Shouto hustled out of the Midoriyas' apartment building. The doorman with the large mustache waved goodbye. Shouto ignored him, eyes down.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. Heart racing, he reached down and took it out, opening it with shaking fingers. He'd gotten a text message.

Endeavour

3:45 PM

Where are you?

Shit.

Endeavour

4:17 PM

Shouto? Where are you?

How had he not noticed his phone going off? Shit, shit.

Endeavour

5:00 PM

Shouto. This is not funny. Get your ass home. NOW

Endeavour

5:45 PM

If you're okay, I NEED you to respond to me. NOW. NOW, SHOUTO.

Shouto, head down, composed a response. He kept misspelling words and having to retype them.

Shouto

5:46 PM

Sorry, Father. I wwent to visit Midoriya while he recovers. I lost track of time. I'll be home right away.

He ducked through the crowds on the street outside, staring at his phone screen. The checkmark indicating Endeavour had read the message appeared. Then a bouncing ellipses. He was typing. Fuck. Shit.

Endeavour

5:48 PM

Okay.

Endeavour

5:48 PM

Get home now. We need to talk.

Shouto responded with a thumbs-up emoji and put his phone back in his pocket. He looked up with a rattling sigh, raising his eyes just in time to run into someone.

The pair of them slammed into each other, the other boy bouncing off Shouto's chest and stumbling backwards.

"Oof!"

"Sorry, sorry," Shouto said, grabbing the other boy's arm to steady him, "I didn't see you there."

The other boy straightened up, brushing off his thick white sweater and black jeans. He reset his black-framed glasses on his nose and brushed back his long, deep-brown hair, then looked at Shouto with a slight smile. "That's okay. I didn't-".

He stopped talking suddenly, tilting his head. Staring at Shouto. "Are you..."

Shouto, heat rising in his cheeks- -why?- -stepped to the side, to brush past the other boy. "Sorry."

He kept walking, into the crowds. His long legs ate up the sidewalk, easily making the time back home.

"Wait up!"

The other boy ran up next to him, slightly out of breath. "Do you...do you know Midoriya? Izuku?"

Shouto nearly stopped moving. But he was in his rhythm, so he merely nodded. "Yeah. Why?"

At his side, the other boy smiled slightly. "I'm one of his old friends."

Shouto's lips pursed. Why did this matter?

"You don't look like Bakugo."

The boy snorted. "I'm not. I'm a real friend, not an arrogant, abusive jackass."

Despite himself, Shouto snorted in kind. "At least, not as obviously."

"Heh. True, I suppose. Anyway," the guy said, hurrying to keep pace with Shouto, "I'm Light. Yagami."

Shouto stopped, pulling up short. "Wait. Yagami? Like- -"

"The cop? Yeah. He's my dad."

Shouto turnt to face Light, looking at him more carefully. He did resemble the police officer Shouto had seen at the USJ- -they had the same jawline, and high cheekbones.

He's good-looking, Shouto mused, before immediately dismissing the thought. It was irrelevant.

"He helped save my life."

Light smiled again, looking at the pavement. "Yeah, he does that. Works in the Super-Crimes division of the police force. It's pretty cool."

Shouto nodded. "Look, Light, it's nice to meet you, but I gotta get going. I'm late getting home."

"Oh, shit," Light said, nodding back, "I get that. Strict parents?"

Shouto swallowed. Nodded with a jerk of the head. "Yeah. Just my dad. He's...he...he worries. You know."

Light bit the inside of his cheek. "Mm-hm. Well, I'm sorry I distracted you. Uh, here, gimme your hand."

"Wha- -", Shouto began, but Light grabbed his hand, pushed his sleeve up, and wrote something on his forearm- -where'd he get the pen from?- -before pulling the sleeve back down.

"Sorry," Light said again, spinning around and heading back toward the Midoriyas' apartment building. Shouto stood, immobile, on the pavement for a moment before shaking it off and continuing on home. Endeavour was already unhappy with him, why compound the issue?

After another five mercifully uneventful minutes, Shouto arrived outside their home. It was fairly modest, he knew, especially for the number-two pro-Hero in the country (and number four in the world). Endeavour had never cared about things. He just needed space for himself, Shouto, a kitchen, a bathroom, and a large training room. They didn't even have a fence.

Shouto walked up to the front door and pushed it open quickly, coming face-to-face with Endeavour. Standing in the foyer. Face set and hard.

"Hello, son." Endeavour pulled Shouto inside and slammed the door. "Glad you've decided to come home."

Gripping Shouto's arm, Endeavour yanked him inside, roughly pushing his son onto the living-room couch. Shouto sat silently. Noise meant pain,

"I don't understand you, Shouto," Endeavour said, pacing around the living-room, drawing the blinds closed, "I really don't."

Shouto stayed silent. He was talking. Not hitting. Not burning.

"We, you and I, spend all this time, all this energy, on bringing you up right, on making you strong, on keeping you safe, so you can become the best hero in the world."

Endeavour slowly turnt to face Shouto, walking closer and closer, bringing his face right up to his son's. "And now...you do this? You vanish, for hours, without so much as a text? What if somebody had attacked you? What if somebody, some villain, had killed you? And there goes all our work, because Shouto had to be a fucking teenager!"

Endeavour's voice rose into a low bellow. He grabbed Shouto's shoulders roughly, fingers hot, biting into the flesh.

"I have had some time to think about my parenting of you," Endeavour growled. Heat from his goatee and hair made Shouto's face sweat, "and I've come to a couple conclusions."

Somewhere within himself, Shouto found his voice. "W-what are they, father?"

Endeavour pursed his lips. "I will permit you to...have friends. I had a few when I was your age. It should be good for you."

"Thank you, father."

"I'm not done," Endeavour said, pulling Shouto to his feet, "so be quiet."

Shouto nodded.

Endeavour released him, walking in a circle around him. "In return, your training here at home will be intensified, to make up for lost time. I will also be installing a GPS tracker on your phone, so I can see where you are at all times. Just in case you decide to lie to me. And you will be telling me everywhere you go, and with who. No matter what. Understood?"

Shouto swallowed. "Yes, sir."

Endeavour walked back in front of him. Nodded.

"Good."

Then, in a blur of motion Shouto wouldn't have stopped if he could, his father viciously kicked him in the stomach, knocking him back into the couch, which rocked back, scratching the floor. Shouto doubled over, pain in his stomach, vomiting. When he was done, he sat there on the couch, panting. Another blow landed on the side of his head, knocking him onto the floor. His upper thighs landed in the pool of sick, his pants getting smeared.

"Clean yourself up. Clean up the mess. And make yourself some dinner," Endeavour said, and Shouto could see him walking to the door. "I've got work to do."

The door flew open. Slammed shut. Locked.

Shouto slowly, painfully, picked himself up. His head felt fuzzy. He was used to it. With deliberate, careful motions, he stripped down to his underpants, then went to the laundry room. He threw his uniform in the washer, then grabbed a towel. He cleaned up the vomit, then put the towel in the washer too.

Then he sat down in the corner of the laundry room floor and cried.

He hadn't cried in so long, he'd started to forget what it felt like. The shuddering. The wetness. The all-consuming, nerve-wracking pain.

Through his blurry vision, he saw the marks Light had left on his arm. He wiped his eyes, and they became clearer: a phone number.

Shit! My phone!

As the washer began to turn on, Shouto sprang up and shut it back off, digging through the contents until he pulled his phone- -and my wallet too, fuck- -from the pockets of his uniform pants. His screen was lit up from a notification. A text, from

From Midoriya.

Shouto drew in a deep breath and, phone in hand, walked to the kitchen, typing his password in.

Midoriya
6:06 PM

hey, are you ok?

Shouto moved over to the cabinets, pulling out a variety of spices and vegetables. His fingers on his left hand swirled across the keypad.

Shouto

6:07 PM

I'm fine. Why?

Midoriya

6:07 PM

you kinda just ran out of my room looking like you were gonna die

Midoriya

6:07 PM

also Light says hi

He smiled slightly, tapping out a reply as the stove began to heat up.

Shouto

6:09 PM

He seems nice.

Midoriya

6:09 PM

yeah, he's pretty cool.


It was later that night, after the streetlamps had begun to light back up, when Light left the Midoriyas' apartment and started home. He swiped an apple from the kitchen as he left, reaching behind Inko's back as he hugged her to grab it off the counter. She swatted playfully at him, pretending to chastise the boy she considered a second son.

Light bit into his apple as he walked, twirling it through his fingers. Something was gnawing at his mind. Something named Todoroki Shouto.

Light's father hadn't always worked in the Super-Crimes Division. He'd previously specialized in domestic violence, before his work on Quirk-related domestic abuse had propelled him into a (theoretically) higher, (definitely) more dangerous position. Light had, as a consequence of Soichiro's work, been taught how to recognize abuse in his peers from a young age.

It had mostly been kids like him and Izuku. Quirkless. They were seen as either a disappointment or fragile, and so were neglected or too coddled.

Kids with powerful, flashy Quirks- -like Bakugou- -were also abused, in a different way: given everything they wanted by the world and their parents, they grew up with no sense of accountability, no fetters on their behavior.

Light hated Bakugou Katsuki.

Anyway.

Light could also, however, recognize regular patterns of abuse. And Todoroki was practically painted in the patterns. The nervousness. The excuse-making. The detachment. All of it, hallmarks of a less-than-ideal home life.

It made sense too, he thought, tossing the apple up and catching it, light from a streetlamp reflecting brilliantly off the verdant red skin. Endeavour was well known for his, well, firey temper. Add in the fact that his wife, who hadn't been heard from or of in years, had a perfectly complimentary Quirk to his, and you had the dictionary definition of a Quirk Marriage.

Light took another bite of the apple. His long legs carried him forward as his mind whirred, slotting evidence and circumstance into place as neatly as a puzzle.

"Yagami!"

Oh.

Him.

Great.

Light stopped and sighed, slowly turning around. Standing about fifteen feet back from him was the unmistakable blond, spiky-haired, sweaty figure that had made his childhood a living hell.

"Hello, Bakogou."

Bakugou stalked down the street, hands shoved into his pockets. His sneer permanently affixed to his face. "What's up, prettyboy? Still Quirkless, or is the Dekuvirus suddenly contagious?"

Light rolled his eyes and adjusted his glasses. "Clever."

Bakugou stopped about five feet away from Light, deep red eyes boring into his. His eyes swept Light up and down. "What're you doin' here, Yagami? You don't live in this part'a town anymore."

Light pursed his lips, his heart rate steadily increasing. "I was visiting Izuku. You know, my friend. He broke half his body helping save your worthless ass, right?"

Bakugou's eyes narrowed. In a blur, he lunged forward, grabbing the shorter boy by the collar and hauling him close.

"Listen, faggot-" his breath was hot against Light's neck, hissing into his ear "-don't let Deku fool you. He didn't do all the work."

Bakugou shoved Light back. He stumbled, nearly tripping on uneven paving. Bakugou glared at him. Light glared back.

"I-what the fuck."

Bakugou stepped a bit closer. "What, homo?"

Light, heart racing, face flushing, sneered back at his childhood bully. "'What, homo?'", he growled, in a poor imitation of Bakugou's raspy tones. "What do you think?"

Light stepped closer, nearly forehead-to-nose with Bakugou. "How in the fuck did you get into hero school? Does a-a-a fancy, flashy, cool Quirk suddenly matter more than the fact that you're an incredible bully? A raving psycho?"

Bakugou grabbed Light again. "One more fuckin' word, Yagami, I swear-"

"What?" Light interrupted. "You'll do what? Burn me? Beat me up? My dad's a cop, idiot."

He shoved Bakugou sharply away.

"I may be Quirkless, but one day, you'll get into trouble you can't escape with screaming and explosions. One day," Light said, whirling on his heel, "you'll get yours."

He heard Bakugou behind him, drawing in breath to prepare to scream, before stopping with a mutter of "Quirkless faggot". The sidewalk scraped against his shoes as he quickly rounded a corner and walked into the night.