Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Shouto is unfazed when he blinks his eyes open at an unfamiliar ceiling in an unfamiliar room. Whiteness and silence and the smell of chemicals—he’s in a hospital.

However he got here, he’s not too concerned. Being here means he won’t have to attend yet another session of early morning training with his father.

Shouto remembers how he’d gone to bed the night before, seeing flames behind his closed eyelids. His father has been pushing him harder than usual since the Yuuei entrance exam for recommended students draws close. He remembers a fresh bruise on his right wrist, where his father had grabbed to fling him against the wall in his counterattack. It should be swelling by now, but when Shouto reaches for it, he feels smooth, unharmed skin.

His first thought is that he's been treated by someone with a healing quirk. He’s in a hospital, after all. But then he moves his hand further down his forearm and feels bandages wrapped around places he doesn't remember being injured.

He sits up on the bed and raises both arms in front of his face in confusion.

“Ah, you’re awake!”

Shouto turns, and he’s even more confused because the guy who comes in doesn’t seem to be part of medical staff. He’s casual in sweatpants and a simple white shirt with the word “T-shirt” on it. A fluff of dark green hair, a wide and easy smile on his face. Freckles. Shouto would place him somewhere in his late teens or early twenties, but he’s also a bit baby-faced, so Shouto isn’t sure.

“Are you doing okay? Sorry, I just left to go to the bathroom for a bit,” the guy says, smiling reassuringly at Shouto. Then he pulls out his phone from his pocket and begins tapping at it. “I should probably tell the others that you woke up. You got knocked out during the fight, but so did the villain, so the other heroes managed to capture him. The doctors said not to worry about you since you only had minor injuries, so I stayed at work for the day. But still I was worried anyway so I came over after work to see you. Oh, but I made sure to shower at home first, because I knew you’d nag me to go home if I came here straight from work. So don’t worry about me!”

This guy strings his sentences so tightly together Shouto isn’t sure how he managed to breathe in between his words. He seems to be familiar with Shouto, and clearly Shouto is supposed to know who he is. It doesn't seem like a prank.

He reaches for his right wrist again. Clear skin, no signs of pain. He shifts on the bed and feels echoes of aches and pains in places they shouldn’t be.

The man in front of him looks up from his phone. He was making small fidgety movements before, but now he’s still, and watching Shouto’s face like he senses something wrong.

“Shouto?” he prompts.

“I think,” Shouto begins, “I might have some kind of memory loss?” It's the most likely explanation. Anything else he can come up with sounds too far fetched even for a society with all kinds of unique quirks.

The man’s face falls, and Shouto almost feels bad for telling him.

“Possibly? The villain had a memory quirk,” he says, biting his lip. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

The last thing Shouto remembers is being thrown into a wall by his shitty old man, then collapsing in bed exhausted without even showering. But it’s probably not a good idea to go into all of that, so Shouto chooses to keep it simple. “Training,” he says, absentmindedly rubbing his wrist. “With my father.”

A sharp inhale.

“Shouto... how old are you?”

“Fifteen soon.”

When the man’s eyes widen, and his face falls even more, Shouto starts feeling the weight of the situation press down on him. If he is reacting this strongly to Shouto training with his father, then Shouto’s memory must've lost months, perhaps years. Presumably, Shouto should be in Yuuei, if he's not training with his father on a regular basis anymore. Maybe his old man finally deemed him strong enough to leave alone by then.

The guy with the freckles might be his classmate, perhaps even a friend, seeing as to how he spoke with Shouto in such a familiar way. Friendship isn’t something Shouto expected to gain at Yuuei, but perhaps it was just something that happened on its own.

Although, there's something to be said about how Shouto has spent not even five minutes with his perhaps-friend, and he's already managed to do nothing but upset him greatly.

Said friend turns his thoughtful gaze onto Shouto’s face, studying his eyes and his frown and the tense way he holds his posture. And then something curious happens: his face schools itself into one of determination and purpose.

“You’ll be okay,” he decides, quite forcefully. “Don’t worry, I’ll go talk to the doctors about this. You should lay back and rest for now.”

The man leaves the room, and Shouto is left wondering how much time he’s lost in his mind. There’s too much unknown about his current life, and he doesn’t know how to ask, or if he even should. Ruminating on the issue in his own head isn’t going to do anything for him right now. He takes a nap.

The guy comes back with hospital staff, who crowd around Shouto and fuss about him. They ask him questions about his memories, check on his physical condition, and unwrap the bandages on his arms. Soon, they all leave and it’s just his friend with the freckles left to keep Shouto company again.

“They’re looking into ways to get your memories back,” he says, chewing insistently on his bottom lip, “For now, you’re supposed to stay here until they can give you a proper prognosis.”

Apparently Shouto was involved in a fight earlier that day, against a villain with a memory quirk. The villain was known to erase memories for only short periods of time, the most up to a month, but circumstances caused him to react in panic and erase eight years of Shouto’s memories. It was too much for the villain to handle, which is why both Shouto and the villain promptly passed out from overexertion.

Shouto barely has time to process eight years when the guy hands him a note.

Across the top, in bold writing: Essential Information About Todoroki Shouto. It looks crumpled and folded, torn out of a notebook. Shouto clutches it between his fingers, and he reads:

• You are Todoroki Shouto, aged 22, also known as the Hero Entropy.
• You live in an apartment with Midoriya Izuku (that’s me!) also known as Hero Deku.
• You graduated from Yuuei and co-founded Pax Agency with a few fellow graduates, including me.
• If you have any questions, please ask. I’ll try my best to help!

The rest of the note seems to be a list of important contact information. 'Just in case you can't figure out the passcode to your phone yet!' reads the scrawl at the bottom.

“Midoriya…?” Shouto looks up at the man with the freckles, testing out his name on his tongue. Midoriya nods at him, an expectant look on his face.

Shouto has a lot of questions. He closes his eyes. Eight years. Eight years means Shouto is a different person, an adult, someone he doesn’t know. Eight years means a completely different life. Shouto takes in a deep breath, and tries to order his scrambled thoughts. He breathes out slowly. First things first.

He opens his eyes. “Will I have to deal with my father any time soon?”

There is a pause, where Midoriya seems almost surprised. “Oh! No, you’re an independent adult now, he’s mostly uninvolved in your life these days. You don’t have to see him, if you don’t want to.” Midoriya says this with conviction, lips pressed into a thin line, like he’ll will his words into the truth if they don’t already turn out to be so.

Okay then. One less thing to worry about.

But it’s still a little surprising to hear. A life where his father isn’t breathing down his neck at every turn. He’s been trying for so long to become someone in defiance of his father, the opposition to his hellfire. Did he manage to succeed? Shouto never could imagine any path of his future that didn’t feel incredibly suffocating, but if he has someone like Midoriya who worries about him, then maybe his imagination just isn’t good enough.

There’s too much that is uncertain. Would he be satisfied with the kind of person he’s become?

Shouto still understands himself to be fifteen years old, his left fist clenched tight, pulling himself through each meaningless day if only out of pure spite. It feels like he’s been flung eight years into the future. Like he went to sleep one day and woke up a stranger in his own skin.

“Um,” Midoriya begins softly. The look on his face reminds Shouto of his older sister when she catches him breathing frost after a training session with his shitty old man. “I know this is probably really overwhelming for you. I think it’ll help if you just relax for today. Don’t think too much about what you don't know. If the doctors can return your memories to you tomorrow, you’ll get answers to a lot of your questions.”

Midoriya’s hand lifts towards Shouto, like he’s about to reach out, but then he hesitates. His hand drops back onto his lap, fingers twisting into the fabric of his pants. Please let me help you, Midoriya’s eyes seem to plead.

“Okay,” Shouto murmurs, and the knot in his chest loosens a little. “Okay. Thank you, Midoriya.”

Midoriya stays by his bedside and talks to him about inconsequential things; a show he's been watching recently, upcoming movies he's planning to see.

Midoriya has interesting things to say, even though it takes a while for him to stop glancing at Shouto like he might have something to say back to him. Midoriya has a speaking pattern that wanders like a winding road, like he's pulling words directly from his train of thought. But he's expressive and good at talking, so Shouto is never bored.

He thinks Midoriya surely has better things to do with his time; he’s a pro hero, after all, he must be busy. But the boy only mutters something about having lots of vacation days saved up, and his friends keep badgering him to take more days off, anyway.

But this isn't even your problem, Shouto thinks, frowning at the boy with the freckles and the tendency to ramble. I don't even remember who you are.

Even so, Midoriya stays.

“I don't want you to have to wait alone,” he says, glancing at Shouto with an odd look on his face. Shouto doesn't know Midoriya well enough to understand what it means.

Midoriya only leaves the room to make phone calls and to grab food and snacks and permission to stay past visiting hours. When he comes back, he distracts Shouto with an in-depth literary analysis of a long-running comic book series he's apparently been following since he was a kid.

Shouto doesn't say much in response, but Midoriya doesn't seem to mind. He's somewhere on his tangent about the evolution of the comic's art style, when Shouto starts to nod off. His sleep, thankfully, is dreamless.

Midoriya is still there in the morning, stationed faithfully by his side like he has some kind of duty to fulfill. His head is pillowed on his arms propped up on the back of his chair. He’s drooling in his sleep. Shouto eyes his hunched form, awkwardly twisted around in the small hospital chair, and something like guilt settles in his chest.

“Why would you do so much for me?” Shouto asks the sleeping boy.

He’s still turning it over in his head as he walks over and hooks his arms under Midoriya’s legs and around his torso. Shouto shifts Midoriya’s weight onto his arms and begins to lift him very slowly. He watches as Midoriya curls into the warmth of his chest, the tufts of messy hair tickling Shouto’s face.

Shouto deposits Midoriya onto the hospital bed. He tries to be gentle but Midoriya stirs from his slumber, peeking up at Shouto from under his eyelids that want to stay closed.

“Shouto?” he murmurs softly, and—oh.

The 22-year-old Todoroki Shouto he doesn't remember—is he someone special to Midoriya? If they were romantically involved, it would explain Midoriya calling him by his given name, and staying by Shouto’s bedside all day and night just to worry about him and keep him company.

“Go back to sleep,” Shouto tells him. He pulls the blanket up to Midoriya's chin and wonders how they came to be. He didn't think he'd have time for such things like romance. But then again, he'd thought the same thing of friendship.

At fourteen, his classmates in middle school had already started talking about crushes and romance and the purported fluttery feeling that makes your heart beat fast. But Shouto's head was too full of fire and spite, and love was only something that occured between other people.

Is eight years really enough for that to change?

Shouto is 22. He’s a pro hero, and he lives in his apartment with Midoriya Izuku. It’s supposed to be basic information about himself, but eight years is long enough to change his life so much that Shouto doesn’t even recognise himself anymore. “Sorry, Midoriya. I don’t think I can be who you need me to be,” Shouto confesses to the silent hospital air. “At least not now.”

The doctors talk to them in the afternoon.

“So the quirk doesn’t actually steal memories,” Midoriya wonders, loud enough only for Shouto to hear. “It only creates a block in the brain that stops the person from accessing part of their memories. If it’s a chemical or physical effect, then it can be healed or reversed without the original quirk user. I should talk to the police department about this later. Those affected by the villain’s quirk can talk to the doctors about their options…”

“Will I have my memories back?” Shouto asks.

The nurse hands him four bottles filled with a clear liquid. Tears with healing properties; a healer with a convenient quirk happened to have some in stock. It’s a little gross, but it works better if you drink it. Doctor’s recommendation. One bottle each night, right before you sleep because it knocks you unconscious for 12 hours.

That’s two years of memories in 12 hours, Shouto calculates. Eight years in 48 hours.

“Can't I just drink it all at once?”

“Shouto, no! You need to eat.”

“Oh. So... four days,” Shouto says. “Four days until I remember everything.”

“Yeah,” Midoriya says, with the kind of grin that makes you want to grin back. “Let’s go home now? I want to show you our apartment. I think you’ll like it.”

Their apartment is small, but enough for the two of them. It’s a little messy but Shouto doesn’t mind. It’s everything the Todoroki family home wasn’t. After his mother and his siblings left, it was always too big, too empty and too clean. Shouto stands in the living room, turning slowly to take in everything.

“Here you are,” Midoriya says, presenting their apartment with a flourish. “This is yours. Ours.”

“It’s very… personal,” Shouto says, eyeing the All Might hoodie draped on the back of a kitchen chair. On the couch, a cushion that looks like a pink Saturn and another one like a lilypad. There are pictures taped to the wall, of him and Midoriya and other people he doesn’t recognise. There are sticky note reminders on the fridge because they don’t seem to have any magnets, and what looks like paperwork spread across the kitchen table. A book on the coffee table that Shouto knows belongs to him, because the bookmark between its pages was a gift from Fuyumi for his 12th birthday.

“Personal was what you were going for, I think,” Midoriya tells him. “You were the one who put all those pictures of our friends on the walls. I gave you a camera for your birthday in second year, and then you started bringing it everywhere with you.”

“Oh,” Shouto says, “Thank you.”

Midoriya gives him an amused look. “I’m glad you like your birthday gift.”

Many of the photos are candid ones, the people in them smiling and laughing without being told to. He spots a few posed group photos, and then everyone together in what looks like a class graduation photo.

Right above the class photo is one with just him and Midoriya. They’re both in the Yuuei school uniform, and Midoriya’s fingers hold up a peace sign. Shouto has a content smile on his face.

“No,” Shouto shakes his head. “I mean, thank you. I look… happier,” he says, wonderingly.

Midoriya’s eyes soften in understanding. “It wasn’t just me,” he says, and ushers Shouto to the couch. “Sit, you can ask questions if you have any. I took a day off work, so I’ll be here if you need me.”

“You could,” Shouto hesitates, “tell me about yourself?”

“A-Are you sure?” Midoriya blinks at him, scratching the back of his neck in an uncertain gesture. “I mean, don’t you want to know more about your own life first?”

Shouto tilts his head at him. “You seem to be an important person in my life. So we can start with you.”

Midoriya flushes pink. “O-Oh. Um. I guess. We met in our first year at Yuuei? We were in the same class, 1-A. And uh, I have a sort of, strength-enhancing quirk? I’ve told you the details before, so I guess you’ll remember that eventually,” he bites at his lip, “I don’t know, it’s kind of hard to summarize.”

“That’s fine. We have all day.”

“O-Okay. Oh, hold on, I’ll go make some tea for us! We’re probably going to be talking for a while.”

While he waits, Shouto rifles through the small stack of magazines under the table for lack of something to do. Some of the heroes on the front covers Shouto recognizes from the photos on the living room wall. Then his eyes catch on something red and white, and he slides that one out from the pile.

It’s him. On the front cover of the glossy magazine, he stares with a determined expression at some unseen adversary in the distance, his right coated in ice and his left lit up in flames. It’s honestly a nicely captured moment, but Shouto is too busy staring at the fire and thinking about what that might mean.

Midoriya returns with the tea.

“Oh, you found the magazines? We don’t usually buy these, but you rarely do promotional stuff like this so I thought it was a good occasion to get one. They put you on the front cover!”

Midoriya reaches out, and smooths his thumb over the pinch between Shouto’s eyebrows. It startles Shouto enough to clear his expression. He turns and blinks slowly at Midoriya, who smiles something sad and wistful and says, “That face you were making earlier. I haven’t seen that in a while. I don’t think it suits you.”

“I’ve said it before, and I will say it again,” Midoriya tells him, “This fire—it’s yours. Okay? You don't remember, but it's yours. I promise. Your father is hardly a part of your life anymore, he has no sway over you. Please don’t worry about him.” Midoriya has a stubborn expression on his face, and his eyes burn with a good and earnest fire Shouto isn’t used to seeing.

They’re facing each other on the couch. Midoriya places his right hand, the one with the scars, gently over Shouto’s left fist, convincing it to loosen its tight clench.

“Shouto, it’s all in the past now. You’ve managed to make your life your own, so you don’t have to look so sad anymore.”

If Midoriya is right, if Shouto has changed this much in eight years, then he wonders if it means that he was able to finally resolve things with his mother. Shouto desperately wants to remember.

Without his memories, Shouto can’t say for sure what it was that drew him so close to Midoriya Izuku. But he has a good idea, judging from how his heart is thudding against his ribcage. He thinks, civilians must feel really reassured, if this is how Midoriya looks when he’s saving them.

With time, Shouto will remember what he needs to. It will be okay, Midoriya’s smile seems to convey. It makes Shouto think of the photo on the wall, himself smiling at the camera with Midoriya by his side. So he gathers together all his conflicted and confused feelings, and tucks them away in a corner of his mind.

Midoriya decides that they've spent more than enough time bringing up past hurts. “Let’s watch a movie,” he says, eyes lighting up with eagerness, “I just realized, since you don’t remember watching Star Wars in second year, you can watch it for the first time again. You had such great reactions.”

Midoriya cooks him dinner.

It’s zaru soba. His favourite.

Shouto has been feeling unbalanced all evening. Midoriya makes him his preferred tea exactly the way he likes it, serves him his favourite soba, and tells him what he needs to hear. But without his memories, Shouto doesn’t know Midoriya in return and can’t respond in kind. All he can do is offer to wash the dinner dishes and stop being surprised whenever Midoriya does something nice for him, because Midoriya's smile dims at the edges when he catches Shouto's wide-eyed look.

He settles further into the couch as the opening credits for the third movie flash across their TV screen.

“Midoriya, what’s your favourite food?”

The look on Midoriya’s face can only be described as fond. “You’re not subtle at all, Shouto,” he laughs. “I like katsudon the best.”

“I just want to do what I can.” He’s not going to sit around uselessly again and wait to return to himself. Midoriya calls him ‘Shouto’, but at this point in time, he can’t be that person. He doesn’t know how to be the Shouto that calls him ‘Izuku’ in return.

They’re sitting widths apart, each quietly keeping to their own side of the couch. Shouto is warm from dinner, and a little drowsy. He dozes off in the middle of the movie, curling up against the armrest.

“Shouto.”

A hand on his shoulder.

“Sorry, I don’t want to wake you, but you should probably drink the bottle they gave you for your memories.”

Shouto groans.

“If you let me, I can carry you to your room,” Midoriya offers.

Shouto gets up, squinting blearily at Midoriya. “No, it’s okay. I should brush my teeth too.” He can do at least this much.

Shouto cleans himself up in the bathroom, careful to grab the bottle of healing tears on his way out. Midoriya is still in the living room. He seems to be lost in thought, staring at the open palms of his calloused hands.

Quickly, Shouto turns away and locates his bedroom. He climbs into the futon already laid out for him and unscrews the lid of the medicine bottle. He slides the sharp-smelling liquid down his throat, and thinks: maybe Midoriya won’t have that distant look on his face anymore, if Shouto could just hurry up and remember everything he’s supposed to.

Chapter Text

He wakes up a different Todoroki Shouto, and he feels like he hasn’t slept for two years.

Yesterday, he was discharged from the hospital and watched movies with Midoriya in the evening. But also yesterday, he spent the afternoon with the Class 2-A stragglers in his dorm who hadn’t yet packed up and left for the winter vacation, then played card games with Kirishima, Kaminari and Uraraka. It takes a while for Shouto to sort out his memories.

“So I really do remember them in chronological order,” says Shouto, and wonders what theories Midoriya would’ve come up with to explain that.

Now, he's quite aware of his feelings for Midoriya, but he realizes he might have to revise his earlier conclusion about being romantically involved with him.

Shouto remembers class bonding movie nights in the Yuuei dorms, learning the best way to position his shoulder so Midoriya can comfortably rest his head on it when he gets too sleepy. He remembers how he’d make coffee if he happens to be up at 6am, because he knows Midoriya will shuffle into the kitchen at around 6:15 to get ready for his morning runs. Every once in a while after a visit to his mother, Shouto would drop by the sweets shop near the hospital to pick up their strawberry daifuku that Midoriya has a weakness for.

Many, many more small habits and everyday moments like these, Shouto is grateful to remember. But, if they’d already been this close, if he’d already been doing all these things for Midoriya since their high school days with no intention of confessing his feelings, then maybe he never did.

Still, being roommates with Midoriya is better than nothing at all.

He lets out a heavy sigh.

Shouto rolls over and finds his phone on the floor beside his futon. The newest text is from Midoriya, reading: i’m out for the morning to take care of a few things at the agency. be back soon :)

Shouto finds a group chat made up of Uraraka, Iida, Tsuyu, Midoriya, and himself, labelled ‘Dekusquad’. Midoriya had apparently told them about his memory loss situation, spurring a series of messages concerned for his well-being.

Thermostat
i’m fine now. the worst of it has already passed

Thermostat
i’ll be regaining my memories over the next few days

Thermostat
will be back to normal soon, thanks for your concern

And, in a private message to Uraraka,

Thermostat
i can’t tell if me and Midoriya are dating or not

Thermostat
i figured you would be the best person to ask

Uravity ☆
omg

Uravity ☆
thanks, this made my day

Uravity ☆
honestly, the two of you already act like a married couple? but as far as i know you guys never started dating

Shouto rubs at his face. Okay. Just how long has he been pining for?

He glances around at his room and finds Midoriya everywhere. Taped to the wall above his desk, there are pictures of his friends, of his mom and siblings, many many of Midoriya, in the centre of it all. The small potted flowers and succulents on the balcony outside Shouto’s window have cute faces drawn in marker on the side of the ceramic. Definitely not his own doing.

Shouto’s bedroom here is different from his room in the Yuuei dorms. He still sleeps in a futon, on tatami mats surrounded by traditional Japanese walls, but there’s so much of Midoriya living in here too. Shouto’s heart swells with affection. There’s something so surreal about seeing elements of his and Midoriya’s lives interwoven so naturally together.

He sends a text to Midoriya: going out to do some shopping. He’s gotten enough memories from his botched attempts in the Yuuei dorms to remember how to make katsudon. Shouto pulls up a map on his phone to find the nearest grocery store, and he’s already halfway out the door when Midoriya texts him about putting a hat on because his hair’s a bit too conspicuous.

Shouto turns back and grabs the closest thing he sees: an All Might cap hanging on the coat rack by the entrance. It probably belongs to Midoriya, but somehow the strap is already adjusted perfectly to fit Shouto’s head.

The katsudon Shouto makes is not perfect. In fact, it’s kind of sloppy, but it’s still better than anything he remembers making.

He passes some time washing what dishes he can. The meal is almost lukewarm by the time Midoriya comes shuffling in through the front floor, calling out, “I’m home!”

Oh. Shouto pauses. Then, voice crackling from a morning of disuse, he replies, “Welcome back,” and wonders if it would’ve sounded more natural coming from the Shouto who has all his memories intact. But Midoriya turns the corner to the kitchen and Shouto doesn’t have time to worry about it anymore because he’s too busy being blinded by Midoriya’s smile.

“You actually went and made katsudon for me? Oh, Shouto, you really didn’t have to!”

“I wanted to. I was feeling a bit restless.”

Midoriya starts digging into his lunch. “How are your memories? Are you doing okay?”

“I’ve remembered up to winter break of second year.”

“Ah, I never thought too much about it while it was happening, but we had a pretty hectic first year, didn’t we.”

Shouto nods. “Villain attacks. Second year was quiet in comparison.”

Midoriya quirks the side of his mouth in a wry expression. “Yeah, you think it’s bad, but wait until you remember our third year.”

Conversation lulls. Shouto is used to sitting quietly with Midoriya, but this time it feels different because he doesn’t remember anything 22-year-old Shouto usually does with him. He doesn’t remember anything current, about friends or work or hobbies.

“Has villain activity died down, these days?” Shouto asks. For a pro hero, talking about villain activity is probably like talking about the weather.

Midoriya considers his question. “I’d say so, yeah. But the style of villain attacks have also changed. After the whole League of Villains situation, more and more villains have started working together in groups. That’s why more hero agencies work with hero teams now, instead of just one hero with a bunch of sidekicks. Teamwork is more cohesive when everyone is on an equal footing.”

“Do we work in a hero team, then?”

“Yeah! Our agency has you and me, Iida, Tokoyami, and Shinsou. Tokoyami and Shinsou handle more of the underground work and nighttime patrols, so you and me and Iida ended up being the face of the agency. We’re a good team. We all understand one another well, and that helps when talking through disagreements. We invited Uraraka and Tsuyu too, but the girls in our class decided to form their own agency.”

“Okay.”

Midoriya inhales an entire pork cutlet and stuffs his mouth with lots of rice. He looks a bit like a hamster. Shouto is almost done with his own lunch since he’s mostly just been listening to Midoriya talk. “Is there anything you’d like to do today? We should enjoy our days off from work while we can, Shouto.”

That again. Shouto. When did they get this close? Midoriya was still calling him ‘Todoroki-kun’ up to their second year.

“...Izuku?” Shouto tries, unsure and hesitating, but wishing to close the distance between them created by the gap in his memories. Midoriya—no, Izuku brightens and nods eagerly at him, frantically chewing and swallowing his mouth of food in a hurry to leave it free to talk.

“Shouto!” he echoes back, a reassurance.

“Izuku,” Shouto nods in confirmation. “If it’s okay, I think I’d like to visit the agency. And hang out with our friends.”

Izuku grins at him. “I can arrange that.”

Izuku collects both their bowls when they’re done and takes over dishwashing duty like it’s a foregone conclusion. “You cooked for me, so I’m washing,” he explains, “We made a system.” He says this careless like an afterthought, as if he’s needlessly reminding Shouto and not actually telling him for the first time.

Shouto stands by with a towel and his left hand warmed up, ready for drying dishes. Izuku dips his hands into the sink.

“Izuku, do I get better at making katsudon?”

“Yeah, you do,” he says, and then he flusters, “I mean—I didn’t mean to imply that you did badly today, it tasted pretty good! Even though you only remember up to second year. Um, thank you! Katsudon is much more complicated than zaru soba, I kind of feel bad. Shouto, you have minimalistic tastes, don’t you.” He stops here to spare Shouto a smile. “Anyway I’d be happy to eat any katsudon you make for me. Or, any other meal, it doesn’t always have to be katsudon. I’d appreciate it! But your katsudon nowadays is one of the best I’ve had. Only beaten by my own mom,” Izuku says, finishing off with a cheeky grin.

“That’s fair. She’s been cooking it for much longer.”

Izuku hums in agreement.

Shouto thinks there’s something different about this Izuku, older than the one he remembers. Something more relaxed and confident in his movements. It’s still Midoriya Izuku, with his bright and easy smiles, his stubborn determination, his kindness. It’s Izuku, who still rambles a lot, except now he doesn’t cut himself off or let it dissolve into mumbling.

He wonders if this is something Izuku grew into, during his years at Yuuei that Shouto has yet to remember. Or perhaps it is a result of Izuku’s years of companionship with his classmates, with Shouto—as friends, coworkers, cohabitants in an apartment. Was I able to make you better the way you did for me?, Shouto wonders.

Not for the first time, Shouto wonders what 22-year-old Shouto is like, if the changes in himself are anything like Izuku’s, if he carries himself differently; the Todoroki Shouto that belongs in this present time.

“Am I happy?” Shouto asks.

Izuku sends him a curious side glance, but he seems to understand.

“I hope so,” he says softly, “I’d like to think so. But Shouto, only you can answer that for yourself.”

Shouto looks around at their kitchen, at their shared apartment that’s less than familiar to him but still feels like a home. There’s so much warmth here, cultivated over years he doesn’t recall. Shouto thinks about how time smooths over their rough edges, and he hopes for even more; time to grow and live with Izuku, to learn to make even better katsudon.

He thinks he knows already, what the answer to his own question will be.

Pax Agency is a five minute walk from their apartment. The building is distinctive but modest, and Shouto’s first thought when they walk in the front doors is ‘welcoming’. There are white lilies by the front desk. A bowl of sweets on the counter. Their receptionist is a greying but lively man who waves and pipes a cheery hello from behind the desk. Izuku calls him by his name and waves back.

The office space has a generally open layout, with more private working spaces to the side and the heroes’ work desks sectioned off on a separate floor. They meet someone who works for their PR team, a calm and efficient man who introduces himself as Ikeda. He tells Shouto that he should lay low from the media as he usually does while he waits for his memories to return. Officially, if anyone asks, Shouto is taking a short break from work to have some time for himself. Same goes for Izuku.

“Your secretary Kawasaki has already briefed all affected employees on your current situation,” he says. “It’s on a need-to-know basis.”

A woman dressed in cheerful colours approaches them. “Do I hear my name?”

“Kawasaki,” Ikeda greets.

“Deku, you’re back already! With Entropy too. Ikeda, do you see this?” Kawasaki gestures at Shouto and a sheepish Izuku. “These two finally take a break after working nonstop two weeks straight, with overtime, and they still show up on their day off. Guys, just go home. Please.”

“Wait, when I was… Shouto hasn't taken a break for two weeks?” Izuku has an odd look on his face, something like surprise or regret.

Shouto looks to Izuku and raises an eyebrow. “I don’t even remember. What’s your excuse? I thought you were trying to be less self destructive.”

Izuku pales and gives him a weak smile. It’s the same smile he pulls when he’s anticipating a scolding from All Might or Aizawa—he’s hiding something. “Let’s postpone this talk, okay? After you remember everything.”

Shouto narrows his eyes slightly and watches Izuku squirm under his gaze. “Okay. After,” he confirms.

“Someone’s in trouble,” says Kawasaki in a singsong whisper, which gets her an elbow in the side from Ikeda.

“Who is?” Shouto turns to her with a bland stare. “Is it you? Are you in trouble?”

“Uh, no. I’m okay, thanks,” she stretches a smile at him, eyes wide. “No trouble at all, please.”

Ikeda swoops in to save her. “Ingenium came back from his patrol an hour ago. He’s in the office, if you’d like to see him.”

Izuku brightens. “Oh, thanks for telling us! I wanted to talk to him today.”

After exchanging brief farewells, they turn to make their way to Iida’s office, Shouto following Izuku’s lead. They’re not quite out of range yet when Shouto hears Ikeda commenting, “Is it just me, or does Entropy’s stare seem scarier than usual today?”

“Might be the memory loss. He’s still got a perfect poker face though. I can never tell if he’s fucking with me or not,” Kawasaki sighs.

“Oh, he was definitely messing with you,” Ikeda tells her. Shouto can hear the smirk in his voice.

The top floor of the building is where the heroes do their paperwork. The room is big, with five long work desks for the five heroes lined up against the wall, reminiscent of a classroom format. Iida’s desk is the first one in front of the room. He’s the only one there when Izuku and Shouto walk in.

“Ah, Midoriya. Greetings!” Iida looks up from a thick stack of files on his desk. “I didn’t catch you this morning because I was on patrol duty. And Todoroki! I hope you’re coping well with your odd situation. I can’t say I have any experience with it, but as your coworker and friend, I am here to support you if you need it!”

“I got it, thanks.” Todoroki gives him a nod. It’s good to see Iida doing well.

“How’s work going?” Izuku asks.

“Perfectly fine! I’ll be joining Shinsou and Tokoyami on tonight’s raid on the villain headquarters”—he gestures to the files in front of him—“We’re mostly ready to go, but we’re communicating with the police to work out some final kinks in the plan.”

“Oh, that’s good. Sorry for pulling out on the operation so suddenly,” Izuku says.

“No, as your friend, I’m quite relieved that you decided to,” Iida says seriously, lowering his voice not for secrecy but for emphasis. “You really need this break. Don’t worry, Hero Deku. There are plenty of other heroes who will cover for you, as you do for us. You don’t have to shoulder the weight of being Number One on your own. We all work together, remember?”

Izuku hunches his shoulders like he can feel Shouto’s steady gaze on him. “Yeah. Thanks Iida. I’m guessing that means you won’t be free to hang out with us tonight, then?”

Iida shakes his head. “Have fun, you two.”

“We will. Good luck on the raid.”

The sun sets, and Iida’s caught up with work and sends his regards, so it’s just Uraraka and Tsuyu who meet them at the train station. They go to an izakaya because it’s late and they’re hungry and Uraraka is craving meat.

Nighttime brings the tired middle-aged crowd waiting to let loose at the end of a work day. The place is crowded and cramped but it's good here because nobody really cares if they're heroes or not, in all this noise. Shouto squeezes in to his seat next to Izuku.

“Uraraka, you shouldn't be drinking that much, you have work tomorrow!”

“Don’t worry, Deku. I can come in late on Fridays because it's a paperwork day for me.”

“What would Iida say?”

“He's not here right now!”

“I’m sure Iida would be supportive of her need to relieve stress and let loose emotionally.”

“Shouto, don’t encourage her!”

Uraraka giggles. “I’ve had a long day at work,” she says, nodding in agreement.

The food is warm, and so is the beer. The atmosphere is much noisier than Shouto would like, but he’s comfortable beside Izuku who sits close, pressing the length of their arms together. Shouto instinctively leans into it like muscle memory. Their elbows knock every time Shouto reaches for a dish on the table. Shouto feels the warmth on his face and tries to pass it off on the beer he’s barely been sipping at, but he doesn’t think it’s working because Tsuyu is looking at him knowingly. Or maybe that’s just how she looks all the time.

“I know you guys are busy, we haven’t heard from you in a while. How’s work going?” Uraraka asks, landing her expectant gaze on Shouto.

“It must be pretty bad, because my mind has completely blocked it out,” Shouto deadpans.

Uraraka blinks at him for a moment. “Oh, right! I forgot,” she grins apologetically. “Oops.”

The corners of Shouto’s mouth quirk up in a half-smile. “It’s alright.”

Perhaps it’s only for Shouto’s benefit, but the conversation steers itself into the waters of high school nostalgia. They talk about Mario Kart nights in the Yuuei dorms, and that one time Izuku beat the undefeated Rainbow Road champion, Bakugou, who exploded his game controller and had everyone yelling so loud that Class 2-B in the next building called the teachers on them. Other silly but treasured anecdotes like these.

“Remember 3 years ago? When Todoroki won Hero Central’s official poll for most beautiful hero of the year,” Uraraka says, cheeks puffed up with the effort spent holding back her laughter, “Oh my god, I spit water all over my shirt when I found out.”

“She’s not laughing at you,” Tsuyu reassures him, “Both of us actually voted for you in the poll, when we saw you were nominated.”

“Thanks for your support,” Shouto says, no hint of gratitude on his face.

“I always thought the poll was kind of pointless.” Izuku pulls a face. “What does being pretty have to do with heroism in the first place? I mean, unless your quirk is somehow reliant on your appearance…”

“I can’t believe you don’t remember that poll, Todoroki,” Uraraka somehow manages to shake her head regretfully while looking incredibly amused. “We were all so proud of you. You graduated from being prettiest in class to being prettiest in Japan.”

“It’s… just a popularity poll,” says Shouto, lost. Tsuyu pats his arm comfortingly.

“But it really was kind of incredible,” Izuku agrees, “I mean, year after year, the winner of the poll has always been female, except that one time 5 years ago when nobody could agree on what gender the hero Aphroditus was. Although, your nomination that year could be attributed to your sudden popularity on social media. That was the year you made Instagram and started posting on it, because you broke your camera while fighting a villain on your day off. Uh, anyway, I do think that you deserve it though!” Izuku quickly glances at Shouto, then away at his fidgeting hands. “You have an elegant appearance, I mean, you look a lot like your mother. Yeah. Your mom is really pretty.”

“Hm,” Uraraka says, and Izuku flushes pink. “His mom. Yeah.”

Shouto blinks. “Thanks, Izuku. More people have told me that I look like my father.”

“I think you look more like your mom than your dad, actually,” says Izuku. “It’s, uh—” he seems to be unsure of where he’s going with this—“the bone structure?”

In the corner of his eye, Shouto sees Uraraka slowly bring a hand up to her forehead.

Before he can figure out how to respond, Tsuyu saves the day and turns the topic away to more memories of dumb high school teenage shenanigans. Shouto doesn’t remember this one either, but Izuku had apparently tried to lift the whole class up on his arms for their graduation photo. It failed spectacularly. It’s not that Izuku wasn’t strong enough -- the entirety of Class 3-A could pull off some amazing teamwork fighting off villains, but they couldn’t coordinate well enough to balance on top of each other. Bakugou wanted to be at the very top but couldn’t stop shoving people for long enough to stabilize the tower of rowdy teenagers.

“It would’ve been such a good picture,” Uraraka bemoans. “I wish Shinsou carried out his threat to brainwash all of us into behaving so we could take the photo.”

“It couldn’t be helped, ribbit,” Tsuyu says, “Aizawa got tired of waiting for us so he just walked away with Todoroki’s camera. We couldn’t find anyone to take the photo for us afterwards.”

“I miss everyone,” Izuku pouts. “When’s the class reunion, again?”

“April. It’s our turn to plan the next one,” Uraraka reminds him. “Ah, we’re so old! We never had to do paperwork or taxes in high school. I wish we were teenagers again.”

“Not in our high school, no,” Tsuyu remarks. “I would not like to see Shigaraki again.”

Everyone around the table collectively makes a face at the thought.

“Time sure flies by fast,” Shouto says, “You wake up and suddenly you realize you’re not fourteen years old anymore.”

“Oh my god, Shouto,” Izuku puts his face in his hands, smiling through his fingers.

Shouto sits back, listening to his friends recounting past events made more entertaining with their banter. Many moments spent with his class and his friends, they all settle warmly in his chest. But no, Shouto wouldn’t want to return to being a teenager again. The future, the present—it seems so much more awfully bright to him.

They don’t drink enough to be drunk and none of them want to go home yet, so Uraraka takes them bowling.

She doesn’t start her interrogation until Izuku goes up to play his turn.

“So, when are you going to ask him out?” she says, eyes fixed carefully on Shouto. “I can see you pining harder than usual.”

He gives her a side glance. He was expecting her to bring it up sometime, having texted her about Izuku in the morning, but not in such a direct manner. Maybe Tsuyu’s been rubbing off on her. Shouto turns his eyes to the front and watches Izuku’s bowling ball sway a little to the right and knock down eight out of ten pins. “Do you think it’ll turn out well?” he asks.

“Yeah it will. Trust me,” she says, “and trust Deku too.”

Shouto watches Izuku bowl a spare with a ball that shoots down its lane almost unnaturally fast. He turns to beam at Shouto from across the room, and Shouto smiles back. Uraraka gives Shouto a thumbs up and a wink, and gets ready for her turn.

“Deku, you can’t use your quirk, got it? That’s cheating!” he hears her tease Izuku. She stares down Izuku, jokingly competitive, and rolls her right shoulder, flexing a little.

“Uraraka, I would never!”

Uraraka seems especially joyful. Shouto wonders if this is the sort of thing she gets up to on the occasional ‘Manly Friday Game Nights’ she would have with Bakugou and Kirishima, back in the Yuuei dorms. He wonders if the unexpected trio still hold those get-togethers now.

“She’s right, you know.” Shouto turns to his right to find Tsuyu staring kindly at him with her unblinking eyes. “I can see that you’re good for him”—Tsuyu pats his shoulder—“and he’s good for you too. To me, you already seem much lighter than you were back in high school.”

Walking home with Izuku, it’s late. The only source of light comes from streetlamps and the neon glow of shop signs. It casts muted shadows and vague colours that shift on Izuku’s face in a way that makes Shouto wish he had his camera with him.

“You doing okay, Shouto?” Izuku asks. “Did you have fun today?”

“Yeah,” says Shouto. “Did you? You don’t have to spend all day worrying about me.”

“I had fun too! It’s just, I wasn’t sure how well you’d be dealing with your memory loss and everything. I’m glad you’re doing okay.” Izuku smiles, and once again, for what was probably the billionth time in his life, his words manage to touch Shouto’s heart. All day, Shouto was so focused on learning as much as he can, returning himself closer to normal, to his 22 year old self, but Izuku was worrying about how Shouto was doing in the present.

And maybe it’s his leftover confidence from winning at bowling, maybe it’s Izuku’s quick smile when he catches Shouto’s eyes on him, or maybe it’s just all the reminiscing they did that night. Whatever it is, it lets him loosen his tongue and say, “I’m glad you exist, Izuku.”

Izuku’s steps falter, his head whipping around to face Shouto, staring at him like—well, Shouto can’t be drunk, it’s been hours since he’d had his half-bottle of beer. He’s just feeling especially brave and expressive (and sappy) all on his own. The warm feeling is still in his chest.

“I don’t know if I’ve ever told you directly before,” Shouto says. Once he’s started, he can’t hold back the rest of it. “You changed my life,” he insists, “I’ve been thinking since first year, that I would spend the rest of my time repaying that kindness. Repaying it back to the world. And to you.”

Eyes glittering and wide, Izuku gapes at him, mouth open and closed. “Shouto…” he whispers.

“And I also don’t think I thanked you properly, for staying by my side two days ago when I woke up with my memories lost.” Shouto smiles. “So thank you, Izuku.”

Izuku looks at him, stricken. He breaks from his frozen stance and tackles Shouto into a hug. “No, thank you. What did I ever do to deserve you? I’m sorry,” he says, and Shouto is confused. “You don’t remember, but,” he closes his mouth, opens, then closes again. “I—”

He huffs out in laughter. “Izuku, just accept my thanks. We can talk about it later. Okay? After.”

Izuku nods slowly into Shouto’s shirt. He gives Izuku’s shoulders a squeeze, sinking into his warmth, and doesn’t let go of him until a car honk in the distance reminds him of their surroundings. It’s late and they should really go home; at this rate, Shouto’s going to wake up in the afternoon after downing the bottle of healing tears and passing out for his mandatory 12 hours.

A heartbeat or two, then they separate. As always, Shouto watches Izuku’s ever-shifting expressions. Slight smile, a brief flutter of lashes. Then, so softly he almost doesn’t catch it: “I’m glad you exist too, Shouto.”

Chapter Text

The hardest part is always when he first wakes up and there's two more years of memories crammed into his head. Again, it takes Shouto a while to shake away the feeling that it’s also the morning after an unremarkable day at work, almost a year after graduation. He is 22, he recites in his head.

He’s still missing about four years of memories, but he’s also gained two years he’d never like to forget again. Now he has the memories to give meaning to the evidence of the past left lying around the apartment. Like how the Uravity and Froppy cushions on the couch are actually Shouto’s purchases from the first time Izuku took him to HeroCon. The handmade mug that Shouto regularly uses was a gift from Eri when they moved in. The tea set from Yaoyorozu.

And the All Might hoodie that’s always on the couch is Izuku’s favourite; the one he pulls on because oversized and warm is what he likes when he’s lounging around the apartment on his Saturdays off with Shouto.

(Shouto has Sundays off too, but Izuku doesn’t. Shouto could sleep in but he never does, in favour of pressing a cup of coffee into the hands of a groggy Izuku, the way he used to do in the dorms at around 6:15 am. Izuku’s always rushing on Sunday mornings, and Shouto likes to follow him around the apartment, picking up after him when he grabs an extra sock in his frantic hurry and tosses it onto the couch, or leaves his coffee on the table and forgets it. “I’ll see you later,” Shouto would say as Izuku rushes out the door yelling that he’s off to work now, and then Shouto would wash the breakfast dishes in the sink and get ready to visit his mother in the hospital.)

There are still four years left of this for Shouto to remember, and nothing different seems to have happened between them, rejection or otherwise. Except Shouto’s only fallen closer and closer and deeper, and really, he wonders how many times he’s had to swallow his ‘I love you’s.

Shouto blinks away his fatigue and rolls over to check his phone. It’s not the morning, it’s the afternoon, the numbers on his lock screen tell him. He has a new message from Yaoyorozu: Let’s talk soon! Call me when you’re available, it reads.

He hits the dial button.

“Todoroki!” Yaoyorozu pipes cheerfully into his ear, and it makes Shouto smile. “I’m on my lunch break, so don’t worry, I have time. How are you?”

It’s good to hear her voice again. Sometime in their years at Yuuei, they grew their friendship from small discoveries like tea over coffee, stray cats in the neighbourhood, their like-minded perfectionism, and similar expensive inclinations with particular things like tableware and stationery. And then their friendship stuck fast, the other a steady presence among their web of mutual friends with excitable personalities. Up to the cut-off point in Shouto’s memories, the both of them hadn’t seen each other outside of work in a while, dedicating all their time into starting up and establishing their respective hero agencies.

“I’m fine,” he tells Yaoyorozu, who always takes time for niceties like this. “How are you?”

“I’m fine as well,” she says, and finally allows herself to jump straight to her topic in mind. “I heard from Asui that Midoriya took a long break from work to spend time with you. That should be enough opportunity for you, right? So, how did it go?” Shouto can almost hear her eyes sparkling with excitement.

“Um.”

“You haven’t gotten back to me about it, so I got worried. I was waiting for updates from you! I hope you didn’t forget!”

“What are you talking about?”

“Last week! You were going to confess to Midoriya.”

Oh. Oh.

“Yaoyorozu, thanks for listening to me for so long. I think I’ll go do just that, right now.”

“What? Right now? Wait, you haven’t told him yet?”

“Yes, exactly. I'll text you about it later,” he says, and hangs up.

Shouto brushes his teeth while scrolling through his, frankly, embarrassing chat history. I just want to see him again, he reads the message under his own name, I don’t think he realizes how much he means to me. He doesn’t know what he was thinking when he sent these, but better to Yaoyorozu than anyone else.

If confessing his feelings to Izuku was already something he’d intended to do, then Shouto might as well go ahead and do it himself, memories or not.

He remembers now, nearing the time of graduation, when Izuku came to him asking for a roommate. It’ll be tough for a while, he said, since we both decided on downtown Tokyo, since we’re starting up our own agency so early on. Cheaper rent. Shouto wanting to move out of his family home. Shouto’s trying to be financially independent from his father and sharing rent will help. They’d both said all these things. But now, when Pax is doing a lot better, and they both have enough money saved up to live in a much bigger and better place, on their own, there’s no reason left except the one they haven’t said.

Trust in Deku, Uraraka told him. Shouto knows, at least, that he is important to Izuku. He can see it everywhere, even in this small bathroom, where there’s one tube of toothpaste and one each of shampoo and soap, because at this point it’s easier to share. Also in the cabinets, where Izuku has donated his five spare official hero merch towels to make up for Shouto’s single plain-blue one. Shouto drops his toothbrush into his cup, on the bathroom counter where it stands in its place beside Izuku’s.

Trust in Izuku, Shouto does. Years of this—of sharing and routines and memories made—won’t be shaken so easily.

Yaomomo
I hope it goes well. Good luck!

Shouto makes his way across the apartment, footfalls silent due to lifelong habit. He hears voices coming from the kitchen. Someone’s visiting.

“...no complications?” he hears Izuku say, close enough now to make out the words.

An almost recognizable voice responds. “We called Bakugou’s team for backup firepower, and everything went fine. The captive was safely retrieved. All villains present were captured and handed off to the police. They’re still figuring out logistics for the stuff that was stolen.”

“Ah, that’s good to hear! It’s the best case scenario.”

Shouto rounds the corner to the kitchen doorway and spots a familiar head of purple hair. “You weren’t involved in the raid but you had a big part in the whole operation. Without your information we couldn’t have put this plan together in the first place. So I thought you should at least know that it turned out well,” Shinsou says. His eyes flick to Shouto standing by the doorway. He raises his hand in greeting, and Shouto gives a careful nod back.

“Heard about your amnesia,” he says, flashing his lazy shark grin at Shouto, the one he likes to use to either annoy or intimidate people. “But you remember me now, don’t you? Shame. Could’ve pulled some good jokes on you.”

(Here’s a secret: His scary smiles don’t work as well if you remember that he likes to lounge around in fluffy cat slippers, drinking out of his favourite mug—the one labelled ‘Drink me meow!’ in bright lettering across the front, with the cat ears on the rim, that looks like a unicorn puked all over it.)

“Yeah,” Shouto says, moving past him to the electric kettle to boil water for tea. “I’m up to the year after graduation.”

A large part of Shouto’s friendship with Shinsou consisted of nocturnal companionship. There were always nights in the Yuuei dorms where Shouto couldn’t sleep, and more often than not, he would also find Shinsou awake and wandering the halls. Moments spent silently in the common room, staring out the window at the night sky, Shouto with his cup of tea and Shinsou with whatever he felt like that day, in his favourite disastrous mug. It was always better to sit with someone than to lie in bed alone and awake.

“The cat-like duo”, Izuku dubbed them, the first time he entered the common room at 4am in a fit of restlessness. He’d nearly given himself a heart attack when he found them sitting in complete silence with the lights off, blinking slowly at his noisy entrance.

In the end, Shouto never spoke all that much to Shinsou. Shinsou was closer to Izuku than he was to Shouto, but then again that’s the case with most people.

“Afternoon, Shouto,” Izuku says, “I had lunch with Shinsou today. I thought you might be hungry when you got up so we bought some back for you too. Yakisoba.”

“Thanks, Izuku. Good afternoon.”

“By the way,” Shinsou says, turning to Izuku, “Kirishima wants you to come hang out with him and Bakugou and Sir Lord Explosion Murder later.”

“At the dog park?”

Shouto pauses, startled when he realizes ‘Sir Lord Explosion Murder’ is most likely a dog’s name.

“Yeah. Bakugou is expecting you. Let’s talk like civil adults, he said.”

“Scary,” Izuku mutters.

“He’s probably just going to yell at you a bit about the same thing everyone’s been pestering you about nowadays.”

There’s a piece of the puzzle Shouto’s been missing. He can see it in the guilty slope of Izuku’s mouth. “Izuku, what did you do this time?”

“You haven’t talked to him about it yet?” Shinsou says, and raises his eyebrows. “You really should. Out of all of us, he was probably the one who was thinking about you the most.”

Izuku grimaces. “Shouto,” he begins, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt, looking much like a kid being forced to apologize after an elementary school tussle.

Shouto leans against the kitchen counter and waits, blowing frosty air at his cup of tea. He watches Izuku pull at his lip the way he does when he’s thinking hard about something. He’s not mumbling out loud, so Shouto thinks the issue isn’t what to say but rather how to say it.

Shouto decides to help him out. “I have something to tell you too,” he offers, “I can go first, if you’d like.”

Izuku nods, absentmindedly, still deep in his thoughts.

“Okay." Shouto takes a sip at his tea. Inhales. "Izuku, I love you.”

(Shinsou, who’s still in the room, chokes on air.)

Shouto stares resolutely at his tea. Only the slight trembling in his limbs betray his knowledge of the weight his words carry. Ignoring the turning of his stomach, he continues, like he's only talking about everyday things like work or the weather or their friends—because in the end that's what it is. It's an everyday thing; loving Izuku is like breathing. Habitual and instinctual. “I’m not expecting you to do anything about it. I just thought you should know.”

Izuku's face is red, and he's not responding.

“You look like a strawberry,” Shouto says. He can't help himself. “It's cute.”

Izuku sputters.

“He's right,” says Shinsou, who should've left the room by now, but hasn't. Shouto gives him his best glare.

Izuku makes a noise in his throat.

They stand across the kitchen from each other, years and years of being friends and partners and roommates and something else they’ve been trying to figure out, maybe for a long time. “I've been living with these feelings since maybe first or second year, so,” Shouto explains, still waiting for Izuku to find his voice, “I got used to it. I'll be fine.”

“First year?” Izuku squeaks. He's staring, like it's the first time he's ever looked at Shouto.

“Yeah. So, you don't have to act any differently,” Shouto says, avoiding his gaze. He knows Izuku's expressions well, but for once, he can't tell what Izuku is thinking, and it unnerves him. “Unless you want to.”

“No, I want to!” Izuku blurts out, finally springing into action. “How I feel about you, I… It wasn't as far back as first year, but I grew to love you too.” Izuku has drifted closer, now in front of Shouto, placing soft hands on his arms.

“Oh,” Shouto says, awkwardly. He puts his tea down on the counter.

“Alright, time for me to leave,” says Shinsou, long overdue. “Ashido owes me 2000 yen.” On his way out the door, he turns and sends a smirk over his shoulder. “You look pretty cute yourself, Todoroki,” he calls out to Shouto's burning face. The little shit. Shouto takes some time to send a rude gesture at the closing door.

Back to Izuku's smiling face. “Shouto,” he calls.

Shouto's right hand reaches out, gently sliding ice-cool knuckles across Izuku's red cheek. “Izuku,” he echoes.

Izuku closes his eyes and hums, leaning into his touch. Izuku steps back. “Are you sure?” he asks, searching, “I do want this with you, whatever it is. But you don't have all your memories still. What if you change your mind?”

“Yaoyorozu called me this morning, asking me if I already confessed to you like I told her I would last week,” Shouto tells him, flatly.

“Oh,” Izuku looks up, surprised.

“If you want to wait a few days until I've gotten all my memories back, then that's fine too.”

Izuku moves forward and wraps him up in a hug. “No, no, that sounds kind of stupid. I don't want to wait anymore.” Izuku is squeezing him so hard Shouto's afraid his bones might crack under the pressure, but the warm bubbly feeling is rising up so fast in him that he doesn't even care. Shouto hides his smile in Izuku's hair, and tries to squeeze back harder.

Izuku never ends up telling Shouto what he was going to say.

“Later,” Izuku reassures, “Don’t worry, it’s just past news. It’s not too bad, I think? It’s just something we need to talk about soon. It shouldn’t have to wait for all your memories return.”

So, okay, Shouto will wait. He finishes his yakisoba and remembers to text Yaoyorozu that things went well. Shouto decides he’ll visit his mother in the late afternoon while Izuku leaves for the dog park.

“I don’t remember Bakugou having a dog,” he tells Izuku as they walk together to the train station.

Izuku blinks in surprise for a few moments. “Oh, yeah. I forgot how recent that was. He got the dog for his birthday last year. His fans go crazy over the dog pictures.”

“And Kirishima let him name the dog Lord Explosion Murder?”

“Oh, no, It’s Sir Lord Explosion Murder. God forbid you don’t call him by his proper title,” Izuku chuckles, “They made a deal over it. The unrestricted freedom to change Kacchan’s nickname on the class group chat whenever Kirishima wants, for his right to name the dog.”

Shouto frowns thoughtfully. “I can’t decide if that’s a good deal or not.”

“It’s worked out okay so far. We dog-sit sometimes,” Izuku shrugs. And Shouto only has a moment to think, Uraraka was right, we are so married, before Izuku glances at his train pulling into the station, and lightly nudges the back of Shouto’s hand. “I’ll see you for dinner later?”

“Yeah. Just text me.”

His mother is still in the same hospital she’s always been in. White, cool and pristine. Ageless like he’s still fifteen and visiting his mother for the first time, all over again.

The hospital hasn’t changed, but his mother has. Todoroki Rei has aged since, in the four years Shouto doesn’t recall. Although, she’s still just as pretty, and the new crinkles in the corner of her eyes only make her seem kinder.

“Shouto,” she says, cupping the side of his face in greeting, “I didn’t know you would visit today.”

“I took a few days off work.”

He has much to say, about his recent memory loss, about Izuku. The papers he’d found on his desk in his room—about mental hospital policies and the process of discharging patients—that tell him he’d been working to give his mother a brighter life and a better place to stay.

“Oh, you hadn’t told me about that yet,” his mother says, surprised, “Fuyumi and Natsuo have been asking me odd questions about houses recently. I suppose you’ve been discussing it among yourselves first.”

Shouto wonders if he shouldn’t have said anything about it. Did they mean to keep it a surprise? Well, it’s too late now. “Oops,” he shrugs, indifferently. “Have you thought about what you would like to do when you’re out?”

She looks out of the window, smile playing on her lips. “I guess I would like to grow some flowers of my own. All of you have brought me so many flowers over the years you’ve been visiting. I’d love to return the favour.”

She turns to back to him. “Shouto. Dear. I know I’ve said sorry many times to you in the past, but I don’t think I’ve said thank you enough.”

They talk about Izuku. He’s a delight. Bring him to visit again, she tells him.

They talk about Endeavor.

“Oh, stop scowling like that,” she chides him. After all these years, it’s been easier for her, for all of them, to talk about him in such a casual way. “You don’t even meet with him that often anymore.”

“I’m an independent adult,” Shouto says, much like a pouting teenager. “I bet he’s still trying to give me advice on how to rise up the hero rankings. I’ve already told him I don’t care about that. He still talks to me like I’m a child sometimes.”

She sighs. “At least he’s making an effort. You know you don’t have to forgive him,” his mother says, ever calm, fingers reaching out to comb through Shouto’s hair. “Just acknowledge that he’s still trying to be better.”

“Yeah. At least I get presents for my birthday now,” Shouto mutters. His entire childhood lost to his father’s ambition, years of abuse—it’s not something that can be healed so easily. Most days, his father’s face still pisses him off. Shouto wonders if he’ll still feel the same after getting all his memories back.

He’s had to think a lot about this during his high school years. Forgiveness is a tricky thing. It would be a lot easier, and simpler, to continue hating his shitty old man. But it wouldn’t make things better. Ever since Izuku barged into his life, Shouto has learned, many times, that focusing on resentment and pain is not a good solution. The best option is caring, and healing, and moving on to better things—for his mom, for his siblings, and himself. If the old man wants to start treating them better, then let him.

With time, they’ll figure it out along the way.

“I’m proud of you Shouto,” his mother tells him, something he’ll think about for the rest of the day. “You’ve grown so well, despite everything.”

They’re not anything like the first time he visited, both of them stepping so carefully, exchanging words like they’re constantly holding their breath around the other. Since then, they’ve had years to mend and learn how to be at ease with each other again. From Sorry to Thank you to I’m proud of you; they are making progress. Words flow better now. Time smooths over their rough edges here too, even in this unchanging hospital.

“Have you managed to talk with Father yet?” Shouto asks.

“Not yet. But I think I will soon. It’ll be good for us both,” she says. “I mean, I’ll be starting over in a new place, won’t I? When you get me out of this hospital.” She presses her mouth together in a weak effort to remain dignified in her excitement. Todoroki Rei looks a lot younger with her eyes shining and her mouth turned up at the corners.

“Hmm, I wonder, maybe I should cut my hair short. Shouto, what do you think?”

Shouto thinks—whatever it takes for his mother to keep smiling like that.

He’s in the old sweets shop gesturing to the shopkeeper at their display of strawberry daifuku. He'll bring some back for Izuku. The shopkeeper is the same spindly old man who smiles kindly at him—maybe he remembers Shouto from high school. Shouto collects his change. He's almost out the door, bag of sweets swinging by his side, when his phone vibrates in his pocket.

Izuku
[Location sent]

Izuku
meet me here when you're done, let's go on a date! ヾ(｡>﹏<｡)ﾉﾞ✧*。

Izuku
i mean, only if you want to?

Shouto
i want to

Izuku
okay! great!!!! it's a new all might cafe that just opened up so i haven't tried this one yet. places like this are getting rarer because all might is retired now so i want to check this out! asdfhfgkkl just because he's retired doesn't mean he isn't still an absolute ICON why do people keep closing down these cafes, it hasn't even been *that* long since his retirement?? he's still really popular!

Izuku
and i heard that this cafe is themed around the entire history of all might’s hero career and all the good deeds he's done? sort of like a commemoration cafe, i guess. i've seen photos posted online, they have a wall full of thank you notes from people he's saved!! i should bring all might here too he would love it

Izuku
hhhhhh i'm rambling again

Shouto
you know i don't mind

Izuku
yeah i know :D

Shouto
i'll be there in about 20 minutes

Shouto only gets as close as a few blocks away from the cafe when, of course, minor villain activity throws a wrench in his plans. From the street ahead, he hears distant screaming, and sees an extremely bright burst of light. Due to the buildings blocking his line of sight, Shouto doesn’t receive the effects of the flash-bang directly, but his eyes still throb and sting.

When he blinks his eyes open again, there’s someone running away in the opposite direction of the commotion. It’s a man who’s dressed in plain white, but he has goggles around his head and many tools and small weapons in his belt—probably a villain.

Priority is civilian safety. The flash-bang guy seems to be focused solely on escaping, so he likely won’t stop to hurt anyone on the way.

So, Shouto turns into the street the villain came from. It’s still his day off, but he runs in, ready to intercept any other villains at the crime scene. And he finds Izuku—because who else could it be—wrestling a struggling woman’s hands behind her back, another guy’s unconscious body on the ground beside them. It looks like he already has things handled.

Shouto helps with the woman first, sending heavy braces of ice around her feet and arms, and—“Eyes, too,” Izuku tells him, and without hesitation Shouto creates a thick blindfold of ice around her head. “Her quirk stops any movement that she looks at,” Izuku later explains.

“Nice job,” Shouto says, the corners of his mouth turning up, “Hero Deku.”

“Fancy seeing you here,” Izuku grins teasingly at him. He bats his eyelashes. “I didn’t think we would meet like this.”

As much as he would like a moment to revel in Izuku’s blatant flirting, he shakes his head. “No time,” Shouto tells him, creating more icy restraints for the unconscious villain on the ground. “The other villain with the flashbang quirk, he didn’t blind me for long enough. I saw him leave in that direction,” he gestures, “Possibly headed for the train station. You might be able to catch up.”

Izuku nods at him firmly, and rushes off in a crackle of green lightning.

Which leaves Shouto in the middle of the street, watching over two captured villains and waiting for the police to arrive, bag of strawberry daifuku still hanging by his side.

First come the police, then the press, and then the phone call from his secretary Kawasaki. Shouto deals with each of them in turn: straightforward with the police about the minimal information he has; awkward and brief with the press; passive and agreeable with Kawasaki who talks about paperwork, then praises him, then berates him for working on his day off.

“You've finally managed to capture the elusive trio of thieves the police have been chasing for 3 months,” a young and eager reporter says, shoving a microphone into Shouto's face. “They are notorious for avoiding capture due to their quirks which help them escape easily. Do you have any details you can share about the fight?”

“It wasn't me who fought them. It was Deku,” Shouto says, leaning away from the reporter, “You could ask him later, he’ll be back. Excuse me, I have somewhere to be.”

Shouto turns tail and hurries round the street corner, out of sight. He kind of feels bad about it—that reporter was quite young, he must've been new—but Shouto's never been good with the media. He doesn’t know anything about those villains anyway. And besides, Ikeda had told him to lay low.

So Shouto walks until he finds himself in front of the All Might cafe that he was supposed to meet Izuku at. It's closed now, but the street is quiet, and he decides it's a good place to wait for the commotion to blow over.

It takes around an hour or so, maybe—Shouto wasn't really keeping track—for Izuku to find him.

“Shouto!” Izuku calls out, jogging up to him. “Sorry, the villain and the police and everyone else took longer than I expected.”

Shouto holds up his bag of sweets. “For you,” he says. “Strawberry daifuku.”

Izuku makes a delighted noise, and Shouto's heart thrums with contentment. It might be considered a ruined evening; they ended up fighting villains on their day off and dealing with the aftermath instead of going on their date. And Shouto never even got to see Izuku for most of it. The evening might be considered a failure, but really, Shouto is just glad Izuku is here now.

Izuku's forehead is lined with sweat, and his cheeks a little smudged with dirt from earlier when one of the villains tried to push him into the wall. He looks tired and in need of a shower, but his eyes are bright and his smile is shining, and Shouto wants to kiss him.

And, oh—he realizes with a jolt—he can ask for that now.

His fingers reach out and wrap themselves around Izuku's elbow, and pulls him in until he's close enough to see all the freckles on Izuku's face.

“Izuku,” he says, “Can I?”

“A-Are you sure? It’s our first kiss and I'm dirty, and sweaty,” Izuku stammers, even though he should know by now that Shouto doesn't care, “And I probably stink, and I need a shower.”

Shouto just pinches his eyebrows together and twists his mouth into his best displeased frown. “Izuku, do you not want to kiss me?”

Izuku makes a half-panicked, fully-flustered face. It’s adorable, quite frankly, but Shouto doesn’t even have time to laugh at it because Izuku hurriedly cups Shouto’s face with his free hand and closes the rest of the distance between them. It’s nothing like sparks or fireworks, but Izuku kisses him so earnestly that Shouto almost stumbles backward.

It’s clumsy and soft and sweet. They hold hands and continue to press their smiling mouths together.

It’s well into the night and Izuku still needs a shower, so they stop to get karaage for takeout before making their way home. Izuku insists on paying for the both of them to make up for their ruined date.

“Sorry we couldn’t make it to the cafe,” Izuku says, looking rather down about it. “This sort of thing will probably happen really often if you’re going out with me.” He reaches for Shouto’s hand to hold, sliding their palms together and swinging it between them.

Shouto shifts his grip so that his fingers tangle together with Izuku’s. “I really don’t mind,” he says, but it seems that he chose the wrong words because Izuku’s face twists into something guilty.

Izuku covers his face with his free hand. “I’m such a disaster at this,” he groans.

“We’ll figure it out together,” Shouto says, trying to offer what bit of reassurance he can.

Izuku shakes his head repeatedly. “No, no. I mean,” Izuku takes a deep breath, drops his hand from his face. “Okay. You know that case Iida and the others were helping out with? The raid that happened last night.”

“Is that the same one Shinsou was telling you about this morning?” Shouto asks, and receives a nod. “So this is what you had to tell me about earlier?”

“Yeah, the police called up our agency and asked for our help to gather intel for the raid. Normally it would be Shinsou who takes up undercover missions like this, but he was busy at the time,” Izuku says. He’s still holding Shouto’s hand, which he squeezes sporadically to steady himself. “And I hadn't done stealth operations like that in a while. So I thought, why not? Sometimes they’re a lot harder to do, in a really different way from just fighting villains. Especially with my quirk. I tracked them all the way to Yokohama, and I stayed there, for a while.”

Shouto tilts his head at Izuku. “So what did you do that made everyone worry? It didn't seem like you got injured too badly,” he says, scanning Izuku critically from head to toe.

“These guys were constantly moving from place to place so I had to be constantly moving too. They were really slippery and sneaky and I didn't want to take the risk so I only slept a couple of hours a day,” Izuku admits. “For almost two weeks straight.”

Ah, there it is. Midoriya Izuku’s Recklessly Selfless Deed of the Month. Shouto had thought Izuku was getting better at cutting it back and being more careful with himself. He sighs heavily.

“I know you’re better at not getting seriously injured now, but that doesn’t mean you can go ahead and overwork yourself,” Shouto says. “You didn’t call in anyone else to help you out?”

Izuku lowers his eyes, looking resigned like he’s already heard this many times before. “That type of mission isn’t something I’m used to doing, so I guess I got a bit carried away with it,” he says. “I know. I’ll try to be better about asking for help next time.”

It seems like everyone from Kawasaki to Bakugou has been on Izuku’s case about taking better care of himself. They’re right, but it’s also true that Izuku’s work did a lot of good for the operation. Shouto wonders if Shinsou was the only one to tell him that. Sometimes people treat it as a given that Hero Deku will always succeed on the job. So Shouto sighs and says, “You did a good job, Izuku. The villains were caught because you did all of this. You saved a lot of people with that information.”

Izuku’s eyes well up and he gives Shouto’s hand a soft squeeze. “I thought you would be mad at me. I didn't even contact you at all the entire two weeks. I feel really bad about it.”

“Was I?” Shouto asks. “Was I mad at you?”

“I don’t know. You passed out in the fight with that other villain, and the next time I saw you, you didn’t even remember who I was,” Izuku tells him, tears spilling over. “And—I felt so bad. I’d rather you be mad at me.”

“I was probably mad at you,” Shouto confesses. “But I don’t need my memories to know that I just missed you a lot, more than anything else.”

“Me too. I missed you so much.” Izuku wipes the sleeve of his hoodie across his face. “I’m sorry for hyper-focusing on the job. I’m sorry for avoiding you for so long, and not considering your feelings. I’m so sorry, Shouto. It’s my day off work and I still couldn’t make it to our date.”

Shouto thumbs away at the tear tracks on Izuku’s cheek. “Izuku, it’s okay. We’re still learning. Me included. It sounds like I was also overworking that week, probably to distract myself from your absence,” Shouto doesn’t mean for it to be a jab, but Izuku flinches anyway.

“Sorry, I’m just. Like this,” Izuku mutters.

“And I’ll still love you like this,” Shouto says, pulling Izuku into a light embrace. “Give yourself breaks and take care of yourself. Or, if not even that, then at least let me take care of you.”

“Okay, okay. I promise I’ll be more mindful of myself next time,” Izuku mumbles, barely coherent through his tears and his face muffled into the fabric of Shouto’s jacket. “Shouto, I love you too.” They hug like this, in the middle of a random street in Tokyo. They’ve done this just yesterday too; Shouto loves how easy affection is with Izuku. It wasn’t always like this.

Izuku spends so much time blubbering into his shoulder that the takeout’s a little soggy by the time they reach home. It’s not so bad. They hold hands all the way back. Shouto doesn’t mind even if they never manage to go on a date.

Chapter Text

At first, Shouto doesn't notice that he's not 20 years old, getting up in the morning for another day of work at Pax Agency. He blinks his eyes open at the familiar ceiling of his bedroom, awoken by the incessant bird-chirping outside his window. He's a light sleeper, it’s not unusual for him to be up before his first alarm goes off.

Running on autopilot, Shouto pushes his covers back and quietly pads his way to the bathroom to brush his teeth. He’s half awake, so it takes a while for him to notice the last bottle of healing tears on the shelf beside the sink and remember that he’s supposed to be 22 years old and he's still on his day off work.

One more night and Shouto will be all caught up—on current events and the villain with the memory quirk he fought a few days ago, and the entire two weeks he spent not hearing from Izuku at all. He’ll get up and ready himself for work, his usual morning routine, sifting through his returned memories again for the last time. He’ll stand here at this same spot tomorrow morning, brushing his teeth as he gradually wakes up, 22 year old Shouto with all his memories intact.

Shouto shuffles into the kitchen and finds Izuku, who woke up early and decided to make pancakes. Izuku’s already scraped his plate clean, but there’s a stack of them set aside for Shouto.

“Morning,” Izuku chirps. He’s hunched over the table tapping away at his phone, and he seems a little frazzled, but he bothers to look up and send Shouto a smile. Shouto raises an eyebrow at him, and Izuku knows to take it as a prompt to start talking. “Okay, so. We should probably be more careful when we're in public. We have a media storm coming for us. Here, it's easier if I show you.”

Izuku turns his phone around and slides it across the table to Shouto. It’s open to a discussion thread on a forum about pro heroes. Apparently they’d been spotted last night, and now photos are circulating online. There’s a photo of the two of them kissing, and right beside it, a photo of Izuku crying in his arms. Activity on the forum suggests that Deku confessed to Entropy and kissed him, but he got rejected later so he cried. Someone else proposes a theory that Deku got his heart broken by someone else, and Entropy took the chance to swoop in and comfort him. Speculations are flying wild.

“We’re sorry,” Shouto says as soon as he accepts the incoming call from Ikeda.

“I thought I told you to lay low,” Ikeda sighs. “The rumours are getting too out of hand. We’ll have to say something about it soon to take control of the situation. Is Deku there with you? Put me on speaker.”

“Hi, Ikeda!” Izuku calls out to the phone as Shouto sets it down on the table between them.

“Hello Deku. First order of business is confirmation of your relationship status. The two of you are now dating, yes?”

“Uhh…” Izuku glances to Shouto, who gives him a simultaneous shrug and nod. “Yes.”

“Great. And knowing you two, you won’t want to make too much of a fuss over it, so just take some time to post an explanation on your official Twitter accounts and I’ll handle the rest of it. That should be enough for now. We’ll talk again when you’re back at work. Other than that, just lay low and enjoy the rest of your day off.”

“Yeah, that sounds simple enough. Thank you! As expected of the dependable Ikeda.”

“I’m just doing my job. Also, congratulations to you both, us at the agency have been waiting a while for you to get together.”

“Don’t tell me you guys placed bets on us too,” Shouto mutters.

“What!? Ikeda, is that true? I’d never expect this from you of all people!”

“Goodbye, I’ll see you both at work tomorrow.” Click.

Izuku stares despairingly at the phone. “That’s basically a yes,” he groans, putting his face in his hands.

“Izuku, do you still have my Twitter user and password?”

“Yeah,” Izuku lifts his head. “Oh! Do you want me to…?”

“Yes, please.” The only social platform Shouto uses on a semi-regular basis is Instagram, where he doesn't have to interact using words if he doesn't want to.

While Shouto lets Izuku handle Twitter for the both of them, he deals with the chaos in the group chat meant for all their previous classmates.

Uravity ☆
I CALLED IT

Uravity ☆
i told you guys it would be a slow, slow burn and i was right! you guys are poor fools, graduation was still way too soon

Froppy
wow it's been so long i almost forgot we made a bet about it

♛ Baron Explodo ♛
pull up the charts, it's time to pay up losers

♛ Baron Explodo ♛
some of you chucklefucks are about to owe me money. there's NO WAY deku confessed first

¥500 Phone Charging Service
i regret putting so much into that bet

Washi Tape
remind me again how much

¥500 Phone Charging Service
sushi treat for the whole class if midoriya doesn't confess first

¥500 Phone Charging Service
and you already know the part where i had to walk into class on graduation day in nothing but my underwear because they didn't get together before the end of school

Washi Tape
yeah lmao aizawa's face was hilarious, i felt so bad for him

Alien Queen ♕
don't worry guys, there's still hope! we still don't know who confessed first

Mind Blank
it was todoroki first. i was there, i should know

Tsukuyomi
Why were you there

Alien Queen ♕
you don't have PROOF

Mind Blank
you just don't want to admit that you lost

Alien Queen ♕
I already dyed my hair rainbow colours on the day of our graduation ceremony, what more do you want?

Mind Blank
just my 2000 yen, and the cat you promised me

Thermostat
kaminari, i'll look forward to the sushi

¥500 Phone Charging Service
FUCK

Alien Queen ♕
FUCK

Thermostat
shinsou, can i play with your cat when you get it

Mind Blank
yea come over any time

Tsukuyomi
What a mad banquet of darkness

Ingenium II
I'm sorry, Todoroki! I tried to put a stop to the bet but it got out of control very fast. I only managed to convince them not to interfere in your relationship to influence the results in their favour!

Uravity ☆
yeah iida is our mvp

Ingenium II
Also, congratulations to you and Midoriya! The whole class wishes you much happiness together.

Alien Queen ♕
oh yeah congrats!!!

Thermostat
thanks iida. have lunch with me and izuku tomorrow?

Thermostat
we’ll pay.

Ingenium II
Thank you for the kind offer! I'll look forward to it.

“Shouto, let's take a picture!” Izuku bounds over to him, phone already open to the camera app.

Shouto usually points his own camera at everything other than himself, because he's not exactly fond of seeing his own face in photos. His left and right sides are so distinct that it's a little unsettling to see them in a photo, switched around, the reverse of what he's used to seeing in the mirror. Not even mentioning the part where he still doesn't like looking at his own scar.

But selfies are a different story, especially with friends. With Izuku's arm around his shoulder, cheek smushed against his, it's not so bad. Shouto could stand to do this more often. He manages a smile for the camera. As Izuku's thumb goes to tap the shutter button on the screen, Shouto turns and presses a kiss to his cheek at the very last second, feeling playful.

“Shouto!” Izuku's grinning. “That's perfect, actually. Permission to post on Twitter?”

Shouto nods, and Izuku goes back to typing on his phone. Their ex-classmates are still quite lively in the group chat, trying to settle the results of their bet. Shouto stares passively at the messages popping up on his screen.

“Ikeda said to lay low. It still counts as laying low if we go out of Tokyo city, right?” Shouto asks.

“I guess. Why do you ask?”

“I believe you when you say you'll try to be better at taking care of yourself,” Shouto says, watching Izuku tense in anticipation for what he's going to say next. “But I just think the message will stick a lot better in your head if you're hearing it from All Might himself.”

Izuku visibly gulps. “Oh no,” he whispers in horror, “he's going to talk to my mom about it.”

Shouto shrugs. “I also just feel like visiting All Might today.”

Hero Deku ✓ @dekuofficial
Yes, I'm in a relationship with hero Entropy! We hope you'll respect our privacy and continue to support us!

Hero Deku ✓ @dekuofficial
Also thanks for your concern guys, I promise I'm okay! I was struggling with something in my life and Shouto was being so patient and understanding about it that I cried lol

Hero Deku ✓ @dekuofficial
Ok I know you guys still aren't satisfied so maybe I'll do another Q&A sometime soon
ヽ(´ ∀ ` *)ﾉ

Hero Entropy ✓ @heroentropy
Deku here, I hijacked Entropy’s Twitter! I’m so lucky, he makes me very happy.
[Image attached: Izuku grinning from ear to ear, holding up a peace sign. Shouto’s lips are pressed to Izuku’s cheek.]

Hero Entropy ✓ @heroentropy
Our personal lives will not affect our work, and we’ll continue to do our job as heroes to keep the city safe. Thank you for understanding.

A year after Class 3-A’s graduation, All Might retired from his teaching position at Yuuei. He moved to a relatively rural area on the outskirts of Musutafu, and bought a small plot of land to try his hand at a bit of gardening. Izuku had worried that All Might would be lonely living by himself away from the city centre, but it never turned out to be an issue, with All Might adopting a dog and a cat, and their whole class visiting so often.

Shouto’s wearing his All Might cap—the one he'd permanently borrowed from Izuku. It’s become a tradition for Shouto to wear a piece of All Might merch whenever he visits, because he likes the way All Might claps a steady hand on his back and twinkles his eyes when he locates the All Might merch of the day. Shouto’s favourite is the admittedly tacky All Might sunglasses with attached wings on the side that rewarded Shouto with All Might’s booming laughter the first time he showed up wearing them.

Shouto remembers pretty pink cosmos flowers in All Might’s flower garden. This time, he has sunflowers, and Shouto’s surprised to see that the plot of land has grown large enough to call it a flower field.

They pass by the sunflowers on the way to his house. Shouto’s driving because Izuku’s rambling monologues accompanied with soft music from the car radio is his favourite soundtrack to listen to while he’s at the wheel. Pulling up to their parking spot, All Might is waiting for them on the porch, decked out in various hero merch of his former students. He’s been influenced by Izuku’s fashion choices over the years.

“Hello, boys!” he calls out to them, crushing Izuku into a hug when he bounds over to him. “It’s good to have you visit again. Have you eaten yet? Come in for some tea and snacks.”

“It looks like we coordinated outfits,” Shouto says when he joins the two of them, also receiving a hug.

All Might blinks, glancing at Shouto’s All Might cap, then Izuku’s Entropy-themed hat, then lifting his own hand to his Deku cap, complete with bunny ears. “What a coincidence. It’s good to be supportive of each other!”

“Oh! That Deku cap is a new one,” Izuku grins. “How’s it been serving you so far?”

“It’s becoming a fast favourite. I’ve been wearing it when I go out to tend to my sunflowers. The sun is harsh these days.”

Shouto looks out at the sunflower field and imagines All Might standing there with his yellow hair and green Deku cap. Would he look more like a sunflower or a scarecrow, Shouto wonders. “I think you should keep growing sunflowers. They suit you well,” he tells All Might.

They go in for tea and snacks. While Izuku chatters on, filling in recent updates on his life, Shouto wanders off to play with All Might’s golden retriever Cali and his cat Missi, named after American states. He’s on the living room couch, occupied with a game of fetch with Cali while he strokes a sleepy Missi curled up against his warm left leg.

After a while, All Might enters the room and joins him on the couch, ruffling Cali’s fur when she runs up panting with the squeaky toy in her mouth.

“Where did Izuku go?” Shouto asks.

“He went outside for a walk. I wanted to chat with you for a bit,” All Might smiles kindly at him. “I’ve heard from young Midoriya about your memory loss. How have you been doing, my boy?”

Others may look at All Might’s hair like drooping sunflower petals, and his hacking bloody coughs that shake his frame, so comparably thin that it feels like he might snap in the wind. And they may call him weak now, it’s true.

But Shouto’s learned that there’s also strength in All Might’s firm hugs and guiding hand, his crows feet and laugh lines, eyes shining with conviction. The way all their ex-classmates visit him so often and leave every time with brighter smiles and lesser tension in their shoulders. Pro heroism can be a difficult and stressful experience, and the former members of Class A look for hope in All Might (and Deku) like flickering candles to an unwavering torch.

(Meanwhile, they email Aizawa for things like tricky legal situations and confusing paperwork. He still helps them out every time, even though he complains about them needing to handle their own paperwork by now, and how did any of these brats even pass his class, honestly.)

“I’ve been… impatient, mostly, waiting for myself to return to normal. It was a little frustrating in the beginning, but it got better the more I remembered.” Shouto smiles at the memory of his first day back from the hospital. The feeling of Izuku’s right hand, scarred and calloused, laid warm over the knuckles of Shouto’s left, something he didn’t know the significance of at the time. “Izuku helped a lot.”

“Ah, right. Young Midoriya told me about the recent developments in your relationship. Congratulations!”

“Um, thanks.” Is this the equivalent of getting approval from the boyfriend's father?

“It’s no problem, young Shouto,” All Might says, laughing that big laugh of his, “And it’s fine to feel impatient. It just means that your life is a good one, is it not?”

“I guess so. You’re good at being optimistic,” Shouto says. “What about your life? Are you happy?”

There's a pause where All Might seems almost surprised that Shouto asked. “I'm… better,” he says, smiling a bit tiredly. “Young Midoriya and the rest of you kids have definitely helped me out a lot. Just look at the flowers outside”—he gestures towards the window—“they're doing well. Don't worry about me, my boy.”

“Also, I’m officially retired from both heroism and teaching. I keep telling you kids you don’t have to call me All Might anymore. Yagi is fine. Or even Toshinori.”

“...Yagi-sensei,” Shouto says, inciting a wry smile from All Might. “I don’t think you ever truly stopped being All Might, and also our teacher.”

“Like how Aizawa never really stopped being the caretaker for you kids?” All Might grins. Shouto quite likes the way his eyes crinkle at the edges.

It doesn't take long to find Izuku outside, crouched slightly to be at eye level with the sunflowers. He’s intently watching two butterflies dance in between yellow petals and around each other.

“Izuku,” Shouto calls out to him, and Izuku turns to face him with his best smile. The butterflies fluster with his sudden movement. One of them lands and settles itself in Izuku’s wild green hair, like he’s some kind of sunflower fairy. Shouto feels something in his chest squeeze, delicately, like pressing down on the shutter button of his camera.

“Shouto, did you know that in western countries red poppies are associated with war? So they're kind of a sad flower. But here in Japan they're fun and loving,” Izuku says. “All Might wants to build a greenhouse next year so he can grow more varieties of flowers. Maybe he'll grow some poppies.”

He reaches up to tuck Shouto's hair behind his ear, as if he's putting an imaginary flower there. The action is so tender; Shouto's left feeling dazed and flushed. “I think you'll look pretty with a red poppy in your hair,” Izuku tells him, voice soft, smile sweet.

“Let's grow poppies when we retire,” Shouto blurts out, because growing flowers seems to be the thing to do if you're old and retired. He wonders what sort of flowers his mother's planning on growing. Maybe she can get advice from All Might.

Izuku seems amused. “You're already planning our retirement? At least let me propose first.”

“And you're already planning to propose?” Shouto shoots back. Izuku reddens, but the grin stays on his face.

Shouto shrugs. “Marriage won't make any difference to me. We've already been living together for so long.”

Standing with Izuku in a field of sunflowers—it's just the two of them under the clear and open sky. Everything is simple and Shouto feels like he'll last forever. They're still young and they have so much time, and Shouto is so in love.

“Yeah, I get what you mean,” Izuku says.

[Image: Midoriya Izuku standing in a field of sunflowers. The setting sun catches in his hair and he’s smiling at something off to the side, out of frame.]

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tshouto sunflowers suit him too

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uravity YOU GUYS ARE SO CUTE

dekudekiru wait when did you take this??

tshouto @dekudekiru when you weren’t looking

dekudekiru @tshouto that’s obvious?

tshouto @dekudekiru then why did you ask

dekudekiru @tshouto (¯―¯ ;)

“Stay and fall asleep with me?” Shouto asks, when they are back home and it's time to go to bed. So they set their alarms, and the next morning when the birds outside his window wake him early again, Shouto gets to lay in the hazy dawn light and watch Izuku stir from his slumber, eyelashes fluttering against his pillow.

Shouto shuffles closer and tucks his arm around Izuku. He presses his face into Izuku’s hair and he closes his eyes, and for a moment he sees his future—

His mom is out of the hospital and healthy. She’s growing her own flower garden and Shouto visits often with Fuyumi and Natsuo.

Izuku remembers to take care of himself. He’ll still pull something reckless from time to time, such is the nature of Deku’s hero work, but he has friends that he’ll rely on to support him.

Shouto and Izuku live in their apartment. They come home to the same bed and wake up to each other every morning. Shouto makes katsudon for dinner and Izuku makes zaru soba the next day. Maybe Midoriya Inko finally admits that she uses magic powers to make her katsudon the best.

The future is bright. There will be more moments to look for, more memories to make in this: their clasped hands under the sheets, Izuku’s smile in the morning, the shrinking space between them, feet tangled in feet.

They have so much time.

“Shouto, are you happy?”

“Yeah. I am.”