This turned into the longest chapter of the story thus far and this whole thing spawned from what was supposed to be a 1k word intro to the actual chapter. Well... I hope you enjoy, at least!

Remember to check me out on ibelieveinahappilyeverafter on tumblr to see more of my writing, more of this story, and even find out ways to get writing you won't see on my typical accounts.

And before I forget, this story has fanfiction of it's own! Check out "trying to take care of you" over on AO3 by H_C which involves a story divergence after Chapter 12 of this story: archiveofourown org/works/17796071/chapters/41985164

Enjoy!

Within a single day Hizashi had managed to tear one of the stitches in his shoulder, drop his keys down a storm drain, lose his time card that would allow him to clock in for his shift, had missed lunch because his boss didn't trust him to take one without his time card, and, to top it all off, the same boss had also rejected his request for overtime even though Hizashi was pulling almost sixty hours a week.

He was sore, he was tired, and all he wanted to do was go home and sleep, but, no, instead he was staring at the door that lead into his shitty apartment complex, remembering with vivid detail the way he had dropped his keys into the drain earlier in the morning. His emergency key was also inside because he had used it a few weeks ago when losing his last set of keys in a fight.

Hizashi stared at his door, vaguely hearing Snowball meowing for him, before he turned and shambled his way back down the stairs, trying to keep his shoulder as still as possible. The over the counter meds he had taken had stopped working hours ago and Hizashi wasn't sure if it was a good thing or not that he was hardly registering the pain anymore.

Feeling his phone buzz after he was halfway to the little convenience store a few blocks away, Hizashi sighed and dug it out, glancing at the message preview, 'Yamada-san, can you take my afternoon shift? I know you open but I need to pick up Yuki from his father's…' Checking the sender, Hizashi groaned as he closed his eyes.

Kameyo was a single mother with a four-year-old who just received a quirk that changed his sweat into acid. There was no way she could afford to lose her source of income or even lose too many hours. If she didn't find a replacement for her shift, then their boss would probably cut her back by fifteen hours at least. Fuck.

'Consider me on the job, Kameyo-san!' Hizashi debated not sending the text for a moment before he went through with it, watching until he got confirmation. His phone then flickered to show a low battery warning before shutting off altogether.

Hizashi stared down at his phone and felt like everything he wanted to say was vibrating and buzzing throughout his body, pushing him closer and closer to some sort of edge. He didn't realize he was shaking until he was winding his arm back and throwing his phone away from him as hard as he could, swearing and just barely holding his quirk back as he realized he threw it with the shoulder that had been shot just a short while ago.

"Huh. And here I thought you couldn't swear." Hizashi went utterly still, fingers clutching at his shoulder as if that would hold him together. It didn't seem to be helping as everything felt even worse at realizing just who those words belonged to. After all, Hizashi could be deaf and blind and he would still know that voice. Apparently, the gods hadn't made him suffer enough recently. "You know, it's pretty irresponsible to be going around and throwing phones."

At that, Hizashi slowly lifted his gaze up, swallowing as he saw Aizawa, in full pro hero gear, was holding Hizashi's undamaged phone. If it had hit the ground, it probably would have cracked and Hizashi would have been even more screwed. It took a few moments to find his words, Hizashi almost tired enough to forget he wasn't Present Mic in that moment. Fuck why did Aizawa always have to make things so difficult.

"Sorry, Aizawa-san. It's… been a long night." His body shook like there was a festering wound embedded under his skin, Hizashi rubbing at his throat and looking back down, doing his hardest to not scratch. He was an adult. He could handle himself, now.

"Mm." Startling at the tap to his cheek, Hizashi glanced up once more, Aizawa patiently holding his phone out for him to take. "Then you won't mind if I escort you home. Last time you were out this late you almost got shot."

"I can promise that's not a regular occurrence," Hizashi said quickly, frowning a bit at the disbelieving snort. Maybe as Present Mic he got into trouble, but as Hizashi he was boring at best and uninteresting at most. "Besides, I, uh… can't go home."

"Why not?" With the man's goggles resting on his forehead, Hizashi saw the way Aizawa's eyes narrowed, a glint of red in the very center as he stared him down. Hizashi wondered if Aizawa knew how terrifying he could be.

"Oh, well, uh…" Trailing off, Hizashi ducked his face down and mumbled the reason quickly, praying Aizawa wouldn't push.

"My quirk isn't super hearing." Ah, but then again, it was stubborn and brilliant Aizawa who could never let things go.

"I… dropped my keys down a storm drain." The dreaded, awkward silence Hizashi was expecting never came and instead there was a quiet little laugh. As well, instead of feeling embarrassed, Hizashi felt something tight within him start to relax, Aizawa trying to hide his smile in his scarf. There was no hiding the amusement in his eyes, though. If he and Aizawa were anyone else, Hizashi might have called that look fond. "Yeah, like I said, it's been a long night."

"Come on," Aizawa chuckled, walking forward and grabbing the front of Hizashi's shirt before spinning him around and tugging him along to get him moving back towards his apartment. Hizashi was relatively sure Aizawa didn't know where he lived, so the man had probably just made a lucky guess. "Do you leave your windows unlocked?"

"In this neighborhood?" Hizashi scoffed, trying not to flinch at the look Aizawa gave him. It was the same one he always gave Mic and it had Hizashi tucking into himself and fear that the other knew. "I keep one unlocked for emergencies in case I get broken into or something, but it's not the one over the fire escape."

"That's fine, I can get in and then unlock the door from the front." Right. Okay. Aizawa was helping him back into his apartment. Maybe he was trying to see where Present Mic lived? "Lead the way, then."

Nodding and moving to walk beside the man, Hizashi chewed on his lip for a moment before working up his courage. "Um, Aizawa-san… Why are you helping me? I mean, surely a hero has more important things to deal with," Hizashi aimed for a jovial tone and a laugh, but it must have fell flat because Aizawa looked so serious when he looked over at him.

"I think you're plenty important, Yamada-san." This man was bad for his heart. "And don't bother with the honorifics. They make me feel old."

"I hardly think you'd be considered old seeing as you're still in your twenties." There was a burst of deep, thrumming laughter, Hizashi almost tripping over his feet at realizing he had made Aizawa laugh.

"How old do you think I am?" Ah, that question when paired with a laugh meant Hizashi was about to feel deeply embarrassed.

"I don't… Twenty-six? Twenty-seven?" That seemed about right. Aizawa was messy and often had tangled hair and stubble, but his face was still smooth and young.

"I'm thirty-one," Aizawa laughed again, this laugh softer and more subdued. "I'm honored you thought I was the same age as you, though."

"Wha- What?" This time it was Hizashi whose laughter bubbled over. "Well, good news for you, Aizawa-san, we are the same age." Aizawa stared at him as if he couldn't believe it, Hizashi trying to smother his laughter.

"You should make it more obvious." For a gleeful second, Hizashi could pretend that the man was blushing. "And I thought I told you to stop with the honorifics."

"Mm, alright, but only if you promise to do the same," Hizashi said, his nerves disappearing in the wake of Aizawa's smile before they got the chance to grow.

"I suppose we have known each other for a few months, now." It was only Aizawa's calm and relaxed pace that made Hizashi realize the other had been talking about the coffee shop and not the face they were arch enemies. It was hard to believe that Aizawa had known his civilian self for months and yet they had never talked beyond those short few minutes in the coffee shop every other morning. "Is this your complex up here?"

"Oh, uh, yeah." Hizashi had never been overly embarrassed about the places he had lived in his life, but the fact that Aizawa was seeing his shithole of an apartment made him feel nervous and like he needed to explain himself. "It doesn't exactly look the best, but it's not all that bad. It's just, you know…"

"It's a place to live." Aizawa had an expression that could almost be called soft, the man giving him the trace of a smile. "It reminds me of where I lived until I graduated U. A."

"Oh." Actually, now that he thought about it, Aizawa had mentioned something about growing up in a neighborhood like this one. "You lived somewhere like… here?"

Aizawa was silent a moment, looking to the ground and then back to the complex as he nodded, "I lived over on Block 27 in this area."

For a moment, Hizashi's mind was completely silent. That was enough to shock him, but what Aizawa said took precedence because what, "You're shitting me. You- Block 27?"

"It's a bit on the outskirts and no doubt my complex was torn down, but yes." Aizawa looked over at him, raising his eyebrows. "Are you-"

"I lived three blocks away from there for almost four years when I was in my last few years of school. Are you kidding me? You were right there-" Hizashi's anger was shot through with a spike of pain, Hizashi unable to do anything but gasp and clutch at his shoulder.

"Yamada!" Hands were catching him by his arms before the pain could knock him over, Hizashi unable to even appreciate the fact that it was Aizawa holding him as he tried to block out the pain. "What happened? Are you alright?"

"I-" Hizashi winced and grit his teeth and closed his eyes for a long moment. "I messed up my shoulder a few days ago and I haven't taken anything for a while, is all."

"Come on, let's get you inside. Which door is yours?" Aizawa tugged him along even as Hizashi mumbled the door, hating himself for how weak he was when he honestly almost blacked out while walking up some steps.

He felt himself propped up against the wall, the cool concrete soaking through the back of his jacket and dragging out a small sigh of relief. He heard a mutter from Aizawa, but before he could question it, the man was patting at his cheek.

"Oi, stay awake, alright? I don't want to pick your lock when that'd just fuck up your ability to use a key on it in the future. I'll go around through the window and let you in as soon as I can, alright?"

Cracking his eyes open, Hizashi swallowed down a million words before settling on a quiet, "Sorry."

"For what?" Aizawa frowned, looking as if he honestly didn't know. The man was too nice for his own good, honestly.

"I'm a grown adult," Hizashi muttered, gritting his teeth for a moment when the pain spiked again. "I should be able to take care of myself and not waste a pro's time with this."

"You're not wasting my time, Yamada." Aizawa stared at him as if he was holding back words of his own before turning away. "I'll be right back."

"Do you even know what window to look for?" Hizashi yelled, completely unsurprised when Aizawa vanished without an answer. Honestly, that man.

Leaning back against the wall, Hizashi tried to calm himself down and focus through the pain. He had been through a lot worse than a shot shoulder, but damn if it didn't hurt when he was trying to take care of the wound on his own.

One of the EMT workers at the bank that night had been in possession of a minor healing quirk so Hizashi at least avoided a trip to the hospital, but it was still a nasty wound. It was also easily identifiable as a bullet wound - especially to a pro hero that was so keen on helping him out. Jeez, it wasn't like their coffee was that good.

Pushing himself off the wall, he startled as his door swung open with an anticlimactic little swing, Hizashi letting out a quiet laugh, "Wow. That was pretty fast. Consider me impressed, Aizawa… Ah." Hizashi blinked, staring at where Aizawa's arms were full of a purring Snowball. Aizawa was absolutely beaming. "I see you found my cat."

"I thought you would be the type to have a small cat." Aizawa didn't look willing to let Hizashi's cat down anytime soon, but Hizashi supposed Snowball was a pretty great cat. This was also the most Hizashi had ever seen Aizawa smile, which was… equally wonderful and unnerving.

"He is small!" Or, well, he had been, at least, before Snowball's sudden growth that still left Hizashi scratching his head some days. The cat was barely even a year old, after all, if that.

"Do I need to teach you the difference between small and massive?" Aizawa said, cocking an eyebrow with a hint of a smirk.

It took more effort than it should have to push down all the dirty jokes that sprung to mind. He was Hizashi right now, not Present Mic. And Hizashi needed to shuffle his way inside to at least get his shoes off, although he ended up staring at where Aizawa's boots were already on the ground. It looked like he had taken them off after climbing through the window and somehow that, of all things, made Hizashi remember just how stupidly in love he was with this man.

"I'm not sure what breed he is, you know. I thought he could be a maine coon or a forest cat, maybe, that was thrown out by a breeder or something, but the structure is all wrong. You know, he does shed."

"If I was worried about shedding fur, then I wouldn't have my own cat," Aizawa snorted, finally letting Snowball down and moving to help support Hizashi as he kicked his shoes off. Hizashi was trying not to laugh at seeing the black jumpsuit was already covered in fur - most likely the reason it took Hizashi a few moments to realize what Aizawa had said.

"You have a cat?" That… made sense, but it was also stupidly cute. He suspected Aizawa had a cat, at least, but it was nice to get that confirmation. "You know you have to tell me their name, now."

"Only if you tell me his name," Aizawa said, nodding down at Snowball. Hizashi was happily about to tell the man before he remembered with horrifying clarity that it was Present Mic to tell the man that he had a cat named Snowball. It was already dangerous enough just talking to him like he was, now.

"I, uh, maybe next time. Right now I should really get inside and check on my shoulder and everything." Did Aizawa even suspect anything yet? Hizashi hadn't realized how comfortable he was until just that moment, but if he slipped too much… it wouldn't be too hard to connect Yamada Hizashi to Present Mic. Villains had already done it themselves, after all, with that Trigger dealer, and Hizashi knew that Aizawa could find out through the police station any time he really wanted to know.

Actually, now that he thought about it, why hadn't he? Maybe the first few times could be explained away as not caring enough, but after all they had gone through, Aizawa had to have looked into it by now, right? Nothing had changed, though, between them - both as Present Mic and as Yamada Hizashi. Was he just not worth it, then? That had to have been it.

Hizashi wasn't worth the effort and Aizawa had never bothered to try and figure out who he really was, because why bother with something that wasn't even interesting. He had read all of this so wrong. To think he once thought there was a chance. No. There was no way-

"Yamada." Jerking at the sharp tone, it was only Aizawa's hands on his arms that kept him from jerking back and hurting himself. "Did you hear anything I just said?"

"Oh- Sorry, no, I'm- It's been a pretty bad day. Sorry, I should let you get back to your patrol. Can't leave these streets undefended, after all!"

"I was saying that you should at least let me help you look over your shoulder." If it wasn't for Snowball's meows and purrs, there would have been absolute silence in the apartment.

"What? No- Why would you want to?" One sentence and Aizawa had managed to throw all of his fears and questions into doubt. "You're a pro hero who's supposed to be underground. I probably shouldn't even know your name."

"I doubt you're about to run out in the streets and tell every villain there is my real name," Aizawa laughed, moving to close the door that Hizashi had left open since he thought Aizawa had been about to leave. "Come on. You're looking ready to pass out."

"You don't have to do this, you know," Hizashi muttered, unable to bring himself to fight as Aizawa led him further into the apartment. "I'm not much a fan of pity."

"Pity is the last thing I feel about you." There was something in those words, but Hizashi was nowhere near the proper state of mind to try and figure it out. "Which door leads to your bathroom?"

"Second on the right," Hizashi sighed, managing a small smile as Snowball led the way with loud, vibrating meows, Aizawa looking to be holding back laughter. "Sorry. He's as loud as me, sometimes."

They fell into a more comfortable silence this time around as Aizawa pulled and pushed Hizashi until he was sitting on the edge of the tub, a first aid kit opened beside him. Aizawa looked like he was hesitating before finally meeting his eyes, "Would you be okay if I helped you get your shirt and jacket off? If you want to keep the shirt on, I can try to work around it."

"Oh." That was… oddly sweet. It might be safer since Hizashi didn't know what he would do with Aizawa's hands on him, but, well, he was always a bit selfish. "Sure, just let me know if you need help or something, I guess."

As Aizawa started to work, Hizashi clamped his mouth shut and tried to suppress any and all noises as Aizawa worked his jacket off first and then his shirt, slow and methodical with each movement. He was so caught up in staring, he almost missed the quiet, "Talk to me, Yamada."

"Oh, man, I think you're the first one to ever ask for me to talk. Most people are always trying to tell me to shut up." There was no joke that maybe he should go back to being silent, Aizawa only calm and relaxed as he nodded like he wanted Hizashi to keep talking. "This is a distraction from the pain, isn't it?"

"Yes." At least he was honest. "Tell me something that's been on your mind, tonight. Something that made this day such a bad one."

"I mean, I already told you about the keys," Hizashi said, scrambling for words and scrunching his eyes shut as Aizawa started working the shirt around his hurt shoulder. "Um, okay, the phone thing- I threw it away because it died right after I took on a coworker's shift because of a bunch of reasons, so now I need to work morning and afternoon, tomorrow."

"Do you normally pick up more shifts than you can handle?" Aizawa asked, Hizashi letting his silence speak for itself. "Thought so. You seem the type to cause yourself stress to save others from it."

"Ah, how rude to assume things of someone you barely know," Hizashi teased with a forced grin, Aizawa's hands faltering against him before he was moving to prod at his shoulder. For the first few moments, Hizashi had to control himself from saying or doing anything stupid as he felt callused fingertips trailing against his skin and searing a path into him that he would likely never forget. It then took everything in him to not activate his quirk when Aizawa pressed against the edges of the wound because that would let Aizawa know who he was for certain.

"Sorry. It doesn't look infected, but it doesn't look all that good, either." Aizawa seemed to know what he was doing and Hizashi didn't bother to try and look. It had been bad enough when he had to change the bandages on his own the first time and had almost fainted. He wasn't aware he had completely silenced himself, however, until Aizawa was patting at his side, startling him. "Talk to me, Yamada."

"Oh, um- Right. My shifts- I don't mind. She's been through a lot, more than me, it feels like, so I don't mind helping her. It's our boss that's the real jerk- I mean, you know those cat muffins we sell? What am I saying, of course you do, you always buy some."

"They're cute," Aizawa said simply, Hizashi wanting nothing more than to coo over the man and tease him and maybe sneak in a kiss or two to the cheek and maybe- Ah, okay, right, pain was very good for focusing his thoughts. "What about the cat muffins?"

"I was kind of at fault for when we brought them back, right? Since I was the one to ask my boss about them, he decided that I should be the one to make them, so my usual morning shift got moved to where I have to come in an hour or two early. I mean, I've adjusted, by now, but it was awful when it started."

"You… You make those muffins?" The small, soft tone of awe had Hizashi's heart tripping into overtime, the look in Aizawa's eyes making him hope for a second. The moment of hope was probably the cruelest joke of them yet. "Why would you go through all that? They can't sell that well."

"I…" It was because he had worried about his 'enemy' not eating in the mornings. He had seen this scruffy and tired man and worried because he knew how much work he put into everything he did. Aizawa had seemed sad about when they stopped and Hizashi had wanted to see him smile, or be given that small smirk of his, or even just look like he didn't have so much weight on his shoulders. He wanted to thank the hero so badly, so he had done what little he could to try to help. "I guess I don't really have a reason." He had several.

Aizawa seemed to know there was more he wasn't saying, but he finally shook his head, Hizashi shivering as he felt some sort of cream spread over the wound after Aizawa dabbed at it with some disinfectant. Aizawa's voice felt more like a balm than the actual medicine, "You, Yamada, are something else entirely."

"Guess I am," Hizashi chuckled weakly, smile feeling a bit more real when Snowball, tired of being ignored, jumped onto the edge of the bathtub and shoved himself against Hizashi's side. Aizawa looked like he was trying not to laugh, Hizashi giving one for him. "You know, I actually really like all his purring and meowing. It makes this place feel less quiet."

"That's one of the reasons I love my own cat," Aizawa said quietly, digging through the first aid kit again. "She makes the room feel less empty." Hizashi had been about to respond before he felt a bandage pressed against his wound - probably to keep it from bleeding considering his torn stitch. "Sorry. There's nothing in here to really numb the area."

"I have a bottle of wine somewhere," Hizashi managed to wheeze, grinning a bit at Aizawa's laugh. He must have started going silent again, because he felt Aizawa give him a little nudge as he started wrapping his shoulder up tightly.

"Talk to me." Fuck, why was it that both as Mic and Yamada it was always Aizawa that wanted to hear him talk. Hizashi didn't know how to deal with that and now it was coming at him from both sides of his life. "It can be about anything."

The pain spiked for a moment and the words were tumbling out, "Fuck, okay, uh, it's hard to believe that we used to live only a few blocks away when you were growing up? High school, right? That's around the time I lived there- Fuck, we could have seen each other and never even known."

"Almost done," Aizawa said quietly before his tone picked up. "And we never met. I think I would remember someone with hair like yours."

"Nah, I used to keep it really short," Hizashi laughed, the sound pained more than anything. "I wonder what would have changed if we had met back then or more than just in passing, maybe. That would have been fifteen or sixteen years ago, right? Jeez, that's half our lives. We could have known each other for half our lives if things had been different."

"I don't know… I think I like this version." Aizawa sounded further away. Prying his eyes open, Hizashi saw the bright lights of his bathroom that were almost blinding since he wasn't wearing his sunglasses, Aizawa sitting back with a small smile. "The torn stitch didn't look good, but they're all dissolvable, so you shouldn't have to go to the hospital. This bandage should last a few days, too. By then you should be healed enough to be able to change them on your own."

"My hero," Hizashi laughed, taking a moment to try and relax as Aizawa put away the first aid kit as if he did this frequently. Considering the fact he was a pro, he probably did do things like this frequently.

When he focused back, he saw that Aizawa was holding out a glass of water and a couple of pain relievers. Hizashi took them gratefully, near draining the cup of water before he looked back up, trying not to let Snowball knock him into the floor where he was trying to get more attention again.

"I know I've said this before, but you've seriously saved me this time around." There was a quiet laugh, Hizashi biting his lip for a moment as he remembered the conversation he and Aizawa had after the hero had recovered from that USJ attack. "The world could use more heroes like you."

"Maybe." Aizawa clicked his tongue, Snowball leaping into his arms in a heartbeat. The sight of the stern hero Eraserhead holding a loud, purring cat was enough to make Hizashi laugh up a storm. "What about you, Yamada?"

"What about me what?" Hizashi asked as soon as his breathing was under control, giggles still slipping out of him.

"Did you ever want to be a hero?" There was once a time where that question would have sent him into a panic, but this was Aizawa and he wasn't Present Mic. Besides, it would be nice to be honest, for once.

"When I was younger," Hizashi finally said, standing up slowly and carefully as he set his now empty glass down on the edge of the sink. "In our society, it's all kids want to be when they grow up, after all."

"What changed?" Aizawa didn't look like he was paying much attention, but Hizashi knew how sharp and clever this man was. If he let slip even one clue that he was Present Mic, Aizawa would connect the pieces together in no time at all.

"I… think it was a lot of little things, honestly." He didn't want to lie, but there was no harm in being careful. "I started thinking differently not long after middle school. That's when everything really changed."

"It's a shame we never met." The man's voice was soft as he let Snowball back down, and when he looked back up, his gaze was even softer. "I think we would have been decent friends."

"Oh, hero…" His only saving grace was that for once he spoke the silly nickname in Japanese instead of English. "You give people too much credit."

"I think you give yourself too little credit." Aizawa stared at him and Hizashi watched as his smile turned into something he could only call beautiful. "I have a feeling that you would be an amazing hero, Yamada."

Jeez… Aizawa Shouta was far too much of a hero.

::

It had taken almost another hour, but soon Hizashi had been tucked away in bed with his door safely locked, Aizawa back out on patrol while Hizashi set huddled up in blankets with a cat purring on his stomach.

"Block 27…" With his hearing aids out, Hizashi could only rely on his thoughts to really know what he had said. He usually thought over everything silently at night, but these thoughts felt too big for silence. "Friends, huh?"

Eraserhead was a hero that was better than them all. Not only had he stopped to help a civilian he didn't even really know, but he had stayed with Hizashi long enough to even help him with his shoulder - and he hadn't even asked what had happened to him.

Hizashi wondered what would be different if they had met when they had been going to high school or even junior high. If they had met, would Aizawa somehow have managed to convince him that he could be a hero? Would Hizashi have tried for U. A.?

There was no way to know, but Hizashi indulged for just a moment in the idea of being childhood best friends. He thought about the two of them meeting, both deathly silent until Aizawa managed to coax words out of him like he had in the bathroom.

They could have gone to U. A. together. There could have been a day where Hizashi would grow to love Aizawa as much as he did now, but in that version he would have called the man Shouta and would have been less scared to share his feelings. Hell, maybe they would have been heroes, together, too. Above all, there was a chance that they could have been friends from the very start.

It was a nice little dream, but then Hizashi remembered their long nights of chasing each other and fighting in the streets, sharp words flying just as quick as fists and weapons. Their relationship here, if it could be called that, was fast and unsteady and went from fighting with all they had to Aizawa sitting with him silently on a rooftop in peace.

It was mad, and crazy, and it shouldn't make sense no matter how he looked at it, but Hizashi agreed with one thing Aizawa had said that night.

No matter how bad his life was at times or how confusing it all got to be, Hizashi could honestly say that he liked this version of it all. It made him more appreciative of all the good that was in his life - like tonight.

He was tucked away in bed surrounded by covers and a large cat, his shoulder had been carefully cleaned and bandaged, and he had managed a conversation with Aizawa that was just that. A conversation with Aizawa as himself. Sure the rest of his life was a wreck that was slowly unraveling, but with nights like these…

With nights like these, where Aizawa smiled at him and told him that he would be an amazing hero, well.

Hizashi almost believed it.