Archive of Our Own

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Hitoshi Shinsou's parents don’t like him. It was just another simple fact about him. Hitoshi’s favourite colour is purple, he has a secret collection of cat stickers in his school locker, and his parents don’t like him. People always tend to resort to pity whenever they find out, usually when his parents don’t show up to events, but it doesn’t bother Hitoshi anymore. It’s not complicated to him- given his horrendous quirk and unlikeable attitude. Sometimes you meet a person and just don’t get along. For his parents that person happened to be their child. Aside from the bare minimum of food, shelter and clothing, he tried not to interact with them. For the most part they left him alone too. Sure, it would’ve been nice if they acted like normal parents, but who is he to complain when he has a villain’s quirk and therefore cannot behave like a normal son himself? Hitoshi doesn’t blame his parents, really. He honestly gets it. He doesn't like himself either.

It was easier to ignore things once he got into UA. He remembers the day he got the acceptance letter, sitting on his bedroom floor with his lights off (so that his parents wouldn’t see them on if they walked past and had to be reminded of his existence), reading with a dim pen flashlight that he would be accepted into class 1-C, General Studies. He wasn’t disappointed, already knowing he was seriously lacking the physical capabilities to be accepted into the Hero Course. It only served as better motivation to learn as much as possible and strive to be good enough to show the faculty at UA that despite his villainous quirk, he too can be a hero. He can be better than all the other students, no matter the cost. School was about learning after all, not making friends. His parents only found out a week before term was due to start where he would be studying. Suddenly he was all the rage within his parents’ groups. They told everybody they knew of their “little ‘Toshi” and how he got accepted into the #1 school in Japan. Not for Heroics, no no no that boy could never be a Hero, it’s for the best really- given how dangerous it would be to put him around others he might to speak to. Just as suddenly as it all came, it was all gone. His parents’ moods always shifted do drastically it always served to give him some sort of emotional vertigo.

Once school started, he was rudely reminded of his insane lack of both social and physical skills. All he had going for him were his smarts. Class got boring a lot, given he already knew most of everything from independently educating himself in Junior High when that work also got tedious and repetitive. It was easy for Hitoshi to fall back into old habits of daydreaming. Sometimes it got so severe that he didn’t know what was real and what he was making up in his head. The first time that happened as a kid his 1st grade teacher called for a parent teacher conference, to which his parents were very displeased. The teacher explained to them that he seemed to be “in his own little world” and he needs to “learn to be present when it’s time to listen.” His parents profusely apologized to his teacher on his behalf for his behavior, even though his teacher didn’t seem mad, only concerned. He was referred to a child psychologist, and his parents promised the teacher that he would be taken, and to expect his behavior to improve. Of course, they never took him, lest there actually be something wrong with him. Instead, he got yelled at the worst he’s had in a while. His parents accused him of putting on an act and putting his teacher and classmates under a spell. He didn’t argue back, he never did. Still, his parents forced him to change his behavior, so he made sure they thought he did, though it was all a rouse of just hiding himself better. Why would he willingly deal with people like that when he could just live in his own head instead?

Sometimes, during these daydreams he would fantasize about things he shouldn’t. Not in a dirty way (though that would be less concerning to admit), but more in a morbid way. Would his parents ever die? Would it be sometime soon? Could it be sometime soon? How would they die? Would it be an accident? Murder? Would he be at their funerals? What would happen afterwards? Would he be put into the foster care system? Or would that finally be his last push to gain the courage and kill himself under the guise of a grieving child? That would be a nice excuse. It's not like Hitoshi wanted to die, he just wouldn’t be opposed to it if he happened to find himself in a situation where death would be a reasonably expected outcome. Maybe it is a good thing he wasn’t accepted into Heroics. Other times his daydreams were tamer. What if his parents just signed their parental rights away? No hassle, no defiance. Or what if he just ran away? What if he ran away, but left a suicide note depicting his hate for his villainous quirk and how he started drifting towards the wrong side, but decided to off himself in order to save the world from another villain? Given his parents’ perception of him, it honestly wasn’t a half bad idea. Point is, his daydreams mostly centered around him and his parents no longer having to put up with each other and he tended to get so wrapped up in them he could no longer say for sure if they were still alive or if he was still alive or if he really wrote that note, in which case he needs to find it fast before his parents do- and oh shit the world is going fuzzy again. That usually happened after a while of daydreaming, his vision would worsen, his ears would start ringing and he’d get this floaty feeling in his heart and body that made him wonder if one of the others used their quirk on him to move him in the air. The feeling was kind of trippy, like being on a drug, addicting in the same way too. Looking down at his hands- are they his? They don’t look like his. They certainly don’t feel like his, though since can’t really feel much of anything right now he supposes his judgement can’t be trusted. He wiggles his fingers, clenches his fists, relaxes his hands- nothing. His hands move, but he feels nothing. Hitoshi dreams of a day where his whole body and mind would dissolve into such nothingness.

***

Hitoshi didn’t even try to sit with his classmates at lunch, rather opting to take one of the cafeterias Grab ‘n Go options, a snack pack containing an ube muffin was his favourite. Did he like ube flavoured things? Eh. But it was purple, and that was enough for him. He would take his snack pack and sneak through the halls, going up to the roof of the current building and enjoying the air up there. Sometimes if he’d had a bad night or morning, or if his parents did that thing where they acknowledge his existence just so that they can pointedly ignore him and talk as if he wasn’t there (they could be so childish, really), he would have a smoke or two. He wasn’t proud of it, of course, but goddamn sometimes it was exactly what you needed. Today was one of those days. He had a long night, along with a recent depressive dip due to the seasonal changes. His body always needed a little longer to adjust to that summer / fall shift for some reason. Their class received their scores back on a recent test today and he received full marks. That pleased him some. Still, with the familiar aching hollowness of his chest came the craving for a cigarette. Who was he to deny himself? He did get full marks on that test. Call this his fucked up version of a reward. One cigarette turned into two, turned into three, but all too soon the school bell rang, indicating the end of the lunch period. Blowing out the last of the smoke and putting a piece of gum in his mouth, Hitoshi prepared himself to return to the present world. Would life ever become worth it to a point where he could actually willingly be mentally present?

Chapter Text

Hitoshi Shinsou was a firm believer that you can tell anything you need to know about a person based on how they treated animals. His parents did not like animals. When he was a kid, they had a family dog for a while. It didn’t last very long. Poor Scruffy was bought from a breeder (his parents didn’t believe in shelters) to be a guard dog, but Hitoshi’s dad got fed up with how much the dog was barking. Ironic, right?

He thought it was normal how his dad would joke about animals dying in brutal ways, how his father’s own childhood dog always needed a good whack to behave right”, how his mother never opposed or seemed put off by any of these speakings. One day when Hitoshi himself was fed up and spoke up, he got quite the beating from his dad- mom nowhere to be found. “You think animals are above humans, boy? You think a dog deserves to be bowed down to? If you do, just say so. I’ll save you the trouble and kick you out right here so you can find someplace you like since this isn’t good enough for you and your hippie bullshit!” Needless to say, he never spoke of it again. His father smirked in some sort of sick satisfaction, thinking his son admitted defeat. He didn’t. His father didn’t often get physical with him, he was more of a psychological torture kind of guy, and his mother emotional, whenever they decided that their son was allowed some semblance of acknowledgement. So, when his dad did get physical, it hurt like a bitch.

He was relieved when he learned in middle school that talks of animal abuse were most definitely not normal. That made it more manageable, though he never could fully process it. How can you hate something simply for existing the way it is? But then again, he also existed, so it was kind of a double-edged sword to him.

Nonetheless, he vowed to himself that he would never end up like his parents. To him, animals are precious beings of life meant to be appreciated. Of course, animals are better than humans, anything is honestly. Humans are at the very bottom of the tier in his opinion. Sometimes it felt like people were willfully ignorant to a fact so simple to him. Perhaps that’s why he loved cats so much.

Point is, right now, he was fucked. He’d known since the moment he was stopped on his way home from his independent post school training by a scratchy meow at his feet that he was truly and utterly fucked. This knowledge did not stop- or even slow him in the slightest from bending down to take a better look at the small, scruffy kitten. It was in rough shape, but not as bad as it could have been given its circumstances. The small animal was quite skinny with matted fur, Hitoshi observed. The kitten meowed to the best of its ability once again, but hissed when he offered a hand out to smell.

“What do you want, then?” He muttered to himself.

He had some emergency cash in his backpack, which could be used for some food for the little guy. He knew he couldn’t take the cat home with him, lest he wanted to be in a less than comfortable physical situation with his father. Even if he snuck around, it really wasn’t worth the risk. Yeah, he would just buy it some food and send it on its way. Definitely. For sure.

Two weeks later and he had himself a much healthier (albeit feisty) little walk-to-school buddy he had named Ryuu. At some point from the corner store two blocks away from his house and the hardware store 15 minutes from UA, Ryuu would appear with that loud meow of his, walking on front of Hitoshi’s feet to stop him and beg for food. Today was no different.

“Here you go, little demon.” He said as he opened a small pouch of food for the kitten.

He had learned a few days ago that he quite liked to talk to Ryuu. He could do so without fear and without getting shit for it because of his quirk. Ryuu didn’t seem to care either, he was only there for the free food, though Hitoshi didn’t mind.

“You done? Yeah, let’s get walking now then.”

“I wonder where you sleep. You should show me some time.”

“I got a 96 on that one hero ethics quiz yesterday. I think that’s pretty good. It was a dumb mistake that kept me back from 100, but what’s done is done, I suppose.”

“Oi don’t bite my shoelaces, runt. I could accidentally hurt you.”

“This your stop today? Alright, see you after school maybe.” He finally ended on as the cat made to turn down an alley a block away from the school gates. It was nice to be able to talk again without repercussion, if he was being completely honest.

***

“Hey freak! You’re the one with that brainwashing quirk, right? What exactly are you doing at a hero school? You here to infiltrate us and gain info or something?”

Ugh, one of those Way Too Invested In Other People’s Lives 2^nd years. He pointedly ignored them and walked past. Well, tried to. The asshole decided to grab him by the collar of his shirt and yank. Hard.

Calm down. Calm down. Calm down. Stay quiet don’t talk. It’ll only make more trouble. Quietquietquiet-

“Answer me.” Was growled in his ear, making him suppress a shiver from the urge to just deck this kid.

Quiet. Quiet. Quiet.

“C’mon! You scared you’ll use your quirk on me? Cause I sure as hell aint. I’d put an end to that shit so hard you’d never be able to use it again.”

It was getting really hard to stay quiet and civil. Hitoshi moved, attempting to shove the kid away. The 2^nd year was stronger than him though and gripped his shirt harder. He was getting so sick of this shit, this kid’s bluffing. He couldn’t use his quirk though, he just couldn’t. it would only make things worse. He was far too familiar with that.

In retaliation, Hitoshi twisted and grabbed the arm that was currently fisting his school uniform and used his nails to scratch hard. As expected, the hand let go and Hitoshi wasted no time in using that opportunity to slink away into the growing crowd of students. He could hear the kid curse loudly and spew out a few more names for good measure before a teacher intervened. By that point Hitoshi was already positively lost in the crowd.

“Asshole.” He muttered to himself as he made way to his homeroom class. Dealing with people like that was starting to get really exhausting.

***

“You’re so lucky! My dad only let’s us go on trips twice a year, can you believe that? Like, that’s basically nothing!”

“Ugh, I could never. You seriously need to step up your game get going places or you’ll die without having seen the world.”

“I know!”

This has got to be one of the more pointless rich kid conversations Hitoshi has listened in on. He couldn’t imagine

1. Parents taking you on trips
2. You then complaining about the frequency of said trips when you get them at all in the first place.

UA was full of rich kids coming from Hero families or big agencies. Hitoshi’s own parents were well enough off... he thinks. Not that he ever saw much of that, but it didn’t really matter. What was plaguing him was that these kids did and then had the gull to complain about it. And the ones who didn’t either boasted or had this guilt-ridden air about them that he also didn’t understand. Given, if he had that type of money, he’d probably do boring shit like investments for future projects and making sure he was debt free and yada yada yada- but that’s beside the point.

Sometimes he wonders what family vacations would be like with his parents. He’d only ever been on one at the age of 7, which had positively turned out a disaster and his parents vowed to never do anything of the sort for him again (after he committed the unforgiveable sin of saying he didn’t like how the sand on the beach was sticking to him, very horrible yes.) Maybe some day he would end up in a better family and go on vacations with them, or he would build his own circle to do that with, or maybe he’d just go alone with Ryuu, even if the cat would probably scratch his face off in the prospect of getting in any type of vehicle. What was the big rush anyway? But by God, he did not want to end up ever complaining about things someone had the kindness to do for him.

Chapter Text

Human kindness was quite the novelty, apparently. It’s not that he was surprised that after the sports festival a lot of people would be even more shitty to him, he just kind of hoped that they would be too scared to bully him. Wishful thinking. A lot of kids did find him too terrifying to approach, resulting in uncomfortable scenarios when group projects came up. For some reason though, a few kids found him fascinating. In reality it was more than a few, but he didn’t want to think about the logistics. He just brushed them off and moved on. No use in dwelling on it. He made an absolute fool of himself at the festival anyways. His parents thought so too. Hitoshi shivers at the memory of him coming home that night after the festival.

***

“That little fucker, who does he think he is? Makin’ a fool of himself like that on live television. He fucked it all up!” His dad speaks harshly, as if venom is dripping from his teeth-turned-fangs.

“What I’m more worried about dear, is that that boy showed his quirk. People know now. They know what he is. We can only hope no one pesters us. We will need to keep the act up outside. Wouldn’t want any negative attention now.” His mom speaks coldly; she couldn’t sound more uninterested if she tried.

Hitoshi hears his parents speaking in the living room as he enters the home silently. He toes off his school shoes before adjusting his backpack to ensure it wouldn’t rustle. Now- for the real challenge: getting to his room without being spotted. Characters in manga make it look so much easier to silently sneak around. It was so unfair, tiptoeing didn’t even work half the time, even less in shoes. The real trick was to walk with your feel at a slight angle, toe-to-heel in socks. Now that did the trick…usually.

“Boy! Get your sorry ass in here!” Shit.  

Suppressing his nerves and taking his hands out of his pockets, straightening his posture, he heads to the living room to face his parents. More like face his dad while his mom watched. She’d make more comments later, for sure. He stops at the entrance of the room, staring intently at the carpet.

“Look at me, Boy. Look at me!” Double shit. His dad hasn’t been this mad in a while. Maybe he was drinking? With no other choice, he looks up.

“What were you thinking boy!? You’ve made a fool of yourself, more importantly, our family- on live television. For the whole country to see! Are you fucking stupid? Not only that, but you used that godforsaken curse. Now the whole world knows how fucked you are. Your mother didn’t have to carry you for nine months, but she did. And this is how you choose to live the life she wasn’t obligated to give you? What do you have to say for yourself!?” Yeah, the whiskey glass on the table says he’s been drinking. God, Hitoshi wishes he could have some of that. He would be so fucked if they found him stealing some, though. So, it’s not worth the risk.

“Boy!” Shit. He didn’t answer.

“Sorry sir, ma’am.” The phrase he’s been conditioned to say in basically any situation. It’s one of the few things they tolerate when he speaks.

“It’s too fucking late for sorries now! You’re nothing but a curse!” Nothing Hitoshi hasn’t heard before. His dad steps closer, making Hitoshi automatically flinch in response.

Upon seeing him flinch, his dad cackles.

“I haven’t even done anything, boy! I ought to beat some sense into you.” All Hitoshi can do is brace himself as a fist collides with his face, knocking him off balance.

***

Yeah, things could be better, but they’ve been worse before. At least he isn’t muzzled.

“Hi Ryuu! You’re early today. Nothing better to do?” Hitoshi coos as Ryuu appears from a side street, accompanying him on his walk to school this Monday morning. In response, the cat only fixes him with an unimpressed look, clearly waiting for food.

“Geez, don’t be so excited.” He rolls his eyes as Ryuu starts meowing impatiently, trying to paw at his leg while walking, causing the cat to stumble a bit.

Once they reach a bench, Hitoshi sits down, Ryuu immediately jumping up next to him. Pulling out a wet food pouch and opening it, he grimaces at the smell. Why did Ryu have to absolutely love the most shit smelling flavour?

“Here, you little dragon. Don’t eat too fast.” Cat fed and bag zipped up, the two continue to school.

Hitoshi stops at the alleyway Ryuu usually leaves to, but today is different, apparently. The cat keeps walking, looking back and letting out a half-hearted meow upon realizing the human that feeds him isn’t following.

“Not stopping here today? Okay buddy, but you know the schools up ahead. Don’t get yourself in trouble.” He comments as they keep walking.

Just as the school gates come into view, Ryuu crosses the road to the opposite side and makes his way in the direction of the woods behind the training grounds. What is that cat doing? Whatever, as long as he stayed out of trouble.

Feeling similarly towards himself, Hitoshi opts to stay out of the crowds and walk around the school, opting to enter by a side gate instead. He doesn’t get his wish of not gaining attention for long though. While walking through the hallway as the first bell rings, the school intercom crackles to life.

“Hitoshi Shinsou from class 1-C, please make your way to the faculty room. Eraserhead wishes to speak with you.” Oh, for fuck’s sake. What on Earth could a Hero Course teacher want with a General Studies student?

Hitoshi garners a few odd looks as he walks to the faculty room. He doesn’t even care today; it is really damn weird. Stopping before the door, he takes a deep breath before knocking twice and entering.

“Shinsou. I hope this isn’t too much of an inconvenience for you, but it is rather important. Sit, please.” Aizawa-Sensei speaks surely, gesturing to a small couch, opposite of where he himself is sitting, an empty coffee mug on the table between them. Hitoshi wastes no time getting himself situated, lest he make Aizawa-Sensei upset. Adults were unpredictable like that.

“I’m Eraserhead- but you can call me Aizawa. I’m the homeroom teacher for class 1-A of the Hero Course. You held your own quite well at the sports festival, I’m impressed.”

Huh?

Huh?

“T-Thank you, Sensei.” He manages to stumble out in a totally normal amount of time to respond to a statement. What. The. Fuck.

“Hm. Well I’m gonna cut straight to the chase, ‘cause I hate wasting time by beating around the bush. I’d like to mentor you, Shinsou. I saw your potential at the sports festival. With adequate training and guidance, you’d easily be a candidate for the Hero Course. If this is something you’d be willing to take on, of course.” Aizawa-sensei states smoothly, as if he’s not offering something completely insane to Hitoshi. What. The. Fuck. 

***

Chapter Text

Well shit. Hitoshi knew training with the homeroom teacher of class 1-A and trying to catch up with the Hero Course kids would be anything but easy, but goddamn. Getting up an hour earlier in the mornings to run, using lunchtime to actually eat and not just smoke on the rooftop and then training in the evenings after school for a few more hours on weekdays. The weekends were filled with training here and there, but mostly theory work related to the Hero Course and the specialized classes they had. It was…a lot. Hitoshi wouldn’t trade it for anything, though. Even if he threw up from being unfit, had to take too many breaks during runs to not pass out, being knocked down so much it felt like he understood the dirt on a personal level, it was all still so reward whenever a small moment popped up that showed the hard work he’d put in really meant something. Nothing could compare to the feeling of first landing a kick to Aizawa-Sensei’s stomach after having caught him off guard. Sure, he absolutely got his ass handed to himself on a downright spiritual level basically immediately afterwards, but still. Bloody nose and roused hair later, he was still grinning like a smug cheshire cat. Aizawa-Sensei told him to, “Knock it off, you look like a lunatic.” But Hitoshi swears he could see the smallest, faintest smile on Sensei’s face when he moved back in position.

Nevertheless, Hitoshi still find the training enjoyable. Even better yet, (better than Aizawa-Sensei choosing him), is that Aizawa-Sensei is actively encouraging him. Sensei had made it clear to him during their first training session that he didn’t waste time on lost causes, that Hitoshi wasn’t a lost cause, he just needed someone to see the potential. It had all felt so surreal. It still does, even two weeks later as he is getting absolutely shown up by Sensei.

“Shinsou. Arms up, head up. Look at where I’m moving.”

“Yes, Sensei.” Hitoshi lightly grumbles as he rights his stance.

“Good. Don’t ever take your eyes off the perpetrator, whether that be a villain, some asshole kids, or even someone you know. Treat them all with the same caution.”

“Are you teaching me to beat up classmates, Sensei?” Hitoshi decides to be bold and throw the first punch, a right hook right at Sensei’s face. He dodges it boredly.

“No, I’m teaching you how to defend yourself if you were to find yourself in a physical situation.” Hitoshi surprises himself by not only ducking an incoming punch but also diving away from a subsequent kick that follows.

“Ah I see, how to beat up classmates after they did you the favour of starting the fight first.” A punch that turns out to be a bluff for a kick to his shins quickly knocks him off his feet, allowing Sensei to gain the upper hand.

“Don’t get distracted, Shinsou.”

“Sorry, Sensei.”

The fight ends rather quickly after that, with Hitoshi losing. It’s not surprising to him. Sometimes he wishes he could just be naturally good at these things, but he’s not. Nothing he can do besides try.

“You’ve made good progress. Are you making sure to keep up with that meal plan?”

“Yes, Sensei.” Well, he might be replacing breakfast with a cigarette or two since he doesn’t smoke at lunch anymore, but close enough.

“Good. We meet here again tomorrow, same time. The support course has been working on something, it should be ready tomorrow for you to use.”

Before Hitoshi can even verbalize his “Wait, what?” Sensei has already turned and walked off.

*** 

 That something ended up being a replication of the Capturing Weapon Sensei used. Hitoshi’s own Capturing Weapon. His very own. He was going to be just like Sensei.

Well…

If he could learn to use the weapon properly, that is. It took Aizawa-Sensei literal years to master. How did he expect Hitoshi to get it at all within less than a year before Year 2 would start? Hitoshi sure as hell didn’t expect to catch the hang of it by then, he was a lost cause. Sensei still didn’t give up on him though, never faltering on his beliefs.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Hitoshi mutters to himself as he falls once again, tangled up in the Binding Cloth in ways he didn’t even know were possible. He takes a moment to just lay on the ground, accepting defeat.

“You’re not gonna get anywhere if you keep moping.” A monotone reply comes from underneath a shaded tree.

“Moping’s easier.”

“Of course it is, that’s why it won’t get you anywhere. To progress you need to put in the work.”

“Are you even on my side right now, Sensei?”

“If you get up off the ground I am.”

“Fine, whatever.” Hitoshi grumbles as he starts getting up and untangling himself, using the Capturing Weapon to partially obscure his face- hiding the smile he can’t seem to shake.

Training is good for him. Insanely hard at times, but good. Even on rough days filled with nothing but frustration it made him smile on the way home. It felt so good to have someone listen, someone who acts like his jokes are tiring while turning to hide their smile, someone who told him to get up- no excuses. It honestly gave him a reason in life again, something other than just simply existing.

***

Maybe he’d been too obvious about it, because his parents took notice. Of course they did.

“Fuck are you smiling at, boy?” His dad’s voice greets him as he takes off his shoes.

Hitoshi quickly schools his features into his well-practiced poker face.

“Answer your father.” Oh great, his mom’s getting involved today.

“Nothing sir.” Hitoshi answers monotonal. He isn’t too worried; his dad hasn’t been physical since that night after the Sports Festival was on television. It was only a few weeks, but still.

“Why are you at school so long, Hitoshi?” Huh. His mom used his actual name.

“Additional classes, ma’am.” He told them in short one night after he started training that he would be at school later due to having extra classes for P.E. It wasn’t that big of a lie, if you thought about it.

“That so? I call bullshit.” His dad adds his oh so valuable commentary.

“We’re only worried about you, honey.” Oh hell no. something was up. Something was up and Hitoshi was starting to second guess all that Well it’s been a while don’t think he’ll get physical again yet nonsense in his head.

Now that he got a good look at them, they looked…off. A type of off he hasn’t seen since he was 6 and CPS got called on them after a neighbor reported seeing his parents stumbling around high. Shit. Shit. Shit. They usually stuck to alcohol, but did they go back to whatever shit they were doing before?

Well, he spent too long spiralling in his head instead of answering them. He knows cause his dad who easily overpowers him weight wise is stumbling towards him, angry expression etched into his face, more so than usual.  He learned his lesson with flinching last time, so he represses it as he’s grabbed by his collar and shaken by now his dad is uttering some unintelligible sentences while shoving Hitoshi this way and that. All he can do is stay quiet as he watches his mom stumble on to their bedroom, looking physically more... off than his dad, but slightly more stable.

He'll be okay, he’ll be okay, he’s been though worse. He can fight back now if he needs to.

“Don’t ever take your eyes off the perpetrator, whether that be a villain, some asshole kids, or even someone you know. Treat them all with the same caution.”

Someone you know.

Does his dad count? Does it count if it’s not anything new? He doesn’t have time to answer before a particularly rough shove has his dad stumbling, taking Hitoshi with him. Hitoshi takes most of the hit as he collides with a table displaying his mom’s favourite vase. All he can do is watch as the vase teeters before hitting the ground, shattering.

This was going to be a long night.

***

Over the next few weeks, there’s only so much he can do to hide his home life. All his well-practiced excuses that work perfectly fine on other teachers never seemed to work on Aizawa-Sensei. Once he offered to write a letter to Hitoshi’s parents to explain the training, or even go talk to them in person, but Hitoshi shot that idea down so fast Sensei looked at him perplexed.

He still came to training though, never missing it. No matter the consequences, being able to join the hero course and maybe become a real hero would make up for it all one day. He was sure of it. What protagonist in the mangas he read didn’t have some fucked up backstory? It was easier to deal with when he acted like his life was one big story, and he was just a character.

He was pretty sure his parents were on drugs again though, and hardcore ones at that. He wasn’t sure which specifically, but whatever it was, it had the ability to make them real damn scary. His mom especially. One night she was actually talking to him, asking him how he was, how was school, did he do his homework, does he have any new friends- to which he stayed silent and freaked out internally, but she just kept talking as if he was answering her. The next moment she had a knife and he was barricading himself in his room, packing a bag and sneaking out the window. Thank God his dad wasn’t home too that night.

Showing up to school with odd bruises and lacerations if it got bad however, did not escape Aizawa-Sensei. Despite Hitoshi’s attempts at shrugging him off, he only became more concerned. When he noticed Hitoshi’s energy levels lacking during training, he started insisting that the kid eat dinner with him after each session. Hitoshi would be lying if he said it wasn’t nice to not have to worry about sneaking food around his house. Soon Sensei also brought snacks for him before training, making him eat at least a protein bar during warm up stretches. While he didn’t want to admit it, this additional care did make training much better. He was even progressing really well with his Capturing Weapon. It was still only one part of the problem, though.

Hitoshi didn’t think it could get worse over the coming weeks, but the universe is unpredictable. He stopped entering through the front door altogether, opting to set up a half broken (probably dangerous) crate outside his bedroom window at the back to get in and out. He only ate at school and used the gym showers. Even Ryuu, who had taken to lazing around by the training ground trees had started to follow him more closely. His school backpack now acted more like an “oh shit gotta run” backpack, with most of his school supplies being stashed in his locker.

It all came to a head one night when he came back from training through his window to find his mom in his room, pacing and muttering. He tried to backtrack out of the window, but it was too late. She noticed him.

“Who the fuck are you?” She yelled loudly, pupils blown.

Before he could get a word in, she grabbed him by the collar, attempting to shove him head first out of the window. Thanks to his training, he was able to swap their positions, shoving his mom off to the side.

“Stop!” Hitoshi yelled while stepping back to create distance.

His mother growled, literally growled, as she grabbed a frame off the wall, shattering it on the ground. He was in serious trouble.

“What are you doing?” He forced out with a shaky voice. Questions had been strictly forbidden since they learned of his quirk. He had no choice though, he was in danger.

“Killing your sorry ass is-”

“Leave the house.”

In a haze his mother gets up and leaves the room. Once he hears the front door close, he gets to work.

Hands shaking and eyes teary, he writes some half-hearted suicide note, talking about his quirk and he was gonna make sure no one would find his body yada yada yada, it was all bullshit anyways. Just a cover for him to run away. He hopes it doesn’t create too much trouble, but no turning back now. He leaves the note in his room, then calls the police for an anonymous tip from the house phone. Time to get the fuck out now. He grabs his school-turned-emergency backpack, shoves some extra clothes in, and books it.

In the distance he hears the sirens. He makes sure to run the opposite way. He runs and runs. The only person he can think about that would be able to help would be Aizawa-Sensei. Sensei is acquainted with some trustworthy detectives, he knows from definitely not eavesdropping. He’s real thankful for that now. Maybe they can help? He really fucking hopes someone can help. Has he gotten too attached to Sensei? He can’t find it in himself to really care too much. He can’t go back now. He might actually off himself if he had to go back. He might have fucked up, but it’s way too late to turn back now. So, he keeps running.

Chapter Text

Hitoshi runs until his lungs burn and his mouth tastes like iron. Then he walks until he makes his way to the heart of the city and his legs feel like they’ll never move again if he stops now. Night has descended upon the city since he started this mess, moon high in the sky, but partially obscured by rainclouds. It serves as a short warning before the rain starts up, but he doesn’t care. He’s out. He’s out and that’s all that matters. The water seeping into his grey UA hoodie doesn’t bother him, nothing does right now. Holy shit, he made it out. He feels downright euphoric. He should have a smoke to celebrate. Finding a dry-ish place is now his top priority so that he can light one up without ruining his lighter in the rain.

It only takes a moment for him to turn this way and that down alleyways here and there to land himself behind what looks like an apartment building of sorts. He sits hidden from view between two large trash containers, grimacing a bit at the smell. Pulling off his backpack, he thanks past Hitoshi for insisting on getting a waterproof backpack in case it ever rained to or from school. It kept his cigs dry. He laughs a detached sounding laugh at the thought of being happy that his cigarettes are dry. Not his books, clothes, powered off phone- no, his cigarettes. He’s a helpless case. He lights one between his lips before zipping up his bag again. He should probably put on dry clothes, but he can’t be bothered. Whatever happens to him after this would have been well and truly earned by his own stupidity. No use in trying to fix a broken brain.

Well, one smoke turns into two, turns into three and all too soon the half pack he’d had on him was gone. So much for not being like his chain-smoker parents. For fuck’s sake, he really messed up this time. If he’d just been able to put up with it, he’d have been spared the trouble of now being a runaway teen under the guise of a suicide. He only called it in because he knew his parents wouldn’t give a shit and he wanted it taken care of as soon as possible. No matter how much he daydreamed about this moment, he doesn’t feel all that good about it. He feels good about finally getting out, being away from them, but he never thought about what comes after. He doesn’t know who he can trust to not end up back there, or how he’s gonna go about staying out of there in general. What about school? He left a suicide note, so they’ll be looking for a body, not a boy. He almost wishes he were a body right now, because his life sure as hell hasn’t been that of a boy’s.

All his life, he’s felt like an actor. The main act of a circus performance, the one they faceless audience points and laughs at. Because, what has his life been if not a joke? He was always acting, acting like everything was okay at home, acting like he didn’t yearn for his mother’s love, acting like he didn’t want his father’s validation, acting like he actually had a shot at becoming a pro hero and doing good when he knew he was a lost cause. Kids like him didn’t get to be heroes. Heroes are bred from golden picket fence families in the suburbs, not broken homes on the edge of town. He knew he was a lost cause, truly knew all along. He just acted like he believed he could be the exception. He was an actor.

His minor mental spiral is cut off by the sound of footsteps echoing through the maze of alleyways. A radio crackles to life in the distance.

“Beta 8 to Delta 2, do you copy?”

“Copy.”

“We’re going to need you back at the station, all hands on deck. Search party for a missing UA student, possibly a body. Male, 15 years old, 5’10”, 150 pounds. Be on the lookout, UA is getting involved personally.”

“Copy that. I’ll finish up my current rotation, then head back. Over.”

Hitoshi stays stock still in his spot as he hears the footsteps move around, briefly stopping at random spots before picking up again. He closes his eyes and holds his breath as they draw closer, but they back up again after a few moments before they recede completely.

Once he’s sure the officer is gone, he finally allows himself to breathe again, choking on the air as his lungs burn from the previous abuse. UA is involved? Shit he hadn’t wanted that to happen. Had he been marked as a risk by one of the teachers? He knows they did that sometimes if they believed a student was in danger at home or a threat to themselves, but he hadn’t shown any of that. The only person who could have been suspicious was Aizawa-Sensei. Was he getting involved? Why? It was a waste of time if you asked Hitoshi. He was a waste of time.

Why does UA know about this anyways? He was pretty sure his school ID was in his bag. Like…90% sure. Without further thought he zips open his back, frantically searching for his ID. It’s not here. Not between his clothes, not in his pockets, not between his books. Well, that answers how they knew so quickly that he was a UA student. That still didn’t answer the question of why UA knew right now. What did the school have to do with this? If it was Aizawa-Sensei, did he think Hitoshi was dead? He really hoped not. Sensei always got upset if Hitoshi made self-deprecating jokes, so he sure as hell would not be okay if he even thought Hitoshi was suicidal. He should really find a way to tell Sensei he was okay.

It was decided then. He’d wait a bit longer before finding a telephone somewhere so that he can contact Aizawa-Sensei and tell him he was okay. It was too risky to power on his raggedy old phone. Was he okay, though? What if that only made trouble? What if they sent him back? He would actually kill himself if he had to back. Aizawa-Sensei deserved to know that his mentee was okay though. After everything he’s done for Hitoshi, the patience, the kindness, the concern- it was the least he could do. Even if it wasn’t Aizawa-Sensei who got involved, he would start the call by saying he’s sorry, but he’s okay, maybe in a bit of trouble if anything. He should ask that Sensei look after Ryu for him. He knew Sensei was an avid lover of cats, made clear by his phone lockscreen being two cats sound asleep on top of scattered grading papers on a desk, he definitely had cat hair on his casual clothes and once he saw Hitoshi’s cat sticker collection book fall out of his backpack and said he had good taste in stickers. He’s left that sticker book in its spot in his locker since.  Surely he wouldn’t mind Ryu?

Hitoshi waits another hour, watching the rain turn to a cold mist and the night grow darker as twilight came. His bones have been feeling chilled since the adrenaline of the whole situation wore off. Given how completely soaked he was right now, he would definitely be getting sick after this whole escapade. Standing up, he grits his teeth at his stiff knees. His whole body is starting to ache, but he isn’t shivering a whole lot. Was that supposed to be good or bad? He doesn’t want to risk making his dry clothes in his bag wet as well, so he’ll just stick with the wet clothes for now. Whatever, he had a new mission: Find a payphone.

He must’ve looked skeevy as hell slinking around the backstreets with his hood up and head down, stumbling here and there from his stiff legs. He finally does find a payphone after what feels like forever. With shaking fingers he shoves in a few coins, but hesitates. Should he really call? Fuck it. Before he can chicken out, he dials the number Aizawa-Sensei made him memorize. He remembers that day well, he’d shown up to training sporting a few unhide-able injuries from the previous night when his dad had mixed whatever-the-fuck with alcohol. Hitoshi had gotten the brunt of it. Sensei was concerned, not at all buying Hitoshi’s excuse of getting into a street fight. That day he made Hitoshi memorize his number, making him promise to call if he needs it, no questions asked. He was thankful for that now as the phone rings. It rings once, twice, three times…he should just hang it up, it was dumb he shouldn’t bother Sensei with-

The phone beeps, signaling it’s been answered.

The line is quiet.

“S-Sensei?” Hitoshi is hesitant, he would need to make this fast, maybe the call could be traced.

“Hitoshi, oh my god you’re okay.” Hitoshi? Not Shinsou?  Sensei lets out a shuddering sigh before continuing,

“Where are you, kid? Are you safe?”

“I’m okay. I can’t tell you where I am, sorry Sensei.” He was relatively fine before, but now he just felt like crying upon hearing his mentor’s voice. He made Sensei worry. For fuck’s sake, could he do something that didn’t cause others pain for once?

“C’mon kid, let me help you. I knew I shouldn’t have let you go home alone today, I’m sorry. Tell me where you are. I can help you we can sort this out. I know some good people who can help, too. You’ll be safe, I promise.” Why was Sensei apologizing? Did he really want to help? What if he got sent back? He couldn’t-

“I’m scared, Sensei. I’m sorry for this mess. I just needed out, I couldn’t with them anymore. Whatever comes after this, I deserve it. This whole mess is my fault.” Hitoshi hangs up before he gives in and tells Sensei everything. This was a real shit show now, and it was more terrifying than he could ever think.

He should get out of the area now. A few drunkards are lining the streets and it’s stressing him out. So, he starts walking again. He’s done enough walking today to make up for the training he’ll be skipping for a while. At least, it feels like it. With this mess he’s created, maybe he should follow through and just throw himself off a bridge somewhere. It was looking increasingly appealing as opposed to dealing with the fallout of this mess. His body is struggling to cooperate with its current cold state, though. Maybe nature would do the hard part for him? He didn’t deserve such mercy.

He doesn’t end up walking for too long, making it to a sheltered bus stop before his legs collapse. Well, maybe nature really would help him out. He leans down, laying curled on the ground. All he can think about is, “Sorry, Sensei.” As his eyes finally drift close and he finds some reprieve from this trouble.

Chapter Text

It doesn’t feel right to let the kid go home today. Aizawa can’t quite place why it felt wrong today, but he wasn’t eager to find out. He almost went after the kid. He wasn’t stupid, he saw Shinsou’s body language, he saw the way the kid tracked he movements- even when not sparring. Most of all, he saw the injuries. Usually bruises, sometimes cuts and scrapes. No matter how much he tried to play it off, Aizawa knew what they were from. He was a hero after all; he was trained to notice the unnoticed. Unfortunately for both him and the kid, there wasn’t much he could do about it until the kid admitted something was wrong. So far, he could only open a file on the kid at UA with a warning on possible child abuse. It was a system Nezu had put in place to try and keep kids safe who couldn’t speak out yet. While it didn’t offer much, it made the staff aware of suspicions and made work for the police easier by giving accounts and testaments over a period of time, should that be needed. Aizawa really hoped it would not be needed, but telling himself that would just be coping. He knew the answer.

After enough spiralling, Aizawa gathers his phone and keys from under a nearby tree safe from the antics of their training. On a low perch, a copper-coloured cat let out a half-hearted hiss at a human invading his space. It doesn’t have a lot of heat behind it, corroborated by the fact that the cat immediately lays his head back down on the thick branch.

“I know you know Shinsou, buddy. Saw you guys walking to school a few times. You’re not walking him home today?” Aizawa asks with intrigue. Sure, spying on your mentee was probably not…sane, but there were a few times he worried the kid wouldn’t come to school. Sue him.

The only response he gets is a semi-annoyed tail flick. Nice.

“See you tomorrow, kitty. Walk with the kid again, please. Get him here safe.” If anyone overheard Eraserhead baby talking with a cat, they’d be sure it must’ve been an illusion, and he would’ve played along to make that believable.

His thoughts keep trailing to Shinsou as he walks away from their training spot. Was the kid okay? He’d seemed a bit more aggressive in training the past few weeks. Not that it couldn’t be used for good, the kid did place it well and use it right to make his moves a bit more powerful, but it was still aggression. Hizashi also asked him yesterday if he was training the kid too hard, since he’d fallen asleep in English class. Hizashi had let him sleep through the period, handing him a note packet once the bell rang. Both he and Aizawa knew the kid had some serious sleep issues if his eyebags and overtired expression were anything to go by, but it seemed as if the kid really wasn’t sleeping outside of a few minutes here and there at school. Was something going on at home to cause that? Did he not feel safe enough to sleep at home? Was he not allowed to? Of course, it could just be a particularly bad bout of insomnia that would have to pass eventually. Aizawa of course noted the new bruises, a particularly nasty one on his back that definitely was not caused by training. When asked, Hitoshi got pretty defensive, stated that he was clumsy, did independent training and ate shit, pure accident. He let Aizawa put arnica on it to help the pain a bit, at least. It still looked oddly suspicious, like he was shoved back against something, or thrown to the ground, hit with something. He noted it down in the kid’s file this morning.

And…he’s spiralling again. For fuck’s sake, he’s gotta get his mind off this shit. Maybe he should go on patrol? If he started now, he would be an hour early, but that wouldn’t cause any harm. He desperately needed something else to occupy his mind now. Hizashi had left for a long night at the radio station after school, only having gone home to feed the cats like the absolute sunshine he is, knowing his husband would be busy training. So, even if Aizawa went home now, he wouldn’t be in the company of his sunshine to distract him. Patrol it was, then.

Soon he was making his way through the start of his usual route. Now that he thought about it, this section of his patrol wasn’t too far out from the part of town Shinso lived in. He knew his address from school files, so no harm done if he just re routed a bit to see if everything looked okay. You know, just to make sure the kid wasn’t trapezing the streets he patrolled since it was getting dark. He was just looking out, not too worried about the distant look in the kid’s eyes when he realized training was over and he’d have to go home soon. None of that, nope. Well, maybe he was a little worried. A little. Maybe he called in a favour with Tsukauchi to see if he could get any info on the kid’s parents, if there was anything concerning on record, any violations of the law and any hints on how they might be treating Hitoshi. Tsukauchi had looked at him oddly, like he knew Aizawa had grown more attached than he cared to admit. He’d asked Aizawa why he didn’t find these things out himself by getting it out of the kid, but Aizawa knew from personal experience how feeble these situations were and he really did not want to scare the kid off before he could help. The best he could do was be a safe space for the kid and give him modes of contact should he need it and leave the rest to the morally questionable investigation he had asked his detective buddy to start.

Patrol is turning out to be uneventful, but not in the usual “thank fuck no assholes are being dumb tonight” type of way, but more of a “why does it feel like some shit is going to go down not even the crickets are chirping as loud as usual” type of way. It had him on edge. However, he forced himself to go through the motions of his typical patrol route before allowing himself to move to the vicinity of the Shinsou household. He gets the call while he’s slinking through a quiet alleyway, a few street cats skittering at his presence. Upon seeing the caller ID of Naomasa Tsukauchi, he answers immediately. Tsukauchi begins speaking immediately, not even giving Aizawa the chance to grunt out a greeting.

“Got a tip from the address you gave me that’s supposed to be the kid’s. Suspected suicide, though we’re pretty sure it was the Shinsou kid himself that called in the tip. And 6 minutes ago, his mother was apprehended not too far away from the home for public disturbance and being in possession of illegal substances, she was obviously inebriated. I got my team on the case as soon as I heard ‘bout it. I’m en route myself with my team to take priority of the case. I’m not giving you permission to intervene before I get there, but if you happen to be in the area…”

“On it.”

He’s moving before his mind can even fully comprehend what the fuck he just heard. The kid might not be alright right now, but with time he will be. He has to be. Aizawa will make sure of it. Tsukauchi didn’t say anything about a body, so he’s not too late yet. He can’t be. He uses his Capture Weapon to swing through the town, making his way towards the police sirens that are steadily getting louder the closer he gets. Soon enough he sees the house, plaque reading ‘Shinsou’. A woman with light purple hair, much lighter that Hitoshi’s violet is shouting at officers from the back of a police car. She’s clearly inebriated. Was this the woman Tsukauchi talked about? He truly wished that woman wasn’t Hitoshi’s mother, but they were fruitless wishes. If he wants any further details before anything else happens, he has to be quick.

Aizawa moves out of the shadows towards an officer at the front.

“I’m a teacher at UA, the school the kid goes to. I have personal affiliation and request access to the investigation. I can assist.” Please work please work please work.

“What’s a pro hero doing here? I’m sorry sir, this is currently an active crime scene not to be tampered with, the station will notify local pros if further assistance is required.” The officer responds with a monotone voice, hands resting loosely on his belt. Well, shit.

Before Aizawa can argue a point further, 2 sleek black cars pull up. Tsukauchi gets out of one, flashing his ID to the front officer who’s just denied him.

“Detective Naomasa Tsukauchi, my team has been granted priority on this case. You and your team are relieved of your duties here. Eraserhead here is with me.” He speaks smoothly, leaving no room for argument.

“Understood, sir.” And with that the officer rounds up his team from the scene. Oh, if only it were that easy for Aizawa. Underground heroism doesn’t grant that power though. Best you can do is have connections to those who do have it.

“It’s kind of creepy that you can do that, Tsukauchi.”

“Not like it was given to me. Had to work my ass of for years for anyone to even listen to me speak. Let’s go.” Tsukauchi tilts his head, motioning for Aizawa to walk in the house with him.

Silently, he complies. The brevity of the situation has not left him. The kid might be in danger or dead. They need to act fast. Not wasting any more time, he starts to assess the situation. The house looks lived in, but not by a family. There are only 2 pairs of shoes by the genkan, no photos of anyone, a few oddly placed decorative pieces on the walls. The kitchen is bare, like no one even goes in there. The coffee table in the living room hosts a dirty whiskey glass pared with a half empty bottle, a partially full wine glass, and a few clear sealed packets of unmarked pills paired with a straw and scissors. And is that a fucking muzzle? Well, that’s just fucking lovely. Who knows what would’ve happened had the kid not found an out. Someone from the detective team is taking photos while a partner gathers the evidence.

Finally making it to the kid’s room with Tsukauchi, he’s further disturbed before he even enters. There are no signs in this house that a teenager is living here, even the kid’s door is plain. The same can be said for the rest of the room. It looks more like a barren guest room, the only indication of life being the closet half shoved closed with a few articles of clothing jamming it. No backpack either. Maybe the kid did make a run for it? Theres’s glass all over the ground, a few drops of blood here and there. Unknown source. Obvious signs of a scuffle. His eyes land on a note, sat face up on the neatly made bed.

“Suicide note?” Tsukauchi enquires from the side, taking a photo of it.

“Maybe.” Is the lackluster response Aizawa gives.

He reads through it. Then reads it again. And again. It’s bullshit. It must be. It could fool anyone who didn’t know the kid, which might be everyone except for him. It’s too…rehearsed? That’s concerning in and of itself. How much had the kid thought about this? Enough to have a mental script at the ready to write down at any moment? Aizawa swears when he gets his hands on Hitoshi again, he’s giving the kid a hug, but then wrapping him up in bubble wrap with a backpack leash because, what the fuck.

“Verdict?” Tsukauchi presses, putting the note in a clear evidence bag after reading it over.

“We can speak at the agency.” He feels way too on edge to be honest right now, even if its Tsukauchi’s own team. They have to speak 1-1.

“Right. Final sweep then we’ll head in to report further and section the evidence.”

It feels like the minutes drag on purposefully slow until they’ve searched every room. Taking the major pieces of evidence with them and leaving the minor pieces to the team, Tsukauchi and Aizawa head to the detective’s agency, rain starting up as a final taunt. Aizawa stays silent, checking his phone too often in hopes a call will come through. He made the kid memorize his personal number. He really hopes the kid will use it. He can help Hitoshi. He can make sure Tsukauchi’s team stays on the case, it can be silent. He can care for the kid, hell he wants to. He’ll do anything if it meant safety for Hitoshi. He’s been through enough, he deserves a break. Even if he’s never told Aizawa, he knows. It’s all too familiar.  

Only once him and Tsukauchi are alone in the detective’s office, does he speak again.

“I want a search part out there. Say UA is personally involved, whatever you have to get as many feet as possible on the ground looking for the kid. He’s not dead. He isn’t. Clearly that shithole of a home wasn’t safe for him, so he ran. He’s probably still within reach. I doubt he’s made it far with the change of weather. If he’s out on the street, he could be in serious danger. He’s a kid. He’s top priority.” Aizawa paces as he speaks, needing to so something with the pent-up energy.

“I trust your judgement. I’ll get as many as I can on this.”

“I need to be out there too. Link my phone. The kid has my number, he might call.”

“Roger.”

Soon enough he’s out there, trying to not get soaked in the rain as he scouts for his mentee. The kid has got to be cold and scared. He’s just about ready to both jump with joy and bury himself alive upon seeing his phone screen light up with an incoming call from an unknown number. He stares at it for a second to make sure it was real and not a sick trick of his mind before answering.

“S-Sensei?”

“Hitoshi, oh my god you’re okay.” Aizawa stops himself short, taking a deep breath. He needs to keep a level head. He sighs briefly before speaking again.

“Where are you, kid? Are you safe?”

“I’m okay. I can’t tell you where I am, sorry Sensei.” At least the kids talking. He just needs to keep talking.

“C’mon kid, let me help you. I knew I shouldn’t have let you go home alone today, I’m sorry. Tell me where you are. I can help you we can sort this out. I know some good people who can help, too. You’ll be safe, I promise.” Okay, well there goes the level-headedness.

“I’m scared, Sensei. I’m sorry for this mess. I just needed out, I couldn’t with them anymore. Whatever comes after this, I deserve it. This whole mess is my fault.”

The call is hung up. Fuck.

Before he spirals further, he calls Tsukauchi.

“Did you catch that? I want it tracked.”

“Already on it. Phone booth a bit out from your current position. I’ll send you the exact location.”

“Hang on kid, I’m coming.”  Is all Aizawa can think as he moves as fast as his body will allow in this cold, desperate to find his student, another problem child he’s grown fond of and attached to. He’ll find him. He’ll find him, maybe throttle him a bit, but they’ll sort it all out and the kid will be safe. He will make sure Hitoshi is safe, no matter the cost.

Chapter Text

Nothing, truly nothing could have prepared Aizawa for the state he’d found Hitoshi in. It took a whole while of searching the area, any officer that could be spared helping as well, before he stumbled upon the bus stop. His heart nearly stops as he looks at the mass on the ground, violet hair soaked and flat. He’s not moving, not even shivering despite being soaked. His head is bleeding. His head is bleeding.

“Shit, kid. Hitoshi? Hitoshi!” It’s silent from Hitoshi’s end as he lay crumpled on the ground.

Aizawa is fast to move to his side, mentally taking note of the state the kid is in. Head wound, soaked, not shivering- possibly hypothermic, heart rate- weak pulse, slow breaths, pale skin, red cheeks. This is bad.

Once note has been taken of Hitoshi’s state, he sends a pin drop to Tsukauchi with the attached message of I’m taking him to RG at UA. He doesn’t wait for a response before picking the kid up and moving. Tsukauchi can figure out the rest on the search side. Aizawa makes a mental note to gift him a bottle or three of liquor once this is all over.

Sure, he should probably contact emergency services so an ambulance can pick the kid up, but if his own parents (allegedly) had it out for him, who’s to say there isn’t another person with nefarious intent roaming, waiting to pounce on the kid. Was he overly paranoid? Who cares. His mentee was relying on him right now.

The kid doesn’t even peep as he’s picked up and half-swaddled against Aizawa with the Capture Weapon to keep from jostling. He starts moving as soon as Hitoshi is situated, calling Recovery Girl while manoeuvring through the streets. She picks up almost immediately. Well, he had called her personal phone instead of her UA work phone. He doesn’t waste a second before relaying the situation.

“I need you in your treatment room in 15 minutes. Patient is Hitoshi Shinsou. Most likely hypothermic, minor head injury, weak pulse, slow breathing. Came out of a bad situation, I’ll explain more in person. Don’t let anyone know immediately, I’m too paranoid to have him around others right now.”

“The kid you’ve been training? My lord, Aizawa, what do your problem children always get themselves into? I’ll have everything ready. I will be questioning you once he’s stabilized, I hope you know that. Don’t run into any more trouble, alright.”

“Won’t have time to. Thank you.” Aizawa hangs up, giving his full attention to getting the kid across the town and to the UA Nurses station in 15 minutes. IT would be a tricky feat, but he’s been a hero for years. Though, chasing after his problem children had taught him more regarding stealth and speed than a decade of underground heroinism, if you were to ask him.

“You’ll be okay. I swear to God, I’m never letting you out of my sight again, Hitoshi Shinso. If I so much as see you stumble, I will get a backpack leash and put you in it. I wish I could’ve helped you sooner, kid. I’m sorry.” Aizawa Can’t help but mumble to himself as he weaves through the streets with practiced ease. He did all he could for the kid, he just wished Hitoshi would’ve come to him before it got to this point. He knew though, how if you approached it wrong, calling for help could make it worse. Sometimes the safer option was to wait it out until there’s an opportunity to leave, as much as he hated that thought. He could help Hitoshi now. He could protect him now. And he’d be damned if he didn’t do just that.

Aside from paranoia, taking Hitoshi to recovery girl would probably cause the least amount of backlash from the kid. He wasn’t completely comfortable with her, always making Aizawa stay with him as he got treated whenever training roughed him up a bit too hard, or that one time he broke his arm after falling tangled up in his Capture Weapon. It’s not personal, he was just flighty around medical personnel and anxious in medical rooms. For this reason, he had a strong dislike towards hospitals. He’s made it clear before that he would rather suffer whatever ailment he’d acquired than going to a hospital. Aizawa didn’t pry, he himself was less than fond of hospitals.

After 15 minutes (after some questionable routes and unsafe actions) the gates of UA finally come into view. Security robots must have picked up on his presence at this odd hour by now, but Aizawa couldn’t care. He’d explain this all to Nezu properly tomorrow. If the mouse wasn’t already aware with that weird 6th sense to know everything he somehow had, that is. His legs ache from the expedition as he carries Hitoshi up to Recovery Girl. The kid doesn’t look any better. He’ll be okay. He has to be. He’ll do whatever it takes to make the kid be okay again.

He doesn’t bother knocking before going into Recovery Girl’s office, only nodding in acknowledgement before unravelling Hitoshi and laying him down on the prepared bed. He has to physically force himself to be useful instead of just hovering around to keep the kid safe.

“Poor thing. Head injury isn’t major, won’t even need stitches. They do tend to bleed quite a bit, though. Definitely hypothermia, not life threatening at least. Let’s change him out of these wet clothes, then I’ll give him some IV fluids. He will need to stay here, I can’t see any of this being a quick fix. He’s not even in acceptable condition for my Quirk, poor boy.” Her tone is sincere as she speaks, calm and collected as always. Aizawa is pretty sure she’s seen it all before, nothing can truly faze her after all these years.

“That won’t be a problem. UA is currently the safest place for him to be. He’s not leaving until there’s somewhere equally safe he agrees to go to.” Aizawa speaks as they take the wet clothes off of Hitoshi. He’s being as respectful as possible given the circumstances. The hidden bruises on his body don’t escape them, though. Neither do the suspiciously linear scars on his upper arms, or the scabbed over ones on the kid’s legs, if the tsk Chiyo lets out is anything to go by. They would keep an eye on him. This would be a conversation when the kid was in a better place mentally.

“Would you get those fluid bags set up, dear? The faster we can get him situated, the faster he’ll have time to recover.” She could probably tell Aizawa was getting in his own head, but he’s thankful for the direction.

It takes a while to get Hitoshi properly set up and injuries treated to manually heal until he has the energy to withstand the Quirk of Recovery Girl. Aizawa feels even more guilt-ridden at the sight of all the hidden bruising. He knew things weren’t going well, hell, half the time the kid couldn’t even hide it. It made the ones he did hide all the more impactful. He knows abuse goes beyond bruising. It changes the way you live in little ways you might never be able to unlearn. He has his work cut out for him now, for sure. That’s fine though, whether it be as Shouta Aizawa or Eraserhead, he’d do whatever it takes. For Hitoshi, he would.

It feels like all too soon, yet after an eternity, the sun peeks over the horizon. Inky skies turn gold as the damp earth dries up. Aizawa has a phone full of messages and a metric shit ton of paperwork waiting for him. Hopefully no press conference, he’ll work to keep this quiet if he can help it. His worries must be etched on his face, since after one glance, Chiyo speaks up.

“I’ll look after him, Shouta. No one enters without previous authorization. If his condition changes drastically, I’ll let you know. He’s only improved so far. He’s no longer actively hypothermic. The boy will be fine, I’ll see to it.” She still speaks kindly, seeming to understand his concern completely. He’s still hesitant, not wanting to be away from Hitoshi’s side after the night they’ve all had.

“But-”

“No ‘buts’, I know your husband must be worried sick after you didn’t return home, and there’s most certainly legal statements awaiting you. You’d best get to it, before I call Hizashi to come pick you up himself.” That threat holds truth; she’s done it before.

With one last look at his mentee, problem children, all of them, the tubes connected to his arm and hand taunt him. So does the oxygen mask situated over his face. At least he can breathe on his own. His heart rate has mostly stabilized as well. Hitoshi will be okay; Recovery Girl is the best, he knows. He trusts her. Hitoshi is safe here.

“Shouta Aizawa, I hereby kick you out of my office. You have 30 seconds to leave before I call for reinforcements. I promise you the boy will not evaporate into thin air and I’ll call you if anything changes drastically.”

“I hear you. Look after him, please?”

“Go. You’ve truly gone soft for this year’s students.” And with that he’s physically pushed out of the room before he can even defend his pride against the nurse that basically saw him grow up. She knows too much.
***
A holy bible worth of writing, several less than pleasant phone calls, a brief explanation to Nezu who of course already fucking knew, one migraine and two energy drinks later (in that order), and he’s back at Hitoshi’s side after being informed that, not unexpectedly, the kid’s done up a fever. It’s not life-threatening, but sure as hell nothing to scoff at. Aizawa hates how neither him nor Chiyo are surprised at this. With all the kid had sustained, the wet clothes and all, it would have been more concerning if he didn’t get sick. It’s honestly a miracle he lasted the half-day since treatment started.

Still, knowing that, it doesn’t make it any easier to watch Hitoshi sleeping fitfully. When he whines quietly Aizawa doesn’t waste a second moving closer to his side, shushing him while running a careful hand through his hair. Chiyo gives him a knowing look, earning a fiery glare in return.

“I’ve put some fever reducers in the drip, though it’s neither here nor there if they’ll work properly. It’s in the boy’s medical file that due to his mental Quirk, painkillers and fever reducers work differently. Someone ought to do research on that. Still, given his current state, this as well as keeping him comfortable is all we can do.” Chiyo says upon seeing Aizawa’s concern spike when Hitoshi shuffles in his sleep.

“Do you think his body will be able to work through it naturally?”

“I believe so. He’s a strong boy.”

“He is.”
***
Strength does not equal immediate recovery from fever, as Aizawa is not so kindly reminded. They moved Hitoshi to an individual medical room before school started up to keep him more secure, and Aizawa practically owns the spot next to the kid’s bedside. The he takes off school the first day, having a substitute step in for him. Problem class 1A will come to bite him, but that’s an issue for when Hitoshi is actually lucid. The poor kid is not having a good time, fever wringing him out completely.

“Mama?” Hitoshi mumbles deliriously, eyes not even open. His mumbled question turns into frantic whines after a moment.

“Shh, you’re okay. You’re okay, Hitoshi.” Aizawa comforts, uncharacteristically soft.

“Mamma. Please don’t. I’m sorry. Mamma?” Hitoshi was crying in his sleep now, soft whimpers accompanying his tears.

Knowing there wasn’t much he could do aside from keep the kid comfortable, Aizawa did his best do just that. God, this kid was going to need a lot of support. And therapy. He might need to contact Hound Dog earlier rather than later. He would probably be the safest bet to start out with. The kid would need a psychologist too, though. And a shit ton of exposure therapy to start to unlearn the abuse. He would see to it that his the kid got everything he needed.

By day 2 of being stuck at his side, Recovery girl is getting sick of Aizawa. She’s threatened to call Hizashi multiple times, but the last time she made good on it.

“Your husband is on his way once classes finish to drag you home to eat a proper meal and sleep for once. No arguments.” Chiyo’s tone leaves no room for argument. Not that he would even try arguing with the woman again, anyways. You would’ve lost the second you started.

Aizawa shoots her a glare nonetheless, too focused on Hitoshi’s state for a proper response. He hasn’t gotten worse. His fever has lowered a bit but not broken completely. Chiyo had said the kid was coming down with a nasty cold, but he’s lucky it’s not pneumonia. With enough time, medicine and rest he should make a fine recovery. Hitoshi would definitely be on bed rest for a while after this. It would be longer until Aizawa would agree to any training, no matter how stir crazy the kid would get. He would finally be able to rest in a safe home without worrying for once. Shit, he’s still got to talk to Hizashi about that.

“How long until he can get out of here, do you think?” Aizawa asks hesitantly. He’s already sick of the white linen and sterile smell.

“Once his fever’s not as high and he can be adequately assessed to not be a danger to himself. Until then, he’s under supervision here.”

After a few more hours of essentially guarding the kid like a territorial guard from literally no one but his own fever dreams, there’s a knock on the door before it slides open.

Hizashi, in his full Present Mic attire enters the room. Chiyo is out in the main nurse’s station helping some rowdy students after a training session-turned-fight. He wastes no time in going over to where Shouta is sitting next to Hitoshi’s bed. Upon seeing his husband looking absolutely exhausted, he greets him quietly.

“Hey Shou. How’s the little listener doing?”

Shouta had been sending him brief updates every few hours, usually no longer than two sentences. He feels guilty for not being home for two days and not exactly putting the effort into communication, but he knows his husband will understand.

“He hasn’t gotten worse. He sure as hell has his work cut out for him after he wakes, though.” He stands up, accepting the hug Hizashi offers. God, he missed him.

They stay like that for a while, holding each other like lifelines. It’s nice. Shouta can feel his muscles start to reax, stiffness setting in from being tense for so long. Hisashi, like the angel he is, rubs his back in soothing motions. If he were in a different situation right now, Shouta would be able to go completely boneless in his husband’s arms.

“My love,” Goddamn Hizashi and his stupid pet names that he knows work every time.

“Why don’t you head home? Take a shower, put on some clean clothes. There’s food in the fridge. I know you have phone calls to make and you need a nap. Hmm?” Hizashi’s tone is sweet and measured, not harsh, but still a bit assertive. Reminding his husband of basic self-care is nothing new to him.

“I can’t, Zash, the kid-” He cuts himself off before he can get mad. He’s not mad at Hizashi and he’s sure as hell not mad at Hitoshi.

“He’ll be okay. If you don’t want him to be here alone then I can stay with him for a few hours until you’re a bit freshened up. We can talk about his situation afterwards, okay?” And how is Shouta supposed to say no to that? Especially when Hizashi presses a tender kiss to his cheek?

“You’ll stay with him?”

“I will.”

“Don’t let anyone who isn’t Chiyo near him.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Shouta takes a moment to stare into Hizashi’s eyes. God, he’s missed them. No matter how bad things get, if he looks into those green eyes it feels like everything will be okay.

“Okay. I won’t be long. I’ll come back tonight. I need to call Tsukauchi again and see if there are any updates.”

With a last chaste kiss, he’s off.
***
Turns out that shower, meal and nap were much needed for Shota, the phone calls and statements- not so much. He did get an earful from the cats for not being home in so long. By 7pm he’s back at UA by Hitoshi’s side. He knows Hizashi and Chiyo both would’ve preferred if he stayed home longer, but he thinks he’d actually lose his mind worrying if he stayed away from Hitoshi any longer. Yes, the other two were trained and adequate should something happen, but still. He’s scared if he’s not watching the kid’s every breath he’ll disappear. That’s a problem for future Shota, though. Future Eraserhead if he really wanted to detach himself.

“How is he?” Shouta asks as he sits down next to his husband, reaching a hand out to move some loose strands from Hitoshi’s face. He doesn’t feel like he's a human furnace anymore.

“He’s better. His came down. Don’t give me that look, you needed the rest. I would’ve called you if he woke up.”

Shouta huffs, not having the energy or will to be mad at Hizashi.

“You know how we have emergency foster licenses?” Shouta starts slowly, testing the waters of this conversation.

“Yes, hun. And I know you want to take him in, no other reason you’d lose your mind looking for him and stay by his side for days.” Hizashi reaches out, holding his husband’s hand.

“Are you opposed to it?” Shouta tries to not let any disappointment seep through.

“I’m not. Hitoshi’s a dear, a mini you, I would never oppose giving him a home. But this isn’t like the cats, Shou. He’ll need a lot of support, especially from you. You’ll need to be able to give that. He looks to you for everything. You’ll need to be able to guide him.”

“I know.”

“Can you do that?”

“Of course.”

“Then it’s settled. We’ll take it as it comes.”
***
“-id needs some stability. I never want to let him out of my sight again.” Hitoshi slowly regains consciousness. He feels…funny. Struggling against his own body, he whines at the immense effort it takes to open his eyes. Immediately someone is at his side.

“Hitoshi?” Is that Sensei? It can’t be, this guy has way too much emotion in his voice. He looks familiar though, as much as Hitoshi can tell though his blurry, unstable vision.

“Sensei?” He slurs out, tongue feeling like lead in his mouth. Screw lead, more like tungsten.

“Yes, it’s Sensei. Easy there, buddy. You’re on some pretty strong stuff. Don’t fight your body too much.” Aizawa-Sensei is uncharacteristically soft, even holding Hitoshi’s hand. Aizawa-Sensei was holding his hand.

“Fight? Who’s wanna fight? I’ll fight.”

“No need for that, no one’s fighting. Anything you need, kid?”

“A cigarette. And a lighter.”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“Two cigarettes and a lighter. Please?”

“Absolutely not.”

Recovery Girl comes in as Hitoshi is sulking his lack of smokes.

“Good to see you’re awake, dear. You had us worried there for a second.” She speaks in that caring way of hers as she writes down some things machines by his bed are displaying.

“When can I go? Don’ wanna be here.”

“If all goes well, you’ll be able to leave soon. Aizawa and Yamada will care for you.”

“ ‘m goin home with ‘zawa-sensei?”

“And Mic-sensei.” Aizawa adds in, gently redirecting Hitoshi’s interest when he seems to want to pull on the IV in his arm.

He must be quiet for too long, since Aizawa speaks up in a concerned tone.

“Is that okay?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah. That would be nice.” Hitoshi answers, eyes focused on Aizawa-sensei’s Capture Weapon like a kid with a toy.

“We have cats. Three of them.”

“Cats!? I love cats!”
***
“Here’s his medication and information sheet. Anything changes, call me. Bring him back for a checkup in 3 days.”

“Thank you, really. We appreciate it a lot.” Yamada speaks with Recovery Girl as Aizawa focuses on making sure Hitoshi doesn’t fall flat on his face.

Hitoshi has gone quiet, the original loopy-ness of the medicine fading into mental fog. The trip to the car is slow, teacher on either side of him. He barely blinks as he’s buckled in and situated. He does regain a bit of light in his eyes though, as Aizawa-sensei places his capture weapon in his lap. His hands immediately start playing with it. Satisfied, Aizawa gets in the passenger side.

Car rides have always made Hitoshi sleepy. With nothing to fight against and body exhausted, it doesn’t take long for Hitoshi to fall asleep. His head is cushioned by a folded-up hoodie Aizawa had the foresight to place by his head when he saw Hitoshi lean on the glass. Thus, he misses the way Aizawa picks him up effortlessly, carrying him inside. He misses the way Yamada tucks him in, fussing over a bandage come loose. He misses the caring hand in his hair. In his dreams, his mind doesn’t miss the whispered message.

“You’re safe now.”

Chapter Text

While Hitoshi was fortunate enough to (by the grace of whateverthefuck-but-thankyou) not catch pneumonia, his stubborn cold was not letting up once they were out of the sterile environment. The kid had been made at home on the couch, nested in by soft blankets and pillows. It was mostly for convenience since he was sick and required supervision- it was easier to care for him when Shouta could sit at the coffee table marking work or when Hizashi was lounging on an armchair planning this weekend’s setlist than if they were in different rooms, but also partially since the kid was a suicide risk. Even if it had just been a fluke or threat, they had some evidence to suggest that it might not be. And that small chance was enough for Shota to want to keep him at arm’s length. The kid is currently out like a light. Not much of a surprise considering he’s on some pretty strong medicine for that cold. Shouta and Hizashi both knew from personal experience that cold medicine is no joke sometimes, and Hitoshi seems to be having a particularly strong reaction to it.

Even the cats seem worried about Hitoshi. Cloud was the first to investigate the new human, waiting patiently until Shouta and Hizashi had him settled before jumping up and gently sniffing him. After deeming him acceptable, she takes up residence at his side, purring loud as always. Next was Tora, who looked like she wanted to pounce on the boy with every fiber of her being. One unimpressed look from Cloud had her reevaluating her decision, deciding to run under the couch instead. Lastly Sashimi. He got up and stretched, simply moving from one chair to the couch. He sniffed Hitoshi’s face, giving his cheek a lick before snuggling up next to Cloud and falling asleep. Cloud stayed awake though, periodically licking Hitoshi’s hand. When his brows started twitching, undoubtedly due to a nightmare, Cloud moved from his side to the top of his stomach. The effect was nearly immediate, but only after his breathing stabilized again, did Cloud finally lay her head down to sleep. Armed with two cats and soft blankets, Hitoshi slept soundly.

This makes it all the harder when Shouta or Hizashi have to periodically bother him, taking his temperature, making sure he’s breathing okay etc. Cloud gets fed up at Shouta’s mother henning specifically, going as far as to swat at him when he tries to feel Hitoshi’s forehead for the 6^th time in an hour. He felt betrayed, expecting the matriarch of the cats to understand his concern over their new stray. She just gave him a pointed look before stretching out across Hitoshi’s middle. Sure, maybe the boy just needs his rest. Shouta files the interaction away for later, completely content with giving Cloud the cold shoulder for now. Traitor. Shouta is thankful Nezu had allowed him time off until Hitoshi is more stable. He wouldn’t be able to teach a class in this state. Hizashi still had to teach, though. It’s fine. Between Shouta and the cats, they can keep the kid alive.

It's 3 hours after Hitoshi’s been brought home that he wakes up. Shouta has already stress cleaned the whole guestroom, putting Hitoshi’s backpack next to the bed and his now washed training outfit folded neatly on top. He’s about to move onto the kitchen when Cloud comes looking for him, chirping loudly once she spots him. She wasn’t one to complain for food and treats, rather just accepting them when they were given, so was something up with one of the other cats or Hitoshi?

“I hear you, girl.” Shouta speaks quietly, picking up the fluffy white cat as he moves out the room.

Once they make it to the living room, he sees the reason for her vocalizing. Hitoshi has moved, now laying on his side, back to Shouta and blanket drawn over his head. Sashimi and Tora are playing on one of the cat towers across the room. Shouta sets cloud down, who immediately moves back to Hitoshi’s side. She decides not to step on him, rather waiting on the backrest of the couch, looking at her owner expectantly.

“Hitoshi? You awake, kid?” Shouta asks quietly, moving to sit on the coffee table in front of the couch.

His voice gets Hitoshi to turn around, peeking out from the blankets for a second before retreating again.

“Aizawa-Sensei?” He questions hesitantly.

“We aren’t in school; you can just call me Shouta here. Or Aizawa.” He gently moves the blanket to feel for a fever. It hasn’t spiked again, thankfully. The kid’s eyes are still bleary, and he immediately shies away from the light as soon as it hits his face.

“My head hurts. A lot. Migraine.” Hitoshi manages to mumble out after a few moments.

“Have you had a migraine before?” Shouta asks, getting up to close the curtains and turn off the lights.

“Yeah. Quirk use.” He offers no further explanation. Shouta doesn’t blame him. He himself gets migraines from Quirk use, they suck ass.

Wordlessly, Shouta gets a cold washcloth, glass of water, another dose of the cold medicine and a painkiller before he speaks up again.

“Are you up to eat anything? I don’t want you taking more medicine on an empty stomach.”

“No chewing. Sounds icky right now. I can take it. Taken more on an empty stomach before. Just want it to go away.”

“That’s concerning. Filing that away from later. What’s your favourite flavour?”

“Huh?” Hitoshi peeks his head out again at that question, finding the scene much more tolerable with the lack of light.

“What’s your favourite flavour? In general.” Shouta asks, his face not showing any specific emotion.

“Um. Strawberry mostly. Sometimes matcha. Sometimes chocolate.” Hitoshi rubs at one of his eyes a little harshly before Shouta gently stops him.

“Not too harsh, kid. You’ll hurt yourself. I’ll be back in a sec.” He gets up, leaving a confused Hitoshi on the couch.

It only takes a minute for him to return, strawberry jelly pouch in hand.

“Have this. You can take the medicine afterwards.”

“But I don’t feel well. Just want medicine.” Hitoshi pushes away the pouch, not even sparing it a glance.

“Look.” Shouta, undeterred, pushes the pouch into Hitoshi’s view.

“Strawberry.” Hitoshi realizes. He takes the pouch without any more fuss. Sue him, strawberry is superior.

***

A jelly pouch and renewed dose of meds later, Hitoshi is bundled up properly again. He doesn’t seem to be feeling better, subconsciously picking at the skin around his thumb.

“Talk to me, kid. Anything I can do to help?” Shouta has taken up residence on the carpet in front of the couch, Cloud settled in his lap.

Hitoshi stays eerily quiet, biting his lip.

“Hitoshi?” Upon hearing his given name, Hitoshi looks up. This gives Shouta the opportunity to see the kid’s teary eyes. He remains calm, fretting too much could make it worse.

“What’s up, kid?” Shouta prods again gently, moving cloud from his lap to Hitoshi’s, satisfied when he starts petting her instead of picking at his skin.

“I don’t feel well. I-” He cuts himself off as a few tears escape, taking a deep breath before continuing.

“I’m sorry for crying. I’m not feeling well and I can’t handle it right now. It pisses me off. I’m fine, I don’t know why I’m crying it’s nothing.” With each word his voice gets tighter, annoyance and despair mingling about as well as sticky tar in a vat of water.

“Hitoshi?” Shouta gets no further response as Hitoshi focuses all his attention on the cat in front of him. He’s crying softly- nearly silent. Shouta sighs before deciding to continue.

“I know you’re not feeling well kid. You’ve been through a lot these past few days and you’re sick right now. I bet it doesn’t feel nice. It’s okay, though. We’ll sort it out. You can just focus on getting better and I’ll do my best to help you. If you want or need anything, tell me. Okay?” Shouta speaks kindly, patiently. He doesn’t force Hitoshi to look at him or acknowledge him. He knows the kid heard him.

Hitoshi doesn’t respond, wiping the flowing tears from his eyes. Cloud seems to be helping a lot, the angel she is.  After another minute of cat petting, Hitoshi does speak up.

“Don’t be mad. Please.” He all but whispers.

“Mad? At what?” Shouta asks, confused. He didn’t feel a massive fever spike earlier, so the kid can’t be delirious from that. The medicine maybe?

“For crying. I didn’t mean to. I don’t know why I can’t stop. I’m sorry.”

Shouta was really confused now. Mad? For crying? Why in hell would this kid think he would get mad for crying? He decides to take a softer approach rather than bombard the kid with all the questions he desperately wants to ask.

“I’m not mad. I’d never get mad at you for crying. You’re allowed to cry.” Hitoshi does look up then, looking at Shouta with an expression he can’t quite discern. Unbelieving doubt? Like he’s waiting for the catch, the punchline the but. It never comes.

Shouta files this interaction away. It seems the concerning statements dropped from this kid like they’re completely normal will be adding up fast. The meds must be kicking in though, as Hitoshi’s eyes start to droop, hand slowing mid-pet on Cloud. Sensing his drowsiness, Cloud moves from his lap to his side, snuggled between Hitoshi and the back of the couch. They’re both out within the next minute. Shouta sighs affectionately, tucking the kid in tight and giving the cat some head scritches. One step at a time

***

Hitoshi does wake from nightmares frequently, often jolting awake with panicked breathes. The kid can’t sleep for more than a few hours undisturbed, if he’s lucky. Most times once they start, he easily wakes up multiple times an hour from them. He significantly calms down though, when Cloud (and later on Sashimi) offer him their feline support. Shouta doesn’t intervene, since all seems well with the cats by him. He would intervene if it was clear Hitoshi needed a bit more. He makes a mental note to see if he can check on that copper cat he knows Hitoshi’s attached to near school.

Hitoshi’s fever starts to spike again, likely due to the stress from the fitful sleep combined with his tired body fighting illness. He gets another jelly pouch and some stronger meds. His migraine isn’t completely gone, but not as bad as earlier. The stronger dose in meds does positively transform Hitoshi into High-toshi, though. And it’s at this transformation that Hizashi finally comes home from UA. They had agreed that Shouta would still do his patrols at night, switching caretaker rolls once Hizashi got home and then again once Shouta got back.

Hizashi greets his husband with a kiss before leaving to change from Present Mic to Hizashi. Once adorned with some sweats, a t-shirt, hair combed out and, in a bun, and normal glasses on, he properly greets Shouta.

“Hi, love. How are you and the little listener doing?” He asks quietly, hugging Shouta from behind as he fills up his thermos with coffee.

“Could be better. Could be worse. His fever spiked again, so I gave him the stronger stuff. He isn’t having a good time, so beware.” Hizashi hums.

“And you?”

“Fine, all things considered. I’m worried about the kid, but there’s noting to do about it right now aside from help him get better and take it from there.” Shouta turns around in his husband’s arms, pulling him in for a slow kiss. He sighs against his lips.

“How was school?”

“Your hellions class won’t stop asking about you. Todoroki already has three conspiracies going. I had to stop him before he convinced the class you’re leading a secret life as an American double agent that needed to go back to the States to report.” Hizashi huffs out a laugh as he recounts the suspicions of Todoroki. That kid can really make a whole story out of bare threads.

All too soon Shouta is suiting up and lacing his boots for patrol. The kid is half-conscious when he assures him he’ll just be out for a few hours and come right back once he’s done, Hizashi will look after him. After a pinkie promise, two cats deposited into a teenager’s lap and a last kiss from his husband, Shouta is out for patrol.

Hizashi situates himself on the armchair next to the couch, laptop in his lap to sort out the clusterfuck that is this weekend’s (non-existent) setlist for the radio station. Tora ties to pounce on his ankles, but Hizashi is quicker to move into a cross-legged position onto the couch. Hizashi-1 Little fucker-0. Sashimi does move down from his spot snuggled between Hitoshi and Cloud to entertain Tora on the ground. Hizashi makes a note to give him an extra few treats. He’s not at all surprised to see that Cloud has taken up watch by Hitoshi. She is the oldest of the cats at 10 years old and practically helped raise the other two. She’s always been caring like this, especially when someone is sick. Hizashi and Shouta can both attest to that.

Hizashi’s pulled out of his thoughts by a chirp from cloud and moment of the couch. Hitoshi’s waking up. The kid is definitely out of it, sitting up and rubbing his eyes like a sleepy child. He looks around for a second before his bleary eyes land on Hizashi, who offers him a kind smile.

“Hey, little listener. Doing okay?” Hizashi asks softly.

“I’m okay I think, Mic-sensei.” Hizashi can’t help but think a sleepy Hitoshi is the cutest thing ever.

“Oh, none of that. You can just call me Hizashi here. Okay?”

“’Kay.” Hitoshi responds sleepily. His eyes fall to Hizashi’s hands, interest colouring his eyes.

“You painted your nails.” He says with intrigue.

“I did! Do you like them?” Hizashi inquires upon seeing Hitoshi’s interest.

“Yeah. I always wanted to paint my nails.” Hizashi is pretty sure that the meds are making Hitoshi open up way more than he would otherwise, but hey he’s not complaining.

“Really? I’ll paint yours for you once you’re better. What colour’s your favourite?”

“Purple. Any shade. I just like purple.” Hitoshi yawns snuggling back into the blanket pile but angled towards Hizashi.

“I definitely have purple. I bet Shou wouldn’t mind having his nails painted, either. We could all match!” Hizashi gets a smile out of the kid at that.

“Can you….”

“Hm?”

“Is it okay for boys to be…like that here?” Hitoshi speaks quietly, hesitantly. Usually, he’s more guarded around asking questions due to his quirk, but his mind has been too exhausted to care.

“Like what, honey?” Hizashi gently inquires.

“Like paint your nails and wear other clothes and stuff.”

“Of course. It’s not a problem. Why do you ask?”

“Well,” Hitoshi starts hesitantly, like he’s speaking a secret he’s not supposed to reveal, “my dad always said boys can’t be like that. I always thought it was cool, though.” He rushes out the last part, scared he’s not supposed to say it.

“Well, I think it’s cool too! So, no worries, listener.” Hitoshi relaxes at that. Hizashi will have to mention it to Shouta late, but that’s a problem for exactly that- later.

They end up watching Howl’s Moving Castle together (Hitoshi’s choice) before Hitoshi’s worn out again. He tries to settle down, but the more he tries to lay still and just rest, the more it feels like his bones buzz. Hizashi notices, of course he does, and in a massive hit-or-miss move, starts playing with Hitoshi’s hair from where his head is propped up on the couch armrest. He’d mostly expected the kid to shy away since he’s quite averted to touch, at least based on Shouta’s recounts. But, surprisingly, Hitoshi leans into it, sighing happily.

“Good?” Hizashi asks quietly, not wanting to ruin the atmosphere.

“Mhm.” Hitoshi hums contently. “Feels really nice.”

“New to you?” Hizashi asks carefully, not sure of the territory.

“Yeah. Don’ think anyone’s ever played with my hair or scratched my head. Feels so nice. I want it forever.” Hitoshi speaks sleepily, sleep finally gaining a hold on him.

“You can get all the head scratches you want here. Everyday.” Hizashi continues to speak quietly. Maybe he’s using a touch of his quirk to sound more calming. Just maybe.

“Want ‘em all.” Hitoshi finally mumbles before falling into a calm sleep.

“You can have them all. We’ll give you all the love you deserve.” Hizashi mumbles once he’s sure Hitoshi’s fallen asleep. He always has been the sap between him and Shouta.

Chapter Text

When Hitoshi wakes again, he notices two things. One, his hand is asleep in result of three cats laying on his whole arm in what looks to be an admittedly nice cuddle pile. And two, he can hear people close by, but no one’s speaking. Someone’s pacing, another person’s arms move against fabric. He frees his arm from the cat pile, taking a moment to massage his hand. He cringes at the pins and needles sensation. He shifts himself upwards slightly to peek above the couch. His vision is only half focused, but he can see Yamada and Aizawa in the living room entrance. Right, he’s staying with them…right? And they’re Shouta and Hizashi to him now. That’s weird. Maybe this was all just some fucked up fever dream? With how he’s pretty sure someone stuffed his head full of cotton and anyone who tells him otherwise is a fucking liar- it very well could be. Shouta and Hizashi (still weird) are both moving their hands, signing. Shouta is pacing while Hizashi frets over his leather jacket, likely fidgeting. With his half-blurred vision and sick-ridden mind, Hitoshi can only make out a few signs. Out. Here. Now. No. Later. Talk. What on earth could they be talking about? He was thankful he took it upon himself to learn JSL in primary school to supplement communication when he wasn’t allowed to speak, but it sure as shit wasn’t helping now since his brain was too slow to properly process anything.

Deeming it too much effort to bother with, he shifts his focus to the cat pile. God, he loves cats. He wouldn’t say no if he had the opportunity to turn into one. He’d laze around and sunbathe and be a menace to other cats. A dream. Tora starts waking, stretching from her spot in the middle of the pile. He gets where her name comes from, the darker stripes on her brown fur do kind of look like tiger stripes. From what he’s been able to gather, she’s the most playful out of the other cats. For more evidence: See the kitten currently going airplane ears over him wiggling his fingers under the blanket. He lets out a startled giggle when she actually pounces on his covered hand. The giggles only continue when she decides the hand is no longer sufficient, going for his full forearm next. She’s surprisingly gentle in her “attacks”. Hitoshi wonders if the stern look Cloud is currently giving her had anything to do with it. She even bunny kicks at 50% ferocity. A quiet sneeze from Hitoshi does startle her, though. He mourns the loss, bet gets over it quickly when he sees her jump and nearly miss the cat tree completely.

Trained footsteps made purposefully noticeable move towards the couch, stealing Hitoshi’s attention. He looks over, hands automatically fidgeting with the blanket across his lap. Ai- Shouta is approaching with an armful of items.

“Hey, kid. Do you want me to call you Shinsou or Hitoshi?” He asks, setting everything down on the coffee table.

“Hitoshi, please.” He responds, yawning. He starts rubbing at his eyes, frustratedly rubbing harder when the action doesn’t clear the fogginess in his mind.

“Easy, Hitoshi. You need to be a bit gentler.” Shouta huffs out a laugh when Hitoshi pouts before continuing.

“Got something new for you to have after your medicine. Melon popsicle.” Shouta holds up the packaged treat for him to see. It does look yummy. Medicine, not so much.

“Can I just have that? Don’t want medicine.” Hitoshi sticks out his tongue half-heartedly, hoping to get his point across. He just gets an amused huff in return.

“Unfortunately, you need the medicine first. Okay?” And maybe Hitoshi had an insane need for approval from authority figures, but whatever.

It doesn’t take further convincing for Hitoshi to comply, though he does grimace at the taste of the medicine. The popsicle makes it better, though. He’s more lucid today than yesterday, but the medicine does still make his brain all fuzzy, like his neurons are trying so hard to connect, but they just keep missing the spark to pay attention. This, however, does not stop him from wanting to fill the restlessness with school. It’s been a habit of his since forever. Learn, learn, learn. Bored? Learn. Free time? School. Homework? He already did it. Books? His fucking saviour if he could marry them he would. Hitoshi had an insatiable urge to always be learning, always be studying. It’s how he learned English by watching TV, how he learned JSL to communicate with anyone who’d understand him whenever he was muzzled when he was still learning Quirk control (and whoever his parents deemed it necessary to muzzle him). He had a love for learning, so it didn’t matter what his current condition was, right? His mind was set. Despite this fuzziness, he would do whatever work he could get his hand on.

“I want to do schoolwork.” Hitoshi states hesitantly, suddenly no longer so sure of his non-existent plan.

“How come? You should be resting, kid. You’ll wear yourself out with that mental strain.” Shouta states gently.

“I-I need something for my mind so focus on. I’m not bored! It just needs…more.” Hitoshi positively fumbles his way through an explanation he’s pretty sure doesn’t get his point across.

“Your body is tired from fighting sickness. Why don’t you try to rest for a bit?” Shouta’s tone is soft, non-threatening and he doesn’t seem mad, but that wording feels like a dismissal to Hitoshi. Not wanting to test him, Hitoshi just nods, immediately settling down. It earns an odd look from Shouta that Hitoshi pretends to not see.

Stuck in a limbo between lack of mental stimulation, but also being fatigued (though not sleepy), Hitoshi’s mind starts to drift. It helps ease the jolts of anxiety running though him at the thought that he’d somehow upset Shouta. He has no idea what he did wrong, he can’t even think straight or properly process information right now, but adults were unpredictable like that. It was easier like this. Technically he was still present, just not available- per se. It was fine, he was fine. Hell, he was floating in limitless space right now. Weightless. God, what he’d give to be weightless. who knows how long he was floating around his head, but it feels like all too soon he's being dragged out of his safe space.

He slowly comes to again. He’s sitting upright now. When did that happen? Hitoshi was pretty sure he’d laid down. Someone’s rubbing his arms. His eyes regain focus on Shouta, who’s crouched in front of the couch. He looks startled. Did something happen?

“There you are. Scared the shit out of me. Don’t do that again.” Shouta breathes a sigh of relief at gaining Hitoshi’s attention.

“Sorry.” Is all Hitoshi can think to say.

“No need. You’re fine kid. Scared me, but you’re fine. You feeling okay? Anything feel particularly bad?”

“Nuh-uh.” Hitoshi shakes his head, thinking better of mentioning the panging in his chest, feeling worse he’d scared his mentor.

“Okay, that’s good. Why don’t you watch a movie? It should keep your mind busy.”

A TV remote is deposited in his hands before he can protest. And well, who is he to pass up an opportunity to watch a Ghibli movie? He settles on Princess Mononoke, his definite favourite. Before playing though, he turns to Shouta.

“This one.” He states, petting Sashimi who’d climbed into his lap.

“All good, kid.” Maybe Shouta hadn’t seen his choice?

“Can- am I…allowed?” He hesitantly questions.

“Of course. Why wouldn’t you be?” Shouta asks, genuinely curious.

“Um- no reason.” Hitoshi quickly squeaks out, pressing play before he could be questioned further. Sue him, adults were iffy about the weirdest things. His parents despised Ghibli for some reason. Who’s to say it wasn’t suddenly banned here for no reason at all either?

***
Unfortunately, not even his favourite movie is doing enough for his brain. It’s an awful feeling- low energy, moody from being low energy, under stimulated mentally but overstimulated physically and still yearning for schoolwork. He’d take anything at this point, hell, shit he’s already done. Who cares? He just needs something. Cloud, bless her soul, has noticed his predicament and is trying her hardest to keep Hitoshi busy without tiring him out. She playfully swats at him, lays on his chest while purring, at one point even tries grooming Hitoshi, but the sensation makes him shiver, so she stops. He knows Shouta wants him to rest, but goddamn would it be so bad to catch up on work?

Catch up.

Catch. Up.

Fuck. UA. Training. What day is it today? Did he fuck everything up for real? His addled brain feels too much like mush to be able to think clearly, it feels like someone only told him half the story where he’s the main character. He ran. Right? Did he? Why is he in his teacher’s place? Holy shit two of his teachers live together. He saw them hug yesterday. Are they…together? Okay that’s beyond the point. Everything’s beyond the point at this point. What was he even thinking about in the first place? Was he even thinking? The fuck is going on in his head right now. Hitoshi is convinced if you looked in his head right now there would be nothing but a tumbleweed swishing past.

“Hitoshi?” Shouta’s question brings him back to reality. He shakes his head, hoping it’ll somehow physically clear the fog. It doesn’t.

“You okay?” Oh, and Shouta’s in front of him now. When did that happen?

“Uh-Yeah.” He stumbles out, trying and failing to process what’s going on.

“What’s up? Talk to me kid, don’t want you to zone out again” Zone out? He hadn’t been that far gone. Had he?

“I-I really want to do schoolwork. I’m sorry if it sounds dumb, but I just want to do something. I feel like my brain is gonna implode without it. It doesn’t have to be serious work! I just need...something. Please.” Hitoshi rushes out, aware of how much of a dumbass he must sound like right now.

“All right.” Huh.

“Hizashi left the book you guys were going to start on soon in English. You could get a head start on it?” Shouta offers, moving to the dining table (more like a teacher’s table at this point) to retrieve the book. He holds it up, showing Hitoshi. Before he can fumble his way through another interaction, he nods.

The book is simple, only about 150 pages. English was a compulsory second language, but it was not primarily spoken in the area, so school English was pretty simple. Hitoshi’s opinion may be biased through, since he’d learned English in early primary school and fluently spoken it for years at this point. Most of the time school English in Japan didn’t scratch the LEARN LEARN LEARN part of his brain hard enough, so he would supplement with American English lessons at home. 150 pages of a simple book wasn’t going to do much for him, but it would have to do, he supposed. Perhaps the mental fog would make it more of a challenge.

More of a challenge, it was. It took Hitoshi three hours to complete- slightly longer than his page-per-minute normal speed. Though, he isn’t sure he completely grasped the plot. Though, he would probably be able to write a standard book report acceptable by the school’s standards right now if he were asked. Based on how the words start blurring and the incessant ache behind his eyes though, he’s pretty sure he won’t be able to shoot that far. He closes the book, sitting up from his position of laying on his back, disturbing the two cats who had taken up residence on his torso in the process. He apologises with ear scritches.

Now that he’s able to focus more on how he feels physically, he realizes its utter shit. How is he cold but sweaty at the same time? And his face feels like he’s blushing really hard, though he’s pretty sure nothing’s making him blush right now. He felt gross. If someone gave him the opportunity to peel of his skin, scrub it clean and put it back, he would take it. He looks as shit as he feels since Shouta takes one took at him before letting out a tsk. Somehow it doesn’t sound annoyed, though? How’d he do that? The only time Hitoshi’s heard that from adults was in an annoyed way.

“I’m getting you more medicine. It’s about time, anyways.” Hitoshi briefly wonders if it would be worth it to give Todoroki a tip off that his Homeroom teacher might be a massive softy.

“Pouch first, then medicine. It’s a new one; Recovery girl recommended it. It should be lighter on your body, not make you as loopy. There is a chance it could be worse, though. You’ll have to tell me if it feels worse.” And with that he is given another jelly pouch (Oh my god its strawberry-matcha he can die happy) which he happily snacks on before the new medicine. It tastes suspiciously not bad. Shouta goes over to a linen closet in the hallway, switching out Hitoshi’s blankets for fresh non-sweat covered ones.

After about 20 minutes of resuming Princess Mononoke, he hasn’t keeled over yet. Shouta counts that as a win. He asks Hitoshi if he wants to shower, gaining an immediate yes. The poor kid must feel like shit- he certainly looks it. No use in sugar coating the truth. He would’ve thought him and Hitoshi to be similar sizes, but his clothes fit loose on his mentee. Concerning, especially after the meal plan and all the training. It’s a worry for later though, as he gives the kid an old set of Hizashi’s Put Your Hands Up Radio branded pjs. It was one of the test runs when he was just starting out.

Shouta would’ve thought the shower would help. While Hitoshi did look more comfortable, for lack of better explanation, he looked high as fuck. Enter: High-Toshi. Round 2. The meds must’ve kicked in later than expected. Shouta has to help keep him upright as he stumbles through the hall.

“Don’…Don’ think these meds work the best.” Aaand Hitoshi is slurring. Shit. Someone really needs to do research on the relation between mind quirks and medicine cause this guessing game is really not working out well. Hell, he’d front it, pay for it- whatever it took. He was scared the kid would have a serious adverse reaction that could genuinely harm him.

“Nope. Won’t be giving you any more of that. We’ll find something else.” Shouta helps him move back to his comfy couch spot, tucking him in for good measure.

“Why not…plants. Stuff. I dunno natural stuff not chemicals. Maybe that’s different.” Hitoshi is only half aware of what he’s mumbling, having taken interest in the cotton ball looking cat that settled on his stomach. She was working very hard making biscuits.

“I’ll enquire about that for you. You up to try and sleep it off? Not much we can do right now about it.” Shota deposits a second kitty by Hitoshi, Sashimi. Tora is busy chasing a mechanical mouse toy under the dining table.

“Mhm” Hitoshi hums affirmatively, already somewhat drifting off. Maybe the two purring cats had something to do with that.

Shouta settles on the ground by the coffee table, closer to Hitoshi than on the armchair. Paranoid, much? Hitoshi smiles sleepily at the thought. He doesn’t fall asleep though, not really. Instead, his mind falls into that weird half-asleep half-awake state. He’s not sleeping, but he’s not fully awake either. His mind is floating somewhere aided by kitten purrs and the smell he’s come to just know as Shouta Aizawa, his mentor. It could comfort him in any situation, he swears. Oh, shit. Didn’t Shouta say he didn’t want Hitoshi zoning out again? Does this count, though? He does half open his eyes every now and again, so he’s not asleep. But damn he sure as hell does not have any energy to raise concern right now. He doesn’t even feel fully real right now. If someone told Hitoshi he was actually floating in outer space right now, he would 100% believe them.

He doesn’t know how long he stays in this state, but at some point he faintly registers Shouta getting up, Sashimi following close behind. Just him and Cloud now. His mind jolts at the sound of boots walking down the hallway, followed by a door closing. Shit. Boots? His dad always wore shoes that sounded heavy like that. Was he home? He really shouldn’t be lazing around like this if his dad was home, lest he want to listen to his dad go off about whatever he felt like for hours. Maybe he’d hit Hitoshi. He didn’t do that often, though, so he should be fine. It’s over if he talks back though- he knows his parents keep a muzzle still. Even if he hasn’t worn one in years, he wasn’t eager to confirm any suspicions.

Hitoshi shakily stands up, taking Cloud with for moral support. If his dad saw the cat he might hurt her. Wait. Cloud? Where the fuck was his head at? Where the fuck was he at? It’s all too much of a jumble in his mind to sort out right now. The safest option would be to hide. Just in case his dad was here- wherever “here” was. On unstable, but suspiciously quiet feet he stumbles into the hallway towards the closet he saw Shouta get fresh blankets out of. He should be able to squeeze in there. Cloud hasn’t jumped out of his arms yet, so that surely must mean she agrees with the plan in his head.

Upon opening the closet, he does in fact see a mostly empty spot underneath the wire shelves. It would be enough for him to half-sit half-lay in. Plan: success. Hitoshi wastes no time getting into position, pretty comfortable considering the crammed spot. Cloud seems content too, snuggling into his side, purring up a storm. Her purrs help calm him. And shit he’d be lying if he said the cat purrs and secure space didn’t make him sleepy. Maybe he should catch up on that sleep he was supposed the be having for who knows how many past hours. He could get used to this, he thinks as he actually falls asleep to catch up on some much-needed rest.

***

“Shou? Where’s the little listener?” Hizashi calls as he walks into the living room, having taken a shower and changed into some comfy pyjamas (no those were not just Shouta’s clothes, shut up).

“What to you mean?” Shouta calls from the bedroom, where he’s still putting on his hero attire for tonight’s patrol.

Hizashi moves to the hall bathroom, but the door is wide open. Same with the guestroom Not there, not in the living room, not in the guestroom. He was just here. The silence from his usually boisterous husband must raise enough concern, as Shouta peeks out of the bedroom while putting his Capture Weapon on. His husband’s silent panic immediately registers and he rushes into the living room, only to find an obvious lack of teenage boy. Fuck. How the fuck do you lose a kid in your own apartment?

“He’s not in the bathroom, none of the other rooms. He was just here! We literally saw him sleeping!” Hizashi nearly-yells as he frantically searches the other rooms again.

Shouta aids him, but after nearly 30 minutes of checking every single room in the place multiple times, calling out, calling for Cloud who’d been attached to the boy from the beginning only to realize she’s missing too- they’re at a loss. Just as Shouta is about to accept that a medicated, sick teenager and a protective cat somehow slipped out of the apartment, and it was time to notify this block’s security, something catches their eyes. Tora is sitting in front of the linen closet, Sashimi sniffing the door before joining her. Sashimi chirps a few times when Shouta and Hizashi don’t immediately move.

Shouta moves to the closet and wonders how the fuck he’s going to get back those 10 years the stress shaved off his life as he opens the door and sees the teen asleep with Cloud in his arms. Tora gets distracted by Sashimi’s tail, who indulges her in her antics.

“Do we even want to know?” Hizashi states exasperatedly after he too, heaves a sigh of relief.

“Sometimes its better to not ask questions. He’s safe, that’s all that matters.” Shouta grunts out as he moves Cloud to the side. Unfazed, she simply goes to get a drink of water.

They try waking Hitoshi up, but he’s in some sort of colossal deep sleep, breathing softly and face the most relaxed Shouta’s ever seen. By some grace of God, Shouta is able to manoeuvre Hitoshi out of the space without bonking his or Hitoshi’s heads. Picking him up is way easier than it should be. Living off jelly packs and a melon popsicle for the past few days definitely wasn’t helping that. They needed to start getting real food into Hitoshi as soon as he was lucid enough to keep his own head up. With Hizashi’s help, they settle Hitoshi in his arms, ready to move him back to the couch that will now be held under closer surveillance. Upon standing up with clicking knees, though, Hitoshi whimpers.

“Shh, you’re fine, little listener.” Hizashi is quick to sooth him form his spot in front of the pair.

“We goin’? No. Don’ take me back. Not…not that house. Not back, please.” Hitoshi whimpers out, clutching onto the front of Aizawa’s suit.

“You’re fine, kid. You’re staying here, don’t worry, okay?” Aizawa whispers as he moves to the couch. Hitoshi’s hand finds his Capture Weapon. It calms him nearly instantly, letting him fall back asleep without further problem.

Getting Hitoshi to let go of his Capture Weapon is a battle that would clearly take longer than they currently have. Shouta accepts his loss upon getting Hitoshi settled and tucked in again. He takes off his scarf, to which his mentee immediately hugs in closer. It’s fine, he’ll take his backup out tonight. If it makes Hitoshi feel safer, it’s a small price to pay. He’d pay it anytime.

Chapter Text

The night turns out to be long for Hizashi as he cares for Hitoshi, the side effects of the previous medicine working out of his system while he does his best to make sure the boy doesn’t disassociate when he’s lucid (as per Shouta’s warning). The poor kid can’t get more than an hour of sleep at a time before being plagued by fever dreams and nightmares. He does what he can, but Shouta’s Capture Weapon does majority of the work in comforting the teen. Hizashi has a feeling separation anxiety is already at play. He had to admit is though, the kid did look absolutely adorable snuggled up in Put Your Hands Up pjs, surrounded by cats and cuddling his mentor’s scarf. He could get used to this- if that’s what Hitoshi wanted. Hizashi might not be Shouta, but he can still offer the teen many head scratches and back rubs. He feels quite powerless in the situation, but his husband had texted him that he’s dropping by Recovery Girls’ after patrol to pick up new medicine form the kid that she herself is pretty sure will keep him at least some less loopy. It helps sooth his nerves marginally. At least Hitoshi had been staying on the couch and hadn’t made another “disappear” attempt. He was scared there for a second when the teen mumbled something about closets in his sleep, but he settled pretty fast afterwards.

All this time staring at Hitoshi for fear he might disappear the one second he turns around or leaves does have him noticing a few concerning things:

1. The boy is thin. While not gaunt or too concerning, he was there when Shouta wrote the meal plan, even gave his input here and there. Despite the happenings of the past few days, if the kid had been following the meal plan as instructed, he should’ve put on more weight. It was something to keep an eye on.
2. Faint silver scars adorn the bridge of his nose and cheeks. Scars Hizashi knows well. Hitoshi’s are faded, only visible when the light catches it right- though that doesn’t make it any less concerning. Shouta had been closed off about the state the house was in during the search. He could only guess.
3. Hitoshi was fiercely protective of the cats. It would be cute if he didn’t mutter a “Don’t hurt them” nearly every time one of them slightly shifted away from him or out of his hold, in Cloud’s case. He even almost managed to kick Hizashi when he merely shifted Tora to better tuck them all in, mumbling a “Don’t touch them. They didn’t do anything.” It broke his heart.

Alas, the best course of action was to remain calm and patient in waiting for his husband to return.

*

By the time Shouta finished up his thankfully uneventful patrol, he took some time to talk about the case with Tsukauchi, who as at the agency near his patrol route before he went to go pick up the new medicine from Recovery Girl. She had deduced the common ingredient in the other medicines Hitoshi had tried and found one that didn’t contain that ingredient. It should make his mentee less to no loopy, hopefully allowing him to get proper sleep. He knows the kid was a borderline insomniac, and he wasn’t in a position to judge, but right now his body needs rest.

By the time he does make it home, around 4AM, the apartment is silent. No cats greet him, though they would usually be awake at this time. A closer look reveals the cats are all snuggled around Hitoshi on the couch, Hizashi having fallen asleep on the floor in front of the couch, a hand in Hitoshi’s hair and laptop on the coffee table. Sashimi blinks up sleepily at him from his spot next to Hitoshi’s head. He allows himself a moment to stare at the scene. He’s not soft. He’s not. He can’t stare forever, though. He needs to get Hitoshi to eat some solid food and then have medicine, and he needs to herd his husband to bed. He decides to start with his husband, since he’ll probably need his help with the teen.

“Zashi? Wake up.” Shouta crouches down next to his husband, tucking a few blonde strands behind his ear.

“Hm? Shou, you’re a home.” God, he loves Hizashi’s dopey sleepy smiles.

“You and the kid doing okay?”

“He doesn’t sleep well. Reminds me of you.” Shouta helps his husband stand up, shooting him an unimpressed look at the comment.

“We need to wake him up, I have the new medicine. Chiyo said it doesn’t contain common ingredients with the others, so it should be fine with him. We need him to eat, too. Did you get anything strawberry, matcha or chocolate with the groceries? He likes those flavours.”  Shouta whispers, mindful of the sleeping teen on the couch.

“Aww, look at you. Strawberry cereal. He should like that.” Hizashi can’t not tease his husband a bit. Sue him, they’ve been married nearly a decade.

“Shut it. I’ll wake him.” Shouta Aizawa is very busy not hiding a blush. Simple teases do not work on him.

Getting Hitoshi awake turns out to be more trouble than they’d have thought considering his fitful sleep. It takes a good few minutes and helping him sit up for him to be able to keep his eyes open. Concerningly, the teen’s dark purple eyes seem more dulled than usual. Not really a “disassociation” dull, rather something Shouta seems familiar with, but can’t quite place. He’ll need to be observant. Despite communication attempts, Hitoshi doesn’t seem interested. They can’t get him to speak, though his eyes do track Hizashi’s hands as they sign while speaking out of habit. Interesting. They do manage to move him to the dining table; pout being placated when Shouta deposits Cloud in his lap. Like the angel she is, she merely purrs upon being used like this.

“You feel like eating anything, Hitoshi?” Shouta asks, taking care to not change his tone in voice. The kid picks up on those things faster than he can even process them. Hitoshi shakes his head in the negative, eyes focused on the fluff ball in his lap.

“And this?” Hizashi asks, moving the cereal box into his view. At this, Hitoshi pauses. After a few seconds of careful consideration, he nods. Hizashi silently celebrates the win as the teen glares at Shouta- who is conveniently standing with his back to Hitoshi. Strawberry snitch. Who else would have told the blonde? At least neither of them knew that Hitoshi’s favourite was to mix chocolate and strawberry cereal together, it was still his secret. Small victories.

*

One slowly eaten bowl of cereal later, he’s been given medicine that’s supposedly not going to make him loopy. They do keep him within sight for a while in case, but after nothing happens for 40 minutes, Shouta shows him the guest room. They deem him well enough to not need 24/7 supervision anymore, so that’s something. Hitoshi uses the acting experience from years of walking on eggshells at his parents’ house to seem tired, dead on his feet. It’s not a complete lie, he is tired. He always is.

Shouta makes sure he’s settled in bed before leaving, closing the door almost all the way, but not quite. Hitoshi waits 10 minutes before allowing himself to shift and sit up. He can hear Hizashi scold the cats in the kitchen to eat slower or they’ll choke. What time is it? His mentor is back, so it must be early morning, then. After night, but before sunrise. Hitoshi really loved this time of day when the world is calm and quiet. He observes the room. Two windows- both with screens, comfy double bed, bedside table at each side, wardrobe at the back of the room, his untouched backpack is next to the wardrobe, a decent desk and chair. It’s a nice room. He feels upset that a waste like him is occupying it.

Hitoshi had heard some of what was spoken around him when he was sleeping on the couch, a habit he’d had to develop at a young age. Even when asleep, his body does not rest. Danger is always near, and he didn’t let himself believe otherwise. Both Hizashi and Shouta would pet his head and mumble things like, “You’re safe here” and “Whatever you need, we’ll help you.” Those two must have some loose screws in the head if they believe that Hitoshi would take them seriously. He’s fucked up his own life and now theirs too. How did he even end up in the care of two heroes, his teachers, his mentor and his mentor’s husband? He was certain he would’ve died on the streets from weather conditions, or if he hung out there long enough someone else would do the job for him. Or he would just do it himself. He could just do it himself.

The thought isn’t even fully completed before he’s faced with a familiar itch under his skin. They must know about his self-destructive habits. There’s quite literally no way they couldn’t. He was in hospital attire at Recovery Girl’s, and Shouta had helped him change again before they brought him to their place, as Hitoshi was beyond exhausted then. What does it matter, though? They’d get sick of him as soon as that “I’m such a good person for taking in a troubled teenager in need of a home” high wears off and they realize they do in fact have to actually look after another life. That’s just how it worked. Therefore, how much he mutilates his body just simply does not matter. It’s not like he’d show it off or anything. He would just be cutting himself anyways, not killing himself. He wouldn’t do that to his mentor. He’d rather sneak out and go die in an alleyway like a wounded cat.

It’s not like he didn’t deserve it- he definitely did. If he could’ve just sucked it up and dealt with his home life instead of running away like a coward, everyone would’ve been better off. Sure, he might’ve actually killed himself if that went on for much longer, but does it even matter if the result is the same anyways? Hell, he was pretty sure his mom might have killed him that night if he didn’t run. He could have been dead right now. Shit. That was such a missed opportunity he’s sad about it. He’s undeserving of life for cowering in the face of such danger. He knows neither Shouta nor Hizashi would get it if he tried to explain it to them, so he won’t. They must hate him. They have to take off work to take care of him. It’s pathetic. Part of himself wants to believe that everything will be okay, he’ll be accepted by his mentor and have a loving home, but that’s not how life works. He can’t let himself believe, that’s dangerous. Especially if he wants to remain neutral to death. He might not be able to take care of it right now, but he can cope. His fucked-up version of coping, anyways.

Hitoshi takes care to move silently. He can hear the faint noise of the television, so they must be in the living room. Shouldn’t they go to bed at this hour? It’s still a bit more before school starts. Whatever, he was one to talk about fucked up sleep schedules. He goes to his backpack, carefully unzipping it. The contents are untouched, no one even opened it. Given the circumstances, it’s an honest surprise. Silently, one by one, he unpacks the contents. At the end, he gets to his prize. A “first aid kit” hidden in a zipper pouch inside of his bag. He had an actual first aid kit, but this was his. He doesn’t think cutting himself here in this room is a safe bet, since the door is only partially closed, but moving to the bathroom would alert the two adults of his consciousness. The bathroom is a safer bet, though. Less risk of someone walking past and seeing or barging in. Bathroom it is.

Hitoshi tucks the kit in the waistband of his pjs (oh my god they’re branded he didn’t properly notice before) and puts on a half-asleep act, making it seem like he hasn’t fully woken up yet- just needed to go to the bathroom. Inside the bathroom he waits a few seconds before pulling the kit out. He needs to be quick. As much as he would love to paint his arms, it’s way too visible. He wagers his thighs, but decides against it, given the somewhat recent markings. His hips are the safest option. It’s going to hurt and be inconvenient, but who was he to complain when he himself was an inconvenience?

The routine is one of security and familiarity. Set up, clean, cut, clean, dress, pack up. He’s quick and efficient. Years of practice did that to a person. He’s in and out within 5 minutes. He makes sure to act a little extra sleepy when going back to the guest room, in case he’s aroused any suspicion. No out of place noises occur, so he’s probably safe. The itch under his skin is temporarily sated. It’s enough for him right now. Right now. He knows it’ll return. God, he’s been a slave to it since the age of eleven. It did the job, though. He feels less like freaking out over how his life has fallen apart and more like he’s up in the clouds somewhere, barely on Earth. If he could find a way to bottle this feeling, he’d be more addicted to it than his parents were to their drugs. He doesn’t care. As long as he can fuck up his mind, his body, his life- who cares?

Chapter Text

Hitoshi keeps telling himself that he does not care. He doesn’t care about anything, anyone, whatever happened. It’s nothing. He’s nothing. He doesn’t hold any value and neither does anyone else. Because caring is dangerous. Caring leads to heartbreak, heartbreak leads to feeling, feeling means that he is real. He doesn’t want to be real. The high from hurting himself has long since worn off. Though he expected it, he still wishes the euphoria would’ve lasted a bit longer. Now he’s back to overthinking while staring at the blank ceiling. What has he done?

Even if he wanted to get out of bed again, he simply can’t. It’s a familiar feeling, a bone deep ache that rips open his chest layer by layer before finally consuming his heart. It doesn’t leave room for anything else to be done aside from feel it consume him until he surrenders his body completely. The door creaking catches his attention. It’s Cloud. She pushes open the door, even though there was enough space for her to silently get through. His eyes track her as she moves around the room. She sniffs his backpack for a good minute before bumping her body against it, no doubt leaving her mark in the form of cat hair. Once she deems it furred up adequately, she moves over to the bed. She takes a moment to watch Hitoshi, only jumping up once their eyes lock. He wants to pet her- wishes to, but he just can’t move. The heaviness that settles upon his chest has consumed his whole body. His arms and legs feel held down by a thousand needles.

When he doesn’t immediately shower her with affection like previous times, she decides its worthy to inspect him. Her whiskers tickle as she sniffs his face. He scrunches his nose when a prickly tongue licks his cheek. She lets out a curious, barely audible noise when he doesn’t shift away, observing him as if to decide the next step. She must have decided, as Hitoshi gets no warning before the cat hops on top of him. She settles on top of his chest, paws tucked in and eyes closed. Goddamn, this cat. He doesn’t care. He doesn’t.

Hitoshi opts to stay in the guest room until further notice. He doesn’t know the rules of this place. The last thing he wants is to be even more annoying and do something that bothers one of his Senseis. Everything is so scary. Nothing will be the same again- everything’s changing. Sometimes Hitoshi liked the thrill of change. Other times it made him want to bash his head into solid concrete. Every now and then he’s dragged out of his thoughts by Tora or Sashimi checking in. Cloud has not moved. The cats remind him of Ryuu. Hopefully the little guy is doing okay. Hitoshi wonders when he’ll be able to see that asshole kitty again. He’s completely fine with being used for food if it means seeing him again.

Once the sun rises and starts peeking through a sliver in the curtains, Shouta checks in. Hitoshi pretends to sleep. He’s too tired to deal with human interaction right now. It works well enough, as Shouta stays silent. He hears his mentor quietly shooing away Tora when she tries to use the bed as a scratch post. Theres a glass of water placed on the bedside table before his blankets are fussed over. Soon a hand is petting his head, fingers running through his hair. Who knew the intimidating Hero Course teacher was such a softie? It’s all for nothing, misplaced care. They’ll notice it soon enough.

There was one time a few years go that Hitoshi had the guts to ask for help. He had been muzzled over the dumb reason of accidentally choking on water. The sound was heard by his mom despite trying his best to be silent. He doesn’t remember very well what happened immediate after, only that he had been muzzled one moment and the next he was running. It was scary when his dad managed to grab him. By some miracle he wiggled free, running to a police station. It was a long night. The muzzle was never taken off. No one seemed to care that much, just a runaway kid after all. His dad must have smelled like alcohol, since a bored looking officer informed him that he’ll be staying with an aunt a few hours away for a while. That first week was euphoria. Hitoshi felt free for the first time ever. His aunt took the muzzle off, let him eat dinner and allowed him to talk. Sure, he was hungry sometimes and he wasn’t allowed to leave the house, but it still felt like freedom. After the first week though, she seemed to realize that she might have to take Hitoshi in. He remembers sitting on the ground in front of the futon set up for him in the storage room, realizing it was all for show. One good deed. Bragging rights. She didn’t actually want to help him. The next 2 months were a different type of hell he blocked out of his memory. At some point his aunt had just…given him back. She said she didn’t want him, couldn’t care for him, it’s not what she wants with her life. When he got back to his parents they had put surveillance cameras in the hallways. His parents started with talks of group homes and signing off rights. He wishes they followed through.

Who’s to say his teachers won’t be the same? It’s only a matter of time before that good deed high wore off. Hitoshi can really not handle a situation like that again. At least he was older now, he had experience. If need be, he can be by himself. He’d sort it all out. By being in the next week’s obituary but damn a solution is a solution. Adults are unpredictable, he needs to do whatever they say, stay silent, stay out of sight, only take what’s given, never ask but don’t refuse. He’d be fine. He’s been through worse.

After another hour or so, it’s Hizashi who checks in this time. His heart still feels caved out, but at least he had been able to move his arms to give Cloud the attention she deserves. There’s a soft knock at his door (they bother to knock here?) before Hizashi comes in. He’s in casual clothes, sweatpants and a faded band shirt that must be at least 10 years old based on how worn in it looks.

“Hey little listener, good to see you’re awake!” He speaks enthusiastically, but softly as to not disturb any peace. Sashimi trails his owner as he enters. He moves to the furthest corner of the bed, picking Sashimi up to hold like a baby. Surprisingly, the youngest cat tolerates it.

“How are you feeling? The new meds don’t have you on another planet, at least.” And God, Hizashi’s tone just sounds so genuine, like he legitimately wants an answer. What’s Hitoshi supposed to do with that?

Hitoshi doesn’t know if he should answer, or if it was just a well disguised rhetorical question. He doesn’t want to shrug his shoulders, lest he get chewed out. He settles for just petting Cloud, looking down at her. He doesn’t know if they get mad from eye contact in this place yet.

“Hitoshi?” At that, he looks up. Perhaps a little too quick and wide-eyed, since Hizashi raises his eyebrows ever so slightly before schooling his expression again. Fuck. Eye contact then? But Shouta sucked at eye contact and that seemed normal here, but Shouta was also Hizashi’s husband. He was just some runaway.

“Hmm. You still look pretty pale. Can I feel your forehead for a second?”

“O-Okay.” Hitoshi manages to stutter out after realizing he was supposed to answer. Hizashi sets down the now sleeping cat and moves to his side of the bed, pressing the back of his hand against Hitoshi’s forehead. He barely manages to supress a flinch at having a raised hand close to his face.

“Your fever is gone, at least. That’s good news! Your body was fighting for a while there.” Fucking hell there’s that sincere tone again, lightly laced with pity this time. He can handle adults when they’re mad or brush him off or straight up just tell him what they want from him. What’s he supposed to do with this? He doesn’t get to dwell long before Hizashi speaks again.

“Do you need anything?” Okay, now he was lost. Adults don’t ask that. He doesn’t have a single mental script that fits this scenario. Hizashi seems to be expecting an answer though, so Hitoshi just shakes his head. He doesn’t ask for things, and he doesn’t take anything that’s not offered.

“All right. Yell if you need anything, okay? Shou and I are in the living room, so we’ll hear. You’ve got a check-up with Recovery Girl at 11, so you can rest for a while longer.” Hizashi smiles at him, moves Sashimi next to the teen, then leaves. The door is kept half open.

What the fuck was that?

***

It seems both adults are home today. What day is it? How long has it been? Hitoshi’s beat up phone was powered off somewhere in his bag and he always kept his wristwatch in his school locker, so he didn’t have a quick way to check without making any noise. Maybe it’s been a week? He remembers being under the care of Recovery Girl for at least a day, though he had been told he was passed out before that and the time afterwards is hazy. He remembers very little of his fevered delirium here. He remembers reading some English book, some Ghibli movie, when he took a shower and felt how good warm water felt, and eating strawberry cereal. That was probably over a few days. Shit, hopefully he kept his mouth shut.

He gets another two hours of peace in the form of cat cuddles and an existential crisis before the door opens again. This time its Shouta who checks in, armed with the third cat. The cats did make him feel better. Were they healers?

Tora is deposited on the bed next to her two siblings, who she promptly starts to pick a “fight” with Cloud before Shouta moves to Hitoshi’s side. He frowns upon seeing the glass of water on the bedside table still full.

“Drink the water, your body would not be able to handle dehydration right now. Are you up for eating anything again?” Shouta’s tone is indifferent, though that’s not unusual. Should he respond? What answer is expected of him? He shouldn’t eat their food.

Hitoshi settles for a shake of his head. Shouta gives no visible reaction, only observing him for a moment. It makes him feel like squirming, but he fights against it. Did he answer wrong?

“All right. Me or Zashi will check in again in a bit, maybe you’ll have some of your appetite back by then. Drink the water.”

“O-okay. You don’t- no one has to check in all the time, I don’t want to waste your time. I’ll be okay by myself, really.” Hitoshi regrets the words immediately upon seeing the way the frown returns to his mentor’s face when he speaks. He should’ve just stayed quiet.

“We aren’t looking after you because we have to, we want to. Do you understand that?” His tone is still indifferent, though Hitoshi knows when adults use this pattern of speech, he’s about one wrong answer from being yelled at. Shouta doesn’t look like he would yell but looks can be deceiving.

Hitoshi nods his head, moving his attention to Sashimi, who’s trying to burrow under the blankets.

“Hate to break it to you kid, but you have people who care. Whether you like it or not. You’ll get used to it.” What load of bullshit was that?

“Sure.” He’d be a fool to believe that.

Shouta merely hums after a moment before leaving. How many times could Hitoshi possibly fuck up within the short time span of being awake?

***

Hitoshi does fall asleep again, body exhausted from healing itself. Around 10am he’s awoken to a cat attempting to bite his foot, barely stopped by Shouta before being lightly scolded by Hizashi.  He sits up, rubbing sleep out of his eyes. Holy shit it feels like he was forcefully knocked out with how hard it felt like he slept.  Shouta is first to speak, Hizashi being busy kicking Tora out of the room along with Sashimi to keep her busy.

“You awake? I put some fresh clothes for you in the bathroom so you can take a shower. We’ve got an hour until your appointment with Chiyo, 45 minutes until we need to leave. So, no rush.” His mentor has always appreciated knowing exactly when things are happening, even if he’s rarely on time himself. Hitoshi let it slip one time that he likes having set expectations for punctuality, and it seems Shouta remembered that.

“The clothes might smell like cat, though. All of them love napping in the laundry.” Hizashi speaks after successfully redirecting Tora’s attention with Sashimi as sacrifice.

“Oh, that’s sweet. They probably like your smell.” Hitoshi speaks quietly without thinking. He panics for a second, but calms when Hizashi warms the room with his laugh.

“They do! They go crazy if we’re gone for a while. We always have to pre wear a hoodie or shirt for them and keep it out when we leave. You should’ve seen them when Shou went on a weeklong mission and didn’t leave anything of his for them!”

Okay, casual cat conversation. This is easy, he can do this. No expectations, just cats.

***

Hitoshi rubs the palms of his hands against the soft cotton of the sweatpants he’s wearing. These clothes fit him better than the previous pyjamas. He can’t tell who’s they are, both adults seem to live out of the same closet. Based on the soft feeling that only comes with frequently wearing an item for a long time, he wouldn’t be surprised if it were from the start of their hero days.

When the fabric doesn’t give him enough sensory input anymore, he starts picking at his hands. He’s always had skin picking issues, so he doesn’t even fully notice what he’s doing until a tangle fidget toy is placed in his lap. When he looks up, Hizashi’s smile meets him from the passenger seat. He’s seen fidget toys plenty of times, but he’s never allowed himself to indulge like he desperately wanted to. Curiously, he moves it around, enjoying the feeling of smooth plastic between his fingers. It’s not hard to get distracted, moving it this way and that, trying to bend it in certain ways. This one is yellow and glittery. Hitoshi always loved looking at glitter.

It feels like no time has passed before they’re walking to Recovery Girl’s office. Hitoshi’s nerves are going haywire, making his hands feel oversensitive and numb at the same time. The fidget toy helps, though. Shouta already explained that Hitoshi will be going in alone, but they’d be just outside, that it was just a check up to make sure his body was doing okay. It would be fine; he would be fine. He repeats the mantra in his head as he’s ushered inside and guided to sit on one of the beds.

“It’s good to see you up and at it. Have you been doing well?” She asks kindly while taking his vitals.

“I-I guess.”

“Hm. Your blood pressure is low. When was the last time you ate?”

“Oh. This morning. It was still dark out. I’m not hungry.” Hitoshi averts his gaze when Recovery Girl gives him a pointed look.

“You still need to eat. If those two aren’t feeding you, I’ll have a strong word with them.”

“No! No, they are. I promise. I just don’t have an appetite. Aizawa-Sensei and Yamada-Sensei are looking after me well.”

“Oh, all right then. Do try to eat though, even if you aren’t hungry. Your body needs it and in the way you are right now, you shouldn’t be losing any more weight. In turn, you could do with picking up some.”

Hitoshi stays quiet, opting to only answer when asked. It’s safer that way. He does lie when she asks if he has any other injuries. It feels like he’s seen right through. Thankfully, she doesn’t press the issue.

“You seem to be healing adequately on your own. You still need lots of rest, I don’t want to hear you being up and at it quite yet. Trust me, I will be telling Hizashi and Shouta to keep a close eye on you. I will know if you aren’t looking after yourself. If it were up to me, you’d be kept within eyesight for at least two more weeks, though I don’t suppose that would be fair. Those two are worried over their heads for you, so try to indulge them a bit when they fret, all right?” Hitoshi has no fucking clue what to make of this, opting for a confused agreement in lieu of a proper answer.

“I won’t clear you for school just yet. Another few days of rest will do you good. Avoid any strenuous activity for another week or so. While it’s not explicitly dangerous, you are at a higher risk of getting hurt. I’ve already told Shouta about that. That’s everything, I believe.”

“T-thank you.” God, what is with this stutter today? Usually, he’s able to mask his speech impediments, but not today apparently.

Recovery Girl does a handful more of tests before he’s free to leave. It feels like all the energy is drained out of his body the moment he crosses the threshold out of the office. Looking at a digital clock on the wall, he was much longer than expected- nearly an hour. And oh shit. It’s been nearly a week. What the fuck. He doesn’t get long to dwell on the fact before he’s guided back out to the car. He almost stumbles on the way down the stairs after blinking for a few seconds too long, apparently nearly giving the two adults a heart attack as he’s stuck to Shouta’s side the rest of the walk.

“Did Chiyo mention anything of note?” Shouta asks after getting Hitoshi buckled in. His own hands were too shaky.

“Um. Low blood pressure. Need to rest. No hard physical activity. That’s it, I think.” He lists off quietly, tiredly rubbing at his eye. Shouta gently pulls his hand away after a few long moments so that he doesn’t irritate his eyes.

“We need to get some food in you, listener! Is there anything you want?” Hizashi is in the driver’s seat this time.

“Not hungry.”

“In the last few days, the only solid food you’ve had is a bowl of cereal. You need more than that. Even if its just instant noodles, or something.” Fuck. Hitoshi really did like instant noodles.

“Oh, I got strawberry ice cream yesterday! We’re having some of that too.” Why were his secrets revealed to Hizashi? He won’t know peace again. Only blackmail.

***

Hitoshi feels completely and utterly drained by the time they make it back. He’s too exhausted to speak. The adults notice and don’t push him, instead simplifying any questions they have to be answered with a nod or shake. Hizashi drags him over to their pantry to choose a cup noodle flavour. Why the fuck did they have so many? He can count at least 15. Maybe cup noodles were for Hizashi what jelly pouches are for Shouta? He points to a curry one. When Shouta sees, he nods. Curry is the best flavour. Apparently Hizashi liked the cheesy seafood flavour. Like a goddamn psychopath.

Blessedly, he makes it though eating his curry cup noodles while staying awake, but the real challenge comes when the strawberry ice cream is presented. Cloud is in his lap purring and using his legs to make biscuits, Shouta wrangled one of his own hoodies onto Hitoshi when the teen shivered (goddamn it was comfy), the tv is on a low volume playing the news in the background- it’s all odds against him as he fights to stay awake. The ice cream is delicious, it’s the expensive kind that’s got actual fruit in it and Hitoshi feels like he can die happy. The depression from before and dread for the future doesn’t exist when you have a high-quality treat like this. Hizashi chuckles when the teen has to catch his head after nearly nodding off.

“Shou! He’s like Tora when we first got her! Remember how she would fall asleep face first into her wet food?”

“Hmm. He does have that cat personality. Cloud’s all but taken him in. I’d say it adds up.”

It doesn’t help his case when he very narrowly misses getting a face full of ice cream.

***

Once ice cream is consumed and not on his face, he’s given some more medicine. It tastes like shit mixed with the aftertaste of ice cream. Hitoshi’s too out of it to really register what anyone is saying, but soon Hizashi is at his side. Shouta must’ve moved to another room, since he’s not within eyesight. Cloud left at some point, too.

“Let’s get you to bed, honey.” Hizashi speaks softly, helping the younger to stand up and lean against him.

“Not…not a bee. Don’t make honey.” Hizashi laughs earnestly at that. The sound makes Hitoshi crack a smile.

Hitoshi only stumbles once on the way, but they get him to bed unharmed in the end. He does look up with a confused expression after a moment.

“What’s up?”

“You helped me to bed.”

“I did. It’s okay for people to care for you when you need it.”

“Hmm.” Hitoshi hums, too deep in thought for someone who’s half asleep. His mind does supply him with an answer pretty quickly.

“Don’t wanna be cared for.”

“You…don’t?” Hitoshi shakes his head as he settles under the covers.

“You don’t need to. I’m a sick cat. Just…give me somewhere to lay down and I’ll die. You don’t have to see. Makes me mad when you care. Someone else is more deserving…” He trails off, sleep finally grasping him.

Hizashi is stunned, tears welling up in his eyes. What the fuck is this kid going on about? Does he really want to die? He knows this situation must be hell for the teen and they’re prepared to support him however he needs, but goddamn. He needs to talk to his husband. Fuck, he needs to cry to his husband first. Then they can talk. Hizashi opts to keep the door completely open, placing all three cats with Hitoshi for good measure. He has to psych himself up for another 5 minutes before finally leaving to find Shouta.

Chapter Text

The days felt so long, yet they blurred into each other until it was all an indescribable blob in his head. Hitoshi was just so tired. He couldn’t find it in himself to shrug off the two adults as they cared for him. They had made it abundantly clear that they weren’t going anywhere, so it’s not like it would even help to resist. Instead, he stayed quiet, stayed hidden. It was safe like that. He pretended not to notice the sorrow in Hizashi’s eyes when he would come check up on Hitoshi, only to find him still in bed. Shouta was harder to read, but he kept making sure Hitoshi had fresh water and was comfortably tucked in. More often than not, a cat was brought as a peace offering. Hitoshi could live with that.

Hitoshi barely had the energy to get out of bed, let alone talk frequently. Shouta and Hizashi were fine with that, assuring him that it was okay. They never got mad, never forced him to get up, never forced him to speak to them. He was too tired to be confused by it all. He uses the little energy he does have to do any schoolwork he can get his hands on. It’s easier to speak when he isn’t being forced to, somehow. After a week of this mind-numbing routine, he gets posed with the dreaded question. He’s awoken from his afternoon nap by a hand carding through his hair. Hizashi had helped him wash it when he admitted he just didn’t have the motivation too. It smelled like spiced citrus.

Purple eyes blink open slowly, bleary from sleep. The hand in his hair makes him want to go back to sleep. He subconsciously pushes into it, making his mentor chuckle.

“Feels good?” Shouta asks, switching to scratching the teen’s scalp. Hitoshi nearly purrs like a cat.

“Yeah.” Is the short, quiet answer the teen offers.

Shouta lets him enjoy it for a few moments longer before helping the boy sit up. He is not endeared by the sleepy eye rubs.

“I got off the phone with Tsukauchi. He was wondering if you’d be up to it to give a statement tomorrow?” He knows it’s a hit or miss. The kid hasn’t told them anything about that night, and they hadn’t pried. They need a statement though, so the case can progress.

Hitoshi stares at his lap for a long moment, petting Cloud when she moves to sit in it like a little loaf. 8/10.

“Okay. You have to be there, then. I don’t wanna be alone.” The answer surprises them both. What does he have to lose? It doesn’t help if he hides what happened. They already knew, anyways.

“I’ll stay with you. We’ll go to Tsukauchi’s station tomorrow morning 8am, okay?” Hitoshi nods. Shouta gives him another pat on the head before getting up.

***

Hitoshi lives off naps. It’s been like that for a few years now. Trying to sleep a full night just isn’t worth the trouble and given his parents’ history, he didn’t want to try any medication lest he get addicted. He used to go for a smoke, but it’s been two weeks since he’s had any. It’s not that hard on him to quit instantly like this. Ever since he started smoking, every few months he would just stop. It was for the exact situation he found himself in right now. If for some reason he couldn’t smoke suddenly, he didn’t want it to be too much of a hassle. He’s so fucking thankful for that right now.

Instead, he paces around the room for 20 minutes until one of the cats meow at him for disturbing their sleep, then he goes to said cats (who for some reason choose whatever room Hitoshi’s in to sleep) to shower them with affection, then he stares at the roof until the sun comes up and he falls asleep for another hour. He hadn’t been brave enough to venture the apartment at night. Shouta and Hizashi dedicated a whole shelf in their pantry for him full of snacks, matcha and a minimum of 5 different strawberry products. They made it clear he can take from it at any time whenever he wanted, they would restock as necessary. Apparently, both adults were nighttime snackers, so stocked snacks were a must in this household. Hitoshi hadn’t touched the shelf. He is craving a cigarette though, and he’d seen Hizashi add some cute strawberry lollipops to the growing snack collection. Hard candy helped with the oral fixation part of cravings. It would be a quick in and out operation. He felt too fatigued to do anything else.

Picking up one of the cats for moral support, he starts his adventure. Sashimi doesn’t even wake up as Hitoshi picks him up, carrying him like a baby as he’s seen Hizashi do many times. Sashimi was the only one that tolerated it.  He silences his footsteps, avoiding all the spots in the floor that tended to sound louder than others. The hallway light is set to dim, illuminating it just enough to see. It’s still a bit before Hizashi should be back from patrol. The two teachers had switched their “look after the tired teenager” shifts to make sure they both go to work half the time and patrol a few times a week. Why did they still bother?

Anyways, Shouta was home tonight. Hitoshi hadn’t heard the man go to bed, but he tended to fall asleep anywhere but a bed. The teen understood that on a spiritual level. Even if the man happened to be in the living room or by the dining table, he was likely asleep. So long his footsteps were quiet, he would be fine. He would be fine.

He almost was fine. He acquired a lollipop, sneaking past a sleeping Shouta on the couch. With practiced expertise from a previous lollipop fixation that may or may not have lasted two of his middle school years, he silently opens the candy with one hand, holding a sleepy cat with the other. The lollipop is standard, though the strawberry design is very cute. 6/10. Sashimi sniffs the air curiously and Hitoshi must remind himself to not give candy to cats. He decides to stay in the kitchen for a while, both paranoid that he would somehow wake his mentor and physically feeling tired from coming to the kitchen. His stamina was a mess right now. Sometimes he got bone tired just from walking the distance between two rooms. It was probably something to do with his mental state. Hizashi has said a few days ago that his body was adjusting to a new environment, even if the shock had worn off, it was still different. Hitoshi had wanted to call bullshit, but the man’s logic was sound. He opted to stay quiet instead.

Lost in thought, Hitoshi fails to notice the soft creak of the couch. Next thing he knows, he’s face to face with his mentor-turned-emergency-foster-father at 2am in the kitchen faintly illuminated by moonlight while he eats a lollipop from their pantry (still theirs, even if they claimed it was “his” shelf) because insomnia made him crave a cigarette. He freezes, as if standing stock still will make him invisible. Shouta looks at him for briefly before continuing as if nothing is out of place. As if Hitoshi isn’t out of place. He watches his mentor start a pot of coffee, scold Tora for biting his toe unprompted, get out one of the many cat pun mugs from the cupboard and pour the now brewed coffee into said mug before he looks at Hitoshi again. The teen panics internally, trying to figure out what he’s supposed to do. The first thing he can think of is to offer Sashimi to the man. He holds out the sleepy cat in a peace offering. Shouta takes the cat, holding him with one arm so that he has a free hand for pets. “Sorry, Sashimi. Worthy sacrifice.” Hitoshi thinks to himself as he sneaks out of the kitchen and back to the guest room to avoid any questioning.

***

Hitoshi surprisingly falls back asleep before Hizashi even gets back. He sleeps until the feeling of little paws pressing all their weight into his rib wakes him. Once he blinks the sleep out of his eyes, he looks up to see that Shouta was the one to place the cat on him. That was another thing he found odd here. One of the other two always woke Hitoshi up, and not by yelling from across the house, either. Usually, they would play with his hair, a constant since they found out it was a sure way to relax the teen, but sometimes they would gently shake him. Other times, like now, they would employ one of the cats. It always made them smile, so Hitoshi didn’t mind much.

“Morning, kid. Hizashi stopped by a store on the way back from patrol. He bought purple cookies he apparently couldn’t not get, so they’re on your shelf. They’re space themed, or something. It’s about an hour until we leave to see Tsukauchi. Do you feel like you can get up today?” Hitoshi pauses, taking in all the given information. He looks down shyly when his mind processes that last sentence. Nonetheless, he nods. Shouta hums affirmatively before leaving the room.

He gets dressed in some joggers and a plain shirt. Hizashi and Shouta had urged him to go shopping with them, but he hadn’t been able to get himself to go outside yet. He didn’t want to waste their money anyways. Hizashi still went and bought him some basics. Hopefully they weren’t too expensive. Hitoshi was happy that whatever they bought was usually 100% cotton, since he tended to have sensory issues with other fabrics. They also only had printed on tags. Apparently, Shouta only wore cotton clothing, and Hizashi despised tags, so it was a joint habit of the two.

Hitoshi’s overthinking must show, even though he’s pretty sure he’s masking well right now. The other two always seem to be able to see right through him when no one else even bats an eye. Hizashi gives his usual cheery greeting, handing a surprisingly calm Tora to the teen. Was cat-giving just a form of communication in this household? Nonetheless, he takes the cat. Occasionally, the menace can be an angel. She does wonders at calming him. He wishes the cat could come with but unfortunately, she would be more of a hinderance to the outside world.

“You hungry?” Hizashi asks him, toning down the energy in his voice to be more fitting for the two insomniacs. Seriously, wasn’t this guy just out all night? Hitoshi shakes his head. He hasn’t had any appetite for a while. He doesn’t understand why they worry so much.

“How about…this!” Hizashi proudly presents a small container of strawberry milk. Shit. Hitoshi fucking loves strawberry milk. He feels as if the cheers are a bit of an overkill on the blonde’s part when Hitoshi nods. Shouta watches the scene from the counter, eyes zeroing in on the milk. Hitoshi knows that look. It’s dangerous. It means the next time his mentor sees that product he’s going to buy way too much because Hitoshi showed a slight approval for it. It’s already happened with matcha jelly pouches and strawberry-marshmallow cereal.

The car ride is quiet, though not uncomfortable. Hitoshi fidgets with the glittery yellow Tangle Hizashi had insisted he keep. He hated how much it helped. Shouta had brought a few of the strawberry lollipops with for the teen. It seems the previous night did not escape the man, though at least he hadn’t made a fuss about it. The lollipops also served as a distraction for his habit to chew on things, usually shirt collars or hoodie strings. Sometimes though, he would bite his cheeks and lips bloody, even his hands weren’t safe. He’s sure the nervous habit had been picked up by his mentor. His suspicions are confirmed when he’s pulled out of though at a stop light, a lollipop being placed in his lap. He looks up questioningly, only for Shouta to gently pull Hitoshi’s hand away from his mouth. When the fuck had he started that? The man doesn’t comment or even say anything for that matter. Hitoshi stays silent as well, opting to focus his attention on the lollipop instead. Shit. He’s starting to remember why he had a borderline addiction to these things.

“Hitoshi.” The teen looks up when the man speaks, car now parked at the back of some police station.

“Tsukauchi is a trusted acquaintance; his team is the main on the case. We’ll probably be taken to an interrogation room with him, maybe another officer or detective, but I doubt it. They record interviews and statements as protocol, and you’ll be asked a lot of questions. If you don’t want to answer anything, you’re allowed to say as much. If you need a break at any point, you’re allowed. If you want to stop at any point, we can leave. I’ll stay with you when you want me to, but if there are any questions you’d rather answer without me there, I’ll wait for you outside. Don’t force yourself to say anything if it’s going to do your mind more harm than good. Clear?” Shouta is serious, tone leaving no room for questioning. Hitoshi’s thankful for the explanation; he hated going into things blind.

“Yes. You’re clear.”

“You’re allowed to ask questions, too. I know you try not to because of your quirk, but don’t hold back. If it makes you feel any better, we both know my quirk cancels out yours. Sometimes a mental safety net like that helps, even if it won’t be practically necessary.” Hitoshi feels bad for doubting his mentor’s words, but he’d be lying if he said the presence of an erasure Quirk wasn’t comforting in case his own hell Quirk somehow went haywire.

The station is nice. It’s clean and organised, not nearly as shit as the police stations Hitoshi had seen in elementary school. He keeps his head down and sticks as physically close to Shouta as he can without touching him as they walk in. Just because the place was half-decent didn’t mean he liked it. The sound of a new voice has him looking up, though.

“Aizawa, glad you could make it. And you’re Shinsou?” Hitoshi nods, panicking briefly, wondering if he should’ve given a verbal answer. It seems to be fine, as neither adult treats it as unacceptable.

The man- detective Tsukauchi- is a bit taller than Hitoshi, though still shorter than Shouta. He’s got short brown hair and brown eyes, looks like he could deck you in a fight. Not bad, not bad.

“Follow me, we’ll go to one of the rooms.” It’s a short trip to a room more decorated than Hitoshi expected. He expected some blank white room with a fold up table, maybe some plastic chairs. Instead, the room is beige with a wooden table in the middle. There’s a large black couch on one end, a sturdy cushioned chair on the other. The table holds a recording device, it looks almost like a radio to Hitoshi, but with a big switch on top.

“Aizawa stated that you wanted him to stay during the interview, is that right?” Oh, Hitoshi’s being addressed.

“Yes.”

“All right. If you feel uncomfortable answering any questions around him, just say so and he can wait outside, all right?” The detective’s tone has been indifferent so far, but not uncomfortable. He can work with this. Shouta is relaxed, too. It’s safe.

“Okay.” Hitoshi and Shouta sit on the couch, Hitoshi playing with the fidget to stop himself from bouncing his leg. Shouta is still relaxed. Hitoshi would be using him as a unit of measurement for the situation, given the man’s employment as an underground hero. He probably had cat-like instincts for danger from it. Or just from meowing back at the cats when they meowed at him. Secret communication.

“This is the device that will be recording our conversation, it has one switch that turns it on and off right here. The original recording is stored on it, but a copy is automatically transmitted to our databases regarding this case when I turn it off after it has been on. This is an isolated questioning room, meaning it doesn’t contain a one-way mirror for anyone to observe, all the walls are solid, and I will be the only official questioning you. All good so far?”

“Yes.” It’s a lot to process, but Hitoshi is thankful for the patience the detective seems to possess.

“Good. I’m going to start the recording, so anything said from this point on will be recorded.” The switch is clicked on, Tsukauchi writes something on a notepad.

“I’ll start by introducing myself. My name is Naomasa Tsukauchi; I’m the lead detective on your case and will be interviewing you today. My Quirk is called Lie Detector and it cannot be turned off. I can detect whether you are lying or telling the truth, but I will not be stating that aloud at any point. The questions I’ll be asking you today may relate to you personally, school, where you’re staying, your past and/ or your parents. You are allowed to turn down any questions you don’t want to answer. If you want to give simple answers, yes or no will suffice. Though, if I want you to elaborate on something, I will ask you to. With me so far?”

“Yes.” This has got to be the most he’s said that word in his entire life. Hitoshi’s already getting sick of it.

“Furthermore, you have requested for Shouta Aizawa to be present. He is allowed to stay by your side, but he is not allowed to answer any questions for you or give you guidance on how you should answer anything. If you need to take a break, you’re allowed. If you want to stop the interview at any time, you’re allowed. Everything said during this interview is legally held under the jurisdiction of this specific case, it will not be leaked or shared. Can you state your name, surname and age?”

“Hitoshi Shinsou, I’m 15 years old.” True.

“How would you prefer for me to address you?”

“You can call me Hitoshi.” True.

“When’s your birthday, Hitoshi?”

“July 1^st.” True.

“Next Wednesday, huh? You currently reside with Aizawa and Yamada, correct?”

“Correct.” True.

“Do you enjoy it there? They treat you well?”

“They do. It’s nice.” True.

“Glad to hear it. What school do you attend?”

“I’m a first year at UA. General Studies.” True.

“Do you enjoy it at UA?” The detective seems to be mixing in some casual questions, though Hitoshi can’t tell if it’s to somehow put him at east, formalities or if he’s genuinely interested.

“I do.” True.

“Do you do well in school?”

“Nothing under 80% so far.” True.

“That’s impressive, Hitoshi. Have you always done well in school?”

“Yes.” True.

“How did your parents treat your school? Were they supportive?”

“Yes.” Lie.

“Can you elaborate on that? Were they happy with your grades, help you with homework, go to parent meetings?” Hitoshi hasn’t stopped fidgeting with the toy.

“I-I mean, they paid for my school and stuff, so they must’ve been happy with how I was doing. I didn’t need help with assignments or homework, I was fine by myself. They went to things when needed.” Lie.

“Do you have any school friends?”

“No.” True.

“How come?”

“No one I want to be friends with.” True.

“Were you social as a kid?”

“Nope. Not allowed to.” True.

“Can you elaborate on that?”

Shit shit shit shit fuck this guy does not let anything slip past. Well, he is a detective after all.

“Um…I wasn’t allowed to talk to other kids. It was dangerous, because of my Quirk.” True.

“What’s your Quirk?”

“B-brainwashing. If I ask a question with the intent of brainwashing and someone answers, I can command them.” True.

“And it has to be intentional?”

“Yes. If I don’t lay out the intent mentally first, it doesn’t work. So, I need to know if I want to brainwash someone first before I can do it.” True.

“Did you have a grasp on that as a kid?”

“Around the age of 5, yeah.” True.

“And your parents still thought you should not interact with other children, despite having control of your Quirk?”

“…Yes.” True.

“Interesting. Did your parents act similarly as you got older?”

“No. They stopped caring around middle school.” True.

“So, you were allowed to socialize in middle school?”

“Technically, yes.” True.

“Can you elaborate on that?”

“I… I would rather not.” Hitoshi is thankful for how heavy duty this Tangle seems to be. He doesn’t risk a look over to Shouta, eyes trained on his beat-up sneakers.

“That’s fine. I’m going to move on to more recent things. A lot of questions from this point on may be uncomfortable or upsetting. You can tap out at any time.”

“Okay.” Hitoshi’s starting to regret coming here. What’s the point? What’s the end game here?

“Two weeks ago, you ran from home. The scene suggested a struggle, and there were rather concerning items found in the house. Can you tell me what happened from the moment you got home?”

“I got home after training, snuck into my room through the window. My parents…haven’t been well recently, so it was safer that way. When I got in my room, my mom was there. She was out of it and thought I was someone else. She threw something at me, so I used my Quirk on her to get her to leave so I could run.” True.

“Did you believe yourself to be in serious danger, would you not have used your Quirk?”

“Yes. She wanted to kill me.” True.

“Were you ever in danger at home previously?”

“Yes.” True.

“Were your parents ever physically abusive before this incident?”

“Not often.” Lie.

“Why did you call the cops and write a suicide note?”

“I figured if my parents ever gave statements, it was plausible. Easy scapegoat.” True.

“Did you have intentions to follow through that night?”

“No. It was just something I hoped was plausible.” Lie.

Hitoshi was nearing the end of his rope, not wanting to go over the trauma he faced. Why was it such a big issue right now? He’s been through worse. He should be fine. Maybe because it’s not just him this time, other people are involved now too. It’s a whole case.

“A few more questions, then I think we have enough info for today. Were you aware of your parents abusing any substances in the present and the past?”

“Yeah. In elementary school they did something- don’t know what- for a while. My mom always drank a lot of wine, my dad whiskey. I think they were mixing it with stuff recently, but I didn’t bother to find out what. None of my business.” True.

Hitoshi sees Shouta’s leg shift slightly at the last part on that statement. Was it not true? What his parents did wasn’t his concern. His concern was acting like he didn’t exist.

“Did they ever use any Quirk suppressant devices on you in the past? Perhaps out of fear for your Quirk? Or to appease other’s fear of it?” Yeah no, Hitoshi’s done babbling. He’s about ready to fling himself off a roof in a fucked up final act. Both adults in the room had told him he can tap out at any time, after all. He doesn’t think a detective would lie on recording.

“I’m done answering questions.”  Hitoshi finally looks up for the first time during this interview. Detective Tsukauchi looks indifferent, though there’s a slight downward tilt to his lips. Shouta is sporting a well masked expression. Hitoshi would’ve fallen for it, had he not lived in the man’s house for the past two weeks. He’s upset. Had Hitoshi answered wrong?

The recording machine clicks, signalling it had been stopped.

“You did well, thank you for cooperating. Are there any questions you would like to ask me?” Shouta had said he could ask questions, and it didn’t seem like a trap. It would be fine, right?

“Did you…get my parents?” Hitoshi asks hesitantly. No one seems offended by the question.

“We have your mother for possession of illegal substances and outlawed Quirk devices. There are bank statements showing your father purchased them and more, but currently he has not been detained yet.” The detective frowns his brows in a troubled expression as he speaks this time.

“He’s still out there?” Fuck. His dad was still out there. What if he found Hitoshi. He would definitely kill him. Shouta sits straighter at this news too.

“We have all precincts on the lookout, and you have been placed under the protection of UA, by proxy the hero commission, thanks to Aizawa using his emergency foster license.”

“I thought you said you had a lead?” It’s the first time Aizawa speaks since they entered this room.

“I did, it fell through. The contact was assassinated. We’re following up on that.”

Assassinated? Like, killed. Someone new where that man was, so he got killed. Hitoshi wants to get out of here.

“I want to leave.” Hitoshi nearly whispers, looking up at Shouta. He can’t stop the nervous bounce of his leg, or the way his body shivers at the thought of his free-roaming father.

Shouta doesn’t even need to look at him a full second before agreeing. Hitoshi zones out as the two adults exchange a few more words. He barely registers the hand on his shoulders leading him back to the car. Shouta doesn’t stop him this time when he nervously starts biting his knuckle. He was about two wrong moves from a breakdown and his mentor can tell.

His hands have gone all tingly in the way they usually do when he’s having a silent panic attack. All this shit could have been avoided, had Hitoshi had the guts to either deal with his home life, or off himself when he had the chance. But here they were, for better or for worse.

Chapter Text

Hitoshi had stayed silent during the car ride home. About halfway home his body had gone from absolute panic to eerily calm. He wasn’t shaking anymore, didn’t feel like crying, nothing. He felt nothing. Why? He had made his final decision, the one that would fix everything. He could fix everything. Tonight was the night that Hitoshi Shinsou would kill himself.

Shouta gave him space; the man was going through his own mental turmoil. Just before he started the drive, he had texted his husband an update on the situation. Hajime Shinsou was still free, who knows with what contacts. The fucker clearly had some, considering he was eliminating snitches. Tsukauchi was on it, though, and Shouta trusted the detective with his life. If there was anyone who could sort it out, it was him.

Soon enough, the car was parked in front of the apartment building, and a completely silent trek was made to their respective place. Hitoshi was quiet, but for some reason the kid seemed completely calm and content, like he had gotten back a good test grade or was pleased with his training progress. It freaked Shouta out. He knew Hitoshi was fragile right now, one wrong move and it would all come crumbling down. He’d been there before himself. He needs to keep an eye on his son ward. He didn’t seem to be disassociating, but the sudden calmness was unnerving. If the kid would be close to a dissociative episode, it would be safer for him to be around someone. Even if there wasn’t much to do to help, they would be there. For as long as Hitoshi would have them, they would be there.

“My favourite listeners!” Hizashi’s head popped around the corner as the two were taking off their shoes. Cloud came in with a waltz, meowing very displeased that her new stray had been gone. A look at the clock showed it had been two hours.

“Hey Zash.” Shouta gave his husband a chaste kiss before turning back to Hitoshi.

“I’m gonna go lay down for a bit.” The teen all but whispered, picking up the white cat so she would stop yelling at him. She really did not look pleased. Without waiting for a response, he moved past the two adults and into the guest room, closing the door.

Hizashi shot his husband a questioning look. In response Shouta hugged him, dropping his head on his shoulder and heaving a heavy sigh. A long conversation was ahead of them. He needed to tell him everything he could, about Hajime Shinsou, at least. He wouldn’t be speaking on the interview or what was said during it, except for the fact that it was days before Hitoshi’s 16^th birthday. All this shit and the kid hadn’t even blown out his 16 candles yet.

***

A knock resounded through the door. Hitoshi barely processed it as he lay on top of the covers, Cloud perched in a 10/10 loaf on his stomach. She’d finally stopped complaining when Hitoshi laid down, though she hadn’t allowed him to get up again. Fine by him. He felt great. Tonight, all the problems would be solved. Tonight, he would be able to breathe freely without fear. He would be without fear. He felt the lightest in his life since those first few weeks training with Shouta. Hopefully his mentor would find a good mentee.

Another knock ran through the room before the door slowly opened, revealing blonde hair half-heartedly tied in a bun. The other two cats wanted to run in the room, but Cloud hissed at them, full on hissed. She seemed to be fine with Hizashi at least, but still side eyed him.

“Is she normally like this?” Hitoshi asked, scratching behind the feline’s earns to calm her.

“Sometimes she’s protective if someone’s sick, but I haven’t seen his this protective. She must be really worried about you, maybe since you and Shou were out? I think she thinks you’re her kitten, maybe. So cute!” Hizashi nearly squealed, sitting at the edge of the bed. He wiggled his fingers at Cloud, but she just lazily blinked. Over a decade of love and she chooses the new boy? Well, Hizashi doesn’t blame her.

Hitoshi merely hummed, continuing to pet the cat. Her purrs reverberated through his chest, calming his entire being. He wishes he could bottle the feeling and send it to anyone in need.

“It’s lunch time, honey. Shou made some rice and meat. You up for it?” Hizashi asks hesitantly. Hitoshi had been struggling to eat, but he walled himself off if they worried too much. It was a rocky path to tread.

Hitoshi had decided he would allow the two adults to fret over him to their heart’s desire today. He knows they’ve been holding back. It’s the least he can do, especially before tonight. He hums affirmative and nods his head, showing a soft smile at the blonde’s enthusiastic “Yeah!”. They deserved it. They deserved everything.

Hitoshi forced himself to eat the food, even if it took a while and he struggled to eat a full portion. He caught a faint glimmer of a hopeful glance his mentor had thrown his way. It was the most Hitoshi had eaten since this whole ordeal started. If it made the two people who took him in feel better, more at ease, he’d do it. He even accepted Shouta’s offer for a glass of grape juice (how did this man know purple grape juice was his favourite juice? Was it just cause it was purple?) and didn’t flinch away when a hand ruffled his hair. He can do this, just a bit longer and he would be free. They would be free of him.

Hitoshi had formed a plan since this morning. Well, the semblance of a plan at least. A few days ago, he saw Shouta and Hizashi signing to each other. Apparently, they had moved whatever medicine was kept in the kitchen cupboard to the master bathroom in their room “in case” for Hitoshi. So, he would need to snoop a little if he wanted to have it his way. “His way” being overdose. He didn’t want to do it here; the adults and cats didn’t deserve that. The whole house was cat-escape proofed, so he also had to figure out how to sneak out. He wasn’t going to write any letters, it was annoying of him to assume he would be important enough to anyone for them to want to read that shit. Shouta was to go out on patrol after dinner at 9pm, and Hizashi had warned Hitoshi he had a business call with some sponsors around that time too. His plan was as follows:

1. Wait for Shouta to leave and Hizashi to start the call.
2. Start the shower as an excuse and background noise.
3. Sneak into the master bathroom and get anything strong enough.
4. Get his “med kit” from his bag in case he needed a backup plan of bleeding out.
5. Go back to the bathroom and take out the screen from the bathroom window, it would be just big enough for him to slip through.
6. Fuck off and go die in an alleyway somewhere like a sick cat.

Simple enough. He can do this. So why was he starting to doubt?

A slight hiccup in the plan was the cats. Tora wasn’t being an asshole to him, Sashimi kept weaving through his legs and Cloud seemed to be nervous pacing around the house. Would it be cruel to put them in the guest room until the deed was done? He’d deal with it when his plan started.

So, he joins them for dinner. Cloud sits on his lap as he enjoys a meal of soba with the two men like a family. He wishes Shouta luck on his patrol, stating that he’ll be taking a shower then heading to bed. He wishes Hizashi good night before he heads out to the netted balcony for his business call, closing the screen door behind him. Thankfully Tora and Sashimi had followed.

He started the shower and waited a minute before leaving the bathroom, shower still running. It felt like a crime walking into his mentor’s bedroom. It was plain yet held so much personality. A large Queen bed was in the middle of the room, half-made with grey and black sheets. A few colourful blankets were folded in a basket next to a pumpkin shaped cat bed. One bedside table was nearly empty aside from a water bottle and eyedrops while the other was crammed full of knick knacks. A yellow and grey geometric carpet was in front of the bed and blackout curtains drawn closed. Their bathroom was similar, a general grey-black-yellow colour scheme going on with the towels and bathmats. Not wanting to waste any more time, Hitoshi starts searching. The first cabinet he opens only holds extra hygiene supplies. The second cabinet is jackpot.

Or so Hitoshi thought. Upon further inspection, there isn’t anything strong enough to do the job. Only generic painkillers and flu medicine. What. The. Fuck. The most they would do for him would be to cause a seizure, but most likely he’d just throw up and have one hell of a tummy ache. For fucks sake. Okay, fine, it was fine. He had his “med kit”, his blades. It would be messy, but who the fuck cares anyways. He scans the cupboard one last time, eyes landing on 500mg aspirin. That would help thin his blood. Without thinking, he takes two and closes the cupboard.

A loud meow has him looking down, finding the fluffy white cat looking up at him. Her tail swishes from side to side in an annoyed manner. Sorry, Cloud. Hitoshi silently rushes to the guest room, getting the needed supplies out of his bag. He closes the bathroom door before Cloud can force her way in. It’s fine, he can do this. He wants to do this. He wants to. He wanted to earlier today. He wants to, right? Okay, maybe sneaking out was a little far, he should just do it here. It’s not like it matters once he’s dead. God, he’s such a nuisance.

Frustrated tears roll down his cheeks as he thinks over his decision. Why can’t he just do it? Fine, he’ll take a shower and then do it. Except, while the ice-cold water runs down his body, his thighs itch. Not thinking it over, he grabs his blade from his opened kit and starts cutting. He takes out his frustrations on his thighs. If he just wasn’t such a fucking coward, he could be gone already.

A particularly harsh cut brings him back to reality when he hisses involuntarily at it. It’s deep. Deeper than he’s ever gone. And it’s bleeding a lot. Isn’t this what he wanted? Why is he so scared, staring the wound as the blood washed away, tainting the water with his sin. Why is he so scared, watching the yellow fat peek out and mock him for his failure. Why is he so scared, hearing Cloud downright yell, loud enough to be heard over the rushing of water. Why was he scared? Did someone is his position deserve to be scared? After fantasizing for death so long, daydreaming and yearning and planning since before he was old enough to buy an energy drink from the corner shop without being side-eyed by the clerk, was he allowed to be afraid? Was he allowed to be afraid when mere hours ago he was drooling over the prospect of death, calm in a way he hasn’t felt in years. He wishes death was easy, a snap of the fingers, a blink of the eye. But it’s not. And he didn’t deserve to feel the bliss of death.

So, he wipes his tears, uses paper tape to close the wound and wraps it snugly. He gets rid of the evidence and cleans any blood in the bathroom. He gets dressed and hides the kit in his hoodie. He leaves the bathroom, picking up the distressed cat on the way. And Hitoshi Shinsou, Coward of the Century, heads to bed.

***

Funny enough, Hitoshi sleeps through the rest of the night without issue. He doesn’t remember the last time he slept for more than 4 hours without waking up for a while. Sleep for more than 4 hours he sure as hell did, if the brightness peeking through the curtain is anything to go by. He groggily stretches, wincing when the tape on his thigh pulled. Right, Hitoshi nearly killed himself last night. He didn’t, but if he had access to more serious stuff he sure as hell would’ve. Probably. At least no one found him, neither of the adults that is. That would have been a shit show. Cloud had been upset. He felt bad for the cat, she didn’t deserve Hitoshi’s bullshit. She also could’ve just not gotten attached to him, though. 50/50 blame. Speaking of said fluffball, she was currently curled up on his pillow half on top of his hair. Hitoshi notices an extra blanket was thrown over the duvet he lay under. He was quite cold after the whole ordeal, maybe one of the two others noticed? Was it shit of him to get mad whenever they noticed details like that?

His thigh really fucking hurts, but there was no way in hell he would tell on himself, though. It’s not like it would do anything, anyways. Nothing good. He’d only worry his mentor even more and he knows for a fact he’s done that enough. Hizashi would be a wreck. One of the many things Hitoshi had observed about the mighty Present Mic is that the man was insanely sensitive. Not in a bad way, and he could hold it together when it mattered, but if there were no stakes? The teen is sure he’s seen the man cry over the cats 4 times this week alone. He’s also cried over movies, music, being in love with his husband- everything. Even if the tears never last long and he’s fine afterwards, that must be exhausting. He’s even pretended not to notice when the man’s eyes would get all misty if Hitoshi couldn’t get out of bed or struggled to keep food down. If he learned Hitoshi had serious intent for suicide last night…Hitoshi couldn’t do that. It was fine. He’d be fine. It’s not like it’s the first time Hitoshi got like this, and all the other times he pulled through alone. Without hurt, you can’t heal. Without healing, you can’t grow. God, where was this coming from?

Revelations and acceptance can be saved for later, right now Hitoshi needed to check on his wounds and sing praise to his emergency ibuprofen supply he kept in his actual med kit. It wouldn’t do a lot, but it would do something. He gently moves his hair out from under Cloud, but she wakes when he sits up anyways. The cat lazily stretches, claws peeking out for a moment. Hitoshi whispers her a “nice one” before getting up. He blindly reaches his hand into his bag, searching for the shape of his legitimate med kit. He hasn’t gone through this bag completely yet, the memories of that night flood back enough to make him nauseous every time. It thankfully doesn’t take long for his hands to find the plastic and pull it out. There are some general supplies in here, along with a whole sleeve of extra strength ibuprofen. It’ll do. His eyes spot a packet of Steri-Strips, meant to keep wounds closed. Fuck yeah.

Hitoshi’s wounds look…rough. He bled through the gauze, but thankfully not the bandages.  The whole upper half of his thighs are covered with thin, angry red lines. A few are thicker, and then there’s the one downright fucked up one. It looks gross. He’s never gone this deep before, and he doesn’t think he wants to ever again. He thought unlimited, unmonitored access to the internet in elementary school (and by proxy accidentally discovering gore sites at the ripe age of 9) would have had him desensitised to these things, but he sure as hell wasn’t. Nevertheless, Hitoshi cleans his wounds, uses the butterfly tape on the large one, re wraps them and takes 2 ibuprofens, praying they at least give him a placebo effect. The old, bloody gauze gets hidden blindly in his backpack.

Hitoshi puts away his med kit again, turning around when Tora zooms into the room through the small open apace of the door. The cat nearly collides with the bed before changing direction towards Hitoshi. Before he can be hit with Hurricane Tora, Cloud moves in front of him, hissing at Tora. What was this cat’s problem? She was being nearly territorial over him at this point and if she were any feistier it would’ve become a serious problem. The brown and black hair on Tora’s back stands up as the cat pins her ears back, the display making Cloud arch her back. Hitoshi stands up, getting the attention of both cats temporarily.

“Don’t fight guys, come on.” Hitoshi whispers to the cats. He hated hearing and seeing animals fight and right now was really not the time for it. Thankfully, the little hellion’s attention gets diverted at the sound of crinkling packaging from another part of the house. You would seriously think that cat was starved with how she acted.

***

Hitoshi’s sense of time was completely fucked, but he had learned that it was Saturday today. Shouta had managed to coax the teenager out of the room and into the living room with the promise of coffee, an unfair advantage on the older man’s behalf. Even as Hitoshi sits on the ground by the coffee table (fuck you the floor was comfy), Cloud stayed by his side. Hizashi cooed at the sight, calling Hitoshi “kitten”. The bewildered and appalled look on their ward’s face was enough to make even Shouta laugh aloud. A calm air settled over the room as Hitoshi filled a lonely piece of paper with derpy cat doodles, Hizashi typing something on his laptop and Shouta reading some papers (maybe documents?) His mentor was the first to speak up.

“Hitoshi?”

“Mm?” He looked up from his doodles, Cloud mirroring his action. Hizashi used every ounce of power in himself to not coo again.

“How do you feel about going back to school? Chiyo suggested you should go back on Monday, if you wanted to, that is. If you’re not ready-”

“I want to.” Hitoshi’s quick answer surprised his mentor, but he didn’t let it show.

“Are you sure?” He asks hesitantly. It had only been a few weeks, and he didn’t blame the kid if he needed more time before resuming with life. He knew Hitoshi enjoyed school though, so maybe it would do the boy good.

“Yes. I’m sure.”

“All right, then.” The barely-there smile on his…Hitoshi’s face is enough for him.

***

Monday comes all too soon, but Hitoshi wasn’t questioning his decision. He was dying to catch up on his work and finally give his brain something to do so it would stop feeling like mush all the time. It was weird going to school with two of his teachers, though. Shouta looked too tired for this shit, though he was the one to wake up Hitoshi this morning. Hizashi had too much energy for a Monday morning, but he toned it down slightly for the sake of the other two. The school felt different at this hour, empty and quiet since it hadn’t opened to students yet. Hitoshi can’t help but keep glancing outside though the windows, searching. Shouta let him have his way for a few minutes before pushing a pouch of wet cat food into his student’s hands.

“Let’s go find that cat. I’ve been feeding him, but he’s a bit of a brat. Lazy too.”

“Ryuu? You’ve seen him?” Hitoshi’s eyes sparkle for the first time since this whole ordeal happened, enough for him to temporarily forget his personal internalized no questions rule he tried to abide by, despite the two adults actively trying to encourage questions from him.

“Yup. He’s been looking for you by the training grounds we used to use. Last week he pounced at me from a tree. Not fun. And then the asshole had the audacity to meow at me. Like I was in the way.” Shouta starts walking as he recounts the story to Hitoshi. And Hitoshi…laughs. Well, it’s more of a giggle really, a sound Shouta had only heard a few times during training, but fuck if he hadn’t missed that angel song.

Ryuu for the most part seemed to be fine with Hitoshi’s absence and sudden reappearance. He pops out from the bushes, meowing annoyed. He doesn’t pay Aizawa any mind, immediately trotting towards Hitoshi and jumping up on him. Little claws dig into his arm, but he doesn’t care. He scoops the cat up, ignoring the meows of protest and hugs him close. God, he missed this little thing. Ryuu, in typical Ryuu fashion only sees the food pouch. He claws at it, and Hitoshi obliges, opening it for the cat and allowing him to eat. The copper cat was getting big, growing up. Why did that make Hitoshi emotional? It felt like weeks ago that a scruffy kitten was plopped down by his feet, and now the cat had grown enough to properly hold. He was still small and slender but compared to a few months ago he had definitely grown. Hitoshi wishes he’ll be able to say the same about himself a few months from now.

“Come on, kid. I gotta set up my stuff in the teachers’ room and I want to use you us an excuse to not talk to any of the others.” Shouta speaks once Ryuu has been fed and goes to sleepily lounge in the morning sunlight.

“At least you’re honest.” Hitoshi grumbles, following his mentor back inside.

Ryuu ends up tailing them, avoiding anyone that isn’t one of the two humans that give him food. Shouta doesn’t bother kicking the cat out, so Hitoshi leaves it be as well. The two of them seem to be the only ones that noticed, anyways. Hitoshi is indeed used as an excuse for his mentor to avoid social interaction and for the hell of it, Hitoshi plays along. Years of acting this way and that for adults come in handy as he pulls a “tired and scared kid following this adult around like a duckling”, even hiding behind Shouta anytime anyone walks past. Successfully, neither of them gets approached. Mission accomplished.

School end up being pretty okay. It’s overwhelming as hell with all the kids, but no one in his class seemed to pay much attention to his absence, so it was fine. The teachers all seemed informed, though. He ignored them, only collecting his missed work to catch up on after each class. Hitoshi thought he would be fine around other adults, since he was fine with Shouta and Hizashi, but he was dead wrong. His blood ran cold anytime any other teacher would look at him, making him want to crawl out of his skin. He nearly deflated with relief when the lunch bell rang. Shouta had asked him to come spend lunch in his classroom, since he didn’t want to deal with the crowded faculty lunchroom, and he was pretty sure Hitoshi didn’t want to deal with the cafeteria. Not that Hitoshi actually ever spent lunch there, but his teacher didn’t have to know that. Shouta had snuck two of Hitoshi’s preferred flavours (strawberry matcha) of jelly pouches into his backpack that morning, knowing the kid wouldn’t have anything for lunch if he hadn’t done that. He was the same though, so begrudgingly he restocked his desk stash.

Hitoshi seems to relax once he enters the silent room, walking over to the opposite wall and sitting down against it. Shouta felt similar, having been bombarded with questions from his Problem Class, and to top things off his usual intimidation did jack shit. Todoroki was already convinced his homeroom teacher led a secret double agent life in America with a whole family there for some reason, Mineta had earned himself his second suspension since the school year started for being a creep and Shouta had been wanting to expel the boy for a while, and Bakugou was weirdly not doing shit to give Shouta a headache. It was a lot.

They sit in content silence, each with their respective jelly pouches as Shouta went through the week’s lesson plans and Hitoshi caught up on some missed work. The peace was broken by Shouta’s phone vibrating, once, twice, then a call illuminates the screen. It’s Hizashi. Shouta answers on the first ring. It wasn’t like his husband to call during school when they could just find each other.

“Hi hun! Is Hitoshi with you?” Hizashi speaks rushed and tensely.

“Yes. What’s going on?”

“Well, someone decided to make a surprise visit and he’s asking to see Hitoshi I don’t know how he knows but he seems like a real asshole and I kind of want an excuse to beat his ass. Please give me one.”

“Hizashi. Names. Now.”

“Hajime Shinsou. He’s alone, doesn’t make it any better. Just keep ‘Toshi there, okay?  He doesn’t need this. Tsukauchi’s team is on the way. I need to go now, love you.”

The call is ended before Shouta can get any more information. By this point Hitoshi has looked up from his work, expression schooled to seem uncaring, but Shouta can see the concern beneath it. He needs to tell the kid the truth, he deserved it. Being deceitful would only crumble the small amount of trust he worked so hard to gain with this kid.

“You need to stay here for a while, okay? There’s- your father is here. He’s asking for you. We won’t let him get to you though. Hizashi’s there and he’s helping sort out the situation. Police and Tsukauchi are on the way and by now extra security would be patrolling. You just need to stay here until it’s sorted.” Shouta gets up and moves to where Hitoshi sits completely still on the ground, homework forgotten and knees pressed to his chest.

It’s silent for a moment, neither speaking nor moving. And then, Hitoshi crumbles. All the pressure has made him reach his breaking point and he just…can’t. He’s so fucking tired of all this, scared to hell and back and tired of being scared. He should’ve gone through with it last night. He was so over this. Hitoshi buries his head in his knees and cries. It scares Shouta for a moment; he’s never seen Hitoshi this distraught. So far, he’s been holding up exceptionally well given the messed-up circumstances, but everyone has their limits to what they can take, and this was Hitoshi’s. All Shouta can think to do is sit in front of Hitoshi and hope he’s a comforting enough presence.

It seems to be enough, since after a minute of concerningly silent cries, the boy looks up and promptly situates himself in his mentor’s arms. Shouta accepts him, holding him close and rubbing circles on his back with the palm of his hand.

“I’m scared. I can’t do this anymore. I’m just so tired of this bullshit. I want it to be over. I don’t know how much more I can take. I’m so tired. I can’t do this anymore, not alone.” The confession breaks Shouta’s heart, he swears he can feel it shatter into pieces.

“You’re not alone anymore, ‘Toshi. You have people who care now. For as long as you’ll let us, Hizashi and I will care for you. What do you have to lose by giving us a shot? Would you be okay with that?” Hitoshi sniffles, hugging his mentor closer.

“I’d like that.”

***

The situation was de escalated rather quickly, Hajime Shinsou being taken into custody and the school day resuming. Security in and around the school was ramped up. Hitoshi didn’t have it in him to continue on, and Shouta was wary about sending him back to class, so instead he hid out in the storage closet attached to the 1A classroom and continued with his work from there. It was nice, Hitoshi always loved secure places like this. He even managed to sneak Ryuu in with only one student going “what the fuck” at the partial visual of a cat paw being pulled back from under a random door no one was allowed to open.

Hitoshi discovered that Ryuu liked climbing into his backpack, preferably body inside the bag and head peeking out. It was a benefit to them both for travelling when the end of the school day was finally upon them. Hitoshi was nervous, waiting until all the students had filed out to peek out from his hiding spot. It was at the same time that Hizashi strolled in. He seemed concerned that Hitoshi had been hiding away in a stage closet, but the sight of a grumpy copper cat quickly drew his attention.

“Oh! Is this the little guy Shou told me about? He’s adorable! He’s coming home with us. We need to pick up cat food on the way home anyways, so we can get the extra stuff anyways. Cloud will be ecstatic her stray brought back a stray of his own I can’t wait!” Hizashi speaks a mile a minute, cooing over the cat. The little traitor purrs at Hizashi, actually purrs. Asshole.

Hitoshi is still paranoid, sticking close to the adults as they walk though the school campus. They use mostly back hallways to avoid attention and thankfully it works. Hitoshi cannot handle any surprises. Ryuu sleeps through the car ride but wakes up as soon as the engine is turned off. Hitoshi has taken to wearing his backpack on his front, more akin to a baby carrier. The copper cat is weary of the store, hiding completely as the three browse the isles and get the necessary supplies. Soon enough, they end up in the toy isle.

Hitoshi tries out a few toys with Ryuu, but none seem to interest him. That is, until Hitoshi picks up an adorable pink octopus. It’s decently sized and crinkles softly when toyed with. Ryuu swats at it, which is more interest than any other toys had gotten. Hitoshi gives it to Shouta, who adds it to the basket. Later that day while taking the tags off nearly 20 toys (they didn’t bother stopping Hizashi), Hitoshi notes the tag on the octopus toy.  My name is Takopi. I come from the Happy Planet, here to brighten your day-pi!

Maybe Hitoshi’s days will be brighter. Maybe he just needs to give it a shot. Allow himself to love and be loved. Perhaps he can build himself a worthy family that cares, one that is meant for him. Maybe, just maybe, it’ll get better. After all, this wasn’t his end yet.