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Hitoshi Shinsou feels predisposed to dislike Izuku Midoriya long before ever meeting him.
Rumors float around U.A. about the class who faced off against the League of Villains at U.S.J. and the boy who came up with a plan to save the day. Izuku Midoriya has a quirk like All Might’s and strategic brains like Sir Nighteye. He saved a girl’s life on at the U.A. Entrance Exam. He’s going to be the next big thing. Everyone knows it.
Hitoshi, who had no chance at the entrance exam because he can’t brainwash robots, can only imagine what it would feel like to have life so easy. On the morning of the Sports Festival, he stares at the pamphlet in his hand and tries hard to breathe. This is his last shot, and he knows it.
A commotion among other U.A. students draws his attention. He watches as Neito Monoma taunts Class 1-A, then makes his typical dramatic exit.
Hitoshi approaches Neito. “What was that all about?” Neito has a theatrical streak, but he usually isn’t that much of a jerk for no reason.
Neito hunches over his shoulders. After a moment, he says, “I can’t stand Izuku Midoriya.”
Hitoshi waits. His friendship with Nieto seems unlikely, since one is a hero student and the other in general studies. But they immediately bonded over their pasts—Hitoshi was always treated like a future villain for his quirk and Neito was called a cheater for using his. People like them need to stick together.
With a soft sigh, Neito admits, “When I first met him, I thought he was like us.”
“Him? The golden boy?” Hitoshi snorts.
“Yeah, I know.” Neito shrugs. “He had all the signs: jumpiness, uncertainty every time he opened his mouth, lack of trust in teachers. A few days after the start of school, I was playing around with other students copying their quirks. He very politely asked me not to ever copy his. I immediately thought that he had a supposedly villainous quirk that he was keeping quiet. I had a hunch he might even be quirkless. So I agreed.”
“Then you found out about his real quirk after U.S.J.” Hisashi nods, understanding. He can’t help feeling like Izuku has no right to act so anxious when he was born at the top of the quirk food chain with every advantage. It’s not fair—he knows it’s not fair, Izuku might have plenty of other hidden problems in his life—but that’s still how he feels.
“He had the type of flashy, powerful ability that everyone praises. No reason to hide it. I guess he turned out to be just another asshole who was scared of my ‘evil’ quirk.” Neito scowls. “I felt tricked, even though I suppose I had no reason. He never said anything about what his quirk might be.”
“I get it,” Hitoshi says. They both share the same desperate desire to prove themselves and envy of those who don’t need to. “We’ll beat him in the Sports Festival.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Neito waves as he leaves.
With Neito fallen, it comes down to Hitoshi to carry on the banner for those with villainous quirks.
His palms sweat as he faces down Izuku Midoriya in their one-on-one match. Hitoshi feels ashamed of the cruel words he tossed out to trick the other boy into responding to him, yet also a certain bitter triumph. He did it. He won.
Under brainwashing, Izuku walks toward out of bounds. Hitoshi doesn’t feel guilty. He doesn’t.
Shadows form in the air around Izuku. Seven—no, eight. A flash of glowing green eye and a hoarse whisper.
Then two of Izuku Midoriya’s fingers break, and he runs back into the center of ring.
After the match, Izuku tells him, “You have an amazing quirk, Shinsou.” Sincerity radiates from his big, green eyes.
Perversely, this only makes Hitoshi dislike him even more. What right does Izuku have to get the strongest quirk and a strong will and to be a naturally kind person too? It’s not fair, how Izuku gets to have fun competing in the Sports Festival and becoming a hero when to Hitoshi, it’s his only means of survival. The only way to shake off the label of villain.
“Whatever. It wasn’t enough to beat you.” Hands in his pockets, Hitoshi slouches off. Izuku looks crestfallen, and that only irritates him even more.
In the line at the cafeteria, Neito brushes against Izuku. Hitoshi is close enough to recognize the flash of power from copying a quirk.
Then Neito staggers backward, screaming and clutching his face.
Hitoshi runs forward to catch his friend. Clutching his arm, Neito mumbles, “It was dark. So dark. I was trapped in the darkness.”
“I’m sorry!” Izuku waves his hands. “I did tell you not to try to steal it. It’s very touchy about being stolen.”
“Back off, you’re only making him more nervous.” Hitoshi holds up a hand in the stop position. “I’ll take him to the infirmary.”
“Of course.” Izuku hangs his head and slouches away. His kicked puppy face could make a stone feel guilty.
Hitoshi slings one of Neito’s arms over his shoulder and heads for the door. Neito keeps shivering and mumbling.
From a table, Katsuki Bakugo shouts, “Get your damn quirk under control, Deku! You’re a menace! Only four-year-olds are allowed to use the excuse of only having their quirk for a few months. Hero students should be faster learners, if you’re worthy of being one.”
“Sorry, Kacchan.” Izuku hangs his head.
Behind Izuku, his shadow blurs and grows, developing as many heads as a hydra. A dark tendril reaches out and flips Katsuki’s lunch tray into his face. He howls.
Hitoshi is too stunned to think about that part. Izuku only had his quirk for a few months? Then he went through all of middle school quirkless?
The quirkless are treated even worse than those with so-called villainous quirks. The latter are feared, the former relentlessly beaten on. No wonder Izuku is so jumpy. Hitoshi owes Izuku an apology, and he knows it.
After lurking around the school entranceway totally not stalling, Hitoshi eventually catches Izuku without any of his friends.
Running forward, Hitoshi asks, “Do you have a moment?”
Izuku is mumbling something about the day’s lesson. “Oh! Of course!” He looks up with a hopeful smile, as if Hitoshi hasn’t been hostile to him every other time they’ve encountered each other.
Hitoshi shuffles his feet. “I owe you an apology. I’ve been rude to you for no reason. I’m sorry.”
Izuku shrugs. “I don’t think you’ve been particularly rude.”
“Then you’ve been treated so badly by people like Bakugo that you’ve come to expect it.” As soon as the words leave Hitoshi’s mouth, he regrets them. It’s not right to expose someone else’s past with bullying. He hangs his head. “Sorry again. I’m sure that was private.”
Izuku says, “No one else seems to notice.”
“Someone else who’s been bullied before can tell right away.”
Izuku’s gaze suddenly turns piercing. “People bullied you because of your quirk, didn’t they? That’s why you didn’t believe me when I said it was cool. But I meant it. I promise.”
Hitoshi scuffs his foot on the pavement. “I get why people are scared of me. It’s terrifying to lose control of your own body.”
“But there are so many situations where you could stop a villain from hurting someone without violence. It’s perfect for a hero.”
“You’re just saying that because any quirk is better than no quirk.” Hitoshi flushes. He’s put his foot in his mouth again. “I’m sorry.” If he keeps saying that, it will eventually lose all meaning. He needs to explain himself. “You didn’t deserve that. I’m touchy about my quirk, as you’ve no doubt noticed. My grandfather is a famous villain. A hero nerd like you can probably guess who.”
Izuku nods.
Hitoshi continues, “My mom had a different quirk so she could hide the connection, but after I got Brainwashing, my dad realized and left us. Ever since I was young, my mom kept insisting that I had to grow up to become a hero so I could prove everyone who called me a villain wrong. I don’t even know if I want to become a hero. But she was right—if I don’t, I’ll always be labeled a villain. It’s the only path I can take. That’s why I’m so desperate. Besides, everyone says I owe society for what my grandfather did, and I guess this is the only way I can repay that debt.”
Izuku says, “I don’t know what to tell you.” He tilts his head as if listening. “But there’s someone else who wants to talk to you. Will you listen?”
“Sure,” Hitoshi says, despite feeling deeply confused.
Izuku’s posture completely shifts. His spine straightens. The perpetual warmth on his face is gone, replaced by a hard look. When he speaks, his tone is commanding. “In my time, all quirks were considered villainous. That only changed when the majority had them. What society decides to discriminate is completely arbitrary. The Bakugo brat can set people on fire—who decided that was less scary than mind control? You have no reason to feel ashamed of the power you were born with.”
Izuku shifts, his shoulders slumping and his body language becoming more casual. A different voice emerges from his mouth, gruffer. “Leader is right, but I also wanted to tell you that you shouldn’t become a hero just to please someone else. This is a dangerous job. You could die. Don’t put your life on the line unless you truly believe in the cause.”
Green light blazes forth from Izuku’s eyes. His voice gentles. “I know what it’s like to feel responsible for your family member’s crimes. My friends helped me get over that. I’ll tell you what they told me: you’re only responsible for your own actions. No one writes your life’s story except yourself.”
“Uhhhh…” Hitoshi says, because he doesn’t know how else to respond.
Regular Izuku is back, a familiar sweet smile on his face. “Did that help?”
“Yes,” Hitoshi says weakly, largely because he doesn’t want a repeat performance. His knees are shaking. The presence of that thing! Ancient and vast and unknowable!
“Great! I’m glad we’re friends now.” Izuku leaves without explaining how he reached that particular conclusion.
Later, Hitoshi visits Neito in the infirmary and asks, “Did you see those things around Izuku too?”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Neito says, aggressively chewing on an apple from his Get Well Soon Basket. “If you believe in things like that, it only encourages them.”
“Things like—?”
“Don’t speak that word you’re about to speak.” Neito wags his finger. “I don’t believe in the supernatural. I saw nothing.” He raises his voice. “Do you hear me? I don’t believe in you! That means you have no power over me!”
Hitoshi gives Neito another apple because it looks like he needs one.
Hitoshi and Izuku walk down the street carrying shopping bags laden with comic books. Somehow Hitoshi has become Izuku’s friend rather against his own will, but he can’t find it in himself to regret it.
When something dark brushes against Hitoshi’s ankle, he screams and jumps a foot in the air. He cries, “Izuku, stop it!” As Neito advised, Hitoshi has made it his business to ignore Izuku’s peculiarities, but not if they’re going to grab him from below like a zombie rising out of the grave.
“What did I do?” Izuku asks with sincere innocence, followed by, “I think something’s wrong.”
As soon as it’s been pointed out, Hitoshi notices, too. The street is eerily silent and deserted of all other people. Downtown in the middle of the day, that shouldn’t be possible. He grabs his phone.
“Stop.” The creepily high-pitched voice echoes down the street. The man wears a dark coat and hunches over. Hitoshi knows that clown-like face from countless newspaper articles ground in his face as a child. Dictator. His grandfather.
Threads lash out from the coat and fasten onto both Hitoshi and Izuku. “Allow me to make that an order,” the villain says. “Drop your phone.”
The phone tumbles from Hitoshi’s numb fingers.
Dictator does a hideous little dance of glee. “I knew it! I’m stronger than you! As soon as I heard of a descendant with my power, I knew it must be a watered-down version. Now I’ve proven it! I’m still the strongest villain!”
Of all the stupid reasons for Hitoshi to die, this must be at the top of the list. Hunted down by the villain who’s plagued his entire life just to prove whose quirk is stronger. If he could speak, he’d apologize to Izuku for dragging him into this mess.
Dictator’s creepy grin widens. “I can’t have you reproducing and spreading around more lesser copies of my quirk.” He orders Izuku, “Strangle him to death.”
Izuku doesn’t move. Sweat drips down his face. Hitoshi wishes he could tell his friend that it’s all right, it’s not his fault. But under Dictator’s thrall, he can’t even twitch.
Izuku’s shadow grows and swells in size. Then he rises into the air. Darkness forms writhing tentacles around him. His eyes glow bright green.
Static whispers come from the shadows. The chorus rises into a booming voice that might or might not be coming from Izuku’s mouth. “You dare to control us? We are that which cannot be taken by force!”
The shadow on the ground multiples until it shows eight people, one of whom looks oddly like All Might (always a fanboy, Hitoshi thinks hysterically). The eighth shadow keeps blinking in and out of existence.
A blast of wind knocks Hitoshi onto his back. The eight shadows pounce on Dictator. He howls as they hold him down with their wispy hands. A terrified stream of babble and orders comes from his lips.
Izuku bellows, “You call yourself the greatest villain? You’re not even in our top twenty.” None to gently, Dictator’s coat is used to tie his arms and legs. The voice becomes oddly feminine as it hisses, “You’re lucky we don’t want Nineth to deal with the ramifications of killing you.”
Any possible reply from Dictator is cut off by his head being slammed into the pavement. The thread attached to Hitoshi falls off. He can move again—except he’s still paralyzed by terror. Whatever the hell is possessing Izuku, Hitoshi feels glad it’s on their side.
The shadows withdraw, sucked back into Izuku. Sunlight returns to the street.
Izuku runs over and extends his hand. “Hitoshi, are you okay?”
“I am now. Thanks to you.” Hitoshi grabs Izuku’s hand.
“About what you saw—”
“Me? I saw nothing.” Hitoshi winks. “Must have been because of the mindcontrol.”
Hitoshi knows the truth now. Izuku has always been quirkless—he’s just haunted by seven and a half extremely powerful but insane ghosts. But Hitoshi will never speak a word, not even to Izuku himself. He’ll take the secret to his grave.
People like them need to stick together.
