Archive of Our Own

Todoroki Shouto, one of the Top Three from his graduating year at UA, son of the number one hero, and voted most attractive up and comer in a few rather sketchy survey polls, now sits before the manager of a grocery store and hopes that he'll get the job bagging groceries. 

It's not a matter of being under-qualified; UA is one of the best high schools in the country bar none, and he's always had top grades. Plus, he doesn't know how much education you really need to bag groceries, but it shouldn't be too much. A high school diploma is satisfactory.

No, he's more afraid of being recognized than anything. It's happened far too many times over the past three years, even with his hair now black and his eyes - with the colored contacts - now brown. Midoriya says that it's just his face that's recognizable, and Shouto's considered plastic surgery before, but he doesn't want to make any irreversible changes.

Besides, someone will just find him and publish his new look anyway. He doesn't have social media anymore, only owning a flip phone, but Midoriya says that there are whole blogs dedicated to spottings of him around the country, along with pictures of his new hair color. It makes him feel like a mythical beast, but he isn't sure whether this is a positive or negative thing yet. 

Either way, he's hoping this manager, a man in his forties with orange hair and a sleepy gaze, won't recognize him. Under the name Satou Yuki, he could be basically anyone. 

Except for the scar. That's always a dead giveaway. Shouto doesn't know how he always forgets to cover up the scar.

"You're Todoroki Shouto," the man gasps, dropping his resume (which Shouto spent a full hour on) on the floor beside him. "My daughter has been a fan of yours since the first sports festival."

"Ah, really?" Shouto says evenly. "That's nice. Now about the job-"

"Can you sign this paper for me?" the man asks, and a little part of Shouto dies inside. I'm not getting this job, am I? And if I do, then I'll give it a week before the manager's daughter spreads my location and this place gets swarmed.

"Sure," Shouto sighs, and signs the paper for him. "Who should I make it out to?"

"Kimiko, please. Thank you so much." The man looks starstruck, which is ridiculous since Shouto isn't even a pro hero. He's just someone who graduated from a heroics school who now wants to settle down somewhere rural and live out the rest of his life in peace.

He doesn't really care about the low paying aspect of the job; he has a good amount of savings in his bank account, filled before his father cut him off entirely. He has a good amount coming in from the one modeling deal he ever did, which he gets paid for every time they use his picture. Really, he just wants something simple to fill the day. But it's been harder and harder to come by lately.

He hands the piece of paper to the man, then stands up abruptly. "Thank you for your time," he says, and begins walking out the door.

"Wait, Todoroki, sir," the man calls. "Why are you even here for a job? If you really need money, you should go into heroics."

Ah, good old unsolicited career advice. "Because, sir," Shouto says, not turning around. "I like groceries. And my name is Satou, not Todoroki." He leaves the office, then books it back to his bike before the man can call him back. Next job interview, then. I have time to spare.

The gas station is more forgiving towards him. He gets the job no problem, since the blond man with the large overcoat in charge barely looks at him before hiring him. He seems suspicious to Shouto at first, but his coworkers reassure him that he's just one of those eccentric reclusive types. It's better that he doesn't give him a second look, anyway.

His job is just to pump gas and clean cars, which is good for him, because he can wear a mask for both. He learns everything he needs to know on his first day, sits down in his designated chair, and waits for work to show up.

The quiet is what he always craves. In the hero world it's go go go save the person do it right everybody's panicking make sure the civilians are okay go to the galas avoid your father do this do that. Then once all of your energy is used up and your limbs barely work, you retire by forty - unless you're special like All Might or a stubborn bastard like his father - and spend the rest of your life fielding off reporters, reading articles about how hot you used to be, and crying yourself to sleep beside a much-younger one night stand that you picked up at a bar because they wanted to sleep with someone famous and you wanted to feel special again for a night.

Yeah, not exactly the life Shouto really wants for himself.

He's satisfied sticking around the gas station that always vaguely smells like chicken and pumping gas for cheap tips. He even gets a discount at the gas station shop, so he can buy himself a handful of meat sticks - a new treat he found that he really enjoys - for just three hundred yen.

There isn't a lot to do here, mostly sitting around, so he's started a new hobby: knitting. It gets him strange looks from his coworkers, but Christmas is coming up and the only way to get Bakugou to wear matching sweaters with him, Camie, and Inasa, is if he makes it himself. Then he can guilt him into wearing it.

He's also planning on making one for his mother. Sure, part of her quirk is that she's resistant to the cold, but she needs at least one for the winter so that she can show her friends that her son is better than their sons.

Besides, it isn't so hard once he gets the hang of it. He spends all day doing it, and his fingers quickly adapt to the point where he can hear his needles clicking to the beat of the store's music.

This is the life, he thinks as he hoses down a car, nodding to his coworker with the suds. I can live in a little townhouse, bike here every morning, and visit my friends on the weekends. Sure, it smells weird and at night there are some sketchy people around, but it's quiet and I get to work on my knitting and my father has no idea where I am.

No one has any idea where he is, really. According to Midoriya, all of the blogs have stayed quiet for now, and he only told his closest friends where to find him with strict orders to never show up there ever unless they're bleeding out on the ground. Nothing says suspicious more like Satou from the gas station personally knowing the top heroes of the new generation.

Everything is going great when the unthinkable happens: the hose stops working.

"Yeah, it's kinda shit," his coworker - Setsuko, he thinks - says off-handedly. "Just go to the manager and let him know to call the handyman. He'll fix it and it'll be working by tomorrow."

"Thanks," he says, and ventures to the manager's office. He hasn't gone there since he was first hired; apparently he's kind of a mystery, leaving their paychecks in their lockers and rarely showing his face. Maybe he's just really ugly. Shouto tries to remember what he looked like when he applied, but can't. I'll see him soon, I suppose.

He knocks on the manager's door, and when he doesn't hear anything, turns the knob slowly. He can hear a faint hum of music, and he looks to find his manager sitting on his desk, headphones snug around his ears and eyes closed. The most eye catching thing in the room, however, is the giant pair of wings attached to his back. Bright red wings, to be specific.

"What the fuck?" Shouto says, louder than he intends. After all, how is one supposed to react when the former number two hero who up and disappeared last year after a spy job gone wrong turns up in a gas station office? As his boss?

Hawks must sense something, because his eyes pop open, and he instantly grabs for his coat, pulling it right over his wings. The damage is done, though, and the two of them stare at each other, music still blasting from his headphones.

"Uh, hi," Hawks says eloquently, pulling his headphones down around his neck and putting the coat back on the chair. His trademark scar - almost as trademark as Shouto's - is covered by an eye patch. "Endeavor's kid, right? The one who disappeared? I thought it was you when you first showed up, but you gave a different name so I didn't want to say anything."

"Shouto," Shouto says, because it's been too long since he's been called anything associated with Endeavor and he'd like to keep it that way. "And you're... Hawks."

"Takami now," Hawks says, playing with a fallen feather. "It took me a while to get used to being called by my real name, but I think I like it better like this. I didn't get to pick being called Hawks. It's just what stuck with me."

"Why are you working at a gas station?" Shouto knows his own reasons, but he also knows that he's what Bakugou calls a "fucking oddball," so he can't speak for anyone else.

"I like the peace and quiet," Hawks- no, Takami says with a shrug. "I like the anonymity. I like having free time. You know I learned how to speak Korean just because I could? It's crazy how much time I have for myself now."

"I know right? It's crazy," Shouto says, pulling his half-finished sweater from his pocket. "I never used to have time for hobbies before. It was all hero training."

"God, preach to the choir," Takami says with a groan. "I didn't know how to do anything besides hero work. I don't know how I was a functional adult without knowing how to use a washing machine."

"I used to ask my friends for help."

"Same, man, same."

In the beginning, Shouto had been afraid that this meant the end of his gas station career. But now, exchanging stories with Takami, he almost laughs out loud. Here's a kindred soul who actually gets him! His friends try to relate, but they're all pro heroes who love what they do. He doesn't have any actual civilian friends. 

Well, Takami isn't really a civilian as much as a retired hero, but same difference!

"So Shouto, what did you come to ask?" Takami says, and Shouto's about to respond with news about the hose when he hears someone new walk in. Setsuko. And she's gaping at both of them.

"You're Hawks," she gasps, pointing to Takami's wings. "And you called him Shouto. Like, Todoroki Shouto. Oh my fucking god. I'm so fucking blind."

"It was a mistake, he meant Satou," Shouto says quickly, while Takami folds his wings and says, "They're props. I'm dressing like Hawks for Halloween." They look at each other, sigh, and look away. 

"Don't worry, I won't tell anyone," Setsuko says, but that's a lie. She'll tell someone who she thinks she can trust, and then they'll tell their own confidant, and so on and so forth, and the truth will come out. It's double damage this time, since there are two internet cryptids in one gas station. Practically a meet and greet.

"It was nice talking to you, Takami," Shouto says, pulling off his gas station apron and putting it down on the table. 

"You too, Shouto," Takami says, pulling on his coat and sticking his headphones back over his ears. "Who knows? Maybe I'll see you at 7/11 or something."

"Yeah, maybe." Although the odds of two hermits bumping into each other again are slim. They're both aware of that. 

"Here, take my number. It's nice to talk to someone who understands." 

"That it is," Shouto says, and he means it. Takami puts his number into his flip phone, and they both walk off in opposite directions, ignoring Setsuko's cries of "Where are you guys going?" Shouto's just glad that he brought a backpack; it's hard to bike while carrying a half-finished sweater over his shoulder.

Gas stations are overrated. What's the best minimum wage, minimum effort on the job market right now? Construction.

Okay, maybe it isn't the most minimum effort job, but Shouto likes waking up late, eating brunch, calling his mother, working on his calligraphy - he's finished with the sweaters and he needs something new - then going to the construction site for six hours and coming home so tired that he almost falls asleep showering. Then he goes straight to bed, and the cycle repeats. He's still in shape from hero school - albeit a little less now that he doesn't train every day - so he can keep up with the rest of them without getting too sore.

He now knows the appeal of the himbo. He sleeps too deeply every night to have any nightmares, and the grunt work keeps him from thinking a lot during the day. At all, really. It's satisfying to build and lift and follow rudimentary blueprints. He's satisfied with his life.

"Are you sure you're satisfied?" Midoriya asks over the phone one afternoon, before Shouto goes off to work. Midoriya's on his lunch break, the only real break he has all day. He works from eight in the morning all the way until nine at night, and frequently pulls later hours when he's on a big case. Being the number one hero must be exhausting. Can't relate. "If it's what you really want, then I support it, but..."

"I enjoy it," Shouto says firmly. "

"Shouto, don't you want your life to have more... meaning? You've been bouncing between minimum wage jobs, and I know that you can be spectacular in anything you want. You just have to try."

"Midoriya, please. Don't."

It's just like Midoriya to strike him with the "life is all about bettering yourself and the world" speech right when he's feeling satisfied. Sure, everyone probably had high hopes for him in high school, but that's their problem. He's ready to retire before he even enters the workforce. Freezer Burn - the awful hero name Kaminari convinced him to pick at the end of first year - is dead in the water. Todoroki Shouto, or Satou Yuki, is living life on the lazy river.

"I just don't want you to feel like you can't do anything important just because you don't want to be a hero. There are plenty of other jobs out there! You just have to go to university and see-"

"I'm happy, Izuku. Really. And if I ever become unhappy with this life, I'll sign myself up for university. Okay?" He hates arguing with people, especially Midoriya. Nothing ever good happens when two people-pleasers who are scared of rejection disagree.

He hears Midoriya sigh on the other end, then say, "If that's what you want. Are you still coming out with us this weekend?"

In full honesty, Shouto had completely forgotten about his promise to go out drinking with his friends. They only go to undisclosed hero bars - nothing says bad idea like letting drunk heroes out in public - and Shouto gets a free pass because he's with them so often. The thought of going out late at night after a full week of work makes his bones weary. But he enjoys spending time with his friends, and they barely have any time off as it is, so he won't just sit it out in favor of his calligraphy and going to sleep at nine.

"I'll be there."

Us turns out to be Midoriya, Iida, Uraraka, Tokoyami, Yaoyorozu, Jirou, and surprisingly Shinsou, who's rarely available at night and is usually sleeping when he is. 

"I said I'd go if you went," he says, sipping his beer. "Since you live in the middle of nowhere and all, I figured it'd be hard for you to come and I wouldn't have to show up."

"I took a taxi," Shouto says, knocking back a shot because if he came all the way here then he's going to get wasted. He doesn't have work tomorrow, so there's plenty of time to work off the hangover. "It's a bit far to bike."

Jirou laughs at this. "You still don't have a car? I know you can afford like ten of them, you might as well just get one."

"It's not worth the money. I rarely go far from home, and when I do, the taxi fare is much less than the combined cost of the car, gas, and repairs for when it inevitably breaks." He's had this talk before with Midoriya, Camie, and Fuyumi, so he has his points down solid. "Besides, it's not good for the environment."

"Since when are you a hippie?" Tokoyami asks. 

"I'm not a hippie. I just don't see a reason to get a car."

"Maybe if you had a better job-" Iida starts, and Shouto cuts him off with a stern look.

"This isn't an intervention, is it? We're here to relax. I'm relaxing."

He takes another shot from the table and throws it back, not feeling the alcohol on the way down. That's when the night starts to get hazy. There are a few moments of clarity for him, like when he's in the middle of karaoke from on top of a table, and petting Tokoyami's head and calling him a pretty bird, but the rest is lost to his blackout-drunkness. If the few memories he retains are any indication of how the night went, that's probably a good thing.

He wakes up in his bed with a hangover headache like none he had ever experienced before. He spends all day moping in bed, eating instant ramen and moaning complaints heard by no one. His texts say that Midoriya's the one who sent him home in a taxi, which makes sense. He also has multiple videos from the various members of their ragtag drinking group, probably of him doing something dumb, and he looks at none of them. He doesn't need to be reminded that Drunk Shouto is an absolute embarrassment; he already knows.

His headache is almost gone the next morning, but he takes a single painkiller just in case. He's a little more tired than usual, but not dangerously so. If he starts to feel like he can't work properly, he'll head home.

He shouldn't have come in at all.

All it takes is a slip of his grip once, and a whole pile of bricks goes falling from the third story of the apartment building. There's no time for him to think about what to do. His instincts act on their own, sending a wave of ice that catches the bricks midair and stops them from falling on god knows what. He stares at the ice-encased bricks, then at his frosty hand. It's been ages since he's used his quirk on a bigger scale than making tea for himself, but years and years of training are hard to forget.

"I'm so sorry!" he shouts downward, towards the rest of the team. "I'll be more careful next time. It won't happen again." He can feel his pulse drumming in his ears. Maybe I should go home. I doubt I'll be able to do much more work in this state.

Rather than shout back something like "It's fine," or at least, "Yeah you better be more careful!" he hears one of his coworkers call, "Hey, I know you!"

His heart stops in his chest. "I don't recognize you from before," Shouto says, holding onto a pillar for support. Please let it be a mistake. Please let it be a mistake. Please let it be-

"No shit. I watched the sports festival every year when I was a kid! You got second twice and third once, of course I'd remember you!" he says with a smile. "Your name wasn't Satou, though. It was... Tokuda? Tomida?"

Now another voice chimes in. "Wait, I know who you're talking about. Endeavor's son, right? Todoroki," his other coworker says, and now everybody's staring up at him. It's like the whole brick fiasco has been put on hold for this much more important matter. "You have the ice and fire quirk. I always thought that was awesome, to have two in one."

Shouto feels his chest constrict. This is the end, I suppose. He slides down the side of the building using his ice, since it doesn't matter that they know anyway, and defrosts the bricks.

"I enjoyed working here," he says to his overseer. "However, I cannot anymore. Thank you for the opportunity. I apologize again for the bricks." He's glad he didn't buy the apartment where he's now staying. It would be a shame to spend all that money and then have to leave so suddenly.

"Todoroki, where are you going?" his overseer asks, and he stops for a moment.

"I enjoyed working here," he repeats, and climbs onto his bike. He leaves his hard hat on the ground beside him and rides off, clenching his fingers around the bike handlebars. It was unrealistic of him to think that he could stay unidentified forever, and yet he had allowed himself to dream.

Not anymore. He's done with staying in one place forever. He'll accept the nomadic life that was thrown on him, and he'll thrive in it. 

Shouto had been limiting his options to paying jobs, but he shouldn't have. He's not working for the money, after all, so he can basically go wherever he wants to and be an unpaid intern. And the place where he wants to go is a little bakery in the middle of a farming town.

He refuses to work any position where he can be recognized like the register, so they stick him in the back to learn how to bake. His teacher's name is Terada, and she's a wizened old women who's been baking for over forty years. Shouto is immediately overcome with respect for her, and that's even before he realizes that she has no idea who Todoroki Shouto is.

"Hmm? Is that one of the new pro heroes?" she replies one day, when his curiosity gets the best of him and he asks. "I don't follow the news much anymore. Always makes me upset to see how tired all of the heroes are. Someone should give them some rest."

"I agree wholeheartedly, ma'am," he says sincerely. 

Baking bread is apparently a lengthy process that takes hours, starting at four in the morning. The first week is killer for him, but by the second week he's going to sleep at seven pm - Bakugou style - and waking up on time to make it to the cafe. 

"I'm impressed, Satou," she says a month in. "Usually when people learn how difficult it is to work in a bakery, they quit immediately, but you're adjusting well to it. Especially considering you aren't getting paid."

"I enjoy the work, ma'am," he replies, eyes on the dough he's kneading. "The money is no issue for me. I enjoy being here."

"That's very nice to hear. I enjoy having company back here as well. It can be lonely, all of those long mornings spent before the shop opens."

"I can imagine." Shouto spends enough time alone as it is, mostly back in his apartment. He still calls his other friends back in the city, but he rarely sees them in person. And he never spent enough time individually with his coworkers in his previous jobs to consider them friends. Most of the time, he was alone on the job too.

Terada becomes somewhat of a confidante for him, although he keeps his major identity details to himself. He tells her about his father and mother, and Touya, and having to train and study hard every day in order to become something he never truly wanted to be. 

"You have so much sadness compressed into your life, and you're still so young," Terada sighs and shakes her head. "I'm only glad that you escaped from the job your father wanted and are now pursuing something that you yourself want."

"Me too," Shouto says, and tries for a smile that goes flat at the end. He's never been good at smiling. "I only wish my friends understood better."

"From the way you described them, they sound like good friends. They'll come around, just give them time."

"If you say so."

Terada has stories of her own, many more than he does, which makes sense considering she's about three times his age. Her four children are grown, and so are her eleven grandchildren, but they all live in the city, so they don't visit often.

"Can I... ask about your husband?" he asks, pausing in his piping - he's making cupcakes now - to look up at her. He's better at reading emotions now than he was in high school. Having more exposure to other people will do that to a person. 

But rather than look uncomfortable or sad, she merely laughs.

"I never had a husband," she says lightly. 

"So... a wife?" It's less common in Japan, but Shouto knows of people in same sex couples and they seem satisfied overall.

"No wife, either. I was never interested in dating or marriage. I adopted my children and raised them as a single mother." She grabs the piping bag from his hands, correcting a mistake he made on one of the cupcakes with a flourish.

"That must have been difficult."

She laughs again. "They could get rowdy at times, but I never regretted adopting any of them. I enjoyed having a full house." Her smile drops just a little. "I do miss having them around. Sometimes I think of checking myself into one of those retirement homes, so I could at least be surrounded by people again. Old and smelly people like myself, but people."

"You definitely aren't old and smelly," Shouto objects, and her smile returns.

"Ah, Yuki, you're too kind to an old grandmother like me. Our talks keep me on my toes."

"Shouto," he says without thinking. "Call me Shouto. It's my real name. I trust you to keep it a secret."

She's quiet for a little while, probably remembering when he asked her about Todoroki Shouto two months back. Then she says softly, "Okay, Shouto. Your secret is safe with me."

He's grown tired of calligraphy, and he expresses interest in yoga, which Terada does during her free time.

"I think you would like it, Shouto," she says thoughtfully, "but I'm not sure you would want to join my class. It's full of elderly women. I'm sure you could find a yoga class somewhere else that has people more your age."

"I don't mind being surrounded by elderly women," he says, then adds, "I'm not the best at interacting with people my age."

"Ah." She grows quiet at this, thinking it over. "You can try it out this Sunday at eight, I'll give you the address. But I must warn you, they will stare unapologetically. And then try to set you up with their grandchildren."

Shouto, who has received more unwanted setups than he can count, merely says, "I think I can handle it."

He goes to the yoga class on Sunday and, just as Terada warned, everybody stares at him. He doesn't mind, though, and after the first session they start talking to him normally. Occasionally someone will bring out a printed picture of one of their grandchildren and ask him what he thinks, but he always says that they're lovely and leaves it at that. He's not looking for any kind of romantic relationship. He's not entirely sure what he's looking for, really.

He works long enough at the bakery that the owner, Godai, practically forces him to accept money for his work. 

"I can't have people thinking that I'm exploiting you or something," she says, and he accepts his paycheck at the end of every other week along with Terada, giving most of it to the homeless man he passes on his way home every day. He's usually sleeping, but sometimes he'll be awake, and they talk for a little while about whatever's on the man's mind.

"I never wanted to end up like this," he says one day, uncharacteristically lucid. "I wanted to be a hero, but I couldn't cut it. They said I could be a sidekick forever, or find another job. It's just so hard, ya know?"

Shouto gets a flash of his father then, from their last real conversation.

"I gave you everything, Shouto, and this is how you repay me? By quitting entirely? You have no idea how many people would kill to be in your position. You have an incredible quirk, an incredible education, and incredible connections, and you want to throw it all away so you can work as a waiter in a restaurant."

"It's not for everyone," Shouto agrees, puts his money in the man's little cup, and keeps walking.

He settles into his new routine. Bakery every day from four to two, then home to call his mother, then straight to the shower. He attends yoga twice a week, which feels different than his old workout routines.

"It's not about getting strong or losing weight," the instructor always reminds the group of grandmothers and Shouto. "It's about being as one with yourself. Really feeling every muscle in your body."

Occasionally he'll get dinner with Terada when neither of them feel like going home to empty houses. She's the grandmother he never had or knew, and he's the grandson she never gets to see. It's a dynamic he never knew he needed.

He starts to wonder how much longer he has to keep his guard up. How long until he can stop wearing sunglasses in public and a hat over his head at night. His roots are growing in rapidly, and he hasn't dyed his hair in months. He wonders if he'll have to redo his roots at all. Maybe he can keep them like this, and one day his hair will be red and white again. Maybe it won't matter by that time. 

He hums to himself as he thinks this, mixing the dough for a batch of chocolate coffee cake while Terada works on the bread. He can put the next few months of rent on the apartment he's staying in. He can get a membership to the gym without having to worry about canceling it on the run. He might even be able to get a pet. He's always been impartial to Shinsou's cats, and it would be nice to have one for himself.

(He needs to stop thinking ahead. He needs to stop.)

The owner of the store comes to the back, which is unusual even before she starts talking. 

"There's some kind of holdup in the front. Satou, do you think you could check it out?"

"Sure," Shouto says, and he's dumb, he must've lost at least half of his brain cells from all of his time out of school because he walks out with his full scar exposed, hair mostly red and white, and hell, he's not even wearing the contacts today. He's become too comfortable over the past few months, and he knows it the second he hears "Todoroki, bro, what are you doing here?"

It's a few of his old classmates. Kaminari, Sero, and Ashido. He should've known it was something like that; pro heroes in public always attract attention. 

"Yo, you there?" Kaminari says, waving a hand around, and Shouto blinks. I might as well say something. There's no way to come out of this unscathed. Everyone knows about him deciding not to be a hero, but only his friends know about him trying to hide from it all. Kaminari doesn't mean to do any harm. He doesn't know how much harm he's doing with his simple greeting. Shouto can already hear the whispers of "That Todoroki?"

"Hello," he says, nodding to the group of them. "I work here. Nice to... see you all."

"Where did you go, man?" Sero asks.

Away from it all. Away from the lifestyle that was slowly sucking me dry. "Here. I went here."

"Why didn't you tell anyone? We totally would've visited earlier, our agency is right nearby," Ashido says, gesturing around. That was the point. No one was supposed to know. There wasn't supposed to be any visits.

"I'm leaving here soon, anyway," Shouto says simply. "I'm not sure where I'll be next." This, at least, is true. He'll be out of this small town by tomorrow latest, and back on the hunt for a job that will take him, Satou Yuki, without any questions. He doubts it'll be easy. It gets harder by the day.

He turns his attention towards the growing crowd surrounding their table. He can see them taking pictures with the flash on, like they're not ashamed of what they're doing.  Why would they be? The three of them are pro heroes, and I'm the estranged son of one. We're practically museum exhibits.

"I have to go back to work," he says to the group, trying to sound apologetic. "It's busy hour here, as you can see, and there aren't many employees to cover for me."

"Yeah, sure man," Kaminari says, giving him a thumbs up. "This place is cool, by the way. Really... homey." Nice speak for small and poor looking. It's alright. That's why I chose this place. He knows that none of them can understand why he chose not to be a hero. He knows that if he tried to explain, he'd be met by three blank faces, so he won't even try. 

"See you around," Ashido calls as he makes his way through the back doorway with a wave. 

"Yeah," he says, while thinking hopefully not. They're pleasant, the three of them, and he'd be up to talking with them somewhere private, maybe another one of those hero bars.

But right now frustrated tears are pricking his eyes no matter how hard he tries to suppress them. I was happy here. I was ready to be happy here. Why is it that no matter how fast I run, it's like an alternate identity is chasing after me? I'm sick of being Todoroki Shouto. I want a renewal, a revival, someone else to take my place so I can fade into obscurity.

He can't meet Terada's eyes as he returns to the cake batter, blurry in his vision. I have to say goodbye properly. Maybe I should bake her something and bring it to her tomorrow before I leave. She likes caramel, I can make caramel cupcakes.

"Shouto," she says softly, putting a hand on his arm. "I'm sorry." She already gets it, either from overhearing his conversation or from his demeanor. He wants to accept her comfort, but it hurts more than the pain of leaving.

"It's not fair," he mumbles, almost a whisper. His throat feels raw. "It's not fair."

"I know, and I'm sorry," she says simply. "Do you really have to leave just because people know who you are? The crowd seemed rather harmless."

Shouto blinks hard to clear his vision, still staring at the dough. "They're harmless now, but they'll come in droves. I won't get a moment's peace here, and neither will you or Godai. The sooner I leave, the less trouble it will be."

"But will you be happy like that?" Her voice is a soft croon, and Shouto wants to lock himself in the back and never leave, never have to face the outside again. But it's his job as Todoroki Shouto to be recognized and swarmed wherever he goes, no matter what occupation he has on his resume. His birthright and his legacy is to be Todoroki Shouto.

"No," he responds honestly, "but I must."

She doesn't push him further, and they spend the rest of the shift acting as though he'll come in to work tomorrow just as always. He takes the recipe for caramel cupcakes home and puts his all into baking them, talking with Bakugou on the phone as he does. He can't deal with Midoriya's sincerity right now.

"So you're moving again?" the blond grumbles. "You stayed there for a while. Thought you'd start your own farm and just live there or something."

"I need a change of scenery," Shouto replies, which is code for yeah me too but sometimes you just have to roll with what life chucks at you. "How's the drug bust going?"

"Fucking horrible. We just keep getting poor people who are addicted to heroin on our trail. No big boss in sight."

"That's annoying."

"Yeah. Where do you think you'll go next? Toyama's always open here, and then you can get blackout drunk again and sing more karaoke. That video was fucking hilarious."

"Who sent that to you? I only wish to talk to them."

"Good luck trying to figure it out. You fucking suck at singing, by the way."

"Like you're any better. I've heard the recording of you singing Renai Circulation. You sound like you're about to kill someone but also trying not to sound like you're about to kill someone."

"I'll blow up your fucking house."

"Only if you can find it."

Talking to Bakugou makes the weight on his chest loosen up. It's easy to avoid talking about the serious things with him, and when he does bring up serious issues, Bakugou's response is usually either "oof" or "that fucking sucks." In terms of dealing with negative situations, they're equally bad at it.

They talk for a little longer, then Bakugou has to go back to work - "fucking research, how many files can one dealer have?" - and Shouto has to put the cupcakes to bake. He hangs up, sticks the tray in the oven, and sets the timer for twenty minutes. Only then does he retire to his couch, pulling his crocheted blanket over his head, and shut his eyes.

Saying goodbye is easier than he thought. Maybe it's because he has so much practice at this point, or maybe it's because Terada does her best to ease him out of it.

"If you ever want to come back, you know where the bakery is," she says, sending him off with a bag of cookies and a loaf of bread. "Godai would be happy to take you back whenever you want."

"Thank you," he says, clutching the bag with white knuckles. "I'll keep that in mind."

He goes straight back to his apartment. He doesn't have many possessions, and he packed them in a packing-frenzy the night before, so all that's left is to give the key back to the landlord and start looking for a new job. There are plenty of small towns around Japan for him to visit. He can make a whole day of exploring. 

He bites his lip hard to keep from yelling. He can feel a headache building up. So, like most of the time when he's feeling frustrated about something, he calls his mom. 

"Shouto, is everything alright?" she says as soon as she picks up. "You usually call during the evening, after work. Did something happen?"

"I wasn't fired, mother," he says, pinching the bridge of his nose with his free hand. "I left the bakery because of... reasons. I'm moving now, I'll send you the new address when I find it."

"Oh Shouto." He can feel the pity in her voice, like nails scratching his skin. Maybe I shouldn't have called her after all. "How long do you want to continue on like this? It's obviously not making you happy."

"I was happy before," he says, and this is the truth. "I was happy all of those months working at the bakery, and the construction site before that, and the gas station before that. It's the leaving part that upsets me."

"So you'll now go to a new place that you'll inevitably have to leave too. You're setting yourself up for sadness."

"I have no other option."

"Of course you do."

"I don't want to be a hero, mother, and any other job I try, I'll just be hounded by the press asking me why I'm not pursuing heroics. Besides, I have no patience to sit through university."

"You have other options."

"Like what? Where can I go that they won't inevitably find me?" He knows he sounds paranoid, but it's been his reality for the past four years. No matter where he goes, someone's bound to find him, and he's not going to settle for being a press spectacle or a tabloid article. 

"Have you ever thought about leaving the country?"

This takes Shouto by surprise. "No, I like it here in Japan. I never thought about leaving."

"Lots of young people your age take a gap year to explore the world. You might find your passion out there. Plus, I'm sure other countries are far less interested in your life than Japan. You could go out without any disguise at all. You could settle somewhere."

Shouto sits down on his couch, pondering this. "I don't want to be far from my friends for very long."

"It's only a year. Besides, you can always call them on the phone, or use video call."

"And if I decide to move somewhere else permanently?"

"They want you to be happy just as much as I do, Shouto. And you can always come back and visit." She sounds relieved that he's taking her suggestion seriously. It does sound appealing, going somewhere where he can go into the city without attracting any attention. "You can send me postcards, too, from all of the places you visit."

"Of course," he says. "That goes without question."

"So will you do it? Will you take the year abroad?"

It's a lot to think about, and he tells her as much. "When I come to my decision, I will let you know."

"Do what makes you happy, Shouto. That's all I ever wanted from you." She sniffs, and he's instantly alarmed. "I should've been more aware that you were unhappy in high school. I should have asked you where you wanted to go."

"I'm alright, mother," he says quickly. "I was fine in UA. I enjoyed my time with my classmates and friends. I feel it made me a more socially adapted person." 

"Still, I apoligze. And if you ever need anything, you know you can always call me. That's why I bought the unlimited data plan."

Shouto isn't entirely sure what that means, having a prepaid phone and all, but he says, "Thank you. I will keep that in mind."

He hangs up, then looks at his suitcase and sighs. His mother's right, he can't keep doing this forever, but another country is a big change for him. He doesn't think he can go somewhere without knowing anyone and just live there for a year. He needs someone street smart to come with him, someone with no qualms about leaving the country and going on the road. He needs...

He quickly opens his contacts again, looking for only a few seconds before finding the right one and calling. The phone rings for a while, long enough that he almost hangs up, but then he hears a voice on the other end.

"Hello?" Takami asks, sounding sleepy, and Shouto realizes it's only seven in the morning. Too late to change that now. I'll plow through.

"Come with me to America for a year." He wonders if he should have prefaced the statement with some frivolities, but decides it doesn't matter. A big question like that deserves its own call.

There's a pause, and then...

"What time is the flight? I'll be there."