Chapter Text
It's finally happening.
Shouta is watching Hitoshi from across the classroom, carefully slipping papers into his bag as his son (his son) smiles lightly at something Kirishima says. It's small, slight. A barely there glimmer in his eyes and a faint movement beneath his mask. Shouta doesn't think anyone else notices it. But with the way the afternoon light hits him and the angle he's at, it practically looks like he's beaming. Shouta can't help the lightness in his chest, the swell of pride and relief and happiness rushing behind his ribs. Finally, he thinks, lip quirking in a small smile of his own. He's finally at home.
Oh, he can't wait to tell Hizashi. He knows the man will be sad he missed it and equally as elated as Shouta. (He can't help but be just a little relieved the blond missed it; subtle observation isn't his forte.)
They've gotten to a good place recently, their little family of three. As they've moved on from the disastrous start to the year, the even worse summer training camp, and the general annoyance of the provisional licensing exam, Shouta thinks they've managed to generate a relative peace in their home. Stability was always going to be something Hitoshi needed, Shouta knows this. And so it's even more of a relief to see him like this after everything has been upended over and over again.
We really are doing well, he muses, silently shuffling out the door, one last pleased glance at Hitoshi's curved eye smile and slightly tilted head, actually listening and, presumably, caring, about what his classmates have to say. They have dinner together almost every night, Shouta cutting down on his patrol routes and Hizashi pushing the radio show back an hour, both of them realizing the routine is good for Hitoshi. The boy in question was still chronically late and still pulled the most ridiculous excuses known to man, but he showed up right on time when it mattered, when they asked.
They came to realize, startlingly, that they could predict just how late he was going to be, based on his moods. A sour, pissed off Hitoshi would likely take several hours to make an appearance and a happy, content Hitoshi usually only strayed an hour and half off his designated time. It was when he was right on time, for no reason at all, that Shouta and Hizashi realized they needed to worry. (It also put their early months into sickening perspective, as they realized that him eventually staying away was actually a sign of trust and contentment. Shouta cringes at some of those conversations, him beyond frustrated at his son for what was, apparently, a sign of his comfort).
He was even sleeping more. Seldom now did Shouta find him in the living room at odd hours of the night and Hizashi reports that he is rarely joined by Hitoshi in the too early mornings. Shouta tells himself that this really is him sleeping in, really is him going to sleep and staying there, instead of just spending more time in his room. He doesn't believe his hopes are unfounded, however, because the light bags under Hitoshi's eyes have seemed to fade in recent months and his skin looks a little fuller. He's still pale beyond reason, but he doesn't look so washed out of color.
He talks to them more. Tells them about his day unprompted, makes dry remarks on the ongoings of his classmates at dinner. He asks questions about their jobs and the nature of them makes Shouta think he actually cares, rather than probing for information on something he wants to know. He even occasionally comments on things from his past, which always throws Shouta for a loop. It's always a small, innocuous, practically innocent statement, which Shouta is sure is on purpose. He tries hard not to push, really he does. He doesn't want his questions to cause Hitoshi to clam back up, to stop his little tidbits. Shouta is a patient man and he has waited a long, long time to get Hitoshi to open up to him: he isn't about to ruin it now.
That doesn't stop him from wondering though.
The first time he did it they were walking down a street, easily enjoying each other's company on the way home from the grocery store. They pass a woman walking her dog, dressed up in some silly little outfit like boots and a coat, as if it wasn't warm enough for people to wear a t-shirt. Shouta caught the quirk of Hitoshi's mouth through his mask, watched as his eyes tracked the dog longer than necessary. Taking a risk, Shouta asked.
"What's so funny?" Hitoshi looked at him blankly, but Shouta caught the light glimmer of mischief in his eye. Mixed in with it, just a flash, practically gone before Shouta catches it, is a hint of grief. (Shouta has good eyes; he catches it).
"Maa, I had a dog once," Hitoshi remarked, tilting his head to look up at the sky. "He always insisted on his own little outfits."
A million questions ran through Shouta's head at this point, because what? He likes to think he would have noticed if Hitoshi had a dog, at least while he was with him. Which meant it had to have been before. Unlikely it was when he was in the group home, maybe back with the Shinsos? There wasn't any record of that, but it was possible. (Shouta is decently certain that if Hitoshi was at some point involved in some kind of child soldier situation, having a dog that wanted to be in its own outfits was not a part of their strategy).
"That's nice," he said instead, keeping his mind from running away with his mouth. And they continued on their way.
After that the small comments pop up more and more. Still small, still seemingly innocent, but after every one Shouta tries to place a time in Hitoshi's life it would have fit and nearly always draws a blank. A part of him suspects that Hitoshi is just messing with him, lying for the sake of a new way to get a rise out of Shouta, but something about the way he says them makes Shouta think that's not true. That they are something deep, something real. Something Hitoshi is carefully, slowly, letting him in on.
The second time it happened, Shouta was sitting on the couch, blearily nursing a cup of coffee. He'd spent a little too long looking over some reports last night and was paying the price for it now. Hitoshi seemed to be in a similar state of affairs, though, his son rarely presented as a morning person. Hizashi was, of course, loudly flitting around their kitchen, the clang of pots and pans mixing with his humming.
"Sleep well?" Shouta asked, eyeing Hitoshi, trying to calculate whether the bags under his eyes were from just general restlessness or the result of a nightmare. Hitoshi sighed, tipping his head back to stare at the ceiling.
"I suppose," he replied, an aloofness in his tone that Shouta had felt seemed rather fake.
"Oh?" He asked. "How so?"
"I had a dream about something from a long time ago." And there it was again, Shouta noted. That slight edge of grief. So slight, so well hidden. But there, especially now that Shouta was listening for it. Shouta waited, seeing if he'll continue. After a long moment, he does.
"It was of the woods behind my house, from when I was very small. I haven't thought of them in a while. I'd almost forgotten what they smelled like."
Shouta paused, trying not to tear his hair out because there aren't any woods anywhere near where the Shinso family home was. He tried to rationalize that maybe Hitoshi is misremembering, that they weren't actually from right behind his house. Rather, perhaps they were from a trip his family took, or somewhere he visited with school or a friend. Besides, it was a dream. (But Shouta knows, somehow he knows, that Hitoshi isn't misremembering anything. He feels it itch under his skin but keeps his mouth shut.)
"You know," he said slowly, carefully, as if he were approaching a cornered animal that might spook at any moment, "if you remember where they are, we could go visit sometime." Hitoshi looked at him for a moment, and his face is blank as he said:
"Ah, I'm afraid I don't. It's been too long. Thank you though."
But Shouta has known his son for going on 7 years now. He knows when he's lying. And Shouta doesn't believe him. But he doesn't push. He doesn't worry about how this information contradicts everything he knows about where Hitoshi came from, everything he has done to carefully construct the timeline of his life, and he lets it wash over him. A testament of patience. These small admissions, small they may be, are proof that one day, if he waits long enough, Hitoshi might just tell him everything. And that's how Shouta wants it. He wants to know, yes, of course, but only when Hitoshi tells him. He would wait a lifetime for his son to trust him and he is slowly, so, so slowly, chipping away at forever.
The third time is the time that sticks out to Shouta the most out of all of them. There's something about it that makes his stomach twist a bit, something sinister in the hidden undertones, but what it is Shouta can't quite grasp.
They were taking a walk in the park. It was a nice day, Shouta remembers, with the sun pleasantly warm but not burning, and barely a cloud in the sky. Hizashi had been going on about something or another, Hitoshi nodding along, the occasional dry comment being made. Shouta had been content to trail along behind them, soaking up their chatter. In the distance comes the low call of a bird, cutting through the light breeze with surprising volume. Shouta had barely registered it, filtering it into the sonic background. At least, until he heard a sharp trill of response come from his side. It took him a second to realize that Hitoshi had whistled back at the bird, mostly because it sounded so bird-like itself. Hizashi shot him a glance over their son's head, equally surprised.
"Didn't know you were into bird calls, little listener," he commented, easy in his tone. Hitoshi seemed to have drawn up his shoulders a little, as if realizing he'd been caught doing something he shouldn't have. It was a weird action to see on his son, mostly because Shouta thinks the boy is largely incapable of shame and has rarely shown regret for his more mischievous actions. It also made it incredibly strange he'd had such a reaction over being called out about a bird call, of all things.
"Maa, I suppose. A couple of kids I knew in the group home had a game of making all kinds of little codes out of bird calls. Muscle memory, I guess." Shouta's eyes narrowed, just slightly. Hitoshi was famously not close with his peers in the group home, certainly not close enough to warrant being let in on secret codes and games, as much as it hurt Shouta to admit. Beyond that, muscle memory implied that he very frequently participated in said game. Call him crazy, but Shouta found it difficult to imagine it was easy to whistle in a muzzle (he really should have set that place on fire while he was there).
"Oh yeah?" Hizashi asked, tone still easy, leaning closer into Hitoshi's space to rest a hand on his head. Although, based on the slight tension in his neck, Shouta suspected he also caught the lie. "What did that one stand for?"
At this Hitoshi was silent for a long moment. He took long enough that Shouta guessed he wasn't planning on answering. Hizashi seemed to take the hint and leaned back, drawing away his physical presence and with it the question.
"No threat detected. All clear." The answer is enough to startle Hizashi into a stumble.
"What?" He asked, bewildered. Shouta himself is rather put off by this answer. It fit, sort of, with what little Hitoshi had said and what Shouta had seen of the group home. It made sense that the kids might have a system warning them of their caretakers' presence or other kids they might not want listening in on something. Still, the phrasing of it was a little too…rigid, for Shouta to be at ease about it.
"The first call," Hitoshi explained slowly, like he's choosing every word very carefully, heavily debating them before he says them. "Is a question. A check in, kind of." He let out a loud, low whistle; a perfect imitation of the bird call earlier. Shouta felt some of the hairs on his neck rise.
"The second," he said, "is the response. It means everything's fine. Things are safe. No need to worry." He repeated the second call, the sharp trill that Shouta found rang in his ears.
"The other kids like to use it as a way to warn each other about bed checks. Didn't want to get caught with the extra bags of chips they'd smuggled in from school or whatever. Stupid stuff, really. They only had a handful of calls, on account of continuously getting them mixed up."
"Did they have one for danger?" Shouta found himself asking. Hitoshi slowed in his walk, just a bit. He nodded. Before Shouta can press, just a little more, by asking what it was, Hitoshi lets out a long, drawn out warble. It really does sound just like any other bird call, and he's sure Hitoshi has imitated it perfectly. But while Shouta wasn't some expert on ornithology, he spent a large amount of time wandering around outside, listening very intently to the sounds of the city and everything in it. And he was sure he had never heard a bird sound like that before.
So where did the group home kids get it from? Why perfectly mimic two other birds native to the area, and have the third be one that wasn't?
Something a little sharper than unease settled into Shouta's stomach.
He stopped pressing. They continued their walk.
It continues on like this, in similar instances. Something will happen, or Shouta will ask an innocent question, or Hizashi will make some comment or another, and Hitoshi will share a piece of himself. At first, only to Shouta, something he is insanely smug about to Hizashi, but eventually to the blond as well. They compare notes, of course, and when Hitoshi is out of the house they sit and ponder together what it could all mean, where it might fit.
They haven't come up with any good answers so far.
But Shouta, for once in his life, is content to let things be. Especially after how Hitoshi was in class today. He'll have to think of some reward, some celebration for Hitoshi. Not something flashy or extreme, nothing too obvious. Something that let Hitoshi know that Shouta trusted him too, that he saw the effort he was making and wanted to reward it. Something that Hitoshi would be able to see right through, but wouldn't feel the need to comment on.
He'd have to ask Hizashi.