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***
It’s a bad idea from the start. Natsuo knows this. He knows he shouldn’t even look but he does. He does because he can.
It’s simple enough, really. His class has an assignment on cold, unsolved cases. Sometimes patients died before testifying, sometimes they refused to talk. They’re not learning to be detectives but they’re learning the signs of abuse and seeing if they can find things initial nurses may have missed. But really, Natsuo should not have this particular file. Shouldn’t be within a hundred yards of it.
Todoroki Touya stares back at him in stark, arial font.
Still, it’s the file he chooses. Natsuo drops himself down at the table furthest from the door, knowing that reading this isn’t going to be a pleasant experience.
It isn’t.
He remembers the afternoon it happened. He remembers being outside with Fuyumi, playing together in the garden until the smell of smoke broke them away from their game. Touya’s room was on fire and Natsuo still to this day hears Fuyumi calling the fire department as his father storms outside, Shouto in his arms. It’s not until the fire department arrives that they realise Touya was still inside. Natsuo remembers assuming he was staying back at school, will never forget the fire fighters screaming for an ambulance. But he remembers the look on their faces all too well:
They knew it was too late.
Natsuo never saw Touya leave the house. He heard his father tell them he was alive only to come back the next time and tell them he wasn’t, that he had died sometime during the night. Natsuo doesn’t even remember the funeral; doesn’t want to.
Flipping through the file now, Natsuo feels bile crawl up his throat because there are photos. Natsuo has never seen what Touya looked like after the fire. Needless to say, it isn’t pretty. His body is covered in burns and Natsuo, for the longest time, can’t even believe Touya was alive when he arrived at the hospital. Pushing that all down, doing his best to forget this is - was - his brother, Natsuo looks at the photos with a more critical eye. Maybe it’s because he knows what he’s looking for but he sees it. He sees the bruises, the marks made by a person’s hands. He’s sure there were more under the burns but looking at Touya’s torso and back alone is enough to have Natsuo slamming the file shut.
He needs a few minutes to breathe and so does so. When Natsuo next opens the file, he quickly pushes the photos aside and moves onto the other documentation within. There’s some from the hospital about Touya’s injuries.
(The bruises, he notes, have been put down to Touya trying to escape his bedroom.)
It’s a lie because Touya was seventeen at the time and while he may have been quiet and reserved, he was never stupid. There was no way he couldn’t have opened a door. Natsuo rolls his eyes at the blindness of people before flipping to the police statement given by his father and suddenly everything goes cold. The paper slips from his hands and he doesn’t even notice. Because it’s there, in his father’s handwriting.
“Touya had locked the door previously in the afternoon. I collected Shouto at the smell of smoke; I assumed Touya was already outside.”
It sounds good, it looks good, but it’s a lie. Natsuo knows because they can’t lock their bedrooms; they’ve never been able to. Their father had made sure of that. The only way a door in the Todoroki house can lock is from the outside. Which means...Natsuo takes a shuddering breath. Which means his father locked Touya in his room and forgot. Forgot, as his son burnt to death.
He’d known this was a bad idea but somehow now it’s even worse. Unfortunately, Natsuo tends to have a stubborn streak. He doesn’t put Touya’s file back. No, he takes it with him so he can study it further.
***
A few hours later Natsuo is far deeper down the rabbit hole than he ever wanted to be. He’s been through all of Touya’s medical records - meticulously blank - and trudged through the darkest parts of the internet for articles on his deceased brother. There’s ones about him committing suicide, older ones about him getting accepted into UA. There’s one that Natsuo only finds after hours of digging and even then he can’t find the article itself, only screenshots of it. It’s almost as if it’s been erased, as if someone tried to sweep it under the rug.
He prints the photo on instinct, as if it too will be deleted if he doesn’t. Natsuo cringes at the headline.
“Number Two Hero Raises Number One Failure.”
It’s about Touya’s graduation, he discovers after a few lines and Natsuo finds himself frozen because he didn’t know. He didn’t know Touya had even finished high school. For some reason, he thought he’d passed away earlier in the school term. But the dates match up and a paragraph or two down Natsuo realises why he hasn’t heard of it: because Touya didn’t pass, he failed. He flunked UA. Natsuo cringes. That would not have gone down well.
The article, of course, mentions that too. Their father’s rage, his disappointment. There are a few photos and, as blurry as they are, they make Natsuo’s heart break because he knows the look Touya’s wearing: fear.
Touya had never been defiant like him or Shouto. He’d been meek, mild, almost timid. He was their mother to a fault and he’d never bothered to train his quirk because he didn’t want to hurt people and he’d argued over and over that he couldn’t save people with fire. That their father never did. Natsuo remembers the backhand Touya got from that quite clearly. But it seems he was rebellious in a way Natsuo had never expected. He’d purposefully failed so that Endeavour’s name would get dragged through the mud.
It’s no wonder, Natsuo thinks, that no one else went to UA until Shouto. He doubts his father’s pride could take another blow like that.
But then comes the absolute worst bit. The bit that Natsuo can’t wrap his head around because Touya’s graduation and the day of the fire are the same day. Natsuo doesn’t like the thoughts that creep into his head there, even if he scribbles them onto the photocopies of Touya’s records he’s made for his assignment. He doesn’t like the thoughts at all because when faced with the evidence, faced with the history of violence, faced with the rage he was feeling that day and the door locked from the outside, Natsuo can’t help but wonder:
Did...did his father...murder Touya?
Perhaps it had been an accident. Perhaps it had gotten out of control too quickly. But perhaps it hadn’t. Perhaps it had all gone according to plan.
Natsuo wipes furious tears from his eyes, storming out of the room and walking god knows where. He doesn’t have a plan, he doesn’t know what to do. His brain is whirring with too many thoughts.
About two steps from the intersection leading off the grounds though, Natsuo brings himself back. He isn’t here for whatever...whatever this is. He has a job to do and he hasn’t finished it. He has work to do.
Pinching the bridge of his nose, Natsuo opens the file - that painful file - once more and looks at the nurses who had been rostered on. He’s allowed to question them for the sake of his course, he has a permit and everything, but he’s also allowed to be denied. Natsuo understands. It must be hard to see people hurt, injured, knowing they’re lying but being unable to do anything about it.
He walks back into the building, passed the student lounge and into the actual hospital reception. He has clearance to be behind the desk and so he does, finding someone who’s free and flashing his permit before enquiring about the nurses. Two still work on site. The third is no longer a nurse but he gets an address flicked his way. Natsuo raises his eyebrows because that has to be an invasion of privacy but he takes it anyway.
It’s lucky he gets it as well because neither nurse on site will talk to him. One sees the file name, recognises him, and practically sews her mouth shut. The other is helpful up until he opens the file and she looks at the patient. She hastily backs away and shakes her head. So...he’s left with nurse number three.
A thirty minute train ride and a line change get him there before sundown and Natsuo knocks on the door politely. The door opens just a crack and Natsuo offers what he hopes is a cheery smile. The woman on the other side abruptly sobs. Before he can say anything, the door is slammed in his face. But then, just as astonishingly, before he can knock again, the door is swung wide open, chain now unhooked. He’s waved in, though he’s cautious about stepping over the threshold.
“Todoroki, am I right?” she asks, smile sad with Natsuo nods. “You...you have his eyes, even if they’re a different colour.”
Natsuo blinks. “Whose eyes?”
The woman just shakes her head. “If you’re here, you already know.” A hand is extended his way. “Tanaka Mei.”
“Todoroki Natsuo,” he replies.
Mei waves him further in, starting the kettle without even asking. Her apartment is homely, Natsuo finds, chuckling at the miniature poodle that comes to sniff at his ankles. The dog doesn’t seem to care for him and jumps onto the sofa before curling up. A cup of tea is placed in front of him at the same time the folder containing Touya’s information is taken from under his arm. Natsuo jumps slightly but then nods, hands curling around his cup.
“Sorry,” he says after a long moment. “If the...if this brings up bad memories.”
Mei swallows thickly but doesn’t say anymore. Her studying grows more intense and Natsuo suddenly remembers the notes he’s made, the implications there. Natsuo makes to snatch the file back but the woman sobs once more before he can. His hand drops onto the table listlessly, not knowing how to comfort her.
Mei excuses herself to find a tissue before coming back. She takes a deep breath before levelling him with a stare that chills him right to his bones. “Do you believe that?” she asks, tapping at his scribbled red ink.
Natsuo feels his breath catch in his throat. There is no right way to answer this. He hesitates for the longest time before saying, “Yes.” Because somewhere along the line, he has.
“Thank you, for being honest,” Mei says, snapping the file shut and sliding it back. Her gaze turns to the window for the longest time. Eventually though, right when Natsuo is about to leave, she speaks. “I did something terrible.”
Natsuo takes a long sip of his tea. “Are you...to Touya?”
She shakes her head quickly. “Not to him, for him.”
Natsuo tries to keep his face neutral, tries to think of things a nurse could have done to his brother besides kill him.
Mei doesn’t look at him, looks out the window instead. “He...when they brought him in...the poor boy was, he looked so awful. He was in so much pain. He bore it for so long and then…” Her voice shook. “I had the night rounds - he must have thought we’d all left - and I found him crying. He sounded so broken.”
Natsuo’s own eyes begin to prick and he has to surreptitiously wipe at them.
“And when I went to him, I took his hand and he just said to me the same thing, over and over: “don’t make me go back there”.” Mei chokes a little there and Natsuo does too. “So I...I knew who Endeavour was, I knew what he could do. So I...I...I faked his death.”
Natsuo’s brain grinds to a halt.
“I have this quirk, you see,” Mei explains, holding up a hand. “When I touch people, I can make their appearance change, if only for while. There was an unclaimed body in the morgue. I used my quirk, made it look like Touya, and smuggled him out the back. I gave him as much morphine as I could without getting caught and some dressings. I made him promise me, promise that if I did this for him, he would never go back.”
Natsuo’s chair goes flying as he rounds the table. He crouches in front of Mei, his hands grasping her shoulders. “Is that true?” he demands, even as tears roll down his face. “Is he...is Touya…?”
“I don’t know,” Mei sobs. “He was so hurt...He might have...but yes, I faked his death.”
Natsuo knows he should be on the phone to the police this very instant but he can’t because he’s too busy crushing this woman in his arms. He hugs her with every ounce of strength he has in him, whispering thanks after thanks after thanks. She cries into his sweatshirt and Natsuo doesn’t even care, just continues thanking her. Because because of her, his brother may well be alive. Because of her, there’s a chance Todoroki Touya still exists.
***
Natsuo doesn’t know how but somehow, in the next hour, he finds himself sitting outside the local police station. He makes no move to go inside, just...sits. The truth is, Natsuo doesn’t want to go inside. He doesn’t want to report his father, doesn’t want them all to have to go through any more hell. He wants to go back twenty four hours. Life wasn’t great then, his family situation was still awful, but it felt bearable. Now it doesn't.
He doesn’t know how long he sits there. He does know, however, that he sits there long enough to be suspicious. This is evidenced by a man walking out of the station and taking a seat beside him. He has a kind face. Natsuo tries to smile at him but fails. The man eyes him up for a long, long moment.
“Is there some way in which I can help you?” he asks, polite and not assertive at all.
Natsuo shrugs; he doesn’t know. He also doesn’t stop the officer when he takes the file out of his hands. He lets him flip through it, watching the man’s face interchange between confused and horrified. When he finishes, their eyes meet.
“There’s enough in here for me to reopen the investigation. Would you like me to…?”
“Todoroki,” he manages, watching the man recoil. “Todoroki Natsuo.”
“Detective Naomasa,” is the reply. “This...young Todoroki, what you’ve written, what you’re suggesting...that’s highly incriminating of your father.”
Natsuo swallows thickly. “I know.”
The detective sighs. “And that’s why you’re out here, not in there, am I right?”
He gestures towards the station and Natsuo nods. He blindly reaches out, taps a photo of Touya’s body in the hospital. “That’s my brother.” The words are raw, burning. “That’s my brother and...he didn’t...he didn’t deserve any of it!”
Naomasa lays a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry. And I’m sure this doesn’t help you any, but accidents happen. I know it’s easy to-”
Natsuo slaps the hand away with a scowl, launching himself to his feet as his hands curl into fists. “I said, he didn’t deserve any of it! None of us did! Touya didn’t deserve the beatings he got because he wouldn’t use his quirk. We didn’t deserve to get shunned and locked away when Shouto was born, when Shouto was perfect. Shouto didn’t deserve to be pushed into walls, have bones broken, all from...from training! And Mother-” Natsuo scrubs his eyes clumsily, “-she didn’t deserve to have to put up with him! To...to lose her mind and...and do that to Shouto just for looking like him!”
He knows he’s snapped and he knows he should have stopped five sentences ago but there’s an arm around his shoulders then and he’s led somewhere warm, somewhere that feels safe. A cup of coffee is placed in his hands, a blanket around his shoulders. Natsuo’s a mess, he knows he is, but there’s nothing he can do about it.
When he finally feels calm enough to so much as lift his head from his hands, it’s to see Naomasa staring at him grimly, a pen and paper in his hands. Natsuo knows he’s said too much, that he can’t escape now. So instead he sighs, running a hand through his hair.
“From the beginning?”
“From the beginning.”
***
When he finally gets home that night, Natsuo flops straight into his bed. Today could possibly be the longest day of his life. He knows for a fact that his father will receive a call tomorrow, asking him to answer some questions in regards to “new evidence” on his eldest son’s death. Natsuo’s name will never be mentioned but that doesn’t mean he won’t face the consequences anyway. If the questioning goes the way he thinks it will, someone will have to deal with Enji’s wrath. And really, at this point, there’s only him and Fuyumi left.
Groaning, Natsuo rubs his hands down his face. As he pulls them away though, he notices something. A letter. There’s a letter stuck to his window.
Scrambling to his feet, Natsuo pushes open the window and contorts his body enough that he can grab the paper. It’s held in place by a single piece of tape and Natsuo winces when pulling it down tears the paper a little. The paper is old, grimy, looks more like a scrap someone found on the pavement. But there’s writing on it - luckily it isn’t lost in the bit he tore.
Clever Natsuo.
Two words.
That’s all there is. It’s vaguely intimidating as well, Natsuo clutching the paper close. Did his father have people working for him in the police department? Did they already know what he’d done? Natsuo dreads the answer but something else is pulling at his mind. He stares at it for the longest time, tracing the kanji on the page until he sees it. Suddenly he’s moving faster than he ever has, wrenching out the drawer of his desk and rummaging right to the bottom where an old, old birthday card sits. It’s from his eleventh birthday and he would have thrown it out except it’s the last card he ever got from Touya.
And when he opens it, his breath leaves him.
Because there it is, that same particular nuance.
Touya had always been lazy with his handwriting, scrawls more than perfectly defined characters. He’d never drawn the dashes in Natsuo’s name, just run them together in some sort of vague ‘3’ looking shape. Natsuo loved it, because he was the third child. Touya had flushed but had never corrected himself.
Natsuo can’t believe he’s looking at it again, now. After all this time. The penmanship is lazier again, more hurried, like Touya was in a rush but Natsuo knows it’s him, knows his brother left this note for him.
He also realises it’s implications:
Touya thinks their father tried to murder him too.
***
Probably predictably, Natsuo spends the next day holed up in the hospital’s student lounge. He received a text mid afternoon from Fuyumi asking him if he knew why their father had come home in such a rage. Natsuo ignored that message - better for his sister to think he’s too busy with school work. Not that he’s done any school work today. His assignment has been pushed to the side and all Natsuo has really been doing is contemplating every life choice that led him to right here, right now.
He’s also distracted by the note he taped to his window upon leaving the house that morning.
Find me.
He doesn’t know if Touya will return but Natsuo has to try. There’s a chance, more than a chance, because he was at their house last night. It’s likely he’s still in the city. Natsuo wonders what he does, where he lives, what Touya looks like now. He’d be twenty-four and Natsuo knows, twenty-four looks nothing like seventeen. Plus, he dreads to think how Touya’s burns have healed. Somewhere, deep down, he hopes he found someone with a healing quirk that was kind enough to lend a hand.
Eventually though the hour grows too late even for him, Natsuo swiping out and heading for the station closest. It’s as he passes the first alley outside the hospital gates that he sees a flickering light down it. Natsuo pauses, watches the blue flame vanish only for an orange one to take its place, this time being the end of a cigarette. He doesn’t know why but something compels him to step a little closer.
“Hello?” he calls out hesitantly.
The figure doesn’t respond but their head turns in his direction. Natsuo takes that as a plus. He gets a step closer, then one more, before his limbs lock up in terror. He knows that face. He’s seen it on tv, heard it described by Shouto.
He’s in an alley - alone - with a member of the League of Villains.
Dabi smiles slowly, Natsuo wincing at the strain that puts on the staples holding his skin together. And isn’t that in itself a horrifying thought? Natsuo swallows thickly, hands up as he shuffles backwards. He doesn’t want any trouble, he’s not going to turn the guy in, he’s happy to escape with his life. He doesn’t get another step before he’s stopped dead.
“Long time no see, Natsuo.”
Natsuo’s head snaps up. Snaps up so hard he’s surprised he doesn’t crack something in his neck. But he can’t help it because he recognises that voice, even if it’s deeper now. He doesn’t want to believe it, he can’t believe it, but the name slips out regardless.
“Touya…”
Dabi scoffs, putting out his cigarette with the toe of his boot. “I don’t use that name anymore.”
Those hesitations Natsuo had had before? They’re gone now because the next second he’s at this...this villain’s side and pulling him into his arms. That gets him a grunt of pain but after several long, painful minutes an arm returns the gesture. Natsuo’s hands are fisted in the back of Touya’s jacket and he’s sobbing into his shoulder. “You were dead Touya.”
Touya tuts, pushing him away and shoving his hands in his pockets. “It wasn’t my choice.”
Natsuo knows that but he’s still hurt. “Why?” he demands. “Why didn’t you tell us? Any of us?”
Touya frowns. “I didn’t think you’d care.”
Natsuo wants to slap him, he really, really does, but he can’t because Touya looks like he genuinely believes that and somehow that makes him more sad than angry. He’s upset that Touya doesn’t think he’d care but he’s that much angrier because how dare their father drag Touya so far down that he thought himself worth so little? Natsuo’s fist slams in the wall next to his brother. He can’t hit him so this is the next best thing. Touya raises his eyebrows.
It’s only when he lifts his gaze to see it that Natsuo notices. “...you’re taller than me.”
Touya stares at him incredulously for a second before a smile pulls at his lips. “Maybe.”
Natsuo grins back, taking Touya’s face in his hands despite how stiff that makes him go. He examines the scars, cringing at how badly they’ve healed. Touya tries to jerk free but Natsuo doesn’t allow it, thumbing the staples as his smile grows ever sadder.
“Stop it,” Touya snaps, finally breaking away.
Natsuo responds by stepping up on tiptoe to tug on Touya’s hair. “This looks nice,” he says, smiling innocently as his brother scowls. “It suits you; there’s nothing wrong with me saying so.”
Touya doesn’t say anything there but then, he was never one for words. They stand in silence for the longest time, neither knowing what to say. Eventually it’s Natsuo who breaks it.
“Come home.” His voice is quieter than he’d like but Touya reacts as though he screamed it. “When Dad’s not there!” Natsuo adds quickly. “If I can promise you he’s not around, you can-”
“No.”
Natsuo frowns but doesn’t back down. “Touya, lo-”
“That’s not my name!” Touya doesn’t raise his voice but it changes in such a way that Natsuo snaps his mouth shut. “Sorry, but it’s not my thing. I’m not a fan of Endeavour sympathisers, even if they’re family.”
Natsuo growls. “We don’t-”
“Fuyumi doesn’t still excuse him?” Natsuo flinches and Touya snorts. “I knew it. And besides, Shouto and I aren’t exactly friends. Not after what I did to his classmate.”
He grins there and it strikes Natsuo all of a sudden. His brother is a villain. “You…” His voice fails momentarily. “You’ve...murdered people.”
Touya shrugs. “Runs in the family, I suppose.”
Natsuo doesn’t get to say anymore. Touya’s phone cuts through the silence and he smirks at whatever he sees on the screen. “Gotta go. Got an appointment with a little birdie.”
Natsuo doesn’t know what that means and he doesn’t want to. But that doesn’t stop him either, doesn’t stop him from latching onto Touya’s wrist and yanking hard enough to make him stumble. He gets a dark look but Natsuo ignores it, thrusting his phone into Touya’s hands. “Trust me,” is all he says.
Touya stares at him for the longest time. “No.”
Natsuo’s heart breaks. Touya groans at his expression before apparently compromising. He takes down Natsuo’s number but that’s it. Natsuo has no doubt that every message and call he’ll get from Touya will be from blocked numbers, untraceable. But it’s something.
At the end of the day, it’s enough.
***
It’s kept under wraps from the press but word gets out. It gets back to Natsuo, to Fuyumi, to Shouto. From there it gets out to their mother, to Shouto’s teachers, and even some of Shouto’s friends if Natsuo reads one of their expression’s right. It gets to the top of UA, to a stammering All Might, but goes no further. Within a week they all know:
Todoroki Enji has been charged with a list of crimes starting with child abuse, spousal battery, and ending with attempted murder.
It’s chaos for days, weeks, as agreements are made behind closed doors, as press statements are prepared regarding Endeavour’s sudden “retirement”. Natsuo and Fuyumi stay as far away from home as possible. Shouto’s given a few days off of classes to be with them and Natsuo finds out his little brother is actually kind of funny, if not a little bland. Their mother is released from hospital not long after and a new house is provided for them by the government. They aren’t given the address until they arrive and their father is never to be given it. There’s a sigh of relief there.
Then things settle down again. Shouto goes back to school, head held a little higher. Fuyumi goes back to work with a bright smile. Natsuo waves his mother goodbye in the mornings before attending his own classes and prac work.
And every night Natsuo is sure to open his window wide before climbing into bed. It doesn’t happen very often - once, occasionally twice, a month - but sometimes he’ll wake to the sound of someone climbing in his window. A very specific someone. Natsuo always grins and always get smacked over the head with a pillow for it. Then Touya will pull out the spare futon from under his bed and shuck on the pyjamas Natsuo has bought purely for him. He’ll settle in and ask Natsuo all about his day. He always falls asleep before Natsuo’s done and Natsuo won’t lie, it’s the best feeling.
***