Chapter Text
The sterile bedroom ceiling drilled into Hitoshi’s eye sockets, seemingly taunting him over his pounding migraine. He shut his eyelids and instead fixated on the warmth of Cappuccino, the family cat, curled up on his chest. Running a hand over cream-colored fur, Hitoshi let out a wistful sigh. Think calm thoughts.
Yet flashes of landmines on the obstacle coursed through his mind. Images of fire and ice swirling in the arena. Adrenaline pumped through Hitoshi’s veins at the memory of Midoriya almost stepping out of bounds. Apparently, it was one of those nights. Sleep would be wishful thinking at best, impossible at worst.
Hitoshi relented and gently shoved Cappuccino aside. The tendons in his legs ached despite the irony of spending most of the Sports Festival being carried atop the backs of his peers. Still, a smirk reminiscent of his uncle crawled across his face as he slipped on a hoodie over his pajamas.
Because he’d shown that even with a villainous quirk, he’d made it to the one-on-one battles. And if he listened to his uncle’s advice about exercising more, the hero course could become a reality rather than a distant dream.
The floorboards creaked as Hitoshi slipped on his sneakers waiting by the front door. A groggy voice broke through the near silence accompanied by the rush of the air conditioner. “Where are you going, Hitoshi?”
Atop the couch, Uncle Shouta lay. Almost unrecognizable save for the tuffs of black hair peeking out from the cocoon of bandages. His head rested against his husband's shoulders, and upon noticing that Hizashi’s glasses were slipping, Shouta set them onto the coffee table. Hitoshi shuddered as he sensed his uncle’s glare despite Shouta’s mummified state.
“Getting coffee. Can’t fall asleep anyhow so might as well make sure I have the energy to do homework or something.”
For a split second, Shouta held his chin high – as if proud that Hitoshi had decided to spend his sleepless nights in a productive manner. Until he snapped out of it and grumbled, “Caffeine won’t help with insomnia.”
“What can I say? I learned my habits from a pro.”
“Touché.” Uncle Shouta reached beneath the coffee table and tossed Hitoshi a can of pepper spray. “Be safe out there, kid.”
Catching the can, Hitoshi wiggled his brows. “Wouldn’t I be safer with say… a capture weapon?”
Red eyes flashed at Hitoshi, making his shoulders slump amid the reality that Uncle Shouta hadn’t fallen for his ruse. Chuckling slightly, Uncle Shouta snuggled against Hizashi’s shoulder. In spite of his penchant for being loud, Hizashi’s snores were as quiet as a whisper. With a grin, Shouta shooed Hitoshi out the door.
“Can’t have you trying to swing from rooftops and ending up in a dumpster. I needed six years to learn how to use it for a reason.”
“But you’ll teach me eventually, right?” Hitoshi asked as a note of hope entered his voice.
“Of course, kid,” Shouta said. “Now, go get your caffeine.”
Waving goodbye to his uncle, Hitoshi stuffed a ring of keys into his pocket. “Will do. And I’ll grab some for you too.”
Outdoors, the chill of the nighttime air hit Hitoshi’s face. Craning his neck, he eyed the outlines of constellations obscured by Musutafu’s light pollution. He reveled in the breeze rustling against his hoodie’s sleeves. A blissful change of pace after spending most of the day basking in sweat beneath the searing sun.
Ahead of him, the neon sign shone like a beacon. Stepping past the sliding doors he gave the cashier a curt nod and plucked Uncle Shouta’s preferred brand of instant coffee from a display near the entrance. Like a moth drawn to the flame, he headed toward the coffee aisle. For a moment, Hitoshi stood frozen – overwhelmed by the sheer variety of technicolor labels. After all, choosing the best coffee brand and getting his money’s worth was an important matter. And unlike Uncle Shouta, Hitoshi had standards that went beyond purchasing the cheapest coffee the store carried.
On instinct, Hitoshi’s hand drifted toward the to-go Starbucks drinks. Lumps formed in Hitoshi’s throat at how basic his choice was. Sure, he liked the way that the excessive sweetness would blend with the milk – but he’d always liked to think of himself as sort of edgy. Then again, Starbucks was popular in the mainstream for a reason, namely because it was good – though Hitoshi wasn’t convinced that the flavor justified the high price tag.
Entangled in the pressures of decision-making, Hitoshi felt the hairs on his arms rise.
“Ooh, great pick! That’s my go-to.”
A blonde kid with a black streak in his hair blinked at Hitoshi. Faint sparks seemed to crackle off the guy’s jacket as he gave Hitoshi a smile that was way too upbeat for 1 AM. Recognizing the guy from as a 1A student, Hitoshi froze. Shit. What if the guy hated Hitoshi because of his declaration of war? Best to try to diffuse the situation and salvage what he can. Hitoshi held out the bottle. “Want it?”
“Oh, no thanks. Took my meds a bit ago so decaf only for now.” Humming to himself, the blonde plucked a bottle of vitamin water out of the refrigerated shelf. In silence, the two boys headed toward the cash register. As the blonde paid for his water, Hitoshi sagged with relief. The blonde must not have recognized Hitoshi without his hair gel.
Yet the second that Hitoshi had paid for his coffee, the blonde leaned in closer. “By the way, you did great at the Sports Festival.”
“Don’t patronize me,” Hitoshi spat out on instinct. His stomach instantly curled with regret. Not an ounce of contempt shone in the blonde’s eyes. Rather he continued to grin at Hitoshi brightly.
“No, dude. I mean it. Seriously.” The blonde paused, carefully considering his words. “Your quirk isn’t suited for combat, but you made it so far. Meanwhile, I fried my brain and my teammates like an idiot.”
Heat rushed to Hitoshi’s face as his nerves buzzed from the blonde’s words. Sure, Uncle Shouta and Hizashi had congratulated Hitoshi for his performance at the Sports Festival – but for some reason praise from a virtual stranger warmed Hitoshi’s soul even more. As the blonde stared back at Hitoshi, sweat pooled down his back. Quick. He had to think of some sort of response before the quiet stretched on for too long.
“Still, you got to the final round as well. I think that’s a sign that you’re not an idiot. I mean do you think you made it by dumb luck alone?”
“Hmm. I guess you have a point,” the blonde said. “With smarts like that, you’ll make it into the hero course in no time.”
Hitoshi stared down at his shoes, hoping to disguise how flushed his face had gotten. He’d always resembled Uncle Shouta’s stoic attitude. Why on earth was Hitoshi suddenly wearing his heart on his sleeve? “We’ll see about that.”
“Well, I’d be happy to have you as a classmate. You seem like the kinda dude who’d have girls head over heels for you.” The blonde winked. “Or guys.”
A dizzying haze consumed Hitoshi for a split second. With a foggy mind, he almost wondered whether he’d been hypnotized by the blonde’s upbeat voice. “If you say so.”
Just as Hitoshi was about the reach the sliding doors, the blonde ground to a halt and pointed toward his hoodie. “Wait, is that Spider-Man?”
“No, it’s obviously Venom,” Hitoshi said sarcastically.
“Is Venom your favorite Spider-Man villain?”
“No, actually I’m more partial to Kraven.” Before Hitoshi knew it, words were spilling out of his mouth. A tidal wave of adoration for the comics that had always been there for him. Through his parents’ passing. Through his adoption. When his quirk manifested. “The last hunt arc is everything. I really wish they’d use it in the movies.”
“For real!” the blonde exclaimed. “Personally, I like Black Cat best.”
“It’s because of the body suit, isn’t it?”
“You got me. But you have to admit she’s hot. Plus, the tension between her and Peter is like insane.”
“Well, you’re not wrong.”
“Man, it’s so cool to run into another fan.” The blonde’s eyes widened with panic as he looked down at his watch. “Anyways, I gotta head back home. Wanna talk about Spider-Man more at school?”
“Yeah, that sounds nice.”
“Awesome! See you around.” Sprinting away, the blonde called over his shoulder. “Oh, and I’ll have to introduce you to Sero. He loves Spider-Man too!”
As the blonde raced out the door, Hitoshi’s heartbeat raced. He dismissed it as the lingering rush of the Sports Festival. After all, he couldn’t possibly be infatuated with a guy whose name he didn’t even know. Still, Hitoshi’s body felt lighter than ever as he exited the convenience store with his plastic shopping bags in hand.
In his mind’s eye, he conjured an image of the blonde’s smile. His chest throbbed at how he’d met yet another person who didn’t brand him as a villain. A kid who prioritized a shared love of Spider-Man and an instant connection with Hitoshi. Uncapping the Starbucks drink, Hitoshi took a long gulp. The coffee trickling down his throat was like ointment to a wound. Just like the blonde’s laughter had been. Between him and Midoriya, it was starting to dawn on Hitoshi that his first impression of 1A had been dead wrong.
Yet admittedly the declaration of friendship – whether direct or implied, made the tension in Hitoshi’s limbs dissipate. He could hardly recall any instances of his peers genuinely wanting to talk with him – let alone spend time with him – after his quirk manifested. Strolling toward the familiar alleyway that led to Uncle Shouta’s apartment, Hitoshi looked forward to talking with the electricity kid (god, Hitoshi really needed to find out his name) about which Spider-Man movie series was best.
Heading for the fire escape, Hitoshi longed for a capture weapon of his own. It’d be miles easier to get up to his bedroom window in one swing instead of having to deal with the tedious onslaught of stairs. But just when he’d reached the platform on the same level as his uncle’s apartment, Hitoshi spotted a silvery glow flicker in the moonlight.
Setting his plastic bags aside, Hitoshi crouched on the steps. A spider crawled toward him. Too small for a tarantula. Too large for an ordinary household spider. The number 42 shone on its back. Against his better judgment, Hitoshi reached toward the spider. A mesmerizing chorus drew him in as the arachnid radiated otherworldliness.
Squelch. A searing ache shot through Hitoshi’s index finger. Suppressing a scream, Hitoshi curled onto the ground. He couldn’t worry Uncle Shouta. Otherwise, late-night coffee trips would be a no-go. Hitoshi felt tempted to whip out his pepper spray. Though he doubted that it would be effective against an arachnid. Even more so since the dark spots dancing across Hitoshi’s vision made it difficult to aim.
Flashes of hot and cold ate away at his skull. Taking deep breaths, Hitoshi focused on the sense of tranquility that accompanied his quirk usage. The deserted landscape of a puppeteered mind.
At last, the bite had subsided to numbness. When he looked down at his hand, no trace of injury remained. No puncture wounds, not even a scratch. Scratching his head, Hitoshi decided that he must’ve been getting too tired. Perhaps all the talk with the blonde about Spider-Man was making him see things.
With a sigh, Hitoshi stepped through his window and stowed his purchases away. Perhaps it was for the best to try to get some rest rather than remain awake fueled purely by spite and caffeine. As he crawled into the bed and Cappuccino climbed on top of him, Hitoshi pulled on a sleeping mask and banished all thoughts of the spider. It had to be nothing. Even in an age of quirks, something as outlandish as a radioactive spider couldn’t possibly be fathomable, right?