Chapter Text
Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.
Slick sweat dripped hot down his milky, white neck, reflecting rays of light under the moon’s beam. The humid summer air rendered his throat husky. His heart was racing, echoing the rhythm of his tireless feet. His blood ran hot, shooting like spikes through his veins and boiling his nerves. It ached . Agony shocked his system as he began to slow down, the haggard soles of his feet begging for rest. He was finally at a safe distance. He dropped to the ground.
The memory washed over him, pooling up into his esophagus and billowing over onto the patch of grass before him.
“Shouto!” the demonic voice called from behind his bedroom door. Like a rabbit before a wolf, he straightened his spine, going entirely rigid as the piece of wood separating him from the voice slammed open. “I heard you visited your disgraceful mother today.”
THWACK! A meaty, fiery hand collided forcefully with the side of the boy’s face, singeing his hair on its edges. The acrid smell of burning hair filled the boy’s sparse room. The force combined with the smell left Shouto grimacing, which is taken as an invitation by the devil himself to land another blow on his son. And another. And another.
One to the stomach, one to the chest, another to the groin. There is no part or limb unscathed, the entirety of Shouto’s stretch of skin is twitching in retaliation, streaks of melted skin and exposed flesh bubbling over several inches of his most sensitive bodily areas. When Quirked hand-contact alone is not enough to satiate the evil man before him, Shouto is forced to kneel before the belt, which comes down fast, hard, and recklessly, punishing him for his sole crime of taking advantage of the hospital’s few visitation hours to see one of his few sources of joy.
He dared not whine. Nor use his Quirk. Nor cry. That would only make it worse. His father could so easily kill him, so he chose to take the pain in exchange for the continuation of his life.
His father rips the clothes clean off the boy’s back, bending him over to degrade himself. The boy’s ass stuck up in the air, his face planted down on the bed. His father stared greedily at the sight, watching his greatest creation expose himself to him, like his “wife” had done many years before. Those who obeyed him were rewarded with the ability to wear clothes. Those who did not deserve the shame of nakedness.
“How.” THWACK. “Many.” THWACK. “Times.” THWACK. “Have.” THWACK. “I.” THWACK. “Told.” THWACK. “You.” THWACK. “Not to see her?” THWACK, THWACK, THWACK. The unforgiving leather belt branded his bare skin as though it were a cattle prod. He was being marked as an object. A possession. He was no longer a child, he was a prisoner. A slave.
Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.
His body trembled- a combination of both physical exhaustion and sheer terror. With each strike he pressed his face further into the bed, hiding from the abuse. This was the price he had to pay for disobedience. He knew this. Yet, he did it anyway. Stupid, stupid.
“Father, stop!” A female voice approached, delicate slapping sounds of footsteps resounded closer and closer to the room. Fuyumi , Shouto recognized, not needing to see her face to know the sound of her voice. The way her feet hit the floor. The way she upheld a steely resolve in the face of the monster they both called father.
There was a frustrated howl bellowing from behind Shouto’s back. “Fuyumi, get out of here if you know what’s good for you.”
Footsteps that fell like a stampede of elephants marched to the other side of the room, relieving the boy from the prior of crashing leather on his skin. There was a moment of tense silence, thick like cream as it filled the room to the brim. There was a sudden crash , and the sound of a million tons falling to the floor. It was then that he heard Fuyumi yell, “SHOUTO, RUN!”
Turning around, against his better judgement, Shouto found Fuyumi holding a police baton, the gift he’d given her for Christmas. “Just in case…” he’d said, the unspoken message received loud and clear. They’d both known this day would come. Neither was going to waste this opportunity. Likely their only opportunity.
In a haze, he pulled on a pair of athletic shorts and a tee shirt, running out the door with her. She kissed his cheek and announced that if he needed her, she’d be with one of the friends Endeavor didn’t know of, which narrowed her location down to one of three places. He nodded, but told her he was unsure of where he would go. With one last quick hug, she whispered, “Go somewhere where you’ll be safe. I love you.”
Then, he ran.
Coming to after several minutes of delirium, Shouto returned to his body once again, wiping the remnants of vomit from his mouth. Where was he? Honestly, he was not quite sure. He was in a suburban district, far less fabulous than his father’s, but more comfortable. He wondered what time it was, the lights of all the stores he’s passed out as though they were never lit.
He had to be quick. He had to find somewhere to hide.
There was a beacon of light a few blocks away: a nondescript convenience store that would not have caught his eye if it had not been the middle of the night. Taking the risk of being recognized, he found himself wandering in, nodding at the young cashier. He’s about as old as Fuyumi, maybe a little younger. “Need anything specific, sir?” the man (boy?) called out to Shouto, and the young hero declined, thanking him for the offer. He brushed off the odd look the cashier shoots him and headed to the cosmetics area.
On the far wall, an analog clock in the shape of a hot-dog signaled the time. Two in the morning. It had been about one when he began running. Where was he?
Wandering the aisles, he picked up a black baseball cap embroidered with “I [Heart] Tokyo” on the front and a bottle of cheap hair gel. He returned to the register, meeting the cashier’s eyes once again. Dropping his items on the counter, he dug out his wallet searching for the appropriate bills. “Damn...” he breathed, realizing he was just a little short. He eyed up his items silently, trying to come to a decision as to what he wanted more. What he needed more.
The hat. Definitely the hat.
As he wrapped his hands around the bottle, making the decision to return it to the shelves, the cashier stopped him in his tracks. “Hey man,” he began, breaking the silence with a warm gesture, “just uh… keep it. Just take them. I’ll mark them down as broken or some shit. They’ll never know.” He waved a flippant hand, as though he’s already decided for the two-toned boy.
Shouto nodded, bowing in appreciation before bolting back out the door. He walked a few more blocks before slipping into an alleyway behind an apartment complex. His fingers gripped the bag, ripping the sides in raw anxiety. With a shaky hand, he flicked open the cap of the gel and slathered some on his middle and forefingers and rubbing it onto his thumb. Clumsily, he worked his hair slick back, trying to keep the wayward strands from revealing themselves. Once his hair was adequately set back, he set the baseball cap over his head, hiding his incriminatingly recognizable hair beneath the it.
Where the hell was he? Should he keep running?
As he continued to walk aimlessly, the houses grew further and further apart, while the appearance of stores and buildings ceased. In exchange, he found himself in an area enshrouded by trees, full of lush grass and flowers that seem to glow in the moonlight. If he had been in hell before, he was surely in heaven now.
There were still benches and public garbage cans, meaning that he hadn’t traveled so far out of the town that this land was no longer municipal. He made himself comfortable on a bench before a decorative koi pond, prepared to wait out the hours until sunrise.
The fish seemed entirely unfazed by the presence of a new being in their vicinity, wiggling around in their artificial sea-scape with no cares in the world. When they bumped up against one another, their tails drew the shape of a heart, Shouto mused, finding solace in the company held by the ancient fish.
A voice- a familiar voice- rang out close to him, spooking him in the night and making him jump. “You know,” the voice whispered, “the koi is a symbol of love. Well, and friendship. Sorry I scared you. I just figured I’d tell you. Usually I’m just out here on my own. But I guess I’m not tonigh--T-Todoroki?!”
“Midoriya,” the taller boy nodded, his mind still on another planet despite the slight jolt moments prior. The other boy’s green eyes spread wide at the hatted boy, who had tears that he wasn’t aware of streaming down his cheeks. He scooted close, taking the tall boy by surprise with the sudden touch of their bodies, their sides brushing up against one another.
“What are you doing here? I thought you were just some random guy! Don’t you live a few towns over? Did you run all the way here? I’m pretty sure the trains aren’t running right now? Why are you wearing a hat? You never wear hats.” The younger boy fell into a mumbling daze, much to the amusement of his friend, who sat with a weak grin gracing his face. He felt blessed by the gods for whatever force brought Midoriya to him in his time of need.
Todoroki avoided all of Midoriya’s prying questions, offering his own: “What are you doing out here so late at night?”
The flop of green hair fell over his face as he tilted downward, studying his own freckled hands. “I don’t sleep well,” he admitted, shaking slightly, “I get, um, n-nightmares. This is my, uh, my safe space. I come here when I need some peace. That way my mom knows where I am when I leave at night.” The freckled boy pulled a bag of breadcrumbs out of his pocket with his heavily scarred hand, opening it and tossing a few pieces into the water. The fish gobbled them up gluttonously, prompting the emerald-haired boy to offer the bag to Shouto, who dropped in a few more. “You never told me why you’re here, Todoroki,” he prompted again, his eyes optimistic with the prospect of an actual answer.
The other boy sighed, offering, “I ran away. Remember what I told you at the Sports Festival our First Year? Yeah...so, I, uh, ran away.” His eyes didn’t meet Midoriya’s, he didn’t deserve concern. He deserved what his father did to him. His father told him that all the time. His hands balled into fists and unfurled, repeating this action several times in order to test the searing pain of his skin. The strikes still stung as though they were fresh on his skin, the ache still encompassed his being like the fiery pits of hell. He pulled down his sleeves over his knuckles, hiding as much of his skin as he can. He tried in vain to discreetly rub the back of his sleeve over his miserable eyes, but no actions slip past his freckled friend.
Midoriya’s piercing jade eyes were trained on his face, scouring every inch of the skin for signs of distress. A calloused thumb reached up to drag gently over Shouto’s cheek, eliciting a pitiful whimper. The skin around Shouto’s eyes crinkled, drawing up into an agonized wince. Even Izuku’s soft, sweet touch brought searing pain to the abused area. “Todoroki…” he murmurs, the edges of his eyes dropping in empathetic sorrow, “you have a burn mark here. And a black eye.”
Shouto shrugged him off, not in the mood for show-and-tell. While he craved the soft touches of Midoriya’s careful hands, reliving his nightmare wasn’t something he wanted to put Izuku through. Yet, the wide-eyed frown that Midoriya makes when he is dismissed makes Todoroki feel even shittier, so he allowed the shorter boy to touch him once more.
Midoriya’s touch is nothing like Endeavor’s. It’s sweet and respectful, his fingers asking at every departure for permission. His scarred fingers graze softly over his friend’s face and down his neck, his blunt fingernails caressing the bruised skin. There’s no poking, no prodding, only gentle caresses. The utterances that poured from the verdant boy’s plush, pink lips are hushed and cautious, treating Shouto as though he is delicate. It was foreign, but oh, so invited.
‘Todoroki?” the shorter boy breathed, his fingertips still brushing along the abused skin, “Are you okay? You can tell me anything, you know…” The fat pad of Midoriya’s thumb pressed a swipe across the apple of the two-toned boy’s cheek, cradling his face in the scarred hand.
It is the combination of tender care and overwhelming pain that brought tears to Shouto’s mismatched eyes. Everything just hurt. He didn’t even think at all when Fuyumi told him to run, he just did it. What if he couldn’t go back home? What if Endeavor does something to his mother? What if Izuku is disgusted by him when he tells the whole truth? His shoulders vibrated and his chest heaved in reverberation. He felt like he was drowning on land. Izuku looked like he was saying something but Shouto couldn’t hear him because everything sounded like water rushing the shore.
“Hey, Todoroki, look at me, okay?” Izuku tilted the other boy’s face to meet his, “Whatever he did to you will never happen again, okay? Let’s breathe.” Short, muscular arms pulled Todoroki in, the height difference comical but the comfort immense. A warm hand wove its way under the cheap tourist hat and through the goopy locks, combing out the artificial product.
As the hand worked to pet, Izuku explained his happy place to Shouto. “You see, I come here when I can’t sleep because I feel calm when I watch the koi. Sometimes I worry about villains or something happening to my mom, but when I sit here and watch the fish, I feel safe. They all take care of each other. I’m here to take care of you. I’m a hero.” By now, Todoroki was utterly bawling, unable to hide his massive set of injuries. Instead of pulling away like he likely would have in his sane mind, he grasped Izuku’s shirt tighter, the smell of his laundry detergent mixing sweetly with his natural scent.
The short boy continued, supplying more words to fill the space between them. “This fish is my favorite. He’s the only one in the pond that looks like this,” he pointed to a white koi with a big yellow spot on his back, “whenever I get upset, I come here and watch him. He’s like All Might: he never gives up. That’s what I like about you too, you know?” Green eyes beamed at mismatched ones, offering love and warmth.
He didn’t flinch when Midoriya leaned in to embrace him. He was startled, however, when the green-eyed hero stood up with his arms still around him, lifting him bridal style and beginning to walk. “What are you-” he began, but was immediately shushed.
“I’m taking you home. I’m sure my mom won’t mind if you stay the night!” The classic Deku Grin flashed across Izuku’s face, and Todoroki couldn’t help but nod, curling further into the other’s chest. He had never been cared for quite like this, and he had never known he hungered for it. He was starved for it.
As they left the park area, all Shouto can think of is Izuku’s unwavering warmth.
--
Shouto didn’t remember falling asleep in Midoriya’s bed, under his All Might themed comforter. He didn't remember Izuku placing a pair of house shoes at the foot of the bed for him in case he woke up first. He didn’t remember the shorter boy hauling out an extra futon for himself, happy to let the two-toned boy have the more comfortable support. He didn’t remember any of it, but that doesn’t mean he wasn’t ungrateful.
He was the first to wake up, as his internal body-clock was still set on Endeavor time, which had him up and ready to train (read: get the everloving shit kicked out of him) at 5 A.M. sharp. So, naturally, Shouto rolled out of his friend’s bed in a panic before realizing that, for once in his life, he was safe . Even while class was in session, while he is living at their deluxe, now-upperclassmen dorms, he was not safe like he was here in Izuku’s room.
Fortunately, he heard noise in the kitchen, signalling that there is one fewer person for him to accidentally wake up. Putting on the house shoes, he shuffled out of Midoriya’s room, careful to shut the door as quietly as possible. He deliberately stepped harsher on the floor than he would have if the whole apartment was still asleep, as he didn’t want to startle Mrs. Midoriya, who had been nothing but a saint to him over the years. Despite only having met a handful of times, she always welcomed the Todoroki boy as though he were her own.
She was wearing an adorable blue robe embroidered with All Might’s emblem. Everyone on planet Earth knew she had a crush, yet the secret item of clothing still swelled Shouto’s heart with even more endearment, if for no other reason than the uncanny resemblance between the two Midoriyas. “Mrs. Midoriya,” he walked over to her, bowing to her as though he were a grateful knight and she the queen, “thank you for allowing me to stay in your home. I truly appreciate everything you have done for me.”
She smiled her maternal smile, signalling her fondness for the boy before her. “Oh, Shouto honey it’s never a burden. You are always welcome in our home,” she scanned him over with loving eyes before frowning in concern. “Honey, you look injured! Are you alright? I have some painkillers in the bathroom cabinet, feel free to take what you need. Here- let’s talk over some coffee, shall we?” She rose from her seat, ruffling the boy’s hair as she stood. It felt gross from the cheap hair gel he bought at the convenience store, but she didn’t say anything.
While the machine whirred in preparation, she studied his face, holding his cheekbones firmly but carefully as Izuku had just hours ago. Her own green locks fell freely over her shoulders, having not yet made herself up for the day, but even without makeup she looked youthful as ever. He could tell where Izuku gets his charm. Her fingers brushed against his cheeks in examination, while her brows furrowed at his eye, which had begun to swell.
“Shouto, would you mind rolling up your sleeve for me?” she asked, and when she received a look reminiscent of a deer in the headlights, she added, “You only have to show me if you want to. Remember, honey, I want you to feel safe here.” She told him this every time he came over, and every time it was true. Midoriya must have told her . No- he changed his mind- Mrs. Midoriya is just observant .
The coffee began to brew loudly as he excused himself for his next move, which he considered to be rude in front of a grown woman. She smiled and batted a hand, which made him feel comfortable. Slowly, he rose from his spot at the table and curled his fingers under the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his body in a liquid motion and tossing it on the chair. He felt nearly unable to make eye contact with her, but he knew he had to. She cared about him, she wanted to help him, and he owed her the vulnerability.
When he looked up, he found Mrs. Midoriya with fat tears rolling down her face. She’s painted with a look of horror and resentment, which he fears is directed at him. I’m disgusting , he repeated to himself until she cut off his thoughts, pulling him into a fierce hug. “Oh honey…” her wet face pressed into his chest; he’d gotten several inches taller than he had been when he first came over. She pulled away and clasped a hand over her mouth as she walked around him, taking note of every mark of abuse. She noticed the marks on his arms, his face, his chest. But what got her the most are the increase in the number of marks leading to his backside.
“I have a question, Shouto,” she prompted, nearly whimpering. He nodded cordially, holding back his own tears in the face of a woman who reminded him so much of his own mother. “Does he...abuse you in...other ways?” The last part is choked, leaving her breathless as she drowned in tears. Despite his own suffering, despite being the victim, he still wanted nothing more than to hug her and make her feel better. But that’s not what he needed.
He couldn’t answer. He couldn’t look her in the eye. Instead he simply studied the tiles on the floor, the way the off-white house shoes clash with the blueish white linoleum. With little breath left of his own, he mumbled a clumsy “Yes,” before explaining, “Only when I’m disobedient. This time my sister saved me. She knocked him out before he could...take it that far.” In addition, he remarked, “I’m sorry for involving you in this, Mrs. Midoriya.”
His eyes caught hers and she had hatred boiling in her face. He had never seen someone filled with so much rage and revulsion. I’m disgusting. I’m disgusting. Untrustworthy. Disobedient. Weak. Disgusting . His nails began to claw into his skin before he felt soft hands pull them away. When he looked at her again, he could only see her sadness. She brought a hand of his up to her mouth and places a kiss on the knuckles.
They stood there in silence, the smell of coffee intense and comforting around them. “May I hug you, Shouto?” He nodded, as usual, and she took him into her arms. She cradled him like he was a fragile piece of artwork. It was unlike anything he has ever felt. It was nirvana. “I am so sorry. I should have caught it earlier,” she cooed in his ear as he collapsed, allowing her to be strong for him. “It’s not your fault, Shouto. It is never your fault.”
He shook his head, retorting, “It is, Mrs. Midoriya. I know what my punishment will be when I disobey, yet I do it anyway. I’m a poor excuse for a child, much less a hero.” His voice was deadpan, as though he were telling her the weather or a piece of flippant news, which hit her even harder. She wanted to hold him tight and never let him go.
“Shouto, sweetie, that is not true. You are a wonderful young man. You do not deserve anything he has done to you. He is a sick and twisted man.” She pet him, which made him melt into her arms. He craved this touch. He needed this touch. Again, she reminded him: “You are welcome here anytime, Shouto. For as long as you need.”
It is with this promise that he sobbed. Heart-wrenching, hiccuping sobs fell from his mouth and into his own hands as Mrs. Midoriya held him. Even though he didn’t have a shirt on. Even though he was covered in bruises and cuts and lacerations and scars. Even though he has been violated and defiled in the most private of ways. For the first time, he felt loved .
They broke away after Shouto’s sobs let up, and Mrs. Midoriya scuttled into the bathroom to collect a full box of tissues. As she returned, she found that the boy had poured them both coffee, even though he was in no state to be lifting a finger. She’d scold him any other day for treating the host like the guest, but instead she fled the room again for just a moment, returning with a plush throw from the living room couch. She draped it over his burn mark-covered shoulders, and took her seat next to him at the table.
The clock on the microwave read 5:37, which meant Izuku likely wouldn’t be awake for another two and a half hours. Shouto still ached. His body was ravaged approximately four hours ago and it was still reeling as though the wounds were fresh. Thank god Izuku had found him. He didn’t know what he would have done without him- especially without U.A. to run to over the break.
The memory flooded back again, replaying Endeavor’s abuse again like a film. Every time it played, there were scenes from other times, including all the times he’d been forced into submission by being Endeavor’s personal sex toy, the aides paid to look the other way. He could feel the searing pain of being split open, of being used and violated and defiled.
Quickly, he jumped up from the table, his face eerily pale and green. “Bathroom-” he shouted, running through the hall and making it just in time. Unbeknownst to him, Mrs. Midoriya had shuffled after him, and she was now kneeling at his side, rubbing his back as he retched. Between spouts of bile, he apologized profusely for bringing this upon her, assuring her through the pain in his throat that he could leave at any time if she wished. These comments go entirely unanswered, as she opted instead to rub his back and pour him a glass of water.
When the feeling of overwhelming discomfort settled in his stomach, he found the glass pressed into his hand, and Mrs. Midoriya quietly demanded that he drink. Once he returned to near-normal coloring (save for the blotchy spots from being sick), she asserted that she was going to the kitchen to prepare him some rice. Leaning his head back against the wall in an effort to regain his composure, Shouto mused on his eternal gratefulness for the existence of Mrs. Midoriya.
His breath pulled in sharply when he heard a gentle rapping on the door, a weak, groggy voice requesting entry. The question must have been rhetorical, as a sleepy boy with pine-colored bedhead appeared in the threshold without an answer. “Hey, Todoroki, are you feeling alright now? That sounded really rough…” he rubbed up and down the boy’s back, echoing the motions his mother had taken moments prior.
“I’m disgusting,” Shouto mumbled to his open palms, still slouched against the wall on the bathroom floor. His eyes gathered tears at the edges, holding just behind the lower lids.
Misconstruing the statement, Midoriya chuckled, replying, “Of course you’re gross, Todoroki! You just puked! Come on, I’ll get you a towel and you can take a shower,” he started up, heading over to a small closet area within the bathroom and rummaging around for a few things.
Shouto’s sudden, cracking voice startled him, pulling him away from his flurry of activity. “No, Midoriya. I’m disgusting.” His beautiful eyes met Izuku’s, the tears now streaming down his face and dripping under his chin. In a fit of embarrassment at his sorry state, Shouto’s face fell into his crumbled fists, covering his scarred eye with one hand and his bruised one with the other.
The freckled face fell from amused warmth to utter concern, the bathing products set back down on the shelf. Izuku found a spot next to his half-and-half friend and sits beside him, running an idle hand through the boy’s hair. “Todoroki, that’s not true…” he soothed, mindfully pointing out everything he likes about the other boy. Shouto just sobbed. It felt like all he’s done since he’d arrived is drown the apartment in his own tears.
Slowly, sweetly , Izuku helped him up from his spot on the floor, closing the toilet seat and setting the other boy down on it. In his lap, he placed the bathing supplies he gathered a few moments prior and turns around to leave. “Stay,” Todoroki cried, not making any effort to look up at the other boy and opting instead to stare blankly at the floor. “Please don’t leave me alone.”
The shorter boy noded briefly, moving to the shower to turn it on and run the water warm. When Todoroki stood and undressed the rest of the way, which leaves Midoriya staring in horror at his positively lacerated rear. He knew of Todoroki’s general physical abuse, but they never talked about it. He didn’t want to make Todoroki talk about it. But these marks went further than a belt on a clothed ass. “Todoroki…” Izuku breathed, letting out all of his hot and angry air. His eyes traced the handprints on his limbs, the belt marks on his backside, the burns on his neck and torso. There’s a burn mark somewhere else, too, further down. Somewhere his father should never have been. “You never told me he…” Izuku trailed off, unwilling to finish. He doesn’t even want to think that someone would do something that heinous to anyone, let alone one of the world’s most wonderful up-and-coming heroes.
A scarred, rough hand reached out and hovers over his friend’s shoulder, unsure as to whether or not it wants to make contact. “May I?” he asked, and Todoroki doesn’t respond, instead opting to embrace his friend fully, despite standing entirely nude while his friend is fully clothed. Izuku pulled his head closer, tighter against his body. As Todoroki begins to let go, Midoriya assured him, “You’re safe here. Always.”
Todoroki mumbled his thanks, bowing to the boy before him, before slipping behind the shower curtain and under the steady stream of water. It’s warm but it stings over his injuries, leaving his body feeling like the world is on fire. He successfully fights the urge to throw up again, but he cannot bear to stand in the shower and finds himself instead curled into a ball in the basin. It takes every ounce of his being to gingerly slather his body with soap and properly clean himself. The shampoo smelled like flowers and it washes away all the disgusting goop he had hastily applied to his head in the night. The caked blood slipped into the drain, washing away some of the aftermath of the abuse.
With Izuku awaiting him on the other side of the curtain, Shouto felt far more comfortable than he had in the post-abuse showers at his permanent residence which had been struck with fear that his father would return for more abuse in the sacred privacy of the bathroom. Those who obeyed him were rewarded with privacy. Those who did not deserve to have it taken away. His shower, despite the healing the water brings, was still fraught with memories of all the times he had been caught in the shower. Used . Still, he pushed the feelings away, opting instead to focus on the soothing feeling of the water running over his aching body.
His numb fingers swiped soap behind his ears and over his face, clearing off the residue of tears. Part of him was being restored, feeling the welcome, foreign comfort of the Midoriya home. His feeling of safety and love. Midoriya is staying with him while he showered and sobs. Mrs. Midoriya checked over his injuries, helped him while he vomited, and is making him rice. Both had given him physical tenderness like he had never felt before. It made him feel whole.
After his shower, he turned the knob off and towels off gently, taking care not to further aggravate the injuries. From behind the curtain, a hand appeared holding a pair of All Might-themed pajama pants, which he slipped on despite their awkward look on his lanky body that stands some inches taller than the green-eyed boy.
He’s surrounded by a white tee-shirt emblazoned with “ALL M” being pulled over his head as he exited the shower basin. “Thank you, Midoriya, but I can dress myself,” and the other boy grinned, the two sharing a look of happiness that peeked around the clouds of the previous night’s events. Content with his assessment of Todoroki’s comfort, Midoriya tugged on the other boy’s hand, leading him back to the kitchen to rejoin his mother.
Mrs. Midoriya stood in her element over the stovetop, using her Quirk to elegantly drizzle sauces into her pots and knock some spice into her oiled skillet. The room swam with the scent of mirin and onion and spice. When the boys waltz in, the short woman in the All Might robe is humming the theme song to Hero Action Report: Morning News , which is barely noticeable over the growl and sizzle of the pork in the skillet. Everything about her reminds Shouto of what it was like before his mother was sent away, but without any of the fear. He felt tears prick at the corners of his eyes, but he fought them, trying to piece his resolve back together.
Izuku passed over to his mom, giving her a tremendous hug as she worked the stove. “Good morning, mom! How did you sleep?” They started up some adorable family banter, and Shouto felt comfortable. He felt like he belonged . Izuku returns to his friend, pulling out two chairs from the table and gesturing for them to take their seats. Everything that hurt, everything that led him to where he was sitting in the Midoriya’s kitchen at 6:30 in the morning, everything that the Midoriyas had discovered, was all masked by the warm and loving presence of the two evergreen angels.
Before the boys, Inko set one full pork cutlet bowl for her son, who eyed it with excitement, and one bowl of plain rice for Shouto. She placed her own bowl in front of her and encourages the boys to eat, steering the conversation in the most positive places she could manage to keep their minds off of the elephant in the room.
“So Shouto,” she offered with a glowing smile, “are you excited to go back to school this semester?” She twirled her chopsticks in the air with her Quirk, signifying playful interest.
Chewing down a bite of rice, the stoic boy responded, “Oh, of course, Mrs. Midoriya. I look forward to perfecting my Quirk with Mr. Aizawa and the rest of the class.” He fidgeted faintly, not wanting to consider going back to Endeavor’s hero agency.
Content with his response, she pressed on further, deftly avoiding uncomfortable gaps in conversation. “Do you have any girls you’re interested in at U.A.? I know Izuku used to have a crush on that wonderful Uraraka girl-”
“MOM!” Izuku cried, cutting her off before she could go any further. “I told you! She’s just my friend! Also, stop embarrassing Todoroki!” He shot her a disgruntled look before returning a warm gaze to the half-and-half boy. “Sorry, Todoroki. You know how moms are…” his look of mirth burned off with the realization of his words, backpedaling, “WAIT! U-um, I mean, well, you know? Um, how mothers can be? Objectively? I-I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to make you upset...Even though I already did and after what happened in the bathroom I can’t believe I just said-”
“Midoriya,” Todoroki half-smiled, putting up a hand in acceptance of the other boy’s apology, “it’s alright. Thank you so much for letting me stay here, Mrs. Midoriya. I truly appreciate all that you have been doing for me this morning.” He bowed his head over the table at the two across from him.
In response, Mrs. Midoriya reached out a hand to place on the boy’s shoulder, brushing against the white fabric covering his bicep. “Shouto, I think it would be best if you stay here for awhile. At least until you move back into the dorms.” Concern and genuine care flooded her face, glossing her eyes with restrained tears.
Todoroki shivered, unsure whether accepting the invitation to remain in the comfort of heaven, as if accepting would somehow bring disastrous consequences down upon these people who have done so much for him. Catching the distraught look on the boy’s scarred face, Izuku lifted from his chair and grabbed the boy’s hand. “Todoroki,” he suggested, “why don’t we go to the koi pond and talk about it?”
Shouto nodded and followed along.