Chapter Text
Hitoshi looked down at the picture in front of him, thoughtfully.
Specifically, he looked at the young, blue-haired boy in it. He’d been in a lot of the pictures so far, and Hitoshi still wasn’t really sure who he was.
He recognized Kayama-sensei, of course. And Yamada and Aizawa. Ingenium wasn’t hard to figure out with how similar he looked to the Iida in Hitoshi’s year.
But he couldn’t think of a single hero who looked at all like this last kid.
He was only in their first-year photos, too. Which didn’t make a lot of sense. The whole group had seemed really close in all of the pictures Kayama had shown him.
“Ohhhh my god!” Kayama exclaimed happily, “I haven’t even gotten started on Halloween yet!”
She grinned at Hitoshi mischievously, handing him a glass of water, “Hizashi’s wheedled Shouta into doing couples costumes with him ever since we graduated. He hates them all. It’s amazing.”
Hitoshi nodded slowly, trying to decide if it was worth bringing up. Normally, it’d be an obvious ‘No,’ but with the whole conversation they’d had earlier – well, less conversation and more… lecture? Rant? Something like that. Midnight was, honestly, kind of weird.
That was beside the point.
With their first interaction, Hitoshi started to wonder if maybe it would be okay for him to ask.
Or maybe not ask. But point it out, at least.
He cleared his throat softly, looking back at the photo, “I, um, I don’t know who this is…”
Kayama hummed thoughtfully, sitting down next to him, but she didn't answer the unspoken question. She just sat there, watching him. Waiting.
Hitoshi should have expected that.
He really hoped this wasn’t going to become a trend. First Yamada a few days ago, now Kayama-sensei…
At least with Kayama, it was different. He wasn’t staying with her or anything. She didn’t have enough time to really get sick of him. Maybe just a little annoyed.
And her power was limited, too. They had however long it took for Yamada and Aizawa to get back, he supposed, but it wasn’t like she could send him away or anything. That wasn’t her decision to make.
It was Aizawa and Yamada’s.
And it’d probably be soon, he figured, now that Aizawa had taken him to the precinct. They didn’t need anything else from him.
He looked back up at Kayama, realizing she was still waiting for him to ask the question.
“Who… um,” he said softly, wincing, “Who is he?’
“Well, thank you for asking so politely,” Kayama said gently, “But I’d rather not talk about that right now. It’s not a very fun story.”
Hitoshi nodded, trying valiantly to ignore the string popping up between them. It’d fallen away sometime after his first questions, something he was never ungrateful for.
It was exhausting, sometimes, trying to resist that pull. Trying to hold a conversation with someone and pretend it wasn’t even there. When his quirk cried out to be used, for him to just grab the thread and yank.
As much as he didn’t want to, it was what he’d been designed to do.
He’d read about quirk disuse a while ago, had it be described as sort of like an unused muscle. The stagnancy just fucking itches. Just for a quick little stretch; to be used once in a while.
Hitoshi was, unfortunately, very familiar with that itch.
It usually wasn't too demanding, though. Not unless he asked a quesiton. Not unless he got an answer.
Which, of course, everyone seemed determined to make him do lately.
And, yeah, he'd been practicing with Aizawa-sensei lately; been actually using his quirk every now and then. But sometimes he felt like that made it worse... Not always, of course, but sometimes it felt kind of like scratching at a mosquito bite. Or taking one rock away from a leaky dam and all of a sudden the whole thing comes flooding down.
Hitoshi took a sip of his water, trying not to let Kayama-sensei on to his struggle.
“So!” She said, clapping her hands energetically, “Halloween!”
Hitoshi nodded, leaning over to see the pictures she was pulling up.
They’d been at it for a long time, and Hitoshi still couldn’t decide if it was funny or just really fucking weird to see his teachers like this. Like, obviously he knew they’d been his age at some point. And he knew they had whole lives outside of school.
But knowing it and seeing it were two different things.
Not to mention the fact that Hitoshi really wasn’t sure what to do with the realization that Yamada- No, that Aizawa, even, had been a troublemaker.
Never, in a million years, would Hitoshi have expected that. He probably wouldn't have even believed it if not for all the fucking pictures.
He looked at the screen, barely managing to spot Aizawa's glaring face before Kayama-sensei’s phone started ringing, a call screen covering up the picture.
Kayama glared for a few rings before sighing, “I’ve gotta take this.”
Standing up from the couch, she answered the call with a flat greeting, “Nezu.”
She took a sip of water as the principal responded.
“You already know I’m busy. Ask someone else.”
“So they can fill me in later. I’m busy,” She repeated, rolling her eyes. With an apologetic look to Hitoshi, she stepped out of the room to keep talking.
Hitoshi sat alone in the living room, not really sure what to do other than keep looking at the photo album that’d been left out.
He wondered what’d happened to the other student.
A few minutes later, Kayama came back in with a sigh, phone put away.
“Alright, kid, I’m really sorry about this,” she said, “but, apparently, I have to go somewhere and, for whatever goddamn reason, I can’t bring you with me.”
Hitoshi nodded in acknowledgement.
“I can get Tensei to come over here if you want,” she offered, “Or, honestly, I could just take you home. You’re a good kid, I’m sure you won’t accidentally kill yourself in the, like, hour it’ll take for this to get wrapped up.”
“The apartment’s fine.”
Kayama nodded, “You have a key yet?”
He shook his head and Kayama started digging through an unnecessarily large bag near the door. Following her lead, he stood up, putting his shoes on.
“Here,” she said eventually, holding out a key to him, “I can drive you there, but you’ll need this.”
Hitoshi looked between her and the key uncertainly. Should he even have that? It wasn’t like it was his apartment.
Kayama just rolled her eyes, “You live there, yeah?”
Hitoshi nodded reluctantly. For now.
“So you should have a key,” she said decisively, “Honestly, you can just keep that. I have, like, five more copies lying around here.”
“Just don’t tell Shouta about that last part,” she added with a mischievous grin and a wink.
Hitoshi wasn’t really sure how to respond, but he apparently didn’t have to because Kayama was already walking out the door.
~
“I really am sorry about this, kiddo,” Kayama said again, stopping in front of the increasingly familiar building, “You remember the apartment number?”
“It’s fine,” Hitoshi said, stepping out of the car, “And 307.”
Kayama nodded.
“Do me a favor and text Hizashi when you get in,” she requested, “Or those two genuinely might kill me.”
Hitoshi nodded, shutting the door with a wave goodbye.
After that, it was just a short walk up the stairs and there he was, opening the door to an empty apartment.
Not totally empty he remembered, just in time to slam the door shut, stopping Jelly from streaking out of it.
She mostly managed to slow down in time, but Hitoshi still felt more than a little bit guilty when she bumped into the door.
“Sorry,” he apologized softly, crouching down to pet her.
Based on the way she started purring pretty much immediately and pushing her head into his hand, he didn’t think she blamed him.
He managed to slip his shoes off and send a quick message to Yamada before Blanket finally made his way over to them, his own purr rumbling out.
Hitoshi still couldn’t believe he got to live with cats. For however long he was here, at least.
As much as he loved them, though, they probably weren’t going to be what he missed the most about this place.
With a sigh, Hitoshi brushed off those thoughts. There was really no use dwelling in them. It wasn’t like thinking about it would delay the inevitable.
He walked further into the apartment, relying on the sunlight streaming in through the windows rather than turning on any lights.
It was honestly kind of unnerving being here alone. Something about how comfortable and familiar he was starting to feel in the space while still fundamentally feeling like he didn’t really belong.
None of it was his.
Obviously. He’d never expected it to be.
But that kind of made it weirder. That he could be comfortable and feel at home in a space that so clearly wasn’t made for him. Like maybe he did belong and the fact that it wasn’t his didn’t change that. Like he could find a place in someone else’s space instead of changing it to be his own.
Sort of. But not really.
Because that would mean, like, some sort of acceptance of it; some recognition of the apartment as a home.
And that wasn’t going to happen. Shinsou Hitoshi didn’t get a home. He’d stayed in all sorts of houses and apartments, but in the end, that was all they were. Just places that he’d stayed.
He took a deep breath, sitting down on the kitchen floor.
That was definitely another thing he'd miss. The fucking cleanliness of it all. Hitoshi could just... sit on the floor.
And not care.
Because the fucking apartment was clean.
It was a small thing. He'd really never thought it bothered him so much. Houses were dirty, that was just the way things were. But, man. Just being able to walk into a room. And not be overwhelmed by how messy everything was... It'd provided a kind of comfort that Hitoshi hadn't even known existed before now.
He didn't know how he was going to go back to what things had been like before.
Whatever.
He wasn't thinking about it.
What he was thinking about, he decided, was just how nice it was to be alone again.
Which may seem counter-intuitive with how much Hitoshi had been going on about not wanting Aizawa and Yamada to leave him. Like some whiny baby.
But Hitoshi was, at his core, an introvert. And he hadn't been alone for more than, like, fifteen minutes ever since he'd come here.
Well, other than sleeping or being in the room they were letting him borrow. But that wasn't really the same. Because they were never more than a door or two away.
It wasn't nearly enough privacy to recharge. Definitely not enough to just... let go.
To not feel like he had to watch everything he did. To just unabashedly exist.
Jelly walked up to him again, meowing loudly.
“Hey, kitty,” he murmured softly, reaching out to pet her. He eyed the cupboard that he knew held the cat food, wondering if maybe there were treats in there too.
Out of curiosity, he reached over to open it. Not that he was planning to steal from them or anything. Just curiousity.
Except Jelly and Blanket both seemed to know what that cabinet meant because they started meowing demandingly as soon as his hand was on the cupboard door and, well, he couldn’t just not give them a treat after that.
It was just a little treat, anyways. Probably no one would notice.
He found the small package pretty easily, giving both cats a few pieces before putting it away and shutting the door. He pet them gently while they ate, a soft unrestrained grin making its way onto his face.
Yeah.
It was nice to be alone sometimes.
Hitoshi looked up at the rest of the cupboards, realizing he still didn’t really know what was in most of them.
Of course, he probably wasn’t supposed to know. Yamada and Aizawa would have told him if it was important.
Or, well. He thought they would.
But he also remembered what Kayama had said earlier that day…
Would they have told him?
To be totally honest, the likelihood that he really needed to know what was in any of the cupboards was astronomically low. There really wasn’t much point in looking.
Except that he just. Wanted to know.
He’d always felt more comfortable knowing his way around a house. And, while he might not be here much longer, it would still be nice to have that little bit of added comfort.
No matter what Kayama had said earlier, it wasn’t really a good reason.
But that was another benefit of being alone, yeah? Not everything he did had to have some perfectly prepared justification to it. He could just do something.
Hitoshi opened one next to the cat food, revealing a bunch of cleaning supplies.
Typical cupboard stuff.
The next one had trash bags, saved plastic bags, reusable grocery bags, etc.
Above it, there were two whole cupboards filled with coffee mugs.
Next to them were plates and bowls.
He found utensils and mason jars and a separate drawer with just the lids. Pots and pans and tupperware and not a single thing that he really needed to know the location of.
But he still felt a weird weight lifting off of his shoulders when he could step back to look at the contents of each little nook and cranny.
He just liked knowing where things were.
Hitoshi went around closing all of the doors and moved to explore the living room.
He skimmed through titles on the bookshelves and he found where movies were kept. There was a smaller shelf he hadn’t really noticed before completely stuffed with vinyl records and CDs, topped with a small record player.
He considered trying to play one but figured just snooping like this was already more than he should really be doing. Messing with their stuff would be a whole other level that Hitoshi was not willing to approach.
He did pull a few out, just partially, to look at. Most of them were from artists he’d never even heard of, which was honestly kind of surprising to him. Yamada ran one of Japan’s most popular radio shows, maybe the most popular now. He’d figured his taste in music would be more streamlined than this.
He pushed the records back into place, moving on to the old and worn armchair. That, along with two couches in similar condition, was set up around the coffee table that sat in front of the TV. He tried them out for, like, the fourth time since he'd come here and, despite their obvious age, they were all still plenty comfortable.
He spent the next however long just searching through the apartment, seeing what it had to offer. He left Yamada and Aizawa’s room alone, as well as their office. But he looked around the laundry room and the bathroom, and, for the first time, really looked around the room they were letting him stay in.
He didn’t find a single useful thing. Well, he found like, cleaning supplies and food and stuff, but he didn’t find anything that really felt important.
Still, when he made his way back to the kitchen, Hitoshi found himself feeling strangely relieved. Like that feeling of not belonging from before had faded just a little.
He sat down on the floor again, petting Blanket. He smiled down at the cat but felt a twinge of sadness taking over.
He really didn’t want to leave here.
He knew it had to happen. Because things were good here. And nothing good ever lasted. Not for Hitoshi.
But, man, he wished.
Wished that he could just keep staying here. Wished that Yamada and Aizawa had invited him in, to begin with, because they had wanted to and not because they'd felt obligated. That they actually liked having him around. He wished he could keep receiving those soft, gentle touches and wished that he had that time Kayama had been talking about – the time it would take for things to get easier.
It wasn’t a lot, he didn’t think. But it still just felt so far away. And he didn’t really know what to do about that.
There wasn’t really anything to do. Even if he could find a way to make Yamada and Aizawa let him stay, it wouldn’t be fair to them.
And what a shitty way that would be to repay them for their kindness. Burdening them even more…
Honestly, he’d really rather just not think about it – his go to move with any tricky situation like this. (What could he say, it’d served him well.) This time, though, Hitoshi couldn’t stop thinking about it. Because he’d been trying not to think about it all day.
And everything just kept fucking reminding him of it.
Which wasn’t fair. None of it was.
Why did some kids get perfectly fine families? Why did some kids get perfect quirks and loving parents? Why did some kids just not? Where was the justice in that?
Just. Whatever. It was whatever.
The world wasn’t fair, right?
So Hitoshi should probably just shut up about it.
Who gave a shit about his own little struggles with fairness.
He still had food to eat. Usually.
And even if the people were shitty, he still had a roof over his head. Usually.
There were kids with worse lives out there, so why the fuck was Hitoshi complaining?
Except remembering that didn’t really make him feel any better. It mostly just made him feel worse.
Hitoshi was pulled out of his contemplation by the sound of the door unlocking, stiffening immediately.
Which was really unnecessary. He didn’t know why he always acted so nervous around them.
He was comfortable around them. He trusted them. Really.
Except… except he was also kind of scared still. Which didn’t really make sense. Like at all. How can you be comfortable around someone if you’re scared of them? How can you be frightened of someone that you trust? They seemed like mutually exclusive ideas.
If you wanted answers to those questions, though, you shouldn't have fucking asked Hitoshi 'cause he had no idea.
Maybe he was just that fucked up. Maybe he was scared of being comfortable or comfortable with being scared.
“We’re home!” Yamada called out cheerily, shoes already halfway off.
“Welcome back,” Hitoshi greeted, only realizing that he was still on the floor when Yamada’s gaze flicked through the rest of the kitchen before finally landing on him.
He was about to take Blanket off of his lap and stand up, but Yamada just smiled and walked over to join him.
“No lights kind of day?” He asked, reaching over to pet the cat.
“Oh, uh. Yeah. I guess.”
“Man, I feel that,” Yamada responded as Aizawa walked over.
He seemed to consider for a moment longer than Yamada had but still ended up sitting down on the floor next to the blonde.
Of course, as soon as he sat down, Jelly reappeared out of nowhere, running out to greet her favorite human. (Hitoshi was Not insulted.)
“How was your day?” Aizawa asked, reaching behind him to the cat food cupboard.
“It, uh, it was fine,” Hitoshi responded nervously, wondering if he should tell them that he had already given the cats treats today.
It was probably alright, he decided as Jelly and Blanket both started meowing excitedly.
“Spoiled little gremlins,” Yamada huffed, shaking his head fondly.
Aizawa glared, but there was no real bite to it.
“It’s only spoiling if they don’t deserve it,” he retorted disdainfully.
Yamada rolled his eyes with a sigh, “Whatever you say, Shou.”
Hitoshi smiled softly. He really did like it here.
Aizawa nodded firmly before turning back to Hitoshi.
“Fine?” He repeated questioningly.
Hitoshi shrugged, not really sure what else to say.
“Ohh,” Yamada interjected, “How ‘bout we do 'worst part, best part?'”
Aizawa and Hitoshi both looked at him curiously.
Yamada shrugged, “You just share the worst part and the best part of your day. My moms did it all the time when they’d just barely started fostering me.”
Hitoshi felt his expression grow a little more skeptical.
“Oh, come on,” Yamada pouted, “It’s not as bad as it sounds. I can even go first.”
Aizawa shrugged noncommittally, which Yamada seemed to take as a green light.
“Okay, okay, okay! Let’s see…” he said, tapping a finger against his chin, “Worst part… has to be talking to my manager at the station.”
He crinkled his nose in displeasure, “Worst part of any day. She is not a pleasant woman.”
Aizawa nodded. He didn’t say anything, but even Hitoshi could see that he strongly agreed.
“And best part…” Yamada said thoughtfully, “Hmm, probably in about five minutes when I start making dinner.”
He winked at Hitoshi who Did Not think about the fact that they had been cooking together recently. Because that definitely hadn’t been what Yamada meant. He just liked cooking, probably.
“You can’t do that,” Aizawa argued, “That hasn’t even happened yet.”
Yamada stuck out his tongue childishly, “My game, my rules.”
Aizawa rolled his eyes but didn’t push it.
“Alright!” Yamada said, “Your turn!”
Aizawa sighed heavily, “Paperwork.”
“For the worst part,” he added at Yamada’s expectant look.
“Of course,” the blonde commented.
“And in three hours when I win ten million yen for the best part.”
“Shouta,” Yamada pouted, “just play the game.”
Aizawa smirked playfully, “Right now, then.”
Yamada snorted, “Sap.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Aizawa responded, rolling his eyes.
And suddenly both adults were looking at him.
“Um,” Hitoshi very eloquently started, “I guess waking up this morning. For the worst part.”
Aizawa nodded in agreement, “I might have to change my answer, actually.”
“You don’t get to choose waking up as your worst part,” Yamada dismissed.
“And why is that?” Aizawa challenged.
“You’d never choose anything else.”
“Fair.”
Hitoshi watched them interact, fighting off some of that same pleasant warmth he’d felt after his first session with Recovery Girl.
But he paused.
Why fight it?
He knew why he’d started. It was the only way to soften the blow when everything went away.
But, honestly, Hitoshi had reached a point where it was going to hurt like hell no matter what he did.
This was probably, definitely the best home Hitoshi was ever going to be in. Maybe… Maybe he should just savor it while he had the chance. At least then he’d be able to keep the memories.
He could deal with the consequences later.
“And the best thing?” Yamada prompted, pulling Hitoshi back.
He looked down nervously, “Probably, uh. Probably right now, too.”
The two were silent for a moment and Hitoshi looked up nervously, only to be met with a wide beam on Yamada’s face.
“I’m glad,” Aizawa said simply.
Hitoshi nodded before turning back to Yamada.
“We can start dinner?” He offered, not quite a question.
“Absolutely!”
Hitoshi smiled, soft and nervous, almost forced, but not quite.
He was savoring it.