Midoriya was sleeping when Todoroki got home, curled into a foetal position on the Hero's futon and his soft breathing filling the entire apartment. Todoroki feels as if he entered in a sauna, the cold he's grown accustomed to changing to the warmth he always unknowingly searched for, now suddenly within reach.

He manoeuvres around the boxes still crowding the space before putting the groceries on the counter, almost wincing as the carton of milk thuds against the surface. Glancing over his shoulder, he sighs as he notices Midoriya merely shifting, burrowing his face deeper in the sheets. From this angle, he looked like a child, still unscarred, still believing.

Todoroki wonders when exactly Midoriya stopped believing.

Probably when he realised the Quirk he was waiting for would never come.

Todoroki sighs, taking the radio lying on the kitchen table and moving to the bathroom. Sitting on the edge of the bath tub, he turns the device on, the sound so low he has to strain his ears to hear something.

"...not been heard of since. We now have three possibilities. One, the Judge's waiting for the right time to kill. Second, he's currently planning to kill. Three, he still hasn't chosen his victim."

"You're not considering the possibility the Judge stopped spilling blood?"

"That would be rather nice, wouldn't it? I'm afraid this world is not nice, Miss, far from it. The Judge hasn't stopped killing. Do you know why he's been dubbed 'The Judge'? The marks he leaves on the crime scenes are the same: guilty. Who are the victims he targets? Pro Heroes. I can't say for certain that the Judge targets all Pro Heroes since we're not sure what he accused them of, but there are still many Pro Heroes roaming free in Japan."

"Do you have any idea what connects the three victims?"

"I'm not certain but I daresay they failed to protect citizens."

"And what would make you say that?"

"Well, Pro Heroes can be guilty of one thing: breaking their vow."

"Todoroki-kun?"

Todoroki starts, the radio jostling in his hands as he fumbles to shut it down. The bathroom door slides open, revealing Midoriya still wrapped in a blanket and wiping his bleary eyes with the back of his knuckles.

"What are you doing, Todoroki-kun?" He asks, stifling a yawn.

The Hero doesn't even bother trying to lie. "Listening to the new speculations on the Judge."

"And what of it?"

Todoroki's eyes narrow down, inspecting each of Midoriya's movements. He was smiling, the corner of his lips very still. He wasn't even shivering from the cold, although his feet were bare against the cement. Everything about him is steady but Todoroki never trusts balance. The one thing he learned in his twenty years of existence is that balance can be toppled by the lightest breeze.

"They have a very interesting theory about what caused him to act. This man was suggesting that Pro Heroes were guilty of failing to protect citizens. What do you think?"

"I think it's plausible, or perhaps he's killing for personal reasons. We don't know what goes through the Judge's head, do we?"

"It goes without saying."

Midoriya suddenly shudders, tightening the sheets around himself. "Anyway, what did you buy?"

Todoroki stands up, pushing Midoriya against the wall and forcing him to step back into their bed-kitchen room. He almost falls on his rear, his feet tripping against the sheets, but catches himself against the counter. Todoroki ignores him, taking out the carton and two brown paper bags.

"Really," Midoriya snorts as he gestures towards Todoroki's groceries. "Milk and takeout."

"It consists of my main diet, yes."

Midoriya shakes his head, unsure if Todoroki's sincere expression means he's joking or that it's naively honest. "That is shit. When I invited you over, I cooked you cold soba, didn't I?"

"And I'm still thankful for it. However, unless you want to die from food poisoning, this is what we're going to eat." As if to emphasise his words, he hands one of the bags to Midoriya with a solemn expression that only fades away once Midoriya grabs it. "Please enjoy your meal."

Midoriya plops back on the futon, warming his hands around the bag, while Todoroki settles down at the kitchen table and doesn't waste time eating. By the corner of his eyes he catches Todoroki faltering, staring at him with an unreadable expression.

"You're not eating?"

"I'm not hungry."

"You need energy if you want to heal."

Midoriya sends him a sharp glare. "I'm fine."

"Your doctor told me you have to rest for a week. You only spent a day in bed."

"One day's enough. And I'm not eating that."

He expects Todoroki to be angry, at least, irritated, but the latter sighs, as if he anticipated it. Midoriya turns away but is acutely aware of the Pro Hero crouching down to sit beside him. Even if a respectable distance separates them, Midoriya can feel the heat emanating from Todoroki's left side, somehow amplified since his Quirk is awakened. The urge to twitch, to move away from him and to get out of this prison is tempting but doing so would be interpreted as a weakness and as a sign he has something to hide.

Midoriya has nothing to hide. He rather exposes the crimes Pro Heroes hid, thinking they could get away with the law.

"Aren't you going to say something?"

Midoriya eyes Todoroki, his nose wrinkling. "Why should I?"

"Don't you have something you want to tell me?"

"If it's about the Judge I have nothing to say."

"Stop thinking about the Judge for a second," Todoroki replies, and Midoriya stifles a sardonic chuckle at his hypocrisy. "I was talking about Bakugou."

His body stiffens at the sole mention of these three syllables, and he disgusts himself for it. It's all in the past now, and while he chose to bury it down, the present keeps on unearthing his memories. What that man — who was only a boy when it all happened — did to him made him tougher and smarter, for he realised how harsh reality can be and he should be grateful for it. He doesn't need naivety and innocence and believing chimeras; what he needs is control, knowledge and efficiency.

"What of him?" He mutters after a few seconds of mulling over.

"He saved you."

Midoriya scoffs. "He did not." Bakugou saving him has to be the most absurd idea he's ever heard of. To even consider the Hero doing such a thing would be against all odds, like getting struck by lightning yet winning the lottery at the same time. "You're mad."

"I didn't arrive on time when you crashed but he was there, carrying you."

"I'm sure he was planning to dump me in Sumida River hoping I'd drown."

"Is there any chance you'll find the strength to forgive him, one day?"

An answer has never come to his mind so easily. "Of course not. Would you?"

He caught Todoroki off guard, the lightest of frowns settling on his features. "What?"

"Would you forgive your father, one day?"

He got him. No indication on his face gives away his emotions but Midoriya's convinced an inner conflict is raging within Todoroki. Everything he learned about the Pro Hero points in one direction: deep hatred towards his father. Midoriya may not always believe what's written in magazines but it's evident the articles on their rocky relationship are true. They mention furtive glares, shoulders unconsciously turned away, cold and raging gazes clashing together, hissed words exchanged when they thought they were alone. It's a different form of hatred, Midoriya's aware of it, but it runs as deep in Todoroki's veins as his towards Bakugou.

"I don't even know what he did, but I bet my good knee you wouldn't forgive him."

Todoroki stares at his good knee, as if taking Midoriya's words literally. "I won't forgive him because his motive was selfish. All of this could've been avoided."

"And what was 'this'?" Midoriya prompts.

The Hero stares at him and it seems this single action sapped him of his energy. "This?"

If Todoroki needs a little push to spill the beans, then Midoriya is ready to fling him in the right direction. However, the words elude him as he observes Todoroki's slumped figure leaning against the wall, his eyes cast downwards. He isn't the picture of defeat, not quite, but there is resignation in the way his head bows and solitude as his body curls inwards, as if to shield itself from the world.

"Don't you sometimes wish...?" He can't finish his sentence from lack of raw inspiration, his assurance deflating faster than sniffing out a flame. "This world... is not fair."

"I'm surprised you just noticed, you who was born Quirkless."

"Not only about my condition. Quirklessness is but a fraction of unfairness. It's more than that."

Beside him, Todoroki answers, deadpan, "You want to talk to me about him, don't you?"

It isn't 'Endeavor', or even 'Father'. It was just 'him'. Just a nameless face to reduce the pain and erase the memories.

"I think it'd be beneficent for you to talk about him. About 'this'."

Todoroki stays quiet, staring at the ceiling. Midoriya follows his gaze and startles, noticing for the first time the small corner just above the sink coloured in indigo dotted with glimmering stars. A small gasps escapes his mouth as he examines the canvas of violet fading into black with swirling blue hues, a lighter tint symbolising the Milky Way crossing the entirety of the image. It couldn't be taller and wider than a few inches, but it's been drawn with such breathtaking realism that Midoriya feels like gazing at the open sky.

"Did you paint this?"

"It was already there. It's beautiful, isn't it?" Midoriya can only nod, his eyes still riveted to the painting. "Things like these show the dichotomy this world possesses. You seem to focus very much on the bad side but there's so much more. That painting, for example, or just people who care for us. Sometimes, that's simply what it takes." The saying was so sudden, full of nostalgia, and unlike his aloof self that Midoriya stares. Todoroki apparently realises his oddity too, for he adds, "I'm saying this so you won't depress too much."

"I know there's a good side to life. I just haven't been graced with it a lot."

"I think you were, on the contrary."

Midoriya snorts, "Care to elaborate?"

"Your mother, for example," Todoroki murmurs, and he somehow knows that it's the only example Todoroki needs to convince him. "We talked a bit when you were treated at the hospital and just from a few interactions, I can tell how much she loves you."

"And yours didn't?"

Todoroki's jaw tenses and Midoriya has to strain his ears to hear him whisper, "She did. Too much."

"What happened?" Todoroki shoots him a wary glance and Midoriya shrinks on himself. "Listen, I know I'm curious but I really think telling someone about it would help you."

"I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I already told someone about it and it didn't help at all."

"Who did you tell?"

"All Might."

Midoriya stops himself from gaping. "All Might? The All Might?"

"Do you know anyone else?"

He shakes his head, his lips sewn shut but his mind boggling. He remembers Tsukauchi asking him to deliver All Might's letter to Todoroki, which led the two of them to meet for a second time in a less gruesome setting. He never knew, in the end, what brewed between the two Pro Heroes since he forgot to ask about it.

"All Might didn't help?"

"He can't always help," is the morose answer he receives.

"He can't help people who don't want to be helped. I helped you with your flames but only because we were stuck in a life or death situation. Otherwise, you never would've used them, would you?" Todoroki averting his eyes is all he needs to know. "I want to yell at you for limiting yourself."

Todoroki meets his eyes without flinching. "You can yell all you want."

Midoriya huffs. "Fine. Then you're not worth helping."

"Fine," the Hero glowers, standing up and grabbing his takeout.

Midoriya watches him tensing as he examines a faraway spot outside, the paper brown wrinkling as his grip around it tightens. Faking disinterest, he follows Todoroki from the corner of his eyes as he vanishes in the one-way corridor leading to the exit.

"What are you doing? Are you running away? I thought you had to look after me."

He waits for the expected response, no doubt another taunting and sharp reply that would encourage provocation, but the moments following his sentence are filled with silence. Frowning, he unfurls his knees cautiously, stretching his neck as he tries to catch a glimpse of the Hero.

"Todoroki-kun?"

Almost inaudible, he hears the door's metallic lock sliding in the slot, the chain chiming as it moves. Just as Midoriya opens his mouth to speak, three bangs break the quietness, shattering the apartment's stillness. Emerging from the shadows, Todoroki hurries to his side, noiseless as he seems to glide on the floor as if on ice. Unsure of what to do, Midoriya lets the Hero get him on his feet, and he's ushered without explanation into the bathroom. The last thing he sees before the door clicks shut is Todoroki's pale face, his forefinger held in front of his closed lips in complete silence.

Something bursts on the other side of the closed door, Midoriya jumping in surprise. The entire apartment's foundations quake, similarly to his legs. Forcing his heartbeat to slow down, one hand clutching his chest, he breathes out. Aside from the sudden detonation, there are no other sounds. He doesn't know if it's a good or a bad sign.

"What do you want?" Todoroki's voice is monotonous, but Midoriya catches the slight hitch in his breath before he speaks, as if mustering his strength. "You're not welcome here."

"I want you to delegate the Judge case to me."

A hand flies to Midoriya's mouth as his eyes grow wide. He's heard the voice countless times during interviews and on the internet, browsing through videos filmed by civilians in the middle of a crisis.

"It's unfortunate," Todoroki breaks his musing, "because I don't want to."

"You are going to. The Police Force asked for me first. They only hired you because you're their last resort."

His voice doesn't have any room for concessions but Todoroki's being stubborn — or stupid, Midoriya can't be sure — as he retorts, "I daresay I'm doing a fine job since they didn't fire me."

"A fine job, really?" There's a pause, a snicker, and Midoriya imagines a condescending smirk. "Tell me, then, where's the Judge? I thought your job was to catch him, not let him roam free."

"I'm working on it," Todoroki hisses.

"You should let the professionals handle this case."

"I am a professional."

"You're not. You've always been childish to withhold your flames."

"I..."

Midoriya wants to yank his hair out. Why doesn't he say it? Why doesn't Todoroki tell him he embraced his Quirk? He's being insulted yet he doesn't fight back. It doesn't make any sense.

"I'm not giving you the choice, Shouto."

"As if you ever let me have a choice."

"You're the one who's restricting yourself to one path. All I did was to nudge you in the right direction but you're so stubborn that you refuse my counsel."

"Your counsel is worth nothing." Even if Todoroki's voice sounds a robotic as ever, Midoriya has grown accustomed to the nuances of his speech, and Todoroki sounds like a man who denies any version that isn't close to the truth he wants to believe.

"You," and there's a deliberate pause in Endeavor's speech, "are nothing."

Midoriya feels like the air's been knocked out of his lungs. He remembers a finger pointing at him, a contemptuous sneer curling dry lips and malicious red eyes.

If you don't have a Quirk, then that means you're nothing, and I'm not wasting my time with someone like you.

"I know you're seeing Tsukauchi tomorrow. I want you to tell him you're handing me the case."

Todoroki doesn't answer vocally, but his body language may very well convey his feelings. Midoriya hopes he's unyielding, that he won't make the mistake Midoriya did when he was younger, which was to take it all in without complaint. He thought he could breathe better if he accepted what everyone believed; it rather made his lungs choke in spite and his eyes burn.

"I'm going to find the Judge," Todoroki says, and although his voice is withdrawn it's also determined. "I'm going to arrest this criminal by myself and put an end to these murders."

"You're all words and no action."

"And you're all actions and no results."

The tension is so palpable that Midoriya's holding his breath, attentive to any noise from the two men. Endeavor's the one to break the silence, his voice booming.

"I'll give you until tomorrow morning to change your mind, Shouto."

Midoriya listens to the sound of heavy footsteps decreasing, Todoroki's father leaving the apartment. Tentatively, he peaks out of the bathroom door, his eyes immediately drawn to the gaping hole where once stood a door. Todoroki was idle on the threshold, staring at his father's receding figure. Endeavor was in his Hero suit with his flames ablaze, causing quite the commotion in the street since people were whispering excitedly. The Hero was leaving footstep imprints on the asphalt, the air sizzling around him.

"I'm not giving up on you, Midoriya."

"What does that have to do with me?"

Todoroki glances at him over his shoulder, unamused. "The Judge is my case."

"But I'm not the Judge, Todoroki-kun," Midoriya automatically replies with a fraying smile, tired of repeating the same thing over and over again. "You're wasting your time."

"I don't think I am."

"Yeah," Midoriya scoffs, dragging the last vowel wryly, "well I—"

"I didn't spend enough time with the people I care for and I'm not making this mistake again."

"Who did you lose that you cared about?" Midoriya asks before he realises it, and deep inside he already knows the answer. What he didn't expect, however, was for Todoroki to beckon the gap left by the door with a pleasant smile.

"How about I show you?"

"Here it is."

Midoriya follows him as they enter the cemetery. He shivers, gripping his coat tighter around himself, and his eyes sweep the entire area. They're the only people wandering here, the only people alive, that is, for he's convinced the dead are watching them, eager to drag them into the earth's bowels. Midoriya picks up his pace, hurrying after Todoroki who was halfway inside. Glancing at the graves, Midoriya catches a few unknown surnames and ancient dates of death, but his eyes don't linger on the graves too much.

"You could've just told me about it, you know. Dragging me to a cemetery wasn't necessary," Midoriya mutters.

"Actually, I thought a change of setting would be enlightening," the Hero neutrally answers. "Besides, weren't you the one who complained about going out?"

Midoriya shuts his mouth, refusing to give him the satisfaction to be right. They progress further in the cemetery, the scent of incense growing stronger with each step they're taking. It makes Midoriya's head dizzy, and if he hadn't nibbled at Todoroki's stupid takeout beforehand, he's almost certain he would've fainted.

Todoroki leads him on a small slope where more rows of stones are erected. As they climb the stairs also carved from stones, Midoriya can see how vast the graveyard is, some monuments higher than others, some adorned with yellow chrysanthemums, some with box for business cards and some devoid of any trinkets.

"Have you ever lost someone you care for, Midoriya?" The latter shakes his head before realising that Todoroki can't see him. However, as he opens his mouth to speak, he finds it dry like sandpaper. "Most of the dead are cremated and most of the time the family has to watch the sliding of the casket into the cremation chamber. Afterwards, the relatives have to pick up the bones from the ashes with chopsticks to place them in an urn."

Midoriya's aware. He remembers watching a documentary on different cultures and their view on death and mourning, and while nothing too graphic was shown, he had been unable to sleep that night. He had climbed in his mother's bed and huddled close to her, listening to her steady breathing and reminding himself she was alive and that he wouldn't have to separate her bones from her ashes. On the next day, he couldn't eat breakfast because he was too afraid it would taste like ashes.

"Some people believe they're completely safe. They forget that they can die within a blink of an eye, but when you went to a funeral you never forget."

Midoriya swallows the lump down his throat, thankful that Todoroki isn't looking at him. Their destination consists of a stone monument towering over the surrounding ones. An old tree provides it mild shade, its branches twisting their way towards the sky in a strange ballet. Spider lilies cover the earth, drowning it in a sea of red undulating in the wind.

Examining the carvings on the stone, Midoriya pales. There are two names on the grave, but one of them is coloured in red ink, meaning that this person was still alive. Midoriya knows it well since this same person barged through the apartment and practically threatened Todoroki to hand him the Judge case, which means that the other name belonged to...

"I was seven when my mother passed away." If Midoriya ever thought Todoroki sounded stoic before, it was nothing compared to his voice now. He wasn't staring at the stone pillar or even at Midoriya. He was staring at his left hand, held aloft in the air, and Midoriya can see it quivering. "I was the one who set her casket afire."

Midoriya feels like he's about to choke and collapse but he remains standing. "Did your father—?"

"I didn't want this man to lay his hands once more on her body. It's already unconceivable to think that when he'll die, his ashes will rest eternally beside my mother's." There's nothing to rebuke but he's convinced he's about to be sick. "Aren't you going to ask me how she died?"

"I don't want you to... to remember all that."

His response is too weak and hesitant to be convincing. Truthfully, Midoriya's saying it for his own sake and as he faces Todoroki's narrowed eyes, he knows he can't fool him.

"You're unaffected when you have to announce to someone that her fiancee died because you were distracted, but you're suddenly uncomfortable when standing in front of a grave?"

Midoriya blocks Natsuhiko's tear-stained face from his mind, protesting, "It's different..."

"How is this different? Natsuhiko-san couldn't even pick her bones apart, did you know? The Quirk reduced everything to ashes. Perhaps Tomura made him a favour in the end."

"Todoroki-kun, stop it..."

But Todoroki doesn't stop. He smiles coldly and keeps going, and his voice sounds like thunder in the empty graveyard. "I was told that Liliana Schmidt's family asked for her ashes to be sent back to England. It's sad, isn't it, that Natsuhiko can't even visit her grave?"

"Shut up!"

Midoriya lets out a shaky breath as he sits down on the ground, his bad knee throbbing. The Todoroki family grave stares back at him, two incense sticks guarding the crypt-like chamber where Todoroki's mother's urn is kept.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs, though he doesn't know who he addresses himself to.

"So am I."

He turns to see Todoroki kneeling next to him, holding in two flowers made of ice, one in each hands. Midoriya gasps, edging closer unconsciously to take a better look. If Todoroki hadn't been taken in Yuuei, he could've become an ice sculptor without any difficulty. The symmetrical petals unfurl and curve backwards elegantly, the ice becoming thinner near the tip.

"Each year, I visit her and I make her two lilies out of the Quirk she gave me."

"They're beautiful."

"Would you like to place one?"

The air rushes back in Midoriya's lungs just in time for him to whisper, "I'm allowed to?"

Todoroki nods and extends his hand, putting the delicate ice flower in Midoriya's open palm. The sculpture stings a little at the clash of temperature between the ice and his skin but fortunately it doesn't melt. Todoroki must keep his Quirk activated all the time if he wants them to overcome the ever changing weather.

Todoroki stands up and Midoriya mirrors him. The Hero then puts the flower beside the right incense stick, where it glimmers under the sun. He gazes back at Midoriya, tilting his head towards the grave, and Midoriya gulps down as he steps forward. As he struggles to crouch without bending his knee too much, his cheeks burn in embarrassment since he must look like a fool, but there's no one but him and Todoroki, and perhaps his mother watching them from above, so he buries his pride and places the flower on the opposite side.

Midoriya's about to retract his hand to his side when Todoroki's left one closes around it. Even if the latter doesn't war any gloves, his hands are warm since he can regulate his body temperature now that he uses his fire Quirk. The heat is sudden but welcome, so Midoriya doesn't pull back.

Todoroki squeezes his hand before speaking. "You have two faces, Midoriya. The first is the one you wear all the time. You may look nice and friendly, but it's only a veneer to hide your treacherous and sadistic nature."

"And what about the second one?" Midoriya inquires emotionlessly.

"You may look treacherous and sadistic, but it's only a veneer to hide your benevolent and perceptive nature. The problem is that you've grown accustomed to wear a mask, so much that you began to believe it's your real one."

Midoriya snorts, "What is this? I told you to stop playing psychologist."

"I'm not playing psychologist. I can see both of my parents within you and I desperately want to see your kindness win."

Midoriya removes his hand, rising up and wincing as his knee flexed. "I'm going to give you a moment alone with your mother."

He bows in respect in front of the family grave before spinning on his heels and climbing down the slope. He wasn't running away, of course not. He was aware Todoroki needed some time to sort his brain out since he was spewing nonsense. After all, being compared to Todoroki's dead mother and his loathed father isn't what Midoriya would qualify as a compliment.

Kindness and treachery? Is it how Todoroki consider his parents? One whose compassion was overflowing yet surely caused her death and the other, with boiling rage and selfish motives he put in front of everyone else? Midoriya shudders. Somehow, he has no trouble associating the Judge with Endeavor even though they're different.

They are different.

"Did you bring your subway pass?"

Midoriya raises his head when Todoroki walks back to him, his gait solemn. His step seems lighter than before and under his eyelids, the dark shadows had faded to faint grey.

Midoriya glances at him, inquiring, "If I say yes, where are you planning to drag me this time?"

"Not to another cemetery, don't be so wary," he chuckles, then pauses for a moment. "You don't seem to like takeout so I suggest going to the grocery store."

There it is again, Todoroki's chuckle that Midoriya thought was a one-time occurrence. Todoroki definitely is full of surprises, today, and Midoriya can't help but smiling in return.

"I'm going to cook you cold soba as long as you don't hand the Judge case to your father. I wouldn't stand working with him."

"Then you're going to cook for a long time, Midoriya."

And as they walk out of the cemetery, a single crystal snowflake swirled in the air between them before settling down on the petal of an ice flower lily.