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“I'm not doing this.”
“You are.”
“I am not,” Hitoshi crosses his arms. “You can't make me.”
“Rules are rules, Shinsou-kun.”
Yaoyorozu holds up her creation, and Hitoshi scowls as his new classmates laugh. “I thought you were joking.”
“Not really.”
“Come on, Shinsou, do you know us at all?”
“I really don't,” he snaps, but he grabs the bundle out of her arms. The other students erupt in cheers, and he shakes his head, hoping they don't notice his cheeks reddening.
“You're going to look great, man,” says the red haired one - Kiri-something, he thinks.
“This is hazing,” he grunts, unbuttoning his blazer and dress shirt. “Seriously. You're all going to get detention.”
“You know you don't have to do this, right?”
“Shut up, Deku!”
The first bell rings; voices egg him on as he fumbles with his buttons, so he passes someone the bundle that he might work with both hands.
Someone unfolds the jumper and passes it to him, and he pulls it on over his head. Hitoshi’s surprised by how soft and breathable it is. He makes a mental note to ask Yaoyorozu to upgrade all of his clothes, once they're better friends.
He decides to pull the pants on over his uniform slacks, not particularly comfortable undressing that far in public. They're baggy enough that it's hard to tell either way.
“Can I keep these boots?” he asks, instantly awed by the perfect fit. Yaoyorozu nods.
“You can keep all of it, if you like.”
He fastens the gray belt around his waist, scowl deepening as someone flashes a picture.
“Sorry,” says Ashido, pocketing her phone. “Blackmail.”
He snatches the goggles and scarf from Yaoyorozu’s hands, pulling both over his head.
“How do I look,” he deadpans in his best Aizawa impression. A few more of his classmates pull out their phones to record him, and he flips them off, bending down to stuff his blazer and shirt in his school bag.
The second bell rings, and Hitoshi slings his bag over his shoulder. The whole class walks together through the hall, which would be embarrassing except that they serve as a perfect shield from the unwanted attention he'd otherwise be attracting.
He’s clenching his fists by the time they reach homeroom, heart pounding like a drum. As funny as this may be, he really, really doesn't want to get suspended on his first day in this stupid class. The best he can hope for is detention, but it all depends on Aizawa’s mood.
Their homeroom teacher isn't immediately visible upon entering the classroom, meaning he may be running late - something Hitoshi has never known Aizawa to do - but the rest of the class goes quiet anyway, taking their seats in almost complete silence.
His desk has already been pointed out to him; he slumps into his chair and counts down to the final bell in his head.
“I almost forgot,” Yaoyorozu whispers. Hitoshi turns around, and she passes him another bundle of fabric with a certain devilish gleam in her eye.
“What the hell is this?”
She smiles. “It's part of the costume.”
“I know what his costume looks like,” Hitoshi whispers through his teeth. “What the hell is this?”
He hears Midoriya turning around in his seat and then a stifled snort.
“Oh my god,” someone else whispers, punctuated by a giggle.
“Quiet,” someone else mutters from near the front of the class. Yaoyorozu straightens, pushing the bundle into Hitoshi's arms.
“Hurry,” she urges, and he reluctantly takes it, turning to unfold it between his and Tokoyami’s desks.
“A sleeping bag?”
“Get in! Hurry, Shinsou-kun.”
The entire class is watching him now. He swallows.
“You people are the worst,” he says, but he unzips the sleeping bag, climbing in standing up. He zips himself in and sits back down, crossing his arms inside.
The final bell rings.
“Class,” says Aizawa, and Hitoshi jolts. He leans forward, peering over his classmates’ shoulders in an attempt to see where his teacher's voice is coming from.
Oh, fuck.
He's on the floor behind the podium, curled up in a disturbingly familiar bright yellow sleeping bag.
He's so getting suspended.
Aizawa nods toward the podium. “Iida, come pass out papers for me. Midoriya, get your bag off your desk.”
“My bag isn't on my desk,” Midoriya squeals, shoulders trembling.
Hitoshi shrinks back in his seat. So, so much detention. He can hear Aizawa's raised eyebrow when he speaks. “Why do I see your bag up there, then?”
“That's not his bag, Aizawa-sensei,” says Uraraka.
“Then what new yellow monstrosity have you brought into my classroom?”
The class collectively tries and fails to hold back their laughter. A few let out choked snorts while others guffaw openly at the exchange.
Aizawa sighs. Hitoshi holds his breath as Aizawa stands, sleeping bag falling away.
“...what is that?”
Aizawa is staring at him, one eye twitching. Hitoshi stares back, trying his best to look nonchalant.
“I don't know what you mean,” he says.
“Take it off.”
He bites his lip.
“Shinsou.”
He fumbles around, fingers searching for the inside zipper. He pulls it down, looking straight at his desk as he shimmies out of the yellow cocoon.
His peers can't hold back their amusement now. Hitoshi doesn't look at any of them.
“Why are you wearing that.”
“It's very comfortable,” he tries, and Aizawa sighs, rubbing at his nose.
He steels himself, and then pulls the goggles over his eyes before Aizawa looks back up.
Even ever-stoic Todoroki coughs into his arm, poorly disguising his laughter. Hitoshi stares at Aizawa, waiting for him to look at him again.
His hand moves down. His red eyes narrow, and instantly he clenches his jaw.
“Shinsou,” he says, the same tone he uses in training when Hitoshi’s made a deadly mistake.
“These are my reading glasses.”
He rubs a hand down his face.
“Alright,” he says. “Alright. Who put you up to this.”
Hitoshi shakes his head. “No one did. I just really felt like dressing up as you for no reason.”
“If you give me names, I won't give you detention.”
“What?”
“Why are you assuming we made him do this?”
“Because I know you, hellspawn,” Aizawa says, folding his arms over his chest. “Names, Shinsou, or you'll be getting detention in their stead.”
“Absolutely not.”
He sighs again. “At least tell me why, then.”
Hitoshi shrugs. “I lost a bet. Believe me, I did not want to do this. But I'm not a snitch, sensei.”
Aizawa's mouth twitches in what one might optimistically describe as a smile.
“Have it your way,” he says. “Three days of after school detention, starting today. Iida, you can pass these out now.”
Hitoshi sits back down, hiding his grin in the fake capture weapon. A paper lands on his desk, and he pulls down the goggles to get a better look at it.
“No, Shinsou,” says Aizawa, “keep those on. They're an essential piece of the costume.”
“You're not wearing yours,” Ashido points out.
“It’s my costume. I can do what I like.”
“How am I supposed to pay attention in class like this?”
“Yeah, and how are we supposed to pay attention?”
“It’s very distracting, Aizawa-sensei.”
“You all should have thought of that before you came up with this little hazing ritual.”
“Do I have to keep it on for hero training?” Hitoshi asks, squinting as he scribbles his name at the top of the paper.
“You can switch out the prop scarf for the real thing. But otherwise, yes.”
“Do I have to keep it on for detention?”
“Are you actually expecting a different answer, or are you just trying to delay this pop quiz? Come on, hellspawn. Get your pencils out.”
The room fills with groans, sighs, the scraping of chairs as students reach for their bags. Aizawa turns to the chalkboard, writing out the date and whatever topic he's about to grill them on.
“Do I at least get extra credit for this?” Hitoshi asks, gesturing to his costume.
Aizawa pauses. “Sure. Five points, but only this once. Try this again, and I'll be deducting points instead. That,” he says, turning and pointing his stick of chalk at the rest of the class, “goes for all of you.”
“Of course the new guy gets special treatment.”
“Now I know why Todoroki-kun thinks he's sensei's secret love child.”
“I have never said that.”
“But you're thinking it!”
“Quiet,” snaps Aizawa, lacking his usual bite. “Focus on your quizzes, or you all fail.”
“You did great,” Midoriya whispers over his shoulder, offering a fist bump which Hitoshi reciprocates hesitantly. “Hope we get teamed up today.”
“Quiet,” says Aizawa again. Midoriya shrinks in on himself, and behind him, Yaoyorozu laughs into her fist.
Halfway through the quiz, someone flicks a note on his desk, which happens to have all the answers penned in neat script. Iida Tenya is the first to turn in his quiz, and refuses to look Hitoshi the entire time he’s up from his desk.
Ashido Mina slings an arm around his shoulder when the bell rings, talking loudly about how cool he looks in the costume, and how he should really explore a dark color palette for his wardrobe, as if that’s not all he ever wears.
And when it comes time for Heroics, nearly all of his new classmates swarm him, asking to partner up. All Might has to pair him off at random to avoid a riot.
So, maybe, Hitoshi thinks, adjusting his goggles, maybe this class isn’t so bad after all.