Smile. Hizashi was good at that. Too good. No one could see past it.
He’d noticed it when he was in middle school. He’d known something was wrong with him when he never felt like playing electric guitar, or keyboard, or even singing. Music, his passion, seemed to be losing its flavor. Then he stopped wanting to go to concerts, stopped wanting to record podcasts, and eventually stopped wanting to do anything.
He would get home, toss aside his sunglasses, and sprawl on the sofa. Staring blankly at nothing, feeling no boredom, no restlessness, no matter how long he stayed like that.
There was no reason. No traumatic event, no lifestyle change. His world had simply faded to black and white, and then blurred into a blank gray of apathy. Deep down, he knew he wasn’t himself. But it was hard to care.
Ups! Ten obraz nie jest zgodny z naszymi wytycznymi. Aby kontynuować, spróbuj go usunąć lub użyć innego.
His little sister, Ichika, had started to worry about him. She would come in, notice him staring blankly at nothing in the dark room, and throw open the windows, chattering, grinning, and occasionally shooting him a look of concern. She was trying to cheer him up, snap him out of it. That was Hizashi’s wake up call.
If his sister was worried about him, then he needed to handle it. He considered himself lucky, later, to have realized what was happening to him before it went on too long.
The doctor explained that he had severe clinical depression. Hizashi had always equated depression with feelings of sadness, but apparently the majority of depression cases experienced suppressed emotions rather than sad emotions. In fact, Hizashi thought that “suppression” might be a better word for the condition. It suppressed emotions, energy, interest, and ability to think and function.
The doctor explained that medication would help with the symptoms, but that the actual treatment was therapy. Hizashi worked on it. He did everything he was supposed to do, hard as it was… he trained his thinking, took his medication, and forced himself to leave his house.
He always made himself smile. He would smile in the mirror, widening it, trying to radiate the energy and enthusiasm he didn’t really feel anymore.
He started small, forcing himself to play guitar again, and worked up to making himself go to concerts and hang out his variety of friend groups. His friend network had missed him. Everyone was excited to see him again, and Mic didn’t disappoint as the life of the party. They had no idea how hard he had to push to act like his old self.
But over time, in combination with the thought exercises and medication, Hizashi’s world started to come back into focus. Doing things became a little less hard, his goals easier to remember. Color began to return. He actually wanted to sound mix, one day. A few weeks later he felt himself getting excited to go to a concert by one of his favorite groups, and later that week, he felt a surge of happiness to see his friends as he greeted them. His bright and beaming smiles started to feel more natural. Finally, the doctor assured that he no longer had depression and encouraged him to keep up the thought exercises on his own.
Hizashi was able to work hard and play hard. He got a great score on the UA entrance exam, blasting robots over with his powerful sound waves. The teachers thought that he would succeed in many areas of hero work and entertainment with his flashy quirk and vibrant personality.
Ups! Ten obraz nie jest zgodny z naszymi wytycznymi. Aby kontynuować, spróbuj go usunąć lub użyć innego.
This brings us to the present moment. First day in the hero course. Hizashi glanced around excitedly, observing his classmates.
Most of them looked eager and restless, with the exception of the boy to his right. He was napping against his desk, and Hizashi could only see the tip of his nose through the dark hair draping over his face. Was he even breathing? Hizashi stared and eventually detected the very slight rise and fall of his shoulders.That question answered, he returned to his examination of his class.
Two guys with strong heteromorphic type quirks had started arm wrestling. A boy with a bluish white cloud of hair and a sun-bright smile shamelessly switched between cheering for one or the other depending on who happened to be the current underdog.
That looks fun! Hizashi thought.
“Hey hey hey!” he yelled, easily jumping over his desk and joining the fray
“it’s gonna be a close one!”
He kept up a running commentary, his loud voice and enthusiasm drawing the other students around until everyone was watching the intense arm wrestling competition. Everyone except that sleeping mop of black hair. If he could sleep through Hizashi’s voice, he could probably sleep through anything, Hizashi thought in amazement.
The teachers voice suddenly roared behind them all “IN YOUR SEATS!”
Hizashi and the cloud-haired boy spun around with identical guilty grins, before jumping into their spots along with everyone else.
The teacher strode to the front of the classroom. As Hizashi settled in his seat, he saw the sleeping kid finally sat up, just as the teacher turned to face them.
Impressive sense of timing. Had he really been asleep? He had sharp features but a bored expression, with matching dark eyes. He turned to look at Hizashi neutrally, and Hizashi grinned widely and stuck out his hand. “Hizashi Yamada,” he whispered excitedly. The dark haired boy accepted the handshake with obvious reluctance. “Shota Aizawa,” he muttered.
Ups! Ten obraz nie jest zgodny z naszymi wytycznymi. Aby kontynuować, spróbuj go usunąć lub użyć innego.
Hi guys! My computer died and prevented me from uploading to my channel today. But this is a side project that I had saved bc I emailed it to myself. I've always felt like Hizashi Yamada is more complicated than he lets on, and I love the dynamic he has with Oboro and Aizawa as students. Should I continue it? :)
