A few days later came the first really cold morning of the season – the first frost. Todoroki woke when all was still; the blankets on him weren't quite enough to keep him warm with the fire burned out. After a few agonizing minutes of trying to decide whether he should stay in bed until it warmed up – which would be a long time, probably – or start the fire again himself, he decided on the latter, and, shivering, left his warm cocoon.

Midoriya was curled up as close to the fire as he could get without actually being in the fireplace. Blankets were covering his entire body, including his face and head, but from the stillness of them Todoroki guessed he was asleep yet. After he took one final glance at Midoriya just to make sure, Todoroki leaned forward and lit the fire using magic. It was far too cold to fumble around with flint; he was slow and clumsy at it under the best circumstances.

The fire lit, he stood back a little and felt his hands relax as warmth filled them. He saw Midoriya, still curled up at his feet, shift and roll over in his sleep, and felt an unexpected surge of affection. It made Todoroki a strange mixture of happy and ashamed to see physical proof of what Midoriya had given up for him without complaint.

There was a knock at the door, almost inaudible, and then it was opened a crack. Kirishima poked his face through, his eyes still sleep-cloudy, his hair mussed. "Oh good, I didn't wake you," he said, his voice low, as he scanned the house. "We're out of firewood. Can I have –"

He stopped dead the moment he was fully inside, his eyes fixed on Todoroki and his mouth a little open. Todoroki watched him, confused, wondering if something about him that morning appeared strange enough to elicit that kind of response, when Kirishima finally spoke again: "Come here?"

It was a question, not a demand, but Todoroki still felt annoyed and wished he could get some kind of explanation. Kirishima didn't step away from the door, which was half open; his hand was resting on the handle. He motioned Todoroki closer until they were standing close enough to touch, then he leaned forward and inhaled.

"Todoroki," he said, his voice full of wonder and confusion, "that smell, it's – it's really strong right now."

Todoroki thought back to what he'd been doing, when the realization hit him. "Ah," he said, frowning. Magic. It was magic. "That smell is the smell you said was non-human?"

"Yes."

"The reason you asked me what I was, that first day?"

"Yes!"

He felt a little curl of something, some emotion, which he pushed to the side for now. "Come with me," he said to Kirishima, stepping past him and out of the house. The cold was much stronger there; it hit him like a wall, and it actually hurt to inhale.

When they were both out in the clear light of day, standing near one another on the grass outside the houses, Todoroki turned to Kirishima and said, "I'm going to do something. Tell me if you smell it more strongly."

Kirishima nodded and moved a quarter-circle to his right. Getting downwind, Todoroki realized. He thought of spells to do that Kirishima would also not detect, and decided to produce a light so faint it was invisible in the sharp morning light. Kirishima was looking at his face, anyways, not his hands, where the light came from. Todoroki held the spell for just a moment before releasing it, but apparently it was long enough: Kirishima's expression had changed from one of concentration into a half-grin of surprise.

"That's it!" he said, voice loud with excitement. "That smell –" He took a deep breath. Todoroki was growing used to being smelled; it was honestly a little strange how normal it seemed now. "That has to be strong enough for you to smell it. Can't you smell that?"

"I…"

Todoroki thought about it. Did magic have a smell? He didn't think it did, but that could have been because he was so used to it that it no longer stood out to him. Maybe, he thought, it was the same way everyone else seemed to have their own, personal scent, but he himself did not – not because he didn't, but because he could not perceive his own smell as being anything other than neutral.

The emotion Todoroki been reining in before, he realized, was disappointment. As soon as Kirishima had put the idea that he might be not quite fully human into his head, a small, quiet part of him had hoped it would turn out to be true. Todoroki couldn't quite explain why he'd been excited at the idea, rather than repulsed or at least unsettled, but ever since the idea had taken hold, he'd scarcely let himself think about it for fear it might be untrue or forever left unexplained. His last scrap of hope gone, he felt the sense of disappointment take hold of him fully, and sighed, suddenly angry and tired and very, very cold. He wanted to go back to sleep.

As he headed back toward the house, Kirishima was right on his heels, breathless and curious. "So what is it?"

Todoroki stopped, turned, not quite at the door yet. He had to make a choice. Kirishima had had a similar choice, but it had been made for him the moment Todoroki stumbled onto him in the river. He trusted you, Todoroki thought. Trust him.

"Magic," Todoroki said, unable to hide the bitterness in his voice. "I can use magic. Apparently it makes a smell."

"Wow," Kirishima said, voice soft and eyes wide. "I've heard of magic, but I've never met anyone who can use it." He let out a high-pitched laugh, maybe nervous, maybe excited. "Until you, that is!"

"The thing is, I knew that," Todoroki said. "I knew I could use magic. It's no surprise."

"That's so neat," Kirishima said, but, a second later, he seemed to take in Todoroki's sour face for the first time, and his smile faded. "What's wrong?"

"It means you were wrong," Todoroki said. "I'm fully human, like I thought."

"And you're…" Kirishima looked at him, like his face was a language he could only half understand. "You're mad?"

"Yes," Todoroki said, then paused when he heard the edge on his own voice. It wasn't Kirishima's fault. He hadn't spoken with any intention beyond voicing his observations; he'd had no ulterior motives. He hadn't meant to lead Todoroki on. He paused and composed himself before speaking again. "Just disappointed."

"Why?" Kirishima said, stepping nearer. He was biting his lip – it looked painful, but didn't seem to bother him at all.

Just then, the door to Kirishima and Bakugou's house opened, and Bakugou stuck his head out, shivering, and shouted, "Kirishima?"

"Oh!" Kirishima looked between Todoroki and Bakugou several times. It was almost comical; Todoroki could see him considering his options, trying to decide if his curiosity towards the current conversation outweighed his loyalty to Bakugou. In the end, Bakugou won out, and Kirishima hurried towards him, shooting Todoroki an apologetic glance over his shoulder.

"You forgot the fucking firewood!" Bakugou said. "It's cold!"

"Right!" Kirishima ran back and burst into the other house. If Midoriya had still been asleep, Kirishima had probably just changed that. A moment later the selkie emerged again, arms loaded with wood. As he walked past Todoroki, he whispered, "Don't worry."

Obviously it was meant to reassure Todoroki that his secret was safe, but all it did was send a fresh thrill of annoyance through him again. As if Kirishima had any right to tell him that. He shook his head and walked back to the house, the sound of Bakugou chastising Kirishima for his distractedness fading away as he shut the door.

The house was silent, and now comfortably warm thanks to the good-sized fire. Midoriya was still fast asleep, his head poking out of the blankets, eyes shut, mouth slack.

Todoroki went back to bed, but didn't try to sleep. He knew he wouldn't be able to. He sat atop his blankets with his legs bent up to his chest, and thought, and fumed.

xxxxxx

xxxxxx

Midoriya woke up bathed in heat. His body was close to the fire, which was burning merrily, almost too high in the little fireplace. Even though he'd pushed the blankets down past his waist, he still felt his body bathed in sweat. He shifted away and noticed that Todoroki was awake too, body folded up and chin resting on knees, staring off into space as imperious and stony-eyed as a king.

Midoriya was almost afraid to speak to him, he looked so serious; but, seeming to notice the movement, Todoroki's gaze shifted down to look at Midoriya, and his expression softened a little. He looked like a boy now, and the spell was broken.

"Good morning," Midoriya said softly, gingerly, wondering what things Todoroki had been thinking to make his face look so grand and sad.

"Good morning."

"What's wrong?" Midoriya was never sure how much he could get away with asking Todoroki. Under normal circumstances he wouldn't dare to question at all; he always remembered that first day, the closed-off expression Todoroki had taken on when Midoriya had asked him about himself. Midoriya never wanted to see that look again, but his tiredness took most of his filter away, and the question was out of his mouth before he'd even realized it was there.

Todoroki looked less closed-off and more confused. "Why do you ask?" he said, and Midoriya thought that he might've been wary, and certainly was taken aback, but if he was talking at all he wasn't likely to flee.

"Your face," Midoriya said. He swallowed – his throat was terribly dry – and then after a moment he added, "You just looked so angry about something." Was that the right word? "Or maybe annoyed – you just looked unhappy. I don't know."

As he finished, he shrugged, feeling stupid and inarticulate. Todoroki, though, looked at him sharply and unfolded himself, sitting with his bare feet flat on the floor. His brow was furrowed, and he was still frowning, but he didn't look upset anymore, just thoughtful. "I see," he said at last, then cleared his throat. Midoriya expected him to go on, and waited; but the silence dragged out awkwardly, and it seemed neither of them had more to say.

Midoriya rose and found his cup of water from the night before, and drank deeply. When he finished Todoroki was still looking at him. "You can tell me, you know," Midoriya said, feeling brave. "I'll hear you out. I, uh, well, I probably won't be able to help, but I can if I will."

Todoroki blinked and nodded. Then he cleared his throat again and said, "I'm sure you and Kirishima and Bakugou all assume I'm on the run – that I'm hiding from something." A pause, perhaps unintentional or perhaps for dramatic flair, Midoriya couldn't tell. "It's true. I am."

He was too surprised to process the words for a moment, but then it hit him: Todoroki was, finally, opening up to him. He was finally telling him his story. Midoriya felt a surge of excitement, and then nervousness – he wasn't sure why – and then he realized he was still standing next to the kitchen table while Todoroki was seated on the bed. It would be strange to stand or to take a seat either on the floor at his feet or on the bed next to him, so Midoriya pulled up one of the kitchen chairs and sat with his hands in his lap while he waited for Todoroki to continue.

"The royal magician…"

"Endeavor?" Midoriya chimed in, his enthusiasm causing him to interrupt before Todoroki had even begun.

"That's right. You know of him?" Todoroki seemed vaguely surprised. "He's my father."

Their village might have been in the middle of nowhere, but before, when it had been full and alive, it was not completely isolated. The villagers made trips several times a year to the nearest town, Broadstem, to sell their crops and wool and buy the things they needed but couldn't make themselves. The gossip they picked up was never the goal, of course, but it was a perk: the villagers who ventured out would return with stories of royalty, of popular generals and lords and heiresses, and some of them seemed so vivid and lifelike that Midoriya could almost imagine he knew the people.

Endeavor was one of those. Tall, strong, and immensely dangerous, he was said to be not only the strongest magic-user in the country but also one of the closest people to the king. He was the reason crime was so low in the royal city; he personally spent his time chasing down criminals. They said he was of such a height that his head scraped the ceiling, and that his magic was so powerful, and using it of so little consequence to him, that he walked around constantly wreathed in flame.

…Well, Midoriya was sure that that wasn't all true, but he didn't particularly care to know which bits were or weren't because of how good a story the whole thing made. There may have even been a small part of him that didn't believe Endeavor was real because how like a character he seemed.

And now Todoroki was sitting in front of him and telling him, in complete earnestness, that he was the son of this man, this character, and Midoriya felt himself torn between belief and doubt. He opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again and said simply, "Oh."

"I know you probably don't believe me," Todoroki said, his voice level, his demeanor calm. "That's fine. I just thought you should know. That's the reason why there are so many people coming after me, after all."

"That's…" Midoriya shook his head. "That doesn't make any sense. They're coming after you because you're Endeavor's son? Couldn't Endeavor protect you? How did you get so far from the royal city?"

"Ah, I forgot to mention that I ran away," Todoroki said. "I suppose the story makes more sense if I don't leave that part out."

His calmness was throwing Midoriya off. For a second, he was prepared to take all of this in stride, but once he actually thought it over for more than a second he realized that wasn't possible. "Endeavor is your father," he said, "and you ran away from him."

"That's what I said."

"You ran away from Endeavor."

"Right."

"Oh God." Midoriya groaned and put his face in his hands. "Do you know what they say about him? How he's as big as a room and covered in flames? That he can kill a man with a single punch? That he's personally imprisoned more criminals than anyone else in the history of the kingdom?"

"Those are all true," Todoroki said. Then, after a moment, he added, "Actually, I'm not sure about that last one. I haven't looked at all of the data –"

"Todoroki," Midoriya interrupted, "am I going to die?"

The boy looked at Midoriya a moment, blank-faced, before the corner of his mouth quirked up in a smile; Midoriya would have been struck speechless at the expression under different circumstances. It was probably the most unguarded he'd ever seen Todoroki, but Midoriya was still a bit clammy with shock and could not savor it.

"You aren't going to die," Todoroki said simply.

"How can you be so sure? You said the rumors are true, and that means he's immensely powerful – I'm sure it would be no problem for him – and I'm hiding you from him, oh God oh God –"

"You aren't going to die because they aren't going to find me," Todoroki said. There was a note of finality in his voice, a tone that didn't invite questions.

But Midoriya had too many to let it go. "How can you be so sure of that?"

"They haven't found me yet, have they?"

Midoriya looked at him – head held high and eyes narrowed as if he was daring Midoriya to doubt him – and thought, How could I be the same age as him? Todoroki gave off the air of being much older and tougher than his young face would otherwise suggest. Midoriya had never met anyone like him. There wasn't any proof he really was Endeavor's son, of course, but that look, that poise, was the reason Midoriya couldn't just dismiss the idea.

There was half a minute or so of silence, and then they ended up speaking at exactly the same time. They blinked, and Midoriya laughed in surprise.

"You first," Todoroki said, after an awkward moment.

"I was just wondering why you were angry this morning," he said. "Did something in particular happen?"

"Oh." Todoroki ran a hand through his hair, mixing red and white strands together. "Well. Sort of?" He paused, evidently thinking how best to phrase it. "Kirishima discovered it."

"He – really? He discovered you were Endeavor's son? How?"

"Well, no," Todoroki said, "he discovered that I can use magic."

"Oh. And you didn't want him to find out? You wanted it to be a secret?"

"Not really. It doesn't matter." He huffed and looked away.

Obviously there was something else there, but Midoriya was beginning to sense the frustration he'd felt from Todoroki before, the walls he put up when he was questioned, and decided to back off. Even if Todoroki hadn't actually explained why he'd been upset, he'd explained something else, something bigger. Midoriya was going to need time to mull it over. "You can use magic."

"Yes," Todoroki said. "I was going to say, just now, that you probably want proof, don't you? I'm not expecting you to trust me just like that."

For a moment Midoriya's reflex was to be polite, to say No, I trust you – then he realized what Todoroki was actually offering. He was going to show him magic.

"Yes, of course," Midoriya said, jumping to his feet. "I'd love to see!"

Todoroki smiled, and this time Midoriya could savor the expression. It made the boy look young again, a little less fierce, a little softer. Midoriya felt, in that moment, that he would never in his life grow bored of Todoroki's face – its quick changes, its subtlety and expressiveness.

"Then come with me," Todoroki said, and led him out into the cold bright morning.