It was late in the evening, meaning Shouto had nothing to occupy his time until bed. This meant he ended up flipping idly through channels on the television.

"So I heard you went to see a friend."

Shouto grimaced and contemplated turning up the volume to tune his father out. His father had just gotten back from work and was eating, his spot at the table giving him unobstructed view of Shouto in front of the tv.

How did you even find out? Shouto wondered. The obvious answer was that his mother had told him, but that would imply the two of them had talked, which wasn't a common occurrence.

"Last I checked I wasn't a prisoner here," Shouto shot back, not looking over his shoulder.

"Could have fooled me, the way you're always moping around."

Shouto exhaled sharply, but chose not to rise to the bait. Sometimes all his father wanted was the last word, and as long as Shouto let him have it he could get back to minding his own business.

That wasn't the case this time, though.

"Well, if you're feeling cooped up in here, you can accompany your mother and I to tomorrow's Hero Society Gala."

Shouto's stomach dropped at the thought. Even when he had been an active hero, he had avoided those things like the plague. It was pomp and circumstance, a chance for politicians and the press to invade his privacy in a formal setting. He knew his father despised such events, too. However, if the Number One Hero didn't put in the occasional appearance, they had to deal with reporters waiting outside the house on a daily basis. Shouto remembered experiencing that during middle school, trying to weave through a tangle of microphones on his way to school.

"I'll pass," he said evenly, trying to sound bored.

He heard his father rise from his seat, making his way over to Shouto. Like a rabbit caught in a predator's gaze, Shouto went very still. Endeavor settled down on a cushion, casually picking up the remote and changing the channel on the television. Shouto couldn't even recall what he had been watching, but his hackles still raised at the nonchalance with which his father disregarded his agency.

Not looking away from the television, Endeavor noted, "Getting out of the house is probably good for you."

No, it isn't. Not when it means running into a bunch of people who knew me from before.

Maybe that was his father's aim: to drag Shouto in front of everyone and let them see what an embarrassment he was. But Shouto's failure would also reflect badly on Endeavor. That's what had kept the peace so far: threat of mutual reputation annihilation. It's what had kept them out of each other's business, and it had been working fine.

He must be really pissed that I went out in public, Shouto thought.

But that still didn't justify putting him on display in front of a bunch of high profile heroes. Especially considering his father was all too happy to let his other children slide into the background of existence.

"You have a suit that fits, right?" Endeavor asked.

Why are you doing this?!

"I don't want to go."

"Too bad," Endeavor growled, his voice taking on the stern tone Shouto had grown up hearing. The one that meant Shouto could either contort himself to fit in the little box of his father's expectations or his father could twist him up and shove him in. The end result was the same, it was just a matter of how much Shouto felt like fighting.

Shouto was too exhausted to fight. He made a series of noncommittal grunts, not agreeing but not defying either. Once Endeavor was finally satisfied, he clapped Shouto on the back and left him to his own devices.

Shouto sat in front of the television for a few more hours, desperately trying to think of a way out and not being able to come up with anything.

Rei was practically cheerful the next morning at breakfast. Probably she was grateful she would have someone else to talk to at the Gala besides her husband, and for that Shouto couldn't blame her.

However, the entire day was filled with nothing but dread for him. Which of his former coworkers were going to be there? Would he run into any old classmates? Could he fake sick?

"I'm just so happy to see you going outside again," his mother confessed, offering him a warm smile. "It's hard for a mother to see her children be so unhappy."

Shouto didn't know what to say to that. He couldn't deal with his own pain, much less the pain he apparently inflicted on others just by existing. In the end, though, it was the thought of taking away the smile on his mother's face that got him changed into a suit and into the car without offering resistance.

All the way there, though, Shouto felt too hot, and he knew it wasn't just the suit. If he ended this evening without catching on fire, he would consider it a smashing success.

Endeavor had gone ahead, since he apparently had business matters to discuss. That was fine with Shouto, because it meant he and his mother could pass through the press waiting outside without attention. If they'd had the Number One Hero with them, it wouldn't have been that easy. By themselves, though, no one recognized them. Even with Shouto's distinctive appearance, he had been ranked #231 on the billboard. Not high enough to really draw attention.

The Gala was as boring and tedious as Shouto remembered. There was a sea of tables covered in crisp tablecloths with some sort of ridiculous floral centerpiece. For all the trappings of high society, they still had assigned seating like schoolchildren. They were served fancy food and listened to several speeches. The Prime Minister was there, as well as several high-ranking members of the National Police Agency. Crime rates were the lowest they'd been in a decade, prosperity was up, it was cause for celebration.

Crime rates are still higher than they were when All Might was around, Shouto thought to himself, picking at the salad on his plate. It was past time for his nightly dose of medication, and slow waves of pain were radiating up his leg.

"Are we leaving any time soon?" he asked, not directing the question at anyone in particular. Most of his line of sight was blocked by the towering centerpiece, so really the only person to ask was his mother sitting on one side. She, however, was paying rapt attention to the conversation happening on the other side of her, nodding along dutifully. To Shouto's left, Endeavor's seat was vacant.

I guess the real reason they brought me was so they didn't have to actually sit next to each other. Shouldn't have even bothered.

His father had been absent most of the evening, making the rounds to the other tables, sizing up the other heroes and their families in the never-ending pissing contest he had challenged the entire universe to. Occasionally his voice would drift over the tables, brash and too-loud for the environment.

With a sigh, Shouto settled to picking at the tablecloth, tracing the intricate design embroidered on top. This was boring, but bearable. At least he hadn't run into anyone he knew.

"Todoroki!" a voice boomed.

I spoke too soon.

Even without turning around, Shouto recognized the enthusiasm and commanding tone of his former class representative. Tenya Iida, Ingenium, Rank 34 on the Hero Billboard, but definitely coming in at a solid 5 on Shouto's personal list of people he did not want to interact with. As if he still held the mantle of class rep, Iida acted like it was his personal responsibility to keep up with everyone's business and disseminate that information to the rest of the class. In short, he had inadvertently become the center of gossip in regards to the old class 3A.

For a second, Shouto considered diving under the table to avoid the encounter. However, Iida had obviously already spotted him. There was no other recourse but to grit his teeth and try to end the conversation as quickly as possible.

"Iida," he said, nodding his head as the other man settled into the empty seat beside him.

"I came over as soon as I heard you were here!" Iida replied, throwing his hand out by way of greeting.

Hiding his reluctance, Shouto took the hand and shook it.

"Your hands are freezing. Are you feeling all right?"

Just trying not to ice myself to the chair.

"I think I'm under the air conditioning vent."

Iida wasn't stupid enough to fall for a lie like that, but he ignored it.

"I haven't seen you in forever. Why haven't you been responding to my messages?"

Over their years in school together, Iida had learned to always cut directly to the matter when speaking to Shouto. It was Iida's way of being considerate of his fellow classmates, adapting his conversation style to suit the other party. He had won Shouto's respect with that method, and Shouto had always been a little jealous of the ease with which Iida could communicate with other people.

"I've been busy."

Iida wasn't stupid enough for this lie, either, but he didn't press. Instead, he launched into a run-down on the going-ons of their classmates' lives. Things he somehow knew Shouto was curious about but would never ask, things the social media feeds didn't necessarily show.

"Tokoyami keeps threatening to form his own hero agency because he's tired of putting up with Hawks', as he puts it, 'ludicrous manchild facade,' but I don't think he actually will. Tokoyami is a bit of an enabler in that respect, and I think he's scared Hawks will overwork himself to death if he's not there to reign him in."

"And the popularity by association must be nice," Shouto interjected. "Number 12 in the rankings. That's the highest out of any of us."

"He is doing very well for himself," Iida agreed, "although I doubt someone like Tokoyami cares all that much about rankings."

A waiter came by carrying a tray of something minced and on a cracker, and Iida flagged him down and took a couple. He offered one to Shouto, who accepted but put the concoction on his plate untouched. While Iida ate, there were a merciful few moments of silence. Shouto knew it couldn't last.

"So what are your plans from here?" Iida asked after finishing the h'ordeuvre.

"What do you mean?"

"I don't mean to rush your recovery, but have you put any thought to what you want to do now that heroics are, mmm, let's say off the table?"

To his credit, Iida's eyes didn't even flicker to his crutches. He'd made eye contact with Shouto throughout their conversation, no trace of pity or awkwardness in his voice. It had almost been enough for Shouto to forget his own condition. He had felt normal. Now he just felt like he was about to melt his way through his chair.

"I don't really think I have much of a future," Shouto replied, schooling his face so there wasn't a flicker of emotion.

"Nonsense!" Iida countered, clapping him on the shoulder. "You're one of the most motivated and determined people I know. A few physical limitations don't change that."

Shouto was sweating, his skin prickling with heat. He wanted to shout at Iida, to tell him things weren't that easy. But he also didn't want to cause a scene, didn't want a thousand eyes drawing to him. So he stayed silent, biting his lip to contain his words. Taking in his frozen countenance, Iida's expression softened.

Ah, there's the pity.

"You know," he said, reaching into the pocket of his suit and pulling out a sleek business card, "my brother was also very discouraged after his accident. But he found out there's a surprising amount of hero work that can be done from a desk. Filling out the proper forms, managing schedules, looking for new recruits, the like. I know our agency could benefit from someone with your experience."

He held the card out to Shouto. As with the h'ordeuvre, Shouto took it automatically even though he had no desire for it. He opened his mouth, not sure what he wanted to say but knowing that something needed to be said, some rebuttal of not needing help or pity. Iida beat him to it.

"I wouldn't offer a man a job unless I knew he was competent for it. Although I'll admit, being able to see you more often would certainly be a perk," he said, offering Shouto a smile. "No rush, though. I know you've probably got your hands full recuperating. Think it over, and get back to me when you feel you're ready."

Iida clapped him on the shoulder once more as he rose from his seat. With that, he was gone, striding back into the crowd to continue his mingling. Shouto was left staring at his business card.

Team Idaten it read, Representative: Turbo Hero Ingenium v4.0

The card shook a little in his grasp. He thought of Iida, the sad way he looked at Shouto, how Shouto was now going to become part of the gossip chain. Pathetic, broken, unemployed Shouto.

The card caught fire in his hand. With a hiss, Shouto dunked it into his water glass, where the flames died with a sizzle. However, that drew the attention of his mother, who looked at him with worried eyes.

"Is everything okay, Shouto?"

"Yes," he growled, even though there were thin trails of smoke leaking out of the cuff of his left arm. He was definitely on the verge of self-immolation. Ever the practical problem-solver, he grabbed what was left of his drink and dumped it on his sleeve. There was a distinct hiss and a fluttering of steam.

"Oh my," Rei said, then turned and excused herself to the person she was talking to. Wordlessly, she helped Shouto retrieve his crutches. They were out of the venue and back to their car before anyone else could accost them.

I guess all it took to get out of there was setting myself on fire.

His mother finally broke the silence.

"How are you feeling?"

"Fine," was his automatic response, filled with more venom than he meant. He immediately regretted it. Snapping at his well-meaning mother was such an...Endeavor thing to do.

"I'm okay," he said after a few moments of tense silence, his voice softer. "I'm not about to burst into flames."

"Good," Rei replied, a gentle smile forming on her face. "I'd hate to ruin the leather seats."

It was the most jovial he'd heard his mother be in a long time. Hopefully that meant he hadn't destroyed her evening too terribly.

However, his own evening was a disaster. Long after arriving home, Shouto couldn't get Iida's words out of his head.

"What are your plans from here?"

Shouto didn't know. He didn't know, but he thought about it the rest of the night.