Shinsou Hitoshi did not join the hero class to make friends. Acquaintances as best, confindents for the hero field at medium, rivals at most. He's already behind, having to join late, but he supposes it's better than nothing.
But the thing is, it's hard to get away with not socializing, as much as he tries. His classmates are civil, at least, very much unlike previous schools. But still, he supposes that he can't do everything on his own.
Which is unfortunately why he has to endure getting partnered up during some assignments. But the thing is, it's not even heroics assignments, which he was kind of expecting. Nope, it's dreaded English, his second worst subject besides calculus. And of course he's paired with the class bone- destroyer, Midoriya. Hitoshi gets along with him, at least, though his mumbling is oftentimes distracting. Hitoshi knows not to say that, though, he's observant enough to have noticed that whenever anyone has mentioned the boy's nonsensical mumbling, his shoulders draw inward and he has a guilty look. Hitoshi doesn't bash habits that don't cause any trouble.
But still, English is a drag, and he's eighty percent sure that Present Mic singles him out whenever they need someone to start popcorn reading. Midoriya is a bit better at the subject, Hitoshi supposes, not as great as Yaoyorozu, who probably has English speaking relatives, but it's something.
This little assignment shouldn't last that long, but because of hero students not getting the same study hall times as everyone else, it can't get done in school, which leads to right now, with Hitoshi following alongside Midoriya to the freckled boy's home.
"Sorry about this, you probably wanted to go home after classes," Midoriya says apologetically, his hands gripped onto the yellow straps of his backpack.
"It's fine, I don't mind," Hitoshi says, a yawn escaping him.
It doesn't seem to go unnoticed by the shorter boy. "Our building has mostly elderly people as tenants, so it won't be noisy. And my mom works Tuesdays, so it'll be just us. We should be able to get a good chunk of the assignment done."
Hitoshi hums in agreement as they continue to walk along the sidewalk. It wasn't a very long train ride, but the day of hero training has left him a little bit sluggish, a trait not good on people with long limbs.
He follows Midoriya up the metal staircase along the side of the building to the second floor, walking behind him past all of the doors until the other stops at one, pulling a key from his bag to unlock the door and invite Hitoshi in.
"It's a bit cluttered," Midoriya apologizes as they stand in the small genkan, removing their shoes.
Hitoshi is about to say it's fine and that he doesn't mind, but he doesn't get the chance to.
"Hon? Is that you?"
Hitoshi does not know why, but the color seems to drain from Midoriya's face, leaving his freckles stark against his paleness as he turns toward the voice.
Hitoshi follows his gaze toward a woman standing there at the end of the short hall, wiping her hands on the apron she wears.
"Mom," Midoriya starts. Hitoshi doesn't miss the way he subtly gulps. "I thought you worked tonight."
"Someone asked if I could switch shifts with them," the woman—Midoriya's mother—explains. And then her gaze finds Hitoshi, a warm smile on her face before going back to the shorter boy. "You didn't tell me you were gonna bring a friend over, Izumi."
Hitoshi can see in his peripheral Midoriya go rigid. "We were just gonna work on a school assignment," he says weakly.
There's no malice hidden away underneath the woman's expression (Hitoshi has become far too good at being able to tell), just genuine kindness. "You should've let me know, I would've had some snacks ready." Her green eyes find Hitoshi again. "It's nice that my daughter is bringing friends over. What's your name, dear?"
At first Hitoshi thought he just misheard the woman. He was one hundred percent certain that Midoriya's first name is Izuku, not Izumi, but he quickly catches on to what it is that's happening at the mention of "daughter."
"Shinsou Hitoshi, miss," he politely introduces, giving a quick bow. "Sorry for the intrusion."
"Not at all," Miss Midoriya assures. "I'll make you two some tea, okay?" she says before turning around and presumably going to the kitchen, but not before stopping to say, "Oh, please keep your bedroom door open."
"Mooom," Midoriya says, sounding both embarrassed and appalled.
"Sorry, Shinsou," the woman apologizes. "I'm sure you're a good boy, but you're very handsome, and rules are rules."
Hitoshi doesn't say anything as Midoriya pushes him into the room.
It's tense when they're both in there, and not because of all of the All Might merch staring at him. Midoriya looks like a kicked puppy, his eyes down on the floor. "I, uh," it's like a squeak, quiet as a mouse. "I'm sorry."
Hitoshi can guess why he's apologizing, though it's very unnecessary. Truth be told, yes, Hitoshi had already known, but he's not some jerk who says it. He'd found out when asking about the notorious hero student who always broke her bones, and was corrected on the pronouns by a classmate. That was before getting transferred after the sports festival and getting to know Midoriya more.
"Midoriya," Hitoshi starts, keeping his voice quiet, as well. If the other boy's mother does not know, he will not run the risk of accidentally outing him. "There's nothing to apologize for. You don't owe me any explanation."
The other looks up from the floor, eyes misty. Hitoshi hopes he isn't going to cry, not just because he's bad with crying people, but also because he doesn't want to face Miss Midoriya's wrath if she thinks that he made her kid cry.
Midoriya opens his mouth but nothing comes out, it snaps shut and he gets a look on his face that tells Hitoshi that he's probably trying to figure out what to say. But nothing is said after that bout of silence, either, the other instead shimmying off his backpack, letting the yellow thing fall to the floor. He mumbles something about Hitoshi making himself comfortable while he unfolds a small study table to set up. He's gone back to not holding eye contact.
Hitoshi is used to silence from others, but this is no good. Well, not like it was before, but still. Even if Midoriya is nothing more than a classmate to Hitoshi, he should be able to be this confidant, as well, right? Especially considering that the both of them are—
There's a soft knock at the ajar door before it's pushed open, revealing Midoriya's mother there with a small tea tray in hand. Her smile is still soft, warm and genuine. "I'll set this on the desk to cool," she says, but Midoriya is getting up to do it for her instead. "Oh, thank you, hon," she says to the boy, and then her gaze finds Hitoshi again. "You know, Shinsou, I saw you at UA's sports festival on TV. You did really well."
"Thank you, ma'am," Hitoshi says politely. Truth be told, he's almost a hundred percent positive that the only reason he took first place was because Midoriya had chosen to opt out of competing. Maybe Hitoshi is giving more credit than what's due, he did face down against some insanely powerful quirks with only his brainwashing and his snark, but Midoriya is smart, way smarter than the class, that's for sure.
"I was surprised that Izumi didn't want to participate at the time, she's always been a bit of a tomboy," Miss Midoriya says with some fondness. "But I'm still glad she didn't. My heart gets so worried whenever the hospital calls about another broken bone." She then turns her head to where Midoriya has gone and sat back down at the study table. "By the way, honey, are you sure your school is fine with you wearing a boy's uniform? I know you said that it's more comfy, but I know that some schools have strict policies and they try to bar students from graduating over dumb stuff
like that."
"It's fine, Mom," Midoriya says, his shoulders sagging. "UA is lenient about that kind of stuff."
"Well, if you say so—" the woman starts to say, but is interrupted by a house phone ringing from the living room. "I'd better go get that," she says, leaving them alone to go and do just that.
Hitoshi is once again left alone with the other boy, the silence thick between them. He wonders what he can do to reassure the other that it's truly fine and that Hitoshi doesn't see him any differently or anything, but he doesn't want to risk it, not when the other's mother might overhear. Maybe at school tomorrow he'll try and find a free moment to talk to the other. That is, if Midoriya allows; the guy looks like he's planning on avoiding Hitoshi completely after this.
Isn't that ironic? Hitoshi was the one that wanted to avoid making friends.
Before Hitoshi can so much as open his mouth, Miss Midoriya is by the door once again.
"That was Miss Oka from floor five," she says while shimmying on a jacket. "She fell and can't get up. Said that she doesn't need an ambulance or anything like that, but I'm going up there to help," she explains. "I shouldn't be long. Be good while I'm gone, okay?" And with that, she's leaving their sight, the sound of the apartment door opening and closing.
The silence is even more prominent now.
Well, now's as good a time as any, right?
"Midoriya," Hitoshi starts, the word getting the other to flinch and look up. "You know it's fine, right?"
There's an ashamed look over the other's face. "Are you going to tell anyone?" he asks, worried.
"Do you take me for that big of a jerk?" he deadpans, like an idiot. The correct response should be
"No, of course not."
The freckled boy immediately starts shaking his head, cheeks going pink in further embarrassment. "That's not what I meant!" he rushes out.
"What did you mean, then?"
Midoriya purses his lips, hands bunching at the fabric of his pants as his eyes find his own lap. "Don't you feel like you were being lied to?"
Hitoshi can feel his own face scrunch up in distaste. "No, I don't. Do you?"
Midoriya looks up, confused. "What?"
Hitoshi sighs, shoulders sagging. Well, he wasn't really keen on letting others know about his personal business, but he's Midoriya's confidant, right? Self-appointed as of right now.
Hitoshi loosens his uniform tie while shrugging off his blazer. It probably looks odd, him unbuttoning the top half of his shirt, and it definitely shows on the ever growing confusion on Midoriya's face, but then those green eyes are widening when Hitoshi pulls the fabric of his shirt to the side to show his shoulder.
And part of the binder hidden underneath.
Midoriya's eyes stay there, having a staredown with the nude fabric, but then they're going up to meet Hitoshi's. "You're...?"
"You're not gonna tell anyone, right?" Hitoshi paraphrases the other's question from before, just to let him hear how dumb he sounded. "And you're not upset with me for lying, right?"
Midoriya is once again shaking his head like a wet dog. "No!" he says quickly, then winces, most likely at his own volume. "I, uh, I didn't know."
"I don't make it a point to let others know. That's just me, though," Hitoshi says, rebuttoning his shirt. "I, um..." he starts, not wanting the other to go back to that awkward state from earlier. "I'm sorry that I found out when you didn't want me to. But I'm not going to say anything to anyone about it, so you don't have to worry."
He can see the physical instant that relief washes over Midoriya, and also the way the boy is chewing on his lower lip as if he wants to ask Hitoshi a million questions. For Midoriya, that much is normal.
"You can go ahead and ask whatever," Hitoshi makes known. "Well, anything within reason, obviously." Normally, getting assaulted with Midoriya's question cannon gives him headaches, but he knows that there was once a time, not too long ago, in fact, when he was young, confused about gender as a whole, and had just wished that he could know someone like him so he could ask more and find out more.
Midoriya's throat bobs as he gulps, probably shuffling through his thoughts to decide which question to ask first. "When did you, um, well, know, I guess?" he starts.
"Kinda hard to put a time on it," Hitoshi answers with a shrug. "I didn't really know about any of this stuff, just that I wanted to be a boy. I guess I found out about transness when I was probably ten or eleven."
Midoriya nods along as he listens. "I guess that's a little bit the same for me," he says quietly, as if someone he doesn't want to hear is listening. "Mom didn't really care that I liked boy stuff. She always let me wear what I was comfortable with."
Well, Hitoshi is at least glad to hear that. He was just a tad worried at the start, especially when Midoriya had looked so panicked when his mother was here. Hitoshi doesn't think she's bigoted, she's way too nice. But he's known that looks are often deceiving, and has dealt with not so good reactions whenever some people have found out about him.
"Does anyone else know?" Midoriya asks his next question.
"My parents, doctors and UA staff," Hitoshi says. "Kinda hard to avoid that big ol letter 'F' on my medical papers. But, hey, UA's super progressive 'n stuff."
That earns a small smile from the other. "I almost chickened out on that first day," he starts, voice very quiet. "When everyone was given their introduction fill outs. I almost just marked 'she/her' on the preferred pronouns part, almost just put the name I didn't like." He takes a breath, there's a slight shudder in it. "None of the other schools ever did that. It almost felt like I was lying."
Hitoshi waits, watching tension building up in the shorter boy's shoulders, but then he exhales slowly, raising his head from where he had looked down at the floor again.
"But everything felt so right when someone called me " he" for the first time. It was like my brain latched onto that word, singled it out in that whole sentence."
Hitoshi believes that the term he's describing is 'gender euphoria.'
"Crap, sorry," Midoriya sniffles, wiping the mist from his eyes.
"S'fine," Hitoshi says.
"You don't think it's girly?" he asks, another sniffle.
"To cry? You've gotta be kidding," Hitoshi deadpans, once again internally wincing from his bluntness. This is touchy for Midoriya. If a resident cry baby gets dysphoric from crying, he needs to be reassured, not ridiculed. "It's okay to cry. Tear ducts don't got gender, you know?"
Another sniffle, but a smile is there. "I guess you're right. Oh, by the way," he starts, "We're the same age, but you're, um, how do I...?"
Hitoshi cocks his head to the side but still waits for Midoriya to put his thoughts in a correct and coherent order.
"I was doing some research, and it's not recommended to start testosterone til sixteen or so, even then it's a lower dose," Midoriya goes on. "But you, well, you mask really well. And your voice, it's really deep."
Hitoshi gets the gist of what the question was going to be.
"I'm not doing HRT, if that's what you're asking. I mean, I want to, but the parents said that, yes, I do need to wait til sixteen."
"Oh," Midoriya says, absorbing the words. "Then, how do you get your voice so...?"
"Incredibly charming, rugged and hot?" Hitoshi jokes. It at least causes the other to snort. "Voice training. Lots of it. There's a bunch of tutorials online to help masculinize your voice without testosterone."
The other's eyes seem to light up at that. "Woah, that's sorta incredible. And the fact that your quirk is voice based, too." The nervousness has seemed to dissipate, the other going back to his usual Midoriya self. "I guess that you seemed to luck out on the height. Unless you have a secret to that? I really could use some," he laughs.
"Blessed genetics," Hitoshi chuckles. "Don't worry, though. I'm sure you still have growing to do."
They both laugh, the air no longer tense like it had been. He feels bad that his next question might disturb the comfort they've created, but it's something that's chewing on a part of his mind.
"Midoriya," Hitoshi begins, clearing his throat. "Look, you don't gotta answer this, but, like...you're safe, right?" It's probably a dumb question, but Hitoshi knows that not all parents are open-minded like his, and that even those with good intentions might unintentionally cause harm.
The other gives a confused look, eyebrows scrunching. "What do you mean?"
"Well, if you haven't told your mom, is there something you're worried might happen if you were to?"
That look comes back on the other boy's face, and Hitoshi worries that he's reversed the progress they've made. "It's complicated, I think," he says, like he's kind of unsure himself. "I just don't really know how she'll react. I mean, there's a really high chance that it'll be fine, she's been okay with so much so far. But...what if she isn't?"
Hitoshi understands, he's been there, scared and unsure on if he'd get the love and support needed.
Self doubt always finds a way to make the obvious seem deceiving.
"Hey, I get it," Hitoshi offers. "It's scary, and a big step. Just know that you don't necessarily need to come out if you don't wanna."
"I know," Midoriya says softly, a sigh leaving him. "I just wish I didn't have to worry about it so much."
"Well, you have someone to talk to about it now at least, right?" Hitoshi offers with an awkward smile and a hand to the back of his own neck. "And—and this is not meant to be a deterrent—if you do decide to come out to her, and it doesn't go the way you want it to, I'm..." he has to clear his throat to get out a bubble of awkward blockage, "I'm here for you 'n stuff. Like if you need somewhere safe to stay. UA is, too. I'm sure Aizawa wouldn't mind looking after his problem child for more than the scheduled school hours, despite what he might say." The last part is said as a joke, but it earns a returned smile from the other, soft and warm.
"Thank you, Shinsou," he says earnestly, and a little bit wobbly, too, like he might cry.
"You're welcome, Midoriya."
"Um, you know," the other starts, "Since we're kinda close now, or, I mean," he starts chewing the inside of his mouth. "We're sorta the same, and we're friends. And, well, I'm not really used to even hearing my preferred name cause of formalities and all that, so I thought maybe, if you were okay with it—"
"That we'd be on a first name basis?" Hitoshi summarizes.
The other makes a sort of squeak sound. "Only if you're comfortable with it! Now that I'm thinking about it, though, it does seem a little bit selfish on my part to even suggest—"
"I'm fine with it, Izuku," Hitoshi interrupts.
The other just stares at Hitoshi, eyes wide. It's one, two, three seconds of nothing before tears promptly burst from green eyes and cascade down freckled cheeks.
"Are—are you okay??" Hitoshi almost panics as Izuku blubbers a reassurance that he is, indeed, okay, sniffles and all.
Oh dear, gender euphoria overload, it seems. Hitoshi doesn't know if he's envious or not.
Izuku manages to calm down, wiping the tears from his eyes and cheeks, and even though the rims are puffy and red, he's got a big, dopey smile on his face. "We're definitely gonna be behind on this assignment," he says with a small chuckle while looking at the still bare study desk.
"We could ask for an extension," Hitoshi says. "We'll tell Mic-sensei he's transphobic if he doesn't give us one."
There's an appalled look on the other's face for a moment before he realizes it's just a joke, and then he's snorting into the textbook he's just opened up, just in time for the apartment door to open.
"I'm back," Miss Midoriya's voice says, and then she's appearing in the doorway. "Working hard?" she teases when spotting Izuku laughing into his book.
"Hardly working," Hitoshi jokes back. "We'll make some headway, though."
"Well, if it takes a while, you're welcome to stay for dinner, Shinsou," she offers kindly.
Hitoshi shoots Izuku a subtle look to ask if that would be comfortable with him, and when he gets a slight nod, he gives the woman a thank you for the offer.
There's the muffled sounds of the kitchen being used as he and Izuku finally get to what they were supposed to be working on. The air has no trace of the thick tension from before, and Hitoshi feels warm and good.
"You know," Hitoshi starts, getting the other to look up from his textbook, "English would be nice voice practice. Two birds, one stone." He watches a smile spread over Izuku's lips. "I could also send you some of those tutorials, if you want?"
"I'd like that," Izuku says.
Okay, so maybe Hitoshi had no intention of making friends when joining the hero class, maybe he thought that confidants only came in the form of hero teams and networks, but he's not minding being comfortable around someone with similar experiences as him. In fact, it's something he could