The Todoroki apartment was quiet, the dim glow of the television casting a cold light across the room. Shoto Todoroki sat on the couch, a glass of untouched whiskey in his hand. His mismatched eyes were fixed on the screen, where an old interview with his father, Enji Todoroki, played. To the world, Enji had been a visionary—CEO of Todocorp, a man whose name was synonymous with innovation and power.

To Shoto, he had been a monster.

The screen showed Enji at his most charming, answering questions with a confidence that bordered on arrogance. But Shoto wasn't listening to the words. His mind was replaying the memory of that terrible day, the image of his father's lifeless body burned into his mind. And standing over him, triumphant yet solemn, was Deku.

Shoto clenched his jaw, anger and grief swirling in his chest like a storm.

The sound of the front door opening broke his reverie. Izuku Midoriya stepped inside, shaking the rain from his hair and peeling off his damp jacket. His movements were slow, tired, as if the weight of the world was pressing down on him. He glanced at Shoto, noting the tension in his friend's posture.

"You're still watching that?" Izuku asked, his voice tentative.

Shoto didn't look at him. "Why not? It's all I have left of him."

Izuku hesitated, unsure of how to respond. He moved toward the kitchen, setting his bag on the counter, and stole a glance at the screen. Enji Todoroki's larger-than-life presence filled the room, but to Izuku, it felt like a ghost looming over them both.

"I just got back," Izuku said softly. "How was your day?"

Shoto finally turned to face him, his expression cold and distant. "Why do you care?"

Izuku blinked, surprised by the harshness in Shoto's tone. "Because we're friends. I care about you, Shoto."

Shoto laughed bitterly, setting his glass on the table. "Friends. Right. Tell me, Midoriya, do you know what it's like to have your entire world ripped apart?"

Izuku froze, the question hitting closer to home than Shoto could have known. His mind flashed to the image of his mother earlier that day, her tearful rejection, her blame for All Might's death. He swallowed hard, forcing the memory aside. "I don't know what you mean."

"Don't you?" Shoto's eyes blazed with anger as he stood, closing the distance between them. "My father—Endeavor—was killed. And you know who did it? Your precious Deku."

Izuku's heart dropped, his breath catching in his throat. "What?"

Shoto's voice rose, raw with emotion. "I saw it, Midoriya. I saw him standing over my father's body. Deku, the so-called hero. He destroyed everything."

Izuku struggled to keep his composure, the guilt he carried threatening to overwhelm him. "Shoto, you don't understand—"

"Don't tell me I don't understand!" Shoto shouted, his fists clenching at his sides. "I was there! I saw the fight. I saw Deku—your hero—take my father down."

"He was trying to stop him," Izuku said, his voice shaking. "Endeavor was—"

"Don't you dare!" Shoto's voice cracked with fury. "I don't care what you think you know about my father. He was still my father, and Deku took him from me."

Izuku opened his mouth to respond, but the words wouldn't come. How could he explain? Shoto didn't know about Dabi, didn't know the truth of what had happened that day. And he certainly didn't know that Izuku himself was Deku. The weight of keeping that secret felt unbearable, especially now.

"I'm sorry," Izuku said finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

Shoto scoffed, turning away from him. "Sorry? That's all you have to say?"

Izuku wanted to tell him the truth, to explain everything, but the words caught in his throat. Instead, he watched as Shoto returned to the couch, his shoulders hunched under the weight of his anger and grief.

"I don't want to talk about this anymore," Shoto said, his voice quieter now but no less filled with bitterness. "What's up with you?" He tried to smile. "Rough day?"

Izuku hesitated, unsure if he wanted to open up. He moved toward the kitchen and poured himself a glass of water before finally replying, "You could say that."

Shoto set his drink down, his sharp gaze fixing on Izuku. "What happened?"

Izuku sighed again, avoiding Shoto's eyes. "I… lost my job."

Shoto frowned, concern flickering across his usually calm face. "What? Why?"

Izuku hesitated, struggling to put the words together. "I've just been… distracted, I guess. Things have been hard lately."

Shoto studied him for a moment before nodding. "I'm sorry to hear that, but don't worry. You'll figure it out. Until then, I'll take care of you."

Izuku blinked, surprised. "Shoto, I can't let you—"

"You can and you will," Shoto interrupted firmly. "You're my friend, Midoriya. I've got you covered until you get back on your feet."

Izuku's heart sank. The weight of Shoto's kindness only deepened his guilt. If Shoto knew the truth—that he was Deku, the one Shoto blamed for his father's death—how quickly would that generosity turn to hatred?

"I appreciate it," Izuku said softly, his voice heavy with unspoken remorse.

Shoto leaned back, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. "If you don't feel comfortable with that, you could always go back home."

Izuku stiffened. The mere mention of home brought back the memory of his mother's rejection. Her tear-filled eyes, the pain in her face as he told her was responsible for All Might's death. He swallowed hard, trying to push the memory away.

"No," Izuku said quietly. "That's not an option."

Shoto tilted his head, curious but not pressing. He could see the sadness in Izuku's face and decided to shift the mood. A sly smile crept across his lips.

"Well, if home's not an option, there's always Kuri," Shoto said, his tone teasing. "She'd probably love to take care of you. Isn't that what she does best?"

Izuku's face turned bright red. "What? No! I mean—she's busy with Gold Crown and—"

Shoto chuckled, cutting him off. "Relax, Midoriya. I'm just saying, it's obvious how much she cares about you. She'd do anything for you, you know."

Izuku looked away, his embarrassment giving way to a small, genuine smile. Kuri. The thought of her—her strength, her kindness, her unwavering belief in him—was like a light piercing through the darkness of his day.

"You're lucky," Shoto added, his tone more serious now. "Not everyone gets that kind of love."

Izuku nodded, the weight of his earlier sadness lifting slightly. "Yeah. I guess I am."

Shoto stood, stretching and letting out a yawn. "Anyway, don't stress too much about the job. You'll figure something out. And if you don't, I'll keep you fed and housed. Goodnight, Midoriya."

"Goodnight, Shoto," Izuku said, watching as his roommate disappeared into his bedroom.

Izuku lingered in the living room for a moment, his thoughts swirling. Shoto's words about Kuri stayed with him, their warmth cutting through the bitterness of the day. Despite everything—the bounty on Deku, the guilt he carried, the pain of his mother's rejection—he found himself smiling as he headed to his own room.

As he closed the door behind him, Izuku sat on the edge of his bed, his head in his hands. The day's events weighed heavily on him—his mother's rejection, the loss of his job, and now Shoto's hatred for Deku. The guilt threatened to crush him, but amidst the despair, one thought brought him a small glimmer of hope.

Kuri.

Kuri was his light, and tonight, that light was enough to keep him going.

She was the one bright spot in his life, the one person who seemed to believe in him, even if she didn't know the full truth. Izuku clung to that thought, letting it steady him as he lay back on the bed. He stared at the ceiling, willing himself to believe that maybe, just maybe, things could still get better.