Chapter Text
There have been legitimate studies done to answer the question of if it’s true villainy is genetic. The trend of villains having undesirable mutation quirks or stereotypically villainous types of emitter or transformation quirks didn’t go unnoticed, but no one wanted to admit the reason people saddled with those traits wound up in villainy was because of society itself.
The blame lands squarely on the shoulders of the people that weren’t prepared to raise a kid that looks abnormal or is capable of dangerous things, on the shoulders of the parents of the classmates of those kids that failed to teach their children to be tolerant, offer the benefit of the doubt, judge based off actions and not appearance.
It is thanks to them the cycle continues, near millions of children growing up unloved, pushed into the arms of villains because no one else would accept them as they are.
Successfully resisting this as a victim of the cycle is incredibly difficult, to say the least. Hitoshi knows that better than most, and he tries not to hold a grudge against those who weren’t strong enough and wound up perpetuating the stereotypes instead.
He has no idea how he's held out this long, truly. Endured the endless parade of foster homes that only accepted him due to the extra cash they get due to him being labeled difficult only to be too much for them to handle after a few months and most, bouncing in and out of actual juvenile detention when he ran out of those too quickly.
Hitoshi doesn't remember when the last time his body was devoid of bruises was, and he hasn’t comfortably fully inhaled in several years. It’s incredibly tiring looking over his shoulder, studying the minute shifts in facial expression and body language to hopefully be able to predict when the next hit was coming to roll with it, take as little damage as possible without angering his attacker further.
It’s definitely for the best that he was muzzled so often. As demeaning as it is, if he was allowed to speak freely he’d be drowning in quirk misuse accusations and probably already in jail for life.
Hitoshi would be lying if he claimed he hadn’t thought about it. Giving up, giving in, like so many others in his situation. Cutting the mask off, walking away from the people he's letting hurt him and maybe hurting them back before he leaves, taking out the years of pent up rage born of the grief brought by growing up unloved out on not directly related people.
It would be so easy. With his quirk, Hitoshi would make it to the big leagues in a matter of months at most. He could have whatever he wanted, power, money, worshipers.
Maybe that’s it. He’s only held out this long because Hitoshi knows if he goes villain, his chances of finding someone who truly trusts him, who loves him unconditionally of their own free will with no ulterior motive, will be lower than if he achieves hero status.
Then again, that likelihood is still incredibly low, just for different reasons, if he's a hero, and he's not sticking to the road to heroism despite the challenges purely to be liked.
His best shot at finding the fated true love, or something close to it, would be choosing a strictly civilian life. No playing hero, just living a normal, routine life, getting out often enough to meet someone eventually.
So if that’s what he wanted, he wouldn't be trying so hard, sacrificing so much, to become a hero.
And yet, here he is, dusting himself off after getting the crap kicked out of him by some Yuuei heroics upperclassmen and gearing up for his second fight in the third section.
Until beating Midoriya, he’d successfully flown under the radar. Placing near last in the obstacle course, squeaking by as a horse in ‘Aoyama’s’ cavalry team, leading them to the assumption one of Hatsume’s gadgets erased their memory and moving on without much note from the announcer.
But then the spotlight was on him and Midoriya. He couldn’t beat Midoriya with the superpower quirk he's wielding nowadays, somehow, despite how badly he's doing it he does have enough training to win this match with quirk advantage.
So Hitoshi resorts to his own far earlier than he planned, showing off a red herring by making sure to touch Midoriya before seizing control and putting him to sleep with a command hidden in a normal sentence, tone laced with concern.
Ten seconds pass, Midnight calls the match, Hitoshi lets go, and Midoriya jolts awake, confused and none the wiser about the true nature of Hitoshi's quirk.
No one is. Present Mic floats the idea he may be quirkless, and that must be what drove the upperclassmen to corner him in the locker rooms and strongly dissuade him from continuing to participate in the festival.
Not strongly enough though, as his ribs aren’t even broken and he protected his head the entire beating. At this point he's a master in convincingly blacking out to end situations like this sooner rather than later, taking the few final hits after going limp without a flinch and getting them to leave him alone.
By the time he pulls off standing up and staying up, the door to the locker rooms bangs open again, but the footsteps toward him aren’t purposeful, and there’s a distinct thud of body on tile after a few squeaks of shoes from unsteady steps.
Emerging from the stall he’d been shamelessly hiding in, hoping to avoid more of a beating, Hitoshi sees it’s not his attackers who’ve entered, but another first year.
The heroics student with tape dispenser elbows, though said elbows are nearly completely obscured by the ice clinging to his skin.
Sero’s fingers and lips are blue, and Hitoshi immediately grabs him and drags him toward the showers, flipping it to hot and pulling off the near frozen stiff clothes in an effort to warm him up faster.
He thrashes under the slightly warmed water, and Hitoshi knows its burning to Sero’s currently lowered body temp, holding fast but not reaching out with his quirk just yet, as that would likely have long term consequences neither of them will enjoy.
By the time Sero is breathing normally and no longer rattling like a fake skeleton with a vibrator taped to the spine and switched on, they’re both soaked in -for now- hot water, though if they stay like that it’ll lose warmth and start taking it from them.
“Thought I was a goner there,” He laughs, smile cracking slightly as he fails to hold the facade together. “Thanks for that.”
“Not a problem.” Hitoshi shrugs, untangling their limbs and standing. “Do you know where they keep the spare uniforms?”
“No, but I know Iida brought several extra sets, ‘in preparation for the event he ruins them all badly enough to be indecent on live television’.” He says with a more natural grin, hand chopping the air as he speaks, and they drip their way out of the shower area into the changing section with lockers lining the walls.
Normally, he'd avoid changing in front of someone, but the tattoo on Sero's shoulder matches the one on his and while Sero looks alarmed upon a glance at Hitoshi's bare upper half he doesn't comment or question, simply complimenting,
“Nice tat, great minds think alike I see.” Though the look they share afterward tells Hitoshi he knows they both know where the brand came from.
“When I replace one of your classmates we can talk about it.” Hitoshi offers vaguely, tightening the string holding his pants up in tandem with the slightly too loose elastic.
“Yeah, Iida’s a pretty big dude, I thought he was a teacher at the entrance exam.” Sero changes the subject with when he sees how little Hitoshi fills out the gym shirt, because despite the exercise and genetics that made him tall Hitoshi is still malnourished as fuck.
“I hope someone else knocks him out of the running, he’ll be tough to beat in this setting.” Hitoshi admits, briefly worried Sero is about to join in the sabotage attempts now that he's been reminded Hitoshi is general education and still in the running when he isn’t, but instead he gets a conspiratorial,
“I’ll tell you this, he's fast, but he's like a bull. Powerful, quick, terrible at turning at high speeds.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Hitoshi nods after realizing he's being genuine, and he's probably right.
“Shinsou Hitoshi, report to arena entrance four, last call.” The intercomm announces, and Hitoshi’s stomach bottoms out as he realizes how much time he must’ve missed ensuring sero didn’t freeze to death in the locker rooms.
“Fuck, that's me.” He mutters, Sero immediately blurting,
“And that’s clear across the stadium, haul ass, I'll try to stall them.” Sero is gone in a flash, tape pulling him down the hall and around the corner. Hitoshi is also running near full tilt, trusting there will be a good minute or so the fight is hyped up over the mic by Present Mic and he’ll be able to catch his breath.
Snipe is waiting with Sero at the correct entrance, and presses a button on the wall as Hitoshi closes in, struggling to get air back.
“Thanks.” He wheezes.
“Would’ve been my fault you missed it.” Sero points out. “I’ll wait here in case Todoroki ices you too.” Ah shit.
“I’m up against-?”
“Yep, get moving.” Snipe commands, the door sliding open and they share one more look, panic from Hitoshi and a sympathetic smile from Sero.
Hitoshi is truly stressed, because Todoroki isn't much of a talker and he's one of the potential opponents he was worried about beforehand.
“So, I can see your dad in the stands from here, you nervous about living up to his legacy?” Regardless of what it does, his father will be a button, and sure enough Todoroki’s neutral expression shifts into a hard glare.
“No. My father’s presence here changes nothing, I will continue to advance and win without using his fire.” Well alrighty then, that’s enough for Hitoshi to secure his failsafe, and he nods in response.
“Okay well, do me a favor and go easy with the ice this time, I saw what happened to Sero after.” The hints of uncertainty and worry that appear have Hitoshi deciding against using his quirk right out the gate, and sure enough the buzzer sounds and he sweeps his right arm across, frost preceding the air solidifying into a wall of ice that stretches up far higher than necessary.
The ends of the wall surpass the edges of the ring, nearing the walls of the arena even, and it grates across the gravel as it starts to slide forward.
Hitoshi can't see Todoroki through the ice, so he probably can't see Hitoshi either, and as he's forced backwards the wall pushing forward, he makes a prediction and tries to stay dead center.
Head swiveling as he scans for cracks that should appear when the curved nature of the arena clashes with the inflexibly flat wall, Hitoshi zeroes in on one that opens just slightly to his left.
With his heels less than a foot from the boundary line and failure, Hitoshi dives for it, wedging himself in and climbing as the wall continues to push forward, breaking to fit.
Soon enough he's made it to the top, the wall has stopped moving and he can't feel his fingers but he doesn't waste time, heaving his body over into a silent freefall toward todoroki.
The two toned boy is completely oblivious, which is great, because if Hitoshi missed and hit flat ground it would’ve hurt a little more than a bit.
Not enough to do too much damage, he's fallen from higher and walked it off, but Todoroki would definitely be able to freeze him before he had the chance to get up.
Not that it matters now, Todoroki is down for the literal count, as Hitoshi stood up mildly worried he’d killed the guy, despite landing more on Todoroki’s shoulders than his head.
Thankfully, he rouses as the med cart trundles toward them, surprisingly amicable to having lost and accepting the help standing up to slump into the cart.
“Best of luck with Bakugou.” He says as he begins to speed away.
Bakugou, who declared he was going to win at the start, will not be a problem so long as no one figures out Hitoshi’s quirk, because he never shuts the hell up.
But first, Hitoshi has to avoid saboteurs and make it to his next fight.
Which is against the guy whose clothes he's wearing.
He readily speaks to Hitoshi, wishing him a good match, and Hitoshi continues to be careful not to show any change in stress levels as his backup plan becomes a viable failsafe.
Sure enough, Iida attacks head on. Hitoshi feigns one attack, diving to the side to pivot on one foot and leap into the air.
Deciding to grab his glasses mid jump is a last second snap decision, and shortly after Hitoshi slams his knee into Iida’s temple, sending him crashing to the ground, momentum slowing naturally as he tumbles.
Hitoshi lands just as light on his feet, eyes on Iida to assess whether he's still up to fight.
His equilibrium is shot to hell, and he lists to the side several times as Hitoshi closes in one him to steady him.
After taking the relatively weak kick to the side, Hitoshi pops right back up, putting Iida to sleep- once in range to catch him- with the sentence, “Dude, stop moving, you’re going to wind up asleep on this- woah!” and then lunges to grab him by the collar to avoid further head trauma.
Hitoshi waits until the med cart is out the doors and they’ve closed behind to let go of iida, just in case he's the feisty type, realizing far too late he's still got the guys glasses.
But upon arriving in the medbay, recovery girl reports iida is already gone, but assures Hitoshi he had a backup pair of glasses.
Returning to his designated recovery room is stressful as hell, but no one jumps him, though All Might himself is in the room he enters, prompting him to reverse and check the room number.
“No, you're in the right spot.” He assures, signature smile in place. “I’d like to speak with you.” And that, is never a good thing, but Hitoshi can’t exactly say no, so he steps into the room and closes the door, making sure to stay between him and it, just in case. “Congratulations on making it this far in the festival, young Shinsou.” Pausing too long is suspicious, and Hitoshi offers a neutral,
“Thanks.”
“Have you been tracking Bakugou’s progress?” Hitoshi gestures to the tv in the corner displaying a replay of his battle with Tokoyami and Dark Shadow, and Hitoshi knows Tokoyami likely didn’t win, not in broad daylight against someone who’s quirk also creates flashes of light. “So you understand he can be quite, intense.” A differently sourced dread starts to build, and Hitoshi goes for a confused expression. “And I’m not sure it would be a good idea to get between him and first place.” The number one hero’s tone has a quality Hitoshi is hesitant to call nervous, because of who he is and who he’s talking to.
“If he wants to pitch a fit on live television over losing a game, then I’m going to let him.” Hitoshi assures him, consciously keeping his posture as relaxed as possible.
“That’s not what I mean.” All Might corrects, choosing his words carefully. “I simply believe he is driven enough to succeed and I don’t wish for you to be trampled.” So he's not being discriminated against for having a villain quirk at all.
He's being discriminated against for not having a quirk.
That’s not better. “Remember you’re allowed to forfeit at any time.”
“I know.” Hitoshi confirms, straining not to allow any of the bubbling anger in his chest to show on the surface or in his words. “But I’m too close to winning to give up now.”
“Young Shinsou, please consider how this match is going to go. You’ll be at a disadvantage in this setting, it’s not worth the bragging rights.” Hitoshi feels his eye twitch, having previously thought that was just a movie thing.
“Bragging rights?” He could laugh, if his ribs didn’t hurt so much. “I'm planning on transferring into heroics once I win.” Hitoshi informs him tartly, but All Might insists,
“They won’t let you in without a quirk,” And he promptly gets cut off.
“Actually they have to, it’s in the rules, it’s illegal to discriminate nowadays, don’t know if you’ve heard.” Hitoshi doesn't need to be having this argument, he can just tell All Might he has a quirk and be done with it, but on behalf of all the quirkless people in Japan, he's going to see this out. “Just because someone without a quirk has to work harder than others doesn't mean it’s impossible.”
“Even if you make it into heroics, you wouldn't survive as a hero.” Hitoshi is hard pressed not to immediately go off on him, but the door then slides open, and it’s Cementoss, here to summon him for the final fight.
“Thank you for your advice, All Might, it has been enlightening.” He says cooly, rising to leave, doing so unchallenged.
The walk from the door to his designated starting line has Hitoshi’s heart in his throat, hands shaking where he's hidden them in the pockets of the pants that arent his but also haven't failed him yet.
“I don’t know how the fuck you got so lucky you got all the way here, but I won’t miss.” Bakugou spits once they’re both in place, voice slightly raised to be heard over the roar of the crowd as Present Mic hypes up the final match.
Hitoshi’s smirk and confidence is no longer faked.
“You’d better hope so, it would look pretty bad to lose to a quirkless deku huh?” For the first time, Bakugou looks a bit nervous, likely picking up on the fact Hitoshi is hiding something.
“I can’t promise not to kill you, you had your chance to save yourself.” The intimidation attempt might’ve worked if he wasn’t saying it to Hitoshi, who has one, a brainwashing quirk, and two, a death wish.
The buzzer sounds, and Bakugou is just quick enough to the draw to set off once, just before Hitoshi seizes control of his mind.
He put his all into the blast that sends Hitoshi tumbling backwards, and spotting rapidly becomes incredibly difficult, but he does manage to see the edge of the ring as he goes over it.
Grabbing the lining of the raised platform hurriedly, the new pain of pulled fingernails adding to the cacophony of pain receptors clamoring for his attention and urging him to stop, lay down, don't move anymore, we have to fix all this shit you’re breaking and you keep breaking more shit, dumbass.
The cost of stopping his momentum is a dislocated shoulder, previously weakened by a childhood injury or ten, but through pure will Hitoshi grips tight and holds fast, putting his body through further abuse because,
He’s not out until he hits the ground.
Inhaling hurts worse than it did a second ago and Hitoshi faintly realizes the initial impact mustve broken his ribs, but that gets ignored through sheer force of will as he claws his way back up onto the arena.
The priority now is not blacking out, because he has Bakugou, and not stopping, because Midnight will call it if he does.
Soon enough Hitoshi is up, no longer hiding the limp from the beating earlier, and rolling his shoulder back into place like the ER doctor taught him after he came in for the third time, coughing into his elbow and staining the fabric red.
The crowds cheering lessens in confusion as Bakugou doesn’t move to attack as Hitoshi gets closer, but he pays them no mind, closing in on the listless form of his final opponent, the last person between him victory today.
“Get out of the arena.” Bakugou turns, striding toward the door he’d entered from, the confused murmuring getting louder, the crowd and anyone watching no doubt struggling to comprehend what’s happening.
Hitoshi doesn't let go of Bakugou until he's gone, Present Mic exploding over the pa system to announce the win with just as much enthusiasm as before, but the crowd is not having it.
They were probably expecting a big showdown of flashy quirks, or at least some violence like the other fights.
Sucks for them, this is going to be a new age of heroics, they best start getting used to it now.
So no. He’s not in it for the praise. Even if he were, it’s not like he's going to get much, if any at all.
But he has to have a motivation other than spite, as spite alone wouldn't have gotten him this far.
Hitoshi’s got a little under three years to put his finger on it before a reporter asks him, he’ll figure it out by then.