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He thought he had a chance.
Foolish, poor little Shouto Todoroki thought he had a fucking chance in the middle of the never-ending shitshow that his life has been ever since the day he was born.
He watches Dabi, no , Touya, his fucking brother Touya whom they all thought to be dead standing right in front of him not for the first time.
His skin crawls as he listens to him speak — as he talks about how as family they should have recognized him before but how could he? Shouto had been snatched away from them at the age of five, they never really coexisted, the only face Shouto was familiar with was the little boy with sad eyes and snow-white hair from the picture in the shrine back at the house.
He keeps talking, though. Touya makes a point of letting him know he had plans for him. Everybody seems to have plans for Shouto Todoroki’s future, like his opinion in the matter had never weighed anything in the great scheme of things. Dabi—Touya isn’t even wrong to call him a puppet, he can almost feel the pull of each string attached to his body trying to make him dance accordingly. He had never been treated like he was there anyway.
He learns that Touya has considered killing him, he had it all orchestrated until their father became number 1 and that singular fact changed his plans.
Well, Shouto wishes he had done it, he wishes they’d taken him instead of Bakugou that time back in the training camp and that they’d put him out of his misery. His pathetic existence is just an endless thread of agony and regret.
He feels sorry. Shouto doesn’t even know what he’s sorry about but he is.
He’s sorry for Touya being cast away when his stupid hybrid quirk manifested and Endeavor chose to train him instead. He’s sorry for their mother losing her shit by the mere sight of him. He’s sorry for Fuyumi never getting her long-dreamed family and her taste of normalcy. He’s sorry for Natsuo having everyone he cared about taken away from him. All because of Shouto. Little Shouto Todoroki, daddy’s favorite — daddy’s fucking masterpiece.
Their father is beside him, standing there wide-eyed and awestruck, Shouto can’t look him in the eye, though he’s sorry for Endeavor, too. He’s sorry that he’s gone blindsided by the beacon of hope that shined upon Shouto’s birth. He’s sorry that he’s the one who kept unwarily feeding the monster that had corrupted their father long ago.
He doesn’t blame Touya for doing what he’s doing. Shouto doesn’t resent or hate him for wanting him dead. He had wished it himself far too many times to care.
Shouto had been foolish to ever think he had a chance. To let himself dream of another life where things are just a little bit easier. Not quite like Fuyumi who had always dreamed of peaceful family dinners and phone calls in the middle of the week just for shooting the breeze instead of strained exchanges that lasted less than five minutes. Those were far away dreams that bordered on utopian. But he had his own dreams however modest, things he would wish upon a falling star and hope they became true someday.
He dreamed of motherly embraces and tasty food, he dreamed of bringing friends home and not having it end up awkwardly with him and his sister apologizing. He dreamed of becoming the hero his mother would be proud of instead of terrified.
Now his entire world is crumbling and it all seems even more like wishful thinking than a possibility of a brighter future. What hadn’t already disintegrated under Shigaraki’s hand is now being stomped and crushed under Touya’s feet. His brother might as well kill him, Shouto kind of wishes he still has that goal in sight because he doesn’t think he can take any more of this.
That’s why he places himself between Endeavor and Touya; not to save them but to give himself a reprieve. He clutches to his brother’s arms and lets both of their flames engulf them in a hellish heat that starts to melt them. He hears distant screaming from people he had once cared about, friends who had been there for him and made him believe he actually stood a chance against all of this. Shouto’s sorry for them, too.
He hears his father scream his name before the world is tuned out and the pain becomes almost unbearable. His skin burns and blisters, it feels like it’s been ripped apart and is ready to burst, he wonders if that’s what Touya had always felt whenever he used his quirk.
Ever since he was a kid, Shouto’s world had been consumed by flames, it’s not that much of a shock that it’s also how it ends; up in flames, a cremation — at least he’ll be free when this is all said and done.
Shouto Todoroki never had a chance.