It has been a long time since the silence surrounding them was this stifling. Pretending their issues didn't exist had long become an unconscious action. The past is the past; it doesn't matter anymore – that's what Obito resolutely tells himself. It's fine. He is fine. Over and over, he repeats it until he starts believing his own lies, and for the most part, it works.

Today, however, the air in their shared bedroom is tense enough to clog Obito's throat. Madara has a student, and that is something he's unable to ignore no matter how hard he tries. Because Todoroki is only a child; just eight years old. He is helpless in every sense of the word, impressionable and gullible. Full of anger and hope in equal measure and brimming with explosive emotions that seek an outlet and direction.

Then there is Madara, reaching out a guiding hand; the rest of the story writes itself. Madara never does anything without gaining something in return. He is far from a benevolent teacher, sharing his knowledge for the sake of it. With him, there are always underlying motives.

Knowledge is power, and power is control. No shinobi worth their salt, least of all Madara, willingly gives up control without a substantial payback, paranoid as they all are. Obito would know; he had paid the price for his own strength in blood, his own and that of those around him. What, then, will Todoroki have to pay? His loyalty? His services?

Obito can't help but think how hypocritical his line of thinking is. After all, he hadn't cared one bit for all the children he had manipulated in his desire to create a perfect world. Does he even have the right to judge or resent Madara for taking this kid under his guidance? He has yet to do anything more than teach him how to throw a punch, after all. He has yet to sink his claws into Todoroki.

Would that even happen anyway? There is no Eye of the Moon Plan in this world. Madara has no need for a pawn to carry his plan forward in his stead. Maybe Todoroki is simply a potential future investment. The kid will no doubt become a hero someday, with that quirk of his and Endeavor's name to pave the way. He will be a valuable ally to have.

That leaves the question: what does that mean for Obito? If there is no need for a pawn, no need for someone to string things along in the shadows, what does that make him in Madara's eyes? And what does that make Madara in his eyes?

The only connection they have is a past they both pretend doesn't exist, but is still festering like an infected wound beneath all the pretense, and Izuna, who refuses to let go of either of them and is likely the only reason they spend time in the same room at all.

Obito knew their issues would catch up to them one day; they always do. But that doesn't mean he can't pretend everything is fine, that it's just another day, while he and Madara wait for Izuna to come back from the kitchen.

"Obito." There is a question in Madara's voice, even if he doesn't intone it as such. Unspoken words are hanging between them, almost tangible.

Obito doesn't lift his gaze from the schoolbook in his lap. They both know he isn't reading it; it's merely a flimsy pretense to avoid conversation and eye contact. Madara doesn't seem to care about it, determined to talk.

"You are upset," Madara states without a question this time.

Irritation flares up inside Obito; his grip on the textbook tightens. "I'm not upset."

"Yes, you are, and it's about Todoroki."

Irritation turns into anger. Obito despises it when Madara does this, when he dissects Obito's emotions with that clinical, detached tone, as if they are a physical organ, easily accessible for him whenever he chooses to cut Obito open down the middle like a fish and have a look at what he finds inside – the anger pulsing between his ribs, the grief nestled in his heart, the regret writhing in his guts. Nothing is out of Madara's reach to probe, and Obito hates it; he hates that Madara is right.

"I'm. Not. Upset," Obito grits out between clenched teeth. His fingers are white and aching around the paper, "Can you shut up now?" He doesn't want to talk about it; can't Madara take a hint? They never did this shit before, because Madara never cared before – that's not entirely true, an annoying voice whispers in his head. And that's part of the problem too, isn't it?

"I'm not going to hurt him," Madara says, entirely too calm for how riled up Obito is; it only adds to the fire brewing under his skin. "If that is what you are concerned about."

"Oh, how reassuring. You aren't going to hurt him," Obito mocks, nearly slipping into his Tobi persona. He slams his book shut with a sneer, "What are you going to do? Turn him into your soldier, an empty husk of a human? Are you going to show him how awful the world is? Are you going to paint a seal on his heart, so that he won't step out of line?"

"Obito-"

"Shut up!" he roars, and the book goes flying. It only misses Madara's head because he dodges to the side. It hits the wall with a bang instead and thuds to the floor. "Whatever you think you have to say, save it! I don't want to hear it."

Obito doesn't want to be reminded of the past, doesn't want to think about it. He jumps from his bed and stomps out of the room, the door slamming shut behind him, causing the frame to rattle. He will apologize to the matron later.

.

.

Shota is tired. The muted voices of the police officers and heroes around the meeting table drift further into the distance as the clock hanging on the wall crawls closer to 10 pm.

The day at UA had been a disaster all around. The school year barely started, and the first years are already slacking off. They are an entitled bunch this year, snotty-nosed kids from wealthy families, born with a silver spoon in their mouths. It's exhausting to teach them, or to try to. A few kids show promise, but they are far outnumbered by their lazy classmates. At this point, he is seriously considering expelling more than half of 1-A.

Perhaps he should surprise the class with a test tomorrow, to see if he can knock their egos down a notch or two. However, that idea will have to wait for later; the clock strikes the full hour.

Sansa clears his throat to capture everyone's attention. Just as he's about to commence the briefing, a brisk knock echoes, and the door to the meeting room swings open with gusto. "Good evening, everyone, we are not late, are we?" Kido, one of Endeavor's sidekicks, asks, poking his head into the room.

"You are just in time," Sansa says in front of the room. "Please take a seat so we can begin."

"Thank you for your patience. Here's to good cooperation," Kido declares with enthusiasm as he enters the room fully, followed by a short figure that slips inside after him without a sound and no greeting or introduction.

Not that an introduction is needed for this particular hero. Shota's brows rise in surprise as he recognizes Madara. Hushed whispers ripple through the room. Madara's name has made quite the round in the hero community since the hero license exam, being the youngest hero to date and interning with Endeavor of all people as an underground hero.

Shota wasn't aware that Endeavor's Agency would be involved in this case. Daylight heroes typically don't participate in tackling rising drug rings, especially not in the reconnaissance and information-gathering stages.

Kido and Madara take a seat in the two last remaining chairs next to Shota, and Sansa starts the briefing.

Listening with one ear, Shota takes a subtle look at the kid. He appears to be doing well, and if he is seeing it correctly, he got a new Hero costume, which is reassuring. It's no secret that Shota is not a fan of Endeavor, but the man is a competent hero. Shota is glad the kid got to intern with him and was not thrown into the world of heroics without guidance; it's no place for a twelve-year-old. Especially underground heroes often see the worst side of humanity, the ugly and despicable that hides in dark alleys and gritty basements.

If it were up to Shota, Madara would stay with the agency after his mandatory internship for a few years–it would shield him a while longer from the worst of a hero's work.

Madara doesn't seem injured or emotionally distressed, which is reassuring. There is, however, a deep frown marring his face, and something intense simmers deep in his eyes.

"He has been like this all week," Kido whispers conspiratorially, leaning closer to Shota. "No one in the agency knows what pissed him off, but he has been grumpy for days now. It's like a drenched cat had a baby with an angry porcupine."

Shota doesn't dignify that with a response. He would like to think he has set himself firmly apart from the heroes' gossiping circle. Unfortunately, due to Nemuri and Hizashi's enthusiastic participation, he gets dragged back into it more often than not by proxy.

"If looks could kill, I'd be dead thrice over," Kido continues undeterred by Shota's cold shoulder.

"Is that so."

"Definitely. Hard to believe he is just a kid, hah?"

"Hrm."

"He's a natural though, got a good head on his shoulders. Doesn't get along with the boss though."

Huh. That's interesting. "Why?"

"Beats me. The kid isn't one to share, and no one in the office has the balls to ask Endeavor. He seems to get along well with Shoto, the boss' youngest, funnily enough."

Well, that tells Shota absolutely nothing. Sighing, he turns his full attention back to Sansa before Kido can dive fully into gossip mode.

One thing is clear: Madara won't stay in Endeavor's agency if they are already at odds – not that Shota blames the kid for it. That means the kid will be out and about on his own in only a few months; a concerning thought.

The meeting is soon adjourned. Madara is the first to slip out of the room and out of sight of curious eyes, Kido hurries after him. Shota would have liked to talk to Madara, if only to settle his own worry for the kid, but no matter, he will get his chance eventually. This case is bound to drag out for a while, as cases involving organized crime always do.

That's why he did not expect to be sitting in the same room, in the same chair again, only two days later. Kido is considerably more disheveled than last time. His hero costume is torn in places and smudged with dirt, and unidentifiable stains are all over it. The bandages fastened around his head are coming loose and far from their usual pristine white.

Madara, sitting next to him, is not looking much better. His long hair is tangled into dusty knots; his coat covered in caked mud. Blood is smeared on his chin, dripping from his split lip. Shota is getting the feeling the kid is deeply annoyed by this whole situation.

Shota and the handful of other heroes present are listening attentively as Kido reports how he and Madara apparently took down the drug ring singlehandedly and handed the heads of the organization to the police themselves not half an hour ago.

"How did you know where their hideout was?" Sansa asks, scribbling furiously into his notepad.

"We captured and interrogated some of the organization's drug runners," Kido answers, slurring his words ever so slightly – a head injury maybe?

"And some lowlife drug runners not only knew the location of the headquarters but also told you?" Another hero asks, voice dripping with skepticism.

"Well, no," Kido continues. "We worked our way up the hierarchy. From the drug runners to the distributors, then to the management until we reached the heads of the snake, so to speak. It took a while, but we managed. The villains were oddly cooperative after a while."

Shota is thrown off-kilter, to say the least. This case was estimated to take weeks of information gathering before any of the villains behind the drug ring could be arrested. How the hell did a daytime hero, who has never worked on such an investigation, with no underground connections, and a newbie manage to complete it already? While evidence and testimonies still need to be processed, at a first glance, the organization seems to have been dealt with.

Sansa is just as perplexed. "Why were the interrogated individuals so cooperative? And why did you not call for reinforcements as soon as you found intel on the location of the headquarters?"

"I'm not sure," Kido squints his eyes as if the action could clear his thoughts. "Maybe they were afraid of us? They seemed to be rather inexperienced criminals and easily intimidated. Those few who fought us were clumsy. They were not at all a threat, so we decided to handle them alone before they could scurry away into hiding."

Shota glances at Madara, who remains silent throughout the slew of questions directed at his partner. The kid is stone-faced, though his eyes still burn hot with an emotion he can't discern.

The more often he sees Madara, the more questions pile up in Shota's head, and he won't get any answers soon it seems..

.

.
Shoto is confused, which is nothing new considering the context of his confusion. Social interactions have never been his strong suit, and more often than not, he has trouble understanding people he is not closely familiar with.

Sometimes he thinks he is speaking an entirely different language than those around him because people will say one thing but mean something entirely different. Somehow, Shoto is supposed to know when to take words literally and when to find another meaning buried between the lines. In his opinion, it's unnecessarily complicated, and everything would be easier if people just said outright what they want.

So, Shoto's mind is running a mile a minute as he listens to Ren recounting his and Nobuyuki's day at school and how they sneaked out of class to steal pudding from the cafeteria. The story is admittedly funny, and Shoto didn't know one could even do that without getting into serious trouble, but alas, it's not the origin of his confusion. That is Nobuyuki, who is staring at him rather intensely from across the table, while the dango he ordered half an hour ago remains untouched before him. Shoto has no idea what to make of it.

Lately, a lot of people have been angry around him. His father, for one, has been more gruff than usual without any apparent reason. Natsuo came by last weekend, absolutely fuming, and screamed at Endeavor for nearly an hour before storming off again. Madara has been much more subtle about it, but Shoto is starting to catch his minuscule tells, and he is quite sure Madara is harboring some anger too. Now here is Nobuyuki, whose emotions Shoto can't read, staring at him with furrowed brows — a sign that can't possibly mean anything good. He is starting to see a pattern, and for some reason, he finds himself at the center of it.

Shoto sets his cup of tea down and crosses his arms; suddenly, he doesn't feel like drinking it anymore. He stares right back at Nobuyuki. "Why are you angry with me?" He might as well be direct about this; he's already attracted Nobuyuki's ire, after all. There's no need to uselessly tiptoe around the topic.

Ren interrupts himself mid-sentence, a dangostick halfway to his mouth. Nobuyuki's frown deepens. The two brothers exchange a quick glance, and something that Shoto is not privy to passes between them. The café continues to bustle in the background, the afternoon sun shining its golden rays through the large windows, indifferent to the tension that overtook their table hidden away in the back.

"I am not angry?" Nobuyuki at last says, more as a question.

"Then why are you looking at me like… that?" Shoto asks, pointing at his face.

Ren's eyes widen comically, then he bursts out into a full-belly laugh that shakes his whole body. Loud and unabashed, he bends over the table, his long hair nearly landing in his sticky sweets. Shoto's confusion grows. Why is Ren laughing? Is he laughing at him? He doesn't get it as usual, and it's annoying.

"Nooo, Shoto. I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" Ren says hastily between stuttering breaths. "Don't get mad! It's just- oh gods, how do I say this. Obito's face always looks like this when he is grumpy-"

"I'm not grumpy!"

"-and lately he has been especially morose because he had a fight with Madara."

Oh. Shoto deflates in one breath. That makes sense. Sibling fights leave him in a bad mood too. "Is that why Madara has been irritable lately?" He asks.

Ren nods, "Yeah, it's terrible being around those two when they are like this and refuse to resolve their issues."

Shoto can understand that too. Family is complicated sometimes, and exhausting.

Nobuyuki rolls his eyes. "This is not about something you simply resolve. It's not that easy." It sounds to Shoto like they had this conversation before. Nobuyuki sighs wearily then considers him with a contemplative look. "Todoroki, why did you ask Madara to teach you?"

The unexpected shift in conversation brings Shoto's thoughts to a scrambling halt. He needs a moment to process the question. "Because I want to be a hero."

Nobuyuki taps the table with his fingers, "Why?"

"To help people."

The tapping on the table continues without pause. "You could help people by becoming a doctor, or a lawyer, or a fireman. Why did you choose heroics as a career?"

Shoto scowls, Nobuyuki asks just as many questions as Madara–it must run in the family. "I have a strong quirk, it's perfect for heroics."

Nobuyuki hums, his eyes piercing, "But that's not all, is it?"

No, it's not, and he might as well tell them. "I have to prove something to my father," he declares, clutching his cold cup of tea to have something to hold on to. "I was born for one reason alone: to surpass All Might in my father's place, to become the number one hero because he can't. I want to be a hero but I refuse to follow into my father's footsteps. I hate Endeavor and everything he stands for. I will prove that I can become a hero without using his fire."

Ren and Nobuyuki are silent, their expressions unreadable. It makes Shoto tense. "Are you going to tell me too how foolish I am for refusing my father's fire?"

Nobuyuki snorts. "No. What you do with your quirk is none of my business, or anyone else's for that matter. If you don't want to use your fire, then don't, and fuck anyone who tells you otherwise. Though, personally, I'd advise you to use all the tools available to you; you never know when they might come in handy."

"Obito is right, you know. But more importantly," Ren says, a sly grin stretching his lips. "If you want to stick it to your father, I know the perfect way."

Shoto's interest instantly piqued. "How?"

"As I see it, you want to be a hero, but at the same time, you don't want to fulfill the purpose your father set out for you. The solution is simple: become an underground hero." Ren shamelessly takes one of Nobuyuki's dango and shoves it into his mouth. "He wants you to climb the hero ranking, right? So just don't participate. You can be a hero without the publicity surrounding it, but since you said you want to do it for the sake of helping, it shouldn't matter, right?"

Hmm. Madara is his favorite hero, and he is an underground hero... Shoto has a lot to think about.