue eyes blown wide, as if daring anyone to act out where she can see. She never blinks. It’s uncanny. But she’s impartial and that’s the only thing he cares about.
He was careful about it at first, of course. Last time he gave a teacher something he had written that he put actual effort and care into, they read it out to the class then scrutinized and nitpicked every little detail of it. His choice of genre, character names, any cliches he had used, inconsistencies, plot holes. Hitoshi, at the time, was 10 years old. He knew that that teacher didn’t really like him, as all but Fukuoka-sensei seem to, but he hadn’t realized just how much he had hated him. ‘ And I cried about it like a fucking baby later that day. But it’s fine, I don’t care anymore.’ During the first few weeks Fukuoka-sensei was there he gradually increased the level of effort he put into his assignments until he felt somewhat confident she wasn’t going to crush whatever was left of his self-esteem. If there even was anything left of it at this point. Now, all he has to worry about is his classmates. Unfortunately they seemed to pick up on the fact that he wasn’t totally miserable at this exact moment and felt the need to do something about it.
He knows right as soon as he sits down and starts working that the kid sitting next to him, Hitoshi hasn’t and has no interest in learning his name, is planning something. It’s pretty obvious how he hasn’t picked up his own pencil even once and keeps glancing between Hitoshi and the teacher every minute or so. Right around when Hitoshi opted to ignore the other boy is when he finally decided to act. He waits until Fukuoka-sensei’s back is turned, then reaches over to Hitoshi’s desk, grabs his papers, and starts to pull it over to his own desk. Hitoshi’s hand shoots out and grabs the other kid's wrist in an iron grip, stopping it in the dead center of the space between their desks. His cracked and chipped nails dig into the kid's arm. The other boy drops the papers with a surprised yelp then wrenches his arm out of Hitoshi’s hand with so much force that his chair slides back a little. Fukuoka-sensei spins back around at the commotion and her comically wide eyed expression finds them in an instant.
“Sensei! This fucking freak just tried to attack me!” The boy spits, glare daggers at him. Hitoshi, upon realizing that his hand is still outstretched between their desks, pulls his hand back to his chest. He becomes hyper aware of all the eyes on them, all the eyes on him, and he feels his cheeks flush red. He turns to look at his teacher instead of any of them, feeling their eyes burn holes into the back of his head. He ignores how forcing himself to hold eye contact makes his skin tingle uncomfortably. His shoulders raise to his ears on their own as he shrinks in on himself under her unwavering gaze.
“Oh?” She makes her way over to them at a normal pace, seeming entirely unphased by the situation. “Continue your work, class.” She says without breaking eye contact with Hitoshi. Once she’s standing right in front of them her eyes flick down to the papers, to the boy still holding his wrist in his hand like it’s broken, then back to Hitoshi. “Were you trying to attack him?”
His body feels like it’s betraying itself when he feels himself relax more the longer she stares at him. He takes way too long to process the question before shaking his head adamantly. It’s not a lie, he wasn’t going to escalate until the guy tried to read his shit out loud. He flinches at the angry shriek that erupts from next to him. “Are you serious? You’re not just gonna fucking believe him, right? He has a criminal record for doing shit like this! He’s literally a goddamn villain !” Hitoshi looks over to see the other student gesturing wildly at him with the hand that had been cradling his wrist. His glare is directed at her now, accompanied by a disgusted scowl. Hitoshi would admire his audacity if he didn’t completely despise him.
Fukuoka-sensei just stares back at his anger in silence for an uncomfortably long time, her calm smile never leaving. Eventually, she asks, “What, exactly, happened, Jinno?” She completely ignores his angry outburst and Hitoshi smirks at the incredulous expression that replaces the angry one.
Jinno’s expression flashes back to anger so quickly Hitoshi hopes he pulls a muscle in his face. “I was just trying to read the fuckers papers and he grabbed me like I was trying to stab his mom or something. Bet he’s hiding some creep shit on there. ‘S the only reason he’d feel the need to be so protective of it.” He’s not quite as loud this time, but still angry. Hitoshi thinks it has something to do with Fukuoka-sensei’s quirk. The longer she stares, the more subdued the person becomes. It could require eye contact, but it works so subtly that it’s hard to observe. ‘Quirks activated by eyes are easy to suppress. Mr. Emoto would opt for a blindfold.’
Jinno looks at him after his explanation and the disgust returns to his green eyes. Hitoshi glares back before turning back to his teacher who is still looking at Jinno. His eyes drift down the length of her pin straight ginger hair as she hums in consideration. It’s always in a loose ponytail that reaches all the way down to her lower back. He looks back up when she speaks. “Oh, well it is much more likely, then, that he was attempting to take them back rather than trying to attack you. And, considering these papers are to be turned in to me, I assure you that if anything on them raised concern I would take whatever action appropriate to address it. You don’t appear to be injured, though if you feel it necessary I will allow you to go to the nurse. I will, unfortunately, have to give you after school detention today and tomorrow for your repeated swearing and mocking comments directed at your classmate.”
Jinno glares at her then scoffs and leans back in his seat with his arms folded over his chest. He rolls his eyes so hard it looks like it hurts. “Oh whatever .” He grumbles, scowling, but he doesn’t protest any further. ‘ That quirk is something special if it managed to get even Jinno to shut the hell up.’
She stares at him for a moment longer, likely waiting to see if he’ll say anything else, then crouches down and collects the scattered papers in a pile. She hands them back to Hitoshi as she stands. She leans forward towards him slightly, one hand leaning on his desk, and lowers the volume of her voice now that she’s talking just to him. “I’m not sure what order they were in before, but I’m sure you’ll be able to sort through them pretty quickly. I look forward to reading it once it’s done.” His instinct is to automatically assume she’s being sarcastic, but when he looks from the pages up to her, stable and unchanging as ever, he can’t help hoping she’s not. He gives a miniscule nod of acknowledgement and can’t tell if he’s imagining things when he sees her smile get just a little bigger. It only lasts a second until her eyes find his hands. His eyes follow hers to the welts on the backs of his hands and he shifts his hold on the paper so that they’re turned out of her line of sight. Her eyes flick back to him, but he can’t bring himself to return the stare. “You’re injured. You should go to the nurse.” He tenses and hastily shakes his head. The tension fades quickly with her eyes still on him, but an uncomfortable feeling still remains. She doesn’t say anything else right away and he doesn’t move an inch. “Okay. If you change your mind, tell me.” He sighs in relief and nods, still not looking at her as he begins shuffling his papers.
After that she walks back to her desk and the rest of class passes in a blur. Unfortunately, the whole incident with Jinno completely threw him off so he doesn’t get much more written. When the bell rings for lunch he already has everything packed into his bag and slips out of the classroom before anything else can happen. He mechanically makes his way to the cafeteria and sits at his usual table. He tries to tune out the roaring sound of laughter, chatter, and fighting as it fills the room. He rests his arms on the table in front of him and puts his forehead down on them to try and block the blinding fluorescent light filling his eyes. His relief is short lived when he feels someone sit down next to him so close to him that their thighs and shoulders touch. He doesn’t look up until he feels the hand rapidly tapping him on the shoulder.
“Hey, hey, Hitoshi, guess what! Guess happened yesterday!” Hitoshi turns to look at the physical embodiment of childlike wonder that has, for some gods forsaken reason, chosen him to follow around since transferring to the school a month and a half ago. Hitoshi applauds his persistence. Anyone that has tried becoming his friend before gave up pretty quickly for whatever reason. Either because of the rumors about him, finding out about his record, becoming a target themselves, or simply running out of patience to communicate with him since he can’t talk. Atsuto is a little hard to keep up with with his seemingly never ending energy, but he never asks too much from Hitoshi so he can’t help liking him at least a little. That, and Atsuto actually put in the effort to start learning and teaching Hitoshi sign language so that they could communicate easier after the first week of Hitoshi having to write everything he wanted to say. “Yesterday I learned the signs for ‘mom’, ‘dad’, and ‘brother’!” Atsuto signs the words as he says them then signs them a few more times for Hitoshi to see.
Hitoshi copies the signs a few times to remember them then signs, ‘No mom. No dad. No brother’ , casually to Atsuto. He looks over enviously at the lunch Atsuto has in front of him that he hasn’t touched yet. Hitoshi never gets to eat lunch at school because of the muzzle. Atsuto brings his own lunch from home every day. ‘I don’t even like food, I can hardly keep what little bit I get down. So it’s fine, I don't care.’
Atsuto’s head tilts to the side, his short, loosely curly, black hair flopping over with the movement, and his eyebrows draw together in confusion. “No mom, no dad…” He stares blankly for a few moments as the gears in his head catch on something until eventually they start up again and his eyes widen in realization. “Oh! You’re an orphan!” Atsuto declares way too loudly. Hitoshi winces at the volume and his face grows feverishly hot as he looks around at all of the people who had turned to look at them because of it. He groans lowly then puts his head in his hands, elbows on the table. Atsuto is quiet while he processes Hitoshi’s reaction and comes to the completely wrong conclusion. “Sorry, sorry, I wasn’t trying to say it in a judging way or anything, I promise! It’s okay to be an orphan. Well, not okay because it’s sad that you don’t have parents, but a lot of people are orphans so you don’t have to feel bad about it, okay?”
Despite his previous mortification he finds himself smiling. He pulls his face out of his hands so he can sign, ‘Thanks’ . He smiles wider, as wide as he can with his mouth held shut, at the way Atsuto beams at him in response. Atsuto takes a break from talking to eat some of his food and Hitoshi puts his head back down on his arms. It takes a few minutes for Atsuto to perk up again when he thinks of something else to say. When Atsuto moves, Hitoshi feels three sharp points jab him in his side and he jolts away from them. He grabs Atsuto’s wrist to stop him from moving and looks down at the line of 3 spikes that started extending from his forearm. Atsuto doesn’t have particularly great control of his quirk, and with how dangerous it is that can be pretty disastrous. In a short line down both his forearms he has 3 short, round bumps with holes through the middle. He can summon and fire off what are essentially red spike bullets from the holes, the bullets replenishing shortly after they’re fired off. Lack of control and spike bullets don’t mix well. ‘ Another easy quirk to suppress. Would just need some kind of really strong, tear resistant sleeves to go over the holes.’
Atsuto looks over at him with his head tilted in confusion and Hitoshi nods down to his arm. Atusto looks down then gasps, “Oh my gosh, I’m sorry, I got too excited!” Hitoshi lets go of his wrist and sends him a halfhearted glare, then motions for him to go on. Atsuto’s sheepish smile brightens again and he pulls his school bag. He opens it then pulls out a paper and sets it in front of Hitoshi. “My mom said that if I got a 80% or higher on this math test it would get my grade up enough that she would be willing to get me my own phone!”
Hitoshi picks up the page, eyes immediately going to the 83% in the top right corner. He hates himself just a little bit more than usual when he feels a jealousy burning in his gut. ‘Why can’t you just be happy for him like a normal fucking person? You’re such a selfish fucking asshole.’ He sets the test back down and turns to Atsuto to sign ‘Good J-O-B’, trying to convey a smile with just his eyes. He has to fingerspell the second word because he doesn’t know the sign for the word ‘job’.
Atsuto excitedly snatches the paper back and zips it in his bag with little concern about wrinkling it. “Thanks! We never really had enough extra money for me to get one before so I’m really excited!” His smile doesn’t waver and guilt tears at Hitoshi. ‘Now you’re really an asshole for being jealous.’
‘Good. Happy for you.’ Hitoshi signs in response.
Hitoshi stiffens when Atsuto swings his arms around him and pulls him into a slightly awkward side hug, Atsuto giggling delightedly. Hitoshi sits frozen for the duration of the hug. Part of him likes it, but it very quickly becomes incredibly overwhelming for him. Every part of him that Atsuto is touching feels like something is crawling under his skin and it takes everything in him to not push the other boy off. ‘ He’s literally just hugging you, stop being so fucking dramatic. You’re lucky someone even wants to hug you. Ungrateful piece of shit.’ When Atsuto pulls away he keeps a hand on Hitoshi’s shoulder and Hitoshi wishes more than anything that he wouldn’t. When he starts talking again he’s rocking back and forth in his seat and gesturing wildly with his free hand. “Yeah, I’m so excited! I already have some ideas of stuff I want to do once I get it, too. There's this one game that I heard about that I’m really interested in, but there's a lot of rules and extra content and stuff and I don’t even know where to start. So, I’m gonna look into what other people think and maybe it’ll help. Oh, what if we played together sometime! I mean, it’s not really…”
Hitoshi only half listens to Atsuto as he rambles, nodding along absentmindedly. He feels bad for not being able to focus, usually he’s pretty good at staying engaged when it’s Atsuto talking, but he can feel someone's eyes on them and it’s making it really hard for him to pay attention. It’s not an unfamiliar feeling for him. He’s used to stares and whispers, people not even trying to be subtle when they’re talking about him to their friends. It used to make him feel like some kind of animal in an exhibit, frequently being compared to a feral dog doesn’t help that, but he’s so used to it now that he tunes most of it out. The difference now is that the feeling isn’t going away. At first he tries to be subtle about searching for whoever it is that’s staring, looking with his eyes but not moving his head, but he quickly loses his patience and makes it very obvious what he’s doing. It takes him a minute, occasionally turning back to Atsuto and acknowledging something he said, until he catches green eyes looking at him from across the room. Jinno’s eyes hold so much animosity that he feels a cold sense of dread floods through his veins. ‘Well, that’s foreboding.’
Jinno turns away shortly after they make eye contact, but it takes Hitoshi longer to be able to turn his gaze away. Long enough, it seems, that Atsuto notices. He finally blinks when Atsuto’s hand is waving in front of his face. He turns to look over at the other who has a pinched expression of confusion and concern. “You good, Toshi? I kind of got caught up in my rambling. You sorta spaced out. I mean, I do that sometimes too, but you kinda looked like you saw a ghost.” Hitoshi has to force himself to not look at Jinno again and instead waves a hand dismissively at Atsuto’s concern.
‘Fine. Sorry. D-I-S-T-R-A-C-T-E-D.’ Hitoshi signs and feels stupid for getting so caught off guard that he made Atsuto worry. Jinno is nothing he can’t handle. There’s no need for Atsuto to get caught in the middle of whatever is happening there. Hitoshi pointedly ignores the lingering dread.
Atsuto studies him for a second longer, then his smile returns. “If you say so!” Atsuto goes back to talking while eating the rest of his food and Hitoshi is able to focus a little more, even though he’s still kind of preoccupied. He can still occasionally feel eyes on him, but he ignores it as best as he can. It’s easier to ignore when he can sit there and listen to Atsuto ramble all about the game, Dungeons and Dragons, he’s started obsessing over. It absolutely does not sound like a game that would be playable with only two people, but Atsuto assures him that they could manage. Much to Hitoshi’s surprise, he actually finds himself liking the thought of trying it out sometime.
As they make their way to recess, Atsuto breaks off from his side to go to the bathroom and Hitoshi waits for him outside. He, of course, has nothing to do while Atsuto is in the bathroom and without him as a distraction, his mind wanders back to Jinno. He decides to look around to see if he can find him. He’s not going to do anything, but his curiosity is getting the best of him. And if imagining the look Jinno gave him earlier makes his fight or flight kick in just a little bit, well that’s all the more reason to keep him in his sight. Except, Jinno isn’t out there. He scans his eyes over the entire shitty, rundown, playground several times, but every time he comes back with nothing. Confusing, but he should be relieved that he doesn’t have to deal with him. The feeling of foreboding just gets worse. ‘The fuck is wrong with you? Calm the fuck down. You’re fine. So what’s the problem?’ He tries to distract himself by looking around to see if Atsuto is on his way back yet. He’s not…
‘Fuck.’ Before he knows it, he’s hurrying his way towards the bathroom. He knows he’s overreacting, he’s sure of it. But Hitoshi has come to realize that he actually really cares about his chatty second shadow and if anything happens to him, especially if it’s all because of a stupid grudge, he can’t guarantee he won’t take some drastic measures to make sure it never happens again.
He makes it to the bathrooms and when he finds that the door is locked, his heart sinks. He can hear Atsuto’s voice, though it’s so uncharacteristically shaky and frantic that it’s almost unrecognisable. Then he hears Jinno’s voice and his blood boils. He sounds so fucking smug and cocky and it makes Hitoshi want to bash his teeth in. Then he hears a scream of pain and wastes no time rearing back to kick the door down.
\/\/\/\/\/
Fukuoka Ichiko is so done with this school. The teachers are neglectful of their duties as teachers, the students take full advantage of their clear indifference, and the principal promotes the behaviour by doing absolutely nothing to stop it. No wonder Naomasa sent her out to investigate. There wasn’t much to go on to warrant an investigation, but the few reports they got as well as the general area the school was in and one look at it from the outside was enough for them to at least check if there was anything to look into further. And there certainly is. She has gathered enough evidence, and some, to get the school shut down. That, and an extra case that she knows Naomasa will be interested in looking into.
It wasn’t hard for her to get her hands on the file the school has on Shinso Hitoshi, and it raised quite a few red flags to say the least. That mixed with his overall behaviour and the wounds she noticed on his hands earlier that day had her texting Naomasa about the kid during her lunch break. A little positive reinforcement and the so-called ‘volatile delinquent’ started actually trying and managed to get his 16% grade in her class up to a 56% in just the short time she has been teaching there. He has a clear passion for the subject which just makes it even more suspicious that his grade was so low when she arrived. The general mistreatment of this particular student is something she’s been keeping an eye on and only gets worse the more she observes. The blatant violation of the regulations in place around Quirk Suppressant Devices like his is the most damning thing she’s seen so far. Any use of Quirk Suppressant Devices on anyone, let alone children, is an incredibly outdated practice and the efforts to outlaw it are ongoing but slow. So seeing such disregard of the most basic regulations they’ve fought so hard to put in place makes her blood boil. It makes not blowing her cover so much harder, but she knows how important it is to ensure this place gets shut down for good.
She’s sitting outside, monitoring the kids as they run around the playground that definitely wouldn’t pass a safety inspection, when things go from really bad to worse. A kid, notably smaller than quite a few of her classmates, runs up to Mimura Etsuji, the 9th grade math teacher, who's standing only a few feet away from her. The student looks panicked and frantic. “Sensei! Shinso is attacking Jinno and another kid in the boys bathroom!” As far as Fukuoka is concerned, Mimura is the worst person to be called for this. After noticing a pattern of irrationally cruel behaviour towards her person of interest from him she did a small amount of research into whatever history the two have and found out that the last time Shinso was sent to a Juvenile Detention Center it had been from getting in a fight that escalated a bit too far. The other person in the fight happened to be Mimura’s son who was also taken in with a much lighter sentence despite his injuries being considerably less. Mimura seems to still hold a grudge.
She instantly keeps her quirk activated eyes trained on him the moment his eyes narrow dangerously. “Show me.” He all but growls. She stands quickly to follow. Even if she wasn’t sure that Mimura will definitely handle this in the worst possible way, Jinno’s strength enhancement could cause some serious trouble in a fight and multiple people may be needed to deal with it. She doesn’t dare take her eyes off of him as they make their way across the small yard to the bathrooms.
The scene they walk in on is, admittedly, jarring. A student she recognizes as Atsuto Gin is sitting against the back wall in the corner as far away from the other two as possible. He’s holding one hand over the other against his chest, rocking in place, with tears streaming down his face over what looks like the start of a large bruise. Shinso is the closest to the door, sitting up on the floor, cradling his left wrist in his hand, a red oval mark on his forehead, face pinched in an obviously incredible amount of pain. The Quirk Suppressant Device is no longer on his face, instead laying discarded on the ground across the room. ‘Good riddance.’ It’s incredibly bent out of shape on one side which tracks with the gash on Shinso’s left cheek that is weeping a concerning amount of blood down his face. She follows the trail of blood down to Shinso’s mouth which is covered in blood and has more blood dripping from it. She follows a trail of blood from Shinso over to Jinno and the pieces all click together. Jinno is staring down, wide eyed at his arm. He has three lightly bleeding scratches on his cheek, his nose is clearly broken and bleeding profusely, and on his arm is what is an incredibly nasty looking bite mark. Blood runs steadily down his arm and drops off his fingers into a quickly growing puddle on the ground. It will most definitely need stitches.
Jinno is the first to look over at them while Shinso wipes the blood off his mouth. He looks a mix of enraged and befuddled. Both are panting, trying to catch their breath. Jinno gestures wildly at Shinso, who is still on the floor. “He just fucking bit me!”
Shinso glances at them, eyes widening a little when he sees her, then looks back at Atsuto, and turns to Jinno again with a renewed fury on his face. “I’d-” His voice cracks painfully, unimaginably weak from what she can only imagine is years of disuse. He clears his throat then tries again. He’s visibly tense and his hands are trembling, but he speaks confidently and resolutely. “I’d do it again.” He flashes a crazed, toothy, and bloody smile at Jinno. Jinno reels back, taking a step further away on pure instinct. His expression is an messy jumble of emotions, but horror and disgust stand out the most
Before she can do or say anything, Mimura rushes forward and grabs Shinso’s left wrist, the one that Shinso had been cradling in his other hand. Shinso’s eyes widen before his face quickly twists in agony. He cries out in pain and desperately scrambles to pull Mimura’s hand off, trembling much more aggressively. Mimura, either ignorant or indifferent to the pain he is causing, keeps his hand firmly around Shinso’s. He leans down more into Shinso’s face, which now has tears falling rapidly down it. “I don’t know why they ever let a criminal like you in this school. I don’t want to hear another word out of you, you hear me? You’re not getting out of trouble by controlling any of us, understand?” Mimura spits venomously. Shinso nods along with what he says dazedly, face deathly pale and trembling hand now sitting loosely on top of Mimura’s hand, with small whimpers of pain flowing from the boy.
She steps forward and is opening her mouth to say something, when a shrill voice yells out frantically. “Stop! You’re hurting him! He didn’t do anything wrong! Jinno is the one who attacked me! He broke my fingers! Let Hitoshi go!” Atsuto has stood up from his position sitting in the corner, and hastily stumbles over to Mimura and Shinso. He pushes and hits Mimura’s shoulder with his uninjured hand, attempting to get him away from Shinso. He hasn’t stopped crying, but now his tears are driven by frustration.
Mimura actually lets go at this and the moment his hand is no longer on Shinso, Shinso lets out a high, pained whine and pulls his arm to his chest, curling forward over it protectively. Mimura raises to his full height again and steps back, looking bewildered at Atsuto. Fukuoka, deciding that this has already gone on for far too long, finally cuts in. “Regardless of fault, you also did not take proper care to avoid further injury, were emotionally charged and unnecessarily cruel, and failed to assess the situation properly before acting.” She moves forward with calculated purposeful movements, positioning herself crouched down between Mimura and Shinso, facing the boy. “You’ll be lucky to not face criminal charges if you exacerbated his injuries.” She glances over her shoulder, the expression she always wears only changing with a slight narrowing of her eyes. He at least has enough to look unsure of himself and at least somewhat guilty now that he’s taken the time to let his rational thinking kick in. “I wouldn’t count on being able to keep your job, however.” His face pales even further as he’s forced to face reality. “Take Jinno and Atsuto out to the front of the school, call the police, and wait there for them to arrive to avoid any further incident. I will handle everything else.” She leaves no room for argument, turning her focus back to the boy in front of her.
There’s silence at first then a quiet, grumbling, “Come on.” Then he snaps, “Don’t argue.” To Jinno who huffs incredulously before stomping out of the room. Atsuto hesitates to her left, looking back at Shinso with worry. He’s still sniffling, tears coming out slowly and more sporadically, but continuing nonetheless.
She tries to give her best reassuring look, cursing her eyes for their stiff, wide nature, softening her features as well as she can. “The best thing you can do now is take care of yourself. He’ll be okay, I promise.” Her voice is firmer on the last two words to hopefully show that she means it. He looks at her, eyebrows drawn together warily, then nods and leaves the room. She sighs as the door closes behind them, only sitting closed now that the latch is busted from being kicked in. She stands and walks over to the sink, wetting a paper towel before repositioning herself at Shinso’s side. He doesn’t even seem to notice she left. She makes sure to keep her voice soft when she speaks. “Shinso.” He flinches minorly, full body trembling barely visibly, but still looks up at her. He seems to be looking around her face rather than actually looking into her eyes, but she doesn’t mind. The tears have stopped, but based on the way his breath stutters between hiccups he seems to be fighting them back rather than them stopping naturally. He looks defeated and absolutely exhausted, any adrenaline from early long gone. “Can I help clean up your face? That cut looks pretty bad.”
He makes surprised eye contact at that, eyes widening almost as wide as hers. His eyes search hers, flicking between her face and the paper towel he just noticed in her hand, then his expression pinches and he breaks eye contact again as he blinks rapidly to get rid of newly emerging tears. He hiccups, sniffs, then nods shakily. ‘No kid should ever be shocked when someone functioning as their guardian offers to do the bare minimum of caring for them.’ She’ll have to call Nasomasa as soon as she’s done here. “Okay, sorry in advance because this will most likely hurt.” He looks at her head tilted subtly in either confusion, consideration, or both, then looks away with a shrug, followed after a few seconds by a nod. “You can talk to me. I don’t mind.” He hardly acknowledges her, raising an eyebrow at her for a second then letting his expression fall blank, staring straight at the floor in front of him.
\/\/\/\/\/
“You didn’t think to mention that you’re a cop?” Hitoshi asks Fukuoka-sensei, sneering at her from across the table in the interrogation room. They had been sitting there just staring at each other for what probably felt like way longer than it actually was and she showed no interest in starting so he decided to break the silence. ‘I’m so tired.’ He leans forward on the table, elbows on top of it and arms folded over each other. His left wrist is in a cast now and the cut on his face needed stitches. The trip to the hospital was a nightmare, but he was surprised and grateful when she came with him. Her quirk was a big help when he was trying not to hyperventilate. ‘Fuckin hate hospitals.’ He was also surprised when she also accompanied him to the police station and followed him into the interrogation room. ‘At least it’s someone I’ve met before.’ But then he got pissed off because of course the one adult he likes is a cop. The one adult he likes is going to be the one that seals his fate. ‘And damn does that suck.’ So now he’s pissed and also terrified and so beyond ready for this to just be over. At least they haven’t brought out another muzzle yet. It’s sort of uncanny hearing his voice after so many years, though he can tell it’s pretty messed up from not using it for so long. He can’t even remember what it used to sound like. “That didn’t register to you as something worth mentioning?”
She has that same look on her face as she always does and doesn’t react in any way physically to what he says. He used to not mind it, but now it just pisses him off more. ‘Why the fuck are the lights in here so damn bright?’ “I didn’t think it would have been beneficial to mention beforehand. Would you be less upset now if I told you back at the hospital?” He glares at that because how is he supposed to know how he would feel in a hypothetical scenario like that?
He rolls his eyes exaggeratedly. “Doesn’t fucking matter, would have been nice to have some kind of heads up.” His hands twitch because he can’t crack his knuckles the way he does when he gets agitated like this because of the cast, and he can’t run his hand through his hair because his good wrist is chained to the table. “Can we get this over with?” He glances at the empty chair next to her, glaring at it. His anger is fighting tooth and nail to hold up against her quirk. He slides down his chair a bit and kicks the chair under the table, hissing when it wobbles but doesn’t fall over.
“Why? It’s not like you have anywhere else to be.” It takes her a second to process her own retort, but when she does her eyes get impossibly wider and her plastered smile drops, clearly surprised by her own words. Her mouth opens to say something then closes again without any sound coming out and any anger he had left dissipates at seeing someone so composed be rendered speechless by herself. He’s silent for a moment, then bursts out into laughter. He’s sure he’s probably losing his mind, but he doesn’t think it matters at this point. He also most likely looks the part right now. He hunches over, head hung between his arms and stomach clenching a little uncomfortably because of how hard he’s laughing.
“I am so fucked. ” He wheezes before his laughter turns into uncontrollable giggling. He hardly notices as tears start flowing down his face, dripping onto the floor.
He can’t see her face anymore, but when she speaks again her voice is considerably softer. “Not necessarily.” He brings his head up again to lift an eyebrow at her, still laughing lowly.
“Have you seen my record?” He asks, gesturing to himself, in between laughs. “I am completely fucked, sensei.”
She nods, smile still softened. “I have, and I stand by my statement.”
Before he has a chance to respond, the door is opened and a plain looking guy with short brown hair walks in, closing the door behind him. He’s holding a large file in his hands. The guy looks surprisingly friendly, but he knows better than to trust that from a police officer. Still, Fukuoka-sensei’s quirk on him has lowered his guard so much that he can’t even manage a convincing glare. He settles into a bored expression.
The man sits down and addresses him first. “Hello, Shinso. My name is Tsukauchi Naomasa.” Hitoshi zones out through the detective reading him his rights, already knowing what they are and not caring. Then comes something he wasn’t expecting. “My quirk lets me know if someone I’m talking to is lying or not.”
‘ So that’s why they haven’t brought in another muzzle yet.’ “Is that not something you should keep to yourself? You know, so you can catch people in lies?” Hitoshi asks, having to clear his voice afterwards. ‘ Specialized noise cancelling headphones or some kind of earplugs, that one's an easy one to suppress. If he can’t hear the answer, his quirk won’t activate.’ Such a small amount of speaking really shouldn’t make him feel out of breath, but it’s starting to. ‘Having that thing on so long really fucked me up, huh?’
“If I ask someone a question that’s incriminating and they refuse to respond, that's usually enough of an answer to whatever I asked. Why not answer a question that would exonerate you? It helps skip a lot of the unnecessary stuff.” The man answers easily, as if it’s a question he gets asked frequently. “So, where did you get the injuries on the backs of your hands?”
“Huh?” ‘ Wasn’t expecting that.’ “Uh…” Hitoshi shrugs. “Got ‘em at home.”
The detective stares at him for a silent moment, expression unreadable, then clears his throat. “Right, sorry, my quirk can be a little particular. That came back inconclusive. Sometimes what you subconsciously disagree with something you say or strong feelings you have about something can muddle the results. Try rewording your response.”
Hitoshi narrows his eyes at the detective, unimpressed. He rolls his eyes, but does as he’s told. ‘Not like I have much choice.’ “I got them while inside the place I live.”
Tsukauchi nods. “Okay, and the ones on the back are the same?”
Hitoshi nods before remembering they need a verbal response. “Yep.” The welts and cuts on his back had been discovered while he was at the hospital and they were treated and bandaged. It’s nice to not have to do it himself for once, but he couldn’t feel much relief in the moment because he was too busy despising everything happening to and around him.
There's a slight downturn to the detective's lips for a moment before his expression returns to being impassive. “Alright, we’ll revisit that later. Now, how did the fight with Jinno start?” Hitoshi recounts the events leading up to the fight, his instincts telling him something was wrong, Atsuto’s scream, and him kicking down the door.
“He broke Atsuto’s fingers, so I tackled him and broke his face with my forehead. Hence the broken nose.” He smirks smugly. The look on Jinno’s face after that flashes through his head and it makes his smirk turn a little more feral.
Both detectives do a good job keeping their emotions off their faces, though Tsukauchi’s eyebrows do raise a little. “And after that?”
“He punched me in the face with his quirk activated and broke the…” He trails off at the word muzzle. He internally scoffs at heat he can feel coming up to his cheeks. ‘I’m not embarrassed. I don’t care. It’s stupid. It doesn’t matter. Just say the damn word. It’s fine.’ “...you know.” ‘Pathetic.’ He clears his throat before he continues. “The metal cut open my cheek,” he gestures to the stitched wound on his face, “I bit him, then he broke my wrist to get me to let go, and I scratched him across the face.”
Fukuoka-sensei speaks this time, a hint of surprise in her tone. “You bit him before he broke your wrist? Not as a reaction to it?”
Hitoshi supposes that’s the more logical conclusion to come to. “Yeah.” ‘I wanted to hear him scream the same way he made Atsuto scream.’ The last bit of self preservation he has forces him to not elaborate on that last part. Luckily they both take that as an adequate answer, nodding for him to continue. “And right after that is when Mimura and Fukuoka-sensei arrived.” He winces when he says Mimura’s name and absentmindedly runs his hand along the cast on his wrist.
Tsukauchi’s expression darkens ever so slightly. “And what did Mimura do when he got there?” Hitoshi can guess that Fukuoka-sensei, or someone else, already gave him some of the details of what happened at some point. It makes Hitoshi, begrudgingly, like him a little more that he at least seems to not be blowing that whole thing off as nothing.
Hitoshi shrugs nonchalantly. “Came in, got pissed off that I bit Jinno, grabbed my wrist right where it was broken, and held on harder when I tried pulling my arm away. He said some shit, sounded angry. Don’t remember whatever the hell he was going on about though.” He deadpans. ‘I was too distracted by the blinding pain shooting through my arm to pay attention.’ A phantom sensation of the sharp pain sears through his arm as he recalls the experience, and he instinctively tries to raise his hand to run it through his hair to soothe himself, then scowls when the handcuff stops him. “Is this really necessary?” He asks with a glare.
Tsukauchi at least has the decency to look apologetic as he reaches into his pocket. “No, sorry about that. Cautionary measure.” He pulls out a key from his pocket and leans over the table a little to unlock the handcuffs. Once his hand it’s instantly in his hair, running through it a few times until he flops it back down on the table with a loud smack. Tsukauchi sits back in his seat again, mirroring Fukuoka-sensei by crossing one of his legs over the other. “So, now you have two possible places to go from here.” More than he was expecting. “First things first, with or without your cooperation we will be launching an investigation into your current place of residence in an effort to get it shut down.” The detective gives a sympathetic smile at Hitoshi’s shocked expression, but barrels forward without pause. “Frankly, at this point your cooperation will just make the process much faster for us, but is by no means necessary.”
Fukuoka-sensei cuts in briefly. “In the same vein, the evidence gathered against your middle school is being processed and will, no doubt, be shut down within the week.”
Tsukauchi nods along to this. “This all, of course, is being taken into account regarding your case. To me, it is clear that rehabilitation efforts up to this point have not been successful so it would make no sense to send you back to a place that has failed twice in the past.” Tsukauchi waves his hands in front of himself placatingly when Hitoshi tenses at his words. “I’m the head of a rehabilitation program for children in similar positions to you. For a year and 8 months, I and a group of hand picked professionals have been making an effort to help as many kids and teenagers in bad situations as we can with a focus on trauma recovery and destigmatizing. Wards of the state are, like you were, disproportionately put in the ‘Dangerous Quirks’ registry and often face mistreatment because of it. And I theorise that, more often than not, if a kid on that list acts out in some way, it’s more likely a result or reaction to that mistreatment instead of an indication of an inherently volatile nature. And, over this last year and 8 months, I’ve gathered a rather substantial amount of evidence to support that theory.” Tsukauchi leaves a moment of silence for his words to sink in, they do not. He sets his hands down on the file he brought in with him. “ Your file, your record, everything I’ve learned about you makes me believe that you're one of those kids.”
For a while, Hitoshi just stares, unable to comprehend the mass of information that was just dropped on him. He looks down at the file, glaring halfheartedly at it, then looks back up at the detective again. “I’m not a charity case, detective.” He knows it would be illogical to not take this opportunity. He’d never get luckily like this again if he lets this chance go, but accepting comes with a whole lot of uncertainty that he is not prepared for. He was prepared for juvie or jail, whichever, because he’s been there before. He already knows how that goes, even if it would have been a lot longer this time as a repeat offender. He’s been dreading it, but had already accepted it. This was never even a possibility that he could fathom, let alone consider.
“This isn’t charity, it’s your last chance. Convicted felons, especially repeated felons, even if the charges are all gotten at a young age, don’t often get a lot of opportunities in their lives. Having a criminal record will complicate everything in your future and ruin a lot of things for you.” Tsukauchi’s expression changes to one of understanding. “I know that this is a lot, but you won’t just be thrown into anything. I’ll go over everything with you and answer any questions you have about the process. You’ll be given a way to contact me and the social worker that would be assigned to you at any time.” He folds his hands together and leans forward against the table, staring at Hitoshi with sincere determination. “Let us help you. Take a chance. What do you have to lose?”
‘Nothing.’ Hitoshi doesn’t have to think about it, he knows that the detective is right. Maybe if he goes along with this they’ll let him see Atsuto again. He doubts it, but maybe. More of a chance than he has if he gets locked up. Hitoshi sighs. “This is going to be a mistake. Fuck it, I guess.” He already regrets it the moment he says it.
Tsukauchi smiles at him way too brightly at that. “Well, I hope I’ll be able to change your mind on that, but this is a good starting point. Now, we have a few questions we want to ask about the place you’re currently living, then we’ll go over what you should expect over the next few days. After that, you can ask any questions you’ll have.”
\/\/\/\/\/
Half of Hizashi’s gear is already off by the time he opens the door to Shota and his apartment. This is a common occurrence. Because, for whatever reason, his younger self decided that having three jobs would be a great idea and now he has a 75 hour work week. And that’s after cutting down on some of his hours. He loves all of his jobs, but sometimes he misses sleep.
He shrugs off his jacket and boots once he’s through the door, and tosses the rest of his hero gear on the kitchen table, kicking the door shut behind him. Shota is sitting where he usually is, on the couch in the living room, curled up with Puddle on his lap and his laptop propped up on the arm of the couch next to him. His hair is down, his reading glasses are on, and he’s in a lazily thrown together outfit of whatever was on top in his drawer. It seems like today that was a black, v-neck, long sleeve shirt and maroon sweatpants. Much better than the blue and red combo he ended up with yesterday.
He walks over to the couch, flopping down with a huff next to his husband and disrupting Puddle who jumps off Shota and scurries away from the couch. Hizashi lays his head down on Shota’s lap in place of Puddle, looking up at the man who is looking down at him now.
Shota raises an eyebrow down at him. “Not even going to get changed first?” Hizashi just grunts in response and turns away, closing his eyes with a tired sigh. He hears an airy chuckle from above him and feels a hand on his arm, rubbing up and down it. It likely would have ended up in his hair instead if it wasn’t still coated in gel and hairspray. If he moves too much can hear it crunch as it shifts and gets more moved out of place. Most days he would care about damaging it, but by the end of the week it’s hit or miss on if he’ll actually put the effort into taking care of it or not.
The only peace he has gotten all day is rudely interrupted by the ringing of his phone. He lazily pulls it out of his pocket and is surprised when he sees who it is. He answers and puts the phone up to his ear. “Hey, Tsukauchi. What’s happening, man?”
“Mic, sorry to call right after you get off work. Is Aizawa there with you?” Tsukauchi responds tiredly, muffled sounds of people talking and some kinds of movement almost constantly present in the background of the call.
“No worries. Yeah, he’s here.” Hizashi dismisses his concern, knowing Tsukauchi wouldn’t have called him so late if it weren’t important.
“Okay, good. I’m calling about the rehabilitation program. I saw you got your foster licenses finally sorted out?” Hizashi sighs exasperatedly at that. To say they had a hard time getting approved would be an understatement. Being in a gay relationship in Japan, the only reason they were eventually approved was because they’re both Pro Heroes and he has a good public image. Being teachers, especially at A.U., also helped, but the whole thing was just a pain.
“Yes. Two weeks ago we finally finished getting everything sorted out.” He perks up a little, sitting up next to Shota. “Why? You already got a little listener you want us to take?” Shota looks over at him with his eyebrows raised slightly in surprise, sitting up straighter as well. Hizashi puts the phone on speaker.
“It’s a short notice, but if you two would look over the files I’ll have Kuno send them over to you. His name is Shinso Hitoshi, 15 years old, left by his parents at a hospital shortly after he developed his quirk, and was put into a home for kids with ‘Dangerous Quirks’. The kid never had a chance there. He’s going to need a lot of support and patience… I wanted to call you two first because his quirk is voice activated.” The last sentence is spoken more softly than the others, almost gentle. Hizashi shares a look with Shota who's looking right back at him, eyebrows pinched together. Hizashi gives him a small, sad smile.
“Ah, I see. How long do we have to make our decision?” He really doubts they’ll have to talk about whether they’ll do it too much, but they don’t know what they’ll find in those files and will have to be ready to prepare themselves for anything. These situations are very delicate and not communicating or preparing properly beforehand will only end up doing more harm than good.
“I’ll need an answer by morning, sooner if you can. Because if you can't, I have a whole list of other parents I have to try to call. Text any questions you have directly to me and I’ll answer them as soon as I can.” Tsukauchi can be heard as he says something muffled, phone likely held away from his face, to someone with him in person, then a long sigh as he puts the phone back to his mouth.
“Alright, we’ll get back to you once we’ve gone over everything.” Hizashi says, with Shota nodding along with what’s being said.
“Thank you. I really think that you two would be the best fit for this kid. He’s got a lot going on, but ultimately his heart is in the right place. That’s all for now, I’ll talk to you later.”
“Talk to ya later, Tsukauchi.” He hangs up and seconds later gets a message from Kuno, one of the social workers that work with Tsukauchi. The only thing in the message is an attached file. He sighs again, this one much longer than the other and bone deep tired, and drops phone on his lap and thumps his head back against the back of the couch.
He sees Shota roll his eyes in the corner of his eye and feels his phone being pulled out of his lap. “I’ll read anything important out loud.”