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

Doctor's Visit

Hitoshi was one-hundred-and-seventeen percent sure he had a concussion. The fact that he struggled to do math properly was the most obvious symptom. Of course, the possibility remained that the persistent pounding in his head could have been triggered due to his spider senses being on high alert for well over an hour.

His mind felt as foggy as his brainwashing victims while Todoroki dragged him up the stairs. Hitoshi really wished that his friend wasn’t treating him like a sack of potatoes. He winced every time his ankles hit the steps with a thump as Todoroki haphazardly lugged him around by the arm. In a scenario in which Midoriya entered the downtown apartment complex, Hitoshi imagined that he would have been carried to the fifth-floor bridal style. Though he was grateful Todoroki had sent Midoriya away less the Cosplayer’s identity be revealed to yet another person.

The headache hadn't been helped by Stain's long rant about false heroes after he'd been detained by a few high schoolers. Sure, Hitoshi was relieved Stain hadn't mentioned Brainwashing on live TV, but did he really have to go on an endless tangent? Yeah, hero society sucks. What a surprise. So damn self-righteous acting like he isn't as bad as those he condemns.

Gazing at the stair rails, Hitoshi lamented how the building lacked an elevator. Then again, he could hardly blame a university student for cutting costs by renting a mediocre apartment. Respect the hustle.

At last, Todoroki set Hitoshi down on the carpet. And despite how scratchy the material was, nothing had ever felt softer to Hitoshi. He swore that he’d never complain about walking again. Even running a marathon sure beat dealing with the sack-of-potatoes lifestyle.

Todoroki knocked on the door a few times more than what would have been considered socially acceptable. Decked in faded Powerpuff Girls pajama bottoms, a white-haired man built like an ox opened the door. His kind grey eyes were slightly bloodshot, and creases were etched onto his cheeks as if he had fallen asleep on his textbook.

The man let out a deep yawn. “What are you doing here, baby bro?” His eyes widened as he began to dwell on what he had just said, and he proceeded to wave his arms in front himself in panic. “Not that I don’t want you to visit, Shoto. Though it is one in the morning. Did that bastard of a father do something?”

“Not exactly, Natsuo.” Shoto shook his head and pointed toward Hitoshi’s fallen figure. “That’s my friend. He fought Stain. Fix him.”

Hitoshi faced-palmed and wished he had kept his mask on after fleeing Hosu, but he had really needed to breathe. Even more so after his unsolicited adventures in dumpster diving. He pinched his nose together to ward off the stench, while Natsuo mimicked the gesture – though that was most likely a reaction to Shoto’s rudeness.

Rubbing the bags under his eyes, Natsuo raised a brow. “Uh, what’s the magic word, Sho?”

Shoto pressed his fingertips together as if deep in thought. If Hitoshi had any energy left, he would have shaken his head in exasperation. Who on each taught this kid manners? Though on second thought, Hitoshi could piece together why growing up with Endeavor would have made Shoto a tad socially inept. Nevertheless, Hitoshi could appreciate that Shoto was taking any means necessary to get him patched up without Dad and Uncle Shouta finding out.

After an eternity, Shoto finally spoke up in his trademark monotone. “Abracadabra.”

“Close enough,” Natsuo sighed. “But seriously. Sho, I’m not a doctor.”

“I can’t take him to the hospital. And you are good enough.”

Natsuo seemed to deflate as Shoto blinked at him with hope-filled eyes. Hitoshi counted his lucky stars that he was an only child all while Natsuo continued to try to reason with his brother. “I only have a year of uni under my belt.”