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Top Ten Pro Hero Endeavor Has Fourth Child!

Endeavor, Father of Four!

Opinion Piece: What Quirk Will Pro Hero Endeavor ’s New Child Have?

“Now, onto our Pro Hero News segment. It was announced just a few days ago that the Pro Hero Endeavor had another healthy child! A wonderful fourth addition to his family, but the gender had yet to be revealed to the public. Well, folks, we here at the studio have the answer for you! Stay tuned for-”

“I just think it’s a little ridiculous to have four children. All of them will display powerful quirks, there’s no doubt about it. Endeavor already has two sons, he doesn’t need another daughter-”

Pro Hero Endeavor: Exclusive Interview About His New Baby Girl!

Name Reveal for Pro Hero Endeavor’s Daughter!

“Momma?”

“Yes, dear?”

“Can my hair be like that?”

“You want short hair?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, sweetie. We can do that.”

“Momma, I don’t like my name.”

“Why not, dear?”

“It doesn’t fit.”

“Well, that’s troublesome, isn’t it? What do you think we should do about it?”

“I think… I think we should change it.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah.”

“Why don’t we look together then?”

“What about Shouto?”

“I like it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“We’ll try it for a little while then. My little Shouto.”

“Momma, why am I different from the other boys?”

“I… You were made differently, sweetie.”

“But why?”

“I don’t know, Shouto. You’re just special.”

“I don’t want to be special.”

“I know, my little one. I know.”

“You allowed this to happen!”

“I didn’t ‘allow’ anything! He decided this for himself, Enji.”

“She’s a child! No child can make these kinds of decisions.”

“What harm is it doing him?”

“She’s confused! It will interfere with her future training and she’ll be sick in the head.”

“Our son isn’t ‘sick’ and I suggest you choose your next words carefully.”

“You can’t do anything to me.”

“My mother knows about you.”

“...”

“Shouto is our son, Enji. We don’t have to make any drastic decisions, but we will support him and show him that there is nothing wrong with him or so help me I will destroy your precious career with a lawsuit that will ensure the next decade of your life is hell. Is that clear?”

“... Fine.”

“He’s my son, actually.”

“Excuse me, sir? Could you repeat that?”

“I said he’s my son. Now get out of my face.”

“Wait, wait, was there a mix up at the hospital or something?”

“Nah, the kid is one of those- what do you call ‘em? Transients?”

“Oh, you mean one of those transgendered folks! Endeavor supports that, huh?”

“I guess so, but that’s kind of strange, don’t you think? He’s always been so traditional.”

“We’ll just have to wait and see what sort of statement he makes. Anyways, folks, let’s move on to our next segment-”

“I want to support him mother, but- I can’t- the press won’t leave him alone, won’t leave us alone. And that man keeps him every hour of every day. His left side… His, mother. It’s unsightly to me. I can’t bear to look at it.”

“Momma?”

 Pro Hero Endeavor’s Notorious Fourth Child Seen Sporting Hideous Scarring!

Endeavor’s Transgender Son and New Scar: Origin?

“Shouto.”

He stiffened, freezing in the midst of wiping off the counter. He saw Fuyumi grow still out of the corner of his eye. Shouto inhaled deeply, blowing it back out through his mouth before slowly turning around. Their father stood in the doorway looming with his arms crossed over his chest and Shouto quickly determined the distance between him and Fuyumi. Three steps to get in front of her, six away from the old man, one to get a wall of ice between them. Shouto stayed where he was, but he kept the information at the surface of his mind for easy access should he need it.

“Yes?” He asked, forcing his voice deeper than its natural high pitch.

His father looked him over, starting at his head and moving down in a slow scan. Shouto wasn’t sure what he was looking for, but he straightened his spine anyways, forcing his shoulders back from their hunched position. The two sports bras under his shirt cut into the skin at the top of his ribs. Fuyumi was silent as she twisted a dish rag between her hands, eyes flicking between the two of them.

“I’ve spoken to that doctor,” his father finally said, tone flat. “You’ll be seeing her next week about starting treatment. We will discuss further… steps when you get older.”

Shouto felt like someone had reached inside him and ripped out some vital organ. His breath stuttered in his chest, lungs suddenly empty, and he felt hollow with disbelief. Fuyumi was staring at him with wide, glistening eyes and only five years of ‘training’ kept his own eyes dry. He slowly nodded, not looking away from his father for a second, and felt a surge of relief when the man only grunted before leaving the room. With his stifling presence gone, Shouto let himself collapse against the kitchen counter. Fuyumi was at his side in an instant, arms wrapping around his shoulders, and he only realized he was crying when she wiped the tears from his cheeks with a shaky hand.

Shouto buried his face in her chest and sobbed through the relief that sank into his bones.

 Thirteen Years Later: Todoroki Shouto and His New Identity, What You Need to Know

“Why do they call me that?”

“Who, Shouto?”

“The reporters. They call me-”

“Shouto, don’t listen to them. You’re perfect, okay?”

“But-”

“Don’t listen to them. Don’t listen to anyone trying to tell you who to be, okay? Just be you.”

“... Okay.”

“Let father handle the reporters. He’s good at that, remember?”

Principal Nedzu personally visited the Todoroki household a week before classes were to start. Miraculously, no reporters followed him to the door.

Shouto sat silently between his father and sister in their visiting room, Nedzu and the two teachers that had accompanied him sitting across the table. He listened as they explained the security system set up around and within the school, assuring a disgruntled Endeavor that no press would be anywhere near the students. He listened as his sister sighed in relief when they said that he could use whatever set of locker rooms or bathrooms made him most comfortable and that they did have various gender neutral bathrooms available. The locker rooms were strictly male and female. He listened as Nedzu personally explained U.A.’s strict bullying policy and that discrimination of any kind would not be tolerated on the premises from faculty or students. Recovery Girl would be in charge of him if he happened to sustain any injuries and she would personally hold all of his medical records. No eyes except for hers would see them while he was at U.A.

Shouto didn’t say anything. He nodded his head when appropriate and kept his eyes respectfully downward, letting Fuyumi and his father talk as much as they wanted. He dug his fingernails into the palms of his hands when Nedzu offered to cover any medical expenses on behalf of the school, but he didn’t get his hopes up. His father immediately cut down the kind offer with a few gruff words.

“He can wait another few years for that nonsense.”

Nonsense. Right.

Shouto kept his mouth shut even as the words rolled over each other in his head, pricking at his mind like needles. They dug into his skull, gouging open old wounds that never healed right, and he could taste ash on his tongue. But he didn’t say anything. He kept his eyes down and mouth shut, shrugging off the hand Fuyumi tried to place on his shoulder. Nedzu almost seemed taken aback, but no one else said anything either.

Shouto watched them leave from the doorway, Fuyumi hovering by his shoulder while their father escorted the trio back to their car. This time he let her put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“You’ll be okay,” she whispered. “Just a few more years, Shouto. There’s no rush.”

Shouto watched Nedzu climb into the backseat of the car, aided by the one teacher he recognized: the Pro Hero Cementoss. The other man he didn’t know, a dark haired, lanky fellow, and it was him who turned back to look at the house. Shouto felt like the man was looking at him, but he couldn’t be sure from a distance. He turned his back anyways, looking into Fuyumi’s anxious eyes instead.

“A few more years,” he agreed, taking her hand off his shoulder and squeezing it.

She smiled at him, but it did nothing to alleviate the exhaustion he felt over those four words.

A few more years.

 Todoroki Shouto To Attend U.A. High! Like Father Like Son

Opinion Piece: Why transgenders shouldn’t go to U.A. and why U.A. should be ashamed

Shouto could feel them staring. He grimaced and turned his head so he didn’t have to look at the other students and their prying eyes. He could hear a few of them whispering and he did his best to ignore them. Aizawa, the other teacher that had visited his home a week before, had already singled him out once today when passing out the gym uniforms, giving him a pointed look from the front of the class that everyone had seen. Shouto had met his eyes, but he had wilted internally. He recognized that sort of look and he didn’t want it directed at him again just because he couldn’t handle a bit of staring.

He looked down at his shoes, frowning. A small, meager part of him had hoped that his father and his publicity wouldn’t follow him to U.A., but of course that had been naive. With Endeavor’s popularity piled on top of his own… unique situation, the press were rabid even years later. They still had reporters lingering outside their home at various hours of the day and his sister had become especially skilled at chasing them away on her own. A new article was out at least once a day full of theories and speculation and criticism. Shouto didn’t look at them anymore, but he knew others did. His new classmates, apparently, weren’t excluded.

Shouto lifted his head only when Aizawa started to speak and out of the corner of his eye he saw one student still looking at him when the others finally turned away. Another boy, his hair a vibrant red and sticking up in random spikes around his head. He was looking at Shouto with a small frown on his face, his eyebrows furrowed together, and Shouto automatically tensed under his eyes. The boy looked away after another few seconds, but Shouto remained on edge for the rest of the afternoon. He had an itch under his skin that made him feel jumpy and anxious, constantly checking to see if the other boy was watching him too closely. He accidentally froze over some of his classmate’s shoes after the long jump because he was looking over his shoulder. He got more stares after that, but he was more distracted by keeping his head down as much as possible. He desperately wanted to avoid starting his first day with someone having a personal vendetta against him, but maybe that was being too hopeful.

Shouto lingered behind at the end of testing. He let his classmates go ahead of him to the locker rooms while he stayed in the circle that had served as their starting point for the ball pitch test. The red-haired boy had stared at him again as he left with the others, but Shouto had turned away from him quickly. He watched the far tree line now, listening to the fading footsteps of the others, and focused on his breathing.

“Todoroki.”

Shouto turned slowly at the familiar voice, looking up to meet Aizawa’s eyes. His teacher approached him silently, not saying anything even as he stopped a few paces away, and Shouto braced himself automatically. His hands curled into fists at his sides even as he kept his expression blank.

“Good work today,” Aizawa said. “You have potential. Don’t waste it worrying about what others are thinking.”

Shouto stared up at him, fists growing slack. Aizawa didn’t say anything else, but something in his eyes had changed. They were still bloodshot and hardened with something all Pro Heroes had, but there was something else around the edges that gave Shouto pause. He swallowed thickly and nodded, hands relaxing completely. Aizawa nodded back before turning away.

“The locker rooms should be empty now,” he said over his shoulder. “Go get changed.”

Shouto exhaled slowly and closed his eyes, tamping down on the emotion that threatened to burst in his chest.

“Yes, sir.”

They didn’t stare anymore, but there were still whispers. Shouto heard them start up whenever he left a classroom or when he lingered behind everyone else after training, letting them all go ahead to the locker rooms before him. No one had specifically said anything to him, but Shouto was careful not to give them any openings either. Especially not the redhead that still shot him weird looks all the time. He avoided the classroom until exactly thirty seconds before the bell; he didn’t go to the lunchroom and ate by himself in either an empty classroom or bathroom stall; he didn’t talk to anyone during training unless absolutely necessary and the same went for in class. He left immediately after the last bell rang and he switched between three different routes home, paranoid about reporters tailing him more than anything. Fuyumi told him the articles had started to dry up, lost in reports about All Might’s most recent hero work, but Shouto didn’t trust that to last very long and he was right.

The USJ incident came and went, a whirlwind of events that Shouto thought would be enough to distract everyone from him and his family for awhile. But then it was the sports festival and the press were suddenly on school grounds at the same time he and his father were and it was chaos.

Old memories were yanked to the surface of his mind, old emotions plucked like violin strings. And then there were new ones that surfaced, sparking a fire towards one green-eyed student he hadn’t expected, but latched onto either way. He focused his energy towards a rivalry he didn’t actually care about, motivated by years old hatred that he let spread like a fire in his veins. The irony didn’t escape him.

Unfortunately, that didn’t stop the press.

Shouto dodged another group of particularly determined reporters for what felt like the hundredth time, ducking into an empty hallway. He tried the first door he came across and slipped inside when it opened, pressing his ear against the wood to listen for any approaching footsteps. He sighed heavily when he heard nothing, slumping against the door in relief.

“Oh, Todoroki.”

Shouto whipped around, startled, and found himself face to face with Uraraka. She was seated at the lone table in the room, looking over at him with an equally shocked expression on her face.

“I’m sorry,” he said, already reaching for the doorknob. “I thought this room was empty.”

“Oh, no, it’s okay! You don’t have to leave.” Her shock melted away and was replaced with a small smile that made him pause. “Do you- do you want to sit with me?”

Shouto stared at her. He had barely talked to anyone in his class or even given them the time of day and yet Uraraka was being nice to him as if they were friends and talked all the time. He hesitated, biting the inside of his cheek. The thought of going back out to face the press made his stomach turn, so he cautiously stepped forward, moving over to the opposite chair to Uraraka and sitting down. She didn’t instantly tell him to leave like he expected, only continued to smile.

“I’m so nervous about the fights,” she admitted, folding her hands in front of her. “I had to get away for a few minutes before they got started just to relax a little bit.”

Shouto nodded, unsure what to say, and looked down at his lap. He expected her to prompt him for conversation, but Uraraka surprised him again by filling the air between them herself.

“Everyone has been doing so well and I know we can’t all win, but I still want everyone to do their best.” She laughed a little, rubbing her hands together. “I’m worried about my fight, too, obviously. I think it’ll be okay. I mean, it’s just a festival, right? We’ve got two more chances for it, so we shouldn’t stress that much.”

Her words sounded flimsy. Shouto looked up to see her smile turn a little wobbly and her eyes grow glassy, focused on some distant thing he couldn’t see. He knew nothing about Uraraka, was surprised he even remembered her name, but something made him hesitantly slide his hand across the table to her. She blinked down at his hand for a second, obviously surprised, before slowly moving her own hand forward. Their fingertips brushed together and Shouto shivered at the touch, forcing himself not to pull his hand back. Uraraka, surprisingly, seemed to notice and only hooked their pinkies together. When he looked back up she was smiling at him again with soft eyes. Shouto’s throat burned.

They didn’t speak for several minutes, looking down at the table rather than each other. Their pinky fingers remained hooked together the entire time and Shouto felt oddly calm. He could almost forget about everything that was waiting just outside the door. He didn’t know Uraraka well enough to say if she felt the same, but her eyes weren’t shining with unshed tears anymore. She was staring at their hands with a placid sort of expression and Shouto could feel the faint thrum of her pulse through their meager connection.

“You know,” Uraraka said suddenly, her voice quiet. “What they write about you is awful.”

Shouto stiffened in his chair. He slowly looked over to her, heart pounding in his chest, and was stunned when Uraraka met his eyes. Her brown eyes stared at him with a fierce sort of anger he had only ever seen reflected back at him in the mirror.

“It’s awful,” she repeated, quiet still but with a ragged edge like she was tired, like it was something she had read or heard a hundred, million times.

Shouto barely dared to hope, his breathing shallow. He stared at her, unable to say anything, and she gave him another smile, this one edged with that same exhaustion in her voice.

“I don’t know exactly why you do what you do,” she whispered. “But I know a lot of us in class would like to talk to you more. We want to know you, Todoroki, not what the press writes about you.”

Shouto was immensely grateful for his stoic persona in that moment because he could feel the familiar burn of tears in his eyes. He didn’t know what to think let alone say, so he simply nodded. Uraraka released his pinkie and gently patted his hand, apparently pleased, before rising from her chair.

“Should probably head back,” she sighed. “I’ll see you out there, okay?”

Shouto nodded again, staring down at his hand, and only looked up when he heard the door open. Uraraka was still facing him and she held up one hand in a thumbs up once she had his attention, smiling widely.

“Good luck out there!”

Shouto somehow made himself nod for a third time and Uraraka was already long gone when he got his voice to work, saying to the empty room,

“You, too.”

Shouto spent another ten minutes sitting alone in the room before leaving. The small intercom in the corner of the room announcing Midoriya’s win in his first fight prompted him to finally get up. That meant once Shouto won his fight they would be facing against each other. Sooner than he expected, but maybe that was for the best.

He cautiously peered out into the hall, making sure it was clear before stepping out. The reporters must have turned their attention to the start of the final round as he didn’t come across any on his way to the entrance tunnel. He passed by the second player waiting room and it wasn’t until he turned into the next hallway that he paused.

“What do you want?”

His father turned his eyes to him, orange flames licking around his face in thick tendrils. Shouto thought they looked like snakes and amused himself briefly with the image of one biting the man, maybe gouging out those piercing eyes that always cut through him like glass.

“You’re acting disgracefully, Shouto.”

Shouto didn’t respond. He started walking again, fixing his eyes on the light at the end of the hallway. About eighty or so steps to reach it, twenty of those putting him in direct proximity to his father. He kept his pace even and counted each step he took without looking at the looming figure again.

“If you had simply used the power in your left side, you would have had an overwhelming victory in both of the first rounds.” His father continued to speak despite his obvious disinterest, voice a grating rumble. “It’s time to stop this childish rebellion of yours. You were made to surpass that imbecile All Might and you will fulfill that duty no matter how you view yourself.”

Shouto ground his teeth together, clenching his jaw. The heat from his father’s flames threatened to singe his right side, reaching towards him as he walked past.

“Do you understand what I’m saying? Daughter or son, you have a duty, Shouto. It’s time you accepted it.”

Don’t say anything, keep walking, don’t say anything, keep-

“Perhaps I could influence you with that surgery you keep pestering me about.”

Shouto stopped walking. He didn’t turn around, but he could picture the smug look on his father’s face without doing so. He didn’t want to acknowledge the small hope that sparked inside him, but it was there and he hated himself for it.

“Bribing me won’t do you any good, you bastard,” he said, snuffing out the small flame before it could grow. Something sick and cold curled in his stomach and Shouto clenched his fists a little tighter. “I am only going to use Mom’s power. Don’t throw your money at me just like you did her.”

The silence that followed was heavy enough that Shouto could almost feel it on his skin. He started walking again. About twenty or more steps.

“You will reach the limit of that power eventually. I will not extend the same kindness when you come crawling back just like her.”

Shouto didn’t say anything and instead focused on forcing down the scream that tore at his throat.

 It wasn’t until after the Hero Killer Stain was captured that Shouto remembered Uraraka’s words. Or rather he was reminded of them very abruptly.

The police chief had came and went, their scolding and praise given hand-in-hand with each other. With that out of the way and their classmates focused on their own internships, the three of them were left with each other. Shouto was arguably the least injured out of the three of them, so he had taken up the duty of raiding the vending machines at the end of their hallway. Midoriya and Iida weren’t quiet about their protests, but he did it anyways, bringing back an armful of snacks that they always devoured within minutes. It was during one such snack excursion that he was approached by one of the nurses on his way back to the room. He paused outside the door when he caught her eye, not recognizing her as the one that usually entered their room.

“Do you need something?” He asked as she stopped in front of him, a folder held in her hands.

Her golden eyes slowly dragged over him from head to toe and Shouto shifted the snacks in his arms, awkwardly adjusting their position over his chest. He froze when she zeroed in on the movement, her eyes narrowing to yellow slits. His stomach started to twist uncomfortably, making him feel sick, and he tried not to crush the chip bag in his left hand. He had a very bad feeling about this nurse.

“Todoroki Shouto, yes?” The nurse asked, raising an eyebrow at his hesitant nod. “You will be getting a new room assignment for the remainder of your stay.”

“What?” He blanched, heart plummeting.

“There are- unique circumstances,” she hummed, tapping the folder in her hand with one finger. “So, we will be moving you out of this room.”

Shouto tried not to wince at her word choice. “But you can’t-”

“We can, actually. You will be placed with another-” Her eyes ran across him again and Shouto almost set the bag of chips on fire, the taste of ash on the back of his tongue. “Excuse me, an appropriate roommate. It should happen within the day, so make sure to be prepared for-”

“Todoroki! There you are!”

Shouto jumped as the door behind him was flung open. Midoriya stood in the doorway leaning on his one crutch with a bright grin on his face and Iida was sitting up in his bed just behind him.

“We’re starving!” He whined, reaching out to grasp the sleeve of Shouto’s robe. “We rely on your vending machine skills. You can’t keep us waiting like that!”

“Sorry,” Shouto mumbled, feeling like he might puke at any second. His eyes slid back over to the waiting nurse and Midoriya followed his gaze immediately.

He blinked at the sharp edge that suddenly came to Midoriya’s grin, his expression shifting from welcoming to threatening in an instant. The nurse seemed surprised as well, blinking at the shorter boy and holding her folder a little closer to her chest.

“Who’s this, Todoroki?” Midoriya asked, voice still deceptively bright.

“Well, she- um.” Shouto glanced over to the nurse and tasted ash again. “She was telling me that I’m switching rooms.”

“Unacceptable!”  Iida cried from inside the room at the same time Midoriya said, “Fuck no.”

Shouto felt like he might get whiplash from how quickly his own emotions were shifting.

The nurse seemed to find her footing again, tilting her chin up with a frown on her lips. “Well, I’m afraid that isn’t your decision, young man.”

“Is it not?” Midoriya asked, tilting his head. “Why are you moving him?”

“I’m afraid I cannot-”

“He’s not infected with any disease and he’s obviously walking fine on his own, so I don’t see why he needs to be moved when he’s healing perfectly fine in this room here. He needs to stay in the Quirk ward anyways, and last I checked you had all rooms occupied.”

“It’s a matter of-”

“Policy? Pretty sure you’re pulling that out of your ass, lady.”

Shouto choked on his own spit while the nurse’s nostrils flared, cheeks growing red.

“Young man, you are being very disrespectful right now-” She started to say, pointing a threatening finger at them both.

Midoriya tightened his hand around Shouto’s sleeve and started to pull him into the room. “Thanks, but we’ll be keeping our roommate! Send back our old nurse, okay?”

Shouto followed Midoriya’s tugging and walked back into their room, feeling a little dazed. Midoriya closed the door behind him looking perfectly pleased with himself.

“Midoriya,” Iida said, a severe frown on his face. “While I agree with your decision, I do not approve of the methods that you used.”

“I told you already my meds are wicked strong, so I don’t really have a filter. I’ll worry about it later when they wear off.”

Shouto carefully dumped the snacks on the empty bed in the room while the two bickered, the bag of chips sticking to his left hand. He blinked and realized he had melted the plastic to his skin with his quirk on accident. His mind was still trying to wrap around what had just happened, struggling to put together the pieces. Uraraka’s words from the sports festival hit him like a punch to the chin, making his breath catch in his throat.

“I know a lot of us in class would like to talk to you more. We want to know you, Todoroki, not what the press writes about you.”

Shouto carefully peeled off the chip bag from his hand and looked up at the two still arguing boys across from him. They knew, of course they did, but they had never treated him any differently and then just now-

“Iida,” Midoriya sighed, putting his free hand to his chest. “I care very deeply for you, but I don’t give a fuck right now.”

“Midoriya, I am very concerned for your state of mind and I think that you should-”

“Todoroki?”

Shouto looked up from where he had been staring at the slightly melted chip bag to find two pairs of eyes on him. He blinked slowly and realized his eyes were burning, threatening tears. That was twice now that a classmate of his had almost made him cry.

Midoriya took a shaky step towards him. “Are you okay?”

“Do not let that nurse bother you, Todoroki,” Iida assured him. “She obviously did not have a proper grasp on her position and should have spoken to the doctor first before approaching you about something like that.”

“Yeah, she was being a-”

“Midoriya, choose your next words carefully. I am still your class rep and as such-”

“Motherfucker.”

“Midoriya!”

Shouto snorted and dropped the chip bag, pressing his face into his hands. His left arm twinged in pain, but he ignored it in favor of hiding the tears that were dangerously close to falling down his face. The other two quieted down and Shouto took a moment to gather himself, breathing in deeply before lifting his head. Midoriya had a small smile on his face, his eyes kind and reminding Shouto of Uraraka’s, and Iida was sporting a similar, if not slightly exasperated, smile.

“Thank you,” he murmured, voice only a little raspy.

Midoriya’s smile broke into a proper grin and Shouto was almost blinded by how bright it was, heart stuttering in his chest.

“Of course, Todoroki,” Iida said, nodding sharply. “You are our classmate and, more importantly, our friend, so we must look out for each other.”

“And that means saving you from mean old hags like that nurse!” Midoriya added.

“Midoriya,” Iida sighed for the -nth time. “Bakugo is enough to deal with, so I would greatly appreciate it if you stopped with this new belligerent line of speaking you have found.”

“I like it.” Shouto admitted quietly much to Midoriya’s delight and Iida’s mounting horror.

“Todoroki! We cannot condone this sort of behavior! I must insist that we-”

Shouto smiled down at the floor as Iida began to lecture them both about propriety and manners. His eyes slid over to Midoriya and he was surprised to find the other boy already looking at him, smile still on his face. Midoriya pointed a finger at his temple and gave it a small twirl, mockingly rolling his eyes, and Shouto had to stifle a laugh lest Iida call them both out for not paying attention.

As he took a seat on the bed across from Iida’s, Midoriya sidling up to sit beside him, his heart felt much lighter than it had in a long time.

  Number Two Hero Endeavor Takes Down Hero Killer Stain!

Endeavor: Our New Number One Hero?

Or Does His Transgendered Son Ruin His Reputation?  

Shouto wasn’t entirely sure how long he was left hanging by Aizawa’s scarves. It couldn’t have been longer than ten minutes of aimless dangling if he were to guess. It was long enough for him to start feeling the extra constriction around his ribs, regardless.

He exhaled slowly through his mouth, trying to breathe shallowly. He regretted telling Yaoyorozu to run and not asking her if she had any ideas, but there wasn’t anything to be done now. His options were limited, especially in the midst of an exam. He wanted them to pass, but the ache in his ribs was starting to border on painful and self-preservation was starting to win out on him. He needed to breathe.

Shouto closed his eyes, considering his options. Using his fire on the bindings would be the quickest option, but then he would have to figure out a way to land without hurting himself on Aizawa’s little trap. Possible, but difficult considering his growing dizziness. He might be able to swing himself close to the light post he was tethered to and get his legs around it, but a quick glance told him he wouldn’t have enough length to reach. His ice would have the same effect as his fire on the scarves, but once it broke there would be even more sharp objects littering the ground. Fire was his best chance. He opened his eyes and looked down at the ground beneath him, picking out the open spots of dirt he could aim for once he fell. He couldn’t avoid injury entirely, but if he could limit the severity by getting hit in insubstantial areas-

“Todoroki-san!”

Shouto swiveled his head around to see Yaoyorozu running up to him. His relief at seeing her was short-lived when he realized Aizawa would only be seconds behind her in pursuit. It was growing more difficult to breathe by the second and he could see the panic in Yaoyorozu’s face which only made him feel that much more anxious.

“Yaoyorozu!” He called, making her eyes snap up to meet his. “You’ve got a plan, right?”

“What?” She stared at him, her eyes widening. “A plan?”

“Yes! I’m sorry, I should have asked earlier, but whatever it is-”

“It’s no good,” she interrupted meekly. “If yours didn’t work then why would mine?”

Shouto wanted to reassure her, but their time was too limited and he was starting to feel nauseous. His breaths were weak, his lungs protesting every inhale while dark spots danced across his vision.

“Spit it out!” He snapped, startling her. “It’s fine! Whatever it is, it’s fine!”

Yaoyorozu kept staring at him and Shouto couldn’t pull his thoughts together enough to say what he needed to say, hands curling into fists behind his back. He wanted to tell her that he had voted for her as class rep. He wanted to say that he thought she had the skills necessary to be strong in that type of position, a position of leadership, but he was quickly losing focus. He sucked in air through clenched teeth and was seconds away from letting his left side burst into flames when he heard Yaoyorozu gasp.

“Yaoyorozu!”

“Todoroki-san, close your eyes!”

Shouto barely had a second to see Aizawa leaping towards Yaoyorozu before the flash grenades went off. He grunted, squeezing his eyes shut against the brightness. He felt the scarves slacken around his wrists moments later and suddenly he was being lowered to the ground, slow enough that he could place his feet around the caltrops Aizawa had thrown down. The light started to dim and Yaoyorozu was watching him from her place by the light post when he opened his eyes, her eyebrows drawn into a firm line.

“I have a plan,” she said and Shouto almost smiled at the shaky but confident edge to her voice.

“I’m sorry, but- we need to stop.”

“Todoroki-san?”

The spots in his vision had only gotten worse and he felt like his lungs couldn’t expand enough to bring in oxygen. Shouto stumbled to a halt and braced himself against the nearest wall, wheezing. He heard Yaoyorozu stop a few paces ahead of him, her boots skidding in the dirt.

“We can’t stop,” she said, sounding frantic. “Todoroki-san, we-”

“Please,” he rasped. “Please, I- I fucking can’t. I can’t-”

Shouto felt his stomach turn over and he quickly turned to face the alley wall, holding himself up with his arms. His lungs were screaming at him, desperate for a real, full inhale that he couldn’t provide because he couldn’t catch his breath. Running had been a bad idea, but they hadn’t had a choice. It was either that or fail and he couldn’t do that to Yaoyorozu. She was relying on him for her plan, a plan that was good and would work so long as he could just have one fucking minute-

He ground his teeth together, head spinning, and tried to breathe. He could feel the sweat beading on his forehead and under his arms. His knees were shaking lightly, threatening to give out, and his left hand was slowly sinking into the wall as it melted the concrete. His right was covered by at least an inch of frost that cracked loudly when he flexed his fingers. Internally, he screamed. Externally, he breathed out a gust of steam and tried to stop shaking.

Yaoyorozu was surprisingly quiet and Shouto wondered what she was thinking. Did she think he was a liability now? He wouldn’t blame her, he might have thought the same thing were he in her shoes. What about the other students watching? His heart jumped into his throat when he thought about Midoriya watching him on some large screen and seeing how close he was to hyperventilating. He didn’t want anyone to see him like this. He waited until he was breathing a little more evenly before testing his balance. He slowly pushed himself up from his hunched position, keeping his palms flat on the wall just in case - or in it, considering his left.

He nearly smacked foreheads with Yaoyorozu when he felt a hand on his shoulder, whipping his head towards her. She leaned back in time to avoid collision, thankfully, though her hand stayed on his right shoulder.

“Are you okay?” She asked.

Shouto almost expected her to ask him if they should stop the exam, thinking of the emergency fail safe the teachers had provided them should anything go horribly wrong. But she didn’t say anything else, only watched him with calm grey eyes and Shouto breathed just a little easier for it.

He nodded, dropping his hands back to his sides. She eyed him for a moment longer before squeezing his shoulder and releasing him.

“Good. Let’s keep going. We don’t have much time left.”

Shouto nodded once more and they started off again, Yaoyorozu outlining her plan for the second time as they went. If she happened to slow their pace to a jog for his sake she didn’t say anything, but Shouto felt an overwhelming amount of gratitude either way.

It wasn’t until they had passed the exam, Aizawa tied up on the ground at their feet, that he considered thanking her. He looked up from the hand he had pressed to his sternum, chest still tight, and nudged her shoulder with his left. She looked up at him, a tentative smile on her face.

“Thank you,” he murmured.

She stared at him for long enough that Shouto had to look away, feeling awkward.

“You had a good plan,” he continued. “I’m sorry I snapped at you earlier.”

“It’s okay,” she cut in quickly. “You were- were in a tough spot.”

Shouto snorted, muttering, “Tell me about it.”

He was surprised to hear her giggle softly and he glanced over at her again. She hesitated for a second before touching his shoulder and her eyes reminded him of Uraraka’s, oddly enough, shining with a sudden fierceness. His heart tripped over itself and he might have stopped breathing if his lungs hadn’t still been twinging painfully.

“If you ever need anything,” she whispered, eyes bright. “Anything, just ask, okay?”

He managed a short nod, eyes burning as he whispered back, “Okay.”

Three times a classmate had almost made him cry. He was starting to sense a pattern.

Shouto didn’t exactly plan to cash in on Yaoyorozu’s offer so soon, but the walk back to the main building was torture. He kept a hand pressed against the knot in his side the entire time, struggling not to wheeze with each step. Yaoyorozu hovered close to him the entire way not unlike a worried mother bird, a comparison that almost made him smile. Aizawa didn’t say anything, but Shouto knew he was too observant to miss something so obvious. Maybe that was why he didn’t protest when Yaoyorozu pulled him to the side upon reaching their destination. She distracted him with questions about their exam while Shouto slipped away, searching for a more secluded set of bathrooms. He reminded himself to thank her later.

He didn’t need to see Recovery Girl for this and he repeated it like a mantra to himself as he found an empty boys room to duck into. It was just a little bruising. Bruising that may or may not have caused permanent damage, but that was neither here nor there.

Shouto checked the room twice to make sure it was empty before leaning heavily against one wall, pressing a hand to his chest. He focused solely on breathing for the next several minutes. He inhaled deeply through his nose and exhaled through his mouth, trying to fill his lungs as much as possible. His chest had yet to loosen up and it was like he couldn’t get a full breath, unable to take in enough air. His lungs protested, but he pushed through the ache. His binder was soaked through with sweat and he could feel it sticking to his skin uncomfortably, but he couldn’t take it off yet. The remainder of the exams wouldn’t be over for another hour at least.

He closed his eyes, grinding his teeth together as he fought back the dizziness in his head. He should tell Aizawa. He should say he’s feeling unwell and go to Recovery Girl. He needs to breathe without the constraint of his binder, but he can’t just take it off in the bathroom when anyone could walk in and he refuses to take it off for Recovery Girl unless absolutely necessary. Unfortunately, that means he has to wait until the exams are over. That also means he’ll have to wait for the locker rooms to clear out and then wait until he gets home because he can’t take it off in the locker rooms either, but then he’ll have to wait for his father to get home before doing anything else because god only knows if he’ll have training that night which means there are still hours before he can just breathe. Shouto slams his fist against the wall, a jagged circle of ice spiraling out from the point of contact, and chokes back a panicky sob. He’s terrified of the stitch in his side that hasn’t gone away yet and how his chest still rattles with every inhale, scared to think about what it might mean. He can’t be in anything but perfect physical condition otherwise- His father will- He just needs to breathe for a few minutes. That’s all he needs, just a few minutes to catch his breath and then he’ll be fine, it would all be fine, he-

The door opened a crack.

Shouto whipped around and wildly shot ice at the door hinges, freezing them in place. The person on the other side yelped when the door suddenly stuck, the doorknob rattling as they struggled against it.

“Hey, hey! Todoroki, it’s me, man!” Kirishima’s voice called out, startling him. “Jeez, did you freeze the door or something?”

Shouto exhaled a puff of frosty vapor. Kirishima. It was only Kirishima. Any nerves that he used to have about the redhead had long since vanished, the other boy proving to be a reliable source of positivity in their class and as harmless as a fly. Well, in some ways, at least.

“I just came to check on you,” he was saying now. “You looked kinda messed up after your exam ended, so I asked if I could come and see if you were okay.”

“I’m fine,” Shouto said, relieved when his voice came out steady. His earlier panic was neatly locked away at the back of his mind to be dealt with later.

“You sure, man?”

“Yes.”

“So, you won’t mind unfreezing the door so I can take a look for myself?”

Shouto paused. He couldn’t say no without it looking suspicious and Kirishima must have known that, hence the question. Sometimes he forgot that the redhead was actually quite clever when he wanted to be.

He turned to look himself over in the mirror, taking a few more shallow breaths. His throat felt raw almost like he had been screaming and his heart was jackrabbiting in his chest, but it was fine. He was a little flushed, but otherwise he looked presentable. He could pass it off as just being tired from the exam. Shouto smoothed down his hair before turning away, walking to the door. He was fine.

Kirishima stepped through once the ice was melted off the door hinges, his eyes darting around the room before landing on Shouto himself. The redhead eyed him critically for a second and Shouto did his best not to give anything away.

“I’m fine,” he said again. “We can go back now.”

Kirishima looked up at him with an odd expression on his face, almost like he wanted to ask something. Shouto felt panic grip his heart for a second before the other was grinning, pointy teeth and all.

“Okay, okay,” he huffed. “Let’s go. Don’t want to miss the good stuff, right?”

Shouto nodded absently, following him out the door. He listened to Kirishima start to ramble, something about his own awful exam results, and pressed a hand to his chest as they started off down the hall.

The bruising around his ribs didn’t fade for over a week.

Moving into the dorms was as much a relief as it was a hindrance. Perhaps the biggest benefit was he didn’t have to see his father every single day anymore. A close second was the sudden breathing room he found himself with when the press weren’t hanging outside his door all the time. But he also didn’t see Fuyumi as much anymore and now he had to deal with being around his classmates 24/7. And then there were the co-ed facilities that made him want to have an anxiety attack just thinking about. He avoided them for the first week, using the main building’s bathrooms when he could and somehow surviving on deodorant and body spray. Momo took one sniff the following weekend and told him to shower before someone fainted at the smell of him. She cordoned off the showers for him that time, but after that he was on his own. He adopted the most eccentric times possible for when he bathed, avoiding any and all contact with his classmates. He hadn’t been called out yet, but he wasn’t sure if that was because no one knew or if they were being courteous. He wasn’t sure which option was better.

While he had gradually started to warm up to his classmates, he was still cautious. He mostly hovered near a select few; Uraraka, Momo, Iida, and Midoriya. His selection was large enough that if one of them wasn’t around, then he was likely to find someone else nearby. He stayed hovering in their orbit whenever possible and, through their social prowess, he began to get to know the rest of his class slowly but surely.

He knew now that Bakugo and Midoriya were old childhood friends. He knew that Asui preferred to be called Tsu. He knew that Kirishima’s bright energy was rivaled only by Midoriya’s and that Koda swore in sign language all the time, but only Shoji and Hagakure could translate. Shouto found himself able to list off things about his classmates, personal things, if asked and surprised himself when he realized he would even call some of them friends, albeit hesitantly.

Despite this and his growing comfort levels around them all, the dorm lounge and bathrooms had become his ground zero. He rarely left his room on their days off, only venturing out when absolutely necessary, and avoided the lounge altogether. He kept a stockpile of snacks and juice boxes in one dedicated dresser drawer and he scheduled his laundry and shower days around the weekends. He was starting to build relationships with them and get to know them, but he refused to be around any of them without his binder. Not even Momo. It was a line he couldn’t cross. That meant since he tried to avoid wearing his binder on days off from classes, especially after the disaster of the practical exams, he was confined to his hermit-like habits. Shouto tried to convince himself it didn’t bother him, especially when people had started to invite him to things like movie nights and mall outings, but by his sixth juice box he was usually miserable.

Shouto pulled his tongue out of his mouth with two fingers, trying to entertain himself by going cross-eyed to see the cherry red that stained its surface. He pulled his tongue back into his mouth after a few seconds and took the juice box straw between his teeth again. He scowled at the door from his place on the futon, arguing with himself for the third time that day about how stupid he was being. No one in class had ever given him a hard time and they showed no signs of doing so, not even Bakugo whom he had honestly expected to be the worst. The whispers and staring had stopped a long time ago, replaced with familiar smiles and multiple sitting spots to choose from at lunch, exchanged for shouted greetings whenever he entered a classroom and invitations to hang out after classes. No one ever said a word about the press or his father unless he mentioned it himself which was something he rarely did anyways. So, why did he stop himself from reaching out to the multiple hands being offered to him?

He had tried taking baby steps with no success. He could barely open the door without his binder some days, fearing that the person on the other side would somehow see everything that he wasn’t. He had tried stepping out into the hall on one of his braver days in just a hoodie and sweatpants, but one sound had sent him scurrying back into his room. It made interacting with his classmates difficult and most especially his floormates.

Satou and Sero had turned out to be surprisingly good people to have on his floor. Satou would bring him and Sero baked goods occasionally, for example, and Shouto was ashamed to recall how many times he had stifled his own breathing with his futon blanket just to be as quiet as possible. Satou would always leave a container outside his door anyways, a sticky note plastered on top saying what was inside and punctuated with a goofy smiley face.

Shouto didn’t deserve that sort of kindness when he couldn’t even open a stupid door.

He crumbled his now empty juice box in his hand and sighed, throwing it carelessly towards the trash bin by his desk. It missed, hitting the edge and falling to the floor instead. Shouto stared at it for a few seconds before getting up to properly throw it away.

He knew why he had trouble, of course he did, but that didn’t make arguing with himself any easier.

“I hate myself,” he said to the empty room.

His juice box replied by squirting him in the eye with his own backwash.

Shouto pressed his ear a little harder against the door and, after a few seconds of listening, decided the coast was clear. Satou rarely stayed up late unless it was a dorm movie night and Sero was surprisingly strict with his own sleep schedule, so both of them should be asleep.

He peeled himself away from the door and shuffled over to his waiting laundry basket. A quick perusal of his room confirmed that he had grabbed everything that was due for a wash, extra blankets and all. He plucked at the front of his Kamui Woods hoodie, pulling the fabric away from his chest, and eyed his binder sitting at the top of the laundry pile. He gave himself a light shake after staring at it for a few seconds too long and rolled up his sleeves.

He could do this. It was just another laundry night.

Shouto carefully hid the binder under his other laundry before hoisting the basket up in his arms, glancing at the clock on his desk. 11:37PM stared back at him and he decided it was good enough. He usually went closer to midnight, but he was feeling impatient tonight. Everyone would either be in their rooms or hanging out in the lounge, too occupied to pay any attention to him. He could easily get from the elevator to the laundry room without being seen and then it was just a matter of locking the door behind him. No one except him did laundry so late, anyways.

Shouto left his room as quietly as possible, laundry basket on his hip, and approached the elevator at the end of the hall. As he pressed the call button and waited for its arrival, he thought about how lucky he was to have Sero and Satou as his floormates not for the first time. Their sleep schedules were convenient, yes, but they were both very considerate by nature as well. He hadn’t thought he would get along with either of them - Sero’s eccentric tastes a little aggressive and Satou’s baking skills intimidating - but they were both easy to get along with. They had all started meshing together rather well, coming to several unspoken agreements over the past few months.

For example, Sero had taken to being their personal tape dispenser and Shouto had started being their thermostat. Satou provided them both with baked goods on a regular basis and sometimes other types of food as well. For Shouto it was good practice for his quirk with focused temperature fluctuations and not physically altering the area around him, but it was also just something he wanted to do. He wanted to be nice, a fact that had surprised him when he first realized it. It made him wonder if the other two boys felt the same.

The elevator dinged quietly as it arrived and Shouto stepped on, pressing the first floor button. The ride down was uneventful, no one else joining him thankfully, and he made it without a hitch. He didn’t hear anything coming from the lounge when he exited the elevator, but he still gave it a wide berth just to be safe. The laundry room was also quiet when he entered, nudging the door closed behind him with his foot and turning on one light with his elbow. He moved over to his usual set of machines and set down his basket, pulling out his detergent and fabric softener from his hoodie pocket. He set both down on top of the washing machine before bending down to dig out his binder, separating it from the rest of his clothing.

The sweat stains alone were rather gross. Shouto fingered the fraying hem and wondered how risky it might be to try ordering a new one. The material was specially designed to withstand extreme temperatures for his quirk, but it was hard to come by and even harder to find someone who would make it into what he needed. He would have to call Fuyumi and ask her where she had gotten it.

She had given it to him the night before he left for U.A. He had had other binders before, but they had been made with the usual materials, so he could never wear them if he planned to use his quirk. He remembered having more than one anxiety attack about what he was going to do at U.A. where quirk usage was basically required. But then Fuyumi had snuck into his room just past midnight and presented him with a small package, the brown wrapping crinkling under his fingers when he took it from her.

“It’s for school,” she had told him, smiling at his confused look. “Just open it.”

Shouto had peeled apart the wrapping as quietly as possible and he remembered being close to tears when first pulled the binder out, handling it reverently. He remembered how cool it had been against his fingers, the material slick like water but sturdy and thick.

“It’s so you can use your quirk,” Fuyumi had whispered, eyes bright. “I had it specially made for you, so you can have one less thing to worry about.”

Shouto had hugged her for a very long time that night.

He gently rubbed the fabric between his fingers now, some of its slick-like feel gone with the wear and tear. He didn’t mind. It still held its shape and was the best binder he had ever had, so he wasn’t keen on getting it replaced just yet. The sentimental value was stupid, he knew, but it still tugged painfully at his heart, so he hung onto it instead of just asking for a new one.

He was just about to throw it over his shoulder, intent to deal with it after he got his first load started, when he heard the door squeak open. His heart plummeted into his gut and his nerves jumped, panic gripping his throat as he realized he had forgotten to lock the door.

Shouto jerked upright, binder clutched in one hand, and didn’t have the time to come up with a plan before a familiar head of red hair was walking into the room. He reacted on instinct, ice shooting out from his right foot and forcing Kirishima to a halt when it crawled around his ankles.

“Whoa, hey man! What the hell?”

Shouto met Kirishima’s glare with a heated look of his own, but he quickly deflated, guilt nipping at his heels. He shifted his left foot to the base of the ice and slowly increased the temperature, a small flame flickering at his hair as he melted the ice. Kirishima waited patiently, shaking each leg individually once his ankles were free.

“Holy shit,” he grumbled. “Man, you gotta relax a little more, that’s twice you’ve frozen me-”

Shouto ducked his head down, shaking his hair into his eyes, and discreetly lowered his hand to his side to try and hide his binder behind his back. His hoodie was baggy enough that his chest wasn’t on display, exactly, but he still felt like it was glaringly obvious. Kirishima stopped talking and Shouto peered at him through his fringe, watching as his red eyes tracked Shouto’s arm.

“Oh,” he said quietly.

Shouto felt like throwing up. He wanted to leave, but something kept him rooted to the spot as they both stared at each other. Shouto thought he might start crying if he hung around long enough, his nerves frayed to hell and back, but then Kirishima was reaching into his own laundry. He dug around for a few seconds, eyes not leaving Shouto once, before slowly pulling out a very familiar piece of clothing. Shouto’s breath caught in his throat as he stared at the short black binder that Kirishima held in his hand, matching the white one still clutched in his grasp.

He slowly lifted his eyes up, meeting Kirishima’s gaze, and the redhead smiled weakly at him.

“Me too, man,” he said quietly. “Sorry I never said anything, but- I mean, I thought I was the only one for a long time.”

Shouto felt a type of relief swell inside of him that he hadn’t felt since he was a child and Fuyumi was clutching him to her chest in their kitchen, their father’s words still echoing in his ears. His eyes were starting to sting but he ignored the feeling, swallowing around the lump in his throat.

“I always wash my binders late on the weekdays,” Kirishima explained with a soft chuckle. “No one ever does laundry this late, y’know? I mean, I thought no one did.”

Shouto cleared his throat, voice scratchy but unwavering when he spoke. “Yeah, me too.”

Kirishima looked at him silently for a few beats, eyes searching over Shouto’s face. For what, he wasn’t sure, but apparently the other boy found whatever it was because he asked, in a tone that was achingly gentle, “Do you want to wash them together?”

Shouto felt it like a blow to the gut. The air in his lungs wheezed out of him in one big rush and oh, oh he was definitely going to cry because something about that question made a little piece of him snap in half. He had never thought he would be in this position. He had never thought he would actually meet someone like him, someone his age that knew what he was going through. To have it be Kirishima was something else entirely. Kirishima was one of the most supportive people in their class and he could be relied on for just about anything. He was also one of the hardest working people Shouto had ever met and his heart might as well have been made of gold. Without even asking Shouto knew that this moment would stay between them. Kirishima would never talk about this with someone else, not unless Shouto specifically said it was okay, and he wouldn’t go around telling people that he wasn’t who he said he was, that he wasn’t a real guy, that he was just playing around and had been fooling them all for months-

“Todoroki?”

Shouto jumped when Kirishima spoke, his face etched with concern. He lifted a hand to his face and found his cheeks wet. Kirishima didn’t say anything, setting down his laundry before approaching slowly. He pried the binder out of Shouto’s hand with surprisingly gentle fingers, setting it aside with his black one, and something about seeing the two different binders next to each other made Shouto bite back a sob, teeth digging hard into his lip. Kirishima looked up at him, nothing but understanding in his eyes, and Shouto let himself cry, overwhelmed but so completely and utterly relieved.

Kirishima didn’t hug him but he did ask if he could hold Shouto’s hand and Shouto nodded jerkily, hiccuping around his own suppressed sobs. Kirishima rubbed his thumb along Shouto’s knuckles and didn’t say anything else, just let him cry and let out some of the emotions tangled up inside him. Shouto didn’t let many of the boys in their class touch him, but Kirishima was similar to Uraraka in how he went about it. He asked Shouto first before he touched him and then did only what he said he would, never anything more or less. He kept his touch light and reassuring just like Uraraka and that made Shouto cry a little harder.

He didn’t know how long they stood there for but eventually his tears started to dry up. Shouto sniffled quietly, wiping at his face with his sleeve and grimaced at the snot he cleared away from his lip.

“Gross,” he muttered, sniffling again, and Kirishima let out a snort. “I’m sorry. That was just…”

“A lot?” Kirishima supplied, raising his eyebrows.

Shouto nodded, starting to feel the familiar creep of embarrassment.

“Don’t worry about it, man,” Kirishima said, squeezing his hand. “I understand.”

Shouto felt his eyes water all over again, those two words shooting through him like a knife because Kirishima did understand, he knew exactly what Shouto was experiencing or at least something close enough to it.

“Fuck,” he swore, tilting his head back. “I’m not usually such a crybaby, I promise.”

Kirishima laughed and released his hand, the loss of his calloused palm making Shouto feel bereft. “Trust me, dude, I know. I think this is the first time I’ve ever seen you look anything but calm and cool.”

Shouto blinked several times, trying to clear away the lingering tears, and only looked back down once he was confident they were gone. Kirishima was smiling at him and held out his hand, grinning when Shouto automatically reached up to grasp it with his own.

“I won’t tell anyone you ugly cry,” he teased.

Shouto scoffed, wiping at his face again. “Shut up, I don’t ugly cry.”

“You totally do, man. It’s okay, Bakugo does, too. Don’t tell anyone, but he started sobbing when I showed him the Lion King.”

Shouto blinked in surprise, a laugh sputtering out of him before he could stop it. Kirishima laughed with him, squeezing his hand one more time before releasing him for good.

“Let’s do some laundry,” he said cheerfully, turning to the washing machines. “You hand wash your binders?”

Shouto nodded when Kirishima glanced over to him. “When I can, yes.”

“Cool,” Kirishima nodded. “We can do them together once we have our other stuff started. I can tell you more about Bakugo’s freak out over the Lion King if you want. Sound good?”

Shouto watched Kirishima set the two binders aside, handling them with a surprising amount of delicacy. His heart hurt in his chest and his throat felt sore, but the relief was still there, spreading out in slow pulses throughout his body. His shoulders sank a little and his spine eased from its rigid posture and he felt better. He felt much better than he had in a long time. Kirishima was turning to look at him again, familiar grin on his face, and Shouto didn’t hesitate to smile back.

“That sounds great,” he murmured, stepping forward to help.

“Hey, Mom?”

“Yes, dear?”

Shouto hesitated, rolling his juice box between his hands. His mother turned her head to look at him directly, her grey eyes soft. She was more present today, not so far away that he couldn’t reach her, and he was happy to see her like this. She didn’t have many good days.

“My little Shouto,” she murmured. “What is it?”

He looked up at her and relaxed a little when she smiled at him. She was holding one of the lilies he had brought for her, gently twirling it between two fingers. Midoriya had helped him pick them out and he was glad she liked them.

He took in a deep breath before asking softly, “Did you know? When I was a kid, I mean?”

She stopped twirling the flower for a second and Shouto worried he might have asked too much, but she hummed thoughtfully after a few moments. She turned her gaze to the window, one hand drifting over the petals of the lily.

“Not exactly,” she admitted. “I knew you were different. You would ask me all sorts of things, like if you could cut your hair and if we could change your name. I let you do whatever you wanted because it made you happier and that was all that mattered to me. It wasn’t anything serious, not like what others think. I’ve seen a few of those articles the press has written, but they aren’t true.”

Shouto listened silently, watching her face. She wore a faint smile and his heart hurt a little when he saw the faint wrinkles at the corners of her mouth.

“Those little things meant the world to you,” she murmured. “And I think a part of me knew what was going on. I didn’t really look into it until you started crying one day after someone called you a girl. After that I… I confronted your father about it. It was maybe the one thing I don’t regret.”

She turned to look at him again and Shouto saw the faint tears in her eyes. He swallowed past the knot in his own throat, holding out his right hand to her and she took it with a grateful smile. She still held the lily in her other and she reached up to tuck it behind his ear, her fingers brushing against his cheek when she withdrew. Her fingers pressed against the scar over his left eye and for once, he didn’t flinch.

“Your father thought I influenced you in some way,” she sighed, lowering her hand. “And maybe I did, but truly it was just you, Shouto. You made those decisions yourself. Children are so much smarter than we give them credit for and you knew exactly who you were before anyone else did, something I couldn’t be prouder of.”

She squeezed his hand in hers and Shouto barely resisted the urge to cry, closing his eyes to prevent any tears from escaping. His mother stayed quiet, stroking her thumb over his knuckles while he struggled with his composure for a few minutes. She didn’t speak again until he opened his eyes back up.

“You have always been my son, Shouto,” she told him with a note of fierce protectiveness he couldn’t remember hearing since he was five years old. “And you always will be.”

The day he turned eighteen, Shouto visited with Principal Nedzu and inquired about the offer he had received when he was just about to enter U.A. Nedzu smiled and pulled a stack of paperwork out of his desk, sliding it across the surface to him.

“Let’s get started, yes?”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Hey, man, you shouldn’t be up and moving yet!”

“Sorry,” Shouto muttered, letting Kirishima slip an arm around his waist and pull him away from the wall he had slumped against.

“Jeez, no wonder Yaomomo gets on your case all the time.”

Shouto gripped Kirishima’s sleeve and pulled when the redhead tried steering them back towards the bed, receiving a confused look in return.

“I wanted to see again,” he said, voice hoarse but steady.

Kirishima sighed quietly and adjusted his arm, securing it a little more. “You’re lucky I’m so nice. Your doctor would kill me if she knew I was letting you move so much.”

Shouto smiled wryly at the thought and shuffled forward as Kirishima started to move them in the direction of the full length mirror on the other side of the room.

“Midoriya has been asking about you, by the way.”

Shouto took an extra second to process the words and when he did his heart decided that leaping out of his chest might be a good idea.

“Yeah?” He coughed, swallowing thickly.

“Yeah,” Kirishima hummed. “He keeps bugging me in class, asking if you’re okay and if you need anything. I mean, he’s not the only one, but he does it hourly, I swear. If it wasn’t so cute I would probably be more annoyed.”

“He’s not… upset?”

“Nah, man, he gets it. Well-” Kirishima paused, wrinkling his nose. “He doesn’t get it, but you know what I mean. He’s too worried about you to be upset, anyways.”

Shouto’s heart fluttered pleasantly and he hid a small smile, feeling warm. Kirishima scoffed, rolling his eyes playfully.

“I would call you out for being so whipped if I wasn’t totally in the same boat.”

“Shut up, ‘shitty hair.’”

Kirishima snorted and Shouto spotted the blush on his cheeks from the corner of his eye.

They both made it to the mirror without mishap and Kirishima stepped away only when Shouto braced himself against the closest object. He silently examined his reflection, eyes immediately flicking to his bare chest. The drains had been removed already, leaving behind the still slightly swollen scars. They were bright pink, almost red, and stood out against his otherwise pale skin in thick, jagged lines. He felt sore everywhere, could barely put on a shirt by himself, and raising his arms too high made pain shoot down his spine, but his chest was flat. It was flat and he didn’t have to wear his binder anymore. Not ever again.

Shouto took in a shaky breath and lifted one hand up, flinching under his own fingers when they brushed against the tight skin. He gently traced the risen scar tissue along his right and felt tears prick at his eyes. It was real. He wasn’t imagining things or dreaming. Kirishima hovering in the background was proof enough that he was wide awake and lucid, but it still felt like he was experiencing something that was too good to be true.

“I never thought…” he trailed off, throat closing up, and Kirishima stepped up behind him to place a light hand on his shoulder.

“Hey,” he said gently. “The others got you a care package. You wanna take a look at it? It’s so big, I almost dropped it three times lugging it up here.”

Shouto sniffled quietly and dropped his hand, meeting Kirishima’s eyes in the mirror before nodding. Kirishima smiled and helped him back to the bed, making sure he was sitting fine on his own before grabbing the large basket that had appeared near the door.

“Yaomomo made the basket,” he explained, placing it beside Shouto on the bed. “They couldn’t find one big enough to fit everything, I guess.”

Shouto’s eyes landed on the big card sitting at the top first. It was a crudely drawn picture of All Might giving a thumbs up and saying, in a little bubble near his head, Get Well Soon Hero! It looked like he was holding up an oddly shaped Cheeto instead of his thumb and his signature grin was a bit disturbing, but the colors were bright and the handwriting he recognized as Iida’s neat penmanship. He smiled, picking up the card and flipping it open. The inside was packed corner to corner with writing, every single one of his classmate’s unique handwriting and signatures filling the blank space. No one message was the same, but they all held the same general tone of proud optimism. He knew he would start tearing up again if he tried reading all of the messages, so he carefully closed the card and set it on the pillow behind him to be read later.

The basket consisted of mostly food. He saw animal crackers, both frosted and plain, with a cheeky note plastered to them from Koda. There were a couple of orange juice bottles that he guessed were from Iida and a box of tea from Tsu. There were two separate containers of homemade cookies stuck between two Oreo packages and he pulled out the homemade ones, popping the lids off to sniff at each container.

“Satou made one,” Kirishima offered, watching him pick through everything. “His double chocolate chip recipe, then Bakugo made the other one.”

Shouto looked up at him, alarmed, but Kirishima only laughed. “It’s okay, he didn’t poison them! I watched him make them. Its those strawberry-rose ones that you like and- I see you opening your mouth, but literally everyone knows you like them, so don’t even deny it.”

Shouto slowly closed his mouth. Kirishima smirked as he withdrew one of the pale pink cookies before closing the container again.

The rest of the basket was much of the same and it wasn’t until he reached the bottom that he came across something different. His breath caught in his throat as he slowly lifted a worn All Might hoodie from the basket, immediately recognizing the design. A slip of paper fell out when it unfolded in his hands and Kirishima leaned down to pick it up for him, handing it back without reading it. Shouto recognized Midoriya’s handwriting immediately, his words scrawled in green ink across the paper.

Todoroki! Kirishima probably hates me for how much I keep bugging him about you, but I hope you’re recovering well! Everyone was already giving you so many snacks and Jirou had movies covered, so I figured I would give you something a little different. Don’t feel like you have to return it unless you want to! I know it’s in good hands.

Get well soon!   We miss you! : )

There was a large spot of ink right before the ‘We’ and Shouto squinted at it, trying to figure out if Midoriya had scribbled something out or if his pen had left a blot. He gave up after a few seconds and looked back to the hoodie in his hands, gently rubbing the worn fabric between two fingers. Midoriya had worn it several times throughout their years together and Shouto had thought it was one of his favorites. Midoriya hadn’t possibly given him his favorite hoodie, right? He was too protective of his old All Might merchandise to just give it away to any friend. Unless he didn’t think Shouto was just ‘any friend.’

Shouto felt his face flush at the thought and he quickly folded the note in half, tucking it into the card from everyone else. Kirishima was eyeing him with a knowing look in his eye and Shouto shot him a half-hearted scowl, grabbing the stack of movies Jirou had given him.

“Don’t say a word or else I’m not letting you watch these with me,” he threatened.

Kirishima held up his hands in mock surrender, moving to grab his laptop, and Shouto could hear him stifling his laughter. Neither of them acknowledged the fact that Shouto refused to release the hoodie even after they had started the first movie, but Kirishima’s wide grin gave away his amusement.

Shouto just pretended that he didn’t fall asleep that night with one sleeve pressed over his nose, trying to catch the faint smell of Midoriya’s shampoo.

Uraraka and Midoriya had never stopped inviting him to things like movie nights and mall outings. It was a fact that used to bother him because he had told them no at least a hundred times, but suddenly he turned that fact over in his mind and realized he was immensely grateful that they had never stopped. It might have taken him awhile to realize it, but he was glad that they never excluded him. He might not have had the guts otherwise.

Shouto pulled the hoodie away from his chest as the elevator moved down to the first floor, an anxious habit he had yet to shake. He looked down when he released the fabric, watching it settle over his body. He still got a warm, fuzzy feeling inside of him when he looked at it and remembered that Midoriya had given it to him for no real reason other than to be nice. Momo had received an abundance of blackmail material from him that night when he, according to a snooping Jirou that had read every message over Momo’s shoulder, ‘lost his shit.’ And maybe he had just a bit.

But now he was wearing it for the first time since receiving it and he was glad he had waited. Something about it being from Midoriya made the moment feel all the more special when he looked down to watch it settle completely flat against his chest, the soft material brushing against his skin instead of another layer. There was no slight bulge from his binder, no swell of his chest, just. Flat. Exactly like it should be.

Shouto felt his lips curl in a funny little smile as he pressed his hand flat between his pectorals. His scars still itched and lifting his arms too high made him sore, but it was, quite literally, a weight off his chest that he had only dreamed of before. He closed his eyes briefly, taking in a deep lungful of air, and he relished in breathing in as much as he wanted without any constriction around his ribs. The giddy high he had been riding for the past month or so kept the small smile on his face as the elevator slowed to a halt. He felt only a small pinprick of anxiety, an uncomfortable itch more than a crushing boulder, and he wondered if ecstasy was something like this.

He habitually pulled at the front of his hoodie again when the elevator doors opened. He could hear the voices of his classmates drifting to him from the lounge as he stepped out and he took in another deep breath, dropping his hand to his side. Uraraka’s usual invitation to the dorm board-game night had been given to him with enthusiasm earlier that day and he reminded himself of her cheery voice as he quietly shuffled to the lounge.

Everyone was spread out on either the couches or the floor, claims staked with pillows and blankets. He spotted Uraraka seated on one sofa with Tsu, Hagakure, and Ashido. Momo was tucked under a blanket with Jirou on the floor closest to the TV with Kaminari, Sero and Koda right beside them. Shoji was sitting at one end of another couch with Tokoyami and at the other end was Kirishima with a surprisingly docile Bakugo next to him. Satou and Ojiro were in the kitchen gathering snacks, Aoyama was taking up the entirety of one couch by himself, and Iida was shifting through an intimidating stack of board game boxes on the table.

Shouto looked over the group once, searching, and then again when he couldn’t spot Midoriya’s familiar curls, disappointment starting to grab at him. He had imagined Midoriya’s face upon seeing him wear his old hoodie multiple times, a number Momo had said was sweet and Jirou had said was weird and one that he wouldn’t acknowledge ever again. But it didn’t matter if he wasn’t going to see the real thing like he had hoped. Uraraka was starting to turn her head towards him and he knew he couldn’t leave once she spotted him, so he took a tentative step towards the group.

“Todoroki! You made it!”

Shouto turned and came face-to-face with Midoriya’s familiar grin, his arms piled full of blankets. His green eyes roamed over Shouto and lit up when they spotted the hoodie.

“You’re wearing it!” He said in such a gleeful tone that Shouto’s heart wrenched violently in his chest. “I’m so glad it fits! I was worried it might not since it doesn’t fit me all that well anymore, but it is from my middle school days and I was a lot skinnier back then, so it makes sense-”

“It’s okay,” Shouto said, cutting him off as gently as he could. He loved listening to Midoriya ramble and could do so for hours at a time, but he could feel Uraraka’s piercing eyes on his back and they were starting to make him uncomfortable.

Midoriya laughed, the sound spilling from his mouth like music. “Sorry, sorry. Hey, do you wanna sit with me? I’m the best at making blanket nests, hands down.”

Shouto was nodding before Midoriya even finished his question, ears still echoing with the other boy’s laugh. Midoriya beamed at him again and led the way over to the rest of their classmates, all of whom greeted Shouto as he approached.

“Todoroki! I’m glad you could join us!” Iida said enthusiastically. “And just in time! We were going to vote on which games to play first.”

“I want monopoly!” Uraraka cried out, almost falling off the couch in her lunge for the box. Iida passed it to her before she could knock down the rest of the board games with her flailing hands.

Shouto followed Midoriya to a pile of blankets and pillows on the floor while Iida started passing out games. Midoriya motioned for him to wait before setting to work adding the blankets he had been carrying to the mound. Shouto didn’t recognize it immediately, but as he watched it slowly morphed into something not unlike the ‘nest’ Midoriya had proclaimed it to be. It was set strategically in front of one of the couches so they would have a backrest and it was walled in with pillows, the hard floor cushioned with several thicker blankets and at least one duvet. Midoriya plopped down in the middle once he was done, another blanket wrapped around his shoulders that he held open when he finally looked back up at Shouto.

“Join me?” He asked, a small smile on his face, and Shouto didn’t even have to think.

He sat down next to the other boy and grabbed the corner of the blanket, tugging it around himself. They were pressed shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip, and Midoriya didn’t have to keep his arm around Shouto but he did anyways. It made Shouto’s cheeks feel warm and his heart flutter.

“Midoriya,” Uraraka said accusingly, leaning over Tsu’s lap. “What the hell, you didn’t invite me into your blanket nest.”

“Sorry, but it’s no girls allowed. Pretty boys only in Blanket Nest Todo-riya.”

Shouto felt his blush spread a little more, looking at Midoriya’s smile out of the corner of his eye.

“That’s so mean, you little jerk. For that I’m gonna kick your ass at monopoly.” Uraraka threw the lid of the monopoly box at them while Midoriya laughed.

“That’s a stupid fucking name for a pile of blankets,” Bakugo growled from his spot one couch away.

Midoriya turned his eyes to Bakugo and said, “So was the name ‘Bakugo Hero Agency,’ but you don’t see me throwing shade.”

“What the fuck did you say shitstain-”

“Wait,” Kirishima grinned, putting a placating hand on Bakugo’s thigh. “The what agency?”

Midoriya’s smirk was downright devious and Shouto tried really hard not to stare. He failed.

“Bakugo used to pretend he had his own hero agency as kid,” Midoriya explained readily to a delighted Kirishima. “He paraded around singing this little tune. What was it again, Kacchan?”

“Fuck you,” Bakugo spat, pointing a threatening finger at Midoriya. “Don’t say another fucking word or so help me-”

“What was it?” Kirishima asked, leaning forward. “Dude, I have to know.”

“Like fuck you do, shitty hair.”

Shouto could practically see the devilish glint in Midoriya’s eyes and he had to hide his own smile by ducking his head. He caught Momo’s eye through his fringe and he watched her mouth, Smitten. He replied with a silent, Fuck you.

“What was it, Kacchan?” Midoriya asked again, using his free hand to tap his cheek thoughtfully. “Something with ‘Forward march,’ right?”

Kirishima looked beside himself with glee and Bakugo had an eerily blank look on his face, eyes boring into Midoriya’s.

“Deku-” he hissed.

Midoriya snapped his fingers, grin wide. “Oh, yeah! ‘Forward march and here we go, members of the agency, Bakugo!’”

There was a moment of silence that followed as everyone absorbed what Midoriya had just sang loud enough for the whole room to hear. Bakugo’s face was a blank slate while Midoriya had the biggest shit-eating grin Shouto had ever seen. Shouto broke the silence with a loud snort he couldn’t hold back, pressing a hand over his mouth to smother it, but the damage was done.

The room exploded into noise as everyone started either laughing or mockingly repeating the tune to each other. Kirishima was practically howling, arms wrapped around his middle, and Jirou didn’t look much better from across the room, supported only by Momo. Uraraka was making up new lines with Ashido and Kaminari had stood up to create his own interpretive dance all the while Bakugo fumed silently, arms folded tightly across his chest. It was a testament to how far they had come that he hadn’t immediately exploded something.

Shouto smothered his own laughter in Midoriya’s shoulder, pressing his face into his t-shirt.

“When did you become such a shit?” He mumbled, earning a quiet chuckle from the other boy.

“I think around the time I started hanging out with a guy that has the most ill-mannered mouth ever.”

Shouto lifted his head, eyes narrowed, and Midoriya grinned at him, looking very pleased with himself.

“He’s pretty cute, too,” he added far too casually and Shouto felt his face grow hot.

He smothered his face back into Midoriya’s shirt, grumbling when the other only laughed at him. The hand at his shoulder slowly slid down to his waist, hovering there hesitantly, and Shouto had to reach down to press it to his side himself. When he finally lifted his head again, Midoriya’s goofy smile wasn’t too unlike his own.

Later, they would have a conversation about expectations and comfort levels. Shouto would admit just one deeply embedded fear of not being enough for someone, not quite ready to uncover any others, and Midoriya would put him at ease with carefully chosen words said in a soft, soothing voice.

“Shouto,” he murmured, cupping Shouto’s face between his hands. “I’ll admit that I don’t know everything, and you’ll have to educate me about some things, but you’re still you. I like the boy that’s right in front of me, the boy with the two-toned hair and the prettiest eyes I’ve ever seen, and I like the man he’ll definitely become and kind of already is, too. I like the boy that’s right here and I don’t care what anyone else thinks because I only care about him.” His thumbs brushed under Shouto’s eyes, catching tears before they fell, and he smiled. “I only care about him and his future, one that I really hope I get to be a part of.”

Shouto nodded, movement short and jerky, before smothering Midoriya in a hug, sinking into the strong arms that wrapped around him in return. He hiccuped against his throat, tears silently rolling down his face, and wondered how he had gotten so lucky.

His chest felt light and airy for what felt like the first time in his life, his scars free of any pain or discomfort, and Shouto had never breathed easier.

Pro Hero Shouto: Our New Number Two Hero and What You Need to Know About him

An Inspiration for the Next Generation of Heroes: Why Pro Hero Shouto Stands Out From the Rest

Shouto: A Step Above

“So, Hero Shouto, that just about wraps up our interview. Thank you for joining us today!”

“The pleasure is all mine.”

“Before we finish, is there anything you would like to say to the next generation of LGBT youth watching you out there? Can they be heroes just like you?”

“Of course they can. Anyone can be a hero, your identity doesn’t change that no matter what people tell you. A… close friend of mine told me once something that an important person said to him: Pro Heroes all have something in common from their past and that is their bodies moved before they could think. It took me awhile to accept it, but… I believe it. The difference lies in what sort of hero you become because even if you start at the same place as everyone else, you still change. It’s up to you if it’s for the better or for the worse. Specifically, though, I think that LGBT kids already have an advantage.”

“Oh? Why do you say that?”

“In their own way, they’re already heroes. And I think that’s amazing.”