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Chapter Text

Hitoshi got through UA's entrance exam with a lot of martial arts, using his shikigami to track robots, and dragging an idiot kid out of the way of harm more than once. It was mostly just his well-used preservation instinct kicking in again and again. Curses didn't hesitate. Curses didn't have human limits and weaknesses. Curses attacked to kill at all times. There was no time for hesitation or grandstanding. 

Maybe he was a bit of a jackass for loudly calling the untrained kids around him insults in the process, but seriously. Exam or not, robots were giant weapons. All it took was one minute miscalculation or something beyond the scope of their programming and someone could be seriously injured. Taking out the chances for direct human error didn't magically mean it was safer. 

Chaos theory. And Murphy's Law. Can't forget the fact that unskilled, untrained civilian children in the midst of what was effectively a warzone meant so much distraction and accidental injuries. 

Hitoshi nearly tore his hair out at what should've been fellow hero students falling for such stupid crap as twisting their ankles on rocks and getting hit by stray debris. 

Just because he was cussing them out the whole way didn't mean he let them just get hurt though. It would've been more appropriate of him as a sorcerer, the way he was raised and trained to focus on the mission than ‘pointless’ collateral. But Yuuji got Megumi to care and prone to dissociating or not, Hitoshi cared. Even about stupid kids who shouldn't be here if they weren't going to take this seriously.

He could've gone in through the recommendation tests. Honestly, he even could've skipped all of that and just gotten a placement as a sorcerer transfer. It was rare but he wasn't the only sorcerer who went for heroism rather than attending Jujutsu Tech. Even then, if he'd changed his mind and went the sorcerer route, there would be opportunities for exchange studies done between Jujutsu Tech and select hero schools. 

Hitoshi was a bit baffled to see all the options before him to be honest. Megumi didn't have an option. He was a sorcerer, so he was trained and put to work as one. 

Even Gojo had started out planning on using him. He wanted Megumi's political potential as Zen'in heir, intended to raise the next Ten Shadows user to help change Jujutsu society in the ways Satoru desired. Satoru didn't keep that plan once he got attached. But he'd started out with the mindset that Megumi was going to be a career sorcerer whether he wanted to or not. 

If Megumi had asked Satoru to let him live a normal life, if Tsumiki hadn't been cursed into a coma, if Megumi had never met a boy with pink hair who ate a cursed finger and changed the world… he had a lot of ‘ifs’. If any of a great many things had changed, Megumi still had only the slimmest of chances to escape becoming a sorcerer. 

Once he was born his fate was set by his elders. Fushiguro Megumi was born and his future was decided. He would attend Jujutsu Tech, graduate if he was lucky, and continue on as a sorcerer if he didn't die before twenty. What he wanted wasn't important. His options were limited to the scope of that set future. 

Now, Shinsou Hitoshi sat down with a friendly elderly woman who laid out multiple options to plan for his future and multiple pathways to achieve his goals. All at his fingertips. All his choice. 

He even had the choice to be nothing. His dads even expressed their full support at whatever he chose, heroism or sorcery or an ordinary life working a nine to five. The only problem from them was a professed nervousness should he choose sorcery, but only because heroism was already dangerous. Sorcerers had a much, much higher mortality rate than heroes. Even then they said they'd support him whatever he chose. Not a hint of a lie. Not a single sign that they were faking it to make him feel like he had a choice. 

Shouta and Hizashi were so genuine it hurt. 

It was amazing to see the changes in society in the several hundred years since Megumi's time. Children had a choice now. They could decide if they were going to risk their lives for little gain. They were given support and more guidance than Megumi ever got. They were kept off the field until they were second years. They were trained and prepared thoroughly. Looking at the pamphlet for Jujutsu Tech's curriculum, Hitoshi's throat tightened. There was mandatory therapy and counseling. 

This was the society that Satoru worked so hard to build. A place where children got the chance to be kids. Where they had a choice in becoming monsters. Where killing kids for political gain wasn't par for the course, which Hitoshi knew because there were get togethers organized for kids who could see curses to socialize and meet others who dealt with the same bullshit they did. 

The sorcerer kids in this generation were scared and traumatized, like every sorcerer was. You didn't stare death in the eyes every day as a toddler without having your share of issues. But they looked to the older sorcerers with trust. With familiarity. With a sort of plain expectancy of community that Megumi never knew. 

He'd grown up knowing that any other sorcerer could be as much a threat as any curse. He'd seen people try to assassinate Yuuji over and over. He'd had more than his fair share of attempts on his life. He heard stories of Satoru’s “Funniest Assassination Fails, Top Twenty!” countless times. He'd been backstabbed by other sorcerers before. Megumi had been sold by his own father for selfish gain. He always knew he couldn't trust his peers to not have their own interests. It's why him, Yuuji, and Nobara's bonds were so special. Because in a world he couldn't trust he could trust them. 

But here and now, this world, this generation, not a single kid was afraid of the society around them. They were terrified of curses. But not other humans. And that was breathtaking. 

Satoru’s dream had come true. It felt a little bit like Megumi's death might've been worth it, to pave the way for a safer world for the society Satoru destroyed and rebuilt to lead into this.

Ultimately Hitoshi had, with great reluctance, chosen to pursue a mixed career. He planned to focus mainly on heroism because he had a bright voice turned deadly serious telling him “We're going to save them.” repeating in his head whenever he thought about it. 

(And didn't it ache, looking around and knowing that this world would have been perfect for Yuuji. Bright, lovable, cheerful, personable Yuuji would make an incredible spotlight hero. His inhuman strength and speed put him at a higher level than any strength quirk Hitoshi had ever come across, except All Might. Megumi sometimes looked at All Might's smiling visage and saw pink hair and scars where there definitely weren't. Like a caricature of Yuuji’s potential if he hadn't died buried in regrets and guilt. It hurt to look at the world he'd woken up to and know that Yuuji deserved to be the one to experience it because he was born for this shit.) 

Of course Hitoshi would never ever allow himself to be dragged into spotlight heroics, not for anything. He'd had plenty of money and fame (and infamy) to last him one very short lifetime. No, he was copying Eraserhead and going the underground route because it was infinitely familiar to Megumi. He already did most of that work, before. 

And on top of heroics, Hitoshi would be doing part time work as a sorcerer. Or mixed work more like. Apparently underground heroics mixed with curses pretty often and Eraserhead was downright miraculously lucky to not have gotten in over his head with a nasty cursed case before adopting Hitoshi. 

It was funny how many underground heroes were apparently in on the existence of curses. Even funnier how many of them cussed Eraserhead out for the number of bets he'd lost them, avoiding curses for over a decade of heroics. Hitoshi met a lot of underground heroes who wanted to meet the “little sorcerer” who “broke Eraserhead's streak” and sent his shikigami to tail his parents to work. 

Eraserhead complained only for about a week until he realized that Hitoshi truly had absolutely zero plans to do a stupid heroic stunt and just sent his shikigami to keep an eye on things. He knew his dad was a professional and could take care of himself. He just sent his shikigami to keep an eye out for curses. Eraserhead could handle anything else that came his way. 

On the rare occasion he got in over his head, Hitoshi just texted another hero that knew about his curses to go lend a hand. That was… it. Aizawa was continually baffled by him not doing reckless teenager things. It was pretty funny honestly. 

If a curse was involved, well. He just had his shikigami exorcize it before Eraserhead even noticed it.

He made no friends during the entrance exam, but dragging idiots out of the way of the crazy bastard blowing robots up left and right still got him a fuck ton of rescue points. He landed a few bots himself with a wakizashi he was granted permission to carry in with him. 

He could've honestly just used his shikigami to tear the whole cityscape apart. Robots had little defense against cursed energy and his Divine Pack was hungry for an actual fight. His Raichou could fly over countless robots and shock them out of commission easily. His Frogs could carry other examinees to safety easily. The Great Snake was plenty strong enough to crush robots, and her venom was strong enough to melt metal if she wanted. 

There was a lot that Hitoshi could do if he used his shikigami. But he'd already sworn to take the exam with only his quirk and physical ability. Curses still couldn't be visually transferred through cameras, so his surroundings would be watched extra closely to ensure he wasn't going against his word. 

It wasn't strictly necessary. But if he was going into heroics he would need to hide the most unexplainable parts of his cursed technique from others. And when he'd declared his intent, the principal had a curious gleam in his beady little eyes. So Hitoshi committed. 

It helped soothe his boiling frustration over useless kids to think of every tactic he could use to sweep this entire exam; starting with using his quirk to stop the exploding asshole from using his quirk. 

Seriously. Megumi had been a sorcerer, who actively ignored danger to civilians, and he still had better awareness of collateral damage than that. 

But no. Using his quirk on the kid might've counted as sabotaging other students, so Hitoshi let him do his stupid shit and just focused on keeping the kids around the bastard safe. Even if he hadn't figured out the secondary point system just from logic alone he would've still done it. 

Hitoshi ranked high enough to get into the heroics course. He expected to, but it was still nice to know his assurance wasn't just cockiness. Pops threw him a little party that was pretty much just the three of them and his shikigami. It was… nice. 

Hitoshi didn't expect to be put in his dad's class. It was probably a favoritism case in the making. But it was decided and he didn't care enough to protest. Shouta would never actually show favoritism. In fact he was likely to push Hitoshi further than anyone else and that was perfectly fine by him. 

Satoru had certainly done the same.

The first day of class, Hitoshi went to school with his dads in their car. They had to show up early for first day paperwork and meetings. He didn't mind. It let him have time to wander the school after a brief talk with Principal Nedzu. 

Part of the mixed curriculum deal involved exorcizing any minor curses he found running around. High schools always attracted large amounts of cursed energy. Even UA, with its large concentration of powerful quirks and generally positive learning experience, had its teenage angst fueling a tiny population of flyheads. 

Nedzu of course informed him that they had a retired sorcerer on the janitorial staff who usually handled any forming curses after school hours, but Hitoshi was free to do whatever necessary if he felt so inclined. Though keeping his actions low key was emphasized. Hitoshi just shrugged and nodded. He wasn't about to get caught doing weird crap if he was just siccing Cujo on things. He just had to wander and give mental commands. No need to handle a flyhead himself. 

It also let him familiarize himself with the school and some of its corners. He was considering setting a Shadow Spot here. After some practice he learned that he needed to have a dedicated beacon of sorts to teleport to, if he wanted his teleportation technique to work. He couldn't just go anywhere. He needed a place he'd soaked with his cursed energy first. 

So far he had several scattered around places he frequented. Hitoshi hadn't been in the latter yet, but he was considering either one of the janitor’s closets or the teacher's lounge. It would be convenient. All the teachers who worked at UA were briefed on curses as soon as Hitoshi was set to attend; if they didn't know already. 

When the first warning bell rang, Hitoshi headed his way towards the classroom. He sent a few of his drove out to help scout out any curses lingering during classes. They were harder for non sorcerers to see than Cujo's pack. 

He felt one hop onto his shoulder, another jumping up and clawing its way into his shoulder bag. Hitoshi sighed and let them. The downside to his mutated technique was that his newly sentient Rabbit Drove technique were all very clingy and cuddly. Somehow, he blamed Yuuji. 

It was fine. Nobody else could see them anyways. He chased away a white one that tried to perch itself on his head. 

Hitoshi reached the classroom and inched his way inside, finding almost everyone else was present. He wound his way to the far back of the class and settled next to a window. Necessary? No. But it helped his nerves at being surrounded by so many loud, annoying people. 

Just his luck, he seemed to be in the same class as the exploding bastard from the exam. Some guy with blue hair and glasses was making a loud fuss at the bastard two seats ahead of him. Hitoshi sighed and sank into his chair. He really, really hoped exploding bastard wasn't a pain in the ass. 

Dad told him he only had one free pass to punch a bully a semester, otherwise he'd be grounded for fighting at a hero school of all places. Fortunately Hitoshi was in fact the son of the teacher and Shouta knew very damn well what he felt about bullies. So any reporting from Hitoshi about bullies amongst classmates would be taken very seriously. 

At least the other students around him seemed to be the quiet types. He felt a strange kinship with the bird headed kid next to him. Something about the guy's cursed energy felt familiar. Dark and a second skin. 

Seeing the guy's shadow twitch, Hitoshi blinked. 

“I'm Shinsou Hitoshi.” He slumped over his desk, head on one fist tiredly. Cujo had howled half the night and kept him up late. “Your shadow moved, so I'm guessing you have a shadow based quirk.” He might not need to avoid questions anymore, but it was… comforting. Casual conversations felt less like an internal battlefield if he just avoided the risk entirely. 

Bird head turned to him with a curious sound. “Yes. My name is Tokoyami Fumikage, my quirk is Dark Shadow.” 

“My quirk mutated recently.” Hitoshi said. “Haven't changed the name yet, but it's given me some unique control over shadows.” He hesitated, unsure if Tokoyami would appreciate an offer to test their quirks against each other sometime. 

“It is a joy to find a fellow student embraced by the darkness.” Tokoyami said, with all seriousness. Hitoshi blinked slowly. What. 

Apparently that was all that needed to be said. Hitoshi at least had a decent knowledge of bird expressions from Raichou. Tokoyami seemed pleased. 

Before their conversation could be awkwardly forced any further, the last few students in the door were startled by his dad showing up. Hitoshi snickered to himself as his dad elbowed a rabbit with faux annoyance. 

It wasn't Hitoshi's fault his drove loved to snuggle and a sleeping bag was prime real estate. 

He tucked his bag into his shadow underneath him and grabbed his gym uniform, following his dad immediately. Tokoyami was visibly curious and kept on his tail. 

“Pocket in my shadow,” Hitoshi explained with a shrug. “I can feel the weight of everything in there, though.” Except for the weight of his shikigami, thankfully. Cujo's pack was big. 

“That sounds very useful. Dark Shadow doesn't allow me to use such a hammerspace.” Tokoyami said. 

They talked a bit about their different shadow techniques as they walked. Hitoshi had plans to use his basic shadow techniques as a mutation. A lot of quirks could be handwoven off with “I don't know how it works, it just does”. If pressed he could just admit he was adopted and his birth family's records were sealed. His biological parents could have any sort of weird combination of quirks to explain his as far as anyone would ever know.

Chapter Text

Hitoshi passed his dad's quirk assessment test with flying colors because he didn’t let his quirk or technique limit his training. His quirk was useless for all of the tests unless he wanted to get ridiculously technical about rules, but his technique was a little useful. 

He could've potentially rode Raichou or Cujo for the fifty meters and the distance run but he didn't want to reveal too much too soon. He just ran them both under his own power. His athleticism was above average anyways. 

He had Cujo come out for the grip strength test and very delicately pressed the device between his massive fangs. Cujo was confused and just crushed the thing to pieces. It counted. 

The long jump and side steps he also allowed himself to do by himself. He was practiced in pushing cursed energy through his muscles. Given that the next curse he planned on summoning was a damned elephant, he had been practicing his jumps anyways. 

He just wished his muscles were a little less lean. Puberty wasn't kind to him in this life. He was still a stick, no matter how much muscle weight he put on. 

The ball throw was easy enough. He threw the ball and told Raichou to carry it. The rest of the class murmured in surprise during that, some of them mentioning seeing a blurry shadow and others claiming to see nothing. Hitoshi took careful note of who had greater potential for seeing curses or not. By the way Aizawa eyed them, he was too. 

Seated toe touches and sit ups weren't any challenge at all. Hitoshi was only outlasted by Midoriya at sit ups because Aizawa got annoyed at how long it was taking them and they were both set to tie for first. Hitoshi nearly collapsed after that. Midoriya was a beast. Hitoshi barely managed to outlast the rest of the muscular jocks in their damned class. Midoriya looked like he would've determinedly stuck to doing sit ups until school ended. 

“You're very fit, Shinsou-kun!” Midoriya complimented, clearly nervous but trying to be nice. Hitoshi grunted at him with zero enthusiasm because he was fucking exhausted. His cursed energy felt like a damned tsunami and Hitoshi didn't want anything to do with it. 

He slouched his way back to the rest of the students as their teacher added up their points. Tokoyami was pleased to see him settle nearby. He couldn't help it. Dark Shadow felt comfortable. Like a reverse nightlight. 

Nobody was being expelled, despite Aizawa's threats. Hitoshi was surprised. The student who was last, Hagakure Toru, had almost zero stamina. Just because her quirk hadn't been helpful didn't mean she couldn't have trained her body to be better. Aizawa must have had better faith in her potential than Hitoshi. 

“It wasn't a ruse.” Hitoshi murmured to Tokoyami as their classmates gossiped. “Last year, he expelled his entire class.” 

Tokoyami's eyes widened. “What a mad banquet of darkness…” 

Hitoshi squinted at him. What?

“How'd your first day at UA go, kiddo?!” Hizashi chirped as they all got settled into the car. 

Hitoshi shrugged. “It was fine. Not my worst first day.” 

“He spoke to Tokoyami and stayed by him most of the day.” Shouta ratted him out without hesitation as he buckled himself into the passenger seat. 

“Aww, the bird kid? You made a friend!!” Hizashi clapped his hands. 

Hitoshi rolled his eyes. A rabbit curled up on his lap, pushing up into his hand as he pet it. “His quirk feels comfortable. It makes me feel less…” He frowned. “Drowned out.” 

“Dark Shadow,” Shouta explained without explaining. “Do you think because it's a shadow based quirk?” 

“Maybe? Not a lot of cursed technique and quirk combination studies like that.” Hitoshi tried to remember the few articles he'd read. “There was a study about sound based quirks and techniques complimenting each other, so maybe?” He shrugged again. “Tokoyami's weird, though.” 

“You're weird.” Shouta deadpanned. 

“Thanks, dad.” Hitoshi snorted. 

He spent the rest of the car ride idly contemplating how to word his strangest observation of the day. His dads both peppered him with questions that he answered while looking out the window. 

He was… tired. Physically and mentally. The first day of school was stressful. He caught himself dissociating and blinked to find himself at the dinner table. 

“Heyya kiddo.” Hizashi smiled. “You were out for a bit! Stressed?” 

“Not too bad.” Hitoshi surmised. “I think I'm just tired. And I was thinking about something weird.” 

“What kind of weird?” 

“Midoriya.” Hitoshi blinked and forced himself to focus in on the food being put on his plate. Shouta passed him a hand weight, light enough for him to fidget with but heavy enough to help ground him. “Midoriya's quirk doesn't fit him.” 

His dads blinked at him. Shouta raised an eyebrow. “How so?” 

Quirks and cursed energy had a strange relationship. The stronger your quirk, the less you leaked cursed energy. Generally. It depended on the type of quirk. Nobody leaked cursed energy like non sorcerers used to in Megumi's day. 

Except for quirkless people. They exuded cursed energy like a bonfire.  

Finally landing on those words, Hitoshi's eyebrows lifted in surprise. 

“He was leaking cursed energy like he was quirkless,” Hitoshi realized. “And his quirk didn't- it didn't match with his cursed energy like everyone else's does. It honestly felt like his cursed energy was completely separated from his quirk, which doesn't make sense…” 

His dads were quiet and contemplative as he mumbled to himself, chopsticks pushing food around his plate until his stomach woke up and reminded him how much exercise he did that day. Hitoshi dug in furiously. 

“Midoriya breaks his limbs when he uses his quirks.” Shouta considered. “I thought it was just because he hadn't practiced his quirk control and coasted by on strength alone.” 

Hitoshi shook his head. “I don't think so. Also, he was so damned emotional he was giving me a headache.” The miasma of anxiety and stress around Midoriya was annoying. “When he broke his finger at the ball throw? Was one of the few times his cursed energy settled a bit. He was calm. He was controlled, but his quirk wasn't.” 

“Broke his finger?” Hizashi muttered. 

Shouta propped his chin on his hands, laced together as he thought. “Midoriya might have another problem, then. I'll have to question him about his quirk tomorrow. See if he needs some quirk counseling.” 

Hitoshi nodded. “Usually the only time people's quirk and cursed energy are at odds are when they've got a curse feeding off them, but he definitely doesn't. I checked on the way back to the classroom. Something’s wrong but it's not on the cursed end.” He huffed at the irony. 

Shouta sighed. “Thanks for letting me know.” 

“Also, exploding bastard needs therapy. Guy is practically bleeding cursed energy despite his quirk. I dunno what he's so damned stressed out about but it cannot be healthy.” Hitoshi snorted. “And if I punch a dickwad, it's going to be him.” 

“Don't punch Bakugou.” Shouta rubbed his forehead. 

“He'd deserve it.” Hitoshi rolled his eyes. He wasn't going to get into their personal drama but every time Bakugou and Midoriya even came close to interacting both of their cursed energies just about imploded.

“Midoriya, I'd like to speak with you.” Aizawa stopped the green haired boy before class officially started. 

“Y-yes, sir?” The kid's spine went ramrod straight. Maybe Hitoshi was feeling an anxiety disorder from him? 

Shouta closed the door to the classroom, since the rest of the students were already inside. 

“It's about your quirk.” He noted the way Midoriya just about vibrated out of his shoes. “Does it always break your bones?” 

Midoriya laughed, high pitched and breathy. “Um- yes, for a um- l-limited definition of always?” 

“And that means?” 

Midoriya held out surprisingly long beneath his no nonsense stare before breaking. “You see, Aizawa-sensei, I um… my quirk only recently actually…” Things started to click. Likely, Midoriya's quirk must have mutated recently. “...um. Manifested.” 

Shouta blinked. “...you mean mutated, right?” 

“No, sir.” Midoriya's head was bowed as he stared hard down at his shoes. His bright red shoes. That Aizawa saw an awful lot amongst sorcerers. “I was diagnosed quirkless until- u-until recently.” The boy was whispering, trembling, looking like he was about to fall apart. 

Aizawa knew very suddenly that Midoriya was going to need a lot of support. More than he could give. 

Hitoshi was one of the very, very few sorcerers - in an already very limited population rarer than even quirkless people - who had a quirk. Some sorcerers could pass off their cursed techniques as quirks. Most couldn't. 

Shouta and Hizashi had reached out to the community that Hitoshi belonged to. The other adults were more than welcoming, even to non sorcerers. Hizashi was the most social - he was in multiple chats and social media groups - but Shouta had agreed to at least meet with one certain group. A support group for non sorcerer parents of sorcerer children. 

Shouta wished he could say it didn't help, but knowing he wasn't the only one having nightmares about things his son saw that he couldn't helped a lot. The one thing he couldn't relate to was the fact that every other parent had a quirkless child. The discrimination Hitoshi faced for his quirk was close enough to make comparisons, but the things Shouta heard from the other members- 

He knew quirkless people went through a lot in this day and age. He didn't know how much until curses were revealed to him. Then he learned how much more vulnerable quirkless people were to curses and he got it right out of the horse's mouth just how shit society could be. 

He stared down at this kid, shaking like a leaf, and knew that Midoriya had probably been through hell. 

“How recently are we talking?” He asked gruffly, hiding how he was rapidly putting together a plan of action that wouldn't fuck this poor kid up any further. 

“U-um.” Midoriya blushed. “The… entrance exam.” 

So many things made so much fucking sense. Shouta pinched the bridge of his nose. “Shit. No wonder you shattered half your body.” He cussed again, just for good measure. “Have you even seen a quirk counselor?” 

“N-no, sir.” 

“That's first on the agenda.” He said strictly. “Midoriya, you are not to use your quirk without careful supervision and me personally involved.” Aizawa really, really didn't want to think about the damage Midoriya could do to himself if he breathed wrong with his quirk activated. Limbs breaking was forgivable compared to liquefying his own internal organs. “You're going to see a quirk counselor, I'll arrange for a quirk specialist to help figure out how to keep you in one piece.” The school had a few on hand for the second years who were really beginning to come into their quirks’ potential. “I'm also going to insist you see a guidance counselor and I recommend you consider therapy.” 

“Th-therapy?!” Midoriya had been staring at him blankly up until the last bit. 

“Midoriya,” Aizawa carefully extended his hand to press against Midoriya's shoulder. He tensed, but didn't withdraw in on himself beyond an initial flinch. He actually relaxed into it in a stilted way that concerned Shouta. “I'm familiar enough with the challenges quirkless people face, especially in your generation.” Midoriya looked up at him with wide, shiny eyes that were rapidly flicking back and forth across his face. Looking for sincerity. Shouta made sure he showed every ounce he had because he recognized that desperate search for acknowledgement. “I'm sorry for how hard things have been for you. I think therapy will be very helpful, both for controlling your quirk and for you as a person. I'm going to do my best as your teacher to help you but there's only so much I can do alone. Everyone needs a support system.” 

Midoriya's eyes started to water and he ducked his head down, sniffling. Shouta patted his shoulder carefully before removing his hand. 

“In hindsight, going from shattering three limbs to just a single finger is a very good learning curve.” Shouta said awkwardly, trying to lighten the mood because being a teacher and becoming a father still didn't make it any easier to deal with crying children. “Let's see if we can work that down to breaking nothing at all, huh?” 

Midoriya nodded rapidly, tears pouring down his face as he muffled his crying with ease that made Shouta's chest ache. Kids only learned to cry quietly for bad reasons. 

He sighed. “Do you want to go to the nurse? There's a dark room there for kids with headaches, you can take some time to yourself if you need it.” 

Shouta didn't just let any kid leave his classroom at will but kids with mental issues needed the space to get themselves together. He'd already given Hitoshi blanket permission to leave when he needed a moment to gather himself. Midoriya seemed like he would need it too. 

“N- no, thank you, sir.” Midoriya stuttered. “I'll just, um- I'll just go to the bathroom for a bit? If that's okay?” 

“Sometimes being alone is best when you're upset, but sometimes it's better to have someone nearby too.” Shouta was pretty much quoting the things he'd learned over the years. He wasn't nearly emotionally aware enough to know this shit himself. This was just parroting what Hizashi often said. “Recovery Girl won't mind, if you ever need to just not be alone.” Heaven knows she would ferociously defend any teary eyed traumatized kid placed in her clutches.

“Woah! Shinsou looks just like Aizawa-sensei!” Uraraka said with awe as he came out of the changing room. 

Hitoshi shrugged and kept his face hidden in his capture weapon. “Eraserhead was always one of my favorite heroes.” He said quietly. He didn't elaborate when pressed and he focused purely on the weapon around his shoulders. 

He hadn't mastered it yet. It was one hell of a tricky weapon to figure out and Megumi always preferred swords over restraining his opponents. But Megumi was still a prodigy and could use it more than well enough. Once he’d become proficient, Shouta let Hitoshi take one of his older capture weapons to use instead of ordering a brand new one from the support department. 

If Hitoshi kept it close, wore it frequently, and sank his cursed energy into it every time he fought with it, he could turn it into a cursed tool. Then he could give it back to his dad and give him just that bit more protection in the field. Of course Shouta didn't know that. But that was Hitoshi's plan. 

And in the meantime, he had a weapon that was soaked with Shouta's residuals weighing down on his shoulders and keeping him in the present. 

Admittedly, his costume really was just a navy blue variation of Eraserhead's jumpsuit. Hitoshi had no reason to need or want anything else. He needed efficiency, comfort, and protection. The only frivolous thing he requested were the brass buttons with intricate swirls studding the front instead of a zipper. 

(He had red accents on the collar as well- but those were hidden by the capture weapon when it was at rest. Just a “pop of color” to avoid being monochrome as far as anyone cared. And yeah, maybe he asked for his headphones to have red rose vines with long iron nails as thorns inked on it. But it was a small detail he pretended that the support department must have added in because he wasn't about to explain why such a thing existed.)

Hitoshi was partnered with Ojiro Mashirao for the battle exercise on the villain side. Their opponents were Kirishima Eijirou and Shouji Mezou as the heroes. 

Megumi saw Kirishima in his entrance exam. He had a basic hardening quirk but not a lot of martial experience if any. He didn't know much about Shouji, but he was obviously physically strong. 

At first glance the match up was probably a bit lopsided. Ojiro was clearly very muscular, but he was nearly twice as wide as Shinsou's lanky self. Seeing Kirishima's muscles next to Shouji's hulking figure and you might be forgiven for thinking the villains were going to get curb stomped. 

“I'm assuming the outfit means you're good at martial arts.” Hitoshi hummed, though he was actually eyeing the way Ojiro walked smoothly and with awareness of his body most civilians didn't. 

“I am.” Ojiro motioned towards his tail awkwardly. “What's your quirk?” 

“I'm a martial artist as well.” Hitoshi began, aware that his costume hid most of his already hard to see body mass. “Let's walk and talk. I want to get going as fast as possible.” Plans shuffled through his mind. The bomb was too big to hide in his shadows unless he wanted to actually strain something, so that plan was out. 

He also preferred they be inside the building and in a confined space before he revealed his quirk. 

The two of them headed towards the bomb, examining it and testing its durability. Hitoshi poked it with a frown. Paper maché? 

“Kirishima has Hardening. But I don't know much about Shouji.” 

Ojiro shook his head. “I wasn't in either of their entrance exams, so I don't either.” 

Hitoshi didn't feel like taking charge and making the plan, but Ojiro seemed to be hesitating to do so himself. He decided to prod him along. 

“I'm down to listen to any ideas.” 

Ojiro frowned. “Maybe… go to the top floor? Make them have to go up all the stairs first. They both look like they have good stamina though... Shinsou-kun, what is your quirk?” 

His mouth tightened. “My quirk is Brainwash. It's mutated recently into something to do with shadow entities, but I can still take control of people.” He didn't look over at Ojiro, getting his hands around the bomb to see if he could carry it by himself. It was a bit too awkward. “If I can just talk to them for a few seconds, I can activate it and hold them still until you slap the capture tape on.” Hitoshi offered a plan tentatively. 

Ojiro had been reaching to grab the bomb too but his grasp wobbled. “Brainwashing-?” He cut himself off with a snap of teeth. Hitoshi's jaw clenched and he ignored the slight wave of cursed energy emanating from him. “I… that sounds wrong. Your… shadows. What can those do?” 

Hitoshi felt something slip a little and he felt simultaneously hazy but laser focused. Dissociating but he still had a mission. That was… great. 

That sounds wrong. 

It wasn't the worst thing he'd heard about his quirk by far but- 

“I can carry objects in my shadow.” He heard his voice report blandly. “I summon shikigami, shadow entities, that some people can see and some people can't. They aren't always very solid.” 

“How many can you make?” Ojiro asked, sounding relieved. Like he was grateful Hitoshi had something that wasn't- 

“Dozens.” 

Ojiro considered that. “What if I take Shouji, you take Kirishima, and your- shikigami can keep an eye on the bomb? Can they tell you if it's under attack?” 

“Yes.” 

Ojiro was pleased with his silly little plan as he had them move the bomb up to the top few floors. 

A large part of Hitoshi protested that his shikigami being less physical was less useful as the rear guard. Logically he thought that if he was sticking to using his shikigami, he should send them out in force to disorient and harry the heroes. Kirishima was oblivious to curses but Shouji had been able to sense Cujo and Raichou very well if not see them. Even if both were blind as hell, the psychological impact of curses was very good at messing with an opponent's psyche. Hitoshi could have them running around in a panic in the lower levels and forget entirely about going up. 

But he kept his mouth shut; pretended he couldn't feel the way the cursed energy coming off Ojiro only slowed down when they split up. 

It was a poor plan all things considered. If Shouji and Kirishima didn't split up they'd have a bit of a problem. Not to mention he was having a hard time talking because his head felt like it was about three feet to the left and a few inches higher than it should be. Hitoshi could fight perfectly fine dissociated. But he couldn't communicate effectively. If he needed to radio Ojiro about something they were screwed. 

He summoned Cujo's pack to guard the bomb. Cujo padded at his side against his orders, leaving the rest of Divine Pack and following his summoner. His heavy shoulder against his hip helped Shinsou feel like he was a little more grounded. 

“Find them.” Hitoshi silently told his Rabbit Drove, watching as they dove into the shadows across the abandoned building. Several bounced into his arms and on his shoulders and he sighed a bit. 

He didn't pet Cujo, knowing the cameras were on and he didn't want people to see him petting the air like a weirdo, but Cujo panted happily just knowing that he wanted to.

Chapter Text

“Alright students! Who wants to guess the MVP of this match?” 

There was silence as everyone considered All Might’s question. 

“I'm not certain, there was definitely something going on that we couldn't see during Shinsou and Kirishima’s fight.” Momo mumbled into her fist. 

“I kept getting hip checked by something while we fought!” Kirishima said cheerfully. “I dunno what it was but it was big.” 

“My shikigami aren't visible through cameras,” Hitoshi responded after everyone stared at him for an awkward minute and All Might coughed to get his attention. “And only partially visible in person. Kirishima couldn't see the one I had helping me fight.” 

Their fight had been rough mostly because Hitoshi didn't want to grab any weapons from his shadows and Kirishima's Hardening made for a good shield. An unbreakable defense didn't mean shit for the organs beneath though. He had to be careful. The last thing he wanted to do was sicc Cujo on Kirishima only to cause cavitation or break bones or give him internal bleeding. 

Megumi wouldn't have hesitated to give Yuuji or Nobara serious injuries in the name of training. He'd busted up Yuuji more times than he can remember. Nobara was only off the hook for blows to the face; the last time he gave her a black eye she'd gotten her revenge in brutally creative ways for weeks. Even when Shoko wasn't in town, wasn't there to heal everyone, sorcerers didn't hold back in training. Especially in a combat simulation. Megumi was raised to be lethal at all times. Gojo’s Infinity meant he couldn't hurt the damned pest no matter how much he wanted to. Yuuji bounced back from literally every injury with a smile at best and a pricey food bill bribe to Sukuna at worst. Having an arm cut off and his heart ripped out weren't enough to keep him down. Nobara took everything he dished out and tripled down with an endless determination that made up the core of her character behind the facade of callous apathy. 

If he was willing to severely harm his most precious people, then he shouldn't hesitate to be just as firm and unyielding towards opponents he only just met and already thought needed to be toughened up. Maybe sorcerers did it differently these days, he didn't know. He only trained at martial arts studios and with his fathers. 

But Megumi was not the type to play nice. He was not gentle. He shouldn't be holding back on Kirishima. Shouldn't have let Ojiro come up with such a basic plan and followed it without complaint. He shouldn't. It wasn't Megumi. 

Still. For some reason Hitoshi led Kirishima around a room for a while until he could disorient and pin him down. From there, capture tape. Ignoring the multitude of ways he could have ended it earlier, could have swept the whole exercise. 

Hitoshi's arms and fists hurt from blocking punches and scraping against rock hard skin. The pain wasn't helping the dissociation. He was purely in mission mode by now. 

He missed Satoru. Missed the way his stupid guardian would see him dissociating and launch himself over his shoulders, clinging on like a massive barnacle, whining loudly and bodily moving Megumi around until they were somewhere he could sit down. He missed Yuuji curling into his side and Nobara tossing her legs in his lap to weigh him down. He missed feeling alive with the vicious curl of Sukuna’s cursed energy trying to swallow his. 

Megumi's life was fucking awful. Which was why it was extra fucking awful that he missed it so damned much, despite the trouble. 

He tuned out the rest of the lesson, staring at the screens blindly and taking comfort when Tokoyami stood by his side. He seemed confused. But he stood next to him and let their shadows brush together without complaint.

Shouta was busy between paperwork and patrol and the new fuss of his recent problem child. So Hizashi was alone when he stepped into the apartment after his shift at the radio station. He just had a little text for context clues. 

eraserdad: hey. toshis in his cubby. cujo on guard. left him some water and snacks, he didnt want to talk. 

Hizashi wasn't too late getting home, so he could feasibly make them a little something for dinner. But he was a bit concerned about Hitoshi. Being in his cubby wasn't out of the norm for a school night, especially with how stressful the first few days of high school were. But to have Cujo on guard? That was concerning. 

Hizashi grabbed his special cursed glasses as he changed out of his hero costume and brushed down the worst of the gel out of his hair. His shower could wait. 

“Hey little listener!” Hizashi knocked on the door to his son's room. There wasn't any audible objection so he peeled it open. 

A familiar wolf sat in front of the closed closet door, looking up and thumping his tail. Those four red eyes never failed to send a shiver up his spine even when he knew Cujo was pretty tame and very loyal to Hitoshi. Something about them just triggered that red alert alarm every curse did but dialed up to eleven. 

Good news: the room itself wasn't too dark! That meant that Hitoshi's cursed energy wasn't bleeding too much. 

“Hey buddy!” Hizashi crouched and held his hands out. Cujo stood up and licked them. The fuzzy feeling of cold-wet-not-there made his fingers tingle. “You keeping watch on Hitoshi?” 

Cujo whuffed softly. It was audible, which, yeah. Hizashi wasn't supposed to be able to hear him even if the special glasses let him see the shikigami. He hadn't figured out if that said something about him, Hitoshi, or Cujo; and his Friends and Families Of Sorcerers chat groups weren't very helpful on that front.  

“Good boy.” Hizashi ruffled the wolf's ears fondly. Those eyes squinted happily, tongue lolling, and Cujo turned around to trot off to the closet. “You wanna come out and chat, Hitoshi?” 

He stood up from his crouch to crack his back and do some stretches as he waited for a response. His speakers were hell on his shoulders and sitting at a desk could be killer on the back. 

Hizashi's phone buzzed in his pocket. He checked it idly. 

shadowgothson: nonverbal 

“Ah. That sucks.” Hizashi moved to go sit on Hitoshi's often abandoned bed. “Staying in there?” 

shadowgothson: leave the lights off? 

“I don't even remember if the lights in your room work anymore.” Hizashi said. Not entirely jokingly. 

The closet door creaked open and the shadows writhed in long reaching limbs like an eldritch abomination. Hizashi waited patiently as Hitoshi crawled out of the void and towards the bed. He didn't say a word or even look up. Only stumbled up to his feet just enough to collapse on the bed and curl up on Hizashi's lap, phone clutched to his chest. His lanky legs ended up hooked behind him, curled up so tight Hizashi could lean back against them. 

Processing external words was harder for Hitoshi when he dissociated. Usually he could understand others. But speaking or signing himself was hard. Hizashi didn't mind. They worked out all kinds of ways to communicate. The last thing he or Shouta wanted was for Hitoshi to feel unable to talk to them about things. Even if there was no actual talking involved. 

Hizashi put his hands on Hitoshi's shoulders, his own phone propped within sight, feeling the teenager slowly untense. The grounding technique was always so helpful. 

“Wanna talk about it?” 

shadowgothson: quirk 

Hizashi pursed his lips. He made an educated guess. “Did somebody say something to you today?” 

shadowgothson: not rly

Hmm. “Do you really mean that? Or are you lying because you're too tired to be angry about it?” The only thing that banked the fires of Hitoshi's blatant hatred for bullying was a dissociative episode coinciding with when it was about him. 

shadowgothson: both?

shadowgothson: nothing bad 

“It's bad if it's got you feeling bad, kiddo.” There was silence for a minute or two as Hitoshi's keyboard was open but he didn't type anything. 

shadowgothson: not even detention worthy 

Hizashi considered that. “Y’know just because it’s not strictly against the rules doesn’t mean it still doesn’t hurt.” 

Hitoshi huffed into his stomach. Hizashi put one hand on his head, running fingers through lavender hair. Hitoshi shut his phone screen off and curled up tight. 

Multiple noses and fluffy ears bounded out of shadows and snuggled in around them. The bed dipped slightly. A big cold mass gathered behind them. Some hindbrain animal instinct in Hizashi screamed to run and hide. Long used to the way the shikigami triggered his fight or flight instincts, Hizashi took a deep breath and calmed himself. He leaned back against Cujo. Clearly Hitoshi didn’t want to talk about it. He didn’t seem overly upset, just shaken, so he’d leave it be for now. 

Some cuddle time before ordering takeout for dinner was just what the doctor ordered.

Hitoshi wasn’t avoiding his classmates. But he was definitely not reaching out to them. Not like he'd cautiously been doing previously. His dad had noticed and was giving him a pointed eyebrow. Thankfully, they’d both by unspoken agreement decided to not tell anyone they were related unless directly asked. 

Shouta thought it was funny. Hitoshi just didn’t really care enough to share. 

That meant that any parental nagging could wait until they were in actual privacy. Which meant Hitoshi could cling to Tokoyami and ignore everyone else. 

He still wasn’t a fan of bus rides. Public transportation sucked when you had the ability to see random curses everywhere. Having to exorcize them without looking like a dumbass was hard. This bus, at least, had plenty of space. No rubbing elbows. 

He tentatively had a rabbit settled in his lap, petting it. The slight weight was helping him avoid another episode right now. Tokoyami was fascinated at the sight. 

“One of your shikigami companions?” He leaned over, head tilting just so. 

“Yeah. One of uh- Rabbit Drove. They’re good for distractions and intel.” Hitoshi scratched the little guy between the ears with two fingers. It rumbled pleasantly in a way rabbits definitely did not. Tokoyami’s feathers bristled. “...you heard that.” 

“Dark Shadow did.” Tokoyami shook his head a bit, smoothing out by force of will. “It’s strange how it seems to move in my eyes.” 

“No! It’s sitting still!” A tiny head poked out of Tokoyami’s jacket. 

“Oh.” Hitoshi blinked at his first close up with Dark Shadow. “Hi. I’m Shinsou Hitoshi.” 

It lifted up in excitement. “Hello! I’m Dark Shadow!” It wiggled down to be beak to nose with his rabbit. “Who’re you?” 

“Nice to meet you.” Hitoshi patted the rabbit. It stared balefully at the quirk with no concern. “Most of my drove aren’t any more intelligent than actual rabbits, sorry. Some of my other shikigami are, but none of them can speak.” Dark Shadow wilted a little. “I’ll have to introduce you to Raichou sometime,” He assured it, strangely charmed. “She’s my… well, thunderbird, pretty much. She gets a little bright sometimes though.” That seemed to cheer Dark Shadow up considerably. 

“Thank you for speaking to her as a person,” Tokoyami said softly, head tucked. “Most don’t.” Hitoshi briefly checked the pronouns in his mental notes. 

“If I’d known she was sentient I’d’ve introduced myself sooner.” He told both of them. “...so you see my shikigami clearly, but Tokoyami doesn’t.” He stated bluntly to Dark Shadow. 

“I guess?” She wobbled. “Your shadows howl a lot.” 

“Yeah.” He sighed in exasperation. “Divine Pack does that. I can’t get them to shut up at night.” 

“Dark Shadow too is more active in the dark hours of the night.” Tokoyami nodded serenely. “And please, call me Fumikage. As partners in the shadows I hope that we may become companions in time.” His weird dramatic tone changed. “If only so that our companions may have each other as well.” 

“You mean playdates for our shadow demons.” Hitoshi deadpanned. “Yeah, sure. Call me Hitoshi. The school has facilities open for students who want to practice with their quirks after school. If you want to stay behind today, I can introduce everybody.” He could feel the excitement wafting off of Dark Shadow. She was very eager to meet others ‘like her’. Maybe she wasn’t the exact same as his shikigami, but she was close enough that Hitoshi didn’t think the difference mattered. 

Fumikage considered that only for a moment before nodding. “I should be available. What other shikigami do you have?”

Chapter Text

Somewhere through trying to explain why no, Dark Shadow couldn’t give his Rabbit Drove individual names because there were quite literally an infinite amount and giving them that little power boost could mean the difference between being able to dismiss them at will or not, there was a call from the front of the bus. They’d arrived. 

Hitoshi got off the bus and felt something was wrong. He didn’t know what. He couldn’t sense any cursed energy that was out of place. But his heart was pumping a bit too hard and his muscles were tensing up. 

He stood out of the way of the rest of the bus as everyone filed out. Shouta caught his little motion and stayed back to subtly lean in close. 

“Is everything alright?” 

“Something’s wrong.” Hitoshi’s eyes locked onto the doors of the massive domed building. “I don’t know what.” His fists clenched and he tried to breathe steady. “I don’t see or sense anything. But something isn’t right.” 

Shouta’s mouth thinned as he considered that. “I’ll text the school. Can you send your drove in quietly to check the building?” He already pulled his phone out. 

Hitoshi's breath caught faintly. Shouta believed him immediately. Trusted that his senses were more advanced than his, trusted that a child could potentially sense something amiss long before he could. Was even readying others for potential danger on just Hitoshi's gut feeling. 

He gathered himself to answer. “If I get a second to do it without confusing everyone else.” 

“I’ll get the class’s attention in a minute.” Shouta put a hand on his shoulder, pressing down. “Hitoshi. Breathe.” 

He’d been holding his breath. Hitoshi took a deep breath in. Let it out. He signed a brief apology. 

After a moment Aizawa headed towards where the class was milling about, chattering away without a care in the world. Hitoshi used the distraction of his call for attention to make the sign for Rabbit Drove, his shadow rustling with force as dozens of white and black shapes dashed for cover. He didn’t need the sign to call on one or two of them but for a decent number he had to focus his cursed energy. Technically it was only his experience as Megumi that let him summon just a few at a time anyways. 

He caught up to the rest of the class as they lingered in front of the doors. His rabbits were fast. Within a minute they’d dashed through the facility in search of any disturbance, but couldn’t find anything. 

“No curses.” Hitoshi signed to Shouta with a frustrated scowl. Aizawa acknowledged him with a slow blink and continued to lead the class inside. He hoped that wasn't a mistake. He hoped that he really was just being paranoid. 

Megumi knew better than to doubt his gut feelings like that. 

“Is everything alright?” Fumikage whispered. Hitoshi looked at him in mild surprise but he just shrugged. “I felt you do… something.” 

He shouldn't be surprised. Hitoshi wondered if Fumikage was a non sorcerer close to awakening. Dark Shadow saw his shikigami so easily… but then, she hadn't implied she could see curses. Could she? He'd have to check later. 

“Everything's fine.” Hitoshi lied. Then looked toward the massive power of Fumikage's quirk. Stronger than most adults. Powerful enough to constantly ping his awareness. “Nothing is wrong, but I… have a really bad feeling.” He'd rather his friend be a little more prepared for chaos. Fumikage understood the seriousness of being a hero student more than most of their peers. 

Fumikage's eyes gleamed in understanding. He tilted his head faintly, eyes going distant. Then frowned heavily. 

“Dark Shadow agrees that something is wrong, but does not sense any dark powers lingering.” He intoned. 

Hitoshi blinked slowly. Okay they were going to have to have a long conversation later about if Dark Shadow could actually see curses. Because ‘dark powers’? Sounded like it could be curses. 

“Yeah. Same. Nothing's wrong. My drove can't find anything. But.” Hitoshi shrugged in frustration. Something was wrong. His heart was still pounding hard and he couldn't help his fingers flexing, looking for a weapon. 

The two of them had been speaking lowly, following the rest of their classmates inside. Fumikage was briefly distracted by the grandeur of the building. Hitoshi was far more concerned with the open courtyard’s lack of cover. 

Thirteen was an interesting hero. They were known for their dangerous quirk, but also for their rescue work. Hitoshi could respect that. He'd learned during his studying of curse aware heroes- Thirteen was one. A great many people were scared of space. Enough to create a legacy curse that had a real grudge against the hero and kept coming back. Grade two, if Hitoshi was remembering correctly. And while Thirteen's Black Hole wasn't a cursed attack, it destroyed matter down to an atomic level the same as a real black hole, so it could put a curse down for a while. 

Not permanently. But long enough for a sorcerer to be contacted for exorcism. 

Thirteen wasn't the only hero who had a curse as a nemesis for a period of time. There were multiple others. Which said a lot. About what, Hitoshi wasn't quite sure, but it definitely said something. 

His classmates seemed thrilled to be here. He guessed none of them had any bad feelings. At least one, Uraraka, was a fan of Thirteen in particular. 

As they were giving their speech, the bad feeling intensified. 

And then a hole opened up in the middle of the courtyard. 

Hitoshi immediately went on the defensive. He was one of the students who wore their costumes today, because his costume was already pretty much finished. He doubted he'd get any real changes done to it before graduation. Sorcerers had worn just about the same uniforms for centuries with only minor modifications over the generations. 

Which meant he had his capture weapon around his neck and ready to go. Hitoshi could sense horrid residuals clinging to the villains that crawled through. None of them felt very powerful in terms of quirks, but the residuals were nasty. Foul in the way of a grade one curse at least. 

His eyes flashed around the villains as they appeared one by one. Despite the residuals, there were no curses present. Not even the occasional flyhead or minor curse attached to a criminal with enough negative energy to feed it. 

And then a large form stepped through the portal and Hitoshi's mouth went dry. It was large and oily black, at least that’s what he thought. It was hard to see it past the surge of cursed energy coming from it. Hard to focus and listen beyond the horrendous screaming that was coming from it. 

Hitoshi had spent years as Hitoshi fine tuning his ability to sense people’s cursed energy. It was a survival technique, of sorts, started by him learning the intimate fluctuations of cursed energy at Satoru’s knee. For the first time in a lifetime, he frantically tried to muffle that ability. 

“Don’t hurt me” “Please stop” “Let me go” “Stop hurting me” “No more” “Why are you doing this” “Where am I” 

Hitoshi crouched in on himself, face twisting as he tried to shut out the voices screaming. This was familiar. He knew this. When he managed to dull his senses enough, he looked up with horror. 

It was visible to everyone, clearly. That meant it was real and physical. He could see a brain poking out of its head in a way that didn’t make sense. He felt cursed energy pooling from it in a way that didn’t happen unless people were exposed to the cruelest fates humanity could endure. But that was always after someone had died. When their pain and suffering lingered enough to coalesce into a curse. 

This thing, this monster, was still alive. 

“Hitoshi?” Fumikage was grabbing him by the arm, dragging him up to his feet. “Those are villains, Aizawa-sensei said to retreat-” 

“Sensei!” Hitoshi yanked his way back through their classmates, mind racing. “That’s a half-curse!” He screamed, feeling fear and disgust and horror and anger. “You can’t beat it without a cursed tool!” Hitoshi didn’t know if his dad could beat it with a cursed tool, but it was literally impossible to do so without one. 

Shouta turned his head to look at him, eyebrows furrowed. “Half-curse?” 

“They shouldn’t exist- they shouldn’t exist.” Hitoshi reached down and stopped before he could grab his wakizashi from his shadows, teeth gritting. He’d taken too long to work on imbuing a scarf for Shouta. He hadn’t thought to try imbuing one of his own swords, since if Hitoshi used it he could channel cursed energy as much as he needed. He had nothing to give him. “They’re physical and not! No matter what you do to it, it will still regenerate just like a curse!” 

Shouta’s jaw tightened. “Hitoshi-” 

No. Hitoshi knew that tone of voice. He knew that tone of voice. His dad wanted him to be safe. His dad didn't know what a half-curse was capable of. 

“Divine Pack!” He slammed his hands into position, reaching into his shadows and pulling as he summoned every available wolf he had. 

The shadows around his feet shook and trembled. An echoing cacophony of howls filled his ears. Cujo burst from between his feet. 

Distantly, Megumi was aware of Thirteen ordering his classmates to leave. He didn't pay them any mind. He was Megumi, he was a sorcerer, and he would not allow this thing to kill his dad. 

“Cujo, let's go.” He was swept up on Cujo's back as he formed. Megumi grabbed his sword from his shadow. They charged. 

He ignored the humans scattered around. They weren't his priority. His job was to exercise the curse. His pack cleared space, moving humans out of the way one way or another. Unharmed for the most part. Fighting stupid humans getting in the middle of an exorcism wasn’t his job. 

Briefly - very briefly - Megumi froze at the sight of a man that triggered the memory of gray hair and reaching hands. But there were no visible stitches. The hands were cursed, but they weren't curses. That was just a human man with an unfortunate appearance. 

He only paid enough attention to know that the man was giving the half-curse an order. And it followed, reaching for him. 

Without hesitation Megumi sliced its arm off. The pack howled and bounced around. 

The man gloated something about regeneration. Megumi scoffed before- 

It… began to grow back. It shouldn't grow back. But… this curse felt like a grade one. Perhaps it was just strong enough to overcome the damage Megumi's cursed energy did to it. No matter. He could push more cursed energy into it, do worse damage.  

“Hitoshi. Hitoshi.” 

Cujo growled softly, uncharacteristic of him. Megumi blinked. His vision had narrowed in on the curse. No- the half-curse. No wonder it could regenerate. If it was a half-curse made from a modern human, it could have a quirk in addition to the abilities of a curse. 

“Hitoshi!” A hand on his leg. 

He blinked and looked down. Shouta looked worried, cautious. “...it has a quirk, too.” He reported simply. “I don't know how to overcome it without sheer force.” 

“Hitoshi, you're dissociating.” Shouta insisted. “You cleared the field, you did good, but it's not your job. You're not thinking clearly.” 

Megumi frowned faintly. Right… right. His name was Hitoshi now. The curse was hurting his head, the screaming and howling. The horrific sight of a mutilated body turned into a monster. 

Cujo snarled and snapped. Bones cracked and crunched in his jaws, a monstrous roar hurting his ear. 

The half-curse had tried to attack his dad. 

His dad. His dad. 

“NO!” Megumi raised his hands and summoned Raichou. 

The air exploded with the sudden crack of lightning, sending the creature flying. Raichou screamed her fury to the heavens and swept towards the human who yelled incoherently. 

Megumi shifted his fingers to a different shape, not a shikigami. He needed to contain this. Needed to keep it from doing too much damage. Needed to control the environment. 

“Domain Expansion:” He stared wide eyed, teeth bared in a snarl. Shouta's breath hitched. “Chimera Shadow Complex!” 

His cursed energy swept around them and blackness overtook his vision. Megumi was comforted by the sight of shadows rippling into shape. 

His domain was different. While before it was a wild place, a cave with boundless distance, now it was filled with strong lines of hallways and columns. He could recognize the shapes as something almost familiar, something that felt safe. 

“Nobody said there'd be a sorcerer kid here!” The man stomped his feet, howling angrily as he tangled with Raichou. He grasped her wings in his hands and she shrieked, falling away. Her wings dissolved into ash that reabsorbed into the black walls. They reformed moments later, because this man was not a sorcerer, just a man. “You fucking brat! Noumu, kill him!” 

“Don't you dare!”  

Shouta was still here and Megumi's mind was racing. Shouta leapt in front of him, scarf lifted, ready to take on the monster that charged at them. 

Megumi stepped forward and hugged Shouta around the chest from behind, pulling him backwards and into the shadows. 

It wouldn't have worked if they weren't in his domain. Hitoshi hadn't figured out how to teleport other people through his Shadow Spots, if it was even possible. But here they were inside of Megumi's soul. He could do whatever the fuck he wanted with his technique. 

“What- who the fuck-” Shouta fought out of his arms, whirling around. They stood in an empty room of the shadow complex his domain formed. “...Hitoshi?” His dad raised a hand, looking confused. 

Megumi could feel the difference. Felt that he was shorter, but broader. Stronger. Felt the collar of his Jujutsu Tech uniform brushing his chin. Couldn't feel his capture weapon. 

“...hey, dad.” Megumi whispered, feeling a head rush. He should be better than this. He'd done worse, gone through hell, without fumbling so bad. What was wrong with him?  

“Hitoshi.” Hands on his shoulders, pushing down, weighing him down. “Are you alright? What is this? I thought- did you really create a domain expansion?” 

Megumi laughed brokenly. Of course Shouta knew what a domain expansion was. He was a good dad who made sure to know the important things in his son's life. 

Megumi sobbed, folding in on himself. He didn't feel worried. Didn't concern himself with what his shikigami were doing. Cujo was pissed the fuck off. Cujo would handle it. He was stronger than anything else on the damned planet. 

“Hitoshi!” Shouta caught him in his arms, bringing them both to the ground. “Are you okay?” He kept looking around for danger. 

“We're safe, here.” Hitoshi whispered, feeling himself shifting back and forth. Black hair, purple hair. Tall and lithe, thick and muscular. 

“What's happening to you?” Shouta asked, voice forcefully calm in the way it was when he was freaking the hell out but staying professional. 

“I don't know?” Hitoshi wasn't sure who he was right now. The world wavered around them and he snapped to attention. No. He was Megumi and he was Hitoshi and he refused to let his domain flicker, not when the half-curse was still kicking. Not when it could hurt his dad. He needed to contain it. “I'm sorry. I'm never this messed up on a mission.” His voice shifted in tone, dipping back and forth between pitches. 

“Mission?” Shouta grabbed his face in both hands. “Hitoshi, where are you right now? Focus for me.” 

He took a deep breath. “I can't. If I try to just be Hitoshi it fluctuates.” He closed his eyes, breathing carefully. “I have to be both. But it's so hard to be both.” His voice trembled with weakness he didn't let himself feel as Megumi. There was no place for weakness as a sorcerer. 

“Be both?” Shouta tried. “What do you mean? You're Hitoshi.” 

“I wasn't always.” He opened his eyes, knowing they were a tired green. “I'm so… so tired. I just want to be Hitoshi. But I couldn't let the curse kill you. I'm tired of losing family.” Was he crying? He couldn't remember the last time he cried, as Megumi. 

That was a lie. He could. The day he died. The day Yuuji died in his arms. 

He couldn’t slip away one mask to trade for the other, right now. Couldn’t lean on one set of memories to avoid the pain of the other. He couldn’t pretend all was okay.

His son gave a low keen, face more squared and angled than he was used to. There were scars, too. Scars that Shouta had never seen before. 

This was a very strange situation. And Shouta had gotten rather used to strange situations since the day he learned his son was a sorcerer. Part of him was demanding he find the villains and apprehend them, find his students and ensure their safety. The rest of him demanded he take care of his son amongst whatever identity crisis this was. 

Hitoshi looked broken. Aged and tired in a way he did on his worst days, when he dissociated and didn't come back down for hours. 

He wiped tears from his son's face, even though more fell. 

“Hitoshi, what's going on?” Shouta asked, wishing he were Hizashi. Hizashi would know what to say. Would know what to do. 

“I'm sorry. Never told you.” Hitoshi hiccuped. He didn't cry like he was scared, like he was confused. He cried like he was heartbroken, like he was lost and gave up. “Sorry. Didn't wanna b-be Megumi anymore. Nothing went right for me, then.” 

Shouta ran a hand through his hair, ignoring the way it kept changing textures and color. “It's okay. There's a lot going on. I know you don't tell us everything. It's fine. You don’t have to, Hitoshi.” 

“Reincarnation sucks, dad.” His voice wobbled. “You spend one life as one person and then the next you get all the fucked up memories and none of the good shit left behind.” 

“Is that a thing?” Shouta breathes. “Fucking hell, is that a sorcerer thing?” Given all the insane shit he'd seen, it very well could be. 

He was sitting inside a manifestation of his son's soul for fucks’ sake. 

Hitoshi gave a choked little laugh. “Yeah. Yeah. But not- I dunno, not very common, back then. Don't think it's much more common now. Why'd it have to be me?” His tone changed rapidly. “I just- why me? Why couldn't Yuuji? O-or Satoru? They deserve it.” 

Implying that he thought he didn't deserve it. Shouta's mind raced uncomfortably. Not once was his son's bizarre shifting changing ages. If anything, he looked the same age. 

“Hitoshi,” Shouta had a bad hunch. “What was your name?” 

Hitoshi blinked at him tiredly. “...Fushiguro Megumi.” 

For some reason, that name sounded… familiar. Something mentioned in sorcerer history he couldn't recall off the top of his head. 

“How old were you?” Shouta hated to ask, hated to think about it, but- 

Hitoshi - Megumi - smiled a bitter, vacant little thing. “I just want to live past fifteen this time. If I make it to twenty, I'll be golden.” 

Shouta clutched his son close. Ran a hand over his hair, hugging him as tightly as he could. He didn't want to think about it. But the implications going through his mind were awful. 

There was a roar and a feeling of finality. Shouta tensed and looked up to ensure nothing was after them. 

“Oh, good. Cujo exorcized it.” Hitoshi mumbled, slumped into his shoulder. 

“Cujo did what?” Shouta said warily. 

“Oh.” Hitoshi didn't move, but breathed a heavy sigh. “Sorry. It's going to be a mess. Since it was a half-curse and it had a body and all.” A pause. “I hope he didn't eat the villain. That'll be a problem.” 

“Hitoshi.” He hated to admit the terror that Cujo filled him with, even knowing it was a perfectly rational human response to a curse. “Hitoshi what did Cujo do?” 

“He's not a normal shikigami, you know.” Hitoshi sounded… distant. Shouta pulled back to grab him by the shoulders. His eyes were lidded and he looked pale. “He came with me. M'sorry. Think it's the first time he got away from me and hurt somebody.” He sighed softly and started to slump. 

“Hitoshi?” He shook his son briefly. This wasn't dissociation. “Hitoshi!” 

“Borderless expansion.” Hitoshi mumbled. “M'tired. I'll be fine.” 

There was the sound of shattering and the world spun. 

Shouta blinked and shook his head, feeling nauseous. The bright lights of the USJ almost blinded him and he winced. 

“Aizawa? Are you alright?” All Might crouched in front of them. He looked genuinely concerned, ignoring the faint steam coming off his shoulders. 

“I think so, what-” Eraserhead looked around them. 

The villain was lying on the ground, unmoving. He didn't look mauled. 

Not like the half-curse, the Noumu. It was in pieces. Many pieces were missing. Shouta’s mouth pressed into a thin line. That was the sort of brutal sight he’d witnessed only on the worst nights of his job. 

“The students.” He realized, searching. He didn’t want them to see this. Shouta clutched Hitoshi’s head to his shoulder reflexively. His son didn’t protest besides a little huff of air. 

“They’re safe, and being herded away from this spot. They handled the villains very well.” All Might’s eyes flickered over Hitoshi’s slumped back. “Are you both alright?” 

“...yes.” Shouta closed his eyes, holding Hitoshi tight as he dared. “The villains’ leader?” 

“He’s alive.” All Might shook his head. “Which can’t be said for… whatever that was.” He grimaced faintly. “Not the worst curse-related crime scene I’ve seen, but…” 

Hitoshi’s breath had smoothed out, slumped in sleep. “He said it was a half-curse. I’ve never heard anyone mention something like that.” All Might had been a top hero for a very long time. He’d known about curses for decades. Maybe he knew something Aizawa didn’t. 

All Might’s eyebrows raised and then furrowed. “They’re… part of a very old story, artificial human-curse hybrids. Young Hitoshi-kun must study his history very closely to have recognized something like that… if that is indeed what this was.” He looked back over the massacre with a grim edge to his ever-present smile. 

The top hero coughed and caught the splattering of blood on his fist. 

“He’s out of it, he won’t wake up anytime soon.” Aizawa blinked tiredly as he stroked his son’s hair. 

All Might’s smile twitched in what may have been gratitude before he shrunk into his weaker form abruptly. He coughed and hacked into a bony hand, leaned over. 

Nearby Cementoss nodded her head and sent a barrier of walls up to surround them. “You just stay in there until we can wrap things up properly.” The villain who remained alive was carefully cuffed with cement in a manner that kept his hands very, very secure. 

Shouta closed his eyes briefly to gather himself while Yagi sat on the ground with some difficulty. He didn’t want to know how much the hero had pushed himself to get here if he’d already run his time limit out today. Which was stupid, and he’d probably bitch him out a little bit later, but right now Aizawa was exhausted and focused entirely on ensuring his son was okay. 

The domain expansion had completely blocked them from outside help or vision. An orb of darkness had shrouded them that no one could enter. Fortunately All Might had recognized a domain expansion, then called for the highest level sorcerer available due to the high class exposure of the incident. 

Shouta didn’t know how things were going to pan out after this. He knew only the bare minimum of how sorcerer society interacted with the world of heroics, or the government. He knew that sorcerers ranked higher in terms of classification and legal jurisdiction. He knew all of his students had seen the Noumu arrive, had gone through an extremely dangerous incident in what was supposed to be a safe learning environment. He was worried how this was going to impact them. 

Though all of that was sort of just running on a backburner in his mind. The majority of his concern was on the teenager asleep in his arms. 

“You know a lot about sorcerers.” He stated dully. 

“Ah, a fair amount over the years, yes.” Yagi looked ancient. He shook the tiredness from his face with a small smile. “I know you’re fairly new to it all. If you have any questions, I’d love to answer them if I can.” 

“Who was Fushiguro Megumi?” 

“Only one of the greatest heroes of Jujutsu history.” Yagi shook his head with a chuckle. “He defeated the King of Curses, centuries ago, doing what sorcerers before him had failed to do for millenia. Why? Did Hitoshi mention him?” 

Aizawa grunted faintly. “Something like that.” 

“...if I’m remembering correctly,” Yagi considered. “Fushiguro existed around the same time period that the Death Paintings first came to be. Ah- that’s the official name, for a certain group of half-curses. Perhaps he connected the man with them, seeing what he thinks is one such creature?” Yagi’s expression looking over the mess was much more honest than as All Might, though no less tired. “Not that I think he is incorrect, I have learned that most sorcerers’ first instinct is often the correct one. But… I hope he is wrong. I don’t recall much about them, but the Death Paintings are special grade curses, every one. If this truly is a half-curse… things will get very complicated, very fast.” 

“...are?” 

“Ah, yes, the Death Paintings have had some sort of deal with Jujutsu society for hundreds of years.” Yagi shook his head. “Very few are privy to the details. But they've been the sole means of handling special grade curses for a while. No sorcerers are quite strong enough to exorcize them anymore. Both the Death Paintings or any other special grades that come around.” 

Shouta faintly remembered something like that being mentioned, how sorcerers very rarely ranked above a grade two in this day and age. He remembered hearing that special grade curses were rarer even still. 

“Is reincarnation really a sorcerer thing?” He dropped all professionalism, being behind closed walls and feeling a terrible burning ache in his chest. 

Yagi opened his mouth. Closed it. Frowned thoughtfully. “I'm… not certain? It would hardly be the strangest thing involved with Jujutsu society. Why?” 

Yagi's eyes followed his actions to the teenager cradled against him. 

“Oh.” Yagi’s eyebrows rose. “...is he alright?” 

Shouta's limited respect for the flashy hero raised just a bit. “Not in the least. But I've got him.” That would have to be enough.

Chapter Text

To Aizawa’s great, great displeasure, the sorcerer who showed up was a very familiar one. 

“Oh. Eraserhead-san.” Koyama laughed nervously. “It’s… good to see you again. And good to see Hitoshi-kun doing well!” 

Aizawa’s glower deepened. “He passed out from exhaustion after using a domain expansion.” That was not ‘doing well’. 

“...he did what?” Koyama did a double take, looking over Hitoshi with a frown. He looked around the courtyard with widening eyes. “And it was borderless?” 

“Quite the impressive feat, from what I know of domain expansions.” Yagi chuckled. 

“Yeah, no, I… don't know a single sorcerer under thirty who can make a borderless expansion.” Koyama said with wide eyes and a slack mouth. “Expansions are already difficult enough. So few sorcerers are capable of forming one.” 

Distantly, Aizawa felt like laughing. If Hitoshi was fifteen now and lived to fifteen in his previous life, did that technically make him thirty now? He grimaced at the thought. 

So much of Hitoshi had been unexplainable over the years. He had some serious trauma that was largely unspoken, buried and never talked about. Ultimately they'd boiled it down to going through so many difficult foster homes and quirk discrimination from such a young age. 

Now, Aizawa wondered what kind of trauma you got from dying at a young age. Then his gut curdled remembering the history of sorcerers and how rarely one died peacefully. Even to this day and age, retiring wasn't common. 

He wanted to drag Koyama down and demand answers. Wanted to wrack the man's brain for any hint of something that would help his son. But Koyama was already turned around, eyes sweeping the area with a grimace. 

“That's… a grade one curse.” Koyama swallowed dryly as he stared at the remains of the Noumu. 

“Everyone saw it.” Eraserhead said numbly. Hoping it wasn't what Hitoshi said it was. 

“Yeah, I can tell.” Koyama nudged a chunk of - something bloody with his foot. “Curses don't leave behind a body. This…” 

“Young Hitoshi referred to it as a half-curse.” Yagi said, sounding just as tired as Aizawa felt. “Can you confirm?” 

Koyama was silent and still for several minutes. His hands clenched and unclenched.

“I wish I couldn't.” He said, exhaustion and fear in his voice. “Are the civilians- no, sorry, are all the hero students evacuated?” Two confirmations from the heroes at hand. “Good. This building is going to need to be sealed and wait for the Death Paintings to come confirm-” 

There was the sound of shrieking metal. Koyama whirled around, hands raised threateningly. Their heads turned to follow his gaze. 

Cujo stood above the downed villain, fully visible and smoking at the edges. He had his jaws clamped tight around a chunk of metal with swirling shadows surrounding it. 

“Teleportation villain!” Eraserhead warned. He had seen those shadows responsible for bringing the attackers here. 

Koyama cursed explicitly, throwing something invisible. 

It was strange how the spectral fire became visible when it impacted Cujo's patchwork coat, though it left no mark behind. 

“U-uh-” Koyama was turning pale, eyes flicking over Cujo and then over to Hitoshi. “Shikigami… can't form if their summoner is unconscious.” He studied Cujo and his eyes widened into dinner plates. “And um- s-since when was your kid’s shikigami special grade?” 

Eraserhead's eyes studied Cujo. Hitoshi said he'd come with him, presumably from the past life. He didn't know how to feel about that. 

“Special grade?” All Might stood to his feet warily to a protective stance in front of Eraserhead and Hitoshi. “Curses are only visible to non sorcerers if-” 

“If they're exceptionally powerful, yeah, and we knew that about this shikigami already-” Koyama rattled off. Eraserhead flashed back to countless times of Cujo showing his shadowed self to him and Mic. “But special grade?!” 

“What level, would you say?” All Might said. They all watched as Cujo flung his head back and forth, viciously tossing the teleporter's physical body side to side. 

“M-maybe… B..?” Koyama shuddered, hands twitching. “I've never actually had to fight a special grade, usually the experts get called in to assess and exorcise. I can't fight one. I'm not even grade one!” 

“Is it… going to kill him?” All Might asked grimly. 

Cujo was certainly going nuts on the teleporter, metal creaking under the force of his jaws. His paws remained braced on either side of the unconscious villain that had given the Noumu orders. Right where he’d been since Hitoshi went unconscious. 

“Cujo!” Eraserhead said firmly, hoping this worked. Cujo didn't usually listen to anyone who wasn’t Hitoshi. “Let him go!” 

Koyama squawked, undignified, and braced himself with a grim sort of determination. As if he thought he'd die fighting Cujo but was prepared to die trying. Admirable, if stupid. 

Cujo turned his head, four glowing eyes locking onto Eraserhead. He snarled in clear annoyance. 

“Hitoshi didn't want you killing the other villains.” He really, really hoped this worked. “What makes you think he'll want you to kill that one?” 

“Shikigami aren't sentient what are you doing-” 

Cujo growled petulantly, like when Hitoshi was leaving for school and forced to dismiss him. But those red eyes lingered over Hitoshi slumped into Eraserhead's chest. 

The shikigami growled and released the chunk of metal, bent into an incomprehensible shape with punctures from his fangs. He stayed stubbornly over the gray haired villain. Guarding him. Eyes moving to watch the teleporter suspiciously. 

The three men were silent for a minute, hearing the teleporter's groans. 

“I think Cujo ate the majority of the Noumu's mass.” Eraserhead said blandly, trying to not look at the massacre around them. “I hope that won't interfere with the investigation.” He turned an eyebrow to Koyama. “Hitoshi's shikigami have always been able to form whether he's conscious or not.” They knew from his stories, actually, that his shikigami guarding him while he slept was one of the only ways he got any rest in foster care. 

Koyama Stared at him. “...your kid is terrifying.” 

You don't know the half of it. Aizawa wanted to say. Instead he sighed. He should leave the questions for later, when the villains were secured and Cujo wasn't on guard mode.

Their ‘expert’ on half-curses was hours away. While they were on route, the USJ was cleared of any living beings. The corpse of the Noumu - what remained of it - was left for the expert's examination, though Koyama took a great many pictures. 

As soon as Hitoshi was moved Cujo disappeared from Aizawa's non-sorcerer sight. Though he must have been following them, if Koyama's wary glances said anything. 

Aizawa was moved to the nearest hospital with Hitoshi. His son remained unconscious. 

Ultimately there was nothing wrong with Hitoshi. The doctors weren't even sure it was quirk exhaustion. Just exhaustion in general. He was prescribed rest and relaxation. Recovery Girl even came in to do a confirmation. 

Mic was busy with the students. They traded only a brief moment in the hallway, hugging tight, before assigning each other roles. Hizashi was in charge of the students and ensuring their safety and that they'd get home without issue. Shouta was in charge of their son and staying right by his side.

Hitoshi remained unconscious. 

A man in a plain black suit came by to inform Shouta that his students were being evaluated for curse exposure before being allowed to return home. If they had noticed anything out of the ordinary, nobody was in trouble, but they may have to be watched. In the worst case scenario, they'd be brought in on the knowledge of curses and assigned a guard. 

Being exposed to high level curses meant high risk of other curses showing interest. Not a common danger, these days, but with a level one curse certainly a risk they faced. 

Shouta felt sick, thinking of everything. Fortunately the man, Kashiwa, was able to explain what else would follow since Aizawa didn’t know. 

The attack was publicly going to be blamed on villains. No mention of curses would be brought up. The Noumu would be erased from any and all reports without the proper clearance levels. Hitoshi, being a sorcerer even if young and untested, would not be punished by any law or authority for acting to exorcise the Noumu. Apparently sorcerers pretty much had a standing Good Samaritan's Law, when it came to curses. 

There were going to be questions once he was awake. Especially given his shikigami's actions. But not because anyone was in trouble. 

Tentatively, Shouta raised the question he'd been wanting to ask any sorcerer since it had come up. All Might’s answer was uncertain. 

“Do sorcerers reincarnate?” Shouta squeezed his son's hand. Hopefully, they'd be allowed out of the hospital before Hitoshi awoke. He still hated hospitals. 

Kashiwa looked at him curiously. His eyes moved to Hitoshi and Shouta resisted the urge to bristle. “...yes, though it is exceedingly rare. There is a process for proving one's status as a reincarnate if needed.” Kashiwa looked back at him evenly. “Would you like to request the testing necessary?” 

“What are the ramifications if… someone is a reincarnate?” 

“Entirely up to them.” Kashiwa frowned, pulling out his phone to look through something. “Apologies, the situation is rarely called for, so my knowledge on it is sparse.” After a few minutes of scrolling and reading he nodded. “Yes, as I thought. It is entirely up to the person in question what happens. The testing primarily involves an interview with historians and a few tests by sensor types. The knowledge may go public in the community, or it may be kept private. It can impact decisions made towards licensing and training, but typically only benefits, due to added experience.” He nodded firmly and tapped something. “There is an allocated fund from a trust set up for any and all future reincarnations. A sorcerer of old set it up to ensure their stability and safety. He was… rather oddly fixated on the matter, actually; though given it was the Gojo, it is hardly the strangest of things he did over his lifetime.” 

Gojo was a big name. Even Shouta remembered that. Sorcerers used the name Gojo nearly synonymous to God. Or at the very least a particularly well known historical figure with his fingers in everything. 

They didn't exactly need the money, with all of the jobs between him and Hizashi. But he'd leave the decision up to Hitoshi. 

“So? Would you like to request the necessary testing?” Kashiwa asked politely. 

“...not right now.” Shouta shook his head. “I… I'll leave it up to him.” 

So reincarnation was regular enough that they had an actual verification process. That was… interesting. Just another bizarre thing he'd have to wrap his head around with a sorcerer for a son. After everything else, this was honestly not even that strange. 

Kashiwa dismissed himself once Aizawa had no further questions, looking to see on Shouta's request if he could take his son home to rest since he was uninjured. 

He sat there in silence for a minute, head in his hands, processing. 

“Sorry.” Hitoshi croaked from the bed, startling him. 

“Hitoshi.” Shouta immediately moved to grab his hand again. They didn't expect him to wake for another few hours at least. “The only thing I want an apology for is scaring me half to death charging in against a horde of villains.” 

Hitoshi's mouth quirked into something amused. “...yeah, won't say m'sorry for doing it, but sorry for scaring you.” 

Shouta ruffled his son's hair with a sigh. “We'll talk about it.” 

“Didn't… mean to.” Hitoshi's eyes drifted to the side. “It was powerful. It looked like… something I knew. I knew nobody else could fight it. I had to do something or you-” His voice choked. 

Shouta grabbed a bottle of water, letting him sip from it. Hitoshi seemed to be a little boneless. Cursed energy exhaustion affected the whole body, though it wasn't dangerous like quirk exhaustion could be. 

Shouta observed his son for a minute, sipping water and clearing his throat. 

“...what grade were you?” Shouta asked carefully. 

Hitoshi smiled bitterly. “Special grade. They didn't have any levels to special grade back then, of course, so just that.” 

Shouta felt a burst of confused astonishment and pride. “At the very least, I'm a little less mad at you knowing you were in fact capable of handling a grade one curse.” 

Even though the thought was terrifying. Grade one curses were capable of mass destruction. There were only two grade one sorcerers in the world. There were no special grade sorcerers. Aizawa didn't get the formal education available to sorcerer prospectives, but there were classes and info packets offered to non-sorcerers. He and Hizashi looked over most sources available to them. If only to know exactly what world their son was getting into. 

(Odd, to realize Hitoshi already knew a lot of things. He wasn't ‘getting into’ sorcery, it already had its claws on him previously.) 

“Would've been tough.” Hitoshi mumbled, eyes lidding lower and lower. “The quirks would've made it a rough fight. Rougher than I'd like. M'just glad you're okay.” He blinked and lifted his head a bit, woozy. “You're okay? Everyone else is okay?” 

“I'm fine.” Shouta’s heart panged. “Your classmates were unharmed, though they went through a lot. The villains responsible were apprehended. The half-curse was… destroyed. They're sending some sort of specialist to look into it.” He squeezed Hitoshi's hand.

Hitoshi grunted, relaxing back into the bed. “Can we go home?” He mumbled, turning his head into the pillow. “Do my stupid paperwork later, if you want me to, but I wanna go home.” There was something infinitely fragile and young in Hitoshi's voice. 

Shouta blinked. Hitoshi had been awake to hear that conversation, then. “Yeah, son. We can head home soon.” Even if he had to break Hitoshi out of the hospital. Better than Hitoshi deciding to teleport his way there to get out of the uncomfortable environment.

“...this cursed energy. I know it.” Chousou said slowly. 

Nezu pressed his paws together. “What exactly do you mean by that, Itadori-san?” His fur was ruffled and standing on end. Even knowing everything was safe and well, his more animal side refused to settle around the half-curse. Nezu bemoaned his inability to completely override his natural instincts. Fortunately the half-curse never took offense. 

“Both of these.” The half-curse did not linger near the pieces of the other half-curse. He wandered around the pavilion with closed eyes. “The shikigami… it is separate from its summoner in a way shikigami aren't, and the summoner itself…” A frown graced his corpse-like features. “I know both of them.” He opened his eyes. “Is the student responsible a reincarnate?” 

“Not to my knowledge.” Nezu said, tapping his chin. “Such a thing is a rarity among sorcerers, no?” Even amongst a blindingly rare minority reincarnation was hardly ever seen. 

“Rare, yes. But possible. I know this cursed energy, both of them.” Chousou insisted. “Not well. But I committed them to memory a long time ago. I must speak with the student in question and see this… ‘shikigami’ for myself.” 

“I can speak with his fathers to set up a meeting-” 

“I'll do it myself.” Chousou said, with uncharacteristic emotion. Their professional interactions had always involved the half-curse being rather monotone and withdrawn. 

“They're both teachers and pro heroes at that,” Nezu cautioned. “They're very protective of their son.” Chousou was not known for tact or delicacy, to say the least. “I would prefer to be a mediary to avoid upsetting either party.” Either to avoid Aizawa and Yamada getting defensive or Chousou from being offended. The half-curse was well used to getting his way. 

Nezu liked Chousou's direct nature most of the time. He was refreshingly brusque and had similar opinions on humanity as Nezu himself held. But in this case… perhaps not the most helpful. If the Aizawa-Yamada household resisted his questioning in any way, Chousou may very well get… insistent. 

“...fine.” Chousou grunted, looking mulish. Nezu was aware it was only their longstanding acquaintance that allowed him to get away with ‘slowing down’ the half-curse. “Let me know as soon as they're available to speak, then.” 

“In the meantime..?” Nezu inclined his head. “Any commentary about the situation at hand?” 

“Half-curses aren't natural. They don't form themselves. They're only ever made.” Chousou instantly grew dark. Nezu's spine tingled in primal fear. “Against every treaty we've made with the humans… someone made half-curses again. They had better hope it was some curse responsible, or there will be a heavy price to pay.” 

Nezu understood in a flash. 

Years and years ago when Nezu first joined the public eye, Chousou had approached him with worry that Nezu would be experimented on again. Chousou had once been nothing but an experiment. He and all his siblings. He’d reached a hand out to Nezu in offer of protection. Nezu hadn’t needed that protection by then. He’d carved out safety and a place in the world of humans for himself. But he’d accepted their hand in solidarity and alliance. The Itadori siblings had long since fought for their right to be sentient and hold their own lives in their hands. 

Much of the legislature Nezu had helped get passed in regards to sentience in non-humanoids was in fact based off the legwork Chousou’s family had made with Jujutsu society over the course of centuries. With much less threats of violence, of course. 

Should the Death Paintings be truly displeased with humanity, they were fully capable of withholding their abilities from being used in the world of humans. Meaning nobody capable of exorcising high level curses. 

There were no special grade sorcerers that were purely human. Every one was one of the Itadori clan and their small branches over the ages. 

“If they have done so, allow me to offer my assistance where necessary?” Nezu held the metaphorical hand out in mirror of Chousou’s offer years ago. “I hate to think poorly of the humans who very well know how dependent they are on your goodwill, but humans are so prone to poor ideas…” 

“Anything for more power.” Chousou said, tired in a way only a being of his age could express. 

“When you are done here, do please allow me to invite you for some tea, Itadori-san.” Nezu continued. 

“I need to tell my siblings about this matter.” Chousou declined politely. “I will call you later to take you up on that offer, however.”