AN: This got really long - sorry about that. There was more I kinda wanted to add, but nothing really important, so I axed it cause it was kinda already a LOT. Exposition, man. ): THANKFULLY, though, I'm finally on the cusp of getting to the first timeskip, and also stuff is about to get wacky for everyone. Goodbye, park-setting! Hello, drama!

005: a family of two.

Late February; 17 years.

The wind is cold, and the wind is fierce, but Touya doesn't feel it – not really.

Of course, he doesn't normally feel it, not the way regular people would. He always runs too hot; the chill doesn't touch him in any way that ever leaves his teeth chattering or gooseflesh rising on his skin.

Sometimes, he wonders what that might be like – wonders what it might be like to feel cold in any meaningful way. He watches other people bundle up in jackets for the winter, puffed up thick like marshmallows, all tangled up in scarves, layered with socks so thick their shoes don't look like they fit right anymore.

And sometimes, he's just so hot, and he thinks: it must be nice. It must be nice to feel cold, to have a reason to dress in layers besides stealth or psychological discomfort or some haphazard and half-hearted attempt at style.

But now, beneath their tree, with Suzume passed out on his chest, Touya finds himself feeling thankful and a little proud of how hot he always runs.

It's just so cold outside, even if he can't feel it. He knows it to be true; he's seen the temperature readings. In the air, both his and Suzume's breath frost and fog, though much of hers is muffled against his chest.

He pushes his fingers into her hair, and she stirs when he runs his fingernails over the curve of her scalp, but only just barely.

She's so tired.

And he's hot, hot all the time, consumed from the inside out by hellfire that burns, and burns, and burns –

But at least he can give her this, he thinks. Whatever this is.

Warmth?

Comfort?

Suzume had drifted off some time ago in a dwindling storm of tears, and Touya had let her. Wasn't that fair?

He'd set her up for it, after all.

When she'd dragged her feet over that feral little brat for the first week, Touya had been patient – at least, at first. At least as much as he was able. He'd tried to be understanding, even if he really couldn't begin to understand at all. As a child, he'd always been so quick to anger, so flash-in-the-pan vindictive, feel-bad-about-it later.

And even that second part was only rarely.

But when the week had become a second, and then a third, Touya had forbidden Suzume from complaining about the brat all together. "You either deal with it like I told you," he'd said, only just barely keeping the exasperation from his voice, "Or you cut this hysterical shit out and stop whining about it. Bitching about it ain't solving a damn thing."

By that point, Katsuki's name alone was enough to make Touya seethe. When he'd been Suzume's age, Touya would have reveled at the chance to hurt a former friend in whatever way he could manage; betrayal always called for viciousness, after all.

(And he sure as hell wasn't keen on letting anyone cast him aside ever again.)

Suzume is different, though, and she'd acted as if she were suffocating beneath the guilt of even just the thought of really upsetting Katsuki. Mopey and sullen, she smiled rarely and laughed less, and that had made Touya more and more angry. Katsuki didn't deserve her hesitation or her concern or her feelings.

And he thought all that had been bad enough.

(Still, selfishly, he'd goaded her, anyway.)

Of course Touya had expected it to get worse, and of course he was right. Anticipating the devastation was easy when he'd been intending it all along. Nearly eight months into their unconventional relationship, Touya knew Suzume well enough to wait for her in the park, knew that she'd be absolutely falling apart after finally excising the little bastard.

And, of course he'd been right about that, too.

What Touya hadn't anticipated was how he'd feel, holding her in his arms after all was said and done, arms caught up around her as she seemed to fracture and break.

Self-satisfaction, he thinks, makes sense. He'd fanned these flames, nurtured them with a patience he'd only just recently begun to come into – so of course when everything about her tenuous relationship with the brat went up in smoke and ash, it made sense to look on with a deservedly smug sense of admiration.

(He'd worked hard for this, after all.)

Relief, then, maybe? Yes, there is that, too; Touya can't imagine the brat wanting much to do with Suzume anymore. Maybe now he won't have to listen to her whining about him anymore, moaning about Katsuki, Katsuki, Katsuki.

(Thank fuck.)

But guilt?

His fingers in her hair stir.

No, Touya doesn't like that feeling. Didn't anticipate that even a little bit.

Suzume is so cute when she cries – when she falls apart into a million tiny pieces that she brings to him, fussing and fretful, because she knows her adoptive big brother is the only one who can piece her back together. The only one with the time, with the know-how, with the inclination –

And that makes Touya feel good. That makes him feel wanted, makes him feel needed –

It makes him feel loved.

(Irreplaceable.)

But Touya has never seen her so sad before, and knowing he's had a purposeful hand in it all makes him feel –

Guilty?

He thinks that must be it –

But he's also not quite sure.

Suzume stirs again, mouth askance as she dozes, a bit of drool pooling in the corner of her lips. He wipes it away with his thumb without really thinking, cradles her against him, her cheek to his shoulder, the spill of her hair all down his arm.

Warmth or comfort, he thinks – both, or more – he owes her at least that much.

And that makes sense. Even the guilt or whatever-it-is does, too, in a way, even if he doesn't like it.

(No, it's the realization that he really wants to give her comfort that really gives him pause.)

It's nearly an hour later when Suzume jerks awake, groggy and a little frightened. He feels her tense first, as if curling in on herself – and then she's sitting bolt-upright in his lap with a noise halfway between a sharp inhale and a gasp.

That almost startles him – almost. "Hey, now," Touya says, low and steady. He's quick to pull her back against himself, grabbing hold of one near-flailing arm with his free hand. "You're okay."

Blinking sluggishly, a look of intense bewilderment overtakes her face as her head rolls back clumsily into the crook of his arm. The dusky city lights filter down weakly through the bare branches, and even in the murky glow he's aware of how swollen her eyes are, red and tender from too many tears.

"Nii-chan?" Slowly the wild, wide-eyed look leaves her, and Suzume's gaze becomes hooded again, drowsy again, looking up at him with a dulled sense of wonder. "Am I still dreaming?"

"Probably not. But who knows? Maybe you are." Touya lets her pull her arm free of his loose grip – and lets her press it, palm flat and fingers spread, to his chest.

"I can… well, I can feel your heartbeat."

"Does that mean anything? Maybe you're dreaming that, too."

Looking thoughtfully between her hand and up at his face, Suzume's eyes begin to focus a little bit more. Touya expects her to argue, maybe – to try and justify herself with some kind of childish logic. Instead, Suzume is quick to concede. "I… well, I've never felt for a heartbeat before in a dream before, so – I guess it doesn't mean anything."

Touya can't tell if he's disappointed or pleased. "If it's a dream – what kind of dream is it?"

She tilts her head, expression curious. It's a question Suzume is either too sleepy or too shy to ask, and Touya is feeling generous, so he clarifies: "Good dream, bad dream. That sorta thing."

"Oh," she says, drawing the word out slowly, and a bit sing-song. Suddenly, she looks pensive. "Did – did what happened earlier – did it actually happen?"

"And what d'you think happened?"

Pensive gives way to sheer dread. "I was a bully."

There's no helping his quiet chuckle, so he doesn't even try. "You couldn't bully your way out of wet tissue paper with a sharp knife if you wanted to, Suzu. More like you finally stood up for yourself." He gives her a knowing, I-told-you-so-smile, because he can't help that, either. "Spoiler: seems like I was right."

Suzume shakes her head, looking at once both guilt-stricken and offended, and Touya has to resist the urge to pinch her. She's earned a reprieve –

At least for the moment.

"That's bad, then," she whispers, closing her eyes and sitting up, just a bit. Her cheek replaces the place her hand was moments ago, and she's quiet for a moment before announcing, just as quietly: "I can hear your heartbeat, now."

"Glad to hear I haven't died in the last thirty seconds, doc."

At the angle she has her head, he can't see her smile, but when she speaks again, he can hear it – just the hint of one, filling her voice in slow and sweet. "It sounds funny to hear you talk up close like this, like it's all rumbly in your chest." And then, almost bashful, she says, "But – but you're here, and anytime you're in my dreams…"

"Yeah?"

"Those're always good dreams."

Touya smiles with his teeth, pleased and a little mean. "Have a lot of those, huh?"

He expects her to fuss at him – to cover her face with her hands and protest. That's not what I meant, or it's not a big deal, or staaaahp-it.

But whether she's just exhausted and much less guarded for it – or because she's feeling particularly vulnerable – Suzume makes a noise like a sigh and says, almost sadly, "Not as many as I want. Never as many as I need."

And for once, Touya doesn't know what to say. He doesn't want to pick at her – he doesn't want to make fun of her.

Touya finds, instead – the desire punctuated with an awful, fist-blunt ache in his chest – that he wants to promise her the impossible: that he'll haunt her dreams whenever she wants, and maybe even when she doesn't. That he'll scare away anything vicious or mean or cruel –

(Just so long as it isn't himself.)

Instead, he's mindful to sound vaguely sympathetic when he asks, "Got a lotta bad dreams?"

"Yeah." She says it in a way that makes him think she's trying to imitate his own usual apathy, the confession delivered with a carefully constructed detachment despite the awful weight that seems to sag visibly in her shoulders.

It's immediately clear she does not want to elaborate.

Unfortunately, Touya finds the question he's been wanting to ask her for months burns so hot now behind the cage of his teeth, so hot even he can barely stand it. He's played so many games for it, after all – making bets and trading tiny tidbits of information, working his way closer to his goal.

All slow and careful in the way he hates, because he's never been slow, and he's certainly never been careful.

(Because Touya is many, many things, but he's never really been patient.)

She owes it to him, now, though. He's earned it.

Yet if he's learned anything about Suzume – and about life, too, in general – it's that slow and careful are far more likely to earn you what you want in exactly the way you want it than his usual tactic of rushing in and razing everything to the ground.

So, he's slow and careful, one more time:

"Hey," he says, jostling her a bit in his arms until she's sliding back down into the crooked angle of his elbow again, her head tilted back so she can look up at him – or rather, so he can look down at her. "You wanted to ask me a question, didn't you?"

Suzume's neatly constructed facade of I'm-totally-like-my-brother apathy crumbles in an instant – just like he knew it would – replaced instead with naked confusion. "What?"

Touya knows she's heard him, so he doesn't bother to clarify. Instead, he holds her gaze until her cheeks warm and she's forced to look away –

(Just like he knew she would.)

"I don't – " She's mumbling, pausing, looking down at her hands as they twist together clumsily in her lap: "You said – you said if you were right you'd get to ask me a question?"

"So?"

Suzume is incredulous. "So, you were right, I think. I mean, I guess I don't really know yet – but I think, from the way Katsuki was acting, at the end of it – I think that you were probably right – "

"Oh," Touya says, the verbal equivalent of a dismissively waved hand. "I was most definitely right. Wasn't debating that."

Suzume flinches a bit, but even with the obvious guilt renewing fresh in her features, her voice is surprisingly steady. "Then… then why? It's your question, not mine. You won – not me."

"Mmmm." Touya shrugs. "Can't a guy be generous with his cute little sister sometimes?"

"Oh." She says it whisper-soft – the verbal equivalent of hands-clasped-to-chest in unabated adoration. Touya swears the flush coloring her face seems to darken. "Well, I'd feel – in that case, I'd feel bad."

He knows. He pretends not to. "Why?"

"'Cause I – 'cause I promised you."

"You did," he says, smoothly, knowing full well exactly how this will go, too. Poor Suzume, he thinks, affectionately; poor, easy-to-read Suzume. "But it's okay. No real need to get worked up about it; you can ask me one instead."

It's a concession he knows full well he won't have to keep – one she confirms when she immediately shakes her head, brows furrowing, eyes gleaming and liquid again. "But – but I don't wanna! You gotta – you gotta – "

He smiles at her kindly, even though he isn't kind, and takes hold of her face with one hand, brushing his thumb up and under one of her eyes. As expected: his skin comes back wet. "Shit, don't start crying' again," Touya tells her, but his voice is even-kilter and steady. Reassuring. Barbless. "S'not that big of a deal."

Suzume takes a few unsteady breaths and closes her eyes. "I don't wanna ask you a question, not now. I don't – I want – I want you to ask me a question, instead. 'Cause I promised. I don't wanna go back on my promise!"

"Yeah?" And then, for good measure, and with an unkind smile she can't see behind her closed eyes: "You sure?"

"'Very sure," she says, too-quick, very clearly unsure. When she opens her eyes again to peer up at him, his smile is gone, teeth put away, and he regards her instead with the proper mixture of concern and doubt.

"If you say so." Touya can afford to appear doubtful; he has her already now, anyway. Has the whole situation very neatly in hand. She just makes it so easy, and he almost feels bad for her.

Almost.

Maybe in a few more years, he thinks.

"I do," she says, familiar in her willfulness, and Touya pats her cheek gently before letting his hand settle on her leg. Suzume's determination is short-lived, though, giving way to something decidedly more meek when she continues. "You gonna – gonna ask the thing? The one?"

"I am." His eyes burn into hers with the confirmation. "You know me so well."

He doesn't say it, because he doesn't have to. He knows she knows. It's the big one – the one he's carefully chosen because he knows it's big, knows that it's messy – knows there's so much complicated answer behind the single, simple question:

"Why I don't wanna tell people about my quirk." Suzume's voice quivers a bit, and he can tell she is dreading it, dreading it, dreading it.

He snakes his hand over the two she has clasped in her lap and gives them a little encouraging squeeze. "You can do it," he promises her. She's already sad, after all. What's a little more? "You can handle it."

"It's all really… long. And – and confusing, probably."

"We got time." He assures her. "'Sides, you're a smart kid. I know you'll manage just fine."

A compliment, a little bit of building her pride. Suzume takes a deep breath, bolstered by it, and Touya thinks again that it's almost too easy. Almost too easy.

"So – so, Mom has – mom has the same quirk. And I mean, you know – it's the same as mine," Suzume begins, very slowly, and he suspects that this is just as heavy a confession as when she'd told him about her own quirk – a secret she's been meant to keep.

A secret she's never told anyone before.

(Anyone but him.)

"It's not as strong as mine, like – she can't do as much with it. But she can still do it, and it works, and it's strong enough to be…"

"Good?"

Suzume's expression darkens. "I think – I think maybe I mean useful?"

Exploitable, Touya thinks, but doesn't say so. Instead, he just nods.

"And when she – when my mama was young, she told me she thought it was the best thing. Said it wasn't flashy, or exciting – not like the way a hero's quirk is, but that it was good, anyway, 'cause Mama wanted to help people. And it – it's good at helping people. She said it felt so good to help people, even when it hurt her."

"So it hurts her the same way it hurts you?"

Suzume nods, looking a little bit sad now. "Yeah. It does. She's never really talked about it, but sometimes, like – when I'd fall and skin my knees from being too clumsy? And she'd take care of it – I can always tell, even if it's something small, even though she tries real hard. Tries really, really hard to not let it show."

"'Cause it makes you feel bad when you know it hurts, huh."

Suzume nods again, and her hands wriggle a bit under Touya's own. "Mama doesn't do it for anyone except me, anymore. Her mom – my grandma, well, she'd always told my mama not to use it for anyone – the way Mama tells me not to use it, too, now. She told Mama to hide it, always.

"Grandma said it was a bad thing to have. Said it was – said the whole thing was a curse. She said that if people knew, that my mama would always get asked by everyone to do it, and that they'd keep asking and asking and asking. That… that they wouldn't stop. That it'd never stop, because people always get hurt, and people always wanna feel better."

Suzume falls silent, her gaze drifting from his face and up to the sky.

Touya has guessed at least this much. People are selfish, and people are cruel. He should know; he's one of them, isn't he? "And it wouldn't matter if it hurt your mom," he says, running his thumb over the hills and valleys of her tiny knuckles. "'Cause people are greedy."

"Yeah," Suzume says, softly. "That's what grandma told mama when she was young. That they're selfish. That people wanna feel better, no matter what. That they'd be nice to her to get her to help – be sad so that she'd feel sad for them, feel bad for them, wanna make them okay.

"But Mama says that when she was little, she wasn't very smart, and that she was very stubborn, and she didn't listen to her mama. She wanted to do good things. Wanted people to like her. That it was okay to hurt if it was good, and if she could help." Even with the light illuminating her face, something dark comes over Suzume's features. "If – if it meant people liked her."

"People, huh?" Touya asks her, quietly. He's guessed this, too, remembering her mother's friends in the park, gossiping together and full of pity over Suzume's mother's divorce. "People – or just one person?"

Suzume's attention slides back to him slowly, eyes widening almost imperceptibly. For a while, she doesn't answer, though her face betrays more sadness than it does confusion. "How do you – how did you know?"

"You don't really care about everyone in your class, do you? Least, not in any real meaningful way."

Sad, now, and a little indignant, Suzume shakes her head. "That's not true – "

"It is, and you know it. Maybe one of 'em might say something' mean to you, and maybe it stings for a day. Or – since you're so soft, maybe a week. And who cares, really? In a few years, you won't remember their name, won't remember what they said. You might remember someone said something mean to you, remember how it felt. But it will be a little fuzzy, so old, real faraway. More numb than anything."

Touya pauses for effect, watching her steadily with hooded eyes. "But you know what you will remember?"

Suzume's lip quivers. Touya knows she's clever enough for this, but he tells her, anyway:

"You'll remember Katsuki. You could be old, and grey – could be on your fucking death bed, and you'll still remember that piece of shit. And it's 'cause you let him get too close, didn't you? It's 'cause you cared a little too much. It's 'cause you let what he thought about you matter."

The too-small girl in his lap snuffles, then, so fragile, so fucking fragile – and he watches her swallow, and swallow, and swallow again.

"Hurts in your throat, doesn't it?" He asks, because he knows. Knows exactly what that feels like. She nods mutely, blinking away tears. He takes hold of her face again, then, brushing tears away from her wet lashes with his thumb, and she leans easy and trusting into his touch, her skin so cool against the fire-heat of his palm.

"It's dumb," she mumbles. "Dumb that one person can hurt so much more than – than hundreds of 'em. Than millions, or – or billions."

"It sure fuckin' does," Touya agrees, thinking very, very briefly about his own father.

But then, he's thinking about her father, instead. That's easier, less prickly. Less sharp. "So, I'm guessing your dad's like Katsuki, then?"

Suzume frowns, and shakes her head as best she can in the gentle but firm grip of his hand. "No – well. I mean, I guess, kinda? I guess he really upset Mama like Katsuki did me. But – but I never told Katsuki what I could do. We were friends before, just… just 'cause. Just 'cause… I guess 'cause he was who he was, and I was who I was? And, I think that was better. I think Katsuki is a lot better than my dad, even if he can be really mean.

"But – but Mama told Dad what she could do, 'cause she wanted to help him. 'Cause Dad needed the help, and she knew that."

"Because she wanted him to like her," Touya says, simply.

Suzume's frown deepens. "Yeah. She said – she said she had always liked him. He was in all her classes, and… Dad was real nice to everyone, and they grew up together. And he was funny, she said, and charming, and… everyone liked him a lot. Lots of other girls did, too, and Mama said it was 'cause he was strong, and cool, and Mama said everyone always said he'd be a real big hero. Said she knew it, too."

"Was he?"

Suzume looks confused by the question. "Was he what?"

"Nice. Charming. Cool."

"Oh." She's swallowing, again. "No. No, I don't really think he was – I think he lied. I think he lied, a lot-a lot. And he was good at that, just – just he wasn't actually good. I think he was actually really… I think he was always really bad."

Touya finds himself wholly unsurprised. "But your mom didn't notice that. Your mom thought he was cool, like everyone else. And of course he wanted to be a hero, huh. She was real taken with that, too, I'll bet."

If Suzume notices the bitterness in his voice, she doesn't mention it. "Yeah, and – and my mom's real pretty, she is – and she's so nice, she's the nicest person in the world, you know, nicer than anyone – but she was always real shy, too. And other girls weren't – they weren't shy. And some of them were pretty, too, and some of them were nice, so… So dad liked them. He dated a lot of different girls, Mama said, in high school."

"Until your mom was able to make herself stand out," Touya says, "By being useful in ways they couldn't be."

Suzume's jaw visibly tightens. "Yeah."

"And, for someone who wants to be a hero – who knows he's gonna get his ass handed to him, because everyone fuckin' does, eventually – I bet knowing you got a girl at home who's able to glue your shit back together is something he felt he really couldn't pass up on."

"...yeah."

Touya lets his hand fall again, because Suzume is quiet again, vacant and emptied out of her hysteria. Tired again. So very tired.

"Your mom didn't know all that, though. Not for a while."

"Not really, no. She said he was nice, for a while. Said they dated through the last year and a half of school, even when they went to different high schools. Dad went – dad was good at fighting, even if he wasn't good, and he was strong. Is – he is strong. Those – those parts aren't lies. So Dad went to UA, and Mama didn't, but they kept up their relationship, anyway."

"Mmm." This isn't something Touya had expected. Some no-name middling hero, maybe. But this? Too close, he thinks – too close. "UA, huh?"

"Yeah. And he was – he was one of the top of his class in his first year, and then he was at the top, and then at top again, and – when he graduated, he was already pretty… I guess he was pretty famous. He got married to my mom, and then he worked in an agency for a while, and then – then he got his own."

"His own agency?"

"Yeah."

No, Touya was not expecting this at all.

Not like this.

Not something this familiar.

Touya wants to say, are you fucking kidding me? Wants to throw his head back, and laugh, and laugh, mania ripping him straight down the middle because sometimes the universe just wants so very badly to confirm everything he knows about it, already – every awful, ugly, terrible thing.

Instead, and with great restraint, Touya asks her, "So, when did it all go to shit?"

Suzume's nose crinkles, her mouth souring. "Dad was… dad was good. He was good at his job, and he was good on TV. But he got hurt, a lot, and – and my mama, she'd make him better.

"And she said – she said it was 'cause she loved him. She loved him, even when he wouldn't come home, even when it seemed like he was only coming home when he needed her. Not 'cause he wanted her, or even 'cause he liked her. He'd be nice, she said, but not the way he was on the television. Not the way he had been in school. He just – always wanted to be better. Always wanted to be stronger. The best hero. Most liked, most charming.

"So Mama started gettin' real sad. She said she got – she said she got real lonely. The house was big, 'cause he made a lot of money, and she said it made her more sad. He'd get her things he thought she wanted, but… but she said she just didn't wanna be alone. She wanted him to hang out with her, again. Wanted to be friends again. She was so lonely in that big dumb house."

Oh, Touya thinks; of course. Over the months, Suzume's father has been a concept Touya has been piecing together in his own mind, fragment by jagged fragment. Abusive. Oppressive. Cruel.

Manipulative.

And here's that one in particular, confirmed for him exactly as expected. Suzume's purpose is two fold: A peace offering, and a leash. By giving her lonely mother a child, Suzume's father had given himself the gift of perfect-fucking-control over his doubt-riddled wife.

Never a child for a child's sake, Touya thinks, acid at the back of his throat. Always just a means to an end. "So, he gave her what money couldn't buy. Something to fill up the house a bit more."

"Yeah," Suzume whispers, face blanching with the admission. "He gave her me. And Mama said – Mama said, that it… that it made everything okay. It made everything worth it. And she didn't mind near as much when Dad was gone, or when he was busy. Didn't mind when he didn't smile at home, because I smiled a lot. And Mama was always trying to make me smile, she said, and it was easy – not like making Dad smile was.

"And Mama always says that I make her happy, too – that I can make her smile, even when she's sad…" For a moment, Touya can hardly hear her. "And she's always so sad."

"I can see why," Touya says, kind in a way he's surprised to find he actually means. "You're good at that."

But it's a kindness that wounds her, because her shoulders start to tremble. "But – but it's not enough! 'Cause Mama, she'd say she was happy, and she'd smile, but she was still sad, too. She didn't tell me, then, and hardly tells me now, but I always knew. Knew then, and still know, now, 'cause she'd cry when she thought I was asleep, cries when I'm in the bath, cries when she thinks I'm not around…

"And even though I hardly saw Dad ever, I know he'd come home late, and leave early, and Mama was always so tired from helping him. Tired, and sad. Tired from – from putting him back together, like you said. Always putting him back together."

"And always sad since he'd leave again."

Suzume tangles a tremulant hand in Touya's shirt, lips drawn back from her teeth in an expression of such anguish Touya almost cannot stand it. "Yeah. Always sad about that. Always so sad about that."

"But even though it made her sad," Touya says, as if by way of comfort, "She still left him, didn't she?"

There's no real surprise on Suzume's face as she regards him, no real shock. "Why do you always know everything?" She sounds defeated, sounds worn-out in a way he thinks she should be far too young to feel.

Already too old for her eight, meager years.

(He knows what that's like, too.)

"I'm older than you. Been around a lot."

She's grasping, desperate, too seen in this moment to handle it. "I know – I know people older than you, though, and even so – "

"What, you gonna say they don't know the shit I do – like it should mean anything about me?" Touya takes her by her chin and shakes her head a bit, chastising her. "Of course they fucking don't. They don't know you. Why would they? Who are you to them – to any of them?

"But I know you, though, because you're mine to know – my little sister. It's my job, isn't it? What kinda big brother would I be if I didn't know shit about you – if I didn't know what you were thinking, what you were feeling – if I didn't know what you needed? You needed me tonight, didn't you?"

"Yes, but – "

His grip tightens, just a shade. "And who else is here for you? Who else?"

"Nii-chan, please – " She huffs a little into his hand, a frenzied little half-laugh, half-sob. "I just – "

"No," he tells her firmly, giving her head another shake. "No hysterics. You're not done. You're gonna hold on until you're done. You need that too, don't you?"

He drops his voice then, low and quiet. Insistent. Encouraging. "You need to tell me, don't you?"

Suzume sucks in a shuddering breath she can barely manage against the clutch of his fingers but barely seems to register he's touching her. Her eyes are glazed and unfocused.

"So, it – it stayed like that, for a long while. Mama took care of me, and Dad was gone unless he needed her. She'd – she'd catch him… she'd catch him cheating on her. The first was just a girl at his agency, and I think she was an… intern? Secretary? I don't – I don't remember. Maybe both, or different girls. And then – and then it was a side-kick. And then a… a fan, I think. There were a lot."

Oh, Touya thinks. Of course. Why wouldn't he? Why fucking wouldn't he? They all want fame for something –

"And Mama, she got sadder and sadder, and sometimes when Dad came home late, after I was asleep – I'd know he was home because they'd yell a lot. Or… Mama would cry, and Dad, he'd yell. And he wasn't ever like he was on the TV. I never saw him smile. He was always so angry and his face was so ugly, even though everyone always say, oh, he's so handsome. But he was ugly, he was ugly-ugly!"

There are tears streaming down Suzume's face again now, wet on her cheeks and wet on Touya's fingers. She doesn't seem like she notices that either, though.

"And, I told Mama we should go. I told her, I told her, begged her, please, but the house was nice, she said, and it was big, and she said… she said that she had me, said it was enough, and that she wanted to make sure… make sure we had a good life together. Even if it was just me and her, in the big house. Even if Dad was only home when he needed her – even though he was so angry. And I felt – I felt – "

Touya knows this too well. Feels it inside his bones, always so hot. Always so furious. "Angry. And not just at your father."

Her eyes find his then, anguish in all of her features. "I didn't want to feel it! I didn't want to, because she – she was trying so hard and she was so sad, but I hated him, hated him so much, so much, more than anything… and – and sometimes I feel like I hated her, too, even though she loved me so much… even though I love her so much! And he would hit her, he'd hurt her, and she would never let me take care of her afterwards! Wouldn't even let me try! Told me – she told me I shouldn't try to be like her, that we should never find out what quirk I had – she'd pray and she'd cry that I wouldn't be like her! Even when her face was bruised – even when her nose was bloody, and I could have fixed it – I could have fixed it!"

"You already knew what your quirk was, didn't you?"

Suzume crumples in on herself, and he moves his hand so he can wrap it around the back of her head, guiding her face to his chest. She doesn't fight the gesture. "I found – I found a cat, once, in an alleyway outside a store Mama was shopping at. It had – it was almost dead. I never – I've never seen something like that. I didn't know what it was – what it is to be almost dead. But I knew, looking at it – knew it was… It was so bloody, and it couldn't – it couldn't move. It's face was messed up. It was really messed up."

His fingers move slowly through her hair. "So you fixed it."

"So, I fixed it. And – Mama, when she found me, she said she didn't want to know. She said that, but even so – she knew. I know she knew. She knew 'cause she found me in the alley, throwing up, just like she'd throw up after taking care of Dad when he'd come home, sometimes – when he'd come home real messed up. When I'd find her up early in the morning, cleaning blood off the bathroom floor so I didn't have to see it.

"She knew 'cause there was all the blood, but there was nothing there, anymore, 'cause the cat – the cat ran away when it was all done. And… and Mama knew, but she didn't say anything. I just – I know she was angry. Angry-angry, real angry. She didn't… didn't talk to me for the rest of the night. Didn't ever talk to me about it, again."

"It didn't take her long after that to leave, though, did it?" Touya asks. It's a prompt, though. He knows this, too.

"No."

"How long?"

"A few… a few months." And Suzume sounds so sad again, and he knows she knows, too.

"So the big house and the nice things were worth it if she was the only one your father could use. Her love for him and the pain it caused her was something she thought she could bear like some saintly martyr – at least as long as he didn't hurt you, too."

Suzume doesn't say anything at all.

"But suddenly, now, you do have value to him – value beyond something that kept your mother tied to him. Value independent of your mother. She doesn't want him to know. So, she does the first reasonable thing she's ever done, doesn't she: she fucking leaves, finally. Decides it's too much, and takes you with her, because of course she would – she loves you.

"So she cites the adultery. Cites the abuse. Been years coming, so he shouldn't be surprised. And now I bet she's slogging her way through the courts, isn't she?"

The noise she makes is only barely an affirmative. It's as if she cannot will herself to speak.

"And your father's fighting it. Fighting it hard. And he has money, and power, and he's got the fame. And even though Japan usually gives children to their mothers, it's still a risky fucking play on her part." Touya strokes her hair, feeling something hot and hateful and feral building up inside of him, an awful, ugly smile stretching his face. "You know why he's fighting so hard, don't you?"

"'Cause – 'cause he doesn't want Mama to leave." And it's a lie. Touya knows she's lying, because Suzume is awful at it – because she's always been awful at it. She won't even look at him, and the words sound hollow on her lips, gutted long before she's ever attempted to speak them aloud.

It's a lie he suspects she's been telling herself for months now – one she can't bring herself to believe, even if she wants to, so, so badly.

"Your mom did the right thing leaving, Suzu, but it was also the absolute worst fucking thing she could've done. You know it too, don't you? Can feel it, even if you don't really understand. Something's wrong, something's off, because it is. No way your mom ain't figured it out.

"And he sure as shit fucking figured it out. He knows he had her for the rest of her life – knows that the only thing in the world that would have driven her off was the one thing she loved more than him."

"I don't – I don't want – I just mess everything up." And Suzume is suddenly sobbing, her body near violent with it in his arms. "Messed everything up, ruined everything, and I've always known it, it's always been that way, always been that way – Mama wanted the big house for me, she stayed so long for me, got bloody and broken and sad for me, and now she's still so – she's still so sad and skinny and afraid and she's that way because of me too – "

"That isn't your fuckin' fault, and you know it," he hisses, almost vicious, peeling her off his chest by her shoulders.

When she looks up at him she's a mess of tears and snot, hair clinging to her face, mouth open, lips red and elastic and gaping as she babbles, almost wailing. "But it is – it is, and it always has been, and I've always known it, and I'm angry at her, but I'm more angry at myself because I can't – I can't – I don't know what to do, don't know how to be better, and it doesn't feel like anything will ever get better – "

Touya lifts her off his lap and pushes her down, down onto the cold, dead-grass ground. He's on top of her before she can even comprehend what he's doing, caging her much smaller form in with his own. Her head thrashes once – and then a half-thrash again, and then he has that caged up between his hands, too, forcing her still, his face centimeters from her own.

"Stop it." It's a snarl, and it's furious. He's furious. Her eyes as she looks up at him are so wide, lashes a mess of tears, face blotchy and red beneath the hot press of his fingers. "Stop it, and fucking listen to me, 'cause I swear to god I'm not gonna sit here and listen to you say that dumb shit about yourself, do you fucking understand me?"

"But – "

"No." He's all snapping teeth, now, and she's closing her eyes, now, weeping and overwrought. Touya shakes her head in his hands, rough this time, his grip on her baby-fat cheeks biting and almost cruel. "No, you fucking open your eyes right the fuck now, and you look at me, Suzu, you fucking look at me, so help me – "

And she does, immediately – mouthing the word please, please, whimpering out something like sorry, and he feels sick, feels so sick, and the fear in her eyes is so sharp it could cut –

And then his words are pouring out of him, spilling out of him like blood from a wound cut too deep, too long ago –

Made fresh again – made new, again.

"It's not your fault," he's breathing it all out, all those words he's always saved for himself, his forehead pressed hot to her own. "It's not your fault your mom went and – that she had to go and fall in love with some absolute bottom-of-the-barrel hero-scum. It's not your fault your dad's some egotistical shitheel with his fucking dick so far down his own throat he's almost choking on it, the rat fuck.

"You didn't cause it, you didn't ask for any of it, did you? No, fuck no, and c'mon, let's be fucking real, kid – they're the ones who pulled you into their mess, and shit, big surprise, now you're drowning, and hey, wow, who'd have guessed: it's still not your fucking fault. S'not like they ever taught you how to fucking swim."

"I'm sorry," she's crying, barely managing, hardly holding on, and her hands are on his wrists, holding them, patting them, and she's absolutely frantic.

And he thinks: she's still just a child. Such a child. He'd struggled when he was her age, too. He struggles, even now.

"Sorry, sorry, sorry – Nii-chan, please, please don't be – don't be mad at me – please, I can't take it, can't take it if you're mad at me, not you, anyone but – anyone but you, please – "

And that takes something out of him. Undoes something inside of him. And now it's his anger bleeding from him instead of his words, draining out of him, emptying out of him.

(I can't take it – )

Just for now.

(Anyone but – )

Just for this moment.

(Anyone but you – )

His vice-hold on her face softens, and now he's smoothing his thumbs over her mouth, over her cheek bones, under her eyes. "C'mon," he says, voice gone hoarse in a way he almost can't stand. "C'mon, shhh, shhh. I won't be mad anymore. M'not mad anymore. It's only 'cause I like you so much, you know that, right? It's only 'cause I like you so fucking much."

In the loosening grasp of his hands, he thinks she's trying to nod, her motions jerky and clumsy. Her hands on his wrists loosen and fall away, one by one.

"Suzu." Her name in his mouth tastes sweet, and he says it to her, just as sweet – thinks it may be the only time he's ever said anything so sweet in his life. "Suzu, listen to me, okay? Parents are – they're just people, you understand? Nothing sacred, nothing special, not when you really cut into it, peel it all back and really look at it. No better than anything else, no better than anyone else. We don't get to choose them, and sure, they don't choose us, either – but we got it worse than they do, so much fucking worse.

"And you know, it's 'cause we're just meant to mind them, meant to fulfill their needs and live out their plans for us like good little puppets, and just – fuck that. Fuck that. You don't owe them anything. We don't owe them anything."

"But I – " She sounds so tired. So tired. So unsure. "But my Mama…"

Like a predator sinking its teeth into prey, he latches onto that uncertainty and bites deep –

And shakes, shakes, shakes his head.

(Goes straight for the fucking kill.)

"Oh, Suzu, I know. It's so hard for you. It's just so fucking hard for you." And even though he wants to bare his teeth, he is patient, and he is kind. He is understanding.

Touya is everything she needs.

"It's 'cause you're such a good girl, aren't you? And you mind so well, and you try so hard, and oh, god, you try. You try so fucking hard. And your mom, she tries real hard, too, doesn't she? But she doesn't try like you do, Suzu – she doesn't try enough for you, and she's not good enough for you. She shoulda left your piece of shit dad long ago, but she was selfish. She loved you, but fuck, she loved him, too, and now you're both having to pay the price for that. You don't deserve that, do you? You know you don't."

Suzume is shaking her head rapidly, but that glorious, beautiful uncertainty in her eyes is there, too, so raw, so fragile. "But – but my Mama's my family, and not like my dad, and I – "

"A family doesn't have to be a mother and a father and their children, Suzu," Touya whispers to her. "It doesn't."

She's not really crying anymore – not as much. Just a little. Just a little. "It – it doesn't?"

"No," he says, and he says it so gently. He kisses the tip-tilt of her little nose, watches her lashes flutter at the gesture – feels her breath hitch beneath him. "Sometimes, a family can just be two people."

And then he kisses the soft curve of her salt-streaked cheek, her flesh cool beneath the heat of his mouth even as she flushes red-bright in the gloom. "Sometimes, it can just be a big brother and his little sister."

"But we're not even – " She makes a noise like a small hiccup. "We're not even real – "

"Not real siblings, huh? Oh, I know – but c'mon, Suzu, think about it. Doesn't that make it better, when you think about it? Isn't it so much better when you get to pick?"

"I don't…" And then, she stops herself, looking up at him with some absolutely delightful blend of horror and awe. "Oh."

"Mmm, see, you get it. Good girl." He nuzzles his nose against the curve of her jaw and feels it tense as she swallows, and swallows again. "You know it's so much better when we have a choice. Your mom, she got to choose your father, but she didn't get to choose you. She has to love you, regardless of what you are, who you are. She has to love you, regardless of who you become – 'cause that's just how it is, isn't it? Because she wants to be a good mother, and she wants you to like her. It's why she tries so hard to make you happy, isn't it?"

Touya's breath fans her skin, and the shiver that takes her in response has his teeth aching.

"And it's 'cause of that shit that you'll always wonder – are you good enough? Would she have loved any other little girl the same as she loves you? Would she have loved them better?

"And you'll get older, and things'll change, and you won't get on anymore, and you'll argue with her, 'cause all kids do, and you'll think: does she love you for you – and did she ever?

"Or does she love what you're meant to be? Was it ever you she actually liked – or was it just the idea of you all along? Her daughter, the concept, meant to fill up her too big house – "

Suzume closes her eyes, and Touya thinks she might be trying to steady her breathing, panic written in all of her delicate, too-fragile features. "Please, please – please stop."

He lifts his head from her throat and kisses her ear through the waves of her hair, shushing her again. "Shhhh – it's okay. You're okay. And I know it sounds awful – I know. I know, because I've lived this, too, and it is – it is awful. It's fucking awful, and it's so fucking hard, and no one understands. But I promise you, Suzu, it doesn't have to be like that for us, because I understand, and you understand, and we can be different. We can be better."

"How?" Suzume chokes on the word, and she's crying again. Not sobbing. Not wailing. But there are tears in her swollen eyes, running fresh rivulets down her cheeks.

Tilting his head, Touya kisses a few off the sloping line of her jaw to hide his smile, the salt prickling and pleasant in his mouth.

"Because we can choose." It comes out as a whisper. "Because you can choose me. And you do, don't you?"

Suzume lifts her small hands up and folds them over one another, first tucked up under her chin – and then pressed down over her heart. When he looks up at her, her eyes are open and wide, glassy with tears, meeting his gaze with an intensity that has him smiling –

Smiling and unwilling to hide it this time.

And then she's nodding, mouthing the word yes, and looking very overwhelmed.

"Tell me." Touya is gentle, but it's still a command.

"Yes – " Suzume shudders, and there is fear in her face, and sadness, and elation, and needy, unabashed reverence.

And Touya thinks she's perfect.

"Please, Nii-chan – I wanna – please, I choose you."

(Perfect, perfect, perfect.)

"Good," he tells her, and means it, despite himself – always despite himself. "Oh, Suzu – you're so good to me – you're my favorite, you know? My favorite."

Suzume closes her eyes. "Please – please – "

And Touya laughs. He knows what she wants.

Knows what she needs. "So hungry for it, huh? Not good enough, being my favorite?"

"Please!"

"Oh, Suzu. My cute little sister." He brushes her hair from her face with the back of his knuckles. "I chose you a long time ago."

Suzume exhales then, long and deep, and he's so close he can feel it stir in his hair.

"Feel better?"

"I don't – I don't know." She blinks, and her eyes are still bright and wet. "I still feel a little… maybe a little sad. Maybe a lot sad."

Touya nods sympathetically. "I get it – it's a lot to take in. We can take it slow, one step at a time, one day at a time, and I'll be there for you. I'll take care of you. I'll make it okay for you."

Suzume is quiet, and then she is timid when she meets his gaze again and says, "You said – you said you know what it's like – "

He raises a single finger to his lips and shakes his head. "I do," he says around it. "But you're not ready for that yet. Haven't earned that yet."

And when her sweet little face crumples, he can't help but laugh again. So cute, he thinks. Too fucking cute.

"Mmm, don't make that face at me. It'll make me wanna be mean to you." He presses a clawed hand into the slight dip of her waist and Suzume tenses at the touch – but he doesn't push any further. "Still, though, I'd say you've earned something, yeah? For being so good."

"Really?" Suzume is far more subdued than she usually is, but there's still an undercurrent of unmistakable excitement to the question.

"Really. So ask me what you woulda asked me if you'd won our little bet."

"Even if it's something I've asked before and you said 'no'?"

"Well, you miss every shot you don't take. Maybe you won't miss it, this time."

Suzume looks thoughtful for a moment, and then she asks him exactly what he expects her to ask: "I wanna know – can you please tell me your name, Nii-chan?"

And Touya has been expecting this because it's the question she always asks, always looking up at him with hopeful, eager eyes. Suzume has always openly craved the intimacy of his name – something she'd given to him so easily on the first night they'd met –

And he's rebuffed her at every turn.

Telling her his real name, he thinks, is dangerous.

But Touya has been thinking about it, lately – thinking about it a lot. Thinking about names, and choices, and who he was then – and who he is now.

(And Touya closes his eyes.)

Once, he'd been the son of a man who had tried to mold him into the surrogate dream the man could not hope to achieve on his own – and then, Touya had been that son, suffocating under the weight of expectations he'd long ago learned he was never properly fated to meett.

Once, he'd been an older brother with two younger siblings, both born to be his replacement – and then Touya had been an older brother with a third younger sibling who had succeeded where the others had failed.

Once, he'd been an angry, broken boy on a mountain top, ripped apart by his own failures – and then Touya had been a ghost of that boy in his own house, realizing that nothing had changed, that nothing had changed, that nothing had fucking changed –

But he had changed, hadn't he?

He has changed.

And his dream is his own, now, and it is dark, and it is terrible, and god, he's more than equipped to see this one through.

And he has only one little sister, now, and she is not his replacement but theirs, something shiny and bright and meant just for him.

And he is not a boy, now, just barely a man – and he is dead, and yet he's been stitched back together –

And he's alive, alive, alive.

(And Dabi opens his eyes.)

"You know," he says, smirking down at his wide-eyed and impossibly cute little sister, "Even if I tell you my name – "

"I know, I know," Suzume interrupts him, sniffling and expectant and maybe a little nervous, too. "I know not to – I know not to use it. I promise I'll be really good." And then, more emphatically: "I know how to be a good little sister!"

"Good," he says, more than a little pleased. "'Cause you know I'd kick your ass if you didn't."

And then, with blue eyes blazing, Dabi leans down, mouth to her ear, and whispers his new name to her in a rush of hot breath and even hotter promise.