"-nd in critical condition, and died on scene. What this will mean for the people of Japan is unclear at this time, but rest assured, our heroes will stand strong in the face of this tragedy."
Shouto dazedly opened his eyes, lured awake by the distant, but clear cut voice of a resolute woman. He glanced to the left- there, on a small, square stand. An atypical TV. To the right, light poured in from a white edged windowsill. The rest of the room was small, but cleanly and orderly. There was a small coat rack next to its closed door, and beside Shouto's bed, there was… a set of medical equipment that he had no idea the names of, a cord dangling from the innards of the beeping mechanism leading to his wrist.
Shouto lifted his hand, and blandly observed the cord that disappeared beneath the white tape around his wrist. The white sleeve of his arm airily drifted down, and Shouto internally sighed.
A hospital. Great. Not like he had memories of horrific trauma attached to them, or anything.
Shouto didn't have time to process more than that. A sudden increase of sound from the TV captured his attention.
The reporter on screen was wearing a light wind breaker and a harsh frown. Her black hair whipped slightly from its braid, and her skin glowed faintly green. She gestured behind her, the other resolutely holding the microphone up.
"Behind me, you can see the terror that has been wrought on the city," she said, and her hand swept in a gesture that the camera encapsulated- leading over mounds of rubble dotted with heroes and paramedics alike. One hero was in the process of shoving up a wall, while another wildly coloured figure left a trail of dissolved rubble coated in acid in her wake. "Over seven blocks have been closed due to the compromise of internal structure of buildings," the reporter continued, "and evacuation and recovery efforts persist. Estimates suggest that two hundred people are still unaccounted for amidst the rubble."
The newsreel flashed back to a main newsroom. A man with silver skin and a frill of spikes jutting from his neck pursed his lips, his fingers clenching around the sheets of paper in his hands. Shouto assumed most people wouldn't have noticed the man's anger- Shouto had simply been raised to tell when such emotion was ready to boil over.
The male reported began his report. "Thank you, Tsukiko. It now bears the question on how a tragedy like this could have occurred. Reports and video surveillance show that the incident today happened at eleven thirty three- the time of the first explosion. For some reason, the only hero on scene, besides… Le Million…" here, the reporter's frills seemed to droop, and the man had to take in a deep breath before he continued, "was the number nine pro hero, Hand Crusher."
Shouto, said man thought to himself, his lips twisting downwards. Hand Crusher was not his hero name.
A picture of Shouto's face, in hero gear, appeared to the left of the reporter. In the picture, his visor was down, and his white hair was loose and obscuring the top portion of his scar that his visor missed. All that was visible of Shouto's face was the bottom edge of his scar, and a straight lined mouth.
"Reports in the day since the incident reveal that Shouto aided in the evacuation of nearly fifty civilians, before falling debris knocked the hero unconscious." The reporter's lips pursed. His eyes flickered to the left for a second, before shifting back to monitor, his gaze hard. "It… begs the question. On the similarity between the events of today, and the tragic events of five years ago-"
The TV cut out to a black screen, and the abrupt silence snapped Shouto back to reality. He glanced towards the now open door of the room.
Momo was standing just inside the doorway. There was a remote in her hand, still pointed at the TV. She glanced over to meet Shouto's stare, and sighed. She set the remote back down on a side ledge next to the doorway that Shouto had not noticed earlier, closed the door, and smoothed down her skirt.
With elegant steps that belied the heavy tread of her shoe, Momo crossed the room to sit on the edge of Shouto's bed. Her hands primly crossed in her lap, but Shouto immediately noticed the red strips lining the underside of her arms. Momo always scratched the skin there when she was nervous or afraid.
For a moment, neither her nor Shouto said a word. They continued to look at each other, the quiet of the room only impeded by the distant wheel of gurneys and feet on the other side of the door.
Momo cracked first.
"How are you feeling?" she gently asked.
Shouto gave a shrug. "I'd rate myself somewhere between 'crushed by a building' and 'closed lined by Kirishima'. I only just woke up though, and I don't feel to cold. How did you know…?"
"I had them connect me to an alert, so that I would know when your heartrate changed." Shouto raised an eyebrow, and Momo's cheeks reddened. "I was worried, okay? I knew it was just a concussion and some bruising, but… but the last thing I heard was an explosion, then nothing."
Momo looked down at her hands, which were now clasped tightly together. "You could have been dead, and the last thing we would have talked about was my inability to date people good for me, and I just felt… useless, okay? Knowing that you were in trouble, and I was just in the shop, holding onto my phone and thinking the worst-"
Shouto reached over and grabbed Momo's hands. Her whispers abruptly cut off, and she stared down as Shouto's thumb gently rubbed at her tense knuckles. She looked up, and Shouto's lips quirked in an involuntary smile.
"You know I won't go down that easy. We have that 'thirty-five promise' I have to be around for just in case, remember? And…" Shouto blanked for a second, but in a spurt of ingenuity that might have been fueled by the medication being pumped through his veins, said, "…and I'm sorry I scared you. You… you're my best friend Momo- you'll never be useless to me, even if you get turned into a turtle."
"A… turtle?" Momo's lips pinched, and her cheeks rounded up with the smile she was trying to repress. "Oh, Sho… You're such a dork."
Shouto was just fine with being a dork though, if it meant he could make one of the few people he cared about smile.
With years of practice that came with the numerous bumps and scrapes that had landed Shouto in recovery over the years, Momo settled down into the bed. Together, they lifted the cord attached to his wrist so that he could swing an arm around her shoulders. It wasn't the most comfortable position- Momo was taller than Shouto, and the worst of his injuries may have been his concussion, but his ribs were sore.
It was still perfect.
Loose black hair shifted as Momo turned to look up at him. "Do… do you want to talk about it?"
Shouto hummed. "Do you want to know?"
Momo glared. "Stop trying to make me seem like a whimp, Shouto- I trained to be a hero, just like you. This is for your benefit, not mine, Mr. Hand Crusher," and ignored Shouto's mutters of "twice is coincidence, not a name worthy pattern!" She gave a light bump to his side, and Shouto sighed. He stared up at the ceiling for a moment, contemplated the likelihood of the hanging light suddenly falling, splitting open his skull, and putting him out of his misery. He figured the odds were out of his favour.
He began.
He almost tripped over his words when he got to Le Million. The story came in stuttering halts, but Shouto wasn't a stranger to loss- it wasn't even that he had been especially close with the pro hero. They were coworkers that respected each other, but other than a few training exercises in his first year of high school and the occasional overlapping mission, Shouto didn't talk with Le Million. The most recent three months ago, during that clusterfuck where a certain vigilante almost made Shouto blow a fuse,and murderers were finally caught. God. Shouto was still trying to repress that mission…
Anyways, Le Million was the kind of hero that knew everyone. He, above all others, was the only one to have ever held a candle to continuing All Might's role as the symbol of peace. Even if you weren't specifically friends with Le Million (that fell to Sun Eater and WIND CHICK), he had that kind of prescence that made him the center- the hero of Japan.
He even had the quirk to match- the one that had made Shouto try on his tin hat for a year and cross reference genealogies, and luckily not put his foot in his mouth- thank god he caught a glimpse of Le Million's father before he could voice controversial theories on cuckholding. Le Million was Le Million, after all- Japan's symbol of peace, and the number one hero.
At least, until… Yesterday.
As always, Momo was the best kind of audience. She listened attentively, and made just enough inquisitive sounds so that it didn't feel like he was just talking to a rubber duck to vent his problems (which Shouto had certainly never done). He informed her of everything, in as much detail as he could- even the moments that felt like they couldn't be real.
The chaos, and saving the people he could.
Le Million's… last words. (The image of that bloody smile would haunt Shouto- but he was no stranger to ghosts. Hero's died. You had to carry on, if only to welcome the newest Symbol of Peace in a string of figureheads that crumbled beneath the weight of the world.)
Fighting the creature of nightmares thought laid to rest.
And finally… Dekuless.
Momo tried her best to say what needed to be said, but Shouto knew that in situations like these there was almost nothing that could just 'make it better'. Her being there was enough.
It had to be.
"Maybe Le Million… meant that he was passing on the title of number one pro hero?" She snorted. "It's about time a girl got it, and I think we all know who he probably meant."
Well. She wasn't wrong.
"And… well, you did have a head injury, Shouto- I believe you think you saw him, but an incident like that… Well. He's the sort of vigilante that shows up at shady night dealings- not on scene to earthshaking catastrophe." Which Shouto agreed with- especially because even if it seemed like that green pest was always up in Shouto's business, he hadn't been spotted in since that last mission with Le Million three months ago. Concussions did wonders for the imagination.
Shouto carefully didn't analyze why his imagination would make him hallucinate a vigilante that had interfered with his career, had taunted him for years, was always there to call out Shouto's mistakes, and was the only one that had ever managed to provoke even a lick of terrible fire from him. Dekuless was the one who got away, time and again, the infuriating little pest of Shouto's bland life that had the audacity to embarrass and save him at turns.
…Yeah. Weird that he hallucinated the vigilante, of all people.
("Confront your problems as they arise, ignorance is never bliss" flashed before his eyes, a mocking quote from 'Interpersonal Workings- Making Real Connections' that he carefully ignored.)
Momo ignored his inner angst fest with a sigh, and brushed Shouto's hair back from the bandages tracing just under his scar. It was soft, and soothing, and if Shouto was a cat he would have purred.
She hummed. "And… mm. So. You think, that it was a noumu?" Shouto tensed, but Momo patiently waited. Finally he nodded, and she sighed. "I believe you- you saw it before you injured yourself, and it makes sense that only one of those could go against Le Million. But…" Shouto could feel Momo shift, and suddenly there were lips right next to his ear. "I asked some of the heroes that arrived after the incident. The noumu… definitely wasn't there. It didn't show up in any reports, and the dust was too thick to see any of what happened. They're not saying it on the news yet, but it's going to be officially recorded as a planned bombing by terrorists."
Shouto whipped his head to stare with wide eyes at Momo. She pursed her lips, and at this close distance, he could see the way her face twisted fully into its frown. "That's… not all." Her eyes flickered for a moment. "Shouto… the reason no heroes arrived on time to help, except for you… There was a critical alert sent out on the messaging system. For the other side of the city."
Shouto swallowed. "And was there?... A critical alert?"
Momo shook her head.
"…It's a secure server," Shouto whispered. "We have the best people in the country making sure its unhackable, like M- many, uh, hackers," he awkwardly substituted. "The only people who would be able to direct the heroes internal communications like that, then, would be…"
Momo nodded.
Shouto swallowed, and reached down to tangle one of his hands with Momo's. It wasn't as comforting as he hoped it would be, because all he could hear, echoing in his mind, were a choice few of Le Million's final words.
"Trust no one."
"Momo?"
"Yeah, Shouto?"
"…Lets… keep the noumu, what… what Le Million said, and even Dekuless, between us, okay?"
"Shouto-"
"Please. Just for now."
"…Okay."
XXX
The police came in to question Shouto shortly after Momo left to make sure her shop wasn't on fire. (Shouto didn't blame her- it had happened once before when Shouto had been injured and she had rushed in as his emergency contact, only to return home to a cindering hole in her parent's house. It was why she had her own segregated work space now.)
For once, Shouto was glad that Tsukauchi Naomasa had retired. Keeping his face blank (which was honestly its usual state) was enough to convince them that no, Shouto didn't remember anything after he 'had a roof dropped on him', as 'reports' said. They were skeptical how he had been on scene so quickly for the incident, but camera footage easily placed him climbing fourteen stories up fifteen minutes before the explosions occurred, juice box in hand.
It scared Shouto, a little bit- how easy it was to lie to the police.
How easy it was to believe they were corrupt.
Because they swallowed what he said like a drowning man intakes water. Guzzling up the lie, and happy when it fit the mold that they had already formed. Even joking, in the wake of the number one pro hero's death- saying that Shouto should finally cash in on all his vacation time.
They only seemed genuinely shocked when he agreed.
…Come on, really?! He just pulled a story out of his ass that lined up suspiciously well with their own lie (or lie told to them?) and Shouto saying he might take time off was what got them suspicious?
Alright. So he hadn't taken more than three sick days his entire career, and those had been enforced upon him due to his own quirk overuse. Sue him.
So the police left, shooting Shouto alarmed looks. The nurse that he filed his exit paperwork with informed him of his siblings visiting earlier while he was unconscious, with express demands from Fuyumi to call. The nurse then proceeded to stumble and spill her coffee over Shouto's hospital gown when he said he would try and meet up with them once he was taking his holiday.
This. This is why Shouto avoided small talk.
But at least the nurse was something like a professional- she called in a doctor, who dazedly signed off on Shouto's release and gave a permissive slip describing his injuries that he could use to file for sick leave at his agency. Considering he ran his own agency, it was a bit redundant, but he appreciated the sentiment and the awkward wave they gave as he left.
He didn't appreciate the doctor slipping the nurse a twenty and loudly whispering "thought he wouldn't take a break till he snapped a leg off!"
Shouto stepped out the hospital doors with a sigh, the pack his sister had dropped off now slung over his shoulder and filled with his hero clothes, exchanged for the joggers and long sleeve printed with All Might's shining logo that she had packed inside. Shouto made a mental note to buy her a cake- not specifically for this reason, but mostly just because Fuyumi always deserved cake.
Shouto was so caught up, debating whether he should buy her carrot cake, or the less crumbly and child mess improvement option of rice crispie cake, that he didn't notice the arm that snapped out to slap against his shoulder until it was too late.
Shouto reflexively twisted, his right arm lifting as his stance widened. He froze once he caught sight of the beaming, pink skinned woman before him.
"Hey, Todoroki!" Pinky exclaimed. She crossed her arms over the green leopard print of her chest, the fur lining of her costume ruffling slightly at the neck. "Glad to see you're okay!"
Shouto blinked, then politely nodded. He stared blankly as Ashido continued to cheerily grin, unsure how to proceed. When was the last time he talked to her? A year ago, while collaborating to move rubble from a collapsed sports centre? Even longer?
It didn't help that he hadn't talked to Ashido much in high school either. She had hung out mostly with the other girls, sans Momo who had clustered with Shouto. Ashido was just so cheerful that Shouto didn't know how to handle her- he didn't think he had ever held a prolonged smile for more than five seconds since he was kid, but here she was now, still smiling all throughout Shouto's awkward pause. That had to be at least twenty seconds.
Didn't her cheeks get sore?
"…And you as well," Shouto finally responded. "I think I caught a glimpse of you on the news- were you one of the ones involved in cleanup and evacuation?"
Ashido nodded, and pressed a hand to her hip. Shouto followed the movement, and only now realized that her costume was fairly scuffed and dirty. He hadn't noticed before because her ensemble was so wild and bright- Shouto had naturally kept his eyes up to save himself from possible seizures.
"Yeah! I just finished my shift- they sent me here because there was a bit of a scare where they thought that another villain might have left some kind of slow acting toxic particulates in the air, but I think that was just an excuse so that they could get a fresh round of heroes in to help out."
Shouto narrowed his eyes in thought. That was a little odd- Ashido probably hadn't been their longer than two hours- drastically less than the standard six hours relief shifts. The villain hazard was a good reason to clear heroes out of the scene, but was it for the reasons that Ashido assumed?...
Ashido leaned forward and poked SHouto in the forehead. "Space case spaces again- what conspiracy theory you got running through your head this time, Mr. Hand Crusher?"
"No conspiracy theories, just brain damage," Shouto snipped back.
Ashido winced and laughed at the same time, her hand reaching up to fluff at the dusty hair around her horns. "Hah, sorry- shouldn't pick on the injured guy- good job helping out all those people by the way." Ashido paused, and tilted her head. "Say- Class Pres thought it'd be a good idea to get all us from 1-A to meet up next weekend, thought we'd rent out a room at a restaurant. Thought it would be a good time to meet up- to reconnect, and offer respects to… those who have passed. I know you're probably busy, but I thought I'd let you know."
"Yeah, I'll come."
Ashido froze. "Uh-"
"Momo can come too, if she wants right? As a once member of 1-A?"
"Y-yes. Yes!?"
"Excellent," Shouto murmured. He paused. "I… lost my phone in the conflict yesterday. Would you be able to send information on the class meet up to Momo for us?"
Ashido blankly nodded.
Shouto allowed a quick smile to blip, momentarily, onto his face. If Ashido could do it, so could he! "Sounds good. I haven't seen most of our class in months, some in years. I guess our president specifically did it as well to make sure we were all doing okay in the wake of… recent events."
"Y-yeah," Ashido said. She shook her head, and very, very gently smiled a smile that wasn't really one at all. "You never know who's next, in this industry- we all know that. There's always a next."
Shouto carefully didn't allow himself to freeze. Ashido noticed anyways, and laid a hand on his shoulder. "Were here for you, Shouto- I know we don't talk much," she gently said, "but class 1-A sticks together. It'll be good seeing you and vice-pres again before you start drowning in work." Ashido squeezed his shoulder, then allowed her hand to drop.
Shouto gave a slight, calming breath in before he continued, making sure his left side didn't steam. He wasn't that emotional.
…Yet.
"Actually, I'm taking a vacation," Shouto casually dropped. "I likely won't be working for the next month. It's why I knew I could make the get together."
Ashido mouth fell open slightly. She closed it, then tilted her head and squinted her eyes at Shouto. "Never thought I'd see the day you took a break- Mineta's always going on about that icicle up your ass, and to be honest, I thought there might be some truth to it!" Ashido grinned, gave Shouto a hearty slap on the back, and bounced on her toes. "I think that little reality bend is a good moment to cut this convo short- I do gotta go make sure I'm not infested with toxic radiation or something." She stabbed a finger towards Shouto as she took a step backwards down the hospital hall, still facing him. "Now, make sure you come! This is history breaking. I can hold this against Tsuyu to make sure she shows up. If even you're breaking out of your shell and making the time to visit, she has no excuse, hot shot or not!"
Ashido spun on her heel, and called back, "See you this Saturday then! I'll text your girlfriend the details!"
"Not my girlfriend," Shouto muttered. He dazedly waved at Ashido back, then dropped his hand to hold the strap of the bag slung across his shoulder. His thoughts raced, and he internally celebrated the new opportunity. As Shouto finally left the hospital, he concocted a plan. Ashido was somewhat right- Shouto didn't take breaks. This wasn't going to be so much a holiday as it would be a research venture. Because signs so far pointed to a cover up, and Shouto was curious to see where this rabbit hole lead. Probably hell, but he could maybe scrounge up some optimism that it only ended in a deep dark pit filled with villains instead.
The tin foil hat made its return. Shouto was going to figure out what Le Million's last words meant, why someone didn't want the people or heroes to know about the truth of Le Million's death, and what the hell Dekuless, that sneaky bastard, had to do with it. The first step was information gathering- and who better to ask then the up and coming pro heroes of his generation?
Shouto allowed his lips to quirk for a drastic second time that day. He had a good feeling about this, and internally celebrated the return of his conspiracy theorist ways that had served him well during high school.
(Two weeks later, while trapped in a deep dark pit filled with villains, Shouto wished he had set his tin foil hat on fire.)
