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Denki strolled between rows of mismatched tables at the local flea market looking for something special. He’d completely forgotten to buy Hitoshi a birthday gift and was now scrambling to find one. But he couldn’t just buy anything . He did have high standards for his boyfriend, after all. He wanted something as unique as Hitoshi himself.
“I’m an oddity. I like oddities,” Hitoshi would often say.
Which is exactly why Denki found himself here. Hitoshi had hinted more than once that flea markets were the best places to find strange and unusual treasures.
Antiques? No. Tools? No. Decorative blankets? Hell no. Lucky cats? N—wait, yes!
A small table tucked into a corner was overflowing with maneki-neko cats in every color, size, and expression. Some waved their little paws slowly in the gentle breeze. Others had notched ears or haphazardly painted smiles. They were weird. They were wonderful. They were perfect.
Denki studied each one with care. Not just any cat would do for Hitoshi.
“Something in particular you’re looking for?” came a voice from behind the table.
An elderly man, seated behind the display, looked up curiously at Denki.
“A gift for my boyfriend,” Denki muttered, still closely inspecting each cat. Should he go with the right paw up? Left paw up? Both paws up? And what color? Black? Green? Calico?
“I see,” the old man continued. “Been together long?”
Denki shrugged. “A few months. Long enough to know he puts too much pressure on himself. He needs something to remind him to ease once in a while. Maybe a little luck on his side would do him good.”
The man hummed thoughtfully, then reached beneath the table. “Then, perhaps this one would be of interest to you.”
He held up a small, calico maneki-neko, both paws raised in an adorable pose. A band of orange and black was painted across the eyes. Instead of the traditional koban coin, the cat clutched a tiny sake bottle and miniature book. To top it off, a frayed straw hat crowned its head.
“You’ll never find another like it. Unique as they come,” the man peddled.
Denki grinned widely. “That’s the one!”
The elderly man nodded, gingerly wrapping the figure in brown paper and placing it in a small bag. “I hope he enjoys its presence,” he said, handing the bag to Denki.
“Oh he definitely will. This is exactly his kind of weird,” Denki smiled as he grabbed the gift and headed back to UA.
----Two Weeks Later----
Training had been brutal that day, leaving everyone sore and tired. The class shuffled back to the dorms in exhausted silence, most collapsing onto couches or floor cushions with groans of relief. Everyone except Denki.
Denki vibrated with leftover energy, a side effect of overusing his quirk during training, practically bouncing in his seat at the common room table. While Hitoshi focused on developing battle strategies for tomorrow’s training, Denki scrolled through his phone, tapping loudly as his jittery legs shook the table with every bounce.
“Denki,” Hitoshi muttered, trying to remain calm, “can you please stop shaking the whole damn table?”
Startled, Denki flinched and released a small shock that zapped Hitoshi’s arm. “Ow! Shit, Denks!”
“Sorry, sorry!” Denki yelped. “I’ll try. Really.”
The shaking didn’t stop and Hitoshi let out a frustrated groan. “Denks, seriously. I can’t focus with you moving so much.”
“I’m trying, I swear I’m trying!” Denki argued, a little shame in his voice. “But my body won’t settle. I really can’t help it.”
“Then can you go sit somewhere else for a while?” Hitoshi spat sharply.
Denki froze. His guilt was painted on his face. “I—yeah. Sorry I’m such a burden.”
“That’s not—” Hitoshi sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he searched for the right words. “It’s just a lot for me sometimes.”
“So I’m too much for you? Would it be better if I kept my distance all the time?” Denki spat back.
“Come on, that’s not what I meant,” Hitoshi replied, standing from the table.
“Sure feels like it,” Denki huffed as he crossed his arms.
“That’s not fair, Denki,” Hitoshi’s frustration flared. “You know how exhausted I can get. And today was hell. Right now I just need some quiet and stillness. I’m not saying I want that all the time.”
Denki’s eyes narrowed as he glared at his boyfriend. “I still feel like I’m being blamed for something I can’t control. Like you want me to change who I am to make you more comfortable. I wish I could just shut it off, but I can’t.”
Hitoshi clenched his jaw. “You think I don’t wish I could change too? You don’t have to constantly prove yourself to anyone. You get to be bright and loud and trusted . Me? I still see fear in people’s eyes when they look at me. They think I’m going to brainwash them at any second. Do you know how isolating that is?”
“They don’t trust me. They laugh at me!” Denki shouted. “I’m the class dunce face who fries his own brain! No one takes me seriously. All I am is a jittery joke.”
From the kitchen Bakugo slammed a pan on the counter. “Shut the fuck up with your lover’s spat, extras! No one wants to hear your self-loathing shit!”
Denki and Hitoshi glared at each other and both muttered “Fine,” as they stormed off in opposite directions.
----Next Morning----
Hitoshi woke up from the strangest dream. A raccoon had been dancing around Denki and him, giggling before it vanished in a puff of purple and yellow smoke. He suddenly wore Denki’s hero costume, while Denki was wearing his.
Blinking groggily, he cracked his eyes open. His gaze met the gaudy decor of Denki’s room. He didn’t remember crashing here, but it wouldn’t be the first time. He sat up, tossed the covers off, and froze. Pikachu pajama pants?
He rubbed his eyes and frowned. Why were his hands…smaller?
Panic shot through him. He jumped out of bed and rushed to the mirror. Denki’s reflection stared back at him.
“What the fuck?” he breathed. It came out in Denki’s voice.
He touched his cheek. The reflection mirrored him perfectly. “No. No, no, no. This can’t be real. Holy shit…”
Loud knocking rattled the door. “Tosh—I mean, Denki? Let me in,” came his own desperate voice from the hallway.
Hitoshi scrambled across the cluttered floor and yanked the door open. Standing there was…him? His face stared back, wide-eyed and pale.
“Close the door!” his voice barked from his body as it pushed past him into the room.
He shut it quickly, only to have a jolt of electricity leap from his fingers to the doorknob. “Fuck,” he hissed, shaking his fingers.
They stared at each other in stunned silence.
“Hitoshi?” his voice asked him weakly.
Hitoshi nodded. “Denki?”
Another nod.
“How?”
“The hell if I know!” Denki shot back in Hitoshi’s deep voice.
Hitoshi began pacing, unable to stand still. Thoughts fired in short, random bursts, too fast to follow. Static danced from his fingertips up along his arms.
“Hitoshi,” his own voice—Denki—warned, “take a deep breath. You're going to fry the whole campus.”
“This is insane! What are we going to do? What will everyone think? What will my dads say?”
The static was building, jumping from his arms to his shoulders, down his torso. “Baby, I know,” Denki said gently, stepping closer. “But right now I need you to breathe with me, okay? In. Out.”
Hitoshi locked eyes with Denki and inhaled with him. Slowly, the static dissipated. Denki held his hands and gave them a squeeze. “Good. There you go. You did it."
“That…was exhausting,” Hitoshi admitted, breath still shallow.
“Sure is,” Denki replied. “Took me years to get a handle on it.”
Hitoshi’s eyes widened. “Shit. If I have your quirk, then—”
“—I have yours!” Denki finished. “Crap! What happens if I accidentally hypnotize someone?”
Hitoshi grabbed a pen from Denki’s desk and scrawled on a notepad: Stop asking questions .
“Oh, right,” Denki grimaced. “It works with questions. Sorry.”
“You’re fine, just not used to it.”
“So what if I do trigger it?”
Hitoshi thought for a moment. “Imagine there’s a rope connecting your mind and theirs. You just need to let go of your end. Or, worst case, give them a good shake.”
“Okay. Got it.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “And for you: less anxiety, less unwanted static. So try to stay calm if you can.”
“Yeah, no problem,” Hitoshi snorted. “Next question—what do we do about class?”
Before Denki could answer, Bakugo’s voice roared down the hall.
“Breakfast in five, extras! Move it or starve!”
Hitoshi’s stomach audibly groaned.
“If we don’t show up, they’re going to come look for us,” Denki reasoned. “Let’s just…try and play it cool for now.”
“So, I have to somehow act like a hyperactive golden retriever without arousing anyone’s suspicions?” Hitoshi deadpanned.
“Fair point,” Denki conceded, holding his chin in thought. “New plan: you, and by you I mean me, have laryngitis. And I’ll do the whole brooding mysterious thing of yours. Won’t be too hard.”
HItoshi raised an eyebrow. “Won’t they just want me to text?”
“Well, okay, we have the same phone, right? So let’s swap cases. You fake-type while I actually reply. No one will notice.”
Hitoshi sighed. “Why does it feel like you're insulting me?”
Denki looked offended. “I’m not! Come on. Let’s get dressed and go eat.”
-----
They somehow survived breakfast, despite a few suspicious glances from Bakugo. The laryngitis excuse worked, with a fair amount of teasing. Denki and Hitoshi even managed to pull off the phone swap texting flawlessly.
Class was a completely different challenge. Aizawa was sharp. Not to mention he was Hitoshi’s dad. The likelihood of them convincing him, much less the rest of the students, was slim. But Hitoshi couldn’t deny the wicked thrill of sort-of pranking his dad.
It only took five minutes before Aizawa pointed at them. “You two. My office.”
Moments later they were seated across from him, silent, waiting for the inquisition.
“What the hell is going on here?” Aizawa asked flatly.
“Not sure what you mean, sir—I mean, Dad,” Denki responded, doing his best deadpan Hitoshi impersonation.
Aizawa simply raised one eyebrow.
“You,” he pointed to Hitoshi in Denki’s body, “are far too calm. And you,” he pointed to Denki in Hitoshi’s body, “are too broody. Spill it.”
Hitoshi sighed, leg bouncing as he scratched the back of his neck. “We…uh…we swapped bodies.”
Aizawa crossed his arms. “Quirk?”
“We don’t think so,” Denki said.
“Then how?”
They looked at each other, and shrugged. Neither had a clue.
Aizawa pinched the bridge of his nose, shaking his head. “Has anything unusual happened recently? Anything out of the ordinary?”
“No, just our birthdays,” Denki offered.
“Any strange gifts?”
They thought briefly. Then realization hit them at the same moment. “The cat!”
“ What cat?” Aizawa prodded, dreading the response.
“Denki got me a weird maneki-neko from a flea market.”
“Go get it.”
“Now?”
“Yes, now, you idiots!”
They leapt to their feet and bolted out of the office.
Halfway down the hallway, Denki grinned mischievously and elbowed Hitoshi. “Hey, Toshi, ever wonder what it’d feel like to kiss each other while swapped?”
Hitoshi stopped, staring at Denki with an expression that said everything.
“Really Denki? I swear to god.”
----
Twenty minutes later they returned to Aizawa’s office with the cat figurine in tow. Hitoshi handed it over carefully.
Aizawa took one look at it and sighed heavily. “You really didn’t see it, Kaminari?”
Denki tilted his head. “See what, sir?”
“It’s a tanuki spirit.”
“A what?” both boys asked together.
“A tanuki is a shapeshifting trickster spirit. The flask, the ledger book, the hat—all classic symbols of one.”
“I just thought the hat was cute,” Denki shrugged.
“It is cute,” Hitoshi chimed in. “That’s my favorite part.”
“Focus, please,” Aizawa interrupted. “Now we need to figure out its intentions. Is it trying to teach you a lesson or is it just being an asshole?”
The boys exchanged a glance.
“Did anything happen between you two recently that may have triggered this swap?”
Hitoshi, in usual fashion, scratched the back of his neck. “We, uh, we had a disagreement last night.”
“About?”
“Apparently I’m ‘too much’ for your son to handle, sir,” Denki quickly spat.
“I never said that, Denki!” Hitoshi shot back. “I had an exhausting day and needed some space to recharge.”
“I’m full of charge, Toshi! I could have recharged you in, like, two seconds!”
“That’s not the kind of recharge I need! Ugh, you just don’t get it!”
“I think I see what’s going on here,” Aizawa cut in knowingly.
The two of them looked at Aizawa expectantly.
“I’d like you two to spend the day together. Walk in each other’s shoes. Literally, I guess. Stay away from other students and teachers. We’ll regroup tonight at home for dinner. In the meantime, keep out of trouble, please. The tanuki is already having a good laugh.”
-----
“Soooo…where to?” Denki asked as they turned into the corridor.
“Dorms first,” Hitoshi replied, quickening his pace. “We can change out of our uniforms.”
Denki flashed him a set of finger guns.
“Don’t ever do that in my body again,” Hitoshi groaned, rolling his eyes.
The bell rang before they made it to the exit. Students spilled into the hallway, chattering and laughing.
Inside Hitoshi’s taller frame, Denki could see over the crowd for the first time and could see every student’s face. He smiled on instinct, but no one returned one. Instead, students gave him wary looks with stiffened shoulders. They veered to the other side of the hall, avoiding his glance. One girl whispered to her friend, Don’t let him catch your eye.
A chill ran down Denki’s spine. Was this what Hitoshi experienced every day?
Meanwhile, in Denki’s body, Hitoshi was mobbed with back pats, finger guns, and thumbs-ups. Grinning “Yo, Kaminari!” greetings and Dunce Faced wheys greeted him with every step. Someone winked and said, “Still a lovable idiot.”
It was jarring and oddly hollow. Was this what people thought of Denki? A smiling idiot and nothing more?
At that moment, Present Mic bounded up to them with a grin. “Hey boys! Class is back that way!”
Denki straightened his shoulders and assumed his best Hitoshi impersonation. “Dad knows. Talk to him.”
Mic’s smile faltered as he rested a hand on each of their shoulders. “Uh…okay. Is there anything I—”
“We’re good!” Hitoshi cut in quickly, providing an enthusiastic thumbs-up.
“Right…” Mic answered. “I’ll go find Aizawa.”
-----
Back at the dorm, they stopped by Denki’s room to grab a change of clothes, then headed to Hitoshi’s. As they changed, they both took a moment to, well, observe.
Denki examined Hitoshi’s bulked-up form, running his fingers across the abs. He peaked at his dick, earning him a disapproving glare from Hitoshi. “What?” he asked. “I’m gonna see it when I pee anyway.”
Hitoshi rolled his eyes, but couldn’t help but do the same with Denki’s body. He felt the lithe muscles of his arms and legs, and reached around to squeeze his ass.
“See?” Denki teased. “My ass is amazing. Can’t keep your hands off of it.”
Hitoshi blushed, quickly tossing on a t-shirt and jeans. “Yeah, yeah. Moving on…”
He began bouncing on the balls of his feet as his eyes darted around the room. “So what now?” he asked, starting to pace around the room with no real destination.
“You okay, Toshi? You look too…bouncy.”
Hitoshi, whose brain was currently popping around rapidly from thought to thought, turned to Denki. “Hmm?” he asked, tugging at a strand of Denki’s golden hair. “Is this bleached? Why do you have a black zigzag in your hair? Is it natural? Did you paint it?”
Denki stared at him in annoyance.
“What were we talking about?” Hitoshi asked apologetically.
Denki smacked his forehead. “Oh crap! My meds!”
“Meds? What meds?” Hitoshi asked quickly.
“For my ADHD, Tosh,” he said, dragging him to his own room.
Once there, Denki grabbed a small pill bottle and shoved into Hitoshi’s hand. “Here. Take one,” he ordered. “Your brain will feel less like it’s in the middle of a hurricane in about twenty minutes.”
Hitoshi nodded, dry-swallowing the pill. His thoughts ping-ponging from the crack in the floor back in the hallway to Denki’s fruity shampoo to the t-shirt on the ceiling above Denki’s bed. He couldn’t stop fidgeting, sparks flicking at his fingertips.
“This is exhausting,” Denki mumbled, rubbing his temples. He just wanted a moment of stillness.
After twenty minutes, the chaos in Hitoshi’s brain settled, becoming more manageable. He sat next to Denki on the bed. “Denki, how do you even function like this?”
Denki shrugged. “Years of practice. And my meds. It’s worse when I’m anxious so I try to stay calm.”
“I thought you were just doing it for attention.”
“I’m not.”
Hitoshi wrapped his smaller arms around Denki, hugging him tightly.
“Let’s get out of here. I’m getting hungry,” Denki confessed. “Somewhere quiet.”
“Cat cafe?” Hitoshi suggested.
Denki nodded and smiled.
-----
They made their way to a quiet part of the city–a series of back alleys and side streets–where their favorite spot was located. Toe Beans & Tea was a quaint cafe with a small menu of breakfast and lunch options and friendly cats in every corner.
On their way, Denki noticed how it wasn’t just UA students that gave Hitoshi the cold shoulder. Strangers would smile warmly at Hitoshi in Denki’s body, greeting him with friendly nods and hellos. But Denki, in Hitoshi’s body, experienced nothing but downcast eyes of strangers and silence. These people didn’t even know him, and further made him feel isolated.
At the cafe, they found a small table in a quiet corner. Two cats immediately padded over to him, rubbing against his legs, purring. He scooped one up onto his shoulder, petting it gently, as his body finally eased.
“Hey, can you order? I just need a sec to myself,” Denki said.
Hitoshi nodded, understanding. “Yeah, no problem.”
Hitoshi soon returned with their order, setting down their usual sandwiches, a plain black coffee, and a toasted coconut mocha frappe loaded with caramel, extra whip, and drizzle. He sipped his plain black coffee only to grimace with disgust.
Denki sipped his and immediately puckered his lips. “I think I just got brain freeze from too sweet!”
They looked at each other, then swapped plates and drinks. “Mmm…better,” Hitoshi sighed.
“This is getting out of hand,” Denki mumbled as he ate. “How the hell are we supposed to swap back?”
“I don’t know, but I hope we figure it out soon. Your body, your brain, just don’t stop, Denks. I can’t sit still. My fingers need to be doing something all the time. And there’s always a charge pulsing, ready to discharge at any given moment. It takes every effort to stay focused on one task. It’s…a lot. You live like this every day?”
Denki nodded.
“I don’t know how you do it. I always thought you were just trying to get attention. But it’s just who you are—you really do try to control it.”
“I do. I’m not lying when I say that.”
“And I had no idea you took meds for it. You never told me.”
“I didn’t want you to think I was weak.”
“Denki, you’re not weak. I wish others could see that about you, but they reduce you to a brain-fried idiot who can’t control himself. You’re not a joke,” Hitoshi said with sudden fierceness. “You’re dealing with more than anyone gives you credit for and so much stronger than I ever realized.”
And for once in his life, Denki looked sheepish, staring into his cup of coffee. “Thanks, Toshi.”
They took a sip of their drinks as they let the conversation sink in.
“You…” Denki began. “The world is a lot for you, isn’t it?”
“How do you mean?” Hitoshi asked, tilting his head.
“Well, first, people are incredibly rude. They look at you like you're dangerous, if they look at you at all.”
“They’ve looked at me like that since my quirk manifested. My monstrous height and eye bags don’t really help. It’s gotten better, at least at school. But I don’t think that’s ever going to change, no matter how many times I try to prove myself. People just see me as a threat.”
“That’s not fair to you."
“That’s reality.”
“Well, reality sucks. And I’m going to try and change that. If I ever get out of your body, that is.”
Denki looked down, trying to ignore the question that was plaguing them both. Would they ever switch back?
“But,” Denki continued, “I might need a long nap beforehand. Being in your body wears me out. After a while everything around me is just too much. Sounds are too loud. Lights are too bright. Listening to people talking becomes an irritable swirl of noise. And I just want the world to stop or to hide from everything. At least for a few moments. I always thought you were annoyed with me. But you’re not, are you? Sometimes your body and brain just need to hide away in silence.”
Hitoshi nodded quietly. “It’s never about you being annoying. I need quiet to reboot.”
“Being here, in this quiet cafe, with the soft cats and gentle aroma, dim lights and low sounds, is all so soothing. I get it.”
Denki paused again, sipping his coffee.
“I didn’t know,” they both said at once.
Hitoshi snorted. “You amaze me every day, Denki. I want you to know that. And I’m sorry if I get irritated sometimes. You’re just so…energetic. But I understand now.”
Denki shook his head. “You don’t have to apologize. I had no idea how intense everything gets for you. At least you realize that I really do try. I just can’t turn it off. Ever. I’ll be more understanding the next time you need space.”
They smiled at each other and laced their fingers together across the table.
“Ready to head back?” Hitoshi asked.
“Yeah, my head is starting to hurt,” Denki said.
They walked back to their dorm, hand in hand, in silence, just existing. By the time they reached the front door, Denki was holding his head, the headache getting worse. “Can we lie down? Maybe your room? It’s…softer.”
“Yeah, of course.”
Once in Hitoshi’s room they curled up on the bed together, both drifting off to sleep within minutes. While they slept, they dreamed of that same dancing racoon—the tanuki spirit—laughing as it wrapped them in shimmering streamers. The streamers became tighter and tighter until it felt like they couldn’t breathe.
Hitoshi bolted upright, clutching his chest as he tried to catch his breath. He rubbed his hands down his face, pausing at a revelation. They were his hands. He looked himself over, confirming he was in his body again. “Denks,” he muttered, shaking Denki’s shoulder. “Hey, Denki, wake up.”
His voice.
“Five more minutes,” Denki mumbled. But his eyes snapped open after he heard his voice come from his mouth. He rolled over and they stared at each other with wide grins.
-----
A week later, Hitoshi and Denki strolled hand-in-hand through the tables of antiques and oddities at the flea market. Denki pointed out a small table in the corner covered in porcelain maneki-neko cats.
The old man looked up and smiled. “Ah, you’ve returned!”
“Yeah,” Denki said. “We’d like to exchange this guy.”
He held out the tanuki-styled cat.
The man chuckled. “Of course. I trust you learned something?”
They both grimaced as the old man offered a new cat. “How about this one—for protection. Keeps tricksters away.”
“We’ll take it!” they said in unison.