To those mad about the pairing, I apologize for not posting that in the first chapter. That said, I won't be removing it from the story, since it's improtant but not a main point of this work. If you can't handle a same-sex pairing then it's okay, step off this ride if you want, there's a loads of wonderful stories on this site to enjoy!
Anyhow! That part over, let's get on with this show. I'm running on spite and coffee and I bet I'm gonna wake up next morning with the family dog suffocating me. Apparently this Great Collie thinks she is a lap dog.
I'm a twig.
I'm gonna die.
Bye.
The following few days, Izuku learned more about the Todoroki household. Namely how he has not two, but four other siblings.
The second-oldest is the girl with the pale, snow-white hair streaked with red. She's kind, bringing food to his room and showing him where the bathroom is after Endeavor escorts him back after their training session.
"My name is Fuyumi." She whispered meekly like it's a secret one day while they wash the dishes together. It had been one of the rare occasion Izuku is allowed to roam. Not that he's confined to his room, but the general cool, detached air of the Todoroki estate leaves him cold and reaching for his All Might toys and notebooks.
"Izuku," He'd murmured in return, just as hushed. "It's nice to meet you." The way her cheeks wrinkled from the blinding smile she'd rewarded him kept him light and warm for the rest of that day.
She was so different from Endeavor, it made his head spin. Her words and her open, honest expression when they're alone ease some of Izuku's uncertainty. He cradles that name close to his chest, heart warmed by his sister's friendliness. Huh. Sister. It still felt weird to think about it. From a day to the next, he'd gone from a only child to being the youngest of five.
Despite her friendliness however, Fuyumi spoke very little, and she was often gone for school. Izuku could see that she wanted to talk to him more, to get to know him and he yearns for it. However she seemed to shy away from him, most often than not only exchanging a few words during dinner time and when she came to help him figure out how the futon worked.
He wonders if Endeavor told her something.
Did she know about his Quirk?
It sends cold down his back.
(Is she scared like the children and the teachers were?)
The oldest he never meets, but his name is spoked in hush tones by Fuyumi: Touya. Izuku searches as discretely as he could, but he doesn't find pictures or any trace of this boy. He did seem to be living here by how Izuku hears shuffling at night from the other rooms, and some bedrooms were always locked, but it perplexed the green haired boy that this older sibling seemed so...so removed from the household, especially since he couldn't be much older than Fuyumi herself.
If so, where was he?
By how Fuyumi looked when he'd asked about the eldest of the Todoroki children, Izuku was better off not asking. Recalling her sad, defeated expression makes him shudder.
The middle child of the Todoroki family is called Natsuo. Izuku knows this because he'd heard Endeavor shouting at him one evening and surprisingly, the boy had hollered back at the Number Two Hero with just as much spite and fire.
Izuku didn't know what they were yelling about; there were too many big words he didn't know, some obscene ones that he didn't understand but remembered from Kacchan saying and subsequently getting dragged out by the ear by Aunt Mitsuki. The screaming was so bad, it shook him enough that he'd hidden under his futon and went to sleep early.
In the end Izuku failed to actually go to sleep, instead spending most the night curled up under the bedsheets. He waiting with baited breath and thundering heart for their shouting to die down until ultimately, he couldn't anymore and passed out from exhaustion.
Natsuo wasn't there when he wakes up, but there's evidence of his presence and Endeavor's foul mood-
Well.
A small part of Izuku was glad his father paid him little mind.
.
.
.
"This is Hiroi Eisen. He will be your teacher."
The first thing Izuku thinks is that the man is much younger than he had expected. Mid twenties at most, Hiroi Eisen's hair was a dark red-brown, cropped short to his head. He wore simple black workout clothes with running shoes, and red braces on his forearms to protect himself from his own Quirk. His facial expression could only be described as simultaneously blank, bored and pinched at once.
Like the librarian at school when Izuku forgot and turned in a book late.
But worse.
Hiroi-sensei, as the man told Izuku to call him, was a longtime sidekick at Endeavor's agency. Flare was his hero codename, assigned due to his ability to create fire from his nails that crackled and popped like the little firecrackers Inko allowed him to play with during the New Year. Kacchan really liked those.
...then again, Kacchan liked anything flashy and prone to explode.
It didn't take a genius to realize that just like him, Hiroi didn't seem to want to be here anymore than Izuku himself. He could see it by the thinning of his lips, the way he shifted on his feet and tapped his heels against the matt.
Unlike him though, I need this, Izuku thinks as he bows to the man. Hiroi-sensei pays him no mind as he goes to fetch the equipment. If I hurt someone...
(Remember that flower pot. A second, Izuku. A second.)
...I'll never forgive myself.
Endeavor's long gone by the time the training starts. Izuku silently watched his father walk into the room adjoined to this one, shutting the slide doors behind him. He hadn't looked back once, and soon the green haired boy could hear two people shuffling around on the other side.
'I need to focus on him if he's ever going to be the hero who surpasses All Might.'
There is was again, that icy sense of dread curling in his stomach. After the incident with the All Might toy, Izuku didn't know what to think about his father. Some faint part of him was relieved that Endeavor wasn't teaching directly but seeing him leave still left him with the bitter taste of disappointment in his mouth.
….and that brought him shame.
Why was he thinking that? The fact he was here at all is evidence that his father cared about him. He'd bothered enough to bring him here, saving Izuku the trouble of having to figure out his powers by himself without risking burning anything -or anyone. Endeavor went as far as to give him his own private tutor for his fire Quirk.
He couldn't fail him.
"Again!"
Kneeling on the floor Izuku grinds his teeth, clenches his fists and pulls, fighting the steel grip clutching his lungs like a compressor. When the fire manifest on the candle to his right, it crackles in a way that reminds him of the time he'd sat by the window with his mother one cold summer night, watching lightning dance across black skies in awe-inspiring streaks of light, erratic and wild.
Hiroi-sensei has him sitting in the middle of the room, six candles arranged in a circle a arm's length around him; the goal of this first exercise is to figure out how his Quirk activated in the first place.
"Put it out." Izuku grips the fire with his mind and does as told. Hiroi-sensei was peering down at him imperiously, uninterested. "Close your eyes and do it again. Light the candle to your left." Despite his obvious disdain, Hiroi-sensei was effective. Strict, dry and to the point.
He's checking if it's a visual-based Quirk?
A part of Izuku wanted to tell him that he already knew the answer to that. He hadn't been concentrating when Kacchan pushed him around in the playground but he had been looking down when it first manifested, so that confirmed the hypothesis (Izuku really liked that word, it felt very smooth and nice on his tongue) that it required visibility with the target to activate. Good thing too, otherwise seeing as Kacchan had been the one antagonizing him he might have been the one to-
Wait.
No.
Bad thoughts.
Don't go there.
"Izuku."
Fucking hell, a tiny voice that sounded like Kacchan muttered in his ears and frankly, Izuku agreed. This was getting old. This was useless. He was being useless.
"I don't think I can do it without a visual." Izuku tells his tutor. The words taste bland to his ears.
A grunt.
"Try it anyways."
Izuku forces down a sigh. Closing his eyes as instructed, he reaches into his chest and pulls, tugging a piece of his fire free. He pictures the candlestick in his mind, to his right just out of his reach, waiting to be lit. It takes little effort to send the fire hurling at it.
He's not looking at the candle, but Izuku hears the sudden woosh and crackle as it catches on fire.
The green-haired boy would be proud if he wasn't in such pain. It takes every single drop of willpower, accumulated during the past year of dealing with Kacchan and the other children, to keep himself from whimpering at the caved-in sensation in his ribcage. It doesn't stop the faint jolt and shudder his body gave out.
It's getting worse.
(Why was it getting worse?)
"You don't need to move to activate it." Izuku barely heard his tutor's contemplative voice over the ache spreading in his chest. Focus. In and out. He could do this. The next sound the man makes is a soft tut. Proud? No. Hiroi-sensei was too aloof for that. "Neither does it needs a visual connection, but it's harder, isn't it? I saw you flinch. Hm." A pause. "We can work on that. You also need better spatial awareness. Your fire's eating at the floor. Put it out."
Eh? Izuku blinks, turning his head to look at the candle. The fire's not on it at all -rather, there was no candle anymore, and the tatami matt around it was looking worse for wear, and the wood flooring underneath looked brittle and blackened. Stunned, he sits there gaping at the mess that he's making.
Oh. Oh.
This time Izuku couldn't fault himself for panicking. He doesn't as much as pull at the fire as he yanks at it like he's fighting to land a fish. It dies out and returns to him, fluttering in his ribcage like a exasperated bird.
"Oh, oh no! I'm sorry, Hiroi-sensei!"
The man only huffs in reply.
"Don't do it again." He walks in front of the smoking, blackened mess Izuku had made out of the floor, tiptoeing around the unstable flooring. It creaks and groans, but doesn't give away. Thankfully. "This was non-flammable, geez kid…"
Izuku bowed his head, staring at his knees. He felt his cheeks burn hot from embarrassment. "It won't happen a-again."
"See to it." The man says delicately, his tone uninterested.
I will, his student thinks, pressing his lips together.
As his tutor went to fetch another candle, Izuku sneaked a glance at the other training room. The doors connecting that room with this one were shut, but Izuku could hear the muffled sounds of fighting and if he squinted, he could see flashes of orange-red from behind the thin papery walls, marking the silhouettes of a tall man and a small child, locked together in combat.
.
.
.
"Father," Izuku breathes as he sees the large man walk past his open bedroom door. Immediately he stumbles to his feet, his All Might figurine forgotten on his futon as he trots to the door. He pokes his head out as the pro-hero hurriedly walked past him. "Father I was wondering i-if I could maybe call-"
Endeavor didn't even pause. Within moments he's out of sight again.
Izuku deflates.
He's just busy. He rationalizes. He's one of the greatest heroes of the modern day, he has a lot to do between handling villains and running his agency.
He has more important things to do.
.
.
.
He barely sees Shoto.
Izuku tries, he tries really hard because he wants to get to know the other boy, but he barely sees him around the house. Endeavor had all but monopolized Shoto's time, and when the two-toned boy had any ounce of free time he spends it holled up in his room, or in a abandoned room at the end of the hall that Izuku had peaked at but only found a very dusty bedroom that smelled faintly of flowers.
Maybe Shoto can't bear the atmosphere of the house either?
The questions burned at the tip of his tongue, but Izuku never let them tumble past his lips. Endeavor's cold, detached demeanor left him hesitant to approach his older brother. For all he knew, Shoto could be just as...as Endeavor as his father. It's a strange way of putting it, but that's the only way Izuku could describe it. It's been over a week since he'd arrived, but the memory of Shoto's glare was fresh in his mind.
So he results to satisfying his curiosity by watching his sibling from afar.
Izuku knew it was a bad, no good, very bad idea -Kacchan had called his behavior stalking (which is was not, he was observing) and that hurt as much as the explosions he received as punishment- but short of accosting the other boy in the middle of the night, he couldn't meet Shoto otherwise since their schedules were so charged. Besides, Izuku was good at it, and Shoto's behavior when they met...
(It hurt.)
Shoto, he found, barely left his room. Most often than not the only times the door opened was when Fuyumi came around to bring him food. There's times that he sees the other Todoroki going to be bathroom for basic hygiene or to train with Endeavor but besides that, Izuku barely saw the two-toned boy around the house. His older brother seemed like a ghost drifting at the edge of his vision, taunting him with his presence.
Even worse than Natsuo, who he'd finally met five days after arriving.
That had been a strange meeting.
"So you're Izuku."
The green-eyed boy blinked, startled. Slowly, he looked up from his book on Quirk history he'd been reading while curled up on the couch. A young boy stood in front of him, his pale hair gleaming under the living room lights. He was tall and gangly, wearing a light yellow shirt and dark pants.
Izuku had never seen him before, and startled panic rose up at the sight of the stranger -only to fizzle out of existence when their eyes met. The pale-haired teen had dark, steel grey eyes, sharp and glinting with interest. He'd seen an eye like his but full of disdain and hatred.
Those were Shoto's eyes. Izuku knew immediately that this boy was one of his siblings. Opening his mouth, he mentally raced through the list of names that Fuyumi had given him before speaking hesitantly:
"Touya?" He asked.
The taller boy coughed, expression twisting into a grimace. "Natsuo." He said to Izuku's silent mortification. "Big bro barely comes here."
"Oh." Izuku blushed. He swung his legs nervously. "I-I didn't recognize you. Sorry."
The white-haired boy tilted his head at him, squinting. "...you've met me before?"
"I heard you screaming." Izuku started quietly, remembering that night with dread. Not even the worst of Kacchan's angry tirades had matched the sheer spite and hatred he'd heard that night. "At dad."
Something in the older boy's eyes darkened. "Hm." He flopped next to Izuku, who squeaked as he bounced on the couch from the sudden weight. "Father earned it."
Silence. Izuku fidgeted, his hands tightening on the book. He stared at the pages without reading them, the words on the paper blurring. "O-oh."
This was awkward.
He jumped a bit when he felt a hand rest on top of his head. Huh? Shifting in his seat, he turns to look at Natsuo, peering at the older boy questioningly. Natsuo only grins in return, softer and more open, the hand on his green hair ruffling the soft curls. The action sent warmth spreading through the youngest' body, revitalizing him.
The cold, chafing void in his ribcage lessened.
If only for a moment.
"So," Natsuo began, scooting closer to Izuku's side, eyes drifting to the open book. Izuku's eyelashes fluttered as he felt the warmth emanating from his brother's body pressing against his own; it melted the anxiety right out of him and he couldn't help but relax, slumping slightly against Natsuo's side. "...whatcha reading, little guy?"
For the first time in what felt like a eternity, Izuku's lips twisted into a true, honest smile.
Meeting Natsuo was a balm on Izuku's heartache. He liked Fuyumi, he really did, but she lacked the same willfire his older brother had. Izuku could only wonder if Touya was the same. Maybe that was why he wasn't here? How old was he, compared to Fuyumi?
(Where was he?)
At least he had Shoto.
His other older brother, who was capitalizing Endeavor's attention. Something a tiny, selfish part of Izuku felt grateful for.
He'd understood that feeling more the longer he spent watching the two-toned boy. On the rare times Hiroi-sensei doesn't come to the house to train him but Endeavor was home, Izuku took to observing Shoto's training. By doing that, he quickly found out how much of a relief it was that his father wasn't training him.
Frankly, Endeavor's teaching methods were brutal.
It was a mixture of combat and Quirk training. Izuku watched from the sliding doors, tranfixiated by their duels that sent fire rising high above their heads and ice spreading across the matt. If Endeavor noticed his youngest son watching them train, he never spared a glance at him.
All of his attention was on Shoto.
Shoto, who fought with lips twisted into a grimace and tears in his eyes. Shoto, who glanced at Izuku from the corner of his eyes but still managed to dodge their father's fist. Shoto, who fell and stood up and fell again but never gave up.
Shoto, who reminded him of Kacchan too much, with the way he fought made him seem like he was a wild thing tearing at the seams, baring his teeth at Endeavor defiantly and keeping his head high. Izuku didn't know how he did it. His older brother was tiny compared to the massive titan that was their father.
The bandages over his eye only made it worse.
.
.
.
"What do you want?"
Izuku yelps at the unexpected shout and falls forward, accidentally opening the bedroom door and falling flat on his face. The green haired boy groaned as he picked himself up, rubbing his sore nose.
Sheepishly, he looks up.
Shoto seems nonplussed by his accident, staring at him through a single, narrowed grey eye, his expression just shy of annoyed. He reminded Izuku of Kacchan. All sharp edges and bristling.
"Get out."
Izuku forces down a shudder, but he refused to run away. Here's hoping his brother's Quirk wasn't as destructive. Even Kacchan had a softer side to him, and if Shoto was anything like his childhood friend, maybe just maybe-
"I said get out!"
"But-"
"Out!"
Why did that burn down to his heart? Even with his classmates' taunts and sneers, even with Kacchan's fire and spite, Izuku wasn't used to the disdain exhuming out of Shoto, that sheer quiet hostility that made his muscles tense up with the need to flee. It was different than Kacchan's prideful anger, who lashed out at useless, Quirkless Izuku because he was in the way and made a suitable target. This was more personal.
If his father made him feel scared and small, Shoto made him feel like he shouldn't exist...and Izuku knew shouldn't be feeling that. He shouldn't be fighting the urge to run away from Shoto. From family.
Why was this happening?
(Why was everything wrong in this house?)
Izuku couldn't help it; it felt like a dam had been broken. Suddenly everything he'd pent up crashed down on his shoulders and his body just gave in. He started sobbing. Loudly. Big fat tears rolled down his cheeks before he even got a word in.
Oh. This was humiliating. His cheeks burned, but he couldn't stop.
His older brother startled at the wretched wail, his single grey eye widening like a dinner plate as he stumbled back, clearly not expecting such loud sounds from the other boy. Through the river of tears and the sniffles he was trying to choke down in a vain attempt to regain composure, Izuku watched as the other boy fidgeted in front of him. His hands rose from his side, almost reaching for Izuku only to fall back down -and rise again in a cycle that reeked of uncertainty.
"Why are you crying." Shoto's voice is oddly flat, perplexed. Then it wavers. "Stop crying." He tells Izuku sharply, tone wavering. It's the most Izuku heard him speak since he'd arrived.
Izuku would be happier about it if he wasn't suffocating in his own tears and snot. Kacchan always said I was a crybaby.
"I-I'm 'orry!" He sniffs, hiccuping.
Shoto's expression grew more befuddled. He looked a little bit lost and when he spoke next, his voice was a higher pitch. "I said stop it!"
"I can't help it!" Izuku cries just a tiny bit more hysterically because it's true, he's going to die from crying and nothing he could do was going to stop it from happening.
"S-stupid!" Shoto hisses, aggravated. "Of course you can!"
Izuku tries. He really does, but he couldn't. He kept crying, squinting as his vision grew blurrier and blurrier. It's like the cork had popped off and now he could only let the water burst free. All of his fears, frustrations and shame coming out into the open air.
He hears Shoto sigh dejectedly. At this point he wasn't blaming his older brother's reaction.
Great.
This was a great first impression.
-useless useless useless useless useless-
It took a moment for him to register the warmth. Even more, to notice the short arms wrapped around his shoulders, and the bandaged face tucked close against his neck.
He's hugging me? In his shock, Izuku stops his tearful, uncontrolled sobbing. Shoto stepped away from him before Izuku could wrap his arms around him in return, expression pinched and shoulders hunched. There's pink blossoming on his exposed cheek.
"There," The older boy tells him. "Stop crying." He nervously scratches at his bandages. By doing so, the gauze lifts slightly, exposing scabs, delicate, thin skin that gleamed under the light and reddened, inflamed flesh soaked in ointment.
Izuku was struck stiff at the sight of the wound, tears forgotten. "Don't do that." He told him sharply.
He jolts, hand rising to cover his traitorous mouth. He shouldn't have done that. Both children froze at the surprisingly harsh voice. There was a invisible line, and he'd just crossed it. Izuku wilted slightly at the dark, offended look Shoto offered him; even with one eye, he was scarier and more intimidating than Kacchan, and his brother wasn't furious like the blond boy was when he accosted Izuku.
It was more of a regal, quiet anger, the one you had to stifle in your mouth before it left your lips and you said things you couldn't take back. It was the kind of anger that wasn't directed at Izuku per say, but close. Like Izuku was part of the problem, but not the main source of his ire.
Natsuo's spiteful words floated to the front of his mind.
'Father earned it.'
It takes a moment for him to wrestle his tongue back into working order to explain himself. "I-it's not good for you. It's a burn, right? You'll make it worse." Izuku murmured, nodding his head towards Shoto.
The older boy narrowed his eyes. "How do you know?"
Izuku squirms, uncomfortable. "I once saw Fuyumi bring you some burn cream." I wasn't watching your bedroom, no no no. Please don't think I'm creepy. "S-so…" Eyes hardening, he straightens his spine a bit and looked at the taller child in the eyes. "...don't do it, you'll just hurt yourself."
A pause. The look in his older brother's eye was indecipherable. Izuku barely kept his composure.
"Like I care what you say." Shoto finally says, turning his head away. Izuku watched his nose wrinkle, causing the bandages to shift on his face. He's suddenly struck with the image of a great bird tangled in a net, turning away help despite the trouble it was in. "What do you know about burns."
"...I know enough." Izuku mumbles as he withers, shoulders hunching and he knows he'd lost the meager sliver of interest Shoto had directed at him.
He didn't have the heart to tell Shoto he knew plenty of burns and how to treat them. This past year Kacchan had been especially vicious with him, their previous friendship withering away as the blond boy became more and more drunk on his Quirk's power and his classmates' cheering. Izuku, Quirkless, had been the perfect target. Plenty of times he'd ended up in the infirmary, skin bruised and blackened by explosions.
Shoto deflates.
"Just go." The two-toned boy murmured, jerking his head towards the door. "You wouldn't want him to catch you here. I'm supposed to be studying. If he found you distracting me…"
A sharp spike of something stabbed through Izuku's spine at the thought.
Yeah, no. He wasn't going there. If what Shoto said was true, he had been risking his father's ire without even knowing.
Izuku remembers Shoto training, the brutal efficiency in which Endeavor put him to the ground. He's not sure he's strong enough to experience that.
"O-oh, okay then." Izuku nodded rapidly, hands wriggling at the edge of his clothing. For a moment he took a step towards the bigger child, left hand leaving his clothing to reach for Shoto -then he caught himself and shuffled away, embarrassed. "Bye, niisan."
He darts to the door, feet tapping almost silently against the tatami matt. Exiting the bedroom, he paused just outside, hand resting on the doorknob as the door slowly closed behind him.
Then he hears it.
"Goodbye, otouto."
Soft. Not-warm, but close.
Less like Natsuo and more like Fuyumi.
A little secret, just between the two of them.
Izuku slides the door shut behind him. When he walks down the hallway to his room, he can't stop a tiny, fragile smile from twisting his lips.
It wasn't much, but it was a start.
.
.
.
It's nearly a month later when he finally leaves the house. That morning Izuku blinked awake to Fuyumi knocking furiously at his door and telling him to get ready. He barely has the time to open his bedroom door before she's darting in, hovering over him like a anxious hummingbird.
It's the most lively he'd ever seen her. She reminded him of Inko, in a way, for how she liked taking care of him.
"What does he want?" Izuku had asked then, yawning softly as he folds his futon and searches for a good set of clothes and his red shoes. At this point, there was no need to say his name.
Izuku learned that within two weeks.
"He wants you at the door in 10. There's a car waiting for you." Fuyumi tells him with a hesitant voice. She nods her head at the door, motionning him to hurry. "I was getting ready to go to school, so share my breakfast before you leave."
Izuku jerked his head towards her, startled. "O-oh. Thank you, but there's no need-"
"It's okay," She replied, waving him off with a tiny smile. "I don't have time to make more for you, so share with me. You don't want to be late."
The warning in her normally soft and meek voice was enough to get Izuku to shut up and move.
Alight with a sense of urgency, he goes through his closet for proper clothes. He doesn't know what his father wants, but he didn't want to go through the same problem as when he'd first arrived. That hopeless feeling of standing out, of being other had stuck to Izuku's skin like tar.
That still leaves… Izuku surveilled his closet, feeling a bit lost. His tiny pile of clothes from...home were left on the side, tucked in the same shelf he'd left them on the first day. His gym bag was right under it, keeping his most precious belongings safe.
More clothes had been added to his wardrobe, soft white shirts and black pants and comfortable workout clothes. There were also more formal clothing, including a few suits made of a strange, smooth and cool fabric that made Izuku want to curl up in them and go to sleep.
It's silk, Fuyumi told him at one point when he first noticed it. He'd nearly dropped the folded laundry at that. Wasn't that the really expensive fabric Kaa-san's favorite green dress was made of? And he had a whole pile of it?!
In the end, it didn't really matter what he wore.
He's barely in the car nine minutes later before the driver takes off, clearly in a rush to get somewhere. Izuku doesn't know where he's going, but he's too terrified to ask. He's unsure if he even wants to ask. Fuyumi's poached egg and steamed rice sludges uneasily in his stomach and he has to sit there, still and tense, fighting the rising nausea that threatens to overtake him.
Then the car stops, the door on the other side opens and Izuku's no longer still but frozen stiff as Endeavor, complete with hero costume, enters the vehicle and sits next to him. His fire is but a dim flame, but the sight of his father in full combat regalia is enough to shock Izuku into a stupor.
For the first few moments after the car starts moving again, his father doesn't speak, merely staring ahead, expression set and hard.
Then he slowly turns his face to pin Izuku with a somber stare.
"We will be attending a event." He rumbles, and Izuku watches as the flames on his face twist and curl slowly, elegantly. It was so much different than his fire during Hiroi-sensei's training sessions, his own too jagged and rowdy. "I want you to behave. Can you do that, Izuku?"
If breathing was a option before, it wasn't now. Izuku's pinned in place by anxiety; his previous nausea is gone, and he feels too hard and cold like a piece of marble. And so he nods in response, his throat too dry to muster up a word, much less a proper sentence.
Endeavor's eyes narrow at his response, but he begrudgingly accepts it by the way he turns back to look at the front of the car, aquamarine eyes dark and set.
The next half hour is spent in oppressing, suffocating silence.
.
.
.
The building they enter was tall and lavish, even more than the Todoroki house.
Worse, people were staring at him. There were no other children -only adults as far as the eye could see, dozens of them, all watching him with interest. More than one were reaching for their phones and most already had theirs in their hands. All of these devices were without exception pointed at Izuku.
They're looking at me. Not father, me. If there was air in Izuku's lungs before, the last slivers of it were long gone.
He would be frozen stiff, feet rooted to the ground if it wasn't for Endeavor's broad hand on his back pushing him along. The pro-hero wastes no time leading him to a elevator; a bit of wiggling and standing on his toes to peer past a old woman as tells him that it's bringing them to the sixth floor.
He's led through a empty hallway and shown to a large room. As soon as he enters, a triad of adults are on him, cooing softly as they lead him to a tall chair. Startled, Izuku tries to shy away and hide but Endeavor was already gently pushing him forward; the green haired boy only caught his cool command to behave, Izuku before the pro-hero left, closing the door behind him.
His stomach dropped at the abandonment, but he stifled the spike of fear down with practiced ease.
The green shirt, black pants and his red shoes that he'd thrown on before leaving were all but ripped off him by the frantic women, who buzzed around him like panicked bees, exchanging words too quickly for him to understand while throwing clothes at each other. Izuku watched, shocked quiet, as they jabbed their fingers at him, pointed at different strange clothes and yelled even louder at each other.
Izuku's faintly light headed from all the attention. The room is massive, there's mirrors, clothes and makeup on every available surface. It's terrifying.
"No, go with this one-"
"Think will let us cut his son's hair a bit, it's a mess-"
"No, we don't have the time. Just brush and stylize it!"
"Green or black?"
"Red unlikely, it will clash with his eyes and hair-"
"-plain-looking, need to bring out his eyes more-"
Brushing? Stylizing?
Wait, were these clothes people -what was the name again? Tailors? Tailors. Maybe. He would have to consult his dictionary later.
The question of what they were doing was answered a few minutes -spent in quiet mortification as as these strangers argued fiercely over his head- later was answered when two pieces of clothing were all but shoved into his face.
One's a dark red. The other is black. Kimonos, and fancy ones at that. Shyly, he points for the black one.
(The red one makes his blood curdle.)
Half a minute later, he's regretting the choice thoroughly when it's forced over his head. Izuku can only sit still as it's strapped on and his hair becomes their next target. By the way the tallest woman is going at it with a brush, she might as well be ripping chunks of green hair out of his scapula.
A second woman passes the next five minutes huncher over him, applying something on his face that makes Izuku want to sneeze. He really, terribly wants to ask her what she's doing, but she told him with a strict voice to close his eyes until her say so and despite how the powder(?) makes him want to wrinkle his nose and pull away, he doesn't want to cause trouble.
Plus, her touches are kind despite her swift movement. She's in a hurry, but not enough to disregard his comfort. Well, at least not fully. For once, Izuku feels like he can safely mellow out in his seat. The hair-pulling didn't even hurt that much.
When he's allowed to open his eyes again, the women coo at him softly and pet his hair -which feels lighter than ever, as Kacchan would say what the fuck were they doing to him-
Then his father steps back into the room and the gradual relaxation izuku had been feeling shrivels up and dies with him. Endeavor glances at him up and down, seemingly satisfied before he turns to the eldest of the three women, speaking to her gruffly, but politely.
"We had to use one of the smaller sets. He's too thin," He hears her tell Endeavor. At that point, Izuku was feeling more like a dressed up doll than anything else. His head spun. "I don't know what his mother's been feeding him, but it's clearly not enough."
"I'll get him a doctor." His father's reply is short and courteous. Izuku could hear the restraint.
Was...was it that bad?
He didn't remember having any issue with his weight. Kaa-san always fed him well and he never went hungry, so why…? Befuddled, Izuku's gaze turned to his reflection in the nearest mirror. It's small, barely big enough to show his head, but it's enough.
Oh. Izuku shuffled closer to the mirror, tilting his head at his image. Had his skin always looked this pale? His eyes this glassy? There were no shadows under his eyes, but when he turned his head to the side he could see the faint shimmer of makeup on his skin.
The boy in the mirror looks brittle.
Of glass and bones held by threads about to snap.
(Suffocating.)
.
.
.
"Come along, Izuku."
He can't breathe.
He smiles at the crowd, a perfect shy smile that betrays nothing of how the flashes of the cameras were blinding him and leaving spots in his vision. Endeavor's hand is a burning weight on his upper back, fingers spilling on either of his shoulders.
The delicate black kimono feels tight on him. Gelled and stylized, his hair stinks of products and the smell of alcohol encompasses his nose. Stiff, rigid shoes and silk socks trap his feet, chafing his skin and making his toes numb from the lack of circulation.
Still he smiles.
The masses were surrounding him on all sides, pressing for answers, demanding photos, shouting questions. Only his father's presence keeps them at bay. Izuku wants to curl up, shy away into his father's legs to block out the general chaos of the press conference, but he can't. The thinnest thread of will keeps him still. He can barely stop his body from trembling.
Do not disappoint him. It repeats in his head like a matras, carving deeper and deeper into his skull until it's the only thing he can hear. He tucks himself closer to his father. The crowd cooes and awes. Their voices are sharp knives into his psyche.
Izuku is scared; he's terrified. Nearly a month ago, he'd been a Quirkless nobody of a single mother and the impossible dream of becoming a hero. Now he was the son of the Number Two Hero, and his face was washed white by the flashes of the cameras.
(Deep down, Izuku knows what which he prefers. Warmth and tea in the afternoon and smiles exchanged under the light of the television. Home.)
Because the adult next to Endeavor is talking to the crowd -the press- with a speakerphone, and with every passing word a knife is driven into Izuku's guts because it's all wrong and he can't muster up the strength to talk. Not with his father's hand on his back, a silent, threatening omen.
"It might be a surprise, but Endeavor knows what he's done and he takes this very seriously-"
The crowd roars. Izuku's head spins.
"-it began not five years ago during the brief affair, but long before that. Todoroki Rei has always been a erratic individual, so Mr. Todoroki had a moment of weakness-"
He can barely keep his eyes open. Any more and he's sagging against his father.
"-it was a unfortunate event, what Todoroki Rei did to young Shoto, but after her episode Endeavor could not stand idle by anymore and watch her hurt his children."
A blink. Wait, did she say-
"-she has been admitted to a mental ward where she remains to this day, so she can never harm anyone ever again."
Shoto. Oh god, Shoto. His poor brother. How could his mother do that to his son? Just the thought of Inko ever doing that to him makes him want to retch until he had nothing but bile to offer up. Was this why the other boy was always so mad? Was this why he hated Endeavor so much?
Wait, was this the first time his father revealed this to the world? Why tell Japan about Shoto's injury, why now...?
Oh.
Izuku had always been bad at spotting excuses...but in the eye of the storm, he sees the truth. It's so clear and painful.
"Due to the gravity of the situation, Endeavor saw fit to make a more personal impact in the life of his youngest son, Todoroki Izuku-"
-nononono that sounded wrong why Todoroki it didn't feel good he was Midoriya-
In the end, Endeavor has to practically pick him up and carry him to the car.
(The crowd croons sweetly in response, and it takes every ounce of will in his body for Izuku not to let the fire out.)
.
.
.
The skies are black and full of stars when the car pulls into the driveway.
It's quiet.
Dark.
The house is even worse.
The only sound Izuku could hear was the noise he made as he breathed -a tiny, short breath- and the crackle of Endeavor's flames. The later fades away to nothingness as his father points him towards the sleeping quarters before walking off to the opposite side of the house, where Izuku learned his office was. It leaves him standing in the hall in his kimono, feeling uncertain and forsaken.
He walks into the sleeping hall, the thick robe weighing him down. His polished shoes clatter against the floor no matter how hard he tries, a loud clack clack clack that grates his ears and makes his heart twist and shrink into itself. It's a painful sensation.
It's nothing compared to what he feels when he spots Shoto standing in front of his bedroom, blocking the way.
That single grey eye is terrifyingly cold, and his expression could only be described as livid. Izuku immediately knows what he's after.
'-she has been admitted to a mental ward, so she can never harm anyone ever again-'
Shoto had heard. He must have watched the news.
Izuku's tongue feels like lead in his mouth. Weakly, he croaks out. "I'm sorry, niisan. I didn't know-"
"Shut up." Shoto snarls, his bandaged face twisting with something vicious as he takes a step towards him. They're but a arm's reach away now, but for Izuku it feels like miles.
That sharp, hard tone has Izuku's jaw snap shut. The malice in those words, that dark anger -Endeavor's face floats to the front of his mind, massive and out of this world and glaring down at Izuku like he's nothing but a ant.
"It's Shoto." His brother hisses, and it's another blunt blow to Izuku's lungs. "-and it doesn't matter if you knew or not. You went along with it. You...you let them, let him say those things about her."
The frigid stare he gave drove the last ounces of air in Izuku's lungs out.
"I hate you."
Izuku heard those words too often in his life. But they were never had so much meaning, never held so much animosity until now.
Rendered breathless, voiceless, he's unable to muster up a reply.
So Shoto walks past him, ramming his shoulder against his in the process and dragging out a startled, pained gasp out of him. The older boy's gone before Izuku can get another word out in his defence, slipping back into his own room and snapping the door shut behind him.
This leaves Izuku standing there, once again.
Lost.
He wobbles his way into his bedroom, not even bothering with the door when he all but crumbles on top of his futon, shuddering. Izuku barely chokes down his cries as he twists on the bedding, curling up on the covers -only for the kimono's collar to dig into his neck and force him to get up and all but rip it off with a small growl.
Left in a undershirt, he barely has the strength to grab his pijama from under his pillow and put it on. Doing this however, his hand brushes the pillow aside and exposes a familiar figurine adorned with a large, toothy smile.
The twin golden tuffs atop of All Might's hair gleam silver in the moonlight.
Izuku picks it up, staring at it blankly. It felt like it had been a lifetime ago when he bought it.
He picked the toy with the allowance Inko had given him after he'd landed one of his exams. He'd been just four then, dragging Kacchan along by his wrist because mother and Aunt Mitsuki didn't allow them to wander in the streets alone. The toy shop had been beautiful, lit in dazzling arrays of colors as it held merchandise from all over Japan. Both boys had been completely captivated.
So I can have him with me everywhere, duh! He'd told Kacchan when the blond had asked him why he'd bought such a tiny figurine. Because limited or not, it was small. Katsuki had mocked him for it enough that Izuku didn't end up carrying it with him everywhere in his pockets as originally planned, but he'd always kept it in his backpack, just within reach.
Those had been the good days.
Now though, when he looks at it...
He remembers Endeavor's hateful gaze, the bulging of his biceps as he curls his hand tight around the figurine, the warmth of the plastic when he cradles it in his own hands after rescuing the toy.
'I need to focus on him if he's ever going to be the hero who surpasses All Might.'
All Might.
Always All Might.
Was that why Endeavor took him from Inko? Was that all that was to it, what Izuku really was? Just a pawn, a stepping stone for Shoto -for his father's desire for power?
The Quirkless boy, now reduced to his Quirk.
The bitter irony had him drowning. With a choked snarl, Izuku throws the figurine away. It hits the wall with a quiet thud and clatters to the ground.
For a moment Izuku wants to get up and throw it again. He wants to smash it to the ground, to burn it to ash and cinder until nothing remained of its existence but the faint smell of burnt plastic. It takes the distressed boy a herculean amount of will to not just let go, to let the fire just burn everything until Izuku was the only thing left in this stupid, stupid house filled with people who were more manikins than actual human beings.
You can't, he hears himself say in his head. Izuku groans and clutches his head,
He repeats it in his head, over and over again until the fire bends and shrinks, curling into a smaller and smaller ball within his chest. He imagines the onyx flames in his head, tiny and sputtering under the cold terror and overwhelming anguish freezing his veins. No longer soft and colorful like the first time, nor wild and spastic as it ate through the floor.
Just there.
Hanging on.
All at once, Izuku feels even more empty, if that was possible. There's little inside him but a wilted flame, and strangely, he isn't bothered by this. If anything...he feels better.
Detached.
(Burnt up.)
He's sitting there in the darkness, staring at the wall with vacant eyes when he hears it.
"You're still awake."
Izuku's dull green eyes slowly shift to the door.
Endeavor's standing at the entrance of his bedroom, hand on the doorknob. His expression was unreadable and his eyes guarded. The fire on his face had all but fizzled out, leaving only two tiny candle-like flames under his nose.
Strangely enough, Izuku feels nothing at the sudden appearance of the pro-hero. Was he that out of it?
(He was just so tired. So, so tired.)
"I expected you to be asleep, Izuku. Training will begin early."
Izuku docily bows his head in apology. "Sorry, sir."
He shuffles down, sliding into his futon and pulling the thick covers over his head. There, he curls up and tucks his knees into his chest, folding into himself in a attempt to create even the slightest bit of warmth. Izuku waits, heart cold and dead in his chest, fire strangely quiet and pliant in his ribcage.
The freckled boy hears his father's heavy footsteps fade away into the night. It's only then that something breaks and he starts to shiver, green eyes squeezing shut. Izuku's fingers dig into the flesh of his legs, nails biting into his skin to the point of bruising.
The memory of Shoto's blistering, hateful glare is burned into his retinas.
That night, Izuku goes to sleep in tears.
Yes yes, fuck me right? I'm a cruel, cruel woman.
I can't believe the hours I spent googling legitimacy in japan. Holy crap, that took a while, Im so glad I did it two days ago while I was writing the first chapter.
What Endeavor and his PR team is doing here is playing the media like a fiddle -they're trading the secret of Rei's hospitalization to shield the Todoroki household from the mark of 'bastard child', effectively arguing that even before Rei was even pregnant with Shoto, she was unstable and caused Endeavor to seek bonds with others, resulting in Izuku and after the incident, Enji decided to reach out and retrieve his youngest son out of a sense of duty.