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There was something missing from Todoroki Shouto’s life.
He didn't know what it was, but he knew that something was missing. It was a hollow feeling in his chest, an empty feeling, like his life was significantly less without it. It was a phantom limb, an imaginary pain that felt so very real, Shouto thought he would never survive the loss of it.
“Think nothing of it,” his father would say whenever Shouto mentioned that something was wrong, that something was missing. “You don’t need distractions on your way to becoming the number one hero.”
Shouto nodded. His father was right. His father was always right. Nothing mattered except surpassing All Might and becoming the number one hero. He had his pro licence now, so he just had to focus on climbing through the ranks and making it to the top.
For the sake of that dream, he could learn to live with phantom pain.
There was a ghost in Shouto’s life.
Not that he believed in the supernatural—quirks were as far as his belief in the otherworldly would get—but there was a presence in his life. Or perhaps it was a lack of presence? Like something in the corner of his eye, but it was gone before he could turn to look. A name on the tip of his tongue he couldn’t remember; a hand he could never hold.
Shouto often found himself accommodating the presence before he realised what he was doing. He had lost count of how many sentences he had bit back when he remembered he had no one to tell them to, or gone to order katsudon when he really wanted cold soba.
But it didn’t feel wrong doing such a thing; it felt right.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Endeavor said dismissively whenever Shouto brought it up. “Focus on your training.”
Right. Of course. Training was more important than entertaining the idea of ghosts.
His sister was a comforting, if ever-worried, presence in his life.
“You’re okay?” she would always ask. “Father’s not pushing you too hard?”
“Father pushes me just the right amount,” he replied, like he always did whenever Fuyumi asked that question. “It’s needed to become the number one hero.”
“Father’s already the number one hero!” Fuyumi argued, her voice strained and upset. “All Might retired; Father’s number one. There’s no need to put you through this!”
He frowned, concerned. “Are you alright?”
“I’m fine,” she said, even as she looked on the verge of tears. “But you’re not, and you don’t even know why—I hate seeing you like this.”
Slowly and gently, like he was afraid he’d startle her away if he moved too quickly, Shouto reached out to wrap an arm around his sister. “I’m okay. You don’t need to worry about me.”
“You’re not—”
“I am—”
“You’re not,” she said firmly, reaching up to pat his head and tension Shouto didn’t even know was there eased from his shoulders. “But you will be. We’re going to fix this.”
“There’s nothing to fix,” he told her. “I am perfect—just like Father wanted me to be.”
He said it to comfort her. Of course being perfect would be a comfort. It was what their father wanted, and Endeavor was always right. Nothing went wrong so long as they did as he told them.
But instead of making her feel better, something in Fuyumi’s expression shut down. Her eyes dulled and she stepped away from him. Shouto didn’t know why, but apparently that was the wrong thing to say.
“Of course, Shouto.” She sounded hollow. “Father is always right.”
Eavesdropping was bad, but Shouto needed to know what was wrong with his sister. He hid around a corner of the hall and listened in to the phone call Fuyumi said she needed to make straight after their last conversation.
He had missed the beginning, but arrived in time to hear Fuyumi say, “I don’t know how much longer I can keep doing this. I know we agreed that it’s best for him, but—”
Shouto frowned. Who was Fuyumi talking to? What were they talking about? Who were they talking about? After what Fuyumi had said to him, he had a sneaking suspicion they were talking about him, but that didn’t make sense. Shouto was fine.
Liar, a distant part of his brain whispered. People who are fine don’t go missing ghosts.
Shouto ignored it and focused back on his sister.
“He needs to know the truth,” Fuyumi said. “He deserves to know what he’s missing. He deserves to know what was taken away from him. He’s—he’s robotic, he’s just regurgitating Father’s words, and you know he would never do that willingly.”
What in the world did all that mean?
“We don’t know if that will happen if we tell him,” she continued after a pause, clearly listening to whatever the other person had to say. “Maybe—maybe he’ll come back to himself. I….I miss him. He’s here but I miss him. And he misses you, Midoriya-san, even if he doesn’t realise it.”
Shouto went still.
Midoriya.
Who was Midoriya? Why did every nerve in his body sing at hearing that name? How did they know Fuyumi and what were they talking about?
This is important, he thought. Midoriya is important.
Shouto just wished he knew why.
The ghost would sometimes come to Shouto in his dreams.
He could never see a face, but gentle hands always reached for him, always hugged him. A kind voice called his name and soft lips would kiss his skin, his lips, his hair.
“Shouto, just come back to bed,” the ghost said, reaching out to coax Shouto into lying back down.
“You’re going to make me late,” Dream-Shouto replied, but went willingly.
His partner moved the moment Shouto laid back down, leaning over him to press hot, lingering kisses to his neck. “There are worse things than being late to a meeting you don’t even want to go to.”
“Mmm,” Dream-Shouto hummed appreciatively, tilting his head back for better access. “You’re right. My father can wait.”
“Please don’t talk about your father in bed.”
“Let’s not talk about him at all.”
Teeth nipped at his earlobe and Dream-Shouto whined. “You’re right,” the voice whispered to him, soft and seductive, while phantom hands lifted his shirt. “I can think of much better things to do than talk.”
Shouto always hated waking up from those dreams.
Many of them left him horribly aroused and with a problem he had to deal with first thing in the morning. Was it wrong to pleasure himself to the idea of a faceless no one? It might have been, but Shouto couldn’t stop himself. When he spilled into his hand, the ghost of a name on his lips, he didn’t feel an ounce of shame; just satisfaction and the desire to go back to sleep and see him again.
Such dreams happened so often, he decided to simply call the nameless entity Ghost.
He supposed that most people would be more concerned they were having gay dreams about a spirit—because Ghost was definitely male; his more explicit dreams had confirmed that—but Shouto didn’t care. He felt content in those dreams. Safe, happy, whole.
Other dreams had Shouto reaching for Ghost when he woke. Dreams so tame and domestic, that it seemed only natural that Ghost would be by his side in the morning. Dreams that made Shouto forget that Ghost was never there in the first place. Dreams that made Shouto curl in on himself and tears stream down his face, disappointment coursing through him.
They were dreams that made him start to think that maybe the thing he was missing was a person.
Maybe it was Ghost.
Strangers kept trying to insert themselves into Shouto’s life.
Well, they weren’t strangers—not really—they were all young, up and coming pro heroes, so he knew of them professionally. But Shouto didn’t know them personally, and somehow they all thought that they needed to become his friend.
“Thank you for the assistance in the rescue today, Shouto!” Pro hero Ingenium said once the work was over, complete with a hand chop.
“Yeah!” Uravity agreed, smiling widely at him. “Would you like to come to dinner with us to celebrate a job well done? We have a friend that would love to meet you!”
“Uraraka-san!” Ingenium hissed at her.
Sitting through an awkward dinner with people he didn’t know and their friend who was probably a hero fan and looking for an autograph didn’t sound appealing to Shouto. “No thank you,” he said politely. “I need to finish off my report on today and submit it to my father’s agency.”
Uravity pouted, disappointed. “But Dek—”
Ingenium covered her mouth with his hand. “Next time then, Shouto! Have a good night!” He bowed and dragged Uravity away, but not before Shouto heard him whisper, “You know the rules! We can’t mention anything!”
“But Deku-kun is miserable!”
Shouto froze. Deku. There was a Deku who had been steadily climbing through the hero ranks some time ago, with a quirk that was similar to All Might’s. Shouto had considered him the former number one’s love child and kept an eye on him as a potential rival to the top, but then Deku announced he was stepping away from hero work. A family emergency, he called it.
Was that the same Deku that Uravity spoke of? And what rules did Ingenium mean?
Shouto sighed and headed back to the agency. The sooner he finished his report, the sooner he could go home, sleep, and maybe see Ghost.
Ground Zero was a pain in the ass.
He was rude, swore a lot, constantly yelled, and had apparently decided that Shouto was his worst enemy. Every time they had to work together, Ground Zero looked at him like he was worse than the dirt beneath his shoes.
“Have I done something to you?” Shouto asked the fifth time that had happened. “Something to offend you?”
He scowled. “You fucking forgot, IcyHot. That’s what you did.”
“What?” Shouto blinked at the unexpectant response. “What did I forget?”
“Deku says we’re not allowed to say anything, because it might hurt your brain or some shit, but fuck that.” If anything, Ground Zero looked angrier than before. “You forgot him, all of us, and everything we went through. But you know what really pisses me off the most? You chose this.”
“Bakugou!” Red Riot appeared out of nowhere and tried to drag the other hero away, looking concerned. “Enough! You don’t know what it’ll do to him!”
Ground Zero wrenched away from him. “Let me go, Shitty Hair! He needs to hear it!”
He grabbed Shouto by the shirt and dragged him forward so there was barely any distance between them. Shouto went with it, too distracted by trying to figure out what the other man meant to even try to dodge or get out of his hold.
“You volunteered for this, Half ‘n Half,” Ground Zero said, voice low and dripping with contempt. “Went along with your shitty old man’s scheme because you were certain there was absolutely no way you’d forget Deku. Well guess what happened, you dumb fucking bastard? You forgot.”
“What are you—? What?” Shouto’s mind reeled.
He put his head in his hands as a fierce headache struck him. This was too much. What was Ground Zero talking about? Who was Deku? What did his father have to do with this? Why did his head hurt?
“Bakugou, leave it!” Red Riot sounded desperate. “He doesn’t remember!”
“He should remember! Deku’s fucking miserable because of him!”
“I don’t—I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Shouto gritted out through the pain. “My head—what is going on?”
The world spun around him and he felt his legs give out. But before he could hit the ground, a green blur covered in lightning caught him in his arms.
“I told you not to talk to him about it!” a new voice cried.
A familiar voice, one Shouto had only ever heard in dreams.
“Ghost,” he whispered, and then passed out.
Ghost and Fuyumi were in his dream.
“What happened?” his sister asked as she helped Ghost put Shouto into bed.
“Kacchan told him too much.”
“But we agreed—”
“I know, but Kacchan thought he needed to hear it.”
“So did I,” Fuyumi sounded upset. “But not if this is the outcome. You were right. We shouldn’t push him.”
There was a long silence before Ghost spoke again. “Is it wrong that I want him to remember me, when he ends up like this?”
“No,” Fuyumi replied instantly. “It’s not wrong at all. It’s understandable. We all want him back, but I’m sure you do more than most.”
“I hate your father for doing this to us.” Ghost sounded angry, hurt, tired. “I didn’t think I could hate anyone, but I hate him.”
“You’re not the only one.” A beat passed. “Come on, let’s let him rest.”
There was a shift, like they were about to leave. “No!” Shouto cried out, reaching blindly for him. “Ghost, don’t leave!”
A pause.
“I think he means you,” Fuyumi said.
“Oh, Shouto,” Ghost’s voice was closer, fond, and so very sad. “I’ll never leave you. I love you. Go to sleep, get some rest. Everything will be fine eventually, I promise.”
There was the faintest sensation of lips pressing against his forehead, and then Shouto knew no more.
Shouto didn’t remember much of his dream when he woke up the next morning, just the impression of a fleeting kiss and a longing that was normal for his dreams about Ghost.
“How are you feeling?” Fuyumi asked when he stumbled into the kitchen, looking as concerned as always.
“Tired,” he replied. “Confused. What happened?”
He remembered Ground Zero yelling at him, claiming he’d forgot something, he remembered a splitting headache, a flash of green and then—
Nothing.
“You just got into an accident with hero work,” Fuyumi told him. “You’ll be alright after a bit of rest. Why don’t you go back to bed?”
He stared at her. No, no that wasn’t right. There wasn’t an accident, there was an argument. Shouto had been confused, but the argument was important; he knew it was important.
“That’s not what happened.” He shook his head. “You’re lying.”
Fuyumi froze. “Shouto—”
“Why are you lying?”
“You need to rest.” She tried to usher him out of the room. “You’ll feel better after some more sleep.”
He dug his heels in and refused to budge. “No, you’re lying. You never lie. This is important, isn’t it? It has to be for you to lie about it.”
“Shouto, please,” she sounded pained.
The headache returned, but he ignored it. This was serious. There was something he was missing, something he didn’t understand, and he needed to find out what it was.
“What did Ground Zero mean?” he wanted to know. “What have I forgotten?”
With surprising force, Fuyumi pushed him out of the kitchen and all the way back into his bed. Worry was etched into every line of her features and guilt shone in her eyes. “I can’t tell you and you can’t ask questions. If Father hears that you’re starting to remember, he’ll wipe you again.”
“What do you mean? What did he do?!”
She sighed, tears building in her eyes. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but forget it, Shouto.”
“But—”
Fuyumi shook her head sadly and left without another word. Shouto stared after her, feeling hopelessly lost. Why wouldn’t anyone tell him what was going on? What did his father have to do with it?
What had he forgotten?
Who, the voice in the back of his mind corrected. Who have you forgotten?
The answer came instantly to his lips. There was only one person it could possibly be. One person that was missing from him. One person he didn’t know, but longed for anyway.
He forgot Ghost.
Sometimes his dreams of Ghost were violent.
They stood across from one another in a stadium. Shouto still couldn’t see Ghost’s face, but he knew instinctively that it was him. They were fighting, Shouto sending wave after wave of ice at him and Ghost responding by breaking every one of his fingers to stop it.
Why were they fighting?
“I will reject...my old man’s power…” Dream-Shouto ground out.
“It’s your power, isn’t it?!” Ghost cried.
The stadium erupted into flames.
“Shouto? Are you okay?” Fuyumi asked, concerned, when she walked into the kitchen to see him staring at his left hand, engulfed in flames.
It didn’t make sense that he wasn’t using his fire. Shouto had always used that part of his quirk, because that was what his father expected of him. Why had Ghost tried so hard to make him use it and why had Shouto so vehemently denied it?
Something in him told him that this moment was significant. It was important in his relationship with Ghost, he knew it instinctively. Everything between them changed after that moment.
“I don’t think they’re dreams,” he told his sister in lieu of answering her question. “I think they’re memories.”
A purple haired man with tired eyes approached him in the street.
“I’m sorry I did this to you,” he said.
Shouto frowned in confusion. "What?"
"Your father knew the secret of One For All and was going to use it against Midoriya."
Midoriya. There was that name again. And what in the world was One For All?
"We had to buy his silence," the man continued. "Buy time to build a case against him. You volunteered. Said you would never forget him. Even if you forget for a while, you didn't think my mind wipe would stick."
"So they are memories? My dreams?"
The man raised eyebrows. "You're starting to remember? Good. Everyone will be happy to hear it."
"Everyone?"
"We didn't know what the mind wipe would do to you—"
Whatever else the man was going to say was cut off by a blur tackling him to the ground. Shouto watched in surprise as a green haired man picked up the one Shouto had been talking to and sling him over his shoulder with ease. He had a face mask on, curly green hair, and looked harried when he turned to speak to him.
"Sorry, Todoroki-san," the newcomer said, and Shouto gasped because he knew that voice. "Shinsou doesn't know when to stop talking. It seems like no one understands the importance of secrets. We need to go now."
"Wait—!" he cried, reaching out to stop them.
But the man disappeared with quirk-aided speed, taking the other one with him. Shouto’s arm dropped uselessly to his side and regret clutched at his heart. He should have been faster, he should have stopped them. Because he had been right there. The one Shouto had been missing was right there.
Ghost was real. Ghost was there one minute and gone the next. Ghost had secrets he didn’t want Shouto to know. Ghost had a name that he could only guess, but Midoriya didn’t sound right. Shouto didn’t think he called him that.
“I miss you,” he whispered, too softly and far too late to be heard.
Sometimes Shouto had nightmares about Ghost.
Terrible dreams where Ghost would put himself in harm’s way in order to save someone. Horrible dreams where his body would break under the power of his quirk, and Shouto never knew if he would survive it.
“You have to wake up,” Dream-Shouto said as he sat next to Ghost’s hospital bed. “I’m very cross with you, you know.”
Ghost didn’t reply. The only thing that proved he was even alive was the constant beep of his heart monitor.
“You took a big risk today,” he continued. “But you should be proud of yourself; you saved those civilians. But do you want to know why I’m cross? Because you said something to me before you collapsed, three words I’d been waiting to hear, three words I was too scared to say. Then you blacked out before I could say them back.”
He reached out to grasp Ghost’s hand. He held it like a lifeline, afraid the other man would disappear if he let go. Tears threatened to fall, but he held them back. Shouto could hold it together enough to finally confess the depth of his feelings.
“I love you too,” his dream-self said, voice choked with emotion. “I love you too, so please, please wake up.”
Shouto didn’t even pretend to be alright the next time he saw Fuyumi.
“I really love him, don’t I?”
Love. Not loved, not past tense, because forgetting Ghost had not stopped how he felt. It may have waylaid his feelings for a while, but they had returned, just like his past self had apparently thought they would.
“Oh Shouto,” Fuyumi automatically wrapped him up in a hug.
“If I love him, how could I do this to him? How could I hurt him this way?”
“You’re doing this to protect him, but he’s been trying to protect you too. He won’t let anyone explain what happened, in case the return of your memories hurts you like the other day with Bakugou. I shouldn’t even be telling you this; he wouldn’t want me to. We were all sworn to secrecy.”
“But...I want to remember.”
She gave him an apologetic smile. “It’s not time for you to remember. You can’t force it; it has to happen on its own.”
“But—”
“It’s not safe for you to remember yet. Not until the issue with Father is dealt with.”
“What is One For All? What does Father have to do with this?”
Fuyumi shook her head. “I don’t know everything; only a certain handful of people know the whole situation. But if you want to find out, there’s one person you should see....”
Shouto had a name and a place, but there was someone else he needed to see before going to meet the person Fuyumi suggested.
“I know you did something,” Shouto said, walking into his father’s office.
“Oh?” Endeavor raised an eyebrow, looking entirely unimpressed. “What did I do?”
“I don’t know what you did exactly, or how you did it, but you took my memories from me. There’s someone important I’m forgetting and I know it’s your fault.”
Fuyumi said their father would wipe his memories again if Shouto let him know that he knew about his memory loss, but he refused to back down. Something in him screamed to challenge his old man, to let him know that what he did wasn’t acceptable.
“I’ll never forgive you for it,” he told him.
Endeavor laughed, a haughty, condescending sound. “How can you blame me for something you volunteered for?”
He scowled. “Under duress. I never would have forgotten him if you hadn’t forced me to!”
“Him?” his father repeated, unconcerned in the face of Shouto’s anger. “So you are starting to remember that little upstart.”
“I love him! Taking my memories away won’t change how my heart feels!”
Endeavor sighed. “As always, you’re a disappointment. Shouto: do as I say.”
A calm washed over him. The fire, the indignation that was burning in his chest moments ago was snuffed out. All the fight in him disappeared.
“Of course, Father,” his own voice sounded far away to his ears. “You are always right.”
No, no, this wasn’t right. This wasn’t—
Endeavor’s smile was smug, wicked. “That’s better. Now, forget all about that Midoriya brat.”
NO! No, he wouldn’t! He couldn’t! Not when he finally knew Ghost’s name. Not when he finally remembered how much he meant to him.
Endeavor must have seen the reluctance on his face, because his pleased expression morphed into a frown. “Do as I say, Shouto, and forget about him.”
The calm feeling returned. Shouto blinked. “Forget who, Father?”
“There,” Endeavor seemed pleased but Shouto didn’t know why. “Now you’re perfect.”
“How are you feeling today?” Fuyumi asked. “Did you go see who I suggested?”
He frowned. “What do you mean? I am perfect—just like Father wanted me to be.”
She gasped and took a step back, one hand coming up to cover her mouth, horrified. “Shouto, no. I told you not to speak to him about your memories!”
“What do you mean?” he repeated. “There’s nothing wrong with my memories.”
Tears streamed down her face. “Yes, Shouto. Yes there is.”
There was a ghost in Shouto’s life.
He only saw the ghost in dreams, but he felt his absence when he woke. He never saw Ghost’s face, but he knew that he was beautiful. His voice was comforting, even in nightmares of Ghost stuck in hospital beds, and his hands were always gentle. Scarred, but gentle; a perfect contradiction.
His waking life seemed dull without Ghost, and Shouto often found himself looking forward to going to sleep so he could be with him. It hurt to wake and remember that Ghost was gone, but Shouto clutched to his dreams. He kept the idea of Ghost close to his heart, hung onto him like a phantom limb he kept trying to use.
“Who were you to me?” he whispered, after another dream full of Ghost’s laugh, hands, and kisses. “Why don’t I remember you?”
Unsurprisingly, Ghost didn’t respond.
“I think I miss someone, but I don’t know who,” he told Fuyumi the next morning.
Instead of looking at him like he was insane, she gasped and looked at him with something that looked startlingly like hope. She had been strangely distant with him lately, and appeared close to tears everytime she looked at him, but now she smiled and a light shone in her eyes.
“You do, Shouto. You do!” She scribbled a name and address onto a piece of paper. “Please, go see this person. They can help you, even if Midoriya thinks they shouldn’t.”
“Who’s—”
“Just go, Shouto. For me. Please?”
Fuyumi barely asked for anything, so this must be important. He nodded and promised to go wherever she wanted; he would do anything to keep her smiling like that.
“Todoroki-shounen, it is so wonderful to see you!”
Shouto tried to act like this meeting wasn’t a total surprise to him. This was who Fuyumi wanted him to speak to? She sent him to U.A. to speak to All Might?! He sat across from the former number one in the U.A teacher’s lounge, and tried to find the words to say.
“Thank you for taking the time to see me,” he started politely.
“Anytime, my boy. Anytime!”
He swallowed, unsure of where to go from there, before just deciding to be honest. “I don’t know exactly why I’m here. I’m certain I’m missing someone, someone important, and my sister said you could help.”
The smile slipped away from All Might’s face, replaced by a grave expression that didn’t seem to suit the retired hero. “Yes, I have the answers you seek, my boy. But I have been sworn to secrecy by someone very dear to me; he doesn’t want to risk hurting you.”
“I’m already hurting!” The words burst out of him, unable to be kept in. “Every day I wake up and he’s not there. I go to take his hand, but I’ve only imagined he’s beside me. I see echoes of him in everything I do, in everything I say. It hurts to know I can only see him in my dreams!” He took a deep breath and made a valiant effort to calm himself. “Please. I just want to know who he is to me.”
All Might hesitate. “Todoroki-shounen…”
“Please,” he entreated. “Who is Ghost and why have I forgotten him?”
“Ghost?” All Might frowned at the nickname.
Shouto blushed. “He’s like a ghost to me. I see him in the corner of my eye, but he’s gone when I turn to look. He’s always out of reach, a spectre I can’t embrace; a ghost.”
All Might sighed. “Very well, my boy. I tell you the truth, but first you need to learn about One For All…”
Shouto tried to process the onslaught of information All Might had just explained.
“So you’re telling me that Ghost—Midoriya—has your quirk, which can be handed from one person to the next, my father found out about it, and threatened to reveal it to the public in order to sully your names?”
“Yes.”
“Then I volunteered to have my memory wiped to go back to him and be the obedient son he always wanted, to become number one and finally surpass you? To appease him into staying quiet?”
“I think a better way to describe it is you sacrificed yourself, my boy.”
“And now my father has a way to keep wiping my memories if I don’t do what he wants?”
“Yes, the plan was to restore your memories once we had enough evidence against your father that we could put him away. However, that has proven...difficult.”
“How?” Shouto demanded. “He is literally using mind control to make me do things against my will. Surely there are laws against that?”
“The one who wiped your memory is a friend—”
“Shinsou?”
All Might nodded. “He’s an underground hero with a quirk that lets him control people. There’s already a stigma about having such a quirk, so you volunteered to get it done. Shinsou-shounen cannot get in trouble for something you volunteered for, but unfortunately that means that so can your father.”
“That’s ridiculous!”
“There’s also the added problem that trying to remember your past seems to hurt you. Midoriya-shounen doesn’t want to put you through that pain.”
“But isn’t...isn’t he hurting too?”
All Might sighed. “Oh he is, my boy. He just thinks that his pain isn’t as important as yours.”
“That stupid—”
As if summoned there, the door burst open and the man in question walked in, speaking a million miles an hour. “All Might, I had an idea! What if we just got Shinsou to—” he cut himself off with a strangled gasp when he saw who his mentor was talking to. “Shouto.”
Shouto drank him in, finally able to put a face to the name. “Ghost.”
God, he was beautiful.
“You shouldn’t be here,” Ghost looked terrified and turned to All Might. “What did you tell him? He can’t know anything! You promised you wouldn’t say a word!”
“Midoriya-shounen—”
“Why is everyone trying to make him remember?! We don’t know what will happen to him if we force it!” Frustrated tears spilled from Ghost’s eyes. “He could forget completely, he could—he could die, for all we know.”
“But I wanted to remember you.” Shouto got to his feet and took Ghost’s hand, marvelling that he could. That Ghost was here, real, warm and solid in front of him. “I missed you and I didn’t know why. My sister sent me here for answers.”
“You forgot me,” Ghost sobbed. “I know it was the plan, but it hurt. I know it’s what we wanted, but then you just looked at me like I was a stranger. You promised me forever, but you forgot me.”
Shouto wondered how long he’d been holding onto that hurt, burying his pain to focus on Shouto’s wellbeing. God, he didn’t deserve Midoriya.
“Ghost—” he shook his head. “Midoriya. I’m so sorry. You didn’t deserve to go through that and I’m so sorry I put you in that position.”
“It’s your father’s fault,” Midoriya sniffed. “I know that, but—”
“But I still went through with this plan, and I hurt you. I’ll never stop trying to make up for that, but, Midoriya, I remembered you.”
Midoriya blinked. “What?”
“You were in everything I did. It constantly felt like I was missing a part of myself and that was you, I just didn’t realise it.” He could feel tears building in his own eyes. “I missed you. I missed you so much.”
Scarred hands grabbed Shouto’s shirt, pulling him in for a desperate kiss. Shouto responded instantly, melting into the embrace and wrapping his arms around Midoriya and reaching up to bury a hand in messy, green curls.
Shouto could have stayed like that for an eternity, but a pointed cough reminded them that there was another person in the room. Shouto probably should have been embarrassed about All Might watching them make out, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. It had felt so right to kiss Midoriya, and no amount of embarrassment could ruin that for him.
“You kiss like Shouto does; muscle memory, I suppose.” Midoriya looked heartbroken. “But you don’t remember me—not really—and it was selfish to think that you would.”
“Midoriya—”
“You don’t even use the right name.” He shook his head, choking back a sob. “I can’t do this. I can’t.”
Wait. No. Hold on—
But before he could say anything, Midoriya took off in a flash of green and Shouto was left with an awkward and apologetic former symbol of peace.
“Come back,” he whispered, once again far too soft and far too late.
Shouto was cooking katsudon in his dream, the crumbed pork frying on the stove of an unfamiliar kitchen. He was content, happy in the knowledge that Midoriya would enjoy this when he got back from patrol.
“I’m home!” a familiar voice called out and Dream-Shouto smiled. Right on time.
“I’m in the kitchen!” he called back.
After a moment, strong arms wrapped around his waist and a chin rested on his shoulder. “Smells delicious.”
“Your favourite.”
“What’s the occasion?”
“Do I need a reason to spoil my fiancé?”
Midoriya hummed happily. “I’ll never get tired of hearing that.”
“Well, it’ll be ‘husband’ one day.”
Midoriya took his left hand and held it up so they could see their matching engagement rings. “And I’ll never get tired of hearing that either.”
Dream-Shouto switched off the stove and turned around in Midoriya’s arms, and for the first time since he had dreamt of him, Shouto could see Midoriya’s face: wide, shining green eyes, freckles, unruly green hair, and a smile that took Shouto’s breath away. This was Ghost, this was Midoriya, and he was— he was—
“Beautiful,” he murmured.
Midoriya blushed. “Shouto, you can’t say that everytime you see me when I get home. I’ll have a heart attack and die before we even get married.”
Shouto leant in to peck him. “No dying.”
Midoiyra laughed. “Then stop flirting.”
“No.” Another peck. “Just no dying.”
He smiled. “Okay, I’ll become immortal, just for you.”
“Forever with you sounds nice.”
Midoriya kissed him that time, longer and lingering. “Okay, I’ll be with you forever, Todoroki Shouto.”
“And I you, Midoriya Izuku.”
Shouto woke with a gasp and sat straight up in bed.
“Izuku,” he whispered.
Forgotten memories of the man he loved reappeared in his mind. Not just Izuku, but all their friends and mentors from U.A; years and years of happiness, sadness and everything in between.
He scrambled out of bed and hurriedly changed his clothes. The clock on his bedside table told him it was two thirty in the morning, but he needed to go to Izuku. He couldn’t wait. He needed to hold him in his arms, tell him he remembered and kiss him until he dropped.
Shouto barely remembered to grab his wallet and put on shoes before he was running out the door and waving down a taxi. He could barely sit still in the car, legs jittering and fighting the urge to jump out and simply run to his fiancé’s apartment—their apartment; how could he forget their apartment?—but he didn’t. The car would be faster in the long run.
He didn’t wait for the elevator in their building, though. That thing was always slow. He tore up the stairs, taking two at a time until he got to their floor. He didn’t stop running until he reached their door, pounding on it, and desperately wishing he still had his key.
“Come on,” he knocked again. “Izuku, please!”
Footsteps sounded from the other side, a lock clicked and the door opened to reveal a sleepy Izuku, one hand rubbing at his eye.
His fiancé froze when he saw who was at the door. “...Shouto?”
“Izuku,” he said, stepping past him, dragging Izuku back inside, and locking the door behind them. He stood in front of Izuku, his chest heaving, but couldn't stop smiling because he remembered. "Izuku. You're Izuku."
Hope slowly started to dawn on the other man’s face. "Shouto?"
"You're Midoriya Izuku," he said, desperate to prove he had gained his memories back. "My fiancé. You proposed to me on my 25th birthday, and then cried when I said yes. Your favourite food is katsudon, your favourite smell is rain, and your favourite sound is your mother's laugh. You're the ninth holder of One For All, and you told me the truth about your quirk, with All Might's permission, when you proposed because you didn't want any secrets to get in the way of our marriage. I know that I have never loved anyone the way I love you, and I am so sorry for forgetting you—”
Izuku crashed their lips together and Shouto instantly kissed him back, delighting in the little moan he managed to pull from his fiancé. He pushed Izuku up against the wall, slipping a knee in between his legs to stand closer, kiss him harder, and fall into the familiar comfort of Izuku’s embrace.
Because he knew this. He knew how Izuku liked to be kissed, knew where to touch to make him breathless, knew how to make him whimper, pull him to pieces, and make him beg for more.
“You remember,” Izuku said between kisses. “You remember.”
“I’m sorry,” he replied, his lips ghosting over the skin of Izuku’s neck. “I’m so sorry.”
“You’re sorry, I’m sorry,” Izuku sounded impatient. “Shouto, shut up and kiss me.”
Shouto pulled away from where he was putting a brilliant love bite on his fiancé’s neck to look him in the face. Izuku was flushed, his lips swollen and his hair was a mess, but desire burned in his eyes, and it caused heat to pool in Shouto’s stomach.
“As you wish,” he said, leaning in to do as he was told.
“And take your clothes off.”
Another kiss. “I can do that. Anything else?”
“Take me to bed.”
Shouto grinned and kissed Izuku hard, devouring; the promise of something more to come. He picked him up, their lips still connected, and carried him towards their bedroom.
They did very little talking after that.
Shouto woke up slowly, feeling warm, content and sated. He blinked his eyes open to see his fiancé sleeping peacefully mere inches away from, and he smiled. This is what Shouto had been missing every lonely morning when he had reached for Ghost, still lost in the remnants of a dream.
He had wanted Izuku beside him, like he was supposed to be.
“Good morning,” Izuku said without opening his eyes, his voice heavy with sleep.
Shouto snuggled in closer to him. “Good morning.”
He felt whole for the first time in months, but there was still so much to do. Shouto had regained his memories, but they still needed to figure out what to do about Endeavor.
“I can hear you thinking.” Izuku wrapped an arm around him to pull him even closer. “Stop it.”
“But my father—”
“I’ve got a plan.” Izuku still didn’t open his eyes. “It’s a great plan.”
“Oh? What is it?”
“We’re gonna send Shinsou in and he can be all, ‘Hey, Endeavor’ and your father will reply something condescending like ‘who are you again?’ and then Shinsou can just brainwash him into forgetting about One For All.”
That was kind of simplistically brilliant. Why hadn’t they thought of that before?
“It can’t be as easy as that.”
“Shh, respect the plan. And stop talking about your father in bed.”
“Let’s not talk about him at all,” Shouto grinned as he said the familiar line.
“You’re right.” Izuku finally opened his eyes as he said his equally familiar response. “I can think of much better things to do than talk.”
Shouto leant in to kiss him tenderly. “I love you. It’s nice to be home.”
“I love you, too,” Izuku said when he pulled away, smiling softly in the morning light. “Welcome home.”