Stygian Fire

by GreenFrisbee1

Izuku's Quirk manifest at the tender age of five. It's strange that he would have a fire Quirk given what his mother's Quirk is, but he chalks it up to genetics on his father's side. A week later, there's a (familiar) stranger in the kitchen, and everything changes.

8. Chapter 8

Holy shit.

Holy.

Shit.

This is 50 pages long. MY SANITY.

I love the fact I wanted to just make 20 pages max with this chapter, but it's 50+. Fuck me I have no self control.

If anything is missing just tell me, I'm a bit crosseyed from rereading the same 54 ish pages over and over again. There's a lot that was trimmed down from the initial cut, so ayy. I want to curl up and cry.

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Okaa-san,

Again, thank you for the shoes. They're much nicer than the ones I have. Well, not by pri -not that it has anything to do with it! I think maybe because they're from you?

I'll shut up now.

Not much has changed since my last letter. Things could be different. Shouto and father fight a lot. I can hear them even from the garden. Sometimes Natsuo joins in. Usually Fuyumi takes me to her room or I go to my second bedroom, like you suggested.

I don't like them shouting, but maybe they need to let it out somehow. Maybe I'm blabbering, but I don't think it's a good idea to keep that anger in. Or bottled? Is that the word?

Isn't Kacchan's birthday coming up soon? Father doesn't want me to go, but...well, I wish I could at least get him something. Maybe some training gear, since you said that's most of what he spends his days doing? I don't think it's healthy, though.

Love,

Midoriya Izuku.

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Izuku,

I'm glad you enjoyed my gift. Don't forget to take off all your clothes before you start napping, young boy! Honestly, I think you could burn the whole house down and sleep through it.

I don't like this. Enji is the adult in this situation, he shouldn't be shouting at children. I worry sometimes at what you say. I know he's your father, and he's the best suitable person to train your Quirk… but there are limits.

Is Shouto still…? Of course he is. Stubborn boy. I know it's not the best advice, but just be there for him, okay? He might not communicate it, but he needs your support. Even if what he's doing is wrong.

Why don't you send a letter to Katsuki beforehand? I'm sure he would like it. He doesn't say it, but I'm certain that he misses you. In his own, sort of constipated way. Those were Mitsuki's words, not mine. She likes looking over my shoulder while I write.

With much love,

Midoriya Inko

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Okaa-san,

I'm working on it! Controlling what I burn or don't burn is hard. I think I have a subconscious predisposition to chewing on clothes. Or maybe my Quirk does? The Quirk Specialist father took me to for registration told us it's because my Quirk reacts in a reflection of my mental and emotional state, but honestly I think it's just the shoes. They had a spot at the heel where they dug into my feet no matter what kind of socks I put on.

Father tries buying me fireproof clothes, but so far there's not much I can't accidentally burn. You should have seen what I did to one of the decorative boulders in the garden last fall. I don't remember it too well since I had a cold, but according to Natsuo and Fuyumi I sneezed and it caught fire.

I set a rock. On fire.

I still don't get how I managed to do that...

I know, you're right. Maybe Father should not be yelling. Or maybe he should. It's been a few years but I still don't get how this works. I've got a spine -or is it grown a spine?- overtime, but sometimes it gets into my skin. I'm not that scared anymore, just tired. Weary.

I wish there was less shouting and more getting along.

I know you're saying I should be there for my brother, but in all honesty… being around Shouto has been challenging. I don't think I should say a lot about it, it's not my place, but I think what he's doing is just hurting everyone involved -including himself.

At least we still talk. I don't think I could pull through without him.

You mean, send another letter? You told me what happened last two times. I don't think he will hesitate tossing this one into the fireplace again, or setting it on fire himself. You mean well, mom, but I don't think Kacchan wants to see me. Ever.

Maybe it's better that way.

Love,

Midoriya Izuku.

PS: Hi Aunt Mitsuki! How are you doing! Is Uncle Masaru doing okay? I hope Kacchan isn't driving you up the walls.

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Izuku,

Have you thought about meditating more? I know the Quirk Specialist suggested it, but maybe you should include it more actively in your schedule. It might benefit you more than just training. Quirks are part of you, they need to be treated as just another muscle. I'm sure you'll learn to control it soon. I know you won't rest until then -but don't take that as my blessing to literally do that, young man!

A rock? Oh my.

It's been a long time since I've had a physics class, but I don't think that's how it works. Honey, I don't think that's how any of this works.

Did that man ever pick up a parenting book, or did he leave his wife and servants to do everything for him?! Yelling will only lead to more yelling. Aggression to more aggression. He's not improving the situation by escalating it.

I'm sorry you have to put up with that. You're a child, you shouldn't have to see your father, the Number Two Hero, acting like a child having a tantrum. Yes Enji Todoroki, if you are reading this -which you probably are- you stop that unless you want me to come over with a lawyer.

I knows it's a lot to ask Izuku, but that's the only thing you can do for Shouto. Provide support. Be there. Maybe you'll wear him down over time.

Mitsuki had a bit of a meltdown when Katsuki tossed your letters, especially when he did it without even opening them. She did manage to save the one he threw into the fireplace, but he still refuses to look at it. Disheartening I know honey, but he'll come around. Katsuki has been through a lot. He didn't take to you leaving well, though he denies it vehemently. Mitsuki has been trying to get him to chin up, but even she can't do miracles. He needs time.

As for me, I had enough time. Your letter idea was wonderful -look how well you can write!- but it pains me sometimes to keep this going. I can't wait to have you in my arms again. I love you.

Love,

Midoriya Inko.

Mitsuki's Note: Brat! You better be doing well, I don't want none of the shit that happened two years ago! Do you realize how much tissue Inko went through when she learned you landed in the hospital?

And I haven't broken my husband yet, if anything it's my blonde rat that is doing it for me!

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Okaa-san,

You're right. I should. The faster I can get a hold of my Quirk, the less excuse Father has to keep me from visiting. I'll get started on it right away. Thanks for the tip!

Who knows, maybe Shouto can join me. Isn't meditation supposed to help in this kind of things? I hope so. I don't know what to do anymore.

The thing is...I've been around Shouto like you suggested. I tried talking to him, I tried consoling him -nothing works! He knows I don't support what he's doing. Nowadays I just avoid the topic altogether. I don't want him getting mad at me. He has a way of...holding on to his anger? It just stays there. For a long time.

He is good at holding grudges.

Please don't set Auntie Mitsuki on Kacchan, I don't think their house will survive it. Or Uncle Masaru's blood pressure. Just...be with him. Try to get him to lay off training, okay? I know I've said it before, but it's not healthy.

...I miss you too, mom. I love you.

The day we meet again can't come soon enough.

Love,

Midoriya Izuku.

PS: You don't have to remind me, Auntie! I feel bad enough already about that. I know mom says it's father's fault for not telling her right away but still.

...when did I ask if you were breaking Uncle Masaru? Wait. Nevermind. I'll shut up before you show up at the gates and start throwing toilet paper at the house. You would do it in the spirit of being 'the fun aunt' though I'm sure you're the only one I have, so that's redundant...

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It's the joyful songs of the cicadas that gradually draws him out of his slumber.

The coalbed shifts around his body as he pulls himself out, bare feets stepping onto the sand around the pit. The soft ground shifted under his weight, sand and ash dripping from his skin as he climbed up the step and onto the main floor of the room.

Yawning, he ambles towards a open dresser and throws on his clothes before heading towards the door, flicking the last specks of dust out of his hair messily. Stepping outside, he sighs as the sun's warm rays hit his face. His eyes close in bliss, and he hum low in his throat as the skin of his feet soak up the warmth of the wood terrace.

Wind sweeps through green locks. The calls of the cicadas reach a crescendo.

"Awake?"

Izuku hums in acknowledgment, not opening his eyes. The sun was just too comfortable. "You didn't have to wait, you know." He opens his eyes and looks towards where his sibling was laying. Half Hot, Half Cold caused Shouto's temperature fluctuate unevenly on both his sides, making his heat signature unique and easy to sense.

"I don't mind." Shouto tells him from where he sat cross-legged on the terrace floor. The dual-haired fringe of hair falls over his face, partially shielding his equally mismatched eyes that were half-lidded with lassitude. "I didn't want to stay in the house."

Izuku pinched his lips.

So he's working from home today.

Sighing, he walks over and flops down next to his older sibling. Shouto accepts his presence promptly, tugging him closer.

They lay against each other on the porch, quietly basking in the summer heat like lizards; Shouto's assignment forgotten to the side in a messy pile of papers, books and pens. Green eyes lazily tracked an ant skittering across the papers, looking for food.

With a upward tug of his lips, he wiggles to rest his head on his sibling's upper legs. Shouto did the same, leaving them curled up in a pile of limbs soaking up the sun. The cicadas continue to sing in the background, their loud song combined with the summer heat and the general isolation of their location lulling the two eight year olds into relaxing.

For anyone else, the heat would have been unbearable. It would have left them a sweaty, ugly mess, red faced and quick to run for some shade or even more blessed cold water. In the best case scenario, a room with a air conditioner they could hibernate in until the stifling heat ebbed down.

For Shouto and Izuku, it was quite the opposite. Instead they revelled in the heat, finding themselves filled with a heavy energy that left them sleepy and lazy -and here on the porch of Izuku's second bedroom, they were away from prying eyes. It was just the two of them, lost and content amidst the summer heat and the sounds of nature, where they could let their walls down and leave their worries behind to melt like ice cream under the summer sun.

After years of practice Shouto's ice side kept him from overheating, providing his body with the means of maintaining his temperature at optimal levels. He smelled clean and fresh to his brother, who found comfort in the mixture of his scent and the smell of the earth coming from the massive garden. The coolness of his right side kept him sweat-free and mildly warm at touch, which was good when the brothers descended into a cuddle pile in the sweltering weather.

Izuku wasn't nearly as graceful with his solution against the blistering heat.

Styxfire demanded a lot from his body and that included warmth -it left him seeking it at every opportunity, eager to soak up energy for his voracious Quirk to store. As such the sun bearing down on him was much needed bliss; another opportunity to revitalize himself without having to expend much effort. He quietly enjoyed this recharge, less effective than consuming fuel by burning but no less refreshing, especially with the comforting presence of his older sibling against him.

Over the years, Shouto's fluctuating temperature had become as comforting as his mother's gifts.

Izuku drags his fingers through his brother's hair gently, enjoying the softness of the mismatched hair. At the familiar touch Shouto makes a low noise at the back of his throat and shifts against him, tucking his face into Izuku's stomach. His nose is cold against his shirt; Izuku barely fights down the instinctive flinch at the half hearted prank.

"Did you finish your work?" He asks instead.

The grumble he gets is incoherent, but enough to give him an idea.

Izuku smiles fondly. "You know that's going to come back to you later."

Shouto grunts wordlessly against his shirt. Izuku pokes him in the side in response. A single blue eye pops open to glare halfheartedly at him.

"I have time." The dual haired boy finally mutters. "We got at least four hours until the tutor gets here."

Having gotten what he wanted, Izuku closes his eyes again and melts once more against the floor. Shouto's breath felt warm against his shirt.

It didn't matter to them what they looked like, messy and barefoot on the porch, quietly whispering to each other as the cicadas continued to sing for them.

It hadn't for years.

Not since that night.

Looking back, it had been a mercy that Endeavor hadn't taken his letter privileges. Now that he was older, Izuku knew better. It hadn't been just their confrontation, or his fire rising up to protect him; there was no way Midoriya Inko would accept her son being completely cut off from her again.

His mother was strong.

It was the only reason she had lasted for so long. The only reason he had, too.

"Think he'll let us go out?" He thinks out loud as he fiddles with the edges of Shouto's shirt.

"Depends." Silence hovers over them as Shouto weights his open question. A bird crows in the distance. "-if we can behave at the next galla. Especially you."

Izuku chuckles fondly. "I haven't done anything wrong in months."

"Sure." Shouto's response reeked of dry sarcasm.

"...says the one who broke that expensive statue at the Minister's ball."

"It was in the way." A pause. Shouto shifts, resting his chin on Izuku's hip. "...and we both agreed it was ugly."

And it made him mad.

"He would have torn my head off if I did that."

"No." Shouto replies quietly, eyes fluttering as if he was about to go to sleep. "He likes you."

Izuku snorts. "He doesn't."

"Yes he does."

"Maybe it's because I put effort in my training." Izuku interjects gruffly.

Mouth, meet foot.

He knows immediately that he shouldn't have said that. He knows. But like many things, it seemed to slip out when it was most inconvenient. Stupid Deku. Stomach churning with nerves, Izuku sneaks a glance towards his brother, but Shouto keeps his gaze on the garden, deliberately ignoring his stare.

Izuku's mouth opens to reply -then stop when he takes in the way his brother's shoulders were slightly hunched, and his expression was tighter, less relaxed than before. More shielded. Less relaxed like he should be, on this rare time of peace.

Now's not the time. Izuku decides. Accepting defeat, he tilts his head back and rests it on Shouto's legs.

As time passes, he feels Shouto relax back against him, the tension easing away for slumber. The cicadas continue singing. The summer sun bears down on Izuku's face and his eyelids flutter shut.

(It didn't feel as warm as before, though.)

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Izuku vividly remembers the first time his brother refused to use his left side.

How could he not?

That day, he'd thought the roof would collapse from the volume of his father's voice.

As the screams and yells rained down, he'd backed himself in a corner of the training room, fire sputtering and twisting nervously within himself, wanting to come out and engulf him in a protective shell.

Rarely he'd heard the man be so furious.

But much more than Endeavor's enraged yells, Izuku remembered the way his brother stood in front of their father, absolutely tiny in front of the mammoth of a man who was shouting and pointing at him. His face closed and blank, his eyes slightly narrowed. A stealthy, determined gleam inhabited them. A quiet strength that would not bend.

Izuku most of all remembered how fearlessly Shouto had replied:

"No."

That day was the second time their father raised a hand towards Shouto.

His brother had carried that black eye for the rest of the week, and the one after that. Izuku remembered hovering over him, hesitant to touch the bruises, murmuring quietly to his brother if it hurt we should put cream on it let's ask Fuyumi-

But Shouto had refused all of it. Calmly, with that ever-present stoicness that characterised his sibling since the day they'd met, he told Izuku that he wouldn't put anything over the bruise.

"I want him to see it." He'd revealed to him with fervor in the quiet hours of the night, two days after the training session that had seen their father stomping out of the house. The purpling around his right eye nearly matched the scarring on his left. "I want to remind him."

(He never said it didn't hurt.)

It's not the last time it happens.

Still, Shouto gets up, again and again. Unbending, he looks at their father in the eyes and tells him no, I will not, even as Endeavor looms over him, snarling like a beast, too lost in his rage to register what he's doing. Too caught up in what Izuku had long learned were bitter dreams and hopes of a man that tied to much to a numbered spot for so long that he'd lost sight of the meaning.

Eventually after two consecutive weeks of quiet, forceful no, Endeavor relents.

To this day, Izuku isn't sure if he's amazed or horrified.

To deny a part of yourself like that -it was akin to cutting off a limb. Izuku didn't know if it was because of his own circumstances having to adjust part of his everyday routine to his demanding Quirk, but the first time he realized that Shouto quite clearly wanted to spend his entire life never using his fire it had made him feel sick. A rolling nausea that could only be compared to when his body ate itself in a attempt to feed Styxfire.

Trying to make his point to Shouto always earned him a dark stare, gritted teeth and a closed door. Nights spent alone in bed, in the dark, quietly attempting to sleep while he imagined Endeavor standing in the doorway or fire licking at his bed covers or Touya leaning over him, cold turquoise eyes free from their mask glaring down-

...those were restless nights.

Shouto always came back in the end. He forgave -in his own grumpy, sort of disgruntled way, like a cat returning home after their owner dropped them in a vat of water. Not in words, but as breakfast warmed up before Izuku got to the kitchen or a sweet fruit stolen from the pantry to share in the second bedroom or spreading burn cream on his blisters after training.

Given this, while Izuku felt horrified that his brother was walking down this path, he knew he had to fold. For all of his wishes that things were different, that he could get the older boy to change his mind, deep down he understood the bitter resolve that was spurning Shouto forward.

In a way, it was the same bitterness he'd seen in Touya's eyes two years ago.

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They're not normal children.

It's something they all know, deep down.

There's a invisible barrier between Izuku and Shouto Todoroki and their siblings; a understanding that keeps them at arm's length of each other. Fuyumi and Natsuo had their place in the family but with their father being who he was, there was simply a bigger importance placed on the two youngest -not that the only daughter and the second oldest son weren't important in their own right, but there was an expectation placed upon Izuku and Shouto that they did not bear.

And this split worked, somehow.

Izuku was a accident and Shouto was a carefully constructed masterpiece yet somehow, they clicked together like a puzzle. Two pieces that needed each other to stay in balance. Shouto's abrasive, confrontational nature -inherited from his father, no matter how much he denied it- was softened by Izuku's quiet, more calculative personality.

Together, they grew strong. Stronger than children their age had any right to be. Because at the age of nine, this was what Shouto could do:

He could make razor sharp spears of ice capable of impaling a fully grown person.

He could make a small glacier that overtook most of the garden.

He could turn a perfectly normal summer weather into a tiny snow day over their heads. It didn't last long, but it was enough to bury part of the Todoroki estate under in pile of snow.

He could encase himself in his Quirk, and come out with only a mild case of hypothermia.

Skating on ice was practically second nature to him; he took to it like a duck to water and no matter the shoes he wore, he never slipped.

During particularly hot days, he likes to use his ice to create slides, or make little baubles of ice to slip into their drinks.

When he was feeling particularly bored, he would spend his time making little sculptures of ice, which he left to melt and leave a sloppy mess where he believed the most likely for the Todoroki Patriarch to find. He'd long since perfected the art.

Todoroki Shouto was not the only one who'd grown and flourished over the years.

At the age of nine, this was what Todoroki Izuku could do:

He could set anything around ablaze with flames so dark they seemed to devour light, and reduce it to ashes in less time than it took you to blink. Even a graze could leave you with a nasty second degree burn. Full contact with the fire left the target as dust.

He could weave obsidian fire into great spheres of black and silver flames and launch them with moderate accuracy -and adjust their trajectory from a distance. It's not the only shape the lethal projectiles could take as the boy had taken a page out of his father's book; sometimes he formed instead sharpened spears that could cleave through several feet of thick cement.

He could step into the intense heat of his Quirk and come out unharmed, with only mild damage to his clothes. As of yet, there was nothing his flames could not consume.

Wood, glass, dirt, rock -anything and everything could be consumed.

It didn't mean his Quirk didn't look for other ways to recharge however. For example particularly cold days, Izuku liked to take a big wool blanket and huddle next to the fireplace in the family foyer. Sometimes he even curls up directly in it, limbs all tucked in and curled up in a little ball amongst the coals sapping the warmth and heat from the black flames like a lizard.

When he does that, there's little use trying to get him out of the foyer -even if he has a perfectly usable, bigger one built for this very same use. Trying to poke him awake with one of the iron pokers generally resulted with the flames reaching out and leaving the unfortunate Todoroki holding just a handle.

Trust everyone in the household. Beside Touya who couldn't even bother sticking around, they'd all been through it at least once.

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Not all times spent training were bad.

Sometimes Endeavor wasn't there to train them. Often enough, this due to work. There were cases that took him away from the Todoroki household for days, leaving the house empty of his overwhelming presence and sharp demands.

Those were the days Izuku's fingers itched to write down notes and Styxfire squirmed in his gut, wiggling like a happy snake with the desire to pull things in, consume them and reassemble that material within its host in the metaphorical furnace that kept Izuku alive. Those were the times he was free to test, create and come up with new ways to use his fire that didn't require him directly using it on his targets.

Even after two years Styxfire had yet to not burn something beyond repair each time Izuku tried to use it offensively.

It's not like Izuku hadn't tried to find an solution to this, however.

No matter how hard he tried, he still wasn't able to replicate what he did that night, when he'd stood alongside Shouto and refused to back down. The Quirk Specialist -a middle aged man Izuku couldn't even pick the name out of a list even if he tried because it was just too long and who even needed that many titles- told his father it was a matter of age, not power, and that his flames would stabilize as he matured.

Endeavor was having none of it, but what else was new.

Izuku was skeptic himself. He'd read extensively about it, but this 'maturing' effect applied to elemental Quirks, not...whatever he had. Because Styxfire was not a elemental Quirk. It was a emitter, but it wasn't an elemental Quirk like Shouto's or Endeavor's.

Elemental Quirks were classified by how they manifested non-organic things commonly found in nature -rocks, fire, water, air, plants- Styxfire didn't act like any of them, so despite its appearance similar to flames it could not be labelled as one. Not when it defied or blatantly broke most physics laws.

While daunting, Izuku was determined to make it work.

He couldn't train his Quirk like Shouto, but that didn't mean he couldn't push his Quirk to the limits using what he learned from his father. He just needed...practice. And experience.

But for now, lots of practice.

And paper.

And some imagination.

Special moves, Izuku had learned the name from his father. Techniques improved and perfected over time, aimed for a specific goal. To rescue civilians, defeat villains or simply improve your standing in combat.

Unfortunately for him, the sheer lethalness of his Quirk for everyone -himself included- made it so he had to use a lot of imagination to work around this problem. He practically had an entire notebook devoted to just his Quirk.

They're training out in the yard without supervision, sweat rolling down their backs and making their clothes stick to their skin when inspiration finally strikes Izuku like a bolt of lightning. His mouth moves before the thought fully forms:

"Think I can fly?"

Shouto turns to him, eyebrow raised. The sharp-ridged ice formation he was practicing forming in quick burst gleamed under the sunlight behind him like a giant, unpolished diamond. There's a thin sheen of ice on the unscarred side of his brother's face. It shimmers like polished glass.

Quirk Strain. It makes Izuku's heart squeeze. He hated the strange, jealous feeling in his gut that came alongside it. His brother was lucky….how could he not see it?

Would it kill you to at least use it so you don't get hypothermia?

"What?" Shouto's voice drags him back to the present.

"With fire." Izuku explains softly, mind returning to his idea as he squints down at his hands. "Do you think I can launch myself in the air, like father does when he chases villains?"

There's a nonvocal grunt of disapproval in response. Izuku fails to hide his wince at it. Right. Despite this, he continues, too energized by this new idea:

"I think I might be able to do it. O-or something like it. I could propel myself as if I have a jetpack!" The more he thought about it, the better it sounded in his head.

Shouto's responding maybe was a wonderful contribution to the conversation. Oh well.

While his older sibling categorically refused to, Izuku watched a lot of Endeavor's fights on the news. Given the sheer amount of them though, he only noted down the ones which seemed worthwhile enough -most importantly when his father used a interesting looking technique.

As much as he wished his sibling would join him, trying to get Shouto to sit on the couch alongside him while he studied the clips was a good way of getting a cold shoulder.

Sometimes, literally.

Thankfully, he would always return to his brother's good side with video clips of All Might. Fuyumi let them borrow her laptop half the time, so he had next to no issue digging up his favorite videos of the Number One Hero to show them to Shouto, who might not voice his happiness out loud but his eyes did this slight widening that made him look like an owl and that told Izuku that it was a job well done.

Using his flames as propulsion instead of using them directly was something he hadn't really considered, given that most of his training focused on manipulating his flames across the surrounding environment and trying and failing, quite spectacularly, at not burning things to ashes.

After two years, that was still his main obstacle.

A practically insurmountable wall he had been all but repeatedly bashing his head against.

At least, that's how it felt.

Get the temperature down, his father had gruffly told him once while they watched his fire gnaw on the remains of a target mannequin. Then I can teach you more.

Good advice there, dad. Izuku thinks sourly as he observes Shouto near effortlessly reform his small glacier, the sharp spikes arching up towards the sky softening into a flatter construct. It's a slide.

Was his brother training his mobility today?

Izuku looks down at his hands, watching the tiny black flames dancing in his palms. Testing, he make the fire in his right hand blace higher. Not enough to create a blaze, but just enough that there's some pushback, forcing his hand lower.

Okay, so it checks out. If he learned how to direct the flames, maybe he could apply this into something useful...

"...I can control the flames even after they leave my body, so I could use them as bursts to keep myself in the air. Maybe -like a rocket?" He mumbles under his breath. Flexing his hands, he reaches within himself to check on his reserves. Not even halfway down.

Good.

He could do this.

It shouldn't leave him passed out on the floor.

Worse case scenario, his brother leaves his smoking carcass in the sun to recharge.

Silver-black sparks burst from his fingertips as he snaps them together. Styxfire squirms under his skin, reaching curiosity. Izuku didn't have anything to feed his Quirk with him at the moment, so it would have to draw from his reserves.

Even after years had passed, he still feels unsettled by the hollowing sensation that came with using his Quirk in mass. Hopefully this time would not be one, the last batch of white coal Endeavor bought him was nearly halfway done already. The again who cared, his father had plenty of money to throw around and it wasn't like it was Izuku's fault that his Quirk was a mess-

Focus, nerd.

(Overtime he'd forgotten the blonde's voice, but he if he close his eyes and tries enough, he can imagine burning red eyes and a sharp-toothed grin.)

As if he had a sixth sense for him about to do something reckless, Shouto pauses in his ice-sculpting and turns to him. The ice on his skin is more pronounced. There's even mist when he speaks:

"What are you doing."

"Something." Izuku bends his knees and places his hands behind him. Styxfire dances around his palms, black and purple with only the faintest sparks of silver. Wait. He might fall over if he just does it like this. Izuku widens his stance for better footing. He aims away from the house and towards the garden -let it be at least a month since he last set the house on fire, please.

Shouto's voice barely cuts through the storm of thoughts swirling around Izuku's brain. "You're going to get yourself hurt."

Half indignant, half touched, Izuku tilts his head to the side to peer at his sibling.

"I know what I'm doing, oniisan." Izuku reassures him, taking several sharp breaths as he prepared himself. Shouto continued to look at him through half-lidded eyes, his expression not unlike the one he wore when Izuku decided that climbing onto the kitchen to reach the cabinet was a good idea.

In his defence, he only fell once.

And Natsuo caught him, so it wasn't like he got hurt.

"Just watch this!"

Unfortunately, Izuku overestimates how much he needs to take off the ground -because next thing he knows, he's launched straight into the koi pond.

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Half a hour later Izuku pokes at his bruises with a frown, hissing at the twinge of pain that came from the blooming red marks. God, even his back hurt, and he landed face first in the water. He was definitely was going to be black and blue by the time he went to sleep tonight.

Likely, it was going to be even worse tomorrow.

Training was going to be a pain in the next few days. Endeavor never let something as measly as bruises get in the way of work. The only time they were allowed to skip training was if they were sick or limping.

No exceptions.

Not feeling like it was not an excuse in this house.

Discreetly, Izuku sneaks a glance towards his sibling a few feet away. Shouto was sitting by the porch, the bottom of his pants still drying from when he'd fished his dazed sibling out of the water to keep him from drowning. A platter rests next to him, carrying a jug of cold tea and two glasses in which he'd served some of the amber drink.

Izuku watches as slim fingers gently circle around the rim of the glasses, ice forming on the surface and solidifying into small transparent spheres. There's even snowflake in them.

Izuku smiles, fond.

His brother always enjoyed creating small figures with his ice side. Few were the times he used his dual Quirk outside of training, and every moment was a sight to behold. Summer was a breeze when you had what essentially was a portable air conditioner as a sibling.

Too bad it wasn't as easy during winter.

Izuku squashes that familiar train of thought before it went anywhere. It was worthless to contemplate Shouto's choice at this moment. He already spent too much time trying to see his brother what he was doing was hurtful.

He had to focus on his own Quirk.

Which reminded him…

Taking his eyes off his brother, Izuku turns to the rest of the yard. There was a very small crater where he'd launched himself. Parts of the sandy gravel had turned into swirling black glass and it was still smoking. Izuku winces internally at the damage. It could be worse given how his Quirk acted on anything that wasn't him, but it was still a sufficiently large enough hole that his father was going to chew him out when he got home from work.

He halfheartedly pokes at a crumbled pebble with the tip his left shoe. It's already fragile structure compromised, it falls apart at the touch.

But it really could have been worse...

Green eyes shift to the koi pond. The water was almost clear again, showing the big rocks at the bottom.

A lot worse...

There was something nagging him about his wounds. He eyes the bigger, sharper rocks at the shallow end of the pond, where he had landed. The koi were all huddled on the other side of the tiny lake, still scared by the splash he'd made.

Definitively should have broken a bone or twisted something, Izuku thinks as he rolls his shoulders. The muscles ache, but it's nothing compared to the pain he should be in. He'd been thrown across the dojo by his father more than enough times to be familiar with this kind of damage. This doesn't add up.

Adding to this mystery, his Quirk reserves felt emptier than before. Like a large chunk had been used at once, or as if someone had reached in and siphoned away a sizable section. It's a uncomfortable feeling, and not one Izuku was used to -though it was faintly familiar.

In fact, it almost felt like-

That night.

Izuku hates the way his throat tightened at the memory. He takes a wavering but deep breath, trying to ease his nerves as he looks down to his hands. Could this be the answer he was looking for? Did he finally have an answer for what he'd done that night?

(But why now?)

Maybe he needed to have his reserves filled above a certain level to trigger it, alongside the emotional distress? They'd grown larger over the years and would likely be even bigger by the time he was of age to join Yuuei. Could that be the issue keeping him from using his Quirk to its full potential -and do something else than just set his training tools to ash and earn reproaches from his father?

But how could he replicate the trigger-

...wait.

(At the back of his head, there's a very tiny voice telling him he was going to regret this.)

"Oniisan." Izuku pauses as he calls out to his brother, who turns to him questioningly from where he'd been drinking some iced water on the patio. The other boy sets his drink down and ambles over, curious but silent. Izuku eyes the swimming koi, already mentally apologizing to them for the mental trauma he was about to put them through. Again. "I need to test something out."

He'll give them extra feed tomorrow morning.

The gardener certainly wasn't going to judge.

Hopefully.

"Throw me into the pond."

Shouto promptly sends him flying with a burst of ice.

.

.

.

Fuyumi has to get the gardener to drive him to the hospital for the broken arm.

.

.

.

Later, as he sits in bed doped up on medication, arm tender and ears still ringing from Endeavor's tongue lashing after the man came home only to rush to the nearby hospital to fill his release forms, Izuku pokes at the limb with pinched lips. The white cast feels hard and rough under his fingers. It's heavy too, looking almost enormous next to the rest of his body. Big, clunky and in the way.

He hates it.

He knows that it's going to be there just for a few days, but it didn't stop him from feeling vindictive. If it didn't keep his arm from flopping around like a wet noodle, he would have burned it off his limb already.

The sound of his bedroom door opening snaps him out of his thoughts. Twisting his neck towards the source of the noise, he spots through blurry eyes a weird blob with a splatter of white and red on top. There's no mistaking that particular mop of hair.

When his eyes finally adjust and he's able to see more clearly, Izuku can only wilt under his sibling's deadpan stare.

"You're mad at me."

"No." A pause. Then, flatter than ever. "You could have done that better."

At that moment, Izuku wants to duck under the blankets and just hide from that scrutinizing gaze. Shouto didn't even need to glare to get his point across.

The shame feels almost painful in his belly, a tight burn that had nothing to do with Styxfire.

"I'm sorry." Izuku mutters, tucking his head low to the point the blanket rose up over his nose. He looks at his brother with watery eyes. "I'm sorry Shouto, I shouldn't have told you to do that. You don't have to apologize-"

"I don't feel bad. It was your fault." Shouto said stoically, but by the slight crinkle of his nose, Izuku knew it was a half-lie. His older brother most often than not considered him to be his responsibility and while this worked both ways, the older boy was especially protective. "I just did what you asked. You would have done it yourself otherwise."

Izuku swallows.

"...right."

Silence.

Then:

"You're still a idiot."

Izuku groans and pulls the blanket over his head, signaling that the conversation was over.

.

.

.

For all his talk and bite, Shouto still sneaks him some fruit from the kitchen after hours as an apology. They're not allowed sweets in the house, but it tastes just as good if not better with his brother curled up at his side.

After a few years, it felt like this is where he belonged.

.

.

.

Three days later the cast is removed -thanks to the wonders of healing Quirks and deep, deep pockets- and Izuku is eager to jump right back into it.

His siblings are a bit more reluctant.

At least, Natsuo and Fuyumi are.

Shouto just follows after him, ready to help. Or to catch him. Or maybe to stop him from breaking another limb.

Either way, his presence was very much welcomed.

His neatly hidden worry didn't mean he was feeling Izuku's excitement. Worrying was part of his nature even if he didn't show it. Shouto, Izuku found, had his own brand of worrying, which translated to silently observing his every move for the next few days, following him around as if he expected Izuku to do something reckless again.

(Case in point, his current situation.)

Izuku was faintly aware how their definition of reckless might stray from what a normal person would define it. The training their father puts them through nearly every day had made sure of that. Bruises and twisted ankles were only temporary wounds -things to learn from. Physical pain such as that would no break them.

Over the years, they'd learned knew what each other could take.

Unhealthy, Natsuo had once called it.

Hey, it works, Izuku replied.

"Okay, let's try again."

Standing back straight and resolute in front of his brother, Izuku turns to his sibling, planting his feet wide on the ground and extending his arms on either side like a human-shaped starfish. He stands like this in the middle of the hallway to the dojo, defiant and very determined.

He wouldn't allow himself to fail another time.

"Hit me."

Shouto just looks at him. He's not outright walking out of this situation, but he looks close to.

"I know what I'm doing." More judgemental squinting. Clearly, his brother had fine tuned the art of making expressions without actually doing so. Izuku clears his throat, gathering up his courage before the flat stare made him fold. It wouldn't be the first time. "I want to test it out! Imagine if I can actually solidify my flames!"

I'll actually be useful for once!

His brother, however, doesn't seem to be sharing his enthusiasm. His brows furrow and his nose crinkles slightly in such a way that in Shouto-speak, meant that the other boy was glaring while trying to maintain his calm, almost serene facade.

Izuku switches tactics.

"Shoutooo." He drags out the last sound, just the way it never fails to make his brother's crinkled nose deepen.

"Hm."

"Look," Izuku starts, lowering his arms. "I know what I'm going for now. My reserves are full, I had my naps and I already ate. I'm good to go!"

Shouto remains unimpressed. "Congratulations on passing the bar to be a functioning human being."

Ow. While that hurt, it was good to know that his brother was just as fond as he was of learning new words. The time spent reading together in the library was paying off -just not in Izuku's favor. Not today.

"But Shou-"

"No." His brother starts with finally, shutting him up. "I'm not letting you break another limb."

"Alright, fine." Izuku grumbles back, frustrated. Time to switch tactics -again. "I'll find another way then. There's a ladder by the shed, I can use that to get to the roof and-"

He falls silent at the glowering, withering look the taller boy gave him. Shouto uncrosses his arms.

"Fine."

Izuku carefully stops himself from cheering, knowing it was the fastest way to get his feet frozen to the ground. Instead, he smiled meerily at his brother and extended his arms up, resuming that stretched out starfish position.

Styxfire crackles against his skin, awake and aware, sparking silver and black around Izuku. If some edges of his clothes lost some color as a result of the threads reacting to the heat, neither of the Todoroki siblings commented on it.

Seemingly reassured at the sight of his sibling's Quirk, Shouto shifts his position and planted his feet a little wider. His expression smoothed out to something darker, more focused.

(At that moment, neither child spared a thought for the current location of their little exercise. While it normally bothered Izuku -because he was a normal, well-behaved child and not a feral little devil like his older brother who left chunks of ice absolutely everywhere- it didn't matter at this moment to him how much damage they caused to the property, so caught up he was in the excitement of finally finding a non-lethal use for his Quirk.

Besides, Endeavor had plenty of funds to cover the costs of repairs.)

"C'mon!" Izuku exclaims, gathering his courage as he focused into stirring Styxfire up into a carefully controlled frenzy. "Throw something at me!"

Shouto, predictably, picks up the nearest priciest object and lobs it at him.

This was his moment. Izuku's eyes squeeze shut and he pulls, as hard as he can, as hard as he can go before the nausea sets in. Digs his hands into the warm fire in his heart and feeds it with a sizable chunk of his reserves, lighting up the bonfire within himself with gasoline.

Styxfire answers his call almost greedily.

It's different this time. Heavier. He needs more.

Instantly, Izuku knows he succeeded.

He feels the intricate vase shatters against his chest with a loud crash. The blow is enough to send him stumbling back, blinking rapidly. He has to gasp for air, winded by the blow. But at the same time-

It didn't hurt.

Both siblings look down.

No wounds. Broken porcelain and ash sat at Izuku's feet, a million of tiny little pieces he barely registers next to the thick, black glass-like mass swirling over his skin and clothes, interwoven plating he'd only seen once before. At the sight, Izuku can't stop the giddy smile from spreading across his lips even if he tried.

Finally, he'd figured it out!

The loud cry of victory that leaves him is loud enough to make his brother jolt, but Izuku doesn't care. He's this close to dancing over the ashes of the vase like some kind of demented demon.

Izuku's body was filled with excitement unlike no other the longer he peered down at the remains of the decoration. This was just perfect. If he figured out propulsion with his fire as well, he would finally be able to work on something else than shaping his flames!

No more chastising from his father, no more standing in the sidelines while Shouto fought his father with his ice. He'd be able to do something with his Quirk, something meaningful that didn't result in just more piles of ash and disappointment.

(He could be a hero.)

Exhilarated, Izuku looks up to meet his brother's gaze.

"I did it." He exclaims, breathless and giddy. "Shouto, I did it."

I'm not useless.

I can protect people.

Shouto falters for the briefest of moments at the vulnerable tone but then he slowly smiles back. The nose crinkle returns, but it's different from before. Combined with the upward twist of his lips, it's the equivalent of a silent congratulation from the dual haired boy.

"Yes," his brother begins, slowly. Eyes flicking between the pieces of porcelain at Izuku's feet to his face. "...you did."

His arms twitch at his sides, jerking up slightly as to draw him in. Seeing the silent invitation, Izuku dispells his Quirk and wastes no time rushing over, wrapping himself around his brother like a koala. Giggling into mismatched hair as he curls his arms around the taller boy's neck, gasping and laughing breathlessly in relief.

"I did it. I did it!"

The cry that leaves him might as well have woken up the rest of the household. They're lucky their father wasn't home and Fuyumi and Natsuo were at school.

Slowly at first, Shouto wraps his arms around his middle and tucks him close, huffing out a silent laugh into Izuku's shoulder. His quiet approval makes the flames in his younger brother's chest flutter and twist, warm and cozy with shared body heat.

To an observer's eyes, this didn't seem like much. Two years of training, of maturing his Quirk, leading up to this -a few broken pieces of porcelain and two embracing siblings? It seemed almost insignificant in the grand scheme of things.

It was just the start.

But it was something.

And Izuku could work with that.

.

.

.

It's only after they finish hugging that they realize what time it is, and have to scramble to get to sweep the broken vase up before their father arrives.

Unsurprisingly but still nevertheless relieving, Endeavor fails to notice the missing decoration.

.

.

.

Unsurprisingly, Todoroki Enji did however notice the giant holes that were starting to dot the garden, and he was quick to turn to the only other person in the household that had such a destructive Quirk. Shouto didn't really count in this matter as despite having a powerful Quirk Izuku's youngest brother rarely ever used his powers on a day to day basis. Plus, the melted ice made it really easy to know who was to blame.

In a similar vein, the minefield that was starting to take over the garden really left one culprit amongst the Todoroki clan.

As such, Izuku's not really surprised when his father gets home, takes one look the massive smoking holes his last attempt at flying had created and promptly drags him to the garden by the arm, expression dark and faintly murderous.

"What is this?!" Endeavor all but bellows down at him, flames flaring around his head like a crown. He's still in his hero costume, fresh out of work and from his behavior, it hadn't been a good day.

From the corner of his vision, Izuku spies Shouto watching from the patio, a silent shadow bearing narrowed eyes and clenched fists. Ready to jump in if need be.

(It was never necessary, but the gesture was bitterly comforting.)

He hopes they won't fight. He's tired of seeing them screaming at each other.

"Izuku."

Right.

He was in the middle of something.

"Training." Izuku murmurs, straightening his back and trying, clumsily, to keep his gaze fixed on his father's own blue eyes. Staring at the ground and shying away from the man had always resulted in more scolding. "I was training and it got a bit out of control. I apologize, sir."

In response his father just slowly turns to look back at the garden; most of the clearing looked like it had been bombed, then had a few more dropped afterwards. Izuku could almost feel the incredulousness coming off the pro-hero as he took in his absolutely devastated grounds.

Izuku can only look down and count his toes in silence -he didn't even have the time to put on shoes- as time stretches on. Embarrassment makes his cheeks hot.

"...have you at least learned something useful?" His father finally speaks up, voice cool and impassive. If it wasn't for the angry flaring of the crown of flames around his head, Izuku would think the man was calm.

"Y-yes?" Blue eyes flicked down at him, pinning him in place with a glare. Izuku gulped and jolted up, straightening his spine. "Yes." He repeats, firmer.

Endeavor's eyes narrow.

"Show me."

Crap.

As he takes a few steps away from his father and widens his stance just like he's been training to do, Izuku silently tries not to panic. I can do this. I just have to show him what I've learned. What I can do.

I just need to do my best.

His mind races, remembering back to the strips of video he spent most of his free time investigating and noting down what he thought would be useful. Hero fights, mainly of his father but sometimes about other elemental-type Quirk users.

While Izuku knew his Quirk could not classify as a elemental Quirk -especially with the solidifying aspect of his flames, would that mean it was some kind of energy manipulation Quirk was it because of his mother crap he was overthinking again-

Nervous and off-balance from the weight of his father's eyes on his back, he spread his fingers and calls Styxfire into being.

Next thing he knows, there's a loud boom and he's face down on the ground.

Too much.

Dammit. Groaning softly, he tilts his head up. Dirt and gravel falls from his hair with the movement.

The sight he is greeted with is not welcoming. Endeavor was watching him eat the floor with crossed arms and sharp eyes. The unimpressed expression makes Izuku wilt like a plant in the desert, though there was something in those eyes that gave him just the slightest bit of hope that he wasn't acting like a complete and utter failure in front of Endeavor.

He can't help but duck his eyes down, ashamed.

So much for making him p-

"Widen your legs."

Izuku's head rises up so quickly he nearly gives himself whiplash. "Huh?"

"Your legs." Endeavor repeats through gritted teeth, unimpressed. He jabs a finger towards Izuku's wobbly, knee-scraped legs. If he notices the scrapes, bruises and cuts as a result of the rough ground against the boy's skin, he makes no comment on it. "Widen your stance more. Bend your knees and be more direct with the stream of your fire."

He's giving me advice.

"O-oh."

"Get to it."

"Right. Sorry sir."

He does as he's told. Bends his knees, lowers his back forward a bit. Keep his arms extended behind him. Izuku tries to not let his apprehension show as Endeavor circles around him, eyes roving up and down his body in search of something to scold him over.

The pro-hero was exceptionally good at that.

"Narrow your flames, you're spreading them too much." His father instructs gruffly, arms crossing as he peers over his form. "Try again."

And so Izuku does.

And so he eats dirt with a burst of flames, again. As he pulls himself up, body aching, Endeavor walks over and pushes his legs further apart with a nudge of his feet, then taps his left wrist sharply with a single, large finger to make him lift it higher.

"Again."

Styxfire roars out of his hands, streams of black, purple and silver carving strips out of the ground. Izuku's arms jolt and his joints throb from the force of which he's sent sailing a few feet up in the air. It's not high enough to put him in danger of another broken limb, but it's enough to make him falter.

Too much! He quickly tries to twist in the air, hands reaching forward to use Styxfire to stabilize himself-

Unfortunately his panic, enhanced by the fact his father was watching, makes him once more expel far more fire than initially needed and he can only let out a choked off yelp as his back slams into the ground. It's enough to knock the wind out of him and leave Izuku spread like a starfish on the garden floor, breathless.

"Enough." Izuku flinches at the harsh tone above him. He painstakingly pulls himself up, wincing at how Endeavor was looking down at him, piercing blue eyes dark with dissatisfaction. "You're wasting time." My time, Izuku corrects for he has no doubt that that was what his father really meant. "You'll work on this during training. Stop destroying my property, boy."

At that moment, Izuku wants to duck his head low in shame. He barely fights back the urge. "Yes sir."

His father lets out a low exhale. It's not a sigh -more of a huff, and no less depressing for Izuku to hear.

"Dismissed."

There is was.

Any other time, Izuku would let him walk away, as his father was doing now. Let him go, bring up the subject of his solidified flames during their next training session.

Not now though.

Motivated by some unseen source of courage, he calls out to his father's retreating back.

"W-wait!"

Endeavor pauses at the stuttered cry. Slowly he turns around, one eyebrow quirked questioningly. Izuku instinctively hunches his shoulders under the weight of the Number Two hero's gaze.

"What is it?" Inpatient, but somewhat tame. At least he's not yelling at me.

That was a good sign. His father might not be impressed by his performance, but it wasn't to the point of yelling at him for utterly wasting the garden. Izuku quietly wondered if the man would cheer if Shouto set it all on fire. Given how things were, he likely would.

Feeling jittery wasn't a unfamiliar feeling to Izuku, but it still made him stumble as he spoke softly;

"There's...there's something else." The youngest Todoroki takes a deep breath, then looks at his father in the eyes. "I managed to work out another part of my Quirk. That I c-couldn't really do before."

"...well?"

It's now or never.

Izuku takes the leap of faith and instead of answering, he reaches inside himself and coaxes the fire out.

Black flames unfurl around him, swirling to gather in front of his body. With gentle, if not wavering guidance, they slowly lose the familiar shape of fire and curl into itself as a mass. Familiar silver flickers amongst the obsidian depths of Styxfire, stronger now with how much energy Izuku pours into them.

He watches as his father's expression slowly shifts at the sight, the man's mind no doubt looking back at the last time Izuku managed to conjure his Quirk in such a way.

Then Izuku sees finally sees it in his father's eyes -interest.

"It seems like I will have to adjust your training."

.

.

.

He eats dirt more than once during the first week of the new training regime.

.

.

.

Izuku grumbles as he shoved another apple slice into his mouth, chewing almost grumpily as he reaches for his next one. At the sound of loud chewing, Shouto looks up from his perch by his fire to glower at him from over his mathematics book.

Despite his obvious distaste his brother says nothing, and as such Izuku continues his miniature tantrum because if there is one thing he learned from his sibling, it was the art of passive aggression.

Izuku knows it's not very mature of him, but at the moment he's too cranky to regulate himself. There's a gnawing pit in his belly, one that no amount of simply sitting in a bonfire could help -thus, apples. Eating was another way for Styxfire to gain energy. Unfortunately for his Quirk, Izuku also needed his stomach for other reasons. Namely, feeding himself.

Styxfire didn't seem to agree, hence the need to shovel food in his mouth.

Even after several months of having discovered this part of his Quirk, he was still fascinated by this development. How did it work, exactly? There was a distinctive feeling in his gut that reminded him of the times he used his Quirk, so maybe it manifested inside his body and consumed what he ingested from within his stomach?

Would he be able to breathe fire, at least technically if he learned to redirect the black flames out? Would it make it harder or easier to aim, or would it aid in close quarter combat?

Would that feel like throwing up?

(He really had to stop getting off track, didn't he.)

As he loves his eyes over his latest iteration of his letter, Izuku wiggles his toes into the ash of his firepit. He's sitting halfway out of the black flames, legs dipped into the fire like someone would dip their feet into a pool during a particularly hot summer day.

He hovers his pen over the paper, mulling what he should write next.

There was a lot he wanted to ask his mother.

(Too much to be contained to a piece of paper.)

.

.

.

"Damn it boy!"

Izuku squeezed his eyes shut at the resounding thud that echoed through the dojo when his brother fell over. Headfirst into the tatami matt, the older boy failed to pick himself up right away as he always did; instead he lies there, momentarily stunned by the blow to his shoulder he'd failed to dodge on time.

Their father raises his left hand, halting the training. Joints aching, head throbbing, Izuku stands up shakily from where he'd been sent flying by a sweeping kick that had nailed him straight in the chest. He'd only just started to learn how to shield himself with his Quirk, so Styxfire was no match against Endeavor's raw strength.

It will, one day. Izuku would make sure of that. But for now, he was trying real hard to keep himself from vomiting his merger dinner.

Shouto had no such issue. Izuku eyes him from the corner of his vision as the boy draws himself up with grace or confidence he could not hope to match, and offer their exasperated father a sharp, poignant look of defiance.

Endeavor's nostrils flared.

God, it looked like it was going to be one of those days.

When their father's frustration reached a boiling point, bright hot fury overtaking his body and turned the already intimidating man into something twisted and angry.

"Stop playing around and use your fire!"

Shouto peers up at his father, eyes dark as he states plainly, as calmly as if he was discussing the weather, "No."

The sigh their father lets out is both frustrated and resigned.

"Is this what you want? To fail?" Endeavor rumbles, expression twisting in a furious scowl. "If you don't give it your all, boy, you'll never get to Yuuei. You cannot succeed if you don't put any effort into your future?"

Shouto's response is faster than a viper's bite. "And what does an old man like you know about success?"

Silence.

Izuku barely dares to breathe.

Endeavor's nostrils flare. Hellfire swirls angrily across his face, the mane of flames spreading. The neckline of his workout clothes was darkened by the heat he failed to regulate. It's a rare instance for his father's Quirk to slip out of control, and the sight makes Izuku's throat tighten with something wet and uncomfortable.

"What did you just say to me?"

It's that tone.

He should intervene.

He should.

The realization sits ugly in Izuku's belly. Shouto had, last time. His brother protected him, so he should protect him back. That's how it worked.

(Then why wasn't he doing that, right now?)

But he's stuck in place like a fool, unable to do anything but watch. Even the noise that leaves his lips is wavering and weak, reflecting his reluctance to interfere. "Shouto…"

What meager attempt at resolution he tried to utter was silenced by his sibling's voice filling the room, silencing him:

"Are your ears not working well?" Shouto replies over the quivering call of his name, his tone every inch as fiery as the flames Izuku hadn't glimpsed in years. "Your age must be catching up to you. Maybe that fire will go out next?"

Endeavor bristles, taking a step forward. "How dare you-"

"Oh I dare, you washed up old man."

Izuku wants to run for cover, he was so mortified. This wasn't like before. By the rate his brother was going, Shouto was digging his grave. With all the yelling and snapping back, his brother was becoming too much like Natsuo.

...or maybe…

He doesn't like the feeling growing in his gut when he sneaks a glance at Shouto. His eyes are dark and stormy as he glared up at their father, a tiny David standing his ground to the fuming Goliath. There's something else there in his mismatched eyes, especially in his single blue one. Something Izuku had glimpsed before.

Frustrated, bitter anger.

Poison, a wound that slowly feastered and grew rotten, infecting the rest of the individual.

Izuku has to suppress a shudder.

The very idea of Shouto having eyes like Touya was sickening.

Izuku knew right there and then that he had to interfere, regardless of what he thought or what his father would do in retaliation. He'd never raised his Quirk against his father, not since that night, but he could still do something...right? He had to step in. Not with his Quirk, but at least do something, anything to disarm the tense situation-

"I'm only trying to make you use your full potential!"

There's a answering snarl.

"I'm doing just fine with my right side!"

"That's not good enough!" Father roared back with just as much bite. "You'll never get anywhere near the top twenty rankings if you only put half your power to use!"

"Who cares about rankings?!"

The furious snarl Endeavor lets out makes the decision for him. A part of Izuku hesitates at interfering, but he cannot fight it anymore.

"Please," He begs, voice louder, sharper. Demanding more attention. "...please just stop yelling-"

"Be quiet!"

Dual screams of anger, both equally as loud and vicious. The booming cries are followed by resounding silence.

Izuku's brain goes blank. Gaping like a fish, heart thundering in his chest; his flames shrink within their cage of ribs like a scared puppy.

Shouto stood wide-eyed under their father's shadow, looking at Izuku like he'd just been punched. Izuku can see the slow growing horror in his eyes. The understanding of what he's done -to whom he'd just yelled at.

Izuku's thought process starts up again, but it's a slow, broken, stuttering machine. Shouto never yells never why would he do that-?

Green eyes slowly lift to the tallest individual in the room. Even Endeavor looked surprised by Shouto's exclamation. It's the first time Izuku can read his emotions so easily, and he hates it. He hates the fact this was the situation his father let his face betray what he truly, fully felt.

It makes something burn inside his chest.

He can't be here.

Izuku spins around and runs. He's out the dojo door before Shouto suddenly calls out, voice choked:

"Izu-!"

Said Todoroki keeps running, not even bothering to try quietening his footsteps as he barrels down the hall. The living quarters are completely bypassed, as is the living room and the kitchen.

The front door is heaved open and Izuku leaps into the dark, cold autumn night. The garden is quiet and still when he runs through the gravel path leading to the back of the Todoroki estate.

(If there's smoke coming from his feet with each footstep, he ignores it.)

There's no lock on the firehouse's door. Izuku pries it open and steps inside, shaking from every limb. His stomach was twisting, a sensation that was sharp and cold and almost nauseating with it's intensity. It takes all of his concentration to keep himself from falling over as he stumbles to the firepit.

Thankfully there's still some coal leftover from yesterday, so the only thing Izuku needs to do is fall forward and sink into the bed of ash.

Black flames immediately spring up around him, curling and protective. Flicking and twisting, the long tongue of obsidian energy looking as if on the verge of sharpening into solid spikes. Izuku can feel the drain on his reserves but he doesn't even try to reign his Quirk in.

It feels safer, to be wrapped in fire that took and took and left nothing behind but Izuku himself.

...and his thoughts.

Shouto hadn't really meant it. He couldn't have. A-and it wasn't that bad, was it? It was just a yell.

Nothing to be dramatic over.

Nothing to run away over.

(Why did you, then?)

Izuku knew deep down, what the answer to that question was. Shouto had sounded just like their father. During a fraction of a second, his youngest sibling had sounded just as angry and loud and furious as him. And the look in his eyes -the poison was still there.

Feastering.

The thought makes him let out a punched out sob and flip over to his side, smushing the side of his face into the ash. It's not as comforting as it should be, the warmth Styxfire greedily takes in refusing to ease the pain in his heart.

He's going to be like Touya.

Angry and resentful, just like him.

Just like Endeavor.

He couldn't stop this, could he-

The sound of wood creaking makes Izuku's eyes snap open. Someone was entering the firehouse.

Heart pounding, Izuku tried to keep himself composed as green eyes peer from through the flames, quickly spotting the mass of white and red atop of the figure shyly standing in front of the firepit. Not close enough to be burned, but enough that Izuku could see their face.

It's Shouto.

Red, wet eyes meet his own, uncharacteristically open and fragile.

"Izuku."

The black flames shudder around him. Said boy slowly rises to sit on the coals, never taking his eyes off his sibling. Shouto was shifitng on his feet, uncomfortable. Head tucked low and lips pressed thin.

It's the most vulnerable Izuku had seen him be.

At least, at least not since-

'Where are you taking him?!'

'Shouto. Go to sleep, now.'

The fire quietens, then slowly dies. Izuku watches as his brother's expression breaks even further, the vulnerability in his eyes mixing with such hope that he knows that he's doing the right choice -that this is what needed to be done.

Sniffing, he pulls Shouto in.

The other boy follows willingly, something akin to desperation shining in his eyes as he crawls into the bed of still-warm coals alongside Izuku. There's ash smearing all over Shouto's clothes, the light grey coals had to be digging uncomfortably into his skin, but his older brother made no move to show the discomfort he was likely feeling.

Instead he flops down half atop of Izuku, arms curling around his body and pulling him tight against him as their legs tangled together. Wrapping himself like a octopus around his sibling, as if he expected him to vanish.

Shouto's nose is tucked into his neck, his normally chilly breath warmer than usual, a dry burn that betraying how hard his sibling was trying to reign in his Quirk. Any more and his brother would start smoking, Izuku was sure of it.

"I don't want to be like him."

It's whispered quietly against his shoulder, like a secret. Izuku squeezes him tighter, his mind unwillingly calling back to Fuyumi's shy introduction during his first week in the Todoroki household. Her tiny smile and furtive eyes.

(It shouldn't be a secret. What they felt should never be bit down and kept a secret and yet-)

There's a lot to unpack in Shouto's words.

I don't want to be his legacy.

I don't want to be a reflection of his image.

I don't want to fulfill his dreams.

Izuku's heart breaks all over again. He feels wetness dripping down his cheeks.

Because if his health and stability were what it took to enrage his father, Shouto would sacrifice them in a instant. Izuku knew him too well at this point to believe otherwise. His brother would destroy himself before he gave Endeavor the satisfaction to see him rise to the Number One spot, ice in his left hand and fire in his right.

Knowing this, Izuku clutches him even tighter against his chest, wishing his fire could wrap around them both protectively.

Maybe then he could show his brother how lucky he was.

.

.

.

Not before long cold sweeps across the Todoroki estate and this time, it's not Shouto's doing.

In the garden, the tree branches grow dangerously heavy with snow, and the paths need to be treated with salt constantly to prevent ice from forming. The dark brown roof gathers large mounds of white, and the grass is banished under a layer of snow.

With the garden now cold and still, Izuku and Shouto found other ways to entertain themselves. Confined inside, they spend most of their free time sitting by the windows, drinking near scalding tea and quietly reading to each other books they raided from the estate's library.

If Shouto sticks even closer than before, following him like a silent shadow, Izuku never comments on it.

He'd do the same if their roles were reversed.

(Endeavor really never did scold them for running out on training that day.)

When autumn rolled around, Izuku found himself having to help the gardener catch all of the koi. They could not stay there with the encroaching winter and so, they had to be caught with little nets as carefully as possible to keep them relaxed to be shipped out. As if knowing of their fate, the slippery little animals fought like little monsters as they were loaded into the containers for transport.

While Shouto prefered not getting involved, his brother was more hands on.

Under the supervision of the gardener, Izuku quickly learned to stick to catching the smaller, younger fish. Trying to gently catch a massive white koi half his size that stubbornly refused to get in the stupid net was a good way to end up flat on his back, legs in the air, clothes wet and heavy and a mouthful of slimy water as a reward.

Not having to take care of the fishes left Izuku with a big gap in his schedule. Tending to the koi had become a important pastime for him. Feeding them reminded that he could nurture, even with a Quirk that took.

He missed them.

Alongside the white snow came a change of clothes. Just like the last two years, Izuku saw a tailor come to the household for measurements, and about two weeks later saw his wardrobe swapped to a winter set. This happened once a year at the beginning of summer and the start of the colder months.

While Endeavor lived quite frugally compared to the money he earned through his job, at least he never failed to clothe his children properly.

Though Izuku was pretty sure he'd drowsily woken up in his fire pit a few times to find Natsuo dumping at least half of his expensive new clothes into the bonfire.

His second older brother was always up for new ways to irk their father. While it discouraged him to see such negativity, Izuku refrained from ratting him out to Endeavor.

He had standards.

(And the clothes made for a nice meal for his flames but shh, that was just a tiny detail.)

.

.

.

"I hate winter."

Shouto's only response at the petulant whine was a muffled chuckle, the kind of noise he did when he'd only just barely caught himself from snorting in amusement. Pausing his book, the second-youngest Todoroki turned his head to the source of the disturbance.

Two green eyes squinted back from under a mountain of blankets.

"It's only three months, otouto." Shouto murmurs, ever soft and patient. He's been like that since the incident -more careful, more choosy of what words and actions he takes around Izuku. He's both grateful and ashamed that his older brother was taking such steps to comfort him. "I don't see what the fuss is about."

"You can keep yourself warm." Izuku grumbles under the fluffy green scarf Fuyumi had gifted him last winter. "I can't do that."

Shouto didn't have anything to offer in response -as it was true. For a fire-like Quirk, Styxfire demanded so much energy, leeched so much heat from its host that Izuku often found himself with numb, cold limbs and a sore throat.

Izuku nearly didn't catch what he uttered next, so quiet his voice was.

"I like winter."

Huh. "Why?" It likely had something to due with the ice half of his Quirk, but Izuku was curious to hear it firsthand from his sibling.

Shouto flips a page. "It's quiet. He's not here often."

Izuku nodded as well as he could from under his blanket nest -for that was also true.

With more and more snow slowing his movements down, Endeavor was often forced to pull more shifts at work to make up for the harsher weather, and often just sleep in a apartment near his agency to facilitate travel and shorten answering time.

Unorthodox was one way of describing the schedule, but Izuku knew why it was like this. His father was prideful but there were deeper reasons as to why he would skip on returning home at all most nights. The hero board also announced rankings around Christmas time so it was all the more reason for their father to put his back into it…even though deep down, Izuku knew he didn't have what it took to get that top spot.

That place was reserved for sunny smile and a laugh that lifted hearts. For large, massive arms wrapping around him, making him warm and happy and safe. Inspiring him to strive forward.

(The hands of a true hero, scarred and worn but still unbelievable strong. One Izuku hoped he could one day follow in their footsteps.)

Izuku, despite his love for their father, understood where his sibling came from.

"And…" Shouto falters, a rarity. Izuku waits patiently, not wanting to press his brother with what was a very sensitive issue. "It reminds me of her. She always liked it...used to gift me small sculptures she made."

Oh. Izuku quietly takes in that small bit of information for later.

Though, the way Shouto says it so detachedly is what really takes him off guard. Like was talking about the weather, not the woman who had scarred him for life.

Shouto had stoically accepted his mother's removal from his life. Her disappearance had sparked the same rage he'd seen in Touya's eyes, but the dual haired boy repressed it, channeling that fury into something productive

Quietly, Izuku thinks that Shouto's acceptance didn't make the situation any better.

Kindly, Izuku asked, "...do you think she still makes ice sculptures?"

Shouto hummed, almost wistful.

"I like to think that."

.

.

.

January was giving away to February when Izuku sensed a familiar warmth approaching his room.

This person had neither Shouto's fluctuating temperature or his father's scorching heat -if anything, Izuku would describe them as sharing both; sometimes dipping down, lower than it should for a person their age and size, and sometimes burning so bright they nearly eclipsed Endeavor's own presence.

It was a signature Izuku knew all too well, no matter how rarely the eldest of the Todoroki children dropped by.

Touya's presence in the house was not unlike a wandering street cat that was being steadily fed by the house's owners. Him being home only happened once in a blue moon, and he always left just as quickly as he came. More than once Izuku could only catch slivers of attention from the teen before he was already out the door, ready to leave for unknown pastures.

Which meant the way Touya was honing in to his room was odd. Even more so is when he leans against the doorway, familiar blue eyes looking down at him with unexpected solemnity.

"You got a moment, kid?"

Izuku barely blinks. "Always."

The smirk his brother makes stretches slowly across his lips like a satisfied cat.

"Good. C'mon, I got something to say."

Then he spins on his heel and walks back out the door. If it wasn't for the open door he left behind, Izuku would have mistaken his appearance for a ghost. Too surprised by the rare visit, Izuku only threw on a coat over his long sleeved shirt and fur boots before going after his most dysfunctional sibling.

Touya leads him outside, straight to the tall brick wall surrounding the property. Izuku lets him lead hesitantly, hating the way the thick snow sometimes got into his boots if he wasn't careful enough.

When they get to stand next to the wall and Touya smirks, Izuku immediately knows what he's thinking. Even if they rarely saw each other, the satisfied grin on his brother's lips has him on edge, and he knows what the other is planning next.

"We shouldn't…" What meager defence Izuku was about to say crumbled away at Touya's quirked eyebrow, poised with just the right pressure and angle to make him falter.

"Who cares?" Touya tells him as snow kept falling around them, rolling his shoulders.

Certainly not him.

Izuku swallows and ducks his head. It's disconcerting, how effortlessly Touya managed to tear down any of his protests. How in a few short words he could leave Izuku uncertain and off-balance, unable to muster a proper answer.

Because he was right, in a sense.

Who cares?

Certainly not their father, who wasn't even home today. Too busy chasing his dreams, grappling for something he could not quite reach to notice what was going on under his own roof.

So when Touya climbs over the fence with a burst of cobalt fire, Izuku dutifully follows.

.

.

.

Touya leads him down the road. Through winding streets, back alleys and crowds, the teenager pushes his way through as if it was second nature. Not even the dark, stormy sky is enough to make him falter.

Izuku fares far less well than his tallest sibling; his height leaves him vulnerable to pushing and shoving from passersby, and his coat is not as effective as he'd hoped at keeping the cold at bay. It by itself could only do so much when he wore pajamas underneath.

The fifth or so time he stumbles, Izuku feels a large hand fall onto his left shoulder, pulling him close to a worn, dark coat. He blinks through the freshly fallen snow on his lashes, and looks up to Touya. His eldest brother was looking steadily ahead, unperturbed.

"...thank you." Izuku murmurs, voice soft as he pulls his hands into his coat pockets and shudders. It's still to cold, as close as the teen was.

His older brother gives him no response beyond a low noise. Still, Touya's grip on his shoulder keeps him from drifting away. His hand feels almost too warm through the winter coat, calling to him.

Styxfire quivers under his ribs, interested as ever to the furnace-like warmth coming off the other boy.

He's given mercy when Touya leads him into what looks like a public building with a nice little front and windows covered in cup patterns. Izuku follows him through the front door, and blinks at the smells inside.

Sugary sweet pastries laid in front of him, safely tucked behind glass from the public. Izuku stares at them, wide-eyed. He's not sure he remembers the last time he'd even seen anything even remotely close to comfort food. Fruits really didn't count in this case, as sweet as they could be.

Sensing his unease, Touya leads him to a nearby table for two, tucked near the exit and in front of a window. Izuku spares a look outside, wincing internally at the burst of snowy wind that sweeps against the glass.

They sit down without commanding anything. Either the staff sense something or Touya was glaring at them while Izuku had his back turned, but they don't get interrupted as they make themselves comfortable around the tiny round table.

Touya extends a hand, palm up, and Izuku immediately knows what he wants. He gives it to hin, slightly cold hands finding their way on the teen's own.

"Your fire is wild." His older brother murmurs appreciatively as he cups Izuku's hands, his own so big compared to the boy's slender fingers and pale skin. Just like the rest of him, Touya runs warm. "Just like mine."

Blue dances at his fingertips, curling around black. He didn't even call out to his Quirk before it answered on it's own. Izuku's breathless at the way the flames curl so naturally together.

"He'll cast you away, you know." Touya explains gently, running a finger over the lines on Izuku's left hand. "As soon as you outlive your usefulness, as soon as you burn too much-" Shoto's wide, terrified eyes as the obsidian fire rise up to swallow him- "...he'll get rid of you, little firecracker." A tilt of his head.

Blue eyes glint, sharper than a knife's edge. Izuku can't force down the flinch fast enough.

(He remembers the broken garden, the look in his father's eyes, Shouto's tears.)

Touya leans in, eyes narrowing like a cat about to pounce. He's always been like that, Izuku contemplates. Always ready to look for a opening.

Something to exploit.

"You're already threading the line, aren't yo-"

Whatever he's about to say is cut off by a hiss.

What- Izuku jolts back, Styxfire retreating as he watches his brother pull his hand away. The very same hand he'd been holding Izuku's with. Izuku feels his eyes widen when he spies a sizable, ugly black mark on Touya's skin, stretching across most of his palm.

He's been burned.

Oh. Izuku thinks blankly, watching the calloused injury.

I burned him.

I hurt him.

Looking up, he expects Touya to be angry. To curl his nose like Shouto does, to bare his lips like their father. To get up and wordlessly walk away like Natsuo had done so many times.

Touya does none of those things, however. Izuku watches as he calmly retracts his burnt hand, reaches into his pockets with the injured one and pulls something long and narrow. It's some kind of tube of cream. A burn salve, likely.

His brother had come prepared, it seemed.

Izuku watches as he applies the cream on his skin with a motion that all but screamed repetition. A bandage is next, wrapped tight around his damaged palm. His task done, piercing blue eyes flick back to meet his own green ones, unperturbed and pain-free.

Touya looks neither miffed by the injury or satisfied. His expression is carefully blank as he stands up from his seat.

"I'm leaving, and I want you to come with me." His brother suddenly states abruptly, voice low and soft. "Think on it." And with that, he walks away. Like he'd just discussed the weather, and not just the biggest bombshell that Izuku had-

Wait.

Wait.

Touya's leaving.

Touya's leaving.

And he wants me to-

Izuku is out of his seat before he can even think. He barrels right out the door, eyes wide and expression open as he scans the faint crowd of people -only to see his brother standing idly by, lopsided grin on his lips as he was expecting Izuku to follow.

The way Touya read him sends an unpleasant shiver down his spine.

Like he planned this, just for drama's sake. To tilt Izuku further, to leave him more off balance than he already was. Leave him open for his suggestions.

(Izuku was tired of it.)

"You followed." The teen speaks up, saying the obvious. For a brief moment, Izuku is torn between scowling at the other Todoroki or running back inside the cafe. "Have you thought about it?" Thin lips curl upward slightly, amused. "So quick?"

Izuku falters.

Could he?

Just leave?

Just like that?

Izuku knew he wasn't happy in the Todoroki home. He wasn't unhappy either, but it was a fine line that he threaded, often tilting to either side depending on what happened that day.

If he had the chance, he'd trade his big bedroom and chef-cooked meals for a tiny, cramped house and hastily made rice. Replace the hard training and stress with warm tea and cozy nights on the couch. A father's careless touch with a mother's embrace.

Could he have that with Touya?

(Didn't he have that with Shouto, though?)

The thought sparks in his head like a strike of thunder. Shouto. Right. For the briefest moment, Izuku wonders asking Touya if the second youngest could come with them.

But he knows the answer.

(And at that moment, he knows his answer.)

"I'm sorry." Izuku murmurs.

Touya freezes in front of him, expression faltering. For the first time since he knew him, he looked genuinely taken off guard.

"...but I can't leave Shouto." He swallows, the words flowing without his input. It was now or never. "...and Shouto isn't father, Touya. He's not."

The teenager shakes his head. Izuku watches, mesmerized, as the dark red locks gleam under the streetlight.

The smile Touya offers next is bitter.

"Maybe not yet, but you'll see."

Izuku stands his ground, pushing back the memory of Shouto's barked order in favor of remembering his shaky, choked apology. "No. I refuse to believe that."

Just because you gave up doesn't mean I will.

Touya turns his head to look at him, knowing. The grin on his face had worn off, leaving a tiny, sad smile on his chapped lips. Solemn.

Lonely.

'We'll see, little firecracker."

Then he's gone, swallowed up by the crowd. Disappearing, just like a ghost.

...and Izuku is all alone.

He stands there, forgotten and hand still half-risen, extended as if to reach for his sibling. But there's no one there anymore. No one to lean on, to soak up their warmth, to take comfort in. Only Izuku and the cold.

And that's when he realizes something else.

He's alone and he has no idea what to do.

He's never been outside the estate alone. He's alone in the dark and with no one to turn to. The creeping panic grows faster at the realization, gripping him tight enough to make his fire jolt and quiver.

No, wait.

He is quivering.

The cold was seeping in through his coat, faster now that he was standing still.

What could he-

Izuku stumbles forward as a man walks behind him, not even apologizing as he nearly knocks the nine year old over. The youngest Todoroki watches him go, wide-eyed. He can't stay here, he realizes quietly.

He needs to move.

His feet drag him away from the cafe, instinctively heading towards where the harsh wind could not touch him; Izuku wanders into a stretch of street in between two building, a sliver of road no bigger than if he extended both arms on either side. There's even a few trash cans tucked here, the stench barely reaching his cold, numb nose.

At least it's not as freezing, Izuku thinks grimly.

He has no phone though. And no idea how to get back.

He can almost see his mother, scolding him for being so hasty. He should have put on a sweater before grabbing the coat. The fabric feels rough against the flimsy shirt, and the cold was seeping in between; viciously little needles of pain stabbing into his skin as it slowly spread across his limbs.

He tries to will Styxfire to rise up and warm him, but it feels cold and jittery in his gut, shaking almost as badly as he was.

Defeated, Izuku can only close his eyes.

I'm alone.

He can't help the punched out sob from leaving his lips.

He's gone.

His legs quiver under him.

I'm a failure.

He slides down the wall and there, curled up between two trash cans, hair dusty with snow, Izuku cries.

---

Touya you grade A dick.

Next chapter will be last chapter before we skip to the start of the canon timeline -tho at this point lel what is canon. Also we are prob getting one last All Might scene because this combined with the starting half of the next chapter is gonna make u reach for the tissues.

Also yes, Touya intentionally left him out in the cold after Izuku refused to leave with him. Spiteful bitch.

K, so I can finally talk about what the absolute fuck Izuku's Quirk is.

Izuku's Quirk is a emitter-type called Styxfire; a hybrid of Endeavor's Hellflame and Inko's Quirk, this Quirk primarily manifests as black flames. The color of the flames is due to the devouring nature of the fire as it swallows anything it touches, including light. Theoretically Izuku can control what it incinerates -as it was shown when it first manifested- though at the moment it's very challenging for him, especially when it is organic matter.

Not letting Styxfire devour things causes it to switch to another source of fuel, which is a reserve of excess energy Izuku stores from burnings. That means that he has a set limit of how much he can use his Quirk before he runs out and doesn't burn the environment. The reserves Izuku speak of is said fuel source. Izuku uses it every time he activates Styxfire to jumpstart the flames, and it's a constant drain that depends if he allows it to fuel itself naturally or not.

If his reserves are null and there is nothing to devour, Styxfire will devour Izuku's stamina and eventually, his fat and muscle tissues. As you can guess, this is extremely dangerous -and the reason Izuku nearly died a few chapters back.

I'll say more but I'd spoil some shit for next chapter, which is the last before the Yuuei exam. Brace for more angst, tears, family stuff...and ALL MIGHT!

Endeavor's blood pressure after this lol.

PS: For those who want more goodness, go to my works and find the story titled The Defect. If you like Stygian Fire, you'll like it's prototype. It's a oneshot but I think you will enjoy it fams~!