Chapter Text
If he’s being completely honest, Hitoshi is utterly shocked that he’s not in the back seat of a police car right now. Instead, he is sitting in the front seat of his social worker's Honda, driving to his new foster parents’ house.
“Do you know how hard it was to convince them to let me take you without calling the police? Why do you insist on being so difficult?”
Hitoshi doesn’t bother to humor her with a response, she doesn’t care about his answer.
“This is your last chance, you hear me? After this we’ll have no choice but to send you to the juvenile detention center. Don’t fuck it up this time.”
As if anything he does will change the way they look at him.
Dirty, disgusting, freak, loser, villain.
Whatever. It doesn’t matter. He’s been aware of his fate since the day he was born.
He just hopes this family isn’t as keen on locking him away.
It takes them about thirty minutes to get to the right neighborhood, his social worker spends the entire time yapping about something or another, he doesn’t pay attention to anything she says. It’s nothing worth listening to.
There are a few things about the neighborhood that raise red flags. Mostly the amount of security, but also just how nice the entire place looked.
Almost all of his past foster families lived in dingy houses in bad neighborhoods with absolutely no security. That is what he had come to expect at this point. It didn’t really make sense that this would be any different.
And yet here he is, being ushered through a gate by security and escorted all the way up to a door on the 15th floor of an apartment building. Before he can take in his surroundings, the door opens without anyone knocking.
Hitoshi watches the older man look them over before choosing to address his social worker first.
“Welcome,” his voice is ironically gruff and unwelcoming, “sorry for the level of security but I’m sure you understand the precautions.”
“Oh, it’s no problem at all,” His social worker puts on that fake cheery voice she always uses with parents and nudges him towards the door, “this is Hitoshi Shinsou. He’ll be staying with you for as long as you’ll have him. I’m really in a rush so I can’t stay long, but you have my number so please call me if you need anything.”
Hitoshi can’t help but notice the surprise that flashes on the man’s face (why does he recognize that face?) as his social worker excuses herself as fast as humanly possible.
“Alright, I suppose if he has all of his belongings then we should be good to go. I’ll be sure to call with any issues. Have a good day.”
“You as well, sir,” is all she says before looking over at Hitoshi, “you do have everything, right?”
There’s a hidden message lying there, and Hitoshi knows what she means.
“Yes. You can go now.”
That’s all he’s said all day, but it’s enough to convince his social worker, and she makes her leave without a goodbye. Leaving him alone with this strange new man.
Hitoshi looks the man in front of him up and down, trying to figure out what is so familiar about him. He doesn’t speak, just stares.
The man makes the first move, pushing the door open for Hitoshi to enter, “Come inside, we can talk and I’ll give you a tour.”
Hitoshi doesn’t like the way he talks, like he’s already bored of him. It’s a tone he’s heard far too many times before. Everything is uninteresting, you’ll never see them express any emotion besides anger. They’re hard to read because they’re practically nonresponsive to the world around them.
He feels like he’s actually walking on eggshells as he enters the apartments, closing off his body language as the door is shut and locked behind him.
He took a look around the apartment, trying to find some hints of the man's personality. It’s not as bare as he expected. There’s no pictures but there are plenty of colorful decorations spewn around the place, it actually seemed homey.
This didn’t feel on brand for the man, but as he turns to face the man behind him, he sees something hanging off the coat rack.
A capture weapon.
Hitoshi would recognize it anywhere. No other hero uses anything like this. This had to be Eraserhead’s capture weapon. It makes sense, given the high security of the building and—Hitoshi takes another quick look at the man—he does look like the pictures. Granted, none of them were high quality and most of them were pretty old, but the general features lined up.
Huh. This is new.
“I don’t know what your social worker told you, but my name is Aizawa Shouta and I live with my husband-”
No way. He has heard theories about it but he never really believed them, but this overstimulating decor only supports the idea that Eraserhead is married to-
“Present Mic,” Hitoshi supplies, cutting off Aizawa before he gets a chance to reveal his husband's identity.
Hitoshi looks up to meet Aizawa’s eyes for the first time that night, seeing a look of shock that likely mirrored his own.
He hadn’t meant to say that out loud. He really should know better than to be so reckless at this point, but this would be a good test to see what the punishment for speaking out of turn was.
Aizawa is quick to return to his neutral state, all evidence of his shock cleared from his body language in an instant. It’s almost impressive.
He clears his throat before he speaks, “how did you-” he hesitates for just a moment, “did your social worker tell you that?”
Hitoshi doesn’t think this is a rhetorical question, so he decides replying would be the safest bet since he could easily ask his social worker the truth. “No sir, I just saw the scarf and made the connection.”
He keeps his answer vague on purpose, he isn’t going to reveal anything he doesn’t have to.
Clearly, this answer doesn’t satisfy Aizawa, but he seemingly lets it go. “I- okay then, guess you’re up to speed then. How about I give you a tour? There isn’t much to see but I’ll give you the rundown.”
Tours are usually when he meets the other kids and gets a real sense of how bad things are going to be. So, he takes a deep breath and prepares himself before heading further into the apartment, following a comfortable distance away from Aizawa.
Aizawa, thankfully, notes the deliberate distance and maintains it as they enter the main living area.
“Forgive me for the amount of information you’re getting at once,” he starts, “but this is the living room, and to the left is the dining room and kitchen. There are no restrictions on being out here. Feel free to watch TV, just don’t stay up all night. If we feel you're abusing this privilege, we’ll talk about it. As for the kitchen, you’re free to take anything from the fridge and you don’t need to ask, but Hizashi cooks dinner at seven every night, and we expect you to at least sit at the table and try to eat.”
Weird. Hitoshi has never had a TV in any of his foster homes, so he doesn't exactly know what would be considered “abusing the privilege” so it was probably better to avoid that as much as possible. He also doesn’t typically get free reign of the kitchen, and when he did, it was often devoid of any food.
He doesn’t like how different this place is. He’s grown used to the same shitty households at this point, he didn’t know how to deal with this.
His eyes follow Aizawa as he moves closer to the doors past the living room, unmoving as he continues his tour.
“This is our office, and it’s the only room in the house you are not allowed to enter. There is a lot of confidential and dangerous information that only we can view. The door will always be locked, but if you need us, you can just knock.”
Now this is a rule he’s familiar with. Of course, they don't want the villain kid scavenging through their hero files. Not that Hitoshi can blame them much, given what they likely read in his file, but it still stings.
“This is our room,” Aizawa continues, gesturing to the door on the far right. He makes no move to open it. “We just ask that you don’t go in there when we aren’t unless absolutely necessary, but you’re always free to get us whenever needed.”
Hitoshi has gone fourteen years without needing a guardian, so he doesn’t think that’ll be an issue.
Aizawa gestures with his head for Hitoshi to get closer as he walks over to the next door. Hitoshi doesn’t particularly want to move from the spot that he has rooted himself in, but he still hasn’t heard the consequences for breaking the rules yet, so he hesitantly steps towards the now-opened door.
Inside is a pretty bare basics bedroom. A twin bed in the corner, a bedside table, a lamp, and a decent-sized closet. There’s no decoration and no evidence that anyone else lived here.
Well, that really didn’t make sense. There was only one more door left in the apartment, which Hitoshi had deduced to be the bathroom. Which meant that there were no other bedrooms, so…
Was he the only kid here?
Aizawa interrupts his thoughts. “This is your room. Sorry it’s so bland, but we didn’t know what you liked, so Hizashi decided you’d go shopping sometime this week to pick out some stuff. You can put your bag down if you want.”
Hitoshi doesn’t move. He looks between the empty room and Aizawa, trying to figure out why he would be the only kid here.
This is practically unheard of, there was always at least one other kid in all of his other homes. It made no sense that the heroes would only foster him. The room was plenty big enough for at least one more bed, (not that most homes had beds anyways) so why?
Could he be their first placement? Maybe he’s just a trial run before they decide if they want to get rid of him or get more kids? Or had he just been deemed so high-risk that he couldn’t be placed with other children?
Hitoshi wants to ask all of these questions, but he can’t. That’s a hard and fast rule in all of his foster homes and he wasn’t about to risk that right now.
Good thing he has mastered the art of turning questions into statements. “There's no other kids,” he says, careful to keep his tone even, ensuring he’s not breaking any unspoken rules.
“That’s correct. Sorry if that wasn’t clear. Hizashi and I decided that we would only foster one child at a time to ensure we can provide the best care,” Aizawa explains. He looks like he might stop there, but continues, "Do you prefer having siblings?"
Hitoshi isn’t sure how to answer that. He’s never known a life without at least one foster sibling around, so he doesn’t really know the alternative. He can imagine it, having a room to himself and not having to deal with another pair of eyes.
He’s had some good siblings, ones he misses on his worst nights. However, most of his foster siblings were just as prejudiced as the parents and equally likely to hit and harass him.
So, he supposes he does know how to answer. “No, not really,” he eventually responds, sparing Aizawa a short glance to gauge his reaction.
He isn't sure how long it took him to respond, but Aizawa looks slightly surprised that he managed to get that much of an answer out of him. Hitoshi catches a small smirk creeping up Aizawa’s face, but opts to walk towards the last door, waiting for him to finish the tour.
Aizawa shows him the bathroom before looking at his phone to check the time, “Hizashi should be home from work soon. Why don’t you unpack and brace yourself for how excited he will be to meet you.”
Hitoshi appreciates the chance to escape. He doesn’t have many belongings to unpack, but he needs some time to process everything he’s just been told. Without another word, he slinks into his new room.
He closes the door to his room, half expecting it to open again with someone yelling at him, but it doesn’t. Instead, he’s left alone with his thoughts, the silence heavy and unfamiliar.
He slides down against the door, knees pulled to his chest, and tries to process everything. The quiet is both a comfort and a curse, amplifying his fears and uncertainties.
He hates how much he feels. He hates how different things already are and how much he already dreads tomorrow.
But most of all, he hates that no matter what he does, no matter how much he tries to stop, he knows this will end the same way.
After a few moments of grappling with his emotions, Hitoshi pushes himself up and moves toward his new bed. In most of his previous homes, a bed was a luxury he rarely, if ever, had. Even when the other kids were lucky enough to have a bed to sleep in, Hitoshi was often left with the cold, hard floor or a couch if he was fortunate.
He reaches out, brushing his fingers over the blanket draped across the bed. It’s soft, softer than anything he’s ever felt before. The sensation is foreign, almost surreal, a stark reminder of how different this place is from the others.
For a moment, he allows himself to hope, to believe that things might be different here. But he quickly stamps down the thought, reminding himself that hope has often led to disappointment.
Hitoshi knows he has to be careful, to tread lightly. The softness of the blanket is a fragile promise, one that can be taken away just as easily as it was given. He has to behave, to do everything in his power to keep this small piece of comfort.
He turns his attention to his duffle bag, he unzips it and begins to unpack the few belongings he has remaining. All he has to his name at the moment are a few pairs of clothes, a notebook courtesy of Midoriya, and a small plush cat that he’s managed to keep hidden from everyone.
Well, he also has this stupid muzzle.
Aizawa hasn’t made any indication that he wanted Hitoshi to give him the muzzle, so Hitoshi isn’t exactly sure what to do. On one hand, this could be a test to see how long it takes for Hitoshi to own up and give it to him. On the other hand, maybe he doesn’t even know about the muzzle, and showing it to him would just encourage him to use it.
Maybe that’s why Aizawa sent him to his room? He wants him to put on the muzzle before Yamada gets home? But then, why wouldn’t he just say that? His past guardians hadn’t been the type to beat around the bush—they were commanding but incredibly clear.
Unfortunately, Aizawa seems to be different from his past guardians in almost every single way. This makes him incredibly hard to read and leaves Hitoshi with no guidelines to follow.
Ultimately, Hitoshi decides to leave the muzzle in the closet. He could bring it out if Aizawa asked, and if he got punished for not bringing it up… at least he’ll know what punishments look like here.
Hitoshi isn’t sure how long he spent making that decision, but by the time he closes his closet door, he hears the faint sound of the front door being unlocked and opened. He can only assume this means Yamada has returned home.
Before he even hears the door close, a loud voice fills the apartment. "Is he here yet?"
Aizawa had mentioned that Hizashi would be excited, and that certainly seems to be the case from what Hitoshi can hear. He isn’t sure if he’s supposed to come out and introduce himself or wait for them to come to him.
Before he can decide, Aizawa calls for him to come to the living room. So he hurries out of his room to greet his other guardian.
As soon as he steps out, he sees Present Mic’s signature hair, making him appear seven feet tall. He’s in full hero attire, and Hitoshi would be lying if he said that didn’t make him nervous.
There’s a brief silence as Hitoshi approaches, and he’s sure the other two can hear the gulp he makes before speaking. "Hello, Yamada, sir. Thank you for-"
Hitoshi’s soft-spoken greeting is cut off by Hizashi’s enthusiastic reply. "Please, call me Hizashi or even Mic if you prefer. Yamada is way too formal for the house." He turns to Aizawa, mockingly offended. "I can’t believe you told him to call me Yamada."
Hitoshi admittedly finds this quite odd. He’s never had a guardian ask him to call them by their first name. Sometimes they’ll make him use titles like Sir or Daddy, but never their first name. Though, Hitoshi must say that he prefers this to the alternatives.
Aizawa accepts a playful slap to the chest before defending himself, “I never even told him your last name. Kid figured out who I was married to within a minute of walking into the house.”
At this, Hizashi turns his attention back to Hitoshi, staring at him with a look he’s never seen before. Hitoshi begins to sweat under the scrutiny, worried Hizashi might be mad at him for figuring it out so quickly. He knew he should have kept his mouth shut.
But instead of anger, Hizashi’s face breaks into the brightest smile known to man. He kneels to look Hitoshi in the eyes. "Whoa, that’s some crazy good deduction skills! How’d you figure it out?"
He doesn’t seem mad, but Hitoshi keeps his answer as vague as possible to avoid incriminating himself. “I just… know a lot about heroes I guess,” he puts bluntly.
This is technically true. Hitoshi spent a good amount of time on hero forums and chat rooms, which is how he met Midoriya. Now, he gets most of his info straight from Midoriya since he doesn’t have reliable internet access in most of his homes. He’d heard about a few theories regarding Present Mic’s marriage over the years, but Midoriya had always been convinced that his husband was the much lesser-known Eraserhead.
Hitoshi can’t wait to tell him just how right he had been.
Hizashi’s smile grows. "You must know a lot. Are you a big fan of heroes?"
Hitoshi’s face darkens, and he feels the atmosphere in the room do the same as he gives his automatic response without hesitation or doubt.
“No.”
He can tell from the adults’ faces that they weren’t expecting this answer, and they can tell from his tone that he isn’t joking.
He understands their shock. Most fourteen-year-old boys are obsessed with heroes, hoping and praying to see themselves on TV one day. Hitoshi, on the other hand, couldn’t care less.
In fact, he fucking hates heroes.
The hero forums he reads are focused on the corruption of individual heroes and the entire hero society. He might catch hold of rumors like Present Mic’s marriage, but most of the posts expose the secrets of the hero world.
As far as corrupt heroes go, Present Mic and Eraserhead are not high on the list, but anything could change now that he’s living in their home.
It takes the adults a moment to recover from Hitoshi’s blunt admission, clearly trying to figure out how best to respond. Hitoshi knows it would have been in his best interest to lie, but he didn’t have time to think before speaking.
He just hopes this won’t have consequences later.
Hizashi is the first to recover, shaking himself out of his thoughts and plastering on a smile that isn’t quite as bright as before. "Well, that’s alright, kiddo. Not everyone has to like the same things."
He stands up, shooting a glance at Aizawa before turning back to Hitoshi. "I’m going to take a shower and change, but I’m so glad you’re here."
Hizashi reaches over and gives Hitoshi’s arm a gentle squeeze before heading towards his room. Hitoshi feels the comment was genuine enough, but he can’t see why Hizashi would be excited for him to be here. Especially after he practically insulted his entire profession.
Aizawa breaks his thoughts. "I know this must be overwhelming, so you’re free to take a nap or watch TV before dinner in a few hours."
Hitoshi considers this for a moment before giving Aizawa a small nod and heading back to his room without a word. This whole thing is very overwhelming, and a nap does sound nice.
However, Hitoshi finds it hard to sleep as he thinks about how different this house is from his previous ones. He worries about messing up because he doesn’t know the rules here. He worries about what punishment from heroes looks like (he’s heard stories about Endeavor). And he worries he won’t be able to see the two people he desperately wants to see right now.
In his other homes, sneaking out was easy. Most of the time, they didn’t even want him in the house, so he could just walk out the door without protest. But even when they did want him around, it was easy to sneak off given the number of kids and the negligent parents.
Hitoshi can tell this won’t be the case here. The security is so advanced that he won’t be able to get around it without being caught. He can’t help but feel a little trapped despite this being the least restrictive home he’s ever had.
After a few more minutes of tossing and turning, Hitoshi decides to get out of bed and opens the closet door. It’s definitely big enough for him to lie down comfortably, so he fashions a makeshift bed with the blankets and pillows he’s been given. He situates himself within the closet with his plush cat before closing the door.
It’s a little cramped, but the total darkness and tight space bring him some comfort. It’s something familiar in a house that is anything but. Laying in the closet with his plushie clutched tightly in his arms, Hitoshi finally drifts off to sleep.