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Chapter Text

CLASS 2A

2A’s classroom thrummed with anticipation. Today was the second week in the first semester of their second year, and, for the first time this year, their class rankings would be announced.

 A variety of faces were put on in anticipation of this reveal. Some outwardly joked about their predicted low score, wringing their hands together in nervous hope that at least they wouldn’t be last. Others expected middling scores with little trepidation due to their range of skills. Lastly, there were those who have fought tooth and nail for the top spots, creating a general trepidation among all who witnessed this anticipation because of the shared knowledge that there would be a fight regardless of the outcome of these rankings. The said rankings were in four categories – three individual categories of heroics, combat, and academics, with the fourth ranking taking the overall score of each performance in the other three sections, ranking the hero course students.

A hush fell over the room as Aizawa trudged into the room in his usual languid fashion. He cast a lazy glance over the faces of his students, taking in their discomfort and anticipation. 

“I’m going to begin with the top 4 overall individual rankings.” He drawled, lifting a sheet of paper to his face. A hush fell over the class as the battlegrounds of an inevitable confrontation between Bakugo, Midoriya, and Todoroki were set. 

“Shoto Todoroki, Rank 4.” A shocked whisper ran across the room. 

“Just 4?” Someone asked incredulously. The expectation was that the top three spots would be occupied by Bakugo, Midoriya, and Todoroki. Whispers of theories and explanations ran across the room, eventually silenced by a harsh look from Aizawa. Todoroki, for his part, was stoic. He, too, was curious about who it could be that secretly surpassed him, yet didn’t intend on allowing others to see his surprise. 

“Izuku Midoriya, Rank 3.” Once again the room erupted in shocked whispers, wondering who it could be that averaged higher than two of the biggest powerhouses in the room. Midoriya blushed, uncomfortable with the attention.

“Katsuki Bakugou, Rank 2.” The stunned silence across the room was palpable. This time, there were no whispers of theories, secret prodigies, and mistaken test scores. Now, there was only bated breath and shared wide-eyed looks.

“And as for Rank 1…” The door to the classroom suddenly slid open with a deafening crack. 

With assured strides, in sauntered a tall student with a wild long mane of purple hair that seemed to defy gravity. His shrewd eyes with their milky white pupils that seemed to hold hypnotizing depth were locked in front of him as he made his way to the center of the front, finally turning as he fixed his gaze on the dumbfounded students. 

“Shinsou Hitoshi.”

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

1 Year Before

AIZAWA

“You know, He’s a lot like you.” It was just an offhand comment from Hizashi, who was covering the mic with his hand as they watched the scrappy, lanky kid from General Studies with the hand-me-down shoes, grown out hair, and fresh shiner drag Midoriya by his hair towards the edge of the ring. Even though he loses the comparatively short fight, Aizawa can’t stop thinking about the parallels in the desperation of this kid, fighting tooth and nail, and himself, giving it all in his Sports Festival to achieve his dreams.

The difference is, however, Aizawa won. Shinsou walked back the way he came, dusty and bloody, receiving encouragement from the hero students that Aizawa knew could only serve to make him feel more hollow inside. 

In the break afterwards, lost in thought, Aizawa can’t stomach the thought of what might’ve happened if he didn’t make it into the hero course, didn’t become a hero, didn’t meet–

He’s out of his seat before he knows it, absent-mindedly waving a hand behind him at Mic’s surprised squawks. He quickly charges down the hallway towards the direction of the medical wing, his heart thrumming with anticipation when he sees him. 

Sitting in the hallway down one of the tunnels to the outside, smoking a cigarette, sits Shinsou. His nose is still steadily streaming with blood, and his face is a mess of black and blue. 

Aizawa doesn’t know what he’s doing here. He doesn’t know what compelled him to charge after this kid that he doesn’t even know – all because he ignited some spark of nostalgia in Aizawa, and he really ought to just turn around and walk back to the mic box.

But he doesn’t. And so he sets forward the events which would irreparably change not only the lives of the two of them, but also countless others.

Once he comes close enough to the kid, who didn’t see him, likely because of his now swollen eye, he says, “Those things kill.” 

Not for the first time in his life, he curses his social awkwardness, as that was probably the worst thing he could have said to him. 

Shinsou jumps, turning his head so he can see Aizawa and quickly snubbing out the cigarette, scrambling to his feet.

The kid looks rough. There’s no other way to say it. Although there’s no evidence of tears, Aizawa can see a despondency in the depths of his white pupils. 

“I-” Shinsou’s voice cracks, and he clears his throat. “You’re Eraserhead.”

“You know underground heroes?” Aizawa says, surprise leaking through his monotone voice.

“Yeah, I mean, I figure it’s probably my best shot with a quirk like mine.” Shinsou says, clearly trying to act casual despite his obvious admiration for Aizawa and broken face.

“And how do you intend to become an underground hero?” Aizawa asks

Shinsou looks down at this, scuffing his dirty shoes against the concrete floors. “...I’m workshopping plan B as we speak.”

Aizawa raises an eyebrow hidden under bandages. “Is that what the cigarettes are for?” 

At this, Shinsou becomes exasperated, throwing his head back, sighing, and glancing away before turning back to Aizawa. Shaking his head, he asks, “What do you want?”

Aizawa knows he’s pushed him too far, but he needs something to tell him that he’s doing the right thing, that he’s not wasting his time. “Why do you want to be a hero?”

Shinsou is surprised, and maybe a bit defensive at the question. “Why do you want to know?”

“Call it morbid curiosity.” Aizawa deadpans, not yet wanting his intentions to be known yet.

Shinsou looks at him in disbelief. “Listen, I’m not in the mood for this shit. Can’t you let me wallow without making it worse?”

“I thought you wanted to be a hero.” Aizawa deadpans.

“I do!” Shinsou insists, voice raising.

“So tell me why. Wanting it means nothing if you have nothing backing it up. I want to see if you’re just like every other hero course wannabe chasing after money, fame, and glory.”

“I’m not like them.” Shinsou says, clearly offended by the insinuation.

“Prove it. Why do you want to be a hero?”

Shinsou looks at him for a long second before answering slowly, “Our society is built around heroes. It revolves around quirks. We’re always told that quirks are these great gifts and that heroes are there to help us. These two truths are at the center of our world.” He takes another breath, talking a little bit more quickly now. “Well, where I come from in this world, none of that is actually true, just a hollow promise. No Hero has ever saved me, and my quirk was a curse more than a gift . But I know that I can be a hero, and actually help people, not just those the bourgeois think deserve it.” His eyes are wide at this point, something pleading in them.

“And what makes you think you can do it?” Aizawa’s almost resolved at this point, but he needs to hear it from Shinsou. 

“No offense, but I’m not like most of your hero students. I’ve had to work for everything in my life, against all odds. I can’t let myself think that it’s not possible because once I begin to start that way I won’t stop. I know I have what it takes, because I’ve always had to know for myself, without the help of anyone else.” He stops at this, hesitating, “All I need is a chance.”

Aizawa looks at him for a long moment, lost in the familiarity of what Shinsou said. 

“Meet me in the 1A classroom after school on Monday. Don’t be late. I’ll see if you have what it takes.” With this, he walks away. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

SHINSOU

Shinsou ends up skipping the rest of the Sports Festival. He knows it’s probably a pretty immature move, but he can’t be bothered to give a shit now that his best shot at his dreams has failed. He was banking on being able to transfer up from the Sports Festival, before the hero students had a lot of practice and training. 

Shinsou felt stupid. He didn’t think through using his quirk enough. He rarely ever got practice with it, and just barely even knew how it worked. How did you expect to make it with that? When Midoriya snapped out of his quirk on his own, something that has never happened, Shinsou panicked. He forgot where he was, yelling at Midoriya to get him to respond, fighting tooth and nail. He faintly remembers dragging Midoriya by the hair shortly before getting suplexed. Now that he’s shown his rotten personality and aggression on national television, nobody is sure to think of him as hero material now.

Everyone, that is, except maybe Eraserhead. Shinsou’s head is reeling. Eraserhead, the hero that introduced him to underground work, the one who made it into the hero course during his Sports Festival, actually acknowledged him and is giving him a chance. He could hardly believe it. Despite his crushing defeat, Shinsou walks home with a new spring in his step.

He quickly realized that he underestimated how many people actually watch the Sports Festival. How was he supposed to know so many give a shit about the lives of highschoolers? Shinsou notices this because of the new looks he’s getting from people on the subway. People are looking at their phones, then glancing up at him. 

Shinsou’s not exactly inconspicuous with his beaten up face, easily recognizable appearance, and the fact that he was still wearing his UA sports uniform under his jacket. He plugs his headphones into his cassette player, pressing play and starting to listen to drown out the attention. 

As he’s getting out of the subway station, some guys pass him, one of them calling out, “Hey, you’re that brainwashing guy! Man, that was so cool the way you dragged that hero course guy. Where’d you get those scars?”

Shinsou pretends as if he didn’t hear, pushing past them. The small white lines running across his face under his eyes aren’t that noticeable to Shinsou, the cause of such scars having happened so long ago now, but people tend to point them out, making him even more conscious of his rough appearance.

He sees himself in the recaps on the screens around the city, pulling his hood over his head to try and mask himself from the unwanted attention. 

Shinsou finally gets to the group home he’s staying in. He’s been here about three months now, but he’s been coming in and out almost his entire life periodically between placements. The people at this home are “specialized in dangerous quirks,” Which basically meant that both the caregivers and the kids were always either evil, jaded, or both.

Just as he got up the stairs and walked through the door of the shared bedroom, a voice called, “There he is!” A group of kids, ages ranging from a couple years younger than Shinsou to the leaders, who were the few 17 year olds in the home came up to where he was now standing at his cot. These kids were the type who were resigned in their origins, who accepted the lowlife of a criminal with open arms, still under the delusion of the fantasy of freedom in rebellion.

“What?” Shinsou sighed, exasperated, pulling his headphones off and stuffing them in his backpack.

One of them – Haruto, a tall, spindly guy with gray hair, laughed, “We saw your performance in the Sports Festival.”

“And? ” Shinsou asked, annoyed. Despite his outward exasperation, his heart was sinking. Whatever could make kids like them unite could only spell bad news.

“Nothing much, just that you really showed your true colors.” He smiled a mean grin. “You’re so quiet! We didn’t expect this from you, but watching the way you screwed over those rich kids and beat up that hero course loser made us realize you might have more in common with us than we thought.” A couple others nodded.

Shinsou could only stare back for a second, his heart sinking as he realized that they were here to congratulate him on his utter failure to become a hero. He collected himself, though, saying, “Look, I don’t want any trouble, but I’m not in the mood for this right now.” At this, he turned slightly to his cot, wishing dearly to fall on those hard springs and thin sheets and never wake up.

A hard darted out to grab his shoulder, making him freeze. “Trouble? Frankly, I’m disappointed. We were coming to you as friends.” Haruto said, faking sincerity. “See, now that you realize you don’t belong with those stuck-up heroes, we were thinking you might want to hang with us.” He smiled as if he was doing Shinsou a big favor. 

Shinsou got even more annoyed at this, his exhaustion lowering his filter as he shoves Haruto’s hand off his shoulder. “I’m nothing like you! I’m still going to be a hero, and I don’t want anything to do with any of you.” He glared at them.

Haruto glared right back, taken aback. “Fine. ” He spat, offended. “But you’re just pretending. Soon enough you’ll wake up and smell the roses and realize that you belong with us. Until then, consider this a warning.”

They finally walked away from his cot with those final words, Shinsou glaring daggers into their backs. He knew this wouldn’t be the last of them.

The next couple days passed without anything of note aside from the occasional glare across the room from their gang. 

Then, one morning, Shinsou woke up to the deafening sounds of wood being broken. He startled awake, looking across the room to the source of the noise. 

Standing in the open middle of the room was Haruto with Shinsou’s guitar, smashing it against the ground. Without thinking, Shinsou sprang up and sprinted across the room, quickly getting grabbed by two other older kids, one with a hand on his mouth. 

He shouted muffled yells as Haruto smashed his precious guitar.

Put your hands on these strings.

The wood splintered, flying across the room.

Here you can use my pick – I don’t mind, you’re pretty chill, even if you don’t talk.

The strings made discordant sounds as they ripped free from the instrument with the force.

It’s okay, you can talk. Here, why don’t we get this thing off you?

The neck was ripped free from the body of the instrument, but Haruto just kept bringing it down over and over.

Here, take my guitar and cassette player – really, I want you to have it.

Finally, Haruto stopped, him and his goons laughing as they dropped Shinsou in front of the wreckage of his guitar.

Even if I’m gone, always remember, no one can take away your voice.

Shinsou sat there on his knees, staring at the wreckage. No tears fell from his face. He just stared. Eventually, one of the caregivers came into the room, barking at him to clean the mess up.

That night, smoking on the roof, he finally let the tears fall, crying quietly as he looked into the stars.

He eventually got moved out after that morning because some of the other kids complained to the caregivers about Shinsou’s “aggressive behavior.” Shinsou couldn’t even bring himself to be angry at the injustice of it all with how glad he was to get away. That said, however, he had no false hope that this new foster placement would be any improvement on the group home.

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

AIZAWA

He held Shinsou’s file in his hands. Shinsou Hitoshi he read, passing the name around in his head. He’s well aware of the fact that he’s stalling, but by the size of the folder, he knows he’s about to open a whole new can of worms. 

He opens the folder, skimming Shinsou’s current and skinniest section for UA. He’s at the top of all of his classes, and besides a few tardies and unexcused absences, he seemed to be a good student. 

Aizawa turned the page to the personal section. Immediately he was struck by the accompanied image. A child no older than five years old stares back at him from the page. He’s scowling, his face framed by a wild spray of purple hair. Aizawa begins to read.

Admitted into foster care at 3 years old following the death of mother and abandonment by father. He sighs, reading down the list of various foster and group homes. He reads how the details of abuse from the changed placements stop as he gets older, and he starts staying in homes longer. Did the abuse stop, or did he stop talking to adults about it?  

As he read on, he reads report after report of bad behavior in school. There are reports of him stealing, bullying, and "talking back" to teachers. Aizawa's mouth twists in doubt. If he's such a bad student, why is he at the top of every class?

Eventually, Aizawa pauses as he gets to a criminal conviction. As he reads on, his heart sanks. 

Six months in juvenile detention at 13 years old. Clearly, Shinsou had to have struck some kind of deal with Nezu in order to be able to attend this school, as the only reason he was able to be in the correct year of schooling was that he had skipped a grade at a young age.

Growing weary, he set the folder down. Aizawa knew that whatever was in this folder could not be a completely objective representation of Shinsou as a person, but he also knew that as a teacher he should be careful and look for signs of violence or other instincts unsuitable for a hero. 

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

AIZAWA

Look for signs he did. In the initial practices and sparring sessions, he scrutinized Shinsou’s behavior, looking for the dangerous, rash, violent criminal that his file outlined.

 One instance struck him in particular, but not for the reason he thought it would. 

“Do you have any previous training or experience fighting?” Aizawa asked as they finished up their warmup. Today was the first day he would teach Shinsou combat after about a week of intensive physical training. He chose this question carefully, looking to see how Shinsou would react.

Shinsou paused carefully, seemingly searching for words. “I…have gotten into a few fights, yeah.” He paused, “Kind of hard to avoid in a group home.” He looked away at this. 

“I see.” A stretch of awkward silence followed. “Did you win them?” He asked, trying to gauge Shinsou’s perspective on fighting.

Shinsou’s face twisted. “Can you really win these things? All you can do is try to survive.”

“And these fights? They were for survival?” 

Shinsou looked at him for a long second before explaining, “Where I come from, people fight to get control. Over their lives, over others, but most importantly, themselves. When you’re on the receiving end of this fight for control it’s like taming a wild animal. It’s like I said – you do what you can to survive.”

Aizawa watched him stoically as he said this, slightly taken aback by the honesty that had just begun to surface behind the kid’s rough facade. “Fair enough,” Aizawa nodded, satisfied with that answer. “Let’s see what you got. Hit me.” 

Shinsou paused for a second, as if he was looking for a catch. When none was offered, he got into a stance. Street fighting, Aizawa noticed.

Shinsou couldn’t hit him. Aizawa wasn’t surprised – that wasn’t the point of the exercise. However, he could take note of the way Shinsou fought. He threw fast and powerful, yet clumsy punches, and Aizawa could tell that he was more used to more “under-handed” methods, like tackling, kicking in the legs, or shoving. He wasn’t hopeless, but it would take work to get him more coordinated, as well as engaging more of his body. 

Aizawa told him as much in his typical matter-of-fact manner, and the kid nodded, as if it was expected. 

Aizawa began outlining his plan for Shinsou’s training in his head without realizing that he had already resolved that this Shinsou Hitoshi was thoughtful and mature – nothing like the rough, violent criminal in his file. 

He had them sit down on the ground facing each other. “So, what’s your typical diet looking like? Do you eat breakfast, protein intake, coffee…” Aizawa takes out a notepad, ready to write this down.

Shinsou shifts uncomfortably. “Breakfast, no. I do drink coffee, though, and a lot of it. Oh, I have insomnia. You should probably write that down.” Shinsou says, smiling cheekily as he says it.

Aizawa gives him an unimpressed stare, then does turn to write it down. “And the cigarettes?”

“...What about them?”

“How much are you smoking per day?” Aizawa looks up at him as he says this.

Shinsou narrows his eyes. “Is this confidential? Or are you gonna have to call home to Mommy and make a big thing out of a couple cigarettes?”

“Even a couple cigarettes can be bad for you, and no. This is going to stay between us.”

“Okay, then anywhere between a couple to half a pack per day.”

Aizawa writes this down. “Try to get that down. I suggest gum.”

A bated pause stretched on before Shinsou spoke up. “...That’s it?”

Aizawa looks up at Shinsou’s skeptical face. “What?”

“I dunno, for a guy who’s first words to me were literally ‘those things kill’, I’d have thought that you’d have more to say about this. I mean it’s not like I’m smoking a pack per day anymore or anything, but still.”

Aizawa sets down the pad at this, looking Shinsou in the eyes. “I used to be addicted to cigarettes. I know what it’s like. I know it’s a constant battle. I still crave them sometimes when things are going wrong. I’m not going to tell you to stop cold turkey because that will only make it worse.”

Shinsou nods this, seemingly understanding now that Aizawa explained his position. 

“Back to your questions, though, does cup ramen count as protein?”

Aizawa found himself already asking himself what the hell he got into with this kid.

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

SHINSOU

The first couple practices were rough. Shinsou, for his part, was not particularly unathletic. He got around the city by walking and sometimes riding the subway if he felt like hopping the turnstiles, dodging the cops. He did a lot of parkour and ran across rooftops at night when there was nothing else to do and he couldn’t sleep and felt like getting away from home. He was slightly malnourished, but that was to be expected from the shitty foster care meal provisions. 

However, Aizawa’s exercises were just evil. He had him running laps, doing push ups, lifting weights, and all manner of strange exercise. He was building up agility, flexibility, endurance, strength, acrobatics, and stamina all at the same time and it felt horrible. 

He’d just finished his final lap, collapsing on the ground on his back, closing his eyes against the bright sun. 

Shinsou opens his eyes when a shadow passes over the sun, peaking his eyes open to see Aizawa standing over him. He groans. “Ugh, not you.” He props himself up on his elbows. “I was just getting to the good part of that dream.” 

Aizawa raises an eyebrow. “Careful, sleeping on the job might earn you extra laps.” 

Shinsou shot up at this, snapping to a salute position. “Yes sir!”

Aizawa snorted, rolling his eyes. Shinsou glowed with pride at getting a reaction out of the stoic man. 

“Alright, your break is up. Time for more running. You need to build your endurance” 

Shinsou groans, throwing his head back. 

Aizawa gives him a deadpan look, saying, “Consider it payment for making me endure that attitude of yours.” 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever Eraserhead.” Shinsou runs off, avoiding Aizawa’s inevitable glare of annoyance.

That night, Shinsou is at his garage job, buying a redbull at the vending machine to keep up through the night. He groans, rolling his sore shoulder. 

His boss walks in and laughs, saying, “Growing pains?” He looks Shinsou’s tall, lanky frame up and down. “Don’t ya think maybe you’re done growing upwards?” Kenji has seen Shinsou grow over the years, as he was one of Shinsou’s older foster brothers a couple years ago. Eventually, he grew out of the system and ended up taking over this place from his uncle. All things considered, he was a foster care success story.

Shinsou laughs, rolling his eyes. “No, I’m just sore. A hero at school’s been training me to get into the hero course and he’s pushing me really hard.”

Kenji studies him. “You did talk about being a hero a lot when you were little. I guess it’s really happening, huh?”

“Hopefully.” Shinsou shifts on his feet as he says this, something in his gut slightly guilty at this conversation for reasons unknown to him. It suddenly feels quiet in there, despite the din of the garage.

“That’s great, kid.” He claps Shinsou on the shoulder with a heavy, greasy hand. “Don’t go forgetting about me when you’re a big shot hero, though.”

Shinsou chuckles lightly. “I won’t.” The words feel empty.

An hour later, under the hood of a car, the guilty feeling still hasn’t gone away. It’s tight in his chest, a small voice telling him he’s somehow betraying these people with this thing with Aizawa.

Shinsou tries his best to ignore the feeling, honing in on the drum of the shop, the clang of metal on metal, and the smell of grease, gas, and steel.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

AIZAWA

Aizawa’s sitting at a table in the teacher’s lounge with Nemuri and Hizashi before school starts when a small knock sounds at the door. He looks up to see his new student, Shinsou, at the door, an unsure look showing through his usually bored stare.

“Shinsou! What are ya doin’ here so early?” Hizashi calls in his usual loud voice.

Shinsou gives him a small wave before looking at Aizawa. “Hey, uh… can we talk a sec?”

Hizashi whips to him with a puzzled look on his face, looking between him and Shinsou.

Aizawa quickly stands and walks over to the doorway where Shinsou stands out of earshot of the two at the table in order to avoid Hizashi’s inevitable stream of questions for now. “Yes?”

Shinsou glances at his feet, shifting his weight. “Sorry to do this, but can we cancel training later?  My boss asked me to come in, and I’m already on thin ice with him at the moment.”

Aizawa frowned. “You have a job?”

Shinsou glances up. “Yeah…two of them.”

Aizawa’s eyebrows shoot up. “Two jobs?”

“I work at a garage and a restaurant.” 

“What? Why are you working two jobs?”

Shinsou’s looking at him with wide eyes, like he didn’t expect this intense of a reaction from Aizawa. “I need the money, okay? Rent ain’t cheap.” 

“You’re paying for your foster parents’ rent?”

“No! I– I’m just helping them out.” 

“I can’t have you skipping training because of work. I need to know that you are serious about being a hero.” Aizawa’s annoyed that Shinsou didn't tell him earlier, and is even more annoyed that he’s blowing off training for his dream to go to work.

“I am serious about this.” Shinsou’s glaring at him now.

Aizawa looks at him for a long second. “I’ll let it go since this is the first time, but don’t let it happen again. We’ll train tomorrow instead. Until then, I want you to think about your priorities.”

Shinsou looks like he wants to say more, but Aizawa turns and walks back into the room, leaving him by the doorway.

He sighs as he sits down, still frustrated. He looks up at the silence to see Nemuri and Hizashi looking at him.

“What was that!? How do you know him?” Hizashi squawks.

“I’ve been training him.” Aizawa and Shinsou agreed to keep their training pretty under wraps, but he figures these two probably won’t do much. “Don’t go telling everybody.”

“You have!?” Nemuri and Hizashi’s eyes are wide. 

“Wow, Eraser, how strangely kind of you!” Nemuri remarks. 

“Yeah, I’ve never seen you go out of your way that much for a student  – especially someone who’s not in the hero course!” Hizashi is looking at him more closely.

“Why Shinsou?” Nemuri asks. 

“Have you seen the kid? He’s basically an Aizawa mini-me!”

Aizawa glares pointedly at him. “I’m just giving the kid a chance.” He ignores his other feelings surrounding that, grumbling, “And now he’s trying to blow me off.”

“What, you mean he’s quitting?” Hizashi leans in at this, surprise on his face.

Aizawa sighs. “We’ve only been training for a bit over a week, and he’s already asking to move a training session for work.”

Nemuri and Hizashi turn thoughtful at this. 

Hizashi leans back, strolling his goatee in a cartoonish thinking pose. “He does have a good amount of unexcused absences. Do you think it’s something deeper?”

Aizawa sighed. “He said he’s helping his foster parents with the rent.”

Hizashi furrowed his brow. “Ah, I get it now. Try to give the kid a break.”

“I need to know he’s serious about getting into the hero course.”

“He wouldn’t be skipping training unless he really needed the money.” Nemuri insists, "He obviously is serious if he’s willing to put up with you." She smiles at her joke.

“Besides, it’s a bit too early to be sure of his priorities. You clearly started training him because you saw something in him.” Hizashi adds.

Aizawa leaned back, taking this all in. “you’re right. I’ll give him time to see if this continues.” 

Before their training the next day, Aizawa thought a lot about this interaction. He knew Shinsou’s circumstances were different when he took him on for training. He didn’t expect this to come up so soon, though. 

Shinsou’s waiting for him when he gets to their gym, already dressed in gym clothes with his hair up, unusually early, skipping his usual after-school smoking/gum session. Aizawa can see the kid trying to cut down on the cigarettes with the gum, so he doesn’t get on him that much for the occasional smoke. 

Aizawa makes his way over, setting down his supplies and coming over to Shinsou, feeling slightly awkward.

Shinsou’s eyes flit around the room as he breathes deep, speaking up. “I told my boss at the restaurant that I’ll only do weekends now.” He looks Aizawa in the eye. “I swear I’m not trying to blow you off. I want this, more than anything. ”

Aizawa just sighed, not saying anything for a second, looking down. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Shinsou shift uncomfortably. 

“Look, kid…” He sighed. “I know that.”

Shinsou’s brows furrowed in confusion. “...You do?”

“Yes. I also know that I was wrong to jump to conclusions about your priorities. I’m glad you cut down your hours to weekends, but I know that you have responsibilities outside of this, as well. I’ll try to be more understanding of this. That said, I do expect you to at least try and prioritize getting some sleep.”

Shinsou’s eyebrows furrow even more in confusion. “Oh. Thanks.”

They look at each other for a second. Shinsou pipes up again. “I…don’t really know what else to say.”

“I do. Five laps, go.” Shinsou groans, running off. 

Chapter Text

SHINSOU

Shinsou was skipping class. He knew he shouldn’t, but it was the last class of the day and he had a rough shift at the restaurant last night. Shinsou had two jobs – one working nights at a mechanic garage owned by one of his old foster brothers who gave him the job, and one in a restaurant. This restaurant was pretty nice, so the customers were rude, entitled, and tipped way less than they ought to.

He was sitting on the gravel floor of the roof, bright sun beating on his skin. He had his blazer sitting next to him, but he could still feel a bead of sweat drip down his back as he took another drag of his cigarette. 

He’d been smoking cigarettes since about when he’d just turned 14 years old, so a little over a year now. He finds refuge and calm in the still, silent contemplation of smoking. Plus, the nicotine was relaxing. 

He felt significantly less relaxed, however, when he heard the door to the roof open, loud voices of a group of people ringing out. Shinsou hadn’t noticed the end bell ring, or he would’ve left already.

Now, though, he can’t be bothered to get up from his place on the ground, lit cigarette still smoking between his fingers. 

Suddenly the voices quiet as the intruders notice him. 

A loud, cheerful voice rings out as someone hurries over. “Oh, Shinsou! Hi! I didn’t expect to see you here – how did you get up here so fast? The bell just rang.” 

Shinsou groans internally. The last person he wants to see has just bounded up to him. It’s Midoriya, along with three others, who were trailing behind him. He was still reeling from the events of the Sports Festival, and while he doesn’t actually blame Midoriya for beating him, Shinsou does resent him for it. Shinsou resents him for his perfect quirk and his easy path into the hero course.

Before Shinsou can reply, one of Midoriya’s friends with split colored hair speaks up, distaste clear in his posh accent. “Clearly, he’s skipping class. He’s smoking.”

Shinsou just stares at this newcomer, already hating him.

Midoriya flushes, turning to him, hissing, “Todoroki! ” Turning back to Shinsou. “Sorry about him.” His eyes flicker to the smoking cigarette in Shinsou’s hand. “Um, what’s up?”

Shinsou chuckles dryly. He holds the cigarette between his teeth as he gets up, shrugging on his blazer and grabbing his stuff. “It’s fine. I was just leaving.” With this, he pushes through the hero students.

A girl with green hair pipes up. “You don’t need to be so rude. He was just being friendly, ribbit. ”

The tall one speaks, as well. “Plus, might I add that smoking on school grounds is strictly forbidden! Not to mention illegal for your age!”

Shinsou stops, and laughs drily again, looking up at the sky in search of whatever universal power decided to ruin his already shitty day with hero student busybodies just for a laugh. He slowly turns around, plucking the cigarette in his fingers again. “I can’t believe you people honestly think I give a shit.” 

Todoroki glares at him again, walking through the group to stand right in front of Shinsou. Shinsou is more than a little satisfied by the height advantage he has on Midoriya’s guard dog. “I can’t believe you wanted to be a hero. I heard the way you insulted Midoriya during your fight. I saw the underhanded tactics you used to try to win.”

Shinsou burns with rage at this self-righteous prick. What the hell do you know? He screams internally. Instead, he narrows his eyes and leans down, saying, “You wouldn’t get it. You've had everything handed to you on a silver platter your entire life.”

“I’ve had to work hard for my abilities. Unlike you, I don’t give up and resort to mind games to try and win a fight.” 

“Oh, is that why you threw in the towel during the Sports Festival?” Shinsou can already tell he hates this guy, who seems to hate him right back, all because of his quirk and fight with Midoriya.

Speaking of Midoriya, he finally decides to pipe up. “Guys stop! Why are you fighting? You’re both my friends!”

Shinsou laughed. “I’m not your friend. Thanks, though.” He patted Todoroki on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, he’s all yours.”

Todoroki glared. “You don’t deserve his friendship anyway.”

Shinsou just shakes his head, stepping back to drag another drag of his cigarette, staring down at Todoroki. 

He turns and walks away, leaving the hero students in stunned silence on the rooftop.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

BAKUGOU

Bakugou was walking through the locker rooms, freshly showered after working out after school when he heard voices as he was about to pass another row of lockers.

“Hey! Remember us?” Something about the tone of this random’s voice makes him step more carefully, and as slowly rounds the corner, he sees a group of randoms from various non-hero courses surrounding a student sitting on a bench. As someone shifts, Bakugou realizes who it is. Shinsou – the only reason he remembers this name is because he actually managed to beat Deku’s ass a bit before he got out, which he can respect. 

“You fucking brainwashed us before we could even try to compete in the Sports Festival! You’re not the only one who wants to transfer to the hero course!” They seem to have appointed a lead extra to lead the troupe of complainers. 

“Yeah! What even makes you think you can be a hero with your villain quirk anyway?” One of them pipes up. 

The lead extra starts in again. “You see, we’re feeling like you’ve committed an injustice against us, and as future heroes, we feel that we have to do something about future villains like you.”

If Shinsou is affected by these harsh words, he doesn’t show it. Instead, he barks out a laugh, “Future heroes? Don’t make me laugh. You all are pathetic. It’s a competition for a reason.” He moves to get up, but the leader grabs him, turning him and shoving his back against the lockers, the sounds ringing through the empty locker rooms.

“See I don’t think you understand. People like you need to be exterminated before they’re allowed to ruin any more lives.” At this, Bakugou realizes there are also upperclassmen here. Clearly, this was organized by a larger group with an issue with Shinsou’s quirk rather than his actions.

 Realizing the potential severity of this physical confrontation, Bakugou inwardly sighs, about to step in when Shinsou speaks up again.

“Eight against one?” He whistles. “Yeah, you guys are real heroes.” That earns him a swift punch to the gut, making him double over. The lead extra shoves him against the lockers again, Shinsou’s head banging against the wall, catching his breath.

“Shut up! You’re the villain! We’re just getting rid of you for the good of everyone else!” He punches Shinsou in the face, the impact echoing through the room.

Shinsou spits out the blood now spilling from his mouth, his face finally serious. “No you’re not. You think this is going to make you feel like a hero? I guarantee you it’s not.” His half lidded eyes sweep across their faces. “You’re hurting me because you know that we had the exact same chance, yet I was the one who came the closest using my villain quirk , and you also know that I could’ve ended this confrontation earlier using said quirk, but I didn’t. You know why?” The tense silence in the room is palpable. Shinsou pushes himself off the lockers. “Because you’re nothing. None of you matter. I’m going to be a hero, and you’re going to forever be stuck in the background. You pick fights you know you can win because that’s all you can do. So, go ahead – You're just kidding yourselves.” 

Shinsou is standing tall, back straight, looking down at the people in front of him. Bakugou realizes that Shinsou appears stronger than before, despite the blood dripping from his mouth. His white pupils are penetrating. There’s a gentle static emanating from him, commanding the room, silencing all possible opposition.

Just as soon as Bakugou notices this feeling, however, it goes away, making Bakugou blink. What was that? Was that his quirk? However, he doesn’t dwell on it as he steps forward, sparks flying from his hands. 

“Hey! All you loser wannabes better scram before I beat the shit out of you!” He yells, banging his fist against the locker. 

The crowd whips around to face him, and they all hurry away, pointedly not looking at him or Shinsou. 

“Thanks” Shinsou says in his low voice, his eyes piercing Bakugou. His voice sounds much softer than before. 

Bakugou looks away, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “Whatever. Next time use your quirk so I don’t have to use mine.”

Shinsou smiled humorlessly, leaning against the lockers again, looking as if exhaustion washed through him all at once. “That wouldn’t change a thing. Besides, there are other ways of fighting.”

“What the hell are you talking about? It’d get them off your back. At least throw a punch.” Bakugou exclaimed, his usual loud voice echoing off the walls of the locker room.

Shinsou merely shook his head as he pushed off the lockers, grabbing his gym bag and brushing past Bakugou. He waved his hand behind him, “Thanks for the help. Good luck.” With that, he was gone, leaving Bakugou alone in the suffocating silence of the empty locker room. 

Bakugou’s thoughts were spinning. There are other ways of fighting. Shinsou’s words unwillingly ran through his head. You pick fights you know you can win because that’s all you can do. That strange static. He couldn’t comprehend why, but it felt as if his head was splitting. He’d seen for himself how Shinsou had shut them down. He wondered if they would’ve backed off anyway if Bakugou hadn’t stepped in. He wondered if it mattered. 

Bakugou decided that he was just weirded out by that static, pushing the other crises to the back of his head. He resolved to keep an eye on Shinsou – what else about his quirk could he be hiding? 

With that final thought, he trudged out of the locker room, ignoring the tiny part of him that felt as if he’s missing something essential – that something within himself had been irreparably changed by Shinsou’s words.

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

AIZAWA

Aizawa is leading him through some stretches, when Shinsou asks, “So, Aizawa, why do you work the night shift so much? Who decides the hours? Do heroes have, like, a general manager?” The kid smiles at the thought. 

“I patrol at night because it’s a logical advantage for my quirk and fighting style. It also is when most of the criminals and villains that I get charged with dealing with are active.”

“Oh, so you get stuck with the shitty jobs, then? Or is it because you have a day job?”

Aizawa fixes Shinsou with an unimpressed stare. “One question at a time.” He chastises. “I don’t ‘get stuck’ with cases, I either choose them, come across them in patrols, or the police call me for assistance on their cases.” He can tell Shinsou wants to ask more questions, but he continues. “They can be considered worse than the daylight heroes’ jobs, but I prefer not to participate in the media circus of ranked heroes. Additionally, heroes don’t get paid by the hour, so there’s no ‘shifts.’ People submit regular schedules that they follow, and agencies share these schedules with each other and the police so they know who to call when assistance is needed.”

Shinsou looks even more interested at this. “Wait, how do you get paid? Is it by the project? Isn’t that a way for big corporations to, like, underpay their workers?” He wrinkles his nose.

“While we do get paid by projects, it’s typically a normal salary based on a stipend like any other job.” Aizawa answers. 

“...I can’t ask how much you make, can I?”

Aizawa fixes him with another unimpressed stare. “No.” 

“Damn. And there I was thinking you wanted me to learn about what being a hero is like, Aizawa.”

“You don’t need to know all that. Rest assured that you’d be fine. Heroes are well supported in our society.” His voice grows chastising. “And that’s Mr. Aizawa to you. I’m your teacher.”

Shinsou’s grin turns cheeky. “Hmmm no can do. –Oh, I know! How about Eraserhead! It’ll be good practice for when we’re in the field.”

“You’d be lucky if I even let you in the field at all at this rate.”

“Yeah, sure Eraserhead. Whatever you say.” His face turns mock serious. “I need backup! There’s too many of them! Medical assistance is needed on the east side, Eraserhead! Eraser, you go left, I’ll go right.”

Aizawa fixes his with the most unimpressed stare yet. “What was that?” He drawls.

“You know, practice. For the field.” Shinsou looks sheepish at this, yet is still laughing at his own joke. 

Aizawa looks at him for a long moment with that stare before he says, “Run a lap.”

“10-4!” Shinsou yells, saluting and running off.

Aizawa shakes his head to himself as he leaves. What did I get myself into? He asks himself, noticing Shinsou never ended up calling him “Mr. Aizawa.” 

Later on, they’re doing some light sparring. Aizawa mostly has Shinsou working on defense, as he’s still learning the basics of combat. Aizawa knows he’s being a bit rougher today, but with the hero students seemingly under constant threat, he feels as if he can’t afford to coddle students by pulling his punches.

Shinsou ducks under a roundhouse kick to the face when Aizawa ducks low as well. Aizawa grabs his throat, lifting him slightly then slamming his back onto the ground.

 Aizawa immediately regrets it, knowing that was too far. He quickly lets go and backs away, brusque apology just about to reach his lips as he anticipates the kid springing back to his feet.

That doesn’t happen. Shinsou just lays there, leaning on his elbows and hands, wide eyes staring up into nothing above him. 

“Shinsou?” Aizawa asks, dropping his stance. He walks over, unsure, a faint voice in the back of his mind recognizing it as a trauma response. 

The movement seems to snap Shinsou out of it, and just as quickly as it came, that gut-churning look of shock on his face is gone as he scrambles to his feet. 

A beat of silence passes between them before Aizawa says, “I’m sorry. That was too rough. Let’s take a break.” He walks over to his water bottle, faintly aware of the fact that Shinsou didn’t join him, still watching Aizawa from where he stands on the map. After a second, he jerkily nods and walks over, grabbing his water bottle. He doesn’t drink, fiddling with the cap instead. 

Shinsou speaks in a careful voice, a drastic change from his usual sarcastic drawl. “...I don’t know why I froze. I’m sorry, Mr. Aizawa. I’ll do better in the next round.” With that, Shinsou takes a quick swig from his water, setting it down and walking back to the mat. 

Aizawa’s stomach twists at the words, acutely aware that he has fucked up more than he realized. He turns, speaking to Shinsou’s retreating figure. “It’s not your fault you froze. I was the one who was too rough. I took out my frustrations with the attacks on the hero course out on you because I thought if I pulled my punches I wouldn’t be properly preparing you for the same sort of attacks. That was wrong of me, and I need to not let my frustrations get the better of me. I apologize.”

Shinsou’s facing him now, a look of shock evident on his face. Aizawa holds his gaze for a long moment, letting Shinsou see for himself the sincerity in his words. 

Finally, satisfied that Shinsou believes him, he says, “I think that’s enough sparring for today. Let’s see what you’ve been working on with the capture scarf.” Shinsou visibly relaxes at this, grateful for the diversion. He nods, and makes his way over to his stuff where his capture scarf sits. 

“And Shinsou?” The kid pauses, looking back at him. “Just Aizawa is fine.”

Shinsou finally huffs out a laugh at this, the last of the previous tension leaking out of him. “Whatever you say, Eraserhead.”

Aizawa’s grateful for what he viewed before as a sign of petulant disrespect, and finds himself thinking that he’ll be happy if he never hears Shinsou call him “Mr. Aizawa” with that voice ever again.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

AIZAWA

They’re practicing grabs with the capture scarf, with Shinsou latching on to objects in the distance and trying to bring them to his hand. It’s pretty repetitive work, so Aizawa excuses Shinsou’s chattiness.

“How are the people in General Studies? They seemed supportive at the Sports Festival after your fight with Midoriya.” Aizawa asked.

Shinsou’s expression turns distant as he replies in a slightly strange tone, “You know, they’re good. Nice.” He’s lying , Aizawa notices. He notices that Shinsou does that a lot – lies about situations to avoid talking about them. 

Because of this, Aizawa presses. “Yeah? And what about your quirk?”

“What about it?” Shinsou grunted out as he flung out his capture scarf.

“What do they think of it?”

Shinsou laughed bitterly at this. “Honestly, Aizawa, what do you think they think about it?”

“I don’t know, that’s why I’m asking.”

Shinsou stops using his scarf at this, turning to Aizawa in annoyance. “Why do you even care? It’s not like me having friends, especially in Gen Ed, has any bearing on me getting into the hero course.”

“So that’s what it is? You don’t have any friends?”

“Oh my god!” Shinsou starts in exasperation. “What a great detective you are! Of course I don’t have any friends – nobody wants to talk to the one with the brainwashing quirk. What the hell did you even expect?” His face flushes at this, turning back to the exercise.

“I didn’t expect the students at a school like this to be so prejudiced.” Aizawa replies, his brows furrowed.

Shinsou scoffed. “It’s the same society. Just the rich ones. It’s fine, honestly I don’t even care. It’s not like I had that many friends growing up anyway. I’m used to it.”

“You didn’t have many friends growing up?” Aizawa asks, something in his heart aching with the familiarity of this story.

“No. Same story, people hated my quirk. Add a layer of poor foster kid on top of that, and things just go downhill from there.” Shinsou’s voice is detached as he says this. “It’s fine, though, I just figure I’m meant to be alone. I like it that way” Aizawa’s stomach twists at this resignation.

“I see. People are ignorant everywhere, but there are also people that aren’t. These people are the ones you should never stop looking for. Nobody is meant to be alone, Shinsou.” Shinsou looks back at him as he says this, and they are locked in stare for a long moment. Finally, Shinsou nods, turning back to the exercise with renewed vigor.

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

AIZAWA

Aizawa and Shinsou were sitting cross-legged across from each other in the gym. 

“You’re sure ? You actually want me to brainwash you?” Shinsou’s voice is still suspicious, looking at Aizawa with a dumbfounded look on his face. 

“Like I said, yes. We can’t just ignore your quirk.” Aizawa is patient when he says this, despite being slightly exasperated. He knows Shinsou’s been taught to resent and possibly never use his quirk, so he knows that trying to get him to use it on his teacher has to come with some baggage that requires and uncharacteristic amount of patience from Aizawa.

“Okay, ready?” 

“Yes.” Immediately after his reply, Aizawa’s body gets washed over with a thick static. He feels strange. He can still think, but his body doesn’t reply to any of his commands, making him feel as if he’s spectating himself. 

“Okay, I’m going to make you do some physical stuff.” Shinsou’s voice sounds muffled as he runs through the list of commands that they agreed on.

He runs Aizawa through a series of various movements, some more complicated than others. Everytime Shinsou gives a command, it feels like it’s one of Aizawa’s own thoughts until he comes to the realization that it isn’t.

Shinsou gives verbal commands at varying levels of volume, all producing the same result. I wonder if the verbal aspect even matters for commands, since the control happens in the head. Aizawa thinks this to himself, mentally bookmarking this. 

Shinsou has him write his name, say his birthday, and other personal information. Aizawa can solve simple math, but can’t do anything more complicated.

Finally, Shinsou commands him to use his quirk. Aizawa gets a sense of vertigo as he returns to himself, letting his quirk go, his hair landing around his shoulders. 

Shinsou looks a little nervous, shifting on his feet as he asks, “...So?”

“This was very insightful. I felt less in control than I thought I would be.”

“Really?” 

“Yes. There was no way for me to have any control. I tried my hardest, but I couldn’t get myself to do anything.”

“...Then how did Midoriya?”

This has been bothering Aizawa too. In fact, the entirety of Midoriya, his quirk, his relationship with All Might, and his admittance into UA bothers him. “I don’t know. Maybe you should ask him.” 

Shinsou gives him a blank stare that basically spelled, really? “Yeah I should totally do that. I’ll walk right up to him, like,” He starts to pretend like he’s greeting him friendly, “Hey bud! Remember me? The one that screamed and cursed at you and literally dragged you through the mud on live television? Well I have a few questions that I would just love answers to!” He stops pretending as he finishes, his face falling into a blank unimpressed stare.

Aizawa crosses his arms. “Alright, I get your point, punk . Just know that he wouldn’t care. In fact, he probably has a lot of questions for you about your quirk.”

Shinsou tenses at this, “...Really?” He laughs nervously. “What is he, some sort of people’s protector?”

Aizawa frowns. “No, just someone with an interest in quirk analysis. He collects notes on everyone’s quirks that he can.” 

Shinsou slightly relaxed at this, looking a little embarrassed. “Oh.” He shifts on his feet. “...The chip on my shoulder is showing, isn’t it?” 

Aizawa huffs a laugh. “Yeah, just a bit. Relax, not everyone’s out to get you.”

Shinsou scowls at the ground, looking down. “Yeah, not everyone. Just the ones with the most power.”

Aizawa put a hand on his shoulder. “They don’t matter. What matters is that you keep working for your dreams despite them.”

Shinsou looked up at him before nodding. Aizawa holds the eye contact a second longer before returning to his notepad to continue their experimentations. 

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

AIZAWA

Aizawa cursed himself for his carelessness. When they first started training, both he and Shinsou agreed to keep it pretty under wraps to make sure neither of them got in trouble for favoritism. He thought they were going strong, but when he got an email a month in to their training requesting him and Shinsou at the office of the Hero Public Safety Commission, he knew he’d fucked up at some point. 

They’re silent as they’re being led to the office they’re meeting in, neither knowing what to say. They look out of place – Aizawa, with his scruffy appearance and dark, inconspicuous hero costume and Shinsou with his scrappy, hand-me-down clothes and long, wild hair.

They’re led through the door of an office into two chairs. The two representatives in front of them stand when they walk in, but neither moves to shake either of his or Shinsou’s hands. Both of them slump as soon as they sit, slightly in defiance. Shinsou’s rubbing off on you , he absentmindedly thinks.

“I’m sure you’re aware of why you both were called here today.” One of the suits says, folding his hands in front of him on the desk.

Aizawa narrows his eyes. “Actually, on the contrary, I don’t have the faintest clue. Please, enlighten us.”

The suit, with his poised posture, is still unable to hide a slight eye twitch of annoyance at Aizawa’s gruff tone. “We’re well aware that for a month now, you have been training Shinsou Hitoshi to get into the hero course.” He says this without looking at Shinsou, as if he isn’t sitting right there. “At first, we were going to let it slide, but since it seems to not be stopping any time soon, We decided to clarify some things.”

Aizawa interrupts him at this, already annoyed. “Why would it be stopping? What’s there to clarify?”

The suit merely glances at Shinsou, as if he was enough to explain why Aizawa might quit training him before continuing in his restrained tone. “The Hero Public Safety Commission has decided to set forth some ground rules for Shinsou’s transfer into the hero course due to the circumstances of what Shinsou’s transfer would mean.”

Aizawa grits out, “And what gives you the right to do that ? UA’s admittance is private, not sanctioned by the state.”

“Due to Shinsou being on the dangerous quirk registry, as well as his criminal record, with one of the past offenses being battery, the HPSC has decided to take some matters into our own hands to make sure things are done fairly and safely.”

Aizawa hates the way Shinsou sinks in his seat at these words. Aizawa is silent, glaring at the two representatives as they continue.

“We’ve decided that due to the extenuating circumstances of Shinsou’s admittance into UA on the basis of his quirk, criminal record, and scholarship aid, we need to make sure the conditions for his transfer are so that he is not benefitting too much from outside help or favoritism.” 

Aizawa’s blood boils. “Get to the point.” He growls.

“If Shinsou wishes to transfer into the hero course, he will get his one chance in the ranking tests at the beginning of the second year. If he places high enough in combat, heroics, and academics to attain the number one spot overall in the hero course, then he will be allowed to transfer.” The suit leans back as he says this, something smug behind his eyes that makes Aizawa’s chest burn with rage.

The room is tensely quiet as that information settles. Aizawa’s eyes widen, his teeth gritting together. He’s in disbelief at the blatant unfairness. 

His glances at Shinsou. The color has drained from the kid’s face as he’s leaned forward, looking back at the representatives with shock. Finally, when Shinsou slumps back in his chair, utter defeat on his face as he looks at the grain of the desk, Aizawa snaps back enough to spring out of his chair.

“What!? That’s not fair and you know it!” Aizawa exclaimed, his hands clenched in anger. He forced himself to suck in a few deep breaths as he leaned back, attempting to lower his voice again. “This is blatant discrimination!” 

The other representative finally spoke with insistent indifference, “We cannot allow someone like Shinsou into one of the most prestigious hero programs in the world unless we can be sure that he is well intentioned and will work hard.” Shinsou sank even more in his seat at this.

“The others will have a huge advantage on him already being in the hero course for a year by the time the second year rolls around,” he all but growled as he lowered himself back into his seat. “You expect him to rank first in less than a year despite this?”

“If he truly wants this, he will make it happen. Our minds cannot be changed on this. We are acting in the best interest in our jurisdiction as the Hero Public Safety Commission.” He answered with finality.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

SHINSOU

Aizawa and Shinsou walked side by side through the maze of an office building, both gazes fixed ahead of them, neither knowing exactly what to say. 

Eventually, as they reached an empty, quiet hallway, Shinsou sighed and turned, saying, “Look, we gave it a good like month or so, but if you don’t want to train me anymore I get it.” At this, he glanced away, unable to meet Aizawa’s gaze. “You already have enough on your plate and you don’t need a lost cause like me holding you down, so…you're free, I guess.”

A thick silence passed between them. Eyes still on his feet, Shinsou braced himself, anticipating the words he couldn’t bear to hear. 

“Is that what you want?” Aizawa asked, his tone unreadable.

“I- I dunno, I’m just trying to tell you that you don’t need me to burden you anymore.” Shinsou stammered, caught off guard by the question. He looked up at Aizawa. “You heard what they said, obviously not even the HPSC wants me to be a hero. Maybe I need to try something else, like Shikestu or something.” He said, lamely gesturing back at the office they came from. At this, he looked back down, his stomach twisting at the words.

His breath hitched as Aizawa grabbed his shoulder. Despite himself a voice in the dark recesses of his mind told him to brace himself, that Aizawa was about to lay into him for wasting his time. 

“Shinsou, look at me.” Shinsou’s heart stilled as he hesitantly looked up at Aizawa’s intense yet unreadable expression. 

“I made a promise when I told you I would help you get into the hero course, and I intend to keep that promise, no matter the odds. If you truly don’t want to do this, I will support you, but I won’t let you throw away your dreams and your potential because of some change in the plans.” He said insistently.

“Change in the- This is more than just a change in the plans! There’s no way I can get the number one spot at the rate I’m improving now!” Shinsou exclaimed, taking a step back, his anger at the injustice of the situation seeping into his response.

Aizawa leaned in, usually monotone voice more insistent at Shinsou’s doubt. “So we modify the schedule. We start training before and after school more days a week, and you start joining me on small missions.” 

Shinsou stared at him, his face a mixture of confusion and disbelief. Despite himself, he allowed a small glimmer of hope to bloom in his chest.

Aizawa finished, “I’m not giving up on you, so you can’t give up on yourself.” At this, Shinsou’s posture deflated.

“You seriously think we can do this?”

“I know you can.” 

At this, Aizawa clapped him on the shoulder, leading them back down the hallway with a finality that was a testament to their resolve.

Chapter Text

SHINSOU

Shinsou woke up, blinking blearily as he shut off his blaring 5:00 AM alarm clock. Once again, he cursed his stupid flip phone for not being able to do alarms, forcing him to use the antique in order to wake up early every weekday for his and Aizawa’s new modified training schedule.

He got up and ate his paltry breakfast of a coffee (sorry Aizawa, but he just didn’t have the funds to eat hearty, well balanced breakfasts on top of paying the rent) with minimal difficulty, and made his way onto the train to UA.

Shinsou always thought the grounds of UA were the best in the early morning hours, with the dewy grass and blue mist settled over the silent grounds. No bustling students making their ways to fight in stadiums or build weapons or sit in a math lecture. 

Even though they’ve only been implementing the new schedule for a week now, Shinsou could feel himself improving much more rapidly than before. He still felt a pang of guilt when he thought about how Aizawa was both coming early and staying late every weekday, while sometimes joining Shinsou in his weekend training sessions. Despite Aizawa telling him that he wouldn’t waste his time if he didn’t think Shinsou could do it, he still didn’t understand why he was so dedicated to helping him – he could never get a read on the hero. 

He met Aizawa in the middle of their usual gym on the far side of campus at 5:30, as they do every weekday. 

“Today we're going to start more in-depth quirk training,” he started, “You’ve made huge progress on your physical and combat training, but we haven’t worked on your quirk much.”

Once Shinsou got over the small high that the praise gave him, the uncomfortable creeping feeling set in. 

“Oh…What’s there to work on? We already did some, remember? I gave you a bunch of commands and you tried it out.” He laughed nervously “I mean, it’s pretty cut-and-dry, I say something, and if I get a response they fall under my control.”

“Okay, response to what? A question?” Aizawa asked. Shinsou finally noticed the notepad Aizawa held in his hands. His heart sank, pulled back to sitting in clinical offices with the faces of fearful examiners and foster parents as they learn just how monstrous he’s capable of being.

 He took a breath. This is Aizawa, he reasoned, he’s just trying to help . “My file says I need a question, but a couple years ago I stopped needing a question, and now I just need a verbal response to something I say.” He said this as stoically as he could, not allowing the memories of the event to bubble up, locking them in a little box to be unpacked later. 

“A couple years ago? And was this some kind of singular event that caused this, or was this something that was worked on over time?” He said, writing down what Shinsou said on his notepad.

“I- a singular event.” He blinked harshly, suddenly aware of his voice getting higher “Why are you asking all these questions?”

At this, Aizawa stopped writing, looking up at Shinsou with a raised brow. “I need a more in depth description of what you can do and what has been done to develop your quirk until now in order to see what can be done to improve your quirk usage.”

“Look, nobody worked on my quirk, okay? Believe it or not, people were slightly uncomfortable with the idea of me practicing my quirk. Any developments were just ways to stop it from activating in state-mandated quirk counseling.” Shinsou was breathing heavier now.

Aizawa looked at him for a long second, making his turn slightly redder in embarrassment for how he was handling this. With a small sigh, Aizawa put his notepad in one of his many large pockets and beckoned for Shinsou to sit next to him on a nearby bench.

Shinsou dropped down on the bench with a huff, feeling stupid, like a child throwing a tantrum. He pointedly looked away from Aizawa at a speck of dust on the floor. 

Aizawa turned towards him. “Tell me more about this quirk counseling.”

Caught off guard, Shinsou huffed again, fully turning his head away from Aizawa. “You’ve seen my file. Anybody on the state registry of dangerous quirks is required to take counseling when they’re young to ‘teach them proper ways to control their quirks’ –which basically means to never use them.” He was working hard to force down memories of sterile rooms, tests, and harsh “counselors.”

“I see.” Aizawa said. After a short pause, he said slowly, “Shinsou, this state registry is not a reflection of you.” Surprised at this, Shinsou finally met his gaze. “They were wrong to force you to stop using your quirk, and I will never discourage you from using it – within reason. So, let me help you. You can’t become a great hero unless you learn to use all of your abilities. I suspect that there’s a lot more to your quirk than what it says on your file, which no doubt was made by ignorant people who make a joke of the system. I intend to train you to realize your full potential”

Shinsou stared at him with wide eyes. “Okay,” He breathed.

“Understood?” Aizawa pressed

“Understood.” Shinsou answered with more finality.

“So can I ask you questions without you jumping down my throat now?” Aizawa jokes, nudging Shinsou with his elbow, melting the tension.

Barking out a surprised laugh at the joke, he allowed Aizawa to ease the subject. “Yeah whatever, it’s not my fault you posted up like the fucking HPSC was waiting around the corner to take me in.” 

Aizawa shook his head at this with a small smile lingering on his face, allowing the bad language to slide. He took his notepad back out. “Alright, how does it feel when you take control? Try to describe it to me.”

This time, Shinsou thought deeply about his answer. Nobody had ever asked him about this before. “I guess when I’m about to take control, it’s like my mind expands, or maybe I open it, scanning for whoever's head I’m about to get in. When I’m in, there’s no struggle. I can faintly hear some inner feeling, usually some sort of fight, but they can’t get control back, not while I’m in there.” Unless, he thought, you’re Izuku Midoriya , letting his mind wander back as it tends to do to the strangeness of that event. 

Aizawa thought about that for a moment. “When you say you ‘open your mind,’ is that something intentional, or does it happen automatically in response to someone relinquishing control?”

Shinsou exhaled quickly, “I guess intentional? I don’t know what would happen if I left my head open like that all the time.”

“Do you think you could try? I’ll be right here, don't hesitate tell me to snap you out of it”

“Sure…why?” Shinsou could see the gears churning in Aizawa’s head. This was still so unfamiliar to him. He had never had anyone actually interested in his quirk for pure reasons. He’d be lying if he said he’d never thought about the idea of exploring that vast expansion that occurs in the brief moment between when he opened his mind and subjugated another. 

Shinsou slowly breathed out, closing his eyes. He honed in on the part in his mind that acted as a barrier, walling in his quirk, tucking it away out of sight. With another slow breath, He let his quirk go all at once. That breath hitched as his mind expanded, feeling the presence of Aizawa next to him. 

“Shinsou? What’s going on?” He could feel Aizawa’s worry as he says this before he states it, and he directs his wide eyes at him. It was too much. He could feel his head rapidly hurting as he experienced heightened input from both his senses and now an unfamiliar, uncanny sixth sense that seemed to be in tune with his surroundings and Aizawa. 

He shut it off after a few seconds that felt like hours stretched by, once again putting his quirk back in its box in the back shelf of his mind. 

“Shinsou, talk to me. What was that?” Aizawa pressed.

Shinsou met his gaze after taking another breath. “I’m fine, it was just…a lot. It’s like I could feel everything like my sense and perceptions like normal, but also I could feel you, and your perceptions of our surroundings.” He shook his head. “It was over stimulating as hell, but I’m good.”

“You said you could feel my perceptions ? As in, my thoughts?” Aizawa pressed.

“I mean sort of, but I couldn't hear, like, concrete thoughts – it was more like I had a layer of your thoughts on top of mine, but nothing deep. Anyway, I don’t see how it could be all that useful. Even just having you here was way too over stimulating.”

“Shinsou, this could possibly be a huge combat advantage. If you could know someone's intentions as you fight, you would have a massive edge on your opponent.” Aizawa insisted.

“Yeah, but I could barely function for the minute that I was doing it, how could I fight someone while doing that?”

 “That's what training is for.” Aizawa deadpanned. “The logical advantage of it is too overwhelming for us to ignore. This won't be the last of this.”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

AIZAWA

Ever since he started training with his quirk expansion, Shinsou started improving exponentially. Shinsou was already pretty good, picking up on combat pretty quickly. He always had good awareness and power. However once he started with the new intensive quirk expansion training, the added layer of awareness, assessment, and instinct really started to show in his abilities.

This goes to show that using your quirk consistently is essential for functions. Aizawa thought. He had a theory that Shinsou repressing his quirk had negatively affected him mentally, like he had depleted a part of himself by holding back his natural state. 

While the quirk expansion had been overstimulating for Shinsou at first, as he got more used to it, he could tell he was starting to use it more naturally. Aizawa could almost feel a static energy around Shinsou when he used it that seemed to encompass him. 

Aizawa wondered at how little was known about Shinsou’s quirk, or mental quirks in general. Aizawa had never met anyone with a mental quirk before Shinsou, so they must be exceedingly rare. He found himself wondering yet again why nobody seemed to pick up on this until now. 

Aizawa didn’t even know if Shinsou’s quirk could really be called just “Brainwashing” with the new and hidden abilities Shinsou seems to surprise him with. 

That said, however, he didn’t dare bring this up to Shinsou quite yet – at least, not until he was more comfortable with the unknowns of his quirk. The kid obviously had an instilled fear and aversion to his own quirk, despite the fact that he seemed to enjoy and feel more relaxed when he used it.

For now, all Aizawa can do is to encourage and help Shinsou to apply his quirk more broadly and more often.

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

SHINSOU

Despite him picking up combat quickly, Shinsou will admit that the capture scarf is causing him a bit more trouble.

He can’t seem to get it to listen to him. He’s doing fairly well with grabbing things, but he struggles with using it for transportation.

He’s propelling himself across the neighborhood near UA, following after Aizawa in his slow pace. Shinsou’s using all of his mental energy to focus on successfully swinging across the city.

Shinsou’s flinging his capture scarf to a nearby beam when he loses his balance on his axis in the air, scarf slipping from his fingers. He cries out as he goes down, hitting a fire escape on his way down. He lands hard on his side, despite rolling while landing. A sharp pain blooms in his shoulder as he feels something shift. 

Aizawa, hearing his scream, makes a fast turn. “ Shinsou!”

AIZAWA

His boots land loudly next to Shinsou on the fire escape, coming to kneel next to Shinsou. “Talk to me. What hurts?”

Shinsou breathes out through his nose, hitting the back of his bead on the ground once before attempting to sit up. He hisses as a sharp pain goes through his side, and the throbbing in his shoulder becomes more apparent. “...My side,” He grits out. “My shoulder’s probably dislocated and my wrist hurts, too.”

“Alright, let me see that shoulder.” As Shinsou turns, and Aizawa starts to prod the area, he says, “Yes, it’s dislocated. Alright, we’re going to go to recovery girl, but first, I need to put your shoulder back in place. You might want to hold something, this will hurt.”

Shinsou gripped the rail next to him as Aizawa counted.

“3, 2…” Shinsou breathed out harshly as his shoulder popped back into place, tentatively rolling out his tender shoulder.

Aizawa starts to stand, coiling up Shinsou’s scarf as he does.

Shinsou winces as he gets up, but seems to be able to walk on his own.

As they’re walking back, going slowly because of Shinsou’s injuries, Shinsou speaks up. 

“I don’t know why I can’t seem to get it to listen to me.” 

“It’s not an easy tool to master.”

“I know that. I also know it took you years to master. I don’t have years, though.” Shinsou huffs, wincing from the movement on his ribs.

“That was from scratch. You have me to teach you this time around.” Aizawa thinks for a second. “Maybe we should work on some other solutions.”

Shinsou’s head whipped to him. “What?” His voice is filled with alarm. “No, I can get this! We don’t need to look at other weapons.”

Aizawa replies placatingly, “Shinsou, you’re still going to be working on the capture scarf. I just wonder if the problem is that how I use it might not work for you. I have full faith that you can do this – it would be a waste of time if I thought you couldn’t.”

Shinsou sighs. “Oh. Okay…we can do that.”

Shinsou’s injuries don’t end up being too serious. His ribs were badly bruised, and he sprained his wrist, but with a kiss to both areas, he was sleeping soundly in the hospital bed. 

Aizawa watches him for a bit, thinking. He knew he shouldn’t feel guilty – Shinsou had practiced with him in the city many times before without incident, and accidents were bound to happen – they happened all the time in hero training. So why does my chest feel so tight? Aizawa thought, confused.

He also thought on the irony that someone who’s quirk centered around mental control would struggle with the mental control of the capture scarf.

The next time they practiced with the capture scarf, Aizawa suggested different things. 

They started with different grips, different ways to throw out the capture scarf, but ended up settling on Shinsou coiling his capture scarf around his torso. They found it balanced his weight better, and he looked more natural with it. 

“I still can’t get it to do what I want, though! How do you get it to float like that?” Shinsou groaned, frustrated.

“It’s clear you have some sort of mental block.” Aizawa thinks for a second. “...Perhaps it has something to do with you suppressing your quirk.” Shinsou’s brows furrow at this. “When I’m using the capture scarf, I’m tapping into the energy that powers my quirk.”

“Wait, what? You have a mental quirk?” Shinsou’s excited at this.

“No – emitter. It does have a mental aspect, though.” Shinsou slightly deflates.

“What do you mean by me “suppressing my quirk?” Shinsou asks.

“First of all, you never use it. You don’t have any sort of outlet for you to get regular usage of your quirk. You just keep it hidden, and only take it out during combat.” Aizawa answers in his matter-of-fact manner.

Shinsou turns thoughtful at this, slightly uncomfortable. “Yeah, but…how am I supposed to really practice my quirk?”

“I understand. Try using your quirk expansion more often, especially in public. Most of all, though, use it when you’re using the scarf.”

Shinsou looks at him for a long second, thinking. “Alright. I’ll try.”

Since then, Shinsou’s been steadily improving. He had much more control over the weapon, allowing him to improve more quickly. Later, seeing Shinsou fly more freely around the city, Aizawa can feel his chest swell with pride watching the results of his dedication.

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

SHINSOU

Aizawa was a confusing man. He could be obstinate, strict, unfeeling, and almost harsh. He would not accept Shinsou slacking off in training (not that he wanted to), had clear expectations for him that Shinsou was expected to meet, and rarely pulled punches in sparring.

 However, there were aspects of him that would confuse Shinsou. For example – that nightmare at the HPSC. Shinsou had never had someone care that much, enough to yell at a HPSC representative , and it caught him utterly off guard. So off guard that his first instinct was to push Aizawa away, but his teacher wouldn’t let him . 

I’m not giving up on you, so you can’t give up on yourself. In the weeks following that exchange, these words rang clearly in Shinsou’s head. He had never felt something close to what he felt when he heard Aizawa say those words. His interactions with Aizawa since then have been muddled in a cognitive dissonance that Shinou couldn’t tell if he was okay with or not. One thing was for certain – Aizawa would never stop confusing him. 

Shinsou stumbled through the door in his apartment, cringing at the 4:30 AM blaring at him across the room from the clock on the stove, just an hour before he had to meet Aizawa for training. He had a particularly rough shift at the mechanic, and had to stay late to finish up. He was covered in grease and sweat that had since frozen on the walk through the snow home, and his head pounded with a headache that he couldn’t seem to get to go away.

He shivered – the apartment was no better. His foster parents couldn’t even cough up enough money to cover the electricity bill, and he had spent a little too much trying to keep up with the protein requirement in Aizawa’s meal plan for him. At least I can eat my frozen protein bars and know that I’m getting gains, he thought drily, grabbing one from the cabinet. 

“Where have you been?” A voice slurred from the doorway of the kitchen. 

Shinsou froze. He didn’t know his foster father, Tanaka, would be awake, drinking. Realistically, he knew he couldn’t do much to Shinsou. He had been with these two for almost three months following a fight at the group home after the sports festival and he had to get a new placement. Shinsou was a little too old and and his height and newly strong build meant that they most likely would be too far gone in their inebriation to feel like expending the energy to actually hurt him. He found himself once again silently thanking Aizawa for his training.

That being said, adults drinking around him always made him uncomfortable – for obvious reasons. This placement was far from his worst, but both parents were their own colorful combinations of addicts, and could barely scrape together enough money to put food on the table, let alone pay the bills, so that responsibility fell to Shinsou. 

“Working.” He said shortly, trying to calculate the best possible time to push past Tanaka, who was currently occupying the doorway with his beer belly.

“Ha! Working! And what are you spending this money on? Cigarettes?” Tanaka boomed, “You can’t even make enough to help out around here, ungrateful little shit.” He leaned in at this, and Shinou could smell the cheap beer on his breath.

I steal my cigarettes, thank you very much, Shinsou thought drily, acutely aware that he was very actively mentally distancing himself from this situation. “You’re the one who couldn’t even scrape together enough for your half of the electricity bill.” He murmured quietly. He knew immediately this was the wrong thing to say.

Tanaka’s eyes grew enraged, he leaned in, swaying in his drunken state, pointing a finger in Shinsou’s face. “The fuck you just say to me!?” He yelled, “You’re lucky I even let you and your freak quirk stay here! Get the fuck out before I kick your ungrateful ass!” He shoves Shinsou back against the counter, who takes this as his cue to leave. Grabbing his backpack from the floor and pulling his boots on as fast as he could, he all but ran out of there. 

Shinsou smoked as he walked to the train station, his body on autopilot. He was faintly aware of his shaking hands and slightly off-kilter walk as he got on the train to UA. 

Nine stops and at twenty-minute nap later, Shinsou gets off at the train at UA, walking to his and Aizawa’s usual gym in his stupor. 

He gets there early, so he takes a quick shower to at least get the grime from the garage off of him. He takes stock of his appearance in the mirror. He’s changed into the wrinkled, slightly oversized school uniform he keeps in his bag. The dark circles under his eyes match the purple of his hair, and the whites of his eyes are tinged with red. His long wet hair dripping down his back only serves to make him look even more rough. Like a wet rat, he thinks. Despite the warm shower and heating of the gym, his skin still has a slight chill, making him look paler than normal. 

Aizawa is standing in the middle of the gym when he comes back out, looking thoroughly unimpressed. 

“You’re late.” He calls as Shinsou trudges over to him. However, he seems to pause when Shinsou finally gets close to him, taking in his appearance. “What happened?”

“Sorry, I fell asleep immediately after work, and I couldn’t wash the grease off or grab my gym bag before I came here.” The lie fell choppily from his lips, his exhaustion seeping in. 

“Work? I thought we agreed that you should prioritize your health and sleep more, you look dead on your feet.” Aizawa’s usual stoic face pulls into a slight disapproving frown. 

Shinsou grows exasperated at this, wishing he could scream, drop dead, or sink through the floor. Preferably all at once. “Yeah, well money’s tight right now and my foster parents could use a little help. I’m sorry, okay?”

Aizawa looks at him for a long second. “Come on.” He gestures for Shinsou to start walking back towards the doorway with him. 

Shinsou’s stomach twists uncomfortably. You fucked it up , he thinks, he’s pissed. He reluctantly starts following a few paces behind Aizawa, rather than his usual place next to him. 

If Aizawa notices Shinou dragging his feet, he doesn’t say anything. They eventually reach the teacher’s lounge. Aizawa leads them over to the couch. “Sleep here, I’ll wake you up 10 minutes before school starts.” 

Shinsou’s too tired to complain. He all but throws his body onto the couch, the sleep catching up to him immediately. 

“Give me your phone.” Aizawa types something in on Shinsou’s bulky flip phone, then hands it back. “I put my number in. Next time, call me if something like this comes up.”

As Aizawa gets up to leave, Shinsou, picking at his fingernails, murmurs, “Thank you,” glancing up at his mentor. Aizawa’s face is indecipherable as he gazes down at him, but whatever it is, it makes Shinsou’s heart twist in an unfamiliar way. Finally, Aizawa nods, walking away to one of the desks, pulling out a stack of papers to grade. 

When Aizawa wakes Shinsou up again hours later, Shinsou’s covered in what appears to be an unzipped yellow sleeping bag that he's using as a blanket. For the first time in days, his persistent headache has cleared, and he feels warm.

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

SHINSOU

Aizawa has had Shinsou frequently training with and without blindfolds, testing his awareness and ability to function. He started out small, using a blindfold while honing in on Aizawa’s perceptions to be able to grab various objects with his capture scarf and doing small combat warm ups with Aizawa. As he’s honed his skills more, he spars with Aizawa blindfolded, and even joins him on reconnaissance missions with this skill.

It happens while they’re sparring with bo staffs and Shinsou is blindfolded. The sounds of the clanging staffs ring out through the vast, empty gym, as he and his teacher dance around each other. Shinsou is just barely keeping up, honing in on Aizawa’s intentions and perceptions of his surroundings. 

Just as he blocks another vicious swing from Aizawa, he starts to feel muddier, more distracted. He realizes it’s the addition of more minds approaching the very gym they’re in. 

Aizawa notices his distraction. “Focus!” He barks, as Shinsou jumps out of the way just in time to keep his feet from being swept out from under him. 

At that, the gym doors open, and Shinsou rips off his blindfold as two hero students in gym clothes walk in, seemingly from a run. Shinsou recognized Bakugou as one of them and the other was a redhead that he didn’t recognize. 

The red haired one waves and smiles a big, shark-toothed grin. “Hey, Mr. Aizawa! Didn’t expect to see you here this early!” This is when he takes stock of Shinsou with his bo staff, sweaty gym clothes, tied up hair, and out of breath demeanor. “Oh! You’re from the sports festival! What are you doing here with Aizawa?”

“We were sparring.” Aizawa says smoothly, seeing that Shinsou didn’t want to show his blindfold trick just yet. They both agreed to keep their lessons quieter, especially Shinsou’s skill level, so as to not arouse attention and proclamations of favoritism. 

At this, Shinsou merely looked away and walked over to his water bottle, trying to ignore the rising discomfort at seeing Aizawa with his real students, as well as his petty jealousy of their free use of the school grounds, listening to Aizawa calmly respond to the red-haired one’s stream of curious questions.

Suddenly, he notices with a start that his quirk expansion is still activated, as he feels a prickling feeling of being watched. Without turning, he knows it’s the other one that hasn’t spoken yet, who’s name he does know – Bakugo. He feels Bakugo appraising him with a slight sense of suspicion and another, more unknown swirl of emotions.

 He turns, making direct eye contact with him in an attempt to get him to realize his staring. Bakugo just meets his gaze. The feeling intensifies. His chest burns with the intensity of him, and the chatter of the redhead and Aizawa are reduced to a low murmur. 

 After what felt like ages, the red-haired one grabs Bakugo’s shoulder, leading them out of there, breaking that strange feeling. 

“And here I thought we were safe all the way over here” Aizawa mutters, breaking Shinsou out of his stupor. Shinsou quickly looks away, letting out a breath.

“Yeah, well, sticking their noses in is what they do best.” Shinsou says, trying not to let the strangeness of that moment seep into his tone.

“Oh, and poking around in my head is any better?” Aizawa says, raising an eyebrow.

Shinsou huffs a laugh, “That’s different. This is for science.”

Aizawa shakes his head, tossing him his bo staff. “Alright Doctor, you’re up.”

Chapter Text

SHINSOU

At this point, Aizawa had to have caught on to his lack of hearty meals from home. He never outright said that most of his money went to paying the bills, and that his foster parents didn’t really help much otherwise, but his general evasiveness about his eating habits most likely told something like this story anyway. 

It’s 7:00 PM and they’ve just finished their afternoon training. They’re sitting on the mat, talking as they work through their post-workout stretches. 

“So, how’s the meal plan going? Are you keeping up with it?” Aizawa asks, feigning casualty.

“Yeah, you know…for the most part.” Shinsou says. Aizawa just raises an eyebrow at this “Money’s a little tight right now, so I’m not exactly following it to the letter.” Shinsou says, hoping his voice doesn’t give away any more information than it should. 

“Shinsou, we can modify the plan if you need. You should have come to me sooner about this.” Aizawa says, making Shinsou’s gut twist with guilt.

“I’m fine, okay? I get by.” Shinsou says, somewhat defensively,

Aizawa just looks at him for a second. Suddenly, he stands up, making Shinsou’s heart sink ever so slightly. “Come on, let’s go get dinner.”

“What?” Shinsou sputters, grabbing his bag as Aizawa starts to walk away. “Where are we going?”

“Back to my place. We need to eat, and I always make extra anyway.” He says this with such finality that it leaves Shinsou without a good enough response to counter this.

Despite his nagging annoyance at the obvious charity, he knows he’s hungry, and can’t say no to free food, even if, knowing Aizawa, it’s just ramen and protein jelly.

After a long walk in comfortable silence, they arrive at a tall apartment building. As they enter the stairs, Shinsou whistles as he looks up the tall staircase. “What floor?”

 “Twelfth.”

Shinsou looks back at him with defeat. “Are you kidding?” Aizawa sighs, then starts on the hike up the stairs. 

By the time they get there, they're both huffing loudly, catching their breath. 

“You're telling me you do that every day ?” Shinsou breathes out.

Aizawa huffs out, “I usually use the scarf.”

Shinsou looks at him incredulously, shaking his head as Aizawa starts walking to his door. Aizawa takes one final glance back at him as they enter the apartment. 

It looks like a typical apartment, if not a little sparse. The coffee table is covered in papers. It’s minimally decorated, apart from a few picture frames that he can’t make out on the TV console. The hallway between the kitchen and living room area leads to two doors, which are probably a bathroom and one bedroom. 

As Aizawa starts taking various leftovers from the fridge, Shinsou grabs a glass and some water, well accustomed to making himself at home quickly as someone who’s been in the system for so long. He leans against the counter, ready to rib his teacher about his cooking skills. 

That's when he spots it, across the room. A shiny, pristine guitar sitting on a stand in the living room. He feels a pang of longing, remembering his old guitar that was smashed right after the sports festival by one of his jealous older foster siblings, Haruto.

“You play?” He said, pointing at the guitar across the room.

Aizawa stands and turns, looking where he pointed. “No. Do you?”

“Yeah.” He hesitates, “I mean, I used to, before one of my foster siblings accidentally broke my guitar.” Shinsou says, cringing internally at the white lie. He looks down so he doesn’t have to look at the instrument anymore, not wanting to be reminding of the image of Haruto destroying his guitar.

“Mic has too many guitars for his place so of course he decides to use mine as storage. That thing just collects dust…I never use it, and he never comes over because apparently my apartment is ‘depressing.’” Aizawa says, looking closely at Shinsou, who snorts at that, silently agreeing with Mic’s assessment. “You know I’m sure he wouldn’t mind you using it. I doubt he even remembers it’s here with how many guitars he has.” 

Shinsou turned to him with wide eyes. “What? I can’t do that! My grubby fingers all over a beauty like that?” He shakes his head. “Besides, it’s Mic’s guitar. I can’t just use it without asking.”

Aizawa shrugs. “The offer still stands. Like I said, he wouldn’t care.” 

Neither of them mention it again throughout their meal of ramen and rice balls, and if Aizawa notices Shinsou glancing repeatedly at the guitar, he doesn’t graciously doesn’t say anything.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

SHINSOU

A couple days later, Shinsou is walking out of his English class as Present Mic, his teacher, calls for him to hang back a bit. 

“So, I hear you like to rock out.” He says winking flamboyantly. Shinsou has no idea how to respond, so Mic just stands there as the silence stretches on. “...Anyway, I hear you’re in need of a guitar, and I so happen to have too many that I’ve been meaning to get rid of to make space. If you want, you can just take the one that I have at Eraserhead’s place.”

Shinsou stares at him, unable to find the words. Eventually noticing the silence, he cringes and says, “Thank you for the offer, really. I want to take you up on it, I do, but I can’t. I don’t want to break another guitar because I get in a fight with my foster siblings and they’re feeling petty. Thanks, though.” His stomach twists at the memory of his beloved mangled guitar on the ground.

Mic gets a sort of sad look on his face and opens his mouth to speak before a voice calls from the doorway, 

“I thought you said it was an accident?” Aizawa drawls in an unimpressed voice, leaning against the doorway. 

Shinsou cringes, turning around to look at his mentor. “I mean, I didn’t mean for them to break my guitar because they were mad at me.”

Aizawa strides across the room to stand next to Shinsou. “You can keep it at my place and come to mine when you want to play. I’m not there much, so you wouldn’t be in the way. You can do it after we train and eat, if you want.” He says this as if it’s so matter-of-fact, like Shinsou’s chest isn’t swelling once again with that unfamiliar feeling that he hasn’t truly felt since he was a little kid and didn’t know any better – that of being cared for, that he only feels with Aizawa.

“Great idea! Aizawa’s basically homeless with his work schedule anyway, so someone’s gotta be in there.” Mic says in his loud, singing voice.

“You’re serious?” Shinsou asks, still in disbelief. Aizawa nods and shrugs, like it’s obvious. “Thank you – both of you.” Shinsou says earnestly.

“Hey! Now that we have that sorted out, maybe I can show you a few moves from my old touring days! I was quite the rocker, you know!” Mic says, striking another one of flamboyant poses.

Aizawa stares at him unimpressed as Shinsou smirks and says “You sure you’re not going to hurt yourself in your old age?”

Yamada guffaws as Aizawa gives Shinsou a smack upside the head as Shinsou starts laughing. Aizawa shakes his head. “This kid…try to do something nice, I swear.” He’s smiling as he says it.

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

SHINSOU

Shinsou’s sitting on the train home from his weekend double shift at the restaurant, still in his uniform. His hands shake slightly from his nicotine cravings. He wasn’t able to take his break because as they got closer to the holidays, the restaurant was more and more busy, and he couldn’t find a time to get away when the hostess kept seating his section. 

The crunching of the glass on his street under his boots only served to worsen his irritable temper as he made his way to his foster parents’ apartment. Shinsou paused as he walked up and saw the group of men on the steps of his apartment building. He steeled himself as he walked up past them, ignoring the way they followed his movements. 

Shinsou paused as he got to the door of the apartment, hearing voices inside. He frowned, pushing the door open carefully. 

As he walked inside, his heart froze as he saw his foster father, Tanaka, surrounded by a group of men. Upon his scan of the room, he noticed their tattoos and bulges in their clothes that indicated guns. There was also an arrangement of drugs and alcohol on the table in front of them.

They paused as he walked in, looking up at him. After a bit of pause, Tanaka finally noticed him, looking up. 

He bellowed, “Shinsou!” He laughed loudly, standing up to walk over to Shinsou, roughly clapping him on the back. “It’s just my foster kid.” Shinsou’s head was spinning. Sometimes, Tanaka could be rough and violent, mostly when he was drinking, and sometimes he acted like he was actually Shinsou’s father in a pathetic, deadbeat kind of way. 

One of the guys spoke up. “He’s not gonna do nothing?”

Tanaka laughed again. “Hah! No fancy school’s gonna change where he came from. He’ll keep quiet.” He muttered to Shinsou, squeezing his shoulder. “Won’t you?”

Shinsou felt his face go blank as he stared at the ground, nodding. He could hear his heart pounding in his chest, Tanaka’s words ringing through his head.

Tanaka laughed again, obviously overstating it. “That’s what I thought!”

Tanaka followed Shinsou to the door as the men turned back to their game, his hand still on Shinsou’s shoulder. “Listen, I know you get cash tips” He started as they got to the door, “I need you to spot me right now, okay?”

Shinsou frowned, still disoriented. “...What?”

Tanaka sighed. “What, are you slow? I gotta say it again?”

Shinsou just blinked. As though automated beyond his control, he reached into his pocket, pulling out a wad of cash and pressing it into Tanaka’s open hand. Passively, he was glad that he mostly kept his cash stash safely tucked away in an inside pocket of one of his coats.

Tanaka just laughed and clapped him on the shoulder again, leaving Shinsou to walk back out into the cold. 

As Shinsou wandered through the city to find a park or somewhere to sleep, he felt a hollowness that followed him like a cloud, chewing up his insides, only leaving a particular sense of defeat and emptiness in its wake. 

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

ASHIDO

Mina was getting pissed. Momo had heard her and Hagakure complaining about their nonexistent love lives, and had kindly offered to set the two of them up on a triple date with some sons of Momo’s parents’ friends. However, none of them anticipated that these guys would be complete assholes who were only interested in the status of dating girls who were on TV while not respecting their abilities as future heroes at the same time. Plus, they were totally boring, which Mina could not vibe with. They were so boring that she couldn’t remember their names, calling them Ugly 1, 2, and 3 in her head.

She’s currently swirling the ice around her water with her head on her chin as they listen to one of the guys humble brag about himself for the fourth straight minute.

“Ugh, finally, we’ve been waiting for almost five minutes! That’s gonna come out of your tip.” Ugly 3 of the guys exclaims. 

She looks up, ready to snap at his rudeness when she starts at the sight of who he just spoke to. With his tall height, long, wild purple hair pulled into a low bun, and small scars running under his tired eyes, this was unmistakably the guy from General Studies that fought Midoriya in the Sports Festival at the beginning of the year. Currently he was standing there in an all black work uniform with the sleeves rolled up and half apron holding various pens and straws, looking between the girls and the three guys at the table in awkward silence. 

“Hey, it’s you! What was your name again?” Mina exclaims, hoping to ease the tension that her ‘date’ created.

“Uh…Shinsou.” He said in his deep voice, obviously caught off guard by the interaction.

“Wait, you know this guy? Our waiter?” Ugly 2 said, laughing. 

“He goes to our school, and he competed in the Sports Festival with us.” Momo said in her typical polished manner.

“You’re kidding,” Ugly 1 laughed, “I remember you!” He pointed at Shinsou, “You’re that crazy brainwashing freak! No way you’re in the hero course.” he finished incredulously, exchanging looks of disbelief with his sniggering friends. The girls, not knowing what to say, looked at each other, and Mina looked at Shinsou, who now looked extremely uncomfortable. 

His mouth twisted. “I’m in General Studies, actually. I’m going to find someone who can serve you.” With that, he walked away.

“Ha, I knew there was no way he was in the hero course!” Ugly 3 said, laughing. Ugly 1 called after Shinsou, snapping, “Hey waiter! Can you make it snappy? We’re waiting here!” Shinsou kept walking, not without a tilt to his head that showed clearly restrained anger.

“Are you kidding me? Do you have to be so mean?” Hagakure asked.

“Yes, I agree that your behavior towards him was quite uncalled for.” Momo added.

“Oh, you wanna defend the creep? He’s probably planning all the things he’s gonna do to you as we speak!” Ugly 3 exclaimed.

“You don’t know that, and you’re being annoying as fuck either way! We’re outta here.” With those words from Mina, the girls stood and hurried out of the restaurant. Guiltily, however, she knew that she was thinking the same thing – the general creepiness from the fact that Shinsou could make her do anything he wanted. 

They only got a couple steps away from the entrance of the restaurant before those guys cornered them again. 

“Come on, you didn’t think you could just walk out on us when we took the time to take you out?” Ugly 1 said while they corralled them into the alleyway next to the restaurant. The girls exchanged looks, ready to try and bolt or fight if it came to that. 

“Yes, well, we apologize but we have to be on our way now. Please inform your parents that we had a lovely time.” Momo said, not without a small degree of attitude as she held Hagakure’s elbow, trying to lead them back out of the alleyway. 

Suddenly, she cried out as Ugly 1 grabbed her tightly by the arm, activating what looked to be some sort of strengthening quirk in his arm. “Let go of me! I don’t want to have to use force on you!”

Mina felt helpless. She couldn’t use her quirk for fear of getting in trouble and giving these guys acid burns, but she didn’t know how else to help Momo as the guy’s grip got stronger and the other two stepped in. She found herself frozen in place, unable to act on any of the instincts flashing through her mind. 

“Is there a problem here?” The voice came from further down the alleyway, by the staff entrance. They turned to see Shinsou walking towards them from over there with a lit cigarette dangling from his fingers, no jacket on despite the cold winter air. 

“I don’t see how it’s any of your business, Gen Ed. Don’t you have tables to clear?” Said Ugly 3, stalking up to Shinsou, getting in his face. 

Shinsou took a deep drag of the cigarette, breathing the smoke out in the guy’s face, making him turn, coughing. As he coughed, Shinsou roughly shoved him up against the brick wall of the alley, keeping his forearm braced on his throat. With his height advantage on the guy, he was slightly choking him. Both of the others cry out in surprise at this. “See it’s my business because you are at my place of business. See how that works?” He took another drag, tutting. “And now it looks like you're scaring customers,” He said with a mocking voice. 

Ugly 1 let go of Momo’s arm, coming up to Shinsou and putting his hand on the shoulder of the arm that wasn’t holding Ugly 3 against the wall. “Listen, bro, we don’t want any problems. Why don’t you just mind your business, and we’ll mind ours.” 

Shinsou turns to him, and he lets go, putting his hands up. Shinsou clicks his teeth. “No, bro , we will have a problem.” Shinsou lets go of Ugly 3 to lightly shove Ugly 1 in the chest, making him stumble back as Shinsou walks towards him. “You see, you want to act like a big tough guy in there” He shoves him again. “Now we’re out here and there’s suddenly no issue.” Once he has the guy backed up against the wall, Shinsou leans in, “What’s up with that?” he says in mocking sincerity.  The silence that follows is palpable. All eyes are on Shinsou. Ashido feels unable to look away, as if there’s some sort of magnetic force around him that sucks the breath out of everyone’s lungs. Shinsou’s back is to her, but she almost feels as if it’s her he has pressed against the wall, his white pupils boring into her. 

The feeling disappears as quickly as she takes note of it, leaving her wondering if she’d finally gone crazy. Ugly 2 finally speaks up. “Let’s just go guys. We were leaving anyway.” 

Shinsou takes another drag of his cigarette, keeping eye contact with Ugly 1 as he shimmies himself away from between him and the wall and hurries after the others. Mina almost shivers from his icy gaze.

 Once they’re gone, she lets out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. She immediately is wracked with self-deprecation as she kicks herself for not doing something to help. I supposed to be a hero in training, she thought, and all I did was watch. How can I call myself a hero?

She turns to Shinsou, who finishes his cigarette, tossing it and crushing it below his boots. None of the four of them really know what to say. He stuffs his hands in his pockets, turning and walking back towards the staff entrance to the restaurant. 

“Thank you!” She blurts out, cringing internally at her clumsy delivery. 

He stops, not quite turning his body, and gives her a jerky nod before heading back inside.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

SHINSOU

Before the last class of the day, Shinsou gets a mysterious text from Aizawa. It read, Meet in support department workshop.

He frowned, pocketing his phone. Aizawa had sent for a new capture scarf for Shinsou since they revamped his capture methods for reasons unknown to Shinsou, so he wondered if they were going to pick that up today. 

The bell rang, and Shinsou quickly grabbed his stuff and headed out the door. It was easy to slip out right after school because the people in his class ignored him anyway. 

Shinsou got to the support department, a large garage-like door opened to the hallway, the sounds of machinery and voices inside. He absentmindedly turned on his quirk expansion, as Aizawa asked him to start doing it naturally more often. As Shinsou stepped inside, he observed all of the various projects and gear on the tables of the large warehouse-like room. He wondered what every strange-looking gadget was. 

He felt a familiar presence enter the room and turned, anticipating Aizawa sauntering into the room. The man walked up, hands in his pockets.

“Hey, kid. You ready?” 

Shinsou frowned in confusion. “For what?”

“In addition to your new capture scarf, I want to design a hero costume with you today.”

Shinsou’s eyes widened in excitement. “ Seriously?”

“If you’re going to start joining me in the field, I need you to be equipped with a hero costume that works with you to make things more seamless.” Aizawa answered in his matter-of-fact voice. “Let’s get started.”

Aizawa walked over to an electrical screen on one of the tables, presumably for designing costumes. Shinsou followed, slightly dumbstruck. “Wow. Cool…so, how does it work?”

Aizawa’s typing on the pad absentmindedly as he replies. We workshop some ideas here, send it through to the support department, and they get the costumes back to us within a week.”

He finally got to a screen showing a blank model, as well as a list ready for bullet points on the side. 

“Let’s start with the obvious. Dark colors, belt for supplies, as well as typical combat gear. I suggest you add some sort of carbon lining to your torso, as well as plenty of spaces to hold various weapons. Since your capture scarf is going to be wrapped around your torso, I took the liberty of having it made black.”

Shinsou just nods, still awestruck by the idea of having his own hero costume and capture scarf.

“Additionally, Power Loader suggested a shortened bo staff that can expand to be held on your belt, which I think is a good idea.” Aizawa paused from his typing, looking up at Shinsou. “Anything else you can think of? Feel free to make cosmetic choices.”

Shinsou shakes his head mutely, eyes still wide. “...I– How much does all of this cost? ” His heart sank into his stomach as he said this. Despite how excited he was, he was already on scholarship, he didn’t even want to begin thinking about how much extra this will run him. What’s going to happen when I transfer to the hero course and my tuition is even more? Will my scholarship bleed over?

Aizawa frowned. “The support department at UA exists to support the hero course. You’re not going to have to pay anything extra. I’m commissioning it, and as UA faculty, it doesn’t cost me anything.”

“Oh. Yeah, I guess that makes sense.” Shinsou blushed, slightly embarrassed by his own cheapness. “...Anyway, back to your question, I can’t think of anything else the costume needs. As long as it has stealth and combat capabilities and can hold my gear, I guess that’s enough. I don’t really want it too flashy or anything, so black is fine for the whole thing.”

“Alright. In any case, we can always make changes to it later.” With that, Aizawa seems to send it away, turning away from it and leading Shinsou out the door and towards their usual gym. On their way out, Aizawa grabs a case with his name on it, continuing out the door. 

Following him, Shinsou feels a pang of guilt. He hates feeling like a burden or freeloader, and he feels like that’s what just happened. 

“With this costume done, you can start joining me on reconnaissance missions. It’ll be good to get some experience in the field, especially with some of the more boring parts of the job.” 

Shinsou just nods, still feeling guilty. He can tell through his quirk expansion and Aizawa’s body language that he’s picked up on Shinsou’s dampening mood, but he doesn’t feel like explaining himself to Aizawa.

After they get to the gym and Shinsou’s changed and warming up, Aizawa opens the case. 

Sitting in the case is a capture scarf, identical to Aizawa’s, except for the fact that it’s black. Aizawa lifts it out, handing it to Shinsou.

“For you.” He says in his typical monotone voice, as if it’s not a big deal. 

Shinsou can’t bring himself to grab it at first, just looking at the black capture scarf in Aizawa’s hands. Aizaw notices this, raising an eyebrow. “Shinsou?”

“...Why are you doing all of this?” Shinsou forces out.

Aizawa frowns. “You need proper equipment if you hope to join the hero course, as well as experience using a hero costume.”

Shinsou sighs forcefully. “Okay, that’s logical and all…But this is just so much . You’re going through so much trouble. Besides the costumes and stuff, so much of your time is dedicated towards helping me. Why?” He’s finally asking the question that’s been weighing him down, confusing him the most about Aizawa.

Aizawa sighs, setting down the capture scarf. “I guess I haven’t been honest enough with you. I can tell you are troubled by this.” He walks over to a nearby bench in the gym, gesturing for Shinsou to sit next to him.

As Shinsou lowers himself onto the seat hesitantly, Aizawa starts, “At first, it was slightly selfish. I saw myself in you at the Sports Festival. I knew firsthand what it’s like to have the odds stacked up against you, to have to fight tooth and nail just to get a chance.” He hesitates. “Then, as I learned more about you, where you came from…” Shinsou tensed himself, expecting some sort of pity story – or worse, a condemnation of his roots. “It became more of a righteous fury against the system that I’ve witnessed fail so many like you – so many that I have been powerless to help. Besides, you have immense potential, with your combat skills, as well as your powerful quirk.”

Shinsou nods, taking this in, processing Aizawa’s words.

After a bit of silence, Shinsou feeling a hint of nerves from Aizawa, Aizawa began again. “Most of all, though, it’s because of you.” Shinsou’s head whipped towards Aizawa in surprise, meeting his steady gaze, feeling his resolve. “As I got to know you, I got to witness your resolve, compassion, determination, and eagerness to learn and help people, which lets me know I'm doing the right thing.” 

Shinsou’s in shock. He speaks up, his voice cracking. “I don’t…I don’t know if I deserve this.” He looks away. “I’m not who you think I am. I’ve done bad things – I can be a bad person.”

Aizawa’s gaze softens. “I know. I also know that you care about people, that you’ve been forced to make hard decisions. I’m proud that you still choose to be good despite this.” He puts his hand on Shinsou’s shoulder, whose eyes are quickly pooling with tears. “What you’ve done in the past doesn’t define who you are now. You’re choosing to be better than that, and that’s good enough for me. Remember, I’m not giving up on you, so don’t give up on yourself.”

Shinsou feels a warmth coming from Aizawa, not knowing if it’s coming from his quirk or Aizawa. Aizawa pulls him into a hug, letting Shinsou calm down for a second. The hug is awkward with them both on the bench, Shinsou’s face on Aizawa's shoulder, but he doesn’t care.

As they pull away, Shinsou, wiping his face, lets out a brusque laugh. “I dunno how I’m going to top this,” He gestures weakly to the capture scarf, “for Christmas, though. You’ve set the bar kinda high.”

Aizawa huffs a small laugh. “You don’t need to get me anything. Gift giving is impractical, anyway.”

Shinsou rolls his eyes. “God, that is so like you to say that. I don’t know what I expected.”

With that, Shinsou gets up, jogging away to start his laps. Calling behind his shoulder, he says, “Just you wait, Scrooge! I’ll teach you the true meaning of Christmas.” He doesn’t see Aizawa’s laugh, but feels a pang of amusement through his quirk expansion. 

Running his laps and drills with his new capture scarf, Shinsou feels secure. He can’t remember the last time someone cared about him like that. It feels good.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

AIZAWA

Winter break comes and goes without difficulty. He and Shinsou still train most days, condensing their sessions rather than having one in the morning and one in the afternoon. 

One day, Shinsou asks, “I’m not keeping you from your family, right? You’re allowed to have a winter break too, you know.”

“I don’t have any living family to celebrate it with anyway. This is a welcome distraction to keep myself from dying of boredom.” Aizawa answers in his monotone drawl.

“Fair enough. Same here. It’s probably for the best that I don’t work 60 hour work weeks, as much as I want that sweet sweet holiday cash.” 

Aizawa knows that the kid’s been working a lot this break, most likely from boredom, as well as a need to get out of the house. He feels something confusing in his heart squeeze when he thinks about how Shinsou doesn’t have any friends to spend his free time in the break with.

Speaking of friends, Aizawa occasionally gets dragged to go drinking with Hizashi and Nemuri.

One of these nights, Nemuri asks, “So, what are you and the kid doing for Christmas?”

Aizawa shrugs. “Probably training like usual. I got him a coat, though.” He pauses for a second, clarity coming through his alcohol-addled brain. “Wait, how did you know Shinsou wasn’t going to be with his family?” 

Hizashi snorts. “Please, it’s pretty obvious you’re his family.”

What’s been most surprising about the break, though, is that Shinsou’s actually accepted some of Aizawa’s invitations to crash on his couch after their post-practice dinner and guitar sessions. He assumes it may be because the heating in Shinsou’s apartment might not be up to par, but Aizawa will take what he can get with the kid, glad he’s not in the cold.

Shinsou ends up getting Aizawa a mug that says, “World’s Okayest Teacher,” which Aizawa resolves to use exclusively going forward. Aizawa gives Shinsou a winter coat, tired of seeing the kid shivering from his thin layers. He tells Shinsou it’s one of his old ones to get him to accept it, silently hoping the kid isn’t tuned into his quirk expansion enough at that moment to know he’s lying.

Overall, the two weeks of winter break pass quickly enough, and they’re thrown back into UA before they know it.

Chapter Text

KAMINARI

It’s currently 1:00 AM, and Kaminari, Jirou, Ashido, Kirishima, Sero, and Bakugou are having a movie night, watching some old horror movie. Kaminari is thoroughly embarrassed. He invited Jirou, the coolest, chillest, most alternative girl in class that he so happens to have a slight crush on so he could swoop in and comfort her through the scares, but instead, he’s the one tucked into her side, hiding his face from the jumpscares.

When the heavy common room door to the outside unlocks and opens during a tense quiet scene, Kaminari fully jumps out of his seat on the couch and screams like a girl. At this, Kirishima pauses the movie. Kaminari can still faintly hear Jirou giggling at him, his ears growing red at the sound. 

Embarrassed, he whips around to yell at whoever it was that just entered the common room. “Wha- Shinsou!?” 

Of all people, Shinsou from General Education is standing there. He’s dressed in all black tactical gear, his cargo pants held up by a belt with a variety of weapons and other supplies hanging from it, his torso wrapped in what looked to be a black capture scarf. The loose cargo pants and tight long sleeved shirt and gloves showed off his newly muscular, tall figure. All of this with his scars, white-pupiled eyes, and long mane of wild purple hair tumbling down his back made him look, frankly, scary–a little bit (okay a lot bit) hot–but mostly scary. 

After a bit of awkward, surprised silence, Kaminari asks, “What are you doing here?”

“I’m looking for Eraserhead…he said he’d be at the 1A dorms.” Shinsou answers.

Jirou frowns. “What are you doing with Mr. Aizawa at,” she glances at her watch, “1:00 AM on a Wednesday night?” 

Kirishima jumps in at this. “Oh! He’s been training you, hasn’t he?” He looks at Bakugou, who until this point has been staring at Shinsou. “We saw them sparring like two weeks ago!” Bakugou, in rather uncharacteristic silence, just rips his gaze away from Shinsou and gives Kirishima a jerky nod. 

He seems to come back to himself enough to say in his usual petulant delivery, “Who cares?”  before turning back around, eating more popcorn. 

“That’s so cool! It’s because you’re trying to join the hero course, right? Why so late at night though?” Kaminari asks.

“We’re just doing some reconnaissance on a case he’s working on. Have you seen him?” Shinsou seems impatient at this, clearly slightly annoyed by all of the attention on him.

As if summoned, Aizawa comes down the stairs next to the doorway, and Shinsou is visibly relieved. As he nods at Shinsou, Kaminari is struck by how similar they look. 

They exchange some words that are too quiet for the hero students to hear, and they begin to exit, Aizawa giving a slight nod to his students as they pass.

After they’re out of sight and earshot, Sero says, “Dude, did you see him? He looked scary as hell! When did he get so ripped?”

“I guess he’s been training him for a while…” Kirishima says, his face clearly in thought. “They were training with bo staffs, so he has to be pretty good at this point.”

“I dunno, I think he looked pretty hot.” Jirou shrugs as she says this. 

Kaminari whips back around to face her, suddenly defensive over the height and build advantage Shinsou has on him. “You’re just saying that because he looked emo as hell in that all black costume!”

Jirou shrugged, “Well I think it works for him.” She’s smirking as she says this, probably enjoying the effect it has on him. Her face turns thoughtful, “Now that I think about it, though, Mr. Aizawa looked kinda like he could be his dad.”

Kirishima laughed good-naturedly, “Don’t let Todoroki hear you say that! You’re right though, he could’ve been his son.”

Sero shudders, “Do you think he’s as mean as Mr. Aizawa?”

Ashido, who’s also been uncharacteristically silent this entire exchange, speaks up. “Well, I think it’s a good thing if he is. That can come in handy, you know.” She says it so matter-of-factly, but Kaminari can see a flash of something deeper behind her eyes. Bakugou seems to notice it too, as he’s looking at Ashido rather intensely, as well. 

Kaminari, suddenly bored with the “between-the-lines-ness” of the whole exchange, loudly announces that it’s time to resume the movie. “Don’t worry Jirou, I’ll protect you!” He says, putting his arm around her. She snorts at this, but settles in nonetheless, her closeness making Kaminari forget all about Shinsou Hitoshi with his height, alternative look, and nonchalant vibe for now. 

---------------------------------------------------

AIZAWA

It’s currently 9:30 PM, and Aizawa and Shinsou are sitting on either side of the living room couch in Aizawa’s new apartment in the staff housing in UA, Shinsou strumming his guitar and Aizawa grading his hero students’ papers. It’s become a routine – Shinsou comes over to Aizawa’s for dinner after training and they do their separate activities before Shinsou leaves to go to what he thinks Aizawa doesn’t know is work and Aizawa goes on patrol.

 Aizawa has long since given up on trying to get Shinsou to quit his jobs, as he realizes that Shinsou really does need the money and that he won’t accept any charity from Aizawa (not like Aizawa has much to give on his teacher’s salary, anyway). Today, however, Shinsou’s stayed later than normal, presumably because he doesn’t have work. 

Aizawa has never really enjoyed music – perhaps because it’s something that he’s always viewed as too extravagant or pointless for his extremely pragmatic lifestyle. That being said, it doesn’t take a musical genius to know Shinsou can play really well. His fingers fly across the strings, playing intricate songs that he's told Aizawa are a mix of songs he likes and has written himself. 

He doesn’t know why, but Aizawa always gets a funny feeling when he’s able to get Shinsou to talk about himself, like some unfamiliar mixture of pride and protectiveness. He feels a strange need to get to know Shinsou better – beyond topics that are just about training and hero work. 

Shinsou is currently strumming a song, humming along quietly under his breath. The chords tug at something in Aizawa. He pauses his grading to listen, purposely not looking at Shinsou for fear of making him stop. 

Shinsou’s eyes are half-closed, looking at the guitar as he makes his way through his disjointed, slightly discordant song. It’s slow, yet builds up, coming to an almost tragic climax at the end of the song. As he finishes, the silence in the room is heavy, and he looks up, surprise evident on his face when he realizes Aizawa was looking at him.

“Did you write that?” Aizawa already knows the answer, but he asks anyway, wanting to know more about what could make Shinsou write a song like that.

“Yeah, when I was in juvie.” Shinsou looks down as he says this, fingers drumming against the side of the guitar in a nervous tick.

Surprised that Shinsou openly shared that information and sensing that he should tread carefully, he asks, “You were allowed to play guitar in juvenile detention?”

Shinsou let out a small laugh. “Yeah, you’d be surprised. Juvie is pretty cozy, all things considered. We had guaranteed eating and sleeping times, recess outside, and time dedicated to various things, like school or hobbies. I figured since I was already a year ahead in school I might as well use that time playing guitar.”

“Funny, I don’t know if I’ve ever heard detention of any sort described as cozy .” Aizawa replied, “Don’t go getting any ideas to go back, though.” He said, his voice taking on a mock-serious warning tone.

Shinsou let out a huff of laughter at this. “Don’t worry, I won’t.” A beat of silence passes. “In any case, back then, it was a hell of a lot better than where I was before, but not so much now.” His eyes darken at this, and Aizawa knows he’s breached an emotional minefield now. Is that why you did it? He wonders.

“Well, I’m glad. You can play guitar as much as you want without running the risk of prison tattoos and gang wars.” 

Thankfully Aizawa’s words alleviate the tension, but at this, Shinsou cringes and says, “About that…bit too late on the prison tattoo thing.” 

“ What!?” Aizawa exclaims, sitting up straight from his side of the couch. “Where!?”

Shinsou cringes again. “On my back and collarbone.”

Aizawa’s head is spinning. “Show me.” He just manages to spit out.

Shinsou looks at him incredulously, but clearly sensing Aizawa’s urgency, he gently sets the guitar down and lifts his t-shirt off his head, scooching closer to Aizawa on the couch and turning around. 

As Shinsou moves his long choppy hair out of the way, right in the middle of his left shoulder blade on his back sits an all black star slightly larger than the size of Aizawa’s palm. Aizawa purposely doesn’t point out the varied scars that littered Shinsou’s body, too focused on making sure he doesn’t have any gang affiliations on him. After a second, Shinsou turns and shows his chest, which was adorned with a barcode just under his left collarbone. He quickly pulls his t-shirt back on.

“What does it mean?” Aizawa says, slightly in shock, gesturing to Shinsou’s collarbone where the barcode now lays hidden under his t-shirt.

Shinsou smiles darkly. “It’s a link to the state’s registry for individuals with dangerous quirks.”

Maybe it’s from the shock of where this conversation has gone, but Aizawa actually laughs at this. Feeling relief from the lack of gang symbols on Shinsou’s body, he asks, “Did they hurt?”

“The star, yeah, because it took so damn long, but the barcode was better.” Shinsou looks more relaxed now, but clearly slightly off-put and more tired than before, which was likely from the combination of Aizawa’s worry and the deeply personal topic of his past. 

Aizawa settles his body against the couch again, his exhaustion seeping in now that his momentary panic and worry is over. Shinsou does the same, much closer to him than he was before. 

“At least this means I can start wearing tank tops to training without giving you a heart attack.” Shinsou jokes, tired eyes staring at a point on the wall.

Aizawa huffs a disbelieving laugh. “I’m sure you’ll manage to find a way to give me one anyway.” 

“Yeah, when I kick your ass blindfolded .” Shinsou replies snarkily.

“In your dreams, kid.” Aizawa says with a small smile, shaking his head. They fall into comfortable silence, the only sounds being the ambiance of the city from Aizawa’s windows seeping in through the darkened windows. Aizawa leans back over the coffee table to finish up his grading before his patrol. 

Before he starts on the grading again, however, he breaks the silence, saying with what was hopefully a successful attempt at casualness, “It’s already pretty late. If you want, you can sleep on my couch and I’ll wake you up for training tomorrow. It’s logical, since we’re already on the UA campus” When Shinsou doesn’t reply, he turns around to see him already asleep, looking as if he melted into the couch cushions.

Ignoring the way his heart tugs at this, he stands up to put Shinsou’s guitar back on the stand, cover him with a blanket, and turn the light off before he heads out on patrol.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

AIZAWA

It’s currently 6:00 AM on a Sunday when he meets Shinsou outside of the police station for the kid to get some hands-on practice with cases.

 It doesn’t take a genius to see that the kid is nervous. Aizawa wonders if it’s because he’s scared to mess up, or that his history with the police is making him nervous. Either way, Aizawa brushes past it, projecting a casual air in an attempt to assuage the kid's nerves. 

The kid is dressed in his hero costume as Aizawa told him, waiting outside the police station, the painted pinks and yellows of the sky behind him creating a silhouette. 

Just like all of the police stations in Mustafu, this one is highly fortified, with most of its structure being underground beneath a series of fortified steel doors that can only be opened with approval through specific access beyond the initial lobby. After they greet each other, Aizawa leads them through the lobby to the front desk, where they get Shinsou’s access card, which he receives with wide eyes. 

As they’re walking through the corridors down to the lower, more fortified areas of the police station that deal with crime, Aizawa lays out what they are doing.

“I’ve been working on a case involving an organized group of weapons dealers distributing weapons to various crime groups in the city. A couple nights ago, we managed to raid one of their operations and we captured one of their members. As the other policemen and I question him, I want you to use your quirk expansion to tell us what he’s thinking – if he’s lying, his emotions, all of that.” 

Shinsou lets out a breath. “Cool, I can do that.” Aizawa can feel the kid’s excitement.

“Remember, I’m putting a lot of trust in you. Be professional, and at least try not to be too annoying to the officers. Also, since we’re in the field, call me Eraserhead.”

Shinsou smiled, no doubt preparing a snarky remark, but quieted as Aizawa scanned open a new door with an officer waiting on the other side. 

“Eraserhead. Glad you could join us. This your partner?”

“Yes.” He glanced at Shinsou, remembering that the kid didn’t have a hero name yet. “Call him Shin for now. Is everything ready?”

“Yes. follow me.” 

As they walk, Shinsou mutters. “Now I see why Present Mic chose your hero name for you. A little severe, don’t you think?”

Aizawa gave him an unimpressed look, silencing him as they approached a door. 

They walk through into a room illuminated by computers, with a few officers with various notepads and cups of coffee. One long side of the wall is occupied by a stretch of a one-sided mirror that looks out into the interrogation room, where a rough-looking man with tattoos and braided hair sits. 

The man who led them into the room speaks up. “This is Eraserhead and Shin. They’ll be helping us with this interrogation.”

One of the officers frowns, saying, “How?” Thus reminding Aizawa of the tensions between the police force and heroes. While Aizawa is one of the few heroes who works in tandem with the police due to the nature of the cases he works on, most heroes tend to ignore the police, leaving them to pick up the dirty work. In addition to this, many police officers are hesitant to share information with heroes, for fear of them putting them out of work. 

Aizawa speaks up, hopefully dissipating the tension. “I’ve been working on this case for a week now. I was on the force that captured him. I’m going to run point along with your team on this interrogation to find out supply routes and future operations, and my partner is going to use his quirk to gauge his intentions and whether or not he’s telling the truth.” Shinsou, still silent, looks up at him at this.

“What, is he some kind of mind reader?” 

“No, but close enough for these purposes.” With that Aizawa nods to the leading officer, gesturing for him to begin. They get in position in front of the glass as the man walks into the interrogation room.

They can hear their voices coming through a speaker at the top of the glass.

“Sota Kobayashi. What are the routes that your group uses for the distribution of your weapons?”

“Fuck off, I ain’t snitching.” The man, Sota, sneers. 

“What about your leaders?”

Sota just laughs. “You deaf or something?”

The interrogation continues in this manner. Aizawa leans over to Shinsou, asking lowly, “How’s he feeling?”

“Agitated. Nervous. He definitely knows more than he’s saying, but he’s also scared.” Shinsou replies softly, his gaze focused on the glass in front of him. A couple officers turn to him in surprise at his quirk, which Shinsou ignores.

“Anything else?”

“He seems to have some kind of assurance or resolve, like there’s something making him sure he’s not gonna tell on his group.” Shinsou frowns. “Almost like he can’t tell? I dunno, it’s pretty unclear, especially with all these other people.”

Aizawa frowned, thinking. “Try to focus on just him if you can. Good job.” The other officers are staring openly at Shinsou now, which bothers Aizawa slightly.

A couple hours pass with the interrogations going the same way, with no results. They try many different methods, with Aizawa even going in, but to no avail. Aizawa can also tell Shinsou’s getting tired of using his quirk expansion with the way he’s squinting his eyes and rubbing his temples occasionally. 

As the tired officers are workshopping their next approach, one of them asks Shinsou directly, “What’s your quirk, exactly?”

Shinsou hesitates, glancing briefly at Aizawa before answering, “Brainwashing.”

A hush falls over the room, the officers staring at Shinsou. “ What? Well, why didn’t you say so sooner? We’re sending you in, get him to talk.”

Aizawa jumps to attention, standing up straight. “Absolutely not .”

Shinsou’s head whips to him. 

The officer replies, “What, you got a better idea? The man isn’t cracking.”

“He’s not ready.” Aizawa replies. They haven’t worked on Shinsou’s ability to draw information out of a subject enough for him to reliably go into this man’s mind.

Shinsou frowns in indignation. “Yes, I am. I can do this.”

Aizawa raises an eyebrow at Shinsou. “What makes you think you’re ready? You haven’t mastered this. Also, you’re already tired from using your quirk this whole time.”

Shinsou glares at him. “You’ll be standing right here this whole time. Just erase my quirk if it goes wrong.”

After a beat of silence, the officers looking between Aizawa and Shinsou in confusion, one of them chimes in. “Well, that’s settled! Good luck kid, remember what we’re trying to get out of him.” 

Aizawa watches Shinsou grab a notepad and pen and walk towards the door helplessly. He catches up to Shinsou in the hallway, grabbing his shoulder. 

“You have nothing to prove. Don’t push yourself too hard for this.”

Shinsou just looks back at him with an indecipherable look on his face. “I have everything to prove.” He said with finality, slipping out of Aizawa’s grip and pushing through the door to the interrogation room.

Aizawa heads back into the room, frowning, to watch the interrogation.

“Ha! They get desperate enough to send a kid in here?” Sota laughs, clearly satisfied with their lack of success in getting answers out of him.

“How’s it going in here?” Shinsou asks calmly.

The man laughs. “I couldn’t be more–” He gets cut off as his face goes blank, his posture straightening as Shinsou’s eyes narrow.

A tense silence passes over the interrogation room as the officers watch Shinsou’s quirk in action with interest. 

Shinsou drops the pen and notepad on the table in front of Sota. “Write down your leaders’ names.”

The man just sits there silently in response. Shinsou tries again with the other information, to no avail. He tries again a few times, glaring in concentration. 

He looks towards the glass helplessly, seemingly looking to Aizawa for help before frowning and turning back to the man.

Inside the room, one of them sighs, saying, “I guess it’s a dud.”

Aizawa frowns. Usually, at this point, Shinsou could have at least gotten something from the man. He wonders if there’s some other factor restricting the man from giving up the information.

Shinsou pauses, a look of thinking passes over his face. He narrows his eyes, a drop of blood dripping down from his nose. Seeing this, Aizawa is about to call it off, thinking of his theory that there might be something else involved when Shinsou raises his hand outstretched towards Sota.

 The temperature in the room almost seems to drop as Shinsou closes his eyes, concentrating. There suddenly seems to be a thick static pressure in the room, stealing the breath from Aizawa as he hones in on Shinsou, who seems to be radiating some powerful static energy. 

As he speaks, the words ring through Aizawa’s head, stopping all movement. 

“Show me.” 

A flood of blood gushes from Shinsou’s nose with these words as the man’s head snaps back, forcing his blank gaze to the ceiling. 

Shinsou grunts, squeezing his eyes shut, gritting his teeth as a shift seems to pass through the static energy from Sota to him. As the shift passes, he gasps, opening his reddened eyes, releasing his hold on Sota and the static energy all at once, giving everyone a distinct sense of vertigo.

A couple of the officers cry out from their sudden nosebleeds as Sota collapses on the table in front of him, blood leaking from his nose. Shinsou staggers back, eyes wide.

Seeing Shinsou like that breaks Aizawa from his stupor as he rushes out the room, pushing through the door into the interrogation room. After checking that Sota still had a pulse, he gently grabs Shinsou’s arm, leading the despondent kid out of the room and towards a med room. 

An officer bursts out of the room. 

“Stop! We need that information.” He calls.

Aizawa glares behind him. “And you’ll get it – as soon as I make sure he’s okay.” He whips back around, leaving no room for replies.

As they reach the med bay, Aizawa turns down the lights to a more dim setting, pulling Shinsou to a far corner, grabbing a med kit. He sets Shinsou down sitting on the edge of a cot, pulling up a chair to assess the blood covering the lower half of Shinsou’s face.

The kid is worryingly despondent, staring ahead of him as Aizawa cleans the blood from his face as gently as he can, urging him to take pain medicine with water for the headache that is no doubt pounding through the kid’s head.

After Shinsou takes the meds and drinks some water, Aizawa starts. “...Shinsou? Talk to me. I need to know what’s going on.”

Shinsou slowly turns his gaze to Aizawa. “I…I feel wrong. – He was…” Shinsou shuddered. “There’s something wrong with his mind.” His voice is quiet and weak.

Aizawa frowns. “I suspect there’s another quirk involved.”

“I– I just kept pushing . I’ve never done anything like that before.” Shinsou’s eyes are wide as he says this, staring at the floor.

Aizawa frowns, thinking of the static, once again wondering about the mysteries of Shinsou’s quirk. Now’s not the time for that. He chides himself.

“I…I have the information.” Shinsou says weakly.

Aizawa looked up sharply at this. “What? But…he didn’t write anything down.”

Shinsou closes his eyes, his mouth twisted in discomfort. “He didn’t need to. When I pushed…it was like I gained entry to everything . All at once. I can remember what I saw in his head, but…it was… a lot .” Shinsou’s head was bowed.

Aizawa didn’t know what to say for a second out of shock. He can do that? His mind was racing, wondering about the potential of this newfound form of forced telepathy. 

Looking at Shinsou, though, who was uncharacteristically still and rigid, staring blankly at the ground, he shook himself from his reverie, grabbing Shinsou’s shoulder. 

“Don’t worry about that right now. You’ve overworked your quirk – you need to rest.”

Shinsou frowned. “Wait, let me write down what I saw before I forget.”

Aizawa looked at him for a long second, debating whether or not to push the topic. Seeing how stressed Shinsou was, though, he just inwardly sighed and conceded, getting up and grabbing the kid a pen and notepad before sitting back down in the chair.

Shinsou, holding the pen, closed his eyes for a second and breathed in deep, before snapping them open to write furiously on the notepad. This went on for about a minute before he sighed, handing the notepad back to Aizawa, looking even more drained than before. 

Aizawa beheld the series of scribbles, seeing various jumbled names and maps, as well as locations and dates. 

“It’s all pretty jumbled…it was hard to tell what was going on past this weird fogginess in his mind, but this is what I could see.” Shinsou mutters.

Aizawa looks up, his eyebrows raised in surprise. “This is really helpful, kid.” He moves to stand up, placing his hand on Shinsou’s shoulder. “Now, get some rest, I’ll wake you up when it’s time to go.” He starts to turn away before remembering, “Oh, and Shinsou – don’t use that skill again without me there.”

Before he can leave, a look of guilt passes over Shinsou’s face. Shinsou looks up at him, saying, “I didn’t know I could do that, I swear .” He looks down, wringing his hands together. “I’m sorry if I betrayed your trust. You were right. I wasn’t ready for that.”

Aizawa sighs again, softening. “I know you didn’t know. You didn’t betray anything.” He ruffled Shinsou’s wild mane of hair. “Just rest, I’ll come get you.”

With that, he turns away, leaving the med bay. 

As he sauntered down the hallway, his chest burned with righteous anger – at the officer for pushing Shinsou, at himself for not calling it off sooner, and at the system for refusing to properly label and develop Shinsou’s quirk.

“Eraserhead, hey! You get the info from your partner?” The lead officer calls out, jogging to catch up with Aizawa. 

Aizawa stops and turns, facing the officer in the empty hallway. He pressed the notepad into the man’s chest, having already scanned photos of it for himself. “Here. My agency will be in contact with your station to stage our next move and decipher this information.” 

The officer flips through the pages, letting out a low whistle as AIzawa starts to walk away, not wanting to have anything more to do with him. “That friend of yours sure is useful. We might have to bring him in more often.”

Aizawa froze hearing these words before quickly walking back up to the man. “Absolutely not. ” He activated his quirk, red eyes glowing, his hair rising up above his shoulders. “In fact, none of you or your team are going to talk about him to anyone .” He leaned in, growling, “Do I make myself clear?”

The officer leaned back, staring at him with wide eyes. “Yeah–yes, you do. We won’t.”

Aizawa leaned back, resuming his usual languid posture, releasing his quirk. “Good.”

With that, he walked away, needing to do some paperwork and other administrative things in the station, as well as check in with some other leads.

An hour later, he was done, walking back into the quiet, dark med bay. Shinsou was laying on his back in the cot where he left him, asleep, his long legs hanging off the side. His face was peaceful, his long hair splayed around him on the thin mattress. 

As Aizawa shook him awake, Shinsou blinked blearily, looking up at him.

“Let’s go. I’ll take you back to UA to return your hero costume.”

Aizawa let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding as they left the station, glad to be away from the mess which had shaken up everything he thought he knew about Shinsou’s quirk.

“Do you have work today?” Aizawa asked as they walked to the metro station.

Shinsou nodded tiredly. “Yeah. I’m working the dinner shift at the restaurant.” He yawned. “I gotta nap or something beforehand, though.”

Aizawa spoke without thinking. “You can come take a nap at my place before you need to go.”

Shinsou looked up at him. “Really?”

Aizawa nodded. “My apartment is on campus, so you can go directly after you drop off your costume. It’s logical.” 

Shinsou smiled, nodding. “Thanks.”

Chapter Text

SHINSOU

Since that encounter with those hero students a couple weeks ago, Shinsou has been using his capture scarf to propel himself onto Aizawa’s fire escape. Something about interacting with the hero students in their space makes him feel so wrong – like an interloper. He doesn’t particularly enjoy being around all of those privileged kids that have everything with minimal difficulty that he’s working so hard for. 

Plus, he could feel the way Bakugou and the pink one were staring at him, and he was uncomfortable with the shared knowledge that they know something about him that everyone else doesn’t – not even Aizawa. 

He doesn’t look back at the way he acted those times with great pride – he felt stupid for getting so worked up, and was sure that Aizawa would find some flaw with his conduct, so he preferred to pretend they didn’t happen. Those two, however, hadn’t forgotten, and seemed to be monitoring him in case he went off the rails again. 

It’s currently 11:00 PM, and he and Aizawa have a long night ahead of them. Aizawa has pinned down a point where the group of weapons dealers he’d been tracking are meeting, and he hopes to scout out their operation, and place trackers on this equipment.

It’s raining as they fly with their capture scarves through the city, the lights in the buildings passing like streaks of light. Icy rain batters Shinsou’s grinning face. He always feels the most free when he’s throwing himself off buildings and swinging through the city. There are no boundaries and castes and social ladders when you’re flying above the streets, hidden with the clouds and murk of the city. 

They eventually get to the docks, slipping quietly through a window of an abandoned factory opposite the warehouse the group is using for their meetings. Shinsou is deploying every bit of Aizawa’s stealth training as they slink through the echoing building, combat boots padding soundlessly through the slightly flooded hallways. 

He and Aizawa finally get to the discreet room they’re using to scout the warehouse, and they settle in for a long night. 

When Shinsou first started joining Aizawa on these missions, he would alternate between sleeping, doing homework and joining Aizawa as the hero watched from the vantage point by the window. Now, and his chest surges with pride at this, Aizawa trusts him enough to let him take over for him sometimes and allow his mentor some sleep. 

They fall into discreet conversation as they enter the slow hours of the night, before anything is likely to happen. 

“I’ve been thinking…” Shinsou starts quietly, “How did you and Present Mic become friends? You guys are so…different.” Aizawa was such an enigma to him. Shinsou was always trying not-so-subtly to chip at his walls in order to figure him out. 

Aizawa looks thoughtful at this, replying in an equally soft voice, “I had just transferred into the hero course. I was a quiet kid. I never felt like I needed any friends, so I hadn’t bothered to make any in the hero course  – probably because I’d never had any growing up.”

The words hit a little too close to home for Shinsou as he interrupted, “Why didn’t you have any friends?”

Aizawa shrugged off-handedly. “It’s like you said all those months ago. Our society is built around quirks. Most kids don’t love the idea of someone erasing theirs. Besides, I came from a poor family, so I was always on the outskirts. I didn’t think it ever bothered me. I figured I was destined to be alone for the rest of my life, and I was okay with that.” His monotone, matter-of-fact voice betrayed no particular sentiment, as if he was describing someone else, rather than himself. 

“What changed?” 

Aizawa looked at him pointedly, “I was getting to that.” Shinsou rolled his eyes in mock annoyance before bringing his attention back to Aizawa, eager for the rest of the story.

“Mic talked to me when we were choosing hero names. He was the one to come up with Eraserhead. Since then, he’s never left me alone.” He rolled his eyes at this, but the small upturn to the corner of his mouth betrayed his fondness. “He was the one to make me realize that it’s okay to rely on people. You never realize you’re drowning until someone pulls you out, and Hizashi was the first one to do that for me. He still does.” Aizawa’s looking directly at Shinsou when he says this. Something in his voice makes Shinsou’s heart squeeze, looking down, unable to keep eye contact with Aizawa when he’s looking at him with that earnest look on his usually emotionless face.

After a pause, likely sensing his discomfort, Aizawa thankfully changes the subject. “How’s your practice with quirk expansion going? Have you started using it in the streets like I suggested?” Aizawa’s back to looking out the window as he says this. 

Shinsou gladly takes to the topic change. “Pretty good. It’s still weird and overstimulating as hell when I’m trying to do other stuff as well, but I’m getting better at differentiating between different people’s thoughts, and using it for longer.” 

Aizawa seems to spot something. “Good, because it looks like you’re going to have to use it pretty soon.” Shinsou walks over to the window to see multiple trucks with what looked to be various name brand produce seller’s logos on the sides. Obvious front , he thought. 

As the night goes on, Shinsou and Aizawa take turns by the window, still chatting softly. For the most part, there’s minimal movement, save for a few men occasionally going in and out, unloading unmarked boxes that undoubtedly held illegal weapons.

Eventually the movements hit enough of a lull that Aizawa decides they need to head in to do some closer reconnaissance and plant trackers. At this, sitting by the window Shinsou closes his eyes, activating his quirk expansion and searching for some sort of sign that there may be something wrong. Aizawa watches him closely.

His brow furrows as he picks up more presences than he anticipated. “There’s more people in there than we thought…maybe a back entrance?”

Aizawa nods, looking as if in thought. “Good. What else?”

Shinsou focuses yet again. Sifting through the sea of mental images and perceptions is like wading through molasses, though, and he can’t make out any useful ideas. Instead, he focuses on their emotions and perceptions. “Lots of weapons…general feeling of anticipation and…eagerness? There’s some sort of sense of importance but I can’t make out why.” The mix gives him a funny feeling in his gut. “I don’t feel good about this.”

Aizawa frowns, raising an eyebrow. “Why?”

Shinsou glances up at him. “I dunno, I just…I don’t think we should go in there. Something feels…wrong.” He finishes lamely. He knows he sounds dumb, but he can’t quite figure out where this feeling of wrongness is coming from.

“Stay behind.” Aizawa replies, “Keep watch and tell me if anything else happens.”

Shinsou quickly springs up from his seat at the window. “Eraserhead, I-” All of his instincts are screaming at him to grab Aizawa, tackle him, chain him to the window, anything to keep him there, but he doesn’t know how to express it. Maybe you’re just nervous, he rationalized, You barely have any experience – Aizawa’s probably right. Feeling stupid, his mouth opens, then closes. “Good luck. I’ll tell you if something comes up.” 

Aizawa gives him a short nod at this, and swiftly exits through the door, despite all of the voices in Shinsou’s head screaming at him to stop him. 

Long minutes pass as Shinsou sits there helplessly, waiting for an update from Aizawa. Eventually, he can’t take it anymore, and ignoring every voice that screams at him to run far away from that stupid warehouse, he leaves with the determination to find Aizawa and drag him out of there screaming if he needs to. 

He silently swings to one of the top windows by the escape on the warehouse, and slips in, creeping along the old piping. It’s slow going, as he’s careful of lookouts and loose spots in the pipes that might bend, making a sound and giving away his location to any listeners. Eventually, he reaches a large atrium. 

To his shock, in the middle of a crowd of criminals sits Aizawa. He’s being held down in a kneeling position by two menacing looking men with mutant quirks. Mercenaries, Shinsou thinks in alarm. How did they get him? Then, Shinsou sees it. Right in Aizawa’s neck sits a dart – quirk canceling drug. That and the large crowd of mercenaries with technologically enhanced guns must’ve been enough, judging by the gunshot wounds in Aizawa’s leg and arm that were slowly oozing blood.

Forcing himself to stay calm despite the rising panic, Shinsou stakes stock of the situation from his vantage point hidden on an upper walkway. 

There are voices, and Shinsou tunes in on their conversation. 

An abnormally large man with a shaved head that was covered in tattoos steps forward, speaking in a fake jovial tone that was undercut by his menacing growl. “Eraserhead. I’d say I’m surprised to see you here, but I have to confess I’m not.” This must be the mercenaries’ leader, Shinsou thinks, but who are they working for?  “You see, you’ve been a real pain in my boss’ back, and he cleverly devised this plan to catch you and snub you out for good.” The man leans in and smirks. “So I’ll give you this one chance before we kill you. Who told you the supply routes?”

Aizawa just looks at him. “Wish your boss could be here to do the honors himself. How is Shinobi, by the way? Make sure to send him my regards” 

Shinobi! Shinsou thinks with alarm. Shinobi was the name of the head of one of Japan’s largest, and most dangerous, Yakuza organizations.

If the mercenary is surprised that Aizawa knew who he was working for, he doesn’t show it. Instead, he merely clicks his teeth in mock disappointment. “Looks like you’re not up for talking. What a shame. Any last words?” At this, he lifts a pistol and points it right at Aizawa’s head.

Shinsou immediately recognizes this as the time to act, and without thinking, he throws himself off the escape and flings out his capture scarf that was previously looped around his torso, grabbing tattoo guy’s gun out of his hands, using the momentum to land a powerful kick to the mercenary’s head. 

The mercenary appears only to be momentarily fazed, however, and quickly comes to, likely due to some sort of strengthening quirk, saying, “And what’s this? Eraserhead never told us he had a friend lurking in the shadows!”

“What’s it to you?” Shinsou asks, activating his quirk at the same time.

“Ha! Sorry stranger, but you’re a little too late.” The mercenary’s eyes blow wide at this, veins popping as he activates his quirk more. “Prepare to die just like your partner here.”

Suddenly, he stops, eyes going pale as Shinsou takes control. “Or you could just go to sleep ,” He says, turning to the shocked crowd of mercenaries as tattoo guy crumples to the floor, unconscious. “Who’s next?” He says, his eyes sweeping the crowd. “How about… you! ” Shinsou asks as he points at one of the men holding Aizawa, flinging himself at him. 

The man steps back to apprehend Shinsou, thankfully letting go of Aizawa as he does this. Aizawa quickly deals with the other mercenary holding him down, and, despite his injuries, joins the fray. In an attempt to take control, Shinsou loudly says in the most confident voice he can muster, “This should be quick. You all look like pretty easy pickings to me.” Several of them, including the mutated man he’s currently fighting, pipe up in indignation and contempt, easily taking the bait Shinsou laid out for them.

Dumbasses, Shinsou thinks, ordering them unconscious immediately. With them incapacitated, he rejoins Aizawa.

He and Aizawa dance around each other as they fight the mercenaries, using their capture scarves to take guns and occasionally throw them back into their faces. Shinsou uses his quirk as much as he can, sending mercenaries toppling to the floor, ignoring the growing headache from the continued usage on so many targets. Aizawa is keeping up well, which is made more impressive by the fact that his two gunshot wounds are still bleeding. This fills Shinsou with more urgency, as he needs to wrap up the fight and get Aizawa medical care, dwindling down their numbers until there’s one left.

Suddenly, to Shinsou’s horror, Aizawa yells in pain as a gunshot rings out, shooting him in the other leg. Aizawa drops. Shinsou’s mind goes blank as he rushes to him, quickly incapacitating the one who shot Aizawa. That’s when he feels it – a quick prick in his neck. 

He drops to his knees beside Aizawa with a sudden dizziness as he feels the dart in his neck, his mind filling with an empty sensation as his quirk is taken away. 

Thankfully, the ones he rendered unconscious with his quirk are still unconscious without any sign of waking up again, but he's filled with alarm as he realizes the mercenary that shot Aizawa was the tattooed man, standing there in front of Shinsou, gun fixed on Aizawa, dart gun dropping from his other hand. Shinsou realizes with dread that the man’s strengthening quirk must have given him enough energy to wake him up once Shinsou’s quirk got canceled.

Shinsou feels helpless. The only thing standing between his mentor and death is him, with no quirk, no more tricks up his sleeve, and no way out. 

The man is yelling something and gesturing with his gun at the two of them when Shinsou feels it. The pistol from before touching his leg. 

Without thinking, he quickly grabs the pistol and points it back at the mercenary in desperation, the weapon just barely slipping from his blood and sweat-slicked hands. 

The mercenary just laughs heartily, gesturing wildly with his free hand, the gun still pointed at him and Aizawa. “Don’t kid yourself! You heroes are all the same, up on your high horses. You’re not going to pull that trigger – go ahead, try!”

Shinsou glares as he grits his teeth and grips the pistol tighter. “You don’t know me.”

He laughs again in that grating, mocking voice. “Oh yes I do. I know that you and your friend are going to die.” With that, he fixes his gun on Aizawa’s prone form, right at his head, his finger tightening on the trigger.

Shinsou doesn’t think as he pulls the trigger, only registering the sick look of shock on the man's face as he drops, shot in the face.

Distantly, Shinsou notices the cool metal beneath the rubber grip and the warmth of the barrel as it still slightly smokes from the tip. He notices the way the coolness from the concrete floor seeps into his aching knees. He notices the way it only took a slight twitch from his finger to dim the light in the man’s eyes. He notices the way the man’s blood and viscera are sprayed across his face and hands.

He blinks, and suddenly the gun is across the room and he’s applying pressure to Aizawa’s wounds, wrapping them while frantically pressing the SOS button on their comms, stammering out their location.

Aizawa just looks at him through half-closed eyes, and Shinsou’s stomach drops in horror as he realizes Aizawa witnessed all of that, and knows that Shinsou’s a murderer.

“I’m sorry.” Is all he can muster up, voice cracking, looking away so he doesn’t have to see the look of hatred and disgust that will inevitably cross Aizawa’s face. 

—----------------------------------------------

AIZAWA

Since his injuries were much more serious, Aizawa was rather quickly healed with the help of multiple healing quirk users to give a recount of what happened. He’s distant mentally as he gives a recount of what happened, leaving out the part where Shinsou– 

Aizawa swallows thickly around the shame and guilt that was running through him. He knew he needed to find Shinsou, reassure him, and tell him everything was going to be alright. However, his head was still spinning, and he felt as if he might drop dead if he took any more steps, so let himself be carried away to the hospital, sleep taking over him as soon as he was placed on the gurney. 

As he came to, he was informed that he would make a swift recovery, back on his feet in two weeks’ time. Aizawa asked about Shinsou, and was told that the kid was too despondent to give any good recounting to the police of what happened. 

Body flooding with relief that Shinsou didn’t give himself away, and heart twisting with guilt and sympathy for the kid, Aizawa asked for Shinsou as he let the exhaustion seep back into his body, returning to the uncaring embrace of dreamless sleep.

As he came to, the first thing he noticed was the bright yellow morning sun seeping through the hospital curtains, warming his legs under the thin blanket of his cot.

The second thing he noticed was Shinou, sitting on a plastic chair beneath the window, against the wall rather than at Aizawa’s bedside.

The kid looked rough. Shinsou hadn’t yet noticed that Aizawa was awake, as he was staring despondently into space at the floor. The bags under his eyes had never looked deeper; his skin never paler. He looked as if he just showered enough to get the majority of the blood and sweat off his body, but there was still blood and grime caked under his fingernails and his hair was in knots, messily tumbling down his shoulders and back. His eyes held a hollowness that made Aizawa’s heart squeeze, and he longed to find adequate words to dissipate this turmoil hidden in the kid’s blown white pupils.

“Shinsou.” He croaked.

Shinsou looked up with wide eyes. A thousand emotions seemed to pass behind his eyes, a thousand different things to say. Eventually, he seemed to settle on, “Aizawa! You're awake– You.. are you – How are you feeling?” He looks down at this, his fingers wringing together in a nervous tick.

“I’ll be fine. How are you?” Aizawa asks, keeping eye contact in an attempt to get the kid to look at him again.

“I…I’m fine.” A thick extended silence passed before Shinsou’s face twisted, turning his head away from Aizawa before he spoke. “Look, you don’t have to be nice about it. You’ve already done enough by covering for me. I know what I am. What I did. I’ll be gone before next week. They were right. I’m no hero.” The air was thick with crushing despair, like a buzzing at the back of Aizawa’s neck. It was almost hard to breathe with the overwhelming pressure of this feeling of defeat. The feeling quickly dissipated as quickly as it appeared, and Shinsou stood, heading out of the room while pointedly not looking at Aizawa. 

“Stop.” Shinsou froze, slightly turning his head to look at Aizawa with wide eyes. “Sit here.” Aizawa said, gesturing to the chair next to his bed, blinking away the effects from that strange feeling. 

Shinsou lowered himself into his chair slowly, wide, fearful eyes fixed on Aizawa.

“I’m sorry.” Shinsou’s head lowered in defeat at this, and Aizawa knew he was bracing himself for a rejection and condemnation of what he had done. “I have been wracked with guilt since that night. I was the one who didn’t listen to you when you told me it wasn’t safe to go in. I see dwelling on the faults of cases gone wrong to normally be illogical, but I can see that you are blaming yourself for what happened. Don’t. You did what you had to – to survive, and to save me. There was nothing else to be done. I’m glad to see that you are not apathetic to the situation, but do not for any second think that things would have gone better if you hadn’t done what you did.”

Shinsou looked up in shock at this. “But– You–” His voice grew louder. “How can you say that!? I’m a murderer ! I killed somebody – I shot him. There’s no way around that – no explanation that can justify me becoming a hero. I belong in prison !” 

“Shinsou, you killed someone who was going to kill me, then you. You acted in self defense. If it was someone else in that situation, would you say they belong behind bars?” Aizawa insisted. “Shinsou, I meant it before when I said that I’m not going to give up on you, so you can't give up on yourself. You did what you could in a horrible situation, and you saved my life. Thank you. ”

At this, Shinsou’s face crumples, his eyes finally releasing tears that he furiously wipes with his hands, sniffling. “Are you sure?” He asks in a small voice.

“I’m positive.”

Chapter Text

SHINSOU

The rest of the year came and went. Shinsou hardly noticed, throwing himself into his training and work even harder than before, and before he knew it, it's just a couple weeks until the end of the school year. 

He expands his quirk. Visualizes his surroundings. Tunes into his opponent’s thoughts. Looks for intention, and anticipates the moves. Doge, kick, roll, punch – divert.

He was covered in viscera. It stung his eyes, but he didn’t look away.

His hands are calloused, rubbed raw from the capture scarf. He propels himself up elevator shafts, flying through rafters and fire escapes. He throws himself off buildings and lets the wind and gravity take him before he turns and swings up with his scarf.

“You're not gonna pull that trigger. You heroes are all the same” What does that make him? 

His hands grip the bo staff tightly as the clangs rang out in the gym. He pushes harder and harder, his brutal swings pressing against Aizawa. He wants Aizawa to hurt, to want to hurt him back. He jumps, ducks, kicks, swings, weaves, spins, flips – diverts.

You’re supposed to be a hero. How could you lie to the police for me? We’re supposed to be on the same side as them. How could you forgive me?

He runs and parkours through the streets of Mustafu. He lifts weights, boxes, exercises, and runs. It seemed that all he could do was run. 

“Where I come from, people fight to get control. Over their lives, over others, but most importantly, themselves. It’s like I said – you do what you can to survive.”

Shinsou goes out into the streets of Mustafu where he came from in the underbelly of the city to observe the lows, the filth of society. He sees the face of the man he killed in every screaming child, every elderly beggar, every smoking group of men on the steps, every resigned face of a teenager with no way out except down. He sees himself everywhere and nowhere. 

He has killed them. He has killed himself. 

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

AIZAWA

Aizawa feels helpless. He can see the turmoil that Shinsou is grappling with. He can see the guilt, anger, resignation and confusion that clouds his thoughts. 

The worst part is, he can’t do anything to help him. He can’t do anything to help anyone . The hero students weather attack after attack that they’re not ready for, and his– Shinsou is suffering, pushing himself to the point of depletion with no end in sight and no way out. He’s stopped coming to Aizawa’s after training, and Aizawa just lets him, finding weak comfort in knowing he will come back when he’s ready.

Aizawa has just broken up another fight between Midoriya and Bakugou, the two of them sitting in plastic chairs in his office when he sees it. That same resignation and anger in Bakugou’s eyes. He tells him to hang back when he dismisses Midoriya.

“You wanna tell me what’s going on with you?” Aizawa says in his gruff voice. 

“Why the hell do you care?” Bakugou just spits.

Aizawa raises a brow. “This can’t keep happening. You can’t just haul off and attack Midoriya because of whatever problem you refuse to acknowledge. Tell me what’s happening, and I can help you.”

Bakugou looks at him for a long second, the smoldering in his eyes seeming to fade just a bit. Then he suddenly stands up, letting out a growl and wiping his hands on his pants. “I’m just sick and fucking tired of being so fucking helpless! It’s like no matter how hard we train we fuck it up every time and I’m not getting better and every time I train with these losers they want to pull their punches like we don’t have a fucking war going on!” His eyes are wide as he finishes, breathing heavily as he looks back at AIzawa, who meets his gaze calmly. 

Aizawa’s gears are churning in his head. He has an idea, but it could either be really useful, or, for lack of a better word, explosive . 

He sighs, gesturing to the seat in front of him. Bakugou all but throws himself back in the chair, crossing his arms immediately. “Look, believe it or not, I know how you feel, and I’m not the only one. What you need is an outlet, and I have a way for you to get that while training with someone that I know is not going to pull punches.”

Bakugou actually looks interested in this, if not a little skeptical. “...Who?”

“Someone who would benefit from this just as much as you could.” He says. Aizawa knows that Shinsou is harboring some sort of resentment towards him, and until the kid figures it out, he knows that he needs some interaction with other people that aren’t Aizawa and his coworkers at work. He hopes that this can give Shinsou practice with a fairly formidable opponent while, and as much as it makes Aizawa’s heart twist, giving Shinsou some space. “Meet me at the east campus gym after school on Monday – Consider it your detention.”

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

BAKUGOU

Bakugou stands in the gym with Aizawa, slightly early. They’re coming from the same place, so they wait there together for this mysterious person Aizawa seems to think will help him train.

Suddenly, the heavy metal doors of the gym creak open, and in walks, to Bakugou’s surprise, Shinsou. 

Shinsou walks over to them, a slight flicker of curiosity and apprehension in his heavy lidded stare. As he comes to a halt before them, Bakugou notices something off about him. Maybe it’s the way his long hair, spreading away from his face and tumbling down his back seems to be even more unkempt than Bakugou remembers, or the way his tall posture is slightly slouched, his ducked head making his angled bone structure seem even more sharp. Most of all, his white-pupiled eyes seem to thrum with an anxious energy, and Bakugou can practically feel the way he seems to itch to be moving – because he recognizes that same feeling in himself. His skin crawls as he feels Shinou appraising him with curiosity.

Aizawa breaks the silence. “Shinsou, this is Bakugo. He’s in my class.” 

“We’ve met.” Shinsou answers in his low drawl. 

Aizawa raises his eyebrow when he offers no further explanation. “Then you might know that he’s currently one of the best students in the hero course. I want you two to train for a bit. If it ends up working out, hopefully you two can begin training without me.”

Bakugou is, to say the least, skeptical. He thought when Aizawa said that the mystery person wasn't going to pull his punches that meant he would bring who could actually help him. Bakugou didn't sign up to beat up Aizawa’s wannabe hero student, no matter how much more built the guy had gotten, or what Kirishima said all of those months ago about the damn bo staff. 

He ignored the feeling of Shinsou watching him, and huffed and said, “Fine, whatever.”

Aizawa had the two of them warm up, and finally got them in the center for a quirkless sparring match. 

“Quirkless? I thought you said I wouldn’t have to pull my punches!” Bakugoiu exclaimed to AIzawa when Shinsou was out of earshot, grabbing a sip of water before they began sparring.

Aizawa looked at him with a strange look in his eye. “How do you know it isn’t to even the playing field for your benefit? Remember, never underestimate your opponent.”

Bakugou tried to remember that as he got into his stance, watching Shinsou stand there. Bakugou was confused at Shinsou’s stance. He just stood there, feet slightly parted, watching Bakugou with a scrutinizing look in his eye. 

Aizawa called for them to start, and Bakugou immediately rushed at Shinsou, ready to knock him out with a swift, powerful punch straight to the face. 

It happens before Bakugou can think about it. Shinsou merely turns his body to the left, Bakgou’s right hook punching through the air as Shinsou grabs him, turning and swinging him up and over until Bakugou is on the ground, his head spinning. 

Much to Bakugou’s shock, they go four more rounds ending the exact same way – Bakugou incapacitated before he can think about what happened. 

At the end, Aizawa asks, “So? What do you think?” He directed this question at Shinsou with what can only be described as a slightly pleading look in his eye. 

Shinsou just looks at Aizawa blankly before he says, “Fine.” He looks away.

Bakugou huffs. “I’m not gonna be your buddy, so don’t go getting any ideas. You’re still nobody to me – this is all purely business, so don’t go getting your panties in a twist when I beat the shit out of you.”

Shinsou’s bored, blank expression finally changes at his words, smirking slightly and raising an eyebrow, “Yeah, sure. You’re welcome to try, partner.”

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

BAKUGOU

He and Shinsou are sparring quirkless. It’s taking everything from Bakugou to keep from getting knocked on his ass from Shinsou’s attacks. Shinsou is ruthless, attacking Bakugou with fast and powerful attacks. Bakugou can barely keep up with Shinsou’s frenzy of kicks, spins, punches, sweeps, and jumps. He attacks like a wild animal, moving fast, coming from all angles, overwhelming Bakugou.

Frustrated, Bakugou can feel himself getting sloppy, eventually giving Shinsou an opening for a swift, powerful kick to the back, sending Bakugou toppling out of the ring onto his hands.

Bakugou growls in frustration, pushing himself up on his feet and whipping around to Shinsou, who’s getting a sip of water with his usual bored affect. 

“Fuck! We’ve sparred a hundred times and I still can’t beat you!” Bakugou’s panting, his anger coming in loud breaths through his nose.

Shinsou turns his half-lidded eyes to him, answering, “Is that what you’re trying to do? Beat me?”

Bakugou’s face twists in confusion, responding heatedly in his usual loud voice. “The hell? Isn’t that the whole point of sparring?”

Shinsou just shrugs, taking another sip of water, returning to the mat. 

Bakugou follows, then proceeds to get his ass kicked some more. On the sixth consecutive beatdown since that last conversation, Bakugou speaks up again, more calm this time.

“Fine. What do you think is the point of sparring?” 

Shinsou pauses, looking at him like it’s obvious. “To improve.” 

He glares. “ Of course it’s to improve, dipshit! So why am I not? ”

Shinsou narrows his eyes, leaning back. “I don’t think you can handle the truth.”

“ What!? ” Bakugou bursts, explosions pooping from his hands. “The fuck’s that supposed to mean?”

Shinsou just shrugs nonchalantly. “I’m just saying that I don’t think you’ll be able to take advice from the likes of me.” With that, he walks over to his water bottle again like nothing happened.

Bakugou feels steam coming from his ears. “I don’t give a shit what you’re saying, asshole.” He stomps over to where Shinsou is standing. “Lay it on me.”

Shinsou looks at him for a second before starting, “You have great reflexes, but no outlet. Your attacks are powerful, but without specific enough application, you just waste your energy. You have no intention behind your attacks, and you only know how to use full power. You need to start deploying feints to make you less easy to read. Also, while your footwork is good, you barely use kicks, if at all –likely because your quirk comes from your hands. While this can be an advantage for your quirk, it makes you excessively easy to read.” Shinsou continued, despite Bakugou’s dumbfounded expression. “Most of all, though, you’re not using your brain enough when you fight, which is why you don’t understand why you can’t beat me.” He finishes with a swig, turning back to the mat.

Bakugou just stands there, stunned, processing what Shinsou said, unused to Shinsou actually talking. Finally, he turned to Shinsou, and, with a much calmer voice, he said, “Teach me.”

If Shinsou’s listless eyes regained some life during his rant, it quickly disappeared again as his bored face bore a look of slight doubt and surprise. 

“You heard me. I can’t improve like this.” Bakugou’s saying this through gritted teeth, his pride hurting from having to admit this.

Shinsou narrowed his eyes. “And you’d actually listen to me?”

Bakugou sighed in exasperation. “ Yes . Now teach me.”

Shinsou shrugged. “Fine. But don’t go complaining to Aizawa if I’m too harsh –Or do, and see if I care.”

Bakugou scoffed. “Don’t you give a shit about anything?”

A dark look passed over Shinsou’s face before he gestured Bakugou over to the mat. As Shinsou began, Bakugou’s mind wandered to that look, wondering if he’d missed anything, before pushing it out of his mind and focusing on what he was saying. 

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

SHINSOU

He and Bakugou have been training together every Monday and Thursday after school, Bakugou replacing Aizawa on those days once Aizawa was sure they wouldn’t kill each other.

As much as he was skeptical at first, it’s actually been a benefit to get to fight someone who isn't Aizawa. He’s also thankful for the space, ignoring the twang of guilt he feels from knowing that Aizawa has noticed the distance. 

Bakugou, while wild and almost uncontrolled, is also precise and can think in the heat of battle, making him a pretty good opponent, despite the fact that his combat skills are so below Shinsou’s.

That’s another thing. Much to Shinsou’s surprise, Bakugou is able to swallow his pride and learn from Shinsou. He knows that Shinsou has a lot to teach him, and actively seeks this out in his usual abrasive manner. 

Their fights are intense, especially with quirks. They tend to train in the concrete city arenas, where Bakugou ends up leveling whole buildings in pursuit of Shinsou, who flys and weaves between the debris and landscape, keeping his expansion dialed up in anticipation of Bakugou’s explosions and approaches. 

They each have a couple close calls, but the adrenaline and danger leaves both of them winded, their anxious energy finally expended by the end of their training sessions. 

They train for hours, and go their separate ways, just keeping the conversation to training and how they can improve. Bakugou, while worse than Shinsou at combat, has good battle sense and is able to actually help Shinsou by pointing out the things he needs to work on. 

Bakugou is an enigma to him. He’s abrasive, rude, loud, and obnoxious. His explosions are as wild as he is, itching for confrontation and aggression. However, he’s also serious, dedicated, and honest. He will do what it takes to be a good hero, and won’t let distractions get in the way, all of which Shinsou can respect. 

His best trait, in Shinsou’s opinion, is how he commands attention. Maybe it’s because of Bakugou’s removal from what happened, but Shinsou doesn’t think about that when he’s with Bakugou. If Bakugou notices this need for distraction, he doesn’t say anything.

He does, however, ask a question out of the blue one time when they’re on a break, catching their breath on the ledge of one of the concrete buildings of the arena. Bakugou is sitting on the ledge while Shinsou is standing, both looking off at random points in the distance of the vast arena. 

“I don't get it. Why aren’t you in the hero course already? You probably wipe the floor with most of those losers – except me, of course.” He says in his usual gruff voice. It’s probably the nicest thing he’s ever said to Shinsou. 

Shinsou snorts at the statement at the end. “As if.” He takes a second, deciding his next words. There’s a lot he hasn’t told Bakugou – or anyone besides Aizawa, for that matter, like his quirk expansion or the ultimatum the HPSC gave him. “A lot of powerful people don’t want me to be a hero because of my quirk. Namely, the HPSC. They think being on the dangerous quirk registry basically destines me for the life of a villain. The only way I can get into the hero course is if I rank number one overall at the beginning of the second year.” He says, eyes still fixed on the point in the distance, unable to see Bakugou’s reaction. He doesn’t know what to expect – maybe Bakugou will scoff at him, tell him it’s impossible, or sympathize with the HPSC, and tell Shinsou he’s unsuitable to be a hero. 

“Bullshit.” Shinsou’s eyes whip to Bakugou’s at this, who’s already looking at him with that intense look on his face. “Anyone who’s talked to you for longer than two minutes can tell you’re just as heroic as anyone else in the hero course, if not more. This random ass dangerous quirk registry is just a stupid way for them to admit they’re scared and weak. If anything, I should be on that list, but I’m not, because they’re dumb and don’t know what they’re talking about. None of those out-of-touch skin bags in charge do.” His voice is heated at this, his hatred for the bureaucratic system coming through clearly in his words. 

Shinsou’s lost for words, and all he can do is just look at Bakugou in his surprised, open-mouthed stare. He never expected Bakugou to react like that, let alone be so clear-headed about the system. He can’t help but look at him differently, wondering how he didn’t see it before. 

Bakugou continues after seeing that Shinsou wasn’t going to say anything. “Don’t think this means that I plan on going easy on the ranking test when it comes just because of this. You’re going to have to earn your place.” 

Shinsou’s broken out of his stupor at this, huffing a laugh. “Trust me, I don’t expect you to. Not that It would make a difference, though. You’d place below me regardless.” At this, he turns and falls backwards off the building.

 He swings away, smirking back at Bakugou, who throws himself off the building as well, propelling himself with explosions after Shinsou as he yells, “HEY! Get back here! I won’t take this disrespect from a General Studies nobody like you!” 

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------

AIZAWA

If any good came out of his and Shinsou’s recent distance, it’s that Bakugou seems to be improving at a much faster rate in his classes. Clearly, something Shinsou is doing in their sessions must be pretty effective, because Bakugou is getting much better at reading his opponents and honing his fast reflexes more efficiently. 

The other students in the class seem to notice this, too. 

Kaminari says one combat class day, “Damn, bro! When did you become such a beast?”

 “It’s called training. Ever heard of it?” Bakugou grunts.

Kaminari just clutches his pearls in mock offense. “ Dude. You know I’m busy.”

 “Yeah?” Ashido laughs, “Busy with what? Video games?”

Kaminari squawks in offense at this. Sero chimes in. “That’s rich coming from you, Mina. You’ve been online shopping in, like, every class. I would know, I sit behind you.”

“Hey!” Mina yells, slapping him on the arm. She hisses quietly, still within earshot of Aizawa, “Mr. Aizawa’s right there !”

Aizawa can’t bring himself to scold them, too busy thinking about Shinsou as he watches Ojirou and Uraraka spar. Those two are probably his biggest obstacle in the combat section, He thinks. He can do it, though. He’s already quickly improving past their level. How will he fare in academics? He’s at the top of his class in General Studies, but some of the people here are– He cut himself off, snapping out of it. Shinsou didn’t want anything to do with him at the moment, and the students in the hero course needed him present right now.

He sighs inwardly, moving to give Uraraka pointers, pushing Shinsou from his mind as best he could at the moment. 

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------

SHINSOU

Shinsou stumbled through the door of his foster parents’ apartment, feeling dead on his feet. It’s already a week into a summer that he predicted would be bad, and he was proving himself right. Because of his recent estrangement from Aizawa, and the lack of school taking up his time, Shinsou’s been working a lot more outside of his regular training sessions, running himself ragged almost every day.

He tried his best to ignore the growing presence of the same unsavory sort that he’d first seen at the apartment a while ago. Shinsou walked through the streets with the presence of a ghost, removing himself from what's around him, and ultimately, himself.

As he came in, he ignored his foster parents passed out on the couch, heading instead for the kitchen for something to eat. 

As Shinsou’s rummaging through the cabinets, he notices with alarm that his stash of protein bars is gone. 

He stands up straight in the middle of the dark, dank kitchen, closing his eyes and breathing harshly through his nose. They already take all of my money for rent and substances, why must they take my food too?  

In a split decision, he eyes a bottle of vodka on the counter, snatching it and rushing out the door, not bothering to lock it behind him. I paid for it, anyway, he thinks.

He rushes through the streets, beelining for a nearby park where he can breathe without the eyes of strangers fixated on him. He takes swigs of the vodka, feeling his head start to become fuzzy and his vision blur before him. 

By the time Shinsou gets to the park, he’s stumbling, grip on the bottle tight as he watches his surroundings shift and blur.

“Woah…” He says, his mouth full of cotton. It isn’t the first time he’s ever been drunk, but the combination of being plastered off of straight vodka with no mixer and his exhaustion did not mix well.

He ends up tripping and falling on his face in the grass at some point, no longer having the energy to get up. 

Facedown in the dirt, he smiles, laughing for what felt like the first time since he– Nope, don’t think about that. 

He rolls over languidly, hair and dirt in his face as the smile falls from his face. I should call Aizawa , he thinks. Topping off the last of the bottle and lighting a cigarette clumsily, he loosely grabs his flip phone, punching in Aizawa’s contact. 

He stares up at the sky – or, lack thereof. Since they’re deeper in the lower slums of the city, the “park” is obscured by a skywalk above him. I wouldn't be able to see any stars anyway, he muses, thinking of the light pollution of the city.

Suddenly, a crackling, tired voice comes through the speaks on his phone. “Hello?”

Shinsou jolts, having already forgotten he’d called Aizawa. It was at this point he’d realized it was 4:00 AM, and Aizawa was either in bed or on patrol – by the sounds of it, he was the former.

“Shinsou? Are you okay?” Aizawa presses when Shinsou doesn’t give him a response.

Shinsou laughs at this, the alcohol making it feel heavy and slow. “...Am I okay…?” He slurred, still laughing. 

“Are you drunk?” Aizawa asks, alarm in his voice.

Shinsou laughs again. “Calm your tits, Eraserhead I’m fine –Everything is okay, just like you said!” His voice pitches up at this, and Shinsou can no longer tell if he’s laughing or crying in his alcohol-addled brain.

“Shinsou, where are you?” Aizawa sounds urgent.

Shinsou exclaims, “Why do you even care? It’s all a fucking joke!” He quiets, his voice cracking. “I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be…right at the bottom of everything.” He’s suddenly aware of how heavy his wet eyelashes feel, closing his eyes. “Who even cares.”

“I-” He cuts Aizawa off as he starts again, shutting the flip phone, hanging up abruptly. 

He sits, steeped in silence. The city hustles and screams around him, but the quiet reflection of the park sends him flying into his own mind. 

He closes his eyes, letting himself get taken away by the cool, damp ground, the air around him still like the bated breath of words left unsaid.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------

BAKUGOU

He and Shinsou are sparring with quirks, flying across the area. Bakugou is using his explosions to propel himself around the arena, coming at Shinsou then backing off, using his advantage in the flat area where Shinsou can’t grapple his capture scarf.

Shinsou is using a bo staff, which Bakugou’s seen him use a few times. He’s using his agility and acrobatic skills to deftly avoid Bakugou’s attacks while using his bo staff for powerful swings at Bakugou at a longer reach. He seems to be able to anticipate Bakugou’s moves before he does them, frustrating Bakugou to no end.

The two of them have both taken some hits, but neither seems to be anywhere near stopping any time soon. 

At one point, Bakugou manages to blast away Shinsou’s staff, sending it clattering across the arena. Rather than run after it, Shinsou intercepts Bakugou’s next approach, grappling him. 

The two of them are locked in a power struggle, arms locked. Shinsou’s superior height lends him the advantage for muscle mass, and Bakugou can feel himself starting to crumble.

In quick thinking, Bakugou lets off blasts from his hands that were wrapped around Shinsou’s upper arms, singing away those areas of the T-shirt Shinsou was wearing and sending the taller boy flipping backwards.

Unfortunately, he accidentally sent Shinsou flying next to his staff. Shinsou quickly scrambles to his feet, grabbing his staff and sprinting at Bakugou.

Bakugou braces for his approach, preparing to meet him head-on, but something in Shinsou makes him pause. Shinsou’s eyes seem alive – more alive than Bakugou’s seen before. They were almost too alive, alight with a desperation and wildness that Bakugou couldn’t place.

Bakugou pays for his hesitation upon seeing Shinsou’s face when suddenly the purple-haired boy is above him, jumping into a wicked over-hand slash coming crashing down on Bakugou’s shoulder.

Bakugou cries out as pain flashes across Bakugou’s shoulder and back as he lands on the ground, rolling away to avoid another swing from Shinsou.

Bakugou suddenly feels an all-encompassing feeling of being prey. An oppressive sense of bloodthirst and anger fills his brain, stuffing his ears and blurring his vision with an all-too-familiar static.

His body is filled with a sense of fight-or-flight as he continues to evade Shinsou’s erratic attacks. 

With his brain confused with the static, however, Bakugou ends up ailing defensively. He’s on the ground, Shinsou above him, arms raised above his head with the staff for a final blow. Bakugou can only squeeze his eyes shut and throw an arm over his head, twisting his body away from Shinsou, bracing for the blow.

When it doesn’t come, he hears instead a loud clatter of the staff falling to the ground of the arena. He lowers his arm and looks back up at Shinsou, who is staring down at him with wide eyes, breathing heavily. 

Shinsou’s face is that of unbridled fear, the static feeling gone. Bakugou briefly gets called back to the locker room, getting a distinct sense of deja-vu. This was different, though. Back then, it was commanding, giving Shinsou’s presence an unspoken strength. This time, it gave Shinsou an animalistic presence, borne from anger and desperation –the origins of which are unknown to Bakugou.

Suddenly embarrassed and annoyed at his defeat, he sprang to his feet, yelling, “What the fuck was that!? Was that your fucking quirk!?” He yelled, explosions popping from his hands.

Shinsou’s mouth opens and closes, his gaze flickering to Bakugou’s hands. Shinsou took a step back. “I-” He’s cut off as he stumbles, hissing, holding his arms.  

Bakugou realizes with slight horror that Shinsou’s skin along his arms and shoulders is red and blistering with burns. Fuck, I didn’t mean for that explosion to be so powerful.

As he makes this realization, adrenaline fading, his shoulder suddenly aches with a bone deep pain. He grunts, gritting out. “We need to get to Recovery Girl.” She should be here, since it’s a weekday. Hopefully. He thinks with a grimace.

Shinsou just nods, not replying. They abandon their stuff, walking to the med bay in slightly awkward silence.

By the time they get there, Bakugou’s thoroughly pissed. His entire body aches, and he’s mad at both him and Shinsou for not being able to call off the fight or recognize when they needed to stop.

When Recovery Girl sees them, she gasps, “Oh, goodness! Bakugou, did you get in another fight!?” He pressures as she herds them into the med bay quickly, depositing them across from each other, sitting on the edge of two cots.

“No. Training got out of hand, that’s all.” Bakugou grumbles, watching as she kisses Shinsou on the head, the blistering burns on his arms fading slightly before she comes over and kisses him too, making him feel near instant relief in his shoulder.

“Alright, thankfully it looks much worse than it looks. You two might be sore for a couple days, but that’s it.” Her voice turns stern, “Remember next time – it’s just training, you need to go easier.”

Bakugou frowned at this as she walked away briskly. How can we be prepared for the real thing if we pull our punches in training?

He looks back at Shinsou, whose eyes are still wide and unfocused as he stares at the ground in front of him.

Slightly hesitant, Bakugou says gruffly, “Hello? Earth to Shinsou?” He kicked him in the shin. “What, are you shell-shocked or something? What’s with the damn thousand yard stare?”

When he gets no response again, Bakugou kicks him again. “Oi!” He yells.

Finally, Shinsou blinks, looking up at Bakugou before looking away and moving to stand up, walking away without a word to Bakugou.

“Wha– Hey! Get back here!” Bakugou exclaims indignantly.

Shinsou pauses, looking at him, usual blank expression back on his face, giving Bakugou whiplash thinking about the desperate, wide-eyed expression on his face just before.

“Look, I don’t believe a word she says about taking it easy, so don’t . I already get enough of that from the hero course– I don’t need that from you.” Bakugou presses. “We do need to get better at stopping, though. I don’t know what the fuck that was earlier, but don’t let it happen again.” Bakugou’s suddenly very aware of how quiet and empty it is in the med bay, 

Shinsou just nods, something despondent behind his bored, half-lidded eyes.

“What? Aren’t you gonna say anything? No explanation?” Bakugou pressed, annoyed.

Shinsou looked down at this. His voice crackled as he spoke up. “I…I don’t know what that was, either. My quirk is…there’s a lot I don’t know about it.” He sighed, looking up at Bakugou. “Look, I’m not supposed to tell you this, but you deserve to know if you’re going to be sparring with me. My quirk lets me tune in to other people’s emotions, intentions, perceptions…it’s what lets me know what you’re going to do in a fight. I only discovered this recently, though, and there’s a lot I don’t know about my quirk. Sometimes…” He hesitated, something nervous flashing across his face before he continued. “Sometimes it does things that I’ve never been able to do before, and…well, I understand if you don’t want me using my quirk while we train any more…or if you don’t want to continue training at all.” Shinsou’s voice trailed off at the end as he looked away.

Bakugou was speechless. He’d never heard of a quirk being so complicated. “How the hell do you not know what your quirk is!?” He blurted out.

Shinsou winced, “I never really got to use it much before this year.” He said softly, a stark contrast to Bakugou’s outburst.

Bakugou just stared at him. He couldn’t imagine not using his quirk, or not knowing its exact properties. 

Shinsou shifted uncomfortably, reminding Bakugou of the last thing he said about quitting training. Bakugou started, bursting out. “Don’t you dare try and quit on me! You’re the only person who doesn’t pull their punches in training and you’d better not fucking start, freaky quirk or not.”

Shinsou just gaped at him. 

Bakugou turned red, suddenly embarrassed and annoyed at the interaction. “Whatever. Same time next week. You’d better show up on your A-game, because I’ve gotta get even.” With that, he stormed out of the med bay, leaving Shinsou standing there.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

BAKUGOU

They’re taking a short break, as per Shinsou’s command. Since their semi heart-to-heart a couple weeks ago, Shinsou’s been steadily becoming more of a human and less of a machine, having them take regular water breaks. 

Bakugou, for his part, complained at first, not used to slowing down for anything, but now he can begrudgingly recognize that it helps to slow down for a second. 

Shinsou and him are discussing techniques when Bakugou hears his phone ringing for what feels like the fifteenth time in the past hour. He groans loudly in frustration, pressing cancel and putting his phone on silent, shoving it back in his bag.

Shinsou gave him a look. “You don’t need to answer that?”

“No.” Bakugou grumbled, “Just my annoying ass friends pestering me.” They’d been trying to get him to hang out everyday, as if they don’t literally live together. 

Shinsou huffed a small humorless laugh. “Yeah, well, that’s what hero students do best.” He gave Bakugou a look. “Be annoying, that is.”

Despite himself, Bakugou barked a laugh. “Yeah.” He processed Shinsou’s words for a second. “Wait a damn minute, you’re one to talk!” He said indignantly, realizing the thinly veiled insult in Shinsou’s words. He absentmindedly realized that this is only the second time the two of them talked about anything other than training, confusing himself with an odd sense of accomplishment.

Shinsou just smiled with mirth. “Took you a second.”

Bakugou snapped in response, “Yeah, well, you’re going to be a hero student soon enough, too!”

“I’m flattered that you have so much faith in me.” Shinsou said drily, mock hand over his heart.

“Whatever.” Bakugou huffed. “At least you can actually take something seriously, unlike so many of those losers.”

Shinsou raised his eyebrows, “Oh?”

Bakugou doesn’t even know why he keeps talking, but Shinsou got him started, so he can’t stop. “They act like everything’s a fucking joke , like training to be a hero just means getting good enough to be popular ! Like we’re not fighting a war! It’s like they have no sense of reality.” Bakugou’s heated now, remembering why he’s been so frustrated in the first place.

Shinsou looks at him for a long second before saying, “Because they’ve never had to. Maybe one day they’ll sober up and face the music.” He casually took a swig of his water. “Or, you know, maybe not. They’ll probably be fine either way.” His voice is steeped in bitterness as he says this. 

Bakugou chews on this, thinking. “They’d better.”

He sets his water down heavily, walking back to the mat. “Now show me that takedown again.” He says, turning the conversation back to training, the lingering unfamiliar feeling of achievement from getting more out of Shinsou pushed to the back of his mind for now.

Chapter Text

BAKUGOU

A month and a half into the summer, Bakugou is pissed at himself. He told himself he wouldn’t be Shinsou’s friend, that their relationship would be purely business. It was exactly that for a couple weeks, the two of them only talking about training and combat–until they started training more than twice a week and quickly ran out of conversation topics that only concerned training. Additionally, Bakugou usually doesn’t give a damn about anyone else around him, and he couldn’t care less about their lives, but Shinsou makes it extremely hard to not be at least a little bit curious. 

Shinsou’s an enigma. He’s sarcastic, rude, and a brutal fighter. He never pulls punches, and he fights with the aggression of a wild dog fighting for the last scrap of food. However, beneath this rough exterior there was a certain strength that Bakugou couldn’t place his finger on, that he had seen all those months ago in the locker rooms, that one time in training, and that he still does see when he speaks to Shinsou, or truly looks at him when Shinsou doesn’t know he’s looking. This strength is undercut by a conflict beneath him, however, as if there’s a turmoil that he’s grappling with. Bakugou can see it in the way he recklessly throws himself into training, as if he’s covering for some deep hurt and confusion beneath the surface. 

Shinsou’s changed during their training, though. His formerly lifeless demeanor has been steadily replaced by a sarcastic, rude, bored personality. Bakugou prefers it that way, remembering Shinsou’s emptiness when he first met him, wondering what could make someone become like that.

There’s also the matter of that static. He hasn’t experienced it since that one time in the locker room, but sometimes when he fights Shinsou he can almost feel a static field around Shinsou, like it emanates from him. It probes him, giving him the feeling of being watched from all sides, cornered. It took some getting used to.

 Bakugou doesn’t ask about it, though. He knows Shinsou keeps his life close to his chest, and he doesn’t want to accidentally cause him to stop using it, making the fights easier. 

He does, however, talk about other stuff. It’s not his fault that Shinsou’s just easier to talk to than the others sometimes, even Kirishima. They don’t get it. They still have so much faith in the hero system, that the good guys fight the bad guys, that justice works, and the heroes are the ones to deliver that justice. They haven’t realized that it’s all just a battle for what’s right, and do what you can in a system that does what it can to reduce hero work to a game of popularity contests and media circuses, all while refusing to acknowledge the flaws in said system that creates villains in the first place. 

Shinsou does understand this, though. In fact, he understands it even more than Bakugou probably does, as he’s lived it. From what he’s been able to glean through subtle hints in conversation, Shinsou comes from that world that directly experiences the detriments of the system, having all of the odds stacked against him because of his quirk and where he comes from. 

Because of this, they’ve started to talk about a variety of things, like their lives, school, and interests. Even though it went against the plan, Bakugou can’t find it in himself to be too mad at it. Shinsou’s numb, icy disposition has slowly been melting over time, and Bakugou can feel himself being more open, as well.

Today, however, they’re talking about nothing in particular as they’re chatting during their post-training stretches, sitting across from each other on the mat. Shinsou’s in a black tank top on top of his loose black sweatpants, his tattoos on full display – another thing that Bakugou wonders about but doesn’t ask. 

“So…it comes from your sweat?” Shinsou asks for what feels like the twelfth time.

Bakugou rolls his eyes in annoyance. “What is so damn confusing about it that’s got you so stuck on this?” 

“Nothing, I’m just wondering… all of your sweat is nitroglycerin?” 

Bakugou has no idea how to feel when Shinsou asks this question, looking at him with those half lidded eyes, look of amusement on his face, probably at Bakugou’s annoyance. “Yes, all of it. Why do you even care?”

“No reason…just curious.” He looks to be deep in thought for a second. “How do you wash your clothes? Are washing machines, like, built for nitroglycerin- soaked clothes?”

“I don’t know! The washing machines work fine!” Bakugou answers in indignation. Normally, he would have shut down this conversation immediately, but for reasons unclear to him, he doesn’t, allowing Shinsou to ask his stupid questions. 

“Have you ever thought about going into mining? I bet you could make good money by making quarries and the like.” He’s snickering as he says this.

“Have you ever thought about shutting your mouth? That’s the stupidest shit I’ve ever heard.” Bakugou’s not as annoyed as he should be as he gives Shinsou an eye roll, looking away to resume his stretches.

Shinsou, however, speaks again. “I was wondering though…what does it smell like?” 

Bakugou sighs, saying, “Apparently it has no odor at room temperature. I don’t smell anything.”

“Okay, but you could be nose blind. Also, when you explode it, it’s no longer at room temperature. I bet you reek of chemicals and you don’t even know it.” Shinsou’s tone is goading as he says it, Bakugou rising to the bait. 

“I do not reek of chemicals!” He grits out. “Smell me yourself!” He regrets the words as soon as they leave his mouth, Shinsou’s slightly surprised face looking back at him.

Surprisingly, Shinsou smirks, saying, “If you say so.” He scoots across the mat to sit closer in front of Bakugou. 

His long hair tickles Bakugou’s face and front as he leans in, his face inches from his neck, taking a whiff of him. Bakugou is suddenly aware of how warm Shinsou’s skin feels. Bakugou’s face is red as Shinsou pulls back, sitting on his heels with a thinking look on his face. 

“I dunno, you smell more like smoke and fire than like chemicals exactly, but there is a slight acid-y smell. Looks like you do smell like chemicals, hate to break it to you. If it gives you any consolation, it’s not that bad, considering” He smiles one of his wide cheeky grins, clapping Bakugou on his bare shoulder.

With this, he drops the subject and returns to his side of the mat, leaving Bakugou’s shoulder burning where he touched him.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

SHINSOU

Shinsou has been working a lot more. He’s cut down on some of his training with Aizawa, opting instead to train alone in odd hours and take up more shifts. 

He came home from a shift at the garage, sighing as he stepped into the warm apartment. It was stuffy because the AC shut off when they couldn’t cover the electricity bill. He felt a drop of sweat trickle down his back, just adding to the grease and grime that already covered his body. 

He heard his foster parents yelling at each other, sighing internally, already resolving to tune it out. He hurried past them in the kitchen. Shinsou headed straight to his room for his cash stash in his inner lining in his coat. He kept this stash for when he inevitably aged out of the system and needed to land on his feet, and he’d amassed a pretty big stash over the years. 

He sighed as he tucked the money away, ducking out of the apartment again. 

Shinsou sighed as he walked out into the rain. As he walks through the rainy streets, the sounds of discontent fill the thick summer air. The sun is just starting to rise above the highrises of the city, reminding Shinsou of his lack of sleep. 

His phone feels heavy in his pocket. Shinsou knows he should call Aizawa, ask him to crash on his couch, tell him what’s going on, but he can’t. Everytime he closes his eyes, he sees that night, and being around Aizawa only makes it worse in a twisted way. When he’s with Aizawa, Shinsou is forced to confront what he did, what happened, and, most importantly, how to move forward despite it.

He walks past people arguing under an awning, people sleeping behind garbage dumps, and people wasting their time with drugs and alcohol, meandering their ways through the rainy streets. 

He sees the exact same rot that’s in the apartment he lives in on the streets outside. Most of all, though, he sees the rot in himself.  

As Shinsou settles down to nap on a park bench, he thinks again about Aizawa. Most of all, he can’t go to Aizawa because he’s scared Aizawa’s going to see this rot, too. He’s scared that he’s going to realize he was wrong to forgive him, to try and move forward, and that Shinsou is exactly where he came from. 

Shinsou thinks of Bakugou, too. The two of them have actually been becoming friends , which is already pretty incomprehensible to him. However, Shinsou’s still keeping his distance. Bakugou’s been a welcome distraction from everything, and Shinsou doesn’t want him finding out about all of Shinsou’s baggage and getting scared off. 

When he’s with Bakugou, he’s able to slip back into himself, or at least who he thought he was, not this hollow, listless shell of a person that he’s been. 

Lying on the bench, the cold metal digging into his spine, Shinsou resolves that he can deal with his problems alone, without dragging Aizawa or Bakugou into it. 

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

SHINSOU

Shinsou loves to bother Bakugou. He loves to watch Bakugou’s face turn red, matching his bright eyes, bristling like his spiky hair at whatever Shinsou has teased him with. He just makes it too easy, he thinks with amusement. 

One such instance is today. It’s a little over a month into the summer, the sky a bright splash of pink and orange as they step out of their usual gym having wreaked destruction on the concrete structures yet again. I wonder how they keep up with us , he thinks absentmindedly.

“I can’t believe this! How did you never think to mention that you’re, like, a rich kid?” Shinsou exclaims, lighting a cigarette as they walk out of the gates of UA. He knows he shouldn’t be smoking at this point, but he’s been needing the nicotine to get him through the days lately. It’s not like Aizawa’s going to notice he thinks with a pang of guilt. The two of them haven’t been hanging out outside of their increasingly less regularly scheduled training sessions. Back to the matter at hand, though, Bakugou has just told him that his parents were fashion designers. “No wonder you’re so healthy!” 

“You’re so stupid! Just because my parents are rich doesn’t automatically mean I’m healthy! I worked hard for my physique, thank you ” Bakugou grumps back in his usual gruff voice. 

Shinsou rolls his eyes at this “ Of course it does.”

“Okay, then explain why you’re so healthy if you’re so poor.” Bakugou retorts, gesturing loosely at the taller boy.

Shinsou raises an unimpressed eyebrow, pointedly taking a drag from his cigarette.

Bakugou rolls his eyes. “I meant your physique. Besides, your damn cancer sticks cost money, so my point stands.”

Shinsou concedes to that. “If you must know, I happen to have two jobs. Not that your little rich ass would know anything about that.” Shinsou’s been working a lot more now that he's not in school. And, since he isn't going over to Aizawa’s as much for meals, the grocery bill’s been a little tight. Once again, a pang of guilt and hurt goes through him as he thinks about how he’s been distancing himself from Aizawa lately. He just hasn’t felt ready to face him – to be faced with what Shinsou is. 

Bakugou actually seems to be surprised at this. “Two jobs? What about your parents?”

“Foster parents, and forget about it. I take care of myself.” He’s struck a nerve with this. He tries to lighten up his tone – he doesn’t want Bakugou’s pity. “Besides, I’m not that healthy. With these egg prices, I might literally become a starving orphan.” He grumbles.

They get to the point where they separate, where Shinsou heads to the train station to go to his neighborhood and Bakugou walks the rest of the way home in the affluent neighborhood nearby where UA’s campus is. Shinsou suddenly feels a sea of difference between him and Bakugou, his mood soured.

Instead, though, Bakugou keeps walking with him. 

“What are you doing? Don’t you need to go home?” Shinsou asks in confusion, his face reddened from embarrassment. 

“Shut up.” Bakugou gruffs. “Let’s go get some ramen – I’ll pay. I’m hungry.”

“Wha- I don’t need your charity!” Shinsou sputters in annoyance, stopping as Bakugou keeps walking a few paces ahead of him. 

Bakugou just rolls his eyes at this, looking back at him. “It’s not charity if I’m hungry too.”

Shinsou just stands there looking at him, crossing his arms.

Bakugou sighs at this, fully turning around to face Shinsou. “Look, you said it yourself. My parents give me an allowance and everything that I never use, so just accept it. Trust me, they can afford it. You don’t need to do everything yourself. Besides, it’s just ramen, it’s not like we’re going to get omakase.”

Shinsou looks at him for a long moment, but eventually his hunger wins and he sighs, moving to walk next to Bakugou again. “You rich people are all the same. Always wanting to throw your money around.”

Bakugou just huffs a laugh and rolls his eyes at this, knocking into him in response as they make their way to the restaurant.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

AIZAWA

He’s having a normal, if not boring patrol. The summer rains have been going strong, the downpour on the slick steel surfaces of the city reflecting the many lights of the various shops and buildings. Aizawa would love to say that the rain discourages crime, but for the most part, it seems to have little to know effect on crime rates. If anything, people treat it like a barrier between them and the heroes.

Aizawa’s in one of the most dangerous parts of the city, down by where the drug abuse and red-light districts are most saturated, in the dark underbelly of the twisting, layered city that is Mustafu.

Glittering highrises tower above him as he slowly swings through the narrow alleys and locked passages of the slums. 

He hears some commotion a ways away, and he hurries across the rooftops to observe.

Down in an alley below him, what looks to be three men are circling around a prostitute, obviously trying to get some free service.

The downpour makes it impossible for Aizawa to make out what they’re saying, but by the raised voices, he knows he’ll most likely have to step in soon.

A hooded figure walks past the alleyway at the wrong time, and the men drag this new person in, arm around his neck. They’re talking to him jovially, clearly trying to either get him to join in or looking for a punching bag. 

It turns out to be the latter as the man ends up punching him in the face and looping an arm around his neck, squeezing. The sex worker’s scream pierces through the alley, surging Aizawa to action.

However, in a split second, just as Aizawa’s about to swing down, the hooded figure has kicked up, kicking one of the other men in the face and swinging over the head of the man who had him in a chokehold. 

The woman screams again, running away out of the alley as a fight ensues. Aizawa acts fast, swinging down into the alleyway to join in. 

However, the hooded figure took care of the common thugs quickly, incapacitating them before Aizawa could do much to help.

To Aizawa’s surprise, the hooded man runs as soon as he sees him. Aizawa quickly darts out his capture scarf, wrapping it around the figure, leaving the men writhing on the ground. 

“Hold on. I need to make sure you’re okay.” He grunts out to the struggling man. Aizawa circles him, trying to get to his face to speak to him. 

As he sees his face, though, Aizawa jolts back when he sees all too familiar purple eyes glaring up at him. “ Shinsou!?” He blurts out. “What are you doing here?” He demands.

Shinsou glares, fresh shiner glaring out from his face. “I live here.”

Aizawa’s head is spinning. “Here? You live in this neighborhood?” 

Shinsou sighs impatiently. “Yes, I do. Can you let me go now?”

“Let me see that bruise.” Aizawa said worriedly as he unwrapped the scarf from Shinsou.

“I’m fine. He barely grazed me.” Aizawa’s suddenly struck by how standoffish Shinsou’s being, reminded again of their recent tension. His stomach twists, knowing Shinsou would rather him leave than help. 

Aizawa just looks at him for a long second, debating whether he should push the issue. He didn’t like the idea of Shinsou walking home alone, but the kid can handle himself. Plus, he wouldn;t appreciate Aizawa pushing. Steeling himself, he rummaged through one of his belt pockets, taking out bruise cream. “Put this on that.”

Shinsou looks at it before taking it, shifting on his feet and looking at Aizawa awkwardly, the deafening rain pattering between them. 

The silence is broken by a groan from one of the men, which reminds Aizawa to detain them for the police. 

As Aizawa turns to tie up the thugs, he hears footsteps behind him leaving the alley. He sighs, his heart feeling heavy as he’s made acutely aware yet again of Shinsou slipping through his fingers.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

BAKUGOU

Contrary to popular belief, Bakugou is actually quite receptive to people’s emotions. He also knows Shinsou well enough at this point to know that something deeper is bothering him, something deeply hurtful and confusing that is eating at him. He sees it in the way that Shinsou sometimes gets a look on his face like that of despair and being lost. He sees it in the way that Shinsou throws himself at training and work in order to not have to deal with his problems. That’s my job , he thinks. 

He also knows that he’s been pushing away Mr. Aizawa. Shinsou is short with the hero, unable to look him in the eye. When Shinsou talks to Mr. Aizawa, there’s a tenseness in the air that seems to find its roots in that crushing defeat that he sees in Shinsou sometimes.

“So, what’s the deal with you and Mr. Aizawa?” He mentions one time while they’re warming up to spar, hoping for casualness but knowing that’s impossible with his gruff voice and honesty. 

Shinsou freezes, eyes locked in front of him. “...Nothing. What do you mean?”

“I mean that I can tell he really cares about you just from the few interactions that I can see. I thought he was like your dad, but you’ve been weird with him.” Bakugou says bluntly, foregoing niceties.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Shinsou grits out, glaring at him now.

“Maybe I don’t, but I do know he’s one of the handful of people in this world who actually give a shit about you and you’re throwing it away.” Bakugou insists. 

Shinsou laughs bitterly, standing up now. “Oh, there it is! The rich popular hero student wants to give the poor little neglected orphan a lesson on fatherhood!” His voice is raised. “Funny, I don’t remember asking for your opinion, you can take your fucking pity and fuck off!”

Bakugou stands at this too, yelling back. “That’s not what this is, and you know it! Stop pushing away the people who care about you!”

“Oh, so now you care! Pretty sure I recall you explicitly saying you didn’t want to be my friend, that I was nobody.” He’s leaning in Bakugou’s face now, glaring down at him. 

“And maybe you would be, if not for Mr. Aizawa! He’s the one that gave you all of this,” he steps back, spreading his arms in gesturing at the gym they’re standing in, “And you repay him with your shitty attitude.”

Shinsou laughs bitterly at Bakugou’s words. “Oh, and this is just so great! You’re right, I should just pat him on the back for making me the perfect weapon to go and exterminate people just like me! All for a system that’d rather I go back to the streets where I came from!” He laughs again, saying in a pathetic voice, “What’s the fucking point? All we do is fight, for what? We think we have a choice, but we don’t. Nothing we do matters. We’re all just hurtling towards the same violent end, nothing any better in this world when we left it than when we started.” 

“There’s always a choice. Mr. Aizawa taught you that, and if you’ve forgotten that, you’re more far gone than I thought. If you’ve forgotten that, then what are you working for!?” He yells back.

Shinsou just looks at him. Muttering in a small voice, “...I don’t know.”

Bakugou glares back. “Then you’d better figure it out.”

Shinsou’s face hardens. He grabs his bag and stomps out of the gym, leaving Bakugou glaring at the spot he vacated, a thousand emotions fighting for dominance in his head, his heart feeling strangely heavy.

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

SHINSOU

They haven’t spoken since their fight. All of Shinsou’s hopelessness and nihilism came to a head then, leaving him in a numb stupor afterwards. All he can seem to do is wander the streets, aimlessly watching the people around him, feeling so utterly in the crowded streets of the slums of Mustafu. 

One such night, he’s wandering the docks when he notices an entrance in the basement of a known warehouse that leads to what he recognizes as a known underground ring.

 After brainwashing the bouncer to let him in, he pushes through the crowd to his place by the ring. The place is filthy, tiered seats rising high above a ring surrounded in a high fence on all sides. The room is dark, save for the fluorescent yellow lights and glimmer of moonlight that peaks through the broken windows on the ceiling. Every surface is stained with some sort of unrecognizing substance, the room occupied by the lowest filth of society – junkies, mobsters, criminals, etc. 

In the ring, two figures are on either side, ready for their fight. One is a mountain of a man, obviously enhanced through a mutation quirk, making his appearance akin to a boulder. The other is small, almost normal looking. He doesn’t have any discernible qualities, his appearance plain, his height slightly below average, his build nothing to write home about. 

Shinsou knows this is going to be a massacre, but for reasons unknown to him, he turns and places a bet on the smaller one – the obvious loser.

The fight is brutal. It’s a massacre. The small one is fighting an uphill battle, now covered in his own blood and sweat as he does what he can to avoid the mountain’s vicious attacks. 

The fight drags on surprisingly long, as the small one is quick and able to somewhat avoid the larger’s cumbersome attacks. It’s almost worse, like watching poison take hold of someone – you know they’re going to die, and there’s nothing to be done. The crowd roars with screams, demanding violence and bloodshed from the two in the ring.

Suddenly, the fight gets much messier as it starts to rain, water coming in through the atrium ceiling. The fighters are caked in mud flying from the bottom of the ring. 

Finally, the smaller one messes up, and as the larger one goes in for the killing blow, he does something that Shinsou will never forget.

As the larger charges across the ring, as if in slow motion, the smaller drops to his knees. Kneeling in the mud, blood streaming from his mouth, he opens his arms, lifting his face to the shining moon above. The rain pours down, washing away the mud and filth from his face and body. Finally, his face twists in one last open-mouthed grin, the moonlight glistening off his newly clean rain-soaked skin. The fighter seems to glow with this light, and Shinsou’s breath stops. Suddenly, Shinsou feels himself snap back to reality. Quickly turning away so he doesn’t have to watch the final blow, he’s suddenly filled with a sense of wrongness.

What am I doing? I don’t belong here. He thinks, his mind filled with panic as he pushes through the roaring crowd of criminals just as filthy as the mud washed from the fighter’s face. I am nothing like these people. 

As he finally gets outside, he breaks into a run, pushing past people and shadows on the streets, the image of the kneeling fighter burned into the back of his eyes like an afterimage. He runs for an indefinite amount of time. He runs until he can’t breathe, gasping for air, only coming to reality when he takes in where he now stood. In front of him were the tall gates of UA, their height looming over him. 

With new resolve, he pushes through.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------

AIZAWA

It’s 4:00 AM when Aizawa hears a sharp knock on the door of his apartment at UA. Grumbling as he stood up from where he was doing some paperwork for a case on his couch, he crossed over to the door.

“What the hell could possibly be so important that–” He stops as he opens the door to see Shinsou standing in the doorway. 

The kid is soaking wet, shivering, and panting. That said, he was standing tall, looking Aizawa in the eyes with a look that he hasn’t seen for many months now.

“Shinsou, what’s–” 

Shinsou interrupts him before he could finish the question. “When I killed that mercenary, I felt like I’d killed myself.” His voice is strong and unwavering, despite his shivering. “I thought that being a hero would somehow protect me from having to make decisions like that, from being that person, so when it happened, I felt lost. If that was what being a hero meant, then how was it any different from being a criminal? If all you can do is survive, how is it any different from the world where I come from, where I was trying to escape from? I never wanted to use my abilities to take a life. I hated you for giving me those abilities, for lying to the police, and most of all, for forgiving me.”

Aizawa’s heart shatters at this. He doesn’t know what to say.

Shinsou continues. “For the longest time, I was just going through the motions. I thought if I trained harder and got better, then I wouldn’t have to make those decisions.” He took a breath. “But then I realized that I’d have to make those decisions regardless, and at least if I were a hero, then my decisions could actually mean something, could help somebody. Even if the world and the system is fucked up, even if nobody wants me to be a hero, even if I’ll never truly get away from where I came from, if I can still use my abilities to help even one life, then my purpose if fulfilled. That’s what a hero is for – not to fix society in its entirety, but to help others who can’t help themselves.” 

Aizawa can hardly breathe, watching as Shinsou’s eyes fill with tears. “It took me too long to figure this out. Instead, I pushed you away. You , who have been nothing but patient, who has given me everything. It’s because of you that I even have a chance at being something other than a street rat or criminal for the rest of my life. And for that, I am so sorry. I don’t expect you forgive me, but I just wanted you to hear that I–”

Aizawa grabs the back of Shinsou’s shoulder, cutting him off, pulling him into a tight hug. He feels Shinsou dissolve into sobs as he holds him back. Shinsou’s soaking wet, and he’s making Aizawa wet as well, but he doesn’t care – Shinsou came home.

Chapter Text

SHINSOU

Shinsou didn’t realize how much he missed Bakugou being his friend until they saw each other again, Aizawa dropping by with them to help observe their sparring and give them pointers. He was slightly dreading seeing Bakugou, worrying he wasn’t going to want anything to do with him – or worse, not even show up out of anger. 

Bakugou, for his part, thankfully doesn’t mention anything when he witnesses Shinsou and Aizawa back in their usual banter and closeness, but by the victorious grin on his victorious face he gives when they walk up, he obviously knows he had some part in his return to (somewhat) normalcy. They clasp each other’s forearms in greeting, Shinsou holding on a little longer, looking in his eyes, thanking him in silent acknowledgement. Bakugou looks away in his usual avoidance to punch him in the shoulder, and Shinsou knows things will be okay between them. 

Life goes on as usual – Shinsou trains with Aizawa or Bakugou, sometimes both, and they go out to eat afterwards, or, in Aizawa’s case, back to his apartment. Shinsou goes back to playing guitar like an old friend, easily falling back into the old habit with Aizawa. Shinsou still doesn’t like spending Bakugou’s money, but he takes it as payment for teaching him hand-to-hand combat.

They’re in their usual ramen spot eating when Bakugou speaks up, groaning in annoyance. “Ugh! My hair is too goddamn long! It’s been getting in my eyes and now it just got in my mouth.”

Shinsou just snorts. “Good, maybe it’ll make that inedible monstrosity of yours actually taste good.” Normally, as a chef, Bakugou had really refined taste buds, and was showing Shinsou The Streetrat™ the best food around the city that tasted all the same to Shinsou’s unrefined taste buds. That said, however, when it came to ramen, Bakugou preferred the most unholy concoction of the spiciest peppers and spices in his ramen, all to eat it with a straight face. He liked to say it “cleansed his toxins,” but Shinsou thought that was another bit of fake fitness wellness bullshit.

Bakugou took another bite, his hair falling into his eyes. “ARGH!” he yelled, slamming his chopsticks down on the table. “I can’t take this anymore! It’s got to go now!” With that, he raised an explosive hand to his head. 

Shinsou lunged across the table, grabbing his arm in alarm. “Woah! You can’t just set yourself on fire! We’re in a restaurant! Be respectful and do that later!” He let out a breathy laugh at his own joke, taking another bite. Getting an idea, he says through his bite of food, “Anyway, if it bothers you that much, I can just cut it for you.” He gestured with his chopsticks at Bakugou’s head as he said this.

Bakugou scoffs. “You? Do you even know what a haircut is?” He asks petulantly, referring to Shinsou’s long mane of purple hair tumbling around his back and shoulders. 

Shinsou rolls his eyes. “Trust me, If you’ve been in the foster system as long and as old as I have, you learn how to cut hair. I’ve done a thousand haircuts, yours would be no problem.”

Bakugou studied him for a second, eyes narrowed suspiciously. Eventually, he concedes, saying, “Fine. But only because I’m desperate. But I swear to god, if you fuck me up I will kill you.”

That very night, Bakugou leads them back to his house. Shinsou is excited to see where Bakugou lives, maybe even make fun of his room, but he also feels slight trepidation at seeing just how wide the difference in class is between the two of them is. He doesn’t know why he’s so hung up on this, but he’s never had a real friend before – one that didn’t beat him up, encourage him to do drugs, or try to get him to use his quirk for criminal activities. He was always worried Bakugou was going to wake up one day and decide that Shinsou was too trailer trash for him, and he didn’t want that moment to be when he scuffs the marble floors of Bakugou’s fancy modern townhome with his work boots. 

Bakugou’s family lives in an old townhome, but when you step inside, it’s all modern decor. The house is bright with a ton of different light fissures that just seem to stay on even when nobody’s home. Shinsou is amazed at this, getting a morbid amusement at seeing his dirty boots next to the various designer shoes by the door. 

He whistles as he walks in, turning to look up and walk backwards into the room. “Nice digs.”

Bakugou watches him from the doorway with slight amusement, rolling his eyes. “Come on, my bathroom’s this way.” He grabs Shinsou’s arm at this, pulling him up the stairs.

“Ooooh, ‘my bathroom.’ You really are living the life.”

Bakugou just shakes his head at this, pulling them to a large, also modern bathroom. 

“Woah, at least take me to dinner first– oh wait, you did. Now what?” Shinsou jokes. His arm is warm where Bakugou held it.

Bakugou’s ears turn red at this in their typical predictable response to Shinsou’s ribbing humor. “Scissors are in the drawer. Shut your trap and get to work.”

Shinsou laughed, grabbing the scissors, a comb, and the electric razor. Fancy, he thought, used to having to make do with much worse.. “You got, like, a chair anywhere?”

Bakugou groaned, walking out the door.“ One sec . Wait here.” With that, he heads out the door, coming back with a stool.

Shinsou directs him to sit on the chair, and starts to comb his hair. Surprisingly soft, he thinks absentmindedly as he continues combing it. “So, what are we thinking for your look today? Perhaps some color? Purple would look great on you.”

At this, Bakugou’s ears turn red again. “Just cut it short, I don’t care as long as I don’t look like an idiot like you.”

Shinsou clicks his teeth, sucking in air in fake sympathy as he says, “Oooh, looks like it’s a little late for that. I’ll do what I can – no promises, though.” 

Bakugou rolls his eyes, the two of them falling into comfortable silence as Shinsou works, occasionally chatting. Shinsou cuts it pretty short, liking when it looks extra spiky. 

Suddenly, the ajar bathroom door creaks open, and they both snap to the sound. At the doorway, poking her head in, stands a taller woman on the younger side of middle age, her blonde hair and red eyes giving her away unmistakable as Bakugou’s mother. 

Her piercing eyes lock on to them as she exclaims, “Who are you and what are you doing to my son’s hair!?” As she throws open the door. 

Shinsou’s eyes widen as his stomach drops through the floor. “Uhh I-”

Bakugou, for his part, just rolls his eyes. “Mom, this is Shinsou.” He turns to Shinsou, looking up at him while grumbling, “She’s just joking. Don’t believe a word she says.”

“Oh, so finally I get to meet this ‘Shinsou’ you’ve been hanging out with!” She booms. With a pang, Shinsou realizes that this must be what it’s like to have normal parents. To go home and actually talk to them about who you hang out with, for them to actually give a shit, or check in on you when they come home. “Nice to meet ya, kid! Call me Mitsuki. Now, you wouldn’t happen to be fucking up Katsuki’s hair, would you?”

“No, Ma’am. Only good haircuts on offer here.” He says, finally coming back to himself.

She lets out a booming laugh. “Well good! Not that you can do much for that ugly mug anyway.” She lets out another booming laugh at her own joke as her son starts yelling back.

After a bit of bickering, she moves to go. “Well, I’ll just leave you to it. Good to finally meet you, Shinsou! Katsuki talks about you a lot.” She smirks and leaves.

Bakugou flushes, yelling, “I do not! I told you not to trust a word of what that hag says!”

Shinsou just laughs. “Awww that’s okay. Hey, if it’s any consolation, I’d talk about you too if there was anyone to listen other than stinky old Aizawa, and he’s your teacher, so that doesn’t really count. Speaking of talk, make sure you credit me if people ask! I’m trying to grow my business, you know.”

With that and a final tug at Bakugou’s hair, laughing again at his sulking face, he gets back to work cutting his hair, his chest warm with relief at his mom’s easy acceptance.

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------

BAKUGOU

Bakugou was going to hang out with Kirishima, Kaminari, Mina, and Sero today. He didn’t really want to, but he’d been blowing them off enough times that he was worried they were going to try and ambush him at his house and force him to hang out with them. 

It wasn’t even like he didn’t like being around them. He’s matured (yes, really) to the point where he can acknowledge that they are friends after all they’ve been through together, and that they can be a pretty fun group. That said, however, he had to cancel plans to train with Shinsou to hang out with them.

Because of this, Bakugou’s already in a bad mood. He’s annoyed at his friends for choosing a time so that he had to cancel on Shinsou, frustrated that they want to hang out so much even though they hang out so often, and, most of all, frustrated and confused as to why he cares so much about not being able to see Shinsou today. 

They were meeting in front of a restaurant that Kaminari saw good reviews for online. As Bakugou walked up he saw the group of them already gathered, their loud chatter ringing through the street. 

“Trust me guys, this place is gonna be bomb!” Kaminari exclaims.

“I dunno, are you sure there’s no place else?” Ashido asks pleadingly.

“Why don’t you– Bakugou! You got a haircut!?” Kaminari notices him, cutting off their conversation. 

The group of them turn to him, previous conversation forgotten. 

“Sick cut, dude!” Sero says.

“Yeah, it looks super manly!” Kirishima exclaims, clapping him on the shoulder, making Bakugou grumble.

“Yeah, you look way less homeless! Where’d you get it? I lowkey can't imagine you sitting in a chair in a salon.” Kaminari asks.

Bakugou huffed. “A friend did it.” He faintly remembers Shinsou telling him to give him credit if someone asks, but this is the best he’ll do for him. For some reason, he feels some compulsion to keep his friendship with Shinsou from his friends, wanting it to be just for himself in a weird way .

The group explodes. 

“Who is this mysterious friend? I’ve never even heard you refer to anyone as a friend before!” Mina says in shock.

Bakugou glares, reddening. “None of your goddamn business. What does that make you losers then, if not my friends!?” He exclaims.

Kirishima looks at him with dramatic tears in his eyes. “Dude…you just called us your friends!”

Sero frowned. “Are you feeling okay?” He reached over to place his hand on Bakugou’s forehead to check his temperature. 

Bakuou slapped his hand away, reddening even more. Why does even talking about Shinsou make me act like this? 

Kaminari laughed. “Seriously though, is this ‘friend’ the one who you’ve been hanging out with all summer?”

“Ooh, yes! That would make so much sense!” Mina adds.

Bakugou glares. “It’s none of your business! Let’s just eat before I decide to ditch you losers.”

At this, they backed off, leading their way into the restaurant, resuming their chatter, catching up with their summer. 

The restaurant was pretty nice, with sleek decorations and a fusion menu. The lights were soft and warm, and they were led into a cozy circular booth against the wall. They file in, Bakugou at the end next to Mina. Bakugou noted that Mina, for some reason, seems slightly uncomfortable, glancing around the restaurant.

“What’s up with you?” Bakugou asks her gruffly.

Her attention snaps to him. “Oh, nothing!” She says, laughing weakly. “Just thought I saw somebody I knew.”

Suddenly, he hears Kirishima’s voice ring out. “Shinsou! I didn’t know you work here! I feel like we’re always seeing you in unexpected places!” He lets out a friendly laugh at this.

Bakugou’s head whips around in shock. Sure enough, standing there with his long hair in a loose bun, dressed in a black shirt and pants with a half apron around his waist, notepad in hand, is Shinsou. Their eyes meet in shock. 

“Um…hey.” Shinsou replies hesitantly. Bakugou distantly notices Shinsou glance at Mina with a certain degree of apprehension, at which she looks down. 

Bakugou’s too stunned to speak, tuning out the slightly awkward conversation that transpired as the others make extremely one-sided small talk with Shinsou, eventually ending with him taking their drink orders and leaving. 

Bakugou’s still stunned as the clothes chatter some more, only able to watch Shinsou as he walks from table to table, working. 

Their meal passes, and as they’re walking out, Shinsou grabs his wrist discreetly so that the others don’t notice. “My shift ends in three hours. You wanna swing back when it’s done?” He mutters close to his ear. Bakuou can feel his skin tingle with Shinsou’s breath on his cheek. 

He grins. “Hell yeah. Anything for an excuse to get away from the loudmouths.”

Shinsou laughs. “Pretty sure that’s you, but alright. See you later.” With that, he releases Bakugou.

Three hours later, after his friends have exhausted themselves after running through parks, exploring the city, and goofing off, Bakugou excuses himself, bidding them a brusque goodbye as he heads back to the restaurant after making a quick stop.

Shinsou’s waiting there when he gets back. He’s still in his work uniform minus the apron as he leans back against the wall of the neighboring alley, smoking. He snubs it as Bakugou walks up.

Bakugou raises a plastic back in his hands. “You hungry?” He grabbed a fast food meal and some sodas on the way back.

Shinsou groans, leaning back. “Yes, oh my god. Thank you .”

Bakugou huffs a laugh at how pathetic he seems. “Whatever. Where to?”

Shinsou smiles, pointing up to a fire escape above them. In an admittedly pretty impressive jump, he scales the wall, grabbing the ladder and throwing it down for Bakugou before starting up the stairs.

Bakugou snorts in derision. With two control blasts, he propels himself onto the fire escape without the ladder. 

This gets Shinsou’s attention. “Nice trick. You’ve been working on smaller blasts successfully, then.”

“Of course it’s been successful. It’s me we’re talking about.”

Shinsou rolls his eyes, huffing a laugh. “Forgive me for being surprised at this when you always seem to come at me with full power when we fight. Where are those cute little blasts then? ”

“You don’t deserve them. Only the most destructive for you.”

“Aw, I’m honored you think of me like that.” Shinsou smirks as he says this, reaching the roof and lifting himself over the ledge.

Bakugou reddens. “What? No– That’s not what I meant!” When he gets no reply, he grumbles. “Whatever. You’re dumb.”

He hears Shinsou laugh, seeing him sitting on the ledge a ways away, looking out into the city, leaning back on his hands.

Bakugou saunters over, handing him the bag of food after grabbing a soda. 

They sit in comfortable silence for a bit while Shinsou eats like a wild dog and Bakugou sips his soda. 

Finally, as he finishes his meal, Shinsou speaks up. “Ugh, I need a new job. That’s the second time already that I’ve run into the pink one at work. Customers keep recognizing me from stuff there.” He picks at his jeans as he says this.

“Huh. No wonder she seemed so awkward. What happened? Normally Mina would be running her mouth off if she saw someone she knew.” Bakugou asks, surprising himself with his genuine interest in the conversation topic.

“So that’s her name. Mina.” Shinsou pauses. “I dunno, it’s stupid. I was just pissed off at my foster parent and I took it out on hers and some other hero course girls’ asshole dates who were bothering them. I probably came off as insane.” 

Bakugou is silent for a second, thinking. “That sounds like you helped her out. Maybe it’s more complicated than that. Besides, you are pretty insane.”

Shinsou huffed a laugh, punching him lightly in the shoulder. “Yeah, true. In any case, it doesn’t really matter. It’s not like I’d end up being friends with them, anyway.”

“Yeah? Even if you join the hero course?”

“Yeah…I mean, I don’t have anything in common with these people. I’d just be out of place. I can’t imagine they’ll want anything to do with me, anyway. –Also, who knows? I might end up in 2B.”

Shinsou is casual as he says it, but the words make his heart drop. For some reason, the thought of Shinsou transferring to 2B instead of 2A makes Bakugou’s stomach twist. 

Ignoring this feeling, Bakugou says, “I don’t really have much in common with them either, though.” He thinks for a second. “It’s not like the two of us are twins, either.” He sighs, trying to lighten the subject. “Anyway, I’m not telling you to be friends with the losers if you don’t want to – they’re all annoying as shit. I’m just saying, don’t not be friends with them because you think they won’t like you. You’re a hundred times better than any of them.” He blushes as he says it, cursing himself for talking without thinking. 

Shinsou just smiles in surprise before knocking his shoulder against Bakugou’s, looking out into the city again. “Thanks. You know, besides your fair share of crazy…you’re not so bad yourself.”

Bakugou grumbles in response, unknowingly smiling an unfamiliar, soft smile down at his hands before taking a quick swig of his drink, turning to other topics, ignoring the fluttery warmth in his chest.

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

AIZAWA

After another training session near the end of a summer that has seemed to have flown by, Aizawa and Shinsou are walking back to his apartment with an addition – Bakugou. Sometimes, Bakugou likes to head over to Aizawa’s instead of his own place with bags of groceries in his hands, insisting that the two of them eat a “real meal.” Aizawa probably ought to feel somewhat guilty that a student of his is coming over to meal prep for him and Shinsou, but the way Bakugou insists so petulantly makes it feel like a chore for Aizawa rather than Bakugou doing him a favor. Plus, a small part of Aizawa makes his chest swell at the sight of the two hanging out, happy that Shinsou has a friend. 

After their meal, Aizawa is grading papers as Bakugou and Shinsou are sitting on the floor in the living room. Shinsou has his guitar and Bakugou his drumsticks and an extra practice pad as they play music together. The two seem to be doing a mix of playing songs they both know that Aizawa’s never heard of and adding drum parts to Shinsou’s own creations.

Aizawa silently observes with amusement as they exchange varying looks of amazement at the other. Neither of them knew the other played music until fairly recently, so they're both getting acquainted with that new activity. The two seemed to sync immediately though, both adding their own creativity to their collaboration.

After Shinsou finished playing a bit of a song he created, Bakugou asks, “Where the hell did you learn to play like that?”

Shinsou looks up, fiddling with his pick as he drums his fingers against the top of the guitar. He shrugs, looking down again. “One of my old foster brothers taught me how to play when I was like, nine years old.”

“Damn, he must’ve been pretty good then.” Bakugou says, leaning back.

“Yeah, he was.” Shinsou’s looking down as he says this, but his voice betrays an emotion hidden beneath these words. 

Bakugou notices it, too, pausing before he leans back in. “...What happened to him?”

Shinsou’s voice is tight as he says it. “He killed himself when I was ten. He gave me his guitar and cassette player a week before he died.” His fingers stop drumming on the guitar. “Anyway, he got me into music. I practiced a lot more after that.” 

Aizawa’s heart shatters at this, remembering what happened to that guitar.

“He sounds cool. Did he also write music?” Bakugou’s tone is light as he says this, but Aizawa can hear how unusually gentle and earnest he is in his voice.

“Yeah, some of his cassettes have originals. You wanna hear one?”

Listening to Shinsou strum the song, Aizawa’s heart swells. Even though he’s been through so much death and abandonment in his life, Shinsou has at least two people in his corner.

As the two of them walk back towards the door to leave, Shinsou hesitates, bidding Bakugou goodbye from the door before turning to Aizawa. 

“Hey…can I crash here tonight? The AC shut off in my building and it’s been hot as hell.” He’s shifting on his feet as he says this, and Aizawa can tell he’s trying hard to be casual about it.

Aizawa's chest swells with pride that Shinsou actually came to him for help. He knew that Shinsou’s home wasn’t the best environment, and did the best he could to try and make the kid feel at home in his apartment. 

“Of course.” Aizawa replied, nodding his head towards the couch. Shinsou set about grabbing a blanket, used to this routine of him sleeping on Aizawa’s couch occasionally, the two of them making conversation.

Aizawa poses his question carefully, trying not to seem accusatory. “So…where have you been going this past summer when things like this happen?” He knows that the AC shutting off isn’t the core reason that Shinsou leaves the apartment where his foster parents live to sleep somewhere else. Aizawa wants to know if he’s been safe on nights like this, when Aizawa couldn’t be there to help him these past couple months. 

He knows he failed in being casual when Shinsou freezes. “Oh. You know, just…around.”

Aizawa looks at him, raising an eyebrow.

Shinsou looks down at this. “Just, like…benches and stuff.” When Aizawa doesn’t reply immediately, Shinsou hurries to say, “It’s not that bad –it’s not like it’s winter or anything. Besides It doesn’t even happen that much.” He turns away, resuming his work on the makeshift bed. 

Aizawa’s heart shatters a bit, upset at the thought of Shinsou sleeping outside and upset that he couldn’t do anything to help. He hesitates on what to stay, standing there a moment as Shinsou jerkily throws a blanket on the couch.

Aizawa rests a hand on Shinsou’s shoulder, pulling him in for a quick hug, which surprises the kid. 

“I’m sorry you felt like you had to do that. I know it’s easy to feel alone in this world, but you always have a place here.” 

Shinsou freezes before melting into the embrace. As they pull away, Aizawa ruffles Shinsou’s hair, making him squawk. 

“Don’t forget it.” He says.

Shinsou smiles softly. “I won’t.”

---------------------------------------------------

SHINSOU

If he wasn’t so nervous, Shinsou might be able to appreciate the full circle moment of him and Aizawa standing there where they first met, Shinsou getting ready to take the combat and heroics exams of the hero course – exams that will determine the rest of his life. This is it, he thinks, heart drumming in anticipation. 

The hours of training and practice come rushing back to him. The bo staff and capture scarf feel heavy on his torso, reminding him of all that he has worked for. But is it enough?

Aizawa, likely sensing his nerves, is emanating calm. His hands are in his pockets, his posture slouched in its usual manner. “Shinsou,” He starts, “You’re ready for this. This is what you’ve been working for almost a year for.”

“But is it enough?” Shinsou’s pacing now, his boots making loud steps ring through the hallway. 

“It is. It has to be. You did everything you could. You’ve trained every day. You’re ready.” Aizawa replies in his calm yet insistent voice. His hand comes up Shinsou’s shoulder at this, stopping his pacing.

“But-” Shinsou’s interrupted before he can finish his rebuttal.

“Shinsou, you’ve worked harder than anyone for this. I know you can do this.” Both of Aizawa's hands are on his shoulders.

Shinsou stares back. “Really?”

“I’m positive. I’m so proud of you, kid.” Aizawa pulls him into a quick hug that makes something tight squeeze in Shinsou’s heart before Shinsou’s name is called.

Taking one last look at his mentor, Shinsou turns and walks down the hallway, towards his future.