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mega-trash-cringe · 23 days ago

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Foster Homes

Shinsou Hitoshi has been in and out of Foster Care ever since he got his Quirk. He's almost 17 now, has just recently transferred to Class 2-A, and is on his way to becoming a Proper Hero. Going back into Foster Care is the last thing he needs right now. Thankfully, he's got you, his Foster Mom, his favorite teacher Aizawa Shouta, and his best friends by his side.

This Story takes place after the war. Shigaraki and AFO have died, as have most of the League. Hawks has a desk job now.

Masterlist - will be updated once a week - Playlist

Part 9

-x- Aizawa Shouta -x-

Hawks doesn’t give him the satisfaction of visiting him after hours, where Shouta could have punched him in the face and gotten away with it, instead sauntering into the teacher’s lounge at 4 p.m. on a Thursday afternoon.

“Do you have a minute?” He asks, handing over his thick white business card. Takami Keigo, HPSC.

“If you must,” Shouta snarls but follows him into the think tank they rarely ever use for meetings of that kind. It’s completely soundproof and if Shouta isn’t napping in here, it’s everyone’s preferred place to shut Yamada in when he’s being too loud again.

“In my new role at the HPSC I’m well aware of potentially dangerous quirks and-”

“Cut the crap,” Shouta scoffs, falling into a chair. “Tell me what you’re here for.”

Hawks grins. “Shinsou Hitoshi.”

“What about him?”

“How’s he doing?”

“As well as he can, considering he spent his first year in General Studies and has fought in a war recently at 16 years old.”

Hawks laughs dryly. “Sure, sure. How has changing homes impacted him?”

Shouta leans back in his chair to glare at the other guy. “What do you want?”

“I was just wondering,” Hawk’s smile is almost feral now. “Since you care so much about him and he cares about you, why you didn’t take him in?”

Shouta’s eyes narrow. “Do I look like a walking father figure? I can’t adopt every stray I see.”

“Don’t give me that crap, you’d take him in in a heartbeat, right?” Hawks smile is smug. “Is it because his dear Foster Mom turned up a little quicker than you did? Two working feet and all?”

“If you’re trying to provoke me you’ll have to try a little harder,” Shouta reminds him dryly. “But just for you, I’m going to explain the obvious. I’m Hitoshi’s teacher. He interns at my agency. If I were to take him in, I’d have to switch him over to Vlad. Vlad’s not a bad teacher, but Hitoshi’s Quirk and Goals are more aligned with what I used to do, so that wouldn’t benefit him in the slightest. The best for him, to my knowledge and yours probably too, is for him to stay where he is right now.”

Hawk's grin falters. “Damn. You’re making this harder for me than it needs to be.”

“If she’s not interested in you her opinion won’t change just because you get rid of Hitoshi. It’s more likely that the opposite will be the case. She loves the boy.”

“Right.” Hawks does a little funny sound in the back of his throat, not quite a scoff and not quite a snort either. “It’s not about me. I’ve got this kid I need to look out for.”

“Little T?”

Hawks shoulders lower. “Yeah. How do you know?”

Shouta nods. “Tsukauchi told me. Toshinori would take him in in a heartbeat.”

“Sure he would, selfless symbol of peace and all. But he’s not the kind of parent figure that kid needs and you know it.”

Shouta nods slowly. He can’t disagree with that. “You think she’s the right one?”

“Don’t you?”

He purses his lips as he looks directly into Hawk’s eyes and thinks of you. The way you treated Eri, or how soft you always are around Hitoshi.

He thinks of the little boy he only met once and nods without realizing it. “Yeah, you’re right.”

But there’s still one thing left to consider. “But if Hitoshi doesn’t get along with him you can forget it.”

Hawks sighs. “Who knows if she even gets a chance? I was overruled. The Teams Favorite is meeting him tomorrow.”

“Good luck on that.”

“Thanks.” Hawks gets up, pats his shoulder. “It’s probably needless to say, but don’t tell anyone.”

“Same goes for you.” Shouta levels him with a glare. “Outside of this room, she isn’t Hitoshi’s mother but his older sister. If you spill that secret, you’ll regret it.”

Hawks winces but he smiles. “Don’t worry. I know how to keep a secret, don’t I?”

When he opens the door on Saturday, you’re the first thing that he sees.

Your smile is wide, your arms full of baked goods. “Hitoshi helped,” you explain, handing them to him. “They’re edible.”

He sends a questioning look to the boy on your right who shakes his head no. Don’t ask.

“Hi!” Eri pops up behind him. “Come in! I wanna show you Banana. And Marshmallow and Pumpkin too, but Banana is currently sleeping and he’s so cute!”

“I’m coming,” you laugh, barely out of your shoes. “I’m coming.”

Hitoshi stays behind in the doorway, eyeing him cautiously.

“What?” Shouta wipes a hand over his face. “Did Eri draw on my face while I was sleeping?”

“No,” Hitoshi cracks a smile. “I’m… I was thinking…” Clearly, he’s uncomfortable and doesn’t want to say what needs to be said.

“You wanna take a look into my office?” Shouta asks, tapping the boy on the shoulder. “I’m sure the girls are currently occupied with the cats anyway.”

“Sure,” Hitoshi nods, following him along.

-x- Shinsou Hitoshi -x-

He’s been in here before, though it’s been a while. New pictures line the walls. He spots Eri in a few of them, blushing a little when he finds one of himself too. They’d been out with Yadama-Sensei as well as Mirio and someone, Hitoshi can’t say who, decided to take a picture of all of them together, Eri squeezed in between him and Aizawa-Sensei, her arms thrown around their shoulders.

“How are you doing?”

“Good,” Hitoshi answers on autopilot, but Aizawa’s right eyebrow raises above his eyepatch, questioning him.

“Counselling sucks.”

“Tell me about it.”

He hesitates. It could have been just a throwaway comment, but knowing his teacher Hitoshi’s pretty sure he meant it.

“We’ve been talking about my self-preservation skills. I- I’m- I want to apologize.” Oh, he already hates doing this.

“For what?”

Grinding his teeth, Hitoshi presses out: “For worrying you."

Silence stretches between them. It’s not entirely awkward, but still.

“Am I in trouble?” Hitoshi asks after a while, both hands shoved into the pockets of his trousers.

Aizawa exhales loudly through his nose.

“No,” he says, pointing at a chair. “You’re not in trouble. But I wonder why you’re still so hesitant to talk to me. Is it because I’m your teacher?”

“I’m like that with everyone,” Hitoshi points out, sitting down. Another eyebrow raise.

“What? It’s true.”

“You say that, but you take naps with Shouto Todoroki where everyone can see you. I’m pretty sure Denki knows everything about you and I’m definitely not wrong when I say that Ochako’s Bento Box has started to look suspiciously similar to yours.”

Aizawa’s voice is calm and level, not an ounce of accusation in it.

Still, Hitoshi can feel himself get defensive.

“That’s different. I’ve tried not liking them, but they’re-”

“Persistent?”

“Yeah,” Hitoshi nods, letting his fingers grip the inside of his pant-pockets just to have something to do. “Midoriya is the worst of all, but-” He hesitates. “I don’t think I mind it that much. Well, most of the time. It helps a bit against the-” He cuts himself off, checking if Aizawa has heard him. He has.

Stubbornly, Hitoshi falls quiet again, letting his eyes move through the room.

In the end, curiosity wins.

“Do you get nightmares, Sensei?”

Aizawa moves back, clearly taken aback by the question.

“Yes,” he admits, though he’s clearly wary of what might come next.

“About what?”

This time it’s Aizawa who has trouble answering.

“I lost a friend,” he finally comments. “When I was younger. Right at the start of my Career, you could say. The events of that day have haunted me ever since but the war has brought… a new perspective to it.”

Hitoshi nods. He knows bits and bobs about Kurogiri, the right hand to Shigaraki, if you might call him that. Just enough to gauge how messed up it must really be.

“I’ve always had nightmares,” Hitoshi admits, feeling a little less guilty about making Aizawa-Sensei reveal his own secrets. “The earliest I remember are from when I was about four. I kept dreaming that the people were going to steal my tongue, just so I would stop talking. I was terrified. Slept in- slept in my sisters bed for a month.”

“Makes sense.”

“Does it? Ever since the war I keep dreaming about losing them. My friends. Kaminari isn’t the sharpest knife in the drawer. It would be easy-” Hitoshi trails of and picks up again. “Or I dream about not making it. I can hear them say it. That my Quirk was never meant for a Hero… It helps having friends when I’m having these dreams.” He snorts against his will. “I told Midoriya about it once. Once. Can you believe the amount of notes he’s got on me? After all he went through you think he’d care a little more about himself first.”

Hitoshi looks up. The warmth in Aizawa’s remaining eye is enough to shut him up, to swallow all the unsaid words.

He’s not sure what it is, what broke inside of him all those years ago, but visible care like this leaves him reeling, like a fish on land.

Aizawa must have noticed because he looks away, giving him a second to gather himself.

“You’re going to make it, kid. You’ve got the potential it needs and the stubbornness to push through when it gets hard. I just wish you’d take care of yourself some more.”

“I’m trying,” Hitoshi points out, getting up. He’s getting antsy, he can feel it.

“Do you wanna try the food we brought? I barely helped, so make sure to compliment it, okay?”

Aizawa snorts. “I’ll try. Mind telling me about that?”

“When I’ve figured it out, I will.” Hitoshi promises, though it’s only half-hearted.

Aizawa’s hand moves out to block the door.

“One more thing, kid,” he points out, looming over him. “When we’re not in school I’d appreciate it if you called me by my first name, okay? But it’s whatever you’re comfortable with, okay?”

Something’s lodged inside Hitoshi’s throat, making it impossible to speak. He nods and feels the ghost of a hand brushing through his hair. When he looks up though, Aizawa’s already moving back, letting him get through the door.

Hitoshi’s half asleep on the way back home, overfed and overstimulated. He still needs to do his English homework when he gets home, and maybe start his project for Ethics Class, but right now all he can do is fight to keep his eyes open.

“Only two more weeks until training camp,” you tell him, maybe as a ploy to keep him awake. You’re surely not fit to carry him up from the car.

“Hmm,” Hitoshi makes, feeling more like liquid than a solid person.

And then, it happens.

You make a weird sound, somewhere between a gasp and a curse and then you hit the brakes so hard the seatbelt almost strangles him.

“What happened?” Hitoshi gasps, immediately alert.

“Dog,” you press out, jumping out of the truck and slamming the door shut.

Hitoshi watches as you cross the street in front of the car, crouching low near the shrubbery on his right. He lets two cars pass before he follows you, not seeing what made you stop in the first place.

“In here,” you tell him, one hand stretched out as if you’re offering something.

For a while, nothing happens. Then, a little snout appears from beneath one of the thicker bushes, carefully sniffling your fingertips.

It takes the dog a while to deem you safe, allowing you to pet it. Enough time for Hitoshi to get a proper look at it. It’s small, barely the size of Rust, with matted fur that’s too dirty to tell the color. The eyes are mesmerizing though, big and grey and captivating, trusting way too easily.

“It’s a male,” you figure out on the way back to the car, the dog swaddled up in your Flannel Jacket. “Can you hold him while I drive?”

“Are we going to the vet?”

“Yeah,” you open his door first. “I’ll take you home right after if it takes longer. I know you want to start your homework.”

“It’s fine,” Hitoshi decides. “I want to know what happens to this guy first.”

“Name?” The vet’s assistant asks, holding her clipboard like a weapon.

“Mud,” Hitoshi’s eyes shoot over to you, relishing in the amused quiver of your lips. “The Third.”

“Alright. Let’s get Mud the Third checked out then.”

It’s only after a well-needed bath that they realize how well-fitting the name is.

Mud’s a mutt, sharing at least some ancestry with either a pomeranian or a spitz, though his fur is a mix of different tones of brown.

He’s not chipped and in desperate need of an owner, it seems. It’s almost funny how Hitoshi doesn’t even have to ask you if you’re going to keep it. It’s a given.

Mud’s shy, curling up in the back of the box they get loaned from the vet.

“You think the cats will like him?” Hitoshi asks as he carries Mud up.

“We’ll see,” you shrug. “Let Mildew sniff him first. She’s usually more friendly with newcomers.”

But that idea dies instantly when you push the door open and Rust’s already standing there, her whole posture screaming defense.

Mud yips inside his box and to Hitoshi’s surprise, Rust responds in kind, though her voice is a lot more scratchy.

“Let him down,” you tell him quietly, opening the box when Hitoshi does so.

Rust’s inside the box before either of them has a chance to blink. Loud purring rings out from inside.

“Well,” you point out unnecessarily. “Rust likes him.”

-x- You -x-

It’s past midnight when the door to your room opens.

“Hitoshi?” You ask, a little groggy after being woken so suddenly.

“Can I sleep in here?” He asks, his voice smaller than you’re used to hearing.

“Sure,” you slide over to the wall and feel the mattress dip under his weight. He’s not yet fully under the blankets when Mildew appears at the open door as well, complaining loudly.

“Just come in,” you tell her and she seems to understand because the next thing you feel is her body settling on top of your right ankle.

Hitoshi’s quiet next to you.

“Nightmare?” You ask, not really expecting an answer.

“Something like that.” He shuffles a little closer. You reach out blindly and feel his hair under your hand, softly patting it.

“You wanna talk about it?”

“How was it for you?” He asks instead. “When you grew up here? Everyone left at some point, right?”

You’re quiet for a moment.

“Yes,” you admit finally, sinking further into the mattress. “Though some still come to visit. Remember Kotone? Or Sango?”

“Barely,” Hitoshi admits. You can feel the weight of his emotions, can barely make sense of what you see.

A muffled sound cuts you off. The door opens further and you lean over Hitoshi to switch on the light.

Rust blinks up at you, her teeth dug into Mud’s neck.

“What are you doing?” You ask, a little exasperated. She gives it no mind, jumping onto the bed with the dog yipping anxiously, scuttling off into a corner as soon as Rust lets go of him.

“He isn’t your baby, you know that, right?” You ask Rust who seems to disagree. She’s purring loudly as she curls around Mud, staring you down as if she expects you to fight her for him.

Sighing, you switch the light off again. Hitoshi hasn’t moved an inch.

“Am I allowed to do something motherly?” You ask and wait until you can feel him nod.

You sit up a little and sling an arm around his shoulders. He follows your guidance and lets his head rest in your lap. Gently you card your hands through his hair, feel some of the anxiety bleed out of him.

“I didn’t know what I was going to do with my life at your age,” you tell him. “I didn’t have a dream like you have. I have talent and a good head on my shoulders, but that was all. Masa, or Yokoyama-san, as you know her, had always been kind to me, and leaving her felt like something I just… couldn’t see myself doing. But everyone else was doing it and wouldn’t I just take up valuable space if I stayed? It was a time filled with anxiety and looking back it could have gone differently if I talked to someone about it. But I didn’t until you came along.”

“Me?” Hitoshi asks, clearly surprised.

“Yeah, you. You reminded me of myself in many ways. Of how important this line of work is and always will be. We’re both trying to help children in need, children with dangerous, misunderstood Quirks. We’re just doing it from different angles.”

“I’m doing it for myself,” Hitoshi admits, his voice laced with shame. “I didn’t think about others.”

“I know. I did it for myself at first too.”

He’s quiet, but his surprise and curiosity is palpable.

“Some people grow up not wanting children. Some people change their minds about it as they grow older. And some people, like me, always felt like parents. I… I had to parent my own mother as a child. I was good at it. I just kept doing it. I tried to be the parent I never had and when Masa became my guardian, I had a real-life example that I could follow. And it doesn’t matter if I’m your big sister or not, those feelings will never go away. I will care about you just as much in whatever form you’ll want me in your life.”

Your pajama pants grow damp as he cries, not making a sound.

You wait for him to speak up, to give you direction where he wants this conversation to go. But he doesn’t speak again, just falls asleep in your hold as exhaustion pulls him under.

You hold him a little while longer before you slowly move him off your lap and tuck him in, climbing out of bed once more to get yourself another blanket.

Mud yips as you move past him and you let him sniff your hand once more in the darkness before you fall asleep as well.

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#sir another comfort animal has hit the fic #eeeeeeeee I love them your honour

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