No, it's you and you alone.

Chapter One

Shinsou Hitoshi was never one to be disappointed. T̶h̶a̶t̶ ̶w̶a̶s̶ ̶a̶ ̶l̶i̶e̶,̶ ̶h̶e̶ ̶w̶a̶s̶ ̶d̶i̶s̶a̶p̶p̶o̶i̶n̶t̶e̶d̶ ̶a̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶ ̶t̶i̶m̶e̶ ̶b̶u̶t̶ ̶h̶e̶ ̶l̶e̶a̶r̶n̶e̶d̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶c̶o̶v̶e̶r̶,̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶m̶u̶f̶f̶l̶e̶,̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶d̶i̶v̶e̶r̶t̶.̶ But as he sat at the back of an old and rattling bus, he contemplated everything that had happened in the past day, he felt it leach into his soul, sticky and heavy. 

The sports festival had been his chance, his one chance to prove he could do it, that he was better than just a general education student. To prove he had the potential to be a hero.

He sighed and shifted to face more towards the bus window, darkness beginning to fall on the streets that were becoming more familiar the closer he drew towards the dilapidated group home. 

His school bag was clutched tightly on his lap, perhaps a habit established after long days travelling home in dingy buses, pickpockets and thugs too predominant to allow himself to be unwatchful, to feel safe.

The wheels screech as the bus pulls up under a dim streetlight which was the only artificial light for a while, giving an eerie feel to the experience as the sun finally slipped below the horizon, shadows stretching long and wide across the alleys and squat houses that lined the street. 

Hitoshi clambered out of his seat and shuffled down the aisle, dragging his feet as his beat up shoes made slight scuffing noises on the pale linoleum of the bus floor. He stepped out of the warmth of the bus and shivered as the wind swept his hair and tie to the side, autumn giving way to winter in the subtle chill that laced the air. 

He barely gave a glance as the bus pulled away, leaving silence behind.

Hitoshi eyed his watch as he took in how late it was getting, remembering slipping it off as he got into his gym uniform that morning, excited to partake in what he was sure would be his ticket to his dreams. Now he only felt cold dread as his hopes of becoming a hero slipped through his fingers right in front of his eyes. He cursed under his breath.

He wasn't disappointed in the festival, he was disgusted in himself. While others labelled his quirk as villainous or immoral, to him it was everything. It was his path to being a hero, his strength, his one trick up his sleeve and now, a weakness. 

That plain, green haired boy had just flicked it away, literally. He had never felt so small in a stadium so huge as they cheered for the boy who had it all and ignored the boy who was losing it all.

A car roared past, fluttering garbage into the air and ruffling Hitoshi's clothes as he turned to walk down the street towards the house on the opposite corner. Idly he wondered if his foster parents would kick up a fuss at the hour before he snorted. 

His foster father probably wouldn't notice even if he wasn't in an alcoholic haze that night and god knows where his foster mother spent his time. He crossed the street with barely a glance right or left (he looked, he did) as his thoughts turned back to the sports festival, as they had been the entire ride back. 

Hitoshi stumbled up the short steps and pushed on the door to enter into the house, nose crinkling as he took in the usual scent of dirtiness, a mixture of sweat, alcohol and general smell of children and filth. No matter how many times he smelt it, he never got used to being assaulted with its full force. 

The door opened with a slight creak, to which he winced at the noise, he didn't need to announce his presence to everyone in the house.

His shoes were slipped off in the entryway and taken with him as he padded down the dimly lit hallway. It was surprisingly quiet for a group home of seven children, only the faint sounds of a TV playing and movement in the bedrooms was heard.