Work Text:
Enji's first thought as he barges into the alley, fire in hand, and sees Shouto's bleeding, dying, body, is oh god, please not again .
What does that even say about him, that he can find one of his sons dying and think 'again'?
He barely remembers the other boy or what he does until he finds himself on his knees by Shouto's side, fire out but for the barest flame he needs to see his son's wounds.
His knees are getting wet but he doesn't want to think about it as he presses surprisingly steady hands to his son's chest, where the blood is still seeping from.
His hands should be shaking, he feels, but he is glad that they don't as he unsticks wet cloth from a really, really bad chest wound.
He's seen colleagues die from less, but this isn't a colleague, isn't a fellow hero, this is Shouto, his masterpiece, his son.
"Is the kid —" he hears the hero slumped over in the alley ask, but Enji ignores him, pressing fervent hands to his son's chest to try to staunch the bleeding.
Blood stains his hands and slips through his fingers like time, and Enji curses. But Shouto's still breathing — well out of it, but breathing still. Fighting still.
"You can make it," Enji pleads — no, begs, though he doesn't who he's begging from. The universe, maybe? "You will make it. You're strong, you have to make it."
But Shouto's breath shake and the blood seeping through his hands seem to slow, and suddenly occurs to Enji that he doesn't have a choice.
It makes a sickening amount of sense, somehow, that the fire Shouto refuses to use might be what saves him in the end.
"I'm sorry about this," Enji whispers, quickly pulling his hands away and clearing the area around the wound as best he can. He spares himself a second to look at Shouto's face.
He doesn't look like he's sleeping, is his first thought. He's too pale for that, and there's a small trickle of blood trailing down from his mouth, but he's still breathing.
"I'm sorry," he repeats, and hopes that somehow, somewhere, his son can hear the apology in his voice as he presses down his blazing fingers to the wound, his stomach roiling as the wound starts to sizzle shut.
“I’m sorry,” he says, and maybe if he says it enough time it’ll make up for his failures.
But probably not.
Shouto doesn’t expect to wake up. It’s an odd first thought to have, but it’s true. He remembers Stain stabbing him and how much blood had gushed from that wound when the hero killer had yanked out his blade. He remembers growing so cold and weak he couldn’t even feel the pain anymore, and he’d known he was dying. That he wouldn’t wake up if he closed his eyes.
And yet, here he is, still breathing and lying on something soft and almost uncomfortably warm.
The room is empty when he finally manages to open his eyes. Adjusting to the light takes him a little while, and Shouto spends it blinking rapidly and trying to bring the room into focus.
He’s in the hospital, he notes distantly. He pats the bed with his hand until his fingers find the buttons that will let him move the bed into a sitting position, and the mechanisms whir softly as they work.
It hurts more like this, a sharp ache in his chest that makes it hard to breathe, but Shouto prefers sitting up to lying down.
His heart pounds in his chest, so much it’s a wonder the heart monitor he’s still hooked up to doesn’t go haywire, and he lifts trembling hands to his chest, bending his head down to see it.
Just those small gestures feel as hard as lifting a mountain, but Shouto perseveres and is greeted by the sight of white bandages, wrapped thickly against his chest.
He presses hesitant fingers over where he can still feel the blade that stabbed him, and swallows. That was… very close to his heart.
He’s still staring at his chest when the nurse walks in. She jerks in surprise when she sees him, and instantly hurries over at his side, fretting.
Shouto lets her. He’s suddenly feeling very tired again, and he welcomes the darkness tugging at his mind with open arms.
Never has a door felt so daunting — not even the door to Tensei’s hospital room when Tenya had first visited him.
This door… This door leads to Todoroki’s hospital room, and it makes Tenya feel sick to even look at it. It makes his eyes burn and his mind scream why, because Todoroki is in there because of him — because Tenya couldn’t keep his promise to his brother and had to go after Stain.
Todoroki nearly died because of Tenya’s selfish actions, and so he can’t bring himself to open up the door.
He should, though, right? It’d be the proper thing. Tenya needs to apologize, at least, even if a mere apology couldn’t make anything right.
He raises his hand — again — to knock and lowers it — again.
Maybe he should come back later, Tenya thinks, swallowing and flexing his fingers. Todoroki was really hurt, he might be sleeping right now, and Tenya wouldn’t want to disturb him when Tenya’s the reason Todoroki was hurt in the first place.
Yes, maybe he should —
“You can come in, you know.” Todoroki’s voice filters in through the door, startling him.
“I beg your pardon?”
“I know it’s you, Iida,” Todoroki replies. It’s hard to tell if he’s feeling anything through his voice alone, but Tenya likes to think Todoroki sounds… amused. Maybe.
“Oh,” Tenya replies, rocking back on his heels. He clears his throat. “Well, in that case…”
The door opens smoothly and silently as Tenya pushes it open. He takes a step inside, then two, and freezes as he sees Todoroki.
“Hi.” His voice croaks around the word. Todoroki looks… He looks…
Well, he looks hurt. He’s usually always so composed in class, but now his hair is all ruffled and his skin looks pale than usual, the lines of his face tired and drawn with pain.
Bandages peek out from under the hospital gown, and Tenya instantly falls into a bow, apologizing.
“It’s fine,” Torodoki replies evenly. When Tenya dares to look up, Todoroki’s not even looking at him, staring at his hands instead.
He’s… using his quirk, Tenya realizes. Raising small shards of ice with one hand that he melts with the other, causing vapor to curl up and disperse in the air.
“I’m sorry,” Tenya repeats. “My actions were unforgivable, and because of them you might have…”
“Died?” Todoroki finishes for him, shrugging. He clenches his fists, and the fire and ice vanish. “I know. But it wasn’t just your fault,” he says. “I also made mistakes.” He looks down at his hands again, flexing the left one. “I thought… I thought I could become a hero without my father’s fire, but I guess I was wrong.” His scowl breaks his facade, but more than that, Todoroki looks… sad, Tenya notices.
He suddenly seems very small on that bed for how much of a tall figure he usually cuts in class.
“Your father’s fire?” Tenya feels himself ask, brow furrowing in confusion.
Todoroki’s scowl deepens. “Half of my quirk is his,” he says. “I get the ice from my mother.”
“I see,” Tenya replies, even though he doesn’t think he really does. “Forgive me for saying so, but… It feels a little stupid to handicap yourself from half of your own quirk. Besides, quirks don’t actually work that way — my Engines run in my family, but I no more have my mother’s quirk than my brother has — had — our father’s, even though our engines came from them.”
Todoroki doesn’t look any less sad though, and Tenya wishes he was anywhere else, or anyone else. Tensei would know what to say, he thinks. Tensei always knows what to say.
But Tensei’s not here — Tenya is.
“It’s your fire, Todoroki, and… Well, I don’t think I’m lying when I say it was what saved our lives, and not your father’s flames.”
It feels trite to say, and not enough, but Todoroki blinks like he’s been broken out of a dream.
“I did use them, then,” he says quietly. “I wasn’t sure.”
Tenya steps closer, nodding quickly. “Yes, you did, and it gave me enough time to break out of Stain’s hold. We — I wouldn’t be here without your help, Todoroki — and your fire.”
Todoroki nods but stays silent again.
Tenya shifts awkwardly on his feet. “So, I also wanted to say thank you. For finding me. Us — I’m told Native will also be okay.”
Todoroki nods, but his face stays unnervingly blank. “I didn’t.” His jaw jumps in one of the first shows of emotions Tenya’s seen from him. “I should be the one apologizing,” Todoroki says, shaking his head.
His fists are clenched on the sheets again. “I wasn’t really coming to save you, like I should have been. I was also going after Stain.” He averts his eyes. “I wanted to prove to my father I could be a hero without his help — after what happened at the Sports Festival…”
Todoroki falls silent and Tenya winces. Yeah, that’d mess anyone up.
What would Tensei do? Tenya asks himself again, and suddenly, the answer is clear.
It’s never been clearer. He puts on a smile and offers Todoroki his hand to shake. “Well, then we can only get better in the future,” he says.
“Be the heroes we hoped we could be,” Tenya continues, letting out half a chuckle. “I always wanted to be a hero just like my brother.”
“... I wanted to be a hero like All Might.” Todoroki’s voice is soft, and he sounds like his words surprised even himself, but Tenya grins at him.
“All Might’s a great hero!” he cheers. “We’re lucky to have him as a teacher.”
Todoroki nods and sighs. “‘The heroes we hoped we could be’, huh?” he mumbles, and before Tenya can confirm, Todoroki’s shaking his hand, his grip cool but strong. His lips curl into the closest Tenya’s ever seen him come to a smile. “Guess we can’t do much worse than we did until now, can we?”
Tenya snorts back a laugh. “No, we probably can’t.”
And Tenya realizes that he probably hasn’t managed to get through Todoroki’s obvious issues about his fire, but he’s clearly done something. Something right, too.
Maybe even something heroic.
(Something he can tell his brother to make Tensei proud of him again.)
There had been a moment, when Fuyumi had first gotten the call and managed to parse out their father’s shaking voice, where she’d thought he was calling her to tell her Shouto had died.
But then Endeavor had said Shouto was alive but undergoing surgery, and that was all Fuyumi remembered from that call.
She’d had to text Natsuo to get the hospital’s address, and she had shaken all the way to the hospital.
By the time she’d gotten there, Shouto’s operation was over and then he’d slept.
Endeavor had left before Shouto could wake. Part of Fuyumi had wanted to scream at him to stay — because how could he leave now, didn’t he care? — but then she’d remembered he was still the number two hero, who’d been involved in that disaster down in Hosu, and he should probably get back to his work.
And sadly, as Natsuo had scoffed, Shouto probably wouldn’t want to see him.
Natsuo’d been right, of course. Shouto had been awake for a couple of days now, and he still didn’t want to see their father. He had, of course, but Shouto had ignored Endeavor’s attempts to communicate rather masterfully.
It would almost be funny, if it wasn’t so sad.
“You know, Father was very distraught when they brought you in. He was the one… He was the one who found you. They say you wouldn’t have made it without his help.”
Is it weird, Fuyumi wonders, that she knows what their father has become but still wants their family to get along? The boys always make her feel like it is, but they were happy once — why can’t they just be happy again?
Shouto’s hand drifts up to his chest. He’s almost bandage-free now, but the doctors want to keep him under observation for one more day, just in case. “I know,” he says. He looks… tired, and hurt, and Fuyumi hates herself for pushing.
“I’m sorry,” she says. “I shouldn’t have —”
Shouto sighs. “It’s fine, nee-san. I know…” He swallows. “I know Endeavor is a good hero.”
He’s good at his job, he means, and Fuyumi looks down.
“He was really distraught when they brought you in,” she repeats. She doesn’t even really know why, or what she’s trying to say through those words, but it has to matter. Somehow, it has to mean something.
Shouto only snorts. “Upset he might have lost his ‘masterpiece’, probably,” he says bitterly.
Fuyumi’s heart aches and she reaches out to grab Shouto’s hand. It’s the left one, and she hates that he flinches when Fuyumi touches him.
“I wish you wouldn’t call yourself that,” she tells him, blinking back the sudden burning in her eyes. “You’re more than… You’re not a masterpiece,” she corrects herself. “You’re a human being, and my brother, and if we’d lost you…” Her throat closes up around the words. “If we’d lost you, a part of me — of us,” she says, including Natsuo, and Mother, and yes, even Endeavor, “would have been lost too.”
Shouto deflates. “I… I apologize.”
Fuyumi smiles and squeezes his hand. “It’s okay. Now finish your food before it gets cold.”
“That wouldn’t really make it any less palatable, you know.” Shouto snorts, but he starts eating again.
She watches him while he eats, happy to see him doing better.
“I hear you had a visitor yesterday?” she asks him when he finishes.
“Who — Oh, Iida.” Shouto blinks and sets down his glass of water, now empty. “Yes, he wanted to… apologize. And thank me too, I guess.”
Shouto’s brow furrows in confusion, and Fuyumi almost smiles. It almost sounds like her little brother has been making friends.
“He was in Hosu too,” Shouto continues, and Fuyumi’s stomach roils. She almost reaches for Shouto’s hand again, but he’s holding them in his lap and staring at them. “He said — nevermind, it’s not important.”
Shouto cuts himself off, shaking his head, and Fuyumi would pursue it, because whatever Shouto’d been about to say, it sounded important, but his next words surprise her so much that she simply can’t.
“Do you think Mom would want to see me?” he asks, his voice small.
Fuyumi’s heart rises up in her throat. “Of course she would,” she says. Shouto’s fingers twitch up toward his scar before he stills them, and Fuyumi forces herself not to show a reaction and simply smile. “Mom would love to see you. She’s been doing much better lately, and she’d appreciate a visit, I’m sure of it.”
Her heart pounds in her chest and she tastes hope on her tongue. “Are… Are you going to go see her?”
Shouto keeps looking down at his hands. “I think I should,” he says, and then he finally looks up. “There’s something I want to ask her.”
Fuyumi’s smile eases. “I hope you get the answer you’re looking for.”
Shouto nods. “Me too.”
And Fuyumi could push, could hazard a guess as to what her brother wants to ask, but Shouto deserves his privacy.
Besides, she knows their mother — whatever Shouto wants to know, Rei will tell him.
Fuyumi just hopes with all she has that whatever answer’s Shouto’s seeking will help him.
Though, she thinks, taking in the spark in his eyes she hasn’t seen in… years and smiling at it, she’s not too worried about that.