Work Text:
As long as Hitoshi Shinso could remember, he’d always been left behind.
Everyone else took off to reach the clouds. To pursue the freedom of flight, and chase their dreams somewhere up there in the open sky.
He never could. He wasn’t good enough.
Wings had developed around the same time as quirks. And with that came the superstition the two were connected. Modern science had disproven this over and over again, even quirkless people usually had wings. But older people simply refused to believe anything outside of their own bubble. It was what they’d been told, so it must be true.
Hitoshi’s quirk was meant for a villain. At only four years old they’d decided to clip his wings for it. They’d insisted it was good for him. They still believed that. They were all wrong. All his lack of flight got him was cruel taunts and comments.
His wings were ugly. They could have been beautiful, lavender at the top and fading to a darker purple at the bottom. But they were dull, decorated with frayed feathers, stress bars, and itchy pin feathers he couldn’t reach. Nobody would help him preen them anyway. Why would they need to preen useless wings?
He could glide a little. Clumsily. But proper flight was beyond him, stolen away again and again every time his father pulled out the scissors.
The clouds were so far away to someone stuck on the ground.
Someone, anyone should have noticed. Should have seen him standing there while everyone else flew freely. Should have seen the flat edges on his primary feathers where they’d been cut and said something to someone.
But no one did. The few people that did notice assumed it was justified punishment for the villain they all thought he’d be. And they weren’t kind about it. So he learned to hide it. To keep his wings tucked in at all times. Training himself out of every instinct to shift them or ruffle them. At least then he seemed normal at a glance. He didn’t look like a villain with useless wings.
He didn’t even want to be a villain. He wanted to be a hero. He wanted to help people, and he wanted to fly. So despite it all, he chose to fight. If he could make it to eighteen he could leave home, and his feathers wouldn’t be cut anymore. If he got into UA he could be a hero. At least one of those things was somewhat on track. He’d made it into UA. General studies, but it was a start.
Things had seemed hopeless after the Sports Festival, but Aizawa had approached where Hitoshi was wallowing in his misery and offered him training. How could he refuse? It was everything he could have wanted.
Aizawa was everything he wanted to be. Fast, strong, and good. He saved people, no matter what others thought of him. And earned respect in doing so. He swept in on glossy black wings decorated with red splotches near the shoulders and stopped every villain in his path.
Hitoshi often watched Aizawa’s aerial maneuvers with jealousy. He wished he could fly like that. But his wings were ugly and useless, while Aizawa’s were strong and beautiful. Hitoshi fully expected to be dropped the moment Aizawa realized he couldn’t fly. But he was desperate to get everything he could out of this while he could.
He didn’t expect it to only take a week.
“You don’t use your wings. Even on the ground they’re essential in a fight. They can protect your vital organs” Aizawa demonstrated, curling his wings around his body protectively.
“Wouldn’t it be hard to get away if they’re hit?” Hitoshi tried to dodge.
“That’s why we’ve been training on foot so far. You can’t overly rely on flight. It’s better to make a ground escape over taking a fatal wound. Wing injuries are survivable almost every time. Chest injuries aren’t. If a knife or anything else hits a vital organ, you’re dead. Wings are a tool, like everything else” Aizawa explained.
Ironic, explaining over reliance on flight to the one guy who’d never even felt the wind beneath his wings. The closest he’d ever gotten was a clumsy glide off a building, when he was young and desperate to try. His clipped wings couldn’t hold the air, but he at least could control his descent. Sort of. The muscles had ached for days after that and he’d been yelled at for the attempt. He hadn’t tried it again. Escaping on foot was his only escape, really. Hitoshi could probably climb better than any other student in the school.
Hitoshi didn’t want to lose this. Aizawa was the nicest adult he’d ever had in his life, and he’d only known the man for a week. He knew the moment he unfurled his wings it would all be over. Aizawa was fine with Hitoshi’s quirk, saying his own Erasure had made people feel the same way when he was young. But he surely wouldn’t be ok with a student who couldn’t even fly.
Aizawa was watching. Waiting for Hitoshi to try what he’d demonstrated. And raising an eyebrow when Hitoshi froze. Not doing it would raise questions that would reveal the truth. Doing it would just reveal it anyway. Damned if he did, damned if he didn’t.
“...Are your wings alright? You don’t move them much to begin with” Aizawa noted, narrowing his eyes in suspicion.
“They’re fine! Just dull. I don’t like people seeing them” Hitoshi lied quickly. It was half true anyway.
“I could already see that. I don’t care what they look like, mine were stress marked for years. It’s illogical not to use something you have just because it doesn’t look nice. I don’t throw away my scarf when it gets a few bloodstains” Aizawa lectured.
Hitoshi just nodded. He could literally see bloodstains on Aizawa’s scarf actually. Clearly there was no getting out of this. So Hitoshi stretched out his wings and curled them around like he’d been shown, wincing as the bones cracked after being kept in place for so many hours.
He heard a sharp intake of breath and braced himself for what was coming. Aizawa would realize his wings were completely useless. He’d see Hitoshi couldn’t fly at all. That it was a waste to train him when all the hero students could fly around on strong, glossy wings.
Aizawa’s hand brushed briefly against the clipped feathers, “Who did this?” he asked. His voice gave nothing away.
“My father,” Hitoshi mumbled. There was no point in lying now.
Aizawa’s face remained blank, but the feathers on his wings seemed to puff up.
“For how long?” was the second question.
“Uh. Always?” Hitoshi tried. He really couldn’t remember living any other way.
“Come with me” Aizawa then ordered, turning towards the school.
Hitoshi followed numbly. He didn’t know what would happen now. Could Aizawa expel him if he wasn’t in his class?
They ended up in Recovery Girl’s office. Aizawa approached the older woman and they spoke in hushed voices for a terrifying couple of minutes.
“Can I have a look at those wings, dearie?” Recovery Girl finally approached Hitoshi, speaking far more gently than he’d expected.
He spread them out again wordlessly. Did everyone want to look at his ugly wings?
“These have definitely been cut long term. The muscles are underdeveloped. I doubt he could fly even if the feathers were whole” Recovery Girl decided, looking at Aizawa.
Hitoshi knew that. He knew his wings had just been wasting away for years. Why did they need to come here? Just to shove it in his face?
“What can we do about it?” Aizawa asked.
“I’d suggest having him start to exercise them. If he can start building muscle, then by the time his feathers molt he may be able to start learning to fly. It will take a few months though. I’ll give you a list of exercises he should be doing daily”
“What?” Histoshi interjected.
“Did you think I would just leave you like that? Shinso, clipping a child’s wings is abuse. You’re not going back to your father and we’re going to do what we can to help your wings grow strong enough to use” Aizawa said.
“Abuse? But he never actually hurt me…” Hitoshi muttered.
He hated having his wings clipped. And he hated the disdain his father looked at him with. And they way the man would call him a villain all the time. But was that really abuse? He’d never hit Hitoshi.
“Abuse isn’t just physical, dearie. Cutting wings is proven to be traumatic. It isolates one from their peers and causes the wing muscles to waste away. It can cause depression and anxiety, especially in children. It’s classed as abuse with good reason” Recovery Girl gently explained.
“I… What happens now then?” Hitoshi asked.
They didn’t want him going back to his father, but where else could he go? His mother had died years ago, and he had no other relatives.
“For now, with me. Or another teacher if you’d prefer someone else. Nezu had us all licensed for emergency fostering. Said it was a good idea for emergencies as both teachers and heroes” Aizawa answered.
“You’re fine” Hitoshi chose without hesitation. He didn’t know his other teachers all that well. He was a quiet student in class, doing his work and accepting good grades back. There wasn’t much reason to stick around and talk with his other teachers.
“Alright. I just need to make a call. I… don’t live alone” Aizawa nodded, pulling out his phone and stepping out of the room.
“He has a roommate?” Hitoshi wondered, turning to Recovery Girl for answers.
Recovery Girl just shook her head with a sigh, “Ask him”
Aizawa came back a minute later and gestured for Hitoshi to come with him. So Hitoshi followed him out of the room and down the hall.
“You live with someone?” Hitoshi couldn’t help asking.
“Yes. He’s fine with this though. Excited, even. Don’t worry about it” was all Aizawa offered on the topic.
Hitoshi thought that was all he was going to get. But as they crossed the campus towards the main gates Present Mic decided to literally drop out of the sky screaming.
“SHOTA!” he called, landing in front of them with an audible thud. His wings were stretched straight up, yellow feathers at the top and a row of green ones for his primaries and secondaries.
Hitoshi jolted, not expecting the sudden appearance of the other teacher. Even with everyone else able to fly, grown men didn’t usually drop from the sky like a brick.
“Hizashi. Don’t scare the kid” Aizawa just sighed.
Hitoshi looked between them in confusion. They were on a first name basis?
“Oh! Sorry, listener! Didn’t mean to spook ya! Shota told me you were coming home with us and I just had to get here as fast as I could, you know?” Present Mic apologized quickly, lowering his wings.
If Hitoshi’s wings were unusually still, Mic’s were unusually animated. They were constantly shifting as he talked, accenting his every sentence with small movements.
Hitoshi realized what the animated hero had just given away.
“You two live together?” he asked.
“Shota! Are you being shy again?” Mic accused, whirling on Aizawa, “What has he told you?” he then asked Shinso.
“Just that he doesn’t live alone,” Shinso shared.
Aizawa dropped his head and covered his face with a hand like he was bracing for impact.
“Shota! You are being shy! We do live together, and it’s because we’re married!” Mic squawked.
“I’m not shy. I just don’t announce it to everyone I meet” Aizawa grumbled. He uncovered his face, but kept it firmly tucked into his scarf.
“I know that! But not even to the child you’re about to bring home? Really man?” Mic cried out dramatically.
Hitoshi couldn’t help the slight smile he had listening to their back and forth. Mic was clearly playing up the dramatics for humor, and it was working.
“Let’s just go home. I know you want to feed the kid” Aizawa sighed.
“And you! But yes, I will be feeding this child. Anything you want specifically Shinso?” Mic asked.
Hitoshi felt warm inside. No one had ever asked what he wanted for dinner. And no one ever walked with him, always leaving him in the dust as they took to the sky.
But the two heroes stayed right by his side the whole time. Never leaving Hitoshi behind.