Setting: Canon
PoV: Toya
Notes: Had to make up a bit for Toya's family, but in the booklet it only mentions his grandpa. I imagine his parents are not as important to him.

As a child, there isn't anyone Toya loves more than his grandpa.

His grandpa is tall and strong, with a voice that commands the attention of everyone around him. He is strict, a little too strict sometimes, but he treats Toya as if he is a grownup too, talks to him like they are equals even though Toya is just a child. He is the first person Toya runs to when he has nightmares, and his grandpa never laughs even if it is something childish and silly. When Toya receives his Gift, his grandpa is the only one who stands up to him, who looks him in the eyes without a trace of fear. In his grandpa's eyes, he is not a Gifted, not someone with a dangerous and unstable power that could kill at a moment's notice; he is still his grandchild, a child unlucky enough to be chosen for a Gift, a kid who doesn't know right from wrong yet. When Toya is with his grandpa, he doesn't feel so much like a monster.

There isn't much that Toya loves, but he loves his grandpa.

One day, his grandpa sits him down for a talk. Toya sits in the leather armchair his grandpa always sits in, and he finds the chair is so big that his legs cannot make it to the floor, even though he used to be one of the tallest kids at the labs.

"Toya, we must talk." His grandpa holds his hand, and his fingers are rough and dry and calloused, but it feels strong and safe. "Eventually, I will no longer be around."

The thought is scary because his grandpa is powerful and invincible, much like the superheroes in his favourite TV show but in a different way, in the way that grownups can only be because they are the responsible ones. "Don't say that. You'll live forever, won't you?"

"No. No one lives forever, not even me." His grandpa kneels down to meet his eyes, and Toya hates this talk because when his grandpa looks into his eyes it means this is serious, this cannot be avoided. "Listen carefully, because this is important. When I die, someone has to replace me. Someone I can entrust the future to. Someone I know that will help heal this world, long after I'm gone."

"What about Dad?" Toya asks, trying not to let his voice wobble, but his grandpa shakes his head.

"No, not him. There are some people, no matter how they are raised and taught, who are not meant for some things. Their hearts are too weak. But you are strong, Toya." His grip is steady and firm, and though Toya wants to look away he cannot. "What do you think? It won't be easy. It'll be very, very hard. But there's no one else I know who can do this as well as you can. Do you want to inherit this world?"

Toya looks at his grandpa, the one who accepted him with his Gift, the one who didn't get angry when he was being too naughty, the one who chased away the nightmares with his mere presence. For the first time, he notices the lines etched into his grandpa's face, the tiredness in his eyes, the bones of his fingers pressing into his.

"If that's what you want," he says, and he means it.

—

When Toya is older, his sentiments do not change even when he does.

His grandpa didn't lie, has never lied. The work is hard, almost impossible, but when he tells his grandpa so he is only met with a strong gaze.

"You can do this. You're not like everyone else." His grandpa's voice is firm, leaves no room for disagreement. "Inheriting the world is a big responsibility, so of course it will be hard, but you are exceptional. You must be stronger than anyone else, smarter than anyone else. If you're not, how are they supposed to rely on you?"

So Toya grits his teeth and tries harder, because his grandpa believes that he can and his grandpa is always right, and in the end, no matter how tough the work is, he always succeeds. The pride his grandpa has in him makes the work worth it, makes him feel worth it. His grandpa is hard on him, has been harder on him ever since he agreed to be his heir, and yet Toya does not love him any less. He has to be stronger, be smarter, because when his grandpa's time is up he wants his grandpa to feel reassured that the world will be left in the right hands, that there will be nothing left to worry about.

So he works hard, not just at his work and his studies but also his own self. His childhood is over sooner than anyone else his age, and with only adults for company he learns to become one too. He is made to understand the ugly side of the world, of businesses, of people. He learns that sometimes ruining lives becomes an excuse for something greater, and sometimes he is powerless to stop it. He is powerless, always powerless even with his Gift; he learns there are ways to kill people without them dying, by destroying what makes them want to live in the first place. He learns to empty himself, because it's impossible to break something if nothing is there.

When he sees his parents again, a few years have passed but it feels like a lifetime ago.

"I don't even recognize you," his mother tells him, and her smile is so sad that Toya has to avert his eyes. "Don't you regret this path you've chosen?"

He has changed, not for the better but for the sake of inheriting the world, for being someone capable enough for such a duty. "No," he says, because this is who he needs to be if he is to heal the world in his grandpa's place, and if this is what his grandpa wants then this is what he wants too.

—

When he falls in love with Sho, everything changes.

It is the first time he has ever felt equal with anyone, after a lifetime of being told that he must train himself to be superior to everyone else, to be someone the world can depend on. When he is with Sho, Sho becomes that person to him: a person he is allowed not to be superior to, a person he is allowed to depend on, a person he is allowed to be human with. In Sho's eyes, he is not a person chosen to inherit the world, a person who has made too many difficult decisions and ruined lives for the sake of a better future; he is a lover who likes to tease, a partner who likes housework even if he has never done it before, a person who, when left alone for too long, always ends up thinking too much. When Toya is with Sho, he doesn't feel so much like a monster.

He already knows what his grandpa will think, but he tells him anyway. He keeps Sho's identity a secret, his Gift a secret, because he knows his grandpa is not beyond manipulating Sho's power if he knows, and he does not want to dirty Sho's hands.

The reaction is predictable, especially because he cannot answer his grandpa's questions of Sho's lineage, of his importance in the worlds of economy or politics.

"Why did you choose him, a civilian? He is unimportant. He is nothing," his grandpa fumes, and Toya has to suppress the smile on his face because nothing could be further from the truth than that; Sho is important, he is everything, at least to him.

"I didn't choose him," he says instead, his tone quiet and respectful. "It just happened."

His answer only serves to fuel his grandpa's anger, because nothing is worse than unpredictable variables, than things not chosen carefully without deliberate thought. Everything in Toya's upbringing has been calculated to a meticulous precision, and now his relationship threatens to throw things off center. Toya is now old enough to know that his grandpa does not know everything, that his grandpa is not always right, that he is still human like everyone else. He knows his grandpa has a habit to control, a necessary trait for the line of work he does. He knows his grandpa's anger is not truly directed at Sho but out of concern for the future, for who will replace Toya when his time, too, is up.

When he returns home, Sho sees the look on his face and presses him for answers. Toya only caves in because Sho has enough things to worry about without his silence adding to it too.

"It's my grandpa. He doesn't approve of us." He stops there, thinking this will be the end of the topic, but the worry in Sho's eyes only grows.

"And?"

"It's what he wants," Toya finally says, and a long time ago it used to mean that it's what he wants too, but now he finds those two things no longer align.

"What about you? What do you want?" Sho asks, and it's the first time Toya has ever been forced to separate his desires from what his grandpa wants. Even so, he doesn't need to consider his answer because the words are immediate, are as natural to him as a heartbeat.

"You. It has always been you," he says, and he means it.

It's strange and sad, the fact that he cannot make the two most important people in his life happy without hurting the other. As much as he loves his grandpa, he loves Sho too, in a different way that is not any more or less important. And, he thinks as he holds Sho close that night, if he could be allowed to be selfish, then this is what he wants—not for his grandpa but for himself, just this once.