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Hitoshi shoulders past the door into the apartment as if he belongs there. He doesn't, not really, but he's tired of dragging it out.
He tried out staying late, tried to prepare himself for what would happen once he gets home, tried to slink in as silent as a mouse in hopes that no one would hear him and it never, ever works.
His foster mother meets him right at the door as if she knew he would come home that very second no matter what he does and so the end result is always the same.
And Hitoshi got tired of pretending as if this is something that he can change, that he can avoid or weasel his way out of and so he now marches into the apartment as if he belongs.
The faster he arrives there, the faster he gets this entire moment behind him and these days, that’s the only thing he can look forward to. Once she’s done with him, she leaves him alone at least.
Shimizu is always there, right at the door, and she always lets him know just how much he doesn't belong and Hitoshi is tired.
"On your knees, mutt," she says as soon as the door is closed behind him—gotta keep up appearances for the neighbors, that one has always been almost hilariously important to her—and he hesitates for a second too long.
Shimizu makes a move with her hand as if she's yanking his leash down and with her quirk she might as well be, because an invisible string closes around his throat and forces him down.
Hitoshi doesn't quite manage to catch himself, so his knees take the brunt of the fall, like they always do and at this point they are black and blue all over and he fears they are going to stay that way.
Shimizu loves to bring him down this way, after all.
She sneers at him when he dares to look up, and the crackling of the electroshocker in her hands make him freeze up, muscles locking up on instinct, remembering the brutal wave of electricity running through them.
Hitoshi didn't have to take a punishment like that in a few weeks now but the pain of it is hard to forget and she used to shock him almost daily. At this point, his body is doing the job for her, though, and going by the triumphant look on her face, she damn well knows it, too.
"Put it on," Shimizu sneers out as she throws the muzzle at his face and Hitoshi isn't quite quick enough to catch it, before it hits him.
The sharp edge of it collides with his lips, and he cuts himself open with his teeth, warm blood filling his mouth and dribbling down his chin.
Hitoshi catches the muzzle before it can hit the ground, not reacting to the pain at all, and he gets one cursory swipe of his chin in to avoid making a mess on the muzzle or the floor before Shimizu gets impatient enough to flick on the electroshocker and the crackling almost makes him drop the muzzle.
He's quick to fasten it to his face, keeping it just tight enough to prevent him from using his mouth at all but not so tight that it cuts into his skin and Shimizu knows exactly what he's doing and she doesn't like one second of it.
She would prefer it if it would cut him open all around, but he managed to convince her that it wouldn't be a good idea, with him being at UA these days, and especially not since Aizawa took up training him.
Injuries like that—visible and so unmistakable for what they are—would be sure to get him, and therefore her, into trouble and she acquiesced. It doesn't save him from the muzzle though, doesn't save him from being treated like a goddamn dog, doesn't save him from going hungry and thirsty for the rest of the day, doesn't save him from being sore as all fuck in the morning, when she allows him to take it off again.
It doesn't save him from any of that and for a moment, Hitoshi burns with white hot rage before she activates the electroshocker again as if she could read his thoughts and all feelings run away from him.
The sound of the electricity will do that to him while he's on his knees, Hitoshi has found, and before she can snap at him to turn around, or gods forbid shock him for real, he moves, presenting the back of his head to her so she can check the straps and put on the lock.
Because Hitoshi can't be trusted to not take the muzzle off of his own accord and so she has to make sure, that it stays on, no matter what.
"Good," she mumbles, once the lock clicked into place. "And now stay down there, mutt."
It's her favorite way of calling him and sometimes Hitoshi thinks that a real mutt would snap at her more often but he guesses that, too, is what the muzzle is for.
And the threat of being electrocuted to death.
Hitoshi waits until he hears her steps fade deeper into the apartment before he turns around and for a split second he thinks about getting up, walking defiantly towards the room she oh so graciously allows him to stay in on his own two feet, but as if she's able to hear his voice, she activates the electroshocker again and Hitoshi stays down on his knees.
Warning heard, loud and clear, that's for sure and he's pretty sure that with how his muscles never fail to lock up he wouldn't even be able to get onto his feet anyway.
So he crawls towards his room, until he can slump on the bed, and he closes his eyes against the burning that suddenly starts.
He tries his best not to cry, ever, but especially not with the muzzle on, because breathing is hard enough as it is and when his nose clogs up it almost becomes impossible. So far he's been lucky enough to never have to test it, but he thinks suffocating is a real danger with the muzzle and a cold and he fears the same goes for crying.
Usually he gets out a good cry in the bathroom or changing room of UA, but he hasn't been staying there after hours these past few days, so of course it would overcome him one of these days.
He's always been a bit of a crybaby, after all, as a previous foster family was never tired to remind him of, and he presses the heels of his hands to his eyes, willing the burning to go away.
It's fine. It's alright.
He's alive, he's physically unhurt—mostly—, he's in the hero course and bound to be moved into the dorms any day now and he's turning seventeen in a few weeks.
After that it's only one more year before Shimizu will no longer get paid for him and therefore kick him to the curb, freeing him of her clutches. And if the dorm situation is figured out, he'll only have to endure this treatment on the weekends and it will be fine.
Hitoshi can make it work.
~*~*~
Hitoshi is weakly pushing himself to his knees, even though he knows it's stupid.
Bakugou pummeled him into the ground as if it's nothing and by now he's too smart to fall for any kind of goading from Hitoshi, no matter how hard he tries, no matter if he hits where it hurts Bakugou most. But that rids him of his most valuable asset during a fight and Hitoshi is not yet good enough with the capture weapon to catch and restrain Bakugou when he's really trying.
And he has been trying, that's for sure, which makes Hitoshi proud of his own progress, but it doesn't change the fact that there's nothing he can do against him at the moment.
Still, he's not one to simply give in, so he struggles to his knees right before Bakugou touches down in front of him.
Hitoshi doesn't even need to look to know that he has his arm outstretched, palm facing Hitoshi, and he's under no illusion that Bakugou would go easy on him.
That's not something he's capable of doing and Hitoshi respects him for it, even though their training matches land him with Recovery Girl more often than not.
"Stay down," Bakugou warns him, and Hitoshi freezes for a second, Bakugou's voice being layered with Shimizu's.
And it would have been fine, he would have shaken it off no problem, if at the same moment, Kaminari didn't unleash his powers at the other end of the hall, filling the air with static and the unmistakable crackling of electricity and Hitoshi just—locks up.
There's nothing he can do, he's helpless against the way all of his muscles lock up so hard it's almost painful and he must have let out a small sound, because he sees Bakugou's feet step away from him.
"Hey, eyebags, you okay?" Bakugou wants to know and Hitoshi would love to reassure him, would love to answer him, but his mouth is locked shut, he knows better than to speak because it's only going to get him into trouble, it will only make her use the shocker on him again, and maybe she's even going to pull the muzzle tighter than is comfortable and he can't speak.
So he stays down, where he belongs, and he keeps his head down and his gaze averted and his mouth goddamn shut because there's nothing else he can do to keep himself safe.
"Hey, teach, something's wrong with troll doll!" he hears someone call out, someone who doesn't sound like Shimizu at all but he doesn't dare look, because what if this is a test, what if she's just trying to get him to move, to look up, only to punish him even worse for being stupid on top of being a nuisance and so Hitoshi stays right where he is.
"Shinsou?" a new voice asks and Hitoshi bites back the whimper that forces its way up his throat because it never goes over well when Shimizu has someone over. "Can you talk to me?"
Talking is the last thing he can do, really, because he doesn't even want to imagine into what kind of trouble it's going to get him, but the voice is soothing and somewhat familiar and Hitoshi has just managed to relax a bit, when another wave of electricity is unleashed, making him lock up even harder than before.
"It's Pikachu," that rough voice says and Hitoshi sees his feet moving before the soothing voice speaks up again.
"Stay with him, I'll clear out the gym."
"Stay with him," rough voice splutters, "and do what? For fuck's sake," the voice grumbles and then suddenly Hitoshi has knees in his field of vision as if the other person squatted down.
Which can't be, because Shimizu always stays above him, looks down on him as if he's a mere insect on the ground and so Hitoshi can't be home with her.
"Hey, eyebags, can you take a breath?" the voice asks him and Hitoshi thinks he has been breathing but it must not have been satisfactory, so he tries to take a deeper one without opening his mouth because opening his mouth only ever gets him into trouble.
"Okay, and again," the voice instructs him and breathes as well, in a rhythm Hitoshi struggles to follow but he tries, he tries anyway, even though it's hard when he's just breathing through his nose and trying to make as little sound as possible.
"Thank you. You can get back to class, too, now," the soothing voice suddenly says and Hitoshi didn't hear anyone approach so he jumps in surprise and then freezes again, because he moved when he wasn't supposed to and he's just waiting for the ominous click of the shocker but when nothing happens, he dares to relax a bit.
"Will he be alright?" the rough voice asks and Hitoshi doesn't know who he's talking about because he has never been alright so he can't mean him, it's a useless question, but the soothing voice answers anyway.
"I'll make sure of it."
It sounds like a promise and a lie and the worst threat Hitoshi has ever heard all wrapped into one. The urge to flee rises in him, but he forces himself to stay down, to stay still and not come off as defiant, to not make this worse than it already is and then, for the longest moment, nothing happens.
"You better," the rough voice finally says, and that, too, sounds like a threat, but it's followed by retreating footsteps, which means Hitoshi is now alone with the soothing voice.
"Hitoshi, do you know where you are?" the voice wants to know and Hitoshi barely sees someone sitting down in front of him.
The person crosses his legs as if he doesn't have a worry in the world and they are clad in a black jumpsuit.
It's nothing like what Shizimu normally wears, it's nothing like what she normally does, and so Hitoshi dares to raise his head the tiniest bit, just enough to be able to get a good look at the person in front of him.
It's not Shimizu, that's for sure, but it still takes Hitoshi a moment to get everything in order, to recognize Aizawa.
As soon as he does, all the blood drains from his face, because fuck. Fuck!
"I'm—I'm really sorry," Hitoshi croaks out, scrambling away from Aizawa, now that his muscles cooperate again with the lack of an electroshocker—fuck, that was Kaminari, wasn't it?—and Shimizu but instead of working correctly, all of his muscles start to tremble.
"There's nothing to be sorry for," Aizawa reassures him, which is a lie, a lie, because the gym is empty, and he cut their lesson short and Hitoshi fucked up.
"It's okay now, it's all good, I can go to class now, too," Hitoshi rambles as he tries to get his feet under himself, but his knees ache and his legs shake and he feels lightheaded.
"Let's not rush this, why don't you sit down for a moment. Properly," Aizawa adds after a small pause and Hitoshi sits down on his butt.
It does help, a little bit, but the panic is still right there.
"Hitoshi, what is going on?" Aizawa asks, straight to the point like always and Hitoshi tries to give him a reassuring smile.
"Nothing, it's nothing, I just got into my head, it's all fine."
"And what did you get into your head about?" Aizawa calmly asks, but it's not as if Hitoshi has an answer for him.
There's no way he can tell him what just happened, so he shakes his head.
"Doesn't matter, it's not that important anyway. Sorry for making you worry over nothing."
"Strange, because to me it seemed like something triggered you. What just happened seemed a lot like a trauma response and that seems very important to me. Why don't you try explaining to me what exactly just happened."
Hitoshi opens and closes his mouth a few times, because there is no way in hell that he can explain any of this to Aizawa, but he also can't lie to him, so what finally makes it out of his mouth is: "I don't feel so good. I think I want to go home, now."
He doesn't. Going home is really the last thing he wants to do, but it seems safer to say than anything else at this moment.
"I can't let you go home until I know what's going on," Aizawa almost regretfully informs him and Hitoshi's eyes widen.
"What?"
"To me it seems as if there's something that makes you feel very unsafe in your life and until I know that it's not your home that causes this I can't let you go. So why don't you explain to me what's going on, and then—if your home is safe—you can leave right after."
All of a sudden, Hitoshi's eyes burn because that is something he can't do and Aizawa must know that because his face goes impossibly soft.
"Hitoshi, just talk to me. Let me help."
"There's nothing"—Hitoshi can't even talk without a sob interrupting him, but he pushes through anyway—"you can do, please, just let me go."
"Why don't you let me decide if there's nothing I can do, huh?" Aizawa gently asks him and Hitoshi can't help his tears anymore. "Trust me to handle this, please."
Hitoshi has never trusted an adult; not any of his previous foster families, or his caseworker, or his teachers. No one has ever made him feel safe and yet—he has to admit that Aizawa does.
He does make him feel safe whenever Hitoshi is with him and he has trusted him more than anyone else in his life before this and all simply because Aizawa treats him like all of his other students.
With respect and care and he doesn't expect the impossible from him and he doesn't punish Hitoshi for nothing and maybe, just maybe, he will handle this with care, too.
Aizawa waits; he waits through all of Hitoshi's sobbing, and he waits through the silence afterwards, too. He doesn't lash out, he doesn't berate him, he doesn't rush him, he doesn't punish him for taking up time, for being emotional or stupid or a waste of space and when Hitoshi presses his hands to his face, Aizawa gently puts a reassuring hand to his knee.
The contact is soft enough to not even hurt and strangely enough, it's that what makes Hitoshi crumble.
And so he tells him.