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“Everyone, this is Saiko Natsumo,” Aizawa introduced, the woman smiled softly, bowing to the class. 1-A quieted down and placed all their attention to the adults up front. Shinsou shifted in his seat, pulling up his mask as the woman’s eyes stared him and the class down.
Saiko seemed very professional, her flaming red hair was pulled into a tight bun, she wore a pressed black suit and some heels. No one had a clue what was going on. Aizawa cleared his throat and went on with his monotonous dialogue.
“Due to past events happening in this class, the higher ups have decided to do a group therapy session as a whole,” he looked over the class, not missing the worried and confused looks of his students, “you don’t need to participate, but she’ll explain her quirk and what will be going on, I’ll be an example for one and then you will proceed with the rest, Natsumo?”
“Yes sir,” she saluted, spinning on her heel, “Today we’ll be shifting and projecting your memories, mainly your happiest, saddest, and angriest memory,”
Shinsou flinched at the task ahead of him. He wasn’t disturbed with having his memories displayed to the class because, well, they already knew half the shit that happened to him. (if they watched the news growing up) He was more afraid of what other people had going through their heads. Ojiro raised his hand up, his tail flicking from side to side behind him.
“We don’t have to do this right?” he asked, calming down his tail as Kaminari snatched the limb. Natsumo nodded, watching as the nerves of everyone in the class disappeared. She giggled behind her hand and waved at Aizawa who begrudgingly stood, plopping down into the seat in front of the class.
“What memory?” Natsumo asked, grabbing his left hand. He threw his head back and gave a soft sigh. Shinsou’s heart pounded in his chest. No one in the class knew that he was their adopted son, and he didn’t know if he would be offended or not if he wasn’t one of his happiest or saddest- hell even his angriest memory.
“Happiest one is fine,” he muttered, relaxing into the seat. The lady nodded and closed her eyes, her hands glowing a faint white. The once dark room was now filled with a bright light that showcased a scene that was so… hologram like.
Aizawa was standing in a slightly crowded space. Shinsou could recognize his Pops, Kayama and some cloudman- probably Oboro, in the room. It was silent, the only thing that could be heard was the wind blowing and some loud purrs coming from someone’s lap.
“Sho! Have you decided on a name yet?” The loud voice of Present Mic echoed through the room. Young Aizawa shook his head, silent laughter shaking his shoulders. He lifted a shaky hand and scratched underneath the grey cats chin, earning another purr from the feline.
“I think we should call him Mochi, I just think it fits him,” Kayama gushed, her dark hair flying in the wind, her blue eyes wide with adortion.
“Nemuri that’s a stupid name,” Oboro judged, fixing his posture on his little cloud seat, “Sushi is a better name, and the better food,”
Aizawa tuned out his friends bickering, focusing all his attention on the cat. It’s grey eyes were squinted shut, and pushing his head into his hand. He gave a small smile and went on with petting the cat.
“What do you think his name should be Shouta?”
He was broken away from his thoughts as he felt three sets of eyes on him. His face flushed, embarrassed at all the attention on him.
“Does our little Sho have a name in mind?” Kayama teased, nudging his shoulder. Aizawa shook his head, his face getting redder as time passed.
“He does! Tickle it out of him!” Mic yelled, diving at the teen. The cat screeched, running away from the dog pile and onto the small cloud Oboro had made for him. Aizawa let out a loud wheeze like laugh, twisting and turning in their grasp.
“What was the name? Tell us right now Mister,” Oboro yelled, raising the cat in the air, cackling into the wind.
“I-I was- I was thin-thinking about Ha-Haiiro!” he forced out, curling in on himself. They went on for a while, but finally stopped. Oboro was still holding the poor kitten like he was a god, laughing like a maniac.
“Were you even listening Oboro?” Aizawa asked, walking over and snatching the cat from his grasp. The energetic male shook his head, a grin etched into his face. Kayama and Mic both slapped their foreheads, shaking their head in disappointment.
“The kitten's name is Haiiro dimwit,” He hissed, playfully punching the teen in his gut. Oboro groaned, falling onto his cloud in defeat, rolling around in fake pain. The group couldn’t help but let out a small laugh at his antics.
The memory faded out after that, the room becoming dark as the projection dissolved into the air.
“He was soooo cute!” Hagakure squealed, jumping up and down in her seat. Mina and her squealed happily, gushing about their teacher and how adorable Midnight and Present Mic looked. Shinsou agreed silently, his heart calming down when he realized he wasn’t mentioned in his moment up there.
“Okay class 1-A,” she clapped, shooing the teacher from the chair, “Who’s next?”
__*__
Sato’s face was flushed when he stood up from the seat. Everyone- including Aizawa, were smiling and laughing under their breaths at his memories. Mainly the happiest one. Shinsou couldn’t agree more with them, his smile hidden behind his mask.
“If you love cooking for us so much, don’t be afraid to bring more food our way,” Midoriya called out from his desk. Sato bowed slightly, hiding his flushed face in his hands. He ran back to his desk, now dealing with the teasing of Uraraka.
“Alright everyone calm down,” Aizawa shouted, his quirk activating. The class went silent, and their attention was now channeled back to the front. Shinsou just laid his head down on the cool surface of his desk, waiting for the next person to be called up.
“Up next we have…” Natsumo hummed, reaching her hand into the drawing bowl, “Shinsou Hitoshi!”
His head shot up from his desk, surprise drawn all over his face. Iida pushed him forward a bit with his hand, yelling encouraging words to him. He huffed and stood, making his way up to the front. Again, he fixed his mask, all of a sudden feeling self conscious of the material. The purple haired male sunk into the seat, his left hand raising up into hers.
“Are you fine with doing all three?” She muttered, her strikingly bright green eyes, staring straight into his. He looked away and nodded, picking at a stray thread on his pants.
“Save the happiest moment last- oh and I apologize in advance for the stuff you're about to see,” he chuckled, scratching the back of his neck, “If you aren't good with blood and stuff… it’d be best for you to leave,”
Everyone stared at the calm male in surprise. Natsumo tightened her grip on his hand, sending Aizawa a warning glance. He nodded and stood up from his laying down position, this time standing behind Shinsou.
“You know you don’t have to do this right?” he asked, his normal monotone voice becoming a more worried, parent-like tone. He nodded, fixing his mask yet again. Something he did when he was either nervous or annoyed.
“I’m fine, I’m just worried about them,” he told the older male, sinking further into the seat. Aizawa sighed, turning to the class.
“Does anyone need to leave?” He was met back with a couple nervous shakes, and almost inaudible no’s.
“Alright, we’ll start off with your saddest memory,” She announced, earning a hum from the teen.
Shinsou shuddered at the feeling of something crawling through his brain, squirming a bit in his seat. After a few silent seconds, paralysis took over his body and his vision went black.
When he opened his eyes, he was back home, watching over his 7 year-old body.
Shinsou walked up to his house, not missing the weeds that snaked around the small garden and the few that were almost as tall as him. He gulped at the sight of the spider webs and dead insects that collected at the front porch. The child blew out some air from his nose, wincing as the hot air exited from the outside of the muzzle and hit his eye.
He pulled the key from his pocket, shaking hands reaching up to unlock the front door. It took a few good shoves and a kick for the door to give way. As usual, the house was dead silent. No welcome home from his mother, no grunt of acknowledgment from his father- nothing greeted him. Ignoring the feeling eating away at his chest, he decided to just get ready for another long night. He took off his tattered shoes, switching to the slides.
First he’d finish his homework (which he never really got the chance to finish since he never got help), then he’d clean the dust of the furniture, sweep the floors, and collect the food wrappers and beer cans/bottles from the living room area.
Just another boring moment in his childhood, alone, confused, and sad.
__*__
His next memory- the angry one, was a lot more painful and troubling. He knew what was coming, and his body twitched slightly at the thought of living it out again.
⚠️TW// Abuse and Gore!!⚠️
Shinsou was 8 this time. Sitting at the dinner table with his mother doing his homework. She had her nose buried deep in the book she was reading, ignoring the confused looks on her son's face as he worked through his math.
“Hitoshi! We need another beer up here!” his father yelled from the living room. He flinched at the level of his voice, but followed the instructions nonetheless. He stood up from his seat and walked to the kitchen, breaking out into a cold sweat. One of his buddies stood at the fridge, a beer dangling from his hand. Shinsou took a few steps back, his eyes screwing shut as an evil grin decorated his face. He knew what was going to happen. This specific man always did something that got him in trouble. Mainly because he liked seeing his fear on his face, and the fact that he liked seeing the child in pain.
“Little Hitoshi, you caused,” he dropped the bottle, “such a mess,”
The little boy stared in shock, his body freezing and cotton filling his ears. He could hear the footsteps of his angry father, the yelling of his mother. He could hear it, and to say he was afraid was an understatement. Other times he’d be fine, only getting a few punches to the gut or slaps to the face. But that’s because he forgot to do chores, or his father’s friends said that the food wasn’t good. Not once- never had he ever messed with his source of happiness. Beer.
Shinsou didn’t know what was going to happen to him. They could throw him out again, or they could beat him up and lock him in his room again. He’d prefer anything than what he was going to go through. He fell to his knees, shaking and hyperventilating. He apologized over and over in sign, not meeting the harsh gaze once.
“I’ve had enough of your shit, Yokushi, you had an idea in mind didn’t you?” his father grinned, gripping his son’s indigo hair in his firm grip. He cried as the thin hair on his head was yanked right off his scalp.
“I sure do, but I got it,” the brunette nodded, his face stoic of any emotions. Except for those sadistic eyes, “I’ll call you guys in when I finish, or…”
“I’m not watching that shit, I have a good buzz and you’re not ruining it,” his father laughed- fucking laughed like his son wasn’t about to be murdered in the next room.
“You’ll need to turn the TV up, he’ll be screaming,” he grinned, dragging the paralyzed kid from his spot on the kitchen floor. Shinsou stayed frozen, even when the older male pulled off his clothes and layed down towels on the hardwood floor.
“I’m not raping you buddy, kids aren’t my type, I will be ruining that pretty little mouth of yours,”
Shinsou looked away from the gaze, letting the man unlock his muzzle. His mouth was finally free, the cool air hitting his numb cheeks. His shaking hands reached up to cup them, not missing the snarl on the others face.
“Move your fucking hands, I have company to go back to,” he snapped, using his foot to shoo the hands away. Shinsou took in a breath of air, coughing as the air burned his throat. The burnette rolled his eyes, pulling a knife from his pocket. The words finally clicked in his brain.
He was going to ruin his mouth- he was going to cut up his mouth.
He knew better than to move. So he stayed put, shaking like a leaf on the floor. Yokushi's eyes looked crazy, wide with hunger, turning a darker shade of blue. He raised the knife, sneering as Shinsou turned his head to the side.
“Stop fucking moving or this will be worse than it needs to,” he whispered, gripping his neck, banging his head against the floor. The child shrieked as another blow to the back of his head. Distracted by the pain thrumming in his skull, the older man brought down the knife, slicing at the corner of his mouth, getting about an inch of the skin. Shinsou was sobbing, thrashing on the floor. His salty tears getting caught on the cut.
“I wanted to be nice and give you a clean line, but it won’t be too straight now,” he went back down, sawing at the skin, the knife nicking his tongue through the now opening of his cheek. His eyes rolled into the back of his head as pain took over his senses.
No one heard his screams. His father was watching shows with his friends. His mother probably moved to the car to get her work done, and the neighbors learned to ignore him. And the sick bastard on top of his chest cutting into his cheek had no sense of remorse. All he felt was anger for these bastards who decided to ignore him. His hands twitched and his head fogged up. Other than the pain he had in his body. He was pissed- no he was livid, he wanted to hurt them.
Black flooded his vision, along with the hatred for the two sad excuses of parents and the two disgusting scums called humans.
__*__
⚠️ Free to read now <3⚠️
Shinsou was as calm as ever, even though he could feel the tears streaming down his face. He also could feel him gripping something.
A hand was placed on his shoulder, even through his clouded mind he could slightly hear them. Gasps and cries of his classmates, a hiss of pain from next to him, someone trying to calm him down-
“... hand, Shinsou you’re hurting her hand… calm do…” Oh, that was his teacher, Aizawa. Who’s hand? Hurt? He loosened his grip on the hand, twitching in his seat, still paralyzed due to the quirk. “It’s the last one- the best one so don’t worry,”
When Shinsou was lodged back into the world of his memories, he felt warm this time.
He was cooking with Hizashi at the stove, getting hissed at by Quillon- who seemed to find purchase around his neck, and getting scolded by Aizawa for smoking up the kitchen.
“I don’t cook! Why are you so mad at me?” he whined, flipping the burning meat. His body twitched with annoyance as Aizawa let out a huge laugh, toppling out of his chair. The papers he was grading fell to the floor, along with the cat on his lap.
“How do you burn meat? It’s not that hard to cook!” Hizashi yelled, his arms swinging around in the air. Quillon agreed, letting out a loud hiss, jumping onto the counter. The blond next to him gave up watching his antics, pushing him aside. Shinsou stepped back, watching over his shoulder as he began placing new pieces of meat down.
“Why do you have the fire so high? Are you that impatient?” The teen rolled his eyes, ignoring the question. Instead he pulled down his mask to steal a few of the slices Hizashi had cooked before. He shoved the thin slices in his mouth, the bands stretched, showcasing the uneven jagged lines in his cheeks. He clutched the sides, feeling the juices from the beef slip past the opening.
“Stop stealing food, it should be done any minute anyway- help your lazy father clean up the table,” he shoved the boy away. Shinsou gave a loud groan, stomping to the dinning room where the older male laid flat on the ground. He bent down, inches from his face.
“Ah! Dad! Pops called you lazy,” he snitched, biting back a laugh as the blond in the kitchen cursed him out. The black haired male snickered, opening one of his eyes.
“You have meat juice dripping down your che-”
“You only do this to get under my skin,” Shinsou grunted, the small smirk on his face being replaced with a frown, “It’s grease, stop calling it that! It’s weird!”
Aizawa grinned like a fool, shaking his head. He pulled himself up a bit, turning around a bit- before placing all his weight on the teen. Shinsou yelped as all 167 pounds of the man was forced onto him. He fell back, struggling to push the heavy human off of him.
“You know… Hizashi will get mad at you for not cleaning,” Aizawa’s voice was as blank as ever- like he wasn’t crushing his son with his weight. The boy struggled more, twisting and jerking his body- ‘accidentally’ elbowing him in the side. The action earned him a wheeze and air to his lungs.
“You play dirty heathen… you play dirty,” he playfully glared at the now shit eating grin that spread across his child’s face.
“Are you going to clean or are you just trying to play the cute card?” an annoyed voice asked. A rapid- which the teen bet was the tongs hitting the table, sound echoed the small dining room. AIzawa and Shinsou glanced at each other and gave a look of agreement. The two turned at looked up at the man,
“We’re simply bonding, father and son time,” they spoke at the same time. The older of the two nodded, ruffling the other's hair. Hizashi sighed, shaking his head. The loose strands of hair slipped from the ponytail, falling right on his cheeks.
“I’m not one to do this,” he muttered, blowing out a puff of air and straightening his posture, “I will let the ones I love most starve and die on my beautiful dining room floor,”
“Sweet, no more school,”
“Don’t threaten me with a good time,”
“You two are fucking hopeless- just clean the table,” he gave up, turning on his heels to go back to the kitchen. The duo laughed and got off the ground, quickly cleaning the area so the male wouldn’t actually starve them.
The night finished with a blur- and Shinsou hated to say it, but just like the moment in real life, the memory ended too soon.
The fog in his head cleared, his body tingled a bit and his eyes were hazy but he was free. Silence filled the room- for a second he thought it was an effect of the quirk, but then he heard a loud thud from behind him. He jumped, turning around, freezing as the sight of his father slamming his head down repeatedly on the podium.
“Out of all the happy moments, it was that?” he grumbled,burying his face in his hands. He flushed, his hand reaching up to pull the black mask up and over his nose.
“Shinsou,”
His body stilled at the deadly tone of his classmate. Now he could feel eyes drilling into his back. The one time he needed Quillon to pull him out of a situation, he wasn’t there!
Slowly he turned his head, nervous eyes staring down at his now too interesting shoes. No one spoke for a few moments, stillness in the room weighing down the anxiety in the teen.
“So in a way,” Todoroki started, blank eyes staring holes into his head, “you're still Aizawa-sensei’s kid?”