* Sits down to write *
* bird proceed to break one of my picture frames *
This is my life.
Wtf, this is 30+ pages. It was supposed to be 15, god damn. 13 152 words.
Also also also, apparently why my jaw had been hurting mildly for the past two years-ish was because the jawbone kept popping out of its socket or at least trying to, so there's that. Doc mentioned something like surgery, so that's gonna be fun :/ I'm a bit scared but at the same time if they do it it'll be great, because I'm tired of opening my mouth and feeling one part of my jawbone decide to nope out of alignment.
At least I got Tokoyami going for me. He likes to sit in the dark in the bathroom doing his best batman impression. Have you had a pigeon hiss at you in the dark? It's...something.
Btw anyone interested in a Bakugo-centric fic that starts during the kidnapping arc? I've watched Punisher recently and let's just say the idea of a vigilante Bakugo has been floating in my head for a while…
I got another with Bakugo having a secondary healing Quirk -which you know, makes him feel just wonderful when Izuku takes up the challenge of breaking every bone in his body before the year's end- which also has plenty of angst, but eh, let me know which one you guys want me to post first.
Having multiple stories to work on at once helps me a lot, because it keeps me inspired :D
He stares at Touya's back.
Uncertainty coils in his gut, bitter and heavy. Izuku is only distantly aware of how his eldest brother is leading him out of the house, his feet seemingly moving of their own accord, obediently trailing after the enigmatic redhead like a duckling to a goose. There's cotton in his head, clouding his mind with static whites -and from within those clouds sharp, conflicting thoughts burst forth to swarm him. Thoughts he cannot ignore.
Why was he here?
Why now?
The longer her ponders on this, the more clouds swirl within his head, choking him out. There's just too much to think on, too much he wants to ask. After all this time, after all the time Izuku had waited, had asked -now does Touya show up? Izuku didn't keep track of time well, but it had been almost two months since they last saw each other, if not more. Too long.
Had he heard about what happened with Hiroi-sensei -and stood there and ignored Izuku until he nearly-
No.
Izuku wants to shake his head furiously as that particular ball of black, poisonous thoughts steps out of the shadows, making his throat tighten like there is something murky and rank lodged in his esophagus. Like vomit, but worse. The edge of his eyes sting and he has to blink the beginning of tears away.
His shoulders hunch, muscles locking up as to keep that vile mass in. To make things worse, one more question comes to mind.
Did he hear me talk to father?
His steps falter, and like the complete mess he is he nearly trips over his own two feet as the clouds part and there's just this question branded into his head, taking up all of the available space. Something cold and terrifying seeps into his blood, numbing his limbs. The distance between him and his eldest brother stretches like a widening gap, a trench that digs itself deeper with every passing second and each new poisonous question.
This cold soon turns into something too warm and uncomfortable that refuses to settle in Izuku's flesh. The flames hiss and splutter in his chest, aggravated, licking at his ribcage and making the air he lets out with each inhale feel too hot against his throat.
At that moment, Izuku wants to call out to Touya. To tell him to stop. He wants to dig his heels in and question the older boy, right here, right inside this house, right with their father just rooms away who would hear them through the thin walls.
This strange desire burns at the tip of Izuku's tongue -but he can't do it.
Because beyond his need to get answers, he didn't want to shout. He didn't want to give in to that sharp, gaping pit of restless ire in him, that festering wound that had grown deeper and deeper with each incident. He doesn't want to submit to the blistering, all consuming betrayal he feels at the sight of Touya finally here, several weeks too late for when he'd needed his older brother.
Wasn't that what older siblings did?
Help each other?
The same could be said of fathers, but Todoroki Enji dodged that particular concept spectacularly.
Defeated, Izuku relents.
He doesn't give in, doesn't stomp his feet and jab his finger at the red headed boy (just like his father had done to him), doesn't cry and certainly doesn't screech loud enough to wake the neighbors -and thus bringing the wrath of their father upon them.
He doesn't want scream because he doesn't want to be like his father.
(The screaming makes him feel tired.)
But what should he do instead?
Shouto suddenly comes to mind, the memory of him watching their father through a fringe of white-red hair during training. Mismatched eyes glaring as he stews quietly, waiting for the opportunity to strike even though he had yet the strength to topple the man. That same quiet rage that made him get up after he'd been stricken down, over and over again.
For him, it was inspiring to see.
It was the same feeling he'd experienced when Kacchan picked fights with the older children at their school -though Izuku felt those emotions more when Shouto planted his feet and faced their behemoth of a father in the training room.
There's much to learn there, Izuku thinks, his steps picking up. The amalgamate of questions and demands continues to churn in his belly like a second fire, but Izuku stifles it and continues to follow his eldest brother. Yes, he could try Shouto's way.
He could wait; he shouldn't give into his anger. After all, the last time Izuku had done so, he'd nearly killed one of his siblings.
And heroes didn't do that, right?
Touya leads him out to the front door, to the dark porch their father and Fuyumi had come to greet Izuku in what felt like lifetimes ago. Izuku feels a twinge of chagrin at the thought. How long had it been?
Had to be months.
(A year, maybe?)
Naive to his youngest brother's internal turmoil -or just, perhaps, uncaring of it just like he seemed of everything else- Touya flops down on the porch, crossing his legs beneath him. He's looking out to the road leading to the doors.
The moon had already begun rising as a pale disk that hung in the horizon, unperturbed by clouds. Izuku watches, captivated, as the soft blue moonlight hits his brother's tall, lanky frame. His spiky, dark red hair that was identical to their father looks oddly purple under the moon's rays, almost black.
Out here, under the moon's rays, Izuku sees less of Endeavor in his appearance.
Touya tilts his head back, half-lidded blue eyes peering up at Izuku lazily. He lifts a hand, palm up, reaching for Izuku.
"Sit?" He asks.
Green eyes blink, perplexed at the question.
Touya's not commanding him to sit down next to him. He doesn't speak loudly, he doesn't loom into his personal space and make Izuku feel tiny like a ant about to be crushed by a boot. Rather, his voice is gentle but firm like warm beach sand, pliant under his weight; easily moulding to his steps. The eldest of the Todoroki children is not demanding Izuku at his side, not at all.
He's offering.
An open door Izuku could walk through, if only he wishes to. It's the most choice he'd had in months.
Somehow, that simple action soothes the ugly thing in Izuku's stomach. So, swallowing down all the ugly things he wanted to yell at the older boy, Izuku leans down and takes Touya's hand.
Surprises flashes through him as the redhead pulls him to his lap, letting Izuku curl up on his crossed legs. There's a bit of fumbling; he'd only ever done this with his mom, and her warm, soft body was a stark difference from the long legged teen with all of his sharp angles.
They don't just feel different. Touya smells of smoke, burnt things and a hint of spice Izuku can't quite put his finger on. It's a odd combination of smells that for any other person would be appaling; yet for all his worries, all of his apprehension and restlessness something inside the green haired child instinctively relaxes as he's engulfed by the older boy.
Maybe it was the warmth of the body against him. Warmer than Inko, nearing a warmth he would only ever associated with a nice chimney fire. Maybe it was the strange sense of safety that came to having strong arms wrap around him after having been denied of them for so long. He'd almost forgotten what it was like, to be held purely for the sake of it,
The obsidian flames swirls in his chest lazily, mollified. The only time he'd ever felt his Quirk react that way was when slept in his fire.
Touya's not a fire though and although he smelled like one, Izuku fought the instinctive urge to close his eyes and rest, succumbing to the exhaustion tugging at him after that draining conversation with his father. Like a lizard basking under the sun, heat drew him in. Not this time, though.
Not with the barely settled storm lying in wait within his body, burning for answers. Instead of giving in though, Izuku waited for the older boy to speak.
(Over the past few months, he learned that those who spoke first were often at a disadvantage.)
Unfortunately, Touya seemed to have learned this particular lesson as well. He acted perfectly content watching the waxing moon and listening to the faint sound of rippling leafs. Upon realizing this Izuku wants to speak up, but nervousness clogging his throat once more and the uncertainty swirling in his gut keeps him silent.
So, he watches.
Waits.
Feeling the weight of his stare, Touya's eyes finally flick down to meet his. Turquoise, just like their father -but unlike the fierce sweeping intensity Izuku had come to associate with Endeavor, Touya's eyes were softer, calmer. Settled. And yet, Izuku could see the sharpness lurking in the corners, waiting patiently for the moment to strike, just like a cat sitting by the pond's shores waiting for a curious fish to stray too close.
He still doesn't say anything, but Izuku is left somewhat satisfied with grabbing his attention without calling out for him. Something tells him that it's the most he will get. The younger boy breathes out softly and speaks:
"You left." The words come out more accusing than he'd expected them to -though Izuku doesn't feel bad about it. Not when memories he tried so hard burying rise up from the back of his mind. "I was scared." The green haired boy admits quietly.
At first, he receives only a slow blink as a response. Izuku is once more reminded of a cat.
Or Shouto.
"A little fear never hurt anyone." His eldest brother replies simply in response.
Yes, yes it does, Izuku thinks, remembering Shouto's terrified expression when he nearly burned his brother's head off. Of a Quirk that was ravenous and hungry and burned everything he held when he was too nervous, too tense. Fear leads to many bad things.
There's something else in Touya's tone, though -the faintest off feeling Izuku had ever experienced. It takes root in his mind, digging through the layer of comfort Touya's close proximity offered.
This gives him courage to say what had been nagging him since their last meeting.
"You knew." Izuku's gaze picks the slightest movement coming from the pond, making him look away from Touya. The moonlit surface of the water ripples as a koi slaps its tail. There's a quiet, near soundless splash that breaks through the silence, only to fade away. "About my fire. You fixed me, last time. You knew something-" Unconsciously, his fingers curl tightly against the helm of his shirt. "...something would happen."
-smoke and screams and bloody stumps and why-
The silence stretches.
Touya taps his own chin delicately, expression thoughtful as he looks out the garden. "I had a hunch." He finally answers after a moment of silence. Izuku fights back a frown. Was this was they called evading? "Quirks are fickle things, but you proved me right in the end."
He doesn't like the sound of that.
"About what?" Izuku mutters. He feels his older brother shifting around him. The left arm wound around him lifts up in front of the green haired boy, painted silver under the moonlight. Izuku can't ignore the way scars and bruises pattern the milky skin. The moon only highlights them.
Woosh. A snap of deft fingers and Touya's hand is alight with gently swaying blue flames.
Something inside Izuku's mind clicks in place.
"Your fire." He murmurs in a low tone, not wanting to shatter this meek semblance of peace that hung precariously over the balcony. "It draws from you too, doesn't it?" Izuku says, just a tiny bit more excited at this newfound kinship with his most evasive sibling. Because it explained so many things.
But if he knew, if they were similar, then why...why leave?
"Clever little firecracker." Touya murmurs, chest heaving a sigh behind Izuku, who can barely divert his attention back to him. "Yes, it takes." Shorter. More somber. Izuku doesn't miss the way his eyes roves over the faint scars pilling up on the skin of his arm. He had to wonder how many times the older boy had been burned to produce such damage. "Fire and ice doesn't mix well. The results vary wildly. Some are less fortunate. I got some things from my father -and some from Rei. I got a bad draw."
Izuku barely fights back a shudder at those last few worths, forced out in the tiniest, most restrained hiss he'd ever heard. It's the most emotion he'd heard from Touya -and he's not sure what to think.
Less fortunate. Hesitantly, the youngest Todoroki trails his fingers over the ruined skin of the elder's left arm, running his digits over the path the veins made under flesh.
Is this how it went every time Touya his Quirk? Did he have a set limit, like Izuku?
(Could his older brother feed it like he could, or did it crave only the flesh and blood of it's owner?)
"Does it hurt?"
Another chuckle. Something dark flickers in Touya's mind. Sorrow? He hates the fact he doesn't know.
"You get used to it."
Izuku swallows with difficulty, his throat feeling strangely tight. It's not reassuring. He looks back at the flames licking at his eldest brother's hand. Here, yet again under the moonlight but free of his Quirk sickness, Izuku could see everything. The way Touya's skin was coarse and thick, pale skin greyed in certain spots. Some parts were even beginning to turn purple from repeated abuse.
His scarred arm ached at the sight.
He doesn't realize he's holding into the limb his father had burned until he feels the uncomfortable warmth from his Quirk writhing under his flesh against his skin. Hesitant, he whispers to his brother lowly, as if he is afraid to be overheard. "Will this happen to me?"
"Worried, firecracker?"
Izuku nods shakily in response.
How couldn't he? That night surges up again in his mind, the blind terror he felt as Endeavor dragged him out of the house. The pain of his burnt arm.
He couldn't even imagine living through that agony again. He couldn't even bear the thought of being in such pain, constantly.
"Don't be. We are not the same." Touya tells him, once more speaking with the characteristic gentle detachment of his. "Your mother and Endeavor's Quirks combined quite beautifully. As for me, fire and ice….just doesn't work." He snorts, closing his hand and letting the flames die in his palm. "Really, of all people Rei was the worst partner he could have picked. You're luckier."
Mesmerized, Izuku follows the embers with his eyes as they float up, carried away in the wind.
Then he registers what his older brother is saying, and frowns as he craned his neck up to look at him.
"Picked?"
Touya doesn't answer for the longest time, leaving Izuku to mulled over such a odd word used to describe a joining.
Wasn't marriage a big event? A celebration, like in television? He remembered Auntie Mitsuki and Masaru, how they worked so well together. The way they moved as one around the kitchen the times he stayed with them for a sleepover, balancing Kacchan's prideful fury, Izuku's excitement, talking with Inko and somehow managing to make a meal at the same time that doesn't taste like sewage.
For all their screaming and shouting, they moved together like a well oiled machine.
It was fascinating to watch.
While it was boring to hear, Mitsuki always talking about how she met Masaru and how she pursued him until he agreed to a date. Masaru had finally chosen to give her a chance, it was something he's once told Izuku he didn't regret.
(Though that faith occasionally wavered. Namely, when Kacchan set a new piece of furniture on fire.)
By the way Touya was talking, something told Izuku that this wasn't the case between Rei and Endeavor. The green haired boy really didn't see a man as tall and imposing as his father courting this faceless woman that was so dear to Shouto.
But picked.
Picked.
There was just something wrong with that word, in that particular sentence. Shouto's face suddenly flash in front of his mind; his blank, inexpressive face. The detached darkness lurking in those mismatched eyes as he answers Izuku's question on Touya. I've never met him.
(How many things were wrong with this family?)
"Why-" The words clog his throat. Izuku pauses, swallowing. "Why don't you talk to Shouto?"
Touya's expression sours and immediately Izuku knows he stepped on something he shouldn't have.
But then again, how can someone not like their own flesh and blood?
Endeavor's face then tugs at the edge of his mind and Izuku acquiesces. He'd only had Inko for most of his life. Maybe someone loathing a family member to the point of never seeing them, ever, was normal. Or maybe it was this fucked up family he had landed in.
With that thought, his mouth opens and he lets the words flow:
"Why me?" He asks, though he knows the answer now. Or at least part of it. Izuku is young, this boy is still virtually a stranger to him, but he already knows that pulling answers out of the other Todoroki was nearly impossible. "You don't t-talk to any of them. Not Fuyumi. Not Shouto. Not Natsuo." Who misses you." You barely live here." He takes a deep breath. "But you came back for me."
The sibling you barely know. Izuku thinks but doesn't say.
"Why you?" Touya reflects, turning his gaze to the sky. The stars reflected in his eyes. "Didn't I answer this question?"
Stop dodging. It burns at the tip of Izuku's tongue, but he holds it. He really doesn't like this kind of talk. It makes his head hurt with how much Touya's words twist and turn like a koi swimming around him, weaving out of his grasp as he reaches to take hold of the slimy fish.
"No, you didn't."
"I see."
Silence.
Now Izuku really wants to fidget.
"It's because we are not that different." Touya suddenly speaks up. The green haired boy in his arms blinks and stares at him. Though Touya's smirk is fond, there is something wrong in his eyes. The sharpness is front and center now, promising something Izuku didn't quite like. And yet, he's drawn in like a fish on a hook -or in this case, a fish caught in a cat's claws.
"Little defective monsters, running around like we belong here." Touya tells him too gently for the cruel words coming out of his mouth. Izuku stays quiet at this, shocked still by the brutality disguised as sweetness. "He's only tolerating you for now, because you still are useful -and that's going to last as long as you don't cause more trouble than you're worth."
There was something in those turquoise eyes beyond the warmth, something Izuku couldn't grasp but knew intimately-
-Endeavor's snarl as he towers over him-
-Shoto's burning gaze as he shoulders past Izuku-
Oh.
Maybe their eyes weren't that different after all.
It takes all of the willpower he had available for Izuku to remind his lungs to work again. As if sensing his youngest brother's growing unease, Touya pulls his gaze away.
"It's just something you should think about," He pauses, head tilting. There's a smile on his face, soft yet too jagged to be just gentle. A contradiction. It's no longer just mysterious ; that edge is at the forefront, pressing against Izuku's jugular. "...firecracker."
"Why?" Izuku licks his suddenly too dry lips. "...why should I do that?" And why would you say those horrible things?
Father couldn't really throw him away, could he? Make him disappear in some deep dark hole, like Rei? Would he?
(It's terrifying, that he can't muster an answer right away. It sits in his stomach like rotting food.)
Touya stares down at him with eyes that were too old for a boy his age. The glimmer was all gone, and there was only the darkness he saw previously spreading through his gaze, creating goosebumps on Izuku's skin.
Then the next few words he utters sends Izuku's world tilting on its axis.
"Have you heard of Quirk Marriages?"
.
.
.
Somehow, it's everything he feared, but more.
.
.
.
Hours later Izuku stumbles into his room, heart pumping in his ears and limbs shaking. He pushes the door closed behind him, and not for the first time, he wishes there was a lock on it.
His legs shake pathetically underneath him. They barely hold long enough for him to reach his bed before they buckle and send Izuku crumbling into the futon. He doesn't even try to soften the fall.
Trembling hands clutch his chest, gripping at the fabric hard. Izuku smells smoke, but he can't really acknowledge it over the furious beating of his heart. It thunders inside his ribcage like a second flame, each beat feeling more like a punch than something meant to keep him alive.
Then he hears it again.
Touya's voice, small and insidious against his ears:
'Have you heard of Quirk Marriages?'
A voice carrying secret -a chain that locked shut around one of his ankles and drags him down into the darkest pits of the ocean.
Izuku whimpers.
That secret wasn't the only thing his oldest brother told him.
No, far from it. He wishes it had been the only thing his brother told him. In brief words, Touya had spoken of family, the start of something new, -of blue flames that sparked on clear skin and joyous laughter and a kitchen constantly filled with strange and interesting aromas. Of a father that while distant, was a father.
Then Touya hit the age of six, and things gradually changed. As Touya grew into his Quirk, the burns started appearing. Proof of a mismatched, broken Quirk that demanded too much of its user.
A useless Quirk.
Touya had continued on, telling Izuku of broken dreams and pain and shattered families and Fuyumi and Natsuo until it all culminated in Shouto, the chimera child with split hair and dual eyes, a brand of the Quirk to come.
It must be why Touya never stayed here long, Izuku thinks, somber, as he fights the tears. How could he ever stand to be around the dead, rotting corpse of a family? A shadow of what he once had? It would be the biggest slap in the face.
No.
Izuku was certain he wouldn't be able to stay sane either.
(Nor so calm.
Then again, he'd just seen how much of an act that was.)
He himself barely was, as it stands. Because for all the steps forward he's undertaken the nightmares are still there, lurking, waiting in the shadows. Eager to tear him from the shaky, barely lit pedestal Izuku had managed to climb on. Drag him back into the darkness with familiar, disembodied arms.
Was, was this why his father brought him here? To serve as another tool to further his quest to surpass All Might?
Was this why he was born?
Izuku freezes.
Was that why Endeavor had him? Inko said that babies were the result of two adults loving each other very much but somehow, Izuku found himself doubting that severely. He couldn't picture his mother, soft and warm and so very loving, standing next to his father.
Endeavor -who was stiff and strict and scary but was still, somehow, was irrevocably his father, his image slotting itself clumsily in the empty hole in his life that Izuku hadn't been aware of he possessed.
The man Touya spoke about...
It was hard to reconcile with the man who had carried him out of the wreckage his Quirk had caused. It just didn't fit -but at the same time, it did. It explained everything else. Why he was training Shouto so hard, why he was running both of them ragged and why Natsuo and Fuyumi were but bystanders to this trainwreck.
It explained the quiet house, devoid of life even with four children living within it.
Desperate, Izuku's eyes sweep over the room, landing on a smudge of gold, blue and red sitting on his small desk. He crawls over and picks up the All Might toy; staring at it, unsure what to think.
Touya was nice. He'd helped him. He'd kept him from getting sick, from dying of his own Quirk. He'd done what older brothers did and protected Izuku.
And yet-
The toy smokes in his grasp, the smell of cheap burning plastic assaulting his nose before he could even blink. For a moment he stares disbelieving lay at his prized toy, destroyed by his own two hands.
Fire had turned the cheap yellow paint a dark, maroon colour whose texture felt warm and bubbly under his fingers. all Might's shining, inspiring smile was twisted beyond recognition, the Number One hero's head having turned into little more than a misshapen lump of bubbling plastic. Even the two tufts of hair were gone, melted into the top of the skull.
Izuku fights the lump growing in his throat as he lifts his other hand and runs it over the figurine; his heart splinters and breaks as more of the plastic gives away under his touch, the mere contact with his heated skin causing it to crumple.
There was nothing salvageable.
.
.
.
And really, that was his mind needed to start questioning everything again. He just doesn't know what to think of anymore.
The world keeps tilting and falling away and there was nothing to hold on to
.
.
.
The second training room, the one where he'd trained what felt like years ago with Hiroi-sensei -it had been fixed.
Izuku knew this was bound to happen. His father, ever the perfectionist, wouldn't leave a room in his own home in such a state of disrepair. He knows it was fixed.
And yet, he couldn't shake off the feeling that when he stepped through that door….
(Blood splatters painting the pale floor with red, dark grey as falling like snow over him, resting on his skin as he stares at the screaming, thrashing form of-)
Izuku stands in front of the sliding door, heart pounding in his ears. He draws a long, shivering breath.
I can do this.
I must do this.
Slowly, as if he was walking to his execution, the young boy slides the door open. Quietly, he steps inside.
The chest is still there, at the back of the room. The tatami matts are the same color and shape as those in the first training room. Everything is neat and tidy-
-yet not.
Something was off. He could feel it in his bones.
It takes him a moment to notice the difference. If he squints hard enough, Izuku can see where the room had to be fixed. Some of the support columns on the ceiling were new, devoid of any burn marks from Endeavor's fire; a majority of the floor around the middle of the training room lacked the wear that comes with Quirk-enhanced people fighting on them for months on end.
Izuku bends down and runs his fingers across the floor. The tatami mats were whiter than before.
So they changed most, if not all of them.
Blood and ash had to be hard to wash out.
A shaky exhale leaves him.
'Little defective monsters, running around like we belong here.'
The dojo is caging him on all sides, trapping him, watching him, judging. He feels it pressing down on him, squeezing his heart and fire with condemnation. It's dizzying, how a empty chamber had such an effect.
Unable to bear the silent condemnation hidden in the replaced column and tatami matt, Izuku darts out of the room, heart pounding and fire squirming under his skin, restless.
.
.
.
He wants to hate the fact that Touya was right.
.
.
.
"You're upset."
Izuku manages to catch the involuntary flinch before his body betrays him.
"Yes." He responds softly as he sets his book down and reaches for his assignment. "..'uppose I am."
He can feel the weight of Shouto's stare on the back of his head. If he closes his eyes, Izuku can see those bright, mismatched eyes -Rei in his right, Enji in his left, fire and ice and everything their father strived for- looking down at him, quietly attempting to pry open his shell.
The green haired child was just glad his older brother wasn't getting in his face and demanding his attention.
From his behaviour, it seemed like the last time he did so was still fresh in his mind.
(He had to wonder, did Shouto dreamed of that night as often as he did?
The answer was unknown to him, for Shouto never tossed and turned in bed. Rather, he slept like the deaf, arms on his sides and legs straight, back against the mattress. Like he'd learned the most efficient and noiseless way to sleep early on.)
"You don't want to talk about it."
I've never met him.
For the briefest of times, he contemplated telling him.
But this was Shouto. And it was precisely because it was him that the words withered and died long before they reached his lips.
Little defective monsters, running around like we belong here
Little defective monsters, running around like we
Little defective monsters, running around
Little defective monsters
Little defective monster
He could almost see Touya at his side, whispering those cruel words once again into his ears. A gaze so gentle that betrayed the ugly, twisted mess beneath. The aftermath of their father's rampage.
"No. I don't."
They continue to work in silence. Izuku manages to swallow the ugly truth and shoves deep down, feeding it to the black flames in his heart.
(He wishes they would still feel cold. Being numb sounded like the better alternative.)
.
.
.
"-with their host back, Present Mic's show will pick up again this week so please stay tuned for more news-"
Her hand reaches for the radio and turns it off.
Silence.
Outside, she can hear children laughing. Inko sighs tiredly and leans forward, resting her head against the table.
For a moment, she wishes Mitsuki was at her side. A flurry of blond hair, perfectly manicured nails and bright eyes kicking her front door open with arms full of food and an aura that banished anguish as easily as her child sent his fellow students running for their lives.
But deep down, she doesn't want her friend here. It was a dark, ugly feeling that coiled deep within her gut and made her want to tear the windows open and howl how she didn't want anyone in her house -but saying that would lie.
Because the only person she wanted in her home could not be here.
Inko rested her cheek against the cool surface of the table on which she had dinner alone for the past few months. The kitchen felt all too big around her, too massive, too squeaky clean and empty of the familiar tap tap tap of naked feet and loud, chittered laughter that attempted to replicate what her son heard on the computer each day.
But there was none of that. None of the sounds and sensations and sights that gave her the strength to keep going. Now she was just a young woman in a large, empty house -a house that she wished she had never accepted.
I should have just left Japan. She thinks as she slowly, torturously lifts her head up from the table as if it weighted tons. I should have just taken Izuku and left the country like Hisashi did.
And how ironic it was, that she wished she had taken the same route her ex boyfriend took -the very same thing that had driven her to doing something as irresponsible as sleeping with Todoroki Enji when he was clearly a married man.
A part of this was his fault -a very large part of this- but some of the fault lied in her too.
Inko should have never let him know he was a father. Shouldn't have taken even a dime of his money, or accepted to send Izuku to him if he manifested a fire Quirk.
Damn that man.
Inko just wants to cry again at this point, because despite all of her efforts to try and examine the mess she'd stuck herself in with a objective point of view, ultimately it failed. In the end, she just wanted her son back.
She wanted him running around the house, messing up his bed, staying up at all hours of the night because moooom, the shadow of my desk looks funky. She wanted the small child back in her arms, messy curls and all, wrapped in her embrace like when they sat down together to watch the television.
Inko inhaled sharply, running her left hand through her unkempt hair.
No, she couldn't dwell.
Izuku was safe. He was learning. He was mastering his Quirk and soon he was going to march through her front door, smile as wide as All might's as she gathered him in her arms. He would be tall and strong and happy, happier than he'd ever been here where the other children mocked him for his Quirkless state or more recently, shied away from him after his latent Quirk emerged.
Knowing this barely alleviated the gaping hole she felt in her chest since the car door closed on her boy. Deep down, Inko knew that if she stayed still, she was going rot away.
But gathering the energy to move was harder than ever.
Minutes pass until she was able to muster the strength to get up from the kitchen, and amble to the back. The hallway is too quiet, and there's no toys scattered by Inko's feet, creating a minefield of little plastic heroes for her to dodge. No crayons to pick up, no shoes left strewn by the front door.
She takes her basket of clothes by the stairs -only hers, she'd cleaned the last of his clothes months ago- and heads out to the back of the too big, too silent house.
A equality empty garden greets her when she steps outside and walks over to the clothesline. Bending down, Inko sets the basket down and picks up the first article of clothing -a soft, familiar green dress. She holds it up to the sky, staring at the silk flowing in the wind intensely.
Her hands tighten on the fabric. She feels her expression twist into something ugly as she tosses it onto the clothesline, barely making sure that it doesn't fall to the floor. Inko almost wants it to -she wants to stomp on it and let the bugs have it, price be damned.
But she holds her aimless frustration and directs it to more fruitful endeavors -namely, making sure the humid clothes she'd washed this morning don't end up rotting in the basket. It happened twice now since...since then, and she hated going shopping no matter how many times Mitsuki accompanied her.
It just wasn't the same without having to worry about Izuku wandering off.
As she sets a blouse onto the clothesline, she spots Katsuki stalking up and down the street, tiny blond brows furrowed together as he made another lap around the block. Inko spies him from over the fence -she couldn't see his face, but she was certain the young boy's expression was as unpleasant as hers.
The boy had taken up to training full time after Izuku left; channeling the wild temperament that had grown in his heart after that day into his goal of becoming a hero. Inko had no doubt he would make it into Yuuei. A blind man could see how dedicated Katsuki was.
Sometimes, when she looks out the window and sees him run past her home, she imagines a young green-haired boy jogging behind him, struggling to catch up on exhausted legs yet carrying on through sheer determination. Babbling about possible training regiments and diets and so many terms he still couldn't understand, but picked up avidely.
(The first time it happened, she'd cried herself to sleep.)
They'll see eachother again. She tries to console herself. They'll get into Yuuei together, and Izuku's going to talk my ear off about all the people he meets at school.
If she got him back by then. The thought tasted bitter on her tongue.
Katsuki passes by again, jogging a stoic determination no five year old should have. Inko watches him pass, biting her lower lip at the sheer relentless aura wrapped around the child.
She knew the two boys were walking the path of heroes -that was a inevitability. With their shared love of heroics, Katsuki's personality and Quirk, Endeavor's backing -working as a pro-hero was the only thing she could realistically see her Izuku doing. But here, watching her friend's son run himself ragged, Inko was hesitant to say this goal was good for him.
Katsuki was just so full of restless anger nowadays.
This rage exhumed out of him, driving him forward. It was unhealthy. According to Mitsuki, he'd pushed away most of the other children his age. The other half he didn't actively breathe fire at were too scared by his fits of fury to approach the blonde.
For all his shouting that he didn't care, his behavioral issues had gotten exponentially worse since Izuku left.
As the blond disappears around the bend once more, the lone mother's gaze drifts over to the green dress hanging on the clothesline, shimmering almost mockly under the afternoon sun.
He's not the only one.
Gritting her teeth, she takes her basket and goes around the house, heading for her mailbox. Wrenching the little metal box open, she quickly grabs the small pile of letters before walking back inside.
The basket is tossed in the bathroom without a glance back. Inko heads for the kitchen once more, dropping the pile of papers onto the table. Her old, faithful kettle is placed on stove as she flops back down on the nearest chair.
Just the simple exercise of getting up and finishing her laundry was exhausting. It didn't have the same feel to it, the same necessity now that she lived alone.
As the water begins to warm, she sorts through her letters. The publicity pamphlets go straight to the recycling bin. The bills are set aside in a neat stack to address later. The magazine on heroes -a subscription Izuku had begged her to get, even though he had yet to master reading- is left on the counter as she goes to make herself a cup of coffee.
Coming back, she's left with a rather large packet, the kind of folder one would use to send documents through the mail. How curious. She had no living relative left, and Mitsuki only lived a minute away. Was it a elaborate advertisement?
Opening it with her nails, she's greeted with two letters falling out onto the table. Curious, Inko takes the largest one first.
The paper that comes out is clean and printed.
Inko,
Izuku has expressed the desire to maintain contact through letter correspondence. As such, I will have him write once every week to you.
The change in household has been a shock to him, but he is adapting. His training though a challenge, is going well. I forsee he will find a place at Yuuei.
Best regards,
Todoroki Enji
Short. Clipped. Detached. To the point.
(How did she ever love this man?)
Inko blinks down at the letter, befuddled as her mind works to absorb the information. Her green eyes lift from the white page, straying towards the smaller one letter laying forgotten farther away.
It takes her a full second to understand what she'd just read.
Another to recognize the slanted, awkward writing on the second letter.
Oh.
Oh god-
Her tea cup crashes to the ground, knocked off the table by her flailing arm as Inko lunges for the little letter, her stomach in her throat as she grabbed it with trembling fingers. Despite this, she opens it with the utmost care -frightened that even the smallest brisk move could tear the precious little paper apart and render it unreadable. It was a absurd fear, but it spurns her to handle the letter as if it was a priceless glass figurine.
She nearly cries at the sight of the familiar writing inside.
Oka-san,
I hope you're okay. I know you didn't want me to go, but you did what was good for me. I'm getting better with my Quirk. I can't wait to show it to you! I'll be the Number One Hero in no time!
Things are okay here. My bedroom's really big. A bit too empty? It's weird. Shouto makes it better though.
Shouto's my brother. I have four siblings! I have three brothers and a sister. Shouto's the youngest besides me; he's nice. His Quirk lets him use fire and ice, that's so cool! I also have two brothers called Touya and Natsuo, and my sister is called Fuyumi. She's nice too.
I'm sorry about running away. I didn't want to make you sad. I hope you can forgive me.
Love,
Tod-
This was hastily scribbled out.
Midoriya Izuku
Inko releases the breath she didn't know she was holding.
With it something else left -or rather, was alleviated. A ache in her chest, one that had only grown bigger and wilder ever since that day she'd gone out to the Todoroki household only to see a wide-eyed half-wide Izuku who ran at the sight of her.
Inko looks down at her son's letter, tracing his slanted writing -cleaner than before, he'd been practicing- with a index finger. She can almost see him through every letter. His furrowed brows, crinkled nose; the way he bit his lower lip pensively, his attention fully invested on his work to the point the world around him faded away.
This…
This wasn't Izuku, far from it. It wasn't her son, warm and safe in her arms. Nothing could compare to having the young, green-haired boy at her side again, and certainly not this tiny slip of paper.
But, this is a start.
.
.
.
Izuku nervously adjusts the tie on his neck, hating the way the fabric dug into his skin.
Every cell in his body wanted to rip the strange, constricting little cloth off himself -as well as the dark vest and the dark pants and the white shirt which itched in a way that all just begged to be set on fire- but he managed to wrestle that urge down.
Undoubtedly, his father would make Fuyumi fetch him another one and honestly, the less attention he drew to himself, the better.
Distantly, he wishes she had come with them.
The silence in the car was oppressive.
Shouto's warm body at his side was a comforting solid weight against him, easing some of the choking tightness in his throat. It was silly, but him just being here made things bearable. It made him feel warm, and that wasn't just because of his left side which he shamelessly took advantage of during the colder nights. With Shouto here, he just felt safer.
Izuku still remembers the last time his father put him in front of the cameras, and it wasn't something he wished to repeat -but it seemed like he had no voice in the matter.
Hopefully things went better this time.
At least Shouto is with me.
"Behave." His father tells them sternly as they arrive. His voice leaves no room for rebuttals. "Stay close to me. Don't get lost. Don't follow anyone. Keep him out of trouble." This was aimed at Shouto, who gives a slight nod of acknowledgement.
He still didn't look at Endeavor, his gaze stubbornly set on the back of the driver's seat like merely acknowledging his presence would result in him contracting a deadly plague.
Izuku hadn't noticed this, before. How the second youngest Todoroki took any and all opportunity he got to ignore their father. How he would only speak to the man when Endeavor scolded him, or when they were training.
Then again, Izuku himself had only rarely spoken to the man outside of the later event, so did he have any right to judge?
"-don't talk to the other heroes unless addressed directly, or I give you permission. Don't make noises and don't speak-"
Izuku's train of thought disastrously veers off track and crashes into a sudden mountain.
Wait.
Other heroes?
Izuku's tiny heart threatens to burst. As in, some kind of hero meeting?
-oh god what if All Might was there-
Something inside Izuku sputters like a failing car and rasps out its last few breaths.
He makes the tiniest, stifled sound at this, almost unconscious pressing closer to his brother's side. Shouto glances his way, a tiny frown darkening his usually inexpressive features. Through the haze clouding his mind, Izuku can feel him tapping his shoulder in an awkward attempt to comfort him.
Thankfully, their father was too busy with his phone to notice his youngest quietly turning into liquid pudding inside his expensive clothes.
This trend continues outside the car.
Izuku has to stifle the dread bubbling up in him as he steps out of the vehicle; he still remembers the last time he was outside the Todoroki property and it's not a experience he wants to repeat.
At least this time, he had a better hold of his Quirk. A rather pathetic one, but it kept his fire from coming out as nervous little sparks as the first adults noted his father's presence -and thus, the two children standing in his shadow.
The bright flashes of light from the cameras bring back bad memories.
Izuku's stomach rolls, and he has to force his breathing to stay even. He feels Shouto's hand grab a hold of his arm firmly and tug him forward after their father, reminding him that standing still was not a option. His brother was a steadying presence at his side, one he followed gladly.
To his relief, there were fewer of the adults carrying those big cameras inside.
To his dread, the horde of adults demanding their attention with screams and calls are replaced by men and women dressed either in nice clothes or hero costumes.
Oh no. At the sight of so many of them, Izuku's stomach lodges itself in his throat. His brain shortens out. His green eyes sweep over the large room -across the banquet of food, the laughing adults, the children ambling about in nicely cut clothes, the capes and masks and armors-
Oh. Those...those were…
He suddenly feels even smaller, if that was possible when he was standing next to his behemoth of a father.
But he also feels giddy.
"Don't stray." Shouto mutters in his ear before turning away, startling him. By the time he looks at his sibling, he's ambling to their father's side in a way that spoke of practice. Expression firm and calm -only the steel look in his mismatched eyes betraying his dislike of the whole outing.
Izuku wondered quietly just how often his brother got dragged to these events.
(Couldn't he have gotten a little warning?)
Izuku's sanity officially goes out of order when he catches a glimpse of golden hair and his ears pick up the unmistakable familiar laughter that he'd heard through television before he could remember. He stops abruptly, eyes locking onto the massive rolling shoulders and brilliant smile.
It's All Might.
The fire splutters in his chest like fireworks. He barely keeps it from burning the sleeves of his shirt.
It's All Might.
Multiple conflicting emotions crash into him. Terror. Fear. Exhilaration. Apprehension. His legs tremble underneath him, torn between following Shouto -who had yet to notice him falling behind -and doing something that even his young mind registers as incredibly stupid.
Unfortunately for his sanity, the stupid was winning.
Izuku is aware, distantly, of what he needs to do -as much of a lunacy as his mind told him it was, but his heart was adamant on doing.
He had to meet All Might.
Had to see him.
He had, he had-
-had to know-
Was All Might different, too?
Did something darker and uglier hide under that smile of his? Was that heroic bravado just a front?
He glances back at his father. Endeavor is talking to a man he doesn't recognize. Black, clean clothes -tuxedo, that's the word. With his graying hair, he doesn't look much like a hero. Retired maybe? Unimportant.
Shouto is standing by, mismatched eyes staring off into the distance. Izuku follows his gaze -to the family of armored heroes and the blue-haired boys, the smallest flailing his arms around. Huh.
Well, he's occupied. He won't notice Izuku running off.
You're being a absolute idiot, Kacchan mutter in his ears as he shifts on his feet, fidgeting. It's the first time in a while that he hears his friend. He's going to kill you for this.
There's no need to clarify who they are talking about.
Maybe, Izuku concedes. Maybe he will. Or maybe he won't. Touya's warning about usefulness and monsters brushes against the back of his mind like a poisonous fog.
Izuku hesitates.
Then he hears the familiar laugh again, and something in him burns. It's not his fire -it's gentle, tingly, spreading through his body and wrapping him in it's warmth. It leaves him hopeful. Makes him feel braver.
Endeavor is pushed at the back of his mind. It's reckless, but…
Maybe some things were worth the danger.
Izuku takes a step forward.
.
.
.
Toshinori was, overall, having a good time. The galla wasn't his idea of a peaceful night on a day off from patrol, but it was also a fundraiser amongst the top ranked heroes, so him not showing up would be the height of rudeness.
At the very least, he had some entertainment. The conversations were nice, and the drinks too. The organizers were even nice enough to keep the salivating crowd of reporters at bay outside. That in itself is rare.
Then again, it wasn't the usual kind of galla.
Toshinori takes another sip of his drink, happy to have a moment's peace. If there was a word he could use to describe it, it was a reunion.
Seeing the occasional child following their pro-hero parents, wide-eyed as they took in all of the people in the room really brought a smile to his face. Especially the sight of the two little boys following Endeavor like little ducklings -that nearly brought Toshinori to tears from how adorable it was.
The Number Two Hero avoids him like a plague, and Toshinori allows him too for now.
He was still bitter about the last listing, it seemed.
Toshinori didn't really understand why the other man was so negative. They'd clashed back in Yuuei, but that was years ago. And despite what Todoroki believed, hero work wasn't a competition. There was more to life than rankings.
Unfortunately, Endeavor thought otherwise.
This was troubling, seeing just how good the other man's life was. A high paying job serving society, country-wide recognition, a family-
A tiny part wished he had that.
(The path of the Number One hero was a lonely one, especially with One for all.)
His predecessor's fate was enough of a warning. His smile faltered for a fraction of a second at the memory of Nana Shimura.
Suddenly, the tiny drink he was holding didn't feel like enough. He couldn't even feel a happy buzz that came with drinking alcohol. Maybe he should get something stronger?
There weren't any servers nearby, but the buffet was just a few feet away. Toshinori turned around to go fetch a better drink-
...and proceeded to nearly step on something small and green.
Crap! Toshinori stumbles over this sudden obstacle, barely managing to right himself.
To his utter embarrassment, it's a kid he nearly walks on.
The boy looks up at him with wide eyes -too wide, Toshinori was certain that at any moment they would pop out of his tiny head. He has a mop of messy hair the shade of new grass, matching the color of his eyes. His skin was almost too pale, nearly matching with the white shirt of his tiny tuxedo. It made the freckles peppering his cheeks stand out even more.
Neither of them spoke as they gauged each other.
Toshinori watched as the boy's face slowly turned red enough to put a stop light to shame. A squeaked sound leaves the child's mouth, and he looks down to the floor embarrassment.
Well, this is how the great All Might died.
Killed by diabetes.
"What's your name?" Toshinori asks, soft and quiet for fear of this tiny little being bursting from anxiety.
Green eyes peaked up at him from a fringe of messy green locks. Doubt, wonder and contemplation shone in those little emerald orbs. For the longest time, the child doesn't speak.
And then finally:
"..Izuku."
"Alright then, Izuku." He says carefully, even though his insides are acting up something horrible. It's not the first time he'd interacted with a child without the parent nearby so cool it, Toshinori. It's not like the boy was going to start bawling randomly.
Right?
...he needed to get the kid back.
"Where are your parents?"
Several emotions pass through the child's face. Surprise, apprehension, what looked like fear -until it settled into shame.
He ran off then.
He changes direction.
"Did you need something, kid?" Smiling wider, he bends down to be closer to the boy's height. One thing he learned early on about children, is that his height was a good way to make their necks ache from looking up -and for the shy ones like Izuku seemed to be, his towering figure left them intimidated and unable to speak.
Which was bad when there was a lone child and no adult in sight besides Toshinori himself.
Honestly, who lost a child?
"I...I just wanted to know if," The boy pauses, fidgeting again. He bites his lower lip. Something flickers on his forearms, too quickly for even All Might to catch it. Toshinori barely controls the frown threatening to inch its way into his face. His Quirk acting up? It would be the norm given his age. "...wanna know if you're nice."
Toshinori stares, smile faltering.
It's impolite, maybe even terrifying to Izuku, but he can't help it.
That...that was not the kind of question he was expecting. It's not the first time someone had questioned his outgoing behavior -not everyone took to his smiling and cheerful behavior exactly the same, especially naturally more suspicious individuals and media outlets. He'd gotten his fair share of this during his early years, but as his role as the Symbol of Peace solidified those questions ebbed away to only something one would find in chat rooms in dark corners of the web.
A child asking him something along similar lines was certainly a first.
He's at a lost on what to do.
Izuku continue to stare up at him with that strange mixture of wonder and apprehension, so Toshinori does the first thing he can think of -he squats down and offers his hands to the little boy, showing him that he meant no harm.
"What do you think?"
The green haired child is quiet, at first.
He looks down at the offered hands like a owl peering down from a tree -he even tilts his head to the side. Toshinori tries not to fidget at the way those green eyes sweep over the faint scarring on his fingers, wounds from a time when One for All wasn't quite settled into his skin. There's others too -some from fights that had pushed him to his limits.
His skin is evidence of years spent fighting for a better society.
Just as he feared he would get nowhere, Izuku reaches forward and runs his hands over his palms, studying the rough texture. Toshinori tears his gaze away from his freckled face to look at the short, thin little fingers stretched out on his hands, trying to stretch out to touch all of his palms but failing most spectacularly. Izuku's hands are not even half the size of his palms.
They're unbelievably tiny compared to his own.
This is what I fight for, a part of Toshinori thinks dazedly.
Completely unaware of what he was causing in the Number One Hero, Izuku looks up.
"You're good." He finally admits solemnly. There's a tiny smile on his lips and the corner of his eyes crinkle with a joy he cannot describe.
Toshinori feels his own smile grow wider at the sight, and Izuku's does in return. There's a tiny, angelic giggle that sends pleasant, giddy warmth through Toshinori's skin, almost mimicking the buzz of energy that came with wielding One for All. They must look quite strange to onlookers -especially him, squatting in a vain attempt to match the child's height while they both grinned like loons.
This couldn't last forever, though. Toshinori is well aware of this -he has to return the boy to his probably fretful parents.
"Can I?" He asks, opening his arms wider to show his intention. Izuku takes a moment to decide, then nods.
Carefully, telegraphing his every movement, Toshinori leans down and scoops the boy off the floor. Izuku makes a soft sound and holds on to him, clutching the fabric of his tuxedo tightly. His eyes are the size of dinner plates as he looks down.
"Tall." Izuku mumbled, almost too quietly for Toshinori to pick up. This child was way too adorable for his own good. Like a tiny rumpled puppy begging for attention.
Toshinori was almost tempted to keep him.
Maybe if he tucks him under his coat, he could probably sneak-
Toshinori kills that ridiculous idea before it goes anywhere. Had to be the alcohol, he tells himself even if he knew he had only had two measly drinks in the entire afternoon, and it would take him a lot more than that to get tipsy.
Better get the boy back to his parents before he ends up trying to explain why he was stealing another person's kid.
"Do you see your parents?" The hero asks as he looks around, looking for a mop of moss green hair. His eyes spot a few heroes, but none of them have similar features to the child he was holding, nor looked like they were looking for a missing preschooler.
In his arms, Izuku makes a face and looks down. He refuses to make eye contact.
Not talking, eh?
"Izuku, look at me."
There's a indignant squawk. Shy, Izuku tucks his head low to hide his face -Toshinori feels a tiny button nose press against his neck. He tries not to choke.
"Izuku, my boy, can you please…?"
"I don't wanna." A tiny voice mutters petulantly against his throat. "I like you. Can I stay?"
Don't tempt me.
"Now, now," Toshinori racks his head for ideas. "That's not nice. I'm sure your mother and father miss you. You don't want to make them feel bad, right?"
Green eyes peek from behind green curls. There's an expression on Izuku's face that Toshinori can't quite grasp. It's tired and nervous -emotions that he doesn't think a boy his age should be experiencing.
Now he looks closer, there was something off about the child. Why did he look so familiar-
This time he catches it. A sputter of sparks appears on the child's fingers, the little burst of color -a curious mixture of silver, green and purple- dissipating just as quickly.
Wait.
It looked like…fire.
Just like that, things clicked in place.
Oh.
Shit.
He recognized this kid. This was Endeavor's kid.
Oh dear. That is all he thinks as he holds the green haired boy closer and looks around, silently panicking as he looks for the fiery hero.
Maybe if he returned the child fast enough-
"I'll like it if you gave me back my son."
Toshinori couldn't remember a time when Endeavor had ever sounded so frosty.
Slowly, he turns around.
Todoroki Enji stands in front of him, arms crossed and somehow looming despite the few inches Toshinori had on him. The flames on his skin had spread across his face, dangerously close to his clothes and nearly forming the familiar mane of orange-red flames he cloaked himself with while in his hero costume.
In short, he looks ready to fry Toshinori on the spot, and he can't really fault him for that.
The other Todoroki child was at his side; the dual haired boy from before was standing besides his father, arms crossed, eyes narrowed towards Toshinori -who was starting to feel a bit exposed under that scrutinizing glare.
How old was this child, to make such a dangerous expression?
A sharp noise made him turn his gaze back to Endeavor. The Todoroki patriarch extends an arm, a hand nearly large enough to hold Izuku with ease reaching for the child.
Reluctantly, he hands him over.
Izuku is even more quiet during the transfer. Toshinori follows the way Endeavor curls his arm under the child and keeps him close to his chest. The action looks strangely empty to his eyes -there's a detachment between the father and his son. Izuku doesn't look that comfortable in his father's arms.
Toshinori coughs discreetly. It was not his place to gossip about what he didn't know.
"Of course." He says as Izuku is transfered. "Izuku was no bother."
"He won't do it again." Endeavor promises with gritted teeth.
Toshinori winces.
Thankfully, that seems to be it. The flaming hero turns around and walks off, the dual haired child trotting obediently at his side. And Izuku-
Well.
The boy waves at him shyly from over Endeavor's shoulder.
Hesitantly, Toshinori waved back.
At his response, the green haired child's face turns redder than a tomato and he curls inward, tucking his face behind his hands. Even from where he stood, his ears pick up the tiny squeak.
It's disarmingly adorable. Toshinori couldn't stop smiling even if he tried.
.
.
.
Endeavor keeps him in his sights for the rest of the evening. A looming shadow that presses down his spine, steadily wearing him down at the hours passed.
Shouto makes sure this time that he stays close. His grip on Izuku's arm is almost painful.
Izuku doesn't like his silence.
He hates it even more when they reach home.
The front door closing behind them feels like a finality. Izuku was hyper aware of Shouto standing next to him, pale fingers digging into his side. Silent terror exudes from him. It's the most frightened Izuku had seen his older brother, counting that night.
Was this going to be a repeat?
His scar aches.
He wants to cover it with his hand, but a innate instinct keep him still -as if it would spare him from what was ahead.
Endeavor doesn't scream as he walks past them and goes to stand in front of the boys. He doesn't shout, he doesn't press into Izuku's personal space and leave him terrified and breathless. He doesn't even send him to his room.
But somehow, what he tells the green haired boy is far worse than anything he could have done.
"You can forget about the letters."
A ice cold spear of ice stabs into Izuku's gut.
Oh.
Oh god no.
It digs deeper when the man turns around and start walking away.
He's not thinking when he throws himself forward, rushing after his father -no, he couldn't do this, he worked so hard to make that letter Endeavor couldn't just-
In his panic, he stumbles and trips over his own two legs, falling to his knees on the hard wooden floor.
At the sound of his cry, his father paused, turning around to look at him. Unimpressed. Embarrassment was a bitter pill for Izuku to swallow, but it was overshadowed by the terror lighting up every single one of his nerves like a electric storm.
Endeavor looks down at him like he's a worm. Izuku feels his face burn at he picks him up.
"Give me one good reason to let you have this after the complete and utter embarrassment you were today."
There were many things he could say.
I didn't mean to-
I just saw him-
I needed to know if he was just like y-
Izuku wants to say all of these things. He wants to let them all out to his father -let out the pain that Touya's truth had put in him. But the words clog in his throat as they form and the only thing that leaves his lips is a panicked string of noises that barely passes as apologies.
Even if it was coherent, Todoroki Enji is not one for apologies. He's a practical man. He favours explanation. There's nothing he could give to him that would be satisfactory, and he knew it.
The tears ran freely down Izuku's face as he stares at the ground, ashamed. He squeezes his eyes shut. So much for his letters.
I'm sorry, mom.
"It was my fault."
Izuku's eyes snap open.
Shouto, no.
Like a predator assessing newly spotted prey, Endeavor slowly tilted his head towards the dual haired boy at Izuku's left. Pinned in place by fear and the loud beat of his heart in his ears, Izuku could only watch as Shouto took a step forward -placing himself slightly in front of him.
"Your fault." Endeavor drawls, the way he said it feeling like nails on chalkboard. His tone was quiet, contemplating. Not cold, but neither furious. "It was your fault that he ran off, you say?"
There it was again, that strange calm tone.
Izuku can't breathe.
The last time he'd heard it -the last time it was directed at him -his shaking right hand grabs onto the nonexistent scar on his arm. He grips it tight enough to hurt. He tries to make a sound of warning to his brother, to warn him because Shouto hadn't been there last time, he hadn't seen what their father was capable of.
But Shouto doesn't listen. He stand defiantly in front of their father, looking absolutely diminutive next to the giant of a man that was Todoroki Enji.
"Yes."
Like a train wreck in slow motion, Izuku can't look away.
Not as Endeavor's face twists into something almost inhuman in nature.
Not as his open hand connects with his brother's scarred cheek.
Shouto hits the ground at his feet. He barely grunts when his failing limbs fall to the floor, likely jolting his bruises from yesterday's training. Izuku felt the impact of the blow down to his bones -a mere reflection of a slap that should have been meant for him, not his older brother.
For a moment, nobody moves.
The silence hangs over them.
"Your fault? Truly?" Endeavor's voices rings out quietly through the main hall. Izuku's blood runs cold. "Are you sure about that, Shouto?"
He's giving you an out, Izuku wants to scream. Take it.
(But he knows just how stubborn his brother is.)
He watches as the shock of red and white hair lifts from the floor. Shouto glares through the fringe of hair over his eyes, mismatched orbs burning. As expected, he drags himself to his feet and plants himself once more between Izuku and Endeavor.
His head is slightly tilted to the side, allowing Izuku to see the bloody grimace and the bared teeth.
"Yes."
The word was stated with Shouto's characteristic quiet flatness, but it sounds so loud in Izuku's ears when stated in the silent room.
Their father's lips twitches. The muscles of his left arm tense; Izuku sees the rage reaching another boiling point. He was going to hit Shouto again.
And at that moment, he realizes that he can't allow it to happen. This was wrong. His brother should not have to bear the weight mistakes.
So, he moves.
It's not the first time he stepped between two people.
It's the first time he does it against a adult.
What he feels when he steps pass Shouto is not the same apprehension that gnawed deep in his guts when he stood up to Kacchan. The fear he feels at the sight of his father -a fully trained, high ranked pro-hero- towering over him is overshadowed by a ball of pent up emotions he never could fully unwrap. Bitterness and resentment born from a older sibling's words.
Despite his terror, despite the very real danger of what he is doing, Izuku digs his feet and bares his teeth at the man.
Lets him see the defective thing he'd brought into his home.
"Enough."
(He can almost feel Touya's rage rolling through his flesh, molding with his own into a sharp needle point of intent. It's too much, overflowing and overpowering, and he can barely reign the heat in.)
Endeavor, surprisingly, stops, expression shifting to something guarded and indescribable. He stands there, silent, the flames on his skin betraying the still boiling fury beneath his stillness by flickering like a wildfire. His hand hangs in the air; Izuku eyes it like it's a boulder atop of a cliff, ready to come crashing down on their heads.
The blow never comes.
Instead, they stand there in silence, gazing at each other. Shouto is silent behind him, but Izuku can sense his warmth only a scant few inches from his back.
He refuses to turn around to check on his older brother, for fear that if he looks away from his father, the man would finish what he started. Grab him by the arm and burn the other one, too. Or toss him outside. Or punch him like he'd done to Shouto. Or…
Not knowing was terrifying.
But nothing comes.
No more blows, no more shouting.
Just staring -a silent exchange that is only broken when Izuku notices the purple-white reflection in his father's eyes.
Izuku looks down.
His fire is hovers over his flesh; long tongues of dark colored flames weaving together unnaturally like the threads of fabric, forming a barrier between himself, his sibling and Endeavor. The black coloring that was characteristic of his Quirk was still there, but it was darker somehow, less smoky see through and more-
Endeavor shifts on his feet. The flames shift alongside him, squirming against Izuku's shirt; purple rippling to form long points. Silver shone from the inside of the fire.
...solid.
Izuku swallows slowly at the sight. He can't think, torn between the confusion at the sight of his Quirk reacting like this and the adrenaline of the confrontation.
Unsure, he looks up to his father. Endeavor's expression was the same, but there was something slightly different -something he couldn't quite grasp, but he could see the contemplative glint in those aquamarine eyes the longer they gaze at the interlocked flames separating him from his children.
For a moment, Izuku thinks his father was going to set his Quirk aflame. Swallow up all the black and silver with Hellflame's vibrant orange, just like that time in the training room. Izuku remembers the pain well. He braces himself for the pain, ignoring how his legs shake under him and his skin feels cold and clammy.
The fire shifts again like water.
Broad, sloppily interlocking panels replace the tiny jagged spires. Silver gleams around the edges. The wooden floor buckles under the heat, darkening. Izuku's chest twines with a familiar pain.
Too much.
And Endeavor is still inexplicably quiet, gazing down at him silently.
Slowly, his hand lowers. Drops at his side. The creases around his eyes slacken -the flickering flames cool to something more tamed, more manageable. It's only when he takes a step back that Izuku feels the tight little ball in himself slacken to something more bearable.
He allows himself to breathe again.
"You won't do that again. Do you hear?"
Izuku lowers his head meekly, but he doesn't take his eyes off his father, wary.
"Yes." The words taste stale in his mouth.
Despite this, his flames don't budge from in front of him.
"And you." Their father's gaze turns away from Izuku. He feels Shouto go stiff behind him, breath hitching, fear breaking through the stoic barrier. "You will surpass All Might with my Quirk." Endeavor says quietly. His eyes are looking past Izuku -to Shouto. "My blood -my fire runs through your veins. I won't accept anything less."
A pause. That burning gaze shifts to Izuku.
He has to fight not to throw up.
"Don't do this again. Last warning." Endeavor rumbles. His eyes look down, to the unnatural fire. "Put that out." He says, sharply.
And Izuku does.
From the corner of his eyes, he notices with a inner wince the scorched wood. There's a curved burn mark where his fire had risen up.
Endeavor doesn't seem to be bothered by the damage. Instead, he spins around and stomps away, each of his steps making the earth shake. Izuku 's legs quiver.
I stood up to him. He thinks numbly.
They give out when their father is gone from sight.
"Izuku!" He hears his brother hiss at his side. Shouto peers down at him, looking at him in concern. "Are you alright?" He asks quietly, eyes darting to the hallway his father had just left through. The lights were out, so they could not see very far into the building.
He can't answer.
For Izuku, it felt like Todoroki Enji was still there, lurking, waiting for him to turn his back and make himself vulnerable.
Shouto's hands rest on his shoulder and back, shaking him slightly and oh look, he was trembling. And here he thought it only happened when his Quirk was low on fuel.
Maybe he was on his way there, after the stunt he'd just pulled.
"Izu..?"
"I'm fine." He croaks. Then he remembers how much his sibling hates that word, so he explains. "I'm not hurt. I'm good. Tired. But good."
Silence.
They both stare at the half-crescent mark at their feet. The hollow feeling in Izuku's chest is overshadowed by the spreading numbness he feels as his mind replays what just occurred.
"I did that." Izuku mutters. He turns his head towards Shouto, who returned his stare. "I did that." He repeated, once more.
He still couldn't believed. Had his father thought he would -no, not that. It was impossible. Endeavor could have canceled his flames with his own.
And yet he didn't.
"Yes."
"He.." Izuku halts, hesitating. "I thought he was going to burn me." He admits quietly.
Shouto's lips pressed thin. "I thought so too." Izuku didn't need to look at him to know he was staring at his nearly-unblemished arm.
They grow quiet again.
The house feels too big around them. The walls stretch high above their heads, looming. It's too dark. Too big.
"Let's go." Shouto says abruptly, lifting him to his feet. Izuku obediently lets him drag him down the sleeping quarters.
"...yeah."
(He doesn't know it at the time, but a seed of rebellion had been planted in Shouto's mind.)
I swear I'm not turning Izuku into a villain. If anything happens that's Touya's fault.
I really hated writing that last section. It really pained me to rollback most of Endeavor's progression towards being a functioning human being and a father, but for the sake of the story and his character development it had to be done. All Might is frankly -and it puts a bitter taste in my mouth using the term this way- Endeavor's trigger. That's the one subject that absolutely pisses him off.
Man, Shouto is going to give him so much shit. Prepare for sass.
Izuku's not going to take his crap forever either.
Also, you might have noticed a new aspect of Izuku's Quirk ;) By now some of you might realize where I'm going with it -at least part of it. Izuku's fire is fire purely in appearance -it's a hybrid of Inko's pull ability and Endeavor's Hellflame, so it kinda gives the middle finger to the laws of physics if it's color wasn't enough of a clue.
Psh, if you read this last scene carefully, you'll notice another aspect of Izuku's Quirk. It's very very faint, you'll have to squint to notice it. Have fun :)
And don't worry, someone's gonna get to punch Endeavor.
Just because I want a redemption arc for him doesn't mean I won't put him through the wringer.
Ayy now that's done, I got a 500 word paper to do for *checks time * midnight ay. So in 5 hours. Shit no 4. Fuck.