CW: This chapter contains a scene between an eleven year old Shouto and an adult man. While nothing explicit happens, this scene may be triggering for some readers. Please proceed with caution.
The first year Shouto spent with his brother, every night he would wake to a blue flame close to his face.
He would stare at it, breath coming in quick pants as his brother's eyes burned with a hatred that was as hot as the fire. Neither of them spoke, and Shouto dared not move. Every time, he had the same thought.
He's going to kill me.
But after a few minutes, his brother would snuff the flame and turn away. If they were in a hotel, he would leave the room. If they were under a bridge or in an alley, he would keep his back to Shouto, but stay within reach.
When Shouto closed his eyes after, the image of the flame remained burned to his eyelids.
(He doesn't know if his brother ever stopped almost murdering him in his sleep, or if he just learned to sleep through it.)
When the world declared Shouto dead, his brother brought back a newspaper and threw it in Shouto's face without a word.
Missing Todoroki's Sneaker Found in Puddle of Blood
An evocative headline. Shouto had wondered what his brother did with his old shoes. He still didn't know what blood his brother had used to convince them. (He didn't want to know.)
A week later, they watched from a distance as their family buried an empty casket. Only Fuyumi was crying. His mother wasn't even there.
"Congratulations, Shou," his brother said. "You're a ghost now."
After that, his brother started letting Shouto go out on his own during the day. Public libraries became his sanctuary. Just as long as he was quiet, he could sit for hours without most people noticing him, and hidden amongst towering shelves, he could exist without fear. But because he couldn't risk anything being traced back to him, he couldn't take the books with him (unless he stole them) and his brother rarely stayed anywhere more than a day or two; if Shouto didn't finish his book, he likely never would, so he learned to devour books quickly.
He regrets that speed now; Shouto remembers hardly anything he read in those days. But he burned certain tales to his mind.
He found the book in the children's section, drawn to the gold leaf pages and beautiful people on the cover: an anthology of popular Greek myths simplified and censored for young minds. The illustrations stole his breath, and the stories of gods from long ago captivated his imagination. For thousands of years, these myths had been told over and over, explanations for phenomena humans hadn't understood.
Cronus was frightening, though Shouto empathized with the gods swallowed whole by a father hungry for power and afraid of defeat. It was Prometheus Shouto had to thank for the gift of fire, and all the suffering brought with it, though perhaps he should attribute that to Pandora's box. Persephone's kidnapping made him ache for his mother (he hoped she had flowers wherever she was), and he wept over the tragedy of Orpheus and Eurydice.
Then came the tale of a father and son escaping death with wings held together by wax and faith. As Icarus drowned in the sea, Shouto thought of his brother and the blue fire that consumed him with every use; he resented the sun and Daedalus and the weak wax of Icarus' wings and his damned desire for something so out of reach.
He couldn't read more after that.
The following summer, a tabloid posted an article claiming a new Todoroki had been born, complete with barely censored photos that showed Fuyumi with a newborn at a grocery store. (His brother threw this at Shouto's face as well.)
Endeavor's spokesperson confirmed the rumors a few days later, announcing Endeavor's fifth child and second born daughter, Chiharu Todoroki.
His brother laughed for a long time once he found out.
"Even Endeavor's perfect creation is replaceable."
His brother met Giran the summer after Shouto turned eleven. Their lives simultaneously became easier and more complicated; with a steady stream of work and cash, they could usually afford shelter and food, and some jobs even required they stay put for a while. It also introduced them to shady people, some of them men who watched Shouto and his brother with eyes that made him think of starving strays.
This was also the summer he met Katsuki Bakugou, the most vibrant person Shouto had ever known.
And Bakugou wanted to be a Hero.
It went against everything Shouto knew, to have this kind and passionate stranger want to be anything like the Heroes his brother despised; Heroes were egotistical monsters who only pretended to help society while rotting it from within. A profession that would allow a man like Endeavor to rise through its ranks was inherently corrupt.
But Bakugou, with his pretty vermillion eyes, who wanted nothing from Shouto but to exist in the same space, spoke of Heroes like they were amazing and good .
"I'm going to be the Number One Hero someday, even better than All Might!"
If the sun was half as beautiful and bright as Bakugou's smile, then Shouto understood why Icarus flew so high.
A week after Bakugou stopped coming to the library, his brother made Shouto go out with him at night for the first time.
"The job's done. We're getting out of here tomorrow. Let's see if we can have some fun."
Wandering the city streets in the dark of night was not what Shouto considered fun, but he trailed behind his brother dutifully. Eventually, though, his brother got bored with him.
"Wait for me in the park. I'll come get you when it's time to go." Then he disappeared into a nightclub. The music blared so loud, Shouto could hear it even when he crossed the street and waited in the park like his brother instructed.
He sat on the swings, dragging his feet in the dirt as he watched people come and go from the club. Sometimes, they would notice him staring, and some of them would wave or point and laugh, but mostly, Shouto went ignored.
"What are you doing all alone out here?" Suddenly asked a man beside him. Somehow, he'd sneaked up on Shouto. (This should have been his first red flag.)
He was handsome, with blond hair and a smooth voice, and appeared to be in his early thirties. The stench of alcohol permeated the surrounding air. (Red flag number two.)
Shouto refused to answer, ignoring the stranger. Undeterred, the man took the swing beside him. With a crooked grin, he offered Shouto a canned drink. His dimples made him look younger and warmer, and Shouto grabbed the can before he could think better of it. It turned out to be lukewarm beer (red flag three). Utterly unappealing. Shouto drank it anyway.
"So how old are you, kid?" The man asked, and Shouto noticed his eyes were red. (Not the same shade as Bakugou's, but close.)
"Thirteen," he lied, because that's what his brother had told him to do.
"Really? You seem so mature for your age. I thought you were at least sixteen."
It was a lie (and the fourth red flag.) Normally, when Shouto told someone he was older, they were skeptical. Not to mention, Shouto's brother always complained about how thin and short Shouto was, especially compared to the amount of battle and quirk training they did; he was a child, and he looked like a child.
The man kept talking, asking Shouto questions he couldn't answer honestly. He gave Shouto another beer once he finished the first. It made him feel sleepy, and the lights from the street were blurring together.
"You don't look so good, Kid," said the man. "Let's walk around a bit. The air should do you some good."
If Shouto had all his wits about him, he would have refused. But he was too dazed to argue, and with his vision so blurry, he could easily pretend the man and Bakugou had the same colored eyes.
Shouto followed the man down the street. They made a turn, and suddenly, they were in an alley away from the lights and the noise. It eased the pain of Shouto's headache, but did nothing to sober him up.
Maybe that's why he let the man kiss him.
It wasn't at all how Shouto had imagined kissing, with too much teeth and tongue and the man squeezing Shouto's arms hard enough to leave bruises. He tried pushing the man away, but Shouto couldn't coordinate his body properly, and he ended up just weakly slapping the man's chest. The man did eventually pull back though, only to re-surge with hungry eyes and large hands that shoved Shouto face first into a wall. He crowded close and pressed a kiss to the back of Shouto's neck that made him want to scream.
Suddenly, someone ripped the man away.
"What the hell do you think you're doing to my brother?" Dabi yelled.
Shouto was so relieved his knees gave out.
"Nothing he didn't want me to." The man grinned.
With another yell, Dabi charged the man, throwing him to the ground. He punched him once and a fountain of blood spurted from the man's broken nose. Not wasting a second, Dabi stood, kicking the man in the ribs and stomping on his face over and over and over and over.
Shouto was frozen, eyes fixed on the blood that trickled past the man's lips (the same lips that had just been kissing him.) His yelps of pain grew fainter and fewer by the minute.
When the man stopped moving, Dabi searched his pockets, and found his wallet. He pilfered the wad of cash inside and tossed the wallet to Shouto with only two words.
"Burn it."
And Shouto ignited his hand in a burst of crimson fire at the same time Dabi unleashed a wave of blue towards the man's body.
It didn't hit Shouto until much later, when they'd driven as far away from the city as possible. The embers from Dabi's cigarette danced across asphalt like fireflies in the night, and the color reminded Shouto of Bakugou's eyes.
Bakugou, who wanted to be a Hero.
And Shouto just helped murder a man.
He vomited on the pavement, acid burning his throat as he heaved over and over until not even bile would come up anymore. Tears flowed down his face, and he tried to scream, but no sound would escape him. He clutched his chest. His heart beat so fast he was sure he was going to die.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Dabi knelt beside him, scrunching his nose at the vomit. "Do you feel bad for the scumbag? You understand what he wanted to do to you, don't you Shou?" He gripped the back of Shouto's neck, digging his nails in the same place the man had kissed only hours earlier. "Or did you want him to fuck you in that disgusting alley like some kind of animal?"
Shouto knew what sex was, but only in the vaguest of senses. Still, he shook his head no vigorously, the ghost of the man's hands on his body making him want to vomit even more.
His brother loosened his grip, running a soothing hand down Shouto's shaking back, and smiled. There was a speck of dried blood right below his mouth, and Shouto couldn't tear his eyes away from it.
"Then there's nothing to feel bad about."
That night, Shouto woke to his brother's blue flame for the first time in a long while. And for the first time ever, Shouto spoke.
"Aniki."
His brother still kept the fire lit, leaning closer to Shouto.
"What?"
"Are we Villains?"
His brother laughed without humor and finally extinguished his flame. His hand was still warm when he placed it on Shouto's forehead.
"Of course we are, Shou. In a world with Heroes like Endeavor, how could we be anything else?"