The shouting was louder tonight, Shota's mother, Fumiko Aizawa, yelled into the hotel phone, sobbing yet fuming with anger. He doesn't like it when she shouts. His ears and head hurt when it happens. Its worse when they're both shouting.

Shota turned over in his futon, snuggling his stuffed cat to his chest. He tried to block it all out but failed. It was so late at night and he's yet to sleep. In fact, he hasn't slept since they left. Since his mother took him from his home and rented this dingy hotel room. Only reason she even chose this hotel was because it was closest to Shota's school, being only a twelve minute walk to and from.

"JUST SIGN THE DAMN PAPERS, SHOUTA!" Fumiko yelled slightly louder than before. Shota slunk down further into the scratchy blanket. Why was his mother and father fighting so much? He just didn't understand. "J-just.... Please... I want this mess to be over with, Senior... Junior doesn't need our toxic relationship in his life. He's only six for fuck's sake. Just sign the papers already." She sounded more level headed. Calmer.

It was quiet again. Shota was relieved at the silence. Maybe he could finally fall asleep. His mother got quieter as she began to speak again, "Senior... I-I know it was wrong for me to do that. I take full responsibility. I own up to it okay? But... You're still an alcoholic and... Shota...." She took a shaky breath. Shota jolted slightly from the mention of his name, knowing which person she was talking about just by how soft she said it. "He can't be raised by someone with such a problem. I'm already pushing for full custody over him. I'm sorry, Shouta. But I just can't let you take him from me. Visits are fine and dandy though...."

A couple beats of silence passed before she spoke one last time that night.

"Bye Shouta..."
After he heard the click of the phone connecting with the receiver, Shota heard soft sobs following. He listened to them just like the previous four days before. Not knowing what to do except fall asleep or lay there.
The next morning, Shota was awoken by his mother's morning sickness. He knew the drill already; get his clothes out of the dresser, grab his mother's clothes, and set everything out for when she's done. Today was finally the weekend. The first weekend away from his dad. He'd always watch his dad work in his home studio, watching as stranger after stranger came into their home to get their photos taken. But today, he was told he had to go to work with his mother, which he hardly got to do as is.

Shota reached up as best he could for his toothbrush and toothpaste, head barely in view of the mirror. He heard the flush of the toilet and some shuffling inside the bathroom, his mother coming out shortly after. "Morning, sweetheart." She smiled tiredly yet softly at him. "Need my help?" Shota sheepishly nodded. She picked her son up from under his arms.

"And up we go!" Shota laughed a bit as she lifted him up to the counter, setting him down to reach the sink and mirror. Fumiko took her own hygiene bag out and got ready to brush her own teeth until her cell phone rang from the bed. Shota watched as his mother dashed over to grab it, the ringing stopped when she flipped the phone up, answering with an annoyed "hello" She was always so unaccepting of phone calls so early in the morning.
Shota finished brushing his teeth and carefully jumped down from the counter, grabbing his jeans and cat themed shirt from his mother's bed, heading back towards the bathroom to dress.
He got dressed and left the bathroom, going over to his futon, packing his backpack up with his favorite past times; his puzzle book, book on all things cats, and his toy camera that his father gave him; he carried it everywhere and pretended to take people's photos just like him. His mother finished her phonecall, muttering something about an incompetent intern, and finished her own morning routine.

"Okay!" Fumiko was dressed up in her black dress pants and purple blouse now. "You ready to go to work with mama today?" Shota slid off his futon. Fumiko held her hand out to her son and he took it with a bored expression.

"Are we walking there?" Shota squeaked out. "I don' wanna walk." Fumiko lead her son out of the hotel room, shutting and locking the door behind her. "Yes. We are walking, Junior. The hospital isn't that far." She led Shota off of the hotel's premises, heading down the sidewalk. "What's the problem with walking?"

"It's too tiring." Shota replied. "I just wanna crawl like a caterpillar." He sounded so serious despite the ridiculous desire. Fumiko laughed at her son's logic.

Halfway there, Fumiko ended up picking Shota up into her arms. He kept lagging behind because he'd seen a cat or something. But dispute the minor setbacks, they made it to the hospital on time, with eight minutes to spare at least.

Fumiko quickly changed to her blue scrubs and slipped her white coat on over, all the while Shota sat away in the far corner of the staff room, preoccupied by his cat book. Fumiko went over, bending down and taking a look at his book. He was on the page about the main coon, the same breed of cat his is. He had to temporarily leave his cat, Coonie, behind and since then, he'd been feeling down. Fumiko got permission from the head of pediatrics to borrow the cat book, and after finding out how the boy really liked it, the man let the boy keep it. So Shota would read it over and over again when bored.

"Mom," He pointed to one of the bullet points. "Coonie comes all the way from America?" Fumiko chuckled.

"I guess she does." She shrugged. "And she came all the way over to be your kitty!" That earned a small smile from the child.
"Aizawa!" Her superior beckoned. "Time for rounds. Find someone to watch your son."

She let out a "yes sir" and grabbed her son's book, stuffing it back in his backpack. She grabbed hold of his hand and he hopped down, sliding his backpack back on.
Fumiko put him in the care of the hospital day care. Sure, Shota was actually the oldest kid there, but he had no choice but to stay. It wasn't up to him whether he went up to wherever his mother went or if he stayed there with all the drooling toddlers. So he just sat in a corner, doing one of his word find puzzles.

But he soon grew bored of that. Looking at the cat book seemed boring too. The toys the day care provided were most definitely infested with younger childrens' germs, dispute the toys residing in a hospital. What was he going to do now?

One of the staff members loudly walked out of the door, catching his attention. They absentmindedly left it cracked too. It was tempting, leaving that is. Fumiko didn't actually tell him to stay in the daycare, so doesn't that mean he can leave?
Oh well. It's not like he'll get lost and will be unable to find his mother. There are tons of people who are bound to know her!
Shota quickly picked himself up, pulling his backpack up to his back, and trotted over to the cracked door. The coast was clear inside and out. He slipped out easily. No mess, no fuss.
The hospital hallways seemed more grand without his mother by his side. The ceiling was high up, way above his head. The walls were littered with weird and abstract art pieces, chairs and small tables spread out along the wall sparsely. People passed him by without acknowledgement. A lot of people also sat in the orchestra of chairs behind him.
Shota took his yellow and blue toy camera out and began to walk forward, transitioning into a long, lower ceiling hallway with even more paintings but no furniture. There were the occasional doors though. Shota trotted along the hall, feeling smaller than he actually was, until he hit a corner. He looked around it and it opened out to a larger area. He lifted his camera up and "snapped" a picture, "Click." He mumbled as he pressed the button. He had to take note of where he's been to avoid getting lost.

He kept exploring for a while longer and no one thought to question him. Seeing a six year old— looking like a four year old due to his height— wandering around the entire hospital just didn't set anyone off for some reason. He looked like a mini tourist with the fake camera in his hands, how was no one questioning him? Either way, he was happy no one bothered him. He always preferred to be alone, the other kids at school barely bothered to bug him too. And that was mainly because of his quirk. They kept telling him he had a villain's quirk or a useless one. He hardly ever used his quirk because of this. He's okay with being called useless but he doesn't want to be labeled as a villain. He doesn't know what he wants to be when he grows up, but he does know a villain is not a choice.
Shota soon found himself tired. Well even more so than usual. He was always tired. Especially after climbing those stairs up to his current location. That was a hassle and a half.

He looked around and found an unoccupied door. He remembers his mom talking about a room the doctors can sleep in, maybe that room was behind here? He reached up and turned the knob, trying his best to push the heavy door open. He got it opened into a small crack but it enough to slip into.

But then it was pulled closed.
Who did that!?

"Hey shortie." He looked back to see his mother smiling down on him. He pouted with furrowed brows.

"I wanna take a nap. I'm tired." He planted his roots, determined to stay. He had a stubborn point on display, thinking it'd make her back off.

"Nope. Come on. Let's go back down stairs. What's behind that door is something you don't want to see." When he refused to go once again, Fumiko ended up having to physically remove him. Luckily it was her lunch break now so she could keep him entertained as best she could for twenty minutes or so— she just needed to to keep him from putting his little nose somewhere it doesn't belong.

Several months passed by and it was summer now. The divorce between Fumiko and Shouta had gone through and Fumiko now had full custody over their son. She hadn't changed her surname back to her original one, that would take more paperwork and she isn't a fan of something so tedious such as that.

"How much longer we gotta sleep in this dumb car, mom?" A month prior, they were evicted from their third hotel room. Fumiko refused to seek help— she'd always been an independent person, electing to do things all her own rather than ask for other's help. And she can do this. She can be a single mother and find an apartment whilst working a time consuming job!

Fumiko looked over to her son in the back. "Just until mommy finds an apartment, sweetie. Here, do you want my blanket?" She offered. Shota hid half his face under his own blanket, shaking his head. "You and baby brother need it. Baby brother is probably cold." Fumiko snorted.

She turned back around in the driver's seat, looking onwards across the street, the ever familiar hospital staring back at her in the dark. "It might be a sister you know." She teased her son, knowing he was dead set on wanting a little brother. Shota shook his head again, "No. Baby brother is a boy. I'm a boy and you had me so that means baby is a boy." He stated matter-of-factly.
Fumiko turned the overhead light off, "Time for bed little man. Sweet dreams sweetheart." She sweetly said as she double checked the locks and took the key out of the ignition. Thankfully she and her ex had two cars, one kept for Senior himself and the other for Fumiko.

Shota turned over to face the gray of the car's seat, pulling his green blanket up past his head. He wasn't tired. Not one bit. He just... Felt sad. And… Yeah no. Actually he did feel tired. But tired in the sense of…

Something else?

Wait he was tired of sleeping in such a small space. That's what he was tired of. He wanted a soft bed again where he could snuggle into the sheets with his stuffed kitty in his arms. He wants actual walls around him. He just feels so... Jittery? Yeah, jittery. He feels jittery and his heart would go BOOM BOOM in his chest without the protection of walls.

And he...

He wants his dad back. But why would he want a child that broke up his relationship? He is the one to blame, right? He was a relatively good kid, hardly ever throwing tantrums or overall breaking the rules like some hoodlum. And yet he feels responsible for breaking his mom and dad up. Maybe he could fix this though.

But he can't if he isn't allowed to see his dad for an entire year.
Tears began to prickle at the corners of his dull gray eyes. He tried to quiet his sniffles and little hiccups as best he could, he really did, but he might've been failing to do so. He heard his mom shuffle around in front of him. In the darkness she softly asked the boy, "Honey? You okay?"

Shota wiped away the tears as quickly as he could, thinking she could see the tears in the dark and through his blanket. Her mom powers, he guessed. He gulped back a gaggle of salty liquid as he made his attempts to respond. He steadied his voice before speaking, "I have the hiccups. It's okay mommy."

Fumiko moved back into her seat, taking his answer but not liking it one bit. Shota only ever calls her mommy when he's scared. This worried her.

"Mommy?"

She fought back the urge to get out and go to the back to hold him. "Yes sweetheart?" She kept her voice as stable as she could; she had to show she was the adult here. The responsible one. The strong one.

"I-I love you, mommy." Shota was full on blubbering but he hid that perfectly. He was pretty good at hiding how he felt. He could play pretend well.

"I," Fumiko held back her own choke of tears. "I love you too, Sho-bug…."

༺ ༒ ༻

What do you want to be when you grow up?

That's what his final essay for the semester was about. And oooooh how he hated it! Shota groaned as he flopped his head down on the coffee table in exasperation. "Don't do that Shota, you'll hurt yourself." His mother scolded from the couch behind him. Shota rolled his eyes.

He watched his little sister play with some colorful building blocks, feeling jealous as she had no worries whatsoever. He blew away some stray strands of hair that escaped his neatly styled bowl haircut— Fumiko cuts his hair to save money. It's not his own choice to make because if it were, his hair would already be to the floor by now, not some fruit container for his head— and pouted. "I want to be four again. Eleven is too much work." He whined.

"Try being thirty-six and get back to me after doing taxes. You don't know what 'too much work' is." Shota rose up from the table, looking over at his mom with a deadpan expression. "I'm being forced to write about my future and I hate it!" He spat bitterly.
Fumiko carried the conversation on without looking up from her work. "The paper or your future?"

"BOTH!" He cried dramatically.
Fumiko set her things to the side, emptying her lap from papers as she lowered to the floor were Shota was. "I thought you said you wanted to be a heart surgeon like me?" Shota shook his head. "I said that when I was eight, mom. I am eleven now. I've matured."

"Photographer like your father?" She proposed. Shota yet again shook his head. "I hate my photo taken so why would I put myself through that? You need to think rationally mom." He tapped the side of his head for affect. Fumiko sighed. There was just no compromising with this boy...

"And you need to stop being picky. Just choose an occupation and write about that. It doesn't have to be something you actually want to do." Once again the dark haired male griped. This wasn't just some final essay he was tasked to do, this was the moment in which he'd decide what he would do in the future! Shota could hardly care about the most trivial things— aside from his grades and cats of course— but this was something concerning his entire upbringing going forward! How could he not care about this stupid assignment!?

"It's not that easy mom! This is so stupid, I wanna drop out!" He pouted. Fumiko shook her head, rolling her dull gray eyes at the boy. He wasn't even a preteen yet and he was already being ridiculous! "You aren't dropping out, Sho. Plus, sixth grade isn't even that hard." She grabbed her phone and flipped it open, staring at the time; it was already a quarter past five. Thursdays always seemed to move faster in the spring.

"Pack up, you can finish this when you get to your father's." The boy reluctantly did as he was told to do, all the while moaning about how he'll never get the paper written. "Help your sister get ready too. I work the night shift tonight which means she's going with you." Another groan. The young girl in question stared at her older brother expectantly. He squinted her way, sticking his bottom lip out. It's not that he didn't like his sister or detested the fact she had to go with him, it's just... No yeah, he didn't want her to come with. Shota looked away, shoving everything in his backpack carelessly.

Half an hour later, his dad finally came to pick him up. He blamed his lateness on traffic but they all knew he had slept in too long and almost forgot to pick his own son up. They were at the house now, Senior had ordered pizza for dinner and he left the kids to their own devices. Shota watched his sister play on her leapfrog, listened to her repeat after the device. You know, just procrastinating as much as possible.

He just doesn't know what he should write about or what he even wanted to be. Shota tossed his notebook and pencil case to the other end of his bed, the supply almost hitting his dad's cat in the process. He rushed over and gave him a forgiving pat on the head just before picking him up and leaving the room. He carried the fluffy calico cat—named Tabbes— out into the living room where his father was working.

"You done with homework, Junior?" His father asked. Shota elected not to answer. He set the cat down on his monster fish shaped bed, grabbing the remote for the tv and flicking it on. He plopped down next to Tabbes and flipped through the channels until he landed on the hero news network.

On screen were the vibration and humming heroes; Vibrate and Songbird. The pair of heroes were fighting a man that resembled a praying mantis, the news talking over the video, commenting on how well they worked together and how they even surpassed their parents. Shota hardly ever watched the hero network but he was bored. Then the clip switched from the couple to a newer hero. He watched as the hero, bear like and huge, used this hat looking support item combined with his strength to take down his opponents. It...

It amazed him? He was so enthused. This bear hero was so simple.

A lot of heroes had flashy and versatile quirks to work with, whereas this new guy seemed… Dull. Yet he captured Shota’s attention fully by how resourceful he was. The way he punched down his opponent, a fire breather who clearly had the advantage with his long range attacks- which barely phased the hero much at all! He just used his surroundings to aid in his tactics, like climbing the walls with his bear like claws to avoid catching fire. It was very clever.

Senior tapped his side with the tip of his slippered foot. Shota looked up at his father with annoyed eyes. Without looking up from his laptop he said, "Your mom says you've got some difficult homework. How's that going, squirt?" Shota puffed his cheeks out at the nickname. He crossed his arms, refusing to answer. Ignoring his son's silent treatment he continued. The guy really can't take a hint, huh?

"S'whats it about? Algebra? English?" Shota scoffed as he began to pet Tabbes on the head, tuning out the tv, satisfied when the cat began to purr. "You can't help so there's no need to tell you." He stated.

The older male put his computer and camera to the side and leaned down closer to the younger. "Oh really eh? You think I’m stupid or what, huh mini me?" Shota whipped his head around, a deathly glare and pout meeting a sly smile. Senior laughed. He really enjoyed making his son flustered or mad as he always made the strangest, camera perfect faces. He watched his cheeks puff up like a balloon and grew redder than an apple. He sat there amused, successfully embarrassing his child.

"Stop calling me small you big dummy!" He hit his clenched fist to the floor for affect. Senior chortled. He waved him off and decided to be an actual responsible father. He asked him what the assignment was and if he needed any help with it, as it was very evident that he was procrastinating.

Senior knew a way around his walls. And that way was pulling the sister card.

Senior cleared his throat and called out to the kids' bedroom, "Mizu! Come here for a second and bring your brother's school folder!" Shota jumped up and rocketed towards the room. "NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" He wailed. But before he could make it there Senior had activated his quirk, freezing the boy in place. Before he knew it, his sister came running out with his folder held high above her head. She stopped at the man and enthusiastically handed the blue folder over. Senior released his son from his grasp and began to flip through everything, Shota proceeded to try and take it back but his father’s grasp was too much. Mizu hopped onto the couch, patting her side for her brother to join. He decided to give up and threw himself next to his little sister.

“Mmh.. Yes, yes. Excellent.” Senior began with a mock impression. Shota rolled his eyes. “Well you're failing literature so obviously you can't be a writer…”

Shota crossed his arms, mumbling grumpily, “You're probably super bad at it too, oldman…”

Senior looked over his work and thought for a moment. He looked to the little one for help. “Hey Zu, what do you think your brother should be, mm?” Mizu held her arms high above her head, happily yelling, “A princess!” She giggled.

Shota blushed. “HELL NO!” His voice cracked as his cheeks got heated. “I am absolutely not going to be a princess!” He protested. His father warned him of his language, but he couldn't hear him over Mizu’s giggling.
“Princess Shobro! Princess Shobro!” She cheered. Shota’s cheeks flushed even more. He tried hiding his face in his hands, but he failed. Senior picked the giggling four year old up and carried her back to the room to settle down, the girl squirming and laughing all the way. He came back to Shota holding the cat, grimacing with his lip stuck out, brows furrowed tightly. He shook his head and headed for the kitchen, grabbing his dinner and a snack for his son.

He came back to the sofa, tossing the yogurt into his son’s lap. He began looking at his paper again and shrugged. “Write about being a hero.” He suggested as he began eating. Shota let Tabbes go, popping his head up. “What?” His voice came out a higher pitch than he'd like.

“Just write down hero. I guarantee you,” He took a second to swallow. “That the lazy kids are going to do that. It's an easy A.” He shrugged as if it were no big deal. Shota grabbed the yogurt and fiddled with the lid’s tab. "But that's being dishonest. Mom says lying is not okay unless its to grandma and the police.”

“Okay, one; don't lie to the police,” He mentally prepared a long speech to the woman, totally done with her mentality. “Two; it's not lying. Its being lazy and taking the easy way to a grade. Sometimes success doesn't need work.”
Shota rolled his eyes. His father had a weird way of thinking that just didn't agree with his own. That and he believed in hard work always prospering. "I'm not taking advice from you, dad." Shota stated plainly.

"And why not!?" He pouted defensively.

"You are eating jelly right from the jar! It's weird! You're weird!" Senior looked down to his dinner, aka his jar of jelly. He looked back to Shota and pointed a defensive finger his way. “I am thirty-four, Junior. I can eat jelly straight from a tube if I wanted to!” The man declared. Shota snorted. His dad was more a kid than himself and Mizu combined.

The younger of the two turned his attention back to the TV, watching the news personality talk. Thinking about it all, Shota didn't know what he wanted to do and being a hero is something he doesn't know about, although, he did like helping people. But he doesn't like to socialize with them much. So yeah, doctor is out of the question. And he still likes to fool around with his dad’s camera equipment from time to time. He liked how much brighter things looked through the viewfinder. However, it isn't good for his vision as it makes his eye hurt when looking through it for too long— he ends up having to take his eye drops just like his dad does. How he deals with that he doesn't know. But what if.. What if he did become a hero afterall? It doesn't seem that ridiculous. If things turn south, he could just go into law enforcement or take up a boring office job. Either way….

Shota trailed his eyes back to his dad, who continued to edit photos and eat jelly. He gulped back his nerves, fearful without a rational reason. “Hey dad?” Senior hummed back in response. “Um,” He rolled the yogurt cup around between his palms. “If I really do become a hero, it wouldn't be lying… R-right?”

Senior shrugged. “I guess so. Why? You wanna be a hero after all?” He asked while his eyes were still transfixed on the laptop screen. Shota thought for a second before replying.

He nodded his head, hair swaying lightly. “Yeah. I want to help people like mom but I don't want to talk to people. I'll punch them instead.” Senior stifled a laugh, snorting in the process. He took his father’s laughter as he was making fun of him. “You dont think I'm good enough to be a hero!?” Shota asked defensively, cheeks puffed out.

Senior whipped a tear from the corner of his eye. He calmed his hysterics down enough to give his son what looked like a serious look mixed with a quivering bottom lip. “N-no! I-” He snorted mid sentence, Shota giving him an offended glare which only made him laugh a little more. “Of course I think you can be a hero!” He managed to get out.

Shota rested his elbow on the couch arm, casting the yogurt aside to rest his cheek in his palm, fiddling with a thread on his jeans. “But… What if I actually can't? What am I good for exactly? Am I even good for any type of job? My quirk-”

“Son,” Senior put his things down again and turned to face is son. “Your quirk is useful for stopping villains with dangerous quirks. Well, not mutant ones from what remember from your quirk tests, but still. It is very useful, kiddo. Even your mother would agree that you can be a hero!” His words didn't seem to get through too much. Shota still seemed low.
The elder male excused himself, heading for the hall closet, Shota watching his every move. Senior reached up and brought a box down, taking the lid off and rummaging through it. Shota squinted, puzzled. “What are you doing?” He asked. His father simply put up a finger to shush him. Shota rolled his eyes. He decided to just go over there and find out himself, he didn't need an answer from someone else but himself.

Senior pushed photo books off to the side, revealing more underneath. “Seriously dad, what are you doi-”

“AHA! Find it!” He exclaimed. Shota knelt down, sitting on his knees. He peered into the box as his dad pulled out an old photo album. “Whassat?” Shota cocked his head to the side.

Senior opened up to the first page, a foot shaped ink stamped onto the page with Shota's full name and birthdate written down. He looked up at his son with a soft smile, “It's your baby book. I started it the moment you were born, filled it up before you hit five. Your mother tried to help but she kept getting the glue and tape stuck in her hair and fingers.” He laughed.

He turned several pages until he hit the middle of the album. “What are you showing me this old stuff for?” Shota whined. Senior sat the book down on his son’s lap. He pointed out a picture of a much younger version of the eleven year old, in the picture he was three. He wore a soft yellow blanket as a cape, frog themed rain boots with the matching jacket, and a red and gray scarf around his neck. “You dressed up like this after meeting the hero Yoroi Musha. You were so excited about meeting your first hero that for two straight months you wanted to wear your ‘hero costume’.” The older man chuckled.

Shota rose a brow. “I don't remember any of this…” He mumbled. Senior reached over and turned a few pages. “Well for one thing, you were three at the time. But you were hellbent on being a hero for an entire year, that's why you still like the Yoroi Musha. He is still your favorite, right?” Shota nodded.

“But what happened then? What’d I stop for, ‘cuz I don't remember this stuff.” Senior laughed again, then it died down. “We, uh, put you in a low rated preschool, remember? Was too expensive to put you in a better one. You got your quirk not long after you started. And you got bullied for having a vil-”

“The other kids kept saying I hadda villain’s quirk. Yeah yeah, I remember that part. I’m emotionally traumatized still but it's okay. I'm numb to the pain.” He snickered.

“Anyway,” Senior chuckled. “After the bullying started you forgot all about wanting to be a hero. You went into a little funk for a week, which was when we adopted that cat for you, I'm sure you remember that. And then you forgot all about being a hero…”

A silent pause stretched between the two. Shota flipped through the little book whilst Senior stacked the others back up neatly in the box. As Shota reached the end, Senior’s wall phone rang from the kitchen, the man getting up quickly to go answer. He was silent after saying hello then yelled out, “It's your mother!” Garnering the boy’s attention.
Shota popped up, carelessly dropping the album, running past the bedroom he shared with his sister, simultaneously, and quickly, yelling, “Zuzu, mom is on the phone!”

“Mommy! Wait for me Shobro!” She ran, trying to beat her brother to the phone, wanting to answer first. However, he naturally got there faster, grabbing up the phone and smiling for once that night.

He excitedly pressed the phone to his ear and mouth, leaning on the counter to hold himself up. “Mom! Mom! I figured it out!” He was practically bouncing on the balls of his heels with a tad more euphoria than usual. “I’m gonna be a hero, mom!”

༺ ༒ ༻

Shota took a step forward, holding onto the paint chipped steel bar tightly.

“Ha! Lookit him!”

He gripped tighter as he shifted his balance to his right leg, dipping down with his left leg extending upwards.

“Oh are you in the middle of girl training? Oh my bad, I meant ‘hero training’!”

He finished his stretch, rooting his feet firmly on the waxed floor.
“He’s such a sissy boy! Fuck makes him think he can be a hero!?”
He began to stretch his arms above his head.

“Sissy boy has a villain quirk doesn't he?”

“Yeah, he'd be better off robbing convenience stores than actually stopping them!”

Ignore them, Shota thought to himself. These lessons are helping. Your balance is better. Posture has even improved, more or less that is…

He let a breath out, easing his body.

“Hey little man!” An arm was slung around his shoulders harshly, forcing him to hunch down. Shota growled lowly, quiet enough for the other boy not to hear. He rolled his eyes as the boy weighing him down began to speak again. “How are you doing buddy? Hope the boys over there aren't buggin’ ya!” He smiled down at him, but Shota knew that smile was big trouble. He knew from experience.

“Go away please. I’m trying to train.” He mumbled quietly, trying to shift out of his grasp.

“Oh but it's just your chum. Big ol’ brother Izumi!” Izumi snickered. Shota really wanted to avoid getting a new bruise today. He struggled to inch out of his grasp. “I am trying to do something. Please leave.” Shota repeated.
“But this is a community center, right? I can be here too." He retorted smugly. Shota managed to finally push the taller boy off, a sneer forming on his face briefly before hiding away from the other. Izumi shrugged it off and just smiled at him, twisting Shota’s stomach into knots. It seemed innocent but under the surface that grin held shit eating intentions. Izumi shoved his hands into his jeans pockets and took a couple steps backwards, smirking. “I get it man. Gotta get some training time in before school starts again, right?” Shota turned his attention back to the stair railing, doing a couple stretches. Izumi shook his head, turned his back and gave a halfhearted wave over his shoulder, telling him he’d see him later.

A couple hours later was when Shota decided his practice session was done. He was pretty exhausted and the rain hadn't helped, the sound lulling his eyelids to sleep as his consciousness tried to stay with him, fighting off the impending slumber. He was waiting on the curb with his umbrella drawn open, hovering over his head, handle gripped tightly. He was expecting his mother’s van to roll up any minute now, his sister glued to the window to look out of it. However, the minutes had ticked by in the same way the rain had pitter pattered; slowly.
“Hey,” Shota jolted but he didnt turn. Suddenly his umbrella was ripped from his hands, his bag and clothes now getting soaked to the bone. “I saw that you've been getting better at your reflexes. You actually caught yourself before falling today. Good job, shortie.” The dark haired boy took his sleeve and wiped the rain out of his eyes, although it was pointless as more droplets had simply found their way back on his face again.

“What is it now Watanabi?” Shota asked, exasperated. Izumi folded the umbrella away, not caring if he got wet or not. He tucked it away in his hoodie pocket and leaned an elbow onto the other’s shoulder. He smirked as he put a hand on his hip. “I told ya Shota, call me Izumi. Cut it with the formal shit.” He shrugged, Shota rolled his eyes.

“Why the hell are you so persistent?” Izumi asked as he leaned his face into Shota’s personal space.

Shota reeled his own face back, cringing. A car briefly passed the two, causing the wind to pick up and blow their hair and clothes. “Excuse me?” Izumi pulled back and stretched himself out. “You're always here every weekend, fucking stretching and shit. Doing them exercises or whatever the hell you do. Its dumb. Its pointless. Fuck’re you trying to do anyway?” He didn't try to get a word in, knowing full well the other was already going to answer himself. He took a few steps off to the side, crossing his arms over his chest. Shota just stared off into the road as every inch of him got soaked.
“Oh that's right!” He sarcastically exclaimed. “You are trying to get into UA!” He laughed and harshly hit Shota’s shoulder.

Buzzing in his pocket told him he had gotten a text, presumably his mother. He pulled his phone out and flipped it open, using his other hand as a cover from the rain. He quickly scanned the text before his phone as swiped away from him, Izumi now held it out in the open rain. Shota lunged to get it back only for Izumi to dodge him.

“Oh, so mommy dearest won't be able to pick you up, huh? Guess that gives us more time to hang out then!” He blindly tossed the mobile device back to Shota, turning away, telling him to follow. Shota stood his ground at first but then he remembered that he had his umbrella— better yet, that was his mother’s umbrella— and he needed to get it back before going home. Shota jogged after the other down the sidewalk, feet splashing in puddles, the water seeping into his shoes and soaking his socks.

Shota had finally caught up to the other who had been briskly walking through every puddle intentionally, soaking the bottom of his pants legs. “It's pointless, you know that?” Shota didn't answer, he only eyed where his umbrella was. “You aren't gonna get in. You’re weak and so is your quirk. I’d have a better chance at getting in than you do and all I can do is move air a little bit.” He snorted.

Shota dug his nails into his palmed fists, brows furrowing the longer he walked with this insufferable idiot. He was tired of this fool talking down to him. He wanted to do something but he didn't know what. Sometimes he did feel like punching him but where would that take him? Down to his level, thats where.

With his hands folded behind his head, relaxing into his palms, Izumi continued. “You'll go through the rigorous testing and then you'll fail. You'll realize that your buddy was right all along. You're not worth it. You can't be a hero on account of how horrible you are. So very untalented, Aizawa Shota. Tsk tsk, shoulda listened to me when you had the chance.” Shota called his bullshit, however it was internal as he didnt want to be punched or kicked. He was still aching from the punch to the gut from last week.

Izumi laughed. “What? Got nothin’ to say half pint!? Tongue tied today, eh!?” Shota met his red eyes, Izumi meeting boiling gray ones. Izumi wrinkled his nose, sensing the hatred rising up in Shota’s throat. “Pf, whatever mute. I gotta get going before I'm late for dinner. And you're the one making me late so don't try holding me up longer. Got it?” Shota gave him a hard glare, red peeking out from the gray, hair trembling.

Izumi took off in the opposite direction, Shota stopping in place. “Umbrella?” Izumi halted, turning his head slightly in Shota’s direction. He acted like he couldn't hear him so Shota repeated himself. Izumi took the object in question out, opening it up to cover himself. “Oh this?” He pointed up with his eyes. “Sorry but I need it more. It's mine now.”
Shota slumped, at a loss. He couldn't fight back, he'd only fail. Like Izumi had said, he’s weak right now. He can't defend himself yet.

The walk home wasn't enjoyable at all. He was soaked. Cold. Hungry too. His clothes felt heavy and it stuck to his skin. He just wanted to sit down and eat an entire bag of mint candies while listening to the rain outside the second he got home.

But that just wasn't going to happen huh!?

The moment he got home he was greeted with his mother’s bombardment of questions of where the umbrella was and why he had apparently taken the long way home. All he told her was the wind had blown the top up and that it had broken and bent the arms that held the umbrella open. He told her he had thrown the masacurred thing away, hiding the truth from her, not wanting her know of his personal dilemma as it wasnt something for her to worry about. Fumiko had immediately instructed him to take a warm bath or shower and she'd get some clean and dry clothes out. And so that's what he did. For the rest of the day, he was forced to help her with dinner and clean the living room up as his grandfather was apparently coming over from Tokyo to stay the night, as well as the following day. He went to bed earlier that night all because of the continuous badink and plinks of the rain droplets against his bedroom window. It had successfully drawn him to dream land where he got a decent amount of sleep in.

Shota finished his cereal off, sipping the last of the milk up from the bowl with one gulp, hurrying up so he could leave already. He woke up earlier that morning— 10:30 being the earliest he’s ever woken up when there wasn't any school— so he could head out for practice. Luckily the gym his gymnastics class was held in was open now and he didn't have to go to the community center. No one made fun of him there as they were all there for the same thing, more or less anyway.
Shota grabbed his newly dried bag and put his shoes on, ready to leave. He grabbed onto the handle just as his grandfather had beckoned him over. He dropped his shoulders, just wanting to leave already, however he did comply in the end. “Yeah Grandpa Asa?” He tried not to sound annoyed. His grandfather leaned forward, first moving Mizu off his knee. He looked Shota in the eyes, a soft and caring glare coming from the old man's half lidded eyes.

"You're a strong willed kid, you know that?" A soft blush crossed Shota's face for a split second. His grandfather chuckled. "Just like your mother, you work hard and I hope that pays off big time for ya." Shota shifted in place, embarrassed. His grandfather was a very respected man and it can take a lot to even get a handshake from him, much less a compliment, yet here he was giving Shota the compliments he never asked for. He beckoned the preteen closer, waving him over with his hand.

"Don't listen to that kid." Shota gripped his bag strap tightly. "W-what kid?" He pretended not to understand but his grandfather saw right through it.

"I saw yesterday. Cab wouldn't stop to let me out or pick you up and I didn't want to bring it up last night." There weren't many cars out yesterday, unless…. The car that passed them! Shota didn't need this, it was his business and his to deal with alone. "D-don't tell mom!" He pleaded. "She'll freak and overreact and that'll stress her and—" Mizu grabbed his shirt hem, looking up at him with big eyes. He stopped his stuttering protest.

"Look son," Asa leaned down to pick the six year old back up, groaning as he righted himself and the girl moved around in his lap. "If I have to, I will tell her. Either stand up against that boy today or be his punching for the rest of however long you'll be around him." Asa was a tough, take-nothing man. He was a brain surgeon and even briefly studied human psychology and ethics. Everyone knew that it was impossible to break a promise or lie to this man.

"But Grandpa—" Asa interrupted him with a puff up of his hair and a rise of his brow. Shota forgot the one rule when talking his grandfather; no buts. To him, buts were a sign of an unwillingness to move forward. Of the potential to quit. Not necessarily a sign of weakness, far from it actually. Asa judges others on their use of speech and mannerisms. And right now, he wasn't liking those knitted brows full of the fear of being a burden to others, his tight lips fitted in a line saying "I have to keep it to myself", and his dark eyes hiding so much personal worry that it could fill a warehouse. Asa sighed, readjusting the girl on his lap who played with his shirt buttons. "Sho," Shota's nose crinkled as his eyes gained a new flash of worry. "I won't tell your mother—"
"Tell me what?" Fumiko came in, tying her hair into a short ponytail. Shota stilled in place. He was not ready for Fumiko to know yet. He didn't want her to worry or stress! She had Mizu to take care of and work to do! She—
"I wanted to pass a little extra lunch money before he left. He insisted he didn't need it but I keep pushing him to take it." Fumiko shot him a glare. "Papa, if Sho doesn't want to take the money he doesn't have to." Shota was about to say something when Asa pulled him down by the wrist, taking out a couple of 1000 yen bills and crumpling it in his grandson's palm. He leaned in close to his ear to whisper, "Stand up for yourself kid. I believe in you." He pulled away, smiling with an added wink.

Shota didn't know how to respond so instead he gave a nod, stuffing the crumpled bills in his pockets.
On the way to practice, he thought about it. About actually standing up to Izumi. He isn't too skilled in fighting— and in no way was he actually going to fight him, well he thought about it but… nevermind— and Izumi had a naturally strong build and a height advantage as his upper hand. Sure, Shota had signed up for some combat classes and he could learn some things from those. But then again, those classes start early summer and he had a few months until that came rolling around. So where does that leave him now? No where. Exactly. Same as the start.

Shota took a turn for the train station and just as he turned he saw him. Oh what a coincidence. What an absolute joy. "Mornin' lil' bro!" Izumi smiled and waved like nothing happened the previous day, just like always. Shota just scowled, sticking his bottom lip out and creasing his brows. "D'aw, bro! Don't be like that man!" He strolled over and slung his arm around his shoulders, weighing himself down on the shorter male.
"Wha d'ya want, Watanabi!?" Shota snapped, teeth clenched as tightly as his fits were. No. No calm down, Shota thought. Izumi backed off a bit. But only a bit. "Woah hey! Who crawled up your ass and made you cranky eh!?" Izumi scoffed. He straightened up, retracting his arm to rest at his side.

Shota didn't answer, of course, it was just a smartass question anyway. The shorter of the two sped up so he could catch his train ride to the gymnasium on time. But the taller caught up, not getting the idea. Of course he didn't...

Several minutes went by. Izumi kept up with his demeaning words and rude comments about Shota's "failing attempts to be a hero", all of which were said in a seemingly kind, cheery tone. He was so annoying. And an idiot too. What does he gain from doing this? A medal? A certificate? A free pass into any top hero academy within Japan? Nothing is worth bullying another person. Nothing can be gained from lowering the spirits of another human being. Absolutely nothing!
A train slowly came into the station, not Shota's unfortunately. He has at least seventeen more minutes until it came. Shota groaned internally. He plopped his duffle down and relaxed against the column behind him, leaning his head on it, closing his eyes. Maybe if he closed his eyes he could ignore the fool next to him. Or he'd go away. Maybe forever. Maybe—

"I'M TALKING TO YOU, SHORT STACK!" Izumi yelled right. In. His. Ear. What the fuck!? Shota was losing his patience already. He was losing his grasp on his temper.

But no. No that's not the right way to handle this. Its stepping down to his level of things. "Helloooooooo!" Izumi waved a hand in front of Shota's face but he ignored it. Instead he focused on the remaining passengers leaving the train. Izumi began to poke his side and further insult his height, the constant poking causing the victim to sway. "Please stop…" Shota mumbled through tightly gritted teeth. He must've not heard him or he ignored the request as he poked into his side harder, hitting a rib. Shota's right bottom eyelid began to twitch, his nostrils already flared as his anger toppled, bubbling over the lid and messing the floor. "I said please stop…" His breathing began to increase, shaking like the bubbling roar of a boiling pot of water. He didn't stop. He pricked his side over and over and over and—

It stopped.

Finally.

"OW!" Shota gripped his wrist. Tightly. Retraining him. His hair stood on end, eyes glowing that menacing, piercing, blood red glare.

The train left the station, the sound reverberating through his eardrums louder than usual.
"L-let go, dumbass!" Izumi tried to pull away. "I said let go!"

"And I said," Shota turned his head towards the boy who coward down, eyes as wide as saucers. "Please. Stop." Izumi's breath caught in his throat. "F-fucking psycho…!" The taller choked out. "Let go of me! Hey, c'mon!" As he wriggled in place Shota let go, the boy falling to the ground with a thud.

"Why?" Shota's hair went down, resting on his shoulders where it had previously rested. Izumi said nothing so Shota repeated his question, this time with more force. The boy quivered on the ground from Shota's quaking voice.

"WHY DO YOU GO AFTER ME!? WHY ME!?" Shota screamed, tears welling in his eyes. "I DID ABSOLUTELY NOTHING WRONG TO YOU! ALL I'VE DONE WAS LIVE MY LIFE!" Izumi backed away. Around them, some other waiting passengers looked on, visible concern illuminating their faces but no one acting upon that concern. "Sh-Sho… Come on man, I was jus' pla—"

"PLAYinG!?" His voice rose a pitch higher, simultaneously cracking. "YOU'VE MADE ME FEEL LIKE SHIT! IS THAT REALLY HOW YOU PLAY!?" Shota stepped closer, choking on a sob as he looked down on the boy below him. A few bystanders ran off, some pulled out their phones just in case— but other than that, they did nothing. "I-I—" Shota sobbed, balling his fists into a tense vise. "I WANT TO KNOW WHY. WHY YOU ALWAYS DID IT TO ME." His fist rose, in a ready stance. He reeled it back, a mighty blow packed into that one, white knuckled mitt. "WHY!?" Tears streamed down his cheeks as he brought his fist down towards Izumi, aiming for him with the intention of harm.
Izumi squeezed his eyes, ready for impact. But it never came.

Shota's fist was caught. It was caught by an older, stronger hand. Shota's wide eyes trailed up, black orbs starting at the wedding band and ending on that familiar gray whiskered face; Grandpa Asa.
"You know," Asa began in his low, gravelly voice. "When I said 'stand up for yourself', I didn't mean hit him." He pushed his grandson's arm down, disarming him, stern scowl to his aging features. "That is not how you deal with these sorta things, son."

Shota stared, disappointed at himself. Shota looked back down at Izumi, who laid there with a terrified expression. And, as much as he hated to, he said, "I'm
sorry.."

༺ ༒ ༻

The sun shined through the passing clouds as the future pro heroes made their way to UA high school. For some, the already beautiful day was a good omen. For others, like Shota, that wasn't the case. His eyes, weighing down with dark circles, seemed soulless, absent of any signs of life. He leaned his head, full of still matted noir long hair, on his best friend's shoulder.

Although, Yamada Hizashi didn't mind at all. In fact, he urged it on. He just couldn't let his best friend walk along with a droopy half asleep attitude, so he had to do something, right? Yeah, so maybe walking along and propping your head on another's shoulder isn't healthy for your posture. But hey, who gives? Seventeen is a long way from the average death expectancy for males. Life is never too short.

The two walked along almost carelessly. Hizashi was the conversation maker, while Shota would just listen halfheartedly.
"...ay up last night, Shota?" The long haired boy lifted his head up at the mention of his name.

"What?" He asked. "I asked you how long you stayed up last night. Your eye bags look darker and baggier today. Did you get any sleep, yo?"

"Gee thanks. I moisturize them with sleep deprivation and depression every night." The young blond snickered at his friend's sarcastic answer. "Anyway, not really. To be completely honest I stayed up playing my games."

"Seriously? Again?"

"I'm almost done with most of them so it wasn't a complete mistake."

The blond punched his friend on the shoulder scoldingly. He pouted and said, "Stop playing games so late at night, dummy. 'Specially when the next day is the first day of school.

"Like your the one to talk. Don't you stay up at night listening to music or wandering your apartment complex?"

".....no."

Shota shook his head. Hizashi changed the subject and led the conversation once again.

They talked about random things for 20 more minutes until they finally reached the school. It would've been faster, but Shota is a slow walker and Hizashi tries to match his pace. He didn't mind at all either. Whatever Shota needed, Hizashi was always down with it.
As they both walked down the familiar halls of UA, people began to shout hellos to them. Well, more specifically Hizashi than Shota. Shota hadn't been so sociable in his previous two years attending UA, but for some reason he did attract some of the very sociable ones.

Kids they've seen around who're in the hero course as well and their own classmates all gave Hizashi quick high fives or bright smiles accompanied by friendly greetings. Although, most completely ignored Shota. He didn't mind all too much, it was just he found it annoying that when he was noticed, people seemed to eyeball him. His sleepy careless demeanor next to an optimistic personified vocal cord wasn't something most expected.
The two made their way to Class 3-A's homeroom where they met with a few classmates. Hizashi took his usual seat in the back by the windows, and Shota claimed his window seat; sometimes in class when he got bored, he'd look outside wishing he could just sleep in the tall grass. Hizashi always sat next to him since the day they met. It was just routine.
One classmate, a girl, walked to the two with a huge grin plastered on her face. With a grunt, Shota hid his face to avoid her.

Hizashi, however, said, "Hey, Fukukado. What's up?" Hizashi waved enthusiastically.

"Nothin' much," She smiled. "Just excited to mess with Grumpy Cat." Fukukado poked at the raven haired mop Shota called hair.

Shota batted her hand away, signalling her to leave him alone.
"Awwwww! C'mon, 'Zawa!" Fukukado whined. "We haven't seen each other all summer! You didn't respond to any of my texts!"

"He blocked your number after day 1, text number 25." Hizashi leaned on his hand, chuckling a bit.

"What!? Oh come on, Shota! Seriously?? It took a year and a half to get your phone number and you block me!?" Fukukado cried out.

The irritated boy lifted his head up, emotionless eyes on display."You texted me after school let out for summer. I hadn't even left the building when you began spamming me." He said in a monotone voice. "Plus, if you wanted to see me, all you had to do is go to the hospital on weekends. Me and my sister are always there waiting for our mom to get off."

"So you're okay with me bugging you in person rather than over messenger?"

"I hate texting. And phone calls. And talking to people. Ask Hizashi." He pointed to the blond next him. He nodded his head in confirmation. "He doesn't really stay on his phone too much anyways. Says its bad for his eyes." He shrugged.

"Oh, alright." Fukukada nodded in understanding. "But hey, why do you go to work with your mom on weekends?"

Shota shrugged. "Dads always too overwhelmed with reserved photoshoots. Mom usually has two or three surgeries a day so me and my sister just hang in the lobby or the cafeteria all day. Other days, we're with my dad and I just train or get bothered by Hizashi."

"Hmph. Cool."

"'Zashi, Emi, Sho! Hey!" A boy, rivaling Hizashi's height, walked in and shouted. He waved at the trio, who, two of three, smiled.

"Ten! Hey, bro!" Hizashi greeted.
"Guess what! Guess what! Guess what!" Iida jumped up and down in place.

"Oh my god. The hell'd you eat for breakfast, Tensei?" Fukukado snickered.

"Guess what, dangit!!" He slapped his hands on Hizashi's desk, a huge smile plastered on his face.
"Your going to cut a smidge of leg off to stop being so freakishly tall?" Shota deadpanned.

"What?" Iida's face turned into confusion. "No! I wouldn't be able to walk or be a pro! And I'm not freakishly tall!!"

"Then what do you got Tensei us? Eh? Eh? Get it? To say—Tensei? 'Cause its your name, and.... Um... Fuck you." Fukukado laughed at her own failed joke.

"You've decided to say screw being a pro hero and became a stripper instead!" Hizashi yelled out.

"And your stripper name is Elbow Deep!" Fukukado added. "I knew  Kayama was onto something!"

"You guys are terrible at guessing, I swear...." Iida trailed off.

"Hey, you didn't deny it!" Pinching his temples, Iida said, "Guys no…."

"What is it theeeeen!?" Fukukado continued to whine. Iida chuckled. "I got a promised spot for a really good sidekickship with O'clock! He said he was impressed with my work study last year and he wants to see me again this year and after!"

"Sweeeeeet!" Fukukado squealed.
"Nice." Shota congratulated.

"Fuck yeah dude!" Hizashi offered a fist bump. Shota was happy for his friend. He really was, despite his composer. He was talented and everything. But then there was himself. It would take a miracle for Shota to find an agency willing to take him in.
More students came into the classroom, filling it up to its full capacity. Just as the last bit of students filed in, the bell rang to signal the start of homeroom and then general classes to follow.
And the beginning of their last year.

And so, their first class of their last year began…

Finally it was over!

Their teacher in the hero course decided it would be a wonderful idea to start out the new year with some sparing. Everyone was exhausted to say the least. Even Shota was and he actually liked sparring!

The pair of friends walked off school campus together like they always do. They always took the longer route to avoid the younger students who would harass them, knowing they were UA students.
As they took their preferred path, Hizashi, keeping his pace as close to Shota's as possible, began to rant about the homework they'd already received from their general studies classes. His other half listened intently this time, mainly because the cockatoo haired half was using a bit of his quirk while talking. He didn't bother quieting him down since no one else was on this road.

"....I don't even remember how to divide fractions, why give us this stuff if we're gonna forget!?" Hizashi complained.

"Because," Shota began. "He knows no one, like you, studied over the summer. Except I did. It's going to be a breeze for me." He commented smugly with a smirk. "Shotaaaaaaa." The loud junior hero pouted. Shota pushed his friend a little to the side in a playful manner. "Shut up, loud mouth." He played around.

"Fine. If you know this crap so well, then I'm coming over to your house!"

"Why can't you ask your parents for help?" Shota asked.

"They're out patrolling late tonight." Hizashi quickly responded.

"Alright. Guess your having dinner with us tonight?" Hizashi nodded. "Yeah. Mom and dad don't usually get home until almost midnight now. Crime rate has gone up recently."

"I know. Mom's been getting a lot of emergency surgeries for villains because they get too hurt during fights. She hates it but its her job to fix idiots." Hizashi laughed. "Don't laugh. It's something she actually says a lot. It's serious." That only made the blond laugh more. Shota shook his head, dismissing the ordeal and laughing too.

The two continued to walk down the secluded road to his home. The sun was setting as it reached the final sign to the day's end. They both continued to talk about trivial things, as they always did.

The two boys were chilling in Shota's bedroom, listening to his American indie music. He may not understand the lyrics that well, as they were in English, but he was fond of the relaxing melody. Hizashi had introduced the genre to him some time after they had met. Before then, he could really care less what he was listening to. Now, he really liked the mix of music Hizashi listened to. It was nice.

The volume was low so the other inhabitants in the house could sleep, but it was loud enough for the two to hear it clearly. Hizashi was sprawled out on his friend's bed, dressed in some of the spare clothes he's always kept in his friend's closet. Shota was sitting on the floor playing with his chubby orange cat— Coonie passed away some years ago and he adopted this rescue cat named Salmon. When the track ended, the baggie eyed boy got up to change the CD out. However, before he could, Hizashi spoke up, "Hey, Shota?"

Shota looked back at his usually bubbly friend, who now had a somewhat depressing tone. He walked over to the bed and sat down next to the other's long legs.

"What is it?" Shota asked back, curious about the new peculiar tone.

"Could I... Could I stay here tonight?" He asked in a low voice. Unusual, Shota thought. "You already know you can stay whenever. Don't gotta ask." Shota shrugged.

"Okay."

Shota looked more closely at the other boy lying on his bed. His head was hiding beneath his arms, something he never really did unless he was tired or upset. The whole ordeal made Shota's brows raise in concern. He shuffled closer to his friend and laid down across the bed on his stomach, almost copying Hizashi's pose. "What's wrong, 'Zashi?" He used his nickname. He was definitely concerned.

The other looked away sheepishly.
"'Zashi?" Shota asked again.

The blond in question seemingly ignored him.

"'Zashi? What's the matter?" He repeated.

When he didn't get a response, Shota moved closer and, although he disliked it physically comfort himself, hugged his friend. It was awkward considering how the other was sprawled out, but oh well. It must've caught Hizashi off guard as he jolted at the sudden contact.

"You can tell me, loud mouth," The monotone boy tried his hand at comforting the other. "You always listen to my bullshit."

It took a few moments, but Hizashi moved away a smidge and sat up. Shota followed his movements.

"I'm honestly scared." He tried to say it loudly but for once he couldn't.

"Scared of what?"

"This school year...."

Shota's bloodshot eyes softened. Of course he'd be scared. It was the final year and then they'd get official hero license. He'd be graduated. An adult. Who wouldn't be scared?

"Mom told me about what happened in her last school year. About how she almost dropped out because of how much they were.... Pushing her. It was mostly her parents, yeah, but her work study also pushed her. Like way too much..." He continued, sitting up. Shota followed.

"You can make it through, Hizashi."

"I know, but..." He trailed off, looking down.

"Hizashi?"

"I just.... I have this gut feeling that this year won't be what I expected."

"Now that's just anxiety talking." Shota "reassured" as he placed a hand on his shoulder.

"No, like.... Well, yeah I guess so, but... UGH!" He groaned and fell back on the bed, arms crossing over his face almost dramatically.
Shota decided to once again copy his motions and fell back, landing next to Hizashi's head, crossing his arms under his head.

"I can't explain how it feels! It just seems like something is gonna happen and I can't help but think that it's something I do to make the something happen!"

Shota knocked on the tuft of blond hair Hizashi donned. "That's too many 'things' in one sentence. Aren't you excelling in Lit class? Or was that Nemmie…." He trailed.

"I'm being serious, Shota...." Hizashi said lowly. Shota sighed. He wasn't the best when it came to consoling others.

"I know. I'm just trying to do what do for me when I'm being a dipshit. Well, you aren't being a dipshit, but I always am when I'm ranting to you about useless crap." He clarified with a chuckle. Hizashi groaned again. "Uh, well, what your talking about isn't useless crap! Its true shit that matters... And shit...?" Shota's pale cheeks grew red in color as he fumbled with his words.

"You are the worst pep talker in the history of alL PEP TALKERS!" Hizashi screamed out, accidentally using his quirk some.
Shota covered his ears from the sudden unbearable rise in noise level. "Volume, Hizashi!" Shota yelled.

The bedroom door slammed opened with force, an angry and annoyed Fumiko glaring at them with hair flowing. "I have an estimated eight hour surgery tomorrow and I'm on call until two in the morning! Either be quiet or sleep outside!"

"Yes ma'am! Sorry Miss Fumiko!" Hizashi sheepishly apologized.
Shota rolled his eyes. "Sorry mom..."

Satisfied by their answers, Shota's mother walked off, her long black hair swishing behind her.

"Shit...." Hizashi muttered.

"Don't feel bad about waking mom up. Or possibly waking up half the apartment's inhabitants. You've done it a few times before."
Hizashi rolled over to his side, staring at the white wall now. "Wake me up when it's time to graduate."

With a sigh, Shota switched how he was to fall asleep for the night, or at least nap. He was now laying by Hizashi's feet at the end of his bed. He took the covers and made an effort to evenly distribute it across the two.

This was something the two often did when having a sleepover.
Shota woke up to a thud. He jolted upright and looked around his dark room. In the shadows, he could barely make out a silhouette fumbling around. He swung his legs around to the edge of the bed. He looked back at where Hizashi was sleeping, thinking maybe he fell off in his sleep again. "'Zashi?" Shota asked the void, his voice cracking slightly from just waking up.

"Shit! Sorry Shota, I didn't mean to wake you." Hizashi apologized, voice barely above a whisper.
Shota reached over to a lamp sitting on his desk and turned it on. When he looked back over to Hizashi, he was trying to put his uniform pants on both legs at a time, his uniform shirt a half buttoned mess. Shota squinted at him. "The hell are you doing?"
"Uh, shit," He cursed as he tired to jump up and down to slide his pants on. "Dad called me fourteen times an hour ago. I didn't wake up until I heard my text tone go off because Mom sent, like, twelve texts just now, saying she's about to call the damn cops!"

"Shit..." Shota trailed off.

"I knew should've texted them both!"

"Okay, slow down, 'Zashi. One leg at a time before you fall down on your ass." Shota sighed as he began to help his friend. "So your gonna go back home and sleep for another hour and a half?"

"I du-" Before Hizashi could finish his sentence he fell on the floor. "Fuck!" He cursed loudly.

"Quiet it down. Here," Shota bent down to eye level. "Let me help you."

Shota began fixing his friend's crudely buttoned shirt while Hizashi properly put his pants on. Shota helped him stand up, helping him find the rest of his uniform pieces.

After finding his things, Hizashi ran from the room without a word. Shaking his head with a sigh, Shota ran after him.

The raven haired boy followed his blond friend to the kitchen. "Fuck're you doing now?"

"Stealing some food." Shota shrugged.

"Don't take the left over curry, then. Mizu will have a fit."

"I'm just grabbing a couple pieces of bread and then I'm leaving."

"Alright, then I'm going back to bed. Or have a new mental breakdown since it's almost four thirty anyway. See ya on the way to school." With that, Shota walked off, leaving Hizashi with his bread.

The morning was as sunny as it was the previous day. Not many clouds were out, the yellow to purple to blue gradient looked beautiful and peaceful. "Bye mom." Shota yelled as he stepped out of the door, sister in tow.

"Make sure to drop your sister off at her friend's and not a nursery." His mom yelled out quickly. "Her friend's house is an alleyway, right?"

"Shota. Aizawa. Jr." She warned through her teeth.

"I'm joking, mom. Jeez..." The pair walked down and out of the apartment complex. They followed their daily school routine; walking to the start of the road that leads to Hizashi's apartments to wait for him, drop Mizu off with her friend's so she could go to school with them, head off to school. It was a short routine he'd been doing since his first year at UA.

"Pencil top?" Mizu asked, using the nickname that only she was allowed to use. "Hm?" Shota briefly looked down to his sister then returned his gaze to the birds in the trees.

"When can I go to your school?"

"When you get older and stronger."

"I am strong! Its not possible to be more strongerer than me!" Mizu beamed. She posed herself in a "heroic" stance.

"You throw up every time you go higher than three ft on the swing." Mizu stomped. "Nuh-uh!" She defended.

"What're you talkin' 'bout? Your already super strong Miz!" Hizashi popped up behind Shota, placing his hands on each of his shoulders. He greeted the two with a flashy grin, extending from ear to ear.

"He knows what's true!" Mizu exclaimed. The older blond extended his hand for the younger blonde. She gave him a high five and smiled.

Shota began to walk ahead and asked, "Hey. How'd explaining to your parents go?"

The two blonds started to follow. "I came home with two pieces of bread in hand and that, surprisingly, was the only thing my mom questioned." Hizashi snickered. "Dad was asleep, though."

"Why did you have bread?" Mizu asked.

"You didn't know? He's a bread thief. Only reason he's my friend is so he could steal our bread at four in the morning." Shota looked down to his sister with a blank expression, voice still in his regular tone; dull and boring.
"Yep. I'm the local bread thief." Hizashi confirmed with a wink. "Pumpernickel bread is my favorite to take."

"Nooo! I need my bread for toast and peanut butter jellies!" She whined. Hizashi broke out into laughter as Shota simply walked along, Mizu still pouting. The rest of their trip was innocently making fun of how gullible the eight year old was.

~~~~~~~~~~~~
12,374 words hell yeah 😎
Happy birthday to Aizawa Shota, the very tired teacher and pro hero who really should get a year off lmao

Also: If you guys want story notes that explain a few things and even have the cuts I made, just ask. I just need to reformat them so they're easier for others read.