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Shoto guesses that it all started the day he was born. Touya had told him before that that was when Endeavor had shifted his focus away from training (hurting) him, and towards the perfectly half-and-half child sitting in their mothers’ arms. Touya had resented that more if anything, that his abuse was only a temporary fixation towards Endeavor’s goal of overtaking All Might. Shoto doesn’t remember the exact day it started, but late one night Touya had made his way silently into Shoto’s room. He pressed a finger against his own closed lips and gestured for Shoto to follow- and so he did.
Going out at midnight every once in a while turned into sneaking away after their schoolwork was done, and before long, Touya was attempting to force Shoto to befriend other neighborhood kids.
“You’re boring, Sho. No friends around means you just have to deal with me, and we both know how annoying that gets.” Touya let his usually neutral expression slide into something more playful. He was eleven, and still thought he was smarter than the world.
“Me, boring?” Shoto scoffs, jogging towards the playground, tossing his response behind his shoulder, “you’re the one hanging out with a five-year-old!”
He only got a little bit of a burn scar from that one, but it was worth it.
Touya still consistently made fun of him for how similar he was to his younger self, but Shoto couldn’t help it if he were a cautious soul. The only person that somehow made it through that careful exterior was Izuku, the young, bullied kid from the suburban playground. He was always kind to Shoto, but not in a pitying way. In return, Shoto would occasionally freeze Izuku’s bullies (“Occasionally” was a lie, according to Touya. “Every time” was much more accurate).
Shoto would follow as Izuku showed him all the cool rocks and trees nearby, and listened intently when he rambled about All Might. They didn’t see each other often, but when they did, Shoto was ecstatic. Izuku had meant so much to him, but Shoto knew he probably barely made an indent in his life, besides being one of the first entries into his Hero Quirk book. In those moments, Shoto was genuinely happy.
It was six years later when Shoto couldn’t take it anymore. Endeavor had learned at least one lesson from teaching Touya- how to hide the injuries, put them neatly where nobody would check. The constant invisible pain that haunted Shoto followed him like a ghost.
It was a beautiful day outside, Endeavor forcing Shoto to use his fire powers until his fingers shriveled and bled and his throat dried out. Endeavor was yelling for him to assume some karate position when Shoto looked slightly behind his fathers’ shoulder to see Touya on the back deck, watching them. His head tipped to the side and he gave Shoto a small wave, their signal to sneak out that night. At Shoto’s distraction, Endeavor hits him over the back of the head and tells him how useless of his precious time he’s being. When Shoto gets back up to his room, he only contemplates for a few minutes before packing a bag of essentials.
They had ran for so long, hiding in cold, abandoned building after cold, abandoned building. Shoto was afraid that Endeavor would alert the police or the other pro heroes, but Touya was assured in Endeavor’s unwavering confidence that he could solve it all himself. He was right, of course, but that didn’t stop the two of them from stopping into the nearest convenience store and getting two boxes of hair dye: one black, one white.
“Dabi, do you really need that?” Shoto drawled, now twelve. They had scouted a few high-end grocery stores that week but ended up going for the one that had the most obvious cameras on the outer doors. Shoto froze them over easily, Dabi adding some thick smoke to further darken the ice. Shoto was busy shoving his duffle bag full of perishables and medicine while Dabi grabbed more non-perishables for their “emergency” stash. Dabi was leaning out the side of a darkened isle, holding up a package of fruit rollups.
“What do you mean, Shoto? They’re fun.” Dabi didn’t even try to smile, but his tone betrayed him anyways.
“Dabi, I will turn you into the police.”
“And what? Voice crack at them?” There’s a pause. Dabi takes off in a sprint across the store, laughter bubbling low as Shoto chases after him.
“If you miss a problem again I’m gonna take your meme privileges away.” Dabi says, grabbing his worksheet. Shoto gasps, attempting to imitate six shocked memes at once.
“Dabi, if it were not for the laws of the land I would kill you.” Shoto puts his hand to his chest dramatically. Dabi sighs.
“This is why you don’t go to public school, Shoto, you’d cringe yourself to death.” He shuffles the worksheet a bit, shoving it back towards Shoto. “You got half a point off, so I’ll compromise and only take away your dabbing privileges.”
“Dabi, I’m thirteen, if I don’t dab I’ll die. ” Shoto slowly moves to lie down on the floor, spreading his limbs out loosely. Dabi moves to stand over him, glaring.
“Then perish.”
Holy shit, is that Izuku? Shoto thinks, eyes glued to the TV screen in their little hideout. His face is still round and childish, but something about the way he runs and fights makes Shoto’s heart thrum. He nearly cheers out loud when he wins the footrace, face as bright as the sun as he re-enters the arena to uproarious applause.
“So Shoto…” Dabi starts. “That’s your little boyfriend from the playground, right?” Shoto whips his head around to glare at him.
“He’s not my boyfriend!” Shoto exclaims quietly. The ‘yet’ is unspoken. “I’m just… Proud. That he finally got a quirk.” He lifts his chin in challenge. Dabi raises an eyebrow.
“Since when have you ever been proud?”
“Since now, shut up.” Real mature, Shoto. He turns back to the TV, excited to see more of Izuku despite Dabi’s teasing. He’d be a real opponent now, a force comparable to All Might if he were trained properly. Shoto longs to talk to the boy again, but knew that they’d probably be too different now, on paths far apart from one another. Izuku is a hero, Shoto is a villain- or at least a villain-to-be.
He wants to kill Endeavor, after all.
The forest is going to burn, Shoto, Dabi told him. Don’t go overboard with the ice, you’ll draw attention to yourself. It was unspoken that Dabi didn’t want Shoto being labelled as a “villain”, now that they were with the League. Shoto was indifferent at their new arrangement, but silently happy that they didn’t have to shower at the nearby gym anymore. Shigaraki was a temperamental child, Toga was even more infantile, and it seemed that Kurogiri was the only adult on the premises. Mr. Compress, Twice, Magne, Muscular, Spinner and the rest of the other villains stayed out of his way, if not just for Dabi’s sake.
Shoto had gotten into a routine after living with the other villains for a while. He would wake up, work out, eat something, bug Dabi, do his schoolwork, train some more, shower, eat, and go to bed. It became monotonous, but at least he could have a few moments of peace as he carefully re-dyed the left half of his head a perfect, snow white. He re-dyes his hair to prepare, the night before their training camp attack. Dread fills his body, nerves on fire. His hands quiver as he thinks about their mission. It’s a wonder that Shigaraki’s letting Shoto tag along, no matter how powerful he is at wielding his ice powers. He’s still just a kid with a big, flashy quirk.
He takes a steadying breath, trying not to think too much about his not-so-secret favorite student at UA, Izuku. Would he recognize him, even behind his new mask? Would he still meet him with that same awestruck look?
The next morning he got up, stretched a bit, grabbed his duffle full of villainwear, and hopped into Dabi’s (totally not stolen) car as they cruised steadily out of the bustling city. Dabi had put in one of his favorite CDs he stole from a particularly haughty rich woman, Erik Satie’s Gymnopédies . Dabi had nearly memorized the entire CD which annoyed Shoto to no end, but it provided an easy distraction from his wandering and stressful thoughts. The soft piano waltzed through his brain as he absentmindedly ran his fingers over the edges of his mask. The jagged, faux-ice edges were still new to him, the solid, bright red eyes still stunning. He was glad for the lack of a mouth hole. Maybe then heroes would think he couldn’t speak, so they wouldn’t expect him to. Dabi told him that that was just the socially awkward side of him jumping out, but Shoto preferred to call it dark and brooding.
They were expected to be at the rendezvous point just before nightfall so they could ambush the students and teachers in their assigned locations at specific times, but Shoto mainly just followed Dabi around once they arrived. They arrived a little bit early, so they took the time to breathe in the fresh mountain air, looking out at the vast forest in front of them.
“Hey, short stuff,” Dabi continues through Shoto’s huff of annoyance, “maybe you can go talk to your boyfriend before we try’n kill him, yeah?” Dabi was purposefully facing away from Shoto, but he could tell that he really didn’t want the kid to die. Shoto took that as his blessing.
“Yeah- yeah I can do that.” Shoto begins to scurry off to the looping path in the forest, already putting his mask back on when Dabi calls out to him one last time.
“Be careful, kid.”
Although Shoto’s mask is a quite stark red-on-icy-white, the rest of his getup allows for him to sneak through the dark woods without too many issues. He had taken the generic blue outfit from some warehouse the year before, and it had somehow become his “villain” outfit. He double-checked the fastenings on his mask before spotting Izuku on the trail, shockingly alone. His arms are crossed tightly over his chest, his hands gripping his upper arms. Even in the dark, Shoto can still recognise the boy he used to be. His heart thumps awkwardly in his chest as he stands up from the comfort of the shadows, attempting to radiate the same amount of cool confidence that Dabi always has.
“Woah, who are you? I don’t recognise you from 1-B!” Izuku exclaims, hands jumping to clasp under his chin as he analyzes Shoto’s outfit.
“I’m not from UA.”
“Oh?” Izuku’s eyebrows crease cutely, still so naive. “...Then who are you?” He steps closer, but Shoto can tell that he’s waiting for the first sign of trouble.
“I was sent here to kill you.” Shoto forces his voice to stay even, even as Izuku jumps back, the kindness in his eyes dampening. Shoto watches as red veins trace up Izuku’s arms in wonder. He almost doesn’t finish his thought in his totally-not-swooning-ness. “I don’t want to kill you, though. I’d rather just capture you.”
At this, Shoto sends out a small patch of ice to trap Izuku’s feet, but he jumps and breaks out of it before it can wrap around his ankles. Izuku lands strong, as if he were about to sprint directly into Shoto. He runs- almost faster than Shoto can process- yells, “Delaware… SMAAAAASH!!” and aims for Shoto’s gut. He barely dodges, instead grabbing Izuku’s still-moving arm, pulling it to follow through, pressing against his right shoulder, and pushing him to the ground. He presses a knee to his back, quickly freezing most of Izuku to the ground, hoping it wouldn’t be much harder than this.
“You should’ve already been able to counter this, Izuku.” Shoto murmurs, mostly on accident. Despite the mask, he wants Izuku to remember him.
“You haven’t put up much of a fight yet either!” His body thrums with energy as he smashes through the ice and bucks Shoto off of him, going right back in with another punch. Shoto barely dodges again, sending up an icy wall between them both. Izuku’s arm makes it through the ice easily, and it shatters as he sends himself through it.
They end up face-to-face, Izuku’s hands flying at any weak spot Shoto might have. He blocks and dodges, only taking a few small jabs to the side and an elbow to the face. Shoto manages to pull back by some feat, and tries once more to encase Izuku in ice. The massive block misses its’ mark as Shoto underestimates Izuku’s speed, and he realizes he’s getting slower. He glances down briefly at his frosted-over sleeve, which gives Izuku just enough time to punch him squarely in the gut. He watches as Shoto falls to the ground, oddly staying back.
“How do you know me?” He’s trying to sound cold, but fear was etched into his features.
“We were friends, once.” Shoto groans in pain, eyes briefly looking up at the night sky. “You knew me, Izuku.” He watches Dabi’s flames reach higher and higher over the forest in silence, and that small moment is just enough to snap Izuku back into reality. His eyes flit back and forth between the burning forest and the mountain in the distance, and beautiful resolve slipped over his eyes.
“I’ll deal with you later.” He said, before running off towards the mountain.
“Wait-!” Shoto yelled, almost sending another ice trap after him. He moans dejectedly, hitting the back of his head against the cold, hard ground. “Dumbass.” Shoto sighs. “ Don’t do anything too big, Shoto! ” He mocks, hoping that Dabi was too far away to hear him. He lays on the ground for a few more minutes before getting up to regroup with the rest of the villains near the middle of the woods. He might’ve messed up, but hey, at least he tried, right? He dealt a little damage.
When he saw Izuku run into the clearing with his friends, Shoto was dumbfounded. How had he broken both his arms in the span of less than an hour?? He almost voiced this opinion before Toga jumped in.
“Ohhh!! Look how cute that one is, Shoto!!” Toga drapes herself over his shoulder and Shoto regrets telling her about his gayness. Toga points obscenely to Izuku, who is too focused on getting his friends back to notice her longing. Shoto bats her hand away, hoping his glare was felt through his mask.
“Are you gonna talk about boys each time we go somewhere?” Shoto asks, annoyed tone a little too heavy.
“Well now that I know you appreciate boys too I thought it’d be like a bonding activity!! I can date that cute one right there,” she points again to Izuku, “and you can have… Ah! That one!” She enthusiastically points to the angry blonde they were trying to capture- Bakugou, he thinks his name is- and Shoto has to stop himself from choking on his own spit.
“You’re a selfish asshole, Toga.” He means it as an insult, but she just giggles at him.
“What else are sisters for?”
Shoto doesn’t get to respond before he’s being pulled into Kurogiri’s warp gate, Izuku’s pleading, hardened face the last thing he sees.
He’s like a child, Shoto thinks, eyes locked onto Bakugou’s sleeping form, extremities tied down to the chair below him. He had been explosively angry for several hours, refusing all food, drinks, and possible conversations. It was only when it was nearing sunrise when he finally fell victim to his own exhaustion. The villains had all gone to sleep far before that, except for Shigaraki, Kurogiri and Shoto. After Bakugou had fallen asleep, however, Kurogiri forced Shigaraki to retire to “retain his energy,” although that was just parent-speak for “go to bed or you’re gonna be pissy all damn day tomorrow.”
Bakugou reawoke a few hours later, eyes locking in shock with Shoto’s own. “What the fuck, you look like you’re my age.” His sleepy eyes sharpen with his confusion, head tilting to the side.
“If you think you’re getting my backstory, you’ll have to wait in line for it.” Shoto snarks, taking a generous sip from his honeyed tea.
“So you’re a villain then, huh, Zuko?” Bakugou laughs as Shoto chokes on his tea, carefully putting it back down on the counter.
“I guess I am.” He huffs, refocusing his efforts and turning towards Bakugou. “I know we’re never going to be able to turn you evil.” Bakugou’s eyes widen in shock. “Yeah, I know. We’re not all like Shigaraki or Stain. But I’m still not good- not by a long shot.” He pauses, carefully taking in Bakugou’s tense body, his eyes clearly still searching for an escape route. “Tell me about Izuku.”
“You want me to talk about fuckin’ Deku? That’s it?” Bakugou barks a laugh, clearly not able to hold back how funny he thought this all was. “He’s a dumbass who got into UA somehow. That’s all anyone needs to know.” He chuckles again at Shoto’s expression. “What is it, Icy, not enough fun facts for you?”
“For how confident you are, you seem to forget that you’re the one strapped down to a chair right now.” Shoto approaches, cold and angry, and tips Bakugou’s chair backwards so his head is resting on the gross floor of the bar.
“HEY! DON’T JUST LEAVE ME HERE, DIPSHIT!!”
“Oh no,” Shoto laments, “it seems that Bakugou accidentally fell backwards. Too bad he doesn’t have his spiky red-haired friend to help him up into a bro-hug like at the festival.”
“DON’T YOU DARE BRING HIM INTO THIS!! I’LL KILL YOU, ELSA!!!!”
“Aww, too bad I’m walking away now and I’m too far away to hear your threats.” Shoto fights back a grin at Bakugou’s feet kicking childishly towards the ceiling as he leaves the main space of the bar. “Guess you’ll just have to lay there a few more hours ‘till everyone else wakes up.” Shoto allows himself a slight giggle at Bakugou’s explosive yell. Maybe being evil was fun.
Shoto was in a panic, too sick to his stomach to help his associates and his brother fight against the Pro Heros. He felt cowardly staying back, but the rest of them were doing well on their own, so why should he throw them off their rhythm?
It was only when he saw the group of UA students being catapulted through the air (the creation girl was with them, of course) did he truly stop and focus. He watched as the spiky haired boy called out to Bakugou, and with a flash of true love, he blasted himself away from Shigaraki. The kids had escaped, and Shoto yearned to follow.
He looked at Dabi, their eyes meeting in unspoken agreement. They couldn’t keep going on like this.
They only stayed a week longer, and it was a wonder they didn’t argue before then.
“We could have stopped them… You guys should have stopped them but you’re all too weak…” Shigaraki kept muttering to himself, absently scratching his neck. He had been like that the past hour while they tried to half-watch the news of All Might’s retirement.
“If we’re so incompetent, why’d you hire us?” Shoto snaps. Shigaraki slowly turns to face Shoto, his creepy hands still all over his face and body.
“If I knew more about you, maybe you could have a little more job security, ice-boy.” Shigaraki stands up and crosses the small gap between the two couches, glowering down at Shoto. “Who even are you? You wanna tell me?” He smiles behind the hand. “What’s your name, kid? Who abused you so bad you had to run to the dark side?” Shigaraki chuckles as Shoto tenses. “Ohh, I see. Was it dear daddy? Precious mommy? They ignore you? Beat you? What is it, kid?”
“Stop it.” Shoto grits his teeth, forcing his tears back and keeps his posture relaxed. “Shut up.”
“No, not until you tell me what’s wrong with you. Not strong enough? Huh?” Shigaraki pokes his head, pushing him just enough to tip over the edge. Shoto stands suddenly, grabs his mask, and walks out the door to the sound of Dabi cussing Shigaraki out. Good.
He runs for what feels like too long and not long at all, time blurring together in the darkness of night. Tears brimmed in his eyes, half his face covered in frozen tear tracks. Shoto tries to just feel the pavement beneath his feet as he runs aimlessly around destroyed and abandoned areas of the city, not realizing that someone was approaching from the other side of the dark alley until he runs into them full-force. The other person starts to apologise profusely, hands waving uselessly in the air. But then he realizes who it was. Izuku.
The boy stares at his mask with blank horror as he realizes who he ran into, his pose immediately going defensive. “Why are you here, villain!! I’ll stop you!” Shoto’s heart hurt at how pure he was acting, barely reacting in time to Izuku’s right jab to his face.
“If I told you, you wouldn’t believe me.” He deadpans, trying to ignore the scraping of his cry-tired throat. He dodges easily, not wanting to attack Izuku at all.
“Try me, villain!! I heard all about how gross and scary you look under that mask, so who knows what evil you could be getting up to!” He continues to punch unwaveringly, constantly searching for an opening. Shoto tries not to let the comment get to him, but in his current collapsing state, he wavers for a millisecond too long. Izuku grabs his mask and pulls, taking away his pillar of stoicism.
They stand there in silence, in that dark alley, breathing heavily. Izuku stands there in such bespoke horror, like he saw the ghost of an old friend.
“I’m sorry.” Shoto says, finally. “I remember you, but you don’t remember me.” His face lowers to the ground, his eyes falling shut. “Just. Get it over with. Take me in, or whatever.”
Footsteps approach slowly and he anticipates the feeling of a powerful punch to the gut, but all he gets is two delicate hands on either side of his face, slowly tilting his head up to face Izuku’s own. He opens his eyes apprehensively, only to be met with beautiful regret.
“You’re… Of course you are.” Izuku murmurs, more to himself. “I know who you are, Todoroki Shoto.” Shoto flinches at his surname, which Izuku notices immediately.
“You… He wasn’t… It’s his fault I’m... “ Shoto starts, not quite sure which thought to finish. He takes a deep breath. “I’m not a Todoroki anymore. I don’t want to be. I’m not going to be some trophy that he gets to show off, and I’m not his punching bag anymore.” Shoto’s heart hardens, like it always does when he talks about his ‘dad’. “He will never be sorry for what he’s done to me or to my siblings, so why should I ever let him claim any part of me?” Shoto feels his eyes water, and he struggles to pull his tears back.
“Shoto... You can’t keep going on like this. You’re more than the sum of your parts! You’re your own person! You’ve proved that since we were young!” Izuku smiles faintly, triggering Shoto’s heart to start beating again, loving being at the receiving end of that smile once again. Shoto turns away, pushing Izuku’s hands away in the process.
“You don’t get it, Izuku.” He turns his back to Izuku and lets his tears fall. “I want him dead. That’s an evil thing to want! It’s evil to want your own, shitty dad dead!” He sniffles, still trying to keep his face hidden from Izuku. “I hate heroes. I’ll never know if they’re secretly an abuser, or a manipulator, or a wife-beater, or- or- or-” Shoto growls in annoyance at his own vocal tic, his words caught on repeat. He wraps his arms around himself in the stretch of silence he finds himself in. He half expects Izuku to just turn around and leave. But instead, he hears him, nearly silent.
“I don’t like heroes much, either.” Izuku steps closer, just slightly within Shoto’s line of sight.
“You what? But your whole hero book-”
“Books, actually.” Izuku smiles sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head. His face turns more serious as his smile wavers. “A selfish hero is how my dad died, actually.” Shoto gasps, not sure whether to feel envious or saddened.
“How…?”
Izuku sighs, looking up to the vast, light-polluted sky. “I must’ve been about 3? But my mom, dad and I lived in this pretty nice apartment complex, it was a bit old but that just added to the charm of why my mom liked it.” Izuku smiles, melancholic. The smile slides off his face as he continues. “Then… There was a fire. It was an accident, some machine misfired or something, but the building was up in flames. My mom was getting me some warm milk late at night when there was this big explosion, and she immediately went into panic mode and sprinted out of the building with me in her arms.
“As soon as we left the building and saw all of our neighbors safely evacuated, though, she realized that my dad was still in their room, probably trapped behind a wall of flames.” Izuku was steadfastly ignoring Shoto’s terrified look, eyes still staring upwards at the night sky, glassy. “A hero came, he had some water quirk or something. My mom immediately ran up to him and was yelling, ‘my husband’s trapped in there on the third floor! Save him, please, save him already!!’ We were both crying, and all I could say was please. Please, please, please, please, PLEASE.” Izuku moves his head slowly, tearful eyes meeting Shoto’s own. “He was waiting for the news vans, so he could get a good clip of him saving my dad. But the vans came over an hour later, and my dad was… Was dead, long before that.”
“Izuku, I’m…”
“Don’t say you’re sorry, Shoto.” His eyebrows crease as his eyes sharpen, boring into Shoto. “I saw that shitty hero, and I said to myself, I’m going to be better than that. I’m going to be a hero so I can save people and be like All Might. I saw that happen, and I wanted to overcome it.” He clenches his fist and gives Shoto a teary smile. “I like to think that I go beyond that experience every day!”
Shoto looks at him, truly looks at him, in that moment. Shoto could see the pressure of his future weighing down on him, but it didn’t look like a setback. The moonlight reflected in his focused eyes, scars criss-crossing his arms, fist tightened steadfast. He was carrying the weight of responsibility like a cape, proud and obvious. Shoto wanted nothing more than to be the one by his side during battles, through difficulties, the bad times and the good. Shoto wanted, desperately, to be good.
There was one thing holding him back from that, though.
“Izuku… I want to push past.” Izuku’s eyes soften in confusion. “I want to push past so fucking badly, but I can’t.” Shoto turns away again, eyes tracing the brick patterns of the alley to keep from crying further. “He’s always gonna be out there, high and mighty, treated like a god by everyone in Japan.” He shuts his eyes, fists shaking with how tightly he’s holding them shut. “He’s always going to be over my shoulder, just around the corner, haunting my dreams. I won’t be able to find freedom until he’s dead.”
“You won’t find that after he’s dead, Shoto.” Izuku stands behind him, watching his figure carefully. “Even when he’s gone, you’ll still be haunted by the past. I still get nightmares about that fire, and that was over ten years ago!”
Shoto turns suddenly, almost running at Izuku, arms wrapping tight around the others’ torso. “I’m sorry.” He mumbles into Izuku’s shirt. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” He takes a deep, ragged breath. “I can’t be a hero. I can’t be like him.” Izuku’s arms circle around Shoto gently.
“It’s okay. You’ll get there.”
They continued to meet every so often, not always talking about deep things, but Shoto valued each time as if they had. Izuku talked about his classes at UA and Shoto listened intently. He was developing his quirk so quickly, each time they would get dinner Izuku would report back with a new move he learned. Shoto would nod silently, secretly adoring the way he lit up. It also seemed that no matter how many times he trained with All Might, or had All Might as his teacher, or had All Might compliment him, he was always dazzled by his presence. That realization brought a smile to Shoto’s face, which caught Izuku off-guard.
“Why are you smiling like that, Shoto? You remember some cool move you have?” Izuku strikes a dynamic pose, his arms going up like he was about to karate chop someone. His chopsticks nearly fly out of his hands, but he catches them just in time.
“No, it’s just…” Shoto has to fight back a laugh. “You still talk about All Might as if you’re not like, his secret love child or whatever.” Shoto can’t hold back his giggling at Izuku’s shocked expression.
“I’m not-!” Izuku starts, ending up just shoving more food in his mouth. Shoto’s giggle evolves into full-on laughter.
That was one of the better meetings, in Shoto’s mind. However, things got a bit more complicated when Izuku had decided to bring his old hero books to the small café they decided to meet at. Izuku sat down, held up a finger to signal to Shoto that he had something to show him, and oh-so-carefully took out his first notebook of hero notes. He finally sits down, excitement nearly etched into his bones.
“I haven’t looked at this first one in so long!” He glances up to Shoto, trying to gauge his excitement. Shoto manages a small smile, which is enough for Izuku, apparently. “Okay, so, of course All Might is the first entry, but we already knew that.” Izuku smiles, his eyes flashing up to check that Shoto was still listening. “Aaaand the second and third entry are my mom and dad, the fourth is Kacchan-” He pauses briefly, looking back up at Shoto. “You know Kacchan, right?”
“Uh, the angry blonde kid?” Shoto guesses. Deku lights up and nods happily, as if Shoto had made friends with the kid while the League of Villains kidnapped him.
“Yeah!” He smiles, looking back down at the pages. “And I think the next one…? Yes!” He flips the page to find Shoto’s info sheet, a small doodle of a stick figure shooting a ball of fire out of one hand and a snowflake out of the other hand in the corner by his name.
“I like the drawings, Izuku.” Shoto leans over the table, tapping the offending image.
“Don’t be rude, Shoto! I was going through an artist phase.” He tilts his head back, indignant.
“So do you have your All Might fanart somewhere, too?” Shoto laughs at Izuku’s scandalized scoff, rolling his eyes goodnaturedly and gesturing for Izuku to move on.
“Well, let’s see what I wrote down for you, then…” He looks at the paper, eyebrows furrowing slightly. “I wrote down that you have… ice and fire abilities.” He looks up at Shoto, who is suddenly more closed off than ever, arms hugging his chest, one leg crossing over the other. “Do you?”
Shoto looks out the window of the café, thinking. It’s raining, and the cars and trucks on the road splash by, just loud enough to be heard if you’re really trying to listen closely, past the bustling noises inside the café. There’s a tourist across the street taking pictures of everything around him, probably taking a dozen of each the signs near them that are completely in Japanese. Shoto watches a couple under an umbrella walk by, faces highly animated as they walk their dog, the dog trying his best to splash in dirty mud puddles. The couple is happy, holding hands and carrying a bag from some nearby bodega.
“...Yeah.” Shoto manages to get out. His eyes slide into unfocus, only really taking in the general gray scope of the land. “I don’t… use his quirk. It feels dirty, like I’m doing it for him.”
“But you’re clearly not.”
“What?” Shoto’s eyes are shocked into focus, head turning to look at Izuku again.
“Well, you’re clearly not! You care about heroes being good people, and you didn’t even try and hurt Kacchan when the League had him, and you only really wanted to hurt someone who did something bad to you!” Izuku reasons. He looks fired up, arms flying all over the place in wild gestures.
“He always told me that it was his power, and whenever I’d use it he’d smile like, y’know, like I was his next-in-line.” Shoto frowns. He tangles his hands together in front of himself, leaning forward. His hair drapes over his eyes, shielding him from Izuku’s honest gaze. “When I use my fire powers, I feel like I’m going to vomit. Like I’m going to follow right into his footsteps.” Shoto closes his eyes, trying to stop himself from crying. He feels Izuku’s warm hands lay on top of his own.
“Y’know, just by joining the League, you’re already different. You’re even more different ‘cause you left it.” Shoto looks up in confusion, trying to read Izuku’s determined expression.
“I don’t follow.”
“You don’t want to be like him. So, you’ve recognized your own behavior, and you’ve changed it to make sure that you were never truly a bad person.” Izuku smiles, separating Shoto’s hands and interlacing their hands across the table. “You want to be good, even though that definition is different from what the rest of us have been saying.”
Izuku smiles at him, but it’s different this time. His eyes are soft with something that Shoto can’t quite pin down, his thumb rubbing up and down his hand, reassuring. There’s something there, but no matter how many ways he thinks about it, he can’t really compare it to any feeling he’s ever had before, except…
The exact way he feels about Izuku.
“Oh!” Shoto can’t help but exclaim as he realizes. Izuku straightens up, soft look almost entirely gone from his face, but still there. Shoto clears his throat a bit. “I think I know another reason why I’m not entirely a bad person.” Shoto keeps a straight face, leaning in as close as he can to Izuku. Izuku leans, too, eyebrows furrowed seriously. Shoto pauses, building the tension for as long as he possibly can before Izuku can think to pull back, and says- “I got a cool guy like you to like me back.” Then, he leans in for a kiss.
“SHOTO.” Dabi yells from the living room of their new “hideout” (in reality, they were squatting in some old couple’s apartment- their calendar said that they would be on vacation in the U.S. for a few more weeks). “SHOTO YOU DIPSHIT. COME OVER HERE.”
“Fine, fine, I’m coming. Tch, what has you so damn upset?” Shoto mutters, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “The sun just rose, it’s too early to yell at me about doing the damn dishes-”
“It’s not about the dishes, Shoto.” Dabi is standing in the living room, leaning against the wall opposite to the bedrooms. He has a folder at his side, one hand rubbing irritably at his temple.
“You look like Shigaraki when you do that.” Shoto says, purposefully trying to rile his brother up. It only sort-of works, his eyes going wide and eyebrows going low for a few moments before he reigns himself back in. Dabi takes a deep breath, pushing himself away from the wall, walking further into the living room and slapping the folder down onto the small coffee table. The pictures only partially slide out, but Shoto is deft at identifying Izuku’s wild green hair. He also recognizes the wooden exterior of the café they were at earlier that day.
“...You snooping bitch.” Shoto deadpans. He forces his face to stay unreadable, even as his heart beats faster-faster-faster.
“What happened, Shoto? Toga said you guys’ve been meeting for like, weeks. You couldn’t have even told me?” Dabi looks more hurt than upset, his fists clenching.
“You got Toga to spy on us?”
“Well, we’re still kind of friends and she wanted an excuse to get away from the rest of the league.” Dabi shrugs awkwardly. “But I want to know why you didn’t trust me enough to tell me that you’re… changing.” Dabi sighs, turning to face the sliding glass door to the small patio.
“What do you mean?” Shoto shakes his head, trying to remember what he’s done to make himself change. “Dabi, you’ve known that I’m gay for almost as long as I have, so-”
“It’s not that.” Dabi turns to face Shoto again, fire behind his icy blue eyes. “You haven’t stolen anything in weeks, you really didn’t want us crashing at this place, despite there being no violent crimes involved, and you keep shutting down when I talk about our final plan.” Dabi’s voice escalates, growing into loud confusion that Shoto’s not used to seeing in his brother. “What’s happened to you? Do you not wanna kill him anymore? Have you secretly been reconnecting with him, too?” Dabi clenches his hands tight enough to feel his nails pressing half-moon crescents into his palms. His palms are itchy, aching to release blue fire.
“No, no- Dabi, you have it all wrong!” Shoto crosses his arms across his chest, pissed that Dabi would think so lowly of him. “Why the hell would I even get close to that monster?” Shoto watches Dabi start to pace, steaming hands shoved deep into his pockets.
“Well, you never thought mom did anything wrong!” His voice cracks, tears welling in his eyes. Shoto is stunned speechless, too taken aback to respond. So, Dabi continues. “She just sat back and watched while he hurt me. Hurt you! She even burned you, Shoto!” He turns to Shoto, now, tears making their way down his war-torn face. “She turned her back on us when we needed her most! So why should I expect you to do anything else?”
Shoto feels a punch to his gut as those words enter his body, his feet unconsciously leading him to bump against the couch’s armrest. “I-”
“No! No, Shoto, you don’t get to defend yourself right now. ‘Cause I kept my ideals through thick and thin, through all of Endeavor’s veiled threats and terrifying phone calls, but you’re letting the kid you fell head-over-heels for change your whole perspective.” Dabi finally crashes emotionally, breath heavy, sitting down gently on the edge of the couch opposite to Shoto.
“Dabi…” Shoto starts.
“Just.” He takes a long, shaky breath. “Just… What about me?” He looks at Shoto again, his eyes nothing short of terrified. “Are you gonna leave me too? Join the hero course at UA and watch me rot from your moral high ground?” Dabi folds into himself, bringing his legs up onto the couch and wrapping his arms around them.
“Dabi, I didn’t… why didn’t you tell me before?” Shoto asks gently.
“Because you’re your own person and I respect that. I just want us to still be family, like we always have.” Dabi closes his eyes, resting his forehead against his knees. Shoto gets up softly, moving to sit next to Dabi on the couch. They sit in silence that isn’t quite peaceful, but is still comfortable. The air is still around them, the clock ticking gently, the light from the rising sun creeping into the living room, skimming Shoto’s toes. The cool morning breeze flutters through the partially-open glass door, whispering against the edges of the photos on the table.
Shoto leans forward, grabbing the folder. Dabi bristles beside him, but he ignores it. He opens the folder, heart melting at how adorable Izuku looks while clearly talking about All Might. He flips through the series of photos, pausing at the ones right before their kiss. Then, there’s a small gap, and the photos switch to right after their first kiss, both of them obnoxiously red in the face, hands linked together tight. Shoto remembers the words Izuku said to him, his freckles standing out on his blushing face. Can we… Are we dating now? Shoto had only nodded, but he had never felt more excited.
He sets the folder down, setting a few special ones to the side (Shoto forced himself to forget that it was Toga that captured these beautiful moments. At least she wasn’t trying to steal Izuku from him, though). He turns slightly, bringing his left leg up onto the couch as he faces Dabi.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.” Shoto waits for any sign of a reaction, but continues despite the lack thereof. “I still don’t like him . Izuku’s been trying to like, get me to go to a therapist but I don’t think I’m ready.”
“...Maybe I should meet your little boyfriend, he sounds smart.” Dabi turns his head towards Shoto, giving him the smallest hint of a smile. But he knows what it means- they’ve survived together too long to not know.
Shoto tells him a few weeks later that he’s started training with Izuku to take the entrance exam for the next school year over a semester away, and it shocks Shoto when Dabi only looks a little uncomfortable, before giving him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “You’re gonna be a great hero, Shoto.”
He really hopes so.
Shoto knew his life was going too well. Izuku had told him that he loved him the week before at their two month anniversary, Dabi had found them a cheap apartment to live in legally, and his studies were going strong.
But then, it happened.
And the next thing he knew, he was standing in the procession, Izuku’s hand clasped tightly in his own, dreading the slow movement towards the open casket. His feet feel like lead, his heart was nearly melting with anxiety, and his brain wants nothing more than to grab Izuku and run. He turns to Izuku, glad that his terrified expression is enough of a message on its own.
“Okay, not yet.” Izuku says, more to himself than anyone else. The megachurch is packed to the brim with heroes and fans, all decorating his coffin with flower after flower, card after card. Izuku shuffles Shoto into a quiet room a few hallways down from the main hall. They take deep, calming breaths together, fingers intertwined to stay grounded.
When Shoto finally comes back to his senses, he looks around at the room around them. It was some sort of preschool area, the dark room filled with scattered toys. The light from a nearby lightpost shines through the bay window, cutting through the falling snow outside.
They simply stand there for a while, breathing.
Shoto counted his own breaths, watching the snow in its slow spiral downward, and when that got boring he started counting Izuku’s. The stillness enveloped them gently, coolly. A tear slipped down the left side of his face, unbidden. He opens his mouth, but Izuku speaks before Shoto can get a sound out.
“We’re going to wait here until everyone else leaves.” Shoto turns his head towards Izuku, gratitude radiating onto his boyfriend. “You deserve to have your own moment of mourning. It’s… different, than the others.” Izuku is still focused on watching the snow fall, gripping his hand tighter.
“Thank you.” Shoto breathes.
This is it. Shoto thinks. This is the moment. He approaches the coffin silently, as if he were about to be punished. Izuku follows behind from a distance, gauging Shoto’s response. Shoto’s heart is beating out of his chest, the mountain of cards, plushies and flowers seeming to take shape into their own monster. His feet beat thunderous against the hardwood flooring as he nears just close enough to the coffin to see his head- pale face, close-cropped red hair, no fiery moustache. Lifeless.
Shoto’s anxiety swirls around his body like a whirlwind, his eyes brimming with angry tears. Izuku’s hand slides into his own, gentle, and the whirlwind dies down. They stand in front of the dead body of the No. 1 Hero Endeavor for a few minutes, each second bringing a new emotion, a new memory.
“You know what happened, don’t you?” Izuku asks, accusation absent from his tone. He knows the answer, but hums when Shoto nods his head.
Izuku squeezes his hand reassuringly.
“We’ll get through this, together.”