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.

9. Chapter 9

When you open the Google doc and realize half of it is missing so you gotta start again from pretty much scraps fuck my life. I was nearly done with the first scene and it's the hardest emotionally to do.

I cried a full day but hey, here I am now! A month late buuuut, my exams are done so I'm deflating like a goddamn balloon rn.

Tokoyami has entered that stage in his life where he's a hormonal bs so its a coin toss when he lands on me between tiny pets and him biting the shit outta me. Thank god it doesn't hurt as much.

In other news, I managed to plan this story ahead up until chapter 20

---

Natsuo knows there's something wrong the moment he opens his eyes.

He doesn't know why, he just knows. Deep in his bones, there's this alarm going off that refuses to let him turn around in his bed and go back to blissful fucking sleep-

-though, it must also have something to do with the loud slam of his bedroom door nearly bursting from its hinges as its kicked open.

Immediately he thinks it's the old man, and he mentally prepares to rear up and spit vitriol at the foulest member of the family as he sits up. There's a near silent click and the lights in his bedroom are stabbing into his eyes.

If he had been even the slightest bit asleep before, it was gone now.

The tired, frustrated part of him wanted to shout at the other boy for the interruption. Vicious words were already forming at the tip of his tongue, a reflex grown out of years of spite for their father -but no noise left his lips when he saw the other's state.

Shouto, the perfect heir of the Todoroki name, looked like an absolute mess.

He seemed to have gone half mad as he stands there, hair a bird's nest, clothes in disarray, too big eyes and too small pupils darting around Natsuo's room like a hawk. In that moment, he can't help but stare at the sight of his second youngest brother looking.

He doesn't remember a time when he's seen him so desperate.

Like his whole world had come crashing down.

"Shouto, what are you-?"

"He's not here," Shouto's words were interrupted by a harsh, panting exhale. It's then that Natsuo noted the way he was all but panting, thin nightshirt sticking to his chest from sweat. "I looked everywhere. He's not here."

At the explanation, Natsuo's throat suddenly feels tight and his chest as cold as ice, as if Shouto had reached into his ribcage with his right hand and clenched his heart tight.

It doesn't take a genius to know who the little nine year old is talking about. There only one male under this roof that Shouto interacted with on a regular basis who's lack of presence would lead to such distress. Only one person in this mess of a house Shouto cared about enough to look like he's gone days without sleep.

Natsuo gets up.

Fuck.

Fuck.

It's winter outside, there's no way Izuku would have gone out -no, he's not that crazy. For the little boy that was practically suicide.

Maybe he fell asleep somewhere.

(The thought sounded stupidly idealistic, even in the safety of his own mind.)

"He might be somewhere in the house."

Shouto's glare was sullen and sharper than a razor blade. "I checked the entire house. All the floors and rooms except the bedrooms." He snapped. Snapped.

Shit, this wasn't good. Natsuo swallows.

"Even the-"

"Even the office." Shouto's teeth ground together, loud enough that he could hear it. "He's. Not. Here." He stresses every word, lips curled back and teeth exposed in a frustrated snarl.

"Okay." Natsuo breathes, getting up from his futon. Shouto continues glares, as if he thinks that he was hiding the smallest member of their family under his bedsheets. "Okay. Have you checked with Fu-"

A soft voice speaks up behind Shouto. "He has." Fuyumi replies in her brother's stead, peeking her head through the doorway. "Only person that doesn't k-know is Father. I think he came home while we were sleeping."

Her eyes are red and shiny.

Natsuo tries hard to ignore it.

"You might have missed him." He responds, running a shaking hand through his hair. "Let's check again."

And so they did.

After a full ten minutes around the house turning everything upside down, Natsuo starts to panic. There was no fifth Todoroki child anywhere in here.

Izuku is missing.

"I'll check the grounds." Fuyumi spoke up when they met back up in the main hall. She was hunched over as she stuffed her shoes on. "He might be outside in his other room."

They all knew the truth though. Izuku, going outside in the middle of the night?

Unlikely.

As Fuyumi opened the front door and exposed the dark, cold night outside, Shouto made a low noise and walked off. Brows knitted together and shoulder hunched with displeasure. Practically stomping his feet as he headed towards the bedrooms.

Natsuo could only bid goodbye to his sister, still unable to process the situation. It was logical; his sister' ice Quirk, as weak as it was, would keep her safe from the bitter cold.

"Good luck." He tells her softly as he turns towards where Shouto had left running.

Find him. Please.

Fuyumi only nods before walking out the door. Natsuo closes it behind her then rushes after Shouto, whom he can hear his footsteps.

He wasn't going to his room, Natsuo notices quickly as he observes the other boy bypass his door, then Izuku's, then Natsuo's. Instead of picking any of those he hones in to the one in the back. Each step loud and determined.

Oh, fuck. Suddenly realizing what his brother was doing, Natsuo lunges forward to stop him, panic and fear lurching up his throat.

"Shouto wait, let me-"

His little brother slams an open palm against the door. The blow echoes loudly across the hallway, reverberating in Natsuo's body down to his bones. Then he lifts his hand and does it again.

And again.

And again.

Natsuo can only stand there, petrified by the smaller boy's brash fury, boldness he had never attempted himself for fear of his own safety. His feet were rooted to the floor by Shouto's dark, blank expression.

He'd rarely -no, he'd never seen this kind of intensity from his sibling before.

Guess they really are close.

Somehow, it doesn't hurt as much as it should. If anything, it's expected.

Soon enough, they hear the stomping footsteps behind the door. Shouto takes a sharp step back just as the door swung open, nearly backing into Natsuo whom for once, is at a lost of words.

Endeavor was clad in his sleeping wear, and by the angry squirming of the flames around his face, he was most displeased. Tough shit though, Natsuo thought darkly. There were more important things to worry about than his beauty sleep.

"What is it?" Their father reprimands them, lips curled back in distaste. "It's late boys, I have work in the-"

Natsuo stops him immediately. "Izuku's not in his room." When their father's eyes shift to Shouto, Natsuo quickly interrupts him. "He wasn't with Shouto neither. We can't find him."

Endeavor seems to pause. Then, his door opens wider and he steps out of his bedroom fully. Instinctively, Natsuo tugs Shouto back, out of the much larger man's way.

"Explain." He rumbles.

Just at that moment as Natsuo opens his mouth to do so -Shouto almost trembling with helpless energy at his side, almost looking like a rabid dog- he hears loud footsteps coming from behind them. Turning around, he's just in time to see Fuyumi slide around the corner and nearly fell over in her haste. Only a hand on the wall kept her from falling over.

Her eyes were wide and her hair was even more of a disarray, caked with wet, melting patches of snow.

Natsuo's heart drops.

"He's not...not at the firehouse either." His older sister chokes out, panting like a racehorse. "I looked everywhere. He's not on the grounds."

He can't believe it was possible for his heart to hurt this much.

Fuck. Fuckfuck fuck. Izuku couldn't have just left, he could barely go outside on his own with how helpless he was against the winter cold. His body couldn't generate enough to keep him healthy with the taxing cost of his Quirk. There was no way the smallest member of their family would have disappeared on his own.

This left a single answer.

A villain had somehow made it onto the grounds.

Shouto makes a small, repressed exhale at his side, likely realizing what it meant too. The most Natsuo can do is lay a hand on his shoulder and squeeze it slightly in comfort. It goes unnoticed in his stress. The small body trembles faintly under his fingers.

Once again, it's the most emotion Natsuo had ever seen him express in years.

A part of him knows just how fucking pathetic that was.

"You didn't look thoroughly." Endeavor's voice pierces through the stillness, stern and unimpressed. "He might be hiding somewhere. Check again-"

"I. Looked. Everywhere." Shouto's voice at Natsuo's side was so very much cold, slicing through their father's retort. His tiny nostrils flared as he spoke next, his voice echoing through the quiet hallway with finality. "Twice. He's missing."

Endeavor falters, a minute movement Natsuo nearly doesn't catch. He almost doesn't blame the old fool, given how much vitriol was in Shouto's voice.

Missing, Natsuo thinks as ice curls in his gut, sharp and freezing beyond what his weak Quirk could do. Taken.

Stolen.

It's just a thought, just a terrible fucking answer to Izuku's disappearance, but it doesn't fail to make him feel small and helpless. Their house was supposed to be safe. As safe as it could be with a man like Endeavor running it, but still it should be secure.

Villains coming in at night and stealing one of their smallest should be impossible.

And yet, here they were. Standing in front of their doubtful father, whose arms were crossed and his expression somber as he looked down at them. Fuyumi, her small frame still shivering from being outside in the cold night. Shouto, trembling as well but with rage. Natsuo himself, caught in the middle.

In that moment, he felt the disgust pooling in his gut surge up forward and explode in a vicious, acidic fire that Natsuo knew too well. God, how he knew this rage. It was beautiful in its familiarity.

It's all the more satisfying due to the fact it chooses to manifest just as Endeavor opens his mouth.

"Che-"

"Stop fucking arguing and find him!" He speaks up, somehow overpowering his father's voice and silencing anything his little brother was about to say. Any other time, with any other argument with the man this would be considered a victory but now it just tastes bitter in his mouth. "You're a hero, no?! Then fucking do something and find your own fucking son, it shouldn't be that hard!"

By the end of tirade he's half expecting a hard slap across his face and he even braces for the inevitable burst of pain. The moment where his father's rage boils over and crests, piercing through his self-control like it would rarely do, but always loomed like a hanging sword over their heads.

...but the blow didn't come.

Instead, Endeavor is silent.

Instead, he walks right past them.

At the sudden approach, Natsuo instinctively grabs Shouto and pulls him out of the way with a brisk tug; he feels Fuyumi's hand on his own shoulder, his older sister doing the same for him. Their father pays them no mind as he shoulders past them and heads down the hallway, not a sound leaving the hulking man save his loud footsteps.

Lost, confused, Natsuo tilted his head to look at his siblings. Fuyumi's biting her lower lip, brow furrowed and expression vulnerable as she met his gaze. What now? She seems to mouth at him.

He does not know.

At his side, Shouto boldly breaks off to follow their father, tiny brows drawn together in a muted scowl. Fuyumi and Natsuo have to scramble after him.

The old man heads to the front door. Natsuo watches through wary eyes as he makes a small diversion to the main closet by the entrance, fishing out a pair of winter boots and his long coat. All are put on with frightening efficiency. Only the growing mane of fire around his face betrays the hero's inner turmoil.

Natsuo distantly smell burn fabric, but he says nothing because the next thing he knows, his father heads for the door.

Holy shit, he actually listened to me.

Cold wind slaps him across the face as his father opens the front door. It's enough to make his eyes water.

(Please, don't be out there alone Izuku.)

"Stay here. I'll be back." The gruff bark snapped him to awareness. Blinking rapidly to chase away the moisture created by the snowflakes drifting in, he finds himself meeting a pair of aquamarine eyes.

Endeavor was looking back at him, expression indescribable.

For once, Natsuo doesn't find it himself to bristle. All he does is nod; this earned him narrowing eyes and a brisk turn back to the door.

Natsuo watches him go. Shouto is silent at his side -but he can feel his hand clutching the fabric of his shirt tightly, so much so that Natsuo can feel the cold from his Quirk slipping out of control through the fabric. In that moment, he doesn't mind; his attention is fixed on the lumbering form stepping out into the night, a mane of flames clustering around his head like a crown and lighting the way.

For once in his life, Natsuo looked at his father's retreating form and felt some form of hope.

You better find him, you bastard.

.

.

.

He's not sure how long he sits on the cold, hard ground. Feet tucked to his chest, hands retracted into the sleeves of his winter coat. Every single one one of his limbs shaking as they struggle to keep warm.

There's no escaping the winter air. Like a slippery eel, it crawls in from every opening in his clothes; the rumpled bottom of his pajamas' pants, his coat's sleeves and shirt helm were holes from which the cold used infiltrate his clothes.

Here, he drifts.

How long had he been here? How long since he'd left the estate?

(How long since Touya left him behind…?)

The question hurts to think about; like a punch to the gut it slams into his mind and settles there as a blooming bruise. A bundle of hurt and shame and fear that refused to ease away, burrowing deep like a parasite into his heart.

Tentatively he looks up from his position on the floor, wincing as his hood lifts slightly with the movement and the cold winter wind slams into his face. It takes all of his strength to not whimper.

It's scary, how quickly night was settling in. The sky's fully dark now, pulling towards a shade of midnight blue that reminded Izuku of his Quirk.

Just the thought of his Quirk hurt, reminding him of what happened minutes -hours?- prior.

He'd never burned Touya before. His flames had never truly harmed his brother, no matter how close he got to his fire. Not to this level. Not to the point of scorching his palms like it had in the coffee shop.

Why now?

He hadn't burned someone that badly since...since…

As the memories he'd tried for years to ignore crawl out into the light Izuku sinks into the ground, tucking his chin down into his coat. Bites his lower lip as he remembers the smell of burning flesh and the screams. The nightmares of feasting koi fish and disembodied arms that reached out for him.

(Maybe he deserves this.)

It's a thought that doesn't sit ugly in his heart. Rather, it feels light. Truthful.

Why else would he do this?

Izuku's lost. He's alone. He's cold and very, very tired. He just wants the pain to stop.

He wants everything to stop.

So when his eyelids become heavy and start fluttering shut, he can't find it in himself to fight it.

It's easier to let himself drift.

.

.

.

In between the brief span of awareness, he dreams of a hollow face with sunken eyes. He imagines pale, scarred hands reaching down for him, pulling him close -chasing away the lonely, biting winter cold.

But no one came.

.

.

.

What did I do wrong?

.

.

.

It's Styxfire that drags his mind out of it's cold prison. Extracts him from dreams of ice and ash, of little lopsided half-smiles that spoke of goodbyes and the weight of too many mistakes on his back.

There was something nearby.

Something warm.

It's moving nearby to his left, just at the edge of his thermal vision. He tries to open his eyes, but his eyelids feel too cold. The eyelashes feel stuck together. Groggily, he pulls himself up -and instantly regrets the decision as his numb limbs protest, joints creaking as they are forced to move.

For a moment, he considers just sitting back down.

Letting even more snow pile up on him.

...but then he notices how this thermal signature ran far hotter than Shouto could; it was only to be matched by Touya's burning presence.

...but it was not his brother.

And the realization -what it meant- sent a spike of fear relief down his spine, spurning him into moving. Guided by his Quirk, he limps out of his hiding spot. Stumbles over a few objects; he feels the built up snow fall off his shoulders, but it does nothing to alleviate the weight on his shoulders.

He's cold.

He's tired.

It's a monumental task in and out of itself just to keep moving. For the hundredth time, Izuku contemplates just letting his knees buckle under him and take him to the ground.

Let the numbness swallow him whole and leave nothing behind.

Was is still worth it, to keep moving?

Izuku doesn't know the answer to that question.

What he does know however, is that he's managed to make his way out of the alley and get noticed, for the blob of heat stops moving at the very edge of his thermal sense. Shivering, exhausted, worn down, Izuku can only stand there and wait, much like a wounded animal waiting for the end.

Death comes in the form of the blob all but rushing to stand in front of him. It's large and vaguely human shaped, easily thrice his size. This close, he can feel its warmth; something jerks inside of him at this, whining with yearning.

Styxfire, Izuku recognizes numbly as it-

"Boy, have you gone mad?!"

Never had he felt so happy being yelled at. The familiarity after so much time along and cold would have made him cry if he still had the ability to.

"Why did you leave the grounds?!"

Help me, Izuku wants to cry through the pain, but his mouth feels too dry and cold to answer. Instead he can only just wait there, feebly attempting to tuck himself into a ball while standing to conserve the minimal amount of heat he had left.

"Answer me."

He says nothing. Just stands there, shivering, tears slowly turning to ice on his painful cheeks.

God, he's so cold. He can't feel his legs or his arms. Against each other, the tip of his fingers feel like little blocks of ice. He's surprised there's any feeling left in them.

So caught up in the pain of being frozen solid, he doesn't notice that the blurry shape of his father is moving closer, swarming

him. Not until he feels the shape of a massive hand on his back, swallowing most of his head and shoulders. Instinctively, he sags slightly against the touch. The hand doesn't even flinch at the added weight.

"Izuku."

Endeavor's voice wasn't as loud and commanding as it should have been. In fact, if anything Izuku would characterize it as small. The fact he wasn't openly crying seemed to be unsettling his father.

Nevertheless, he doesn't respond when his name is called. Try as he might, he couldn't. Not when his tongue feels like it was held down by chains and weighed a few hundred pounds.

He's so tired.

Like he's reached some invisible finishing line and now there was no will left in him to do anything but lay on the ground until his skin matched the snow.

"Izuku." Louder now, more like he remembers. But still so...so something that wakes Izuku the tiniest bit more. "Son, look at me."

Son?

The sudden strange word leaves him caught off guard -reeling him up from the muted cold cage around his mind like a fish on a hook. With all the strength he has left, Izuku forces his frozen eyelids open. It hurts to do so, but he perseveres, the choice of words pushing him forward.

The first thing he sees is white.

Black. Red. Blue.

He has to blink a few times, so blurry his sight was. Distantly, he thinks he feels ice clinging to his eyelashes. As he quickly discovers, the white is the snowflakes pooling around him, slinking their way in every nook and cranny they can find. The black is of the vast night sky, the stars barely distinguishable amongst velvet black.

The red and blue, well, they belong to the halo of flames around his father's shoulders, and the unmistakable aquamarine color of his eyes. The familiar sight brought him strength -drawing out of him the sense of attention and nervousness that he learned to associate with the Todoroki patriarch. It chased some of the cold away, though only slightly.

(The betrayal still dug deep in his gut with claws of ice.)

Faintly, he notes that he can see the reflection of his eyes in his father's. Had his eyes always been this dull and dead? They look almost grey in his father's eyes, none of the familiar emerald he inherited from his mother. Oh.

The sudden thought of Inko makes his heart seize.

"-what happened?"

It's almost gentle, almost kind, and for some reason his father's words are the last thing Izuku needed to break all over again.

Crying silently he stumbles forward, all but falling against his father in exhaustion. He hits a hip and huddles there, shaking. He hears the man let out a hiss as he catches him, the cold that had carved its way into Izuku's body no doubt having been discovered by the Pro-Hero.

Styxfire whirls and flickers inside him, weak but not out, revitalized by his father's proximity. Like winter twining away to reveal summer, the cold gripping his Quirk was slowly melting away. Slipping, gone, far away…

….leaving...

Izuku sobs harder, each wet cry punching it's way out of his shuddering body. His father says something, but he can't hear it past the pain tearing at his heart. It's only when Styxfire flutters in his ribcage that he notices the sudden warm all around him, and how his feet aren't touching the ground anymore.

He was being carried. Bundled into something warmth and toasty, a change of temperature that reached out and began settling in his bones, chasing the cold away. It's still there though, crawling at the corners of his body, numbing his fingers and toes, but he feels it less. The ice in his chest had thawed thanks to Hellflame.

Izuku lays limp in his cocoon, too exhausted to bother getting comfortable. What little energy he'd gathered, what little had pushed him forward from the alleyway floor was melting away like the snow in his hair. Leaving behind a wet, soggy mess, pliant and cold.

There's movement around him, but he can't see or hear it, only feel the distant oscillations of his father's body as he starts moving. Distantly, Izuku thinks back to that night meeting spent under an empty black sky so long ago, at the feeling of exhausted relief and pure fresh joy he'd felt that was engraved in his memory.

Here, in a situation that felt so similar yet different, there was no joy to be had. No relief, nothing to hold on to but a growing weariness that infiltrated his body, taking over the places where the cold was starting to lose hold.

Endeavor's steps are quick but somewhat careful, which makes something settle inside him. Maybe here he can let go. He certainly doesn't have the energy to go anywhere, either way.

Not like Touya.

gone gone gone

"He's gone." He murmurs brokenly into his father's collar. "Touya's gone."

He's not coming back.

He feels tight. It takes a moment for Izuku's muddled to figure out that its due to his father's arms tighten just a little bit further around him. Somehow, this simple gesture encourages him to continue.

"He...wanted me to go with him." Izuku continues, drowsy and loose lipped. Speaking through the fatigue was becoming harder and harder. "...m'not...leaving Shou…"

His father's pace falters.

Pauses.

Resumes.

Izuku buried his face into the coat wrapped around him. Cries some more into the warm fabric. The whimpered sob that leaves him is barely recognizable to his own ears.

"...I want my mom..."

Above him, his father makes no response.

.

.

.

He comes too just in time to hear the metal gate of the estate close shut behind him.

Izuku stays silent in his father's arms, soaking in the warmth from his body. He's only faintly aware of the way snow crunches under his father's feet, giving away to stone after a bit.

He only opens his eyes when he hears his father's grip shifting and the creak of the front door opening. The first thing he sees is a pair of mismatched eyes.

The sight of them is calming, no matter how frightening Shouto's glare was.

He's home.

It's over.

His eyes slide shut.

"Give him to me." He hears Shouto demands in a flat, no nonsense tone that leaves little room for arguing. "Now."

There's muffled moving. Izuku feels the rumbling growl come from the chest he was laying against.

"Do not tell me what to do, Shouto." His father says, voice clipped. "Move out of the way, now. He has hypothermia."

Silence.

Movement again. There's muffled talking, but he's too drowsy, too tired to try and concentrate on what they were saying. Even his thermal sense was fussy and vague, narrowed down to his immediate surroundings.

He doesn't need it right now, no?

He's home.

He's okay.

(Touya's still gone.)

Izuku is startled from this state of in between slumber and awareness by gentle hands pry his clothes off. They're small and dainty, not as large as his father's but nevertheless larger than his own.

He's not being held anymore. He's sitting somewhere, or at least trying to. His body keeps tilting to the side and those hands have to catch him constantly to keep him from falling over. The sudden removal of his clothes have him feebly shifting away. No, they were warm. Wet but somewhat warm, he's too cold he's not sure he'd last without them-

Then there's soft shushing, and the hands move to cup his frozen cheeks and tilts his head up. "It's alright, Izuku. Just stay still."

Oh.

He recognizes that small, reassuring voice, even through the trembling tenor. It's Fuyumi.

Slowly, he relaxes and allows his sister to take care of him.

The rest of his clothes are removed. By now his body feels no longer colder than the snow outside, but rather Izuku feels a tepid warmth under his skin. He's still cold, just less so. At least he can feel his fingers now.

Time moves past in a blur.

When Izuku comes to next, it's to the sensation of a small body pulling him into their lap, arms wrapping around his limp form like he was a teddy bear. He's clothed now, and his skin feels warm and humid. The cold almost feels like an afterthought now, a bad nightmare that was fading away under the passage of time.

Izuku, docile, lets his face get tucked into a pale neck. Shouto was both very hot and very cold; he can feel the dividing temperature through his clothes, but he doesn't mind. It's familiar and safe.

It's a strange reflection of how their father had held him, only minutes prior. Has it been minutes, though? He's not sure.

It felt like forever since then.

...this whole night had been very long, now that he thought about it. So very long. Sighing, he burrows closer against Shouto's warm form; his awareness of the world slowly fades away, narrowing down to his bed.

...still, no matter how hard he tries, he can't ignore the blob of heat standing none too far away, just out of his reach. Fluttering his eyes open, he shifts his head just enough to look at it's direction.

Dull green meets bright blue.

For a moment, neither made a move. Izuku drowsily takes in the unusually calm and expressionless look on the face of the man who sat just mere feet away from the mattress.

Then wordlessly, his father stands up straight and walks over to the door. Through bleary eyes and heavy eyelids, Izuku watches him flick the lights off and slip out of the room, closing the door behind him.

The sudden darkness is the last push his body needed for his mind to slip under.

.

.

.

When he comes out of the room and goes to the kitchen the next morning, Fuyumi drops to her knees and drags him into an almost painful embrace. Her arms are slightly cold, betraying the ice Quirk acting out under her pale skin.

Upon being released from his sister's hug, Izuku finds himself being swept up in Natsuo's arms, picked up to be held against his chest like he's a teddy bear.

His older brother wouldn't allow him down until Shouto's insistent glare grew too menacing to ignore.

.

.

.

Things are different, after that night.

At the same time, they're the same.

Izuku still wakes up early in the morning, his brother usually tucked against his side, curled up like a happy cat. He still flops over his sibling and harasses him until the older boy wakes up as well. They still brush their teeth and have breakfast together, sometimes with Fuyumi even though that is rare. Natsuo's presence feels scarcer, the oldest remaining Todoroki boy a whirlwind in the morning as he likes to leave the house extra early to hang out with his friends and avoid encountering their father.

Shouto still studies with him in the library and Izuku still naps every few days in a bed of coal, wrapped in black flames that flared every once in a while with renewed life.. Shouto still leaves small ice sculptures in the most impromptu of places and Izuku still merely giggles upon finding the wet mess afterwards -but doesn't clean it.

And yet, things are different.

His father is more demanding in training. Both his Quirk and body are pushed to the limits after every session, and most often than not Izuku barely has the strength to crawl back into his bed for a midday nap, less he collapse in the most improper location. The way Endeavor trained them now, the kitchen table looked like an acceptable place to curl up and let sleep whisk him away.

His brother fared better given his superior physical health, but even he looked frayed by the end of the first week of their new schedule. Still, they bore it with familiar resignation.

Complaining about their training was never on the table. Maybe it never really was.

This wasn't the end of the changes, Izuku noted. More than once, he catches his father making rounds around the house before leaving for work, as if he is expecting a pale phantom with sunken eyes to appear when he wasn't looking and snatch one of them away.

It was unsettling, that Endeavor thought it to be a possibility. That Touya would come back to grab him, forcefully this time. The unease faded not before long though, for the more Izuku thought about it, the more he found it unlikely.

There was a certain finality in the way Touya left him behind so easily, so readily.

If his father hadn't found him...

(It's something he finds himself thinking about too often for his comfort.)

But he's not out there in the cold anymore. Instead, most often than not Izuku wakes up in the morning to his brother wrapped around him like a leech, often enough crushing him to the futon. While he groans and shoves Shouto lightly on those mornings to get him off him, internally Izuku doesn't really mind. In fact, he likes it.

It reminds him that he's still here.

...though he feels both relief and shame at this fact, this happiness he feels knowing this. He doesn't feel like he deserves being so happy.

Not when there was someone out there who wasn't.

Because of him.

I'm so sorry, Touya.

.

.

.

Three weeks after Touya left, Izuku looks out the window and sees a pair of staffers working hard at putting up small devices on the perimeter of the estate. The snow is making it hard for them to move around, but they persevere. It's a curious sight.

"Security cameras and sensors," is all Fuyumi tells him the next morning when he asks.

Well.

Izuku leaves it at that.

.

.

.

His relationship with Fuyumi and Natsuo also changed.

Their hesitation had eased away over the years, but there was still an underlying current to their interactions -an apprehension born from knowing that Izuku could never blame them for. He would do the same, he thinks, if their roles had been reversed.

But now, it's as if the incident had never happened.

He doesn't see his older siblings as often as he does Shouto, but there was something different about the few interactions they have.

Mornings he finds Fuyumi knocking on his bedroom door to wake him and Shouto up, just like she often did. But while his youngest brother rarely comes into the kitchen with them -eating in his room was a habit that Izuku while he tried could not fully break him out of- Izuku had no qualms with following his only sister to the kitchen to spend some time with her before she had to leave for school.

Interesting enough, she shows him how to make tea. It's something that takes him off guard at first, but he quickly jumps into it with zeal, happy to have something new to learn that wasn't related to hero work.

As it turned out, there was a cupboard specifically for said beverages tucked in a corner of the kitchen. Apparently, tea was something Rei had enjoyed quite a lot and thus over the years she had filled a small, ornate little cupboard at the back of the kitchen with several types of spices and dried plants in little glass wares.

Opening the cupboard was always an experience for him. There's tons of different little herbs and bottled things that assault his nose with their strange, curious odors, picking his curiosity and leaving him reading the little stickers, voraciously absorbing every name. It makes him so curious he can feel Styxfire perk up in his chest, the black flames interested by the prospect of something new.

Or at least, at the prospect of more things to devour.

His Quirk wasn't picky in the slightest.

It's not like Izuku was going to indulge in that however; his Quirk had plenty to feed at the firepit, there was no reason to burn a few measly dry plants when it wouldn't even be enough to cover half a training session. And the mere thought of letting his Quirk have at this small little cupboard made his heart twist and stomach lurch with unease.

Rei wasn't his mother. They weren't related; he had no obligation towards this person. She was someone he never knew, someone he'd never met. Someone he'd only heard of through Fuyumi's passing comments, Shouto's clipped responses and Endeavor's claim that one night when he was introduced to the world.

By all accounts, she shouldn't matter.

And yet occasionally when he opens up the cupboard in the morning, Izuku runs his finger over the little glass jars and lets his mind run free.

Did she do this every morning, or did she also make tea in the afternoon? What kinds did she like the most? Was there a time set aside every day for this? Did Shouto drink tea with her in the mornings?

(Did she ever do this with father?)

.

.

.

"He's working harder than before." Shouto comments one day, giving Izuku pause from the mathematics book he'd been reading. His notebook is perched precariously on his knees, still open on his latest assignment.

"...has he?"

Shouto hums in response.

He takes the lapse in their conversation to think it through. While enthusiastic about heroes, Izuku's childhood worship had simmered down enough that he didn't consider covering his bedroom in All Might merchandise -whilst Natsuo would approve, it was the fastest way at getting his room renovated in a fiery manner- and though he followed a lot of heroes' ascension through the ranks, he never really kept up with his father's work.

Even if Endeavor was allergic to cameras and did his work strictly and to the letter without much of the showbiz that the media liked, his lack of interest in his father's career was for a entire different manner.

Simply put, it made him feel queasy. Wrong.

"Do you know why?" Izuku asks, watching as Shouto drew on the misty window. Outside, the snowstorm continued raging on.

"Overheard him on the phone." His brother murmurs, almost too low to catch. "He was talking to one of his employees I think." A pause. Izuku doesn't miss the brief flash of hesitation in the older boy's mismatches eyes.

"Apparently, All Might's stats have dropped."

Izuku's book drops to the ground.

What?

"I know," Shouto replies, and it takes a moment for Izuku to realize that yes, he'd just squeaked that out. "I don't get it either."

"B-but he's All Might." Izuku can't help but stammer.

Shouto merely shrugs. "That's all I know."

He then turns back to his own assignment, but Izuku doesn't follow. He just stares off into the distance instead, something squirming in his chest that wasn't his Quirk.

The idea that All Might could lose his-

No, don't think about it, he tells himself. He's All Might. He's strong. He's a hero. The best hero.

In his mind, there's no way anyone else could be the Number One Hero. It couldn't compute. Izuku knew, deep down, that it was a silly belief; time waits for no man and all heroes retired eventually. It was a matter of life; something he'd learned extensively in his hero studies. The work of a Pro-Hero was hardly ever kind of the human body; All Might was starting to push it in years of service.

Realistically, something like this was bound to happen.

And yet, Izuku couldn't find it in himself to see anyone else in that role. Because the Number One Hero was a role only meant for the best hero, and what person could compare to All Might? Who could make people feel relieved and safe with their mere appearance?

No one, he concedes gloomily as he looks down at his hands. There's no one who can make people feel like that.

As he looks at his hands, a memory tugged at his attention -hands, much bigger than his own, large and golden and faintly threaded with scars, cupping his own carefully. It's a memory he knows too well, one he revisits often for comfort.

All Might probably didn't remember him by now, but Izuku would forever remember their encounter.

...the more he thought about it, however, the more he wanted to chastise himself for his own silliness. Of course no one could compare to All Might, but his rank was a role, something that would outlive the man, as terrifying of a thought as it was.

Because Izuku had seen both sides of the coin, hadn't he? Heroes weren't the flashy, two dimensional comic book characters of pre-Quirk society. They could be good. They could be bad.

Most of all, they were human.

Maybe he's having an off year. Izuku thinks, but even to himself the argument sounds weak. Maybe he just needs rest.

It didn't stop the uncomfortable feeling twisting like an eel in Izuku's gut.

(Deep down, he knew something was wrong.)

.

.

.

His memory of the Quirk registration was still, after all these years, clear as day.

Namely, for the absolute shirtshow registering Shouto's Quirk had been.

It was no secret that the Todoroki patriarch was a proud man. The name of his Quirk Hellflame proved that. Knowing this, it was a given that he expected something good out of his children.

As the day of the registration loomed, Izuku scoured brought his notes, silently panicking as he looked over the suggestions he'd written down over the years. Styxfire was the name he used to refer to his Quirk up until now, but it never stopped him from doubting his choice.

It's not like he didn't like the name -a mixture of mythology and inspired by his father's Hellflame, but his nerves got the better of him every time he was reminded of the approaching date.

Especially as this new registration would be more official.

Legally, children had to be registered with a basic Quirk registration form a maximum of two weeks since their Quirks manifested. From what Izuku remembered, it only held minimal information such as type and a very crude description of what it could do. His father had done the paperwork and he'd only signed it.

From what he understood, this was done so teachers could look through their students' files, see fire quirk listed, and know they had to keep an eye on the child and steer them away from anything flammable. Or keep the child with electric quirk under strict supervision when at the pool.

Unfortunately for Todoroki Enji's wallet when it came to Izuku's Quirk and the question what can it burn?, the answer was yes.

Because absolutely everything was flammable. No exceptions, that is besides Izuku himself.

For the longest time, Izuku's Quirk was only registered as Black Flames, and Shouto's was Half Hot, Half Cold. Not the most grandiose names, and certainly not the ones they would carry around when they were pro-heroes if their father had any say in it -and if Endeavor had anything, it was a say in all matters pertaining to his children. They were never meant to be permanent, and Izuku had settled on Styxfire not long after completing the minor regulation form.

The ceiling to the complete Registration form was when they reached 11, but combined with his father's urge to speed their education along they were doing it early. And so, they went to the nearest city hall one day at the age of 9 on a quiet sunny day to do them.

Unfortunately for the Todoroki Patriarch, things don't go the way he was expecting.

Izuku dutifully wrote Styxfire in his own document, and filled the rest of the form with a bit of help from the secretary assisting them. He'd been satisfied with it from the start, since he'd been only seven and filled two pages of possible names. This was it as far as he was concerned. It didn't reveal what his Quirk did, nor was it too convoluted.

(Plus, it reminded of his father's Hellflame. As ...challenging as Endeavor was, Izuku couldn't help but base his Quirk's name on the Number Two Hero's Quirk.)

But then...when it was Shouto's turn to do the paperwork, things immediately went sour.

His brother had taken the document, looked at their father straight in the eye and without missing a beat or breaking eye contact, he wrote out Half Hot, Half Cold on the name margin.

The tiny, hissed noise the Number Two Hero made at that was so low that Izuku barely heard it.

As Shouto dutifully finished his forms Endeavor's face had done all sorts of minute little twists and twitches, but given they were in a public setting the man had an image to upkeep and so, he could only nod and accept it.

And Shouto knew that, if the shine in his eyes was anything to go by.

Rarely had Izuku seen him so gleeful.

.

.

.

It should be funny. His brother probably thought it was. In the same twisted way Natsuo got enjoyment from spitting curses at their father.

(In the same way that had Touya leaving.)

Anger only leads to anger, Izuku thinks one night as he stares out the window of his bedroom. The sky outside was dark and full of falling snow, reminding on that night.

This thought gives him pause for how well it fits. Looking at his family, he really can't find it in himself to refute this. It's a truth that burrows deep in his chest, settling in right next to Styxfire.

.

.

.

"He's up to something." He hears Shouto hiss through clenched teeth one day after training, low and hostile. Their father was already gone, needing to return to his agency for extra work. Izuku thinks it might be some important mission; he quietly wonders if he'll see it on the news.

Nursing his own bruises, Izuku has to wait several moments before he finds it in himself the strength to speak up; "Why do you think so?

"He keeps staring at you." Shouto gulped down nearly half his water bottle before he spoke next. "He's thinking of doing something. I don't know why." And I don't like it.

Against his will, Izuku's lips twisted into a faint grimace. He's not sure why he was expecting something else, really. Years of living with Shouto should have numbed him to this already.

It was always like this.

Some faint, tiny little part of Izuku thinks this shouldn't be happening. There shouldn't be this much distrust, should it?

Maybe. He doesn't exactly have something to compare. His memories of before living here had grown quite fuzzy over the years, no matter how much he tried to keep them preserved.

"Maybe it's a coincidence." Izuku finally spoke up, fiddling with his own water bottle. It's cool and nice in his hands; sighing, he lifts it up and rested it against the back of his neck to quell his overheated body. Styxfire squirmed restlessly in his chest at the sudden cold, but he paid it no mind. "My birthday is coming up, maybe he's thinking of that?"

His only response was an almost disbelieving huff as Shouto put his water bottle away and stumbled to his feet. He thinks he hears a muttered right come from his older brother, but the dual haired boy didn't leave him time to ask as he stumbled out of the room, limping slightly on his good leg. Izuku's left staring at his retreating back, stomach dropping slightly in his belly.

If it had been done years ago, when he was still small, starved and constantly jumping at shadows, Izuku would have flinched. Here, he just accepts it with a quiet, resigned sigh.

Right.

Birthdays weren't really celebrated as much as they passed in the Todoroki household, like the seasons throughout the years.

Fuyumi would be in charge, an extra allowance from their father allowing her to go out and buy a cake for the birthday person. It's the only opportunity they really have to eat sweets, so each year the two youngest wait for those dates to come longing -although Shouto utterly refuted to let his excitement show each time Fuyumi and Natsuo brought home a cake for him.

Honestly Izuku thought there was a cosmic joke in there about his brother's love for strawberry cheesecake but for the sake of not waking up the next week with ice cubes stuffed under his pillow, he knew better than to open his mouth.

Natsuo wasn't the only one who inherited their father's vindictiveness.

.

.

.

It's only a week later that he realizes that yes, Shouto was most certainly right and he probably owed his older brother something now.

Shouto's always right, he thinks sourly as he sits at the back of the car, staring out the window as buildings pass by, each more and more opulent as they head into the higher class districts of Tokyo.

After several years of this same song and dance, he'd grown used to being randomly plucked from his daily routine, get fawned over by a couple of stylists that hovered all over him like flies complaining about his freckles and hair and how red and green were decidedly not combinable colors outside of Christmas, and then promptly shoved into the car alongside his father to look good on camera.

These events were few and far in between given how Endeavor was adamant that he and Shouto focused all of their attention to training. Of that, Izuku was grateful.

Doesn't make this any better, he grumbles mentally, eyes shifting upon catching familiar flashes of light. He internally winces at what's ahead as the car pulls up into private property.

The moment the driver opens his car door, he's blinded by the bright flashes of light.

He's expecting it, but half the time it still catches him off guard enough to make him see spots. Oh well. Izuku fights through the blurriness and focuses on stepping out without making a scene, following his father closely through the crowd.

He can't see anything beyond the suits and flashes and matching dresses -his height really, truly worked against him in nearly all aspects of life- but Endeavor through some feat of magic manages to part the crowd like Moses did with the Red Sea.

Might not be magic though, if the scowl he catches on his father's reflection in the glass door at the entrance of the building was anything to go by.

The fact he was in his hero costume made it even more effective.

His father pauses at the entrance. Izuku mimics him, discretely glancing at the man from the corner of his eye. Piercing blues stare right back.

"Behave."

With that, his father turns away, opening the door. Izuku almost frowns at Endeavor's back, nearly breaking the pleasant mask he'd put on.

He's not Shouto. He's not going to disappear in the Minister's garden, go skating after covering the estate's lake in ice, then return with wet clothes that would leave huge puddles of water across the expensive lobby carpet and deadpan ask if they can go home yet.

There's a reason Endeavor brought Izuku along most of the time compared to the rest of his siblings, even if he had the most destructive Quirk out of the two youngest Todoroki children.

Izuku knew his job; he'd very well perfected it over the years of being forced in front of the camera. The only thing he has to do is stand next to his father and play the part of the stereotypical obedient young son.

At least nobody bothers me when I'm around Father.

It's a bitter truth. Over the years as he grew, Izuku noticed along the way that most often than not everyone seemed to agree to an unspoken rule and always left a diameter around Endeavor clear that only a few brave souls foolish or a reporter that was really, really desperate for an interview ever stepped through.

Inside there were far fewer reporters -they were easy to spot, with their cameras and constant twitching and restless movements, like sharks smelling blood. Instead, Izuku found himself quietly beholding the sight of a large hall filled with heroes in costumes, people in suits and the occasional child standing by their parents.

The sight pleasantly surprise him.

There's other children here. Ranging from toddlers sticking close to their parents' legs to skulking teenagers hanging in groups, they seemed to be everywhere, their presence quiet and subdued by the number of adults roaming around but still noteworthy. Izuku surveils the crowd, fascinated by them and how they seemed to reach out to each other, forming a merry little bands as they went.

So that's why I'm here, he ponders as he stares at a group of children roughly his age. A part of Izuku wanted to reach out, curious at the sight of these little beings so similar to himself.

(He has to wonder if they train, just like he does. If they toiled under their parents' expectations until their legs could not hold them up anymore.)

There was no real way they grouped up, and Izuku silently found himself jealous by the ease at which they joined up. He's far from the only child staying near their parents, but Endeavor had a dark, opposing aura around him than none of the other heroes with children possessed.

It's a wonder why they're here at all. And Izuku. Especially Izuku.

To give a softer image, one man with a job title Izuku couldn't even begin to pronounce had told his father over Izuku's head like he wasn't there. True, he'd been seven at the time, but he was still intelligent enough to understand what his father's employee meant. Hero Politics was one of the topics his teachers drilled into his head as soon as he started his studies.

According to his father's PR team, nothing smoothed Endeavor's image and made him more human than having someone like Izuku at his side, small and meek compared the titan that was his father. Endeavor was built for power over speed and it showed.

Discreetly, he looks down at himself, feeling a bit of dejection at what he found.

Training had certainly strengthened his body, but it was clear he would never get anywhere near as physically big as his father, or as tall. Shout had certainly inherited Endeavor's height, but Izuku's features were solely of his mother from the hair down to the shape of his eyes to of course, his height.

Styxfire certainly wasn't helping his case.

Maybe I'll be more of a defensive hero, Izuku thinks as he looks up again, checking to see if he was still near his father -who was talking to a group of men Izuku did not recognize- before looking around the large chamber again. Use my fire as a shield, to protect or capture. It's the only way I can use my Quirk effectively against people.

As he stood there, lost in his thoughts, his eyes caught onto the shine of something metallic and shiny, startling him. Izuku had to blink a few times to focus on this interruption.

The metal gleam that caught his eyes did not come from a piece of furniture; instead it was from a person. Specifically, their elbows.

Tensei Iida, Izuku recognized almost immediately, watching with interest as the young man ambled around, chattering with a smaller boy at his side. Recently debuted as a Sidekick after joining the Iida agency. Graduated from Yuuei.

The trademark exhausts on his elbows were a dark gold color, gleaming under the light as they were displayed proudly by the young Sidekick's short sleeves. They seemed almost out of place given how big they were, and should have restrict the man's ability to move his arms comfortably, but Ingenium seemed to have no problem with their size.

How did they even work? What material were they made of?

They're fascinating to look at. If Izuku had enough courage -if he was stronger, less scared, less hesitant, more like All Might- he would have walked up to the young Hero and asked him questions burning at the tip of his tongue.

"-are you alright?"

Izuku blinks.

Curious blue stare back from behind a wall of glass, a feet from his own eyes. It's the kid that was talking with Ingenium. He was looking down at Izuku with an expression of mild interest. The

Wait, if the boy was here that meant-

Izuku's throat clams up. He turns his head just in time to see Ingenium smile sheepishly. "Sorry if we startled you. You were staring..." The teenager trails off, his expression a toss between amused and hesitant. Not surprising, given who Izuku's father was.

Izuku feels the rush of blood to his cheeks like a slap. Waves of shame and anxiety make their way through his veins as easily as Styxfire, and he drowns in it.

"O-oh." Ashamed, he bends his head forward in apology. "I'm sorry, I-I was just….staring off! I apologize if th-that bothered you." Any attempt at sounding refined is lost in between the stammers.

Izuku wanted to die.

Just let a hole open up under him and swallow him whole.

Maybe I can just make that hole myself. Just burn the floor under me and keep going until I'm six feet under.

He gave his father a quick look. The man was standing several feet away, discussing in a low tone with a group of men in suits that from their body shape, were definitely not heroes or retired ones. Endeavor didn't seem to be paying attention to him, so Izuku let out a mental sigh of relief.

At least he didn't have that to worry about.

For how long, he had no idea.

Best to make the best of it.

"That's quite alright!" Ingenium chuckles, a hand raised apologetically. "I can't exactly fault you for being curious, can I kid?"

"It's still rude, though...s-so again, I must apologize!"

"He's right, you know!" The smaller Iida interjected, flailing his arms in a way that had Izuku tracking his hands' sharp gestures with interest. "You didn't mean anything wrong, we can't fault you for your curiosity!"

While he's loud in a way Izuku was only used to when it was associated with anger and frustration, the boy was so earnest and energetic in the way he spoke it took him for a loop. And despite his height, he looked young.

Maybe he was his age…?

"R-Right." Izuku mutters, looking up to meet the other boy's gaze.

Suddenly Ingenium perks up at the boy's side, looking away to their left.

"I think mom and dad are calling." The man speaks up gently, tilting his head towards a elderly couple sitting by one of the buffet tables. Izuku noted with fascination how the two older hero waved upon noticing their sons looking at them, gesturing them to come. Ingenium

The two boys nodded and hurried out to their parents with only a nod and a gentle farewell towards him. Izuku deflated on the inside at their exit. That was fast.

...had...had he creeped them out?

Maybe.

Probably.

Great.

Now he's alone again.

He doesn't want to just stand here though, and he certainly doesn't want to be by his father. Not at the moment. Endeavor trusted him to at least have some sense, so he wasn't watched like a hawk. It's not like he can get into much trouble in a place filled with heroes.

Or maybe the man was too busy making connections with members of the Hero Commission to pay attention to him.

Either way was a logical assumption for Izuku to make.

He wanders off to the side, bypassing the bountiful buffet. Darting around a few people, Izuku scurries to what he sees is an open door leading to some sort of terrace. There's some decorations there so it was part of the event, but there were no people as far as Izuku could see, which is what he wanted right about now.

It's easy blocking out the masses when he's next to a man who eats and breathes stay away from me if you don't have anything pertinent to say, but alone? Izuku's never been the life of the party, per say. He knew how to smile and look the part.

Being part of the festivities? It was a whole other thing.

There was a difference between being a wallflower and actively participating in such an event. It required strength, social awareness and confidence that Izuku...just didn't have. There's a part of him that is frustrated, but he's long come to accept it as the truth.

Besides, being around so many people? Having so many heat sources around him, swarming him? Having that much noise and chatter around for hours on end?

Just the thought of it makes him feel faint and dizzy.

What worth will I have as a hero if I can't handle a crowd? Izuku thinks cynically as he leans against the stone railing of the balcony, using its cold, sturdy surface to hold himself up. Styxfire squirms at the sudden wash of cold from the granit, but he's nonplussed. The winter cold wasn't as bad today, thankfully. It's just sad. Father would be ashamed if he knew-

Wait.

What was that?

There's movement below that has Izuku's eyes snapping into focus. Styxfire squirms pleasantly in his chest, the flames stimulated by what he sensed was a large heat mass somewhere down below him.

Who could be out here at this ti-

When he catches a glimpse of yellow-gold down at the gardens below the balcony, Izuku doesn't hesitate to head for the stairs, all his father's rules and commands cast aside like a leaf in the wind.

.

.

.

He's not sure he could get used to this.

His newly reconstructed lungs ached with phantom pain each time he breathed. In his gut, he felt a distinctive absence, a hollow place where his stomach should be.

It was an exercise of will to maintain this form.

Surgery after surgery had carved away at his strength, to the point he could only use One for All for a few hours a day. This time would shorten as the years went by according to Recovery Girl, and the thought silently horrified him. To be stripped of his strength like this, to be Quirkless again when he was needed…

...the only consolation Toshinori had was that he'd finally done it.

All for One was dead.

The world went on, unaware of the horrors that had transpired. Of a battle that had decimated a mountainside, crippled the Number One Hero and rid them of the greatest threat to peace Japan had ever seen. Nana could rest in peace.

There's a small ounce of comfort in the knowledge that only a select few knew about this fight, or the villain. All for One had mostly been more of a myth,a tale lurking in dark forums, back alleys and word of mouth amongst villains. But now he was gone for good and his empire had crumbled.

Toshinori had completed the duty set out by the first user of One for All, what his predecessors had been striving to do for decades. A task his predecessor had tried to carry out for over a hundred years, ended with Toshinori.

There was pride in this, but mostly relief at the finality of it.

Now he needed to look over the next generation, up until his own clock reached its end. His time as the Symbol of Peace had a tangible deadline now. Toshinori felt a mixture of unease and acceptance at this prospect.

All of his life has been as a Pro-Hero -as the Symbol of Peace. He was far from an egotistical person, but he couldn't help but wonder how Japan would be once he stepped down.

What would he do after this?

Toshinori can't help the frustrated sigh from leaving him. His shoulders slump dejectedly, the simple movement pulling at his too tender wound. It only made the pain more noticeable, more present; in that moment the wound felt like a brand -a brand of his victory, but also his failure.

A silent threat, slowly ticking down to zero.

The Pro-Hero exhales quietly. What a horrible thought.

As much as he preferred staying here in the quiet garden, Toshinori had responsibilities. This galla was one of them; the people inside were waiting for him, no doubt. He should get back before someone came searching.

Defeated, he spins on his heels to ascend the balcony stairs-

Green.

Bright, familiar green, staring up at him from the ground with a mixture of curiosity and wonder.

Well, this was familiar.

Joy and amusement blooms in his heart at the sight, the unforgettable face of the freckled child -the very same kid who had once given him a panic attack when Endeavor appeared like wrath to reclaim his progeny. Those wide green eyes brimming with the curious innocence only a child could have instantly chased away the dark cloud hovering over Toshinori's head.

It only takes a moment for the name to pop up in his head and worm its way to his mouth, so memorable their last encounter was:

"Izuku." Then he realized how familiar he was speaking to the young boy, and quickly backtracks to something more polite. A sheepish smile stretched his lips. "Y-young Todoroki, it's so good to meet you again!"

Izuku blinks at him, too wide eyes staring up at Toshinori like a deer in the headlights. "...you can call me Izuku." The boy replies softly after a long stretch of silence. " I'm not my father."

Well, yes. A part of him responds awkwardly in his own head.

Toshinori was pretty sure Izuku missed a few things to be compared to Endeavor. Namely, the crown of flames and the squinted scowl. Oh, and the height. Izuku barely reached his upper leg at this moment.

God, the boy was still so tiny. He looked less like a person and more of a life-sized doll with those fancy clothes of his. Toshinori was certain he could pick the child up with one hand. The big doe eyes weren't helping. Izuku didn't even reach his hip yet and while yes, he must be around eight or nine at this point, he was still so small.

It seemed like Endeavor's genes really didn't stick with this boy.

Good, in his opinion. He was having a really hard time figuring out what a Izuku with more prominent Todoroki traits would look like. Even if he can't get a solid picture in his head, it's still terrifying to think about.

Nightmare material, truly.

"Right." Toshinori coughs awkwardly, hiding a wince as a flare of pain travels up his spine from his still tender wound. "How have you been, my boy?" He asks, desperate to steer his mind away from the mental image of the youngest Todoroki wearing his father's trademark scowl. Oh, the horror. "It's been a long time!"

Izuku offers him a tiny, reserved smile. It's the kind of grin Toshinori often saw with a lot of children when they met him at events or out on patrol; excited to meet All Might, but nervous and subdued because their parents were watching.

At that thought, he can't help but look around expecting to see Endeavor materializing from the shadows. Thank god.

"I've been alright." Izuku replies, ducking his head in an odd bobbing motion like he wants to shyly look at the ground, but quickly realizes something and his green eyes dart back to Toshinori's face. It's an odd motion. "I-I've been studying real hard, especially in my hero studies. I think I'm doing okay." Izuku continues with that even, polite tone, lacking none of the boasting Toshinori was expecting a child his age when they were talking about themselves-

Wait.

Hero studies?

"You study Heroics, already?" Toshinori can't help but frown lightly. Isn't he a bit young for that?

"I have to." Izuku tells him like it's obvious, blinking up at him. "I'm going to Yuuei." In that moment something flickers in the child's eyes, a passing emotion that was darker and sadder than Toshinori would have expected given the polite smile the little boy offers him.

"What an ambitious boy!" Toshinori can't help but say cheerfully, trying to make that smile bloom again -anything to get the child to smile again. "Your father must be proud!"

There's a pause where Toshinori knows he's stepped on something delicate as the child's face seems to close off.

In that moment, Izuku seemed a lot wiser than his age. "Father's especially adamant about training." He says, voice low and soft.

Almost...resigned.

Adamant? Toshinori frowns as he takes in the boy. His gangly limbs, wild curly hair and small stature, smaller than a child his age should be.

Now that he looked more closely, Izuku had muscle -lean and wiry, hidden under his clothes but evidence of an active lifestyle. Had...had Enji been training his children for hero work?

For how long?

Toshinori is suddenly struck with the mental image of Izuku, smaller and rounder-faced like he'd been when they first met, standing in front of Enji while the man gruffly taught him how to punch properly. It's a concept that makes his insides squirm uncomfortably.

Surely he wouldn't…?

Almost as if sensing his unease, izuku suddenly shakes his head and seems to backtrack. "N-not that I'm complaining! I need to train. You see, my Quirk…."

Izuku hesitates.

There's something there, Toshinori realizes discreetly. He notices it in the way the boy speaks, heavy and full, a weight no child his age should bear. It's strange. It's important.

He can't help but commit it to memory.

"...my Quirk's really, really strong." The boy finally confines in him, voice low as if it's a distasteful secret. His brows crease, the corner of his lips twitching downwards. It's not a look a child should be doing. "But it's also destructive. I-I need to train, otherwise I might hurt somebody."

Here again, Toshinori notes the way he utters that last phrase. He can't help but think that Izuku was about to say more, but cut himself off.

The Pro-Hero quickly looks back at their last meeting. The sparks of black flames(?) that had escaped the boy's fingertips when he became nervous. A fire Quirk, like Endeavor. Unusual coloring, certainly unique, yes, but it didn't seem that dangerous, especially with a father like Enji Todoroki.

His former classmate had to have a good lid on his child's Quirk training, no? Even if he was young, he probably trained the boy -at least enough to help him keep it in check. Izuku just said that he trained because of his Quirk's nature and because he wanted to follow his father's footsteps.

...which made the fact that a nine year old was telling him he needed to train so he would not hurt people all the more disturbing.

What are you teaching him, Todoroki?

"It's commendable that you want to protect those around you." Toshinori kindly tells the boy, who was waiting for his response with unusual patience for a child his age. "But, young Izuku, you must remember there are a lot of Quirks that can result in injury to the user and the people around him."

Izuk makes a face. "I know." The green haired boy mutters. "It doesn't feel the same."

"Are you sure?" Toshinori was starting to feel desperate. "It's not the Quirk that is dangerous. It's all a matter of how you use it."

Izuku is silent. He's frowning at the ground so hard Toshinori fears he might go cross-eyed.

"Maybe." The child finally admits after a moment of silence. "I-"

Suddenly Izuku stops, eyes catching something behind Toshinori.

Stomach dropping, the Pro-Hero follows his gaze and finds Endeavor standing by the door, arms crossed and eyes fixed on the two of them, unimpressed.

Immediately, Toshinori's mood sours.

He says nothing as Izuku walks past him, the young boy whispering a quiet goodbye as he went to join his father. There's really nothing he can do.

It doesn't stop the uncomfortable feeling in his nonexistent stomach from making itself known.

.

.

.

As Endeavor drags him away, Izuku's father is quick to reprimand him in a hissed toneL

"Why did you talk to him?"

It's hissed lowly, too quietly for anyone to overhear.

"He looked tired." Izuku finds himself muttering, averting his eyes away from his father. He knows Endeavor hates him doing so -heroes, according to him, were never supposed to cower- but he can't find it in himself to follow the man's teachings. Not right now. "I wanted to make him feel better." "It's what heroes do, no?"

"He's All Might." Endeavor grumbles as they get closer to the balcony's door leading back inside. There's no one here, thankfully. "The Number One Hero has more important things to do than to cater to what you think. He's in charge of maintaining the balance of our society, he has not time for lamenting on nonsense."

He was speaking in that tone, the same he uses when he's discussing things he believes Izuku couldn't understand. And most often than not, he was right on that front.

This was one of those cases.

And yet...

Izuku was young, he knew that. He was young and green and very much ignorant of how the world worked. He knew little of how heroes operated beyond what his father had shoved into his head or what he saw on the television. His grasp on the real world was very much restricted to the house he spent the last few years living in. The house he'd begrudged lay come to think of as his home.

But that didn't mean he didn't have thoughts of his own. That he didn't think on the matters he couldn't grasp quite yet. That he didn't have opinions.

And when it came to All Might, he had plenty of those.

He remembered a pair of hands covered in scars, faint and barely there, evidence of a life full of fighting and strife. He remembers the time his father would begrudge fly skip their training in order to heal from a villain fight, or the times he'd seen his shirt ride up and show a small assortment scars.

Izuku was ignorant, yes.

That didn't make him blind.

And All Might-

-he didn't look like he was doing well.

"He's human, isn't he?" He whispers quietly, low under his breath. More to himself than the colossus at his side.

Endeavor says nothing as he leads him away.

(The quick, shielded side glance he gives him though, tells Izuku that he had been heard.)

.

.

.

Life goes on.

Waking up, eating, studying, training, eating and training again, until his limbs barely held him up and his Quirk reserves dipped -this was an endless cycle Izuku had long become too familiar with.

He knows better than to complain about it.

.

.

.

Not even two weeks and a half weeks after meeting All Might, he's dragged to the car again.

Izuku's not very happy about it.

He also can't really complain about it, too.

Thankfully the winter was giving away to spring, though not without a fight; half-melted ice crunching under his expensive boots as he trudged obediently after his father towards the family car.

The driver's already there, opening the door for Izuku. His father goes around the car and does it for himself.

It doesn't surprise him one bit that once inside Endeavor doesn't give him the time of day, too busy talking on the phone with someone. Izuku can't quite grasp the subject of the conversation, but it has something to do with his job. Commission? As in the Hero Commission?

As those thoughts swirl inside his head, their gazes meet. Blue versus green.

Izuku ducks his head and looks away from the Pro-Hero's serious, unimpressed face, ashamed and embarrassed at having been caught staring. He knew his father hated it.

I have enough of that from the media, the man would tell him through a sneer.

To keep that from happening again, Izuku just stares at his feet while the car rumbles under him.

He keeps his gaze there as the vehicle twists and turns, taking him away from the estate and into places unknown. Heat signals fly by too quickly for him to study them. Styxfire ripples under his skin, sharing his unease at the winter cold outside.

He's not sure how much time passes until the car finally stops. Endeavor immediately gets out in one swift, smooth movement; Izuku has to wait patiently for the driver to open the door. Doing it himself would only result in a reprimand about his manners, even thought he was perfectly able to do it. Complaining won't get him anywhere though, so he keeps his mouth shut.

After what felt like an eternity, the door slides open.

Outside the cold is biting, today being one of the last true winter days as spring clawed its way into Musustafu. Izuku fights a shudder as Endeavor walks around the car, the man's higher than normal body heat chasing some of the cold away even with the wide gap between them.

It's a mild relief from the weather.

I wish I can hibernate, Izuku thinks as his father silently beckons him to follow with a glance at his direction.

He falls into step next to the behemoth of a man with practiced ease. Endeavor looks on ahead, but as they walked Izuku caught him glancing down at him. It only ever lasts for half a second, but Izuku still catches some of those darting glances.

He does that a lot, Izuku notes absently as they walk down the street. Stare at him from the corner of his eyes with that ever uninterested expression that somehow still managed to retain that intensity that made Izuku nervous no matter how often he was on the receiving end of it.

Oddly enough, it started up after Touya left.

Don't think about it.

To take his mind away from that subject, Izuku focuses his attention to his surroundings. Just in time too, as Endeavor comes to a stop in front of a building. Izuku blinks up at the edifice, blinking as he takes in the elegant wooden sign hanging over the glass entrance.

Shizukana Niwa Cafe

He can feel something in his head sputter and die.

What.

Wait.

What-

"Izuku." His father's sharp voice has his legs moving before his mind can snap back in attention, making him stumble a bit as he walks after his father who was about to enter the restaurant.

The man has to duck a bit to enter through the door. Given his own much smaller size, Izuku simply walks under his father's arm as the man leaves the door extended for him to pass, his cold blue eyes scanning the cafe for threats.

It's a small place; tall glass windows, tropical and elegant furniture decorate nearly every available inch of the chamber. It was quiet too, with people in high end clothes scattered in tables or couches. They were either reading, on a computer or phone or speaking with other guests in quiet, hushed voices.

This peace falters briefly when the door opens and Izuku and Endeavor walk in.

Without his hero gear Endeavor should be harder to recognize ...except the flames on his face never really went out, at least not without conscious effort, so more than one head turns at the sound of the door opening and even more keep staring.

Izuku wants to retract his head into his coat and disappear. He fights off the urge to shove his wool beanie down to cover up his eyes. Last thing he needs is falling over on his face.

It's hard to keep focus though, with the storm brewing in his head.

A cafe. His father had brought him to a cafe. The smell of sugar and confectionary was faint but present, dredging up faint memories of walking by candy stores with his mother and begging for a sweet until she relented. Just the memory made Izuku choke up and even more off balance.

What were they doing? Why here of all places? This wasn't one of the gallas -was it one of those social dinners he'd overhead Endeavor talk about on the phone? If so, why bring him of all people?!

The more he thought about it, the more uneasy and anxious he feels.

There's something going on here -something strange that was most definitely not part of the routine he was used to. A mystery that Izuku wanted to solve and run away from at the same time.

His father was beyond his concerns; he walks up to a man in a dark uniform who seems to momentarily freeze up when he realizes Endeavor's attention was on him. Few words are exchanged, too quick and hushed for Izuku could grasp. It only makes the squirming in his gut worse.

What was going on?

Before he can gather his thoughts into a paltry amount of coherence, Endeavor turns away from the staff member and heads deeper into the establishment. Once again, the only thing Izuku can do is follow and hope for the best.

They go down a long hallway and a smooth wooden floor that made Izuku feels squeamish about walking on given his boots. There's multiple doors on either side of them, all identical save for a little plate with a golden number next to them. With his Quirk, Izuku could sense the thermal presence of a few people behind those doors, though there weren't a lot.

Some form of private meeting?

Was that what his father was here for? If so, wouldn't his agency be better?

If so, why am I here at all?

To keep himself sane, he reads off the numbers on the door.

One…

Two…

Three…

Four…

Five…

Six….

Seven…

Endeavor stops.

Izuku mimics him. There's a single, small blob of heat beyond this door. It barely moves at all.

A single eight is proudly etched on the panel next to the door his father came to a half in front of. Hesitantly, Izuku tries to exchange a glance with Endeavor; the man however ignores him, reaching out and knocking on the dark wooden door.

There's no answer at first. Then, a voice speaks up:

"Who's there?"

Izuku could feel his eyes grow wide.

No way.

No, he imagined that voice. No no no, it couldn't be-

Izuku's feet go rigid under him, rooting him on the floor. He registers his father opening the door too late and he freezes up further, panic clawing at him because there's no way, it was impossible he was imagining it why was she here-

Green.

Every single one of the chaotic, incoherent splutter of thoughts and panic in Izuku's head reach an abrupt, silent halt.

The woman standing on the other side of the door is a little plumper than he remembered. Her hair is pulled, and she was clutching her purse with a death grip -a purse that upon the door opening dropped down to the floor with a solid thud, and the owner never spared a glance down.

Midoriya Inko was too busy staring wide-eyed and frozen at her son.

Slowly, Inko took a tiny step forward -then another, stumbling as she walked closer and closer to him. Her steps grew faster, more frenzied, the ground almost as she charges through the doorway.

Izuku feels no danger. Rather, something snaps in him, a bind flying loose and suddenly the fear and anxiety is gone, evaporated to leave behind mind numbing relief that floods every part of his body. He can only cry out louder than he'd ever dared before in his life and rush forward to meet her in the last few feet left between them, leaping into his mother's arms at the same time that a strangled sound leaves his lips:

"Mom!"

She catches him just like she used to do when he was a kid. Arms wide and inviting, the relief, desperation and sheer joy in her eyes making him crumble and break even further.

"Izuku," she breathes into the crown of his hair, exhales shaky and hitched, her lips brushing against his forehead. Her grip on his form is almost bruising lay tight; he's not sure the tip of his feet are touching the ground anymore. He doesn't care. "Oh my god, you're h-here, my sweetheart…"

You're here, Izuku thinks in his head, throat too clogged up to speak. The only thing that leaves him is a hiccuped noise.

"I'm not going anywhere, honey." His mother whispers against his hair, her voice just as soft and warm as he remembered it being.

Her grip is tight, almost too tight, but like the fact his toes barely touched the floor, he does not care for this either. All he knows is the warmth of her body and her smell.

"I am here."

It's only then that Izuku allows himself to cry.

---

Ya'll got rick rolled.

I never said you would be crying because of angst. FEELS ATTACK BITCH, HOPE IT'S SUPER EFFECTIVE.

Thus officially concludes the Childhood Arc!

Consider this the therapy chapter before we head into Yuuei. Or at least the lower half of it lmao, Touya's part dragged on for too long. Bakuboi is coming in two chapters and oh boy, this is gonna be a jumpy ride. After next chapter the updates are going to be more commons, solely due to the fact that one, the chapters are going to be smaller and two, that is easier to plan out than the Childhood Arc.

Toshinori's relationship with Izuku is going to be slightly different than in canon. It's going to be a bit before One for All is brought into the picture, but I hope you'll enjoy it. Hint: teacher instincts should be relabelled parental instincts.

(If this keeps up by the time Endeavor turns back around with his head finally out of his ass and a proper redemption arc, All Might will have run off with all of his children lol.)

Also, I love the fact that canon to this story Izuku's reaction to someone talking to him that he's not forced by Endeavor to interact with or is a family member is to bluescreen and crash like a old computer trying to load up Crysis.

Truly peak social skills there, thanks dad.

If you guys think I made Endeavor too soft this chapter, just remember the cardinal rule of this fic: if the talking walking trash can on fire does something good, then by the law of equivalent exchange he's gonna do ten steps back in the future.

Up next:

Yuuei Entrance Exams loom over the horizon. Izuku doesn't feel ready. Shouto does, though not in the right way. Here's hoping Yuuei is ready for their new students.

(Spoiler alert: They aren't. Toshinori, on the other hand, will be very happy to see tiny OP bean again.)