A/N: Shinsou's mother, his family, and their backstory in this chapter are not of my creation. tsodmike on twitter/MikeWritesThings on AO3 created them, and I was given permission to use them.
Next was Shinsou.
Shouta didn't approach him first. Shinsou Hitoshi came to him, face set hard with determination, fists clenched. He'd asked Shouta to personally train him to be a hero.
Shouta had said no. He'd still had Eri's teaching to deal with and couldn't spare any time. After his blunt response, he'd expected Shinsou to slink away, tail tucked between his legs, and never speak to him again. Instead, Shinsou came back the next day. And the next. And the next.
Shinsou, in all his persistent, relentless glory, became as much a part of his routine as Eri was; he was an unexpected but not unwelcome addition. Shinsou showed more promise than many of his past students, and slowly Shouta found himself evaluating him, slowly found himself impressed with his steadfast return every day after classes, slowly found himself inclined to one day say "yes."
Maybe after Eri was situated.
Yes, maybe.
When Shouta was well into the process of Eri's formal adoption and could afford to let it slip to the back of his mind, there were two months until spring break and the end of Class 1-A's first year. Through numerous villain attacks and harrowing trials, his class had grown in a short span of time into formidable prospective heroes. Shouta would never dare say it aloud, but he was proud, and he thought that maybe the hero world was hardly ready for new pros so experienced, so wise to join them.
Mineta Minoru, however, didn't fit the bill. Shouta had thought it all year and, in a fit of insanity (or so he'd claim), he'd allowed Mineta to continue on with the class despite showing obvious signs of not being cut out for pro hero work. He'd been blinded by his class' abrupt brilliance and wanted to believe it was true of all of them. But Mineta wasn't ready to be a hero and, frankly, Shouta thought he'd never be, with motivations like attracting beautiful women and being famous. So he was expelling Mineta.
No one necessarily had to fill Mineta's place. There was an upper limit to a class but no lower; Shouta didn't have a quota to fill. And yet, when he was signing the official papers and breaking the news, Shouta couldn't pull his mind away from Shinsou.
Over the course of the school year, Shinsou's visits to try to convince Shouta to take him on as a pupil had slowed from every day to once a week. Still, he persisted, unwavering, no matter how harshly Shouta rejected him.
Shouta thought that perhaps his class needed someone like Shinsou: a boy as determined and relentless as Bakugou, with the levelheadedness of Todoroki. A boy who was not unnecessarily unkind but still said what he meant. Or maybe Shouta was just biased because once upon a time he'd been in General Education and had made a place for himself in the Heroics department.
Maybe Shouta just wanted to give Shinsou this chance because he saw himself there, in those determined-relentless-persistent-unwavering eyes. Maybe Shouta just liked him.
Shouta thought that it wasn't illogical for Shinsou to join his class.
So, the next time Shinsou approached him, mouth open and shoulders back, Shouta raised a hand to stop him before he'd even begun.
"I'm expelling one of the students from my class," he said shortly, to the point. Shinsou sucked in a breath and just looked at him; Shouta could detect both hope and anxiety in his eyes. "I think you'd make a good replacement."
Shinsou was silent for a moment, body tense, eyes blown wide. In this, Shouta could tell that, despite his persistence, he'd just barely resigned himself to never hearing the answer he longed for. So, when Shinsou said, "Does this mean you'll train me?", looking for confirmation, Shouta wasn't surprised.
"Yes," he said simply, and the look Shinsou gave him, hopesurpriseexcitementgratitude, was blinding.
"If you work hard, I can transfer you into my class in time for the start of the next school year. If you don't, we'll wait through summer break for the start of the second term," Shouta told Shinsou a week later, after he'd discussed transferring Shinsou with class 1-C's homeroom teacher. They supported the decision enthusiastically, saying, "He has so much potential and so few people see it." Shouta couldn't agree more.
"Are you willing to put in the effort?" Shouta asked, staring down at Shinsou, who was examining the training schedule Shouta had given him.
"Yes," he said, and Shouta heard resolve in his low, steady voice. Resolve unwavering. Resolve unbreakable. In that moment, Shouta was sure that when Shinsou said "yes," he meant it. In that moment, Shouta had no doubt that Shinsou would become a member of Class 1-A that he could be proud of. That he was already proud of. He grinned.
"Get started, then."
The training schedule Shouta had given Shinsou was rigorous and left little room to slack off. He would jog to school in the mornings, jog home in the afternoon, and would keep himself focused on the goal ahead with short but effective workouts he could perform in his room. There was time set aside for Shinsou to take care of homework, and during school he would devote himself to his studies. Occasionally he would be excused from class to work with Shouta one-on-one or to join 1-A for minor exercises. Shouta promised him intensive quirk training once he was transferred. Every other day after school, he'd receive personal combat training from Shouta and head home three hours late.
Shouta thought it was going exceptionally well; Shinsou had, again and again, gone above and beyond his expectations. It was true that he was less than physically ready for the hero course and, while improving, improved slowly. However, it was Shinsou's wholehearted dedication that continued to blow Shouta away. Whenever he was sure Shinsou would ask for a break or start to complain, he just gritted his teeth and stood up again. Whenever he gave criticism or offered advice, instead of feeling hurt and offended, he took it and changed himself and worked harder. He gave Shouta snark and got himself worked up sometimes—he was a teenager after all—but Shinsou was different in that he recognized when he was being unreasonable, took a step back, cooled off, and came back better than before.
Shouta was fully and truly taken aback. But, he thought, in a good way.
The only thing Shinsou had seemed to have a problem with was the after school training sessions. It wasn't that he disliked them or felt they were too much, Shouta could tell, and it wasn't that he voiced an issue to Shouta at all. He took it in stride and worked hard. But the way he'd glance at the clock or at his phone, not anxious to be away but rather just conscious of the passage of time, intrigued Shouta.
During training one Monday, in the split-second moment when Shinsou had his eyes off Shouta and on the clock, he took advantage of his distraction. He swept a foot behind Shinsou's where they were planted, just a little too close together to be steadily balanced, and Shinsou went down. Shouta walked over and looked down at him where he lay, shock keeping him from moving immediately. When he regained his bearings, it was Shouta's eyes, calculating and curious, that kept him rooted to the spot.
"What's the issue?" Shouta asked, unwilling to beat around the bush.
"What do you mean?" Shinsou said, eyes narrowed. Defensive. Shouta quirked an eyebrow.
"You're not completely focused. You keep looking at the clock as if it's your death sentence. This has been a trend for a while now." Shouta narrowed his own eyes, bending down slightly to better meet Shinsou's gaze where he lay. "I'm more than willing to make adjustments in the schedule if you need me to, with the promise you've shown. But you need to tell me. Communication is an important skill among heroes." He stood up straight and took his hair down from the ponytail he'd had it tied back in for hand-to-hand training. Then he took a step back and offered Shinsou a hand.
Shinsou looked between his eyes and his hand for a moment before taking it, letting himself be tugged to standing. Shouta wasted no time in stepping away and heading for the building.
"Go home, Shinsou," he called over his shoulder. Just to be clear, he added, "I'll see you on Wednesday if you're not going to tell me. Nothing going on tomorrow." He heard Shinsou let out a breath behind him, somewhere between frustrated and relieved. Shouta thought back to his habit of checking the time and wondered if maybe he should be concerned.
He stopped to watch as Shinsou gathered his things, changed out of his sweaty practice shirt, drank water, slung his bag over his shoulder. Narrowing his eyes, he saw that every motion was made with an almost imperceptible hesitance; a barely-there stutter. All children are relieved, in the end, when practice is over, no matter how dedicated they are. So why was Shinsou hesitating?
Then and there, something cold and clammy gripped him, dug into his lungs and made him feel like he should be gasping for breath. It was something like suspicion. Something like protectiveness. Something like worry.
He was a little concerned.
Class 1-A was understandably curious about Shinsou. He'd participated in enough no-quirk sparring and exercise drills that it was clear this wasn't a one-off thing, and with the school year coming to a close, there was little excitement apart from exams to draw their attention. So they bugged Shinsou about why he was there, and when Shinsou, prickly as ever, brushed them off without replying, they came to bug Shouta.
It was mostly Kaminari and Ashido who were intrigued, dragging Sero and Kirishima along with them, while Bakugou had adamantly refused. Everyone was curious, but Midoriya and his group had enough tact to back off when Shinsou stared them down and had enough courtesy not to go looking for answers behind his back. Most of the other students simply weren't interested enough to dig deeper.
Being the students least likely to use their time to study and most likely to let any distraction that passed them take their full attention, it wasn't a surprise that Kaminari and Ashido pursued the subject. Shouta just wished he could avoid them as easily as Shinsou had. He definitely had no qualms with brushing their queries off without reply, but, unlike Shinsou, they were comfortable enough around Shouta after nearly a year in his care that they knew they could wear him down eventually.
"Aizawa-sensei!" Ashido approached him at his desk with Kaminari at her side, grinning like an idiot. Kirishima and Sero trailed after, looking interested and bored, respectively. "I have a question!"
"What, Ashido?" he said flatly. Her grin didn't waver.
"What's up with Shinsou? Why has he been doing stuff with us?"
"Yeah, come on sensei, you can tell us!" Kaminari added, batting faux-innocent lashes.
"Yeah, you can tell us!" She placed both hands on the edge of Shouta's desk to prop herself up, eyes shining. Shouta stared her down, but she didn't falter. His students were used to him at this point. In the back of his mind, Shouta was grateful for it—grateful to know that the neutralcoldunkind front he gave everyone wasn't something that hurt. Grateful that his students knew he cared. Grateful they didn't point it out and saved him the embarrassment, but grateful all the same that they let him know they understood in the little ways. Like this. Like being unfazed in the face of his immovable exterior.
Shouta didn't let himself think about it too much.
"It's none of your business," he simply said. "Go to class. Present Mic will be waiting." Ashido puffed her cheeks out in indignance, about to protest, but relented when Kaminari shuddered and said something to the effect of if he was late one more time, he was going to be bleeding from the ears for a week. They left, and Shouta let out a breath.
But, privately, alone in his classroom, Shouta let himself smile. His students. He scoffed, and then got up to retrieve his sleeping bag and head for the staff room for a nap.
Shouta watched from a distance while his class plus Shinsou practiced some basic hand-to-hand, taking turns against each other and watching on the sidelines and offering advice, directed primarily by Iida with suggestions from other students. Shinsou, taking a leaf out of Shouta's book, had unbalanced his current opponent with a sweep of his foot, a fluid motion that had most everyone else cheering in excitement and Kaminari wincing where he'd landed on his ass.
Shinsou straightened up and was immediately attacked by Ashido, who jumped into his personal space, smile wide. Other students approached behind her, impressed and intrigued, and Shouta caught an excited, "Teach me how do do that!" from Ashido. He watched Shinsou step back a bit, clearly uncomfortable, but he also saw that soft surprise in his eyes that came with being praised. Shouta knew what it was like to be overwhelmed by too many people in his space at once, but he thought that maybe, in small doses, this would be good for Shinsou. Maybe it would help him stop being surprised whenever he was praised and start just being happy to hear it. Shouta thought he deserved that.
"Maybe you could come help us out with training outside of class sometime!" Ashido gushed. "You fight a lot like Aizawa-sensei, and he never shows us any of his moves." Her grin was dazzling. Shinsou's eyes were shining and wide, his lips parted as if to speak but nothing came out. He seemed so shocked.
Shouta's lips curved into a frown. That cold and clammy something was wrapped around his heart
and squeezing. He let out a short breath and tried to relax, but it gripped him harshly, made him think (made him certain) that something had to be wrong. His mind raced as he watched Shinsou hesitantly demonstrate the sweep of his foot to an enraptured Ashido. Shouta had spoken extensively with 1-C's teacher and had observed Shinsou's relationship with his peers; while he didn't have any close friends, he was on good terms with most everyone. The teacher sung his praises. So why was Shinsou always so surprised when people rightly thought he was impressive?
Shouta shook the thoughts from his mind and refocused on his class. A new match had started between Shoji and Hagakure, and Shinsou and Ashido had taken their place on the side, her sticking close to him and talking animatedly. Shouta couldn't hear what they were saying, but he was pleasantly surprised to see Shinsou responding without scorn, although he still looked a little out of place. Ashido would be a good friend for him to make, considering her physical prowess and friendly personality.
Then Shouta slid his gaze along the line of students and focused on Midoriya, who stood between Uraraka, watching intently, and Iida, giving loud, boisterous suggestions. Midoriya, in a decidedly uncharacteristic fashion, wasn't looking at the match but at Shinsou instead. He was clearly muttering to himself, eyes calculating, brows furrowed. Shouta wondered if maybe Midoriya knew something, or suspected something about Shinsou. He thought it wouldn't hurt to ask. Especially if this cold, unsettling feeling in his chest wasn't something to dismiss.
"Midoriya," Shouta called as 1-A headed for the locker rooms to change out of their gym clothes. He'd already had a brief conversation with Shinsou and dismissed him to change. When he knew he'd gotten Midoriya's attention, he turned back to watch Shinsou retreat. Shinsou was straight-backed, his walk steady, although Shouta could see his breaths coming heavier than they would at rest. Still, they were a fair bit less heavy than they'd been when he'd started training, and that was something.
"Yes?" Midoriya asked, cradling his elbow gingerly. He must have hit it at some point.
"What do you know about Shinsou?" Shouta asked coolly, turning back around. Midoriya's eyes widened a bit, and Shouta thought maybe he could tell what he was really asking.
"Uh, well, he's really dedicated. He's not as athletic as most of us but he makes up for it by being unpredictable. He's kind of prickly like Todoroki but he's not… he's not unkind or aggressive like Kacchan," Midoriya started slowly, voice a little uncertain. "But I, I think he maybe has some confidence issues?" Shouta inclined his head a bit, indicating that this was what he was interested in. Midoriya plowed on. "I'd say he's kind of like me, but there's, uh, there's something different about him. I know, or at least I'm pretty sure, some of it stems from his quirk—when we were fighting at the Sports Festival he said something about me having a perfect quirk for being a hero compared to him. But I think there's probably something else, too, because he's surprised when people praise him for anything, not just things regarding his quirk." Midoriya looked up at Shouta. "I couldn't tell you anything for sure, though. I don't know a lot about him."
"It's fine, Midoriya. This is plenty." He waved him toward the locker rooms. Shouta had something to think about. Something cold and clammy, creeping into his mind, keeping his eyes trained on Shinsou Hitoshi as he left the locker room, heading back to class. Keeping his eyes trained on Shinsou and trailing along the edges of the rare smile that graced his lips, there as Shouta watched, exhausted but content. There was something about it that unsettled him. Something like a smile shouldn't be that rare, something like why would something so little make him smile to himself like that? Something like why is that smile accompanied by this look in his eyes that says he's never had someone, impressed with him, ask him to help them before?
"Sensei?" Shouta jolted, unaware that Midoriya had stuck around a moment longer. "Can I ask a question?" He nodded jerkily. "Is Shinsou going to be transferring to our class?" Shouta was silent for a moment before replying.
"Yes. At this point, it's less likely that he won't. It's fine if you tell someone else, but don't spread it around like gossip." Midoriya just smiled earnestly.
"I'm glad," Midoriya said softly. Shouta tilted his head in question. "After our match at the Sports Festival, he said he was going to work hard and get transferred to the hero course. I'm happy it's really happening. He deserves it."
"He does," Shouta agreed quietly. Then, noticing again the way Midoriya was cradling his elbow, he said, "See Recovery Girl if that doesn't stop hurting." Midoriya startled a little, glancing down at his arm as if he'd forgotten, then smiled.
"Okay, sensei," he said, and left when Shouta waved him off.
He really does deserve it, Shouta thought.
It was high time to meet with Shinsou's mother in order to discuss his transfer to the hero course. Shouta had put it off long enough, but he knew he had to. Transferring to the hero course meant a few significant things: firstly, Shinsou would have to move into the dorms, something the Gen Ed, Support, and Management students hadn't had to do. Secondly, Shinsou's chance of exposure to real danger was going to increase.
Shouta knew that Class 1-A was repeatedly being specifically targeted. Transferring Shinsou to 1-A when he had not previously been someone of interest to the League of Villains was a dangerous move to make, and there was no telling how Shinsou's mother would react. She may demand he be transferred to a different hero class, or kept in General Education entirely. Shouta knew he would fight for Shinsou to be in his class; he'd grown a certain attachment to him, and would be reluctant to give him up. But there were certainly open spaces in the other class, and, ultimately, Shouta could not usurp the wishes of a parent or guardian, nor could he neglect to mention the possibility of danger entirely. It would be irresponsible and illogical to do so.
Shouta was anxious about it especially because Shinsou's mother was single; she had raised Shinsou alone for most of his life, as far as his file told Shouta. Single mothers often worried more and were less willing to let their children out of their sights or go into any potentially dangerous situation; Midoriya Inko was exactly like that, and, according to Yagi, she'd barely allowed her son to be moved into the dorms. Shouta frowned. He'd have to approach this carefully.
"Shinsou." The boy in question looked up from where he'd been stretching. It was Tuesday; they'd missed the usual training block on Monday because he'd had to attend a last-minute staff meeting, so he was scooting the training schedule over a day for the week.
Shouta noted that Shinsou hadn't yet stopped in his habit of glancing at the clock, nor had he come forward about any issues he had with the training schedule. Shouta had asked again at some point, but didn't push it when Shinsou gave him nothing. Still, that cold and clammy something held his hand and pointed at Shinsou and wouldn't relent.
"Yeah?" Shinsou said, standing up and brushing off his gym uniform.
"When would be a good time for me to meet with your mother?" Shouta made the comment flippantly. He hadn't expected much in the way of reaction from Shinsou; maybe confusion, or embarrassment that a teacher would have to meet his parent. Shouta certainly didn't expect him to freeze like a deer caught in headlights. The grip, cold and clammy, tightened.
Shinsou visibly forced himself to relax. He averted his eyes and answered, voice steady and void of emotion. "Why would you need to meet with her?"
"I have to discuss your transfer to my class with her personally, since you are a minor and I am legally required to inform her of all significant decisions made regarding your education. You will also have to move into the dormitories on campus if you transfer, which she must consent to." Shouta watched him carefully, alarm bells ringing in his ears, almost drowning out Shinsou's response.
"Oh," he said tightly, fists clenching. "I don't know. I'll have to ask her." His voice wavered a bit, and Shouta saw him cringe.
"Ask her tonight. Come find me tomorrow and tell me," Shouta told him, his tone giving no room for argument. Shinsou just nodded, stiff, not meeting his eyes.
When they began training for the day, Shinsou didn't relax once. Neither did two hands, cold and clammy, gripping Shouta around the neck and squeezing.
"Thursday around five is fine," Shinsou said shortly. His voice cracked on the last word.
Shouta graded homework in the downtime between the end of classes and the time Shinsou had told him to come by. He spent more time thinking than grading, though, worry clouding his focus. He hadn't suspected anything was amiss at home before Tuesday, but now he definitely did. He hadn't seen Shinsou since then, either, since he'd altered the schedule for the week and Shinsou had ditched training today, muttering something about helping his mother clean. That, especially, worried him.
He tried to push it out of his mind, and failed.
When he knocked on the Shinsou family's door, it took a moment for it to open. Shouta wasn't sure what he expected to see, but he was relieved when it was just Shinsou Hitoshi, looking as he always did, tired and straight-backed yet steady. At least, until Shouta searched his eyes and didn't find what he was looking for.
There was only a hint, and a faint one at that, of the Shinsou Hitoshi he had grown accustomed to seeing, determinedrelentlesspersistentunwavering. It was overshadowed by worry and fear and please be careful. Shouta was taken aback for a moment, and hesitated just a bit too long to be innocuous before stepping over the threshold.
Shouta went inside, movements stiff, eyes searching every inch of what he could see for some sign, some wrongness that meant he could snatch Shinsou away and get rid of that look in his eyes. Shouta wasn't even sure he knew what he was looking for, but his instincts and what he'd seen in Shinsou's behavior and that thing, cold and clammy, clutching him desperately, told him that there was something.
Shouta turned to meet Shinsou's eyes again, and what he saw in them made him sure. He changed his goal for this meeting. It wasn't about convincing Shinsou's mother to let him switch to the hero course anymore. Shouta was here to find proof that Shinsou Akane wasn't fit to be the one to make that decision at all.
"Go let your mother know I'm here," Shouta said, his voice terrifyingly flat, if the look on Shinsou's face said anything. He hesitated, and Shouta stared him down until he moved off. Then, Shouta pulled out his phone, opened his camera, and hit record.
The Shinsou residence was not a clean house. This was the first thing he noticed, Shinsou's words from just a few hours earlier echoing in his head—need to help my mom clean up. The first thing to draw his eye was that the shoe rack, although only consistently used by two people, was untidy. If Shouta wasn't so intent on examining every inch of the place, he might've tripped over a sandal left lying in the doorway. As he moved inside, he saw that a bag of trash that had yet to be taken out was thrown haphazardly into the hallway. A coat that had fallen from the coat rack was left in a heap on the floor.
Shouta passed by the kitchen on the way to the room he'd watched Shinsou disappear into and saw takeout boxes strewn across the counters, empty and reeking. Shouta looked down on it all, his distaste immeasurable, and made sure to get it on camera. On its own, it wasn't anything to raise too much of a fuss over. But combined with any other evidence, and it would make Shouta's claim all the more strong.
Before going further, Shouta put his phone with the camera facing outward into the breast pocket of the button-up he was wearing. He'd made an effort to dress a little nicer in the hopes it would make a good impression and help sway Shinsou's mother towards letting him switch. He itched in the uncomfortable shirt, wishing he'd worn his usual. But he was grateful for the pocket now, as it provided a discreet way to get anything he might need to on film.
Briefly, Shouta wondered if he could get in legal trouble for filming Shinsou Akane without her consent. He dismissed the thought almost immediately. It wouldn't matter whether or not he was right. If he wasn't, he could just delete the video. If he was, it was unlikely anyone would focus on that particular issue, and even if they did Shouta was confident he could win any lawsuit she threw at him.
Shouta entered the room he'd seen Shinsou go into, and found him sitting stiffly on a truly ratty couch beside a woman who looked rather different than he'd expected. Shinsou Akane was tall, likely taller than him; he could tell even with her sitting down. Her hair, red, was tied up in a bun, though it was twisted and messy, the hair visibly knotted. She had the same bags under the same purple eyes, but the look she gave Shouta when he walked in was startlingly different from anything he'd ever gotten from her son.
Shinsou Akane's eyes were both uninterested and accusatory. There was something off about the way she stared at him, like she was a predator and she couldn't decide whether or not he was prey. There was something there that repulsed Shouta.
"You're his teacher?" she said first, before Shouta could get a word out. He sat down across from her.
"No," he said evenly. "My name is Aizawa Shouta. I teach Class 1-A of the hero course. However, I've been personally training with your son because I believe he has the potential to be a great hero. I've come here to ask for your permission to transfer him to my class." Shouta sat back and just looked at her, trying to evaluate her based on her reaction. He fought the urge to glance down at his phone to check that it was still recording.
Akane's reaction was not what he expected, based on first impressions. Her eyes changed from uninterested to intrigued, accusatory to open. Beside her, Shouta noticed Shinsou glance at her and visibly relax.
"Really?" she asked, eyes bright. "You want to put Hitoshi in the hero course?" She smiled wide and looked over to her son, who didn't meet her eyes. She put a hand on his knee and squeezed maybe a tad too tight before turning back to Shouta. "This must be why he comes home late all the time. That's fine. There's nothing I want more than for Hitoshi to be a hero I can be proud of." Shouta tensed up at the statement. There was something about it that felt off; less encouraging and more controlling. As if she couldn't be proud of her son if he were anything less. Shouta pushed forward, suddenly uncertain.
"In the hero course, he will continue taking the same academic classes, but his effort will be effectively split between academics and heroics. We have classes every day that address and train different aspects of hero work in an effort to efficiently prepare our students to become pros once they leave school." Shouta took note of Akane's demeanor as he pressed on; she seemed attentive and interested, but not in the way most parents were. The look in her eyes was almost hungry, but for what, Shouta couldn't tell. "I've been training with your son for the past month and a half in order to prepare him for what the hero course will throw at him, should you consent to his transfer, and he has shown great promise and dedication. In fact, I think he has more potential than many of my former students who got into Heroics on their first try." Akane's eyes were shining and she was beaming and she leaned forward as she drank every word in. Shouta knew that, logically, this should be a good sign. He should be relieved at this reaction; that she'd probably give permission. But Shouta couldn't shake the unsettling feeling her eyes struck him with.
He didn't know why, but that thing, cold and clammy, reached out and pointed frantically, desperately at Shinsou Akane.
"If this is simply a matter of me giving you my permission, then it's granted," Akane began smoothly, clasping her hands together, opening her mouth to continue. Shouta held up a hand to stop her.
"There is also one condition. All students in Heroics must reside in the on-campus dormitories for their own safety, due to my class being targeted multiple times by a villain group. You must be informed of this before you make your final decision. I value my student's safety above all else, and while I am confident that your son would be safe in the dorms and in my class," Shouta said calmly, hoping desperately that she wouldn't freak out, "you reserve the right to refuse. I must ask you to seriously consider this. I've brought paperwork with me for you to sign or not sign at your leisure, and If you wish to do it later, your son can deliver it to me."
Akane's bright smile fell a little. She dropped her gaze not quite to the floor, and Shouta watched as she seemed to go through a round of conflicted emotions. Shinsou tensed again beside her. Shouta had slowly been relaxing, almost becoming convinced he'd imagined his suspicions, but the way Shinsou clasped his hands together so hard they were just barely shaking told Shouta that he wasn't entirely wrong. If nothing else, Shinsou Akane was unpredictable, and Shouta tensed along with her son, waiting for her to say something more.
"Give me a few days to think about it," she eventually said in a tone Shouta could not place. She didn't meet his eyes. He left the papers he'd brought on the coffee table between them and stood, uncertain, looking between her and Shinsou.
"Of course," he said stiffly. He hovered for a moment, torn between leaving and staying to ask Shinsou why he held himself so tightly wound. In the end, he compromised. "Shinsou. Walk me to the door." He complied, standing up just a little too quickly and leading Shouta out of the room.
When they reached the door, Shouta turned to Shinsou silently and took him in. Shinsou looked both physically tired and emotionally drained, as if just sitting next to his mother stole from him all the energy he could muster. Shouta was frustrated. He didn't know what to make of Shinsou Akane, nor what to do in this situation, because he knew that there was something wrong; he could see it in both their eyes. But takeout boxes and a messy shoe rack and one questionable statement said nothing and neither would Shinsou Hitoshi, so Shouta did the only thing he could.
He fished around in the jeans he had on, a pair he hadn't worn in ages, and was relieved to find an old convenience store receipt. He cast his eyes around for a writing utensil and found a pen lying on the short table beside the door and picked it up, scribbling down his personal cell phone number and handing it to Shinsou.
"If you ever need anything, text me," he muttered. "And I don't mean like, you forgot your lunch and want food or something. If you are in need, tell me, and I'll help you." Shinsou blinked at him, and that look was back again. Shock and disbelief and hope. As Shinsou clutched the stained receipt like a lifeline, Shouta knew that whatever he did, this, at least, was a good choice to make.
He left, head reeling, uncertain and feeling as drained as Shinsou had looked. Cold, clammy hands fought hard to drag him back.
They trained on Friday. Shouta couldn't gauge how Shinsou felt. He seemed uncertain himself, as if he didn't know how to feel. They were both distracted.
Shouta ended training early, but he didn't tell Shinsou to go home like he usually did. Shinsou didn't leave until their usual three hours was up. And during that time, he didn't look at the clock once.
Huh.
Shouta didn't hear back about the paperwork until late Saturday night, and even then it wasn't about the paperwork specifically. It was an assurance that he'd never actually get it, in the form of a text from an unsaved number. The text tone startled Shouta awake at roughly 2 A.M.
3-555-807: can you help me
Shouta felt his blood run cold as he saved the number as Shinsou's.
Aizawa Shouta: What do you need?
Shinsou Hitoshi: a place to stay
Aizawa Shouta: Where are you?
Shinsou texted him an address. It wasn't his home address. Shouta looked it up, and found it to be some corner store a significant distance away. He cursed to himself and got up out of bed, reaching over to shake Hizashi awake.
"Hizashi," he hissed. "Hizashi!" Hizashi blinked awake, turning over blearily and shielding his eyes as Shouta got up to turn on a light.
"Shouta? What is it?" he asked, his voice thick with sleep. He sat up, serious once he saw Shouta frantically throwing on clothes. Hizashi pulled off the blankets, wide awake.
"I need you to either drive me somewhere or let me borrow your car," Shouta said shortly, turning to him. "It's Shinsou." Shouta had told Hizashi about his concerns, and his eyes widened in understanding.
"I'll drive you," he said, getting up and throwing on a jacket, not bothering to get properly dressed. Shouta hovered by the door anxiously while Hizashi left a just-in-case note on the island for Eri, and then they were gone. Shouta sent Shinsou another text as they got in his husband's car.
Aizawa Shouta: I'll be right there.
Shinsou Hitoshi: okay
Shinsou Hitoshi: thank you
Shouta silently urged Hizashi to go faster.
It was raining. Shouta cursed the weather as Hizashi was forced to drive a little slower, a little more cautious. He cursed the weather Shinsou surely stood shivering in. He cursed himself for not acting on his suspicions, even with no evidence, because maybe this could have been avoided and because Shouta knew that this had to do with Shinsou's mother. There was no other explanation.
They found Shinsou just the way Shouta expected to find him: wet and shivering, standing just outside of the reach of the convenience store's lights. He was hugging himself tightly, phone clutched in his left hand. As they pulled up, Shouta practically fell out of the car, headed for Shinsou.
Something in his face must have been angry or frustrated because when Shinsou met his eyes, he flinched and tried to step back. Shouta stopped short a few feet from him, trying to school his expression (neutralcoldunkind, damn it, Shouta) into something a little less off-putting.
"Are you okay?" he asked eventually, hearing Hizashi getting out of the car behind him. Shinsou must have been reassured by his voice because he nodded jerkily and stepped forward again, this time stepping just into a patch of light, where Shouta could see his face. He fought the urge to suck in a sharp breath.
Although it was raining, there was no mistaking the tears that streamed down Shinsou's cheeks, nor the fear dancing in his eyes. His gaze darted around, as if scared someone would find him. There were no bruises or cuts, no physical injuries and no sudden limp, and for that Shouta was eternally grateful. But to see Shinsou so lost and so scared was more than a little haunting.
Shouta, already wet from the rain, pounding and relentless, let impulse take him. He stepped forward and reached for Shinsou, pulling him into his arms. Shinsou seemed shocked for a moment, freezing in place, but after a second he returned the embrace, untangling his arms from around himself and squeezing Shouta tightly. He began to cry in earnest, and Shouta let him.
Hizashi came into view behind Shinsou, eyebrows creased. He was holding an umbrella above his head. Shouta just looked at him with tired eyes, and Hizashi seemed to understand.
They stood like that for a moment more before Shinsou pulled back and wiped futilely at his eyes. He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out.
"Do you want to come stay at my house, at least for the night?" Shouta said, soft as he could. Again, he cursed his inability to speak in anything other than harsh or neutral tones. Again, he wished that he could somehow muster up the words to make Shinsou feel like everything would be alright. He wished.
But Shinsou looked at him with something like relief in his eyes and nodded, so Shouta figured that this was enough.
Shinsou, now dry, sat in clothes borrowed from Hizashi on Shouta's couch. He had his knees tugged up to his chest and looked determinedly at the floor while Shouta sat on a chair across from him, waiting. When Shinsou made no move to initiate conversation, Shouta did it for him.
"Shinsou," he said quietly. Shinsou made a grunt of acknowledgement. "Why were you out there?"
He didn't reply for a moment, eyes staring blankly at the carpet. Then he opened his mouth and tried to speak. Nothing came out, so he tried again. And again. It took more than a few tries. Eventually, when he looked up and met Shouta's eyes, he began.
"My mom…" Shinsou started, but cut himself off. He shook his head slightly and seemed to change angles, dropping his gaze so that he didn't meet Shouta's anymore. "My mom isn't the greatest person. She's only really takes interest in me when it can benefit her. If I'm a hero, it'll get her money. Stuff like that. When I got into Gen Ed instead of Heroics, she stopped giving a shit. I thought maybe she'd be alright with me transferring because she wants the money so bad, but she's also…" Shinsou trailed off, his hands making grabby gestures as if trying to grasp the words he was looking for from the air around him. "She's possessive of me, I guess. After my dad walked out on my mom and brother failed at being a hero and left us, I think in some twisted way she figured I was the only chance she had left at being happy."
Shouta didn't know what to think. He wasn't prepared to deal with anything like this. He didn't know what to do when a parent wasn't the best but wasn't harmful enough to be considered textbook abusive. He didn't know or glean any of this from the visit he'd made to Shinsou's house. He was so unsure.
"Last night, she… she started saying all this stuff. She'd been mostly quiet after you left, only talking to me to tell me to make dinner or take out the trash or something. I thought she was really thinking hard about it like you told her to. But then she freaked out on me and started saying shit like I 'wasn't allowed to leave her sight anymore' and 'only she could raise me well enough that I'd end up a good person' and if I joined your class and ended up being caught up in a villain attack, I'd—" Shinsou grimaced "—I'd end up understanding the villains better than the heroes, and I'd become one too." He shuddered and stopped talking, taking in a breath. Shouta opened his mouth to say something, but Shinsou let out another statement in a tumble of shaky, wavering words.
"My classmates have told me my quirk meant I should be a villain for a long time, and I was used to it, but to hear that my mom thinks that too?" He let out a bitter laugh. "Who says that kind of stuff to their kid? Who says that?" Shinsou bit his lip hard as his face twisted with hurt, and his shoulders shook slightly as he tried to keep himself from crying. Shouta's hand twitched. He wanted to reach out and offer some form of comfort, but what could he give? What could he give that wouldn't be awkward, wouldn't be cold in the face of Shinsou's breathtaking warmth?
He opened his mouth to say something, but words left him when Shinsou met his gaze again. In his eyes, usually so bright, so determined, so infallible, was just hurt. In his eyes were tears that Shouta wished didn't have a reason to come.
"Can I go to sleep?" Shinsou asked, voice wobbly even though it was hardly anything but a whisper. Shouta couldn't tell him no. It would be cruel.
"Yes," he said gently. "You can have the couch if you want, but we also have a guest room."
"Couch," Shinsou murmured, and let himself uncurl enough to lay down, facing the cushions. Shouta furrowed his eyebrows in helplessness and he wished and hoped for any inkling of how to make this a little better, a little easier.
He found none.
So Shouta just draped a thick blanket over Shinsou and rested a hand on his shoulder lightly, briefly. Then he left the room and headed for his own, where Hizashi waited, gaze sad, with open arms.
Shouta pretended he couldn't hear Shinsou cry, because he didn't know what he could do to make it stop.
The morning meant a new day. Shouta didn't feel better, but he didn't feel like the world was rocking violently anymore, leaving him off-balance and afraid, so he got out of bed on two steady feet. The apartment was silent.
Hizashi still lay sleeping, curled up, turned toward him. Shouta brushed his fingers against his husband's cheek for a moment before getting out of bed. He was still in the clothes he'd thrown on carelessly last night.
When he left the room, it was to greet the sight of Shinsou sitting up on his couch, blinking, staring down over the arm at Eri, who looked up at him with bright, curious eyes.
"Eri," he said softly, and she turned her attention toward him. "Go wake up Hizashi for me." She pouted for a moment, opening her mouth to protest, glancing at Shinsou, but Shouta leveled her with a look that sent her scurrying reluctantly past him.
"You have a kid," Shinsou said once she was out of sight, numb shock coloring his tone. Shouta shook his head slightly, moving toward him.
"Eri is adopted. She was under the care of a villain group I had a hand in taking down, so she ended up with me." Shouta heard behind him the sound of the springs on his bed squeaking, heard Eri's soft voice prodding Hizashi into wakefulness. He almost wanted to smile. He could get used to that.
"Oh," Shinsou said. He looked away from Shouta, mouth formed into a tight line, looking uncertain. Shouta walked over to join him on the couch, sitting with a respectable amount of space between them. Shinsou tensed for a moment before relaxing. He turned toward Shouta slightly, looking him up and down. "What about Mic?"
"What about him?"
"You live with him. Are you guys roommates, or…?" Shinsou trailed off, looking embarrassed. Shouta almost chuckled.
"We're married," he told him, and Shinsou just nodded, taking in the information. "Shinsou," he said slowly. "Did you run away last night? Or did your mother kick you out?" There was no reason to beat around the bush. Shouta needed to know, else he couldn't do anything. And getting this over with as soon as possible was probably the best thing he could do. He hoped so. But when Shinsou cringed and curled in on himself a little, Shouta regretted bringing it up, no matter the necessity.
"She wouldn't have let me out of the house of her own volition. I left," he whispered, drawing his knees up to his chest and burying his head between them.
"Do you want to go home?"
"No," Shinsou said, almost quietly enough that Shouta couldn't hear. That cold and clammy something was reaching out to Shinsou, wanting to wrap him up in an embrace and never let him go. Shouta was inclined to follow it. He didn't, and sat pensively for a moment before continuing.
"Has she ever physically hurt you?"
"No."
"Does she neglect you?"
"I don't think so?" Shinsou sounded uncertain. Shouta raised his eyebrows in question, inclining his head to indicate for Shinsou to go on. "She feeds me and buys stuff for me when I need it, but otherwise unless I go up and talk to her she'll leave me alone." Shouta frowned and sat back for a moment, thinking.
"I'm not interested in sending you back," he began slowly. "I'm not fond of your mother, and if you don't want to go back, you shouldn't have to. But," Shouta said, face drawn tight with frustration, "I'm not sure there's much I can do legally. Unless you have proof of lasting effects of emotional abuse to use against her, a court wouldn't see any real reason to deem her unfit as a mother and remove you from her custody." Shinsou nodded along with what he said, resigned.
"I get it," he said quietly, his voice cracking. Shouta cringed. "I'll only have to live with her for three more years anyway. I can wait. It'll be fine."
"You shouldn't have to," Shouta cut in seriously. "I can't do a lot right now, but I can see the effect she has on you. I don't want you to have to live with her anymore. I'm interested in your safety, both physically and emotionally." He thought for a moment. "But if you can build a case against her, we can force a judge's hand. I will personally vouch for you, and I have connections as a hero that can be used to sway a court's opinion." Shouta grinned to himself. While it wasn't entirely moral to do so, it helped their chances, and what he was most interested in was making sure his student would be okay. Shinsou raised his head and met Shouta's eyes, his gaze once again shining with that shockgratitudelonginghope.
Shouta reached out and put a gentle, steadying hand on one of Shinsou's shoulders. "I will do everything in my power to help you, Shinsou. I promise." Shinsou nodded jerkily, his face twisting as if he was going to start crying again.
"Where… where would I go after? If I'm taken away from her?" he asked shakily. Shouta stilled for a moment. He hadn't actually thought about it, but his first instinct was stay with me.
It was almost an unsurprising revelation that he really did want Shinsou to stay with him. He wanted to be able to watch over this kid, this student he'd taken under his wing and watched grow, so steady and strong and relentless. Just as with Eri, he didn't want to hand Shinsou off to some nameless family and lose sight of him. He thought briefly about what Hizashi would think, and he was sure he'd support the decision. So he didn't hesitate when he replied.
"You could stay with me," Shouta said. Not would, as if this were a hypothetical scenario, but could, because Shouta knows he's an option. He's not going to hem and haw over this; his home is open to Shinsou, completely.
Shinsou started crying again in earnest, and while he was still distressed, these tears sprung from gratitude. From happiness. And that, Shouta could understand. So he leaned forward and opened his arms and let Shinsou fall into them, another reassuring hug, and Shouta expected to feel uncomfortable—he'd never been the touchiest—but he just felt warm. Protective. He felt like you will be safe, I promise, and he knew it was true. So he squeezed Shinsou tight and sat like that with him, rocking back and forth gently, closing his eyes and relaxing, ever so slowly.
This wasn't the end of things. But it was a step down the right path.
He wasn't going to outright provoke his mother. Shouta wouldn't allow that, because Shinsou didn't deserve to be hurt more than he already generally was. But he was going to record his conversations with his mother to try and get something on her, and Shouta was taking him for a mental evaluation as well as to speak with a therapist in order to understand and hopefully make use of the extent of the emotional damage she'd left him with. He wasn't going to let Shinsou stay with her. That was not an option. So they did all they could.
The first day was the worst of it. Shinsou's mother, according to the texts Shouta had gotten, had panicked and was close to calling the police when Shinsou got home. She'd tried to restrict him from leaving the house again, even to go to UA, but Shinsou had managed to calm her down and convince her to let him go to school under the condition that he'd return home immediately after classes let out. For a time, after school training wouldn't be an option, and therapy visits would be tricky, but the important thing was that Shinsou managed to get that conversation on tape.
Afterwards, as far as Shouta could tell, the air in the house was tense. Shinsou skirted around his mother as much as he could, but took the opportunities he was offered to get dirt on her. Shouta looked into the legal process he'd have to go through and sought advice from his fellow heroes as well as the therapist he'd sent Shinsou to, searching for the quickest, easiest way to be done with this. He and Shinsou both persisted, working towards the same goal: safety. Happiness. Relief.
Shouta hoped it would be enough.
Shinsou didn't like seeing a therapist.
Shouta could imagine why. Apparent weakness. Humiliation. Being forced to face the things that hurt you. It was a necessary evil, and he did as much as he could to make it easier, but ultimately, things were messy. Things left damage, and Shinsou wouldn't truly be able to relax until all this was over.
To Shouta's relief, Shinsou had gotten off almost lightly. After a significant amount of sessions and a few evaluations, Shinsou's therapist had met with Shouta and told him what she'd concluded, with Shinsou's permission: Shinsou had lasting self-confidence issues, trust issues, and communication issues. While this was never good news, she also commended him on his ability to cope with his mother's erratic and borderline neglectful behavior. He'd dealt with it as best he could, and while he didn't get off unscathed, he hadn't allowed himself to fall into the pit many abuse victims did. Part of that, she thought, had to do with his unshakable dedication to his goal of being a hero. With something to look forward to and work towards, Shinsou had been able to let much of the possible emotional damage roll right off his back.
It was good. Shinsou Hitoshi was stable, and the issues he did have, he would eventually be able to work past. They were also significant enough that they could be used against Shinsou Akane, and for that, Shouta was viciously grateful.
"Where's Shinsou been?"
Shouta fought the urge to groan when Ashido approached him, Kaminari a little ways off, looking on with interest. It had been two excruciating weeks since Shinsou had texted Shouta and asked for help, and they had had frustratingly little success. He'd also not been participating in any further hero training, even that which took place during school, on mutual agreement to focus more on the issue at hand, which meant Class 1-A had seen little of him for a significant amount of time.
"Ashido, go to class," Shouta said flatly. She huffed and persisted.
"But he's always with us at least once or twice a week! You haven't dragged him into our drills for a while now. Is he not transferring anymore?" she pushed, bouncing on the balls of her feet. Of course she'd know about that. He shouldn't have told Midoriya.
"Ashido," Shouta said through gritted teeth. "It's complicated. Drop it." When she saw the look on his face, she reluctantly let it go, and Shouta breathed a sigh of relief.
Shinsou Hitoshi's salvation came in the form of Shinsou Akane's mood swings. According to her son, however unpredictable they were, they were generally pretty mild. This one was not. And, tucked in the breast pocket of Shinsou's button-up as he took her words like a battering ram, his phone recorded every word.
Shouta paled the next day when he listened to it. Her words were not harsh in the way one usually thought of as abusive; they were not threats or outright demeaning. But her frantic cries of You'll never be good enough in their hands,and Stay here, stay here, please, I don't want you to end up a villain like I know you will, chilled Shouta to the bone. They were not the words of a loving, supportive, mentally stable mother. And however much Shouta wished they weren't words Shinsou had ever had to hear, he was grateful for them purely because he knew they, along with everything else, would finally be enough to remove him from her custody.
With heroes and lawyers backing Shinsou Hitoshi, persistent and immovable, they would be enough.
It was well into the year Class 1-A became Class 2-A that Shinsou was finally and truly free. Shouta had gone ahead and transferred him into his class and moved him into the dorm without permission. No one called him out on it, and Shinsou spent the three stressful months before he was rid of his mother in the warm, welcoming arms of the media-boasted best hero class of their generation.
Shouta, with the support of All Might, several other notable pros, and the best lawyers they could get their hands on, brought his case to the officials and demanded Shinsou Hitoshi's removal from Shinsou Akane's custody.
Eventually, through a long and arduous process, he was.
After that, with legal permission to allow Shinsou to stay in his home, Shouta wasted no time in adopting him.
He did, and Shinsou got his own bedroom, a little sister, and two fathers. When Shouta watched him sit down on the edge of his bed for the first time, fingers drifting across the comforter, gentle smile on his face, he was convinced that Shinsou, at least in that moment, was truly happy.
"Aizawa?" Shinsou asked from the couch, where he had one arm around Eri and the other around one of the cats. They sat together, watching some kid's show on TV. Shinsou had grown attached to Eri quickly, enchanted by her gentle, childish sweetness, just as Shouta was. She was his sister before either Yamada or Shouta was his father. Shouta tried not to be bitter about that, and he tried not to smile as he turned to look at them where they sat, lazy and domestic, something he had never realized he wanted.
Seeing him there, relaxed and content, made that cold and clammy something relinquish its deathly grip on Shouta's shoulders and finally fall away.
"What?" he said, plodding over to stand by the arm of the couch and look down at Eri and Shinsou. His kids.
"Why did you do all this for me?" He kept facing the screen, but Shouta knew that if he could look into Shinsou's eyes, he'd see the same look as always: wide, surprised, and overwhelmingly grateful. "You didn't have to, and… well, logic's your thing, isn't it? How was it logical to waste so much time helping me?" Eri tugged on his sleeve gently, looking up at him with an adorable pout. Shouta saw him squeeze her shoulder reassuringly.
Shouta was quiet for a moment. He knew why. He would never have made such a great effort if he didn't think it through first. It wasn't about logic or necessity; it was that Shouta would never allow himself to ignore a child who was hurting. Never.
"I care," he said eventually, and left it at that. There was so much he could say, but he felt that one statement encapsulated it all.
Shinsou turned to him then, eyes shimmering with the exact look Shouta had been expecting. This time, though, there was something new to it.
In Shinsou's eyes, Shouta saw shock, gratitude, and love.
And god, if he didn't love that kid right back.