Chapter Text
It started with a text from Aizawa.
The message itself was short and to the point in true Aizawa fashion. At face value, nothing set it apart from anything else Hitoshi had gotten from him. Their text chain was only used to communicate meeting times, and even those rarely strayed from the routine they’d fallen into after the sports festival.
When Aizawa approached him, Shinso jumped at the chance to train with him despite not knowing much about 1-A’s homeroom teacher. As an underground hero, his career wasn’t displayed in the press, but the rumors about the trouble his class had already overcome this year had given him a healthy amount of respect for the man.
Hitoshi had planned to make the most of his tutelage while it lasted. His defeat in the sports festival had made it clear that he had a lot of improving to do, and Shinso had hoped that Aizawa assistance could give him a solid push towards his goal of making it into the hero course. He hadn’t, however, expected the teacher’s influence to be anything more than fleeting. Hitoshi had initially guessed that their little arrangement would last for a week or two before fizzling out when the hero got tired of him, but he’d been proven wrong.
3 months had passed with no signs of an end to his training. While Shinso couldn’t quite figure out why the man was helping him, he wasn’t dumb enough to question a good thing. At least not out loud. Hitoshi could recognize the improvements he’d made in the short period of time they’d worked together. Aizawa’s guidance was making a real difference. He’d come into his life and offered blunt corrections and keen advice that had been invaluable in his progress. The guy clearly knew what he was doing, so Shinso settled for a sense of cautious gratitude and resolved to take advantage of his help while it lasted.
He’d gotten used to their meeting schedule, so the unusual timing of the message caught Hitoshi’s attention yesterday. He had looked up from his lackluster attempt at last minute studying and paused to check and recheck the date on his phone.
From: Aizawa at 17:23
I need to speak with you. Meet me in my classroom during your lunch break tomorrow.
They met three days a week with the dates occasionally fluctuating to accommodate Aizawa’s patrols. There hadn’t been any other additions or exceptions.
Until today, apparently.
Shinso flipped the final page of his exam booklet over with a small rustle, letting out a quiet breath as he set down his pencil. He leafed through the pages one more time, looking over a few of the tougher equations before deeming it good enough.
The message had plagued his mind ever since he got it. Sheer willpower and a fear of failing his exams were the only things that allowed Hitoshi to push it back of his mind and focus. Once his test was collected though, he finally let his mind wander.
His phone, tucked away in his teacher’s desk at the front of the class for exams, taunted him. It was powered all the way off to prevent distraction, but he felt the need to check it. Logically, he knew it hadn’t changed from the last few times he’d read and reread it, but that didn’t stop the urge to unlock it and analyze the message over again. Shinso had never considered himself the kind of person to overthink something like this, but the past few hours had proved otherwise. He felt a sort of jittery, anxious energy filling him when he thought of what this meeting could mean. The message was so vague. Hitoshi found himself wishing the hero would’ve at least given him some kind of hint to keep his mind from jumping to the worst.
As soon as the bell rang, Shinso was out of his seat. He would’ve been embarrassed of his uncharacteristic show of eagerness if he hadn’t been so distracted. He was ready to know what the hell this meeting was about.
————
Hitoshi stopped in front of classroom 1-A, right as the second bell rang, signaling the beginning of the break period between exams. A few straggling students passed him on their way out, mercifully paying him no attention. He was feeling high strung enough right now without having to deal with their brand of chaos.
Shinso eyed the door for a moment, his mind racing. A particularly unpleasant possibility had been gnawing at him since he received the message.
This might be it. His unusual strain of luck had to give out sometime, but Hitoshi felt the tightness in his chest worsen at the thought that his time working with Aizawa had come to an end. He went into their arrangement knowing that it wouldn’t last forever, but that fact had apparently become a lot harder to stomach at some point between those first few weeks and now.
Shinso took a breath and forced himself to stop that line of thought. He’d survived without Aizawa before and now wouldn’t be any different. If their training ended today, he would take the news on the chin and find another way to work towards his dreams. It wouldn’t change anything.
Despite his resolution, it was harder than Hitoshi was willing to admit to steel himself and work up the courage to actually open the door and walk in.
When he finally did, Aizawa was standing at the podium at the front of the room. He looked up from the stack of test booklets in his hands at Shinso’s entrance, dipping his head in a greeting before placing them into a bag and sealing it. Hitoshi took a few more steps into the room before stopping to stand beside a desk close to the door. He had to tuck his hands into his pockets to stop himself from fiddling with his fingers.
“Hey, you wanted to see me?”
“Yes,” Aizawa picked up the folder and turned to face Shinso, “walk with me.”
Hitoshi blinked, slightly thrown off, but he gave a slight nod in response. He followed the teacher out and fell into a step beside him when they made it into the hallway. Shinso stayed quiet as they walked, waiting for Aizawa to say something. Once they reached the main hallway that led to the office, he did.
“How are your finals going?”
Hitoshi blinked again, his stiff posture relaxing a bit at the question.
“Fine,” he answered, “I studied, so I’ve felt good about them so far.”
“Good,” The Pro Hero responded before turning the corner and gesturing at the door to the main office, “In here,” Aizawa pushed open the door and led him in.
It was more like a long hall with a few desks set up around the room and doors lining the back and side walls, probably leading to more individual offices and conference rooms. A few teachers and clerks were working at the desks or passing through on the way to another class or meeting.
Huh. So this might not be the quick dismissal his mind convinced him it was.
Shinso looked around as they walked, quietly observing. He didn’t visit this part of the school very often. Hitoshi tried to keep a low profile, and that meant avoiding getting into enough trouble to warrant a trip to the office. He hadn’t set foot in this hall since he’d dropped off his registration paperwork at the beginning of the school year.
Aizawa stopped at a desk towards the middle of the room. The woman looked up and gave them a friendly smile. The teacher offered her a quiet greeting and Shinso nodded, before the clerk turned back to her computer. Aizawa shifted the bag in his hand and looked down at the various stacks of colored paper that littered the front half of the desk, “You have Japanese last?” he asked, selecting a yellow sheet of paper.
Hitoshi’s eyebrows rose. He didn’t know when the man had learned his schedule.
“Yes, sir,” He confirmed, shrugging it off. Aizawa had always been remarkably perceptive, so it didn’t come as a complete surprise. The teacher picked up a pen and scribbled something down on the paper before handing it to Shinso. Upon closer inspection he realized it was a pass, “Uh Sensei, what’s this for?”
“I want you to meet me at Gym Gamma after you finish your exam,” Aizawa started walking again, this time towards a desk in front of the marked office doors, “Give it to your teacher. They’ll let you leave early so you have time to change.”
“Okay,” Shinso responded, eyebrows furrowing. They’d never met during school hours before today, and now Aizawa was setting another meeting for tomorrow?
They stopped at a desk with identical bagged folders to the one in the teacher’s hand stacked on top of it. Shinso busied himself with neatly folding the slip before tucking it into his bag while Aizawa passed his folder off.
“Class 1-A’s English exams,” The clerk thanked him and Aizawa moved to leave.
Hitoshi had barely taken three steps to follow him when a door opened behind him. He noted the exasperated look on Aizawa’s face before looking over his shoulder to see what was happening. The door was marked as the principal’s office by a shiny plaque, so it wasn’t much of a surprise when the principal emerged from the room, teacup in hand. Or paw? Or whatever his species’ equivalent of a hand was? Shinso didn’t know, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to ask.
Aizawa moved to stand at Hitoshi’s side as the principal offered a greeting to the whole room. Upon noticing the pair he beamed their way and Shinso straightened up on instinct, suddenly conscious of his posture.
“Aizawa! How are 1-A’s exams going?” Principal Nezu asked, fixing the teacher with a smile. The gesture was polite, but the edge of it seemed sharp somehow. Hitoshi didn’t know what to make of him, but Aizawa just sighed.
“As expected,” he replied bluntly, sounding just as exhausted as he looked. The principal laughed good naturedly. Looking between the two, Shinso could practically feel the tension in the air.
“Making you proud, I’m sure,” he then turned to Hitoshi, who had to force down the urge to fidget under the sudden force of his assessing gaze, “And you must be Shinso Hitoshi.”
“Uh, yes sir?” he replied, mentally chiding himself for the way his sentence dipped uncertainly at the end.
“Hmm,” Beady eyes focused on him for a long moment and Shinso forced himself to hold his gaze until he continued, “I expect to see excellent things from you, young man,” Hitoshi, unsure of how else to react nodded, glancing towards Aizawa. The hero was watching the exchange with his usual impassive look. Finally, Principal Nezu broke out of his intense focus to offer them a cheery wave, “Best of luck with finals you two!” he exclaimed. The principal plucked a thick manila file folder off of his clerk’s desk before reentering his office and slamming the door closed behind him. Shinso stared after him, thrown off by the strange interaction.
“Shinso, let’s go,” The teacher called, turning to leave, “I’ll walk you to lunch.” Hitoshi let out a breath and followed behind Aizawa as he led them out of the office and back to the main hall. As they went, he found himself pondering the weird conversation.
The principal’s comments were confusing. Shinso hadn’t even said two words to him before this, but now he was struggling to decode the exchange. Paired with Aizawa’s unusual break from their routine, this afternoon had taken root in his head and thrown him firmly off balance.
It must’ve shown on his face, because the teacher slowed in his stride, glancing at Shinso as he fell into a quiet step beside him.
“Don’t mind him,” Aizawa said, his gruff tone grounding him a bit through its sheer familiarity, “He’s always like that.”
Hitoshi hummed in response, biting the inside of his cheek as he chose his next words.
The interaction with the principal was surprising. The fact that he even knew Hitoshi’s name even more so. It was no secret that the principal tended to focus more on the Hero Course. Everyone in General Studies knew, and Shinso was sure the Support Course had also experienced at least some of the same disregard. Some of his classmates were open in their resentment while others seemed mostly indifferent to the blatant, and occasionally bordering on ridiculous, favoritism. Hitoshi found himself skewing towards the former even though he could understand to a degree.
The school specialized in Heroics, and Shinso could begrudgingly admit that the extra attention that course received was probably the only thing keeping the school open. Especially with all the trouble 1-A had managed to get into so far. The principal was only one man (bear? thing?). He didn’t have time for everyone.
And yet he knew Hitoshi’s name.
“What was that about?” Shinso asked, looking over at Aizawa as they continued on their way. He searched the teacher's face for some sort of clue, but his face didn’t betray much.
“It’s impossible to know for sure with him,” he replied after a moment. They’d reached the doors to the cafeteria and slowed to a stop. The hero gave Hitoshi a pointed stare, “Try not to overthink it.”
Hah. Easier said than done.
He pushed down the urge to roll his eyes, instead acquiescing with a small nod. Aizawa’s lips twitched into a slight smirk, almost as if he could sense Shinso’s frustration. Something knowing curled at its corners. He let the subject drop though, tilting his head towards the doors.
“Go eat, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Hitoshi nodded again and knew that was his cue to go, but couldn’t bring himself to walk away. Not yet. There was still a question nagging at him.
“Sensei?”
“Hm?”
Shinso hesitated for a moment, watching Aizawa’s face. He looked for any hint of annoyance or deception, but all he found was the man’s usual demeanor. Tired, but surprisingly patient. Consistently helpful.
So Hitoshi continued.
“The meeting,” He specified, “Is it for training?”
Aizawa considered him for a moment. His gaze was sharp, and it was clear that he was running through something in his mind. Shinso only had to wait a moment before he seemed to come to a decision.
“It’s not,” he replied plainly.
Well. So much for not overthinking.
Aizawa’s stare didn’t end, so Hitoshi waited, assuming he would elaborate. In an usually cryptic fashion, though, he didn’t offer any other comments. Shinso immediately clocked the man’s withholding despite his blunt nature as a reason for suspicion. He was sure he was doing a poor job of disguising it on his face, but Aizawa just moved to hold open the door to the cafeteria and motioned for Hitoshi to go ahead.
He stepped through the door and Aizawa followed, stopping beside him one last time. “Tomorrow,” He repeated, giving Hitoshi a parting nod before heading for the staff tables.
“Yes, sir,” Shinso murmured in the vague direction of the man’s departing back, mind already whirling with prospects.
He found an empty seat near a few of his classmates, offering a few brief greetings before zoning out almost entirely. Hitoshi quickly abandoned his previous plans of some last minute studying in favor of speculating on what the hell they’d be doing tomorrow. There were so many possibilities, and the timing of the odd encounter with the principal just added another layer to it.
After a quiet lunch spent pondering his situation, Shinso made it through his second final of the day, English, without being completely distracted. His walk to the train station was a different story.
The trip passed in a blur, but he made it to the station safely. Hitoshi remained solidly in his thoughts until an announcement came over the platform’s speaker: The train was experiencing a delay.
“Shit,” he mumbled, checking the time on his phone. He was going to be cutting it pretty close to his curfew. Shinso tucked his phone into his pocket and let out a slow breath. There was no point in obsessing over it now. He had no control over mechanical errors.
Unfortunately for Hitoshi, that fact probably wouldn’t earn him much sympathy if he got back late.
The train pulled in half an hour later than scheduled, and he made it through the crowded ride back. Shinso quickly got off at his stop and risked a glance at his phone, swearing under his breath when he caught sight of the time again.
Hitoshi jogged out of the station onto the residential streets of the neighborhood. He stopped outside, weighing his options momentarily before taking off into a sprint. This earned him a few annoyed looks from the other commuters, but he ignored them. There were worse things than a few strangers thinking he was weird.
Shinso’s uniform shirt almost immediately stuck to his skin as sweat drenched his neck. He was glad that he’d opted to shed his jacket before getting on the train. It was tied around his bag, where it jostled against his back as he went. Still, he kept his pace.
The July heat was definitely working against Hitoshi, but enough outdoor conditioning with Aizawa had forced him to adjust to the humid air filling his lungs and the steady pumping of his legs. His body had adapted, and Shinso had learned to clear it out of his head. Mind over matter and all that. A few months ago the run would’ve had him gasping for breath, but today the distance barely registered.
Finally, Shinso turned onto the street. He didn’t slow down, even as he reached the front door. In quick, well-practiced movements, Hitoshi dug through his bag for his keys, shoved them into the lock, and pushed the door open. He carefully closed it behind him, staying quiet aside from the soft click of the lock. With the door secure behind him, he fumbled for his phone and checked the time.
Hitoshi let out a ragged breath when he caught sight of it. He’d made it. Just barely.
The rest of the world came back into focus at that realization, and he registered the sound of chattering somewhere further in the house. Probably the other kids getting ready to start dinner.
Hitoshi was tucking his keys back into his bag, when the crawling sensation of being watched settled over his skin. He looked up and stilled in place when he caught sight of the figure standing at the end of the hall.
Mr. Okano, the owner of the foster house and Shinso’s legal guardian for the past three years, stared back at him. Guardian was probably a bit of a stretch. The man hardly looked at him if he didn’t have to.
Unluckily, Hitoshi had his attention now.
He looked him up and down, before lifting his wrist and pushing up his sleeve, exposing a shiny silver watch. Shinso’s heart rate spiked at the movement, but he willed himself to breathe through it. Keep his expression neutral. Not make a sound.
Mr. Okano’s eyes flicked back up to Hitoshi’s face. His expression was a practiced blank, but the older man made no effort to mask his disdain. It lined his face from the thin press of his lips to his ever present glare. Shinso resisted the urge to twitch from the force of it.
He watched him for another wordless moment. Then he turned away and disappeared into the kitchen.
Hitoshi stayed put. He counted to 100 in his head. Then waited an extra 30 before deciding the man probably wasn’t coming back.
He took a steadying breath.
He was on time. It was fine. He was just worked up because it was a close call. Nothing to lose more time worrying about.
Shinso quickly toed off his shoes, tucked them into place, and headed up to his shared room. It appeared empty at the moment. The other kids he roomed with were probably downstairs. He slowly pulled the door behind him, bringing it as far into the frame as possible without actually closing it. He’d learned early on that a brief moment of complete privacy wouldn’t be worth it if he got caught.
A quick look around the room revealed no one hiding out. He was alone. Or as close to it as he’d get in this house. Close enough.
Hitoshi dropped his bag on the floor and let himself fall back onto his bed, staring up at the cracked paint on the ceiling. He laid there for a moment, just breathing as his eyes mapped the familiar blemishes. Shinso counted the inhales and exhales and let himself rest for 10.
Then he dragged himself up.
Hitoshi picked up his backpack from its haphazard heap on the floor and untangled his uniform jacket from the straps. He leaned down and tucked his bag into the space under his bed. The jacket was a little rumpled from its time on the floor, so he spent an extra few seconds smoothing it out. Once he deemed it good enough, he draped it over the thin metal frame of his bed.
Shinso sent his bed a longing glance. The day had drained him, but he still had the rest of the evening to get through before he could even think about settling in for the night. And even then, he knew better than anyone that sleep was hardly guaranteed.
Not that wasting time up here thinking about it was helping.
Hitoshi let out a frustrated sigh, but didn’t let himself linger on it. That was a future Hitoshi problem.
He let his mind drift back to his last conversation with Aizawa, turning it over in his brain. Shinso didn’t make much progress in the guessing department, but he did come to one conclusion on the situation before finally pushing it aside and heading downstairs to set the table:
He had something to look forward to.