No, it's you and you alone.

Chapter Nine

Hitoshi heads into UA. The early morning casts a peaceful quiet onto the school, no students or teachers bustling around thus far. It's a small mercy that Hitoshi appreciates, no one to question him, to frown at him. No one around to be disappointed in him.

As the teen heads over to the gym, intent to find a quiet spot to sit and rest, a pounding begins drumming his skull, hammering and compressing until Hitoshi lets out a small groan. Of course, the concussion. He wasn't stupid enough to ignore the looming possibilty of adverse affects and sure enough, they had arrived.

Hitoshi was well versed in dealing with migraines, his quirk had oftentimes caused him to spend the day in bed, eyes screwed tight and hands around his ears. The splitting pain is almost familiar to him, a greeting from a long lost friend.

Luckily, the gym soon appears in his sight, fading and warping as the migraine assaults Hitoshi's vision. He breathes out a sigh of relief when he passes into the building, the blinding sun had been digging its metaphorical knives into Hitoshi's mind, causing the splitting pain to escalate.

Now in the dimly lit space, Hitoshi feels the symptoms ease a bit and he swallows heavily, suppressing the urge to throw up. He heads towards the change rooms, knowing that at this early hour, it will provide him with privacy, darkness and silence.

Hitoshi has only about an hour until classes begin and he plans to take advantage of that fully. Idly, he considers showering in the communal bathrooms hosted in Gym Gamma. He feels...Dirty. Filthy.

If he allows his mind to be freed from any distractions, Hitoshi can still feel hands trailing up and down, up his chest, under his chin, around his throat.

Fuck. Hitoshi leans forward over the sink, breathing heavily through his nose and struggling to keep the remains of his stomach contents down. He hadn't eaten anything since the ramen and he is sorely aware that if he does throw up, the only thing coming up will be bile.

For his throat, the bile would be ruinous. His voice was already wrecked, he didn't need to lose it completely. A trickle of fear runs down his spine at the thought. Defenseless, practically quirkless Hitoshi. And all it takes is a little slip up.

The fact Hitoshi is feeling that fear terrifies him even more. It brings back...memories. Yamag- He can't even say that bastard's name. Hitoshi had never been more petrified in his entire life.

He was meant to be a hero but he couldn't do anything. He was less than useless. He had embodied everything he hated about himself.

UA was meant to be the beginning. It was meant to be the start of a new Hitoshi. A Hitoshi even he himself could be proud of. He was going to be the hero that he had never had.

Hitoshi refused to acknowledge that his heart was still screaming. Screaming for someone to notice, to worry. For someone to be a hero, to save him. He couldn't save himself. He was too weak.

"F-fuck. FUCK." Hitoshi feels heat pool behind his eyes and he scrubs a hand over them desperately, pressing down hard as if it will stop the feelings welling in his chest. He can feel his breaths become uneven, heaving them out through his damaged throat.

His vision goes blurry as the first tears start to fall. Stupid, Hitoshi. Alone in a dark room. Terrified to acknowledge that he needs help but steadfast in the knowledge that it won't help. No one can help Hitoshi. He doesn't get to be helped. He doesn't deserve it.

He can't run from this. He can't run from Ikeda. He can't hide.

Hitoshi lets out a wracking sob, it echoes around the room and the sound of it breaks him. It had been so long since he had let himself cry. Properly cry. And so he indulges, just for today.