Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Shoto’s not exactly sure when the thought hit him, it wasn’t a sudden, air-drawing moment that he could recount within a snap of his fingers. Perhaps it was when he was walking down the hall to his bedroom, slightly limping from a particularly rough training session. Maybe it was when he was lying down on his floor trying his hardest to ignore Fuyumi’s soft cries one room over. Possibly he just always knew, but never was able to take the courage and vocalize it. Fact is fact though, and the truth was; 

Shoto Todoroki didn’t belong here. 

What here was though, was a much harder question to answer. This house? His school? Hero society as a whole? General existence? He didn’t know. Perhaps there was no significant place at all. Perhaps, he was just destined to be out of place. Unfit. Misplaced. Unsightly. He couldn’t live like this, not now, and not forever. 

He glanced around where he was seated in the far corner of his room. His legs curled up to meet his chin, with his arms reaching around to grasp each other in an attempt to pathetically half-cradle his softly shaking body.  He couldn’t help but notice how strikingly bare his room was, not a poster or picture on his wall or a single decoration sitting on his neatly kept desk, it looked as if no one was living there at all.  He guessed it made sense, any object he genuinely cared about, (Which was far too sparse of a list) he had brought to the dorms. It was easier that way, no need to worry for Endeavour to barge into his room and take his things in a fit of rage because Shoto was too childish, weak, stubborn, or whatever other demeaning adjective that had caught his eye. He shook his head, willing himself to ignore the image of a shredded teddy bear that he loved so dearly as a child, (not a child, he was never a child) that was ripped from his hands barely days after he had returned from the hospital after the accident. 

It was safer this way, he assured himself. He didn’t need to worry about having something Endeavour would disapprove of, in case someone else would have to pay the price. Keeping it simple, barely-human, made it easier for him to slip to the role expected from him in this house. If his room looked empty, then empty he can be. Perform only what is expected of him, nothing more, nothing less. 

Still, came an ugly voice from the back of his head, You can’t keep up this facade forever, only so long until it Cracks. He darted his glance to the other side of the room, as if to imply that he was ignoring the distorted sound. Unluckily for him, thoughts apparently don’t just disappear if one chooses not to listen,  Eventually… the voice began again, louder this time, He’s going to notice how Unsuitable you are, and throw you out. Just. Like. Touya.  

In response, Shoto frantically grasped his head, as if covering his ears. He focused on his breathing, careful not to stumble his way into a panic attack. Once he had felt confident enough that his brief moment of panic had subsided, and the once overwhelming thoughts slowly turned into an incomprehensible murmur in the back of his mind, he started to stand.  As he had finally made his way to his feet, careful not to get too dizzy and topple over.

He grabbed his roll of bandages that he kept in the second drawer of his desk. Leaning against his wall, he wrapped his ankle in the white fabric, trying his best to avoid thoughts on how he had gotten that injury in the first place.  He laughed bitterly, all of these thoughts on how Shoto didn’t belong here and couldn’t stay here forever, but he continues to go through the robotic movements of his everyday life without an objection in sight. He really was Endeavour's perfect tool. 

But, came the awful voice again, It doesn’t have to be that way. Shoto scoffed at that notion, yes it did. He had no other choice, this was just how it is. You always have a choice, came the voice, oddly… softer? Your soul is always your own, be as free as you wish. It’s up to you to figure out how. 

Shoto almost laughed at that statement, but then paused. The voice had reminded him of something he learned so very long ago-- it was his power…  it was his life. It’s not fair that Endeavour controlled every aspect of his being,  from how long he slept to what he ate, but just staying complacent whilst he did so only furthered Endeavour's position of owner, and his as tool. He needed to figure out some way to make this life of his, purely his own. To get Endeavour's grubby little hands off of it.

How though? He had absolutely no idea. He paused for a moment, hoping for the voice that resided in his head to maybe give him an idea, a notion for what’s next. Unluckily for Shoto, it was now of all times that the voice had decided to be unperceivable, the one time he was willing to listen.  Guess he was on his own this time. He glanced around his room, his eyes quickly brushing over the neatly made Tatami mat, before his gaze suddenly landed on his half open backpack, which contained the vast majority of his belongings not in his dorm. The majority of his life was in that bag, along with the majority of what… he needed to survive. 

Shoto stood rigidly for a moment, shocked by the thought that had passed his head. What if he ran away? He almost stopped himself right then and there, almost convincing himself that it was too stupid of a plan to work. But… was it? Could running away possibly be worse than living here. PLaying pawn in this life he never was meant to be in. Shoto doubted that.

  This wasn’t the first time he had pondered running away, but this was the only time he realized he truly had a chance for something better if he did. He glanced at his backpack again, if he were to leave, what would he need to take?  He walked over to the bag, pulling out his binders and papers of school work, (most of which he had yet to finish) he’s not going to need those where he’s going.

As he went to his closet, grabbing several outfits along with a jacket and a pair of shoes, he thought on where he wanted to go. His first choice would be U.A, but he knew that it wouldn’t work. He would have been found in an instant and besides, if he was removing himself from this path to become a hero, he needs to remove himself from all aspects, and regrettably-- that includes his classmates. 

After he had finished putting a roll of bandages and antiseptic into the bag, he scanned his room one last time before, somewhat-unconsciously making his way to his desk where he opened the bottom drawer, moving some papers aside and grasped onto a sleek black book. His sketchbook. He stood there for a moment, debating whether or not it would be rational to bring it, before finally settling on sliding it into the back of the bag. 

With that conundrum settled, Shoto slipped out of his room, turning the lights off and softly closing the door. As he went out into the corridor, he noticed dark it was, it must have been far later than he had thought. He walked through the hall, careful not to disturb Fuyumi as he passed by her door. As he had reached the entrance he noticed Endeavour's coat hanging up next to the shoes, slowly he reached his hand into the pocket and was delighted when he was greeted with a square, leather wallet. He pulled it out and began trifling through it, grabbing as much paper cash as he could before slipping on his shoes. 

As he made his way through the door, he had one thought ringing through his head as he left. 

Shoto Todoroki didn’t belong here, but he was going to find some place that he did.

Chapter Text

Chapter Two 

As he slipped out of the door, careful trying to  avoid any strategically placed security cameras (which were less there to keep others out but rather to keep them in ). Shoto took one final breath of air, and with all the courage he could gather-- walked out of the gate. 

As he began walking down the sidewalk in the dark of the night, Shoto came to the realization that he had absolutely no idea where to go next. He was caught up in the adrenaline of leaving, he never planned for what to do when he left. He glanced around, disorientated, he had never really walked these streets before alone. Which way to go? 

He looked down at his feet, maybe this was a bad idea after all; less than fifteen minutes outside and he’s already stuck, how was he going to survive out here alone?

No, He shook his head, This is the right decision, no matter what happens out here it will be thousands of times better than back there. With his semi-confidence in his decision Shoto pulled his chin up to glance at the road again and without a second thought, took the inky-black road to his left. 

He slowly trekked down the street, careful to not draw any unnecessary attention to himself, he glanced back and forth, avoiding any unsavory individuals. What to do next? It was still the middle of the night so he doubted that any useful stores would be open, therefore a run to get supplies was out of the question. Running to get the (few) sentimental  objects from his dorm room was also quickly ruled out, going to U.A this quickly after he left the house was a sure-fire way to get him caught. What did that leave him with? 

As he started to pull himself away from his mile-a-minute thoughts,  he glanced up, momentarily confused by the lush green grass resting underneath his feet--he realized that whilst he was lost within his mind his body must have taken him to the only spot he kinda knew close to his house, the city owned park. Well, that solves it-- if Shoto can’t do anything until morning comes then sleeping may be the most foolproof way to speed up the process. 

He wandered in the park, his hand clutching the strap of his bag in an attempt to sooth his irrational fear that somehow someone he knows may suddenly know he’s here. Soon enough, Shoto had found a bench that was both clean and generally out of the way of foot traffic, just in case . He laid down on the wooden seat, setting his bag underneath his head and pulling his jacket over his body as a makeshift blanket, Shoto closed his eyes and tried to fall asleep. Typically, Shoto has been one to fall asleep as the drop of a hat, but even as someone as skilled as Shoto of of the art of being unconscious, he still struggled to ignore the sharp, slanted corners of the bench he was lying on, as well as the metallic bar that had divided the seat into two, obviously there to prevent people like him from having a good nights rest-- Instead of allowing these obstacles Shoto had just uncomfortably scrunched his legs so they almost touched his chin. Soon, despite his terrible sleeping position, Shoto soon was able to fall into a restless sleep. 

It must have been no later than 7 o’clock in the morning when Shoto finally had awoken enough to open his sleep-laced eyes. As his vision adjusted to the morning sun, he felt underneath his head for his bag, luckily for him it seemed no one had come to steal his few items. Uncurling himself from the ball that he was in, Shoto stretched and stood up, feeling his back pop into place as he did so. He pulled his jacket on and put the hood over his head, hoping to obstruct his multi-coloured hair, and swung his bag over his shoulder, Shoto prepared himself for the day ahead. 

Walking out of the park, Shoto was careful to avoid eye-contact with people passing him in the street, knowing that if they caught sight of his obvious hair colour he would be spotted immediately. This reasonably founded anxiety made obvious what he needed to do next. 

Carefully, Shoto slipped into a cramped sage-green corner store busy with people. He made his way to the back, avoiding any obvious security cameras. Once he had arrived in the aisle he was careful not to waste too much time browsing, instead Shoto had grabbed the closest box he saw and slipped it up his sleeve (thankful for his affinity for baggy clothing). With his head down and arms by his side Shoto half-scurried out the store, trying his damndest to avoid eye contact with the middle-aged cashier who was staring at Shoto as if they could see right through him. 

After he had walked a considerable distance from the store he let out a soft sigh of relief. He just stole something ! Shoto realized. There’s no going back now, after this he has to be committed. Oddly enough, hair dye was what marked Shoto’s fate down in stone. As he glanced down to the offending box, finally getting a good glance at it-- once he looked down he realized exactly what colour he had chosen and couldn’t help but let out a softly whispered “ Shit.” 

Of all colours Shoto could have chosen, he chose pink . A soft pastel-bubblegum shade rested in the palm of his hand and Shoto had half the mind to slam it on the sidewalk and stalk off; but he didn’t, he had put too much effort into retrieving it to let it go to waste, no matter how pissed of he was at the colour selection. 

At least in a quirk infested society, pink hair was as common as brown eyes, or being above average height. As well, Shoto thought of all colours to pick from, pink would certainly piss off the old man the most. With that thought he almost smiled, maybe Endeavour wouldn’t even look for him, once that bastard realized that Shoto’s hair better matched the hue of bubblegum than his. 

With a slightly better outlook on his current situation (though he still couldn’t shake off the initial annoyance of the revelation no matter how hard he tried) Shoto continued on his way. Eventually, Shoto caught sight of what looked to be a public bathroom. Perfect. He made his way over to the bathroom and swung the door open. It wasn’t the most ideal spot to do any sort of cosmetic work, the walls looked wet and moldy, the tiles had grime within their cracks and the porcelain sink was stained a dirty-yellow, but still-- it would do. 

It took him a while to figure out the directions written on the side of the package, but eventually he figured it out. As he was doing it Shoto was immensely grateful that the box came with gloves,as he watched the sink turn a red-pink that he knew would make him look like a new and inexperienced killer. Soon, Shoto had finished, he pulled his head out of the sink, heating his head up just hot enough so that the water would steam off. As he lifted his head up to look in the mirror he let out a small gasp, his hair was completely pink! Not the almost-pink his hair used to achieve when he forgot to brush it and the differently coloured sides would enterwine, but pastel-pink. It was odd, with his hair being one singular tone, but it felt ok. The more he had admired his newly toned hair, the more he realized that perhaps he was being a little too harsh on the colour. Pink suits him. 

Pulling his bag back onto his shoulder, Shoto walked out of the washroom with a newfound confidence. A confidence that was immediately shattered once he had caught sight of the images playing on the television. It was him two nights ago, slowly shutting the front door with his loosely hanging off of his left shoulder, his multi colored eyes looking calculating and frantic at the same time, pairing nicely with his frumpled clothing and messy hair. To put it simply, he looked crazed . So shocked by his own image playing on the screen he almost missed the bold text underneath it; Todoroki Shouto-- Son of Endeavour and Runaway Teen. Report Any Known Information to Police. 

If Shoto was anybody else, he would have screamed, but he’s Todoroki Shoto (unfortunately) and loud outbursts were just not quite in his nature. Instead, he slowly backed away from the crowd that had begun to gather around the television, once he was a considerable distance from any nosy civilian, he turned around and ran. 

Shoto ran, his leather shoes hitting the cold pavement and his lungs tight with anxiety. They have a video. They have a video of him leaving when he thought he was so careful. Once he had finally slowed down, he focused on regaining his breath, and organizing his thoughts in the meantime. 

They have a video of him leaving the mansion, he still had his half-and-half hair at the time and isn’t wearing or carrying anything immediately identifiable. They didn’t show any other footage, so it is unlikely that they caught him anywhere else. He calmed down, this really isn’t as bad as he was making it out to be. People were going to realize that he was missing, and with his father being who he was-- being put on the news was inevitable. He leaned up against the brick wall beside him, this was workable. He just needed to be a little more vigilant and he’ll be just fi-- Suddenly he heard an unfamiliar voice shout out 

“Hey, Kid! Don’t you dare move a muscle!”

Chapter Text

“Hey, Kid! Don’t you dare move a muscle!” 

Shoto glanced up, shocked out of his stupor. He caught eyes with a tall, lanky woman, her glare trained on Shoto as if she was going to pounce on him.

She pointed her finger at him accusingly “You! You’re the kid that ran away. Endeavour's son!”  

Shoto didn’t spare her a response, instead he turned to his right… and took off running. 

He ran as if that was the one thing that Shoto knew how to do; and, in some ways, it was. His black sneakers hit the pavements for less than seconds at a time before being hoisted into the air again, as he had been trained to do so long ago.  As he flew past pedestrians, aware that the tall lady was close on his heels, Shoto allowed himself to remember running like this as a child-- late at night, Natsou would sneak into his room and bring Shoto out to the courtyard where they’d play a mellowed version of tag, Natsou working to be courteous of Shoto’s training injuries whilst Shoto avoided making noise at all, or risk being caught.  It was fun at the time, despite the precautions they needed. it was the only time that Shoto felt that he was really a part of a family, even if it was just him and Natsou . Yet, looking back on it, the memory tasted bittersweet-- As kind as it was for Natsou to risk punishment for Shoto to be a kid (even if only  for a few hours) he shouldn’t have had to. 

Shoto looked up, discarding the intruding memory. There were times where it was acceptable to reminisce, this was not one of them. As he dragged himself out of his thoughts, he suddenly glanced down at a curb that was coming far too fast for him to dodge. he stared at the ledge with increasing desperation as it came closer and closer to him, he could only watch as his ankle collided with the cement, causing his entire body to follow suit. Maybe it was the adrenaline coursing through his veins at the moment, maybe it was just his incredibly high pain tolerance that came with being the successor of Endeavour, it didn’t matter-- at that moment Shoto could feel nothing but absolute fear-- fear that woman would catch up with him, fear that in this moment someone else will recognize him, fear that all this work he put in to finally being okay would be for naught. 

Luckily, Shoto’s reflexes were faster than his anxieties tried to convince him they were, and he was able to pull himself off the ground and continued racing throughout the town in a near second. As he allowed himself to fall back into the rhythm  of running that he was so familiar with, he looked back; though Shoto was able to get off the ground far quicker than the average person, that didn’t mean that his fall was without consequences, the woman was gaining on him. Fast. 

Glancing around, Shoto could feel himself starting to panic, if he didn’t find a way to get away from her immediately, being caught would be inevitable. He could fight her, but even if wasn’t planning on becoming a hero, he still had morals and fighting with an untrained (yet impressive athletic) civilian went against the majority of them . With violence being out of the question, the only way Shoto could get out of there, would be to hide.

 He snapped his head to his right… nothing there. With increasing anxiety, he turned to his left and--Perfect! Slightly in front of him was an alleyway, blocked by a rusty sage-green gate which stood slightly crooked, and left just enough space for someone to squeeze in. 

Glancing behind himself one more time, Shoto took a deep breath and darted toward the gate. He grabbed onto the metal side and forced himself through; though it was a tight fit, he managed. Slowly, he stumbled towards the other side of the gate, peeking through it, he watched as the woman continued to run right past him. As she did that, Shoto let out a sigh of relief, and backed into the slightly damp wall. 

He slid down to the ground, feeling the adrenaline flushed out of his body. Now that the original threat was gone, Shoto was left to focus on the burning pain that consumed the entirety of his right leg. Cautiously he rolled up his pant leg… and almost wanted to roll it right back down again as he saw his injury. His leg was more blood than skin at that point,  and though it looked as if the scrape didn’t dig too far into the flesh, it almost covered the entirety of his calf. Shoto breathed in… and then breathed out-- trying his hardest not to let out a cry of pain. He could do this, he knew he could-- his (almost) full year in the top hero school in the country prepared him for much worse than a scraped knee. 

He pulled his bag from where it was resting after he flung it to the ground the moment he reached the wall. Opening it up, he rummaged through it, searching for something that could help him and… there! Rolling around on the bottom of the bag was a roll of white bandages, Shoto couldn’t help the small smile that graced his lips, sometimes he was thankful for past Shoto. He rolled the necessary length around his leg, and wrapped the end so the bandage would stay on. As he put the rest of the cloth back in his bag, He allowed his shoulders to relax. 

The sun was setting, he supposed that he was sleeping here tonight. He grabbed his bag again, this time pulling out his sleek, black sketchbook and his pencil in which he kept attached to the spine of the book. He opened up a blank page-- and then he drew. 

He wasn’t quite sure what he was drawing, or even why was drawing in the first place. It felt as if his hands and heart were working together, with no care to inform his brain of the end goal. He watched as the graphite ran across the paper, and then… he realized exactly what he was creating. In front of him showed class 1A, standing bright eyed and happy. He felt himself draw in a startled breath; And he realized, He… missed them. He suddenly felt his lungs contract within themselves, Shoto had been so carried with running away from the pain in his life, he forgot to care about the joy. 

Shoto was so caught up in this sudden grief that he barely noticed the lone tear that traced his face.

Chapter Text

Chapter Four 

Shoto was so caught up in this sudden grief that he barely noticed the lone tear that traced his face. 

With shaking hands Shoto placed the sketchbook down, tears racing down his face. Slowly, his knees inched up to his chin as his arms encased himself in a desperate half-hug. His breaths soon transitioned into shuddering, half gasps as his tears turned to sobbing. 

He wasn’t quite sure how much time had passed since his tears originally started to fall; yet, now they had dried up, leaving Shoto to slow his stuttering breaths in an attempt to calm. The sky had darkened, and it seemed as if Shoto’s body had noticed before he did. As his breathing was evening out, Shoto’s eyelid became heavier, and heavier until-- despite his best efforts-- they shut.

When his eyes opened again, his vision was hazy and shaking. Wherever he was, it certainly wasn’t the dirty alleyway that Shoto had fallen asleep in. it was… a room of sorts-- nondescript and grey. The more he studied it, the more he noticed, there were no windows or doors and the paint on the walls seemed to be chipping.

Shoto glanced down and saw what must have been… blood? He frantically glanced up again, only to catch the sight of a pair of vivid teal eyes. Shoto couldn’t help the gasp that escaped him.

“Touya?” Shoto whispered, not quite believing what (or who) he saw. 

The boy who stood in front of him couldn’t have been older than twelve, with snow-white hair and burned fingertips, he held a fire in his eyes that burned hotter than his flames ever could. 

“This is your fault.” the boy spat out with venom, a tone that the Todoroki family had mastered long ago. 

“What...do you mean?” Shoto stuttered out. 

Alas the boy-- Touya, didn’t respond, instead he burst into a flurry of blue and white flame. Instinctually Shoto backed away and covered his face with his forearms, in fear of being burned. When Shoto glanced up again he caught sight of Touya, or what was becoming of him. 

Shoto could only watch in horror as Touya’s pale and marred skin melted off the bones of his face, as if wax to a candle. His white hair became charred and bloodied. 

“Touya!” Shoto desperately screamed, reaching out to his brother in vain. 

The boy looked up again, his bright eyes catching Shoto's “You did this!” He screamed out in fury, before allowing the flames to consume him. 

The fire had died down quickly, leaving only a fragmented piece of jaw in its wake. 

Shoto didn’t have time to process what exactly had happened before two delicate hands had gripped at his shoulders. His breath hitched and quickly turned around. 

“ Mom?” 

In front of him stood his mother, her long hair was unkempt and her face was sunken in. She looked...sickly.

“Mom?” Shoto said again, with increasing anxiety. 

Rei’s right hand moved up from Shoto’s shoulders onto his face, her thumbs rhythmically stroking his cheek up and down. Shoto was hyper aware of each time the tip of her finger ran across the jagged scar tissue of his face. 

“My boy…” She whispered to herself, sounding so incredibly lost. “My poor, poor boy.” 

“Mom...What are you doing here?” He gently asked. 

In response Rei continued her muttering, “Who...did this to you?” She asked, staring intently at the left side of his face. 

Shoto felt as if he would vomit. “You...you don’t remember?” He stammered. 

“Remember?” She asked dazedly. 

“When...you burned me?” Shoto could feel her grip tighten as her thumb sped up in motion.

“What are you talking about?” She giggled softly, “I didn’t do this.” 

“Mom,” Shoto said with increasing desperation “You have to remember… you were boiling water…” he trailed off. 

“Stop…” 

“Stop what?” Shoto asked, anxiety brewing in his chest. 

“Stop lying!” Rei shouted, her nails dug into Shoto’s flesh. “You dirty boy! You… You lying, dirty boy!”  She shouted with increased ferocity, the look on her eyes reminiscent of one she held ten years ago. 

“Mom!” Shoto shouted, “You-- You’re hurting me!” He grabbed her hand, only to be pushed away. 

He stumbled backwards, his legs then giving out-- Shoto fell backwards. He braced himself for the landing, closing his eyes and frantically moving his arms in hope to break the drop.  

And yet… The ground had never come. He opened his eyes, only to be greeted with pure darkness. He was still falling, but there was no ground in sight. The pace of the descent was speeding up, he knew the end was in sight and yet right before he landed--

Shoto felt himself gasp as he shot up out of his sleep. A dream...it was just a dream. He panted as he got sight of his surroundings. He was still in the alley, his sketchbook tossed to the side and his bag leaning against him. As he adjusted to the waking world Shoto couldn’t help but notice how his clothes stuck to his skin and his face felt uncomfortably damp. 

He dragged his hand across his forehead before he gathered up his book and bag and decided he needed to find a sink at the very least. 

He must have looked pathetic, his bubblegum bangs sticking against his forehead as he stumbled out of the alleyway. He glanced in both directions before deciding to head left, a decision he would soon come to regret. 

Shoto walked on the sidewalk, still incredibly disorientated from his dream, if he was in any other state, any other level of consciousness, he would have noticed the man in the pitch-black jumpsuit with a long white scarf hanging around his neck. Perhaps if he was more aware he would have ran-- unfortunately Shoto was barely managing to walk without falling over, and didn’t have the capacity for critical thought at that moment. 

He didn’t notice this man, until he ran directly into him. In response Shoto nearly apologized and continued on his way... nearly. 

  He would have continued on his way if two large hands didn’t happen to grab his shoulders as a gravelly voice mumbled “Found you.”