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—fading—
—slowly fading—
—fading into nothing—
—then—
Eyes opened.
Awareness—
In the back of his mind existed the feeling of heaviness upon his eyelids and limbs, the fog of feeling as if he’d slept forever, not easily lifting, and yet—
In the back of his mind, Dabi—
—Toya—
His identity—
At the end of the day, somehow, he’d regained his identity, his sense of self, but—
—memory—
A memory of Shoto saying that his favorite food was the same as theirs.
Eyes opened.
Dabi opened his eyes, seeing the ceiling of—
At the end of the day—
The first thought crossing his mind was how something wasn’t right, or more of how in the back of his head he knew something wasn’t right for the simple fact that too much was right.
In the end—
“In the end, I couldn’t move. I couldn’t feel. I couldn’t redeem myself to those I most wanted to, despite how much they,” he thought to himself as he stared at the ceiling. “They forgave me. Even Natsu forgave me far easier than he did the old man.”
But—
In that moment, he heard something that felt strangely familiar, of someone noting him to be awake, of—
Toya continued staring at the ceiling, realization kicking in, of how he found himself waking up in the same orphanage he had back when he was sixteen, meaning—
“Eight years in the past,” he thought. “I woke up eight years in the past?”
To which everything felt like a strange dream, almost at first like some kind of nightmare, as at the end of the day—
“I don’t want to be here.”
And everything seemed as if on replay of what happened before, as they explained how he’d been abandoned by his family. Only—
“How would they react if they knew I wasn’t dead? Would Endeavour want to cover it up or get rid of me? Pretend I didn’t exist?”
In which there still existed some level of anger, of frustration towards the situation, but—
Events unfolded, going as they did until they didn’t, with—
Dabi made his first choice, and his first choice—
Like before, he left the orphanage, not wanting to stay in that place, thinking of that child, Endevour was more than willing to abandon, failure that he was. And at the end of the day, he didn’t think anybody would come looking for him either, having seen how someone like himself could fall through the cracks.
That meant—
That meant in that world that wasn’t a dream, he was coming to realize, or a replay of a memory, that he was in fact in the past, given an unexpected second chance and—
His mind went back to Shoto, how they shared the same favorite food, and—
Something pulled him to his old family home, heart already feeling dread at what he expected to find, what he didn’t want to find, of slipping back into a mindset—
“For Shoto’s sake…”
…
For Shoto’s sake, he went home, and at first he thought—
Everything at first felt like a confirmation of everything he thought happened, that his family forgot him, that his father’s golden boy—
But then—
Endevour didn’t stick around all day.
No, the man held duties as a hero, so he couldn’t train his seven, maybe eight-year-old child all day, twenty-four seven, leaving Shoto to the devices of the servants running the household while the man of the house was away.
And their mother—
—absent—
And the first thing Toya noticed was Shoto stopping on the balcony of the second floor, looking out at his two older siblings playing in the yard, looking as if he wanted to join in, reminding Toya of all the times they’d not been allowed to interact with Shoto when he was younger.
And—
—longing—
Toya stayed in a tree, in the shadows, unnoticed by the adults running the estate, or Endevour himself, while he wondered why he never tried approaching and staying for such a long time before, and—
“Because maybe, despite how angry you always were, you didn’t really want to hurt your family. They only became a part of the equation when you knew that would hurt him, but didn’t you just end up hurting yourself at the end of the day? After all…”
Toya swallowed, watching Shoto look out, eyes wanting what he couldn’t have, small and tiny, only for a servant to usher him away, making it clear Endevour didn’t care about his children’s happiness, having torn Toya away from his training.
Only for Toya to wince, having lifted a hand to run it through his hair in his frustration, resulting in him seeing the scarred flesh from his own self-distruction. He took a deep breath. “What’s really going through your head, old man? That you’d be the bastard you are?”
Because Toya looked at his hand, frowning, remembering faint memories of a father begging him to stop, of a mother begging him to stop, but in his madness—
In his madness, he didn’t stop, bringing harm to himself.
To which—
For a moment, he thought it better if he just left, hand rubbing the back of his neck, frustrated, thinking things simpler if he just left, given what his madness ended up bringing down upon the family.
But Shoto—
There existed that faint flicker of wanting to actually know his younger brother, to see if there was anything else similar between the two of them, the urge to actually be a brother to Shoto, who, despite everything, in the future that now wasn’t, accepted him as he was.
To which he stopped himself from bursting in during one of Endevour’s training sessions, watching in shock as—
“It’s not the same.”
To his disbelief—
Toya’s memories—
Memories of bonding with his father through training, of them forming a connection through the training Endevour provided, in what they had in common—
“Why? Why was I ever jealous of this?” Toya thought to himself, yet—
Endevour’s training of Shoto was nothing to be jealous of. It was so different, so unkind, so unseeing of Shoto as a person, whereas Endevour always saw Toya as—
“I don’t understand. Rushing Shoto through his training. Won’t it be detrimental in the end, as his powers are still developing? Why is he in such a rush to make Shoto ready to surpass All Might?”
To which he couldn’t just stand by, couldn’t let it continue.
“If I could only be a hero to one person…”
At the end of the day, he knew, at least at this point in time, he couldn’t face Endevour, couldn’t take his old man on, yet someone still needed to save Toya.
“Just like you saved me in the end, in the other world.”
So he approached when Endevour was away, when the servants weren’t looking, when—
“Toya-nii.”
Toya froze, thinking Shoto spoke to him, only to recognize the room his younger brother was in, recognizing Shoto was speaking not to him, but the ghost of himself.
Shoto was there, in front of the family shrine, in front of a picture of thirteen-year-old Toya, letting his heart out to Toya-nii, about how he wanted him there, how hard Endevour was, how the abuse from their mother was, in Shoto’s mind, their father’s fault.
And—
He needed to get Toya out there, so he made his move, saying, “I heard you.”
Shoto almost yelled before Toya could cover his mouth, could knock him unconscious, and slumped in Toya’s arms.
“It’s okay,” Toya muttered. “It’s going to be okay.”
And then he left, left with his younger brother, making sure nobody noticed.
…
Which—
Being a hero to Shoto was easier said than done, with only the first step of bringing Shoto under Dabi’s own roof being the easy part.
At the end of the day, Dabi’s own roof was an abandoned building that he’d taken shelter in while watching his family, meaning that they were close enough that if Endevour really wanted, he could, in fact, be easily tracked down, once Endevour realized the youngest, his prized tool was gone, and already Dabi found himself contemplating where to g onext, how to remain unnoticed.
And in the place were things—
He’d stolen food to eat, clothes to survive, planned on dying his hair yet again, already decided he’d dye Shoto’s hair as well, while realizing perhaps something needed to be done regarding Shoto’s face, although he found himself dreading putting makeup on a young child, especially a boy, yet that was stolen just in case, as well as a hooded jacket.
And cold soba, for when Shoto woke up, hoping this was still Shoto’s favorite food, but when—
Shoto startled, backing away, looking at him—
“Hey, hey,” Toya said.
Then, he set the food down on the mattress, the dirty, dirty mattress, while Toja already planned on moving Shoto to the place he’d stayed after leaving the orphanage the previous time.
Shoto looked at him—
As if he were the monster, not Endevour.
But then—
“I want to go home.”
“You’re not…” Toya said. He stared, while the boy glared. “You’re not going back to that.”
“You think he’ll let you? That he’ll…”
“Do you hear yourself, Shoto?” Toya said, grimacing. “This isn’t about him. This is about…”
“And why do you care?” Shoto snapped. “Who are you to…”
“You don’t know?” Toya said, finding himself frustrated, a sixteen-year-old with a seven or eight-year-old. It was—
“Why would I?” Shoto said, glaring, defiant.
Toya frowned, then held up his hand, the blue fire…
Shoto stared.
“Would you believe me when I say we’re family?”
“The Todoroki family isn't the only family with Fire Quirks.”
Dabi stared, extinguishing his fire. “But not everyone in the Todoroki family has Fire Quirks, do they?” He felt the corner of his mouth. “Everyone left…”
Shoto stifened, looking…
“Hmm. Never mind. Because…”
“Ice abilities. Mother’s abilities. Everyone but…” Shoto paused, then—
Suddenly, the child was near, getting in his face, catching Dabi off guard, resulting in Dabi stumbling, back, tripping, his sixteen-year-old self ever so awkward.
And Shoto was there, face near Dabi’s, staring, eyes wide.
“What…”
“You,” Shoto said, then, “You have his eyes.”
“Ugh,” Dabi rolled his eyes. “Don’t remind me.”
“And your hair is like theirs.”
Dabi stared.
“Toya-nii?”
“Yes.” He found himself surprised that things were going so well, though Shoto was being so trusting.
“Where were you!”
Toya stared, eyes wide, as—
Shoto started crying, hitting Toya’s chest, which—
Wasn’t comfortable.
“Why’d you leave me?”
Toya stared. “He feels I left him.”
“Mom and I needed you!”
“Mom?” Toya asked.
“He sent her away.”
Toya’s nostrils flared. “Not surprising. He is quite the bastard, isn’t he?”
“She wouldn’t have done this if he hadn’t…”
Toya stiffened. “She did that?”
“You’d have known if…”
“I’ve been asleep.”
“Asleep. For three years?”
“It’s called a coma, Shoto,” Toya said, reaching out to ruffle the top of Shoto’s head, frowning. “Mother did that? Not that bastard.” It made him sick.
“She thought I was him.”
Toya stared, it clicking that—
That side of Shoto was the side he inherited from that man.
“Okay,” Toya said, trying to smile. “Mum didn’t mean to.”
“Mama didn’t mean to,” Shoto said. “It’s his fault, but I’m not going to become a hero like him.”
“Oh?” and out of curiosity. “Who then? All Might?”
Shoto frowned, then, “No. Like you.”
Toya stared. “Like? Wait. Me?”
“Aren’t you saving me?” Shoto said. “From him.
“Yeah. Yeah, I am,” Toya said, not wanting to admit there was no plan to what he was doing. “I’m taking you away from him, so he won’t hurt you anymore. Because I can’t…” He paused, frowning. Fingers ruffled Shoto’s hair. “Can’t do that. I just can’t leave you there.”
“Then you’re my hero.”
Toya stared. “Why? Why couldn’t I see I could be his hero?” And then, “Well, he did keep us away from Shoto. I mean…” He paused, remembering. “Oh. But wasn’t that after…”
He brushed it aside.
“Well? Eat your soba, and then we’ll prepare to leave.”
“I like soba. I like it cold.”
“Me too,” Toya said.
Shoto’s head tilted. “Toya-nii? Are you crying?”
“Yeah?” Toya said, wiping away the mess. “I’m crying because I’m happy. Happy to have such an amazing little brother.”
Which made Shoto beam, which felt so much more than what he’d been trying to seek from that man, while—
“I was so focused on getting his attention to get my revenge,” Toya thought. “I never thought there was a much better, much more fulfilling way to do it.” He smiled with ease. “One that doesn’t involve hurting the rest of the family.”