Random Moments from the To Be A Hero Universe
Jessylane318
-Shinsou's POV-
Hitoshi sighs through his nose, glancing around the noisy cafeteria, the smell of delicious food rising strongly amongst the colorful sea of people. As had become a habit, his eyes drift through the throngs and towards the back, towards the corner and shadows. She's easy to spot, the familiar, dark-haired figure nearly hidden in the chaos. A single black braid, a slouched-over posture, and as usual, alone.
Hoki.
"You gonna sit with her again?" a classmate asks. Hitoshi glances over, frowning.
The dark-skinned boy, Daisuke, smirks.
"Yeah," Hitoshi huffs, shrugging.
"I still don't get why you don't just drag her over to our table. Or better yet, let us come sit with you two. It only fuels those rumors that you two are dating."
"We're not-"
"I know," Daisuke interrupts rolling his eyes. "But just 'cause I believe you doesn't mean anyone else will. I mean, come on, how many times have you hugged her? And she made you cupcakes. It's pretty suspect. Though, not gonna lie, those cupcakes were good! At least let me say thanks! They were delicious!"
"Maybe later," Hitoshi says, eyeing the other boy with a smirk.
"Man, you always say that," Daisuke whines dramatically. He grabs a tray and slides through the line and Hitoshi grabs his own to do the same. "I just wanna meet her."
"You just want to flirt with her," the purple-haired boy corrects.
"Well, obviously! She's fucking cute! I mean, I know she has the scars and all, but you saw her at the tournament, she's a beast! There's nothing sexier in this world than a woman that can put you in your place."
Hitoshi has the odd urge to laugh. Hoki, put someone in their place? Yeah right. She'd have to be completely pissed to even speak up, and afterward, it'd probably end in her in tears or balled up on the floor having a panic attack. Hell, she'd be more likely to just twiddle her thumbs and refuse to make eye contact. Or ask him weird questions. Or start copying everything he did.
But the mention of her scars... His stomach rolls.
Hitoshi hadn't realized before that there were so many. Her uniform and hero costume did a good job of covering most of it up. That, and she rarely pushed back her sleeves. He'd thought the marks on her neck were just that, birthmarks or something. He hadn't known- hadn't even considered they were scars. He'd been instantly shocked, disgusted, nauseated at the sight of them. Sharp red craters spilling across her neck and chest, across her shoulder and back. And they hadn't been all. In Present Mic's baggy clothes, he could see them all. The huge zig-zagged cracks carved and raised into her forearms. The thin white scratches on her shoulders.
Present Mic had seen his stare, had given him an all-too-knowing look.
"You good kid?" the blonde asks. Hoki, like the good little kid she tried to be had scurried off to bed. She didn't act her age at all, all shy smiles and weird looks and too-happy hugs.
"No. I'm pissed. Did you know about this? Is that why she's always flinching? Why she won't fucking look anyone in the eye?"
"Lower your voice," the voice hero had snapped sharply, his expression turning more dangerous than anything they'd ever witnessed in class. It was easy to forget sometimes he was a hero. "And no, I hadn't known about that particular bit. Though we've suspected something for a while."
"Suspected," Hitoshi scowls. His lips thin and eyes narrow.
"Don't talk to me about shit you don't understand," the hero says flatly. "If you can't handle this, then don't ask prying questions. You won't like anything else you dig up."
"There's more?"
What the fuck.
"Of course, there is," the blonde snaps. Then he'd sighed and melted back into himself, or as close as he seemed to get with his hair down and minus the leather. A moment later he reaches over, a hand pressing against Hitoshi's shoulder. The purple-haired boy frown. "You're a good kid, Shinsou. It's pretty easy to see what Shouta saw in you."
Hitoshi blinks, and by Daisuke's face, can tell that wasn't quite the reaction he was expecting.
Damn, I forgot the question.
See, this is why people think we're dating.
Hitoshi sigh, feeling it rush heavily through his nose.
"Uh, hey man, I'm sorry-"
"It's not you," the boy cuts him off, trying to push away the feelings as they move further through the lunch line. "I just learned some stuff about her last weekend and I'm… I'm not really okay with it."
"Yeah?" Daisuke says, one eyebrow rising. "Feeling a little protective? Got your hero blood pumping?"
"Shut up," Hitoshi huffs, taking a deep breath and returning to his bored slouch.
The orange-haired boy offers a teasing grin.
Hitoshi scowl.
"I can't help it," he grumbles, sour. "You didn't see her."
"You still having nightmares?" the other boy asks, voice dropping.
"Yeah."
"You came," she'd whispered, her head pressing against his shoulder. He'd never seen her look so vulnerable, so small and helpless. He hadn't expected to find her bound, gagged, and crying. Screaming through a gas mask tied viciously to her face. He had expected the thick, bloody gash across her head. He's pretty sure he heard her get it. He'd heard everything.
Why wasn't he faster? Why hadn't he looked behind?
It had all been so fast, felt so sharp and shattering.
She hadn't been Present Mic's annoying, weirdo intern who flinched too much and cried way too easily. She'd been someone else completely.
He'd wrapped his arm around her shoulder, holding her there, pulling her close. The feeling of her warmth, of her body against his side... It had helped, knowing she was there. Alive, breathing.
How could you listen to someone scream like that, and not see them differently?
"You came."
Of course, he did.
There wasn't a chance he ever wouldn't.
"You... You called."
Daisuke frowns.
"You're making that face. You know that wasn't your fault man, right?"
Hitoshi changes his expression immediately, fixing it to boredom and ignoring Daisuke's frown.
"Yeah," he admits. Then, shaking his head, he wishes he could physically shake the stupid thoughts from his head. How many times had someone told him that? It felt like a mantra, something whispered over and over that never made anyone feel any better.
It'd gotten easier, but a week and a half just wasn't long enough. Hitoshi glances back again, eyes moving automatically to the girl with the braided hair, checking again as if to make sure she's there, safe.
Daisuke hums but says nothing. He'd seen. He'd been there with Hitoshi through the worst of it. He'd caught jo, that first Monday after school, hands steady on my shoulders, eyes large and worried. What happened? You're not okay, don't lie. Hitoshi had broken down and told him everything. His parents had been worried as well, forcing me into near-daily talk sessions each evening after school and training.
It'd been embarrassing, shameful. He'd felt disgusted at his own weakness.
Present Mic had taken one look while Hoki showered and started in on him. There's nothing to be ashamed of. You don't think we all have nightmares? I've buried my best friend, what you're feeling is grief. It was tragic and bloody and unnecessary. But that's what being a hero is. It's facing all of the unpleasantness of the world so that others, so that your loved ones, don't have to.
And no matter what, Hitoshi was going to be a hero.
"You are a hero, so shows what they know."
"I'm good," Hitoshi tell the other boy, grabbing a plate of food from the line. "Just lost in my head."
"That's a pretty deep rabbit hole," Daisuke says chuckling. "Anything you'd like to share?"
"Not really. I mostly just embarrassed myself this weekend."
"You cried, didn't you?" he teases.
"Shut up," the purple-haired boy grumps. Daisuke laughs, and Hitoshi can literally feel his ears burning. "Damn insomnia. It's just so annoying. She doesn't have nightmares. I asked her the other day, nothing. She doesn't even look affected. It's so stupid. Why am I the only one this bothers when she's the one that was-"
He cut himself off bitterly.
"You don't know anything. I'm not powerful. I couldn't stop him. I couldn't do anything! Not against Asp or Niko or the gray suits! So yeah, I am weak!"
"Hey, we all deal with things differently," Daisuke says bumping shoulders. Hitoshi gives him a flat stare, obviously. "But man, maybe you should eat with us? I know you like her and all, but you need to think about yourself too..."
"I told you, I'm good, really. Besides, I already told her I'd meet her today. You know I don't like to go back on my word. Don't worry so much, I'll see you in math."
"Alright," the other boy sighs, paying for his meal and waiting a few steps away. He winks as one of the general course girls pass by, and Hitoshi rolls his eyes. Typical Daisuke. "Though seriously, have a little urgency with getting her to meet us. If you wait too long, Mako-chan is going to lose patience and go introduce herself. I don't think I need to tell you why that's a bad idea!"
Hitoshi snorts, smiling.
Makoto was loud and brash enough, she'd either terrify Hoki in seconds or they'd become immediate friends. Makoto rarely had anything in between. Considering Hoki hadn't really become any less strange for learning her secrets, Hitoshi had no idea which it'd be. He also had no interest in finding out. Dealing with a panicking Hoki in the middle of the cafeteria sounded terrible.
And Present Mic would kill him.
Eraserhead would kill him.
He'd become rather fond of living to be honest.
"Whatever," Hitoshi grumbles half-heartedly. Daisuke grins and shakes his head as he leaves. He moves to the opposite side of the room and Hitoshi makes jos way toward the table in the back, passing by Hoki's classmates as he goes. He glowers at them all.
Idiots.
Hoki looks up as soon as he set down his tray, her face breaking into one of those rare, wide grins. It's the kind he's only ever seen reserved for Present Mic and him.
His chest tightens even as he smirks.
"What's up?"
"Nothing," she says. Hitoshi takes the spot across from her and watches, curious as she scrambles to hide whatever she was working on. She's quick to fold some piece of paper, and he recognizes it immediately as the one she's been working on. She'd had it out for the last three days, something for Eraserhead she didn't want to talk about. Probably the list he'd suggested for that deadline she'd been huffing about.
As if Eraserhead really needed a list of reasons to keep her in the program.
How can she not see that? If the man wanted her expelled, she would have already been expelled. More than likely he just wanted to know her motivations, he'd even said as much in their practices. It all sounded overall straightforward enough. What motivates you to keep going? It certainly hadn't been anything personal at the Sports Festival. He'd watched her give up twice and just scowled.
Lazy. Arrogant. Was she not even going to try?
Typical Hero students.
Knowing her now though, whoever had pissed her off enough to make those snakes likely deserved to be on the receiving end of them. Considering how pissy she and Eraserhead had been Saturday after the funeral, it wouldn't be a stretch to imagine Eraserhead probably figured that out too.
"I'm not abused."
If you believe that, you're fucking delusional.
"Doesn't look like nothing. You still stressing about that deadline?"
She scowls and looks away, not answering.
Hitoshi frowns, eyes narrowing.
"You know I could help you if you'd like."
"I... N-No thanks, I can do it myself." The dark-haired girl huffs. She pauses and seems to almost physically search for something to say. Hitoshi nearly laughs, watching as her eyes scan the table and room before landing on his bag. "How… How did your presentation go in art? You... You worked with ah, Daisuke-kun, right?"
He snort and she flushes, lips twisting immediately into a pout.
A week ago, she'd have probably cringed and sunk beneath the table.
She has no idea what to say.
How could anyone spend so much time with the Voice Hero, a fucking Radio DJ, and still not be able to carry on a conversation?
"It was great," Hitoshi teases, amused. "And nice topic change, Hoki. Did you come up with that on the spot? Maybe you should ask me how my Literature test went too? Or better yet, my thoughts on homework."
"Shut up," she says glaring as her face turns the color of a tomato.
"Sick come back," he teases, smirking. He probably had about three more comments before she gave up and lunged across the table. He deliberates on continuing. When he'd teased her about the baby shower, he was certain she'd almost seemed to glow. He decides on mercy in the end though and instead leans forward. "So how did your presentation go? I have no idea who your partner was."
"Mineta-kun," she answers scowling. "It was great. He did all the talking."
Hitoshi can't help but snort, especially when she copies his phrasing.
Brat.
"Of course, he did, which one is Mineta? The loud explosive one? Ice-boy?"
"No, he's short with purple balls on his head." She looks around and pauses as she focuses on one of the further tables. The boy's not hard to spot, short was a prime description. He's standing in his chair, leaning forward and barely able to reach over the table. If he were any smaller he'd need a high chair. Hitoshi raise a brow, especially when he notices him rubbing at a dark red spot on his cheek. "That's him over there. He must have asked Frog-chan about her bra color again. She only slaps him when he does that."
Hitoshi scowls, turning back to her at once.
"That's normal?"
The way she shrugs is annoying.
"Yeah."
"Does he ask you those questions?"
Hitoshi feels his eye twitch. He has a feeling he understands why Eraserhead always looks so damn grumpy. You always have to ask her a question and a half to get a stupid answer.
Feeling a little protective? Got your hero blood pumping?
"Yeah," she says. shrugging. She's so nonchalant. He grinds his teeth.
What the hell?
"Hoki," the purple-haired boy growls out in warning. He makes a mental note to text the hero after lunch. "Why?"
"What do you mean why? Why does he ask? I don't know? I guess he's curious? Usually Red interrupts when he does it to me. Why are you looking at me like that? Are you embarrassed? It's because it's underwear, right?"
He feels his face heating. It does nothing to detract from his glare.
"What- No! I mean, yes. Hoki, that's weird."
She tilts her head, clearly not getting it.
"Shinsou-kun, let me get your clothes. I'm about to wash."
"I can do it myself."
"Why? I'm right here? Just hand 'em over."
"What? No! I'm a guy."
"And?"
"Why is it weird? They're just clothes. Mine's white."
He splutters, noticing a moment to late her mischievous grin.
"Hoki!"
She giggles and takes a bite of her food. He does the same, eye twitching. His annoyance fades however when she smiles again. It's the one that makes his classmates wonder. The one that makes his throat constrict. You came. He's never known anyone to be so happy just to be in his presence. It's strange and warming and nice.
They eat in comfortable silence. And, after a while, he can't help but talk, the urge to hear her laugh (anything to drown out her screams) rising again.
So he tells her about Daisuke, about Mako-chan, and their ridiculous bet to see who can stuff the most marshmallows in their mouth. She listens attentively, her face curious and eyes wide like he's telling the most interesting story in the world. And when he get to the part where Makoto sneezes all the marshmallows out and across the table, she breaks into giggles and ridiculous snorts.
Expression wistful.
"You know you could meet them," he offers, brow rising.
And in just a few words, her smiles disappear. She shrinks like she always does, cringing away in that manner that makes his blood boil.
"He thinks I'm being—I've been abused."
"Ah, maybe…" she says pulling at her fingers and not meeting my eye. He hates it, hates the way she flinches and cringes and quiets.
"Shinsou," Eraserhead had said, his eyes dark and gleaming in a way Hitoshi knows he shouldn't ignore. He can't help it though, watching instead as Present Mic and his weird intern leave. He hadn't missed the way she flinched, at the way she held herself back. Just like the rest of those hero students. Arrogant asses. Hitoshi drains the water bottle greedily, fixing his expression into boredom under Eraser's impenetrable gaze.
"Sir?"
"Don't be so quick to judge."
"It's fine," Hitoshi sighs, regretting the offer already. "You don't have to."
The relief on her face hurts.
"Thank you."
"Whatever. Don't be weird about it."
They eat in silence for a while, her picking at her foot and him observing. Then, finally, she looks up at him, her dark eyes wide.
"Do... Do you have any other stories about them?"
"Obviously," he teases, the way she scowls back relieving. "Yesterday, actually, Makoto thought it'd be a good idea to have a race..."
