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Midoriya, for all the time that Hitoshi has known him, has always been a soft-spoken, kind, smiling ray of sunshine.
Hitoshi knows, of course, that the other boy has his own history, things in his past he doesn't want to talk about, but it's truly amazing (a little unbelievable if you ask him, to be honest) how Midoriya has managed to stay so optimistic even after everything.
Early on in their acquaintance, Midoriya had dispelled the misconception of his perfect like as a bearer of a supposedly heroic quirk, and Hitoshi had gotten bits and pieces here and there about him being a late bloomer, people not being the nicest. And wasn't that the most glowing of endorsements from Midoriya of all people — Hitoshi didn't want to begin to imagine how unkind someone must have been for Midoriya to speak ill of them.
But for the most part, they maintain their mutual understanding of never asking about each other's past unless one of them brings it up first. Hitoshi definitely appreciates it; he hates prying questions and pitying sympathy, but it's nice to have someone who'll listen if he ever needs.
He doesn't mean to bring it up when he does, doesn't mean for his question to be anything more than an innocent query.
They're studying together at a coffee shop close to UA one day after school had let out early. Training had gone pretty smoothly; they'd teamed up on a logical stakeout simulation and executed their planned rescue with flying colors, and as a result of their high spirits, Hitoshi had offered to buy them both coffee and a pastry.
When a waiter comes over to take their order, Hitoshi recites it smoothly: "one iced caramel cappuccino swirl and a mocha latte, please." The waiter nods, jotting it down before turning and walking away, but Hitoshi doesn't miss the way his friend stiffens.
"Hey, you good?" he asks, and Midoriya quickly nods, making a evident effort to clear his face of any negative emotion now that he knows that his slip has been noticed. If it wasn't suspicious before, now Hitoshi definitely finds that something is off.
Only a few minutes pass before their waiter returns with their drinks, Midoriya nodding and smiling again.
"Would you like any sugar or extra creamer to go with that?"
Midoriya shakes his head, while Hitoshi gestures at his own cup. "Yes, please."
Again Midoriya goes rigid at that, a miniscule motion that Hitoshi might have overlooked except for the fact that this is the second time it's happened. Racking his brain for any similarity between today's two incidents, he comes up with only one likely possibility.
He waits until their creamer and sugar have been delivered and the waiter is out of earshot before asking, "who said please so much to make you hate it?"
At this, Midoriya outright flinches, and Hitoshi realizes that he's made a mistake, prodding into something far deeper than he'd originally thought.
"It's okay, you don't have to answer if you don't want to," he hurries to say, but Midoriya waves off his apologies and takes a deep breath before answering.
"I did."
Hitoshi's eyes widen. Ah.
"I was… bullied pretty badly when I was younger," the other boy elaborates. "You know how I was a late bloomer, and I've told you about people not being the nicest, right?"
Hitoshi can do nothing but nod, knowing now that he's opened a long-buried can of worms. Or maybe something that hadn't really been buried that long ago, if Midoriya is still reacting negatively to this common word.
"Well, my classmates used to take my stuff and destroy or deface it in whatever way they could, using whatever means available but most often their own quirks — I think to rub in my face the fact that I didn't have one," Midoriya tells him. "I used to beg them to stop at first, and they thought it was funny, the-" his voice catches. "The quirkless boy recognizing his place and his worth — his lack thereof, that is."
Hitoshi wants nothing more than to hold him and protect him and shield him from everything that he didn't deserve. Everything that neither of them deserved, really, but people are cruel. Adults are cruel. Kids are cruel when they don't know what they're saying, and even crueler when they do — which was clearly the case for Midoriya.
It must have been ingrained into him deeply; come to think of it, Hitoshi can't place an instance where he's heard his friend say 'please'. As polite and overly deferential as Midoriya is, Hitoshi's never witnessed him use that word — and now it makes sense.
"I'm sorry I brought it up," he says, the words feeling inadequate for what Midoriya's just shared even as they leave Hitoshi's mouth. "But thank you so much for telling me, for trusting me and letting me know. I promise I won't say that word again."
"It's okay-" Midoriya starts, but Hitoshi shakes his head firmly.
"No," Hitoshi counters. "No, it's not okay, not if it brings up that kind of trauma for you. It's no big deal for me to cut out one tiny word from my vocabulary. This is the least I can do."
He meets Midoriya's eyes and finds that the other boy is crying. "Thank you," Midoriya sniffles. "Thank you."
"It is the least I can do," Hitoshi repeats.
There is a reason they understand each other so well, and though it is unfortunate, the circumstances that have led to this, he will do nothing to harm his friendship with Midoriya.
Hitoshi scoots around the edge of the table and crushes his friend in a hug.