In which Shouto and Izuku bond and an attempt was made at parenting. Truly a bronze star there, Endeavor.
AKA this chapter could be named 'I made too many people cry so here's some damn fluff and plot development' before the lot of you murder me in my sleep.
Note: Going to change every Shoto to Shouto or die trying cuz I gotta stap writing it like that. Last chapter was 45 pages-ish pray for my poor ass I gotta go back and review each one. I'm learning my lesson, as well as discovering the fact that I'm a masochist, apparently.
Note 2: To the person who referred to Enji as Endadvor, I hate you. I loathe your very existence. I can't get that out of my head now, hope ur happy .
Anyhow, here we go.
"Shouto."
Silence.
"Shooooutooo."
A grunt.
"Shooooooutoooooo-"
Thump.
He heard Shouto hiss somewhere above him like a agitated cat, struggling weakly under the covers in a attempt to pull them back over his head. Izuku continues to bury his head into his stomach, forcing him awake by pushing half his weight into the older boy's belly.
His brother tries stubbornly to hold on to the last dreads of slumber that the warm covers offer, him but it was to no avail. Not with a small weight half on top of him, or a small nose pressing into his tummy like a blunt little knife. The arm sprawled on top of his face wasn't helping either.
Izuku had enough experience during rare sleepovers with Kacchan to master this art -and how to dodge, but that was something else entirely. Within a few minutes, he hears the defeated sigh he was waiting for.
"Enough," Shouto groans through the palm on top of his face, his voice somehow managing to transmit every ounce of dejected regret he had about this. "I'll get up."
"Good." The green haired boy rolls off him with a hum, sliding off the futon like a limp noodle. He reaches blindly for his socks and shoes, then crawls to his closet to get proper wear. As much as he would prefer staying in his warm, comfortable old pijamas, there was no way Izuku wanted a free lecture from their father about proper wear.
He barely tolerated these impromptu sleepovers as it was; Izuku didn't want him to take it out on Shouto during training today.
A clean pair of black shorts, a pale green shirt and a soft dark green sweater later, Izuku walks out of his closet to see that Shoto sitting on the futon with his own shoes and socks on. Sleep clung to every inch of his face as he yawned and rubbed his scared eye.
Izuku made a wordless noise of displeasure at that, making the older boy drop the arm and squint at him.
They leave the youngest Todoroki's bedroom together, and head for Shouto's next. Izuku waits by his door as his brother changes, the two-toned boy not wanting to attract their father's ire either. Once Shouto emerged, wearing a grey-blue shirt and pale shorts, they walk down the hall together.
Their hands brush occasionally, but both siblings were too shy, still to awkward with each other to link their arms. Izuku's right arm was still tender as well; Shouto avoided touching the injured limb too much, nervous and wary that contact might injure him further, skirting around the arm like it would crumble at the touch. Izuku wasn't sure if that's how it worked, but the gesture was touching nevertheless.
It was nice to know someone cared.
The limb was treated and bandaged, the white of the dressing contrasting neatly with the healthy hue of his skin. He's no longer chalk white and his cheeks were rosier, bringing out his freckles. Over a week passed since the incident, yet their father hadn't allowed Izuku free of the bandages on his arm, likely in a attempt to reduce the amount of scarring that would be left in the wake of his impulsive action.
Izuku still doesn't blame him for it.
(Wryly, he thinks it's a good reminder.)
There's no fear of his fire rushing out to consume things for now, and it would be a long time until that issue came up again. By then, Izuku was determined to be ready. He wouldn't fail again.
He couldn't.
Weary of a repeat, Izuku kept a obsessive watch over his Quirk after the incident. It's pointless though; the furnace in his ribcage felt warm and full, a sharp contrast to the small fire or tiny candlelight he'd felt before. He had a long time before it went dry; he was constantly aware of it's heavy mass under his skin. It was plenty enough fuel to last him months. Given, that is, he didn't too much of it at once.
This wasn't a concern however as Izuku had yet to call upon his flames since that night.
It was still early in the morning; dawn had only recently passed, and the wood floorboards of the hallways were bathed in soft orange hues from the light trickling in from the tall window at the end of the hall. The wood creaked under Izuku's shoes. There's a moment where he wishes he was barefooted so he could feel the warmth of the wood flooring under his feet.
Izuku doesn't dare kick off his shoes though. If any part of him was in disarray Endeavor would never let him see the end of it.
The thought nearly makes him wince. He's so caught up in his thoughts, it takes a moment for Izuku to notice there was a distinct lack of short, dual-haired child at his side.
"Where…?" He trails off, looking noting how Shouto had moved towards the bathroom and was gesturing him to follow with a sharp jerk of his head. His mouth snaps shut.
Right.
His teeth.
(It still felt strange, having to do everything on his own. He's almost forgotten what his mother's voice sounded like when she called out to his sleepy, bleary-eyed self in the morning, reminding him to brush his teeth.)
Shouto stands on his toes and snags his toothbrush, a pale blue object with his name neatly written in thick black sharpy. He reaches for the toothpaste and starts on his routine, completely immersed in his task. So much so, Izuku has twist and dance and wiggle a bit around him to go get his own green toothbrush. He's already small to begin with, the body blocking his way wasn't helping.
It's only when the green haired boy gathers enough courage to nudge his older sibling that Shouto blinks at him questioningly with a mouth filled with foam, like he'd wondering why the smaller child was interrupting his routine.
Izuku sheepishly points to the sink and with a grunt of realization, the scarred boy wordlessly steps aside.
There was still an awkwardness with the way they moved around each other. For Shouto, it was born out of habit of being alone and for his younger brother, it was the result of his own shyness and hesitation when it came to interacting with any of the Todorokis.
Despite this, when they enter the kitchen they do it together.
Izuku immediately goes for the fridge, opening it with a bit of fussing. The door was almost too heavy for his small body, but pulling with his weight does wonders to get the massive door open. His eyes roam over the tupperware food, looking for the right label. After a moment, he settles for the rice and the egg roll container, for they were the easiest to warm up.
In the meantime, Shouto focuses his attention to the table, setting the required dishes on the smooth dark wood and fetching the water, the glass and the utensils. He arranges each one carefully, making sure he did no sound as he settled them on the table. By the time he was done and turned to assist his little brother, Izuku was placing the last of the cold containers on the nearest surface and was trying to figure out the stove settings.
Shouto climbs up a chair to fetch one of the pans hanging on the wall and together they manage to warm up the food with little incident. As they wait, Shouto watches the food intensely while Izuku fiddles with his fingers, tracing his scarred arm with a thoughtful look.
He doesn't miss how Shouto glances at the injury from the corner of his eyes, or how he touches his own scar when he turns away.
Once the rolls and the rice were sufficiently warmed, Shouto pulls the pan to the side and turns the stove off. Izuku fetches the plates from the table, placing it close so Shouto can lift the pan and the green-haired boy can scoop the food out with a large spoon onto the two dinner plates. It's hard work for five year olds, but Shouto was strong enough to do it.
Empty pan safely in the sink, they take their dishes and go to the table together. To his relief, Izuku's hands only wobble once by the time he can set it down. Meal assembled, they sit side to side on one side of the massive table.
There's some awkward shuffling as they reach for their utensils. Izuku picks at the heated up food, wrinkling his nose as he nibbles on a piece of meat. It doesn't taste bad -nothing the lady made ever did- but it wasn't Fuyumi's cooking or Inko's.
It was perfectly consumable, at the very least.
Could be worse.
(Could be Natsuo's charred eggs when he used the kitchen without Fuyumi's supervision.)
He should stop whining about it. At least he had food. Shoulders dropping, he slips a discrete glance at Shouto. His older brother seemed to have no issue eating the food, shoveling it into his mouth swiftly and efficiently like he had to leave right away afterwards to do something. He didn't, since their father had likely gone to work already and training was in the afternoon.
Did Shouto even know how to savor the food? Just sit there and let the taste wash over his tongue? Or had he forgotten?
It was disconcerting. Izuku had eaten quickly before, but it was when he was late to school and his mother was running up and down the house trying to not to show her panic as she searched for his things and no, Izuku, you can't watch that cartoon right now we need to hurry-
His heart twinges. Izuku's chopsticks hover over the food as he sits there, memories of a green dress, wide eyes and tearful cries of his name brushing against the edge of his mind like ice-cold metal against bare skin. He barely suppresses the shudder.
He couldn't think about it. Not now.
Muffled sounds made their heads snap up from their plates towards the door, hearts stuttering within small ribcages. Bleary eyed and oblivious of how her entrance had broken the fragile peace hovering over her siblings Fuyumi walks into the room, hair done and already dressed to go to school.
She pauses at the sight of them, her turquoise eyes hovering over the two of them. She looked like seeing them sitting together having breakfast was the last thing she was expecting.
Or maybe it could have been the fact that Shouto was eating in the kitchen with him at all.
Slowly and carefully as if they were easily startled deer, Fuyumi walked past them and headed for the kitchen, avoiding eye contact as if doing such would send them hiding in their rooms. A soft noise of greeting left her as she brushed by Izuku, who answered in turn.
Shouto just kept eating, unbothered by her presence. Izuku was sure that if it had been their father, things would have gone differently.
Come to think of it, he'd never really seen Shouto interact with any of his siblings before. Fuyumi brings him food, of course, but by her reaction Shouto was acting differently. Unfortunately, Izuku hadn't lived with the Todoroki family long enough to gauge if this was true or not.
It felt too confusing for his five year old brain. Why wouldn't Shouto eat with his family? Izuku couldn't think of a moment from before where he had eaten alone. Was it how things ran here, or it because of Shouto's mother?
"You should eat." Izuku startles, looking at Shouto questioningly. The older boy was watching him with a blank face, though his narrowed eyes betrayed something that the green haired child couldn't grasp quite just yet. "You're too small. Eat."
Izuku's nose wrinkles. "Am not." He retorts in a mumbling tone.
Shouto just blinks slowly in response, just like an owl. Izuku's pretty sure he heard Fuyumi make a choked noise somewhere in the kitchen.
Embarrassed, he ducks his head and digs into the food, trying to fight off a tiny smile.
.
.
.
It would be a lie to say that things went smoothly after the incident. That Izuku woke up and went about his day without feeling like the events of the past few weeks -what he'd seen, what he'd done- weren't weighting on him.
Fuyumi and Natsuo still skirted around him like they were expecting him to break or worse, lash out at them.
This was one thing that didn't change -and it wasn't the only one.
Izuku still woke up at night sometimes, bright flashes of koi fire ash still dancing in front of his eyes when he wakes. He has to stifle his screams into his covers to keep the howls from waking up the entire house.
Twice, it happened when Shouto was sleeping in his room with him.
Choking and sobbing, Izuku had been initially to busy smothering himself with his pillow to feel the small hand resting on his shoulder. He was so focused on trying to reign the churning fear and anxiety racing in his heart -the fire twisting and writhing like a stormy sea in his veins- that he barely registered his brother's body shuffling closer against him, his other hand brushing up and down his unmarked left arm.
It takes the shaking green-haired boy a full minute before he gathers the strength to lift his head up, blinking away tears and sniffing quietly. He catches Shouto's gaze, his grey and blue eyes bathed in silver moonlight that made the red of his hair and his scar pink. His skin took on the appearance of porcelaine, leaving him looking like something kind of ethereal fae.
Upon noticing that Izuku was looking at him, Shouto's hand on his shoulder patted him gently, if not awkwardly.
It was a strange attempt at comfort. Even a blind man could see that his older brother had no idea what he was doing, but the gesture -it warmed Izuku's heart better than his Quirk ever did.
He'd almost forgotten what it felt like to be cared for.
"You okay?" Shouto asks quietly, his voice heavy with sleep.
Izuku only answers with a hum. He rubs his cheeks against the pillow, drying away the tears before wiggling closer to his sibling, wanting to get closer to the protective warmth emanating from the older boy that made his fire curl pleasantly under his skin.
Shouto accepts his answer, the grip he had on his shirt tightening as he allows the green-haired boy into his personal bubble. There's no need for more words. Not here.
Izuku nuzzled into his brother's chest and closed his eyes. The fire coils within his ribs like a content snake basking in the sun, pulling him down into the darkness of sleep.
Things weren't fixed.
But they were getting better.
.
.
.
It's only after two weeks pass by that his father finally talks to him.
(He hates the wait. Not knowing.)
He hears Endeavor long before he sees him, the loud heavy stomps a herald of his approach. Sitting alone in his room, Izuku understands how Fuyumi always knew where their father was, how she darted away like a ghost just as Endeavor entered the room.
Simply put, the earth seems to tremble under his feet at his father's approach.
The green-haired five year old is long out of his chair and brushing invisible dirt and wrinkles off his clothes by the time the doorknob starts to turn. Izuku fights the urge to curl up and hide, instead choosing to stand right and center.
The door opens, revealing his father. Enji Todoroki's expression is as dark and unreadable as ever. His piercing eyes settle upon Izuku -sharp and demanding, a turquoise that stands stark against the redness of his hair or the orange of his flames. Shouto's face hovers at the corners of Izuku's mind.
"Follow."
Then he turns and leaves.
Like that single word was enough to make Izuku drop everything and go with him.
(It was.)
His feet were moving before he even registered what he was doing. Truthfully, Izuku couldn't think of an alternative.
He follows his father outside, scrambling to catch up to the man. His short figure, dwarfed by the adult's massive body, lags behind as Izuku walks forcing him to make a funny quick trot that feels more nerve-wracking than it should be. Endeavor never looks back to see him stumbling thankfully, likely hearing him following and not caring beyond that. Izuku has to wonder how he could hear him following behind with the noise his footsteps made.
Endeavor leads him down the pebble path, away from the garden and the koi pond but neither does he head towards the gates. Instead, he walks towards the back of the property, somewhere Izuku hasn't really explored out apprehension of doing something he wasn't allowed to.
There's a small building there, separate from the main house. Built similarly to the Todoroki residence, it was slightly elevated off the ground. Equipped with a sliding door, small windows and what looked like a chimney. As his father stepped onto the veranda, Izuku craned his head up to take in the sight of the looming edifice.
A sharp sound startled him out of his revelry.
"Izuku." His father called to him sternly as he finished opening the door, moving to the right as if gesturing him to enter.
Not wanting to attract his ire, said green-haired boy whips his head around and all but stumbled in his rush to return to the looming adult's side. The small staircase seems massive for him as he climbs up onto the terrace and enter the building first. The door snaps shut loudly behind him, making him startle.
Endeavor brushes past him, walking further into the building.
There's only a medium-sized cubical room, just bigger than Izuku's bedroom. No other doors in sight; smooth dark wood flooring covers most of the ground. There was barely anything in the room. What drew Izuku's attention though was in the middle of the chamber; a large section of the floor dipped into the ground, wood giving away to stone that then led to a massive, dug-in pit.
A pile of strange dark lumps sat next to the pit, held in a dark metal basket almost as big as Izuku himself. For some reason it draws his attention, and he peers at the contents for the longest time before his gaze turns away.
Green eyes flick upward, catching the fresh air that peek from the hole atop of the room, right over the pit. There was a metal structure there, small and nearly unnoticeable by the way it blended with the wooden roof. Some kind of exit? What for?
He turns his attention to his father, who was waiting for him to explore the room with surprising patience. He stands next to the pit, arms at his side. Izuku sees the way his fingers twitch with coiled energy.
It reminds him of Kacchan's jittery hands when his palms exudes smoke and heat.
(His father's hands didn't just sizzle and pop, however. Izuku's right arm was evidence of such.)
The steely turquoise eyes narrow on him. He fights off a shiver.
"Izuku, come." Endeavor beckons, and the green haired answers the call, trotting obediently to stand in front of him. The stone floor of the pit clacks under his shoes, a sound that felt too loud for the suddenly too small room.
Despite the curiosity burning at his lips, Izuku holds his tongue. He fights the urge to look away from his father's piercing eyes.
Silence.
"Your Quirk," His father finally begins and hell would freeze over before that subject doesn't fail to make Izuku feel tense and on short-breath. "...works on a fuel requirement. Do you understand what that means?"
Izuku jerks his head rapidly, nodding. "Yes." He swallows, fighting back to fiddle with the edges of his shirt in the man's presence. That, he learned early on, was one way to get scolded. "I need to burn things to keep using my fire."
The words his father used were a bit confusing, but Izuku knew what he was referring to. He'd learned the nature of his Quirk the hard way.
And he wasn't the one living with the consequences of his lack of control.
"It's a stockpile Quirk in nature." Endeavor continues, unaware or perhaps uncaring to Izuku's quiet distress. "You hold a reserve of fuel within yourself. If there is none, you cannot use your Quirk without consequence."
There was no need for further explanation.
Izuku remembered all too well the feeling of choking on his own blood. Of his body failing him bit by bit, of the blanks in his memories growing, stealing his attention. The heavy coldness weighing him down, pressing his will into the dirt and squeezing his lungs until no air reached them.
(Sometimes, these sensations joined the koi in his nightmares.)
"How do you feel now?" Izuku blinks at the sudden question, staring up into sharp turquoise in bemusement.
Was his father asking him how he felt? That was -oh wait, he realized with a sudden burst of clarity. He means my Quirk.
"I feel full?" Izuku fights the urge to fidget again. Try as he might, he doesn't have Touya's way with words. There's much that he can't describe about his Quirk. It's an amalgamation of sensations and instincts and urges that he's too young to know the words for.
He has to wonder if he'll ever find the words to explain it.
(If anyone would sit down with him and listen, because clearly Touya had more important things to do to keep him from burning down the house.)
A grunt leaves his father, reminding him of his situation and dragging him away from his more than bitter thoughts on the eldest Todoroki sibling. "Good. Let's keep it that way."
Huh? Izuku watches him move away, confused.
Leaning over the massive basket by the pit, his father picks up one of the strange small spheres. "This is Binchō-tan." He offers it to Izuku, who jolts out of his daze and scurries forward to take it. It fits just barely in the palm of his hand. "Also known as white charcoal."
Izuku turns the charcoal in his hands, feeling the hard surface under his fingers. Despite its small size, it feels heavy and compact. It's pale. Greyer than the dark, crumbly little coals he remembered from back home. There's barely and sot marks on his skin as he touches it. Some part of him wants to crinkle his nose at that.
(He likes the ash.)
"We will keep your Quirk in check with this." His father holds up a larger piece, this one cylindrical. It looked more like a log than the tiny ball in the palm of Izuku's hand.
He hopes Endeavor wasn't going to make him pick it up. As optimistic as Izuku could be sometimes, even his small five year old self understood that there was no way he would be able to hold it. At least, not without toppling to the ground and hurting himself.
His father trucks on with his explanation, unbothered.
"Binchō-tan is very dense compared to other types of coals. As your Quirk has a set limit-" Izuku doesn't miss the way his father grimaces at that. He files that away for later. "-this is what you will burn to keep your reserves full. It will burn longer than anything else."
Izuku watches as he piles log after log into the pit. He stayed silent as Endeavor worked, not wanting to draw his ire. When the bottom of the pit is sufficiently stacked, the man turned back to him. His blue eyes were dark and commanding.
"Use your Quirk."
Izuku's heart stutters in his chest.
No hangs at the tip on his tongue, tiny and meek, threatening to escape through his lips. He debated, briefly, letting it through.
Izuku holds his father's gaze, uncertain. He flicks his eyes down to the prepared pile of coal.
It looked so tempting.
Breathing in deeply -shakily- a reluctant Izuku reaches out and pulls.
Thrown out of his body like a slingshot, his fire manifests in the middle of the pit. It rises up from the bed of coals with a cheerful roar, obsidian black and quicksilver nearly licking at the roof of the building.
Instantly, Izuku knows he overdid it.
(No matter how full he felt, it seemed that his Quirk was always looking for more.)
"Slower!" Endeavor yells at him sharply, a sudden burst of noise that has Izuku startling. "Calm your Quirk, boy. You will burn the entire building down!" There's heat running up his father's arms, long curling strands of orange and red that dig a pit in Izuku's twisting stomach.
There's no doubt that if Izuku didn't take action, he would smother his flames with his own.
A distant memory of the last time Endeavor had done that comes to mind. No, he couldn't have that; he didn't want to bear that pain again.
Izuku turns to his Quirk, squinting as he reaches for it, coaxing it to dim. To burn like a normal fire would. To not just swallow the materials around it at once like a greedy child.
Nearly skulking, the flames dims down to a more manageable blaze. Izuku peers into the pits, his lips twitching in a restrained grimace when he notes a good one third of the coals were gone.
A quick glance at his father tells him that Endeavor had indeed noticed that particular detail and given the tight pinch of his lips, he wasn't happy about it.
Oh, oh well.
Not like anything Izuku did ever pleased the man. He was starting to think that was an unreachable goal.
Dejected, the youngest Todoroki stares down at the burning coals with unseeing eyes, watching how his fire burns merely atop of the coals. The grey charcoal had turned white from the heat, and there were purple light within the cracks formed by Izuku's Quirk. It looked haunting.
Inviting.
With the silence stretching on, there was nothing else to focus on but the gentle sway of the fire. Izuku takes a step forward. Then another. The flames twisted in front of him enticingly.
(What was he doing.)
No, that part of him that sounded like Kacchan squawked. Wait, don't do that, what are you doing you dumb fuck-
Somehow, this trail of thought doesn't stop him from walking forward.
Coal crunches under his feet.
He flops down inside the fire, humming pleasantly as the black flames wrap around him in a mockery of a embrace. Fire coils like little velvet black serpents around his form, quicksilver strands flicking and dancing happily between his fingers. The coals creak under him, but they feel less hard than he'd thought they would.
The little Kacchan-voice in his head is screeching absurdities right about now, but Izuku couldn't find it in himself to care. It's like he was disconnected from himself, from the real world….
Izuku wiggles a bit experimentally, frowning as the fire curls tighter around him. His eyelids flutter, drowsiness weighing them down.
This was...comfortable.
Peaceful.
"What are you doing."
Izuku blinks, noting through a curtain of black flames a distinctively Endeavor-shaped lump.
Whoops.
Strangely, he doesn't feel the panic mounting at the sight of his father clearly about to tear him a new one. Just-
Calm.
He feels like a cat stretched under sunlight, it's flesh and bones warmed up by the sun's rays. The heat permeates around him, sinking into his skin and leaving him catatonic. It reminds him of that night, when the sky was full of smoke and there was ash painting every inch of his skin. He couldn't remember his father's face then, too tired yet giddy by the release of his Quirk, but he guessed it was something similar to the expression he wore right now.
Guarded yet perplexed, his confusion mixing with the restless anger that like his Hellflame Quirk, seemed ever present on his face.
(Izuku had to wonder if Endeavor was ever not angry. If anger was the only emotion his father could process, or if he'd held that rage inside him for so long it became a intricate part of his being.)
"I like it." He warbles after a while. "It makes me feel good. Happy." He furrows his brows. "Full."
His father stares. "Full." He repeats after Izuku bluntly.
"Yes," The youngest Todoroki pauses upon realizing just how aloof and disrespectfully he was addressing the adult. "...sir."
There's a moment where his father just stares, and Izuku nervously thinks the man was going to reach him and yank him out from the pit by his neck. It wouldn't exactly surprise him. Endeavor wasn't exactly known for being gentle when he didn't get his way and behind doors, he was even worse.
But the blow never came. The burst of burning bright flames didn't, either. No enraged shouting echoed through the room, threatening to pierce Izuku's eardrums.
Instead, he does the last thing Izuku was expecting. He walks out of the room.
"We're done here." His father throws over his shoulder, not even looking at his bewildered offspring. "Training is at 5, don't be late."
Izuku stares as the door slams closed behind his father's hulking figure.
Slowly, his muscles unwound and he relaxes, melting into the coals.
He's alone.
(For once, he doesn't mind.)
There's a certain peace of mind that rises up within him by laying here, nestled amongst his flames. A disconnect between him and the real world, for none could touch him as long as he remaining cloaked within his Quirk. Izuku didn't think he could move from the bed of coals, not any time soon.
His eyelids flutter, the call to sleep too strong for the young child to ignore. He could get used to this.
He falls asleep dreaming of green eyes and a soft, familiar voice singing him to sleep.
.
.
.
When he wakes up, there's a pile of clean clothes next to the pit.
.
.
.
He goes to the small building every few days now.
His father doesn't bring it up again, but Izuku catches the dark, unpleasant look in his eyes when they met again. Training that day was especially harrowing, but he doesn't get a mouthful for disregarding his father and taking a nap right in front of him instead of hanging to his every word like Endeavor expected him to.
In and all, it was honestly was a first.
Izuku couldn't remember one time the man didn't scold him if he had the opportunity.
At least his father's gift -was it even a gift if he needed it to stay alive?- kept him occupied. Nobody came to the building at the back of the property but him, so it quickly became something akin to the green haired boy's second bedroom.
The firepit was essentially a second bed. If he was given the possibility, Izuku knew he would spend the entirety of his day curled up amongst the heated lumps of coal, clothed in nothing but his pajamas and the ash that came off from the charcoal burning. With a bit of a struggle given his size, he would add new coals to the mount when the logs are consumed.
Surprisingly, this took several hours of sitting in the fire pit to achieve once he learned how to regulate the temperature of his Quirk a bit better.
His father had been telling the truth when he said they would work.
Izuku remembers playing with the Bakugo's fireplace one time; Kacchan and him had turned it into a game to toss things in while the parents weren't looking. Pens, paper, small branches, etc. It ultimately ended badly and they were banned from ever going near the fireplace again after Katsuki tossed a entire bowl of marinated meat in on a dare and subsequently almost set the living room ablaze, himself included though honestly, his mother yelled more about the charred carpet than about her son's safety.
How the blond managed to take the pork without Aunt Mitsuki knowing let alone reach the top of the kitchen counter was a mystery Izuku could not figure out for the life of him. Or why it burned so quickly.
Regardless, now he had a furnace several times bigger than Aunt Mitsuki's prized fireplace to work with. His very own little fire-house, Izuku names in his mind though he never dares say it out loud because even he can recognize how strange and childish it sounds.
That's another thing he learned here.
How to hold his tongue.
.
.
.
Half a month after the second incident, Izuku looks out his bedroom window and sees the gardener tending to the koi.
The youngest Todoroki moves without thinking.
He should be working, should be doing his homework -yet all of this is forgotten, banished at the back of his mind as something more urgent takes over him. Izuku doesn't register what he's doing until he pushes the entrance door open and walks out into open air yet even then, he can't stop himself even if he wanted to. A mild breeze sweeps over him, ruffling his hair and making his eyes wet.
The green haired boy heads for the garden, the new pebbles creaking under his feet with each step. Doubt nips at his heels, fear of what would happen if his father found out he was skipping his homework session, but Izuku pushes through it.
(He was starting to get sick of being scared.)
It doesn't take long for him to reach the pond's shores. Izuku skitters to a stop, breathing hard as he takes in the sights. There's a black bag full of weed propped against the new tree, a rake left next to it along with a bucket.
A figure kneels by the shoreline, gently feeding the excited fish from a plastic bag. It's not the first time he sees the man, but it's the first time Izuku sees him up close.
He takes him in, curiously peering out from the bushes at this stranger. The gardener's hair was a ghostly white peppered with silver-grey and his eyes, a light blue not unlike a cloudy sky. His skin was dark, nearly brown from the sun's rays and reddened around his shoulders from exposure. Deep wrinkles carved his face, illustrating a long life spent outside working in the field. A large wide hat sits atop of his head, shieling his face from the sunlight.
He's fascinating to look at. Like the heroes of old when they reach retirement, and their bodies are patchwork of scars from ancient battles. Izuku's not here to just watch him, though, so he steps out from his hiding spot.
Nervousness coils deep within his belly, but he keeps moving.
He's tired of being hesitant., of second-guessing himself.
(Tired of being afraid.)
Alerted by the noise of the rustling bushes the man pauses, a handful of food held loosely in a large, worn hand. His gaze turns away from the koi and meet Izuku's green eyes. The man blinks, staring down at him like he was seeing some kind of ghost emerging from the trees.
There's silence as they stare at each other.
Izuku swallows.
"Can I feed them?" He asks, slightly winded.
He expects to be ignored, like the kitchen lady.
Or a polite dismissal, like the cleaners.
Instead, the man wordlessly beckons him forward.
They don't talk as the elder shows him how to feed the fish. Izuku's unsure why the man doesn't speak to him. Maybe he fears Endeavor catching him talking to his youngest. Maybe he's not allowed to talk to Izuku outright. Nevertheless, they manage to communicate just fine with gentle gestures and pointing fingers.
There's a smile on the old man's face, twisting his old thin lips upwards. It makes the wrinkles etched on his ancient skin stand out more.
Izuku can't help but share his grin as he throws his first few pellets into the water.
He smiles as the fish nip at his fingers when he dips them slightly into the pond, looking for the little food pellets. They're not as slimy as those in his nightmares -there's no blood on their scales- and they felt different than the ghostly creatures haunting his dreams as they push against his hand, whiskers catching on his skin.
More solid, more there.
Real.
Izuku smiles.
.
.
.
He watches as his brother hits the mat again, a stifled grunt leaving the older Todoroki as his back impacts against the hard floor of the training room. Their father stands over Shouto, arms crossed, expression set and dark. His eyes blaze with sharp focus as he watches his second youngest try to regain his bearings.
There's no wince of sympathy from Izuku at this. He'd learned to stop making such expression after the first few training session with his father and his sibling. It was one thing hearing them training, hearing the impact of flesh and the hiss of ice and the roar of fire, but it was another seeing his older brother curled up on the floor, temporarily winded.
Shouto doesn't stay down for long.
There's a brief lull in the fighting as Shouto stumbles to his feet, the twitch of his lips and narrowing on his eyes showing how he was holding back a grimace. He's shaking slightly, making his movements jittery until he takes a deep breath and squares his shoulders.
Reinvigorated, the dual-haired boy throws himself back into the fray at the man four times his size.
There's a certain viciousness in the way he fights, Izuku denotes detachedly from the sidelines. It's not desperate, it's not burning with rage like Kacchan's when the kids in higher grades tried to pick on him. Izuku remembers the times he hid behind trees, safe away from the fighting, and watched Kacchan dispatch the older boys, his Explosion Quirk more than enough to send them packing -though nearly always ended up with some sort of scrape or bruise, as he didn't have the training or the Quirk to stay long range.
Lips bloody and nose crooked, the blond would make a terrible smile at his downed opponents and bare his teeth like a mad animal.
Every time, he fought like he had something to prove.
A small part of Izuku always envied for it.
Kacchan was strong and unrelenting. It was just another undeniable fact of life.
Despite having that in common, Shouto is the opposite of Kacchan in every other aspect. His anger is repressed, tucked underneath sharp kicks and strong punches. Channelled, like he's learned that lashing out mindlessly would not get him any closer to reaching his goal. He fights like he has something to prove too but instead of doing it out of pride, there is something tucked under his skin that is angry with the world and wants to be let out.
Wants to break something.
Wants to express itself, to scream at those who ignored it for so long.
The thought makes Izuku's heart clench.
(How much was bottled up under that scar?)
His hand unconsciously raises up and touches his chest, right over where the obsidian fire is tucked within a bed of bone, organs and flesh. His eyes flutter, remembering the sensation of letting go that had overwhelmed him with relief a month prior, when his father had dragged him outside after he nearly-
(He hoped Shouto wouldn't let go of himself the same way he did.)
Almost as if he was sensing him getting off track, Endeavor's head whips around, sharp turquoise connecting with Izuku's green. The boy jolts and looks down, shoulders hunching as he bends a bit forward, resuming his push ups.
The first week his father started him on physical training, Izuku thought he was going to die.
His weak, young body just wasn't used to this amount of exercise. He was just as flexible as any five year old, but the stretches Endeavor made him do pushed him to his limits. Atop of his recent illness, the first few nights after this type of training began he'd gone to bed in near tears.
Izuku works through this, channeling his need to see things through and done so he could leave into each exercise. His muscles ache for him to stop, but the green haired child refuses to.
He resumes the routine quietly while Shouto fights tooth and nail against an adult professional hero. The sound of his small body hitting the floor continue to pierce through the air as Izuku continues exercising a body that wasn't quite ready yet for the level of strain it was being put through.
An hour passes before Endeavor is satisfied enough to let Shouto go.
His brother limps out of the room, holding his left arm against his chest. There's a furrow in his brows, one Izuku is intimately aware of. It's the face Shouto makes when he's in pain, but he's too proud to admit it. Likely, he would be black and blue by the time he went to sleep tonight.
Their eyes met as Shouto passed by him. A silent conversation just through their gaze.
Good luck. Be safe.
Izuku nods imperceptibly at him. He only looks away from his older brother when the door slides shut behind Shouto's tiny back.
The itch to fidget rises up again, but he quells it and the nervousness spreading through his body. With Shouto out of the room, it only meant one thing.
It was time for Izuku to start practicing his Quirk.
"Stay here." Endeavor tells him flatly before going for the sliding door connecting this dojo to the second training room. Izuku sits quietly on the floor as he hears the hulking man shuffling around.
When his father returns, he's holding a small case.
Green eyes follow the strange little wooden contraption with muted interest. Izuku's seen it before. It was in the practice chest in the other room. He remembered seeing it when Hiroi-sensei made him fetch-
He slides his eyes shut.
Takes a deep breath.
Exhales abruptly.
By the time he regained his bearings, Endeavor was sitting down in front of him and setting the now open case to his side.
"This time will be different, child." The pro-hero utters as he picks one of the items inside and gives it to Izuku.
It's a ball, similar to the smaller charcoal spheres Izuku uses with the firepit to stock on fuel. Confused, he slides a digit over the surface. Wait. Not charcoal.
Wood?
Green eyes peer up at stormy turquoise inquisitively.
"Temperature control." His father states bluntly as if it was enough of a explanation. Izuku nods along instead of speaking up, silently waiting for his instructions. "First, let us find out what you can and cannot burn." With a massive finger, Endeavor points at the object the green haired child was holding. "Burn it to ashes. As fast as you can."
Izuku falters at the realization of what his father was expecting of him.
Of course. He'd done the candle exercise to the point he could light his fire on top of the candles with his eyes closed. He didn't need to work on that anymore, at least for now. He had….what was the word? Oh right. Spatial awareness. He had enough spatial awareness to not miss his targets.
This left him with the next step in his education. Regulating the temperature of his Quirk.
Like with the fuel house, Izuku thinks somberly as he remembered nearly setting fire to the ceiling when all he was aiming at was the floor of the fire pit. I have good control of my Quirk's activation, I know about the reserve aspect of it; I just can't control how hot it is yet.
Alright, this was easy. Burning things to the ground was basically all Izuku could do at this point; he could do this with little effort.
Resolve swelled within him as he focused on the little wooden sphere resting in the palm of his hand. With his Quirk's reserves sufficiently charged, it was incredibly easy for Izuku to call upon his fire.
Heat coiled within his chest before spreading, reaching up his shoulder and running down the arm's veins almost languidly. Velvet black swirled around his hand, small and contained.
Izuku looked down at his hand, the tiniest downward twitch of his lips betraying his unease when the wood ball is reduced to a pile of ash.
He doesn't have long to contemplate this strange feeling, for Endeavor dumps another sphere into his hand. Izuku recognize the smooth coldness and clearness of the material immediately. Glass.
It takes but a twitch of his palm before there's another small gust of ash slipping between his fingers.
Silence. There's no barked order or compliment -not that Izuku's expecting to hear the second one, he's been here long enough to know it was a pipe dream- but the lack of reaction from Endeavor had him glancing up expectantly at his father. His expression was guarded, though Izuku could detect some frustration in those cold turquoise eyes.
He talks more when he trains Shouto. Izuku takes the diplomatic option and keeps his mouth shut.
The next sphere that is handed over to the young boy is a pale white and dull, reminding him of an eggshell. "Calcium silicate." His father explains bluntly.
Izuku doesn't recognize the name. A type of stone, maybe? He'll look it up later.
It doesn't matter in the end, though. A second of exposure to his Quirk and it all burns and falls apart all the same. There's barely any smoke.
The next one is dry and hard at touch, heavy with a grainy grey texture. It's rough and unyielding against Izuku's pale skin. Familiar.
"Concrete."
Right. Izuku takes a moment to admire the item before it's turned into ash with a puff of black fire.
Half a hour passes like this. His father hands him a material, tells him what it is, and immediately after Izuku burns them to cinders. His lower half particularly his leg joints aches from sitting for so long. Izuku wants to get up, stretch, wants to fidget, anything, but he holds it in and pushes through the discomfort from a mixture of stubborness and apprehension to what his father would do if he showed he was distracted.
It doesn't help that his father was getting increasingly restless at the fact that apparently, there was nothing Izuku's Quirk couldn't instantly reduce to ashes.
Broken indeed, Izuku thinks flatly as he watches a ball of fiberglass dissolve beneath onyx flames.
He thinks he can hear Kacchan laughing in some distant corner of his head.
The sphere of what apparently was steel? It turns into melty, orange pudding before crumbling to ash as well. Izuku lets the particles fall between his fingers before looking up at his father again.
His father's hands were clenched into fists, and the fire on his face flared every now and then, betraying his inner turmoil. In a fit of anger, he reaches for the last ball at the back of the pile inside the case and offers it to him. He moved his hand too quickly towards Izuku, who couldn't stop the flinch.
Endeavor seems to ignore his falter completely. Izuku takes the sphere in one hand. It's a silver-grey color, the shine on its surface betraying the metallic nature of the object.
"This is tungsten." His father says sharply, letting his arm drop and staring down at his youngest with narrowed eyes. "It's highly resistant to heat. See if you can warm it up-"
Izuku offers up the scattered bits of ash.
For a moment his father simply stares. Uncharacteristically silent, he looks down at the tiny, sad little lump of ash that lays at the bottom of Izuku's hand, held up to him in offering. It crumbles between the child's fingers and drips on the wooden floor.
Izuku tries not to fidget. He knows Endeavor hates that tic and never passed an opportunity to chastise him for his bad manners, but at the same time he can't help it. Not with the loud, stretching silence hovering over the two of them.
"...is there any changes with your Quirk?" His father finally says after a long stretch of silence, his voice unexpectedly subdued.
Izuku blinks. "I...I do feel more tired. Is that normal?"
"Must be the effort of incinerating objects so quickly." His father mutters over his head. He's still staring, perhaps a bit increaduly, at the black spots on the dojo floor.
His second question goes unanswered. Izuku fights the urge to squint.
"Effort?"
There's a short grunt. "You spent energy to burn the spheres. Given that your Quirk needs to burn material to fuel itself-" There it was again, that slight twitch of his brows and the spastic twist of his flames. "...but you feel tired instead of rejuvenated, it means that you did not get anything in return of your investment."
Rejuvenated? Izuku tries not to squint as he scratches his head, trying to figure out the meaning behind the word. As in, healed? Like Recovery Girl's Quirk? He glances at the ash on the floor. Or maybe he means feeling better, like after the incident with Shouto?
(His heart twists.)
Yeah.
Just like the incident with Shouto.
"Enough for today." His father, thankfully, had nothing more to add. Izuku watches as he gets up. Endeavor's shadow looms over him as the man turns away. "Tomorrow we will continue to practice controlling the temperature of your flames. Your Quirk is no good if it destroys everything it touches."
This time Izuku can't fight off the full body flinch.
His father, as blunt as he was, had a point.
A hero wouldn't be a hero if they killed every villain they went up against.
(He hates the fact he knew what burning human flesh smells like.)
Dejected, he looks down at the floor. The ground quakes under his feet as his father walks away, the vibration rapidly fading into still silence as the door opens and closes, leaving Izuku standing alone in the dojo.
Izuku's gaze trails over the entirety of the room, pausing briefly on the sliding door leading to the second training room. Then he looks down, there's a pile of dark grey ash on the matt. It's a stark contrast with the paleness of the floor.
Frustration swells up within him at the sight.
He stomps on the ashes, hard, digging his left foot into the floor, grinding the ash into the material with his heel. When he lifts his shoe away, there's a black smudge on the tatamit matt. The cleaners would have a field day getting rid of it.
Feeling slightly better, Izuku walks out of the training room.
.
.
.
He's not sure when and how exactly Shouto started joining him in his walks around the garden, but Izuku is not complaining.
He's too shy to ask why, exactly, the other boy was spending what little free time they shared walking down the pebble path and looking at the clouds. Or maybe he doesn't want to ask, for fear of driving the other child away. Despite how much Inko tried, Izuku had never been with other kids -the only other child he had interacted in a regular basis had been Kacchan and while Izuku was young, he was smart enough to understand that Katsuki was a unique case.
Having company in these outings was comforting, at any rate.
It was better than being left to his own thoughts.
Shouto might be a silent shadow at his side most often than not, prefering to watch instead of participating, but his mere presence was enough to give him some peace of mind. Besides, if Izuku cajoled him enough, he found that he could get Shouto to do whatever he wanted within reason.
Like now.
Izuku squatted down at the pond's shores, smiling at ripples spread over the surface of the small pond as the fish grew excited by his shadow. Shouto kneeled at his side, apprehensive but interested by the little creatures.
Gently, Izuku offered some of the food pellets to him and showed the older boy how to feed the fish. The gardener had showed him where they were kept, in a small shack tucked against one of the property's outer walls. "Here." He tells him, giving him a handful of the feed. "Don't move too quickly, 'cuz you'll scare them."
Shouto took the pellets. There's a pause as he looks down at the fish feed resting at the palm of his hand like it was some strange, otherworldly thing. "...thanks." The older boy finally says.
Izuku's heart flutters.
(Fire sways in a bed of bone and flesh, pulsing with warmth.)
In the first attempt, Shouto all but chucks the food at the fish like a baseball player throwing a ball. This time Izuku can't stop the giggle.
Shouto squints his eyes at him.
"Too fast." Izuku chortles through hiccuped laughs. "Here, just -do it slower. Gently. They get scared easy."
His brother looks at him, then back at the fish. He slowly nods and takes more food from Izuku. The next try goes a bit better.
Unsurprisingly, the koi didn't seem to mind Shouto's bruteness. Instead, they flapped their fins and flicked their tails against the water's surface, little mouths swallowing the food pellets greedily.
Their small whiskers tickled against Izuku's fingers when he dips them in the water.
He barely stifles a snicker.
Smiling, he glanced at Shouto. The dual-haired boy looked a bit wide-eyed as he dropped the last of his food onto the pond, his differently colored eyes tracking a particularly large utsuri koi. The animal's black and orange hide gleamed under the sunlight when it emerged half out of the water, pushed up by a bigger white koi in a frenzy to get the food.
They were going to get fat if Izuku kept this up. Endeavor probably wouldn't even notice given the fact Izuku had never seen him in the garden, but he hoped the gardener wouldn't mind.
Once their hands were emptied, the two boys stood up and continued their walk around the property in comfortable silence. Izuku kicks up some pebbles as the trees fall away and the path opened.
They're approaching the gates.
Still walking, Izuku closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. When he opens them again, he finds his brother staring at him with a contemplating expression.
"Are you alright?"
"Yeah." Izuku manages to scrounge up a tiny smile. It's weak and unconvincing. "Just tired."
They fall back into silence. Shouto tilts his head, gaze drifting to his right arm. The intensity in his mismatched eyes was too much like Endeavor's to ignore. The familiarity of his turquoise eye only made things worse.
Izuku tries to not shiver.
Under the sunlight, the contrast between his pale skin and the even paler edges of the burn were evident. Izuku was just glad it wasn't hand-shaped -his struggling when Endeavor grabbed him had aggravated the wound enough to avoid that.
(He had to wonder what it would look like if his Quirk hadn't helped his recovery.)
Shouto doesn't press. Izuku's endlessly grateful for his brother's occasional tact.
They reach the curve of the path leading to the gates. With nothing to look at -cars rarely passed by the property, the two Todorokis are quick to move on, to Izuku's relief. The green haired boy didn't want to be so close to the gates if he could help it. The mere sight of them caused anxiety to brew in his belly, weighing him down as if he had rocks lodged in his stomach.
It's stupid, but a part of him believes that if he stayed in front of the entrance long enough, his mother would magically appear, still as wide-eyed and desperate as that day, crying out his name as she reached out to him through the bars of the gates-
He's unsure his heart could take another meeting.
Izuku's turning around with his brother when a strange metallic glint catches his eye, drawing his attention to the gates. There's something yellow on the lower bars, swaying side to side in the wind. It's a shade of bright, gaudy yellow that he can't mistake.
Izuku doesn't hesitate.
"Otouto?"
"-give me a sec." He calls back, forcing the loud pounding of his heart at the back of his mind and focusing on what had caught his attention. He kneels down at the bottom of the left gate and takes a closer look.
It's a necklace.
Hanging from a thin bronze chain sat a familiar yellow symbol.
Confused but interested, he untangles it from the metal bar it was wrapped around and holds it up. It glints under the sunlight. Why would someone leave this here?
It's... He fiddles with the symbol, running his fingers over the metal warmed up by the sun's rays. Wait. He recognizes the two hair bangs almost shaped like bunny ears, though that more of Inko's opinion than his own-
He lifts the chain up, noting the silver and black edges of the symbol. There's a slight smudge on the lower half of the V-shaped hair, and one of the bangs was chipped.
He knew this model.
Or rather, he knew this particular necklace.
It was a old collectible made of cheap metal, put on shelves on the twentieth anniversary of All Might's debut. It had been done released at the same time one of the best All Might documentaries hit the cinema -and Izuku knew this because he'd gone to the movies with Inko to watch it.
And his mother had bought him a similar necklace when they passed by the cinema's gift shop.
Izuku gulps, turning the little necklace around. He blinked, noticing how his hands were shivering.
The smudge was from Kacchan, a scratch caused by a accidental explosion during a sleepover. Izuku remembered this small detail because he'd cried when he realized that Katsuki's Quirk had damaged some of his collectible. The blond had been completely unapologetic about it, though he'd acted softer the week following the event.
Footsteps echo behind him, reminded him of Shouto's presence.
"What's that?" His dual-haired brother asks over his shoulder, staring at the item Izuku was holding up intensely. There was no doubt he recognized the shape of the symbol as All Might's hair bangs. The Number One hero was just too popular not to be instantly recognizable.
"A gift." Izuku responds softly, lost in memories of another life as he runs his fingers over the little necklace. He pauses, swallowing. His throat felt tight and parched. "It's from home. I think it's...it's from my mom."
"She's not…?" Shouto trails off, glancing between him and the necklace. Izuku turned his head towards him. The grey in Shouto's right eye was almost silver.
Rei.
Just like Endeavor in his left eye, it seemed like the specter of Shouto's absent mother was resided in his right. Izuku had to wonder how he was able to stand looking at his reflection in the mirror.
(He knew he had trouble doing it.)
"I lived with her, before." Izuku explains, blinking slowly as he turns his eyes back to the necklace longingly. When he speaks next, it's forlorn. "Now I'm here."
"Why?"
Izuku merely raised a hand and let black fire sputter at his fingertips for a moment.
"Right." Shouto grunts. He lifts a finger and points at the necklace. Izuku couldn't help but hold the item tighter, like it would magically slip between his fingers and crumble away. "Why is that here, if father took you?"
Took.
What a strange but accurate word to use. Izuku had to chuckle, but it was dry and humorless.
"She came to see me. In secret." Izuku falters, memories he would rather forget welling up as he recalled the events of that day. "B-before I did the thing-" He waves at his head with a slightly shaking hand.
Shouto only nods, unexpectedly polite about the whole incident. "It didn't go well." He guessed.
"No." Izuku grimaced, letting his hands drop to his sides. The necklace was tightly clasped in a clenched fist. "I ran away from her." The green haired boy admits regretfully. He knew he had an excuse, but that didn't make it hurt any less.
Shoto blinked. "You did?"
He nodded slowly. "I..we couldn't see each other. There were things-" His breath hitched. Izuku's not aware that he's clutching his scared forearm tightly until he feels his nails dig into his skin, threatening to break through.
Izuku steals a glance at his brother. Shoto was looking away from him. His right hand was absently touching his own scar, the one on his face. At that moment Izuku couldn't help but feel a wave of shame go over him. Mothers were sensitive topics with his older sibling. He should have known better than to bring Inko up.
He should have grabbed the necklace and said nothing.
"Is it because of the garden?" Oh hey there went Shouto's tact again.
Izuku closes his eyes.
Inhales.
Exhales.
"Yeah, it's because of the garden."
Silence.
The sun bore down on Izuku's shoulders. He longer feels it's warmth.
They walk back to the house in silence.
.
.
.
They're doing their homework together a day later when Shouto brings the necklace up.
"She used to try and get me to write."
Izuku pauses, pen hovering over his assignment. He turns his head to his brother, peering inquisitebly at the taller boy.
"Fuyumi." Shouto explains, not even looking up from his book. "She wanted me to write to...to my mom. I never wanted to do it." He reveals quietly.
"Why are you saying that?"
For an answer, Shouto drops his book, leans forward and pokes the necklace hanging from Izuku's neck from where it was hidden under his shirt. He never wears it outside of his room, and even then that was a rare occasion for fear of his father barging into his bedroom and seeing him with it. Izuku had no doubt the older man would burn it to cinders as easily as he could turn stone to ash.
"Oh." Izuku murmurs. He's not convinced though.
His mother's gift felt heavy around his neck as he spoke up:
"He might get mad." He murmurs, and there was no need to explicitly state who that person was. The green haired boy sits back, clutching the little gift through the fabric of his clothes. "You think it's a good idea?"
Shouto's scar shines pink under the sunlight filtering through the window. "What are you going to lose?"
Izuku remained quiet. He clenches his jaw. Mulls over his brother's words.
Well, that was as good of a reason as any.
The first version ends up smudged and with curled, sideways kanji. To Izuku's embarrassment, Shouto takes the note, reads it once, sets it aside and pushes a new piece of paper in front of his younger brother, whose fingers was more black than white from the charcoal.
Izuku blinks down at the stack, then looks at his sibling in confusion.
"Make a new one." Shouto instructs him flatly.
"Why?"
Different colored eyes blink at him slowly. "It's shit."
Izuku scrunches his nose at that, amusement mingling with his wounded pride at his brother's utter lack of manners. It really seemed like it came and went whenever it wished to -like a stray cat. He opens his mouth to rebuff the older boy's conclusion, but he can only sit there, skulking. Cheeks burning, he closes his mouth and looks down at the paper. Shakes his head.
He's not wrong. It was too smudge and dirty to be passable. His father would likely burn it on sight before he could explain anything, much less convince him of this lunacy. No, it simply wouldn't do. He couldn't use this one.
There's a part of him that feels the heavy weight of shame at that mental admission, but he banishes it away. His letter while readable looked horrible. He couldn't use it.
Izuku takes a deep breath and picks up his pen once more.
This wasn't something to be ashamed of.
It just meant he had to do better.
.
.
.
Izuku steps into the fire.
Barefooted with only a pair of shorts on, his Quirk welcomes him with a purr, curling around him in a blanket of black and quicksilver flames. The charcoal creaks under his body.
It was so much more colorful now, healthier, and Izuku sinks into the bed of coals like it's the softest of mattresses.
He likes to come here when he needed to think. It was soothing, and helped ease the jumbled chaos in his head into a more manageable mess.
Unconsciously, he twists and turns on the coals, thoughts swirling in his mind like a stormy sea. Pros and cons danced in front of his eyes; fear and apprehension nipped at the back of his ears, remembering him of his faults. He has to shut his eyes and breathe, long and deep, to calm himself and think it through.
He'd never asked anything of Endeavor, but he knew what laid ahead if he decided to face the man would be a uphill battle. Nothing the pro-hero ever did was for his children's comfort. Convincing him of letting him talk to his poor sweet mother, even through a letter, was going to be a task in and of itself.
Izuku glares up at the ceiling. But wasn't Endeavor his father, though? Shouldn't he provide for him? Couldn't he at least give him this?
Izuku's thoughts shift to another man. Masaru, who opened his heart and his arms to him when he had no father to speak of. He could still remember being swung around by the man, Kacchan squeezed in right next to him in his father's strong arms. The warm laugh, the affectionate way he would rustle Kacchan's ash blond hair when the older boy would get too rowdy.
No. He couldn't think of that. It was wrong, because that was most certainly not what he was going to get with Endeavor. Not now, maybe not ever. Todoroki Enji had a powerful, bright Quirk but his heart was as cold as ice. He wore anger and frustration around him like a shawl, creating a barrier between himself and the world.
A illegitimate child like Izuku would never get through to him. His only worth was his broken mess of a Quirk.
It frustrated him, but this was the truth. It brought bitter tears to the corner of his eyes that his fire licked away, evaporated it into steam. Izuku closes his eyes and exhales somberly.
Still, could he deliver the letter?
Confront his father?
His right arm ached. The fire around him flickers, momentarily slipping out of his control before he reigns it in. Izuku's fingers dig into the coal beneath him, quicksilver white flames sparking around his nails. The charcoal crumbles further under his touch.
He had to do it.
He had to be brave.
Don't be a weakling, Katsuki's ghost murmurs in his ears. His voice is more distorted now, more faded, more like Shouto or Natsuo. The familiar fire was still there, thankfully, but it's different. Izuku wonders how long until he forgets what his childhood friend sounded like entirely, and the thought makes his heart squeeze.
This only adds fuel to the fire.
He has to send it.
There was no other alternative. He couldn't just ignore his first few years of his life, the people who had been at his side, reluctantly or not. He didn't want that. Izuku refused to discard that part of himself.
(He doesn't want to forget them.)
.
.
.
He waits until the end of the day, Saturday, to make his move. Weeks of observing the coming and going of the Todoroki family told him that this was the best moment to talk to his father.
While he'd never visited his father's office before, he knew where it was.
It takes him two minutes of standing in front of the heavy wooden door for him to muster up the strength to lift his hand and knock softly. It looked massive in front of him. A slightly hysterical part of Izuku feared it would pop out of its hinges and fall down atop of him.
Seconds trickle by where he stands in bated silence. Did his father hear him? Izuku internally fidgets, impatient but aware that he has to play it cool; banging on the door was one way of getting sent to his room to sleep early without dinner.
He didn't stay stewing in his fear for long.
"Enter." Echoed from beyond the door, his father's voice sounded distracted but still somehow coming off as intimidating as ever.
Izuku swallows. His dinner threatens to worm it's way up his throat as he gently pushes the door open.
Endeavor's office was vast and splendous. Dark wood flooring gave away to a burnished red carpet with a simple leather chair; said carpet ended at the feet of a massive, heavy wood desk that matched the coloring of the floors. Documents lay in neatly stacked piles on its surface, with a stray cup of tea off to the side, still steaming.
Right behind the desk sat Izuku's father. Endeavor was holding a piece of paper in one hand, likely having been reading when his youngest decided to knock. He was peering up at Izuku from behind the document, left brow raised questioningly at the interruption.
His turquoise eyes were dark and piercing as they scanned up and down Izuku's slightly hunched posture, resting briefly on the little letter clasped tightly in his fist before lifting to pin Izuku in place.
"Well?"
Briefly, just briefly, Izuku contemplates just chucking the letter at his father and running out the door. Then he reminds himself that that was the perfect way of ensuring his work would be incinerated by the man's Hellflame Quirk. So, not good.
Could still work as a backup plan.
"I was wondering," Izuku starts, his tongue barely working through the cement suddenly filling his mouth and making him silently choke. "-if I could contact my mom." The narrowing of Endeavor's eyes set his heart rate off like a terrified rabbit's. "N-not meet her -at least not now- but I want to s-send her a letter-"
No no he wanted to say I wish to that was more polite according to Shouto. Crap. This wasn't going well, and the realization only made him panic further. Waves of heat and cold ran up and down his spine.
He waves his tiny letter like a weapon in front of him. His father's eyes shift to look at it.
"I want to talk to her. I know you probably don't like it but please I wa -wish to talk to her again so if you can please send her-"
"Stop."
Izuku chokes for a moment as his mouth snaps shut, almost without his consent.
He stares, wide-eyed, at his father. His blood thundered through his veins. His fire weighted heavy in his chest, expanding and pushing under his skin, pressing against his lungs and making each breath small and ragged. He feels lightheaded.
Silence draped itself over the room like a sluggish serpent. Izuku held his breath.
Until his father looked away -to his hand and the crisp little piece of paper he and Shouto had worked so hard on.
"You want-" He spoke slowly, like he was still processing Izuku's words. His voice was low and rumbling and not something he was likin. "-to send your mother...letters."
"Yes." Izuku was to shiver, but he fights it, instead stating boldly. "I want to send my mom letters. I want to talk to her. I need to talk to her." He shows the carefully wrapped letter to his father, who doesn't make move to take it. "Please."
Silence again.
His father peers down at him through narrowed eyes, expression thoughtful. Izuku kind of wants to know what he was thinking, but at the same time not. Todoroki Enji's head was in all likelihood not a nice place to be.
-please please please-
His hands tremble at his side.
Responding to his stress, black sparks popped off around his wrists, threatening to turn his precious letter. Izuku gathers up his Quirk and pushes, shoving it back into the cage his ribs made in his chest.
(Occupied with keeping it in check, he doesn't notice the blue eyes pausing on the errant flickers of velvet black on his skin.)
"Fine."
Endeavor's voice pierces the silence, and Izuku's heart makes a weird, almost painful little twist up in his chest. He was actually agreeing? Izuku knew the chances were slim-
"This is what we are going to do." Endeavor sets his paper down and straightens in his seat, looking down at Izuku from behind the desk. The green haired boy's feet twitch with the urge to shy away from his gaze. "You're allowed to send your mother letters, and she can respond to them." Izuku's heart speeds up at this, threatening to burst out of his chest... "However,"
-then it drops-
"...you will only meet her if I'm satisfied by your level of control over your Quirk. I can't have you killing a civilian."
Something wet tugs at the edge of his eyes, but Izuku manages to wrestle the familiar sensation back with a mixture of desperation and shame. Instead of bursting into tears or sniffing quietly, he bows politely instead, like Shouto told him to.
Those were logical terms.
"Understood?"
He bows deeper. "Yes, thank you father."
Endeavor nods dismissively, then extends a hand. "Give me the letter."
Izuku almost steps back at the sight of the reaching limb. He works through it though, and walks over to drop it into his father's awaiting hand obediently. It looked so small in Endeavor's grasp.
He watches as the pro-hero places it at the edge of his desk, then return to the paperwork he'd been reading through before Izuku came in to bother him. Just like that, Izuku was unimportant again.
It makes him feel apprehensive, how easily his father accepted his request.
(There had to be a catch, right?)
"Is that all?" The sudden low, disdainful tone makes Izuku's spine straighten on instinct.
"N-no." The nervous green-haired boy manages to stutter out, internally wincing at how weak his voice sounded. Nope. Not good. Better leave before he made a mess of things and got the deal with his father revoked. "Apologies." Izuku says politely, ducking his head.
He backs out of the room, his heart feeling too tight for him to expose his back to his father despite the fact he had returned to his work and thus, taken off his crushing attention from Izuku's shoulders. It's irrational, but Izuku went through with it.
His shoulders relax only once the door is closed and his father, out of sight. Izuku stands in the hallway quietly; then a low, heavy exhale leaves him, and it takes all of his strength to not sag against the door headfirst.
He did it.
He feels like he was deflating. Izuku's tiny heart beat like a hummingbird's wings in his chest. He'd done it. It was just. Done.
All the energy he'd gathered for this meeting rushed out of him like a popped balloon. He wants to curl up in futon -no, the fire pit and just sleep.
For a few hours. Or days. Maybe forever.
Well, at least until tomorrow. Just fall flat in a bed of coals and spend the next few hours in blissful slumber.
Izuku goes through a mental list. His homework was done, so he didn't have to worry about it. Training had been done in the morning, so that was also out of the way. Dinner could be skipped in favor of rest.
Feeling slightly less winded, he turns around-
-and that brief sense of calm he'd managed to muster goes flying right back out the window at the sight of Touya standing there, leaning back against the wall with his hands tucked in his pockets. Startled green stared up at familiar impassive turquoise.
His brother's head was tilted to the side; a small, catlike smirk sat comfortably on his pale lips.
"Let's talk, firecracker."
This. Chapter.
I don't know why, but it was a PAIN to write. I don't know why. Might be the fact it was supposed to be 20 pages and I ended up doing 38. Motherfucker I need to show restraint. Better planning, at the very least. Maybe a beta reader. Bah. I'm low on tea and coffee, I need to refuel.
Also, blame Tokoyami for walking on the keyboard on three different instances while I left to go do stuff. I swear this bird has a deathwish. He dunked his head in my full coffee cup at one instance. I just made that cup .
The next chapter's going to be smaller, with just a few scenes. I got some if not most written it out. The size is cuz it's the last one before a timeskip. Nope, we're not jumping to Yuuei yet. Gimme 2-3 chapters moar, I swear. Character development is important, yo.
Izuku meeting back up with the spicy blond boi needs to have impact.
And angst, since I'm apparently the angst master.
Next chapter:
The remaining Midoriya and the Bakugos enter the stage. Somewhat. Katsuki is not a happy pomeranian.
Toshinori believed this galla was going to be a fairly straightforward affair, but one excitable boy latching on to his leg makes him think otherwise. Also, if that kid with the dual hair color could stop glaring at him, that would be nice- wait, these were Endeavor's kids? Oh. Oh dear.