Shoto and Bashira took a taxi home together. Neither one of them spoke.

When they got back to U.A. the walk from the gates to their building seemed miles long. They were still silent.

It was afternoon by then. It was hot. Everyone else was in class so the grounds themselves were quiet. By the time the two got to their unit Bashira was slick with sweat and extra unsettled. She wiped off her upper lip and forehead self-consciously.

"I'm taking a shower," were the first words Shoto offered. There was nothing else for Bashira to do but say 'okay' and watch him go. She honestly would have liked a shower too, but she made do with stripping out of her dampened clothes and letting herself cool down for a few minutes, alone and naked in her room. Their room? Whatever.

As grimy as it was to put on clean clothes after, Bashira tried to forget about it as she changed. Wearing a pair of cotton shorts and an over-sized tee, she padded back into the main house and found herself by the couch. She settled down in her usual spot and turned on the TV.

Bashira honestly didn't know what she was watching, and she didn't even think about it until Shoto got out of the shower and she heard him moving around. It was then that she made an effort to flip through the stations – the Discovery Channel was respectable, right? – and molded herself into the cushions as if she'd been at complete ease all along.

Shoto made his way into the living room not much later. Bashira didn't look at him directly but even from her peripheral she noticed that he wasn't wearing a shirt. Really? There was a towel around his shoulders that covered most of his chest but she still considered his state of undress some kind of cruel and unusual punishment.

To make it worse, Shoto sat down on other end of the couch – about as close to next to her as he'd ever been.

Bashira might as well have been staring at a wall for as much as the TV distracted her. Was Shoto angry? Impressed? He could have not wanted her to go to the hospital in the first place. And then she'd gone and sassed his dad while she was there. Had she been in the wrong? About everything? Or did she win any kind of points for her performance?

The Todoroki Clan was driving her crazy.

Bashira was driving herself crazy with the fact that she actually cared about them at all.

Bashira chanced a glance over to Shoto. He looked about as enthralled with the TV as she was. His eyes were actually on the wall, fogged over, obviously not connected to his surroundings.

Should Bashira just ask him outright what he was thinking? She doubted he'd give her an answer if she did. He'd probably flip the question around so that she'd be the one stuck in the spotlight.

Maybe, then, she could just take the initiative to start talking for herself.

"Sorry if you didn't actually want to leave with me," Bashira started. It sounded lame so she looked away quickly, before Shoto could catch her eye. "I just figured you'd rather be at U.A. and get back to everything as soon as you could."

Shoto's answer didn't come straight away, and it took a lot of effort for Bashira to pick at a loose thread on her shorts nonchalantly, as if she wasn't freaking out on the inside.

"It's fine. You were right. I'd rather be here."

There wasn't anything that came to Bashira as a response, so after a few seconds she just settled on not responding. What did they do now? Why did he come in and sit next to her to begin with? He'd never done that before. What did he want? Why wasn't he saying anything?

Maybe it was just in her head but Bashira felt the pressure in room, in their silence.

So she broke it. Stupidly.

"Fuyumi said you were isolated as a kid," Bashira said. She stared ahead at the table holding the TV, hoping that would help her keep her nerve. Why was she even talking about that? "You have three siblings, though. I'm an only child."

Bashira didn't really know what her words were supposed to accomplish. What was the conversation supposed to accomplish?

Oh, well. She'd already started.

"You said your mom was put in the hospital a long time ago, by your dad." Bashira couldn't help herself when she shot a look over, more to Shoto's scar than Shoto himself. It didn't take a genius to figure out where that kind of injury came from when one of the parents was a fire user. "I told you my mom was in the hospital, too. But she did it to herself. She's never really been functional. She makes her own problems."

It sounded harsh, she knew, but Bashira couldn't take it back. She didn't really want to either. It was the truth. Shoto deserved to know about it by then, didn't he? It was only fair.

"She had me when she was seventeen. She and my dad weren't even dating or anything, it just happened. They were both a little wild back then I guess. That's why my grandparents raised me. My parents weren't ready, and they never got ready."

Bashira pulled her legs in, wrapping her arms around them and resting her chin between her knees. When she felt adequately buried, she took in a deep breath. As random as the confessions were, she didn't want to stifle the flow. It was easier not to think about it – let it all out the way you ripped off a Band-Aid.

"Remember when I said that I agreed to all this because there wasn't anything else for me? It's because I understood everyone's position in this. My parents were never really parents, and neither were my grandparents. They're old. They want to retire and live quietly, so they took this opportunity thinking they were securing a good future for me. It just worked out that I ended up shipped to the other side of the country in the process, and none of them have to deal with me anymore.

I can't say your side is totally clear to me, but the fact that your dad picked me based on my Quirk makes it seem like he has certain intentions. Is that why he picked your mom, too? I didn't connect all of that right away, but now it makes me furious to know that he thinks he can control us like that. Isn't he supposed to be a hero? How can he get away with things like this?"

Bashira had noticed the welts in her sides earlier, in her room, left from when she'd clawed at her ribs while standing up to Endeavor. She'd definitely have the same welts on her thighs now, since she was doing the same damage there.

"It's not illegal."

Bashira jerked her chin towards Shoto. He was gazing ahead, almost like he hadn't been bothered by anything she'd said, but Bashira was sure that she saw the slightest hint of tension in his features.

'Abuse is illegal,' she wanted to say. But what would that do? Who would combat and prosecute the best professional hero in the country?

Maybe that was what Shoto – and Rei, and Fuyumi, and the other brothers – had known all along.

It made Bashira sick. She didn't even want to fully think about what it had been like for Rei. Shoto at least respected Bashira, leaving her mainly to herself and letting her maintain her space. Rei must have been thrown in bed first thing and then –

Bashira hugged her legs closer.

"My mom was in the hospital for most of my life," Shoto said. Bashira was mildly surprised but grateful for the comfort that his contribution gave her. "She made a mistake, but I always knew the fault belonged to my father. We all suffered because of him. My mother was the one who gave me this scar, though, so she was punished for it." Shoto didn't gesture to his face – he didn't need to – and Bashira was stumped. Just a minute ago she was so resolved in blaming Endeavor… how could it have been Rei who'd hurt Shoto? "The reason that I agreed to this, that thing my father promised me? It was my mom's freedom. He arranged for her release the afternoon that you and I signed our marriage license."

And with that, like the snap of two fingers, Bashira felt something inside of her crumble.

She pressed her face further into her legs, trying in vain to fight back the tears that suddenly flooded up to her lashes. Why was she so sensitive all of a sudden? Just because she and Shoto were exchanging sob stories for the first time? She wanted to be ashamed about it but she didn't have the energy. Putting up walls took too much energy.

God fucking damn it.

Bashira didn't have the strength to not cry anymore. How had she even lasted that long, with everything that had happened to her?

How had she been so selfish when Shoto had so much more weight on his shoulders?

"I'm glad," Bashira breathed. She tried her damnedest to form a coherent breathing pattered that wouldn't make her words sputter. "I'm glad that something good came from all of this."

Shoto didn't reach out to her or say anything else. Bashira didn't expect him to be doting towards her like that. But he stayed next to her, and that was more than she would have asked from him.

"Bashira Babe~!"

If the voice hadn't been so poignantly feminine, Bashira would have scowled. When she searched the lunch room and noticed the pink-skinned girl prancing towards her, she was at least able to simmer down to the point of not wanting to punch someone.

"How's it been going?" Ashido chirped as she sidled up to Bashira's side. They looped arms – half unwillingly. "I feel like I haven't seen you in forever!"

Bashira grasped at a reply but it was ultimately unnecessary once they came up to their table.

"I'm sitting here today, too," Ashido announced, plopping herself down and tugging Bashira down with her. "You guys are always hogging her, I feel like I'm so out of the loop."

"You were away on your work study last week," Kaminari supplied. "Obviously you missed some social things."

"Oh?!" Ashido gasped. "What happened? Something scandalous?"

"No," Sero delivered, "unless you count Todoroki and Kobayashi skipping school together as 'scandalous'."

Bashira hoped the glare she shot Cellophane would curl his tape into unusable string. He only grinned back at her. She'd thought he was okay before but all guys were jerks, weren't they?

"It was nothing," Bashira ground out. "Shoto got hurt, I went to see him. He was fine, we came back. That's it."

That wasn't it, not completely, but no one else needed to know.

Ashido had enough tact to drop the dramatics. "Todoroki was hurt? I heard about Endeavor's mission blowing up, so to speak, but they didn't mention Todoroki being there."

"That's because his Hero name sucks," Bashira quipped. She closed her eyes and took a bite of food. "The media can't announce his real name on TV."

"It's actually smart then, isn't it?" Kirishima said, looking like he'd had an epiphany. "Right now he's still a minor, so no one can report about him without parental permission if he uses his birth name."

"But that'll end soon," Bashira replied. She finished her first bite and took another. "You guys aren't that far away from graduating. He needs to decide on a better codename."

"Well, what would you pick for him?"

Bashira slowed her chewing. First she stared down at her food, and then she stared up in thought. Like some cliché movie, her eyes subconsciously found Shoto across the room. He always seemed to be in her sight.

"I don't know," was all that she said.

"Should it play off of Endeavor's name? Something like 'Exertion' or 'Undertaker'?"

"'Full Blast'?"

"He'd probably want to do his own thing, wouldn't he? That's why he didn't decide on anything yet."

The table looked to Bashira for input. She shrugged. "You all know him better than I do." A collective sigh left the mouths of her seatmates.

"I really do believe that nothing romantic is going on when you say things like that," Ashido groaned. She slouched down and took in a mouthful of food.

Bashira snorted as she lifted more noodles to her own lips. "You should have believed me before. We just tolerate each other."

As she chewed, Bashira looked for Shoto again. She didn't even realize it until her eyes met his.

She looked away, embarrassed about being caught, not even realizing that he kept looking back.

At home that night, Bashira took her place against the arm of the couch. She'd gotten a decent workout in after class, eaten fairly light during dinner, and was feeling just fine about spending the rest of the night as a lump.

Shoto was home, too. Bashira had noticed the light on in his room. She'd assumed she wouldn't see any of him until the next morning though, unless they ran into each other in the hallway or kitchen coincidentally.

So when Shoto did come out of his room and Bashira heard him pouring a glass of water in the kitchen, she didn't really pay attention to it. But she couldn't exactly ignore a shadow looming over her as Shoto came into the room, and it only came as even more of a surprise when he lowered himself onto the open end of the couch, where he'd sat the day before.

Bashira watched Shoto for a second, blinking once while she put the pieces together. She glanced away the next moment, though, too afraid of getting caught watching him. She should probably just play cool.

They were both just slightly, unnaturally stiff.

"The other day," Shoto said. Bashira was inexplicably on high alert. "…you said something about a movie. It's still pretty early. Want to watch something?"

Bashira slid her gaze over. Shoto was looking at her, his face blank but somehow open. His eyes seemed wider than usual, almost innocent and boyish.

'He's cute.'

"Sure," Bashira said, turning away. "Whatever you want. We could order something."

And, after some awkward channel flipping and ambiguous debating, they spent the rest of the night in silence together.