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“We’re here.”
Hitoshi refused to look at the door, shifting awkwardly in place. Aizawa lived in a four-unit apartment building, his being on the top floor. On the edge of the banister there was a large planter that Hitoshi guessed would be filled with flowers if it wasn’t the middle of winter. Hitoshi took all of this in, every bit, pressing it into his memories to preserve for as long as he could. The teacher seemed to be hesitating at the doorway though and the boy buried his face further into his scarf as his anxiety rose.
Since Aizawa and Mic had become his foster parents, he actually hadn’t had the chance to stay at what was technically his home now. He’d been in the dorms with the other students and being here, now, for the holidays, Hitoshi couldn’t help but feel he didn’t belong.
“Is it really okay for me to be here? I don’t want to be a nuisance.”
Aizawa looked over his shoulder and there was something akin to confusion in his features. He looked away, back to the phone that Hitoshi finally noticed in his hand.
“You’re not a nuisance.” The teacher was never a man of many words nor was he good at always expressing what he meant. The teenager had gotten better at reading the unspoken, but there were times that he needed to hear it, to confirm that what he thought Aizawa was trying to say wasn’t all in his head. “It’s my fault you haven’t had a chance to come home since everything was finalized. I’m sorry.”
“It’s nothing to worry about.” But, the words put him a little more at ease even if he couldn’t place his finger on why. The word ‘home’ felt warm in the air, something that Hitoshi had heard a thousand times before and had never quite felt. This was his home and he wanted more than anything to be here and his new parents didn’t seem to mind. They too wanted him.
He wasn’t an intruder here.
“How is your sign language?”
It wasn’t a strange question considering who Aizawa’s partner happened to be, but one that Hitoshi did not expect at that very moment. They were still standing outside the door, waiting for something, though he wasn’t sure he should ask what.
“Uh,” Hitoshi ran a hand through his unruly hair with a sheepish look, “Rusty? It’s been awhile since I’ve had to use it regularly but I’ve been going to those classes Mic-sensei has been teaching.”
Aizawa hummed in response, checking his phone again. “You will probably get back into the habit. It’s basically the first language of the house.” He huffed and finally looked over at the teenager who looked to be becoming more nervous again. “Don’t be afraid to ask if you don’t understand something. Hizashi doesn’t mind.”
“A—alright.”
Sign language had been something he’d learned for various reasons. At first it had been to silence him—take away what he needed to make his quirk function. One of the foster homes he’d been placed in had banned him from speaking. He couldn’t use his quirk if he didn’t speak. But how could they know when he needed something? So they’d taught him how to sign. It had been the basics, a lot of fingerspelling, simple needs. Hitoshi had never learned if it was because his foster parents themselves didn’t know many signs or if they didn’t think it worth teaching him to have more in depth conversation.
Later it was the only way he could speak to his foster parent, an older deaf woman they’d placed him with because they were sure he wouldn’t be able to use his quirk on someone who couldn’t hear him. He’d had another foster sibling then, a hard of hearing boy who was the woman’s grandson. He was vocal though and it had been a matter of time before Hitoshi had an accident with his quirk and he’d been ousted again.
For quite some time he’d seen the language as something used to control and silence him but since interacting more often with Mic, he’d come to see it was no different than Japanese, with speakers that could be vastly different from each other in their actions and beliefs.
The door finally opened, framing a shocked looking Mic, blonde hair down to his shoulders, wearing a blinding yellow sweater and lounge pants. Hitoshi had never seen the other outside of his pro hero uniform or at least something leather and it was jarring.
Aizawa looked at the man with a playful pout—one Hitoshi was even more surprised to see.
“You took so long to answer your phone,” he signed.
Mic looked a bit sheepish and Hitoshi missed a few signs but got the gist that he’d been occupied in the bathroom.
“Singing in the shower again,” Aizawa joked.
Hitoshi had to admit that the interactions between the two were still unnerving. Aizawa was himself and yet there was still something slightly different about the way they interacted. The teacher seemed more open, he smiled a bit easier. Was it because he put on a stronger act for his students or just the way he acted because Mic was nearby? Mic did have a contagious personality.
Hitoshi decided not to worry about it too much, smiling weakly and returning Mic’s enthusiastic wave as he ushered them both into the apartment. Hitoshi stood awkwardly in the entryway after taking off his shoes, that same nervousness swallowing him. This was his home now, he knew that and yet it felt foreign. Its unfamiliar walls screamed at him that he didn’t belong. Meanwhile, Mic and Aizawa seemed to have begun a conversation, Hitoshi just barely catching pieces here and there with half their bodies turned away from him.
“….heard from Miyoko…?”
“…late train….Shibuya…”
Hitoshi shifted a bit, looking around and trying to look more intently at his surroundings. If he got used to the way the walls looked, where each point of the design began and ended, perhaps it would begin to feel more familiar. As it stood now, he felt overwhelmed and uncomfortable. Each time he’d entered a new foster home it had felt the same, new and foreign. He’d felt unwanted every time, the very house wishing to spit him back out, the parents looking at him with wary gazes.
There was a small touch to his shoulder and Hitoshi realized he’d turned to face the wall. Mic was hovering at his side, and beamed when he was sure he had the boy’s attention. It was startling, he realized, that so many people he interacted with would smile in such a way that never met their eyes. But Mic’s seemed to radiate from his very being, bright and airy, not only reflected in his eyes but in his movements as well. Even in the way he signed, Hitoshi could feel that joy.
“Hang your coat and come into the living room, its warmer.”
Hitoshi nodded, watching the two adults drift into the other room as he pulled his jacket off and placed it on the rack. It was getting really cold and he needed to buy himself some more winter clothes. He had never really noticed that he didn’t have that much, he’d never complained and had just taken what he was given but the more he was around the other students of 1-A, he noticed just how much he was missing.
But they didn’t get this, he told himself. They didn’t get to see their teachers in this kind of setting, in a relaxed state that Hitoshi was sure he couldn’t properly describe to his classmates if they asked him. There was something about the house, about the way Mic and Aizawa interacted. It was different and nice and gauging from comparisons, this is what families were like. It made Hitoshi smile and he finally made his way into the living room.
“Who is Miyoko?” he asked, hesitantly.
Mic looked over to Aizawa, signing incredulously. “You didn't tell him!”
Aizawa looked a little sheepish, but shrugged his shoulders as if unbothered simultaneously. “I forgot?”
“YOU FORGOT YOUR CHILD?”
Hitoshi cocked his head to the side, that uncomfortable churning in his stomach returning. Mic turned to face him and sighed, pressing a hand to his eyes before signing. “Miyoko's your sibling. They live in Tokyo, but they visit for the holidays when they have the chance. They wanted to meet you when you got here, they're just running a little late is all.”
So there was another. It wasn't like Hitoshi wanted to be an only child, but pre-established children always came first in a family. And there was always the chance that he'd do something wrong. Mic must have noticed his discomfort because he gently reached out and touched his shoulder reassuringly. “They're really excited to meet you!”
“Y-yeah...” he was thrown off so much he forgot to sign to the words initially.
Mic smiled. “Let's get some takeaway. I'm hungry!”
[Miyoko eventually arrives and is introduced to Hitoshi. Miyoko is a search and rescue hero stationed in central Tokyo. They're deaf and mostly mute.]
Miyoko found Hitoshi sitting on the couch when they were finished with their shower. They tapped the backside of the furniture to get his attention. He looked up from playing with the creamsickle coloured cat in his lap and gave the other a blank look.
“Not tired?” Miyoko asked.
He turned his gaze away from theirs, signing back. “You can have your room back. I can sleep here.”
There was a pause and Hitoshi looked back up to see the other frozen, obviously upset by the look on their face. Hitoshi felt his blood go cold, a lump forming in his throat that he felt like he was choking on. Now he’d done it. He’d upset the first child, the one who would most definitely be the favourite. Miyoko would tell Mic or Aizawa and he’d be sent away for good—just like before.
The full panic that rushed through him caused him to look away despite waiting for an answer, panicked breathing growing shallow despite his attempts to calm himself. Things would only be worse if he gave away he was bothered by what would happen to him now.
He was startled when a blanket was draped suddenly over his hair, a grunt as Miyoko threw themselves over the couch. By the time he’d pulled the blanket down to his shoulders, he was now facing the young hero sitting next to him. Miyoko had bright eyes like Mic, the kind that reflected everything they felt. Hitoshi couldn’t explain why they seemed sad in that moment when he expected anger.
“I didn’t mean to imply you were intruding, I was just trying to break the ice. I’m sorry.” Miyoko looked away, knees pressed to their chest for a small moment before shifting their legs to the side. “I really should’ve known better. It’s been so long I’d forgotten what it felt like.”
Hitoshi was startled by what they were telling him. None of it matched with what he’d expected at all. If Miyoko was angry, it wasn’t at him but themselves, though they seemed more sad than anything else. He could only manage to sign back his confusion, as if asking a question he didn’t even know he wanted answered.
“What?”
“Being fostered. Being afraid that any second this is going to disappear. They’re going to say they don’t want me anymore or someone’s going to take it away.”
Hitoshi caught the other wiping at their cheeks and looked away, allowing the other the privacy to cry. He noticed he’d started breathing evenly again, even if he could still feel his body shaking from the adrenaline. It was strange to see someone older than him look much more emotional. His teachers were always so held together and most of his older peers put on a façade. There was a soft sniffle to his left and he looked back to see that Miyoko was trying to smile though there were more tears coming down their face.
“They’re really great though,” they signed finally, looking at him with their tear-stained face and beaming smile. It was obvious that Mic had rubbed off on them. “Dad and Shouta. They’re good parents.
“I just don’t want you....or them to hate me.”
“They could never. And as for me...I don't see any reason I would. You're a good kid, Hitoshi. Don't worry too much.”
Miyoko shoved him gently, "Now get off to bed."