Chapter Text
For Hitoshi's whole life he'd been in constant pain.
Between physical beatings, freezing cold, and burning heat, there were few moments where Hitoshi felt okay.
It was fine up until he turned five and his quirk developed. He stopped being an innocent child and became a future villain.
They figured out what his quirk was when he'd accidentally brainwashed his mother, his father had freaked out until Hitoshi managed to deactivate his quirk.
After that, it wasn't long before his parents threw him into foster care.
The only thing he could relate the system to was darkness. Whether it be when he was locked in a closet or when he was kicked out, he always found it better than being in company.
His classmates walked on eggshells when near him but easily mocked him once far enough. His foster parents were always hostile towards him.
Part of him hoped that his soul mates wouldn't hate him for his quirk.
Hitoshi had already been in the system for 4 years, at that point. What did it matter if he would be there for almost 9 more?
His bedroom was small and cramped, it might as well have been a closet. While the other children roomed together, they'd put his room alone.
The ceiling tiles were always interesting at that time of night. He glanced at the door as a glass broke from a room over.
His foster parents must be fighting again.
He'd been in that situation so many times over. It was almost funny.
The current ones were nice in the first two weeks, maybe to ease him in? It didn't matter because he'd eventually be sent away again. The fosters claimed that he made them uncomfortable or made the other children feel unsafe.
A sharp pain rang onto his cheek. It had to be from the soulbond.
Soulmates can be connected between many types of bonds. Some would instinctively know the first thing the other would say to them. Some could write to each other on their skin. Others could share dreams, memories, or even emotions. Hitoshi was deeply unlucky with that aspect as well, a pain sharing bond.
It seemed to be with two other people, based on distinctly different types of pain. One seemed to always switch between burning hands and freezing cold. During his second foster house, that soulmate had gotten something on his eye, maybe fire. Hitoshi was writhing and screaming on the floor when it happened. He was kicked out of that home not long after.
The other soulmate was mostly physical pain, often getting beaten. Sometimes the pain seemed to switch. Both soulmates were pretty consistent with it.
That's not to say Hitoshi was innocent in the whole ordeal. Between the muzzle that they made him wear before he learned to control his quirk, cigarette burns, and normal slaps, he had his own contributions. He often went hungry, he wasn't sure if soulmates could feel internal pain, but he's pretty sure they can.
The fighting continued downstairs for what felt like hours. He had long since curled in on himself under the ratty blanket they'd provided. Hitoshi couldn't know exactly how long, as his phone had been confiscated by the parents shortly after he came into their care.
He hated not being able to easily contact his social worker, but it was better than some of the other houses he'd been in.
They rarely touched him, usually keeping a distance. Despite withholding food, it was one of the more comfortable houses he was in.
He almost felt a bit upset at his reaction to the fight, a few months ago, he'd just be happy that he wasn't involved with the fight. Maybe this house had made him too complacent with it.
He laid fully still there for a long time, even after they'd stopped fighting he still couldn't get to sleep. Not that it was a new thing.
Sleep never came easy to him, but he persevered.
Two hours later, he felt almost hopeless. Despite his yawning and dropping eyes, he couldn't get to sleep.
Eventually, his body managed to give in and he went to sleep.
Hitoshi woke up before his door was opened. It was one of the parents, the other kids at the house were too scared of him to get close.
“Oh, good. You're already awake.” She said, standing in the doorway. “Get up and get to school.”
He nodded, they didn't trust him to speak without brainwashing them. She walked out, closing the door with a click. The door didn't lock, but they wanted him out of their sight as much as possible.
He got up, despite the sleep he managed to get, exhaustion still clung to him like a blanket taken fresh from the dryer.
He pulled on his jeans and a long sleeved shirt, after getting his shoes on he walked out of the house. They didn't want him to speak as he left, so he wouldn't bother.
That house had been one of the better ones he'd stayed in up until the end.
His foster father, a man who often went out to drink, had come home that night. His wife was already in bed, but Hitoshi was still awake.
He'd decided to work on some of his school work. The least he could do was to get good grades, if he couldn't get into a hero course, maybe General Education would take him.
Hitoshi had heard him come in, but every other time he'd been up, no one had cared. This time was different.
He slammed through the apartment, throwing his keys down on the kitchen table as he moved into the hallway.
Hitoshi paused his writing and slowly sat his pencil down. He knew that he should at least pretend to be asleep. But he wasn't fast enough.
The door slammed open and the man walked in. His footsteps were off, a clear sign that he had drank again that night.
“I’m sorry, I should've gone to sleep earlier.” Hitoshi says, looking down. His foster parents knew that the issue was in him responding, he couldn't brainwash when he spoke first. His foster father didn't care.
He felt a fist collide with his face first. Once he'd fallen onto his side, a kick met his gut. A kick met his leg. A kick met his chest. He wanted to cry out as they kept coming.
He curled up into a ball, trying to protect himself.
It stopped a minute later. Of course, it was a bit too late. The man disappeared back down the hallway and into his own bedroom. Leaving Hitoshi on the floor.
Once a few moments with nothing, a squeeze came through on his wrist. A small comfort. He didn't know the two that he was connected with, but they had a tradition where when one of them got more hurt than usual, they would squeeze their wrists as a comfort.
That even though they were hurt, they still did have each other. He put one back through, hoping that maybe it would help them as well.
Hitoshi laid there for a long minute. Hoping the man wouldn't come back and continue the assault. He eventually shifted to sit up, his whole body protested as he did so.
When he finally pulled himself up to standing, he noticed the blood dripping from his nose.
It fell onto his hands before he decided to make a move. He'd been in that house for a few months at that point, longer than usual, maybe it had been too long.
He limped out of the apartment, walking as quietly as he could. Despite the four years he'd already spent in the system, there were only two other occasions where he had run away (under similar circumstances).
He stumbled down the street, his knee threatening to give out with every step. He kept walking until he found a bench a few blocks away.
Hitoshi wished they hadn't kept his phone away, he couldn't call anyone. He was far enough and doubted anyone would come looking for him anyways.
He pulled his pants leg up to look at his knee. It was a nasty purple color and swollen. The swelling was more than he'd seen before, it was incredibly tender and painful to touch.
He let his pant leg drop and he leaned back. He'd left his backpack at the apartment. He didn't have any way to get in contact with anyone. He didn't have any plan of what to do next.
A few people passed, no one bothered to talk to him and most avoided looking at him. He let his head drop into his hands with a sigh.
“Hey, kid.” Someone said from nearby. He looked up and a man was standing in front of him. The man looked kind of like a homeless person, but Hitoshi currently had no room to critique.
Hitoshi stared at him. The man wouldn't know what his quirk is but he'd probably be able to sense that Hitoshi was bad news.
The man raised an eyebrow. It was hard to tell behind his long black hair. Hitoshi observed the man for a long few moments before he realized who he was talking to. It had to be the underground hero Eraserhead.
He knew that Eraserhead commonly patrolled these areas from hearing some street kids talk and murmurs from criminals.
He never imagined he'd meet the man though.
Hitoshi immediately lowered his head, blushing a bit in shame.
“Kid? I'm a pro hero, I can help you out. Are you okay?” The man — Eraserhead — insists.
“I- I'm fine!” he blurts out. It doesn't seem to do the trick. This leads him into a coughing fit, his voice not wanting to be used, as well as how dehydrated he is.
“Why are you out this late? Are you lost?” Hitoshi wonders how often nine year olds get lost in the middle of the night. Maybe he just looks younger because of the lack of food?
He pauses. Immediately wondering how to explain himself. He didn't want to stay in that foster home so he should just tell the truth. Even if it's embarrassing to admit he ran away.
Eraserhead stares at Hitoshi, trying to decide his own course of action.
The man sighs, “Can you walk? I'll take you to the hospital then we can file a report.” Despite his bluntness (which Hitoshi can't help but appreciate), the man clearly did have a hint of concern in his voice.
Hitoshi shrugged, not wanting to speak, what if even a hero thought he was villainous.
It doesn't take long for them to realize that Hitoshi can, in fact, not walk. Eraserhead carries him to the hospital, much to the boy's own shame. Hitoshi's main shame was from when Eraserhead had first reached down to pick Hitoshi up and the boy had immediately flinched away.
The whole way there Hitoshi could tell that Eraserhead was suspiciously eyeing him, the man clearly being aware that this wasn't the first time.
Once actually there, he sits with the hero in the waiting room. It's scary, not the actual hospital part but sitting next to the hero that he spent much of his life idolizing.
Due to his non combat based quirk, Eraserhead had to learn to fight and decided to stay out of the spotlight. It was exactly what Hitoshi wanted to do with his life.
A nurse comes over to escort them not long after, Hitoshi expects that to be it, for Eraserhead to get an officer to help Hitoshi file a report.
Eraserhead follows Hitoshi and the nurse into his room. Eraserhead watches while the doctor examines Hitoshi and puts the information in. Eraserhead stands off to the side while the doctor explains that it was a bad bruise, but nothing serious. Eraserhead sits next to the bed while the nurse wraps his knee.
An officer arrives not long after and sits with Eraserhead. The nurse nods to both of them, leaning into a small bow, then she leaves the room.
“My name is Yuta Yoshida. I'm the lead officer on this case. This is Eraserhead, as I'm sure you're aware.” Hitoshi nodded. “Can I start by asking your name?”
Hitoshi paused for a moment, he didn't want them to know about his quirk, but it was probably a bit too late now. He really wanted to be out of that house but maybe he had over reacted?
“Shinsou Hitoshi.” Feeling the dryness in his throat again, he takes a drink from the water that the nurse had left for him.
“And what are your parents' names?”
“I'm a foster kid.” Hitoshi says.
Yoshida makes an awkward expression, which Eraserhead glares at, inspiring the man to continue. “Can you explain what happened? Were you attacked?”
Eraserhead doesn't seem to like the way the other man is talking but doesn't think it's worth stepping in, or that's what Hitoshi assumes from the man's expression.
“It was my foster father.”
Yoshida looks at the multiple wraps that Hitoshi wore, seeming shocked that all of them were from his foster father and not someone jumping him in an alleyway.
Realizing he was staring he quickly continues with his line of questioning. “Is this type of abuse common?”
“Uhm. It's not usually this bad.”
“Why hasn't your social worker said anything about it?”
Hitoshi pauses for a moment, he feels kind of like he's the one who's in trouble for not saying anything sooner.
“I don't have access to my phone and my calls are monitored.” He remembers the times he slipped up on those calls and received a quick slap and locked in his room for the rest of the night.
With the memories rushing back his breath quickened a little. He needed to calm down- he needed to calm down.
“Can I help you through a breathing exercise?” Eraserhead asked.
Hitoshi stared at the man. Eraserhead was a hero. A good hero. After restraining the perpetrators, he would immediately tend to the victims of attacks.
Eraserhead helped him through the exercise to calm him down.
“Are you okay to continue?” The man asked. With another nod from Hitoshi, Eraserhead asks his next question. “Why was this not reported by your school?”
Hitoshi couldn't help but be nervous, the gentleness Eraserhead was showing him would be gone once they found out what his quirk is.
“My teachers and classmates avoid me.” He pauses, but knows it's better to rip the bandaid off now, rather than let it build. “Because of my quirk.”
Yoshida jumps back in with another question, which immediately puts a sour expression on the hero's face. Hitoshi would laugh at it if it weren't for the sheer stress he felt in the situation. “And what is your quirk?”
“Brainwashing.” Hitoshi waits a moment, letting his words sink in before explaining how it works. “If you respond to me while I have my quirk activated I can give you commands and you'd have to follow. So people don't really trust me.”
There was silence in the room, the officers didn't seem to be upset.
Eraserhead had a look in his eyes, it didn't seem to be distrust or anger, but Hitoshi had no clue what else it could be.
Yoshida is the first to break the quiet, “Thank you, Shinsou. What is your social worker's name?”
“Yui Minamoto”
“Okay, we'll look into it. And obviously you'll be removed from their care.” The man says.
The officer left a moment later, finishing the report. Hitoshi drank more water, his mouth had quickly gotten dry again during the interview.
Despite officer Yoshida having already left, Eraserhead was still in the room.
Hitoshi felt awkward to say the least. “You can go, I don't want to keep you from your responsibilities.”
Eraserhead responded quickly, “I'd feel bad leaving a kid in the hospital alone, besides, I don't have anything else scheduled for tonight.”
The two stayed silent, neither offering anything to a potential conversation. The pause stretched out like an internet explorer trying to open a single webpage.
The silence was eventually broken by Eraserhead, “I know what it's like to have a quirk that makes people uncomfortable.” He explains.
This information is not new to Hitoshi. He'd done research into heroes with quote unquote villainous quirks. “I know.” He says before thinking, he decides that he now needs to explain a defense for himself. “When I was younger I did a ton of research on heroes with villain quirks and you were always my favorite..” He explains, trailing off near the end.
He was so incredibly embarrassed. Despite his own humiliation, Eraserhead offers him a small, almost nonexistent smile. “Thanks, kid.”
That was the most they spoke, Hitoshi's own exhaustion of the past few hours finally caught up with him.
Hitoshi's social worker was there when he was finally released from the hospital the next day. They'd told him that he needed to take it easy for the next few weeks and he should be fine.
Yui led him to the car, on the way she explained that from there out she would ensure that they would always have extensive background checks on Hitoshi's foster homes.
It didn't matter, not only had the damage already been done, but people were unpredictable when they dealt with a quirk of Hitoshi's nature.
Before he could ask anything else about where he would go next, she explained that two heroes were looking to foster him. Two heroes? Fostering him? Hitoshi Shinsou. That couldn't possibly be the case.
But when Eraserhead — obviously in civilian clothes — came through the door, followed by another civilian that could only be Present Mic, Hitoshi realized that he actually must've died in the hospital and this was all a weird coma dream from his dying mind.
He then found himself sitting next to Yui, on a couch in the apartment of pro heroes (who were also apparently married?) Eraserhead and Present Mic; who asked to be called Shouta and Hizashi, respectively.
After Yui looked around and spoke with them for a while, she left. And Hitoshi was alone. He knew they were heroes but he couldn't help but be nervous.
Back on the couch, they explained that their most important priority was for him to remain safe, so most of the rules followed suit. He needed to keep his location on, let them know when and where he was going if he went out. Which seemed very out of character considering he had no friends to go anywhere with.
They let him go to his new room not long after, wanting him to get comfortable. It had a lock, his bedrooms had never had locks before. He wasn't sure if he was allowed to use it so he left it unlocked. He crouched down on the floor and gave himself a few pinches to make sure that the last 24 hours weren't a crazy dream.
The room was plain, there was a desk, a bed, an empty closet, and a bookshelf. The bookshelf had a few novels, mostly in English for some reason. There was a window that overlooked onto the street.
Not long after, a knock came to the door. Hitoshi gave a second for Hizashi to walk in, but strangely the man didn't. He instead knocked again, “Little listener?” He asked. The man's voice was a lot calmer now than it was when he was a hero.
Hitoshi walked over to open the door. He didn't want to immediately speak. He's sure that he's allowed to but what if they are still a bit uncomfortable with the idea of a kid controlling two pro heroes?
Hizashi smiled at him. “We're going to have dinner soon, I cooked, Shou's barely allowed in the kitchen.” He jokes. Hitoshi doesn't laugh, still too nervous. Hizashi definitely notices.
“You can come out when you're ready.” He does his best to reassure. Hitoshi nods.
The table isn't big, just one of the ones that can fit four people. Hizashi and Shouta sat on one side and Hitoshi took the other side.
The two tried to make conversation. It was clear that Shouta, despite being a seasoned pro, did not know how to socialize (again, not that Hitoshi could complain).
“So, Hitoshi, do you have any hobbies?” Hizashi asks, trying to do some icebreakers, if Hitoshi didn't already know the man was a teacher he could guess it was the case.
“No, not really.” Hitoshi would explain that he didn't have any resources and his foster parents never gave him anything to maintain a hobby but it would make him seem way more pitiful then they already think he is.
They kind of talk while eating. He learns that they both teach at UA, he didn't know the latter information. Apparently Shouta has a bad habit of drinking juice pouches instead of actual meals. Hizashi has a radio show that he runs a few times a week called Hands Up Radio.
They don't learn much about Hitoshi, but they can assume most of the stuff he would tell them. Then one of the cats jumps onto the chair next to him and Hitoshi immediately goes still. He loves cats.
The cat sniffs his hand and he pets the cat.
“That's Garbage.” Shouta says, Hitoshi can't help but notice a glint of something in his eyes as he says it. The man is clearly happy with Hitoshi liking the cat.
Hizashi is also smiling. “Cinnamon is in the other room, she's not as friendly but I'm sure she'll warm up to you.”
The cat, Garbage, jumps into Hitoshi's lap. He feels the happiest he's ever been in his life.
“Wow. Garbage already likes you more than me.” Shouta sighs, as the cat begins to purr in Hitoshi's lap.
The next few minutes are idle chatter, Hitoshi lightened up due to the cat. He felt like they might be able to work.
Then he flinched at a sharp pain, it felt like a stab. It is in his stomach. Tears flew into his eyes immediately. Shouta and Hizashi both spring into action and rush to help him.
“What's happening?” Hizashi asks, both are hesitant to touch him. But he quickly whips his head to try and snap himself out of it. It's still painful, which doesn't help when a banging comes onto his back, clear that his soulmate had also fallen over, landing against a wall.
Most people have soulmates, not everyone is able to find theirs, but Hitoshi hopes that he'll be able to unite with his one day. Instead of responding he squeezes on his wrist, hoping that his soulmate will respond.
Shouta and Hizashi make eye contact from where they're both kneeling next to Hitoshi. Neither know what to do. They aren't able to do much for the next six minutes while Hitoshi calms himself down, while whatever pain he was experiencing seemingly subsided.
With a sigh he looked back up to them, he’s sure that he just looks like a scared, pitiful kid in their eyes.
Hizashi, after a few moments of silence, is the first to break the silence stretching between them. “Can I touch you?” Hitoshi stared at his slightly outreached hand. He had a lot of hesitation for it, touch had rarely been positive since his quirk developed.
He nodded.
The man slowly grabbed Hitoshi’s hands, making sure Hitoshi knew everything that was happening. “I’m going to hug you, is that okay?” another nod. He was wrapped up in a hug by the pro hero. He felt younger than he had in years. Only a few seconds in the man’s arms went by before Hitoshi kept crying. He cried for a long time, until his throat was hoarse (more than usual) and his eyes felt swollen.
Hizashi gently held him there, while Shouta patted his back.
Eventually, Hitoshi decided he was finally done crying and pushed himself up, wiping his face off. Both of his foster parents had concern written all over their features, although one had a small smile.
The three sat there, garbage having made his way back to Hitoshi’s lap. It’s on the floor that his second least favorite topic is discussed. “Can you tell us what happened?” Shouta asks, speaking calmly. It’s a tone that Hitoshi could’ve never expected from the way he usually appears.
His ‘villain’ quirk was one thing, but he would be far too high maintenance with his soulmate issues as well. Even if they were pro heroes, Hitoshi was worried they would still send him away.
“It’s-” He began, then debated his words. The two men sitting in a triangle formation with him were looking at him, hanging onto his every word. “My soulmates.”
Hizashi gets a look of recognition and seems to debate a few things in his mind, while a slightly far away look goes on Shouta’s face. “I see. What type of bond do you share?” Hizashi asked, slowly. He smiled, in a supportive way.
“It’s like.. A pain one.” Hitoshi says, he knows that he’s not explaining very well. He’s trying his best though!
Shouta blinks, his eyes refocus on Hitoshi. “Is this type of pain typical of the bond?” The man asks.
Hitoshi nods, “Well kinda. Usually it’s less though.” The men make eye contact with each other. The boy can tell that they’ve known each other for a long time based on the conversation they seem to share with just a look. Shouta got up and went to the kitchen a second later. “It felt like. Like I was being stabbed?” Hitoshi says, seeming unsure of himself.
“Stabbed?” Shouta wonders aloud. “What type of pain do you usually experience?” Hitoshi paused for a moment. Hizashi also seemed curious, but quickly reassured Hitoshi that he didn’t have to say anything he was uncomfortable talking about.
After a few minutes of back and forth, the two men having to do most of the heavy lifting for answers, they establish the main portions of information. Hitoshi has two soulmates, one that experiences burns and freezing temperatures frequently and the other often getting psychically harmed (assumedly the one who was stabbed).
Hitoshi couldn’t help but expect them to tell him that he was just being dramatic about the pain. That there was no way he wasn’t overreacting, like many had told him before.
Instead, Hizashi grabbed his hands and spoke apologetically, “Hitoshi, what your soulmates, and by extension you, are experiencing is abuse. Whoever is hurting them is the person in the wrong.”
After a few more comforting words, which almost brought Hitoshi back to tears, Shouta returned. He sat back down, this time carrying popcorn and ice cream.
While Hitoshi didn’t join the cuddle pile that Hizashi and Shouta were enjoying, he did feel safe in the apartment. The movie was an older American film about a boy who was deeply unlucky all the time. Hizashi had insisted that they watch it in English, with subtitles so Hitoshi could also understand.
After that, he didn’t have the phantom injuries as bad for a while. However, due to the occasional ones and him being bullied, they pulled him out of school. He was immediately enrolled in online school and excelled far more than he ever had in the traditional classroom. When he had trouble on a topic they would help him and they would support him on whatever he wanted to do once he went to high school.
Sometimes in his free time he would scroll through cases of abuse victims who were rescued. Due to a breakdown he’d had, they convinced the lead detective of the precinct to allow him limited access to the files (With some pushing from Nedzu, of course). None of the names he scrolled by ever fit quite right. Hitoshi is sure that when he finds them he’ll just know.
A few months went by before the hero couple decided that Hitoshi was settled in enough to meet Nedzu. The principal of UA.
To say that Hitoshi was nervous would be a major understatement. He was hardly comforted by Shouta’s explanation of his time as Nedzu’s personal student, mostly due to the fear in Shouta’s eyes. Hizashi would also get a bit nervous when they spoke about Nedzu. If Hitoshi couldn’t look around him he’d think that the principal of UA was holding a gun to them.
Of course, once he was sitting at the dinner table next to said creature, he fully understood the fear.
Despite what Hizashi and Shouta would lead one to believe, Nedzu was perfectly nice. He spoke like he was Shouta’s father or mentor, maybe a strange uncle. Between Nedzu and Nemuri, they were a slightly odd little family.
Hitoshi smiled as Nedzu seemed to torment Shouta.
Months went by easily with them. While it wasn't perfect, things were going a lot better for Hitoshi. It had taken a while to get comfortable with them but once he did, everything moved like a puzzle finally put together. Hitoshi knew a few pieces were still missing, with his soul mates still being routinely hurt.
When the pain got too much, Hitoshi would cover himself with blankets and drink hot drinks. He hated that only pain could go through the connection, he wishes he could put the comfort through as well.
-
Kids 11 and under weren't allowed at the yearly hero cons, so Hitoshi couldn't attend the previous two events. Now that he had turned 12 he would be accompanying his parents.
While Hizashi and Shouta were initially cautious about taking him, their old friend Tensei's younger brother would also be able to go that year. Hitoshi had met the boy a few times. He clearly had good intentions but thought the world was way too rigid.
He already knew a few heroes, mostly the other UA teachers. They told him that they would leave him with the other hero kids, who usually stay at a table together. Not all of them go there, but a good portion of them do.
Hitoshi was a bit nervous about the event, but already knowing a good portion of the people there, he's sure that nothing eventful will happen.