Resurrection | Shota Aizawa

Chapter 17

Third person pov

Hitoshi is minding his own business when Hiroki Akisuka bounds up to him. The purple-haired teenager is sitting hunched over on the same park bench he's always come to when he gets kicked out of the house. The only difference now is that he's got a black eye and it's raining, which isn't ideal, but he's dealt with worse. He's at least too big for them to wrestle a muzzle onto him now. Though, it's not for lack of trying on their part. It sort of sucks. Majorly. But you know, he'll cope. He always does. 

He honestly hasn't put much thought into his new criminology teacher. The man is nicer than any teacher he's ever had, bright, bubbly, and with far too much optimism. Hitoshi can't fathom how someone can possibly be so cheerful. That's not to say he hates it or anything. His teacher's kind attentiveness and effort to ask him how his day is going and make sure he understands the coursework is something new, but it makes Hitoshi think that maybe someone cares. That's not to say he expected him to show up out of nowhere, of course. He has to question if he's hallucinating for a moment before deciding there's no possibly way his mind would come up with a random scenario such as this.

Hiroki is soaked to the bone, long white hair weighed down by the rain. His sweater has been entirely drenched, sticking to his body in a way that looks mega uncomfortable. The man doesn't seem to mind, brows furrowing in confusion as Shinso looks up at him with open surprise. Shinso can't help but freeze like a deer in headlights, slate greyish blue eyes scanning over him with open concern that he finds himself rather unfamiliar with. He can't stop himself from leaning back as the teacher closes in, wondering why he's here to begin with and what he wants.

Shinso is like, on the bottom of the food chain as far as UA goes. He's in general education, he's got a quirk that makes no one want to talk to him, and he's socially awkward to boot. And kind of a dick, but he's been trying to work on that part since getting socked in the face by Izuku Midoriya and having his life flash before his eyes. He's got a long history of people not giving a shit. So to see so much worry directed at him makes him stop a little, his brain suddenly shrinking to the size of a pea and struggling to process what in fresh hot hell is going on here.

"Shinso, are you okay?" The teacher's voice carries muffled through the rain, but Shinso still hears him. He has a theory that his quirk makes his ears a little more sensitive. It's nothing he's ever tried to look into. Hiroki gets a little closer, crouching down so they're more at eyelevel. Hitoshi's heart squeezes, hopeful and perhaps a tad bit scared. Not that he'll admit that part. "What happened to your eye? Why are you out in the rain? Do you need help?"

The questions are fired rapidly, and he's momentarily stunned and unsure of what to do. How does he respond to this? It seems ludicrous that someone would ask him if he's okay. It's not an inquiry he's familiar with, but he berates himself. Of course his teacher is going to ask. It's sort of in the job description that he's supposed to care about his students, or at least act like it. Hiroki-sensei's a good man, Hitoshi is sure, and probably spotted him on his way home or to the store. Shinso feels tears burn at his eyes but doesn't want to interrupt or cause issues, like he always seems to. 

"I'm alright." He insists. He pauses for a moment, tacking on a: "I'm heading home soon anyway. I just like the rain is all," for good measure. Doesn't do jack shit. Shinso forces himself not to grimace at the absolute failure. His voice is too raspy and quiet to be believable. He's usually better at acting. Not that he has to, most of the time. The people who do ask if he's okay never really care. It's out of obligation. 

Hiroki stares at him, and Hitoshi feels like he's being dissected. It's only when he averts his gaze that he realizes his criminology teacher isn't alone.

Eraserhead looks even more intimidating soaked to the bone, his hair falling in messy black tendrils around his face. Piercing eyes examine him from behind the dark, wet curtain, and he feels his breath hitch at the sight of his idol. His favorite pro-hero, who fights practically quirkless and out of the sight of the media. A tactical genius by all means, serious, to the point, and powerful. Everything Hitoshi wants to be. He's an inspiration, with a quirk that could be considered villainous in the eyes of the more judgmental populace. He was exactly what Hitoshi wanted to become, yet he was here, seeing him like this... so pathetic, kicked out of his own home for his quirk, downtrodden.