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This was Hitoshi’s favorite time of year. The sweltering heat of summer simmers down and a cool breeze brings the crisp air of fall. Hoodies, boots, hot coffee, and early nights reading by lamp light. Hitoshi walked casually down the sidewalk with his hands in his hoodie pocket and face downturned, watching the fallen leaves crumble under his feet with a satisfying crunch.
He was almost to the bus stop when he stepped on a leaf that produced a sound that definitely wasn’t a crunch. More like the splintering sound of glass breaking. Curious, he kicked over the leaf to reveal a pocket watch.
Do people still use these? They’re ancient…
He picked up the pocket watch by its chain and watched it spin frantically as it unwound from its sleepy place under the leaf. The sun was just over the horizon and cast an orange-pink glow on the golden object spinning before him. It was hypnotic in its dance as it slowed from a frantic spin to a graceful swing like a pendulum. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been staring, but it was long enough that he had to sprint the rest of the way to the bus before it left him.
He hastily swiped his bus card and took his seat before pulling the watch from his pocket to inspect it further. He flipped open the watch cover to see the hands moving along dutifully on their path.
Despite some scuffs and the broken glass on its face, it was in good condition. He held it to his ear and heard a steady tick-tock-tick-tock which made him smile for some reason. On the inside of the cover was an engraving:
“You only live forever in the lights you make.”
Til I see you in the lights, my Love.
-Kyok
Someone’s probably really missing you right now.
Hitoshi snapped shut the watch cover and gave it a gentle shake of determination before putting it away in his messenger bag front pocket, which he decided was a safer place than his hoodie pocket. The bus squealed to a stop and Hitoshi exited towards his bookstore/studio apartment. The lights in the shop were still on and he could see the familiar blonde hair of his co-worker bobbing to some song in his earbuds.
He turned the open sign around to closed and locked the door for the evening before giving Monoma a friendly tap on the shoulder to alert him to his presence. Monoma nodded his chin to him and removed an earbud.
“How’d it go?” Monoma asked passively as he continued putting books on the shelf in front of him. Hitoshi plopped into a plush and perfectly broken-in leather chair with a dramatic sigh.
“That bad, huh?” Monoma quipped.
“You have excellent academics, and your recommendations are impressive, Mr. Shinsou but, blah blah blah…” Shinsou said in a mocking tone.
“They like me on paper, then they meet me, and it goes to shit. You’d think with a quirk that requires I talk to people that I’d be fucking good at it by now.”
“Yeah you’d think that. It doesn’t help that you are chronically in need of a nap, and you never use product in your hair. And you wore a ratty old hoodie and jeans to the interview. Oh and—”
“Noted, Mo.” Shinsou rubbed his face hoping to revive it of its perpetual state of fatigue. Monoma was right, of course. He had tried to help Hitoshi get ready for the grad school interview by going through his wardrobe only to become frustrated that every item was either a black t shirt or a black hoodie. As Monoma reached the very back of the closet, he stumbled upon Shinsou’s hero costume. It hadn’t been retired long enough to gather dust quite yet, but its pitiful forgotten state in the back of the closet brought a stab of pain to both men. Surely, Monoma’s costume was in a similar state in his own closet. They’d exchanged a knowing look and moved on without speaking of it. It felt wrong to acknowledge what had happened to the heroes so soon, the wound was still raw.
With the war only having ended three years before, right as Shinsou and Monoma’s graduating class was walking across the stage at UA Hero Academy, society was still healing. Being a hero meant something very different. There were no more agencies, no more commercials or product sponsorships. Heroes were held accountable for their actions, thanks to the dramatic unfolding of the Todoroki story. The abuse and neglect the Todoroki children suffered under Endeavor’s fist and fury were the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back.
UA closed its doors permanently, along with every other “hero academy”. Quirks, it was finally revealed, were actually a virus as so many people had theorized. Children began displaying signs of dangerous and unstable quirk combinations at earlier and earlier ages. There were talks of compulsory quirk removal via a drug being touted as a vaccine, but everyone knew it was formulated after the arrest of Dr. Garaki and the seizure of his research, which led to mass revolt against it.
The day the vaccine was announced in the morning news, Shinsou immediately thought of Operation Paperclip after WWII. The United States Government secretly hired Nazi scientists in order to steal Germany’s substantial progress in technology at the time.
The more things change, the more they stay the same, he thought.
So, after a few hard years of working as a hero under the tutelage of Eraserhead, Shinsou decided to leave the hero world and pursue his degree in Forensic Psychology. He’d already fast-tracked through his undergrad while working with Eraser. His innate talent for the subject made it a breeze even with late-night patrols and lengthy covert missions.
But no one wanted him. It was middle school all over again. “Evil quirk” this and “Villain” that. People actually thought he’d use his quirk on others without their consent if he were to become a psychologist. He wanted to be a forensic psychologist and apply his skills to interviewing witnesses to crimes and building behavioral profiles of criminals. He’d be lying if he said it didn’t hurt to know he didn’t even have to do anything wrong to be considered untrustworthy. After all the work he’d put in to become a hero despite his “evil” quirk no one cared. He couldn’t escape his genetics.
Monoma’s story was similar, but instead of college, he opened a bookstore/music venue. It wasn’t much, just a small stage situated behind a few rows of books and comfortable seating for about thirty people. He and Hitoshi split a small apartment above the shop and had been good friends since graduation. Monoma was the only person from class B that really understood Shinsou’s struggle with an “evil quirk”. People were wary of Monoma’s ability to copy quirks. Some even called him a “shitty dollar-store version of All-For-One”. Hitoshi knew that one stung a bit. He’d seen Monoma’s true self in small glimpses when he wasn’t making all the world a stage. He was a good guy with a kind heart. He just wanted to be a hero like everyone else in the hero course at UA.
It didn’t matter that the two once-heroes were essential to winning the war against AFO. They were behind-the-scenes players that the media didn’t even notice, as usual.
“Well, its for the best anyway, Hitoshi, because I’m swamped here. I have a gig lined up this weekend and I need you to help me clean up the stage.” Monoma said as he sat across from Hitoshi and propped his feet up on the coffee table between them. Shinsou rested his head against the back of the chair and sighed heavily as he thought about the hoard of books and boxes that littered the small stage.
“Fantastic. Just what I wanted, a weekend moving boxes and listening to some shitty fucking band.” Hitoshi whined.
“Actually, they’re not that bad. It’s one dude doing an acoustic set. I checked his soundcloud and he has great songs.” Monoma said. He dropped his feet to the floor and hoisted himself up with his hands on his knees and a dramatic groan as he stretched to stand. “We went to UA with the guy.”
Shinsou’s ears perked at this. “Really? I haven’t seen anyone else from UA since it closed. Who is it?”
Monoma made two thumbs up in a circle motion with a goofy look on his face. Hitoshi lifted an eyebrow, confused.
Monoma dropped the gesture and crossed his arms across his chest. “You don’t remember Chargebolt? Kaminari?”
Hitoshi’s eyes blew out in realization, and he felt his ears burn pink as he remembered his high school crush.
“Uh, oh yeah. I think I remember him.” Hitoshi rubbed a hand on the back of his neck and feigned a casual stretch. “He was annoying. I can’t imagine he’ll be any good on stage.”
Neito rolled his eyes at his friend. “You’re so full of shit, Toshi.”
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