Chapter Text
When Shoto was four years old, he began training with his father. Three times a week and before he went to school, his father would take him aside for an hour to teach him all about his newly manifested quirk. He was little then – he had only the vaguest concept of hot and cold. But he knew that every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday morning his father would take him aside before his daytime patrols to teach him everything he knew.
Shoto liked training. He didn’t get to see his father very much outside of those three times a week, and he liked learning about the pretty flames that came out of his left hand. He liked it when his father would smile at him every time he made the flame bigger. He liked it when he started training in the afternoons, too, even if it made him really tired. Two hours a day, four days a week – Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Friday. Every morning and every afternoon. It was their routine.
When Shoto turned five years old, he began training with Endeavor. Five days a week, for three hours a day. Endeavor’s patrols started earlier that year, so Shoto had to wake up before the sun was in the sky if he wanted to make Endeavor happy.
And Shoto really liked making Endeavor happy.
Shoto quickly learned that when Endeavor was happy, his mother was happy. And when his mother was happy, Fuyumi was happy. When Fuyumi was happy, it was easier for Shoto to convince her to help him sneak around the home to see his best friend – His brother, Touya. With round, pleading eyes he would beg and beg Fuyumi to help him. And sometimes, she said yes.
“Okay, Sho. But when I say it’s time to leave, you need to listen to me. Last time was way too close. If dad finds you with Touya, I won’t be able to help you see him again. Okay?” Fuyumi explains softly as she kneels to Shoto’s height.
Shoto nods, foot tapping on the floor and a thin layer of frost peeking out beneath his shoe. Fuyumi smiles, sad but sincere, at his excitement.
“Okay. Tell Touya I say hi, and give him mom’s love.”
Shoto liked his routine. He wasn’t sure he liked training so much anymore, but at least he knew what to expect. Mondays and Wednesdays he trained with ice, which Endeavor begrudgingly admitted was a necessary skill he should master. Tuesdays and Thursdays he trained with fire. On Fridays, his least favorite day, he sparred.
Then, one day, his routine changed.
Hot. It was so hot. Why was it so hot? His skin hurts – It hurts so bad. Where is his mom? Mom always makes the heat feel better.
“More, Shoto – Higher! Pain means you’re growing – You can go higher!”
More? Shoto doesn’t think he can go any higher. It’s already too hot, he can barely breathe because all the air in the room is leaving. Why won’t Endeavor stop? Will he stop? Shoto wants it to –
“Stop!”
The heat disappears, and Shoto inhales, feeling the smoke burn the lining of his throat all the way to his lungs. He coughs, catching the attention of whoever has interrupted his training.
“Sho? Are you okay? Just breathe – Breathe with me okay?”
Shoto tries to do just that, and even through the tears streaming down his face, he can make out Touya’s bright blue eyes.
“He’s fine, Touya. Go back to your room!”
“He’s not fine! He’s just a kid – What the hell is wrong with you?”
Shoto tries to follow along, he doesn’t like it when Endeavor yells at anyone – Especially Touya. But his ears start ringing, and it starts getting hot again.
“… If you would give more effort, I wouldn’t have to work him so hard!”
“Then train me instead! If this is what you want, I can take it.”
“N-No…” Shoto whispers, shakes his head, but no one is looking at him anymore.
No, no, no. Touya isn’t supposed to use his quirk. Mom said so. Touya’s quirk hurts him, and Shoto was born so that Touya didn’t have to hurt anymore.
They didn’t listen to him. No one listens to him, and that wouldn’t change just because he cried and pleaded.
But one week later and everyone, even Endeavor, wishes they would have.
__________
Since Shoto started UA, he had developed his own routine. The majority of it revolved around avoiding Endeavor at all costs, and so far it had been going well. Mondays he would stay after school and study in companionable silence in the library with Yaoyorozu. Tuesdays, he met with his friend in the park. Wednesdays and Thursdays his father left for patrols earlier, so he didn’t need to find somewhere to pass the time. And now, on Fridays, he sparred with Bakugo.
But this week, after the USJ, everything had changed. And Shoto didn’t like it.
Monday evening had seen Endeavor storming the halls of UA looking for Shoto. After the events of the day, Shoto had been too exhausted to even try avoiding the man and had put up with what felt like hours of interrogation from him. The next day, Endeavor had someone else cover his patrol so that he could smother Shoto with even more worry and misplaced judgment, which meant Shoto had to cancel his meeting with his friend.
And today, Wednesday, the routine stayed broken. Midoriya left school early, and when Mic-Sensei found out, he did a poor job of hiding his worry. Midnight-Sensei stepped in to finish their class while their English teacher answered a call from someone and ran out of the room.
And now, the day was even worse. Because Endeavor was home.
The moment Shoto steps across the threshold, he hears him. He can’t make out what the older man is saying at first, but he hears the familiar rumble of disapproval.
“… What he was thinking, or what they were. It’s a complete mess and waste of an investigation.”
Shoto catches a few more words as he enters the kitchen. He tenses and considers darting upstairs to his room before Endeavor can catch a glimpse of him, but he hesitates for a moment too long.
“The boy will never want anything to do with The Commission. Nor will his guardians. Mic is a public figure, he has influence. And both he and Eraserhead work at UA, with other prominent heroes. Umehara was right to be fired.”
Endeavor pauses upon seeing Shoto, awkwardly leaning against the counter and shrugging off his school bag. Something tightens in Endeavor’s eyes – An expression he’s been wearing more frequently lately. Shoto still hasn’t figured out what it means.
“If there’s nothing else, I’ll go now. I’m late for my patrol.”
Another moment, another grunt, and Endeavor hangs up the phone. All of his attention is focused on Shoto.
“Is everything okay?” Shoto surprises them both by speaking up, but he recovers before Endeavor.
“No, but it has nothing to do with me.” He answers slowly, just as confused by Shoto’s engagement as Shoto himself. Shoto clears his throat, looks away. He’s never enjoyed having Endeavor’s attention, but Shoto can’t help but worry for his new classmate. He busies himself by cutting up a piece of fruit that he has no intention of actually eating.
“Is Midoriya okay?”
Endeavor stares back instead of answering, but even after all these years Shoto still can’t meet his eyes. He looks down at his plate, instead.
“I believe Hawks brought him back to Eraserhead’s residence.”
Shoto just barely furrows his brows, surprised. He hadn’t known that Hawks and his homeroom teacher knew each other, let alone that they were close enough to know each other’s address. He had never heard Midoriya speak of the hero, either.
Shoto didn’t know much about Hawks, though he had seen him plenty at Endeavor’s work while they were both growing up. The number three hero wasn’t much older than Shoto, and he’d always made an attempt to talk to him when he was trailing around Endeavor at the Commission. He was always kind to Shoto, even if he clearly worshiped his father.
“He was uninjured.” Endeavor adds, and Shoto nods.
The silence between them is awkward, as it has been for years. Lately, though, something has shifted. The silence has become charged – painful, even. Something is changing again, and Shoto doesn’t think he likes it.
“The Sports Festival is around the corner, yes? Are you… prepared, for it?” Endeavor’s attempt at civility is even worse than Shoto’s.
“The teachers are doing their best.” He answers, vaguely. Endeavor’s brows furrow.
“That can’t be true if they’re letting villains catch them off guard. During school hours, nonetheless.”
A familiar jacket, dark hair dusting over piercings he sees every Tuesday, and bright blue flames standing in between a boy and a villain.
“You’ll prepare with me, then. I’ll move my patrols this week – We’ll start training after school tomorrow.”
Shoto stills, his mind catching up with the implication of that promise. Surely he can’t mean… No, this time… This time would be different. Right?
More, Shoto – Higher! Pain means you’re growing – You can go higher!
Shoto’s phone buzzes in his pocket, the vibration helping him blink back into awareness. His father gives him an odd look, looks like he wants to say something else but ends up shaking his head as he gathers his gear and makes his way for the door.
“Make sure you eat well, tonight. You look like you’ve lost weight.” He says in parting.
While Shoto pulls his phone out of his pocket, he listens to his father leave. A dozen steps to the front door, give or take, the sound of keys being picked up off the entry table, a quiet grunt while he activates his quirk before the turn of a knob. A creak that annoys Endeavor to no end when the door is swung open, the clicking of gears as the door is then closed and locked behind him.
Shoto doesn’t even notice his shoulders easing down, like a puppet being cut from its strings. He doesn’t feel the difference in his breathing, the vice that Endeavor wraps around his lungs with just his presence alone is just another organ at this point – Something he was born into this world with.
“Your dad is a dick, and it seemed like you didn’t want to be alone with him.”
Shoto frowns, but it’s smoothed out when he notices who it is that’s been texting him this afternoon. He feels… odd, when he sees Bakugo’s username light up on his screen. He isn’t entirely sure he likes the feeling – queasy, almost, but not quite so bad. He hasn’t felt anything like it before, and wonders if he should ask Recovery Girl about it, should it continue.
__________
The next day is… off. Everyone feels it, but no one acknowledges the fact that Present Mic is covering Eraserhead’s classes. No one comments on the Voice Hero’s forced smiles, laughter, and one-liners. His usual attempt at levity is cut at the legs, wounded by the slight tremble in his hands, his voice, his step. When the hero walks around the room, pacing uneasily as he answers Tokoyami’s question about an upcoming English assignment, Shoto can see heavy bags slipping down bright green eyes, even behind his dark glasses.
But maybe no one else notices these things.
Shoto has been told by Ashido that he’s incredibly observant. Hyperaware, he remembers her saying. She was complimenting him, whining about how Kaminari always manages to sneak up on her. She wanted to know his secret, if he has really good hearing or if it’s more of a sixth sense. He gives a shrug instead of a verbal response.
He doesn’t think she’d like his answer.
Upon starting UA, Shoto quickly learned that his classmates had experienced vastly different childhoods from one another. Uraraka grew up with little to nothing, while Yaoyorozu grew up with everything. Kaminari had multiple siblings, whereas Jiro was an only child. Kirishima had a stay-at-home mom, and both of Bakugo’s parents worked full time.
But none of his classmates had skipped childhood completely.
None, except Midoriya.
Shoto was sure Midoriya was like him. The first few days watching Eraserhead’s kid had been almost an out-of-body experience – It was like he was watching another version of himself. Midoriya flinched at the same things Shoto would have, had the response not been beaten out of him. Midoriya looked for all the entrances and exits before entering a room, he did his best to keep everyone around him happy, and he latched onto those who treated him kindly with an alarming eagerness.
The bell rings, signaling the end of homeroom. Shoto doesn’t miss the relieved slump of Present Mic’s shoulders.
But why?
“Sensei…” Shoto feels bad when Present Mic starts, clearly not expecting anyone to linger after class.
“Hey, Todoroki! What’s up?” Mic smiles, but it's tired – Even more, strained up close. His eyes dart down to his phone every other breath like he’s expecting something.
“Is Midoriya okay?” He asks, too blunt – insensitive, but not knowing any other way.
“Oh! Um, yeah! He’s not feeling his best today, but he’s all right.” The teacher assures him.
Shoto feels himself relax, but only barely. If Midoriya was all right, then why was Eraserhead at home with him? Eraserhead came to school the day after he was nearly killed by a Nomu – Todoroki had overheard an argument between him and Recovery Girl in which she’d yelled at him for it. So what was so important that he’d miss now?
“Will he be here tomorrow?”
Present Mic scratches his head, “Hmm – Not sure! He’ll probably be out for a few days. But he’s really okay!”
“And Eraserhead? He’ll be out, also?”
“Yep! You guys are stuck with me this week!” Present Mic laughs, but even Shoto can tell the joke falls flat.
“Okay. Can you tell Midoriya… That…” Shoto furrows his brows, thinking. What can he say, from one stranger, victim, classmate to another?
“That…?” Present Mic lets the question linger between them, but Shoto has no answer.
“Never mind. Thank you, sensei.” Shoto bows slightly instead, and turns to leave before Mic can come up with something that will get him to stay.
Leaving the classroom, Shoto is almost caught by surprise at the sight of Bakugo waiting for him. Almost.
“What was that about?” The blonde asks, walking with Shoto to their next class. That queasy feeling is back, he notices, and he holds his stomach with his hand.
“I was asking Mic-Sensei about Midoriya and Eraserhead.”
“Hm. What’d he say?”
Shoto shrugs, “Nothing, really. Said they were both okay.”
“I forgot that you and the nerd are friends,” Bakugo mutters, though not unkindly. His face is pinched unpleasantly and flushed, as it usually is when talking about the green-haired addition to their classroom.
“We’re not…” Shoto’s pace falters, briefly, but he corrects himself.
“You eat lunch together, don’t you? Like, every day?”
“Why are you watching us every day?” Shoto counters, still frowning.
“If you’re worried about him, I’m sure Monoma has his number. Just ask him for it.” Bakugo sidesteps the question and Shoto lets him.
“Hm… Maybe.”
Bakugo sighs, loudly, and cracks his neck.
“You and Midoriya are… not friends.” Shoto hedges, and Bakugo tenses.
“No. We’re not.”
“But you know each other?”
“We did.” Bakugo admits, reluctantly.
“…What happened to him?” Shoto asks, rather bluntly if the side-eye he gets is any indication.
“Fuck if I know. Why do you care anyways, if you’re not friends?” Bakugo deflects, but Shoto lets him.
“I’m not sure…” He answers, slowly.
Why does he care about Midoriya? Ever since the green-haired boy had sat himself down at their lunch table, shy but brave, Shoto had been intrigued. He’d asked Bakugo why he watched them, but he was just as guilty.
“Because... We’re similar.” Is what he comes up with. Bakugo flushes, and Shoto likes it.
“How so?”
Shoto hums, looking up at the fluorescent lights, but doesn’t answer. Not with a statement.
“When you knew him… Did he have an Endeavor?”
Bakugo looks at him sharply, then faces back towards the front.
“That’s not my shit to talk about.” Is what he says.
Bakugo looks uncomfortable, which is a rare sight. He stares straight ahead, fidgets with his tie before pulling it off completely. He swallows, throat constricting in a way that somehow leaves Shoto’s own throat feeling dry. His eyes trail up to Bakugo’s strong jawline before hovering on his lips – Which are moving.
“Oi, Icyhot – You listening?”
Shoto blinks back to the present only to notice the familiar, nagging feeling somewhere in his stomach that only appears when he’s thinking about Bakugo.
“I was not.”
Bakugo’s face turns red in anger, he huffs out a puff of air so forcefully that Shoto is surprised he doesn’t see steam.
“Fucking forget it, then.” He huffs and starts speeding up. Shoto surprises them both by holding onto the other boy’s sleeve, keeping him at his side.
“Sorry, Bakugo. I was distracted.”
Distracted by what, he still isn’t sure of.
“Tch. Yeah, I got that.”
“What were you saying?” He asks, trying to win back his attention before they enter the classroom.
“I was asking if you wanna train again tomorrow after class. You’re not… awful, to spar with. Once you let loose.”
Shoto can hear the compliment, begrudging as it is, and he feels himself flush. Growing up with his quirk, he’s heard far more flattering praise than this, but hearing it from Bakugo is different.
“Ah, I can’t. Endeavor wants to start training for the Sports Festival. But I may be able to on Friday, again.” Shoto tells him, as a matter of factly as he can. He doesn’t want Bakugo to see the anxiety that fact brings him.
“I thought that’s what we were doing.” Bakugo frowns. Shoto swallows, too loud if Bakugo’s glance is anything to go by.
“His training is… different. You and I can’t use our quirks on one another.”
“Why not?” Bakugo almost sounds… petulant. Like he’s pouting. Shoto turns to the side to confirm it, but Bakugo is pointedly looking away from the conversation.
“We are a bad match – Our quirks are too unpredictable. Fire and Nitroglycerin would only serve to-”
“You don’t use your fire, though.” Bakugo points out.
“I… With Endeavor. I have to.”
“You have to?”
“N-No. Not… It’s good for me.”
“Says who?”
“That’s – Irrelevant.”
“The fuck?”
“Regardless, I can’t. I’m training with Endeavor. We’re practicing… He’ll want me to use my left side.” He finds himself touching his scar as he answers, a nervous habit he thought he’d broken. Bakugo sees it, squints, and opens his mouth.
“It’s not from him.” Shoto says quickly – too quickly. He sounds defensive, even to his own ears, and even though he’s telling the truth.
“But it’s from someone.” Bakugo guesses. Shoto shrugs.
“We’re going to be late.”
Bakugo huffs, again, and rolls his eyes. Again.
Shoto lets Bakugo walk ahead of him this time. He’s too busy thinking about their conversation to pay attention to a new one, and he doesn’t want to upset Bakugo again.
You’re not… awful to spar with. Once you let loose.
Shoto frowns. For him, it’s not a matter of letting loose. The important thing is to stay in control. Because after starting UA, Shoto quickly learned that his training with Endeavor wasn’t… normal.
At first, he thought it was because they were first years. Why else would they spend an entire week going over nothing but rules, safe sparring, and first aid? Why else would a teacher have to be present at all times during quirk training, why else would your opponent stop if you asked?
He can’t breathe, he can’t breathe, he can’t breathe
“Up, Shoto. You think that was a hit?” Endeavor spits on the ground next to him, finally having broken a sweat.
“Just – Just a minute. Just one, please.” Shoto never begs, not since he was small, but everything hurts, his shoulder is dislocated again, and he’s struggling to get air back into his lungs after the last hit.
“Do you think a villain will take a break just because you ask? They won’t, Shoto. The moment they sense weakness, they’ll exploit it. Now, up!”
After watching other groups of his classmates spar before him, Shoto grew anxious. This… This training, sparring – This wasn’t what he was used to. He could hurt someone if he wasn’t careful.
And Shoto didn’t want to hurt anyone.
“Bakugo… If I said yes, the other night. What… What would you have done?”
Bakugo pauses just outside the classroom door. He squints but doesn’t look directly at him. He glances at him from the side before huffing once and putting his hands in his pockets. He doesn’t ask Shoto what it is he’s talking about, because both of them already know.
“I would’ve dragged your ass to Aizawa’s the next morning, probably.” He grunts.
“What if I didn’t want to? If I didn’t want to tell anyone.” Shoto clarifies, quietly. Bakugo may not be looking at him, but Shoto is staring hard at his profile.
“Then I would’ve told him myself.”
“That’s – but I don’t want that. I wouldn’t want that.” Shoto corrects. He isn’t sure why he’s getting so worked up over this, but he is.
“Look,” Bakugo finally looks at him, “If this is some kind of test, I’m not interested in passing. I’m only interested in keeping the people I care about safe. Got it?”
The people he cares about? Shoto hasn’t felt cared for since Touya – Since before his mother went away. So… no. No, Shoto doesn’t get it.
“Got it.” He lies, anyways.