Chapter Text
One night, only a week after he had began living in the dorms, his studying was interrupted by a knock on the door. He was a little surprised, as this hadn't happened before; his classmates seemed to understand that he wasn't one for socializing in the common room. Still, he wasn't perturbed. It was probably just one of his floormates needing to borrow an eraser or something.
When opening the door revealed Midoriya, red-faced and shifting nervously from one foot to the other with his hands behind his back... well, then he got a little worried.
"Is everything alright?" he asked.
"Yep!" He laughed awkwardly, a little too high and long. "I was just, uh, just... um..." Midoriya trailed off and dropped his gaze to the floor
Shouto just leaned against the door frame and waited. He knew that sometimes the other boy needed a minute to work out what he wanted to say, and the best thing to do was to just give him time.
However, about a minute after the trademark muttering started, his unfinished homework began to tug at the back of his mind.
"What's going on?" He prompted.
This was a mistake. Apparently his sudden interruption startled the other boy, because instead of answering the question he jerked upright and spasmed into a jump that took him at least a foot into the air- losing his hold on whatever he had behind his back in the process.
The next second seemed to move in slow motion. He saw Midoriya's eyes widen in panic, a flash of the object as it began to fall- and then a glare of green light that blinded Shouto momentarily as the boy engaged his quirk. It only took Shouto a single blink to restore his vision, but in the time his eyes were closed Midoriya had managed to twist himself backwards in mid-air, and then upside-down. He opened them to see the boy contorted into something that looked like a yoga position, outstretched hands closing around the object just before it hit the ground.
The catch was an impressive display of his admirable reflexes. Unfortunately, he ended the manuever by slamming his head against the floor and running his butt into the wall. From the way he groaned, the fall was as painful as it looked.
Was it rude? Yes. Inconsiderate? Of course. Would he kick himself for it later? Definitely. But he forewent inquiring about Midoriya's wellbeing to ask the crucial question:
"What is that?"
The object that the green-haired boy had taken such a nasty fall for was... well, Shouto wasn't sure
It was a cat, curled around itself, as if sleeping. That much he could tell. Not a live one, he surmised. A living animal wouldn't remain in a napping position through a fall like that. The color was also a tip-off. In his experience, cats weren't generally pink.
Midoriya sat up and moved it carefully from his chest to his lap, his hands moving to massage the back of his head. Perhaps the fall had knocked the embarrassment straight out of him, because when he spoke again his voice was steady.
"It's a cat," he said. "Stuffed with rice, I think. Handmade- I bought it straight from the artist," he added on in a matter-of-fact tone, as if that explained anything.
It struck Shouto then, how bizarre this entire situation was. He stood in his doorway, towering over his classmate, who was sitting on the floor of the hallway, gazing up at him as he absent-mindedly patted the head of a stuffed animal he had come three floors up to show him.
Apparently sensing the bewilderment in Shouto's silence, Midoriya scrambled to his feet, cradling in his arms, and began rambling again before he could ask another question.
"and, um, do you like it?" The other boy thrusted the toy towards Shouto. Confused, but not wanting to be rude, he leaned in slightly to observe it up close.
A closer proximity allowed him to catch details he hadn't before: how gracefully the curves had been sculpted, the way the tail had been tucked under the chin. Although the cat was mostly pink, he could see flecks of white in the coat, lighter hairs sewn into the faux fur intermitently. A patch of white decorated its left cheek, right next to the delicate arc of a stiff plastic whisker. Some irrational part of him took in the slight creases around the cat's closed eyes and the angle of its mouth and thought it looked friendly, nevermind the fact that cats, even real ones, didn't have human expressions.
"It's lovely."
He wanted to take back the words immediately. "Lovely"? He didn't say things like that; in fact, he was fairly certain the word had never passed his lips before in his entire life, and with good reason. What use did an aspiring pro hero have for anything "lovely"?
Fortunately, it appeared any shame he felt would be entirely internal. Midoriya didn't pause for a second before breaking into one of the widest smiles Shouto had ever seen, and resuming his rambling.
"That's great! Really great. I found it, and I got it because, you know, it kind of made me think of you, but then I saw your room and it didn't really match your style and I wasn't sure if you'd like it at all and-"
He kept on talking, but Shouto was too baffled to follow. What did his "style" have anything to do with Midoriya's stuffed animal? Why was the other boy looking at him so expectantly? Even more frustratingly, underneath the confusion there was something nagging at the back of Shouto's mind, a vague sense of deja vu. As lost as he felt, something about the situation seemed familiar. What it was, he couldn't say.
Midoriya had stopped
"Well, it's a, uh. It's a gift for you," Midoriya mumbled, the blush beginning to crawl back into his cheeks.
"For me?" he repeated.
"Um. Yeah."
Shouto didn't have anything to say to that.
Too many questions were running through his mind at once. Why had Midoriya gotten him a gift? And why now? He might not have much direct experience with the practice, but according to his understanding the giving of gifts was reserved for special occasions, like holidays and birthdays, of which today was neither.
So lost in thought, he didn't notice Midoriya, growing redder and redder with each second that the silence stretched on. It was only when he started speaking again, high-pitched and stuttering, that he realized how his silence must have appeared to his poor classmate.
"S-sorry- sorry. Ohmigod I'm so sorry. This was really stupid of me-" The boy was stumbling backwards as if Shouto had just threatened his life, speaking so quickly his words began to blur together. "If you don't want it I can just return it- don't worry it's my fault anyways- this totally isn't your thing- so you don't have to take it and I'msosorryforbotheringyouand-"
"No."
At this Midoriya looked even more mortified, if that were possible.
"Right. W-well, like I said I can just return it, so you don't have to-"
Shouto hastily cut him off for what felt like the tenth time to clarify.
"No, I meant no as in I want it."
(He didn't really, of course. But it was rude to refuse a gift.)
The other's relief was so visible that Shouto felt his own muscles loosen a little.
"Ok. Ok. Great. Here you go then." Midoriya stepped forward and handed him the toy. It was still warm from his hands.
He was supposed to say thank you now, wasn't he? He formed the words awkwardly, feeling as though he should say something more, but not knowing what.
"You're welcome," Midoriya muttered.
There was another tense pause, in which they both watched their feet while Shouto wracked his brain desperately for something to say. Blessedly, Midoriya broke the silence by mumbling the answer to the question Shouto didn't know how to ask.
"I just... I noticed you didn't really bring much with you, and it reminded me of you, so I figured you might like it to put in your room."
He didn't have anything to say to that, either.
"Thank you," he repeated.
"You're welcome."
"I'm glad you like it."
"Yes. Thank you."
"Ok."
Another pause. Midoriya cleared his throat.
"Ok then, well... I should go. To bed. It's getting late."
Shouto watched him begin to shuffle down the hallway, still red in the face.
"Wait."
Midoriya turned, eyebrows raised, only a few feet from the elevator.
Shouto froze. He needed to say something. Anything. "Thank you" wasn't enough. That was something he said when someone held a door open for him, not for something like this. This gift had come at the expense of time, and money, and thought. (Something else as well. Kindness?)
"Have a good night." Was that the only thing he could come up with? Pathetic.
Midoriya though... Midoriya smiled, that wide, cheek-to-cheek smile that looked like it would tear his face apart if it got any bigger.
"Night!" he called cheerily, before stepping into the elevator, leaving Shouto alone in the hallway, cradling a stuffed cat in his arms and wondering if he would ever unravel the mystery that was Izuku Midoriya.
Studying. He should get back to that.
Right before he stepped back into his room, he looked down at the cat one more time, and paused as he noticed one more detail that had escaped his attention.
Its nose, a darker pink than the rest of it, but not quite dark enough to be called red, was shaped like a heart.
The word sounded wrong, even though he didn't say it out loud. It was too sweet, too soft to be palatable. Still, it was the only fitting adjective he could think of.
It was lovely.
******
The next morning he awoke to the beeping of his alarm as usual, rolled up his futon, and began to gather his uniform from the dresser. It was a morning like any other, until he went to get his art history textbook for Midnight-Sensei's class and came face to face with a smiling pink cat.
He jerked backwards, shocked, before his sleep-addled brain caught up and remembered the events of last night. How he'd wandered around his room aimlessly, trying to determine what would be an appropriate place for the object, until finally he'd given up and decided that the empty spot on his desk was as good a place as any.
Night had rendered the situation hazy, softened the edges, but now, in the harsh morning light, he felt a flicker of shame in the back of his mind as it became clear to him how ridiculous the cat looked in the room- a child's toy in an otherwise serious, utilitarian setting. A voice in the back of his mind that sounded suspiciously like his father's told him to get rid of it, hide it in the bottom of his wastebasket and send it out with the weekly garbage, or maybe just throw it as far as he could out the window. He did neither of those things (because it would be rude to Midoriya- no other reason, he told himself sternly); instead he settled for slipping through his door as quickly as possible, before anyone could glance inside.
******
It was only once he was halfway through the doorway of the classroom that he realized he was woefully unprepared for another encounter with Midoriya. What did one say the day after being given a gift? Should he thank him again? Continue on as normal?
The green-haired boy solved this conundrum by smiling at him, that broad grin that reminded him of a light bulb going on whenever it appeared. Shouto found himself smiling back slightly, and making his way to his seat with the reassurance that his reaction, (correct or not), seemed to satisfy the other boy.
******
By the time he returned to his room after school, the cat had been pushed to the back of his mind, his thoughts instead focusing on Yaoyorozu's impressive performance in training today, and how he would need to keep his guard up when fighting against her in the future. (Really, where in the world did she learn how to make a cannon?) He was, once again, surprised by the presence of the cat on his desk. He paused for a minute, regarding it warily. Should he leave it there? Maybe he should hide it in a corner, out of sight. Several minutes of rumination later, and he was struck by how ridiculous it was: himself, standing around and wasting time over something so inconsequential. He wasn't going to move it, and he wasn't going to think about it anymore, he told himself, because it didn't matter.
It didn't matter. He recited the words in his head like a mantra for the next hour as he struggled to keep his attention on his algebra assignment. It appeared that not thinking about something much harder than it sounded.
It. Did not. Matter.
******
Oh, but it did matter- but only because of the mystery of the matter, he assured himself. The only reason why the cat on the corner of his desk kept creeping back into his mind was because he was so confused by the manner in which it had come to him. He took to staring at Midoriya when he got the chance, as if the boy's motivations were buried somewhere in his green curls. The fact that he was on the other side of the room, backed turned as he talked to Iida was not enough to stop Shouto from drawing his knees up protectively and bringing his phone close to his chest, overtaken by an irrational paranoia. "Nobody is looking over your shoulder," he reminded himself as he pressed search next to the words he'd just typed: "Why do people give presents to other people?" The screen was so close to his face that he had to blink away the glare before he could read the first result.
"We often give gifts to re-confirm or establish our connections with others, which means they're a reflection of both the giver and the receiver, as well as their unique relationship. Giving a gift to someone we care about allows us to communicate our feelings and appreciation for them."
...oh.
He wasn't sure exactly how long he had sat there motionless, staring at those words- he wasn't even sure if he had spent that time rereading them, or just focusing his sight on them without processing the meaning in their lines- but by the time he finally broke from from his reverie his eyes were burning, and the light streaming in from the window beside him was considerably dimmer. The background noise of his fellow students had also been replaced by a quiet hush; a quick glance up revealed that the previously bustling room was now entirely empty.
Feeling foolish, he stood on numb legs and made his way towards the elevators. How unmoored had he been, to be completely unaware of his surroundings for who-knows-how-long? And because of single web search? Ridiculous. The elevator opened and he stepped inside, hitting the button for his floor a little harder than strictly necessary.
Was the elevator slowing down? The ride felt like it was taking much longer than it normally did. Or maybe it was just the silent tension weighing on his perception of time; undistracted from his thoughts in such as small space, a pressure hung in the air that had nothing to do with a sudden change in elevation. His sigh of relief when a single familiar note interrupted the quiet appropriately mirrored the sound of air being released from an inflated balloon. He opened his phone to check who had texted him.
Midoriya: Hey
Midoriya: R u ok
He froze. Had Midoriya developed another quirk? Mindreading? He tried to swallow as he typed a response, only to find his mouth dry.
You: Yes.
You: Why do you ask?
Midoriya: Good to hear
Midoriya: U were just staring at ur phone for a really long time with this kinda weird look on ur face.
Midoriya: Not that ur weird or anything sorry
Midoriya: But u didn't look up or anything when I said goodnight so I hust wanted to make sure u were ok
The pressure was returning.
You: I'm fine.
He paused. Leaving it at that would be suspicious, wouldn't it?
You: I just got lost in my thoughts.
Midoriya: Ok, sorry to bother u.
He found himself typing a reply and pressing the send button without thinking.
You: I appreciate the concern.
Something about the thoughtless honesty made his skin feel hot. He only had a second to second-guess himself though, because Midoriya replied almost immediately.
Midoriya: No problem. I'm glad ur ok.
Midoriya: Good night!
You: Good night.
He slid his phone into his back pocket and shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. What had he been thinking about? Right. What he'd read...
He was going to ignore it, he resolved. Anyone with common sense knew that just because something was written on the internet, didn't mean it was true. To waste any more time getting worked up about it would be ridiculous.
And the feeling in his body, like a solid wall giving way- he was going to ignore that as well.
******
Not everything one read on the internet was true.
But this- this might be.
For Midoriya, who waved Shouto over to join him and his friends in the cafeteria, who yelled encouragement from the sidelines during training, who texted him to check that he was alright... for Midoriya, who clenched a fist of broken fingers and roared "IT'S YOUR POWER" with eyes that held a fire no quirk could produce- for him... it just might be.
******
He'd been thinking, lately, about Midoriya's words.
"It reminded me of you."
Strange, how just a few words could fill him with such a strong and peculiar feeling. Every time he remembered them (which was more than he cared to admit to), he was overwhelmed with an odd sensation. It was as if something was squirming in his chest, brushing against his ribs from the inside, unsettling his stomach slightly and sending a feeling of lightness shooting through his limbs. If he were to describe it to someone, they would likely tell him to seek attention from Recovery Girl, but as strange as the sensation was, it was somehow... pleasant.
Shouto was well aware of what others thought of him. It was hard not to, when everyone around him seemed eager to voice their opinions. To his classmates, he was a dual figure- a star on the battlefield, but once the bell rang, just another student, barely noticeable in contrast to his far more personable peers. To the public, he was a celebrity, the son of the mighty Endeavor and an up-and-coming hero of his own- a news story to be watched for further development. And to his father? He had always been aware of what he was to that man. A weapon.
He may have been angry- at his peers, his father, everyone, that they passed such quick judgement based on surface factors, that so few were interested in who he was as a person , if not for the fact that they were right. When he looked in the mirror, he saw the same thing everyone else did. Nothing more, nothing less. A cold, unreadable face stared back at him. It had eyes that were incapable of focusing on anything but his goal, and a hideous scar marring its left side, reminding himself and everyone else that his fate was set.
How strange, then, how completely mystifying, that Midoriya looked at him and associated what he saw there with something so beautiful and delicate. How strange, the feeling that conjured, and the way he had begun to stare into the mirror just a few moments longer, turning his head one way and then the other as he tried to catch a glimpse of what the other boy saw in his reflection.
******
It was an accident (kind of). Aizawa-Sensei had announced a test on the unit they had just completed, and specified that in order to be properly prepared, they would need to review every paper they had been given in the past week. So, several hours later, Shouto was back in his room, discovering that if he were to lay down all the notes, charts and reading materials side by side, he would need the entire surface of his desk. So, the few items he kept on top of it were relocated to the floor: his computer, a box of spare school supplies, and the cat.
This was fine. Perhaps it showed how little he cared about the thing, that he placed it on the ground without a second's thought. The fact that he was so tired by the time he had finished studying that he forgot to return the items to their proper place was also acceptable. No, what was unacceptable was that when he laid down on his futon and rolled over onto his right side, the side he preferred to sleep on, his heavy eyes drifted to the cat and stayed there, fluttering open and shut, but never closing completely, for the next ten minutes.
The truly appalling part was when, ten minutes later, he got up and padded across the room, picked it up, and returned to his futon, where he laid back down with his arm curled loosely around it in a languid hug.
Well, appalling was a word he would use when he was awake enough to form coherent thoughts. That night, exhausted as he was, his mental capacities were reduced to registering nothing more than feelings.
He didn't have a name for it, or maybe he was just too tired to pull it from his memory, but it was comforting, whatever it was. Although the cat was not alive, couldn't move or breathe, it brought back memories of the times when he had lain in his mother's bed, her presence familiarly warm, filling a room that was normally so empty and cold. She wasn't here, of course; he was alone, but the feeling remained all the same.
(Maybe, in a strange sense, he wasn't alone, maybe the proof that somebody cared enough to give him something so... soft was company in its own right.)
And underlying all that, the same sensation he'd had when Midoriya had stood in his doorway and explained that "it's for you", a whisper of a memory he couldn't place, but desperately wanted to.
An image flashed through his mind, shining round eyes and tufted honey-colored fur, just moments before he fell into an unusually peaceful sleep.
******
It was the day after his fourth birthday. His father had to attend a meeting the day before, so they had held off the celebration so he could be included. The man didn't exactly look pleased to be there, sitting at the end of the table with a bored expression on his face, but for once he wasn't yelling, and for that Shouto was grateful.
He sat on one side of the table with his mother, and Natsuo, Fuyumi, and Touya sat on the other. They had eaten cake, and sung a song, and now his mother was gently wiping extra frosting from his face while all three of his siblings smiled and laughed at the same time. Shouto concluded that this was definitely the best day of his life.
Surely, though, it was over. His father had pushed away from the table with a grunt and stalked off in the direction of the training room, and Fuyumi suddenly shouted something about forgetting her homework and ran out. Touya and Natsuo helped clear away the dishes and then wandered away as well, and at last only he and his mother remained. He was laying with his head in her lap, feeling tired and full. Her warm hand was combing slowly through his hair, and he predicted he would probably fall asleep right here, and wake up the next morning tucked in bed with no memory of being carried there.
That was, until he felt his mother shift, dislodging him from his comfortable spot. He felt his heart sink as he sat up. Was she leaving already? No, she was reaching under the table. Natsuo probably left his shoes on the floor again, he thought with a frown.
Surprisingly, when she resurfaced, his mother was not holding shoes, but rather a large paper bag. His previous annoyance with his brother melted away, replaced by curiosity.
What in the world is she doing with that..?
"Tada!" She exclaimed brightly as she set it on his lap. "A birthday present for my grown-up boy!"
His jaw dropped. He got a present too?
His shock was interrupted by his mother's laughter, clear and loud. A sound far too rare for his liking, one that made his chest feel warm. Now both their faces were stretched into smiles, and she gestured toward the bag.
"Open it."
Hesitantly he began to remove the tissue paper that was stuffed into it, glancing up at his mother as he went to make sure he was doing it right. He couldn't remember ever receiving a present before, so exactly how he was supposed to open one was a mystery to him. As unfamiliar as it was,
Finally, he set the last piece of paper on the table with the others and reached into the bag. His hand closed around something soft and squishy, and when he drew it back out-
He didn't think he could smile any harder than he already had today, but he did now, because the present was a teddy bear.
There were several reasons why Shouto was jealous of his older sister. She had their mother's eyes, seemed to never get in trouble, and, impossibly, was one of the few people Natsuo would actually listen to. But more than any of these things... Coral
Coral was a stuffed bear. It was the color of strawberry milk, with long floppy limbs, button eyes, and ears that were worn from Fuyumi rubbing them.
Coral was not alive, but this didn't stop Fuyumi from treating her like she was (she insisted Coral was a girl). Wherever Fuyumi went, so did Coral, tucked under her arm or slung over her shoulder. Whether she was reading, or studying, or watching TV, Coral sat propped up beside her. And he knew that, when she thought nobody was around, Fuyumi would talk to the toy, chattering away about something that had happened at school or what they had for dinner or her favorite book. Occasionally she would say other things, too quiet for Shouto to hear, but from the way her voice broke he could guess what they might be about.
It would have seemed silly, for his big sister to act as though a lifeless toy were her friend, if not for the happiness it seemed to bring her. Her futon was right next to his own, and every night he only had to turn his head slightly to see her, lying on her side with Coral tucked in her arms, the blanket pulled up to both their chins, the look on her face so peaceful and content that he felt envious whenever he saw it.
Shouto held his bear up for a few seconds more, studying its glass eyes, before experimentally bringing it to his chest. Slowly, he wrapped his arms around it- first one and then the other, until they were wound so tight around the bear that he could reach back and hug himself as well. Finally, he buried his face in its soft fur, just like he'd seen his sister do, and- yes, the fluffy warmth felt just as nice as he had imagined. He felt his mother ruffle his hair.
"Do you like it?"
He didn't even raise his head to reply, just humming happily in response.
"I'm glad."
He could hear the smile in her voice, and feel his own pressed against the top of a soft head. The bear of course couldn't smile, his mouth nothing but a bit of thread, but that wasn't really important.
This was going to be the start of a very good friendship, he thought, and without a word, the gentle warmth agreed.
******
He woke up in the exact same position he had fallen asleep in, arm still curled around the cat, his face warm from breathing into its faux fur all night, and the vestiges of a dream already disappearing from his mind. He lay there for a long moment, unmoving. It had been a very unusual night... should he do something about that? He felt as though some kind of response was required for such an anomaly. He couldn't think of anything, though, so he simply reached over and turned off the alarm, and then began to get ready as usual.
That day was rather difficult, as he could barely focus for five minutes before his mind returned to the events of the night before. And every time it did, he focused his attention inwards, on himself, reaching for the feelings he expected to find. The regret, the self-hatred, the shame. He performed a painstakingly thorough analysis of every thought that crossed his mind, even scanning his stomach, where guilt usually sat. He repeated this process again and again and again, thinking he must have missed something, but each time, he found... nothing. Even as he strained, he couldn't find in himself the slightest trace of remorse.
Strange, this sense of lightness. Very, very strange.
******
The thing about changes was that just one could set off a chain reaction. For the first time in twelve years he slept with a stuffed animal, and now, things were different. Not drastically different, and maybe some of the changes were completely unrelated, but ever since that night he had begun to notice them.
Like the way talking to Midoriya had become slightly easier. The boy's demeanor towards him hadn't changed at all; he had always been attempting to include Shouto in the activities of his friend group ever since the Sports Festival. It was just that now, Shouto was more often inclined to accept these invitations. It felt safer to agree to accompany him and Iida on a trip to the mall when he could look up from the text and glance over at the proof that Midoriya cared- really cared- lying soft near his feet.
(The mall was nice. They walked around the building, chatting and stopping by any shops that interested them. Self-concious about his empty hands, Shouto purchased a little badge with a cat on it, and the knowing smile that Midoriya flashed his way erased the last trace of doubt in his mind about his intentions.
He put the badge on his bookbag.)
The cat's presence- now that he'd decided to acknowledge it- also made his dorm feel less empty, and as such he found himself making changes to suit the atmosphere. It had become a habit for him to open the doors to his balcony while he did his homework, the gentle breeze and faint voices of whichever students happened to be in the courtyard below keeping him company as he puzzled through a worksheet on logarithms. Suddenly the work didn't seem to be as much of a chore as it once had.
And of course, the fact that he was sleeping more soundly than he had in years definitely didn't hurt.
Yes, small changes could spiral into bigger ones. And for that, he was glad.