Shouto woke to the sound of a door opening.
He didn't remember having fallen asleep the previous night, but his eyes snapped open when the lock clicked, and he was sitting upright by the time Shigaraki threw the door open so hard it banged on the adjacent wall. He wasn't wearing all of his hands like he had been the night before, and so it was easy to see that he looked grumpy to find Shouto awake. Likely he had intended for the slamming door to rouse him, allowing Shigaraki to catch him off guard.
"You passed test number one," Shigaraki told him. "No heroes came down on us in the night, so that means you didn't call for backup."
For a moment Shouto wondered what he meant, then suddenly remembered his cellphone, still tucked into the pocket of his jeans. He'd had it with him all night, but it hadn't even occurred to him to call anyone. He hadn't even remembered it was there until now.
His lack of a response seemed to irritate Shigaraki. "Give me your phone," he snapped, holding out one hand. "Unlocked."
Silently Shouto pulled out his phone, unlocked it and handed it over. Shigaraki's hand was ashen, the skin rough and dry when Shouto's fingers brushed it, the nails brittle and cracking. He held the phone carefully in four fingers, tapping delicately at the screen with one finger on the opposite hand. He was probably checking the call and text history, making sure Shouto hadn't sent any messages that simply hadn't been acted on immediately. Shouto allowed it. He had nothing to hide after all.
"No sign that you reached out to anyone," Shigaraki noted after a few moments. "Calls and texts can be deleted of course, but it's a point in your favor."
Shouto expected him to disintegrate the phone, but instead he placed it delicately in his pocket. Shouto had disabled all the tracking features as soon as he figured out how, the better to not let his father know anything about his life, and Shigaraki had probably noticed. Whether Shigaraki believed Shouto had done that earlier for his own reasons or more recently to protect the League of Villains, Shouto didn't know.
"Say something brat!" Shigaraki ordered. "I didn't come down here so you could stare at me silently."
"You haven't asked me a question yet," Shouto pointed out, rather reasonably in his own opinion. Shigaraki scoffed. "Think you're clever do you?"
"Izuku is the clever one," Shouto replied.
This seemed to make Shigaraki reconsider. He straightened, looking at Shouto with narrowed eyes, and brought one hand up to his neck to scratch idly. For a moment neither of them spoke, and the only sound was of Shigaraki's slow, lazy scratching. To Shouto he had the look of someone thinking hard about a very difficult problem. Then suddenly he stopped scratching and dropped his hand, looking at Shouto with renewed focus.
"I need to decide if you're really League of Villains material," he explained. "I want to ask you a few things before I decide to add you to my party."
"What do you want to know?" Shouto asked.
"I want to know," he pointed an accusatory finger at Shouto, "what you think of heroes."
Shouto considered a moment before replying, wondering what Shigaraki wanted to hear, and what would sound too blatantly fabricated. Eventually he decided something as close to the truth as possible was best.
"I think true heroes are rare," he said carefully. "I think modern hero society has come to focus so much on money, fame and rank that they've lost sight of what's truly important. Many our society would consider the most heroic are actually frauds who only seek to increase their own power."
"Another bleeding heart like Stain," Shigaraki huffed, then eyed Shouto critically. "But you opposed Stain in Hosu, didn't you? I was watching the riots my Nomu were causing, and I saw you leaving the alley with the party who took him down."
"He would have killed my friends if I hadn't," Shouto told him. "I don't agree with Stain either, but at least I can understand his frustrations. He wanted to change things, he just went about it the wrong way."
"And how do you want to change things?" Shigaraki wanted to know. "Not by killing students," Shouto replied immediately
"Do you honestly think you can fix this broken society without a little bloodshed?" Shigaraki challenged. "How naive."
"I don't think you can stop people from being hurt by hurting more people," Shouto countered. "That doesn't seem like it would work."
Shigaraki snorted and looked away, clearly dissatisfied. Shouto thought for a moment then tried again.
"You don't like the values of this society," he began slowly. "Neither do I. Ideally, what values do you think a better society would have?"
Shigaraki blinked at him, clearly not having expected this response. He frowned, seeming to puzzle over the issue, and was quiet for several moments. Eventually one hand came up to scratch at his neck again.
"Ideally, a society should have very few rules," Shigaraki said cautiously. "People should be free to do what they want. They shouldn't be punished just for existing in a way someone else doesn't like."
"I agree," Shouto said.
Shigaraki froze, even pausing in his continued scratching. "Really?"
"My friend Hitoshi has a quirk other people are afraid of," Shouto told him. "They were cruel to him because of something he couldn't control. In an ideal world, things like that wouldn't happen."
"That's why we thought Shinsou would be a good fit for our group," Shigaraki admitted. "We thought he'd understand the need for a world where he can do as he likes."
"He's trying to create that world," Shouto assured him. "He wants to set an example, so that kids with villain quirks know they're not bad, and they have someone to look up to."
"You really think that'll work?" Shigaraki said dubiously. "Just playing their game? You're kidding yourself."
"My friend Izuku goes further," Shouto pressed. "He doesn't just want to be a role model for quirkless kids like him, he wants to take down heroes who have done bad things and make an example of them. He's already started trying with Endeavor."
Shigaraki resumed scratching at a slow and measured pace. "So, he's trying to reshape the world too. Makes sense. Master said he was going to oppose me in our plans-"
"What are your plans?" Shouto wondered. An idea was forming in his mind. Thinking of Izuku had put it there. "What is the League's goal, in the end?"
"We want to create a world without heroes," Shigaraki said immediately. "A world where we can do as we please and live freely. Somewhere without ridiculous rules to oppress us, and where the masses don't sit by and do nothing while we are brought low."
"I know what it's like to want that," Shouto said, and there was some truth to it. He certainly did want a world where no one could watch what Endeavor had done to his mother and turn a blind eye. "I think that's something like the type of world Izuku wants to create."
Shigaraki frowned. "Master said he would oppose me," he protested, scratching faster. "Master said he wouldn't understand."
"Izuku's pretty smart," Shouto argued. "He can understand almost anything. He certainly understands a desire for a world where you aren't punished for existing."
"I wondered if he might," Shigaraki said, but he sounded conflicted about it. He wasn't looking at Shouto anymore, but rather around at the corners of the room. Shouto thought he might have seen his eyes flick to the camera for a split second, and when Shouto looked he found that it was off. No one was watching.
"Is that why you wanted to bring him here?" Shouto questioned. "To ask him if he would understand?"
"I wasn't supposed to bring him," Shigaraki said, scratching harder and faster in agitation. "I was supposed to choose one. I didn't tell Master that I was bringing number nine here, I only told him about Shinsou."
Shouto couldn't begin to understand what Shigaraki meant by 'number nine,' but it sounded like he was referring to Izuku. That made Shouto think that his plan might actually work. If Shigaraki was having doubts, which it seemed he was, then it might create discord within the League of Villains. If all Shigaraki's talk about a 'Master' was any indication, there was someone even higher up than him pulling the strings. Shaking Shigaraki's faith in that person could only be beneficial in the long
run.
"Maybe your Master doesn't see how similar you and Izuku are," Shouto suggested cautiously. "Maybe he's the one who doesn't understand."
"My Master is the only one who understands!" Tomura snapped venomously. "He's the only one who's always been there for me! Everything he does is for me!"
"Did he tell you that?" Shouto wondered. "Of course!" Tomura said, offended.
"Endeavor likes to talk that way about me," Shouto informed him. "He likes to talk about how I'm his greatest masterpiece. I don't like the path he set out for me though. I don't agree with what he made me for."
Shigaraki stopped scratching, watching Shouto carefully as he spoke.
"I think-" Shouto hesitated, then nodded as he decided what to say. "I think living freely means not doing what the person who created you tells you to do."
Shigaraki dropped his hand. He stared at Shouto for several long moments, watching him as though for some sign of insincerity. Shouto kept his face carefully neutral, which wasn't hard as he rarely strayed from that expression, or at least not enough for anyone not very close to him to notice. Whatever Shigaraki was waiting for it didn't come, and abruptly he turned on his heel and made for the door.
"I'll have to think about this," he said, then walked out of the room, closing the door firmly and locking it behind him.
Tomura walked briskly away from the storage room where they'd stashed their prisoner until he reached the stairs, then stopped. He wasn't ready to go back up to the bar, where the others were waiting for his assessment of things. He didn't know what his assessment was. He didn't know what to make of anything that had happened back there.
He'd lost control of the conversation. He had meant to ask the ice and fire kid about what made him suitable for the League of Villains, but he'd ended up talking more than he listened. Something about these little brats made them easy to talk to, easier than his own gang, even easier than Master.
Actually, it was getting pretty hard to talk to Master these days.
His pocket began to vibrate, and he almost wondered if someone was calling the kid before he realized it was his own phone. Fishing it carefully out of his pocket with three fingers, he checked the caller ID.
His Master was calling him.
Tomura hesitated. Thoughts he didn't understand were swirling through his head. He wanted to understand. He wanted them to make sense. He knew if he talked to his Master now, things would make sense, but that would only be because all of the troublesome thoughts were gone. He didn't want them to be gone. He wanted to understand them.
Two little buttons were displayed: a green one to accept the call, and a red one to decline.
Tomura tapped the red button, then shoved his phone back into his pocket and stomped up the stairs. He'd just have to tell the rest of the League to wait until he'd mulled it over for their official meeting to decide the kid's fate.
Dimly Izuku was glad when the doctor told him they were keeping him another night for observation.
He hadn't been able to get to sleep the previous night until very late. They had moved Hitoshi into his room, even though the doctors had wanted to keep him and Tokoyami in the same room, the better to compare their conditions. Aizawa threw his weight around though, and Hitoshi had been moved into the bed next to Izuku's. They'd stayed up, neither of them wanting to sleep very much, whispering back and forth to each other in the dark.
"It's going to be OK," Hitoshi had said, voice devoid of any conviction or feeling. "Of course," Izuku replied, his tone equally hollow.
Hitoshi and Tokoyami would be kept a minimum of three days, as was apparently protocol for observing potentially lasting influence of an unknown quirk. So far it didn't look like there was any lingering effects of being turned into a marble, but the hospital didn't want to break protocol with UA students, not even as overtaxed as they were. Izuku's arm was thankfully just bruised, but he had a cracked rib from being held down and the doctors were worried about his trachea. They told him he could go home tomorrow, but for the day following the attack they wanted to keep him
near medical attention in case his throat collapsed.
Apparently someone had called his mother -- he had been a bit too distracted to think of it the previous night -- and he woke up to a text instructing him to call her as soon as he was awake. His phone, which he'd thought was broken in his fight with the muscle villain, miraculously still worked, though it had a large crack in the screen and would need to be replaced soon. He waited until Hitoshi went to shower, then sat on his bed and called.
"Izuku?!" she said as soon as she picked up. "Is that you baby?"
"Yeah, it's me," he said. His throat didn't hurt, but his voice still sounded weak and distant. "I'm fine Mom."
"You're being kept in the hospital," she protested. "That's not fine."
"Just for observation," he assured her. "Really, it's just a couple bruises."
"When can I come see you?" she demanded. "I want to bring you some clothes-"
"I brought clothes to camp," Izuku reminded her. "If I ask one of the teachers will get them for me, they're probably already in the hospital."
He had no intention of asking Mic for clothes right now. He didn't think he could even look at his teacher right now. He didn't think he could see his mother either. Really, he just wanted to curl up with Hitoshi and with-
He shook himself. Not now.
"I want to see you," his mother insisted. "Can I come after work?"
"Visiting hours end before your shift is over," he told her. "Even if they didn't, it's a long way for you to come for no reason. I'll be home tomorrow."
"I'll take the day off work," she said. "I don't want you there alone."
"I'm not alone," Izuku objected. "There's a bunch of other kids still stuck here for observation or minor injuries," he left out the ones with more than minor injuries, "and I'm rooming with my friend Hitoshi. The doctors are taking really good care of us, so you don't have to worry."
"I still want to see you," she pressed. "We need to talk."
Izuku winced. That didn't sound good. "Can you afford to miss work?" "We'll deal with it," she said firmly. "I want to see my son."
Izuku swallowed. He really didn't want to see his Mom right now. He was too fragile, too emotional, too volatile. Too wound up and too tired all at once. Guilt and sadness and anger were more painful than the ache in his ribs, and before he could think better of it a little of the fire he'd felt last night when Endeavor had been in front of him flared up again.
"Sure, that's fine," he said pointedly. "After all, you can always ask Dad for more money."
There was silence on the other end of the line. Izuku regretted the words as soon as he'd said them, but he couldn't take them back. He waited for his mother to compose herself, knowing it would take a minute. She was probably crying.
"Do you really not want me to visit?" she asked, voice high and shaky. She had definitely been crying. "I could bring you some sliced apples?"
"I'm fine," he lied. "I'll see you tomorrow." "OK," she said weakly.
Hitoshi got out of the shower, dressed in hospital clothes, and Izuku went to go take a shower of his own. The hot water was soothing on his aching muscles, still sore from yesterday's training, and last night's-
When he got out of the shower and emerged into the room in scrubs, he found Hitoshi also on the phone with his mother. He quickly got up and left the room, still mumbling quiet denials into the receiver. It seemed he didn't want visitors either. When he came back several minutes later he looked exhausted, even more so than his insomnia usually made him. He was actually getting better, sleeping more throughout the night and supplementing with catnaps during the day. Izuku hadn't seen him look so tired in a while.
Visiting hours weren't until the afternoon, and Izuku wasn't expecting anyone anyway, so he dozed a little, slipping in and out of consciousness as the hours ticked by. In the moments when he was awake he found Hitoshi also sleeping fitfully, like he was having bad dreams. Izuku didn't have any dreams. Every time he slept it felt like he was under the effects of Hitoshi's quirk. He seemed to be in a fog, and he had no desire to try and see through it.
Some time after lunch, when he had slept all he could manage and was now decidedly awake, the door slid open.
"Hey!" came a familiar voice cheerfully, and Izuku turned his head to see Kirishima standing in the doorway. "Good to see you're both awake, the doctor said you might be resting."
"I was earlier," Izuku said, glancing over at Hitoshi to see him sitting up in bed. "I don't think I can sleep any more though."
"Same," Hitoshi groaned stiffly. "I haven't slept this much in a long time."
"Outta the way!" said a female voice from behind Kirishima, and abruptly he was pushed into the room to reveal Hatsume standing behind him. "I wanna see my boys!"
"I met some friends in the lobby," Kirishima told them as Hatsume and then Toogata entered. "Apparently word travels fast even when school's not in session. The attack on the camp has been all over the news."
"I'm sorry you had to find out like that," Izuku apologized, feeling a fresh spike of guilt in his stomach. "It didn't even occur to me to call-"
"It's fine!" Hatsume waved his concerns away like smoke from an overheated gadget. "As long as you're not dead any failure is fixable!"
Izuku couldn't help but smile at her chipper attitude. Trust Hatsume's relentless optimism to bring up even the dourest of the moods. Still, he could see the lines of worry in her face, and hear the strained quality to her voice that showed her anxiety. She wanted to help him cheer up, but she was still concerned.
"We came as soon as we were allowed!" Toogata informed them, smiling and holding up a basket of fruit. "Couldn't leave my favorite first years all alone in a gloomy hospital! What kind of senpai would I be?"
"Thanks," Hitoshi said, eyeing the basket. "Are those peaches?"
"Yep!" Toogata said brightly, selecting one and then walking over to hand it to him. "What do you want Midoriya?"
Izuku looked at the fruit in the basket, remembering his mother's offer. "An apple."
There were only two chairs in the room, so Hatsume took the one by Hitoshi's bed and Toogata took the one by Izuku's. Kirishima sat on the little bench by the window that was mostly part of the sill. As Toogata began to peel the apple with a little knife that had been in the basket, Izuku examined the various types of fruit.
"That's a pretty good variety," Izuku noted. "It was probably expensive. You didn't have to bring all that for us."
"Don't worry about it," Toogata said lightly. "It's from Sir and All Might. I mentioned I was going to come see you and they sent it with me. They both told me to tell you not to worry, they're working the case back at UA and everything will be fine in no time."
The mention of Sir Nighteye sent Izuku's mind back to the previous night, when Mic had revealed that he knew about the secret op they were running. He wondered if he should call Nighteye and let him know, or send the information back with Toogata. Mic had said he wanted to take Nighteye down a peg. Should Izuku warn him? Mic wouldn't jeopardize the op just to prove a point would he? Then again, he had put a tracking device on Izuku, and he hadn't mentioned where.
Izuku glanced at his bedside table, at his force lance and the pocket knife he'd used against the muscle villain, which he'd taken out of his pockets the night before. Mic had handed them both to him just before he'd left for camp. Was one of them the tracker?
"Is that my baby?!" Hatsume exclaimed, and Izuku looked at her to see that her gaze had followed his and was now on the force lance.
"Yeah," he said, picking it up and examining it. "Aizawa gave it back to me last night. I didn't get to use it against the muscle villain, but it helped me against a few of the others."
"Did you use it to move through the terrain at all?" Hatsume demanded. "I've had some ideas for how I could adjust it to be a better mobility aid!"
"I used it to vault into the air at one point," Izuku recalled. "I don't use it much for mobility." "Gimme!" Hatsume made grabby hands at it. "I wanna rejigger it a bit!"
Izuku held it out to her, and she stood to take it, then sank back into her chair and produced a small tool from behind her ear. She had been wearing her goggles on her head, but now they went down over her eyes as she began to work. It seemed random, but Izuku knew what she was really saying. She felt powerless in the face of what had happened, and tuning up one of her gadgets was the best way to make herself feel better.
"So Midoriya," Kirishima said, drawing Izuku's attention back to him. "You beat that big muscle guy? I saw them hauling him away. It took like six police officers to subdue him, even in restraints."
Dimly Izuku was relieved the villain had survived. Some part of him -- this new, bitter, angry part he had discovered last night -- would have liked to know that one of the people who had attacked them was gone for good. He didn't let that part make him less glad he hadn't killed anyone.
"I just tricked him into attacking the cliff face," Izuku told Kirishima. "He buried himself in a rockslide, that's all."
"You still beat him," Kirishima protested. "And you saved Kouta. That's super manly Midoriya. You too Shinsou, you did good out there."
"All I did was calm Dark Shadow down," Hitoshi said glumly. "I didn't take out any villains, and it's because of me that-"
He stopped, making a small choked noise, and looked away.
"I know how you feel," Kirishima said, in a more subdued voice than he usually used. "Me and Ashido met up with Tetsutetsu and Kendou, and the four of us took out that gas villain."
"That was you?" Izuku asked, impressed. "Thank you. We never would have made it as far as we did if the gas had still been in the way."
"Yeah the police said we did good," Kirishima said, rubbing the back of his head and frowning in discontent. "Tetsutetsu still got hurt from inhaling too much poison though. I tried to give him my mask so he could breathe after his got broken, but he still ended up passing out on our way back."
"You shouldn't blame yourself," Izuku assured him. "You did your best, and everyone got back alive, at least."
"Yeah," Kirishima sighed, looking down. He did not seem convinced.
"Hey!" Toogata cried, jumping up and handing the peeled apple slices to Izuku. "Don't be so mopey! Everything's going to be fine! You all did your best and you pulled through, no one can ask any more of you than that, and the pros will handle the rest!"
Toogata reserved one apple slice and handed it to Kirishima, smiling in a way that reminded Izuku forcibly of All Might. Kirishima bit into the apple, still morose, but Toogata's smile was infections and eventually Kirishima's lips twitched upward, opening to reveal his sharp teeth. Truly Nighteye had picked the perfect successor, Izuku thought as Toogata sat back down again. He was shaping up to be just like All Might.
Unable to help himself, Izuku turned back to the nightstand, where the pocket knife lay innocently beside the bed. It had seen him through the fight on the mountain, helped him defeat the villain and protect Kouta. It had also been a gift from Mic, the mentor he didn't know how to feel about right now. Part of him wanted to chuck it out the window, leave it to rust and be broken out here in the forest. Another part of him couldn't even bear the thought.
He sighed and turned back to his friends. "So, what's the news saying about the attack?" *
There were no windows in the storage room, so without his phone Shouto didn't really have a good sense of the passage of time. No one else had come to talk to him since Shigaraki had left. The villain with the lizard quirk had brought him a tray with food some time ago, but he hadn't stopped to chat, merely eyeing Shouto suspiciously and then leaving without saying a word. Shouto ate mechanically, not tasting anything, then went back to the bed and watched the door.
Guilt had settle in a while ago. Wondering what Izuku would think of his plan had made him think of the way he had left his two friends, and what they must be feeling now. He had been so focused on Dabi, on the possibility that Touya might still be alive, that he hadn't even considered letting them know he was alright. Now the option was gone, and it was weighing on him. What did they think had happened to him? Why did they think he had jumped through the portal? Were they questioning his loyalty? Were they worried? Scared? Betrayed?
Thoughts chased each other around and around his head for what felt like hours. He thought surely they must bring him another meal at some point, but he didn't know how long it had been since the last one. Was he hungry? His stomach was too sick to tell.
Eventually he stood and began to pace, leaving the blanket on the bed. What if Dabi never came to talk to him? Or if he only came with other members of the League? Shouto couldn't very well use the same trick again and ice himself and Dabi into a corner, not without arousing suspicion. What if the League found out Dabi was his brother? What if they assumed that meant Dabi was a spy? What if they had already decided, and were even now about to-
The door came open.
Shouto whirled around, to see Dabi in the doorway with another tray of food. Dabi stared at Shouto for a moment, his patchwork face unreadable, then came in and set the tray down on one of the empty crates.
"Eat," he commanded, then turned to go.
"Wait!" Shouto said urgently, making Dabi pause in the doorway. "Don't go yet!"
"What do you want?" he asked sourly.
Shouto's brain stalled. "I don't know," he admitted.
"Then I'm out," Dabi said, grabbing the door to close it behind him.
"Wait!" Shouto said again, louder this time. "Just, just talk to me!"
Dabi turned back, scowling. "Why?"
"I'm bored," Shouto said, not sure who was listening. "Just talk to me for a few minutes."
Dabi hesitated a moment, obviously considering. His eyes flicked from Shouto to the door to the camera atop the television, and Shouto followed his gaze to see that the camera was off. Finally Dabi came to decision, and closed the door slowly, leaving the two of them alone in the room. He moved to stand in front of the television, blocking it and the camera with his body.
"What do you want to talk about?" he asked, turning to face Shouto with arms crossed over his chest.
Shouto took a deep breath, then went to the chair in the middle of the floor and sat down. "Do you have anything you want to say to me?"
"Nothing," Dabi said flatly.
"I understand that," Shouto admitted. "I would be angry in your position too."
"I said I've got nothing to say, not that I'm angry," Dabi snapped. "You don't know a damn thing about my position, so shut it."
"Touya-" Shouto began.
"I said shut it!" Dabi snarled, taking an angry step forward. "I'm not Touya so stop calling me that!"
"I understand if you want to leave that house behind," Shouto told him. "I want to leave it behind too. I don't even want to be called Todoroki anymore, but I'm still-"
"I don't care about Endeavor's stupid house or his stupid name or his stupid kids," Dabi insisted. "Mom misses you," Shouto said, his one piece of knowledge from the previous night.
"Shut up," Dabi said venomously, but it wasn't a denial.
Shouto tried again. "Izuku doesn't think the hospital is good for Mom. He doesn't think they're treating her properly because they work for Endeavor. Izuku wants to get her out of there, and Nezu is going to help."
"If Endeavor had the cash to put her in there, he has the cash to keep her in there," Dabi retorted. "No one's had any problem with it so far so why should they care now?"
"They'll care when they see mom's prenup," Shouto told him. "Izuku said it's illegal-"
"If it's illegal now it was illegal when it happened," Dabi rasped impatiently. "That didn't stop anyone. It never stops anyone."
"Only because he kept it quiet," Shouto persisted. "He kept the number of people who knew small and either paid them off or frightened them into complying. He isn't all-powerful Touya, there are people who will care-"
"Call me Touya one more time and I roast your sorry hide!" Dabi spat venomously. "I'm not your damn brother!"
Shouto gripped the edges of the chair with both hands. His face was hot and his eyes prickled, but he had to keep it together. He had to persuade Dabi to acknowledge him.
"I know you don't want to hear this from me," he said quietly. "I know I'm the last person you want to listen to right now-"
"Damn right," Dabi huffed.
"But I need you to understand," Shouto went on. "Endeavor will go down, you don't have to resort to doing it yourself, and when Mom gets out of the hospital she-"
"Stop going on about Mom!" Dabi shouted. "You don't know anything, damn it!"
"I know you must hate me!" Shouto cried, hanging his head and closing his eyes against the tears that leaked stubbornly from the corners. "I know Dad picked me over you, and I know how much that must have-"
"No!" Dabi yelled, and then suddenly he was in front of Shouto, on his knees on the floor. Warm, rough hands cupped Shouto's face, turning it up to meet Dabi's blue eyes.
"Don't blame yourself," Dabi said firmly. "Don't for a second blame yourself for what that bastard did. He made those choices, not you. He hurt me, not you."
"Touya," Shouto breathed.
"Yes it's me damn it!" Dabi hissed, throwing a quick glance over his shoulder at the door. "You just had to figure it out didn't you! Over half my face is scar tissue and you still managed to recognize me from when I was in middle school!"
"I'm glad you're not dead," Shouto told him, then sniffled to try and stop the tears.
Dabi -- Touya -- stroked his thumbs over the skin beneath Shouto's eyes. "Glad you're OK too pipsqueak," he grumbled. "Even if you are just opening up old wounds."
"I'm the one crying," Shouto protested.
"I can't cry," Touya informed him quietly. "Endeavor . . . burned out my tear ducts."
"Oh," Shouto mumbled. "I'm sorry."
"Not your fault," Touya said, then sighed and drew back. "Look, we gotta get you outta here. I can't have you getting involved in this."
"You don't have to get involved with it either," Shouto insisted. "You can come with me."
"No," Touya said shortly, shaking his head. "I'm already in it with these people. I can't go back now."
"You don't have to do this," Shouto pleaded. "Whatever you think you need to do to take Endeavor down, I promise you don't. You don't have to become a criminal just to get justice."
"You don't get it!" Touya argued. "These are serious people I've gotten involved with! Shigaraki tried to kill me when we met, and he hasn't gotten any more stable since then! He tried to kill that little crazy girl too, and she's your age! I can't have you involved with this!"
"We can protect you," Shouto said quickly. "UA can protect both of us-"
"They won't protect me," Touya told him. "I'm a criminal, remember? I attacked a UA training camp! I attacked heroes!"
"Who were they?" Shouto demanded. "Eraserhead? He's my homeroom teacher, if I beg him he'll say it didn't happen. He can convince Vlad King, he can convince-"
"No," Touya shook his head. "It won't work. You can't save me, Shouto."
"I don't accept that!" Shouto yelled, reaching for Touya, but his brother stood and went for the door. "Touya!"
"I'll figure you a way out," Touya said, then yanked the door open. "Stay here."
"Touya!" Shouto screamed, launching himself out of the chair and after his brother, but the door slammed in his face. He tried the handle, but even as he gripped it he felt it lock into place. "No!"
He pounded on the door, screaming and yelling, fresh tears running down his face. Fire and ice pressed against his control, longing to be set free, but he held them back with all that was left of his restraint. He tugged on the handle, pleading with the door to open, to let him out, to give him Touya back, but nothing he did would make it move.
Finally he sank to the floor, rested his head on the indifferent wood, and wept. *
The other members of the League hadn't been happy when Tomura announced that he needed more time to think.
They were antsy about having a hero student they hadn't planned for in their midst, and no recruitment plan that might have eased their minds could go forward without a decision from him. All of them had wanted to argue about it right then, but Tomura had told them all to wait. Most of them had cleared out immediately, and the rest trickled out when Tomura sat at the bar and ignored them. By evening all of them, even Kurogiri, had found somewhere else to be.
Now he was alone.
Their captive's cell phone rested on the bar, the screen currently dark. Not that that was a problem; Tomura had seen the kid enter his his password, and memorized it. He was good at memorizing things, even if he'd only seen them once. Master had drilled observational skills into him from a very young age.
Tomura tapped the screen and entered the code, then opened the phone's log of text messages. The first conversation on the list was a group chat between the user, Shinsou and Midoriya, but he didn't have to scroll very far to find the conversation with just Midoriya. Tomura skimmed through the texts, noting idly that their guest used proper grammar even while texting, and that Midoriya was a wordy conversation partner. He wasn't surprised by that at all.
Carefully, using a single finger, he typed out a new message. He hovered over the send button, hesitating, wondering if he really wanted to do this. It was by no means a smart move, but Tomura didn't really care about smart. He cared about results. This, no matter the ultimate outcome, would get him results. He wanted answers, and he wanted them now.
He made his decision, and hit send.