Ohmytheon notes: The first thing I want to say is that this chapter does involve a lot of heavy themes. It's obviously set during a very volatile time in the Todoroki household, although I feel like it goes without saying that almost any one-shot centered around Endeavor and any of the Todoroki kids' childhoods isn't going to be a pleasant one. Touya's relationship with his father is particularly bad during this period, so topics like his "training" and his A+ parenting skills will be featured. As much as this is focused on their relationship, I think Touya and Rei's very complicated relationship as well. So if these topics are triggers for you, read at your own caution. I totally understand if it's too much. I should've considered it more as I was writing it, but this felt really important to me for some reason.
Touya all but stumbled out of the rain and into the house, exhaustion etched into his bones at this point. The last three days had flown by in a nightmarish fog that, somehow, he could neither remember nor forget. If he wasn't careful, by the time he laid down for some proper sleep, he'd have to wear the quirk inhibitor braces again. He didn't want to get caught off guard by an actual nightmare that would shake his tentative control over his quirk. Honestly, he was a bit surprised that he hadn't yet. Maybe he had too much on his mind for it to happen. He could forget about his issues when distractions came up.
Their mom pouring a pot of boiling water on Shouto's face was a pretty fucking huge distraction.
Once inside, Touya stomped on the rug and then slid his feet out of his wet shoes to push them aside. Behind him, Fuyumi folded the umbrella, set it in the holder, and turned around to calm down Natsuo. The kid was nothing but a ball of energy after being cooped up inside at school all day. It had been raining for the past two days, which meant that they couldn't go outside and play. It was a tragedy for a kid like him.
Ever since the incident, the entire house had been filled with a terrifying sort of tension where it felt like anything could go wrong. It would've been a blessing to send Natsuo outside. His pent-up energy could easily turn into a spiraling ball of anxiety or anger, depending on what happened. Fuyumi spent half her time keeping an eye on him to make sure that he didn't see anything that would make him even more upset than he already was. He was perhaps the closest to their mom outside of Shouto.
Well, that might not be true anymore. It was hard to say. Their mom had loved to dote on Shouto until his training had started. Then it became harder for her to look at him with each passing day. She tried to make up for it by being extra loving at times, but it still confused him. He hadn't understood the abrupt changes in her behavior, trying to cling to her more as their father pulled him away. Touya had seen what was going on and found it difficult to watch as well. He saw the way she began to pull back from Shouto, the same way she had done with him, and it had stung something terrible.
"You're supposed to protect us!" Touya wanted to shout at his parents. "Why are we left protecting each other from you?"
It wasn't fair to his mom though, not when she had tried. Maybe not as much with Touya as she had Shouto, perhaps realizing her failure with her oldest son, but she'd done what she could. It was almost impossible to stand up against a man like Enji Todoroki as he wasn't just a man. He was Endeavor, the number two hero, and the strongest person that Touya had ever met. The most terrifying, too. A father shouldn't be both of those things.
Touya couldn't hate his mom for not protecting him enough. He couldn't even hate her for what she'd done to Shouto, no matter how much it had horrified him. How could he, when he knew what kind of power his dad had over all of them? The abuse had gotten into her head, under her skin, and corrupted her heart, just like it had done with him. Sometimes, he just wanted to burn everything to the ground. He knew it was wrong – a dark thought that he had to ignore – but that anger and pain was there and could turn into something terrible.
He understood the fear that had crippled his mother. He could never hate her for falling victim to that, especially when he felt the sting of shame for not being able to protect her or Shouto. It wasn't his job, it shouldn't be his job, but he'd never once considered not doing it. He was only thirteen and it shouldn't have been on his or his twin's shoulders, but there was no one else to take care of her and help pick up the pieces. He would save their mom. He'd keep Shouto safe. He'd make sure Natsuo was happy.
Surely, after the incident, their dad would realize that he had been terrorizing them and he'd try to change his ways. If not for him, who he looked upon with distaste at best, or his two other children, who he ignored, or his wife, whom he had used repeatedly, then for Shouto, his so-called masterpiece. He had to see that the damage he'd inflicted in the past would taint everything in the future.
"I don't want to go to my room!" Natsuo burst as he kicked off his shoes. "It's boring."
"I know, but it won't be for long," Fuyumi tried to soothe, an uncomfortable smile on her face. "We'll play games and make some cookies later."
Natsuo groaned. "I'm so tired of games." Despite being two years younger than them, he was taller than Fuyumi, having inherited their dad's build, which made it difficult for her to tell him what to do. It hadn't helped that Touya had been shorter than the both of them for years. He had just recently gone through a growth spurt that he'd been really excited about and was now a few centimeters taller. "This is so stupid."
"Please, Natsuo, don't argue," Fuyumi half-pleaded. "Don't you have homework to do?"
"Yeah, I guess," Natsuo grumbled. The change in tone made Touya glance back. He caught his brother chewing on his bottom lip. It wasn't a good sign. "I want to see Mom. Where is she?"
Fuyumi tensed. "I told you: she's not feeling well, so she's resting in her bedroom. We need to leave her alone."
"You two get to see her," Natsuo complained, scuffing a socked foot against the ground. "Why can't I?"
Touya could tell that Fuyumi was struggling, especially when she glanced back at him and he noticed the panicked gleam in her eyes. Mostly, he saw the distraught look on her face. She'd never been as good at hiding her emotions as him, preferring to wear her heart on her sleeve. He did his best to burn his to ashes altogether. She didn't want to argue with Natsuo. Like him, she probably lacked the energy to put up much of a fight. She'd taken on so many responsibilities in the house on top of her schooling; she didn't need this one as well.
"Go to your room, Natsuo."
His younger brother jerked his head up, an openly hurt expression on his face. "But–"
As much as it hurt him in return, Touya did not falter when he coldly cut in, "I said go to your room."
When Natsuo visibly flinched, Touya told himself that it was for his own good. He didn't need to see what damage had been done to their family. He hadn't seen Shouto's wound. He hadn't seen the wild, unseeing look in their mother's eyes. The image wasn't burned into his memory. If he saw them now, it would change everything. He would never be able to look at their mother the same way again. He'd not experienced how truly harsh their father could be and, although he had seen the abuse before, was mostly kept out of it. He had not felt the pain like Touya and Fuyumi had when they were physically torn apart after their quirks manifested.
If preserving Natsuo's innocence for a little while longer meant Touya had to turn even harder, then so be it. Still, it wounded him to see the effect he could have on his brother. Using his father's tone always made his stomach flip, but he didn't apologize either. He could do that later, once they had passed through this dark and terrible storm.
Touya softened his expression, playing to their mother's strength on one of her good days. "Don't argue with Fuyumi, okay? She's doing a lot for us."
"Okay," Natsuo mumbled, looking away so that they wouldn't be able to see how much Touya had upset him. He hugged Fuyumi and uttered a quiet apology before hurrying to his bedroom. It didn't escape Touya that he'd been bypassed entirely. It didn't hurt. Some things had to be done.
A sigh escaped him as Fuyumi tugged at her skirt. "I'm sorry. He's just so difficult. I should be able to handle him by now."
"Not your fault or his," Touya told her. "Can you check on Shouto? He probably needs his bandage changed."
Instead of listening to him, as Natsuo had done, Fuyumi teetered nervously. He tried not to sigh in frustration. She was troubled by their younger brother giving them a hard time and now she was questioning him. No, he couldn't think like that. He wasn't in charge. They were working together to keep their family from falling apart. She was right to question him. They had to be on the same page.
"Don't you think you should check on him?" Fuyumi asked, pulling her hand back and wringing them in front of herself. "You're more familiar with burn wounds–" She cut herself off by slapping a hand over her mouth, her eyes going wide above her fingers. Touya didn't even blink as he stared back at her. Shakily, she pulled her hand off her mouth, forming a fist. "I'm so sorry! I didn't mean–"
"No, you're right," Touya interrupted calmly. "I am."
He hadn't burned himself in a while, which was a miracle in itself. His quirk had flared up the second he'd passed Shouto over to the doctor. He'd locked himself in the training room as fire sputtered out of his fingers and hands like matches being repeatedly struck until, finally, he could breathe and his quirk died down. He'd stayed in there until Fuyumi knocked on the door and asked after him in a weak voice that told him she'd been sobbing. He felt like shit leaving her alone like that, but he had been afraid that he would hurt her. She was sensitive to fire, just like Natsuo and their mom.
Fuyumi dropped her hand and looked down at her feet. "I still shouldn't have said it."
"It wasn't that bad," Touya told her. Their father had said plenty of things worse than that – accused him and called him worse things, too. Besides, she wasn't wrong. He had plenty of experience dealing with burn wounds. He could barely remember a time before his quirk manifested. It was like he'd been born smoking; the sickening stench of burning flesh all too familiar. Shouto's wound was different though. The hot water had burned something fierce when Touya had slipped in it upon bolting into the kitchen. "You're more comforting than I am though and he needs that right now. Besides, you got pretty good at patching me up."
"Are you sure?" Fuyumi asked, lifting her hands to wrap over her arms so that she was holding herself like she was cold. She wasn't. The cold rain didn't bother either of them. "I don't want to sound insensitive, but you…" Her eyes flickered up and down him, making him stiffen as she quickly looked him over. She chewed on her already raw bottom lip, an action that would make it bleed if she kept it up. "Well, you know."
He did know. It irritated him to no end, but it wasn't something that he could avoid. He looked like their father. He saw it in his reflection every day, making him want to punch the mirror and burn it to nothing, but he never did. The last thing he needed was his father getting onto him about destroying property. Not that he wanted to check up on his wife, seeing ashe had driven her into such a state of madness that she'd hurt her own son, but all of them knew that seeing him would set her off.
It put Touya on edge every time he entered her bedroom, but he didn't want Fuyumi in there for the same reason that he didn't want Natsuo to see her. Fuyumi adored their mother and looked up to her. They'd spent so many nights baking together, cooking dinner, reading books and drawing. It was their mother who had taught them all how to read with Fuyumi at her side like a student teacher ready to help. He wanted her image of their mom to be that bright woman, not this frail, trembling ghost that wept in the dark and didn't recognize her own son half the time. It would break her heart.
Touya rubbed his face. "No, I'll do it. I should take care of her."
Immediately, concern washed over Fuyumi's face and she stepped forward, reaching out to him, but he took a step back, which made her freeze on the spot. He hadn't meant to – it wasn't like he was afraid of her – but it came to him out of habit. He was getting better about it, but this whole mess had brought out a lot of his insecurities. It would take time to smother them again.
Although he looked away from her, he still heard the pain in her voice when she said, "It's not your fault."
He knew that. It had nothing to do with him and everything to do with the pain that their father had inflicted on their mother and Shouto, but that didn't stop Touya from drowning in a sense of guilt. "I should've done more. I should have protected them both more. I knew damn well what was going to happen with Shouto and I didn't–" He stopped himself and took a deep breath, running his fingers through his messy red hair. It was just like their dad's, sprouting up in a mess like a fire. "I could've protected her."
I could've been stronger.
"That's not on you," Fuyumi told him gently. "It's not your job."
"It is my job," Touya insisted. It wasn't. It should have been their father's. It should've been their mother's. He was thirteen. What did he know about protecting anyone? He wasn't a hero. None of that mattered though. He still felt as if he should've done more to prevent this. He'd noticed his mother's deteriorating mental health – Fuyumi had as well – but they'd done nothing. Instead, they had watched and nervously hoped that things would get better. They had told themselves that the things would be fine. They'd get their mother back. Their father would stop. Shouto would smile again.
Ah, they were kids. What did they know?
Fuyumi took a breath. "Okay, I'll check on Shouto, but come after you tend to Mom, okay? I think he wants to see you, but he's too afraid to ask."
Touya mouth was dry and his throat constricted, but he still managed to nod and respond, "Yeah, of course."
He hadn't been avoiding his youngest brother – he swore he wasn't – but he couldn't deny that it was hard seeing him. The moment he'd peeled Shouto's hands away from his face, he had known that this burn wasn't going to go away as his did. It wouldn't just heal. He had marks on his body, yes, pink scars that were slowly fading, but the boiling water that their mother had thrown at him was something different. It wouldn't just fade away. That was a mark he would bear for the rest of his life. He would never be allowed to forget it. Just as Touya's reflection filled him with disgust and rage, Shouto's would be a stain against their parents – of their failure to love and protect him.
With the decision made, Fuyumi stepped around him and headed for Shouto's room. They had left a med kit in there so it was easier to take care of him. He couldn't change the bandage on his face on his own. Wiping his eyes to make sure that he was fine, Touya went to the kitchen. A plate of food that Fuyumi had prepared and covered was in the fridge, so all he had to do was warm it up. Not that it mattered much. Most of the food he took to their mom went to waste. She rarely touched any of it.
Before he headed for her room, he stopped by his. With the hot plate in one hand, he picked a baseball cap up off his bed and jerked it on top of his head, making sure to cover his hair. It wasn't much, but in the dark of her bedroom, it made it more difficult for her to recognize him. It hurt when she didn't know it was him, but it was better than her mistakenly seeing her husband in his place. That had happened once since the incident and she had flown into a terrified panic that had forced him to sedate her with the medicine the doctor had left for her. Maybe Fuyumi was right about it being better if she took care of their mom, but he had a responsibility to uphold.
Once outside her door, Touya tentatively knocked on it and called out, "Mom?"
There was no response, but there rarely ever was. Sometimes he could hear her quietly weeping, other times, she was silently staring at the ceiling, not really seeing anything. Either option made his stomach twist up.
"Mom, it's Touya. I'm coming in." Touya twisted the knob and gently eased the door open. Light from the hallway flooded her bedroom. Still no response. Again, it wasn't unusual. Most of the time she didn't say anything, as if she was locked in a fog or too ashamed. The times she asked about Shouto were uncomfortable at best. She knew what she had done, but it felt as if someone else had done it through her. Touya could almost believe it. She hadn't looked like their mother in that moment. "I brought you something to eat."
The first thing he had to do was remove the breakfast that she probably only picked at this morning, but when he looked over at the nightstand, he realized it was bare. He froze on the spot. The room was only half-lit, but he could tell something was wrong. There was no way his mom had finished her food and taken it to the kitchen to clean the dishes and put them up. His eyes swept to the bed, his mouth open in a question.
Nothing came out. He dropped the food on the ground, the plate clattering and rolling toward the empty bed.
With his hands free, he flicked on the light and gaped at what he saw. The bed wasn't just empty. It was made and cleaned, like their mother hadn't been hiding in it for three days. The whole room was empty. Touya's heart began to race as his eyes bounced from one thing to the next. The pictures she had of her children? Gone. Her slippers on the ground at the side of the bed? Gone. The change of clothes and pajamas he had hung up for her? Gone. The flower vase on the bedside table? Gone. The ugly jewelry box that Natsuo had made for her at school? Gone.
Everything was gone. The room was immaculate, scrubbed clean of any reminder that someone had slept in it. His parents hadn't shared a bedroom in years. This had been where their mom had slept, her one form of sanctuary in a home that had become a prison. In the first year of his training, He used to come to this room at night, whimpering and shaking from the exhaustion and injuries. She'd let him crawl into bed with her and run her fingers through his hair as she told him stories until he felt better.
There was nothing in here to suggest that this room was anything but a spare – that it mattered. This could have been any unused room in the house. No one would've known the difference if they saw it. Touya did though and it made his heart drop down to the pit of his stomach to see it missing the warmth that he'd clung to. Instead, insecurities had started to freeze the room over.
"Mom?" She wasn't here, he knew she wasn't here, yet his voice trembled as he called out for her. He stepped over the dropped food and checked the bathroom, but it was also devoid of anything to suggest use. No towels or toothbrushes or any of her makeup or jewelry. It was spotless. Not even Fuyumi cleaned this well.
Where was she? Where was his mom? Touya's heart raced and he struggled to breathe, the onset of a panic attack gripping him. He tried to focus on something, but his mind kept jumping from one thing to another. When he checked the closet, it was empty, none of her clothes hung up or shoes set aside. It didn't even look like anyone had been in there this morning. They hadn't been gone for long. How could so much change in the time they'd gone to school?
Pressing his hands against his head, Touya closed his eyes and tried to steady his breathing. He was freaking out, but he had to calm down. His quirk was starting to flare up, his palms heating without him even trying. He jerked his hands away at the last second as fire sparked from his fingertips, nearly burning his face. Holding his palms out in front of him, he watched as fire flickered from one fingertip to the next, staring at it without blinking until the fire was the only thing consuming his mind.
Fire was warm. Fire was safe. Fire was his.
(Maybe if he kept lying to himself, he'd believe it.)
As soon as his quirk died down, Touya dropped his hands and cast one last hollow look around the room. It felt like every emotion had been scooped out of him and dumped at his feet. His mom was gone and he had no idea where she was. What was he going to tell the others? How could he possibly explain this to them when even he didn't know what was going on? Where was she? What had happened to her?
Rage suddenly flickered to life in Touya's gut. He knew who would have the answers.
What had his father done?
As soon as the question came to mind, it consumed him like wildfire. The confusion turned into an anger that grew stronger until it was all he could feel. There was no room for anxiety when he was pissed. He didn't know what had happened, but he knew it was his dad's doing. He did his best to control every aspect of their lives, even as he spent most of his time ignoring Natsuo and Fuyumi. They couldn't do anything without him criticizing them if they got on his radar. They had learned how to hide things from him, but he still ruled the house with an iron fist. If something had happened to their mom, then Endeavor was the one who made the decision.
Instead of cleaning up the food, Touya stormed out of the bedroom and screamed, "Dad!" He didn't bother hiding the fury from his voice, even though he knew that kind of insolence would garner him a smack at best. His quirk roared inside of him like a monster, his palms burning with the desire to light everything on fire. His flames were hotter than his father's and, in this moment, it felt like his anger was as well. "Dad!"
If he had to, he would kick down every door to find that flaming bastard. Every step he took was heavy enough to wake the dead. So consumed with anger and pain, it was almost possible for him to forget how afraid he was. His father would not take this behavior well. If he'd done what Touya feared he had with their mother, who was to say that he wouldn't do something similar to him? Maybe he'd ship him off to a school for problem children or have him locked away in a juvenile detention center. He had brought both up after the last few training sessions that had gone terribly wrong.
Natsuo peeked his face out of his bedroom as Touya stormed past it. "What's going on?"
"No matter what you hear, stay in your room," Touya told him, a cold fury settling over his words.
"But–"
Touya halted and rounded on him. "Don't argue with me, Natsuo! This isn't the time!"
His younger brother gawked, wide-eyed (and afraid), before pulling his head back into his room and slamming the door shut. Touya pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, but didn't have the time to dwell on it. There would be no chance for him to make it up to Natsuo tonight, not if Touya and their father came to blows as he wanted. All he could hear was his mother crying in his head, pleading for him to stop. Who though? Their father or him? The times he'd stepped between them in his useless attempts to protect Shouto, he hadn't known for sure.
It had never worked. The fact that Touya couldn't protect Shouto was just another mark against him in their father's eyes. He was weak. He was worthless. He was pathetic.
Touya burned from the inside out, gritting his teeth as he forced his quirk down. Not yet. He couldn't lose control now. Calling for his dad was useless. The man would never come out to face him, seeing as how he didn't think he was worthy of it, but Touya knew where he'd be. It was where he always was, hiding from his family like a coward. His training room, his sanctuary, the one place where none of them willingly went. Both Touya and Shouto had shed blood, sweat, and tears in that room. Endeavor could stand to as well.
"I know you're in there," Touya snarled as he halted outside the door. He hated the place. It made him feel sick to step inside, even though he'd used it to calm himself down a few days ago. It had been the only place he knew he could go where Fuyumi wouldn't follow. All roads lead here, to his shame, to his nightmare. And this was a nightmare. "You thought you could just get away with this? You thought you could just hide and pretend like nothing happened? You can't erase this!"
When Touya reached to rip the door open, it slid back with a slam. His father filled the doorway, as massive and powerful as ever, his flames creating a beard. He looked so stupid, but the cold look in his bright blue eyes was enough to send a chill down Touya's spine. He didn't show it though, seething furiously as he glared up at the man with as much fire as he could muster. It didn't matter that his father was ten times stronger. Touya didn't care that he was some scrawny, sick, weakling compared to him. He'd fight to find out the truth that he knew his old man would try to keep from them.
"Where is she?" Touya demanded in a hiss. His father didn't respond. All he did was look down on him with contempt, one hand still on the edge of the door. "Where is she, damn it? What did you do to her?"
His father huffed and rumbled, "I don't have time for this," before moving to pull the door shut and close him off.
The rage that flashed through Touya was almost too much to bear. He slapped a hand on the door, blue flames exploding under his palm, and shoved it back so hard that it broke against the wall. His father didn't even blink and for once Touya didn't pull away in shame or guilt at having lost control of his quirk. The two of them stared each other down. As much as his heart was racing – as much as his mind screamed at him to run away and not look back – he didn't. For however afraid he was of his father, nothing could match his fury right now.
"You're gonna fucking make time," Touya snarled. "Where's Mom?"
Perhaps his father really didn't have time to deal with what he considered a temperamental, problem child. He was the number two hero, after all. Looking him over now, Touya realized he was wearing half his hero costume, suggesting he was on his way to work. Had he hoped to be out of the house before they came home from school and found their mother gone? No, he couldn't leave Shouto home alone, not in his condition, even if he didn't have a compassionate bone in his body.
(Weren't heroes supposed to be kind? Weren't they supposed to be considerate? Caring? How could his father have none of that and be considered one of the greatest heroes of all time?)
"I did what had to be done," his father finally answered. There was no guilt in his voice, no shame or regret. It was like he didn't care that he'd driven his own wife into a corner, like he didn't believe it was his fault that she couldn't even look at her youngest son straight. The last time she had hugged Touya had been well over a year ago and he had pulled away before she could. It was like she couldn't stand to touch him for long. He wasn't big like his father or Natsuo – wasn't physically strong or foreboding – but he didn't have to be.
After all, he'd heard her talking on the phone before. "He acts just like him, same temper and coldness. I don't know what to do with him. He used to be so gentle…"
It wasn't Shouto she had been talking about. It had humiliated him more than anything his father could've said about him – and he had said a lot of shit over the years. She was right though. He wasn't gentle anymore. He was furious and he barely had enough self-control left to stop himself from letting go of what control he was holding onto. These past three days had been rough. All he wanted to do was sleep through the night without Shouto waking him up by crying in pain, but he was ready to use the last vestiges of his energy for this fight.
"What you had to do?" Touya countered incredulously. "Oh, go on, this will be rich. What did you have to do, Dad? Wipe every last bit of existence of her from our lives? Did you take the pictures from our bedrooms too?" He hadn't checked, but he wouldn't have put it past him. His father was thorough if nothing else. He'd been too focused on finding his hat to cover his hair to pay attention, not that he had much personal stuff in his room. "It's not like you can wipe our memories."
His father's gaze hardened his jaw clenched, a muscle twitching in response to Touya's remarks. The alarm bells began to go off in his head. He knew that look and it wasn't good at all (run, hide, escape! ), but instead of backing down or fleeing, he stood his ground.
"You think this was easy?" his father questioned.
"Doesn't look like you're struggling too much," Touya shot back. "You're just going to work like everything's normal. Sure, leave your two thirteen-year-old kids to take care of their traumatized and scared little brothers while their mom is missing. Everything's great. We're fine. Thanks for fucking asking."
It wasn't like he expected his father to start giving a damn now. He hoped that maybe he would realize his behavior was toxic. It had been a small hope, one he should've learned to ignore by now, but Fuyumi wanted it so badly and it was hard not to get swept up by her dreams. Even now, when they were quite possibly at their lowest, she wanted to be a family. She wanted Mom to get better and Dad to see the error of his ways. She wanted to go on vacations together. She wanted to take family photos that didn't end with Touya sporting a shiner and burn marks if he was in them at all.
And he wanted to give her those things. He did – he really did – but he didn't know if they were possible, especially as he glowered at their father now. The man just didn't care. There was no forcing him. The only thing he cared about was beating fucking All Might and that was that. He didn't care if he had to burn his family to the ground in order to rise to the top. They weren't family; they were pawns.
(But even a pawn could take down a king.)
"What did you do with Mom?" Touya asked one last time. There was a finality in his voice that warned of danger if he wasn't answered. He didn't know what, not with the way he was buzzing with nervous energy, but it would be something awful. His quirk was building up inside of him, boiling underneath his skin, demanding to be let loose. The training room might not be a thing anymore if he let go.
"She was sent to a hospital," his father said, the answer striking Touya like a gunshot at point blank range.
Touya staggered back, his hand slipping away from the doorway. "She...what? You threw her in an institution?"
"It's the top facility in the country, where she can get the help she needs," his father continued, but Touya wasn't listening. All he could think was that his mother was gone, locked away somewhere yet again. When would she have her own life? When would they? Would they always be stuck under his thumb? How long before his father did away with him? His ultimate failure, the black stain on his record of success. He wasn't like Fuyumi or Natsuo, who had been born with quirks like their mom's. No, Touya had failed with their father's quirk. It was an even greater shame.
"You had her committed?"
His father's frown deepened, a look on his face that suggested that what he'd done was perfectly logical. "She severely wounded Shouto. He'll bear the scar of her actions for the rest of his life. She had become a danger not only to herself, but to you all as well."
"Oh, don't act like you give a shit about us now," Touya scoffed. "You're just mad she hurt your masterpiece."
"And you're not?" his father countered. "You saw what she did to your brother. How long before she hurt you?"
Touya would deny having flinched at the question. He wouldn't cop to picturing his mother hurting him, but then she had thrown a pot of boiling water on Shouto's face, her baby boy. Who was to say she wouldn't turn on him? When she thought he was her husband that one time, she'd screamed and scratched his arms and slapped him his face. After he'd administered her medicine and she had realized it was her oldest son instead, she'd curled into a ball and cried until the drugs kicked in fully and she went quiet.
Any insecurities he felt about his mother hurting him were burned away by one simple fact. "Oh, like you hurt us?" His lips quirked into a vicious sneer, one that had provoked his father into smacking him in the face a time or two. He couldn't impress this man, but he was certainly was talented at pissing him off. "This is your fault. You did this! You drove her to hate us! She couldn't even look at me without flinching. She was only a danger because you turned her into one!"
A furious scowl crossed his father's face as he stepped forward and snatched the front of Touya's shirt. "Do you think you can just talk like that to me, boy?"
"You're not much of a father, so yeah, I do," Touya retorted, even as he stumbled to stay on his feet and was forced to grab his father's arms to keep from falling. At least he only had his quirk covering part of his face and not over his arms too. Touya was well aware that a blow was coming soon, but he didn't give a shit. He'd take it without any regrets. It wouldn't be the first time and he doubted it would be the last with their mother gone. Who would protect Shouto then?
It wasn't like he had protected his little brother before. He'd failed and now… And now…
"You're not a hero," Touya managed to choke out. Endeavor snarled and let go of his shirt, so he fell back on the flat of his feet, holding his hands out to steady himself. It was too much.
Tears pricked at his eyes as fire lit in his palms. Crying was a weakness Endeavor had never allowed it during training, not when he forced him to run until he puked or use his quirk until he passed out or taught him how to take a punch. Touya had thought he'd burned the tears out of him long ago, but they came back now, unbidden and unwanted. He wanted his dad to suffer. He wanted Shouto to be okay. He wanted Fuyumi to smile freely and Natsuo to laugh with abandon. He wanted to be able to walk in his own home without being one second away from his flight or fight response kicking in. There was one thing he wanted more than anything in the world.
He wanted his mom back, the one that had held his face in her cool hands and told him how brave he was, the one that would smooth his hair and whisper that he was strong, the one that smiled and held out her hands for him to hold when they went ice-skating, the one that would read him stories in her bed after she bandaged up his arms. He wanted her back, but his father had taken her away from him a long time ago.
"Touya, what's happening?" his sister's meek voice asked from behind.
Clenching his hands and smothering the fire that had escaped him, Touya turned to face his twin. However, he snapped his mouth shut when he saw Shouto clinging to her shirt with his hands and peering around her with only his right eye showing. There was fear in that single gray eye, enough to shake Touya from the fog his own rage had created.
"I…" How could he explain this? He couldn't. Their father didn't seem intent on talking about it either from the way he turned away from her slightly.
"Why are you two fighting?" Fuyumi asked, her voice already wet and her eyes covered in a film of tears. She had their mother's eyes, gray and soft, not like the cold blue ones he'd inherited from their dad.
Touya looked from her to their father, swallowing down words he was afraid to say. He was so furious he couldn't think straight. It was taking everything in him to keep his quirk from rushing back to the surface. This wasn't fair. It wasn't right. He knew from the way his father pressed his lips together behind that mask of flames that he wasn't going to say anything. No, he was laying the responsibility at Touya's feet. In his mind, he'd done the hard job - he had sent their mother away – and they should've understood why he'd done what he did.
(The sick part was that Touya did understand it. Their mom had become a threat. It was one thing to sit outside of the living room at night and listen to her question her sanity. It was quite another to see that sanity break. Shouto was eight. One of his strongest memories of her would be that moment. Touya knew he couldn't forget the way she looked. His feet and hands had hurt for at least a day from the boiling water.)
Shouto's tiny voice broke Touya from his thoughts and sent him spiraling back down to earth where it was cold and dark. "Where's Mom? I wanna see Mom."
Even after what she had done, through the pain he was suffering from, Shouto still wanted her. Touya didn't know if that would've upset her or made her happy. He didn't know anything. Hell, he didn't know what hospital she'd been sent to stay. How long would she be there? Was Endeavor just going to shut her away and pretend like she no longer existed? Fear struck Touya down and he wilted under the combination of his siblings' stares. He had spent years being afraid of his father, but for some reason, facing them was so much worse.
Touya looked away, unable to look them in the eyes but also worried because it was getting to be too much. He could feel himself losing control, his emotions getting the better of him. His father had pressed him to work on controlling his emotions and not letting them affect his quirk. He didn't want to lose it in front of them or scare Shouto any more than he already was.
"Take Shouto back to his room," Touya said in a low voice.
"Touya?" Fuyumi weakly called out.
"Just do it, Fuyumi!" Touya demanded, his voice cracking in a shameful way. He wasn't going to cry, but his throat constricted painfully and his stomach twisted. Fire sparked from his fingertips again. "I'll be there in a minute."
It might've been a lie. He honestly didn't know. If things escalated between him and his father anymore, there was a high possibility they would need to call the family doctor again. The man had come to know him quite well over the years, but he wasn't the friendly or warm type. It wouldn't be good for Endeavor's public image if people found out at least one of his children suffered multiple quirk-related injuries over the years. The implication could be devastating for someone ranked as the number two hero. The doctor had to have a flexible conscience in order to treat him so many times without question.
Or maybe Endeavor wouldn't deal with Touya at all. Maybe he'd drag him to the hospital he'd locked away their mom in and throw him in there too. It wouldn't be that difficult given his clout and Touya's record of hurting himself. Things could easily be twisted to display Touya as a danger to himself and others, just like their mom.
It'd be easy to erase him from the narrative as well.
Even though he knew Fuyumi wanted to argue, he heard her pick up Shouto, who cried out, "It hurts! I wanna see Mom!" Without another word, she left, Shouto's cries fading as they went down the hall and up the stairs. She was smart. She'd pick up on the fact that neither he nor their father had answered her question or said anything in regard to their mom. He had a sinking feeling she'd figure it out by the time she got to Shouto's room. He should be there for her when she did. She shouldn't have to face it alone.
He couldn't do it though, not when he was blinded by so much rage his body was starting to tremble from the effort of keeping an impassive facade. There was no way he could comfort her when he felt like a raging inferno on the inside.
"Where is she?" Touya asked again quietly, forcing his body still. He had to stay collected. He couldn't say he was calm, but as long as he didn't lose it entirely, he'd make it out of this. His father didn't respond to weakness. If he showed how truly hurt he was, how sick he felt, then his old man would walk away. No, he had to show he was brave, ready to stand up against him and fight. It wouldn't earn him any points or respect, but it might get him an answer, which was really the only thing he wanted.
There was no way he could force this bastard to understand the shame and guilt that nearly consumed him for simply not doing enough.
"Does it matter?" his father countered. "She's gone. Move on. Let it go."
"Let it go? Let her go ?" Touya tilted his head up just enough so he could stare at his father from underneath the rim of his baseball cap, all wild-eyed and manic. If he had been able to see his reflection, the thought that he looked like his mother in his moment for the first time might've crossed his mind. That rage though? That was all his father. Maybe his mom was right; maybe he had inherited too much from him. "She's our mom! I know what she did was awful, but it was your fault! You drove her crazy! You'll drive us all mad at this rate!"
"I didn't put that pot of boiling water in her hands," his father shot back. "I didn't tell her to hurt her own son."
"She couldn't even look at Shouto for long without being reminded of you. It terrified her. You were her greatest fear. How can you deny any responsibility?"
Touya had caught her quickly looking away from Shouto more than once. At least she still tried to smile and dote on him on her good days. Touya had long given up on it. Fuyumi always reassured him their mother loved him and he knew that she did. She loved him. Sometimes, they'd even talk when she was cooking or doing the dishes, her back to him so he was out of sight. He didn't think she realized why he always came to the kitchen when she was there. He just wanted some time with her.
And then that kitchen had become the scene of the incident. Touya didn't know whether to consider himself lucky or not for having escaped injury. He would've preferred it to have been him than Shouto. He could take it. He'd suffered worse before.
His father shook his head. "How she viewed and treated you all is not my doing–"
"She couldn't even look at me!" Touya ripped the cap off his head, flames bursting from his palm and incinerating the hat before he could throw it on the ground. In a matter of seconds, it was nothing but ash that he dropped at his feet. The distant thought that he would have to sweep it up later floated into his mind, which only made him angrier. His dad didn't tolerate a messy house so they all had chores to keep up with. The fact that his father had locked their mother up somewhere and Touya was worrying about pissing him off because of dirt only made the fire in his hand burn brighter. "I can't even… I can't even remember the last time she hugged me. My mom – my own mom – and all because I had the fucking misfortune of looking like you."
For a moment, his father looked him over. He didn't even look upset, much less bothered, by Touya's outburst. As far as he was concerned, this meant absolutely nothing. It was just a thirteen-year-old throwing a temper tantrum, no big deal at all, not even with his quirk activated and growing more out of control by the second. He'd push this aside like he did everything else. In an hour when he was at work, this whole thing would be forgotten. What did Touya's feelings matter in the end? Not a damn thing.
"Just tell me where she is," Touya demanded, trying not to sound like he was pleading.
"You can't see her," his father told him. "She's in a special ward until she's considered not a threat."
"She hurts Shouto one time and she's the threat?" Touya exploded. "Did you neglect to tell the doctors of all the times you hurt Shouto or me?"
His father had the gall to scoff and fold his arms across his chest, a normally defensive move that somehow looked threatening from him. "That was training. They were necessary in order to–"
"Necessary?" Touya's eyebrows raised. " Necessary ?" Without warning, he threw his head back and full-on laughed, the sound callous and bitter. "Who the fuck are you trying to kid with that bullshit?" He pointed a finger in the direction of the stairs Fuyumi had taken Shouto minutes before. "You've pushed him so hard he puked when he was five! Five years old! That's when you started training him. Gods forbid you allow him a childhood. You've punched me so hard that you broke a rib!"
"You should have dodged or countered it," his father pointed out. He sounded like he thought it was the most obvious thing in the world. Hell, he even sounded disappointed. "If you had been paying attention to the lesson–"
"I was fucking nine!" Touya shouted, slamming his other fiery palm on the wall and carelessly scorching the wood paneling. "Who gives a lesson on using their quirk defensively in order to win a fight against a physically stronger opponent to a nine year old? I'll tell you who: a self-absorbed, egotistical bastard."
His father's eyes narrowed in that familiar, dangerous way that told Touya his time was up. No more holding back. He'd get the full brunt of his wrath for acting out. Hurt and scared as he was, Touya almost relished it. At least then he had his father's attention, right? He wasn't just going to be pushed aside and ignored outright. He let out a breath, his blue flames flickering in his palms, trying not to wince as they flicked the bare skin of his wrists.
"It's not my fault you were too weak–"
"You made me use my quirk until I passed out from dehydration, exhaustion, overuse," Touya growled. "You made me burn and burn until I had nothing left in me – and then made me burn more."
"It was necessary for you to learn how to control your quirk," his father snapped.
"And you're going to do it to Shouto too. You're gonna do everything in your power to break him until he follows your every whim so you can win an ego contest with a hero that is better than you in every way–"
The blow was expected, but it still hurt like hell. Luckily, his father had the sense not to activate his own quirk when he backhanded Touya across the face. There was a loud crack and pain exploded as he was thrown to the floor, the hit so hard it literally knocked him off his feet. He hit the ground hard, his forearms taking the brunt of his landing, but at least his quirk had deactivated so he didn't catch himself with his own flames.
When he pushed himself up on his hands and knees, Touya spat blood onto the floor and then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Classy, Dad. That all you got?" He tilted his head to the side to look up at him and smirked even as blood pooled around the corner of his lips. "A bit lackluster, if I'm being honest. Sure you don't want to kick me while I'm down? Or maybe institutionalizing your abused and terrified wife is exhausting."
Touya didn't have time to scramble out of his father's reach when the man snatched him up from the front of his shirt and dragged him to his feet. He winced upon being slammed into the wall, but instead of reaching up to grab his arms, Touya jammed his palms as hard as he could into his father's chest and let his quirk explode. He'd meant it to be a small, concentrated blast, but went overboard, the fire not only hitting him in the chest but his face and the wall behind him as well. It was a shocking enough move to force his father to grunt in pain and let go of him as he staggered backward.
No longer being held up, Touya dropped to his feet, having been on his tiptoes, and stumbled. With his hands on his knees, he lifted his head and looked at his father. His black tank top had a large hole in it now, the edges singed and smoking. Underneath, his skin was actually red. Touya's flames had done something. Maybe it hadn't seriously burned him, but getting hit dead on with fire so much hotter than his own had inflicted some damage.
In the ten years he'd had his quirk and faced his father, it was the first time he had wounded him.
Staring down at the hole like it had offended him personally, his father abruptly said, "Get out."
Touya stood up, still breathing heavily. "I'm not leaving them. Just because Mom's gone doesn't mean you can hurt Shouto whenever you feel like 'training' him." It would be irresponsible of him to leave right now, especially with the state their father was in and their mother being gone on top of Shouto's injury. This was a fragile time. He shouldn't have sought out a fight, but he couldn't stop himself either, not with all that rage.
However, when his father jerked his eyes back up to him and roared, "Get out!" Touya backed into the wall. He'd pissed off his father plenty of times – probably infuriated him to the point where he wanted to disown him – but those times were nothing compared to the fire in his eyes right now. The orange and red flames on his face grew larger, if only for a second. After all, he had control over his quirk, unlike some people. Still, it was enough to make Touya's heart skip a beat as he gaped in return.
He was furious and devastated and scared and confused – and yet being yelled at like that still cut him deeply. He could feel himself reeling as if from another physical blow. His face hurt, his lip bled, and his wrists stung from the flames that he'd let get too big. Here he was though, suffering through the urge to stare at the ground and plead for forgiveness or a hint of acceptance. It didn't make any sense. How could he feel like that when he'd been wild with fury toward his father just moments ago?
Maybe his father was sick of his face. Maybe he was afraid of what he'd do if he had to look at Touya any further. He'd already taken one person out of their lives. Maybe he simply didn't want to deal with the paperwork and sighs that would come from the doctor if he was called to treat any injuries inflicted upon his oldest son yet again.
Even with every alarm bell and whistle going off in his head, Touya took a shaky step forward. He still hadn't got an answer. He couldn't leave until he did. "Dad, I just want–"
"What did I say?" his father cut in coldly, his hands forming into fists at his side. "How many times do I have to repeat myself before you listen?" He was going to get hit again. Touya anticipated the blow, flinching away before it even happened, but didn't run. "All you do is question and fight me on everything. I won't tolerate this insolent behavior from you any longer, not when you're becoming a bad influence on the others. I won't have your weakness rubbing off on them." He loomed over Touya, glaring down at him, which made him feel small. Why couldn't he be taller? "Maybe I should've sent you away earlier to correct your attitude. You can't even control your quirk. You're weak – broken and temperamental. How long before you hurt your siblings like her?"
The words, while exactly the strike that Touya was expecting, were somehow so much worse than being physically hit. His face paled as his quirk died inside him, a candle being snuffed out. Even though it made him sick to his stomach, tears sprung to his eyes. His father hated tears, considering them unacceptable, but he couldn't stop them from coming. After everything he'd done to keep the others safe – everything he'd sacrificed to take care of them – his father considered him a danger? Then again…
Maybe he wasn't wrong. Despite the rigorous training his father had put him through over the years, Touya still couldn't completely control his quirk. He had locked himself up to keep from hurting Fuyumi, hadn't he? It wouldn't have been the first time. The memory of him burning her on accident shortly after his quirk manifested came to mind. One second they'd just been playing with their quirks, just silly toddlers – him making fire and her ice – and the next she'd been running to their dad crying that he hurt her. He was only a little kid. He hadn't known any better then. He was better now. He was stronger .
But how long before he cracked like mom?
Tears welling in his eyes, Touya croaked, "I hate you." Pain burst in his chest. He wanted to call up his quirk this time to match how he felt, but it laid dormant inside of him, like it was too ashamed to come out. "I hate you!" He wiped his eyes, trying to rid himself of the tears, but they kept coming. "You're a shit father and you took Mom away! You're not a hero; you're a monster! I hate you!"
When his father reached out to grab him, Touya's quirk suddenly returned to him, rushing to the surface and bursting to life as he smacked his hand away. This time though he was met with his father's flames, which were much more controlled and precise. They weren't anywhere near his actual strength, just enough to cut through his own fire, but they connected with Touya and he stumbled back with a pained yelp and gripped his arm.
The two of them stared at each other in the deafening silence, contempt in Endeavor's eyes as the tears fell down Touya's face. He cradled his arm against his chest, his hand shaking as he tried to push through the pain. It wasn't as bad as it could've been if he'd been hit directly, but it hurt.
(Fire was dangerous. Fire was terrifying. Fire was his father and Touya hated his quirk more than anything.)
Before his father could say anything – tell him off, berate him, dismiss him – Touya growled, "I wish you were dead ," and then turned on his heels and ran. He wished he was stronger than this – that he could face his father head-on without running away like the coward and weakling that he believed him to be. If he had been a better son, a better brother, then maybe none of this would've happened.
Still holding onto his arm, he blew past the stairs where Fuyumi was sitting and clinging to the bars tentatively. She must have been listening in on their fight. His face burned with humiliation and he kept running even as his twin cried out, "Touya, wait!" He didn't stop, not even to push his shoes back on. He ripped the door open and bolted outside into the rain. He knew it was cold and could get him sick, but he welcomed the chill in his bones. He didn't dare turn around and go back.
He couldn't stay in that house for one second longer. He knew he should go back, especially since Fuyumi had probably heard what he said about their mom and found the food on the floor of her empty bedroom. He had a responsibility to take care of them. She would need comforting too. Shouto would be scared and Natsuo confused.
But he couldn't do it. He had failed them all. He couldn't face them. The rain poured over him, hiding the tears that streaked down his face. He had to shove his hair out of his eyes so he could see as he ran, his clothes soaked and plastered to his skin. His socks were soggy from the puddles he splashed through, his feet aching from the hard asphalt. Lightning crashed over his head, lighting his way even though he didn't know where he was going. All he could think about was what he was running from. He knew he looked like an insane person, running without a jacket or shoes in the pouring rain, but he didn't care. He just kept running and running. He had to get away. He had to escape. He had to breathe.
His foot hit an uprooted part of the sidewalk and he went sprawling forward onto the ground. He managed to turn enough so that he partially landed on the grass, splattering in the mud, but pain flared up his arms when he threw his hands out to catch himself. Instead of getting up, he rolled onto his back in the mud and grass, throwing his injured arm over his face to shield his eyes from the rain. The cold water both hurt and soothed the wound, reminding him of his mother's quirk.
Back when he first started his training and his quirk had proven to be too strong for him to handle, Touya would always go to her after, tears in his eyes and his lips wobbling. He'd hold his arms out to her or a leg, burns and bruises littering his pale skin. She would take him and hold her hand over his raw skin, gently activating her quirk so that the cold air could soothe him. It always made him feel better, even if it didn't directly help. With his skin chilled and himself calmed down, she could bandage him up. She made sure to keep Fuyumi out whenever she did this, knowing he didn't want her to see him like that. Even at four, it embarrassed him.
"You're so brave," his mother would tell him as her quirk helped bring him from a sob to a sniffle. "How can one so small be so strong?" She held out her hand and he would press his palm against hers. Back then, even she had seemed bigger. He had been such a small, scrawny child. "Don't lose that gentleness. Don't let him burn it out of you. You're stronger than you know."
"You were wrong, Mom. I'm not." Touya sobbed on the ground, choking on the truth and gasping for breath. "I wasn't strong enough." Coughing as the sobs wracked his chest and he struggled to breathe, he rolled onto his stomach and pushed himself up with his good arm. His knees sank further in the mud and he dug his fingers in the grass. "I'm sorry. I'm-"
It hurt. His arm, his chest, his head, his heart – everything. He had to be better. He had to do more. He had to show his father he was wrong. He'd be the best. He would be strong, controlled, safe. He'd prove to his mom he wasn't a monster too. Somewhere along the way, he had lost the gentleness she loved, but he could still fake it. He could still be warm. He wouldn't let the coldness or rage take him entirely. He would keep Fuyumi and Natuso safe. He would keep Shouto from falling down the same path as him.
He would do it all. What other choice did he have?
For now, though, he let everything consume him and, like a child, he cried for his mother until he had nothing left. There was no bottling this up, not when he felt as tumultuous as the storm raging around him. He let the sobs run their course through him until he was too weak to continue and could barely see straight from the tears. Only then did he slowly drag himself back to his feet, swaying in the rain. The nightmare wasn't over yet. It had only begun. He would grit his teeth and bear it, as he had done everything else before. He'd carry on. That was all he could do. Taking one shaky step forward and then another, he started to walk, but to where, he didn't know. All he knew was he had to keep moving.