My name is Shinsou Hitoshi, and I was bitten by a radioactive spider

Canon

My hair's going to go gray before I turn twenty. Pain. Just Pain. Everything about living is a pain.

Angsty rock music blared through his earbuds as Hitoshi buried his face in his palms. He had dramatically fallen onto the train car's aisle as if it were the carpet of his bedroom floor. While the wind rushed outside the train, Hitoshi wished the ground would swallow him whole.

Now what exactly caused this emo outburst? Well, Hitoshi had just discovered that Uncle Shouta planned on heading to Hosu of all places to track down a freaking serial killer. Why on Earth had Endeavor even requested that Eraserhead work on the case? After all, the two heroes were polar opposites and hardly interacted. Hitoshi took the situation as yet another sign that the world was trying to kick him in the balls.

Hitoshi stumbled to his feet as a couple of other passengers gave him funny looks. Not even the faintest flush painted his cheeks because Hitoshi was simply too done to bother with feeling embarrassed. He buried his phone deep in his pocket to resist the temptation to contact his friends. Last time he'd been lucky. Without Sero, he would have died. But he was so tired of being a burden. Exhausted over being the knife that bled his loved ones dry. It was high time that he did something on his own for once rather than rely on others to lift him back up again if he stumbled.

Besides, if other heroes had gathered in Hosu, what was the worst that could happen? Speaking of other heroes, Hitoshi decided that messing with Endeavor a little wouldn't hurt. Especially since he was traveling all the way to Hosu. Plus, Todoroki would likely endorse a vigilante giving his father a hard time.

Hitoshi backtracked on the idea. Learn your lesson, you idiot. Every time he got caught up in revenge or entangled in a web of insecurities about his quirk, bloodshed would follow. Like a prelude to his superhero origin story. As much as he wanted to give Endeavor a middle finger, he couldn't jeopardize Uncle Shouta's safety as a result - at least, not as long as there was a serial killer with a vendetta against heroes on the loose. Nothing is free in life. Everything comes at a price.

With a deep sigh, Hitoshi settled back into his seat. An invisible blade twisted in his skull with the buzzing sound rising like a chorus. Clutching his forehead, he sprinted away from the window. Hitoshi latched his webs onto a schoolchild and yanked them out of the way while he pulled his mask over his face. Seconds later, screams flooded around Hitoshi as a mess of limbs crashed through the window. Glass scattered where the child had been standing moments before.

Screeching from the top of their lungs, the child raced toward their mother's arms. Hitoshi's ears rang as he sprinted across the caved-in train car while passengers stormed out. Grey decaying flesh coated in blood bulged before Hitoshi. Beady eyes drilled into his soul and rosy brain matter shimmered in the moonlight.

Nomu? Good grief. And here he had thought that a serial killer was going to be the worst of his problems. Hitoshi charged toward the Nomu, and it grabbed one of his arms so hard he could hear the bones creak. With a kick to the Nomu's chin, Hitoshi flipped under the Nomu's body. Yet once Hitoshi was standing behind the Nomu, it twisted its head one-hundred-and-eighty degrees. A manic grin formed on non-existent lips.

Fastening his webs to a busted door, Hitoshi pulled the shrapnel toward himself. As the door accelerated, Hitoshi jumped out of the way in time for the door to slice clean through the Nomu's legs. Blood squirted everywhere, leading Hitoshi to gag as some of it got into his mouth despite the mask. Worse yet, muscles bulged around the Nomu's stumps instantaneously, and soon enough the monster was standing on newly formed legs.

Of fucking course. How could I forget about the handy-dandy super regeneration? No, I'm not being dramatic – the world really is out to get me. Backing away from the Nomu, Hitoshi started to fold over his fingers while he swore internally. It's almost like I'm a character in a story who's the author's favorite punching bag. As he shot webbing at the Nomu only for the creature to rip through it, Hitoshi amended his prior thought. Or I'm just Spider-Man. Because heaven forbid, Spider-Man has a stress-free life.