Chapter Text
Hitoshi winces as he barely blocks a kick from his father. He lands hard on the floor, holding his arm.
“You okay? Do you need a break?”
He shakes his head, grunting as he gets back up into a defensive stance.
He feels out of it. So out of it, in fact, that he falls flat on his face, not realizing Shouta had already charged at him.
“Kid-”
“I’m fine. Sorry.”
Stupid. He’s so stupid. Izuku would’ve never made this mistake. He doesn’t know why Eraserhead is even wasting his time on him. He doesn’t deserve to be here. He should just gi-
“Hitoshi.”
The boy looks up.
“You’re distracted.”
“No- I’m fine.” He picks himself up again. “Let’s… let’s just go again.”
Shouta doesn’t say anything. Just stares at him with those tired eyes, picking him apart.
It makes Hitoshi feel terrible.
Hitoshi knows he’s a lot slower today. He can feel it. Every single movement feels like he’s been put on slow-mo. The room is stuffy and hot, and the space pushes an uncomfortable weight onto his body. All of his limbs feel ten million thousand times heavier, to the point where even breathing feels near impossible and standing is the most physical activity he’s ever done.
He just wants Shouta to end the training session already. He wants to feel a pillow suffocating his face as he sinks into bed. His cats’ scratchy meows as their claws dig into his back and crush his spine.
He just wants to sleep.
Forever.
Or maybe just overdose on sleeping pills. Same thing.
Of course, he’s not going to say any of this. His dad will think he’s weak if he does. Yeah, it’s true, but he doesn’t put up this facade for nothing. What kind of person can’t handle one training session? And with a pro hero. It’s fucking selfish.
But there’s also that very appealing option of throwing himself off a tall, large-
“Take a water break.”
Thank fucking god.
He very obviously avoids Shouta as he sits and reaches for his water bottle. Somehow, he still feels like shit. Part of him is yelling for him to work harder, be better, while another part just wants to curl up and die. But there is one thing they both agree on: he’s a bad person, and he’s selfish, and he doesn’t deserve anything, he’s never going to become a hero, he’s just wasting Eraserhead’s time, he should die.
And his brain keeps screaming at him. He’s zoning out. All he can feel is his uneven heartbeat, ragged breathing, and tears pricking his eyes. He doesn’t even know why he’s about to cry. It’s so stupid. He’s so fucking stupid. He hasn’t earned these tears, there’s nothing wrong with him.
“Hey, kid.” Somehow Dad ends up in front of him. “Talk to me. What’s wrong?”
Haha. Fuck no.
“Nothing.”
Listen, maybe that’s not true, but he knows it’s not exactly wrong.
He can’t explain it. There’s really not anything wrong with him. He trains with a pro hero, gets to live with him, and has some friends (not sure how that happened). Sure, his quirk is still a bit of a problem, but it’s really nothing. All the good things outweigh the minuscule, teeny-tiny, virtually invisible issues.
Then again, everyone hates him, and he doesn’t deserve anything, and he can’t do anything right, and he’s a burden, and a waste of space, and he should really just kill himself already. But, like, that’s not without reason so…
Okay, basically his feelings are very conflicting and contradicting and he should just-
“I can’t help if you don’t talk to me.”
I don’t need help. “Nothing’s wrong.” I’m just stressing him out even more. I should leave. He already has so much to do. He shouldn’t need to worry about me. I’m fine.
“I hate to break it to you, kid, but no one just starts randomly crying for no reason unless they’re having an allergic reaction,” Shouta deadpans. “And as far as I’m concerned, you don’t have any.”
“What if I do?” Hitoshi blurts without thinking. Stupid, stupid, stupid. He finds himself missing the odd comfort of his muzzle and the thought of knowing he couldn’t ever hurt anyone. He can almost feel the tight metal on his jaw, digging into his skin. The sharp edges, ready to pierce his flesh with any sudden movement. “I- I’m so-”
His dad puts a hand on his shoulder. “Calm down.”
“I-I’m sorry- I shouldn’t-”
“Kid- Hitoshi, stop apologizing.”
And the tears won’t stop flowing down his face. It’s so hard to breathe and his hands are shaking, fingers locked and stiff. He can’t move them and they’re all numb.
“You’re okay, Hitoshi. Look at me- kid, you’re okay.”
But his head won’t stop fucking screaming at him, telling him he’s stupid and useless. He’s just trying to remember all the lyrics to some song that was stuck in his head a while ago in a very sad attempt to get his head to shut the fuck up.
“Breathe.”
At this point, he can barely tell what’s happening in front of him. He sees and he understands but it all feels like a blur. His throat is raw, his eyes sting and he can’t get ahold of himself.
STUPID.
STUPID.
USELESS.
VILLAIN.
LEAVE.
He doesn’t want to be here anymore.
He’s just so tired. So fucking tired. Of messing things up, and being stupid, and ruining things for everyone.
Because let’s be honest, no one cares if a villain dies.
No one lights a candle in remembrance. No one cries. No one feels anything but happiness and relief.
He’s such an idiot for thinking someone actually cared for once. The world would be a much better place if he just, y’know, kinda fell off an extremely tall cliff in the middle of nowhere one day. It’s not like he has much going for him anyway.
“Kid, I need you to calm down, okay. Breathe,” Shouta exaggerates.
“I-I-I- can’t move my- I can’t feel my- fuck- I-” he can’t keep his voice from shaking and he can’t stop hyperventilating. The only thing he can feel is his body shaking and his dad’s warm hand.
“Take a deep breath, kid. Say it again.”
His breath hitches as he inhales. “I-I can’t feel my-my fingers.”
“Breathe,” Shouta sighs. He takes Hitoshi’s hands, slowly uncurling his fingers.
Hitoshi closes his eyes, feeling his chest rise and fall with heavy breaths. He sobs silently, letting his head fall down to his chest. Stupid.
“Kid, talk to me,” Shouta says softly.
Hitoshi sniffs. “I… I don’t think I want to be a hero anymore.”
He doesn’t want to look up. He doesn’t want to see the disappointment in Shouta’s eyes, the anger, and the frustration. No one says anything for a moment. Then, “Okay.”
And Hitoshi has never whipped his head up faster.
“What?” He wasn’t supposed to say that. He’s supposed to be mad. Why isn’t he mad? BE MAD.
“Heroics are a dangerous career path. I’m not going to force you to be a hero if you don’t want to be. I’m not going to put you in danger and I want you to be happy.”
This isn’t how it was supposed to go. He’s supposed to yell. He’s supposed to be upset. He was supposed to push Hitoshi to be a great hero, to get into UA. Hitoshi wants him to say he’s being stupid and everything will be okay. He needs validation because he does want to be a hero.
He just doesn’t deserve to be one.
“Hitoshi, are you okay?”
He nods. “Yeah…”
“Listen, I will always support you, okay? You deserve that. As much as you think that you don’t, you do. No one deserves what you went through. I’m here for you. Always.”
“Thanks…” Hitoshi looks down at his dirt-stained shoes, rubbing some hair through his fingers.
“I’m serious.” He pats Hitoshi’s knee before standing up.
Hitoshi also gets up, brushing whatever particles off his clothes and straightening them out. He wipes the tears off his face. “Dad?”
“Hm?”
TELL ME I CAN BE A HERO. TELL ME I DESERVE IT. “Can we go home?”
“Yeah, of course.”
It’s for the best, Hitoshi tells himself.