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Honestly?
Waking up was a surprise.
Waking battered, beaten, bloody, mauled and chained to a fucking wall wasn’t surprising really, being alive at all was the shocker!
Cause when he’d been hit by that quirk out of the dark, going down like a puppet with its strings cut, Hitoshi was so sure he was dead that his only thought in the moment was, “I hope Midoriya doesn"t mind taking care of Germ for me, wonder if the fucker’ll even miss me, furry little bastard, freeloader, Midoriya’s been wanting to steal him from me ever since I dragged the little mud covered shit home.”
Eyes closed, he didn"t bother trying to talk, knowing from past bitter experience what a waste of time trying to talk in a muzzle was, so he simply lay, trying to ignore the uncomfortable position, the borderline agonizing wounds, and listened, after all, he"d been taught by the best of the best and how to analyze a situation like this was one of the things he"d had drummed into him.
People moving around, people talking, so much intel, so many facts and figures being bantered around, why was he alive again?
Other than to his very few friends, he had no value to anyone important, none at all, he was an independent underground agent, twenty fucking two years old, no family, almost no friends, no one would ransom him, he had no facts anyone wanted, hell, he hardly even even made a ripple in the world with his existence.
Valueless as a hostage, worthless as a bargaining chip, devoid of useful information.
Dead meat hanging, in other words.
So, he sighed, someone wanted to play with their food.
This was so gonna to suck.
*-*
Time passed, as it does, and his bodily woes got woe-ier, and he found a bitter chuckle in him at the butchering of language, and then suddenly, impossibly, everything got incalculably worse.
He’d not heard any footsteps approaching so the voice from nowhere would be a surprise regardless but the tone, the words, the person attached to the voice.
“Someone tell me why there’s a hero chained to my wall.”
Deadpan, level, bordering on toneless.
But Hitoshi knew that voice, loved that voice, had his first wet dream about that voice even.
Heart breaking into a million pieces, the shards slicing through his soul, unimaginable agony of the spirit, Hitoshi managed to crack one eye open, and it was, oh fucking hell, it was. Crouched a few feet away, dispassionately observing him, was Sensei.
Oh yes, Hitoshi’d had many teachers, but only one was Sensei.
A hand reached out, carelessly gripping the muzzle and moving his head around, deep black eyes studying the damage, “Correction, someone explain to me why there"s a damaged hero chained to my wall.”
Standing fully upright, impossibly tall in that position, Hitoshi watched a crab of a man, curled in and shaking, saying “He was caught at location one Sama.”
The look Sen, no, no, he wasn’t Sensei anymore, villain, his teacher was a villain, the traitor, despicable, but he’d trained him well, as had his past, shutting all feelings down, just like he’d done as a child and a student, he listened and watched, he had to live now, had to take this fucker down.
“Was he, perhaps, in danger of discovering anything about our organization?”
“Um um um I don-don"t know Sssama, I can get, get, get you the ones who b-b-brought him i-i-i-in?”
The increasing stutter was understandable, Hitoshi had seen this man mad, or he’d thought so anyway, but the waves of ice cold fury radiating from him now had even him shrinking, even if the tone was still so level, “Do it.”
Two words and the Villain was gone, moving off effortlessly through the warehouse, ordering and organizing, correcting and praising and chiding, just as he did as a teacher.
Hitoshi wanted to throw up, but again, muzzle.
Instead he watched, his one functioning eye a slit of hate, memorizing facts, figures, numbers, quirks, layout of what he could see.
Location one though, that was gonna be a problem, cause, and he only realized it now, he was naked, stripped of everything that might help his team locate him.
‘Should"a let Midoriya microchip my ass after all.’ he thought with a mental grin, gallows humor alive and well as he watched three men being ushered in his direction, trying to ignore how cold he was now.
Trying to ignore how the thing hurting worst of all was the man now striding over, eyes arctic, face blank.
Hitoshi’d never noticed how much emotion were in those black eyes, trying and failing to sit up out of his slump, he gave up and just lay, watching.
The description of his take down was wrong, he knew that for a fact, they hadn"t fought him to a standstill, he hadn"t fought like a rabid tiger, instead they’d kicked seven levels of hell out of him after they’d paralyzed him.
And because he knew the villain, well, thought he’d known him anyway, he know they knew it too as their panic got that much easier to see, “So, tell me what your quirks are again.”
"Downed puppet Sama." "Hammer hands my lord." "Spring Jumps, Daimyo."
The level of verbal groveling was sickening and was so not gonna work. His conjecture proven when, without warning, the man was in motion, an instant and all three were groaning on the ground.
A moment passed and then, “Second, and final, chance, on your feet and report.”
Hitoshi shivered for real now because there was killing rage in the man"s voice, twisting it to a dark place he’d never imagined it could go.
“Oh yeah,” his once hero snapped his fingers and yelled, “GET ME MEDIC, STAT!”
“You three, now!”
This time they were accurate, describing his take down.
“So, at location ONE, which has no value at all other than as a decoy, you see a hero and instead of obeying instructions to leave any such alone and report it to me, instead you incapacitate them, beat them half to death, strip them of anything that might have a tracker in it, and drag them here to gift them to me, like a trio of cats with a dead bird?”
“Have I that correctly?”
The scorn dripping from the once loved voice had Hitoshi shivering again, a deep full body shudder, or maybe it was the injuries, or the cold? Any way, it was getting harder to think, easier to just float, but that voice, that damned voice snapped, “TANGLE, fucking FOCUS, eyes on me!”
Conditioned reflex had Hitoshi’s eye snapping open, focusing on that once loved face, “Can’t have you dying yet, I haven"t gotten to play with the gift they brought me.”
“Now, you three, in case you haven"t figured it out yet, you managed to take a hero, someone who will be looked for, taking the hunt for us from a level one to a red hot ten, so, before I decide what to do about it, do you have anything else to say about your actions, including how you tried to lie to me?”
It was hard to believe anyone could be so stupid, when facing that much rage, to answer with, “Ain’t no one gonna look for that piece of trash Sama, he’s worthless!”
They were down and gagging so fast Hitoshi never say the Villain move, the other two joining him in an instant of thudding fists and slamming kicks, groans and whimpers filling the air as once again the man stood totally still, radiating rage like a blast furnace.
“Here’s how it’s going to go, get out of my sight, get out of my building, get out of my organization, and be grateful you get to take your lives with you.”
“Now, get out.”
Raising a hand in a languid summoning motion, the Villain simply stood and looked in the direction they’d all staggered away in, when a man arrived, slightly breathless, bowing and scraping, soft venomous words chilled like ice, “Tell Stiletto that those three get to live forty eight hours, not a second more, go.”
The lackey went.
Turning next to a tall woman walking in their direction, his once sense said, "Heal him, I want him in good enough condition to afford me a few hours of fun, you know how I play with my toys.” And then, just…
Left.
Hitoshi had no idea what kind of healing quirk she had, but it involved a lot of screaming.
His, not hers.
**************************
The next time he came to it was to a brand new view, still chained to a fucking wall, this time by one ankle, about six feet of chain connecting him to a beautifully painted wall, but that wasn"t what made him mentally groan, no, it was the quirk disruptors on both wrists.
Disruptors, not cancelers.
‘Shit!’
The single word summed it up perfectly.
Because cancelers didn’t work on him, they made his quirk weaker, yes, but they didn’t stop it, it was an uncommon reaction with mental quirks and a very well kept secret.
Of course, it was sensei who’d tested him for it though so, yeah.
Disruptors though, they allowed a quirk to work just fine, for three to seven seconds, then sent a burst of energy through the body, switching a quirk off and then letting it come back.
That off time was different for everyone and again, his once sensei and now a confirmed fucking Villain, capital V, had tested him, thirty eight seconds from disruption to fully active quirk.
And the fucker was faster than a jungle cat and a thousand times more dangerous.
At least someone had taken off the fucking muzzle and put clothes on him, old, worn, soft as butter and warm as toast.
They looked more like rag bag salvage items but shit, Hitoshi loved them already, they even had faded kitten paw prints on them.
Carefully standing to do a self assessment, he found that, as painful as it had been, as bad as the damage was, now, other than tired and heart sick, he was in better condition than he’d been setting out on the fact finding mission.
He’d gone into that with a twisted wrist and a steadily increasing toothache.
Now though, now he was in great shape.
Why anyone with a quirk like that was a villain, Hitoshi’d never figure that one out, hospitals and hero agencies would be falling over themselves to bury them in money just to work for them! But people fell, or were pushed, so while it was an amazing quirk, it belonged to a right sick bitch!
Testing out his new jewelry, he could reach the bed easily, but that was it, the ornate desk, stuffed full book shelves, luxury bathroom, toilet that he was needing increasingly urgently, all were out of reach.
Someone did leave him a bucket though, so that was nice, but he’d leave it a bit before using it, the room was like something out of a feudal lord"s palace, he couldn"t bring himself to stink it up yet.
Trying to decide what to do, he eventually settled on a nap, in the bed, why not after all.
***************************
His new toy was in the bed when he walked in, and he stood, container of food in hand, and watched him for a bit.
The kid had always been pretty, eyes like amethyst, hair to match, only slightly darker, softly waving as if he was in water, rather than air, the kid had complained a few times about his hair, years ago now, and he’d eventually replied, “At least it doesn"t get in your eyes when you"re sweaty.”
The complaints had stopped, those at least.
Kid’d always been a bit of a princess though, complaining about shit that didn"t need words wasted on it.
So pretty though, then and now.
Remembering how it felt to see him chained to the wall, battered and broken, the three that did it only lived because he needed them to spread the fear of him, their blood would have painted his hands otherwise.
Sparing them no other thought he said, voice rough, “Stop stalling, I brought you food.”
There those eyes were, filled with so many emotions, kid had always been emotional, rage was what he was trying for but betrayal was an easy emotion to spot.
A lazy smile curved his lips, “So, Tangle, fancy meeting you here.”
It took only a few steps back to have him out of the young heroes reach, and he stood long enough for them to realize it, watched him bridal that rage, to smother the hurt, nodding in approval he said, “Good, you remember abduction 101 then, now, when your captive offers you food, what do you do?”
The struggle was so clear, do what he was taught, or spit in the one who"d taught him"s eyes.
Again, the kid did what he should have, replying, “Eat, you need to keep your strength up in a captive situation.”
Handing the container over, he said, “Good logic, unusual to see in a hero.”
Condescension dripping off his tongue like poison, he lifted a lip at the ready flush painting across the kids cheeks, saw the intention to throw the food in his face, to scream defiance, saw him turn and sit instead, watched him open and start to eat the contents.
“And self control as well, refreshing.”
He had work to do, he’d get back to this game later, and left the room, the kid wasn"t going anywhere.
**************************************
Bastard.
Bastard bastard bastard!!!
The chant was endless, but Hitoshi’d been taught how to deal with a situation like this - by the one now holding him captive no less - so he carefully studied the emotions raging inside him, taking each one and dunking it in mental ice water, cooling it down enough to set aside, for now at least, and when calm enough to do it without immediately vomiting it right back up again, he ate.
All of it.
Forcing himself to finish the last few bites, trying to ignore how, ”....you know how I play with my toys....” wanted to paint vivid and terrible pictures in his mind, he lay down and meditated, long enough to slip into sleep again, quirked healing, of any kind, was costly to the body, as were nights of hunting for leads, insomnia, loneliness, and all the rest of his fucked up life.
A bit of rest before fighting for his life against his once sensei was probably a good idea.
************************
It was hours later when he woke up, room lit only from a small lamp, the looming figure of his one time teacher beside him in the bed, almost near enough to touch, if Hitoshi so chose.
He didn"t so choose, instead he badly needed…..
“You"re wearing a restrictor now too.”
The voice was low, filled with zero emotions, and meant nothing at all.
An inelegant “Huh?” and, from the near darkness, “Your neck, feel it.”
He did so, almost choking in surprise to feel a collar, like a fucking dog.
“It contains a negative reinforcement device, currently its keyed to the exits of the room, and proximity to the room itself.”
“Feel free to approach the door, don"t worry, it won"t kill you.”
Noticing he was chain free at last, instead he went to the bathroom, relieving himself of the unpleasant pressure, and only then did he sidle closer to the door, figuring what ever the fucking thing did - and he was pretty sure of what to expect - it wouldn"t be made any better by his pissing himself when it happened.
He was three feet before the thing round his neck beeeeped, two and reaching out when it gave a double beep beep in a deeper tone and fingers just touching the door handle when the world lit up.
Fire, along every nerve, only ending when he rolled frantically away from the door.
A long beep as the demon device round his neck reset and he lay, panting in reaction, no lingering sensations, no phantom pain, just him on the floor trying to catch his breath.
“If you manage to escape the room somehow, like, say, you were teleported, the device round your neck would kill you before anyone could remove it, and you’d die unpleasantly.”
“Same for if I die, only then it won"t be pain that kills you, if my heart stops then a kill command takes you out, in the first instance it would simply be pain until your brain shuts off or your heart stops so of the two options, I’d take the second one myself.”
Dark eyes finally looked up from the book he’d been reading the entire time, “Pray I don"t drop dead of a heart attack, cause we’ll be reaching the after life together if I do.”
Silence reigned as Hitoshi scraped himself off the floor, “I can reduce the size of the magic pain free bubble with this,” a lazy gesture of a wrist, on it a black support item looking thing, “consider it an invisible leash, go too far and,” a finger touched the controls and the world whited out again,
Thrashing on the floor, endless agonizing moments later, the pain clicked off again, leaving only a throat on fire from screaming, and this time Hitoshi stayed where he was, knowing if he got up he’d just fall back down again.
The turning of a page caught his ears, a timeless pause and then the flick of another one. Hitoshi counted eleven pages before, “You actually going to get up from there or do I need to just finish with you down on the floor?”
“Floors fine.”
“Suit yourself. Right, as you’ve guessed, I’m a villain, it’s like a side job. Hizashi likes to brag about his three jobs but he doesn"t have a criminal empire gig going so he doesn"t get proper bragging rights until he pulls that off.”
“But, as we both know no one will be looking for you,” - a flicker of doubt passed through Hitoshi at the casual words but he ignored it - “and those three fuckers, honestly, I’m embarrassed to have had anyone that stupid in my organization, but as they brought you to me, well, there"s no reason not to use the gift.”
“Obey me and you’ll not be irreparably damaged, disobey or fight back and you’ll be punished. You already know how now so don"t test it, don"t push me, and don"t try to escape. Really, it"s just abduction 103 from here on out, play along, do as you"re told, try to enjoy it, learn all you can, and eventually, if you do try to escape, then you die.”
“Or just adapt, you might be a hero, kid, but we all know you"re a villain in disguise, just like me.”
Just like me.
JUST like me.
Just LIKE me.
Just like ME.
Hitoshi couldn’t breathe, couldn’t fucking breathe, because….
Villain just like me.
A villain in disguise, just like me.
Head raising, face a complete mask, Hitoshi looked at the man at ease on the bed, laying like a fucking ancient lord, not even deigning to look at him, and simply breathed because….
They’d talked about this, not just back when he was a kid but when he got his license, when he went out on the job, talked about how he’d be seen on the job, how to combat that bias, how they had been treated, both now and in the past, how it sucked but to hold fast, to hold hard, to be true to themselves and do the fucking job as hard as they could, to never give up.
Fuck, all the times they’d talked, not just about this but about so much, abduction 101 was basic, just how to hold on, how to cooperate, how to survive short term but it had nothing on 103 which had conditioning resistance training as a really big part of it.
And that had been a bitch, he still had nightmares about it, but it worked, the collar was terrible, no way around it, but the pain was, while extreme, and he’d screamed his bloody heart out, he’d been taught to scream, when it hurts, let the aggressor know they’re hurting you, don’t be stoic, they’ll hurt you more.
So scream.
101 and 103….
Villain.
Just like me.
===
Not daring to say it aloud, or make any sign at all, he simply got shakily to his feet and lay down on the bed.
Reaching out a hand, in the dim light, he felt a wave of relief so strong he almost sobbed aloud when fingers just barely brushed his own.
Just like me - a code between them that, with the same kind of childhood, the same kind of discrimination, the same drive for heroics, that they were the same, and would never descend to what others expected of them.
So if Sensei wasn’t a villain, then this entire thing was a deep cover mission, and as a captive of someone who clearly had a rep for playing rough with his people, and his toys, this might just suck even worse.
Still tired he yawned, moved his hand ever so slightly, hooked his pinky around the one that met him, and slid back to sleep, he’d find out more about how this was going to go eventually anyway.
Aizawa-sensei wasn"t a traitor, that was all Hitoshi needed right now.
******************
Abduction 103 was always a nightmare class. More students dropped out of heroics due to that class than any other reason, specifically the portion on torture, and resistance to same.
Listening to his kid scream his lungs out when Shouta hit him with the shock collar feature, he’d refused to feel, refused to emote, refused to do anything other than be strong enough to maybe keep both of them alive long enough to get out of this.
If the kid hated him forever, and the look in those eyes right at the beginning of it all had been chilling indeed, well, then, he’d be alive to hate him.
Not even glancing down at the hand now gripping his tight, Shouta didn’t think hate was going to be the problem, and with a sigh he closed his book, sunk lower against the headboard, and closed his eyes.
Tomorrow morning was going to be rough.
Sleepless, he lay in the dark, playing a song over and over in his head, one written by Hizashi, back when they were all so young, feeling the tagging quirk ever so faintly fizzz against his skin. It was that, that was making everything so much more difficult, a combination quirk, letting the wielder see, hear, and locate Shouta, no matter where he was.
And yes, it was an easy to break nuisance. Shouta had several people he could say, "Go, kill that one for me.” And it would be done in an instant but, he needed the one holding the actual quirk holder"s leash to believe utterly in the intel he was being fed, so it had to stay active.
And everyone knew Shouta played rough - even if he actually didn’t, not ever, not really - so to be the person they saw him as, to pull this off, for the good of everyone, he had to play this right.
And the only loser was going to be his one time student, and very good young friend, Shinso Hitoshi.
Mentally raising the volume of the song to drown out all thoughts of tomorrow, Shouta dozed.
***********************
The instant Hitoshi woke he knew he was screwed, even with only the barest idea of what was going on he knew he was a PUBLIC captive of a ruthless and dangerous man.
A man so dangerous that Hitoshi’s very life didn"t matter a jot.
Because, from what he’d already guessed, hundreds, if not thousands, of lives hung in the balance, and Hitoshi was just one person.
It was math at its most basic, the needs of the many outweighing the needs of the few, or the one.
And Hitoshi was the one.
He went into heroics knowing he might give his life one day, give it willingly and if not gladly, he would give it regardless to save others.
And his sensei was trying to save so many many people, so if Hitoshi wanted to survive this, then he had to be what the rest saw him as, the toy of a big cat, one that would be played with hard, that they were expecting to see him be played with to death even.
So, what would the villainous masses expect to see of a toy, a captive, a slave?
Well, screams were a given, and the shock collar made those a certainty, they would expect marks, shit, not burns, Hitoshi hated burns, please let it not be burns, but, forcing his breathing to slow down he felt a minute movement from the bed, and a hand was in his hair, then on his face, the tips of two fingers pressed lightly to his right eye.
A moment"s pressure, almost a rhythm, and if anything it all got worse, because it was a code, subtle indeed, simple enough to only do single words, it needed no light, only touch.
*watched*
That was it, the only word, but it was all he needed to know that their every single fucking interaction was under observation.
Sensei had taken a big enough risk just by not mauling him already, or simply killing him outright, but that grace period was finished, he’d been listening to people move about in the areas surrounding this lush, decadent room, he knew people were within hearing distance so the white out agony when it hit wasn’t unexpected but it struck out of the blue.
Screaming his heart out, writhing and rolling, when it ended he spat out a “BASTARD!” and was unsurprised ("Don"t hurt me please sensei please don"t hurt me!" the little kid that still lived in his heart begged and begged and begged) to be lifted by his hair, slammed into a wall, and teeth to be at his throat!
Being bitten savagely, along his jaw and neck, bruises sucked ruthlessly into the delicate skin of his throat, he fought back and was easily pinned, wrists held above his head, an endless moment of battering hitting more his emotions than his body, and then, it was over with a stunning backhanded blow that took him to the floor, spitting blood and gasping.
He’d had worse, chanting to himself *worse had worse had worse* he gathered his scattered wits at, “Get showered, get dressed, you have six minutes.”
Knowing how sensei was about time, he hurried, trying not to flinch he got up and moved past the man. A shower, even a short one, sounded really good right about now.
*************************
Having successfully imparted the information that they were under observation, and knowing how anticipation made pain a thousand times worse, Shouta struck without warning, sending his kid screaming to the floor.
As a man who liked soft touches, long languid moments of skin to skin contact, sex that lasted for hours, not minutes, savagely marking up that beautiful skin was sacrilege, a true sin, but if it kept the kid alive then, biting again at that sculpted jaw, tasting blood as the kid writhed and struggled, Shouta finished with a round house backhanded blow to blacken one amethyst eye, narrowly avoiding giving a split lip yet would still induce swelling, both of cheek and lip.
It was what everyone would be expecting of Aizawa-Daimyo, the new lord of the Aizawa dynasty.
Killing his father had been so satisfying, one of the best moments in his life if he was honest, and it was the step that kicked off his entire plan.
And hadn"t Nezu been reluctant, so reluctant, but it was logical, it was right, his family had been a weight around the necks of the citizens for decades, generations even, as had the other big five crime families, Shouta would willingly gave his life to bring them all down.
He never thought he might have to give Hitoshi’s life for it to though.
Sending the kid to the shower, not bothering to tend to the wounds, he pondered briefly what to dress the kid in, finally settling on a heavy silk skirt, floor length, subtle pattern woven into it, and a matching, long sleeved shirt, both in a dark Aizawa crimson.
With the low neckline, the damage would be on prominent display.
Fuck, there were still at least four, if not five, weeks of setting up to finalize, ‘fuck shit hell damnation,’ Shouta was good, very good indeed, but the chances of him keeping the kid alive and undamaged through it was zero, he only had a tiny chance to mitigate the damage into something to be lived through, perhaps even recovered from.
Yeah, killing his father had been great, having to act just like him now?
Every day hurt worse than the one before.
*********************************
Standing, head up, mantle of that bastard heavy on his shoulders, Aizawa Shouta watched his kid, his student, his friend, marked with the damage he’d done to him, dress in clothes stupidly impractical, yet beautiful all the same.
How Hitoshi always moved, like a dancer, it set the skirt swaying and he said harshly, “You get no shoes, and you’ll wear this,” he held up a leash, links made of pure gold, only just three feet long, “and your invisible leash will be set to double this length, you know already what happens if you broach that limit.”
“I’ll have time to properly play later, for now, you will accompany me anywhere I go, kneel at my feet when I stand anywhere longer than one minute, eat when I say, crap when I give you leave, and keep your eyes down at all times.”
“You"re a hero, or, well," he let smug satisfaction ooze from his mouth, knowing his audience consisted of more than this one person, “you were a hero. I know you’ll be soaking up intel, hoping to escape and tell it to people.”
Snapping the chain to the shock collar"s D-ring, he said, “Good luck with that kid, you ain"t never getting free.”
******************************************
Day one of his official slave-hood was a learning curve, steep and painful.
It did have high points though, like when one of the Aizawa family lackeys tried to kick Hitoshi’s kneeling form. It was easy to forget how fast Shouta could move until it happened right over your head, leaving a screaming body with a knife deep in their leg, and your “owner” saying, “Mine.” in a tone that would have a demon backing down!
The day had so much bad though, five times he’d been hit, seemingly at random, with the collar, his screams echoing around the big space they spent most of the time.
Kneeling at Aizawa-Daimyo’s feet was easy though, and for some reason the man kept running his fingers through Hitoshi’s hair, like you’d pet a dog, and despite the demeaning appearance of the action, the only thing Hitoshi felt was comforted.
He kept his eyes down after the second shock, not sure if that was what earned it for him but not willing to test it.
At one point several very clearly high end players gathered, Hitoshi focusing hard to get the gist of the conversation, and some bitch tried to fucking buy Hitoshi!
Offered so much, not just money but favors, and Hitoshi was shocked when Aizawa-Daimyo purred, “Zhira-chan, you don"t have enough money in your entire empire to buy this little thing from me, I’ve wanted to get my hands on him for years!”
The talk had moved on but, "Years?" Sensei’d wanted to get his hands on him for years? "What the actual fuck?"
"Nawww, no way, just.... No way!" Hitoshi clarified in his head, ‘It"s just an act, no way Sensei wants me.’
‘Not like that anyway!’
********************
He’d been fed, learned to fetch coffee PROPERLY, like, shit, couldn"t someone just give him fucking pointers instead of him getting hit with the collar for getting it wrong three times in a row?
He’d had to dodge no kicks or blows though, Aizawa-Daimyo made it perfectly clear no one was to touch his toy but him, and seeing the glances aimed at him, Hitoshi was fucking grateful! Even if this was all it seemed he’d have been grateful for in his new life but, while one person hurting him was bad, being a chew toy for the masses? No thanks!
Praying for rest, entire body aching from holding his position at his master"s feet, he simply endured the final hours.
He didn"t get any, rest that is.
As soon as they both got back to that private apartment, Shouta said, “Shower, return to me naked.”
Already feeling a sharp spike of worry at being given an order and not moving fast enough to obey, he sped away.
Being clean sounded fantastic, even if he thought it might not last long.
Having sensei prowl around him, reaching out to touch the damage he’d caused that morning, to give a sudden stinging slap to his ass, Hitoshi tried to hold still, to keep his focus, to know when and how to jump when any command was given, and then he was asked, "How sexually active were you in your last life?”
Licking his lips he managed to say, "Never.”
He missed the blink of absolute dismay in Shouta’s eyes, the hardening resolve, but he didn’t miss the words, "Well, a toy untouched eh? Lets see if I can teach you how to make me happy.”
The night was long, held many tears, all his own, and he’d begged so long and so hard he had no voice left by the time his master finally let him sleep at last.
But on the flip side, despite how sore every part of him now was, in parts even he didn"t know existed, he did sleep good after that workout!
********************
Hitoshi learned, and he lived, although trying to remember a time he wasn"t his masters slave was hard and getting harder, because to sell what they were trying to be, he had to actually be it, to focus every second on his sensei, to do what he said, the instant he said it, to scream for him, to beg when he was used, to cry out and try to please, his fumbling attempts at the beginning turning into more assured motions with nightly training.
He’d never thought of himself as an exhibitionist but Aizawa-Daimyo was, it seemed, and Hitoshi learned - it took only one lesson, not with the collar but with a leather strap as several people looked on, for Hitoshi to get over any shyness he might ever have had, and he obediently took any position his master gestured him to take anywhere they happened to be.
Sensei had always been stingy with words, now was no different, and Hitoshi learned what each and every tiny gesture meant, what a flicker of an eye directing him was to be lept upon, whether it be for a fresh cup of coffee or to raise his skirts, prop his foot on Shouta"s chair and let himself be played with as Shouta worked, one hand lazily fingering him, or stroking along his length, or simply cupping and playing with his balls like a glorified fidget toy.
His body belonged to Aizawa-Daimyo, and it simply became easier to believe it than to try and hold onto a time or place that was different.
**************************
Kneeling at Shouta’s feet, Hitoshi was surprised to be gestured to stand, grateful as well, he’d been prepped before they left for Sensei to work, he had some kind of meeting today, important Hitoshi guessed, and he was feeling frustrated, to say the least, and bored, so he rose with alacrity.
The three low level family heads had been petitioning to join house Aizawa, or at least to be affiliated with it, and if their yapping was getting to Hitoshi, it was for sure starting to do something to Shouta.
**Because with no pause he was given the tiny flick of the wrist that meant, “Grab the desk!” and was pushed over it, hands instinctively gripping the far edge, his position only getting worse, or maybe better, when his long skirt was lifted to the small of his back, leaving his bare ass on show.
Not to the men now gaping at them, but to Shouta.
A whisper of fabric and the now familiar feeling of being penetrated, bored words drawled, "Go on, you were trying to convince me you’re worthy of my time."
Seeing them blink back into motion, close their mouths, and try to continue with their petitioning, while Shouta hilted himself in his slave and began to lazily thrust, was probably the most amazing moment of Hitoshi’s life.
The angle, he was already panting, trying to muffle himself, it was bad enough the sound of flesh on flesh interrupting the conversation but then Shouta shifted to the side, just enough to bring his hand down in a wicked slap, right on his under-curve, like a rifle crack, and he barked, “What have I said about muffling yourself?”
A second slap landed and this time Hitoshi yelped loudly, and the thrusting was getting harder, and this time he was expecting it when he felt Shouta shift to the side, but the sting of the blow was redoubled and he hollered, louder again as the next blow landed, and Shouta was fucking him for real now, the the men had to raise their voices to be heard over his noises.
A strangled scream as he climaxed and was fucked through it in no way made his day any less surreal, it only got stranger when he was turned, forced to kneel, and commanded, "Clean me."
Shouta hadn"t cum, he often didn"t, and now his erection stood proud and high, and Hitoshi carefully took the wipes already in place under the desk - how the fuck had sensei planned this out to even have them ready - and did as he was bid, obeying the next command almost eagerly, this one not even spoken as a hand forced his face into position, closing his mouth around the newly cleaned dick, trying to move only to be held in place, clearly he was just supposed to look good so, settling a bit more into a comfortable stance, he took as much of Shouta in as he could, and possessed himself in patience.
There were worse ways to spend time in this place than warming his Sensei’s cock.
**One thing for sure, Hitoshi was learning loads about things he did, and didn"t, like when it came to his body and while it would have been lovely if he had any choice in it, at least sensei made sure he sometimes actually enjoyed some of it.
********************
He’d been left tied to the wall while Shouta was gods knew where, shock collar thankfully turned off, and the crowd of bored young high-bloods he could hear were a distraction at first but now, well, the main one was a serious irritant, like Bakugou back in class, only now he couldn"t do anything about it, other than kneel in place and wait for sensei to get back and collect him.
The yapping fucker was getting on Hitoshi’s last nerve though, hero this, hero that, spy in our midst, Aizawa-Daimyo isn"t worthy to inherit, we need a strong leader, bla bla bla.
So Hitoshi did what he always did when he failed to stop and think things through, he ran his mouth, asking "A leader like you, shit for brains? You"re not fit to kiss the ground Aizawa-Daimyo walks on!”
Expecting several things, up to and included having the shit kicked out of him by the nine now turning his way with clear intent to harm, he was shocked to hear, “Do you challenge me Kaito, is that what this is?”
Realizing in that instant that he’d been left there to gather intel, that he’d fucked up so bad by running his mouth, Hitoshi froze as the velvet voice of condensed rage flowed through the air, and the kid he’d just needled, not much older than Hitoshi himself was paled, but he had a spine, Hitoshi gave him that, because after that first hesitation, his chin rose and he said, “Yes, yes, I challenge you!”
Everyone moved back, Hitoshi sent to the side as well, and Shouta proceeded to wipe the floor with the little punk, leaving him winded and breathless on the floor. Sensei knelt then, saying something that made him flinch hard, and then Shouta stood tall, reaching an impatient hand, and Hitoshi froze, cause the entitled little punk was handing up the belt he wore.
Was being assisted by his friends up onto all fours, and Hitoshi was being gestured over, was made to bend over the defeated figure, had his bare ass exposed, the belt lashing down, and while this time Hitoshi hissed, he didn"t scream.
He wanted to!
Fuck did he want to but the little punk was snarling fuck yous and still gagging at the gut blow that had taken him down and was only just loud enough to be heard if you were actually on him, as Hitoshi was, and it was ten with the heavy leather belt but it was in front of a room full of punk ass brats and the belt hurt, was agony, but it was shame that bit deep, and then it was worse when he had to kneel, abused flesh smarting, and watch as Sensei took a place in the middle of the room and said to the remaining, "Come at me then, if you think you can."
It was nice watching them all go down to him, to Hitoshi’s god, but for them to get to play, and him have to kneel, knowing that his words precipitated it all, that Shouta was working so hard to keep him safe, to keep them both safe, to pull something off to save so many, and Hitoshi’s big fat mouth had put all that at risk.
Had spit on what Sensei was doing.
That was hard to deal with, as was knowing it wasn"t over.
*-*
Trailing after that noble form, guts writhing in shame, his golden leash held carelessly in one of his master"s hands, they were down in the armaments room, the manufacturing and support area of the base, where Shouta picked a piece of spring steal out of a bin, only as wide as two fingers, not quite as long as his forearm, thin and light and springy, and turned to one of the main workers whose quirk was something to do with metal manipulation, Hitoshi thought, but there were so many people, he had no idea how Shouta did it but he knew them all, names, birthdays, quirks, relationships, how they did in school, their kids names, kids quirks….
Endless, the man had an endless supply of facts about the people attached to his family and they clearly loved him for it.
The old lord had been feared and respected, but Aizawa-sense was loved.
Numb with dread, knowing what he’d already had was nothing, was only the beginning of his punishment, only part of what he deserved, Hitoshi watched Shouta hand it to her, saying, “Round the corners for me, good, now, round and smooth all the edges,” he took it back in his hands, rubbing them across the newly changed surface, gripping one end for a moment, then handed it back, saying with a few gestures thrown in for clarity, “Curve in starting here, ending there, good, now match it on the other side, yes, exactly like a handle, in fact, HIMOTO-SAN!” a younger worker ran over, “After Tsutaya-san is done, can you rope the handle for me?”
The girl nodded eagerly as the older woman looked briefly at Hitoshi kneeling in place, then said, “Hold on, it needs to be a balanced weight before you can do the handle, here.” And while it was a beautiful thing to see metal flowing like water into its new shape, and then rope stitching into a tough, textured, easy grip handle, knowing exactly what his once sensei had them make, that he then tucked into an inner pocket, had Hitoshi actually shaking with dread.
He’d fucked up, he knew that, fucked up so bad, and now he was about to learn better.
*-*
He’d seen the kid getting comfortable in his position, and bored, and restless. Shouta’d tried to tire him out, used him several times a day, in ever more creative ways, calculated to keep him as loud as possible, knowing as soon as his door was closed people were crowding round to listen, that his people were making bets on how much his kid would scream that night, how many times they were fucking, knowing the bastards with the surveillance quirk on him were watching too but….
His kid had the stamina of a team of Pegasus, or dragons maybe.
And today it had boiled over.
Fuck fuck fuck!
He’d handled the challenge brat, and the shame of being used as a spanking bench for a slave to be punished on had lowered the kids crest so far it would take ages for them to come back from it, and then Shouta’d wiped the floor with all the young high-bloods who’d been listening to the punk ass kid, all of them snarling and yapping to rise higher in his ranks.
Well, they’d lick their wounds for a few weeks anyway.
And hopefully by then it would all be over.
For now though, he sighed, his kid had fucked up, publicly, and Shouta had a reputation to maintain.
What he’d done in public, like fucking him here and there where anyone could watch, as and when the moment seemed right, it had all reduced Hitoshi in their eyes to the level of a thing, a toy, a pet, non-threatening and the opposite of dangerous, which was exactly what Shouta needed to keep the kid alive long enough to hopefully come out the other side alive but, now, Hitoshi had reminded too many people that he used to be a hero, was a potential threat.
Snapping his fingers as he got on the bed, simply motioning where he wanted the brat, he’d already taken his own clothes off, because he’d be able to give exactly zero comfort, had to make this look, and sound, like how the last Aizawa-Daimyo behaved.
Shouta had to act like a man who was known to beat his toys to death, for no reason other than they failed to please him when he was in a pissy mood.
Sick in his soul, he forced that back, keeping his eyes hard as flint as he said, “You know what you did, now, right there."
And the kid, eyes so filled with regret and guilt and shame it made Shouta want to do nothing but hug him, to comfort him, to keep him safe, laid himself across Shouta’s lap, pliant and ready.
The little implement he’d had his people make for him, it truly was wicked, light, springy, long enough to lay fire right across his brats ass, narrow enough to take at least a half dozen strikes, if not more, to cover top to bottom.
It made a spoinging snap sound as he brought it down, and he had to snarl, “Are you denying me your song again?” for his kid to start howling.
And howl he did, he’d already had ten with a doubled over leather belt - and hadn"t made a sound, stubborn kid, stubborn prideful…. Damn damn it to hell and back again - the whippy thing landed again and now Hitoshi squealed, yelled, hollered and eventually screamed under the relentless fire.
When Shouta did finally finish, he cast the item down beside him, carelessly reposition the sobbing figure, having him crouched over his legs now, face pressed between Shouta’s shins, ass tucked against his lower belly, knees folded up under him, and Shouta casually slid his own totally uninterested dick under that now scalding red ass, looking exactly as if he was using the punished body as a cock warmer.
It let him prop his book on the kid, let him use his free hand to trail up and down the shuddering figure.
It let him finally trail his fingers up and down heaving ribs, to tuck them under for a moment, when the kids sobs had quieted enough to be sure it would work, and to press the briefest of messages against that muscled stomach pressed against his own thighs.
*Forgive*
*Love*
*Always*
It was all he could do, and even that seemed to overwhelm Hitoshi, causing him to grip tight to Shouta’s ankles and shake with near silent sobs but it was all Shouta could safely do, so he turned his page, ancient poetry doing its best to keep him occupied.
Never stilling his hand as it wandered all over his lap full, the feeling of hot flesh pressed against his stomach making his own heart hurt even worse.
They"d get through this, he swore silently to himself and to his boy, he would get them both through this!
Or die trying.
**************************
Working at his desk next morning, Hitoshi at his feet as usual, he could hear the kids pained breaths as he knelt, savagely welted ass and upper thighs resting firmly on hard calf muscles, each exhale a faint wheeze.
As un-needed distractions went, it was champion!
And then his head bean counter came in, a list as long as his arm and what little patience Shouta had evaporated. Not bothering to speak he snapped his fingers, tapped the side of his desk that was empty just for things like this and Hitoshi, with a wince that his accountant clearly latched onto, judging how he paused and gaped, stood and pressed against the desk top, slowly bending over, stretching his arms above his head to grip the edge of the solid wood.
If anything, his kids breathing evened out slightly, having something to focus on always did help with pain management.
Knowing the loathsome little man currently licking his lips before starting to speak, items out, revenue in, Shouta kept his eyes on him, clearly taking in the information, and let his free hand hike the back of the long skirt up and out of his way, a frightened whimper causing the clerical worker to break off again, to visibly think about asking something, take in Shouta"s expression, and return to his report.
Rubbing the heated, still swollen welts lightly, Hitoshi squirmed with a whine, receiving a light smack for his pains, and he did cry out, but softly, a needy tone that was new, and Shouta felt his heart break a little more at the damage he was doing. But knowing how word would spread, had already spread about the screaming from his quarters the night before, Shouta let a few seconds go, until Nemoto-san was well into his statistics and then slapped down again, only enough on normal flesh to create a very faint heat.
However, as he was landing his palm and fingers onto already well punished skin and muscles, Hitoshi cried out again, and then whined as Shouta stroked across the welts, never once looking away from his accountant, and Nemoto was having a hard time talking now, and was shifting in discomfort, his pages and pages of reports now being held at a very awkward angle indeed to try and hide his crotch as Shouta landed another spank, gentle like the rest and Hitoshi writhed, never once letting go, and gasped, "Please, Daimyo pleeease....."
"Nemoto-san," voice a velvet purr, Shouta said, "you seem to be in some difficulties, would you perhaps like to join in?"
"Aizawa-Daimyo, you mean, I could...." the weasel of a man mimed a strike in the air and Shouta laughed, "Oh no Nemoto-san, I meant bare assed beside my slave, you seem to be rather into what he"s getting, if I"m any judge at all of the matter."
To be honest, even Shouta was surprised at how fast the man invented excuses to escape the room but, just as he touched the door Shouta said, voice hard and clear, "If the money you"ve taken from me isn"t returned in less than three hours, I"ll have you strung up in the main meeting hall and whip you to death myself."
Letting the man leave at that point, allowing not a jot of his frustration show because the fucker had left the door open as he escaped, forcing Shouta to continue as he"d begun, knowing curious and hungry eyes would be watching.
**Turning slightly he landed another soft slap, and Hitosh bucked, a high pitched whine joining the jumbled begging, and knowing the anesthetic properties of sex, Shouta slid one hand under the frantically shifting hips, stroking as lightly as he spanked, until his kid was humping the desk frantically.
Tiring of teasing he gave a snarling command as he landed a solid blow across the wriggling buttocks, "Cum for me NOW!"
A shriek and the kid was gone, orgasm clearly doing the trick for taking his mind off his pain.
*-*
**Leaving Hitoshi draped across his desk, limp now, legs shaking slightly in reaction, Shouta got back to his paperwork, this time managing to get through five reports before the blissed out kid was once again shifting and huffing pained breaths.
Clearly he still had energy to burn, so Shouta leaned back and said, "Stand."
Hitosh did so, speedily and with hands respectfully held behind him, eyes down.
Words, words with his kid were so important, he could be gutted with words alone, and he was already in such danger, so Shouta played over a few times in his head before saying, voice dripping with scorn but the words actually back-handedly positive, "When you had adoring fans drooling over you, did you have a favorite workout routine?
"Yes Aizawa-Daimyo, I did."
"Strip, and do it there." He gestured to the open space in the middle of the room, large enough for a workout, as long as it wasn"t too gymnastic.
The freshly soiled skirt, as well as the rest of the kids clothes, were carefully removed, placed onto a chair and, naked, Hitoshi moved gracefully to comply with the order.
Lean muscles carved and honed by both exercise and the physical nature of the job itself were beautifully on show as the kid began, slowly, to warm up.
It was clearly incredibly painful as he bent and twisted and stretched, but the hypnotic rhythm and focus clearly also gave some relief, and the people who made the excuse to go past the Daimyo"s office to peek in and catch a glimpse increased.
Wishing he had time to properly appreciate it, and that he had some music to set the show to, Shouta got back to work, they were almost there.
****************************
Sending a brief text to his main healer, when she arrived he said to his now swayingly tired boy, "Hitoshi, return to our quarters, get on the bed, and be healed."
"Remain there until I come for you."
Looking at the woman as she scanned his boy, he smiled with teeth well on show, "Aren"t you proud of me? I haven"t killed him yet, but I need him in a fit state for tonight, I have," a deep laugh, "plans."
"Make sure he"s up to it, please. Now, both of you, out!"
Pleased to have found a believable reason to get Hitoshi healed, Shouta got back to work again, this time with blessedly zero distractions.
*****************************
The workout routine finally gave Shouta something to do with Hitoshi"s energy, he"d gone from working nonstop as a hero to simply following and kneeling at the feet of a man who spent far more time at a slow stroll than galloping across roof tops so, grateful for the way to tire him out, even if only a little bit, he gestured to the middle of the floor, set some music on, and said, "Entertain me." and watched his boy work up a solid sweat.
Keeping him at it, door open, knowing how many of his people were peeping in, he hid his smile and thought, "One hour, or two, or three? How tired do I want him tonight?"
A silent sigh and he got back to work, he"d gotten confirmation at last, the meeting almost set in stone, just a bit longer, one final push.
Working to the sounds of Hitoshi"s breathing deepening as he worked out in time to the song currently playing, Shouta ruthlessly crushed all hope in his heart, hope was for fools, only hard work would save them now!
**************************************
Striding into the ornate meeting room, freshly built and decorated for just this purpose, Shouta looked every inch Aizawa-Daimyo, lord of Clan Aizawa, beautifully dressed slave silent at his side, eyes down and a half step behind, both wearing Aizawa crimson.
Five families" heads rose to meet his entrance, eyes arctic, yet filled with greed and a grasping lust for even more power.
He’d baited them in with a plan to take all Japan, to carve it up between the six families, and it was so clever, so detailed, so achievable, that they’d all agreed to an in person meeting, both to discuss it, but to also set it in motion, to finalize other parts of it, and to jockey for greater power in the newly created empire.
Hitoshi had tried to pay attention, but kneeling for hours as Sensei droned on and on and on, it was all so boring!
Who knew ruling the world would be all about distribution, and power balances, and supplies and supply lines and civilian resources, and infrastructure, and disaster relief plans, and societal restructuring and and and UGH!
He did NOT sigh, or fidget, or even let his breathing change, but a firm hand settled onto his head, fingers tugging, a command of “Drinks for all!” and he was off to the side board where several beverages had been laid out already, all he had to do was serve Shouta first, and then go to each lord and their retinue, serving them what they demanded.
It did keep him busy, even if they were all shit rude.
Finishing at last he returned to Shouta, who looked up at his approach, and the look in his eyes was electric, and then the lights cut off, plunging the room into absolute blackness, and he was grabbed, and rolled, and they fell together, Shouta hissing “Hold still!” as a sliding clunk and the pressure of the air increased and Shouta grunted, a pained sound.
Hitoshi realized several things at once, one, they were in a bunker, only just big enough for the two of them to fit.
Two, Shouta was using his quirk, the feeling unmistakable but doing it without an eye glow in sight and….
Three, he was canceling everyone in the room"s quirks, all of them.
Pulling Shouta against his chest, arranging those long limbs into a more comfortable configuration, Hitoshi held him, rubbing his arms and sides, keeping quiet but giving all the support as he could, because some of the quirks in the room above could level buildings, never mind yank the two of them out of hiding, and hands and fists and chairs were thudding against their hiding place already.
If sensei lost control then they were both dead.
Then all hell broke out right over them, going on for a long long time, but eventually, the sounds grew quieter, grew silent, and Shouta relaxed at last, began breathing easier, and then he said, “Hitoshi, kid, I’m so fucking sorry!” and burst into tears.
Never in a million years would Hitoshi had expected to comfort his Sensei/Master/Daimyo/Aizawa but he did his best, holding tight and saying over and over again, “You saved me, you saved me, it’s alright, it"s alright, you saved me!”
Finally, his arm full quieted, and the slab of cement slide off of their bunker, and they were free.
Not just of their hiding place, but of the entire nightmare.
Because Sensei had done what no one had managed ever before, he’d captured all of the ruling members of the six families, their extended family members, their lackeys, and servants, capturing as well their assets, their possessions, he’d gotten it all.
Nezu had quietly and in a frighteningly efficient fashion had enough prisons constructed and staffed so they would have places to put all those people, and word was sent out across the world, mind healers, mental health specialists, therapists specializing in mental reconditioning and retraining were needed, urgently because step one was catching them, step two was helping them all become healthy members of society.
Along with that, Nezu took the chance of a lifetime handed to him by his one time personal student and long time friend, because the ruling families were linked together and deep into the halls of power, and now their pawns were yanked out of not just the government, but also the HPSC, and all of them were jailed right alongside their masters.
As were the crooked heroes in their pay.
Once that was done, with his people ready in go, Nezu gave them the word, and did the one thing he’d been trying to do all along, got the workplace and public quirk use restrictions removed.
Not reduced.
Not rewritten.
Removed in their entirety!!!
And while the mad scramble for personnel suited to specialist jobs, such as anyone with a water based quirk for aquaculture farms, or plant based quirks in forestry and all the various ways quirks could be used in the workplace went on, he carefully rode the wave of chaos and in a very short time indeed quirks were a part of everyday working life, a part of life in general, the way they should have been all along.
Or not, because most jobs and past times don"t need anything other than a brain but now it was the people who chose to use, or not, their own quirks.
People who had been ruthlessly restricted in their lives finally controlled their own bodies at last!
He also put strong ad campaigns into play, flooding the entire country with how good it was to get along, how quirks were just tools, how everyone is special, how love was the most important thing of all, no quirk was bad, no mutation was ugly, quirkless were strong enough to not need a biological tool, they were just as special as everyone else….
Aiming at children especially, he got the message out to everyone, ALL OF YOU ARE SPECIAL!!!
It took time to get it all started, would take even more to finish, but at the end of it all was a vision of equality once thought unachievable.
****************************
Watching amethyst eyes fill with anguish, Shouta said, “NO! Don"t you dare!” and the conditioned reflex of obedience kept his kid right there, totally focused on him, and he caught their hands, kneeling to be below their level, looking up into those eyes, eyes he loved so fucking much.
“I am NOT leaving you, never sending you away!”
“You are going to spend time with UA’s mind healers, now, tell me why.”
Catching Hitoshi as his legs gave way, Shouta tucked him under his chin as they both now sat on the floor, and waited.
“Because what happened fucked me up, fucked you up too, it"s abduction fucking 103 all over again, the aftermath, right?”
“Got it in one.” Shouta said softly, then added, “Tell me protocol please.”
“Oh for fucks sake,” but he settled when Shouta slid a warning hand onto his ass and said, “right, right, okay, right, so, separate the involved parties, insure they are both supported and helped, make sure they all spend time with a full team of health specialists, including mind healers, because while you can"t see a wound to the soul, they still bleed and fester, just like any other wounds.”
“Yeah,” Shouta’s voice was shaky, “and together we have some doozies, and you are too important to me to leave you hurt in any way.”
“When your team say you can see me again, when we can do it safely and properly, then we’ll see about moving forward, either together or apart, it’ll be your call sweetheart, for now,” he helped Hitoshi to his feet, repeating, “for now, go with them, work hard, be good, know I love you, love you so much, and I am prouder of you than anyone I have ever met.”
He watched them lead his boy away, standing strong for him, only crumbling after the door closed, falling into a heap, he never even felt it as he was lifted and taken to his own team of healers, he’d hurt the one person in the world he’d sworn to never hurt, had beaten and raped and savaged and humiliated and tortured him, all in the effort of keeping him alive.
There was no way Hitoshi’d ever get near him as soon as he regained his right mind.
Lost, lost to him forever, Shouta had won Japan’s freedom at last but lost the one thing he’d ever really wanted, Hitoshi’s love.
Not even sure he wanted to live, his healers had a big job indeed on their hands, bigger than expected, and they’d expected it to be very very bad indeed.
***************************
Two years and a few days change later, they met again, this time on a beach, worlds away from where they’d last seen each other, and Hitoshi held out a hand, and Shouta took it in his, and together they watched the sun set, watched the stars come out, and it was a peaceful beginning to the rest of their lives.