Chapter Text
Sleep was a fickle bitch. It always had been for Shinsou. No matter what desperate, sacrificial offering he laid at her altar, breathing techniques, supplements, relaxation methods, a piece of his soul, it never sufficed.
By his third year at U.A., he had completely given up on the notion of sleep. On the random occasion it did happen, he considered it a mercy from the all powerful being who had a demented hold on it. It wasn’t uncommon for someone to find him fast asleep in the library stacks, under the kitchen table, or on the roof of the dorms. The dire rest his mind and body needed were not within his ability to control. This became painfully evident after he graduated, when he tried more unsavory methods to grasp any semblance of sleep. Alcohol, prescription medications, overexertion, or a tawdry mix of it all, never worked.
Every therapist that attempted to rationalize his troubles always came to the same conclusion: his trauma caused his insomnia. Thank fuck he never had to pay for such riveting intellectual insight. The why was obvious. It was the how to fix it part that was the issue. Of course he had psychological trauma. It would be concerning if he didn't have a complex of some sort. It was Katsuki who finally offered some sage advice and pointed out the obvious thread between all of his scattered moments of rest.
Aizawa, Midoriya, and Shinsou had all discussed the necessity of leaving a trail of breadcrumbs like a psychologically twisted fairy tail story. The best course of action was to start with a neutral memory to introduce Midoriya. Once the seed was planted, it wouldn’t make the rest of the carefully planted treats so obvious.
Snuggling into the nest of blankets, with Aizawa’s promise to watch over Denki, Shinsou instantly succumbed to sleep with bittersweet memories reeling in his head like a retro drive-in movie for his subconscious.
The night of their graduation, Shinsou escaped to the roof, quietly slipping out of the raucous party that all of the faculty were intentionally choosing to ignore. Sitting on the smooth concrete, with his hands at his sides and his legs splayed in front of him, he leaned his head back and closed his eyes. Inhaling a deep breath of crisp night air, the chaos of the night slowly faded into the background.
“I thought you might hide up here.”
He had been so relaxed, simply enjoying the stillness of the night, that he had only faintly registered the soft click of the access door opening and closing.
Cracking one eye open, his head still tilted back, he smirked at the scowling man behind him. Even half upside down, it was a pleasant view.
“Just needed some fresh air,” he mused.
Bakugo scoffed. “Fuck knows you won't get it back there. The air reeks of cheap booze. Pretty sure if I breathe too deeply, I'll catch fire.”
Shinsou’s eyes trailed Bakugo as he settled himself next to Hitoshi. “That'd be quite the fireworks show.”
“Oi! Fuck off, Eyebags,” Bakugo shouted.
An ugly snort escaped Shinsou’s throat. “Still going to call me Eyebags?”
Bakugo twisted his upper body towards Shinsou, glaring at him with a pensive expression. Reaching around his back, he dragged a plainly wrapped, brown package across his lap. With slightly shaking hands he held it towards Shinsou.
“Here,” he murmured. “Take it.”
“Oh?” Shinsou quirked an eyebrow. “On the roof? Gotta say, I thought our first time would be a bit more romantic, but…”
Before he could finish, Bakugo slammed his hand over his mouth, cutting off his defectively crude humor.
Shinsou smiled under Bakugo’s hand. It was just too easy to make him blush. Staying silent, he unwrapped the package. Settled inside the parchment was Bakugo’s hoodie that he had bought on their first date.
He raised his eyebrows.
Bakugo dropped his hand back to his lap. “You need to sleep.”
Not wanting to appear like a complete idiot, Shinsou muttered, “Right, but…”
Exhaling harshly through his nose, Bakugo explained. “You only sleep when you're wearing it. Not exactly sure why.”
Shinsou’s eyes watered as tears threatened to spill over. “Kats, that's…”
“You look like shit.”
“Ever the charmer, Katsuki.”
“Seriously, just…” Bakugo shuffled to his feet. “Get some sleep, Toshi.”
Shinsou reclined his head backwards, watching Bakugo slip back through the door. He closed his eyes and laid the rest of the way down before pulling the hoodie firmly against his chest.
Confusion weasled its way into Shinsou’s mind. This was a melancholy memory, but it wasn’t exactly the stage for a villainous coup and there wasn’t any opportunity to introduce Midoriya.
“Come on, Toshi. If you want to go to the coffee shop before we head to our new place, you had better get your ass in gear.”
Shinsou sat up slowly, pressing his palms firmly against his eyes. Blinking heavily, his eyes slowly adjusted to the muted, warm black and grey tones filling his vision. The smell of steam mixed with spicy cedar bodywash wafted in from the bathroom to his right.
Wait…
Shinsou rubbed his eyes harshly. Glancing down, he saw a navy blue comforter resting on his lower half. He was in his bedroom. They were in his first apartment.
Panic inducing thoughts raced through his mind. Was he not…. Wasn't he supposed to be drowning in nightmares right now? And, more importantly, since when did this moment count as a nightmare?
There was no way his body was finally resting like a normal human. Surely, after all this time, his brain wasn’t processing his experiences in a semi-healthy manner. He was never an optimistic man, but something about these dreams spurred ridiculous feelings of hope that his jaded, worn soul couldn’t fathom. The experience was disconcerting. Previously, the villain wouldn’t waste any time once Shinsou was asleep and dreaming. He had spent the last few months running on nothing but coffee and adrenaline scattered with short naps.
Thunderous footsteps barreled down the hallway before slamming the bedroom door open.
“Hurry the fuck up!” Bakugo yelled. “Get your…”
Something about Shinsou’s bewildered, lost expression made Bakugo pause mid rant. He crossed the room quietly, a stark contrast to mere moments ago.
“Hitoshi?” Bakugo gently sat on the edge of the bed, keeping his body in a neutral position, as if he was approaching an injured animal. Glancing around the room, half packed boxes littered the floor.
Shinsou’s eyes followed Bakugo’s line of sight. Oh, right. This was the day they were meant to move. He pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Yeah, we'll meet up later. Thanks, Red.”
“Toshi, Red and Denks are going to stop by and finish packing. Let's go get some coffee.”
“Yeah, ok.”
The soothing balm of these dreams was unnerving. Why was he dreaming about this? What did any of this have to do with the details that Nightshade undoubtedly craved?
A dull, hollow ache settled in his chest. These were bittersweet memories that he didn’t necessarily avoid, but he certainly didn't intentionally think about. Usually, he only thought about these moments when something reminded him of it.
“Toshi? Hey.”
Shinsou peered up. Wait, now he was in the coffee shop?
“Why the fuck do we come here?” Bakugo asked peevishly, resting against the back of a gaudy blue chair.
“It's too damn loud and has too many cats.” Bakugo swatted a cat away from his mug. “I don't want a fur ball in my damn coffee.”
Shinsou smirked as he took in the sight of Bakugo absentmindedly petting a cat while he sipped on his drink.
“How did the mission go?” Bakugo asked offhandedly.
“Fine.” Shinsou replied.
Bakugo hummed in response, knowing he wouldn't get more of an answer.
“It was overall a success, but a dead end for my actual mission.” Shinsou continued.
“Oh?” Bakugo prompted, not wanting to push too far. Hitoshi rarely talked about his job. He wasn't going to inadvertently ruin the moment.
“The last few missions have been dead ends. We caught most of the gang, but my target wasn't there. Even though each mission has a separate mark, I can't help but think they're connected somehow.” Shinsou’s eyebrows shot up in alarm. Goosebumps crawled over his skin.
“Toshi?” Bakugo asked, noting the sudden change.
Shinsou twisted in his chair, peering behind him and out the window to the crowded street. He squinted, feeling as though someone was staring at them.
After a moment, he turned back around.
“Thought I saw something.” He muttered.
Bakugo’s face pinched into a scowl, disbelief painting his features.
“It felt like someone was staring at us.” Shinsou admitted.
“I'm sure it's nothing.” Bakugo tried to reassure as he quickly glanced up in the same direction. “Besides, you are dating the number six hero. Of course people are going to look.”
Shinsou’s breath switched from steady to borderline hyperventilating within seconds. Something was horribly wrong. These memories were at the very least shared information and at the very worst nuclear weapons for his psyche. There wasn’t anything in these dreams that Nightshade hadn’t already seen. Even after he trained his mind to voluntarily manipulate his subconscious thoughts, he didn’t shy away from these moments. To be fair, he didn’t voluntarily choose them either, but it had never occurred to him that there would be any useful scraps of information left.
His next gulp of breath brought him to his knees. He hit the wet pavement harshly. His lungs screamed at him as he drew in haggard breaths.
He clutched his head and squinted his eyes shut.
No, no, no! Not this. Anything but this!
Why was his mind pursuing the most secretly guarded moments of his life? Sure, he might be sleeping well for the first time in years, but this wasn’t the time to forego all of the torturous training that he had willingly endured. Focusing as best as he could, Shinsou reached out within his own mind, searching for any indication that the villain might be tuned in to his satirical walk down memory lane.
Nothing. He felt completely alone. The feeling was terrifying. This wasn’t what they had planned.
He clawed at the edges of the scene before him, desperate to escape. Thoughts of the grocery store, pet shops, ice cream dates, morgue visits, HPSC low level conversations, U.A. dorm parties, all swirled in his head. He desperately reached out towards any train of thought that would rid his mind of the scene before him.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! Nope! No! Not this! Anything but this!
Shinsou grasped his head, desperately trying to keep the last dredges of his sanity from seeping out between his fingers, but all he could do was simply stare at the fateful scene before him. If he by some miracle made it out of this alive, there wouldn’t be any semblance of rationality left.
“Get away from him, you bastard! Denki, run!” Shinsou’s voice cracked painfully. Denki skillfully dodged an attack before retreating to Shinsou’s side.
“Denks…” Shinsou wheezed. He doubled over, firmly grasping his midsection. “This shouldn't have happened.”
Despite the depravity of the situation, Kaminari looked at his boyfriend with a soft smile. “We're going to be okay, babe.”
“It was classified.” Shinsou rasped. “Only top brass knew.”
“We'll worry about that later.”
“Denki, they said my name.” Shinsou shuddered. Whether it was from uttering that horrifying fact out loud or from the rain that pummeled his skin, he wasn't sure.
“Right now, my main priority is getting you away from here.” Denki spared a brief moment to kneel in front of Shinsou. “When I give the signal, haul ass as far away from here as…”
“I'm not leaving you!” Shinsou yelled. His voice cracked, desperation seeping into every word.
“You have to get out of the blast radius, Hito.” Denki asserted tenderly. “I'll be okay. I promise.”
Kaminari squeezed Shinsou’s shoulders tightly before standing up to face the onslaught of villains.
“Alright fellas! Let's do this!” Kaminari yelled with a maniacal grin.
He lifted his arms and bowed his head as if in prayer. Shinsou's lavender hair stood on end as static filled the air. Kaminari peered over his shoulder. His eyes wrinkled at the edges as he smiled lovingly at his boyfriend.
Shinsou cast a glance towards the enemy. Standing at the far edge of the front line, shrouded in a finely tailored suit, stood a man who never took his eyes off of them. The other henchmen were all gearing up for a fight, practically vibrating with energy. But this man, he simply stood there with a pocket watch in one hand and a nightshade flower tucked into his lapel.
No. Fuck! No!
“Denki,” Shinsou rasped. He had failed.
“Ah, finally,” an eerie voice boomed through the chaos.
Shinsou whirled around on his heels. The landscape changed into an empty, endless void. He lifted his hand out in front of him, but he couldn’t see it.
“Please, please,” Shinsou begged.
“To think it took me this long to finally figure out what you were doing,” the chilling voice sneered.
Never in his life had he felt so terrified. In that moment, he felt just how incredibly outmatched he was in this game of information and secrets. Rationally, he knew that his intellectual brain could make this stop at any moment. His emotional brain, however, the part of his mind that guarded all of these memories, was bleeding out at an alarming rate. At this pace, he would give up all of his treasured information without a shred of resistance.
The scent of chlorine and static encased Shinsou.
“Wow Hito, you look…” A goofy, awestruck grin settled on Denki’s face, causing his eyes to crinkle at the edges.
“Let’s get on with it,” Aizawa drawled, “before it starts raining.”
“Right!” Denki beamed. “Come on, Hito.”
He looped his arm around Shinsou’s, twisting both of their bodies so they faced Aizawa.
“Do you Shinsou Hitoshi take Kamanari Denki to be your lawfully wedded husband…”
“No!” Shinsou sobbed. “Please, please… Not this. Anything but this.”
“Oh? Don’t care to relive such a happy occasion?” The villain jeered. “Suit yourself.”
A wave of relief crashed over Shinsou as the memory dissipated in front of him. He crouched down, wrapping his arms around himself.
In the distance, he could see the plumes of smoke, seemingly from a fire. He tried to stand, but his knees gave out. Despite his mind’s ability to experience these horrors, his body couldn’t withstand the physical effects.
“How pathetic,” the omnipotent voice scolded. “No matter.”
In the blink of an eye, the mirage off in the distance raced towards him until he was sitting in the middle of the scene.
Surrounded by a raging fire, his eyes immediately landed on the bodies in front of him. To his left lay Midoriya and Kirishima’s mangled corpses, tangled in awkward, nauseous angles. The pool of red puddling beneath them snuffed out any shreds of hope that he might have had at their survival. To his right, Denki and Katsuki laid on the bejeweled colored floor. Rain poured through the sharp angles and gaping holes in the roof, undoubtedly left by lightning and explosions. The wedding band that Kamanari wore on a chain around his neck was resting on his chest. Bakugo was sprawled on top of Kamanari, as if he had tried to shield him. He was wearing…
A heart-wrenching, broken cry tore its way through Shinsou’s throat.
They had always known. Not for one iota of a second was he ever in control.
“I’ve got to say, it took me a little while to realize what you were up to, but once I saw the pattern, it all made sense.” The villain, the man from that outnumbered fight that neither Denki or him were meant to survive, stepped out from amongst the fiery rubble, revealing himself for the first time.
That small, yet incredibly important fact sent a deathly chill down Shinsou’s spine.
“You are just like them,” the man said softly. “Suppressing your thoughts and then triggering them with a neural stimulus was a really smart move. Truly. Once I caught on to your little cat and mouse game, I decided to have one of my own.”
“You…” Shinsou choked on his words. The diabolical horror that coursed through him rendered any ability to speak.
“You see, Hitoshi, I may not possess the prowess of your mother or father, but neural stimuli can be used in many ways. It only took a few repetitive glances at your rather harmless dreams for me to make the connection.”
“The hoodie. Rain.” Shinsou hiccupped out between sobs. How could he not have predicted this? How could he have been so careless?
“Exactly,” the villain mused.
He lifted his arms, sweeping them out before him. A sarcastic tone seeped it’s way into his voice.
“This isn’t just a night terror, Hitoshi. Consider it a premonition.”