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Rumors are a persistent and heavy thing: as heavy as chains and as light as a breath of air, but unbreakable all the same. The turned heads and dropped voices had come in around the same time as his quirk, but over the years he can feel the weight around his throat pulling just a little tighter and crueler every time he inhales.
The rumors change, of course. With each passing year, new eyes assess him cruelly and declare him less than he was before. They form a cage, rumors pulling and twisting every action he does into more fuel for the fire, like everyone is just waiting for the day they can confidently say that they’d always known there was something rotten deep in his core.
The day he breaks and uses his quirk on them.
Hitoshi is not working with much to counteract the whispers; he’s too acerbic and snarky, and he holds himself tensely and guarded and somehow his own discomfort contorts his body into something that makes people visibly uncomfortable. He doesn’t know why people always tend to give him such a wide berth, but he holds himself a little smaller in the hallways anyway, the only undue apology he can give without a sound. Maybe he’s too tall or his face is too sour; maybe it’s the dark circles under his eyes, or the scabs on his knuckles. Maybe it’s because his voice is too deep and flat, maybe because he’s just fucking weird, maybe it’s because he’s not nice –
Or maybe, it’s because his quirk can force someone to do horrible things without their consent.
It shouldn’t surprise him that the rumors change course again, just after he’s started in Class 2-A, but this time it does. Because after fighting in a civil war, after throwing himself into heroics and offering his life up to protect people – he’d forgotten the fundamental truth of the matter.
The truth is that Hitoshi will always be seen as a threat. A predator. A potential villain.
Hitoshi is at lunch when he first hears the quiet murmuring; the noise seems to shift around the room when he walks through the cafeteria. Something old and instinctive rears up inside his chest and raises his hackles before he can understand exactly why he’s now experiencing the world in full technicolor.
Sudden hyper-vigilance is exhausting, and his eyes glance around to check the exits on instinct.
Those same instincts do not let his body betray his own attention, so he casually grabs a lunch tray and joins the line for Lunch Rush even while the sound of his own heartbeat startles into existence and then moves to live in his ears. The very air in the room has shifted, and he is suddenly aware of so many eyes on him that are barely trying to be discreet.
‘It’s just strange don’t you think’ A voice in the crowd rumbles, ‘That such a standoff-ish loner suddenly has such a wide circle of friends?’
‘And with a quirk like that you can’t help but wonder.’
‘Yeah, you can’t help but wonder about how he got into the Hero course, right?’
Hitoshi’s knuckles are white, and he stares down at his hands to avoid the horror of accidental eye contact. His knuckles are scabbed and bruised – he’d brushed them against the render of a house and had to clean the wound by himself. He can see the moment the tension of his hands split the scab and blossom red.
‘Especially with those friends – he really thinks anyone would believe he didn’t brainwash them-‘
‘What if one of them was more than just a friend if you catch my-‘
The line moved quickly, and as he followed it along, he tensed when voices died down, and voices further away carried on the thought. The rumors were fed, nurtured, and started blooming across the cafeteria – like a noxious weed feeding on the blood and bone of his own being - by the time a curry rice bowl was placed on his tray. Hitoshi kept his eyes low and pretended like the rumors were beneath him – like he didn’t even care – but he knew the truth around how these sorts of things always go.
There are never reprimands, never punishments.
Hitoshi gathers his meal and starts to make his way back to the lunch table where the so-called Deku-squad had claimed for their own. He can only spot Uraraka from his position, since a small crowd has formed around the table- but can see how Uraraka has grown red in her cheeks – not from embarrassment, but from the pure anger that simmers deep inside her. Her hands are curled into tight fists – with proper form – and she’s so angry Hitoshi can hear a hiss to her words even across the room.
‘Do you want to repeat that?’ She demanded from an orange-haired Business course student, ‘No, go on, say it louder. Repeat it, I dare you!’
‘No – I – it’s just something we heard.’
Hitoshi’s shoulders drooped in resignation. Rage and helplessness had long settled under his skin, and they were never starved for attention. It always started like this – a new friend, a rumor – a warning about how much of a threat he could be and then the realization that Hitoshi was something uncomfortable to be around.
And then, he would be alone again.
‘If you’re not prepared to say it again, you know you shouldn’t have said it the first time’, Midoriya responded sharply, ‘We both know that those are just cruel and awful things to say about Shinsou – who is an amazing future Hero, if I can remind you.’
‘Can you really blame the concern? After Endeavour- ‘
‘Shinsou is not Endeavour’, Midoriya snapped back incredulously, ‘I find it repulsive that anyone would accuse Shinsou of gross misconduct. I can’t believe that a UA student is engaging in this kind of pure theoretical speculation based on quirk discrimination.’
‘But how would you know-‘
‘It’s gross misconduct on your part,’ Uraraka snarled, I promise you that I will not be working with anyone who spreads these kinds of malicious rumors when I graduate. You’re in the Business course right-‘
‘-He could do literally anything-‘
‘I’ve taken the liberty of reporting this incident through the proper channels’ Iida finally announced, to a wave of complaints from the small crowd, ‘This is most unbecoming of UA students. I – and the entirely of Class 2-A have full confidence in Shinsou-kun, who is not only our classmate – but also our friend.’
The murmuring gave away to a speckling of ‘Sorry Uravity, Sorry Deku, Sorry Ingenium’ before someone looked over and noticed Hitoshi’s stare. That seemed to be the trigger to scatter the students into the wider room, like dandelions to the wind.
By the time Hitoshi made it to the table, Uraraka was glowering down at her meal and Midoriya had a firm stillness to his face that Hitoshi couldn’t quite place. If it had been Pro Hero Deku who had worn it, he’d have sworn it was one of strategy. Hitoshi slid in next to Uraraka as casually as he could and felt a burst of fondness when her hardened glare softened into a warm toothy smile.
“Shinsou!” Uraraka greeted, perhaps a little too loudly, “We’re so glad you’re joining us today.”
“Very glad!” Midoriya responded back, just as loudly, even while his eyes seemed to track someone past Hitoshi’s shoulder, “I’m so happy that I get to spend my lunch break with my friends.”
“I concur!” Iida boomed.
Hitoshi considered his meal blankly for a few seconds; keeping track of a few lingering people out of the corner of his eyes. They had an audience of course – too many eyes in a room suddenly so very quiet.
“You didn’t have to do that,” Hitoshi finally said lowly, “I’ve had worse.”
The look that Iida sent him was something so sad; Uraraka’s face curled inward sourly, but Midoriya’s face went carefully blank.
“You shouldn’t have had to deal with that kind of – of brazen cruelty,” Iida responded first, “I would not be a future Hero if I allowed pure slander and defamation to occur.”
“You’re our friend,” Uraraka echoed cheerily, “And I’ll fight anyone who tries anything again.”
Hitoshi held this moment in his hands and carefully tucked the memory away. It was too much to look up at them in case he met their earnest eyes, so he busied his hands by carding a spoon through the curry rice bowl. His heartbeat hadn’t slowed down, and he suddenly became aware of how little air was in his lungs.
“What do you mean,” Midoriya carefully says, “When you say, ‘you’ve had worse’?”
Hitoshi breathes in quickly, and when he glanced at Midoriya, he’s faced with what can only be described as a supernova in action. Midoriya’s face is so bright and terrible – a face that has caught a scent of blood and will pursue it. The face of Pro Hero Deku, who is both so exhausted and yet always ready for another round.
He cannot lie to this face, and the terrible warmth of it will burn through whatever lies between him and the truth, Hitoshi is sure.
“There have always been rumors,” Hitoshi croaked out, not meeting anyone’s eyes, “It’s nothing I haven’t heard before.”
“That is not what I asked though,” Midoriya replied softly, even though his eyes were calculating, “But I understand if you don’t want to talk about it here. But you always can, with us, with me, if you ever do want to talk?”
Hitoshi nodded and hunched back down over his meal. He couldn’t quite find an appetite with the frantic wriggling deep within his gut.
“You do know though,” Hitoshi finds himself saying hollowly - on instinct, “That I would never, ever use my quirk on you. I hope you trust me – I know just how dangerous my quirk is.”
“Of course!” Uraraka agrees and bumps her shoulder into his with a wide smile. Iida nodded frantically from across the table.
Midoriya hummed and stared back seriously.
“If Todoroki wanted to, he could kill me with his quirk,” Midoriya responded seriously, “His fire could burn through all my flesh down to the bone – or his ice could freeze me to death. Uraraka could send someone into space to freeze or suffocate. Iida could drag someone behind him or curb-stomp someone. If I wanted to, I could crush a femur into a thousand pieces and – I’ve done the math, I could crush a skull with less than 1% of my quirk. All quirks have the potential to be used for harm.”
Hitoshi drew back in surprise.
“But in the winter, Todoroki warms up our gloves and freezes ice blocks to cool us down in summer,” Midoriya responded kindly, “Uraraka uses her quirk to help when we’re rearranging our rooms or doing snack runs. Iida runs with us and sometimes he grabs our classmates when they’re running late for a bus.”
Midoriya smiles back with the force of a burning sun, “I trust you to use your quirk Shinsou.”
“What?" Hitoshi responded back, “It’s not the same. My quirk- “
“Kaminari could stop a heart – or charge our phones,” Midoriya continued, “Ashido could melt a human body down to atoms – or burnish silverware. Yaoyorozu can literally make any non-living material – any weapon, radioactive waste – and yesterday she spent an hour making crayons to practice minute differences in color composition of materials.”
“It’s not the same.”
“I don’t mean to minimize or belittle your experiences of quirk discrimination,” Midoriya responded hesitantly but kindly, “But I am sure of this – I think you see yourself the way that others talk about you. And it’s not fair. You’re not a threat. You're not bad. You don’t need to prove your kindness over and over. And I trust you to use your quirk, including on me. I trust you, and I trust your judgement.”
“Other people have kind quirks,” Hitoshi responded harshly, “Mine isn’t kind. It doesn’t – it doesn’t have fun little domestic uses for you to pretend like it’s not dangerous.”
“No quirk is kind,” Midoriya insisted, “A quirk just is. You are not more dangerous than any of us. You are not a threat. It isn’t right or fair that people are cruel to you because of your quirk. If they were really concerned – and not just being spiteful – they’d be gossiping about how I could turn their bodies into jelly with a single punch."
“Or how I could literally hide the body forever,” Uraraka interjected, a little too enthusiastically, “I also trust you Shinsou – to use your quirk.”
“I could cause serious bodily harm if I were careless,” Iida responded firmly, “I am, and have always been aware of the responsibility that all people carry to never cause that harm. If you trust us to never use our quirks to cause you harm, then why do you feel that it is unfathomable that we may trust you with yours?”
Hitoshi stared back at the three heroic students with an unfathomable feeling of being adrift at sea.
“They won’t gossip about you like that again,” Midoriya responded, with a kind of finality, “I won’t allow it.”
“I texted Mina and put it in the group chat,” Uraraka announced serenely, “Mina’s really good at combating rumors and everyone needed to know that there are some people who are misinformed enough to think it’s okay to be bigots at the Top Hero School in Japan.”
“I could have handled it alone,” Hitoshi responded back dazedly, “I have before.”
“Perhaps,” Iida conceded, “But why should you have to handle something alone, when you have your friends to help you?”
“Thank you,” Hitoshi managed to express, around the rapidly growing lump in his throat, “No one has ever really stuck up for me before.”
“Anytime,” Uraraka brightly responded, “That’s what friends are for!”
‘Oi! Extra! What kind of dumb shit are you saying about eyebags you useless D-list--‘
The sound of Bakugo’s angry voice was emphasized by the sound of small popping explosions.
‘Not cool man! Shinsou is really nice once you get to know him-‘
“All of us,” Iida interjected, though the grandiose importance of the words was undermined by the frown he shot towards the sound of Bakugo’s angry voice, “We are all your friends. Class A will have your back, and I hope in time you can trust yourself as much as we trust in you.”
Hitoshi nodded and wondered when the sound of explosions and laughter had started to sound so much like hope.