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Chapter Text

Aizawa was in the middle of ripping into class 2-B’s frankly appalling essays on the use of quirks for preemptive self-defense when his phone chirped. That made him abruptly pause, because as a rule he kept his phone on silent when class is in session, with a few exceptions. The exceptions were Hizashi, who wouldn’t text him in the middle of class and would call if it truly was an emergency, Principal Nezu, who would’ve dropped by the classroom in person if he needed him, and his police associates - Tsukauchi, Tamakawa, and Tsuragamae - all of which wouldn’t bother him during the daytime unless it was important.

“Nanase,” he called to the class rep and handed her the stack of papers, “Distribute these back while I step out for a second. Everyone else, look through your essays and think about how you’re going to rewrite it for a passing grade, or so help me god I’m going to make you wish you repeated your first year.”

Aizawa slipped his phone out of his pocket as he stepped out of the classroom, eyebrows raising when he saw it was Tsuragamae. The Police Chief wouldn’t just contact him lightly.

‘Nabu Middle School ASAP’ the text read.

“You’re going to have to give me more than that,” Aizawa dryly said the moment his call was picked up, even as he was swiftly making his way to the teacher’s lounge. “It’s only the first period, I have classes to teach.”

“Apologies, Eraserhead, but this is a delicate situation,” Tsuragamae replied, sounding weary already despite the early hour. “We need your Erasure. The entirety of Nabu Middle School’s student body and staff... aren’t moving.”

Aizawa stared at a student standing in front of her shoe locker. She was still breathing, and if it weren’t for the blank, slack look on her face, he wouldn’t have thought anything was wrong. As it was, it wasn’t just her - all around him were students and staff just… standing there and doing nothing, all with the same expression on their face.

“We got the call shortly after class was supposed to start,” Tamakawa explained to him as they carefully dodged frozen teenagers and teachers. “A first year who was coming in late found everyone like this.”

“At least they had the sense to call the police,” Aizawa muttered, looking around. So far it didn’t look like anyone was frozen mid-action. They were all either just standing in place or sitting in their seats. Curious, but that ruled out a paralyzing or time-stopping quirk. “Did they say anything worthwhile?”

Tamakawa scratched his chin thoughtfully, “Yeah, actually. She said that one of the third years has a... brainwashing quirk and that… uh, if it was anyone’s... doing, it was his.” Aizawa side-eyed the officer’s almost hesitant trailing at the end. 

“Is that what she said, word for word?”

The cat man grimaced. Aizawa frowned.

“There was… a bit more name calling. Hysteric blaming, ya know? She called him a villain , mostly.”

Aizawa frowned even harder. Something like a brainwashing quirk did tend to have a negative stigma, but unless this was all done purposely, he liked to give people, especially kids, the benefit of the doubt. He’s had his fair share of quirk discrimination aimed at him as a child and he wasn’t going to perpetuate the cycle. “Do we have a name?” He asked.

“Shinsou Hitoshi,” Tamakawa said. “Tall, pale, distinctive purple hair. Tendou just pulled him up from the quirk registry before you arrived, and like the girl said he has a voice activated brainwashing quirk. Nothing about how to break people out of it and so far we haven’t found him anywhere on the school grounds.”

“Hm,” Aizawa hummed as they made their way up to the third floor, where the third year classrooms where. “Unless he has quite the mastery of his quirk, I don’t think a middle schooler would be able to manage the strain of distance and mass.” Tamakawa looked thoughtful at that and Aizawa pressed on, peeking into classroom 3-A and seeing more of the same. “Standard class sizes of twenty kids. Five classes per year, with three years. Assuming the caller was the only person late, and there are no absences for the day, that’s more or less about three hundred people without even counting the staff. A mental quirk like brainwashing is strenuous on the brain as it is, more so when the person is young. I’m a pro and an adult, and even then I can maybe do Erasure on around a dozen or so max - hundreds is impossible. So I wouldn’t worry about Shinsou having done a runner - more likely than not he’s here in the building, and quite possibly in worse condition than the rest of the school.”

After checking classroom 3-D, he noticed a group of students standing in front of what he assumed was a supply locker at the end of the hall. Normally he would dismiss it as kids gathering together to talk, but the way they were facing the locker rather than each other made Aizawa’s senses tingle. Passing by 3-E without a glance, he carefully sidestepped the three boys in front of the locker and without much fanfare, opened it up.

“Tamakawa,” Aizawa called without looking away from the purple haired teen crumpled in the small space of the locker. He quickly took in the way too glassy eyes, the drying streaks of blood dripping from the nostrils and ears contrasting with the unhealthy pallor of the kid’s skin, a sheen of sweat clinging on him... It was only his years of being a pro and seeing all kinds of shit that prevented anything more than a growl come out of his throat. “Call the paramedics up here. He needs to be in a hospital, now .”

Aizawa didn’t spare a glance back even as he heard Tamakawa scuffle forward a bit and cursing as the police officer saw Shinsou sitting across the locker, head slumped against the metal plating. He ignored the other man urgently calling for the paramedics outside to come up immediately, instead crouching down to eye level with the boy. “Shinsou,” he slowly said, worry increasing when putting his hand on the kid’s shoulder gave him not even the mildest response. Touching the clammy neck, he felt a faint, fluttering pulse. “Shinsou, can you hear me?”

Using Erasure on Shinsou carelessly would end badly, he knew without question. It’s been almost two hours since school would’ve started, and depending on Shinsou’s initial limits with his quirk, the backlash of suddenly removing over three hundred minds from his control could be disastrous . Not that Aizawa had a choice, he realized with a grimace, considering Erasure was an all or nothing quirk. As Tamakawa had said, Shinsou’s quirk registry didn’t list any way of breaking through the brainwashing, and they didn’t exactly have the time to find out, especially without risking the hundreds of students. But the brain was such a delicate organ and Aizawa knew mental-type emitter quirks - had to, considering his own - and so he also knew the moment he used Erasure on Shinsou they were either looking at a full blown seizure at best or a total brain shut down at worst.

God , he thought wearily, this quickly ended up being such a mess. 

“Strap him down,” Aizawa told the paramedics as they maneuvered around the still standing brainwashed students by them. “I’m going to need to use Erasure as soon as you have.”

One of the paramedics looked alarmed, “Eraserhead-san, can’t it wait until we have him in the ambulance?”

Aizawa clicked his tongue in mild irritation, “Normally I would agree with you, but the longer his quirk is active, the worse the backlash is going to be. Minutes could literally save the kid’s life.”

The paramedic that spoke still looked uneasy, as well as her other three coworkers. But one of them nodded, taking in the still unresponsive teen. “He’s right,” the second paramedic said as they carefully but firmly strapped Shinsou onto the gurney. “Yamato, Ishikawa, be ready with your quirks any moment from here until we reach the hospital. Eraserhead-san, whenever you’re ready.”

Under normal circumstances Aizawa wouldn’t do this with so many people around - god, he needed to brace himself from the clusterfuck that was sure to erupt the moment the school body was released from the brainwashing - but the circumstances went beyond normal from the beginning. Time was ticking. So with a deep breath, he looked right at Shinsou Hitoshi and used Erasure.

Almost immediately, a shitstorm erupted.

Aizawa sighed tiredly, pinching between his brows in hopes his headache would ease. The past three hours had been a mess of hysterical students and staff, trying to get as many statements as possible, and preventing hasty and rash decisions from being made. It took a lot of very, very stern warnings to get the students and staff to agree not to blab to the press immediately about the day’s events. It would’ve been different - it would’ve been harder - if Shinsou had not been found shut in a locker, catatonic, by a pro-hero. As it is, such a picture painted something uncomfortable to the administration of Nabu Middle, who prided themselves to be an upstanding school. Aizawa had made sure to mention to Tamakawa about possibly obtaining the surveillance tapes of that morning, as he was certain a school as good as Nabu had some decent cameras in their halls and classrooms as per government regulations. Additionally, requests for Shinsou’s school files - all of them - were made as per Aizawa’s wishes. He’d only had looked at him for a few minutes, but many things about Shinsou and the circumstances around this whole incident had Aizawa’s internal alarms blaring.

As for Shinsou himself - well, the mass of third year students that had abruptly been freed from the brainwashing had a front row seat to their classmate’s eyes rolling to the back of his head as he violently seized and strained against the gurney’s straps. There was genuine fear and regret in some of their eyes - particularly from the three that had most likely put him in the locker in the first place - and Aizawa hoped that as harsh of a wake up call as it was, that the students learned a very important lesson from the events of that morning.

The last update he received was from an hour ago, telling him that Shinsou, while comatose, was at least still alive and brain functional. That had lifted some weight off his shoulders - he wasn’t sure he could take it if this entire mess ended with a brain dead or even just plain dead middle schooler. He’d have to make a visit to the hospital later of course, especially to talk to Shinsou’s parents about the incident and the ongoing investigation. But right now Aizawa could really use a nap.

Unfortunately for him, he had Shinsou’s school files to peruse, reluctantly given to him by the principal. As if that hesitance wasn’t damning enough, he thought. It quickly became clear that other than the fear of being reported for quirk discrimination, Nabu Middle kept Shinsou for his clear academic proficiency. With excellent grades across the board, Shinsou was evidently the top of his year. Though there were cheating accusations made from particularly envious classmates, Aizawa assumed, none of them were anything that could be proven. Of course, none of them could be disproven either, so each report was still taken into consideration by the administration, hence they were included in the school file. There were also some accusations of quirk usage on Shinsou’s part, mostly from his first and second year, though they seemed to become scarcer as his attendance in school went on. Aizawa also took those reports with a grain of salt.

It’s the high school preparation forms that gave Aizawa a real pause. UA - General Education as Shinsou’s first choice didn’t surprise him - it was the top school in Japan after all, regardless of department. But if Aizawa squinted, and held the paper up against the lights -

He could barely make out the remnants of Heroics , written then hastily erased in the odd space above General Education . As if Shinsou had written both in the rectangular space and eventually decided against having Heroics on it at all. And looking down at the other schools listed - Shiketsu, Ketsubutsu, Isamu, to name some - all of them were some of the top Hero schools in the country and all of them had that odd space above General Education that still had the indents of Heroics left behind. Aizawa then knew what the next sheet of paper was going to be.

True to his predictions, he flipped to the next sheet and saw the career form. On the first box, the first career choice of an incoming high schooler, Shinsou had written Hero . And someone - his homeroom teacher no doubt - had marked over it with a damning X. Aizawa didn’t have to read the notes beside it to hear the message.

“Be more realistic, you can’t be a hero.” 

Flaring up with sudden irritation, Aizawa shoved the files to the side and turned his attention to the laptop Tamakawa had dropped off along with a USB stick that contained that morning’s surveillance video. Double checking the time as the video files loaded - lunch time, not that he was particularly hungry at the moment - he concluded that he should have enough time to drop by the hospital before visiting hours were over, after watching the videos. Talking with Shinsou’s parents ought to give him a clearer picture of things, and he can move forward from there. 

Thankfully the video file of the day started two hours before the beginning of class, and it took him no time to find the timestamp of the initial altercation. Approximately eight minutes before the bell was due to ring, Shinsou had left the classroom to go to the bathroom. The three students of interest were already standing around in the hallway at the time, nudging at each other and laughing at something the one in the middle had said while pointing at Shinsou’s direction. Three minutes later Shinsou appeared, back from the bathroom, heading towards classroom 3-A when he was stopped by the trio. They had said something to him, two of them suddenly flinging their arms over Shinsou’s shoulder and almost dragging him towards the end of the hall where the supply lockers were. He didn’t have audio on the video for now, always preferring his first watch of surveillance videos on mute, but it’s clear from the smug looks on the three boys’ faces and the uncomfortable tenseness of Shinsou’s body that whatever chat they’re having, it’s not a friendly one. And it’s a one-sided chat, Aizawa noticed, because not once did Shinsou open his mouth and even looked to be restraining himself from saying something. And something about that had made the middle boy - the obvious ringleader - unhappy, slamming the supply locker behind Shinsou and gestured threateningly with his hand. A quirk, he noted sourly, seeing the flash of electricity or sparks coming from the boy’s fingers. He watched as Shinsou slowly shook his head at something the jeering boys had said and for a moment it had looked like Shinsou was going to walk away. But suddenly he’s being thrown into the locker, the three boys using their combined force to slam it shut and laughing as they stepped back, knowing they had locked the other boy in. And Aizawa watched incredulously as the ringleader signaled his friends to back off a bit, putting his hand on the metal and using his quirk on it, sending visible currents through the locker.

Immediately Aizawa paused the video and called Tamakawa. “Do we have an ID on the three students that were in front of the locker?” He practically demanded.

“Uh, whoa , yeah hold on, Jesus,” he heard the shuffling of paper and Tamakawa’s grumbling, “Tsubame Kai, Hori Seiji, and Oshiro Keisuke.”

“Quirks?”

“Hm… Tsubame’s is Adhesive Saliva, Hori’s is Taser, and Oshiro’s is Color Changer.” 

“Taser,” Aizawa repeated flatly, staring back at the screen where it was paused to Hori using his electric based quirk on a metal box with a person inside it. He pinched the bridge of his nose hard . “God help me.”

Ignoring Tamakawa’s confused sputtering, he hung up and unpaused the video. Fortunately, Hori’s power trip was short lived as a few seconds later the trio stopped laughing and fell still. Hori dropped his hand to the side and they just stood there, and there Aizawa had it. Two minutes before the bell rang. Aizawa opened video files one after the other, skipping to the timestamp from the first video, and he watched from each camera angle as two minutes before the school bell, Nabu Middle halted to a stop.

Going back to the first video file, he rewound it back to the moment Shinsou left the bathroom and replayed it, this time with sound. The audio quality was subpar, and he couldn’t actually understand almost all of the conversation between the four boys. But he heard the laughter, the slam of the locker door, Shinsou banging against it as he barked “Let me out!”, the sharp crackle of Hori’s quirk, Shinsou’s shock of pain, and the panicked screaming “Stop! Stop it! Stop stop stop EVERYONE STOP--”

The next person Aizawa called was Tsuragamae. 

“Eraserhead, what -”

“ Nabu Middle ,” Aizawa snarled, eyes blazing red, “has questions to answer .”

Aizawa managed to calm himself from running a warpath by the time he arrived at the hospital Shinsou Hitoshi was admitted to. With a flash of his hero identification, he was directed to a room in the Quirk Trauma wing, where two adults already sat beside the still, pale teenager. 

“My name is Eraserhead,” he said, holding up his hero ID again to who clearly were Shinsou’s parents. “I was the hero called to the scene and I’m currently helping with the post-incident investigation.”

“Shinsou Touma,” the man - tall, dark haired, and tired-eyed with glasses - nodded at him and then gestured to the woman - the parent Hitoshi clearly got his coloring from - on the other side of the bed. “My wife, Hotaru. Thank you for your service, Eraserhead-san.”

“It’s not a problem,” Aizawa tonelessly said as he made himself comfortable on the sofa seat against the wall. “I’m not sure what they’ve told you already, but I’ve gotten a clearer picture of what happened. Plus I’m sure you have questions.”

Shinsou Hotaru glanced at her husband, biting her lip before turning to Aizawa. “They said he held his classmates under his quirk for a long time. And the strain of it…”

“Not just his classmates,” Aizawa corrected. “The entire school. We don’t have an official count yet, but we estimate about three hundred -” The other two gasped sharply at that. “And it was almost two hours before I was able to turn off his quirk. It… took some time for us to find him.”

“What actually happened?” Shinsou’s father asked, pained. Hotaru had turned her gaze back to her son, gently holding his hand in hers.

Aizawa took a deep breath as he succinctly summarized the events as he saw it from the surveillance videos. A part of him was relieved when genuine shock and anger had flashed in the Shinsou couple’s faces as he retold the last part leading up to the mass brainwashing - considering the casual discrimination Hitoshi was getting from everyone else, he was concerned that the boy’s own parents would be prejudiced against their own son. He was glad that wasn’t the case, that the two clearly loved their son and took his suggestion of contacting their lawyer very seriously. 

“And no one did anything?” Touma scowled, a contrast to the quiet man he had been five minutes prior. “If the cameras picked up Hitoshi screaming-”

“Then the other third year students should have been able to hear it, yes,” Aizawa nodded tiredly. “I have to look through the written statements from the third years when I stop by the police station later, but at the very least the students in 3-E should have heard it.”

Hotaru on the other hand had an odd look on her face. He thought it might have been shock at how her son was treated but - “That’s not how his quirk works.” 

Touma and Aizawa looked at her, and her husband slowly mirrored her odd look before looking at Aizawa, puzzled. “She’s… right, Eraserhead-san.”

“It’s important that you explain it to me, then,” Aizawa looked at the two carefully. “The quirk registry isn’t thorough enough. I understand that it’s vocal?”

“Call and response, more accurately,” Hotaru said quietly. “He got it from my side of the family. My father had a Persuasion quirk that worked similarly - he was able to encourage people to do something by talking. The longer he conversed with them, the stronger the suggestion became. But in Hitoshi’s case, if he talks to someone and they respond, he’s able to use his quirk on them.” 

“The only time he spoke at all during the incident was at the end, when he was telling them to stop,” Aizawa frowned, mind racing. “Moreover, unless he suddenly developed a voice projection quirk, he would’ve only been heard by people on the third floor, at most. But even the students out in the courtyard were brainwashed. The call and response requirement of his quirk was completely bypassed, then? What else can you tell me about his quirk? Has he been practicing with it?”

Touma shook his head. “We honestly only know so much about it. He doesn’t- Eraserhead-san, please understand that deep down Hitoshi is afraid of his quirk,” he sighed, looking as tired as Aizawa felt. “We try our best, but as a pro hero you must know what kind of stigma something like brainwashing gets, and- Hitoshi is young. Despite us always telling him otherwise, he takes… certain words to heart.”

Aizawa nodded, looking at the boy lying still in the hospital bed and feeling empathy stirring in him. “I won’t ask for details, but… Mental health does have an effect on mental quirks, and vice versa. If your son is afraid of his quirk...”

“We’ve been discussing finding him a Quirk Counselor again. It took a while to convince him, but since he’s aiming for UA...” Touma said after a moment. “His last session with one was four years ago and it ended… poorly. He already meets with a therapist every other week after school, and takes medication for his insomnia and depression.”

God, the more he learned about Shinsou Hitoshi, the more he felt the stirring of attachment forming towards the kid he hasn’t even exchanged words with. He empathized way too much with the kid. It wasn’t like him to get attached this fast.

“Speaking of UA,” Hotaru piped worriedly, “It’s just… this is going on his record, isn’t it? And high schools get a copy from applicants… Do you think it’s going to hurt his chances…?”

Ah, Aizawa realized, feeling a grimace forming on his lips. A massive quirk incident like this, even if it was an accident, didn’t exactly look good on high school applications. However, Aizawa was a teacher himself, and more importantly, a hero school teacher... “I assure you, Shinsou-san, I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure the last thing this incident does is count against your son. I’ve seen his academic records - any high school worth their merit should be begging him to attend.”

The Shinsou couple looked relieved at that. “He’s been working so hard on his studies,” Touma said to him. “Hitoshi has always been naturally smart, but his work ethic is on another level. We worry sometimes that he’s pushing himself too hard, that he’s trying to compensate for too much, but… Doing well in school has been one of the few things that constantly makes him genuinely happy.”

“Your son sounds like a great kid. You raised him well,” Aizawa gave them a small smile. “Trust me, he won’t be punished for this. He’s more of the victim than anyone else involved. Concentrate on his recovery for now and I’ll take care of the legalities, especially concerning the school.”

“Thank you so much, Eraserhead-san,” Hotaru smiled back in gratitude. “We’re in your care.”

Aizawa had just enough time to drop by the precinct to take a look at the student statements before Hizashi inevitably started calling him to come home to eat dinner. The other man wasn’t going to be happy to hear that Aizawa had skipped lunch and was practically only fuelled by jelly packs and justice.

“Ah, Eraserhead,” Tsukauchi greeted him amiably as he flipped through the pages of reports. “I heard about the Nabu incident, or at least the gist of it.”

Aizawa snorted, not looking up from the stack of papers until he found the ones from the third floor students. “It’s a hot mess. Bullying, quirk discrimination, juvenile quirk use with possibly malicious intent...”

“Yikes,” Tsukauchi frowned. “And the boy?”

“Just saw him and talked to the parents. Quirk backlash has him comatose, but the doctors are optimistic that he’ll be awake in a few days.”

Tsukauchi hummed and patted Aizawa on the shoulder. “Let me know if you need help. Good thing the press is too busy with the skirmish in the business district earlier…”

Aizawa shrugged and started skimming through the reports. He could feel his irritation grow as he went through each one that didn’t mention hearing any screaming, claiming ignorance of what was going on in the hallway-

By the time he found one that acknowledged that shit was going on outside their classroom - from a girl in 3-B - Aizawa had flashed through over thirty reports. It took him another fifteen or so to find another honest statement, another ten to find the next, another twenty to find another… By the time he had gone through all 87 reports from every person that had been on the third floor at the time of incident - excluding Shinsou and the three perpetrators - he had six people say that they had heard Shinsou before falling under the brainwashing. One person that had been in the 3-A classroom, two in the 3-B classroom, one in the hallway, and the last two had been in 3-E.

Aizawa was going to have to talk to all these kids tomorrow, and he could already anticipate how big of a headache that was going to be. Looked like he was going to be taking Tsukauchi’s offer of help.

The statements from Hori, Tsubame, and Oshiro were also another thing. He wasn’t surprised that the three’s version of events matched, though having watched the tapes Aizawa could see where they were trying to cover their asses. None of them mentioned Hori using his quirk, and they all claimed that pushing Shinsou into the locker was just a joke that had gone a little too far. 

His phone going off and ringing Hizashi’s custom ringtone interrupted Aizawa’s low groaning of despair, and without lifting his head off the table, he answered the call.

“Shouta!” Hizashi cheerfully greeted him. “I haven’t seen the love of my life all day!”

“I’ll let you know when I find him,” Aizawa said dryly, feeling his spirits lift a bit as Hizashi cackled in reply. “I just stopped by the precinct, I’m about to head home in a little bit.”

“Sounds like you’ve had a long day. I heard you left during first period.”  

“You have no idea,” he grumbled and sighed. “I’ll tell you what I can over dinner. I’m going to have to call in at UA tomorrow as well.”

“Sounds like a take-out dinner day then,” Hizashi hummed. “Chinese from the old lady?”

“I’m not going to say no to that.”

“So out of the 87 of you that was on the third floor and not directly related to the incident,” Aizawa started as he stared down all the third year middle schoolers congregated in front of him in the gym, a day later, “only six of you decided to tell the truth?”

You could hear a pin drop as the teenagers and their teachers tried to look anywhere but at the pro-hero and his police companions, Tsukauchi and Tamakawa.

“There are cameras in this school. You are all aware of this,” Aizawa sternly said. “Someone tell me why you all thought it was a good idea to lie in a police investigation when there is a video record of what happened.”

“We were just scared,” someone weakly said. “You don’t get it- Hori was just… and then the brainwashing was-”

“Your classmate is in the hospital, in a coma , because three of your other classmates thought it was a good idea to give him what ? An impromptu electroshock therapy ? In a locker? And you all agreed with it?” Aizawa asked. “I hope you all realize that Shinsou could have easily died - either from electric shock had he not stopped your classmate in time or from the backlash of his quirk.”

One of the girls started sniffling, looking near tears. Aizawa sighed and gestured to Tsukauchi to take over. 

“I hope,” Tsukauchi gently said, “that you all take this is a hard lesson. You’re all young and it’s easy to make mistakes at your age. But you can learn from this. It’s been decided that everyone in the school will have to attend mandatory seminars on bullying, public quirk usage, and quirk discrimination. Every Friday for the next couple of weeks, for two hours starting your regular homeroom time. A letter will be mailed to each of your parents sometime this week explaining the circumstances.”

“This incident won’t be on your records,” Aizawa added, to the students’ relief. Privately, Aizawa was going to put some sort of note of commendation to the six that did admit to their mistake. The three instigators - who weren’t included in the mass meeting - were another story however.

“Go back to UA, Eraser,” Tsukauchi told him as the last of the students trailed out of the gym. “I can handle the boys.” Aizawa must have been obvious in his hesitation because the detective rolled his eyes at him. “ Go . You could even visit Shinsou again, whatever.”

Aizawa did not end up visiting Shinsou, at least not immediately. He did end up back at UA, though since he had already called in that morning and Midnight was subbing for his classes, Aizawa made his way to Nezu’s office.

“I wasn’t expecting you at all today,” Nezu said, smiling in a way that implied that he had been expecting Aizawa today. “Has the incident has been resolved?”

“Not quite,” Aizawa grumbled. Curiosity poked at him. “We have the results for the latest batch of mock entrance exams, right?”

Nezu peered at him curiously from behind his teacup. “Hmm, yes. Is there someone you’re interested in?”

Aizawa scowled, looking away from Nezu and tapping his fingers on his knee in contemplation. “Maybe. Shinsou Hitoshi from Nabu Middle School.”

“Ah,” the principal’s eyes lit up in recognition, turning towards his computer and typing on it quickly. “I have him flagged as an applicant of interest. A brainwashing quirk - quite rare! And the scores on his mock exams!”

Raising his eyebrows at the principal’s words, Aizawa leaned forward to peer at the screen as Nezu tilted it towards him. “Did he just take the General Education one?”

“Heroics, General Education, and interestingly enough, Management,” Nezu informed him. “As you can see…”

“Top scores in Heroics and General Education, top ten in Management,” Aizawa muttered, impressed.

“He was only lacking a bit on the business section of the Management exam. Other than that, the rest of his exams were rather interesting. Perfect scores on the general subjects, with frankly impressive proficiency in English and Sciences. He also has an above average grasp of quirk theory and analysis - I think only one or two other examiners have him beat and just barely. He also seems to be well versed in quirk law and ethics, going by his essay answers. Not a surprise, I suppose, considering his own quirk. But it’s very safe to say that he’s a shoe-in for General Education and Management, with a full-ride scholarship should he apply for it. Heroics, as you know, has the practical exam to consider and I admit to looking forward to seeing how he fares if he decides to try for it.”

Ah, the practical exam. Aizawa sneered. Shinsou would be at a severe disadvantage for it, with a quirk not suited for taking down robots unless he used the other applicants, which would risk him for disqualification. And unless he knew about the rescue points…

“Oh, stop it with that face, Eraserhead,” Nezu cheerfully sipped his tea. “I know how you feel about the practical exam, but the board remains stubborn. Is Shinsou involved in your investigation, then?”

“Why are you asking when you already know?” He sighed, rubbing the persistent ache in his head. “342. Shinsou had 342 people under his quirk for almost two hours . It may have been an accident - though we’re still not certain on how it happened from his end exactly - but the kid is untrained . According to his parents, he rarely even uses his quirk. I imagine with the right guidance and the right training-”

“He could potentially be in control of a very powerful quirk,” Nezu muttered, eyes glinting. “You’re very interested in this boy. Have you even talked to him?”

Aizawa glared. “It’s hard to talk to someone in a coma. However, he should be waking in a few days and I intend on having a long conversation with him.”

“And I suppose that’s what you’re waiting for before making a decision,” Nezu smiled. “Just don’t forget about your students here at UA, Eraserhead.”

When Aizawa entered the hospital room, Hotaru was sitting by her son’s bed, tapping on her tablet. “Pardon me,” he gave the older woman a small bow, which she returned with a smile. 

“Ah, Eraserhead-san! I wasn’t expecting you,” Hotaru said and he shrugged back. “Touma is at work today, we’ll be taking turns while Hitoshi is here.”

Aizawa tilted his head thoughtfully. “I don’t think I’ve asked, but what is it that you two do for work? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“I don’t mind. Touma is part of the management team of the Iida family. Currently he’s helping more on the Team Idaten part of things, but that’s only temporary.” Hotaru then flipped the tablet in her hand to face it toward him. On it looked like a picture of a bedroom with various color blocks to the side of it. “I’m an interior designer. My quirk lets me know people’s preferences on anything someone could have a preference for - like what colors someone likes or the type of girl they’d date - which helps a lot with personal clients.” 

“I suppose your husband’s job explains why Hitoshi took the UA Management mock exam,” Aizawa contemplated. Hotaru looked at him in surprise. “Did he take all three mock exams for the other schools too?”

“Just UA. For Shiketsu and Ketsubutsu he only did General Studies as that is the more academically challenging exam,” Hotaru said. “And you’re right. Touma graduated from the UA Management course, and though Hitoshi knows Touma doesn’t care if he decides not to go for that course, he’s still an overachiever. It can’t be helped, I guess, considering… he doesn’t really do much else in his free time other than stay in his room and read.”

Aizawa hesitated for a moment before asking, “He doesn’t have friends, does he?” He already knew the answer before Hotaru turned her sad gaze to her son.

“No,” she murmured quietly. “He doesn’t. He used to try, but then- Some days I think me and Touma are the only people that tell him anything... nice. And some days I think we’re the only people that even talk to him.”

And what a sad thought that was. When Aizawa was younger, before he attended UA, some kids would push him around - push his head down so that he won’t look at them - but at least some of the mutation quirk kids invited him to eat lunch with them, partner up for school work, and even on the occasion chatted with him amiably while walking part way home. He may not have had a real friend until Hizashi, but at least people talked to him.

“No one defended him,” Aizawa ended up saying. “All the third years - they heard him screaming but they more afraid of being brainwashed than they were of him being hurt. That’s the only thing those kids would say. They’re so fearful of him even if he hadn’t even done anything prior to all this.”

Hotaru looked at him, suddenly blank faced and inscrutable. “You’ve seen his school file. There are reports of him using his quirk on his classmates.”

“Do you really believe that?” He shot back. “Do you really believe he made that second year cheat on her boyfriend, that he made that tennis kid lose his match, that he made his classmate smack around a first year? I know you don’t, and I’m telling you now that I don’t, and I haven’t even talked to your son. And maybe I’m wrong, maybe Hitoshi has been playing you and your husband for a fool, but Nabu Middle is stinking with guilt and the skeletons are peeking out of their closets. I intend to make sure there are consequences. My instincts are telling me that your son nothing but a victim here, and they haven’t led me astray yet.”

“...You’re very passionate,” Hotaru’s lips quirked up to a smile. “I can see why you’re a pro-hero. People are so quick to judge Hitoshi for his quirk, so your belief and support of him has been nothing short of amazing to me.” 

“It’s common human decency,” Aizawa scowled, a bit embarrassed. He stood up, suddenly feeling he’s overstayed his welcome, and took one more good look at the boy on the bed. Hitoshi looked better than he had yesterday, some of his color returning, hair relaxed and splayed over the pillow and his forehead. It made him look younger than the up-do he had when Aizawa had found him did. He suddenly felt a swell of emotion within him that he unsuccessfully tried to squash back down.

“Let me know when he wakes up,” he told Hotaru. “We still need to talk to him to proceed with the investigation. And then… we’ll be able to deal with the school.” Aizawa paused, then sighed heavily. “Additionally, I would like to make an offer… but I would prefer to personally talk to your son first.”

Hotaru looked at him with searching eyes before nodding in acknowledgement. “Thank you, Eraserhead-san.”

“Not a problem, Shinsou-san. Hope your son gets well soon.”

Later, Hizashi came home to him lying flat on their living room floor, their cat on his stomach. “You look deep in thought, Shouta.”

Aizawa made a frustrated noise. “Do I get attached too easily?”

“I think Shinsou reminds you of yourself,” Hizashi, ever perceptive, said as he went ahead and laid on the floor beside him. “From what you told me last night, he’s a kid that’s been dealt a shitty hand quirk-wise and society judges him wrongly for it - something you know from experience. And, Shouta, you have a soft heart, especially towards kids. I would’ve been surprised if you weren’t feeling a bit protective of Shinsou considering how you first met him.”

“Technically he hasn’t even met me,” Aizawa grumbled, “and I’m an underground hero - I highly doubt he’s even heard of me.”

“That’s never mattered to anyone you’ve saved,” Hizashi laughed. “We have a box full of thank you letters and cards with your name on it, if you’ve forgotten. What’s the issue, really, Shouta?”

“He wants to be a hero, I think,” Aizawa said quietly, “And if he’s serious about UA, if he’s serious about becoming a hero, if he’s really the kind of boy his parents say he is…”

“Hm, you did expel your entire homeroom this year,” Hizashi hummed. He offered a hand to Aizawa, who took it and laced their fingers together. Hizashi gently squeezed his hand. “You’ve really taken to this kid, haven’t you? I hope you don’t end up disappointed.”

“I hope so too.”

Chapter Text

Waking up was like being dragged across underwater. Hitoshi didn’t remember if he’d ever felt this bone-deep tiredness, where he could barely twitch his fingers and open his eyes. His head felt heavy, like it was surrounded by a thick fog weighing over him - it was different from his Bad Days, when everything suffocated him and he retreated into the comfort of his own messy mind. Different, but not as bad.

“Hitoshi? Are you with us?” 

Hitoshi slowly cracked his eyes open, unable to focus beyond the blinding white above him. He could distantly feel a warm hand brushing his hair from his forehead, gently caressing him in comfort.

“Hitoshi?”

Moving his head felt almost painful, but he managed to look at the blurry blob of a person looming over his side. “Dad?” He rasped, and he heard a choked sob.

“Oh, Hitoshi,” his father smiled wobbly, “you’re alright now. You’re safe.”

He could only blearily blink, managing a weak “Okay” before falling back underwater.

The next time he came to, he heard more than just his father’s voice. 

“...been three hours, but the doctor said…”

“...glad, I’m so glad…”

Opening his eyes felt less like lifting a hundred pounds this time, and he even managed to focus at the ceiling. Slowly turning to his right, he watched as his parents talked in hushed voices, hands clutching each other in comfort. 

“Mom?” He whispered, though from how fast his parents’ faces turned to him he wondered if he had shouted instead, “Dad? What…?”

“ Hitoshi ,” his mom sobbed, rushing at him and wrapping him in a soft embrace. “We’ve been so worried.”

“Why?” Hitoshi murmured, his throat feeling like sandpaper. “What happened…?” He caught his parents exchanging a look before his dad tried to smile at him - it looked more like a grimace. 

“Let’s get the doctor back for you first, okay?” His dad said. “There’s… a lot to explain.”

Hitoshi started feeling more awake as his doctor checked him over and his mother fed him ice chips to hydrate his throat. He was really only half listening, catching medical jargon once in a while, his mind still feeling a little too sluggish. It’s when he finally processed that he had apparently been in a coma for the past four days did his eyes snap back up to look at the adults. 

“I’ve been what ?” He choked. “How?”

His doctor frowned, looking concerned. “Shinsou-kun, what was the last thing you remember?”

Hitoshi looked down at his hands and thought. The last thing he remembered? It was… “Dark… it was dark. And cramped. I think-” He paled, suddenly feeling sick as his mind almost violently shoved the memory upfront. Hori and his friends had been talking to him. They were joking about asking Hitoshi to brainwash Yokohara Ami from 3-C to- to-- Just a little suggestion, pretty please? They’ve known Hitoshi for three years and never asked for anything else, after all, so just this little favor-

“I think I’m gonna throw up,” he managed to get out before clapping a hand over his mouth. Thankfully the doctor was swift in grabbing a nearby trash bin, handing it to Hitoshi so that he could promptly throw up bile into it. His heart pounded and his hands shook as he struggled to breathe. 

“I’m sorry, Shinsou-kun,” he heard the doctor say, but it sounded distant, muffled. “That was careless of me. I didn’t mean to upset you. That’s it, just breathe slowly. One, two…”

It felt like forever by the time he got himself together again. He hasn’t had a panic attack like that in weeks; he felt even worse than he normally did after. “Sorry, I just,” Hitoshi exhaled shakily, leaning back on the strong hand his father had on his shoulder, “I remember. I was pushed into the locker and they- Hori used. His quirk. It hurt . Then my head felt like it was on fire.”

“You were very fortunate, all things considering,” the doctor gently said. “We’ll take care of you, so take your time resting.”

“A pro hero might drop by soon to take his statement,” his father told the doctor a little later while his mother fussed over him even more. Hitoshi’s ears perked up at that. A pro hero? “Considering what just happened…”

“I’ll be fine,” Hitoshi managed to croak out in between ice chips. His father and the doctor turned to look at him and he tried to look less of a mess as he shrugged. “It’s important, isn’t it?”

“They’ve waited four days, they can wait a little longer,” his mom frowned at him.

He shook his head. “I think… I’d rather get it over with as soon as possible,” he muttered tiredly before closing his eyes once more. 

He’d been lightly dozing, listening to his mother’s gentle voice telling him about what she’d been up to the past few days, when she was interrupted by firm knocking on the door. He carefully sat up as much as he could in bed, quietly watching his dad get up and gesture the newcomers in. One of them was a plain looking man in a tan overcoat and black suit, and the other one was-

“ Mom ,” Hitoshi, suddenly feeling very awake, quietly hissed at his mother, who looked knowing and way too amused at him, “you didn’t tell me the pro was Eraserhead .” He must have not been quiet enough though, because the plain man snorted and Eraserhead’s eyebrows rose in surprise. Hitoshi’s face warmed in embarrassment. 

“Well,” the plain man cheerfully started, “since you already know Eraserhead here, let me just introduce myself - I’m Detective Tsukauchi. We’re here to take your statement if you’re up for it, Shinsou-kun.”

“Yeah,” Hitoshi stammered, rubbing the back of his neck with a hand - a nervous habit of his. “Yeah, I’m up for it.”

“We’re glad to see you better, kid,” Eraserhead stoically told him and Hitoshi reddened at that. Had Eraserhead seen him while he was unconscious?

“Now, the doctor informed us that you had a panic attack earlier,” Tsukauchi said as he pulled out a notepad and pen, “so if you need to stop, stop. Take your time. There really is no rush for you to do this.” Though from the frown on Eraserhead’s face, there actually was.

“Where do you want me to begin?” Hitoshi asked hesitantly. He’s still not sure what, exactly, happened after he’d blacked out, and so far no one had been inclined to tell him, so he wasn’t really sure on what to say.

“How about from when Hori, Tsubame, and Oshiro started talking to you?” Tsukauchi suggested. “The surveillance video we got from the school didn’t pick up the conversation you were having very well.”

Hitoshi grimaced, thinking back to what he remembered earlier. “I was coming from the bathroom and heading back to my classroom when they stopped me on the way,” he started slowly. “People are... typically only willing to talk to me if they want something. So I knew something was up, especially with the look on their faces. And knowing them, they wouldn’t have let me ignore them. So I went. They pulled me towards the end of the hall, for privacy they said. They wanted a favor.” He paused, looking away from all the adults in the room and taking a moment to take the cup of water from the bedside table and sipped on it as he gathered his thoughts. 

“What was the favor?” Eraserhead asked, and Hitoshi could feel his intent stare boring into him. He heard the scratch of pen against paper, Detective Tsukauchi likely writing down everything he said word for word. Still, Hitoshi hesitated. He wasn’t entirely sure they were going to believe what he said next, since it was likely that neither Hori or his two friends had confessed about it. But…

“Hori asked me to brainwash… this girl,” Hitoshi stared at his hands as he tangled his fingers in anxiousness. “To, uh, sleep with him. It… wasn’t the first time other boys implied that with my quirk I could… But it was the first time someone actually asked me to do it for them and he- He was threatening me to do it. And he got mad when I refused.”

Tsukauchi had stopped writing, and Hitoshi glanced up to see the quiet horror on all their faces. He dropped his gaze again.

“They shoved me in the locker before I could even realize they had grabbed me,” he continued, voice wavering slightly as the remembered being unable to breathe in the dark, tight space. “I tried banging on the door, I shouted at them to let me out, and part of me hoped that other people heard it to but - but of course they weren’t going to help me .” Hitoshi felt himself disconnect as he babbled. “My hands were still on the door when I felt- It happened so fast. His quirk felt like a thousand needles continuously jabbing all over my body and I just-- just wanted it to stop , for it to be over, I felt like I was going to die and then-- and then--- I pulled .”

“You pulled?” He heard a voice ask.

“Yeah,” he breathed shakily, “dozens and dozens and dozens of voices around me, all too loud , and none of them would stop. It hurt so much . So I just. Pulled them towards me and made them stop. And then I just. Stopped feeling anything as well.”

Someone sobbed. A part of him acknowledged that it was his mother, and before he knew it, his eyes filled with tears as everything finally caught up with him all at once.

He was used to getting roughed around, used to being jeered at. Had heard all the comments about his potential for villainy from the same people that sneered and joked about the type of things they’d do if they had his quirk. But it was the first time he truly felt fear for his life. He’s thought about dying before - usually on his darkest and lowest days, when he wondered what was the point of living when everyone didn’t want him around anyway - but what he had felt that day was just…

“I’m sorry,” he choked, tears flowing faster than he could wipe them, “I don’t know why I’m even crying.” His mother hugged him from his side, teary eyed as well.

From behind blurry eyes he saw a black shape move to the other side of the bed, sitting down on the edge and hesitantly putting a solid hand on his shoulder. “Shinsou-kun,” Eraserhead said, voice soft, “you’ve been through something difficult. Don’t be ashamed of crying when you’re hurting this much.”

That only brought a fresh wave of tears from him. To hear words of comfort, even just that much, from his hero … “Thank you,” he managed to grin wobbly, “but it’s still embarrassing to be crying in front of you.”

The look Eraserhead gave him seemed almost fond.

It took a few minutes to compose himself again. His day so far had been a mess emotionally, but he didn’t want to waste the detective and pro hero’s time. And he had his own questions.

“If I could ask…” Hitoshi hesitantly looked at them with red rimmed eyes, “But… what happened after I… passed out?”

The adults all exchanged a look with each other, and Eraserhead sighed. “One of the students, a freshman that arrived after the bell, called the police. You had… brainwashed everyone else.”

Hitoshi felt his stomach drop.

“I was called to the scene as soon as the police saw what had happened,” Eraserhead looked at him carefully, no doubt noticing how his already pale face became even paler. “No one could find you, at first. But with how big of a scale your quirk encompassed, it was only logical that you were still somewhere in school. Another officer and I checked the third floor again and I noticed your… classmates by the locker. You were catatonic when we found you. And we didn’t know how to break everyone out of the brainwashing so I had to… I had to Erase it. Cancel it.” Eraserhead ran a hand over his hair tiredly. “You had a seizure almost immediately. I’m sorry. I knew the backlash was going to be severe, and I had to risk you--”

“It’s fine,” Hitoshi hastily said, wide eyed. “I’m glad you did it. I don’t think- People have said that being under my quirk was... terrifying. So uhm. I’m glad you were able to break everyone out of it. Without hurting anyone.”

“ You were hurt,” Eraserhead said flatly. Hitoshi avoided his gaze. “You’re as much of a victim of this incident as anyone else, if not more.”

“Am I, though?” He asked quietly, picking at a loose thread from his blanket. “I’m lucky if I don’t get expelled for this.”

His dad took a sharp breath. “They wouldn’t dare ,” Touma scowled. “We have a lawsuit prepared if they even think about it.”

“The truth of the matter is that while you may have used your quirk on everyone, it’s clear that the circumstances of how and why were not your fault,” Eraserhead firmly pressed his lips together. “You can also argue self-defence. Hori used his quirk first. Your classmates could have stopped the entire thing the moment you started screaming to be let out, as well. There’s also the matter of everyone but a handful of your classmates lying to cover their own asses, and let me tell you, if your word won’t count against them, then Tsukauchi’s most definitely will.”

“My quirk lets me know if someone is lying,” Tsukauchi smiled at him. “You’ve told nothing but the truth. Which is more than I can say about Hori, Tsubame, and Oshiro, none of whom mentioned certain important details that you did.”

“We’ll take care of the situation with the school when you feel a bit better, Hitoshi,” his mom said. “But like they said, we won’t let them jeopardize your future. You’ve been carrying their national test score average up since you got there, they could be more appreciative of you.”

“Mom,” he whined quietly at the last minute teasing, earning him a chuckle from the adults. “Thank you, though. For everything.”

Hitoshi might have silently died when Eraserhead ruffled his, frankly, disgustingly greasy hair, and said, “Anytime, kid.”

Aizawa knew he reached the point of no return when the kid - Hitoshi - recognized him on sight. And with the boy’s hair down, falling in short waves over his forehead and the sides of his face, and tired eyes, with a bone deep weariness all over his body - it was like looking at a mirror of him almost fifteen years prior. ‘Hizashi is right,’ he thought in resignation, ‘I do have a soft heart.’

Hitoshi’s voice was deeper than he expected, still rough with his days long sleep, but there was an almost meekness to it as well. There was hesitation when he spoke, and unknowingly twitched his jaw in surprise whenever Aizawa or Tsukauchi replied to him easily. He had an almost unfriendly resting face, a mask to protect himself from the world, but it went alive with unbridled emotion as he told his story and relaxed around Aizawa. The kid could clearly be expressive if let himself be so. 

Aizawa was almost guilty that they rushed to him the same day he woke up, but honestly, the only thing he could think about when Touma texted him that Hitoshi was awake was how soon he could get to the hospital. He barely bothered to get Tsukauchi to come with him.

(It was a good thing he did though, because hearing Hitoshi’s side of events was--)

He still wanted to talk to the kid privately, in a day or two, when Hitoshi was more settled. By the time he started talking to Touma and Hotaru about meeting with the Nabu Middle administrators, Hitoshi was starting to doze off. Not a surprise, considering the day he had. And he had physical therapy to look forward to soon, to make up for the days he spent bedridden. 

(A part of him was already taking in Hitoshi’s too thin body and thinking of dietary plans and training regimens-- but he’s getting way ahead of himself. The kid didn’t even know what Aizawa was planning to offer.

And he was going to offer it. Eraserhead’s, Aizawa Shouta’s , help. To prepare him for UA. To make him a hero.

Because despite the turmoil the kid undoubtedly felt, despite the feeling of betrayal that leaked out when he confessed that of course the other kids weren’t going to help him, despite being hurt so much -

He still stood his ground against Hori, refusing to even considering using his quirk in such a disgusting way. He still thanked Aizawa for breaking everyone out of his brainwashing without hurting anyone else, even if in turn it had hurt him . He still smiled and joked and laughed through tears, even if he had all the reasons to shout and scream and be angry.

Aizawa was prepared to find disappointment. But instead of disappointment, Aizawa - underneath the tired, scared, and hurting body of the boy - found Shinsou Hitoshi’s heart. And it was shining .)

“Did you adopt the kid yet?” Hizashi grinned at him knowingly from the kitchen as Aizawa took off his boots at the entryway. Aizawa scoffed.

“He already has parents, you know. And they’re great people.”

“ It takes a village to raise a child ,” Hizashi quoted in English impishly. “So?”

Aizawa’s lips twitched into a fond smile, remembering the quiet look of awe and amazement on Hitoshi’s face as he silently promised him the world with just one pat on the head. “Ask me again in a week.”

Two days after awakening, Hitoshi stepped foot into Nabu Middle once more. A metaphorical foot, because he was still recovering, still unsteady on his legs, so he was trapped in a hospital borrowed wheelchair for the time being. He’d showered but his hair was still down - despite his grumbling his mother refused to let him style his hair up - and he was in a hoodie and jeans instead of his school uniform. He felt weird, out of place in the school grounds, despite having purposefully come in during class time. At least Eraserhead and the detective were here along with him and his parents. A small but welcome comfort. 

The talk with the principal, the vice principal, and his homeroom teacher started amiably. They nervously told Hitoshi that the school missed him, and that they were so glad to see him up and well again, and what nasty business the whole incidence was, wasn’t it? Hitoshi carefully kept his face blank, a defense he’d built up after years of disappointment in school officials, and refrained himself from calling out their blatant lies. 

Then they not-so-subtly suggested a school transfer.

The pit of bitterness in Hitoshi’s stomach barely had time to grow before Eraserhead’s flat voice echoed in the room.

“A transfer,” Eraserhead stared chillingly at the three teachers. “I see how it is. You can’t expel him without losing face or getting sued, so you want him to transfer out instead.”

“You must understand, hero-san,” the principal reasoned nervously, “with a quirk like Shinsou-kun’s, the parents are concerned for their children. Especially with an incident like this. And as an establishment the needs of the many are-”

“Did you suggest a transfer for the other three boys involved as well?” Shinsou Touma asked lowly from Hitoshi’s right. He looked more imposing than ever, with the sharp suit and dark coiffed hair. On Hitoshi’s left sat his mother, looking just as terrifying as his father. “One of them did use his quirk first, and it could be argued that he had exacerbated the situation in the first place.”

“They’ve been serving their suspension,” Hitoshi’s homeroom teacher valiantly tried to be brave and stood against the combined forces of his parents and a pro hero. Hitoshi would be almost impressed, if he didn’t know the true nature of the man. “And attending the required sessions with the guidance counselor. Surely that’s enough? They’re just children.”

“And Hitoshi isn’t?” Hotaru sneered. “It’s nice to see how much you value him as a student. He won awards for you, he has Shiketsu knocking on our door to get him as a student, he’s a shoe-in for any UA department. But I guess that doesn’t matter to you as much as his quirk does.”

“Go ahead,” Hitoshi managed to say amidst the principal’s sorry excuses and his parents’ cutthroat comments. The adults turn to him and his expression barely twitched. He tilted his head as he stared down the three across from him. “If you’re trying to get rid of me for your own peace of mind, don’t half-ass it. Expel me .”

Hitoshi , a part of him hysterically screamed inside, what the fuck are you doing .

Standing up for himself, he thought back, because this was the last straw. He’s kept quiet for almost two and a half years. But as much as he hated the thought of an expulsion marring his already questionable record, hurting his chances for a good high school, he hated being idle even more - when it was his future at stake.

“No court would take your side,” Tsukauchi directed towards the principal, having kept quiet the entire time they’ve been here. “The records give a very clear picture, sensei . A vast majority of your third years lied on their statements to cover themselves. The three boys involved also lied in their written and vocal statements, the latter of which I can confirm myself. There’s clear video evidence that Shinsou-kun was assaulted prior to his quirk going off. We also have received anonymous accounts about Shinsou-kun’s treatment here in school, from your students and staff. Tell me, how many of Shinsou-kun’s desks did someone carve ‘villain’ into?”

“Four,” Hitoshi quietly answered when no one else would, ignoring his mother’s sharp inhale and Eraserhead’s angered hiss. He looked sideways at the detective, who met his eye solidly. “After the first one, I had to sand the desks myself.”

“Your shoe locker door is also cleaner than any other piece of metal in this school. You can practically see your reflection on it. I wonder if it has anything to do with the bottle of rubbing alcohol and cloth beside your indoor shoes,” Tsukauchi pleasantly added.

An almost nasty grin threatened to break into Hitoshi’s face, despite feeling suddenly exposed, but he managed to keep his face straight and his voice bland as he shrugged. “People are careless with their permanent markers. They seem to have an impulse to write with it on my locker.”

The vice principal sputtered. “Now there, you can’t be saying those kinds of things, Shinsou-kun-”

“Detective,” Hitoshi interrupted and fully faced Tsukauchi, who matched his gaze head on, “don’t reply to me so they can’t say I used my quirk on you. But feel free to tell everyone I’m lying if I am when I say this: The first time someone wrote ‘Creepy Freak’ on my locker, they told me to ignore it. The first time someone wrote ‘Villain’ on my desk, they told me to clean it up. And when someone wrote ‘The only way you can become a hero is if you jump off a bridge, ’ they didn’t even bother with anything. Instead, they told me there was nothing they could do about it, if what I was saying was even true. How’s that for showing how much I mean to this school?”

Tsukauchi didn’t reply, instead turning his eyes towards the three Nabu Middle employees. With how ashen Hitoshi’s homeroom teacher was, it was obvious who was guilty of the last careless comment.

“You said what ?” Eraserhead spat at the terrified teacher, disgusted. “And you call yourself a teacher?”

“He’s not lying,” Tsukauchi said accusingly at the principal. 

“ Please ,” the principal could only beg. Hitoshi couldn’t even look at him. Did he make the right call, revealing that? His mouth just ran, tired of being shut for so long. Or maybe he was just tired in general, and the constant headache he had wasn’t helping either, made worse by the high emotions all around him. His parents, while aware that he was struggling socially at school, were never aware it had gotten this bad. It’s Hitoshi’s fault, mostly because he thought he was fine dealing with it himself. His therapist didn’t even know and she was getting paid to listen to Hitoshi complain about everything.

Abruptly, Hitoshi’s father stood up. “You’ll be hearing from our lawyer,” Touma glared. “We’re done here. Hotaru, Hitoshi, let’s go.”

His mother wheeled him out of the office after a disdainful glare at the teachers, Eraserhead and Detective Tsukauchi trailing behind them. The pro hero still had a stormy look on his face, and Hitoshi couldn’t help but feel warm at the thought that it was out of indignation for him .

Unfortunately their exit caught the tail end of lunch time, so there were many students in the hallways on their way back to their classrooms. Hitoshi ignored the whispers as he scrolled through Twitter on his phone. If he had any say in it, he didn’t have to encounter any of his classmates at all - but of course things weren’t always as simple.

“S-shinsou-kun?” 

In front of him and his entourage was Sakurai Hinata - a soft spoken, cripplingly shy girl from 3-C. And while Sakurai looked constantly terrified of him, he remembered how she had nervously snuck obligatory chocolates into his bag last Valentine’s using her Object Teleportation quirk. The only time he’d ever gotten chocolates for Valentine’s.

He tilted his head at her, nodding in acknowledgement but not speaking. His parents, mercifully, kept quiet as well.

Sakurai sagged in relief, but tensed again as she realized everyone’s attention was on them. “I- I just,” she stammered, almost squeaking in nervousness, “I-I’m glad t-to see you’re- you’re okay. A-and I hope you-you feel b-better soon.”

Sakurai was also Yokohara Ami’s childhood friend, Hitoshi remembered.

“I-I’ll leave you t-to your family now, S-shinsou-k-kun,” Sakurai wheezed, starting to look like she was struggling to breathe. “H-hang in there!”

Before Sakurai could sprint away, Hitoshi spoke. “Hori wanted me to use my quirk on Yokohara so that she would sleep with him,” he said, freezing everyone on their tracks with his words. Sakurai stared at him, wide-eyed. “He seemed pretty determined. Considering this might be the last time I’ll be here, warn her for me, would you?”

With a tap to his mother’s hand, he signalled his family to start moving again, leaving a dozen gossiping students behind them.

“I can’t say I disapprove,” Eraserhead muttered to him once they were out of earshot of other students. The smirk he gave Hitoshi was sly. “It was good to warn her, after all.”

Hitoshi bowed his head to hide his smile.

His parents insisted on Eraserhead and Tsukauchi accompanying them for lunch before they had to go back to their workplaces. The detective, while initially reluctant, accepted the invitation and Eraserhead didn’t even hesitate in joining as well. He looked at Hitoshi with a strange, intent look in his eyes and he wondered what the hero saw.

It must have been something, because as they were taking their seats, Eraserhead smoothly grabbed the back of Hitoshi’s wheelchair and told his parents, “I would like to talk to Hitoshi alone, if that’s alright.”

His mom flicked her gaze between the two of them and smiled almost knowingly. “Of course. But we’re still paying for your food, Eraserhead-san.”

Eraserhead carefully wheeled him towards a corner table, pulling out one of the chairs and placing it on the wall to make room for Hitoshi’s bulkier seat. “How are you recovering?” Eraserhead asked as they each looked through the menu. Hitoshi peeked at him, becoming increasingly curious at what the hero wanted to talk to him about.

“I’m alright,” Hitoshi answered simply. “The doctor said I’m doing well physically but not to push it, hence the wheelchair. I still have a headache most of the time but… I’ve been sleeping a lot and that usually helps.”

The waitress dropped by to take their orders and menus, and not once did Eraserhead look away from Hitoshi. Once the waitress walked away, the pro hero leaned forward and intently asked, “And mentally?”

Hitoshi sat back on his chair and started fiddling with the hem of his hoodie. “As… well as I can be, I guess. All things considering.”

“You won’t put me off by being honest.”

Hitoshi glanced at the older man and sighed. “Nightmares, mostly,” he admitted. “They’re giving me a psych eval tomorrow morning, but I think… I’m going to have issues with… certain things for a while.”

“That’s understandable,” Eraserhead murmured. “Thank you for telling me. You don’t have to, but if you ever need to talk about it with someone… I’ve seen and experienced a lot in my career so maybe I can help you somehow.”

His cheeks warmed at the sincerity - Eraserhead offering to listen to him? What is his life? - and he coughed to cover himself, “Anyway, what else did you wanna talk about?”

Eraserhead looked almost amused at his poor deflection but at least didn’t call him out on it. Instead he said, “I looked through your school records.” Hitoshi straightened at that. Was it about all the quirk use accusations? “I was impressed.”

“What?” He asked weakly.

“Your mother wasn’t simply bragging when she said you were the best your school has to offer,” Eraserhead said. “The results of your mock exams even caught the UA principal’s eye.”

“ What? ”

“Don’t start sounding like a broken record now, kid,” the pro-hero smirked at him. “I know you have quite the silver tongue on you when you let it. But I want you to answer me with only a yes or a no for the next few questions, okay? Starting with this: do you want to go to UA?”

“Yes,” Hitoshi immediately said, despite still trying to keep up with the conversation.

“Is General Education your first choice?” 

He hesitated. If Eraserhead had seen his school records, then it was likely he saw his high school selection forms-

“Yes or no. Truthfully.”

“...No.”

Eraserhead started to grin, and Hitoshi was hit with a sudden clarity - “Is Heroics your first choice?”

“Yes,” he managed to choke out. “But I-”

“Yes or no, Hitoshi,” Eraserhead interrupted, “Do you want to become a hero?”

“ Yes . More than anything.” It’s been Hitoshi’s dream for as long as he could remember. But despite his parents’ support, everyone else always told him that it was impossible, that he couldn’t possibly think he could be a hero with such a villainous quirk - 

“It won’t be easy,” Eraserhead leaned forward and Hitoshi couldn’t help but get closer to the fire in the hero’s eyes. “Non-physical quirks like ours will always be at a disadvantage. We can’t simply just out brawl the people blessed with flashy, physical quirks - we have to learn how to keep up and outsmart them. You’ll have to learn how to be five steps ahead of everyone else, how to make your strengths stronger and your weaknesses nonexistent. You might even have to fight dirty, bring your opponents to your turf. And if you master your quirk-”

“I can do it,” Hitoshi practically slammed his palm on the table, suddenly feeling energized for the first time in a long while. Eraserhead grinned wider. “I’ll do whatever it takes-”

“You have potential, kid. More than I’ve seen lately and I actually teach hero hopefuls. With the right training and guidance, physically and with your quirk… But first tell me this , Shinsou Hitoshi. Why do you want to become a hero?”

Why? Hitoshi met Eraserhead’s intense eyes and answered honestly. “I want to prove everyone wrong, to show that I can be a hero despite my quirk. I want to be the hero other kids with so-called villainous or undesirable quirks can look up to - to show them that despite what society says about us, despite them spitting on our feet and telling us we won’t ever be anything more than the bottom of society, that we can be more . We can be good. We can be heroes. And ultimately, I want to be a hero so I can save people, even if they wouldn’t have saved me .” He matched the older man’s grin wryly. “Some of that may sound selfish, but really. In the end you can’t help what your heart wants. And what my heart wants is to become a hero no matter what.”

Eraserhead’s grin never faltered. “Alright, then. One last yes or no question: if I asked if you’re willing to become my student - to train, to get ready for UA, to learn how to become a hero under my guidance - what would you say?”

“Pinch me, I must be dreaming,” Hitoshi said. 

“Yes or no, kid.”

“ Yes .”

Eraserhead reached forward to squeeze his shoulder, and Hitoshi stared at him in amazement. “Then let me re-introduce myself. My name is Aizawa Shouta, your new teacher,” Eraserhead - Aizawa - patted him firmly, “I look forward to working with you, Hitoshi.”

‘Congrats, it’s a boy’ Aizawa texted Hizashi after getting the Shinsou parents’ blessing to train Hitoshi in preparation for UA. Almost immediately Aizawa was spammed with crying and laughing emojis.

Of course, they still needed to wait for Hitoshi to fully recover and to resolve the issue with Nabu Middle before making any concrete plans. But it seemed like Hitoshi became brighter, smiling almost giddily all throughout lunch, and Aizawa couldn’t help but feel warm inside, knowing that he did that by offering the kid the chance he deserved.

‘ok shouta but when can i meet him’ 

The next time the Shinsou family returned to Nabu Middle, only two days later, it was with their lawyers and very thorough lawsuit. Hitoshi hadn’t joined his parents, trusting their judgement, and instead concentrated on his physical therapy session, which he was on his last days of. Following it was an hour with his regular therapist, who was gracious enough to travel to the hospital instead for his sessions. By the time his parents returned to the hospital, Aizawa was already there, having come to visit him after UA had finished classes for the day.

“Well?” Hitoshi asked, looking between his parents’ unreadable faces. “What’s the verdict? Am I gonna be preparing my new kid speech this weekend?”

“You’re not expelled,” his mother reassured. “And rest assured, the school is very much in trouble with the law.”

“Detective Tsukauchi was very thorough with his report to the Department of Education,” his father smirked.

“Oh,” Hitoshi trailed unsurely, “does that mean I have to go back soon?”

“No,” Touma said. “We reached a compromise of sorts. No one gets to air to the press all the dirty laundry surrounding the incident and they keep you as a student. However, you don’t have to actually show up in person unless it’s for an exam, and even then you can take it privately if you choose. The school will send us all the work you need to do for each week, and you just have to email the daily assignments back, and that will count for as your attendance.”

“So, essentially homeschool,” Aizawa looked thoughtful. “I suppose it’s the safe thing to do, without risking Hitoshi’s school record. Do you have to catch up for what you’ve missed the past two weeks?”

“Ah, probably not,” Hitoshi shrugged, thinking back. “I’ll have to review the material, but I always end up being a month ahead in class anyway. I read my textbooks when I can’t sleep at night and there have been nights where I can’t sleep at all so I just end up reading a lot of the material.”

“You have your medication for a reason, Hitoshi,” his mom sighed exasperatedly and he sheepishly grinned at her. “You know we have to know if they stop working.”

“They work most of the time,” Hitoshi said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Plus I’ve been catching up on sleep right now, aren’t I? Trust me, I’m taking advantage of it as much as I can.”

“You’ll have to take care of yourself properly if you want to grow, kid. I don’t want you passing out during training due to lack of sleep,” Aizawa ruffled Hitoshi’s hair, smirking at the teenager’s indignant squawk. “And I expect your grades to stay on top, regardless of your schooling situation now. You still have half the year left until you graduate.”

Hitoshi sighed. “Yes, Aizawa-sensei.”

“Good. Now let’s talk about your training.”

It was a bright Saturday morning when Hitoshi finally got discharged from the hospital. The first thing he did when he got to his room at home was stop and stare at the old Eraserhead poster that had been on his wall for the past seven years. It was weird looking at it now, after meeting the man - Aizawa Shouta - himself. After getting to know the man that had saved him, the man that had looked at him and saw him as someone beyond his quirk. The man that offered him so much for so little in return and he--

“They say ‘never meet your heroes,’” Hitoshi whispered, reaching up to carefully smooth the small wrinkles on the poster. “But I’m glad I met mine.”

(On Monday, Hitoshi scrambled to hide the poster from sight as Aizawa peeked into his room. He failed miserably, and both men were left embarrassed over the whole situation for the rest of the day, to Hotaru’s unending amusement.)

Chapter Text

“Let’s talk,” Aizawa said, gesturing Hitoshi to take a seat on the grass beside him. They were by a riverbank at around the halfway point between Saitama and Musutafu, a compromise in distance until they found a more concrete meeting ground. Despite the hero saying it wasn’t a problem, Hitoshi didn’t feel it was right for him to go out of his way for him when he was already giving up so much of his time to train him. “How’s your school work going along?”

“It’s fine,” Hitoshi shrugged. “I’ve been finishing the daily assignments before lunch, so I end up either reading even more ahead or starting on the next day’s stuff.”

“Diligent,” Aizawa snorted. He scanned down Hitoshi’s body, taking in the already noticeable changes the week at home had done to him. “You’re filling out well, which is good. Another week and we can start working on proper physical training. I’ll talk to your mother about dietary changes as we go on. Do you do any exercise usually?”

“I like to cycle during the weekends, though for obvious reasons I haven't in the past month,” Hitoshi said, resting his head on his palm and looking at Aizawa with a resigned expression. “You’re gonna make me start running, aren’t you?”

Aizawa’s lips twitched into a small smirk. “You seem to have a lot of free time. It’ll be good for your stamina. Being a hero involves a lot of running around, you know.”

“I know, sensei,” Hitoshi sighed. “What are we going to start with this week then?”

“Your quirk and your relationship with it,” the older man plainly stated and Hitoshi’s eyebrows rose. “Your father said you rarely use it and you haven’t seen a proper Quirk Counselor in a few years. That you have issues with it. And I’m guessing you haven’t used it once since your incident. Today I’d like you to talk to me anything and everything about your quirk and your feelings relating to it, if you can. All I know about it is that it’s registered as brainwashing and it has a vocal trigger with a call and response requirement.”

Hitoshi started picking on the grass beside him as he thought about how to answer him. He had a mountain of issues and complexes regarding his quirk. It may be best to start at the beginning, he decided. “I developed my quirk pretty early, I guess. I wasn’t even three years old yet according to my mom. One of the quirk doctors my parents took me to theorized that it came with my speech development, since it lined up with when I started to actually talk in sentences, more or less.” 

“Mental quirks tend to develop earlier on average,” Aizawa commented. “While it’s true that four years old is the average age for someone’s quirk to appear, it can come up as early as at birth and as late as six years old, depending on the type. In my case I was three and a half when mine popped up - early by my generation’s standards but not so unusual nowadays. But go on.”

Hitoshi saw Aizawa’s willingness to share his own information as a comfort and felt himself relax a bit more. It became a little easier to talk. “I don’t actually remember the first time I used it, but it was just me and my dad at home and I think I was really upset when it happened. According to him, I had asked him to play with me and he said no because he was finishing something for work. The next thing he knew, he was sitting on the floor, playing with my toys. It didn’t take much longer after that to figure out the gist of my quirk - my dad’s smart and works with heroes all the time after all, and grandpa was still alive at the time to help.”

“As far as quirk discovery goes, that’s a pretty tame story,” Aizawa said. “I made three kids cry in my preschool when mine appeared.”

Hitoshi choked a laugh. “Okay, you have to tell me why . Did you do that grin you do or something?”

“Are you saying my face is scary, brat?”

“I’m just saying, when your grin goes full teeth I feel a foreboding feeling in my spine.”

“You’re a brave kid for saying that to the person training you,” Aizawa grinned. All teeth showing. Hitoshi sputtered. “Besides, I distinctly remember those kids stealing my crayons and that’s why I was glaring at them hard enough to trigger Erasure.”

“Oh my god-” Hitoshi laughed, and Aizawa warmed at the sound. The lightened atmosphere helped the boy open up more. “Anyway, when I was younger it used to only trigger through questions. It wasn’t much of a problem at home - I used to warn my parents before asking a question, just in case, and if I did accidentally trigger my quirk, one of us just had to pinch the person brainwashed.”

“Is that how you break someone out of it?” Aizawa asked, eyebrow raised. “Like I mentioned before, your quirk registry said nothing about that.”

Hitoshi pursed his lips at that. “The lady that helped us register focused more on getting us out of the building as soon as possible than asking more about my quirk. But for your information, a shock to the body - usually sudden pain or a particularly hard shove - jolts someone out of the brainwashing. I don’t particularly know how or why but it’s been the only way the connection can be broken without me doing so.”

“Hm, it’s something we’ll have to test out then,” Aizawa murmured contemplatively. “When did it stop being just questions?”

“Ah, first grade,” Hitoshi said, voice trailing at the memory. “There was also a quirk incident then. I can admit that I used my quirk on purpose, and that was probably what started my unfavorable reputation in school. A few of the older kids were pushing around one of my classmates and I told them to leave him alone and one of them said something stupid, like ‘oh look, its the weirdo,’ and that was enough for me to use my quirk. I only made them walk away a street or two but it was enough for people at school to make stuff up about me.”

“And they’ve been at it since.”

Hitoshi shrugged, his earlier good mood falling. “The first few years of elementary were… rough. It was just the kids, at first, being kids who didn’t know any better. But then the teachers stopped talking to me too, stopped answering my questions even if I just wanted to go to the bathroom or something. Eventually, I stopped talking. At all. My parents got worried that I developed a speech impediment or experienced some unknown trauma because for a while I was scared of saying anything to them too. I only started talking to them again because I heard my mom blaming herself for giving my quirk to me - since I got it from her side of the family - so I stomped into the room and said bullshit , you know, and we all ended up so busy crying that I didn’t get in trouble for cursing.”

Aizawa was quiet for a moment, seemingly staring out at nothing, before he placed a comforting hand on Hitoshi’s back. “While society as a whole has gotten better compared to the first emergence of quirks, in some ways we’ve also gotten worse. The weight people put into how ‘good’ a quirk is, how people judge a person’s worth depending on genetics, is one of the prime examples of how we’ve failed at human decency. You and I and everyone with a quirk like ours, the ones people say aren’t suited for heroics, aren’t suited for ‘good’ people - we face a lot of adversity and it can be easy to give in to expectations, to be the villain people think we should be. But it takes a certain kind of strength to go against what society expects and you’ve proven that you have it in spades.”

“You always know what to say to make me feel better, Aizawa-sensei,” Hitoshi leaned in to his touch, sniffling a bit. “It’s killing my tragic teenager vibe.”

His teacher snorted. “Our conversation isn’t done yet, brat. You have plenty more opportunities to feed your teen angst. I’ll throw you a bone, even. How long were you selectively mute?”

“Two years, give or take,” the teenager said, huffing. “Third to fifth grade. The other kids just avoided me mostly. Sometimes I got blamed for stupid stuff like making someone cheat on the test, but the teachers were reasonable enough to not believe most of the accusations because everyone knew I just didn’t talk to anyone . No one really like, physically bullied me other than the occasional shove. They were all just words, really.”

“Sometimes words hurt more,” Aizawa pointed. 

“Trust me, most of them weren’t even creative about it,” Hitoshi joked dryly. “If I got a 100 yen for each time someone called me a villain, I’d have been able to buy the limited edition Kotobukiya Present Mic figure plenty times over by now.”

Aizawa made a face. “One, that figure is over 16,000 yen, and two, really ? Present Mic?”

(Aizawa had that same figure in their home office, but only because Hizashi was an insufferable idiot who liked to bring his own merch and display his favorites at home. It was well made, but sometimes he had the urge to throw it across the room after grading a student’s particularly stupid essay.)

“You’re the one who knows how much it is, sensei,” Hitoshi said, amused. Which, fair. “Besides, I already have Thirteen, Ms. Joke, and Ingenium figures from the same line.”

“Sorry, I didn’t notice,” Aizawa deadpanned. “I was too busy staring at the big ass poster you have of me .”

“ Sensei! ”

They took a short break, walking to the nearby shopping district where Aizawa treated him to some takoyaki and bubble tea.

“Going back to our earlier conversation,” the hero started as they settled in one of the more isolated tables with their food and drinks, “how did you communicate those two years you didn’t talk?”

“Gestures, mostly,” Hitoshi said after swallowing a piece of takoyaki. “When I was in public outside of school I carried a notepad and pen with me to write with. I also started learning sign language after a few months - through YouTube first, then dad helped me continue with it even after I started talking again.”

“Your quirk only works through vocal exchange, right?” Aizawa asked and Hitoshi merely shrugged. As far as he knew, yes. His teacher looked thoughtful though. “You’ve never really experimented with it, I presume. Do you know if a language barrier would cause problems? Does it work through electronics, like a phone or a speaker? Does a non-verbal response count?”

The teen scratched his chin, thinking. “I can’t say anything about the electronics thing, because I usually just text my parents if I need to, so I don’t even remember the last time I had a phone call. And no one would ever let me near a microphone or megaphone. And I don’t know about the language barrier either - I’m okay with English and I know some Korean, but again, I never had anyone to test it with. As for non-verbal response…”

At this, Hitoshi hesitated. Aizawa raised an eyebrow at him, patiently waiting as the kid went through a variety of expressions on his face. “You’re thinking about the incident, aren’t you?”

Hitoshi rubbed his neck, meeting the hero’s eyes and nodding. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot, actually. Mostly because, well, I brainwashed everyone ?”

“342 students and staff.”

“I don’t understand how I could have done that,” Hitoshi grimaced, biting down hard on his drink’s straw. “I can brainwash multiple people, but never at the same time. And not everyone should have heard me - Seriously, 342 ?”

Aizawa sighed. “I was going to wait and lead up to this conversation, but I guess we can discuss it now if you want. Have you met with your new Quirk Counselor yet?”

“No, my appointment is on Thursday,” Hitoshi stayed silent for a second as he took a sip of his drink and chewed on the tapioca. “I did talk about it with my therapist. She figured it would help me come to terms with what happened a bit easier.”

“I would have preferred a professional’s input, but we can revisit it after your appointment. In your statement you said you pulled the voices? And made them stop? Can you elaborate on that?”

The teen hummed thoughtfully. “I guess like - My quirk is essentially always on standby, you know? When I talk to someone and they respond, the way I visualize it is a string appears in front of me and I can choose whether or not to pull it. If I don’t pull it, the string eventually disappears, but if I do, I form a connection with the person for as long as I hold onto the string. After I let go, the string disappears until the next time the person responds.”

“Not as simple as ‘flicking a switch’ like some emitter quirks, then,” Aizawa noted.

“Yeah, it’s not as straightforward as that,” Hitoshi shrugged. “Anyway, during the… incident, it was like - I dunno, I pulled a thick rope instead, made of all the strings woven together or something. It’s… hard to remember, exactly, since I was so out of it. I just remember my head being so loud - like I could hear everyone in the building.”

“Stress, adrenaline, and fear are factors that can trigger what we call a quirk awakening,” Aizawa said. “As you can probably guess, it’s when a person’s quirk is pushed far beyond its normal limits and evolves on the spot. That’s most likely what you experienced, which makes quirk training imperative for you.”

“You think something’s changed with my quirk?” Hitoshi asked hesitantly. “Wouldn’t have I slipped at some point by now if it did?”

“You can’t tell me you haven’t essentially conditioned yourself to keep your quirk in check as tight as possible,” the hero stared at him sternly. “It’s something we’ll have to work on. But for now, I don’t suppose you’ve ever come across a book called The Mentalist Equation by Dr. Sawada Hiroyuki?”

“No?”

“I’ll bring my copy for you to borrow tomorrow then. I want you to read it cover to cover,” Aizawa said. “It’s something that helped me understand my own quirk, when I was your age. But there was a section I’ve been thinking about which may answer how your quirk was able to do what it did that day. Dr. Sawada theorized that most, if not all, people with mental quirks have a sort of latent telepathy or empathy.”

To his credit, Hitoshi was quick on the uptake, though he looked dubious. “You think I received a strong enough telepathic response for my quirk to use?”

“It’s plausible, combined with the awakening theory,” his teacher pointed. “Again, it’ll be on the laundry list of things we’ll have to test with your quirk. But if you could even do a fraction of what you did that day and with a fine tuned control by the time you graduate UA, agencies will be clamouring to hire you.”

“Again with the sweet talk, sensei,” Hitoshi snorted. “No need to butter me up even more, I already agreed to your brand of incoming torture.”

“My students would have a heart attack if they heard you talking to me like this,” Aizawa deadpanned. “My point stands, though. Even if I’m going to be training you in physical combat, your quirk will still be your primary advantage.”

Hitoshi was quiet as they threw their trash away and started making their way towards the train station. The sun was starting to set and Hitoshi’s parents expected him home not long after dark. 

“I know you have a lot of issues with your quirk,” Aizawa said softly as they walked. “We haven’t even scratched the surface of it, have we?” Hitoshi huffed a quiet laugh.

“Trust me, me and my therapist get into an argument about it every other month,” he said. “I think, if what you’re saying is true, then I’m scared that it’ll be… too much, you know? People are afraid of me as it is.”

“People are idiots,” the older man bluntly said. “Besides, it’s about how you use your quirk, not what it is. You think All Might wouldn’t have made a terrifying villain? Endeavour? They’re the top two heroes and their quirks constantly destroy their surroundings. But society praises them because they use their quirks for heroics. The same applies to you and me. Stop being stuck on what strangers think - what matters, ultimately, is what you think. It’s your quirk, and you have to own it, not let it own you.”

“How was your first session with mini-you?” Hizashi asked as he prepared dinner while Aizawa graded some quizzes on the kitchen table. He would’ve wanted to help his partner in cooking, if it weren’t for the fact that Aizawa was an unmitigated disaster in the kitchen. 

“It was a learning experience, for both of us,” he said, not even denying the mini-you comment. It was a futile battle. “He’s a lot more open with me than I anticipated, which is good - I thought it would’ve been like pulling teeth to get him to talk about his quirk.”

“I’m sure it doesn’t have anything to do with the fact you’re his favorite hero~” Hizashi sang, winking with a stupid pose. Aizawa scowled at him.

“Anyway, he didn’t look too enthusiastic about expanding his quirk. But like I told you before - issues,” he pursed his lips, thinking, “Honestly, you two might relate to each other. He talked about some stuff you have experience with.”

“Ah,” Hizashi nodded in understanding as he turned off the burner and leaned over the kitchen counter to face him. “A voice activated mental quirk? That would give someone a complex. When do you want me to meet him?”

Ever perceptive, Hizashi was. “Saturday or Sunday, probably, depending on how comfortable he is with the idea. I’ll give him a few days to think about it.”

“Your partner?” Hitoshi frowned when Aizawa mentioned it to him the next day. “Like, work partner or…”

“I guess you could say both,” Aizawa flatly confessed. “He’s a pro hero as well.”

The kid didn’t react much more than a surprised blink, shrugging and twisting his mouth unsurely. “I guess it’s fine? I don’t actually have to talk to him about stuff if I don’t want to, right?”

“No, but you might get along better than you think,” he told him. “Besides, he’s willing to help with your quirk as well. But if you change your mind later, let me know before the weekend.” Hitoshi still looked dubious, but at least didn’t retract his consent. 

“I looked up some of this guy’s research,” the teenager said instead, tapping on the book Aizawa had handed to him earlier. Hitoshi paused, rubbing his neck and glancing at the older man from the corner of his eye. “I can see where you’re coming from. He does make some compelling arguments, but I’m not sure my quirk is capable of as much as you think it is.”

“I think you’ll surprise yourself,” he raised an eyebrow at Hitoshi. “Quirks are only getting more and more powerful each generation - your quirk is, what, a second generation mutation?”

“Fourth,” Hitoshi admitted in a murmur, which okay, Aizawa was a little shocked at. While it wasn’t unheard of for families to have the same type of quirk to pop up in each generation of the family - case in point the Iida family engine quirk - it definitely wasn’t common, especially since only a fraction of the population even had quirks a century ago. “It skipped my mom, but as you know, my grandpa had a vocal persuasion quirk, which came from his mother’s eye-contact based persuasion quirk, which came from her mother’s eye-contact based hypnotism quirk.”

Hypnotism to persuasion to brainwashing. An interesting progression of a mind control quirk, though undoubtedly getting stronger each generation. Aizawa was no quirk geneticist, but… “I know your mother’s quirk tells her people’s preferences, but how is it activated? And what about your father’s?”

“Mom’s is touch based, skin to skin contact,” Hitoshi said. “Dad’s quirk is Sleepless Breath, which makes people unable to sleep if he purposefully exhales the gas on someone. Kind of like the opposite of the hero Midnight? He doesn’t need as much sleep as everyone else because of it.”

“Does that have anything to do with your insomnia?” Aizawa wondered.

Hitoshi shook his head at that. “Nah, doctors say the insomnia itself is purely just a side effect of my quirk. But they think I got a gene or something from him that lets me be more functional than normal despite the lack of sleep.”

“Well, it’s worth finding out if you can brainwash someone through eye contact or touch,” he contemplated. “Eye contact can count as a response, and people physically respond to touch as well.”

“That’s if I can do non-verbal responses in the first place,” the kid pointed out.

“If a fourth gen mind control quirk can’t do half of what I’m proposing, then the world doesn’t have to worry about the Quirk Singularity for a long, long time,” Aizawa drawled back. “Have more confidence in yourself. Versatility is a good thing.”

The next day, Aizawa finally received approval from Nezu to use one of the lesser used gyms in UA as a place to train Hitoshi. While it undoubtedly put them under the watchful eye of the ever curious principal, at least they didn’t have to risk Hitoshi getting in trouble for public quirk usage. The longer distance didn’t bother the kid either, more than excited to step foot in his dream high school, and undoubtedly Hitoshi would use the commute to get even more ahead of his current studies. 

“If I had friends my age,” Hitoshi declared as he looked at the big gleaming building in front of him, “they would be so jealous right now.” 

“Stop gaping and let’s go before we get ambushed by my coworkers.”

The kid’s excitement at seeing the UA campus for the first time was cute, Aizawa couldn’t help but think. It was good to see Hitoshi smiling more, and already his mother had thanked him for what little he’d done so far. Any parent would’ve been afraid of how their child could possibly bounce back from something as big of an incident as Hitoshi’s had been, he supposed, but the teenager was far wiser and more resilient than other kids his age. He just needed a little more push, which Aizawa was more than happy to provide.

“Today we’ll start your quirk training,” he told Hitoshi. “The first thing I want you to do is use your quirk on me by asking a question. Use your phone to record me.”

To his credit, Hitoshi was hesitant for only a few moments, taking out his phone as instructed and fiddling with it. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Then Aizawa’s head felt full with a thick, almost suffocating fog. And then , Aizawa felt himself come back, blinking at Hitoshi who lowered his phone and looked back at him almost anxiously. “Huh,” he managed to let out, “can I see what you recorded?”

Hitoshi handed him his phone, video already pulled up. It was only thirty seconds long, but it showed Aizawa jumping up and down after Hitoshi’s voice told him to do so. There was a blank look on his face, similar to the one that was on everyone in Nabu Middle’s face while under Hitoshi’s quirk.

“Do it again, but this time with a statement,” he said, handing the kid’s phone back to him.

“Okay,” Hitoshi said, looking thoughtful before his lips twitched with a grin. “You know, Kotobukiya is doing a second production of the Present Mic figure, since it was so popular.”

“What-” Aizawa flatly started before the same fog filled his head again. Only this time it felt… thinner, softer. And he was able to see Hitoshi raise his phone to record, and heard him say ‘give a dab to the camera, sensei .’ Kids these days, he swore as his body complied with the command. Nezu was probably laughing at him right now.

“You’re a brat,” he said to the impish teen, who looked way too proud of himself. “Never show that to anyone, since I know telling you to delete it won’t do anything. Also, do you want that figure that badly?”

“Christmas is in a few months,” Hitoshi grinned at him, teasingly. And though he knew Hitoshi was just joking and didn’t actually expect anything, Aizawa was going to get that damn figure for him, he already knew. 

“Did that felt different for you?” Aizawa asked instead. “Because it was for me.”

“Yeah,” the kid frowned in contemplation, “it’s like - if we go back to the string metaphor - the string for the first time was thicker, sturdier. I was able to grasp it more firmly. And in this case, the string wasn’t as strong - it was only thinner by a little bit - but it definitely was easier to hold onto than it had been before.”

“The first time I wasn’t aware of anything that happened while I was under your quirk. I just felt like I was in a fog and then nothing,” the hero said. “The second time I was very much aware of what was happening and the foggy feeling was lighter.”

“So a question and answer gives a stronger connection than a statement and reply,” Hitoshi concluded to which Aizawa nodded. 

“Next we’ll try a non-verbal response. First will be eye-contact,” he pulled out his own phone, pulling up a timer. “Is five minutes of nothing enough to give a fresh start to your quirk?”

“Yeah, it should be.”

So they sat on the floor for five minutes, and when the timer rang, Aizawa had barely turned it off when he heard Hitoshi say “ Sensei ” and he looked up to meet his protege’s eyes. 

Hitoshi’s eyes went comically wide as Aizawa felt the tell tale haze crawling into him. 

“Uhm, close your eyes,” the teen said, and Aizawa did so easily. The connection held. Clever, he thought. “Wow, okay. Uh, do a double peace sign.” He did.

Aizawa tried not to look smug after the brainwashing retreated from his mind. He was failing, if the kid’s eye roll was anything to go by.

“Okay, you were right,” Hitoshi grumbled. “It was a weaker connection, but it didn’t even waver when eye contact broke.”

“Was it harder to grasp?” He asked and his student shook his head. “Interesting. Let’s try gestures next.”

Gestures, like waving a hand to say hello, worked similarly to eye-contact - though only as a reply to a verbal question or statement. Brainwashing wasn’t possible through a phone call, and using a microphone made the connection slippery and hard to grasp. Hitoshi wasn’t able to get a connection through only sign language and touch didn’t work either - even if it resulted in a flinch or jolt- but replying through facial expressions did which led them to discovering that body language worked as a whole as long as again, Hitoshi said something verbally first. Replying in Japanese to an English statement and vice versa also worked, as did Korean to Japanese or English - despite Aizawa not knowing a lick of Korean. Then Aizawa made Hitoshi meow , and he meowed back, and that worked too.

Aizawa’s grin got wider as Hitoshi’s eyes got larger. 

“You’re telling me,” Hitoshi hysterically said as he laid on the floor, arm over his eyes, “that I can literally say anything and as long as I get almost any kind of response, I can use my quirk.”

“We haven’t tested other factors like distance, line of sight, and telepathic commands yet,” Aizawa smirked down at him. Hitoshi lifted his arm up to stare at him incredulously.

“You’re just going to forcibly destroy all my quirk complexes, aren’t you,” he whined. 

(“Aizawa,” Nezu told him the next morning as they passed each other in the hallway, an almost terrifying glint in his beady black eyes, “don’t let that kid out of your sight. We cannot let Shiketsu or Ketsubutsu to get a hold of him.”

“I would rather die,” he told the principal very seriously.)

On Thursdays Hitoshi had his afternoon filled with appointments with his new quirk counselor and his therapist, so Shouta spent his free afternoon at home with his cat and a stack of papers to grade. He’s halfway through destroying a third year’s hopes and dreams with red ink when Hizashi loudly announced himself home. Behind him, Nemuri and Tensei followed leisurely.

“Oh no,” Aizawa sighed at the three grinning faces.

“Oh yes,” Nemuri cackled, holding up two cases of beer while Tensei had three boxes of pizza in his arms. “You’ve been making yourself way too scarce lately, Eraser! It’s catch up time!”

“I’m supposed to be catching up with grading,” he grumbled even as he cleared the coffee table of failing papers. “I’ve been busy.”

“Shouta’s got himself a kid,” Hizashi gleefully informed their two friends, whose eyebrows climbed up way too high.

“Like, an actual kid?” Tensei sputtered.

“No, you idiot,” Aizawa rolled his eyes as he cracked open a beer. He thought about how to explain his relationship with Hitoshi, because Eraserhead didn’t simply take on students who weren’t even in high school yet. “Did you guys hear about a quirk incident at a middle school in Saitama a few weeks ago?”

Nemuri shook her head but Tensei nodded. “One of my sidekicks mentioned something about it. Apparently it’s been kept very hush-hush, but there’s been rumors, you know? The whole school hostaged under a quirk or something,” Tensei said as he helped himself to the first slice of pizza.

Aizawa frowned at Tensei’s words. Hostage , making it sound like it was a villain that did it, of course. “Or something, alright,” he muttered unhappily. He peered at his friends, scowling. “I was actually the one called to the scene.”

“No shit,” Nemuri said, looking thoughtful, “it was when I had to sub for your classes for a few days, right?”

“Shouta looked ready to kill something when he came home,” Hizashi cheerfully said through a mouthful of food. “You know how he gets when kids are involved.”

“So, what happened?” Tensei pressed. “You know we can keep our mouths shut when its hero business.”

“Kid with a mental quirk got cornered by his classmates and assaulted, causing a quirk awakening and essentially freezing the whole school in their tracks for two hours,” Shouta clicked his tongue. “Practically the entire school, including the teachers, was against this kid simply because they were afraid of what his quirk could do - so much that they were willing to lie on the police statements. That was a mess and a half to sort out. Detective Tsukauchi and I ended up reporting the administration to the Department of Education and now the entire school is on watch. The kid ended up hospitalized for a while - he’s lucky his recovery went as smoothly as it did. Could’ve ended up a lot worse.”

“And let me guess,” Nemuri smiled at him knowingly, “you got attached?”

“Does something about me look like I get attached that easily?”

“Nah, we just know you,” Tensei patted him on the shoulder. “Congrats on being a father.”

“He has parents,” Aizawa exasperatedly said, but it was all for show. From beside him, Hizashi snorted.

“Yeah, three of them,” the blond leaned towards the other two, “let me tell you guys, there’s been barely a night this past month that I haven’t heard ‘Hitoshi did this’ or ‘Hitoshi said that.’ He’s regular texting buddies with the kid’s mom. He’s on a first name basis with the entire family.”

“I haven’t been talking about him that much,” Aizawa muttered defensively. “And Hotaru is just checking in on her son’s progress. Also it’s only logical to refer to them by their first names, I can’t call all three of them Shinsou.”

“Shinsou?” Tensei blinked in recognition. “Like, Shinsou Touma? Senior Manager Shinsou Touma?”

“Right, Hotaru mentioned he works for you,” Aizawa shrugged, taking another sip of his beer. 

“He’s a god at getting us out any mishaps,” Tensei said. “He’s training my team’s two new PR managers right now before he goes back to the main company. I think I’ve met his family a few times at a company party or something - purple haired wife and kid, right? I think Tenya accidentally splattered cake on the kid’s shirt five Christmases ago. He still can’t look at Shinsou-san in the eye, it’s actually hilarious.”

Aizawa snorted. “I hope I’m there when Tenya sees Hitoshi again, then.”

“Yeah, but when do we get to see him,” Nemuri slung an arm over Aizawa’s shoulder, beaming. “Come on, if he’s your kid doesn’t that make me an aunt now?”

“No.”

“Auntie Nemuri has a ring to it, doesn’t it?”

“ No .”

Hitoshi arrived at UA looking like a zombie with only a large cup of coffee as his lifeline. The kid didn’t even style his hair up like usual, which was saying something, instead looking like a messy purple nest barely brushing over exhausted eyes. He blinked blearily up at Aizawa, who could hear what sounded suspiciously like Hizashi cooing in his mind. 

“Did you get any sleep last night?” He asked instead, frowning as he carefully led the tired teenager through campus. 

“No,” Hitoshi pouted . It was not cute, Aizawa insisted to his inner Hizashi. “Insomnia is back with a vengeance. I got maybe two hours of sleep before waking up and I ended up doing five chapters worth of exercises from my English textbook before breakfast.”

“And I’m guessing you can’t sleep right now either,” he said, to which the kid slumped in resignation. “We’ll take it easy today, then.” Considering how tired Hitoshi looked, there was no point in going to the gym for quirk experimentation. Instead, Aizawa led a perplexed teenager into the main building, where there were barely any students left at that hour. He had just the idea.

“Am I actually allowed to be here?” Hitoshi quietly hissed at him, looking around as if someone was going to catch them. They were at the first year floor for Heroics and Gen Ed, and Hitoshi stared at 1-B’s door with wide eyes as they passed it.

Reaching 1-A, Aizawa shuffled Hitoshi in and unceremoniously pulled his sleeping bag from under his teaching desk. Hitoshi stared at it.

“It’s very comfortable,” Aizawa said, and that was all Hitoshi needed to give in and become a yellow caterpillar.

“You’re right, this is pretty nice,” Hitoshi managed to say after five minutes of warmth. Aizawa had pulled out another identical sleeping bag from somewhere and they both laid side by side on the classroom floor. “But seriously, is it okay for me to be here?”

“Don’t worry about it,” the hero said. “I expelled my entire homeroom from the Heroics course this year, so it’s not like some student is gonna come bursting in here.”

“You what .”

“None of them had potential,” Aizawa scoffed. “The hero world would’ve eaten them alive before they could have even graduated. A year of thinking in Gen Ed would do them some good.”

“I feel special now, since you’re bothering with me,” the delivery may have been deadpan, but Aizawa noticed the happy wiggle the sleeping bag beside him did. 

“Don’t fish for compliments,” Aizawa said instead, earning him a snort from the teenager. “Anyway, how were your appointments yesterday?”

“Alright, I guess,” Hitoshi muttered. “My new quirk counselor seems nice, though he really started with the heavy stuff. It was kind of like our talk about my quirk the other day. Anyway, he said it was good that I had someone like you to help me and might contact you soon about our quirk training sessions, if you’re okay with it.”

“It won’t be a bad idea to talk to him,” Aizawa nodded. “Give me his contact info later and I’ll reach out. What else?”

“My meeting with Miyako-sensei - my therapist - probably set off my insomnia,” the teen admitted. “We went through the results of my psych eval. I still can’t deal with dark, tight spaces, by the way, and I have a newfound fear of getting electrocuted. So that’s fun.”

“Those are natural reactions to your trauma. You don’t have to be ashamed of it.”

There was an abrupt silence for a few moments and Aizawa didn’t say anything as the kid gathered himself. He could tell that there was something else weighing in Hitoshi’s mind.

“Two nights ago, I had a panic attack at home,” Hitoshi exhaled heavily. “I was watching some movie that was on TV - I don’t even know what the title was. But there… was a scene. A girl was- uhm, she got cornered in an alleyway by some man and, and-”

“You don’t need to say any more,” Aizawa said, a little too sharply. He shifted in his sleeping bag to lay on his side, facing Hitoshi, who looked back at him with a blank face that masked a swirl of emotions. “Only say what you want to.”

 “Every time I remember the… request - I feel like throwing up,” Hitoshi shut his eyes, rubbing a hand on his face. He burrowed further into his sleeping bag. “It’s - like I said before, it’s not the first time people have- insinuated. That I could... Do shit like that. And I learned how to ignore those kinds of comments. I thought I did, at least. But...”

“But no one else has actually asked you directly, until now,” Aizawa continued for him. “And you’re probably thinking - do people really think that I’m bad enough of a person to accept that kind of request? ”

“...Yeah.”

The hero sighed, “Again, you should stop dwelling on what other people think of you and your quirk. I know it’s going to be a long process, but just know that you have good morals and are more aware of the ethical tightrope you’re walking on than anyone else. A ‘bad’ person doesn’t spend their entire life making sure people were safe from their quirk.”

“Miyako-sensei thought that the element of consent was what made the request hit harder than anything,” Hitoshi said after a moment. “I can brainwash someone whether they’re willing or not. Then they’re completely under my control. That’s why people are so afraid of it - of me. Loss of personal control scares everyone. And I have the quirk to completely take it away from them, even for just a moment.”

“And I have the quirk to momentarily take away someone’s quirk,” Aizawa told him. “And in this day and age, when people build their identities and lives around their quirk, it’s terrifying to them too. I know it’s hard for you, dealing with all this. And I can’t promise you that these feelings will ever disappear - but they will get better. You have me, your parents, your counselor and therapist, hell, even Tsukauchi’s grown a little fond of you - we’re here whenever you need us, and we believe that you’ll grow into a fine hero. Trust me in that.”

“Thanks, Aizawa-sensei,” Hitoshi whispered, smiling when the older man reached over to ruffle his already messy hair. “Sorry we didn’t get any quirk training today, though.”

“It’s fine, there’s still this weekend,” he said. “You might as well rest today, since my partner will be joining us tomorrow and he… takes a bit of energy to deal with.”

“Are you going to give me a warning as to who it is?” Hitoshi managed to ask dryly. Aizawa smirked.

“You’ll see.”

(“We should take a picture,” Hitoshi grinned at his teacher, holding up his phone. They were still both on the floor, in matching yellow sleeping bags. “Mom would love it. Dad would think it’s funny.”

“No amount of blackmail is enough to save you from me when you’re officially a UA student,” Aizawa flatly said, even as he scooted into the frame. The kid snapped a few photos before finally deciding on one where they both looked like just extremely tired messes rather than actual zombies. 

Later, when Hitoshi sends him a copy of the photo, he resisted the urge to make it his wallpaper. Only because Hizashi would see it otherwise, and Aizawa would never hear the end of it if he did.)

Chapter Text

Aizawa struggled to keep his face straight as Hitoshi incredulously stared at a grinning Hizashi, still in his Present Mic persona. 

“Hey listener!” Hizashi greeted cheerfully, “I’ve heard a lot about you from Shouta!”

Hitoshi opened his mouth, about to say something, before deciding against it and having what looked to be an internal struggle. A variety of expressions went across his face - from confusion, to bafflement, to contemplation, and then to enlightenment. “Okay, yeah, I can see it,” the kid admitted. “Partners, huh? I guess opposites do attract.”

Hizashi beamed . “Oh, you’re adorable . And you look more like a mini-Shouta than I imagined!” He scuttled closer into Hitoshi’s personal space. “Tell me, do you like cats?”

“I love cats...?” Hitoshi blinked, cheeks turning a little pink. He looked completely unprepared to deal with Hurricane Mic, to Aizawa’s amusement. “The only reason why I don’t have like three of them right now is because mom’s allergic.”

“Stop being weird, Hizashi,” Aizawa snorted as Hizashi gleefully whispered ‘mini-Shouta!!!’ to a bewildered teenager. “I brought you here to help him, not harass him.”

“Right, right,” Hizashi nodded. “But before I forget, let’s exchange numbers, Shinsou-kun! I need another buddy to tease Shouta with--”

“This is what I was telling you about needing energy to deal with him, Hitoshi,” Aizawa flatly said. Hizashi cackled.

“Alright, kid,” Hizashi slung an arm around Hitoshi’s shoulder once he calmed down, tugging him down to sit on the floor beside him. Aizawa followed, forming a three person circle in the middle of the empty gym. “Shouta might know a bunch of stuff about mental quirks and the like, but when it comes to voice and sound quirks, then I’m your local expert. Bring me up to speed and let’s talk shop!”

It didn’t take long to tell Hizashi the results of their quirk experimentation from the other day. Aizawa had let Hitoshi do the talking, mostly to let him feel comfortable speaking with the other hero. He hadn’t told the kid yet, but he planned for Hizashi to help them often so it would be good for Hitoshi to feel more at ease with him. Maybe, eventually, he’d even open up to the voice hero, too. One more supportive adult wouldn’t hurt.

“Well I can tell you some things to start with,” Hizashi hummed thoughtfully. “You’re gonna have to learn to protect your mouth and throat. Speaking from experience, once someone figures out that you need to speak to use your quirk, they’re gonna do their damn best to shut you up. Even with my reinforced directional speaker, villains who get close enough still try to punch me in the throat, ya know.”

“I was kinda thinking about that, actually,” Hitoshi said, glancing at an interested Aizawa before turning back to Hizashi. “Secrecy is a good weapon, right? That’s how Aizawa-sensei is so effective - he’s an underground hero so the type of people he goes after usually don’t know his quirk. So I figured, I could keep my quirk and-or how it works a secret and use that to my advantage for as long as possible...”

“How do you plan on keeping it a secret?” Aizawa couldn’t help but ask, wanting to see the kid’s trail of thinking.

Hitoshi put a hand up and wiggled his fingers. “Touch based quirks are common, so I could make it seem like my quirk needs it. Then people would be more preoccupied dodging my hands than avoiding listening to me. Hopefully. And if they’re not aware that I don’t need a vocal response to catch them…”

“Smart,” Hizashi grinned. Aizawa nodded in agreement.

“I also thought about maybe learning how to speak without moving my lips or something like that,” Hitoshi added, perking up at the two heroes’ approving looks. “Maybe other animal sounds too, since that works. I’m not sure I could pull off imitating voices without some kind of support gear, which might be hard to do since my quirk doesn’t work through electronics--”

“Don’t underestimate UA’s support department,” Hizashi wagged a finger at the kid. “They’re always up for a challenge! Though you really are going up and beyond - being able to get people under your quirk with a variety of non-verbal responses is impressive as it is!”

“Those are good ideas, though,” Aizawa said. “You’ve been putting a lot of thought into it, haven’t you?”

Hitoshi rubbed his neck, looking part embarrassed and part sheepish. “I did a lot of thinking last night, sensei. I think - I’m going to try better. To accept my quirk. If part of my dream is to make kids like me not be ashamed of their quirk, then I should lead by example. And… I figured since you’re already doing so much to help me, that it would be an insult if I didn’t give it my all. I- I want to make you proud, Aizawa-sensei.”

“Kid,” Aizawa smiled at him fondly, “I’m already proud of you.”

A high pitched sound ruined the brief heartfelt moment, and the teacher and student whipped their heads towards the third member of their party. Hizashi had his hands over his mouth, but Aizawa could tell from his eyes that the other man was grinning ear to ear. “You two are so cute, I might die ,” the blond man squealed.

“Stop being weird , Hizashi.”

They moved on to more quirk experiments shortly after that. Hizashi got to experience the brainwashing first hand, and Aizawa noted how taken aback Hitoshi was when the other hero reacted positively to his quirk. It must still be jarring, how he’d gone from everyone saying how creepy and villainous his quirk was to having two pro heroes complimenting it even after being under its effects.

“You know,” Hitoshi started idly after releasing the two adults from his quirk. He had made them pirouette, adding to the collection of embarrassing videos in the kid’s phone. A dangerous collection, especially if he ends up in Aizawa’s class next year. “Before the incident, the one time I accidentally took simultaneous control of two people, I passed out for like, a whole afternoon. Now it’s just as easy as doing only one. Not even a pinch of a headache.”

“If only we had more people available, then we could try and see how many you can safely do,” Aizawa said. “And no, Hizashi, we can’t use the first years.”

“It could totally be part of their heroics class! Experience against different types of quirks are integral in being a hero.”

Aizawa ignored him. “Let’s try the telepathic response and commands next. Try to take control of us both - Hizashi will respond normally but I’ll think my reply. Then command us mentally, whether or not you have us both.”

“Okay, sensei,” the kid frowned unsurely, glancing back and forth between Hizashi and Aizawa. He held up his phone again to record. “Hey, we should go to a cat cafe sometime.”

Aizawa thought ‘ Sure ’ just as Hizashi said, “Of course!” He noticed a difference immediately. Whereas Hitoshi’s normal brainwashing felt like being surrounded in a gentle fog, this one was more like static filling his every corner of his brain. It made him want to scratch his skin and cover his ears, only he couldn’t because his limbs were locked and he couldn’t see anything .

“Take two steps to the left, then three steps forward, and then pinch yourself,” he heard through the static. Aizawa didn’t even feel himself comply, blinking rapidly as the sharp pain from his cheek registered and he regained faculty of his body. From beside him, Hizashi stared at him oddly, but it was the sudden paling of Hitoshi’s face that grabbed his immediate attention.

“Oh,” Hitoshi weakly said, lowering his phone and touching his nose gently. It came away with a hint of red and Hizashi inhaled sharply. “That was different.”

“Your nose is bleeding,” Aizawa urgently patted the pockets of his utility belt for a tissue or something. Hizashi beat him to it though, moving towards the teenager with a handkerchief in hand. “Does anything hurt?” he asked, worried.

“Uhm, not really?” Hitoshi squinted, though complied when Hizashi gently made him lean his head forward and took over holding the handkerchief and pinching his nose. “Just - a sharp pain between my eyebrows. Only for a moment, before my nose started feeling wet. I think I’m okay, Mic-sensei. I don’t think it’s much blood.”

“Hmm, I guess so,” Hizashi pulled the cloth away for a second to check, and then firmly wiped residual blood from under Hitoshi’s nostrils - ignoring the teenager’s protests. “Well, that was a little worrying.”

“You’re telling me,” Aizawa muttered, unable to keep himself from remembering the first time he laid eyes on the kid, dried blood trailing from his nose and ears. “The brainwashing certainly felt different this time.”

“How different?” Hitoshi asked curiously. “On my end, I heard you say sure, but it was like you whispered it really quietly into my ear. And the connection to you was like - weird . It was thin, and kind of like a silk thread? I could barely see it, and it felt ready to break any moment.”

“It felt like static for me, instead of the usual fog. I also wasn’t aware of anything happening outside - like I was trapped in my mind. I heard the command, and I’m assuming I did it considering I pinched myself, but I didn’t feel my limbs moving at all.” Something tickled his memories, and Aizawa frowned, trying to remember. While his words were true, he felt like he had read them somewhere else before-- “Ah. I think your schoolmates described the same thing I experienced on the police reports.”

Hitoshi’s mouth twisted unhappily. 

Hizashi, on the other hand, tapped a finger to his chin and hummed consideringly. “So this kind of confirms your theory about the incident, doesn’t it, Shouta? You told me you thought there was some sort of telepathic back and forth - a result of the sudden quirk awakening. If the experiences match…”

“You bled that time too,” Aizawa told Hitoshi. “If taking control of just me was enough to trigger a nosebleed, then it’s safe to assume that brainwashing someone through a telepathic response is edging towards the extreme limit of your quirk. Was it a strain to command us mentally?”

“No, it was just grabbing you that felt off,” the teenager said, biting his lower lip and furrowing his eyebrows. “I don’t think I want to try that again, though.”

“It’s probably safer if you didn’t. You have a lot of options to explore already, and being able to send commands without speaking it is a big step up on its own,” the underground hero conceded. “Anyway, it’s just about lunch time, and you need to be eating proper meals since you’re going to be starting getting into shape physically on Monday.”

“Joy,” Hitoshi deadpanned, earning a laugh from Hizashi.

An hour after coming back from lunch, Aizawa suddenly received an alert from his agency, summoning him to a scene. It must be something important if they were calling for him during the day. And as loathe as he was to interrupt the training session, hero work still took priority. “Sorry, I need to go,” he looked at Hitoshi apologetically, “duty calls.”

“It’s fine,” Hitoshi shrugged and seemed understanding. “I’m actually surprised it took a week for us to get interrupted by your hero work.”

“Don’t worry about us, Shouta,” Hizashi said easily. “Shinsou-kun and I can spend some time getting to know each other a bit!” Hitoshi jerked in surprise at that, blinking up at the blond with bewilderment. Hizashi met the stare with an amused smile. “What, you think I was just gonna kick you out as soon as Shouta left? I’d at least have taken you to the station, kid.”

“You don’t have to stay with me,” Hitoshi stammered. “It’s not like you’re obligated--”

Aizawa snorted. “If you think you can stop Hizashi from doing whatever he wanted without actually brainwashing him, then I’m gonna have to break it to you, kid. You can’t.”

Present Mic’s presence was bigger in person, Hitoshi found out. And it wasn’t that he was loud - at least, not completely, going by the few hours he’s spent with him so far - but energy exuded from the voice hero in a way that energized Hitoshi too, despite running on four hours of sleep. It was the same effect that listening to the hero’s radio show had, only amplified multiple times. He wasn’t completely prepared to be left alone with the man, but Aizawa had thrown an unreadable gaze at them before he had left for work and that probably meant he expected something to happen. What that was, Hitoshi didn’t know.

“What now, Mic-sensei?” he asked the hero. Present Mic peered at him behind his sunglasses, humming consideringly. 

“Well, little listener, do you feel like talking a bit?”

Hitoshi knew that part of the reason why Aizawa brought his partner into the equation was because he thought there was something Hitoshi had to gain in talking with him, beyond the professional sense. And it wasn’t like he didn’t like the other man - he was one of his other favorite heroes, after all. He had merch of him. He listened to Put Your Hands Up Radio religiously every week, like every kid his age. Which made it even more intimidating for Hitoshi to just unload all his shit on him. But, he did promise Aizawa to try harder...

“You don’t have to, you know?” Present Mic said gently. “I’m here to listen, but we can go practice with your quirk more if you want.”

“No-” Hitoshi swallowed. Took a deep breath. “No, it’s fine. Uhm. Talking is fine. I want to talk.”

They migrated quietly to the bleachers, Present Mic sitting first to let Hitoshi dictate the amount of space he wanted between the two of them. Settling a respectable foot away, Hitoshi thought for a moment, wondering what to say first. The pro hero beside him was patient, humming a tune idly but not distractingly.

“Can I ask a personal question?” Hitoshi glanced unsurely at him. Present Mic glanced back, the corner of his lips curled up in a small smile.

“Sure!”

“How did people react to your quirk, at first?”

“Ah,” Present Mic whistled, leaning back on the bleachers. “Loaded question, kid. I guess the short answer is people wanted me to shut up all the time.”

“And the long answer? If you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind,” Present Mic waved a hand nonchalantly. “It’s not exactly a big secret that I’m one of those people that had their quirk from birth. And boy, was it not pretty - my first cry to welcome the new world and I burst my birth parents’ and the doctor’s eardrums. Not enough to like, completely deafen them, but they did lose a significant bit of their hearing. That and the threat of becoming completely deaf when I inevitably used my quirk again caused enough of a strain on their feelings for me that they gave me up pretty early on.”

“I’m sorry,” Hitoshi muttered sadly. He couldn’t imagine how that felt, to have parents that didn’t want you - he was extremely lucky to have a set of parents that loved him completely despite his quirk and his problems. 

“It’s alright! I was a pretty resilient kid, if I may say so myself. Plus I got out of the system relatively young - my parents are deaf so they didn’t mind taking me, walking disaster extraordinaire , in.” Present Mic laughed. “Of course, those years I spent in the orphanage weren’t exactly all roses. I usually got sent to my room without dinner or something if I accidentally used my quirk. Got threatened with a muzzle a lot, which were already highly illegal at the time so they were just empty threats, don’t look so worried, kid-” 

Hitoshi tried to wipe the horrified expression on his face off, but he still felt disgusted. A muzzle ? He knew there was a period of time where quirk restraints were wide-spread, especially back when the quirkless were the majority, but that was decades ago. They were outlawed now, of course, but the world wasn’t perfect and there were always things being exchanged under the table. Present Mic wasn’t that old, so to have been threatened with something like that in this day and age made Hitoshi’s insides cold with thoughts of what if’s . 

Then, unbidden, he remembered something that happened last year - he tried to push it back down, it wasn’t important, it wasn’t as bad , but something on his face must have tipped something off because Present Mic’s pleasant expression dropped and the hero frowned.

“Shinsou-kun,” the blond man slowly said, “I’m not bringing up bad memories, am I?”

Hitoshi scowled and stared at his hands, wringing his fingers in sudden anxiousness. His therapist knew about it and it was only thanks to patient confidentiality that his parents didn’t, but if there was anyone that would understand... “It was just a dumb prank, made by dumb kids,” he muttered after moments of silence. His cheeks burned in embarrassment. “Someone found out my birthday last year, and I guess they thought it would be... funny. To leave a gift on my desk. It was, uhm. A gag-- a ball gag.”

“ What the fuck ,” Present Mic empathetically and very loudly exclaimed in straight up English. He looked almost mad on his behalf. “Shinsou-kun, please tell me you reported that!”

“It was fine ,” Hitoshi hurriedly insisted. “It was humiliating, yeah, but I just threw it away - I would’ve gotten in trouble with the teachers if I got caught with it anyway and I wasn’t- wasn’t gonna give whoever left it there the satisfaction of getting me, you know.” And it was fine. As far as the bullying went, it was one of the less hurtful things someone had done, no matter how crass the message was. It wasn’t like they had left a vase of flowers on his desk--

“Wow, I totally get Shouta’s murderous vibe towards your school now,” Present Mic tsk’d. “Seriously, I hope you at least told someone!”

“Well I told you just now, didn’t I?” Hitoshi dryly said, hiding his nerves. The hero looked very unimpressed. “It’s not like I was traumatized by it, or whatever. I never got threatened to- to be muzzled like you did. It’s just... embarrassing. You’re… you’re not going to tell Aizawa-sensei about it, are you?”

“Unless you tell me it’s fine, I won’t say anything about the details of what we talk about between the two of us,” Present Mic sighed. “It’s the same for him, you know? He doesn’t tell me the exact stuff you guys share during your heart to hearts. Neither of us would betray your trust like that.”

“Thanks,” Hitoshi muttered. “But anyway , can we drop it? It happened and I’m over it. And so… going back. I guess I just, I don’t know. You understand how it is to be surrounded by people that don’t want you to talk, to always be told to shut up… And keeping quiet doesn’t bother me. I’m not usually this talkative, you know. But when other people try to dictate if you’re allowed to say anything...”

“It’s different,” Present Mic nodded, going along with the redirection albeit reluctantly. “Yeah, I get you. I joke about how the reason I talk so much is to make up for my childhood, and between you and me, there’s truth in that. Like, yeah, my parents didn’t mind me talking, but it’s not like they could hear me most of the time even with my quirk and their hearing aids, so I ended up sticking to sign language at home. And in school I had to be careful not to make anyone’s ears bleed. Even if my friends didn’t mind, I was still self-conscious about it.”

“Yay, vocal quirk complexes,” Hitoshi deadpanned, earning a chortle from the hero. “You know, I got the idea of learning sign language from you?”

Present Mic perked up. “Oh?”

“Yeah. One of your videos was on my YouTube feed one day - well, it was more like some clip from one of your early TV appearances. A mute girl was trying to ask you a question, but she had to write it down, and you--”

“And I asked her if it would be easier if I talked in sign instead,” the blond nodded. “Yeah, I remember that. God, that was what, six or seven years ago? I feel old now!”

“Probably,” Hitoshi snorted. “I was in third grade then.”

“You were a baby! I am old!” Present Mic wailed, and the teenager couldn’t help but think it was amusing. “But hey, I’m glad I inspired you that way, even if I really don’t like the thought of you learning sign because you didn’t wanna speak.”

“I thought you said Aizawa-sensei doesn’t share details of our talks with you,” he pointedly said to the hero.

“Please, give me some credit!” Present Mic grinned, ruffling Hitoshi’s hair and making him scrunch his face. “No kid that age would learn a new language without a motivating reason. Plus, I think we’re pretty alike, you and I.”

“Nothing like sharing tragic backstories to bring two people together,” Hitoshi rolled his eyes. “But I guess you’re alright, Mic-sensei.”

“You know, you can call me Yamada or even Hizashi, since we’ve bonded now!” The hero beamed.

“Yamada-sensei is longer than Mic-sensei.”

“Just Yamada is fine!” Present Mic insisted. “I’m not really your sensei until next year.”

“I think I’ll stick with Mic-sensei,” Hitoshi cheekily said, then looked away from the pouting adult. His cheeks suddenly felt faintly warm. “And I guess… you can call me Hitoshi. Especially if we’re gonna be seeing each other around more. Aizawa-sensei already does, so it makes sense for you to too.”

Present Mic - Yamada or whatever - made a strangled, high pitched sound, similar to this morning’s. “Oh my god, you blush like Shouta too. I am going to die .” 

“Please don’t, Mic-sensei.”

“It’s Ya-ma-da !”

Aizawa barely had his boot off when Hizashi appeared in front of him and gleefully declared, “Hitoshi could be our love child.”

Aizawa put his boot back on, and turned towards the door. “I’m leaving.”

“Shouta, no !”

“You two must really have bonded if you’re referring to him by his first name after one meeting,” Aizawa noted later as he walked to the kitchen with the taller man clinging to his shoulders. The blond made happy noises. 

“We talked a bit,” Hizashi simply said, smiling. “He really is a good kid - I can see why you’re so taken with him, not even taking into account the sheer potential his quirk has. He’s easy to like. And he’s easy to talk to, too. And he blushes like you, which is adorable . It’s like seeing teenage you again.”

“Stop being weird.”

“I’m just saying!” Hizashi laughed. “He’s a lot more open than you were at that age, though. And you were right about us relating to each other. We didn’t talk much about past stuff, but it was enough. You were also right about Nabu Middle.”

At the mention of Hitoshi’s school, Aizawa rose an eyebrow. “He must have said something to upset you if you’re agreeing with me about that.”

“My lips are sealed,” the other man mimed zipping up his mouth, “but I’m just saying, a little disciplinary action wouldn’t hurt.”

Aizawa wanted more than just a little disciplinary action, but they both knew that. “Well it’s good you two are getting along. It would’ve been an inconvenience if you didn’t like him.”

“And if he didn’t like me ?”

“You haven’t seen his stuff,” he snorted. “He has your brand of headphones and I’ve seen him wear a Present Mic shirt before. Not to mention he’s talked about wanting your god awful figure.”

Hizashi sparkled. “The one we have in our office?”

“The one I’m this close to throwing at the wall one of these days.”

“Oh, Shou-chan,” the other hero cooed. “It’s not its fault that your students are terrible at essays.”

“If I have to read another essay that starts with ‘In this society ’ and then shoe horns in a meme reference, I’m going to make them all run until they puke,” Aizawa gritted. “Even Tensei wasn’t this bad when we were students, and he’s Tensei .” The other hero snorted.

“Anyway, Shouta, I do have a really important question,” Hizashi said, looking very serious. Aizawa frowned at him, a little concerned. “When were you going to show me that picture of you two in your sleeping bags? It’s criminal that you kept something that cute to yourself, Shouta--”

“No.”

“I had to make it my phone wallpaper, see--”

“ No .”

Hitoshi’s new morning routine consisted of him getting up at 5 am to die .

(An exaggeration, but when Aizawa said he was going to make Hitoshi run, he really made him run.)

“It’s okay, darling,” his mother had patted his sweaty head after he’d slammed it onto the kitchen table with a dull thunk, over an hour later. “It’s only been a few days - you’ll get used to it eventually.”

“Heroes do have to do a lot of running,” was all his father had said. Hitoshi may have made a keening sound in reply.

After making himself feel a bit more human with breakfast and a shower, he then typically retreated to his room to do his schoolwork until he finished a day’s worth of assignments (since he was way ahead of schedule by now, with all the work he’s done on the nights he couldn’t sleep) and then either took a cat nap or caught up with the internet. It depended on his mood, but rest for his mind and body was still rest. When noon rolled around, he helped himself to lunch - usually leftovers from the previous night, but sometimes he cooked something simple for himself or used a bit of his pocket money to buy a bowl of something from the nearby donburi restaurant. As long as it adhered to Aizawa’s recommended diet, it was fair game.

He would have a fair amount of time before he had to catch the 2:30 train to the station nearest UA, so he usually spent it reading a book or listening to some podcasts (lately he’s been into some American ones about the paranormal - it helped with his English, too) while he drew or scrolled through his social media. He had an alarm set to give him enough time to make it to the station for his ride, and when it rang he only had to grab his pre-packed backpack before heading out. 

Hitoshi sometimes received odd looks - mostly because he was a middle schooler who should be in uniform and in school, but when he’s lucky he gets mistaken as a young college student thanks to his height and dead eyed stare. He did get in trouble with a police officer last week though, for his supposed truancy, but thankfully the school had stuck to the story that Hitoshi was being homeschooled due to medical reasons and the policeman had reluctantly let him go. 

The thirty minute train ride from Saitama to Musutafu wasn’t so bad, he thought. Time went by fast when he was preoccupied with one of his various phone apps - lately he’d been working through filling in his spotty Korean with a language learning app. He had started learning it partly out of boredom one night, but also partly so he could understand a few of his favorite fan artists on twitter and so he could follow the career of South Korean hero E-Motion, a pro hero he’d come across that also had a psychological quirk. 

(So maybe Hitoshi was a bit of a closet nerd. Growing up friendless meant no time spent playing with other kids outside, so he kept to himself and found other stuff to preoccupy his time while waiting for his parents to come home from work. And when schoolwork got tedious and dull, he turned to the TV and internet. And while anime and video games were natural hobbies for a boy his age, heroes truly were his lowkey obsession. He’s spent hours and hours on hero forums, his YouTube subscriptions were mostly hero-centric channels with a dash of conspiracy and paranormal stuff, and he has an almost embarrassing amount of merch of various heroes, including of his two new teachers. He had literally spent three days looking for the Eraserhead poster that currently graced his wall, now autographed by the man himself. He had worn a shirt that had Present Mic’s logo to training the other day, forgetting that Yamada was joining them to help, and it was kind of embarrassing that the hero insisted on taking a picture with him. 

All the Ingenium stuff he had though? Completely his dad’s fault. Ingenium’s little brother had accidentally smashed an entire slice of cake onto Hitoshi’s shirt five Christmases ago, and something about that still tickled his father to this day. How all the Ingenium merch equated into that, Hitoshi would never know, but his father always did have an odd sense of humor.)

The walk from the station to UA wasn’t far, and by the time he was within viewing distance of the front gate, high school students were already trailing out of campus. He didn’t enter through there though, instead using the teacher’s parking lot gate a ways off the main entrance. Aizawa was usually there to meet him but when he wasn’t the rotating guard at least knew him as an approved visitor. He suspected they thought Hitoshi was Aizawa’s kid or some sort of relative, from the looks they kept getting.

Then depending on the day, he spent the next few hours either working on his quirk with Aizawa and Yamada or getting his ass completely handed to him. More so of the latter nowadays. Thank god UA had high quality floor mats, otherwise he’d constantly be a big bruise.

“You’re getting better at your landings,” Aizawa commented as Hitoshi groaned from the floor. 

“Well you keep insisting I learn how to hit the floor through practical experience,” Hitoshi groused, pushing himself up on his feet. He wiped sweat from his brow and scowled at his teacher. “What did I do wrong that time?”

“You ignored your left side again,” Aizawa immediately said. “And you need to use my weight against me, since you’re lighter and weaker. Let physics do the heavy lifting.”

“I don’t learn physics until high school, sensei,” Hitoshi deadpanned as he and Aizawa took their stances once again.

“It’s always good to study ahead.”

Regardless of what they do during the training sessions, Hitoshi usually left UA with a good kind of ache around his body and with the knowledge that he was steadily improving in some way or another. Of course sometimes he got frustrated or discouraged and his crippling self-doubt reared its ugly head, but during those days Aizawa and sometimes Yamada would buy him bubble tea or Starbucks on the way to the station, even if his new diet technically dictated that he cut down the sugar. Twice they even ended training an hour early to take him to the nearby cat cafe, because cuddling cats was the best way to destress. And a few times, when neither of them had patrols or hero work scheduled immediately after training, they actually drove Hitoshi all the way home and had a pleasant dinner with him and his parents.

(His admiration and affection for Aizawa never wavered, only increased as he spent more time with his personal hero. Aizawa was more than just Eraserhead, his favorite underground pro hero, now - he was Hitoshi’s mentor, confidant, and maybe even friend. A steady rock in Hitoshi’s messy life.

Yamada, on the other hand, was a real surprise. Hitoshi could admit that he initially didn’t expect much from the man. Their first talk helped - his respect for the person behind the Present Mic persona had bloomed, those first few hours they spent just talking to each other. At first he had been afraid Yamada was only friendly with him to appease his partner, but it quickly became clear that that wasn’t the case. As the weeks went on, he learned that Yamada had plenty of bright grins and warm hugs to willingly give Hitoshi, a complement to Aizawa’s fond gazes and comforting head pats. Yamada made himself available to him, regardless if Aizawa was available or not, even if it was just Hitoshi texting him for hair product advice. And Hitoshi, who only had his parents to rely on until just recently, would never be able to articulate how much that meant to him.)

A few weeks into training with Aizawa and Yamada came another milestone for Hitoshi’s relationship with the two new adults in his life. 

His mom had gone to Hokkaido for an important client a day prior, which meant it was only Hitoshi and his dad at home for the next few days. They were having a quiet night in, enjoying a simple meal of chicken curry and filling the silence with talks about the latest hero news and Hitoshi’s training, when his dad’s phone loudly rang. Touma frowned as he checked the caller ID and then took the call immediately. It was work then, Hitoshi assumed, and was proven right when his dad got up from the kitchen table to swiftly turn on the television.

“Ah, shit,” his dad said in a flat tone, which made Hitoshi whirl in his seat in surprise. Touma didn’t curse out loud often, especially not around his son. Hitoshi got up to see what was happening and the large scale destruction shown on the screen made him curse too.

“Holy shit.”

Touma gave him a reprimanding glance, which he returned sheepishly. Dinner forgotten, he sat on the couch as the newscasters relayed information about the sudden villain attack in Osaka. A whole block of buildings were destroyed in the aftermath and heroes from the city and surrounding areas were being called down to help with the arrests and rescue efforts. While his dad was busy talking to whoever it was that called, Hitoshi fumbled to take his phone out of his pocket, opening to the only group chat on his messaging app.

‘did u see the news??’

Almost immediately, Yamada replied ‘i’m watching rn!!!’ with a shocked emoji. ‘shouta’s out at the police station so he prob knows too’

“Hitoshi,” his dad called and Hitoshi looked up to see him tapping through his phone urgently, the earlier call clearly over. “The company wants me to head over there immediately. The satellite branch we have in Osaka was barely at the edge of the affected area, but there’s still a significant amount of damage and they need all the help they can get.”

“I’ll be fine here,” he hurriedly reassured his dad. 

Touma didn’t look happy about that though. “I’ll be gone for at least a few days and your mother won’t be home for another week. Leaving you alone for days is different than just one night.”

Hitoshi scowled, and his dad mirrored the expression. They stared at each other in thoughtful silence until Touma’s phone rang again, earning a sigh from the older man as he took the second call and walked back to the kitchen.

‘dad has to go there to help,’ he ended up texting to the group chat.

‘What about you?’ Aizawa replied surprisingly. ‘Isn’t your mom gone too?’

‘have you been texting his mom behind my back again?!’ Yamada then sent, to which Aizawa replied with a straight-faced emoji.

‘we’re trying to figure out the me problem atm lol’ he sent back. ‘dad doesnt wanna leave me alone for a few days and he cant exactly take me w/ him’

‘You can stay with me and Hizashi’

‘oh!!! stay w us!!!’

The two texts came practically at the same time as each other, and apparently was not planned if Yamada’s follow up of ‘LOL SHOUTA <3’ was anything to go by. He felt shocked by it though, not even thinking that that was even an option. Hitoshi was so struck he jumped when his phone started ringing and almost dropped it before he was able to accept the call.

“What do you think?” Aizawa’s voice said through the phone. “Hizashi clearly doesn’t mind, and both of us also don’t like the idea of you being by yourself at home for days.”

“I’m fifteen, I can take care of myself, you know,” Hitoshi protested weakly. His dad, back from his own call, sat down heavily on the couch beside him. He looked at Hitoshi questionably and Hitoshi mouthed ‘Aizawa-sensei,’ earning a thoughtful look from his father.

Aizawa hummed, unconvinced. “Let me talk to Touma, if he’s free right now.”

It didn’t take longer than a minute for his dad to agree with Aizawa and Hitoshi found himself packing his laptop, textbooks, and a few days worth of clothes into a bag soon after. Staying with Aizawa and Yamada for a few days was a surreal thought.

“Toothbrush and medication, Hitoshi,” his dad reminded him when he passed by his room, also doing some hurried packing. Hitoshi rolled his eyes privately - as if he was going to forget those . Still, he dutifully put those in one of the pockets of his bag before looking double checking his room for anything else he’ll need for the next few days.

“Aizawa messaged me their address,” Touma told Hitoshi as they locked up the front door. “I’ll drop you off, taking the train alone at this hour after what happened might not be safe. I already called your mother about the situation.”

Hitoshi had never actually been to his mentors’ home. He didn’t know what to expect, really, considering Aizawa and Yamada looked to have contrasting styles, but the house was actually normal. Nice, even. The type of house people would take a second look at when they passed by it during the day. The name plate only said ‘Yamada’ on it, curiously, but that did make sense when Hitoshi thought about it. Yamada did make more money, so he was probably the one that bought the two-storey house in the first place.

“Hitoshi! Shinsou-san!” Yamada greeted them when he opened the door. He gestured them into the warm home. Aizawa was also there, still in hero gear, cradling a cup of tea in his hands. “Welcome!”

“Thank you for this especially on such a short notice, Yamada-san, Aizawa-san” Touma smiled gratefully at the heroes, his tired eyes already looking strained. Hitoshi couldn’t blame him, he watched as his dad had to answer a multitude of phone calls through his bluetooth during the entire drive. “I’m afraid I can’t stay long, the company plane is waiting for me.”

“We’re happy to have him here,” Aizawa said. “Do you want a thermos of tea for the road?”

Touma sighed, “That would be a blessing.”

“Here, let me get that for you,” Yamada told Hitoshi, grabbing his bag after giving him a one armed hug and ruffling his hair. “We have the guest bedroom set up for you, follow me.”

“Thank you,” Hitoshi murmured as they padded up the stairs and through a hallway. One of the rooms had the door open and from the impersonal decor and impeccable bedding, it was most definitely the guest bedroom. Yamada carefully put his stuff on the floor inside of the room, beside the door.

“No problem, little listener,” Yamada grinned. He then pointed to the closed door a little further into the hall and across. “That one’s our room - if you end up needing anything, just knock. Bathroom is just beside it, and there’s another one downstairs by the laundry room. And then the room beside this one is our office. Shouta and I sometimes do our grading or paperwork there, but usually we stay down in the living room or dining table. So feel free to do your schoolwork there if you want!”

Hitoshi looked towards the office interestedly. “That’s where you keep your merch, right?” Yamada’s grin widened.

“Yep!”

“Hitoshi!” They heard Touma call from the entryway. “I’m heading off!”

He padded swiftly to where his dad and Aizawa were standing, quietly discussing something while they each had their warm drink in hand. “Stay safe,” he told his dad, giving him a short hug which was returned. “Keep me updated, okay?”

“I think that’s supposed to be my line,” Touma smirked wryly. Hitoshi gave him a deadpan stare.

“You’re the one travelling hours away to clean up a villain mess.”

Considering how late it had gotten, it didn’t take long after Touma had left for the three to start getting ready to turn in for the night. Hitoshi didn’t bother with unpacking for now - he had showered before dinner so he only needed to take out a pair of shorts to swap his jeans with, his toothbrush, and his bottle of sleeping medication. He’s never done well sleeping in a new environment for the first night or two, but he hoped that the pills would help him get at least two or three hours of rest. 

“Are you doing alright, Hitoshi?” Aizawa asked him half an hour later as he sat on his bed and played with his phone for a bit. He shrugged at his mentor, looking a little uncertain, which was enough of an invite for Aizawa to walk in and sit on the bed. “Are you worried about something?”

By now Aizawa was familiar with Hitoshi’s tells, and he knew his teacher could see that something was bothering him. But the problem was that Hitoshi didn’t know what, actually , the problem was. Just that sometime between brushing his teeth and right before Aizawa’s appearance, anxiety flared up within him like a sea monster emerging from underwater. 

“Not really,” he ended up saying. “I don’t know. I’m just suddenly feeling off.” Hitoshi pulled his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around his legs and pressing his forehead to his thighs. “It’s not your fault, or Mic-sensei’s.”

He felt a hand comb through his hair and he leaned into the touch, closing his eyes and breathing deeply. “It’s natural to feel strange sleeping in a home you haven’t been to before,” he heard Aizawa say. “Ideally we would have invited you over a few times to first get you comfortable being here, but plans get sidetracked sometimes.”

Hitoshi huffed. “You’re telling me. I was planning on coasting through my final year of middle school, and if a year ago someone told me I’d be sleeping over at Eraserhead and Present Mic’s home, I would’ve asked them what drugs they were on. Yet here I am.”

“Here we are,” Aizawa snorted. “Seriously though, kid. You know you don’t have to hide or pretend around us.”

At that, he looked up at Aizawa with the blank look on his face. His teacher met it with an equally deadpan one before reaching over to pinch his cheek, breaking his mask.

“Sensei!”

“Hitoshi,” Aizawa said evenly, lips twitching to smirk at the teenager’s sulking face. He ruffled Hitoshi’s hair. “If you don’t wanna talk about it right now, that’s fine. I’ll leave you to it, but if you end up finding it difficult to stay asleep, help yourself to the kitchen or the TV. Just keep the volume down. But I’m also under orders to make sure you take your sleeping medication first before encouraging insomnia.”

Hitoshi sighed, eyeing the bottle on the bedside table. There was no avoiding it tonight. “Yeah, okay,” he muttered. He closed his eyes as Aizawa gave him one last shoulder pat before leaving him alone once more. The feeling in his gut was still there, but Aizawa’s concern had eased it enough for Hitoshi to close his eyes and fall asleep.

True to his predictions, Hitoshi woke up after only a few hours of sleep despite the medication. His phone read 3:37 am, which wasn’t bad considering he tended to be up at 5 am for his morning run. Knowing that he wasn’t going to get much more shut eye, he quietly padded out of the room and into the kitchen.

Where Yamada was already sitting at.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Yamada asked quietly to which Hitoshi shrugged. The voice hero was different at home, he noted - Yamada had regular glasses on as opposed to his usual tinted ones, and his hair was tied into a simple bun at his nape. He looked, well, normal in his plain white tee and pajama pants, browsing on his iPad on the kitchen table.

“I thought it would’ve been Aizawa-sensei awake at this time, if anyone,” Hitoshi admitted, settling himself on the chair across of Yamada. Yamada gave him a wry grin.

“Shouta’s catching up on his own sleep - this is the first night in the past four days he’s been home before 4 am,” the older man told him. “I just don’t sleep a lot sometimes.”

“Yet you two get on me about my insomnia,” Hitoshi squinted. “Hypocrites.”

Yamada snorted, “You’re a growing boy and we’re adults. Trust me, get as much sleep as you can while you’re young because being a hero means long hours and loads of lost sleep.”

“This is basically training for me, then,” he said, to which Yamada playfully rolled his eyes at. “You know, if you guys need a day off from me to like, rest or whatever, you can just say so. I know I take up a lot of time either of you could be doing UA or hero stuff with.”

“Oh, we know,” Yamada grinned at him easily. “And Shouta’s told you enough times that you can’t force us to do anything outside of brainwashing us, so you should also know better. Plus we already have Thursdays and Sundays off, that’s enough.”

“If… you say so…” Hitoshi looked at him doubtfully. He managed a glance at the tablet between them, moving forward when he saw it was more news about Osaka. Yamada, noticing his redirected attention, tilted the tablet in a way that allowed both of them to read the live feed.

“They’re still counting casualties,” Yamada sighed. “This is a rough one.”

“They have the Wild Wild Pussycats on the scene, at least,” Hitoshi pointed out as Mandalay’s exhausted face appeared on the screen. Behind her, Ragdoll stood atop a pile of rubble and seemed to be yelling at someone in the distance. “They’ll find everyone.”

“Hm,” Yamada hummed, looking at Hitoshi thoughtfully, “I just had a thought.” The teenager looked up at him, face curious. “I know we’ve been concentrating on using your quirk on your opponents, but have you ever thought about using it for comfort?”

“What?” Hitoshi asked, baffled. “How could I-- What do you even mean?” 

“Hear me out, kid,” the hero put up a hand to stop Hitoshi’s doubts. “Being under your brainwashing is like being in a fog, yeah? It’s… a little hard to articulate. But I find that it’s nice sometimes, comforting, to not think about anything and just have silence in my mind. And the fog helps - I personally think of it as like a weighted blanket over me, though it might be different for other people. Do you get what I’m going for?”

“...I’ve had enough panic attacks to understand,” Hitoshi murmured, staring at the wooden pattern of the kitchen table as his mind raced. “Yeah, I get it. You think it’ll work?”

“It’s something we can explore,” Yamada said. “Being a hero isn’t just about beating up the bad guy. It’s also about helping people in general. Take Mandalay and Ragdoll for example - their quirks aren’t combat oriented, but they’re some of the most successful rescue heroes of today. And your quirk has grown versatile since we started training with it. I imagine you can calm people down, help them come down from a panic attack, direct a crowd to safety - heck, you could probably help people control their quirks. I know we just started playing with you brainwashing me to use my quirk, but once we get that down… The possibilities are--”  

“I really don’t know what I would have done without you or Aizawa-sensei,” Hitoshi found himself blurting out for no reason, suddenly feeling emotional, the anxiety that was idling in his stomach turning into something else. “It’s just, you two believe in me so much ,” he choked, and bowed his head down as he felt tears filling his traitorous eyes. He didn’t know what set him off just now, only that he suddenly had to let this out. “And I’m just this- this moody teenager that just happened to get lucky enough to catch a hero’s attention. I don’t even know how I could even become a hero when I can’t even help myself .”

“Oh, Hitoshi,” Yamada crooned, moving to sit beside him to give him a hug. He seemed unfazed at the surprising turn of events but Hitoshi could practically feel the concern rolling off him in waves. “First off, you’re not just some moody teenager - you have clinical depression, and going through puberty is hard enough as it is. Don’t apologize or blame yourself for what your body does. Second, you think other heroes haven’t felt the same doubts as you have? At least you know you need help, and are getting help, and you’re recovering. It may not seem like it to you, but you’ve made so much progress these past few months. Everyone is so proud of you with how far you’ve come.”

Hitoshi’s lips wobbled as he struggled not to sob. Why was he like this. He had been fine just a few minutes ago. A little anxious, maybe, but not like- like--

“And third,” Yamada continued as he gently held him in his arms, “Shouta and I believe in you - believe that you will be a hero - because that’s how we truly feel and because we love you--”

“What’s going on?” Aizawa’s low voice cut in as he groggily walked into the kitchen, their cat on his heels. Then he took in Yamada hugging Hitoshi, who peeked from behind the older man’s shoulder with watery, red rimmed eyes. “What’s wrong?” He asked, alarmed. “Are you hurt?”

Hitoshi hated crying, especially in front of people. And for most of his life he’d been good at bottling it up, only letting go in the privacy of his room during the really bad days or sometimes even his therapist’s office after a hard session, but Aizawa and Yamada had a way of tearing down his walls that only his parents had ever been capable of. 

And so in the face of Aizawa’s clear concern and Yamada’s words, he couldn’t help but let go - crying and sobbing in earnest into his hands at 4 am, in front of his two heroes.

He didn’t know how long he had cried for or when he passed out, but Hitoshi woke up curled up on the couch, a cat draped over his legs. The first rays of daylight peaked in from the window and he grabbed his phone from the coffee table to see that it was almost seven in the morning. He missed his alarm to get up for his morning run.

“Feeling better?” Hitoshi heard, and he looked up to see Aizawa leaning over on the back of the couch. 

“Sort of,” he croaked, voice hoarse from crying. He laid on his back, careful not to dislodge the cat on his legs too much, and took a moment to think. Patiently, Aizawa waited.

With a clearer head and a less suffocating feeling around him, Hitoshi was finally able to realize what that crawling feeling in his stomach last night was a sign of. What the earlier emotional breakdown was a prelude to. Granted, it's been a while, since things have been looking up for him since his hospitalization, but that just meant he was long overdue a Bad Day. And despite there not being any real reason to be one, today was definitely shaping up to be a Bad Day. 

“I don’t think I can do any training today,” he admitted to his mentor quietly. Funny how just a few hours ago he was the one telling Yamada that it was okay for them to ask for a day off.

“I expected that,” Aizawa said, reaching down to brush Hitoshi’s hair from his forehead. “Take it easy today. Will you be okay by yourself while we’re at school, or would you prefer if one of us stayed with you?”

“I’ll be fine,” he decided after thinking for a few seconds. “I’m not good company when I’m like this anyway.” Aizawa snorted at him.

“It’s not about that, kid.”

From out of nowhere, Yamada joined them, looking down at the teenager from beside his partner. “There’s waffles in the microwave for you for breakfast and we have leftover stewed beef in the fridge if you wanna eat that for lunch. Or we can give you money to order food, or get a gallon of ice cream, whatever you want!”

Hitoshi blinked up at him. “I, uhm, don’t really mean to be a bother--” 

“Nuh uh, listener, you need a self care day!” Yamada grinned. “Forget about eating right, watch some mindless action movies, take an hour long bath with a bath bomb - whatever would make you feel better. You deserve it.”

“Just don’t burn down the house,” Aizawa dryly joked. “And make sure Jelly doesn’t get into the trash.” Jelly being Aizawa’s cat, who peered up at her human at the sound of her name. “Also don’t forget to submit your schoolwork for the day, though no one expects you to do any more work today. I’d also appreciate it if you would text either of us should you go out for a bit.”

Hitoshi managed to give them a thumbs up, feeling comforted by the two’s encouraging vibes despite how off he felt. “Thank you,” he also managed, sincere. It earned him fond smiles from both, and a hair ruffle from Yamada.

He rolled off the couch a few minutes later, holding Jelly to his chest, as the two heroes stood by the door to put their shoes on. Despite them being in their hero gear, the whole scene felt incredibly domestic, with Yamada fussing over a tangled knot in Aizawa’s hair and Aizawa handing one boot after another to Yamada. 

“Oh, we need to do grocery shopping later,” Yamada said. “We’ll pick you up on the way, yeah? We can get stuff for karaage - that’s one of your favorites, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Hitoshi muttered. He felt a little embarrassed but also a little pleased that they were making such an effort to make him feel better. “Anything is fine, though.”

“Well, I want karaage,” Aizawa flatly said. The hero then looked at Hitoshi with an unreadable face before gesturing the teen to come closer. Hitoshi did, though was confused when Aizawa had taken something out of his pocket and held a fist out towards him. 

He held one of his palms up to take whatever it was, his other arm still holding the cat, and felt warm metal against his skin. Hitoshi stared at the small object now in his hand.

“A key to the house,” Aizawa spoke with a low voice. “It’s yours, permanently, if you want it.”

Hitoshi couldn’t speak, and he was distantly afraid he was going to start crying again. Instead he swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded.

“We’re leaving now,” Yamada smiled warmly and Aizawa mirrored it. Hitoshi managed to give them a wavering smile of his own.

“Have a safe trip.” 

As the door closed shut behind the two heroes, Hitoshi couldn’t help but think that this - all that has happened so far since he arrived at the Yamada house last night ( god it hadn’t even been 12 hours ) - felt kind of like being with his own mother and father. Felt like the warmth of a home and family .

Then he proceeded to freak the fuck out.

Chapter Text

Hitoshi knew that he had terrible ways of coping with things.

When people wouldn’t talk to him because of his quirk, he just didn’t talk to anyone at all. When people vandalised his stuff in school, he just shrugged and cleaned the writing off. When someone very casually suggested he just kill himself (the first time), he waited until he was under his bed covers at home before crying, mind spiralling to dangerous depths. When people joked to his face about using his quirk for stealing, cheating, and a variety of other (worse) crimes, he gave them bland smiles and waited until lunch period or after school to vomit in the toilet. 

(And those were just some examples before the Nabu Incident.

He’s been getting better about not freezing up every time an electric quirk was so much mentioned. That phobia, thankfully, seemed to shape up to being a short-lived thing. But Hitoshi had tended to pinch the skin of his wrists to keep himself from reliving the particular pain electrocution gave - an action that had his therapist alarmed when he had admitted to it. He figured it swayed way too close to a more severe form of self-harm for comfort, hence the immediate attempts to nip that coping habit in the bud.

The claustrophobia proved itself to be harder to get rid of, but easier to deal with. He still couldn’t deal being in the walk-in pantry in his house for more than a handful of minutes, and the same went for the cleaning closet. It took weeks for him to be able to sleep in his room with all the lights off. So to combat those he just ended up avoiding those particular spaces as much as possible, and sometimes he still slept with his door open and a lamp on.

But what triggered him the worst was anything that reminded him of The Request. (Capitals necessary at this point, Hitoshi thought.)

“Yokohara-chan has been playing cat and mouse with me,” Hori had slyly said with a smarmy smirk on his face. Hitoshi had been trapped against the locker, Hori’s friends looking at him like a cornered animal. “She keeps rejecting me, though I don’t get why since everyone knows she’s not a virgin anymore, so what’s a little fun with me? But you can help with that, can’t you, Shinsou? Just a little suggestion, pretty please? We’ve known each other for three years by now, so what’s a little favor between friends? I’ll even let you watch, if that’s what you’re into.”

Hori, according to Detective Tsukauchi, had actually transferred out to a school in Miyagi, where his grandparents lived, at the face of the entire school finding out he had tried to get Yokohara brainwashed for something as sick as that . (Triggering the mass brainwashing in the first place.) Still, that didn’t change the fact that Hitoshi now had to look up content warnings before being able to enjoy a movie or show or book or anything , or that he had spent an afternoon going through his music library and deleting every suggestive song, or that he had added almost two dozen tags so far to his internet blacklist. Just so he wouldn’t dissociate (at best) or have a full blown panic attack (at worst). He’s pretty certain this trauma was going to haunt him for at least the next few years, and the only way he’d been dealing with it was by not .

He didn’t even want to think about the nightmares.)

So Hitoshi had issues . He and his therapist (and his parents, and Aizawa, and Yamada) have been working their way through it. Really.

But it said something about him and his state of mind that - faced with the sudden realization that he had latched onto Aizawa and Yamada as some sort of parental figures even if he already had wonderful, supportive parents - his initial thoughts of how to deal with this particular problem was to go take a freezing cold shower. But he couldn’t, he shouldn’t , because that was also a terrible coping method, and it’s been five months since he last did it and he promised he wouldn’t do it again and he’s trying so hard to get better at this. Really .

So he compromised, sitting in the tub in just his shirt and boxers, opposite of the shower faucets so that he wouldn’t be tempted to turn it on. It helped that Jelly joined him, making herself comfortable on his stomach, and he wouldn’t ever subject the innocent cat to his particular brand of self torture. But the feeling of the cold ceramic against his bare skin was enough to ground him for the entire hour he sat there, trying not to think of anything at all.

It was a good thing tomorrow was Thursday, because boy did he have a lot to talk about with Miyako-sensei.

“Did we push too soon?” Aizawa quietly asked Hizashi as they pulled the car up into UA. “The way he looked…”

Hizashi hummed, tapping on the steering wheel. He looked just as concerned, going by the furrow of his eyebrows, but managed to give Aizawa a comforting grin. “Just give him time, I think. It’s been an emotional day for him so far, and school hasn’t even started.” 

“I should’ve waited another day,” Aizawa muttered to himself, burying his chin further into his capture weapon. “Hotaru said it was fine, but Touma warned me that it might overwhelm Hitoshi.”

“It’ll be fine, Shouta,” Hizashi said. He reached out and brushed a lock of hair from Aizawa’s sullen face. “He’ll probably use the next few hours thinking and we can talk to him when we get back home.” 

“...If you say so.”

Still, it nagged on Aizawa’s mind the entire day. Watching Hitoshi break down into tears earlier that morning had been heartbreaking , and he had hoped the key would be taken as a sign that he and Hizashi were happy to have him in their lives despite not knowing each other for that long - he’s still not sure the message got across, but he hoped that Hizashi was right and that Hitoshi just needed time to think about it.

Aizawa was well aware that, as much as the kid had been getting better lately, Hitoshi dealt with a lot of stuff mentally. Hotaru had admitted to him that even she and Touma weren’t completely sure of how deep Hitoshi’s problems were, but it was bad enough to cause a few scares the past few years and for Hitoshi to take daily medication for. He’s not sure how they could deal with not knowing, but he also knew the arrangement between Hitoshi, his therapist, and his parents was a precarious one built on trust. His parents trusted Miyako-sensei to take care of Hitoshi, and Hitoshi promised to be as open and truthful as possible to her as long as what was said in the office, stayed in the office - with the exception of things that could point to Hitoshi’s possible harm. Thankfully, in the two years Hitoshi had been seeing his therapist for, those exceptions were few and far between. 

Aizawa was no stranger to the effects of depression and trauma, speaking from personal and hero experience, and Hizashi dealt with his own demons from the past as well. It was just… different, when the person suffering was someone you felt an almost overwhelming amount of protectiveness towards. And so, so young . 

“That’s a scary face you got there, Eraser,” Nemuri commented at him during lunch. They were in the teacher’s lounge, surrounded by the other staff members either eating or catching up with grading. “No wonder 1-B looked afraid someone was gonna get expelled.”

Aizawa glared at her, the jelly drink pack hanging from his mouth crinkling at a particularly furious suck. Nemuri stared at him, amused. A few desks away, Hizashi snorted.

Their staring contest was broken at the sound of two phones pinging, and it was probably impressive how fast Aizawa snatched his phone from his pocket to look at the message. The ring tone was a distinct one for a specific group chat that only had three people, and two of them were in the same room right now.

‘ok so dont be alarmed’ Hitoshi had sent, which definitely made Aizawa alarmed. Another text followed. ‘but i kinda need the first aid kit’

Aizawa was already calling the kid before Hizashi even made a distressed ‘what?!’ vocal and before Nemuri could even ask what was wrong, looking perplexed. 

“ I said don’t be alarmed, ” he heard Hitoshi’s voice say through the phone, sounding dry if a little tired and pained. “ It’s nothing serious, there’s not even a lot of blood-- ”

“You’re bleeding ?” He hissed, wide-eyed, and Hizashi stumbled out of his chair to scramble towards him after hearing his words. The rest of the faculty present stared at them.

“He’s bleeding?!” Hizashi echoed, none of the calm he showed this morning present. “Oh no , one of us should have stayed at home with him-”

“ Is that Mic-sensei? What is he even saying-- Anyway, really, I’m fine , ” Hitoshi insisted. “ First aid kit, please? There wasn’t anything under the bathroom sink. ”

“Living room, in the side table drawer by the couch,” Aizawa frowned. “How hurt are you?” The silence that followed was long enough for him to double check to see if the call had dropped and seeing as it hadn’t, his lips thinned in concern. Hizashi was practically pressed against the hand that held his phone, trying to listen in. “ Hitoshi .”

“ I tripped over Jelly, ” the kid murmured, sounding more embarrassed than anything, “ then I hit my head on the dining table. ”

“What do you mean you hit your head on the dining table --”

“And you’re bleeding?!” Hizashi squawked into the phone. “Hitoshi, head injuries are serious! You might have a concussion! One of us can head home right now-”

“ I just got a little cut! I took some painkillers and my head doesn’t feel that bad. I’m fine . Neither of you need to leave early .”

“I only have one class left for today, I’ll be home by 1:30,” Aizawa firmly said, ignoring Hitoshi’s protests. “Don’t argue with me, or else I’m dragging Hizashi home early too.”

Said hero perked up, “That’s not a bad idea!”

“You have a quiz to give your last period,” Aizawa stared at him flatly. “Don’t argue with me either.” Hizashi wilted.

“But you just said-”

“ Nothing I say is gonna stop you, isn’t it? ” Hitoshi sighed. At the very least, Aizawa noted, he didn’t sound as exhausted or despondent as he did this morning. A small relief.

“Good, you’re learning,” he told the kid, lips twitching up as he referred to his constant reminders of his and Hizashi’s stubbornness. The alarm he felt in him had calmed down now, though he still was upset Hitoshi got hurt - could have seriously gotten hurt - without them around. God, Hotaru didn’t warn him about all these feelings .

“Wow,” Nemuri whistled after Aizawa had given Hitoshi last minute instructions and ended the call, “was that your kid? I don’t think I’ve seen the two of you freak out like that in a while.”

From his spot a few desks away, Kan choked on his drink. “You have a kid ?” Ishiyama and Snipe looked equally as dumbfounded. Aizawa studiously ignored all of them, choosing to gather his stuff for his next class and packing everything else into his bag so he didn’t have to after.

“His parents are out of town for a few days,” Hizashi explained to their friend. “So he’s staying with us in the meantime!”

“Oh, that means me and Tensei get to meet him tomorrow, right?” Nemuri’s eyes glinted. Aizawa squinted at her and scowled, a refusal on his lips. “Come on, it’s the only free day the four of us all have this month! Pizza and beer tradition!”

Hizashi, at least, was just as hesitant as Aizawa. He chuckled unsurely. “We’ll ask him? Though you both might have to come a little later than usual, we’re taking him to his appointment tomorrow.”

“Aw, you two are parents now,” Nemuri cooed, undeterred. “Don’t worry, we’ll even make sure to get pizza for him. What toppings does he like?”

“Seafood,” Aizawa finally grunted as the end of lunch bell rang. “Bring strawberry shortcake too, if you’re going to make a nuisance of yourself.”

Nemuri grinned. “Got it, Eraser.”

“You didn’t have to leave school early,” Hitoshi muttered as Aizawa peered at the fresh bandage on his forehead. There was a bruise around it already, and he hissed when the older man brushed a thumb against it.

“I didn’t have to, but I wanted to,” Aizawa said so matter-of-factly that Hitoshi’s cheeks reddened. His feelings towards his mentor were still a messy uncertainty, but he couldn’t deny that the straightforward concern made his chest warm. “It could’ve been a lot worse than just a bump on the head. You had us worried.”

“Sorry,” he mumbled, earning him a sigh.

“Don’t apologize,” Aizawa huffed, gently ruffling his hair. Hitoshi, against his rationale, leaned into the touch, not even pulling away when Aizawa quietly asked a question he was hoping not to answer for a bit. “How are you feeling?”

He paused for a bit, eyes fluttering to the side as he avoided meeting the older man’s searching gaze. “Better,” he managed to say, “but also worse…?” At Aizawa’s questioning hum, Hitoshi put his feet up the couch and curled up beside the hero. “I don’t feel like I’m suffocating, like the world is pressing down on me, anymore. I managed to not spend the entire morning staring at nothing in one spot. Didn’t even dissociate.”

An arm wrapped itself around Hitoshi’s shoulder. “But..?”

“I keep thinking,” he said weakly, resting his head on Aizawa’s shoulder and hating himself a little for how close he pressed against him. “And thinking and thinking and thinking . I couldn’t stop thinking and was so lost in my own thoughts that I tripped over your cat . I keep thinking about my quirk, I keep thinking about training, I keep thinking about the incident, I keep thinking about the upcoming entrance exams, I keep thinking about you and Mic-sensei, I keep thinking about my parents, I keep thinking about the key--” 

“Would it help to talk about any of it?” Aizawa asked lowly, rubbing Hitoshi’s back in a comforting circular motion. Hitoshi shook his head, determined to wait until tomorrow with his therapist. “Does… does the key bother you?”

“No,” he choked. What bothered him about it was-- “it makes me happy.” 

“Okay,” Aizawa exhaled in relief. The arm around Hitoshi tightened in what could’ve been a hug. “Okay.”

The rest of the week went by fast and sometimes Hitoshi felt like it was all a fever dream. On Thursday he spent the entire hour with his therapist struggling to explain his conflicting feelings regarding Aizawa and Yamada, but when he finally did he felt better, lighter - talking out loud did help him a lot. Especially when Miyako-sensei explained to him that his feelings didn’t mean he was replacing his parents, and that he should talk openly with them about the matter when they came back. With a new resolve, he actually smiled when he left the building with Yamada, the hero’s hand warm on his shoulder.

He also met the infamous ‘Nemuri’ and ‘Tensei’ later that afternoon, who were both overwhelming and not. It was interesting seeing how they fit with Aizawa and Yamada, the four friends’ clicking together like strange puzzle pieces that just worked. He’ll probably not call Kayama ‘Aunt Nemuri’ anytime soon, if ever, and he wasn’t sure how to act around Iida, who was his father’s superior and Ingenium . He liked them well enough, though, especially since they had bothered to buy his favorite pizza and favorite dessert (despite it reminding Iida about the Cake Incident and making him bring it up, which was embarrassing on its own). 

On Friday they got back to training, and Aizawa complimented him on getting better with his reaction time and footwork. That had filled him with a bubbly feeling in his chest throughout the rest of the afternoon. Yamada then invited him to hang around in his studio while he did his radio show, so that Hitoshi wouldn’t be alone at home while Aizawa did his patrols, and the hero fanboy in him couldn’t possibly refuse that. Friday was definitely a great day.

Saturday was quirk training. He and Yamada reached a breakthrough with quirk control and usage under brainwash, and Hitoshi let himself be swept up with Yamada’s excited babbling - the voice hero was surprisingly very much into discussing quirk theories and analyses, much more than Aizawa was, and Hitoshi and Yamada could spend a long time talking about quirks while Aizawa rolled his eyes fondly at them from a distance. 

His parents’ also finally had a matching free hour to have a conference call to catch up with Hitoshi that night. They all looked tired, his father much more so than anyone, but there was a comfortable air that surrounded the conversation. Aizawa and Yamada sometimes chiming in with a quip or two about Hitoshi didn’t even disrupt the atmosphere, adding to the familial warmth that surrounded them even, and that’s when Hitoshi finally thought that maybe it was going to be alright.

Sunday night, his father finally arrived back in town, dropping by the Yamada household just in time to join them for dinner. Yamada insisted on a group picture to send to his mother, and the usually stoic Aizawa and Touma even smiled for it. Then his mother replied to it with a ‘I see Hitoshi is having fun with his dads!’

Hitoshi managed to stop his heart from hammering out of his chest and bit his lip until it was just him and his father driving back to their home in Saitama. “Does it bother you?” he asked quietly, staring out at the passing scenery. He didn’t clarify, but Touma didn’t even have to glance back at him to know.

“I think you’re bothered by it more than I could possibly be,” his father calmly said. 

“Of course I am,” Hitoshi muttered, “ you’re my dad.”

“I know I am,” Touma hummed. “You’re not replacing me, Hitoshi.”

He squinted up at Touma. “How can you be so calm about this? I literally freaked out the other day.”

“Hitoshi,” Touma sighed, “you really didn’t think your mother and I wouldn’t notice? We have dinner with them practically once a week - it’s hard not to see, and frankly, we’re surprised it took you this long to realize.” He glanced at Hitoshi, who tried to hide his upset and discomfort with a scowl. Touma made a split second decision and made a detour, pulling up to a Starbucks drive-thru still open at that hour. 

Hitoshi didn’t say anything as his father ordered hot chocolate for both of them and then parked at an open space. He accepted the warm drink and together they sat in silence for a few minutes.

“Hotaru and I are well aware that we aren’t the perfect parents,” Touma started, holding up a hand to silence Hitoshi’s reflexive protests. “I’m a workaholic and your mother travels a lot. It’s fine now that you’re older, but when you were younger it just meant a lot of things missed. We missed it when you started getting bullied. We missed it when you stopped talking. We missed it when you started losing sleep. We did a lot of reactive parenting, but not enough of proactive, and the one who paid the cost was you. That’s on us.”

“You did your best under the circumstances,” Hitoshi insisted. “You couldn’t have known what was happening when I was trying my best to hide it from you both. It’s not-- It’s not your fault I have all these problems.”

“You’re our child , our responsibility,” Touma shot back. “Even if you tried to hide it, we should have noticed . And when we finally did, we didn’t know what to do . All we could do was pay for your hospital bills, pay for your therapists, pay for your medications - sometimes I felt like that was all I did, throw money at everything that could possibly help you because I didn’t know how to help you myself.”

“That’s not true!” Hitoshi shouted, feeling devastated even as he glared at him. “You’re always there to all my appointments, even missing work just to make sure I wasn’t alone for anything. You always take my side during the parent conferences. You learned sign language with me and made jokes that mom couldn’t understand just to make me laugh when I wouldn’t make a sound otherwise. You keep me company when I can’t sleep and watch whatever stupid anime I feel like watching that night. You’ve stopped me from wanting to kill myself . You’ve been nothing but a great dad and I don’t understand why you would ever think otherwise, because without you or mom I would’ve had no one .”

“You start having regrets when you get older,” Touma wryly said and Hitoshi’s glared harder with red-rimmed eyes. “I just want you to understand that you mean the world to me and your mother, and we just want the best for you. We know our shortcomings, where we could’ve done more, been better parents. And if Aizawa and Yamada could fill the gaps, fill the spaces we couldn’t? Then we would never begrudge any of you for doing so.” 

“I just feel so selfish ,” Hitoshi hissed through a sniffle. “I already have you and mom, why do I want them too?”

“No one ever said you could only have one dad, or two parents,” Touma quietly said, pulling his son closer in a hug. “A family could be a mother, three fathers, and their overthinking son who they wouldn’t ever change for the world.”

“I’m gonna need a bigger budget for Father’s Day,” Hitoshi whined lowly and Touma smiled into his hair.

“Ask your mother.”

On Christmas Day, Aizawa found himself and Hizashi at the Shinsou’s porch, gifts and food in their hands.

“Merry Christmas,” Hitoshi greeted at the door as he let them in. Aizawa couldn’t help but snort at the reindeer antlers headband the kid wore while Hizashi beamed in camaraderie with his Santa hat on. 

“Merry Christmas!” Hizashi chirped and hugged Hitoshi with one arm. Then he looked at the kid slyly, holding up the decorative red box he was holding in one hand. “We brought the Christmas cake!” Predictably, Hitoshi groaned.

“It’s not chocolate, at least,” Aizawa added, amused when Hitoshi scowled at him. “And there are no rogue Iida’s around.”

“Iida-san sent you a picture, didn’t he,” Hitoshi flatly said as he took the cake from Hizashi’s hands to put it with the rest of the food. He was, of course, referring to the picture Tensei had sent to Aizawa and Hizashi from the Iida company Christmas party the other day, where Iida Tenya had managed to do a repeat of the Cake Incident. Hitoshi’s offended expression and Tenya’s red-faced horror was hilarious . 

“You know, you two might be classmates next year,” Aizawa told him as Hizashi greeted the Shinsou parents merrily. “And the UA cafeteria has cake as a dessert option sometimes.”

“Next time, he’s buying me a new shirt.”

Aizawa and Hizashi usually spent Christmas Eve by themselves, and Christmas Day with either HIzashi’s parents or also by themselves - villain activity allowing. But this year Hizashi’s parents were off on vacation in America and the Shinsou’s were more than happy to invite them into their home for the holiday. It made Aizawa feel accepted in a way that he rarely felt, and despite Hizashi’s teasing towards him, he knew the other man well enough to see that Hizashi felt just as giddy about the invitation as much as he did.

Christmas was about family, after all, and that’s what they definitely gained since meeting Hitoshi. It had made Aizawa cautious at first, afraid of stepping on Hotaru and Touma’s toes, but the older couple had done a lot to guide and encourage Aizawa and Hizashi’s budding relationship with their kid. That in itself was a gift, an almost overwhelming extension of trust - after all, they had more than enough reasons to demand a strictly professional relationship, or to stop the growing attachment, or to have cut ties with Aizawa immediately after the Nabu Investigation concluded in the first place. But he’s glad that they didn’t, that Hotaru and Touma were as open-hearted as their son, that they allowed them into their tight-knit family.

(Hitoshi would come over to their house more often now, especially on the days when Hotaru and Touma had to work late. Sometimes he’d even sleep over. The guest bedroom felt less like a guest bedroom nowadays, and it was only a matter of time before Hizashi broke and dragged Hitoshi to the store for more personal effects to keep in what could now be considered his room. The house key Aizawa had given Hitoshi was now proudly attached to the kid’s keychain and Aizawa may have felt a little emotional when he and Hizashi came home one day and found Hitoshi sleeping on the couch, his arrival unannounced and clearly having made himself at home.

Touma telling them about Hitoshi’s struggle with his perception and feelings about his relationship with the two heroes had made Aizawa back off a bit initially. Only to have Hitoshi be the one moving things forward, albeit timidly at first. Aizawa’s heart may have stopped the first time Hitoshi jokingly said, “I get it, dad ” and when he had told Hotaru about it he only got a ‘ welcome to parenthood ’ gif in return. Hizashi might as well have died from the sound he made when two weeks later, Hitoshi referred to him as ‘pops’ in English through the group chat. 

They’re still stumbling through the logistics of four adults parenting a single teenager with a mountain full of personal problems and underlying trauma, though mostly it’s Aizawa lowkey panicking about doing or saying the wrong thing and Hotaru both helping and laughing at him. Meanwhile, Touma and Hizashi usually just sent parenting memes and somehow communicated through emojis - something that continued to baffle their partners. Their group chat was currently named “The Parent Club,” though once in a while someone (Hizashi) would change it to something ridiculous like “We Stan One (1) Boy” or “The Boss and Her 3 Hoes.”)

“Time for presents,” Hotaru announced after they’ve eaten, urging the men to migrate to the living room. There was a modest pile of colorfully wrapped packages under the Christmas tree, though the adults knew most of it were for the only kid in the house. 

Touma gave Aizawa and Hizashi matching writing pens - the fancy, luxurious kind that high-end business men had. It was made with smooth metal and came with a case, and Aizawa was delighted to find that his had bright red ink - perfect for viciously grading his students’ papers, which Touma most likely knew. Hotaru on the other hand had gave them each a comfortable cashmere sweater - yellow with black sleeves for Aizawa, black with yellow sleeves for Hizashi. It earned a snort of amusement from Hitoshi, who, without any shame, immediately took a picture of them trying it on.

Aizawa and Hizashi had settled for joint gifts for each of the Shinsou couple. To Hotaru they presented a pair of designer boots that Touma and Hitoshi both assured she’d love, and were relieved to see that was true. For Touma, they had gotten a watch - also picked with his family’s consult - and was treated to the usually stoic and tired man’s pleased smile.

Hitoshi was pink-faced when he handed each couple his presents, a surprisingly thick and heavy rectangular package. It revealed to be photo albums, one for Touma and Hotaru and another for Aizawa and Hizashi. The room was filled hitched breaths and excited gasps as the four adults realized that the albums were already halfway filled with pictures, mostly of each couple with Hitoshi and dammit , Aizawa wasn’t going to cry. He didn’t realize the kid had even taken that many pictures with him and Hizashi already, for all that they saw him almost every day of the week. 

“I’m hoping by next Christmas we’ve like, finished the album by then. Both of them,” Hitoshi muttered shyly, and Hizashi wailed .

“How can I possibly beat that?!” Hizashi cried as he practically slammed his gift in front of Hitoshi. It was a big rectangular box that could only contain one thing, and Aizawa was glad to never face it in their office ever again. Especially since it brought out a laugh from Hitoshi.

“I didn’t actually think you’d get me one for Christmas!” Hitoshi grinned at the boxed figure of the man literally in front of him. The miniature Present Mic grinned back up at him. “Thank you… Yamada.”

“I’ve been upgraded from Mic-sensei!” Hizashi cheered. “Progress is progress!”

“If you keep that in this household, I’ll take you to the cat cafe in Akihabara next month,” Aizawa told Hitoshi seriously, pointing at the figure. “I never want to see that under my roof ever again.”

“Right, you already have your hands full with the lifesize one,” Hitoshi dryly said.

Aizawa had asked to give his gift last so he only had himself to blame when he had to wait to hand Hitoshi the modest box still under the tree. He watched as Hitoshi delightfully accepted the new handheld system with its respective video games from his father and the tablet with accompanying pen and accessories from his mother, hoping that his gift would get just as positive of a reaction from the teenager.

When Hitoshi finally turned to him expectantly, eyebrow cheekily raised, Aizawa was prepared. He made a show of rolling his eyes at Hitoshi’s exaggerated grabby hands, handing him the last gift left. He’s not sure what the kid expected, but it probably wasn’t what he had gotten.

“It’s my first one, from right before I went pro and switched the one I have now,” Aizawa explained as Hitoshi carefully took out his old capture weapon with silent shock. “I’ll teach you how to use it, if you want. Or you can just keep it as a keepsake, I don’t mind. But I do want you to have it.”

“Are you kidding me?” Hitoshi gasped at him, looking almost offended, “ Of course I want to learn how to use it. As soon as possible. I’d ask you to teach me now , if it wasn’t Christmas!”

“I’ll remember those words when you complain about getting tangled in them for the hundredth time,” Aizawa grinned wryly. Hizashi chuckled as well, probably remembering the number of times he had to untangle him, back when Aizawa was still figuring out the intricacies of his weapon.

“This is the best Christmas ever,” Hitoshi declared as he wrapped the capture weapon around his neck and shoulder. Aizawa’s heart flip flopped at the sight, in tune with the kid’s pleased noises. “Seriously, I’m so happy.”

“Good,” Touma said, ruffling his son’s hair with a smile. Hotaru was on Hitoshi’s other side, also grinning widely. “You deserve to be.”

Aizawa wholeheartedly agreed.

A few days into January, Aizawa was called into a meeting with Nezu.

“It’s about Shinsou,” Nezu started with, which immediately made Aizawa snap into attention. “I would like him to take the recommendation exam. In fact, I insist on it.”

“I thought you wanted to see how he would do in the regular exam,” Aizawa warily said after a moment of silence. “I’ve been preparing him under that assumption. What changed your mind?”

Nezu stirred his tea, the spoon clinking against fine china the only sound in the silence. “As principal, I’m allowed a lot of leeway without having to involve the board. However, they do reserve the right to look over the upcoming heroics students and challenge my decision depending on how many of them object to an inclusion of a student.”

Aizawa’s scowl got deeper the longer Nezu talked. “You think someone will contest Hitoshi’s position in the hero course.”

“Sanada can be very compelling,” Nezu smiled blandly. “And her niece is a student at Nabu Middle School.”

Aizawa cursed. “I promised them that the incident wouldn’t affect his acceptance into UA,” he gritted at the principal. “I intend to keep that promise. Would going through the recommendation exam be safe from the board’s meddling?”

Nezu grinned. 

“The recommendation exam?” Hitoshi looked at the form in front of him with wide eyes. On the bottom, under references, were Aizawa and Principal Nezu’s names, contact info, and signatures already written. And if Yamada’s pen twirling was anything to go by, he was about to get the required third signature from him. “Isn’t this nepotism?”

“The hero industry is built on nepotism,” Aizawa deadpanned from his left. From his right, Touma made an agreeing sound and nodded. Neither looked up from reading through Principal Nezu’s written proposal.

Hitoshi made a face. “What’s wrong with taking the regular entrance exam?” He looked between Aizawa’s sour face and the principal’s bland one suspiciously. Yamada shrugged at him, instead taking the paper from his hands so that he could sign it enthusiastically. His mother, beside his father, was also engrossed in the written proposal. “What am I getting into?”

“I’ll be blunt with you, Shinsou-kun,” Principal Nezu said with an unnervingly pleasant tone. “The regular practical exam for heroics was not made for quirks like yours. And while Aizawa is confident that you would’ve passed, the way the system works is definitely against you from the beginning.”

“People like to see flashy quirks in heroes,” Aizawa scowled. “Flashy and destructive. UA has used the same entrance exam the past two decades. I failed it.”

Flashy and destructive? Hitoshi thought. Probably designed to show off combat capabilities, since heroics as a whole required some proficiency in fighting, as Aizawa liked to drill into him. And UA was an elite school, with a high budget and vast technological resources. “You don’t go against humans, do you? If it was just fighting against other heroes or something similar to that, you wouldn’t say that it’s against me. People are my ideal opponent.” Not people, but most likely destructive and able to cause even more pressure in an already high-stress environment. Malleable enough to be taken down by third year middle schoolers. “Robots?”

Nezu smiled, looking pleased. “Robots.”

“And the scoring system?” Hitoshi couldn’t help but ask, interested. UA had been able to keep the secret of their entrance exam for decades, and they were very thorough in making sure no leaks were found online. “A uniform point system wouldn’t be efficient, and it would require far more robots unless the passing score was set low. Tiered points? Not to mention it can’t possibly just be about taking down the robots - Aizawa emphasized a lot on rescue and assistance when we talked about hero work, and the top hero school of the country wouldn’t count against someone who tries to help or save someone mid-exam…”

“My, my, you are smart,” Nezu complimented. “Of course, your mock exam scores told me that long ago, but it’s good to see it’s not just in an academic book sense.”

“Don’t act like you don’t spy on us when we’re training,” Aizawa muttered.

“If I may though, Principal Nezu,” Hotaru interrupted, glancing up from a paragraph on the last page of the proposal with a frown on her face. “Why go through all this trouble if you intend on placing Hitoshi in General Education anyway?”

Hitoshi whirled to his mother. “ What? ” 

“Let me explain,” Nezu said, putting a paw up to command silence and attention. “Like I told Aizawa before, the school board is primarily interested in the heroics students. Every year I give them a list of the top 40 passing students and their quirks and usually there’s no contention. However, with Shinsou-kun I’ve found that there might be some problems.”

“It’s my quirk, isn’t it?” Hitoshi asked sullenly.

“In part,” Nezu nodded, “we have no tolerance for any kind of discrimination or harrassment within our walls, of course, but board isn’t under my law and you are technically not an official UA student yet. There is also a fact that a vocal member of the board has a niece that was involved in the incident at your middle school.” At this, Hitoshi paled. “I see you understand the problem with this. While the press might have been kept out of it, the same could not be said about the family members of your school mates.”

“They all know my name,” the teenager grimaced. “Shinsou isn’t a common surname, and if that board member also knew that I came from Nabu Middle…”

“Are they allowed to do that?” Hotaru fretted.

“There’s been a precedent to it, unfortunately,” Nezu admitted. “That being said, they only meddle with heroics students, and heroics students only . The other departments might as well be barely on their mind.”

“Entering Hitoshi through Gen Ed would put him under their radar,” Touma contemplated as he skimmed through the papers in front of him again. “Of course, it’s at the cost of missing the first two months of the heroics curriculum.”

Hitoshi itched to read the document the adults had. “Two months?”

“Sports festival is on May,” Yamada reminded him. “Depending on a student’s performance, they can be advised to swap courses. It’s rare, but there have been Gen Ed students that have moved up to Heroics thanks to it - case in point, Shouta.”

“I admit that keeping you in Gen Ed until after the Sports Festival has an ulterior motive to it,” Nezu smiled. “Aizawa has been thorough in teaching you, hasn’t he?” Aizawa squinted at the principal suspiciously. “In your expert opinion, Aizawa, Yamada, if you compared him to the average first year student in the hero course, where would he be?”

“He’d pass the first term final exam easily,” Aizawa said after a moment of thinking. “Hitoshi’s combat is still getting there, compared to the best fighters in the first year classes, but his quirk usage is above and beyond what some third years can even manage. He’ll probably be able to pass the second term final exam as well.”

Yamada nodded in agreement. “And we’re not just saying that because we’re his teachers, it’s actually impressive how his quirk has grown. We’re so close to pushing the amount of pain it would take to break his brainwashing even further - right now, with a firm enough hold he can get me and Shouta to spar hand-to-hand. Soon he could probably get us both to use our quirks while fighting under his control.”

Hitoshi sank into his seat, partly embarrassed and partly incredulous at the praise. “It’s probably going to be harder against opponents that would be completely fighting it,” he murmured.

“Still, that’s quite a quirk you got there,” Nezu hummed. “It would’ve been a shame had you slipped through the cracks with that much potential, because of a flawed exam. When was the last time a Gen Ed student won the Sports Festival again?”

“Fifteen years ago,” Aizawa said dryly. Nezu’s grin widened.

“It’s time to revise the entrance practical exam, wouldn’t you say? If only a certain group of people weren’t so stubborn .”

“A Gen Ed student winning the Sports Festival, against the top hero students,” Touma murmured contemplatively. “Quite the headline maker. I can see the articles now - what was UA thinking, putting a student like that in Gen Ed? Is their selection process flawed? How many other hero potentials did they skip over due to an unfair exam?”

“You want me to win the Sports Festival?” Hitoshi asked incredulously. “For what, a power play?”

“Nothing gets people to act faster than a potential scandal,” Nezu giddily said. “Of course, you don’t even have to win the entire thing - reaching the final round and taking down one or two hero students would be an impressive enough feat.”

“I don’t half-ass things,” Hitoshi scowled.

“And of course, your performance in the Sports Festival would only compliment your performance in the Recommendation Exam,” the principal continued. “Should you do well on both, then your inclusion to the hero course after the festival is iron-clad, regardless of what the board thinks. In this case, think of the Recommendation Exam as insurance.” 

“So I take the Recommendation Exam, pass it , but still get put into Gen Ed?” Hitoshi recounted with a frown. “Then after I miss the first two months of the heroics course, I’m expected kick ass during the Sports Festival, then transfer to heroics without a spiteful aunt threatening my acceptance to the course? And you hopefully get to embarrass the board bad enough via me that they’ll agree to change the practical exam.”

“Yep!” Nezu chirped. “And technically, you’ll be pretty much a hero student from the beginning. You just won’t be able to join your class for a few weeks. But you’ll be allowed to continue with your training with Aizawa and Yamada, which is more than enough to make up the lost two months.”

“You don’t make any sense,” Hitoshi hissed, almost wildly. Nezu’s grin got even wider .

“It will be, what Aizawa would say, all a logical ruse.”

Hitoshi stared at him. The other four politely didn’t interrupt the stare-off, even Aizawa. They didn’t even flinch when Hitoshi slapped a hand on the principal’s desk.

“Access to the support department?” He demanded. “Hero costume?”

“Done and done,” Nezu said, looking amused.

“Training facilities?” Hitoshi’s lips pursed when Nezu rose his eyebrows and flicked his head towards Aizawa and Yamada, which, fair. “How would my exam ranking work?”

“Like normal,” the principal blinked. “The rankings for all written exams are always made public, and you do still have to take them, regardless of which practical you take. Is that important to you?”

Hitoshi grinned toothily, making Yamada choke at how much he eerily looked like Aizawa. “Making top rankings on the top three hero schools in the country is the biggest middle finger I could ever give Nabu Middle, and I’ve studied my ass off the past three years to make sure I deliver .” 

Ketsubutsu’s exams were cake. Shiketsu was a bit harder, but Hitoshi left their campus confident that he at least made the top percent. UA’s Gen Ed exam was the first out of all courses, and if he didn’t at least get top five in that he’d eat his beloved All Might hoodie. The Management exam he still took despite no desire to enter the course, because just getting his name into the rankings meant that other management students would be aware of his existence. His dad was very well known in the field, after all, and he always had students clamouring for internships under him - a bargaining chip Hitoshi was well prepared to use at some point in his career at UA. 

The Recommendation Exam took place a day before the regular Heroics entrance exam, and Hitoshi was ready and in incognito mode - hair down and with a medical mask on. Not getting recognized later on would lessen any questions directed his way should he encounter any of the passing recommendation students in the hero course while he’s stuck playing Gen Ed. His capture weapon was also a comforting weight on his shoulders - it had been approved for him to use during the practical exam, and he’d spent the last month enduring Aizawa’s crash course from Hell to be able to use it, at least for mobility, without strangling himself. 

The written exam had been laughably easy, since the practical weighed more for heroics, which probably explained the amount of complaining Aizawa did whenever he had to grade his hero students’ assignments. And true to form, it didn’t take long for all the applicants to finish the exam - they all were sponsored or recommended for being exceptional, after all, academics included.

There were a total of sixty applicants, and Hitoshi took his assigned number from a grinning Present Mic with a simple nod. The practical exam was straightforward - a Quirk free-for-all race through a 3 km obstacle course, done in random groups of six. Times recorded. Aizawa’s Hell Training was going to be so worth it.

Sure, trying to beat #41 and #23’s insane time was impossible, but he just had to be faster than the rest, not those two. It didn’t seem like anyone had any kind of speed quirk (no Iida Tenya, curiously), and the aforementioned power duo seemed to be the exception among the crowd, not the norm. No one in his group stood out, at least not to the same extent the girl who pulled out a whole ass pair of rollerblades from her skin had, which eased some of his nerves. He couldn’t afford to choke at this point, especially with all the confidence his parents and mentors had given him - he had to pass. His application had Principal Nezu’s signature, for god’s sake.

(Hitoshi was also very much relieved no one around had an electric quirk, because he’s not sure he’s still completely prepared to deal with that .)

“Ready?” Present Mic asked him and the five others lined up at the starting line with him. They all took their ready positions. “On go - 3, 2, 1, Go!”

Immediately, Hitoshi whistled sharply, making the other five flinch reflexively and ripe for Hitoshi’s taking. He grinned under his mask - it was a new trick he and Yamada had discovered, because while whistling didn’t necessarily use his vocal chords, done right and he used just enough of his voice to trigger his quirk. Not enough to take complete control, but enough to stop someone in their tracks for as long Hitoshi allowed. 

Thirty seconds was plenty of time to get a head start. Hitoshi wanted to win, but he wasn’t going to completely sabotage his other competitors.

He heard the sounds of indignation and surprise from a distance when the thirty seconds was up, and one of them might have actually argued if what Hitoshi had done was even allowed, instead of actually starting the course. (It was totally allowed, Hitoshi had thoroughly read the exam packet.) His advantage held on even as he started the actual obstacle part of the obstacle course, though one of his competitors was catching up well ahead of the others. He hoped Aizawa was fucking proud when he had to use the stupid technique that had taken him an entire Saturday to pull off to get through a particularly rough part of the course, though Hitoshi could hear Yamada gleefully laughing when he did.

“Aren’t you glad your teacher made you run every day?” Yamada quietly asked as he recorded Hitoshi’s final time. Hopefully the grin on his face meant that it was a good one. 

“You and I know he’s going to be busy being so smug about the move I had to pull earlier,” Hitoshi grumbled just as quietly.

He’d gotten a few sour looks and glares from the other five in his group, and he met them with his signature dead-eyed look. They all had the opportunity to use their quirks to their advantage, even after their delayed start, so they shouldn’t completely blame their poor performance on entirely him. If anything, the disadvantage should have driven them further, if only out of spite. 

The final part of the exam was an interview, and that was one part Hitoshi wasn’t sure what to expect. He was good with words, more so now that he wasn’t afraid or wary to talk, but people were always quick to make snap judgements about him with one look at how he looked or what his quirk was. They were separated into groups again, and Hitoshi took note at how he was grouped with both the students with the fastest times and the students with the slowest. Hitoshi was called in fifth, and he steeled himself before opening the door to the interview room.

He stared at Principal Nezu and Aizawa with an unimpressed look.

“Nepotism,” Aizawa deadpanned.

Chapter Text

On graduation day, Hitoshi visited Nabu Middle solely to get his diploma and to give the teachers a big fat ‘Fuck You’ smile. No one that saw him had to ask why he wasn’t in uniform, or why he wasn’t doing a graduation speech as the top academic student, or why he wasn’t even attending the ceremony in the first place. They seemed to scuttle away like flies the moment he got within ten feet of them, and while that may have hurt his feelings a year ago, now he just felt unimpressed with his classmates as a whole. 

(He liked to think that he’d done a lot of growing as a person since the incident. Nowadays Hitoshi felt more comfortable in his skin, more comfortable in letting his true self shine through a little. He’s still not the most extroverted of people, but at least he wasn’t afraid to simply just talk anymore. Hitoshi just… felt good .)

A surprise came in the form of Yokohara and Sakurai stopping him on his way out of the school building. Thankfully it was at an empty stairwell where neither of them had to deal with everyone’s nosy looks, though he wasn’t sure what to expect from the two girls. The fact that they even cornered him was a feat in itself.

“Happy graduation, Shinsou-kun!” Yokohara smiled at him and Sakurai mirrored it timidly. Hitoshi stared at them for a moment, before nodding back in acknowledgement.

“You too, both.”

Encouraged by the reply, Yokohara perked up. She had always been a strange girl - popular because of how positive and approachable she was in addition to being uncommonly pretty, so Hitoshi guessed it was in character of her to speak to the guy that could have brainwashed her if Hitoshi didn’t have any shred of morals. “I heard you got accepted into UA! Congratulations!”

“Thanks,” Hitoshi said shortly. He looked at her and the fidgeting Sakurai warily. “I wish you well in your new high schools.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Yokohara waved a hand, and then pulled out her phone from her blazer. Sakurai looked even more nervous, but took her phone out too. “Anyway, let’s exchange numbers, Shinsou-kun.”

“...What?”

Aizawa looked through his class roster again and could practically feel the headache already forming. He, Kan, and Principal Nezu had spent hours pouring over the four passing recommended students (Hitoshi excluded) and the top 36 from the regular exam, trying to separate them into two balanced classes. There were a lot of calls for dibs. A lot of shuffling back and forth. A lot of coffee. Towards the end, Aizawa had been ready to throw hands against Kan for Monoma (who he lost) and Tokoyami (who he won). Not to mention figuring out what to do with Todoroki, partly because that kid was quite possibly an emotionally constipated disaster waiting to happen and partly because neither of them wanted to deal with Endeavor. 

Then there were the Potential Problem Children from Aldera Middle School - Bakugou and Midoriya. Both had been put in Aizawa’s class because of his ability to diffuse any volatile situation and with these two - a literal bomb with a short fuse and a kid that broke a concerning amount of bones using his quirk with a shared past that Aldera Middle was being extremely shady about - well, there was no question about it. They would’ve driven Kan to an early grave. Aizawa, at least, had experience in all kinds of bullshit.

Kan didn’t know about Hitoshi, the technically 41st Heroics student, and he and Nezu intended to keep it that way, at least for now. Maybe. Which meant that Aizawa still had to start the year with officially 20 students in his class - not that it bothered him. He was notorious for expelling students he thought had no potential and he had little to no tolerance for rule breaking. And if this happened to be the class that manages to survive a whole year with a single expulsion? Well, 21 students wasn’t the oddest class size UA has had. 

It’s because of Aizawa’s hard handed teaching style that had Nezu putting Kaminari Denki and Mineta Minoru into his class. Kaminari’s practical exam had a respectable result, though quirk overuse seemed to be a major problem for the boy. (Electrification quirk, he noted with a frown. Something to warn Hitoshi about.) It’s the written exam that had Nezu concerned - Kaminari had passed by the skin of his teeth. It was clear that the boy had academic issues, and while the Hero course had a less rigorous academic curriculum compared to the other courses to make up for the practical hero subjects, the workload was still demanding. An eye would need to be kept on him to make sure he didn’t fall behind and consequently flunk out due to grades. Mineta, on the other hand, had decent scores on both the practical and written exams, but his middle school file noted behavioral problems. Sexual harassment, to be precise, and that was definitely something that Aizawa will not tolerate at all in his classroom or in this school. Nezu was most likely counting on him to straighten Mineta out, or show him the consequences.

The term hadn’t even started and he was already tempted to expel them all.

(Plus nothing , including being an unofficial co-parent of a teenage boy, has made him feel older than becoming Tenya’s teacher. Aizawa used to babysit him with Tensei and Hizashi back when they were in high school, for god’s sake.

He at least had the satisfaction of seeing the horrified shock on Tenya’s face when he realized who, exactly , his new homeroom teacher was.)

Apparently, Yokohara and Sakurai had decided to attend an all-girls high school a train stop away from UA. That was how he found himself taking the Saitama to Musutafu train with the two  girls beside him, though he’s still sort of reeling at the fact that the two (or at least, Yokohara) had decided the three of them were friends (?!?!) sometime between getting his number and the first day of their high school careers. 

“Cute kitty,” Sakurai murmured quietly, referring to the kitty video posted on Hitoshi’s twitter feed. Yokohara peered at his phone from Hitoshi’s other side interestedly and cooed at the video. Their lack of sense for personal space continued to alarm Hitoshi, but he didn’t say anything about it - was it a girl thing? Or a friend thing? He really couldn’t tell.

“Hey, Shin-chan,” Yokohara beamed up at him. The nickname thing was new, too - the only nicknames people his age gave him were usually about his quirk or the ever straightforward ‘villain,’ so being called Shin-chan made Hitoshi itch to frantically text an SOS to Yamada. He’d know what to do, after probably laughing at him first. “You like bubble tea, right? Have you looked at which ones are good around Musutafu?”

“I like Chat Tea,” Hitoshi said after a moment. “It’s a block from my stop. Their toppings are always fresh and they have the best matcha in the area, I think.”

It was weird, talking normally to other kids his age. He knew he would’ve had to at UA, but he was so used to exclusively talking to adults the past few months that a conversation about something as mundane as bubble tea with fellow high schoolers felt surreal to him. Especially since Yokohara and Sakurai were from Nabu. He’s never even shared a class with either of them, even if Sakurai had given him those chocolates last year and Yokohara never seemed to be as wary as the rest of the school was of him. He hasn’t been able to bring himself to ask why they decided to reach out to him, after the incident, after months of physical absence from school, especially with Yokohara’s connection to the incident. Guilt, maybe? Pity?

“Oh, we should go after school then!” Yokohara hummed. “Unless you have plans?”

Normally he would, to train with Aizawa and Yamada, but they had decided to take a break for the first few days of school to let Hitoshi slow down and prevent burn out. And, they had emphasized, to give him a chance to be social. This counted, right? “I’m free today,” he found himself saying. “I can show you guys the best food stalls around.”

Yokohara and Sakurai both looked excited, so Hitoshi counted that as a win for this Friending thing.

1-C’s classroom looked just like 1-A’s, which was a little anticlimactic. Then again, he’s been visiting UA for months, so he’s familiar with some parts of the campus. Wearing the uniform though, even if it was the Gen Ed one, had brought upon a new giddy feeling in him that morning. He was a UA student, officially. (And a hero one at that, semi-officially.) Shinsou Hitoshi had made it.

Everyone noticed that 1-A never appeared for the opening ceremony, and from the exasperated glances from the other teachers, that was expected. Yamada had told him that Aizawa liked to test his students as soon as possible, and that last year he had ended the first day with an empty homeroom. 

After the opening ceremony, they were sent back to their classrooms for another hour of getting to know each other. Hitoshi wasn’t fond of class introductions, since all it took was him saying what his quirk was for everyone to judge him, but Aizawa did keep telling him to stop worrying about what other people thought about him and his quirk. And he’s trying to seem less like a standoffish asshole, but that might be a losing battle. He’s always had an unfriendly resting face.

“Shinsou Hitoshi,” he dryly introduced himself once it was his turn, “I like cats and cycling. My quirk is brainwashing. Nice to meet everyone.”

True to his predictions, some wide-eyes stared at him at the mention of his quirk, even after he’d sat back down and the girl behind him started introducing herself. But the looks didn’t make his skin crawl or his stomach churn like it would have months ago - these people didn’t know him, and he didn’t need their approval if they were all just going to be bigots. (Progress, he could hear Aizawa say in his head.)

Surprisingly enough, once they were free to talk with themselves for a bit, the first person to talk to him didn’t start off with his quirk. The boy sitting to his right - Sakamoto, he had introduced himself - leaned towards him and peered at Hitoshi behind thick framed glasses. “Shinsou-san, you ranked #1 at the written entrance exams, didn’t you?”

Hitoshi blinked at him, “Sure.”

Gen Ed, unlike the other courses, was a hybrid department. While it had a separate and more difficult written entrance exam than heroics, a percentage of heroics applicants that just didn’t make the cut in the practical but showed an exceptional written score were put in Gen Ed. However, while it did have the rep of being the “hero reject course,” people seemed to forget that there were students that applied for Gen Ed because it was still a top tier course in the top school of the country. UA’s Gen Ed graduates went to the best universities and became the best in their career field. That being said, it made some sense that the girl behind Sakamoto - Matsuda, who was a hero course reject - had asked which entrance exam he meant.

Sakamoto was still locked in a stare with Hitoshi when he said, “Heroics and Gen Ed.”

“What?” Matsuda looked shocked, “then what are you doing here?!”

“My quirk doesn’t work on robots,” Hitoshi replied dryly. He was being truthful, even if he didn’t actually take the regular practical exam. 

“Ugh, that’s so unfair,” Matsuda whined. “Doesn’t that mean your written is higher than everyone in the hero course right now?”

“I’m pretty sure most of us have higher academic scores than half the hero course,” another girl - Takashima, who sat in front of him - said. “We’re here because the practical is stupid and biased. If UA wasn’t such a good school regardless of department, I would’ve gone to Hyoutei since I got rejected by heroics anyway.”

“Are you not going to try to transfer in?” Hitoshi couldn’t help but ask with a frown. “That’s what I was going to do.”

The other three looked confused. “Transfer in?” Takashima asked. “How?” Hitoshi met their confusion with his own.

“The sports festival?” Hitoshi flickered between the three, not seeing any comprehension. Matsuda immediately looked to be furiously googling on her phone, and even Sakamoto was suddenly on the UA webpage looking for any mention about it. “If you do well enough in the sports festival, they’ll reconsider you for the hero course.”

“Sensei!” Takashima yelled with her hand raised, ceasing all other conversation in the room. Cementoss looked up from what he was reading. “Is it true that you can transfer to the hero course if you do well in the sports festival?”

Half the classroom straightened and whipped their eyes to their homeroom teacher with surprising intensity. Cementoss tilted his rectangular head. “Yes,” he said, “we usually don’t tell Gen Ed students for another week, but since you asked I can confirm that it is true.” The room exploded into chatter at that, and Cementoss had to cough to get another word in. “Keep it to yourself for now,” he smiled. “Consider it as an advantage over the other Gen Ed classes.”

“I thought that was common knowledge, at least to the hero course applicants,” Hitoshi muttered, mostly to himself, but Sakamoto heard it anyway and snorted.

“Anyway, I wanted to ask you if you would like to study together,” Sakamoto said. “I don’t have any interest in becoming a hero, so I want to concentrate solely on my studies. And since you’re currently #1…”

Hitoshi pursed his lips, thinking. He was only in Gen Ed for a few weeks, but his parents (all four of them) did ask him to play nice with his classmates, temporary or not. He’ll have to adjust his training sessions with Aizawa and Yamada, but they were already considering doing that anyway. “Sure, why not,” he shrugged, earning a pleased smile from the other boy. “I probably can’t meet every day, and especially not on Thursdays.”

“We can figure out a schedule once we have a better gauge of the expected workload,” Sakamoto nodded.

“We haven’t even had lessons yet and you’re already talking about studying?” Matsuda groaned. She perked up and grinned at him. “I’m more interested in your quirk, Shinsou-kun!”

“Are you,” Hitoshi said flatly. Masuda looked undeterred, and Takashima even turned her attention back at them.

“Brainwashing, huh?” Matsuda scooted her chair closer to him. “Like, how? Can you show me?”

“Are you serious?” Hitoshi squinted at her. Her smile didn’t falter. Takashima and Sakamoto also leaned forward interestedly. Hitoshi felt a little wrong-footed, not expecting something like this on his first day. Wariness and avoidance, sure, not this strange budding acquaintanceship with three of his temporary classmates. “Give me your hand,” he decided to say, remembering that he’s supposed to pretend his quirk was touch based. A white lie he’ll have to keep up with to keep his advantage going into the sports festival.

“Okay,” Matsuda chirped as she held out her left hand towards him, which was enough for Hitoshi to get a hold of her. Of course, he didn’t pull her metaphorical string until all five of his fingers were wrapped around her wrist.

“Twirl your hair with your right hand,” Hitoshi said quietly, and Takashima breathed in sharply when Matsuda did so without question. Sakamoto merely rose an eyebrow. “Pinch your cheek.”

“Ow!” Matsuda jumped in her seat after she followed his command and he let go of her wrist. He leaned back, waiting for their reactions - whether it was negative or positive. “Whoa, that felt so weird.”

“Looked kinda creepy,” Takashima frowned. “But I can see how that would be good for hero work. It’s a shame about the robots.”

Matsuda and Sakamoto nodded in agreement, and that was that. Hitoshi was once again surprised. Huh. Maybe high school really was going to be different, in more ways than one.

Aizawa didn’t end up expelling anyone. As much as his class was a disaster waiting to happen, they all did have potential, even if Midoriya needed to learn how to stop breaking his goddamn bones and Bakugou needed to take some anger management classes. None of them had invoked the same kind of passion Hitoshi had, in Aizawa’s opinion, but it was at least clear that they were all determined to become heroes.

Hitoshi, at least, seemed to be starting off the school year well. He had texted the group chat earlier (a new one that included both sets of ‘parents’ and Hitoshi, aptly named “no one in this house sleeps”) about hanging out with Yokohara, Sakurai, and three of his new classmates and Hizashi had gone teary eyed reading that, weeping onto Aizawa’s shoulder about how ‘their little boy was growing up, look at him making friends!’

(Aizawa felt just as emotional, but he was better at hiding it.)

Before he had dismissed his class though, he made sure to invoke the fear of god into their hearts. He always made it clear to his classes that he had little tolerance for bullshit, and that if they were going to graduate as heroes then they were going to be damn good ones.

“You’re future heroes as of now,” he had said to them, all twenty teenagers sitting up straight in attention and slight fear. “And I expect you all to act like it. This is the starting line of your career, and I can and will cut it short if I see it fit. I have no patience for arrogance, or entitlement. UA has a zero tolerance policy and I will enact it as necessary. That means there is no room for bullying in this school. Discrimination or bigotry because of someone’s quirk, sexuality, gender, or anything regards to their person will not be tolerated. Sexual harassment will earn you a one way ticket to the principal’s office.” Aizawa grinned toothily, and some students even flinched. Mineta looked to be sweating in his seat. “Do not test me on this. I will find out if you toe out of line.”

After letting the kids sweat it out a bit, he dropped his expression back to his standard blank one. “That being said, my door will always be open to talk - whether its regarding school or personal issues. UA has resources to help you in every way possible, and I will never punish you for asking for help.”

Of course, because peace never lasted in this school, All Might fucked up with the Midoriya and Bakugou situation in the Battle Trials not even a day later. Aizawa then spent an entire hour talking to the two problem children and making it clear to a very defiant Bakugou that it didn’t matter if he was one of the top heroics students in his year - the kind of attitude he showed during the trial was unacceptable and he needed to get it together if he didn’t want to risk getting kicked out of the hero course. It had only been the grace of Midoriya that Aizawa hadn’t immediately sent Bakugou packing.

Thankfully, the rest of his students weren’t even a fraction of trouble as the Problem Children and they’ve stopped being baffled whenever he came through the door in his sleeping bag. He could already see the friend groups forming, and he was both relieved and exasperated to see that Tenya had fit himself in with Midoriya and Uraraka. Tensei would be glad to know that his little brother was making friends.

And then USJ happened.

The first thing Aizawa thought once he became conscious was ‘ oh, I’m alive .’ The second thing he thought was ‘ shit, I almost died.’

Aizawa was well aware of the mortality rate of heroes, especially underground ones such as himself. But he had taken a teaching position at UA to lessen that risk, especially after one too many close calls and arguments with Hizashi, and he hasn’t had this bad of a situation in a long, long while. Aizawa was, quite frankly, worried on how Hitoshi was going to take it.

“I’m very upset with you,” Hitoshi said, and Aizawa’s eyes may have still been covered in bandages but he could still tell that the kid had been wrought with worry and had probably been crying at some point. “Dumbass teacher.”

“Don’t talk to your father like that,” he managed to rasp. Hitoshi choked something between a sob and a laugh.

Hizashi later told him that he and Hitoshi had been visiting the hospital after school the past few days since his hospitalization. That Hitoshi had been staying in their house and training when he wasn’t by Aizawa’s bedside. That Hitoshi hadn’t been sleeping well at all, plagued with nightmares about Aizawa dying at USJ.

“It’s gotten better now that you’re awake again, even if you still look like a mummy,” Hizashi said. “But he was really scared of losing you, Shouta. We all were.”

“An unfortunate reality of being a hero,” Aizawa sighed. “I’m glad, though, that Hitoshi isn’t in my class right now. That he wasn’t there.”

Hizashi exhaled heavily, “Me too.”

When Aizawa returned to school, Hitoshi could feel himself be able to breathe again. Yes, his mentor still looked like he belonged in a horror movie, but it was better than seeing him broken and unmoving on a hospital bed. He wondered if what he felt was the same as what his parents had when Hitoshi was in his coma. 

He’d been distracting himself with preparing for the Sports Festival, which was due to be announced soon. With the media flaming on UA for what had happened at USJ, they couldn’t afford to cancel it without making it seem like the school was compromised in some way. Hitoshi felt he was at the very least physically ready, so it was mostly a matter of being mentally ready.

Aizawa had been tight lipped about the quirks in his class, with the exception of warning him about a kid with an electrification quirk, and Hitoshi had been under his instruction long enough to see it as a practical lesson. Heroes, according to Aizawa, had to be prepared going into a case. That included finding out everything they can about their opponents before confronting them. Which meant research. Lots of research. He even printed out his own personal profile layout to use for each student in 1-A and 1-B, who were undoubtedly his biggest competitors.

(He may be a bit more determined to kick 1-A’s ass. There may be some jealousy involved, not that he’d tell anyone that. But Aizawa had almost died for them, and as his favorite student, Hitoshi wanted to make sure those kids were up to par with Aizawa’s standards.)

The class rosters weren’t hard to find out. It was the quirks of each student that were the real problem. He was familiar enough with Iida Tenya to know that he had the family quirk on his legs. He could also remember Todoroki, Yaoyoruzu, Tokage, and Honenuki from the recommendation exam, and knew that Kaminari was the one with the electric quirk, but the rest required some digging.

Unlike most students, Hitoshi had read the UA rulebook cover to cover. He thought of it as an underrated advantage - it was impressively comprehensive, and that was where he found out that a student could, with teacher approval and supervision, watch the recording of that year’s entrance exam. And Yamada was always happy to help.

“You know, I don’t think anyone has actually taken advantage of this since Shouta and I were students,” Yamada offhandedly said as he watched Hitoshi scribble notes all over sheets of paper. 

“Everyone else is an idiot, then,” Hitoshi muttered as he replayed the clip of Shoda from 1-B using his quirk to run faster. “This is a treasure trove of information, what the hell.”

Yamada hummed, still staring at him. “Hey, have you met Midoriya yet?” 

“Who?”

“Zero pointer,” Yamada said. At Hitoshi’s frown, he shrugged. “You’ll see later. Anyway, Shouta was telling me about how he’s a quirk enthusiast too! Writes a bunch of quirk observations in notebooks and stuff. Mumbles a lot .”

Hitoshi looked thoughtful at that. Maybe he could approach him? Ah, but that would be a bit suspicious, wouldn’t it, since Hitoshi was a Gen Ed student and shouldn’t know him anyway. “Maybe after the sports festival,” he murmured, and then rolled his eyes at Yamada’s growing smile. “I could use a different person to talk to about quirks for a change.”

“Ouch, you saying I’m not good enough for you anymore?”

“I’m saying I think Aizawa gets lonely when we ignore him to talk about quirks. He pouts like a cat.”

Yamada snorted. “Pft, well don’t let me stop you from making more friends, Mr. Popular.”

“I’m not popular,” Hitoshi dryly said as he wrote more notes on Ashido’s quirk. 

“Oh, so you weren’t almost made class rep?” 

He met Yamada’s knowing grin with his own unimpressed stare. “That was Matsuda and Sakamoto’s fault,” Hitoshi scowled, but there was pink on his cheeks. “They somehow thought that being #1 in the exam and being the one who knew about the sports festival transfer thing makes me class rep material. I refused anyway - it wouldn’t have been fair to leave them hanging after the festival.”

“Ah, but you still got the vote majority,” Yamada laughed. “I thought you said most of the class was afraid of you still?”

“I thought so too,” Hitoshi groaned, tempted to slam his head on the desk. “Turns out they’re all weird, and most of them think I was robbed by not being in the hero course. I kinda feel guilty about lying to them about that and my quirk.”

“It can’t be helped, kid,” Yamada said sympathetically, ruffling Hitoshi’s hair, though still looking amused. “But hey, you’re doing great - socially and all. We’re real happy for you, you know?”

Hitoshi ducked his head and smiled, “Yeah, I know.”

He still wasn’t satisfied with the information he had gotten from the entrance exam tapes, but it wasn’t like he could skip class and spy on 1-A and 1-B’s hero classes. And he didn’t know anyone from the Support Course to ask about the two classes’ quirks - something they would know considering they made their hero costumes. The Management Department, however...

It took a lot of asking around and some tracking down to finally corner Management’s #1 first year, Ishida. But with a hefty bribe of two cases of melon soda and a promise to introduce her to his father - Shinsou Touma, the Iida company’s miracle worker - during the sports festival, Hitoshi found himself with a folder full of all of the freshmen hero students’ profiles. 

“This is amazing,” he couldn’t help but say as he looked through the pages and pages of info. It even had their body measurements. “And a little terrifying, honestly.”

Ishida grinned at him. It looked a little predatory. “I hope you succeed, Shinsou-san. And think of me when you finally need to pick your managerial partner next term. A Gen Ed to Heroics underdog story pulls quite the attention.”

“I found you an intern,” Hitoshi told his father at dinner that evening. “You’ll like her. She’s terrifying.”

“I’m glad you’re making so many friends, Hitoshi,” Touma pleasantly said.

“You want me to what?” Hitoshi frowned at Aizawa, spinning from where he hung upside down. They were in Ground Gamma, practicing with the capture weapon, though that just meant Aizawa watching and instructing him to do this and that while Hitoshi tried to make sure he didn’t strangle himself with the cloth. 

“You’ve done your homework, right?” Aizawa said through the bandages still on his face, peering at him with his barely visible eyes. Hitoshi, knowing that he didn’t mean the regular schoolwork, nodded. “It’s a test for them. They should be wary of all the eyes on them and take threats seriously. Everyone in Gen Ed knows about the transfer clause, but Heroics students don’t. They can’t afford to take it easy.”

“Faced with a direct challenge, you want to see who will step up and check the competition,” Hitoshi said as he swung from one pipe to another in one fluid movement. He was getting better at this, he thought. “Who will take the opposition seriously, and who will brush it off like it doesn’t matter to them.”

“The so-called ‘heroics rejects’ in Gen Ed are there because someone in Heroics right now scored a point or two more than they did, or because their quirk doesn’t work with robots and they couldn’t get enough rescue points to pass,” Aizawa said. “If a Heroics student gets defeated by a Gen Ed one, despite the weeks of training they’ve acquired so far, then who should really be in the hero course?”

“Looks like I’ll be stopping by your classroom soon then, sensei,” Hitoshi grinned.

And as promised, the day the Sports Festival was announced to everyone, a crowd had formed outside of 1-A’s classroom after school. Hitoshi scoffed quietly - everyone wanted to check the class that had faced a villain ambush and survived. He at least had the excuse of following Aizawa’s orders.

“I think the entire first year Gen Ed is here,” Takashima pursed her lips, looking around. Matsuda fruitlessly tried to see through the crowd of students on her tiptoes, while Hitoshi had no problems thanks to his height. So he was able to see Bakugou Katsuki step forward and antagonize an entire department with one sentence. Calling everyone a mob, honestly . Hitoshi had no fondness for that kind of attitude.

“We did come all this way to see what you guys were made of, true,” Hitoshi blandly said, ignoring Matsuda and Takashima’s startled looks as he stepped through the crowd. He had a part to play, after all. He tilted his head at Bakugou. “But I didn’t think you’d be this arrogant. Are all of you in heroics this way?”

Bakugou bared his teeth at him, seething, “Hah?” From behind the blond, Hitoshi noticed Midoriya frantically shaking his head and Iida Tenya turn pale and then red faced at the sight of him. 

“You know, a lot of Gen Ed kids were put here because of the practical exam,” Hitoshi continued, and the hallway had turned silent to listen to him. The other 1-A students moved closer to the door for a better view of what was happening. “Did you know that depending on the results of the Sports Festival, they’ll consider someone’s transfer into Heroics?” That had gotten the hero students’ attention - it was clear none of them knew that, and there was the worry. He narrowed his eyes at them. “And the reverse is true. If you’re not careful, one of us might pull the rug from under any of you - costing your position in the hero course.”

He stepped forward, smiling unkindly, “Consider it a declaration of war.”

(“‘Consider it a declaration of war,’” Yamada gleefully quoted later. Hitoshi groaned in embarrassment. “That was so dramatic, Hitoshi! Bravo !”

“He gets that from you,” Aizawa dryly said, though his curled up lips betrayed his own amusement. “Drama queen.”

“How did you even find that out? My mouth just ran off,” Hitoshi whined lowly. He buried his face in his hands. “My class keeps telling me how cool I looked. How am I supposed to deal with that ? People have never said I was cool. My own classmates are a bigger emotional threat to me than the Sports Festival at this point.”

“Tenya told Tensei, who told us,” Yamada helpfully informed him. “That kid tells his brother everything .”

“I hope I get to pay him back for both cake incidents,” Hitoshi grumbled.)

Aizawa always told him that he had to work smarter and harder than any other kid in Heroics. Hitoshi knew, even with Aizawa, Yamada, and Principal Nezu’s confidence, that the Sports Festival wouldn’t be simple, not for him. The truth of the matter was that his quirk needed other people to make an impact. Alone, it wouldn’t make him faster or stronger, it wouldn’t get him on the same power level as Todoroki or Bakugou. He had to approach the Sports Festival with a sharp, critical mind, because right now his brain was his biggest weapon.

“We’re just here to make the hero students look good, aren’t we?” Takashima scowled at the lackluster response their class introduction got compared to 1-A.

“And they got that Bakugou kid as our representative,” Matsuda pouted. “Just because he scored the highest in the practical, huh? They should’ve asked you, Shinsou-kun, since you’re actually the #1 first year.”

“God no,” Shinsou deadpanned as Bakugou antagonized their entire year once again. “I hate speaking to a crowd.”

“Didn’t seem like it before, Mr. Declaration of War,” Sakamoto said. Hitoshi glared at him.

Hitoshi had expected something to cull the mass of freshmen into a fraction of their number, so in hindsight an obstacle race wasn’t that much of a surprise. Hitoshi’s capture weapon was inconspicuously wrapped around his waist, under his shirt - a secret weapon for when really needed. He was one of the few Gen Ed students to register a support item for the festival. No need to grab attention this early, and 1-A was sure to recognize a replica of their own teacher’s weapon.

This was just like the recommendation exam, he thought as Midnight called start. He didn’t have to finish first - and if the previous sports festivals were to go by, he didn’t want to - he just had to finish within the top 42. Simple enough, he thought.

Already the hero students were being completely extra . He himself had no problems vaulting himself over the tightly packed students in the tunnel, taking care not to step on anyone’s head, but he couldn’t help but whistle at the aftermath of Todoroki’s initial charge. He took advantage of the reactions around him to use his quirk like he did in the recommendation exam, freezing a handful of other students long enough for him to get a head start. 

In some ways it was good that he hung back a little in the beginning - by the time he reached the Robot Inferno, it had already been pretty much taken care of, and he slipped between all the 1-A and 1-B students passing through. Once, he even meowed loudly and made a couple of students in front of him trip on their feet. (That trick will never fail to amuse him.)

The Fall was where he gained an extra lead. No one paid attention to him as he used the capture weapon around his waist as a makeshift zipline, kicking against the walls of dirt to propel him far enough forward that it either took him to the next pillar or got him close enough that it required minimal additional maneuvering to reach it. (Again, Aizawa’s Hell Training was paying off.)

Then Midoriya pulled off that shit on the Mine Field, and he decided then and there that his future classmates were quite possibly insane.

27th place wasn’t bad. He barely had to use his quirk and the capture weapon. He and a girl from the Support department were the only ones outside of the Hero course that had made the second round and before going back to the stands with the rest that didn’t make it, Matsuda had hugged him and cried, “Shinsou-kun! The Gen Ed department is counting on you!”

“No pressure at all,” Hitoshi had deadpanned.

He spared a little sympathy for Mr. Ten Million Midoriya, especially once everyone pretty much backed off from grouping with him, but knew that ultimately he wasn’t going to bother getting involved with that mess. Todoroki had quickly formed his group, and a crowd had formed around Bakugou, a bunch of people wanting to be in his. Hitoshi thought carefully - he had to be strategic about this. He was at a disadvantage as an outsider to the two tight-knit classes, but if there were any outliers…

“Hey,” Hitoshi blandly greeted the two 1-A boys. They looked startled to see him. “I can help you get to the final round. Care to listen?”

Ojiro and Aoyama looked at each other. Hitoshi could see the hesitation and doubt on their faces, but time was running out and he knew that they knew they stood no chance as a two person team. “Alright,” Ojiro nodded, “we’ll hear you out.”

“Great,” Hitoshi grinned, “but there’s someone else we need.”

“Midoriya, Bakugou, and Todoroki’s groups will capture most of the attention,” Hitoshi told Ojiro, Aoyama, and Shoda from 1-B, who had surprisingly agreed to be in their group. “Todoroki will go after Midoriya. Bakugou will most likely go after both of them, if he doesn’t get sidetracked by someone else. The rest of us will probably be going against each other to get as many of the lower value headbands as possible, as the Ten Million headband will be too much of a hassle to try to get, and the truly desperate ones will be going for it towards the end of the time limit.”

Hitoshi crossed his arms, tapping a finger against his bicep thoughtfully as he continued speaking. “Between the four of us, our point value is 295 - it’s on the lower half of the spectrum, so the other lower point groups will try to do a quick grab and go, most likely. Our threat level will also be considered low. Ojiro-san won’t be able to do much as he won’t have the mobility he needs to fight. Aoyama-san has clearly overused his quirk. I’m Gen Ed and don’t have a visible quirk. Shoda-san is the biggest threat among us, and he’s also limited by how the cavalry battle works.”

“About that,” Ojiro frowned, “you seem to know our quirks, but we don’t know yours. As our teammate, wouldn’t it be polite to let us know how you’ll contribute to the group during the battle?”

Hitoshi hummed. “Consider me as crowd control,” he joked dryly. “I’ll ensure we end the round with enough points to make the top 4.”

Shoda in front, as their primary counter. Ojiro and Aoyama in the back for rear defense and mobility. Hitoshi as the rider as the strategist and because he had the longest reach out of the four of them. He didn’t reveal the capture weapon around his waist - an ace in the hole, if necessary later.

True to his predictions, the top three teams were completely preoccupied with each other until Monoma from 1-B took Bakugou’s attention away. Hitoshi had lost their headband early on, and though it looked like Ojiro wanted to go after it, he ultimately listened to Hitoshi’s suggestion of laying low. They had a plan, and they had to trust him to pull it off.

Hitoshi had twitched when he saw the flash of sparks coming from Kaminari in the distance, and Ojiro had noticed, asking if something was wrong. “I’m not fond of electricity,” he simply said, and the hero student had thankfully dropped it. Still, Hitoshi made sure that they were always a clear distance away from Kaminari and his group.

“We have five minutes left,” Shoda quietly said and Aoyama shifted on his feet nervously. They had zero points. “Target?”

Hitoshi glanced at the scoreboard and made a quick decision. “Team Tetsutetsu. Move on my signal. They wouldn’t even know what happened.”

A charge beam from Aoyama to disrupt the other team’s trajectory. A two-pronged side attack from Ojiro and Shoda to further unbalance their formation. A wicked smile and a sharp enough whistle to make everyone flinch, letting Hitoshi get Team Tetsutetsu under his control long enough to take their headbands without opposition. Time was called less than a minute later.

“In 3rd place, Team Tetsute-- wait, it’s Team Shinsou?! A surprising twist of events!”

“Good work,” Hitoshi told his team, who looked shocked at their last minute victory despite doing their part. “Just as planned.”

“Good work to you too!” Aoyama returned, still baffled. “How did you do that?”

“Do what?” He raised an eyebrow at a flailing Aoyama.

“Freeze them!”

“You whistled.” Ojiro stared at him intently. “Crowd control, huh?”

Hitoshi just blinked at them with a blank face, lips barely hinting at a smile. “Good luck in the final round.”

“Good job,” Aizawa said, as Hitoshi joined him and Yamada at the announcer’s booth during break. He had brought lunch for the three of them, which Yamada gratefully accepted. Aizawa went straight for the jelly pack. “Remember, the final round is where you have to make a statement.”

“I know,” Hitoshi said. “I’ll be fine.”

“And if you have to go against Kaminari?” Aizawa carefully asked. Hitoshi pressed his lips together.

“His quirk can’t hurt me if I don’t give him the opportunity to use it in the first place,” he firmly told his mentor. Aizawa’s visible eyes seemed almost proud.

“You’ve been playing it safe,” Yamada couldn’t help but comment. “How many times did you even use your quirk? Twice?”

“Three times,” Hitoshi shrugged as he took another bite of his food. “I didn’t want anyone to realize what it was yet. Plus, I haven’t had the need to actually use it.”

“Your training has been paying off,” Aizawa said. “Still, don’t underestimate anyone. These are still Hero course students.”

“I’m technically also Hero course student,” Hitoshi dryly pointed out. “But don’t worry - your students are crazy enough for me to be wary of.”

“You’re technically also my student.”

“I know what I said.”

“You two are so cute,” Yamada cooed. He had his phone out, and had probably been taking pictures. Hitoshi and Aizawa both gave him bland looks.

After lunch, the winners of the Cavalry Battle had to draw lots to see which opponents they would face. It was Hitoshi’s luck that he had the second to the last battle in the first round - against Kirishima of 1-A. He eyed the redhead consideringly, the other boy seemingly confused at who his opponent was. Not surprising, considering Kirishima had been busy in Bakugou’s team last event.

Hitoshi took advantage of the break the recreation events gave to fulfill his promise to Ishida, introducing her to his father who had been watching in the stands. He also replied to his mother’s cheering messages, as he did with Yokohara and Sakurai’s. Matsuda then ambushed him out of nowhere and he had to sit through almost the entirety of 1-C giving him words of encouragement for the next round.

“Gen Ed’s hopes and dreams lie with you,” Takashima had smirked at him before letting him go back to the competitors’ stand. Hitoshi struggled not to blush the entire time.

He gave the hero students a wide berth, keeping to himself for the most part. He watched quietly as Midoriya won against Ojiro, as Todoroki continued to be goddamn extra and froze a quarter of the stadium. There was some relief when Shoda won against Kaminari - he had told Aizawa that he would’ve been fine had he had to face the electric quirk user, and part of him believed that, but the doubt still lingered at the back of his mind. Iida’s match with Hatsume was more of an advertisement than an actual fight, but Hatsume was eccentric, even for a Support student. Aoyama frankly stood no chance against Ashido, though Tokoyami pulled a surprising win against Yaoyorozu.

When it was his turn to go down for his match, Iida stopped him for a brief moment. “Shinsou-san!” The younger Iida scion raised his hand stiffly and made a chopping motion. His face was red, as it always seemed to be when he saw him. “I wish you the best on your match!”

Hitoshi narrowed his eyes at him, a little wary and confused. Iida Tenya had never talked to him outside of apologies before, so it wasn’t like they were even acquaintances. His approach was strange, but what did Hitoshi know anyway. “Thanks,” he slowly nodded, then couldn’t help a small teasing smirk forming from his lips, “good job on yours, cake boy.”

(He thought he heard a high-pitched noise, not unlike a steam whistle blowing, but he didn’t bother turning his back to find out. He also ignored Uraraka’s alarmed voice exclaiming “Iida-kun, are you okay?!” 1-A was weird .)

“And for our next fight, we have 1-A’s Unbreakable Tank, Kirishima Eijirou!” Yamada’s voice shouted through the stadium as Hitoshi and Kirishima approached the fighting ring. “Against him is the surprise underdog from General Education, Shinsou Hitoshi from 1-C!”

From behind him, Hitoshi could hear his class yelling enthusiastically. It still felt weird to have his entire class’ support, and the cynical part of him couldn’t help but wonder if it’ll stay the same once they saw the extent of how his quirk worked. But now wasn’t the time for doubts or playing nice. He had a point to prove, and there were people out there counting on him.

He had to win .

With how Kirishima’s quirk worked, Hitoshi expected a straightforward charge. This guy did come in second in the regular practical exam - his punches probably hurt. Still, Hitoshi’s approach was simple.

“Let’s have a good match,” Hitoshi said. Kirishima blinked, and gave him a thumbs up with a grin.

“Hell yeah, man!”

Simple .

“Match, start!”

Predictably, Kirishima shifted in his feet, then ran at him. Hitoshi stood his ground. He’s spent the past few months getting his ass handed to him by two pro heroes, so dodging the fist aimed at his face was easy, as was grabbing Kirishima’s extended arm with his own hand.

“Hey,” Hitoshi said as he took control of the other student. Kirishima froze and relaxed under his hold, and the crowd was mumbling at the sudden turn of events. “Let’s walk, shall we?”

“Oh, what’s this? Kirishima stopped fighting before even getting a punch in!”

The crowd’s incredulous chatting continued as Hitoshi lead Kirishima towards the edge of the ring without any resistance, and he could hear some of Kirishima’s classmates calling out to him in confusion. He knew that with this stunt, no one would consider his quirk as brainwashing just yet. Only 1-C knew about what his quirk actually was, and Aizawa would be disappointed to note that his students didn’t bother to find out, even after Hitoshi’s blatant challenge two weeks ago. 

“Sorry I didn’t let you show off for a bit,” Hitoshi said, standing behind Kirishima and gently pushing him out of bounds. “But I’m here for a reason.”

He let his control go just before Midnight announced, “Kirishima is out! Shinsou wins the round!”

“What?!” Kirishima whirled at him, wide-eyed. Hitoshi met him with a blank face. “What was that?!”

“Something to keep you hero kids on your toes,” his lips curled into a half-smirk. “I did warn you all.”

His return to the competitor’s stand was met with shocked looks and considering stares. Hitoshi rose an eyebrow at them before quietly plopping back down to his previous seat and turning his attention to the next upcoming match. Whoever won that was going to be his next opponent, after all.

“...paralyzing quirk? Or maybe some kind of tranquilizer or weak anesthetic. It looked to be touched based, since Kirishima-kun stopped attacking when Shinsou touched his arm and kept contact up until Kirishima-kun was out of bounds, and Kirishima-kun looked to have come back to himself once Shinsou let go…” 

Hitoshi side-eyed Midoriya, who sat a few feet away, mumbling absentmindedly while scribbling on a notebook. So that’s what Yamada meant. Definitely interesting, and he kind of wanted to see how Midoriya would react when Hitoshi proved his theories wrong.

Uraraka definitely put up an impressive fight against Bakugou and while she had lost, Hitoshi’s sure that the fight had gotten her a lot of attention. Of course, that meant that his next opponent was going to be Bakugou - something he’ll have to think up his game plan for. Bakugou’s quirk was most effective at mid to close range, so Hitoshi would have to be careful if he wanted to keep on with the touch based quirk bluff. He probably won’t be able to get away with sticking to that for all the fights - Shoda was already looking at him with a conflicting expression, most likely thinking about his whistle trick during the cavalry battle - but he’ll roll with it. 

Todoroki and Midoriya’s match was definitely… something. There was definitely a story there, from all the shouting the two were throwing at each other. Other than that… Midoriya’s quirk was definitely an odd one. Hitoshi wondered why it did that much damage to his body - maybe he couldn’t control it? Too much power? It took a lot to take down a Zero Pointer from the entrance exam, and while he had broken his arm in the process, Midoriya had obliterated one in his exam. His pain tolerance must be ridiculous.

In the end, though, Midoriya lost, but not without an incredible fight. The following two matches looked a bit lackluster in comparison, but Hitoshi couldn’t afford to let his guard down, especially once it was his turn on the ring again.

“The General Education kid again, huh? I wonder what his quirk actually is…”

“But he’s going against Heroics’ #1 - it’ll probably be no contest.”

Hitoshi ignored the whispers from the stands behind him as he stood in front of a scowling Bakugou. It was clear that the other boy remembered him from two weeks ago, and wasn’t impressed at Hitoshi’s outward bored expression. 

(He was nervous, but Hitoshi was relatively good at faking it until he made it. Case in point, his entire life.)

“I told you I’m here for war,” Hitoshi grinned toothily.

“You’re just a damn extra,” Bakugou spat. Rude, but he’s been called worse.

“Match, start!”

Bakugou was fast, he noted as the other boy propelled himself over to him with his quirk, but Aizawa was faster . Hitoshi stepped to the side at the last minute and was ready to dodge when Bakugou immediately turned around with another palm out ready to strike. He tried to grab the aforementioned arm, but as expected of one of Heroics’ best, Bakugou was able to twist away from him and aimed a kick right at Hitoshi’s gut. It would have been a solid blow, had Hitoshi not have the capture weapon still wrapped around him, the carbon fiber material giving ample protection. 

Hitoshi wasn’t going to let the fight go on any longer - he was reaching the time limit for his quirk to activate, and already the string he loosely held was just about to fade away. So for good measure, he let Bakugou get another close shot before unceremoniously slapping him on the face.

He could hear Yamada’s facepalming from the announcer’s booth amidst the silent shock of the crowd. Bakugou’s eyes turned even more murderous.

“Sorry,” he said, unapologetically. 

Bakugou snarled and rose another palm with his quirk ready to explode. “You--”

“Take a chill pill, would you?” Hitoshi muttered, activating his quirk. He grinned when Bakugou stilled in position with a show of confidence, straightened up and put his hands in his pockets. “Now, why don’t you turn around, and walk out of bounds?”

“Holy shit,” Hitoshi heard from somewhere in the crowd as Bakugou, face expressionless, turned around and did just that.

“Thanks for the win, Mr. Number One,” he said as Midnight called his victory. He let go of Bakugou, and unlike Kirishima earlier, the hero student definitely wasn’t forgiving him for this.

“You fucking bastard!” Bakugou screeched, charging back towards Hitoshi with his quirk on full power. He would’ve been concerned, if he didn’t trust Midnight to subdue Bakugou with her whip and quirk before he could get within a foot of Hitoshi.

“You’re doing great, kid,” Midnight winked at him before she dragged the unconscious Bakugou away. Hitoshi nodded his thanks.

“Shinsou, good job!” One of his classmates yelled as he walked back to the entrance tunnel. Everyone in 1-C sat together and were looking at him with both awe and pride. He fruitlessly tried to stop his blush from overtaking his face. He’s supposed to look cool , dammit.

“We’re cheering for you all the way through, Shinsou-kun!” Matsuda pumped her fist up in the air. “The Star of Gen Ed!”

“Oh my god, you guys are embarrassing ,” Hitoshi hissed as he turned even redder and swiftly escaped from his classmates beaming faces and cheers. 

In the emptiness of the hallways under the stadium, he gave himself a moment to drop on the floor and slumped against the wall. He made it to the Semi-finals. Top 4 . He knew he told everyone that he wasn’t going to half-ass this, that he intended to win, but it was just sinking in that it was actually possible. Aizawa had told him so, and Yamada too, but part of him didn’t really believe it until now.

He hurried to 1-C’s designated locker room to grab his phone and immediately dialed a phone number.

“Are you freaking out?” Aizawa asked him instead of a greeting. Hitoshi swallowed.

“I’m freaking out. Just a bit. Or a lot, actually.” 

“You’re doing good,” Aizawa said, always knowing what to say. “You took down the two highest scoring applicants from the regular heroics practical. You’ve captured a lot of Pros’ interests, despite the mystery of your quirk. The principal is probably laughing in his seat right now out of glee and consequently terrifying everyone in his vicinity. I’m not joking when I say you have this in the bag.”

“I’m going to win the Sports Festival,” Hitoshi said weakly, but with growing determination. “I’m going to win, and show everyone that you don’t need a flashy, combative quirk to be one of the best. To be the best. That someone like me deserves a shot at being a hero too.”

“You’re my best student for a reason, Hitoshi,” Aizawa warmly said, and Hitoshi could have cried hearing those words. “Now make sure you’re not late for your fight, Todoroki and Iida’s match is done.”

Tokoyami was more simple to go against than Bakugou, if only because he didn’t have the explosive boy’s sheer aggressiveness. Hitoshi was relieved to find that taking control of either Tokoyami or his shadow pulled the other into it too. He’d been a little worried about it, to be honest, since his quirk didn’t actually work on animals and Tokoyami had a bird head .

“What a wild ride so far, folks!” Hitoshi heard Yamada announce. “But we’ve reached the finale at last! We’re about to see who comes out on top among UA’s freshmen this year!”

At Midnight’s cue, he approached the ring from one side while Todoroki walked across from him.

“On one side we have 1-A’s Todoroki Shouto, who’s shown himself to be a complete powerhouse!” Yamada continued. “As expected from a recommendation student of the Hero course!”

“Then on the other side we have the underdog that continues to surprise us, 1-C’s Shinsou Hitoshi!” If Hitoshi listened carefully, he could hear some humor in his mentor’s voice. He quietly snorted to himself. “He’s taken down some of the best of the Heroics course, yet what his quirk exactly is remains to be a mystery! But whatever it is, with how he’s performed so far, it’s honestly a shock that he’s just a General Education student!”

“The entrance exam is biased,” Aizawa merely commented. Their commentary almost sounded like a skit, Hitoshi thought.

“In any case, here our your finalists!” Yamada cheered. Hitoshi looked straight into Todoroki’s eyes. Todoroki narrowed his gaze at him.

“I’ll finish this quick,” Todoroki said. “I don’t intend to give you an opportunity to touch me.”

Hitoshi tilted his head, and lazily smiled. He put his hands in his pockets. “That’s fine,” he drawled, a feeling of calm washing over him suddenly, “I don’t need to lay a finger on you to win.” Todoroki frowned.

“Match--”

“What…?”

“--start!”

Hook, line, and sinker.  

The wave of ice was immediate, his feet having gotten caught in the ice and his body lifted a few inches off the ground - the same tactic Todoroki used against Sero, but cut immediately short. He tilted his head to the side to see Todoroki frozen (heh) in place, and with the signature blank look that signified Hitoshi’s brainwashing. The crowd bursting into noise after realizing that Hitoshi had someone trapped someone again was expected at this point.

“Hey, mind getting me out?” Hitoshi called out at Todoroki, sounding almost bored. He had to play it cool, pun intended. “I’m getting a little cold. Some warmth would be nice.”

Some emitter quirks worked like a light switch - a simple on and off, like Aizawa’s. Some, like Yamada’s and Todoroki’s, worked more like a dial, with the ability to increase or decrease the strength of their quirk as necessary. And having trained with Yamada on using a brainwashed person’s quirk for months now, it was easy to get Todoroki to activate his fire at its lowest power. There was a little resistance to it, but Hitoshi had gotten a verbal response so his control was firm .

“At Shinsou’s command, Todoroki is melting his ice with his fire!” Yamada dramatically exclaimed. “Shinsou pulls off another surprising move!”

“I think,” Hitoshi lowly said as he shrugged the remaining chips of ice from his gym uniform and tapped his feet against the ground to bring back a little circulation to his toes, “that it’s time for you to surrender , wouldn’t you say?”

At that, Todoroki raised his right arm, and with a clear, emotionless voice, declared, “I surrender.”

“Good match,” Hitoshi wrly smirked at the minute shock on the now unbrainwashed Todoroki. The audience was a mix of shock and disbelief amongst all the yelling. “I’ll see you on the podium.”

“The winner of this year’s First Year Sports Festival is Shinsou, from Class 1-C of the General Education department!”

Later, once the festivities were done and once he was done being accosted by his classmates, Hitoshi was practically dragged by a buzzing Yamada to Principal Nezu’s office, Aizawa casually strolling behind them, where he was met with the principal’s smug face and his transfer papers.

“Welcome, officially , to the Hero Course, Shinsou Hitoshi.”