Ghosts of mine
Summary. All Might is delirious, desperate, dying. Hitoshi is the only one here. He asks: 'boy do you want to become a hero?'And Hitoshi says yes, because it's the truth and one doesn't simply refuse what the Symbol of Peace demands of them.
Or: Shinsou inherits One of All and the ghosts that come with it.
An AU where the second fight between Sensei and All Might happened before Midoriya and Yagi met. Shinsou-centric. Shinsou Hitoshi & Yagi Toshinori, Shinsou Hitoshi & Shimura Nana.
Rated M
Warnings: major character death (beware the DeadMight), mourning, mental illness, depression, PTSD, suicidal thoughts, suicide attempt (OC), past child death (OC), past non explicit child neglect, foster care system, abandonment issues
Notes: Yeah it's a Shinsou gets OFA!AU, for real. Catch me writing weird shit again. English is not my first language but ohmytheon betaed this chapter so everything should be fine and dandy. Thanks to Raccoon for brainstorming with me, you're the best!
You people can't see it but I'm crying hysterically of gratefulness in the background.
.
.
Hitoshi doesn't own many things. He lives in a house that isn't his, sleeps in a borrowed bed, wears the clothes people who aren't his parents brought him. Every scrap of affection he gets - a pat on his shoulder, an absent-minded ruffle in his incontrolable hair - are intended for someone else. Hitoshi is a ghost made out of flesh and bitterness, slipping through the cracks of the system and breezing through life quietly.
He doesn't own a lot, but his mind... His mind is his own. His body he doesn't really care about. His skin is a patchwork of neglect, crafted out of sleepless nights, numb bruises, and a visceral avoidance of sunlight. His muscles are practically non-existent because you have to give a fuck to work for it. Sometimes he forgets to eat. He's lucky breathing is automatic since he might have forgotten to do that as well otherwise.
But his mind is another story altogether. His mind is a fortress where all memories are stored methodically and thoughts arranged by order of importance. From the outside, Hitoshi looks like a crumbling mess - and he is - but on the inside, he's nothing if not paranoidly meticulous. His cursed Quirk is called Brainwashing for a reason. He controls others, not the contrary.
Histoshi's mind is his own and his own only. He can tell when something fishy is happening there.
There is an itch in the back of his mind. A foreignness tugging at his thoughts, lurking beneath his subconscious. A ghost nested in his dreams, poking around, cautiously discreet, almost
unnoticeable.
Hitoshi notices. And he's not happy. His body can waste away for all he cares but no one - no ones - has the right to invade his mind.
"Stop lurking and come forward," he tells the itch firmly.
The itch stills. Shivers with uncertainty. Eventually decides to curl upon itself, as if to disappear within the layers of his brain. There is no point. Hitoshi knows it's there.
He knows what it is too. Not its exact nature, but it's been there since All Might di... Since All Might. Surely it's related to whatever the hero gave him. Either that, or his mind has finally cracked.
He says, "Come forward," and the itch has no other choice but to obey. When Hitoshi commands, even mental constructs have to comply to his Quirk.
The itch snorts. "Pushy, aren't we now?"
.
The world was shattered. Shards of building, shards of bodies, shards of minds. So this was what true, unstoppable destruction looked like. A trail of broken bones and broken homes, a background of panicked screams and numb silence.
Hitoshi was supposed to run away. That was what sensible civilians did when two titans fought. They ran for their lives and let the qualified people handle the chaos. Except the qualified people were already there and the chaos wasn't stopping.
Somewhere near Hitoshi, a star fell and didn't rise again. The star was called All Might, and the child within Hitoshi yelled, 'Not All Might, not All Might, NOT ALL MIGHT.' Deep down, he was like anyone else. He adored the top hero and longed to become just like him.
Hitoshi ran.
.
.
Her name is Nana. Shimura Nana. She has a mischievous grin with side dimples and vivacious eyes, shoulder-length black hair, and a hero costume stretching over ciselled muscles.
She's also very, very dead and has been for the last thirty years. Her costume has a ugly hole near her belly and flecks of blood speckled her white overskirt.
"Shimura Nana perished under still-unresolved circumstances," Hitoshi's mind parasite reads over his shoulder. "Wow, seems ominous as fuck, amiright?
Hitoshi closes his laptop frustratedly, glaring at the grinning woman shamelessly sitting on his desk. "You're not very helpful."
"Sorry, sorry!" She chuckles, not sounding sorry in the least. "This is new for me as well, ya know? This is the first time something like this has happened, haha!"
Hitoshi wants to bang his head against his desk until he forgets about the itch and everything can get back to normal. For what passed as normal at least. "What's 'something like this'?"
Shimura tilts her head to this side, frowning thoughtfully. "A lot of 'somethings' really. This is the first time a current User managed to not only notice the former users but force them out. This is also the first time One of All was given to a complete and slightly suspicious stranger. No offence."
"None taken," Hitoshi replies, rubbing his eyes tiredly. "Are you going to explain what One for All is or what?"
Users, she said. Implying she's not the only one squatting in his brain. He already knew this though. Within the itch are sleeping different shards of consciousness and it's weird.
One for All. One for All. Hitoshi is a bit scared right now. Which is still better than the state of numb panic he has been stuck in since the All Might incident he categorically refuses to think about.
"Well. This is kind of a long story. Basically, One for All is a given Quirk. Toshi inherited it from me and he gave it to you. Which, to be honest, certainly wasn't part of the plan."
"Toshi?" he asks, his voice raspy and shivering, instead of the 'what the fuck why me why is this happening I don't want this take it back take it back' he really wants to yell.
"All Might," Shimura blinks. "All Might's name is Yagi Toshinori. And he fucked up. He should have looked for an apprentice years ago. Instead he had no other choice but to throw his burden to the first kid passing by. I'm really sorry this happened to you, Shinsou Hitoshi."
The itch stirs. There is blood on Hitoshi's hands and blood on Hitoshi's tongue. It runs like the fierce burn of a promise down his throat.
"I was just there," he says flatly.
All Might's Quirk was given to him because he was chosen. Hitoshi wasn't chosen. He was just there. The story of his sad, pathetic existence.
"Yeah." Shimura doesn't bother denying the harsh reality of that statement. "He had two choices available: let One of All die with him or take the risk to give it to a perfect stranger. I guess he saw something within you? Or he was just really, really desperate."
"Weren't you there too?" He leans back on his chair, staring aimlessly at the ceiling. There are tiny glowing stars glued on the white paint, forming a random galaxy above his bed. He wasn't the one to put them there.
"I told you: I'm not usually that present." The ghost or whatever she is perches on his desk. "Each User adds their power to One for All when they give it away. And with that they leave an…imprint of sort. Pieces of their soul. Sort of. Anyway, as far as I know, you're the first to drag us out so blatantly. So good job! It would have been troublesome if you had no one to tell what the fuck was happening, haha! Oopsie, I shouldn't swear around kids!"
"I'm not a child." Hitoshi hasn't been a child for a very, very long time. "So is All M...Yagi-san there too?"
He pokes his temple for emphasis. She shrugs. "He is. But give him time would you? Takes more than a week to get used to the fact you're dead."
Hitoshi has the ghost of All Might sleeping inside his head. This is so, so weird. "How many users are there?"
"You're the Ninth."
Eight. Shimura, All Might, and six others. A grand total of eight ghosts haunting Hitoshi. Awesome. Real awesome. He'll never be able to masturbate ever again.
If Shimura hears the inappropriate thought, she gives no sign of it. "The others will probably show up at some point. Or they won't. I don't know. Your Quirk is making things weird."
Hitoshi's Quirk always makes things weird. All the things. All the time. It's basically his only constant in life. Hitoshi is awkwardness incarnated. He makes entire rooms ooze with discomfort just by standing in the corner. It's a talent.
"What does it do?" he asks, staring at her smirking face. "One for All."
"Oho, I'm going to stop you right there," Shimura cackles as she puts her hand forward. "I'm not telling you shit until you get that frail skeleton you call a body back in shape."
Hitoshi eyes his noodle arms and skinny frame. All previous painful memories of PE until he managed to dodge out of it surfaces. "Fuck no."
"Fuck yes. And don't swear, jeez." The ghost has the nerve to berate him.
Nope, not happening. "Fuck no."
"Fuck yes. Do you want to become a hero or not?"
A pause. For about a second, Hitoshi is that eager and hopeful child again, hiding behind the couch listening to the TV, giggling to himself when the famous "I'm here!" shows up. People aren't afraid of All Might, he knew. They loved him. If Hitoshi became like All Might, he wouldn't be feared either. He might even be loved.
Of course Hitoshi isn't that stupid anymore. But. Still.
"I do." He does.
Shimura smiles and gives him the thumb up. "Ya know what you have to do then. Chop chop. Get that body moving, my dude."
"No," he tells her flatly. "You're an old lady. Don't try to speak like that. It's just sad."
"Hey, I'm not old. How dare you!"
.
.
Where was All Might? Hitoshi knew he had seen him fall there. All he saw was an old man, bony and exhausted, agonizing and drowning under the weight of his own costume. Vivid red blood covered the blue of the Symbol of Peace. There was a hole in the man's ribcage where no holes were supposed to be.
No way. But the costume, the hair, the eyes. No. Way.
"No. No...I...I can't die like this," fake All Might uttered painfully before coughing up a startling amount of blood. "I still have to… still have to…"
It was very lucky Hitoshi had learned very young to despair quietly. People never liked when he talked - his voice made them uneasy and wary - so he forced himself to keep his screams and wails inside, locked up in the same place his smiles were.
Otherwise he might have outright cried, because this couldn't be the top hero, the Symbol of Peace, Hitoshi's dream. It just couldn't.
Fake All Might (or maybe real All Might, who knew) turned his head towards Shinsou. His blue, unfocused eyes burned holes straight into his soul. "...You. Please come here. Quick."
Hitoshi obeyed without thinking.
.
One kilometer later, Hitoshi is quitting. On everything. He's quitting on training and on getting stronger and on life in general. His lungs and muscles are quitting too. He's just going to stay here, on the grass, and he won't move until he has fused with the dirt underneath.
Yes. Seems like a good plan. And Shimura can make fun of him all she wants, but he has a new life project and he's sticking to it.
"That" - she shakes her head, her hands on her hips - "was pathetic. Seriously, kiddo."
"Fuck...off…" he gasps between painful breaths. "People...without a body...don't get...to judge."
"Nice of you to remind me of my dead status. Real tactful. Also, I'll have you know I could run three times that distance without breaking a sweat at your age. So there."
That's great. Hitoshi doesn't give a fuck. So there.
"Oh, c'mon! Let's get going!" She playfully nudges at his foot.
"Go. Away."
Sometimes Histoshi's Quirk activates without his consent. No so often anymore because he has learned to control it out sheer determination, but it still happens. He doesn't mean to, but sometimes Control laces his voice and it's the worst.
This is one of those times.
He stands up abruptly. Shimura is gone.
"Shimura?" he calls out loud, stupidly, desperately. "Shimura, you there? I didn't mean it like that. Nana? Nana, come out. please…"
Hitoshi doesn't have a breakdown because breakdowns aren't anymore allowed than tantrums or displays of sadness. Deep down he's seething with panic and he hates it. He is emotionally dependant on a ghost squatting his mind. It's pathetic and he's pathetic.
"Come back."
There is a shiver in his mind and Shimura flickers back in front of him.
"Phew," she laughs sheepishly. "That was weird! Your Quirk certainly is something else! Err, are you upset? You look like you're going to break down or something."
He's upset. Or something. "I'm not upset." He glares upward.
"Right," she says soothingly as she puts her hands on his shoulders. Her contact is a strange thing, between the intangible and the reality. Hitoshi is suddenly reminded of the fact she used to be a hero. Still is, arguably. "I'm still there, okay? Let's just go home."
Home. Hitoshi doesn't have such a thing. Homes are for people who belongs somewhere. To someone.
Hitoshi doesn't belong. Anywhere. To anyone.
He's drifting away, and there are glowing stars in the ceiling of his mind.
.
.
Hitoshi kneeled near Perhaps All Might. Blood soaked his pants. All Might's blood, pouring out of his skeletal body by buckets. He vaguely recalled first aid classes and put his hand on the wound. Don't think don't think about it. He pressed. There was blood on his hands now too.
Everyone said that one day, Hitoshi would have blood on his hands. It was kind of funny.
It wasn't funny at all. All Might's blood was on his hands and he was dying and it wasn't funny. It might actually be the worst day of Hitoshi's life. And he had a lot of worst days.
"Boy," All Might said, sounding desperate instead of his usual reassuring cheer. "Boy, I'm sorry to do this, but... Do you want to become a hero?"
All Might clearly wasn't in his right mind. People with so little fluid in their veins couldn't be anything but confused and delirious.
Hitoshi said yes. Because it was the truth and because one didn't simply refuse what the Symbol of Peace demanded of them. Especially on his dying breath.
"Then please. Please accept this."
Hitoshi said yes too. Because there was no other choice acceptable.
.
.
Hitoshi has lived with the Kurokawas for seven months now. They are, so far, both the best and worst foster home he's ever had.
On the plus side, Hitoshi is the only child they took in and that's a damn relief. Not that Hitoshi doesn't like people, but he really doesn't like people. Especially people who also happen to be fellow deluded and bitter foster kids like himself. Some houses he lived in were a constant battle for attention, for games, for food in the worst case.
At the Kurokawas', he gets fed without having to ask. Kaede-san always makes sure his plate is more than full. She thinks he's too skinny. She might be right. He wears clothes that didn't previously belonged to at least two other people before him. Hatori-san drives him to school every morning. It's a very strange situation altogether.
At the Kurokawas', he gets his own room. Well. He gets the room that used to belong to their dead kid.
That's what Hitoshi is here for. He's nothing but a poor replacement of Aiko-san.
They told him it was not the case when he moved in, a sadly small bag on his back and distrustful eyes. They told him they needed the company and to care for someone. They told him he was in no way meant to just fill the vacancy her tragic loss had left in their family. And in retrospect, they probably meant it.
But Hitoshi knows the truth. Sometimes they forget, for not even half a second, but Hitoshi knows. He doesn't blame them. They're good people that went through a lot of shit. They are very nice to him, despite the fact he hardly deserves their gentle smiles and concerned frowns.
He blames himself instead. Because sometimes, he forgets too. Never for long. Aiko-san is everywhere. She's the frozen smile on pictures and the pretty shoes locked up deep within the closet. She's the broken fence and the marked criminal thrillers.
She's the stars blooming on the ceiling.
Nana isn't the first ghost to haunt Hitoshi.
"Good morning," he mumbles when he steps in the kitchen and sits in his chair.
Kaede-san blinks up from her papers and greets him quietly. Hitoshi's foster mother does everything that way, evenly and unaffectedly, her face as smooth as her tight bun and grey suit. They are very similar in that regard, two introverts keeping their emotions in tiny boxes locked within.
Hitoshi's mother used to be like that too. Contained and in control - until she wasn't anymore.
"Good morning, Hitoshi-kun!" Hatori-san smiles brightly, sliding a generous bowl of rice on the table toward him. "Want some cof-? Aw!"
"No coffee for fourteen-year-olds." His wife pokes at his flank with her chopstick. "We talked about this."
"Yeah, well. We also said you would stop working at breakfast." He glares pointedly at her papers and laptop.
Kaede-san closes the computer and sets aside her files with an arched eyebrow, before raising her mug up in a non-verbal request for more coffee. Her husband refills it with a theatrical grumble.
It's getting harder not to smile at their soothing dynamic. They argue all the time, but in a very different way than Hitoshi is used to. No one ever raises their voice in their house. He can't help but wonder if this has always been the case or if the loss of their daughter drained them of the will to shout their frustration.
Hovering near the window, her back against the wall, Shimura is smiling at them. She's not always there, thank god, but she often shows up when his foster parents are in the vicinity. There is something eager, hopeful in the way she watches the Kurokawas interact with Hitoshi. As if she needs to reassure herself. Odd.
"Hitoshi-kun," He snaps out of his musings as Hatori-san calls his name. "You've started jogging in the evening?"
"Ah, yes." Hitoshi nods, ignoring Shimura's amused cackle. "Is it a problem?"
"Of course not! It's a great idea, right, Kaede?" his foster father cheerfully says.
"Indeed. I know some people who should inspire to your example."
"Rude." Hatori-san glares down at his round belly. "Maybe we should get you better shoes…"
"Oh. That's not necessary." The Kurokawas have been so generous already. The last thing he wants is to impose on them any further.
"Don't be silly." Kaede purses her lips. He ignores Shimura snorting behind his back. "Training is important. You wish you become a hero, don't you?"
He freezes in his seat. Hitoshi has never spoken of his ambitions to them - to anyone really since he was eight. But that's what Kaede-san excels at. She reads people as efficiently as she goes through tedious reports and endless files.
Sharps eyes at the service of a sharp mind.
Eventually he has to explain himself. "I know that...considering the nature of my Quirk, it seems like a foolish dream, but…"
"It's not foolish," Hatori-san interjects. "Dreams are not foolish. And I'm sure you'll be a great hero!"
Aiko-san had dreams too. She wanted to become an astronaut. Unfortunately people who died at thirteen never get to become astronauts or heroes or anything.
"We'll start looking into school with hero courses," Kaede-san decides, determinedly typing a reminder on her phone. "If not UA, then there are plenty of high schools with adequate programs.".
Hitoshi blanches. "But those are...expensive."
"Don't worry about it," she says firmly while Hatori-san chuckles to himself.
"I can't…"
"Don't worry about it. Children shouldn't be concerned about money. We'll handle it."
"Don't bother fighting with her on the matter. We both know how she is." Hatori grins as if they are sharing a moment of complicity. "And eat your rice, would you? You'll need the energy, haha!"
Shimura's husky laugher echoes in his ears.
He eats his rice.
.
.
Red on his finger. Red on his lips.
Hitoshi swallowed.
It tasted like normal blood. It tasted like ashes and the death of a era. It tasted like loss and victory laced together.
One drop. That was all it took to change the world.
.
.
Middle school, as every single other congregation of humans, has a complex ecosystem. It obeys its own rules, its own priorities, its own set of formal and informal laws. The specific social segregation dividing the students into different clans exists only in that very special time vortex called teenagehood.
It's a microsociety by its own rights. Hitoshi isn't part of it. He has no friends, as no one wants to talk to the scary-looking kid who can brainwash you at will. He has no enemies, as no one wants to talk to the scary-looking kid who can brainwash you at will. Hitoshi is stuck in middle school limbo, free of any human interactions, and he likes it just fine like that.
Shimura doesn't. For some unknown reason, she's convinced he needs to make friends - or at the very least acquaintances. Something. Anything.
"Him!" The former pro-hero brightens, pointing at the unfortunate student she has decided will become Hitoshi's bestie. "He looks cool!"
He doesn't bother to raise his head from his homework. He might be officially invisible to the student corps, but that doesn't mean the teachers will completely forget about him too. Well, they might actually, but Hitoshi doesn't want to disappoint his foster parents.
Homework. It's a pain, but it needs to be done. And Shimura isn't being very helpful.
"Never mind, he's having Hawaiian pizza." The annoying ghost turns up her nose in distaste. "I could never trust someone who thinks pineapple is an appropriate topping for pizza. Ugh."
Wow. It must be so nice to be able to be so picky. Hitoshi wouldn't know.
Just when he has begun to hope she will let the matter go, Shimura perks up in her seat, buzzing with low-key excitement. "Okay, I know! This girl! I heard she's planning to apply to UA too!"
"Your emotional involvement in middle school gossip is starting to worry me," he mumbles flatly without looking up, his tone dripping with sarcasm.
There is at least one good point at being a social pariah. He can talk to himself all day and no one will bat an eyelash since they're all already convinced he's insane anyway.
"Hey! If you weren't so incredibly dull, I wouldn't have to be!" she cocks an eyebrow. "You know what? Make an honest attempt to befriend the girl - just one - and I promise I'll stop bugging you on the subject."
He doesn't need to follow the direction her finger is pointing at. He knows who she is babbling about.
Asui Tsuyu. The Frog Girl. Everyone knows she's planning to enter UA next year, including Hitoshi. And she will probably get in too. Her Quirk isn't that suited for heroics by nature, but her auspicious uses of it and her perseverance are enough to make the sensible girl an extremely serious applicant.
Asui-san is admirable and will likely make an excellent hero. Even he has to admit that simple fact.
Doesn't meant he has to like it. Hitoshi is entitled to his petty bitching ways and there is nothing Shimura can do about that.
"If you're not going to help me with my homework, the least you can do is shut up. I'm trying to work here."
"Pff, teenagers. Fine, what are you working on?" She looms over his shoulder, before recoiling suddenly. "Ugh. Maths. I hate maths."
"Thank you for your input. That's very useful." He grits his teeth.
When he glares sideways, Shimura is gone though. Somewhere deep within his consciousness, the itch shivers and a different tingle from Nana's usual warmth throbs behind his temples.
"You need to divide by x^3."
Hitoshi squints at his paper thoughtfully. "Uh. Right. Hm. Thank you?"
"My pleasure, young Ninth. Truthfully it is a relief to see you are intending to keep up with your studies."
See. Hitoshi doesn't need friends. He's got an entire squad of ghosts already.
.
There was All Might's blood on his knees, on his hands, on his tongue. There was All Might's blood in his throat, in his belly, in his veins.
And it burned.
"I'm sorry," All Might whispered. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
Hitoshi was sorry too. He was sorry someone worthier wasn't there to hold All Might's hand as he died. He was sorry his hero wouldn't have the chance to give whatever he had given Hitoshi to someone who deserved it. He was sorry All Might only had a pariah like Hitoshi in his last moments.
He was sorry and he didn't cried when the greatest hero of this generation breathed his last.
.
.
"You should smile," Shimura decides on their way back from middle school. "Just a bit. You never smile."
Once again Hitoshi thanks the gods he's the only one able to see her. The contrast of her decided bouncing and his own uninterested slouch is painfully awkward from his point of view. Also, she wouldn't hang out with him if she could talk to other people. Whatever.
"I do smile," he deadpans, flashing his most insincere grin in response.
She shudders. Rude. "No, you don't. You smirk. There is a difference."
Shimura smiles. Cheerfully. Amicably. Soothingly. She's dead, yet she smiles all the time. Just like All Might did. Lifting people's spirit is important too, he used to claim when asked in interviews, his laughing voice a comforting blanket for the soul.
Hitoshi is nothing like them. His smiles taste like displays of weakness.
So he just. Doesn't.
"Deal with it." He shrugs eventually, his usual blank mask falling back in his face. "...Shimura?"
He turns back questioningly. The ghost is staring fixedly at the top of a building the other side of the road. Her hands are crisped to her side. She's not smiling.
Hitoshi blinks up curiously. He freezes.
Someone is on the edge of the roof. They're going to jump.
They're going to jump.
This time, it's not only the itch that tenses up at the back of his head. His entire body tremors, from to feet to neck, an invisible line tugging on his heartstrings mercilessly.
No. No.
What's important to know about Hitoshi: he avoids heights like the plague. No tall buildings, no rooftop, no ladder. Nothing.
The Kurokawas assumed he was simply scared, and he hasn't try to clear them of the notion. His reluctance isn't born of vertigo or fear of height though. Hitoshi stays away from crests because he's the contrary of scared.
It didn't happen often. But sometimes, on the worst days, as he looked down from the rooftop of his former schools, where he had taken refuge, the Thought snuck up on him.
You know what Thought.
"Stop," he croaks tentatively. His voice is barely audible, rough, utterly useless. "Stop."
He's too far. Too far and too weak. The taste of panic bursts under his tongue. His breath is escaping his control. His legs shiver under him. He tells them: move move move.
They don't move.
"Kiddo. Hitoshi." Shimura's worried frown flickers at the corner of his eye. "Look at me. Calm down."
If Hitoshi could calm down, he fucking would have already.
The person on the verge of fall tips on the edge.
The word leaps out of his mouth. Not a scream, barely a whisper. Just a word.
"Stop."
The command resonates through the air in a way that has never happened before.
They stop. And so does that rest of world. People are standing around frozen, cars in the middle of road. The child that was crying on the bench near Hitoshi has his mouth open and eyes wide with disbelief. Utterly silent.
His chest is burning. The itch, now transformed into a forest fire, is tugging on his vocal cords like a cruel puppeteer. The rest of world dances to its tune and he doesn't know how to make it stop.
Blood runs down the back of his throat.
"Uh. Interesting use of One for All."
"Not the moment!"
"He's losing control."
"Get a hold of yourself, boy."
"Shuddup, y'all not helpful at all you idiots!"
"Nana. Do something."
"I'm trying! Hitoshi. Hitoshi, c'mon!"
Hitoshi is far away, so far away. Something Else has taken control of his own body and kicked him out of it. There is an unbreakable wall between him and the rest of the world. From above he watches the scene unfold. So this is what dissociation feels like. At least he's not hurting anymore. Nothing matters. Nothing at all.
The stars don't seem so unattainable now.
"Young Shinsou."
And just like that, the stars let go.
.
.
Later, they asked what happened with All Might.
He said he didn't know.
They asked what he was doing here.
He said he didn't know.
They asked what All Might had said, if he had given something to Hitoshi.
He said he didn't know.
They agreed it was better for all parties involved to conceal Hitoshi's presence.
He said okay.
.
.
Here's what Hitoshi knows of his mother when he was five. She was pretty, despite the constant shadows carved under her eyes. She could make bubbles come out of her mouth and it was the coolest Quirk ever. She hated noise, so Hitoshi had to be very, very quiet all the time. Except when they went to the park. Then Hitoshi could go wild with all his heart's content, scream and run and laugh like the other kids.
Needless to say, Hitoshi loved that park at the time. He liked it less when his mother told him to go play, that she had a small shopping trip to make, that she would be back in a few minutes. She never came back of course. He waited for two days, hiding underneath the slide, stealing scraps of food. Adults were meant to notice at some point though. And so began Hitoshi's blissful journey in the world of social services.
Here what's Hitoshi knows now of his mother. She was a lonely twenty-three-year-old woman with no income, no family, no plan, no idea what the fuck she was doing. Considering his Quirk looked nothing like hers, he has to make the assumption his brainwashing abilities come from the other side of his genetic patrimony. Hitoshi already guessed he wasn't born of a loving union, but perhaps it wasn't even a consensual one. The development of his quirk would have been the last straw.
Hitoshi might have abandoned himself too in her place. There is only so much one person can handle. He hasn't forgiven her exactly, but he has come to understand why, at least. Ten years after, the raw hurt of abandoned not good enough she left me why why why is still painful. He still remembers the moment he realized she truly wasn't coming back for him. He spent so much time stuck in crippling anger, in debilitating sadness, screaming inside until he was completely drained.
The wound is never not there, but sometimes he forgets about it. Just for a second, an hour, a day. But in the end, the park is always there, at the back of his mind. Hitoshi will never escape it, the same he can't get rid of his cursed Quirk.
So naturally, should he be trapped in his own mind, his subconscious would choose it as its sanctuary. Obviously. Because Hitoshi loves to be shoved in his worst memories, his failures in display for his gang of nosy ghosts to see.
Through the fog, he can feel their distant presence. Lurking in the shadows of his panic. Hovering outside the safety bubble his mind created.
It's just him in the park though. Him and All Might.
"Hi," he says flatly. "So we meet again."
All Might smiles. It's not the shiny, blinding grin he's known for, but a small stretch of the lips at the edges of hollow cheeks, barely noticeable, vulnerable. He's in what Hitoshi assumes is his real form, a composition of bony limbs and lingering sadness. Hitoshi is used to it by now, as the scene unfolds in his dreams over and over, but it still hurts.
They say one should never meet their hero in the flesh. They might have a point. There is something viscerally shattering to witness the decrepitude of the most important figure of his childhood, the one who made Hitoshi want to be someone. Not even a hero, just... Someone.
Once upon a time, All Might carried the weight of a younger Hitoshi's hopes, just like he carried the rest of the world on his sky-large shoulders. Without faltering, smiling always, the living god figure of today's society.
But All Might isn't a god.
He's just a man who tried his best. Was just a man.
"Young Shinsou," Yagi Toshinori greets him back warmly.
Outside, the world vibrates under the hold of Hitoshi's uncontrollable power. Of One for All's enormous, terrifying power. Outside Hitoshi is yelling still, his throat throbbing and bleeding while his ghost parasites are trying to stop him from destroying himself. Nice, but too late. He knows what happens to people with quirks deemed too dangerous. His former caretakers never forgot to remind him freaks like him got locked up if they abused their creepy quirk and Hitoshi has just done exactly that. Not on purpose, but everyone knew he was a disaster waiting to happen anyway.
But this is not outside. This is inside and this is now.
"You done sleeping off?" Hitoshi asks with fake flippancy, as if he doesn't really care about the fact he's talking to the hero of his childhood and the man who arguably ruined his life. Not that his life wasn't ruined in the first place.
"Ah," All Might winces. "So it would seem. I must apolo-"
"Not interested." Hitoshi flips him off boldly. And he isn't. He's done with his predecessor apologizing to him for throwing his burden on his lap and kicking the bucket right after.
He's done with everything, frankly
He hears All Might sigh as he lets his head fall back, his hands holding on at the chains of the swing tightly. From above, plastic stars twinkle tentatively.
"Young Shinsou," Yagi tries again. "Why do want to become a hero?"
Hitoshi almost falls from the swing. He truly hadn't expected that question. More something like 'learn to control your goddamn quirk' or 'you'll have to pass One For All on before they lock you up loser'. All Might really is something else, isn't he?
"Spite," he says honestly and pauses.
It's not a lie, but not the entire truth either. People told him he would never amount to anything, so he chose to aim for the most glorious and noble profession in the world in order to rub it in their faces. In his fantasies, he is rich and popular, everyone wants to be close to him, and those who looked down on him bitterly regretted their foolishness.
Now. Now if he's being honest to himself, his motivations aren't so petty anymore. He wants to not be disgusted by what he sees in the mirror. He wants to make people like his foster parents or Shimura proud of him. He wants to help people, the way they helped him.
He wants his mother, wherever the fuck she is, to watch him.
"Maybe not just spite," he concedes to All Might's patient smile. "It doesn't matter. I fucked up. I can find someone to pass-"
"You will do no such a thing," Yagi interrupts him firmly. "I - no, we - have complete faith you can learn to control One For All and become a great hero."
That's nice, but not very realistic. In the off chance Hitoshi has indeed the potential to master the scary amount of raw strength raging in his body, no one is going to let him try his hand at heroism. If he doesn't get convicted for quirk abuse and large scale endangerment.
"There are people I know," Yagi keeps going on in a softer tone, reading the skepticism on his face and responding accordingly, "who are aware of One For All's existence. They will help you."
Oh. Oh.
Yagi lays a skinny hand on his shoulder, ever so gently. Hitoshi feels like he's melting, of exhaustion, of excitement. "My boy. This power is yours now. Use it."
Oh. Hitoshi still isn't used to having things of his own.
His own, uh. His own.
The bubble bursts open. The park washes out as All Might gives him the thumb up.
He stops screaming. And the world starts running again.
.
.
Later, he feels Shimura chuckle at the tip of his shoulder and Yagi hums proudly behind his temple as he hands over his wrists without a protest to the policemen. The rest of the ghost squad watches the scene unfold silently.
He says, "I want to talk to Detective Tsukauchi."
The itch purrs.
.
.
So. This happened. I'm done writing with this but anyone is inspired and wants to use the idea, you can send me a message^^.
I went with the Raccoon's idea OFA works like a quirk amplificator. On Quirkless people like All Might, it gives them a enormous amount of raw strength, but otherwise its the initial Quirk who gets decuplated.
Since we don't know much about the previous owners's personalities, I didn't involved them much. Also I love writing Nana what'syourpoint.
Thanks for reading and please leave a comment!