Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It started, like most of his greatest discoveries, during a night when Shouto could not sleep.

Not that this was an uncommon occurrence. Armed with the freedom to stay up late with no ramifications and no flaming “heroes” to walk past and see a light coming from his door at U.A., Shouto often found himself staying up much later than his peers. While home used to be a place that could coax him back to sleep—his mother’s soft touch and beautiful lullabies a testament to it—without his mother, that comfort was nowhere to be found. Funny how the loss of his ice-powered parent drove away all of their home’s warmth and love, while his father, decked though he was in flames, lacked that same warmth.

There was a moment of pause as Shouto was lost in thought, his finger hesitating to scroll to the next post before he jostled himself out of the corner his mind blocked him into.

Stupid, he chastised himself. Even with distance between yourself and Endeavor, he still has control over you. But, only moments after the thought arose, several others emerged in his defense. Most of them, Shouto noted with a smile, sounded like Midoriya’s voice and even his own logic.

Midoriya Izuku.

Shouto couldn’t pretend that thinking about the reckless yet kind-hearted individual wasn’t a place his mind tended to end up. Especially during nights like this, when sleep was an afterthought to scrolling through the internet to chase away his thoughts. While his mind tended to wander toward dark places far too often during these nights, Shouto was grateful to his friend (and only a friend, Shouto reminded the part of himself that churned at the word) for providing some light.

Determined to resume his scrolling and escape his embarrassing tendency to wax poetic about the light of his life, Midoriya, Shouto opened TikTok—an app he claimed to have only downloaded to help improve his English skills for Present Mic’s class, when in reality he enjoyed the videos on the app. Hearing others speak about their trauma helped Shouto realize he was not alone and the occasional videos some of the more media-savvy heroes made were fun to watch, especially the one Midoriya had helped All Might set up.

“This is one of those ‘put a finger down’ videos, but I don’t tell you what the prompt is until the end!” Shouto’s phone suddenly exclaimed. With a small smile, Shouto held up a hand. Oftentimes videos like this ended up telling him “You have trauma!”—as if he didn’t already know—but they could also be quite amusing.

“Put a finger down if you always felt a bit uncomfortable when others call you gendered terms like ‘man,’ ‘bro,’ and ‘sir or ma’am’.” Humming thoughtfully and remembering how all of his interactions with Kirishima always felt a bit stiff, especially so when he referred to Shouto as “manly,” he put one of his fingers down.

“Put a finger down if you’ve never really felt comfortable using public restrooms, unless you have access to a single stall or gender neutral space.” This one certainly resonated with Shouto. Often he would avoid using the bathroom and all of the stares unless there was the option to slip into one undetected, or one in which the sign didn’t emphasize how all members were clearly “male.”

“Put a finger down if you enjoy mixing both traditionally feminie and masculine clothes and accessories.” Shouto lightly traced the braids in his longer hair—a skill he had finally worked up the courage to ask Uraraka about after admiring how pretty her braids were, while the longer hair was a recent success after being out of Endeavor’s grasp for months—before putting another finger down.

“Put a finger down if you don’t like being called son or daughter by your parents. And not because of issues with your parents,” the person in the video interjected, laughing, “but because the language itself is uncomfortable.”

This prompt gave Shouto a longer pause. Of course, he hated every time Endeavor opened his mouth to speak, so trying to separate his words from the person was hard. But then Shouto remembered the first time he visited his mother again, how she had clung to his jacket and cried while repeating “My son. My son. I love you.”

No part of Shouto necessarily minded her saying she loved him, though it had felt undeserved at the time. But there had been something in the back of his mind that prickled at the words, some missing puzzle piece to his life that felt as though it had gotten lodged in his throat, making it hard to breathe. Though Shouto didn’t quite understand what it meant, he put another finger down.
Moving on before Shouto could wonder more about this realization, the video continued with: “Put a finger down if you’re purposefully pursuing a profession where you don’t have to be called Mr. or Mrs, like becoming a doctor!” Shouto chuckled a bit when he thought about the topic. Heroes, he noted with amusement, didn’t need to use their last name and a gendered suffix in Japanese on the job at all. And while hero names were not the only reason he wanted to be a hero, they were certainly something Shouto had spent a lot of time imagining.

“Put a finger down if you’ve thought to yourself before that ‘I’m not trans or the opposite binary gender, as I don’t have that same experience that my trans binary friends have, but I relate parts of the trans experience, and even have memories and desires to dress up with aspects of the opposite gender, or wearing a binder, skirts/dresses, and so on.’”

Shouto blinked. Well. He had certainly never thought along that exact same train of logic, but he did connect with the hardships trans people faced about not fitting in their binary gender. However, he knew that he was not a woman, and he did not want to be perceived and live in society as women do. But thinking back to the times as a child when he snuck some of Fuyumi’s clothes and jewelry to try on and look at himself in the mirror, the discomfort in men’s changing spaces, his desire to emulate the beautiful circlet braids Uraraka wore…

Shouto put his sixth finger down.

“Well, these prompts were just based in my own experience as a non-binary person, but if you put down three or more fingers it’s very likely that you could be non-binary. I’d suggest looking into—”

Hands shaking, Shouto pressed the lock button on his phone, plunging the room into darkness. Whatever he had been expecting the video to close with, some assessment of repression or childhood trauma, it certainly had not been something relating to gender. He had not anticipated a jab about his identity from a random TikTok video; Shouto had not thought something so intrinsic as gender could ever be something other than what society had tried to force himself to be for his entire life. He did not think it was even possible to be something else.
Shouto knew what being non-binary meant, what it was. A couple heroes and other public figures had come out in recent years, most asking folks to use gender neutral pronouns and language. They had all realized that the gender binary did not fit into their life, their actions, and happiness.

Could the same be true for Shouto? As much as Shouto was fearful to admit it, this felt like the final puzzle piece. The aching feeling that had been lodged in Shouto’s heart for ages started to lessen.

“Th-they,” Shouto managed to stutter out, “have a unique dual quirk, allowing them to control both fire and ice.”

To anybody else listening in, this one sentence would have felt mundane, unimportant. But Shouto let out a gasp, which echoed around the room.

It’s going to be so hard, Shouto thought to themself. All of the education they’d have to do with every introduction, the effort needed to explain their literal identity to teachers, students, strangers. It would not be easy, and likely would burn any last bridges Shouto had with their father. Not to mention how their mother, siblings, Midoriya, and other friends would take it.
And while Shouto recognized the fear that swirled in their stomach at the thoughts of the future, one in which they were out as non-binary, none of the feelings had any semblance of doubt.

This was it.

Remembering how the sentence they had managed to choke out just moments before felt… Shouto couldn’t go back to a world where they didn’t know.

With exhaustion finally creeping into Shouto’s limbs, they resolved to slowly let people know. Starting with the easiest, most accepting person that they knew. The type of person who would break all of their fingers and then some to make sure Shouto was in control over their own identity.

Midoriya, who had responded the most warmly out of their classmates when Bakugou waltzed to the front of the room and declared that he was gay, accompanied by the typical amount of expletives. And while Bakugou wouldn’t hesitate to throw anyone out the window who brought it up, he had teared up a bit at Midoriya’s immediate acceptance of him. Not that he would ever admit to it.

Tomorrow, Shouto resolved. They would speak with Midoriya tomorrow, and with his support Shouto would tell the rest of 1-A and the teachers within the week.

It was only then when Shouto turned over onto their side, finally ready to sleep, that they realized with a jolt that their gender crisis and realization had been brought on by a TikTok, of all things.
Despite the sudden and loud groan of exasperation from the dorm above him, Iida—in bed by nine pm in order to fulfill his duties as Class 1-A’s representative—slept on.

[✰✰✰]

The morning, Shouto realized very quickly upon opening their eyes, was absolutely terrible. While making the transition from sleep to reading the newest internet conspiracies about pro-heroes was difficult most mornings, today especially made Shouto regret every decision in their life that led up to this moment.

After much grumbling, cursing the internet’s existence, and an excessive amount of yawning, Shouto managed to look and feel mostly presentable—coffee would certainly help with both—but looking at the time, Shouto realized that the dorm’s coffee machine would be empty by now with the rush of their classmates inhaling the caffeine before morning classes began.

Resigning themself to a terrible, coffee-less, miserable morning with only a few hours of sleep, Shouto pulled out their phone to text the one person that could make this day even remotely bearable.

Shouto [Today, 8:13 AM]
hey
running a bit later to class today than usual. late night
can i catch you after class?

Midoriya <3 [Today, 8:14 AM]
!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Todoroki-kun! Good morning! I was so worried that you would be late to class today, because Iida-kun said he heard your alarm going off for forty-five minutes this morning before you shut it off. It’s important to make sure that you’re getting enough sleep!! It’s dangerous to be tired during our physically demanding hero classes. Not to mention the mental and tactical strain we have to use in order to succeed in those classes!
Just… you know, make sure you’re taking care of yourself :^)

Shouto couldn’t help but smile widely as Midoriya’s texts came in. Maybe it was the exclamation marks, the clear concern showed in the messages, or how Midoriya had found a way to ramble even over text messages, but every single part of Shouto tingled at the kind words. A new feeling, though, was the slight pang in their chest at the suffix Midoriya added to their name. Though it wasn’t strictly masculine, Shouto felt they would be much more comfortable without a suffix. Or even, Shouto hoped, Midoriya would call them by their first name soon.

There was nothing Shouto’s exhausted, sentimental brain wanted more than to hear Midoriya say their name, to elongate the vowel, to see the way his lips moved…

Midoriya <3 [Today, 8:16 AM]
Oh whoops, I forgot to answer your question! I got a bit carried away haha
But yes, I would be honored to meet up with you after class, Todoroki-kun! I’d suggest eating lunch together, but Iida-kun and Uraraka-san insisted on getting some studying for our English midterm done today, so I doubt there’d be much time for us to talk in any language other than English! We could maybe walk back to the dorms together, then work on Aizawa-sensei’s essay for Friday’s class? I was also hoping to buy this exclusive All Might hoodie that they’re releasing at four tonight. We could countdown until it releases together? :D

Shouto [Today, 8:17 AM]
sounds gfod :)
** giod
**** GOPD
fjioe;aj

Midoriya <3 [Today, 8:17 AM]
…
A semi-colon key smash? I haven’t seen you this sleep deprived since the night we stayed up to order that limited edition All Might figurine from the US
Btw, I swiped some coffee from the pot this morning into my travel mug for you to drink in class. It may be a bit cold now, but once you’re here it’s all yours!! You can even warm it up with your hot side ^_^

If Shouto was nearly reduced to tears over the thought of a hot cup of coffee, at least no one was there to watch them suffer through the pain that came with knowing the man that is Midoriya Izuku.

[✰✰✰]

“So, Todoroki-kun, what did you want to talk to me about?”

It took Shouto just one glance at Midoriya’s bright smile for their heart to start to ache once more. In classes, at lunch study sessions with Iida and Uraraka, and during training Midoriya always shined in a way that never failed to draw Shouto’s eyes toward him.

But now. When his wide, earnest eyes and the distracting spread of freckles across his face was turned on Shouto and Shouto alone, they found it impossible to stop the overwhelming melting feeling in their limbs and heart. If Midoriya had been anyone else, Shouto would have been furious about how much a simple smile could make them feel.

Midoriya was different, though. He had always been different, from the first moment he broke his finger in the athletic test (to Aizawa-sensei’s and Shouto’s own astonishment) down to how recklessly he chose to fight the Hero Killer Stain. Or the time he rushed into danger to save Bakugou, despite how terribly Bakugou always treated him. Every bit of Midoriya was set apart from the rest in terms of drive, determination, and acceptance.

Oh right, Shouto suddenly realized all at once. Midoriya’s acceptance was the reason they had met up together after class, and the reason he had asked what Shouto needed to talk about many seconds ago.

“Sorry,” Shouto finally managed to get out, even though Midoriya’s knowing smile and the crinkle of his eyes distracted them yet again. “I was… lost in thought for a moment.”

“Mm, this must be pretty serious then,” Midoriya acknowledged, giving Shouto the space to say what they needed.

“It is. Serious, that is.” Shouto bit their lip, and absentmindedly stared at the concrete path of the road the two were walking back to Heights Alliance. Midoriya matched their steps, and let the silence stretch out between them as Shouto searched for the right thing to say. Conversations with him were always nice that way. Free flowing. Open. Trusting. At the pace that Shouto needed in order to find the right words. Time that their father certainly never gave growing up, and time that Shouto appreciated more than they would likely ever be able to express to Midoriya.

“Last night I couldn’t sleep for hours. So, eventually, I ended up on a bit of a TikTok spiral around two in the morning, and watched a video that made me realize there was something… different… about myself. Compared to others, I mean. And I really wanted to talk about it with you, because…” Shouto trailed off, and looked at Midoriya again, which was a mistake. The words started to jumble up in their head again at the sight of the soft smile Midoriya was giving them and the shine in his eyes.

“Because I—well, you know, you’re,” Shouto wildly gestured at Midoriya’s knowing smile and annoyingly perfect body with their hands, “… you, the only person I’m close enough to who I think would understand this,” Shouto finished, looking back at Midoriya and hoping he would see Shouto’s silent begging for him to finally say something.

“Todoroki-kun!” Midoriya exclaimed, thankfully picking up on Shouto’s distress for having talked too long. “You’re okay, I completely understand why you wouldn’t want to go to Iida-kun, Yaoyorozu-san, or Ochako-san with this!”

“Y-you do?” Shouto stuttered, feeling shocked at how fast Midoriya caught on.

“Of course, Iida-kun and Yaoyorozu-san are rich too, so you wouldn’t be able to ask them about this! And you’ve picked up on how sensitive Ochako-san is about money from our conversations at lunch, of course.”

Or… not. Shouto hadn’t picked up on Uraraka’s reactions either, so they filed that away for future use. But Shouto was so overtaken with surprise at Midoriya’s assumption they couldn’t find it in thm to speak up and correct his mistake.

“I was wondering when we were going to have this conversation,” Midoriya continued, unknowing of the swirling thoughts of confusion in Shouto’s head. “Though I didn’t want to impose it on you, because I know it’s hard to think about monetary privilege when you don’t grow up learning about it or seeing the ways poverty impacts others. That and, knowing how terrible Endeavor is,” Midoriya actually scowled as he said the name, an expression that was rarely ever seen on his face, “I figured acknowledging how being his son gives you privilege would be… tough. It certainly would be for me, at least.”

Shouto just blinked again, a part of their brain stinging at the word son.

“Are you okay?” Midoriya finally asked, after a moment of silence fell between the two of them again.

“Yeah. Just. That’s a lot to think about, I suppose,” Shouto replied. And truthfully, it was. While they had hoped to tell Midoriya their gender realization, it could wait until a time after this conversation, as it seemed Midoriya had been building up to it for a while.

“Alright! I just wanted to make sure. If I’m ever making you uncomfortable when I go off on a tangent like that, know you can tell me. And then I’ll stop. Okay? I don’t want to cross a boundary for you,” Midoriya explained, fiddling with his hands while a light flush began to color his face. Yet another irrational thought entered Shouto’s mind yet again, as they watched Midoriya’s beautiful hands wrap around one another, his scars shining in the afternoon soon.

“Of course, Midoriya,” Shouto replied. “I trust you not to go too far on purpose, but I’ll tell you if you ever. You know. Push me. Where I can’t go.”

“Great,” Midoriya said with a wide smile. “And you know, Todoroki-kun… you can call me Izuku if you want. I certainly would be okay with it.”

And with those words, Shouto felt themself floating away. “R-really?”

“Of course, Todoroki-kun.”

“Then call me Shouto,” Shouto rushed out, determined to counter Mi–no, Izuku’s words that had nearly made them collapse. To show Izuku how much they cared, too.

“Shouto,” Izuku said, his face turning the slightest of pinks. Shouto just about melted at the way Izuku said their name, the care put into every syllable, as though each one was sacred and something to be treasured. Izuku looked away, cheeks growing even redder, before he continued his earlier rant. Something unique to Izuku was his ability to talk whenever he was nervous, whereas Shouto struggled to speak once overcome with nerves. The two had always managed to balance each other out due to this.

“Well, about what I was saying earlier, having money provides so much more access to resources. Higher income families can afford to have tutors to individually help their children master their quirks, which speeds up their skills and capabilities exponentially compared to students who only can use their quirk during training at public schools. There, the teacher has to divide their attention amongst twenty different students at once, and it’s impossible to achieve the same quality of feedback, and thus, impossible to learn at the same speed as folks with private tutoring. It makes hero courses such as ours here at U.A. that are incredibly prestigious with a rigorous, competitive application process highly inaccessible to students from lower-income brackets.”

Izuku paused, taking a moment to breathe and open the door to the dorms. He seemed considerably calmer than before, the flush having dyed down and his signature heart-melting smile back in place as he waved to Kirishima, Mina, and Kaminari in the common room. After opening the door to the stairs for the two of them to step through, Izuku continued with his enthusiastic tirade. “It was such a big deal to my middle school when Kacchan was so skilled, you know? They’d let him get away with anything, because if he got into a place like U.A. it guaranteed our school more funding. Which meant more teachers for quirk training courses, and then hopefully more students going to better high schools in the future.”

“What about you?” Shouto asked softly. “Surely with your quirk, they were supporting both you and Bakugou to get to U.A. and increase their funding?”

The look that crossed Izuku’s face in that moment was confusing, to say the least. It made Shouto’s stomach twist and clench uncomfortably, and it only took moments for Shouto to realize that the answer to the question was one that hurt Izuku more than he would ever let on. He was still smiling at Shouto, but it felt so forced, so artificial, that Shouto couldn’t stop the shake that began in their hands.

They walked in silence together up the stairs until they reached Izuku’s floor, who reached out in silence to swing the door open.

“No,” Izuku finally managed after the tense silence had nearly drowned Shouto. “It’s… a complicated, long story, but they didn’t support me like they did Kacchan. Kacchan didn’t support me going here, actually. He told me to–to–”

All at once Izuku’s words stopped, lodged in his throat. Shouto was panicking, unknowing of how to help the situation. The question felt so easy at the time, seemed like the best way to continue their discussion of class and wealth but it had soured so fast and there was nothing they could do to ever fix this, to make Izuku smile again.

Letting the silence return, Izuku fiddled with the straps of his backpack as they walked down the hallway together. Usually they would be firing off rapid questions back and forth, wanting to hear the other’s perspective on a new wild theory (courtesy of Shouto) or about a new hero theory observation (usually brought up by Izuku, though Shouto had contributed some topics before). If not, the two would walk in comfortable silence, exchanging glances and smiles. Sometimes, on rare days when the world decided to be kind to them, the back of Izuku’s hand would lightly rub against Shouto’s, causing a tingling sensation to run up their entire arm. The quiet laughter and comfort of touch, something Shouto had been denied for so long, was something they cherished about their friendship with Izuku more than anything.

Izuku came to a stop in front of his door, opening it and gesturing for Shouto to walk in first. The dozens of eyes from the All Mights in the room were usually comical, but now Shouto just felt like there was much too large an audience to witness the best friendship they ever had crumble because of their stupid, stupid question.

There was a large clack as Izuku shut the door and firmly locked it. Shouto blinked in surprise. The two studied together practically daily, but Izuku never locked the door.

“He told me to not apply.”

Silence. Izuku wringing his hands together. So many eyes on Shouto, making their skin crawl.

“Kacchan… he told me that he would be the only one to come here. To. To be successful. The next number one hero.”

One small green curl from Izuku’s hair sticking up. The thud of his backpack hitting the ground. Shaky breaths—Shouto’s. Though Izuku didn’t seem much better off as he worried his teeth over his lip.

“Deku meant… well, it meant useless. He would always call me that.”

Anger, soured by shock. A painting of reds splashed with white and yellows. Short fuses. Warmth at one moment, raging fire and heat the next.

“Kacchan even once told me… told me that I should. Well,” there was a dry laugh—or was that a sob?—and fuck if it didn’t make Shouto’s heart break, “he made it clear that I wasn’t wanted. That it would be best for me to…”

Some part of them was screaming. Reds had faded into unnerving an unnerving brown. Shouto’s brain felt so muddy, so cloudy, so condensed—

“To kill myself,” Izuku finally finished. The look in his eyes was flat, glassy. Like he had thought about the words so many times, felt hurt within his deepest parts of himself for years before losing the will to fight back.

Before Shouto even knew what was happening, they were moving, rushing forward. Everything else faded away the moment they crashed into Izuku, wrapping their arms around him and pulling the man flush to their chest. Not a moment later Izuku finally cracked, his facade of detachment snapping as he threw his arms around Shouto’s shoulders and pulled them closer, burying his sobs into their shoulders.

They had no idea what they were doing, how any action Shouto could take would remedy any of Izuku’s pain. But they had to try, Shouto resolved, as their crush continued to tremble in their arms. Remembering how their mother used to soothe them after long training sessions with Endeavor, Shouto tentatively reached up a hand and buried it in Izuku’s hair, softly running their fingers through his hair. When Izuku let out a content hum and collapsed forward into their arms, Shouto’s heart twisted happily.

The two stayed together for a long time. Shouto wasn’t sure how long, realizing that time took on a different experience when they were in Izuku’s arms and he made the most wonderful noises of satisfaction the longer Shouto continued to card their fingers through his hair. It had immeasurable minutes since the two began their embrace, and yet Shouto felt as though they had been joined together since the beginning of time, and to pull away was impossible and unnatural. Even the eyes of the All Mights in the space had grown softer, less eerie as they stood together.
But just like all good moments, they all had their end.

“Oh no! The All Might hoodie drops in three minutes, I’m so unprepared, I didn’t even pull up the site on three different devices yet! And what card can I pay on, I forgot to ask mom and she’ll be disappointed if I order another expensive object without at least telling her first—”

“Izuku,” Shouto said, cutting off Izuku’s mumbling before he got carried away and managed to procure multiple monitors to order one sweatshirt. “Pull it up on your phone. We’ll order it using Endeavor’s credit card once it drops.”

He barked out a laugh, but still pulled out his phone and started rapidly typing. “I thought he closed his account after we did this last time?” Izuku asked without stopping his frantic search.

“Oh absolutely, he closed his account after the thousands of dollars worth of All Might merch we ordered.”

Izuku finally looked up from his phone, the sweatshirt in question open to a listing on his phone. He turned his head toward Shouto, tilting it in confusion. “But then how—”

“He closed the last card, but Natsuo sent me all the information for his newest card after his last forced dinner with him and Fuyumi.” Shouto waved their phone toward Izuku, messages from their most recent conversation with Natuso pulled up. “We have a bet running about whose purchase can break him this time, so I may as well get a head start now.”

Looking straight into Shouto’s eyes with sincerity that made their heart skip a beat, Izuku laughed before ruining Shouto’s entire life.

“Todoroki Shouto, you are the most wonderful person I have ever met.”

Chapter Text

Sometimes—okay, who is he kidding, all the time—Midoriya Izuku says too much. It’s never been an intentional decision on his part, words choosing to spill from his lips faster than Izuku could think to introduce a filter to them.

It’s a miracle that he’s managed to keep his secrets as long as he has, Izuku marvels to himself as he grabs the carton of eggs from the fridge. Only having Kacchan know the secret about One For All? Impressive given his track record for thinking through most of his thoughts out loud. Just Kacchan and his mother knowing his biggest secret was even more surprising.

But then again, Izuku speculates, maybe it’s easier to keep secrets close since he wears his heart on his sleeve. People are less likely to take a closer look at him, to think he would deliberately hide anything. Of course, Izuku notes as he jumps up to grab a pot from the highest cabinet and feels One For All buzz through him and the material of his binder rise up slightly, they would be quite wrong.

“Izuku, can I have that pot?” Shouto’s voice startles Izuku out of his thoughts, causing him to nearly drop the pot in the process.

“O-of course Shouto!” Izuku stutters, thrusting the pot toward his friend as he looks away, a blush overtaking his face as he realizes what he’d been thinking about in Shouto’s presence. Not that he hadn’t been thinking about telling him for days now, turning the words over in his mind as he considered the best way to tell his closest friend at U.A. something so close and personal.

And, if he was being honest with himself, Izuku needed Shouto to know, needed to make sure that his friend was accepting. Because if he wanted to confess his feelings to Shouto like Uraraka-san and Iida-kun had been pushing him to do for weeks now, Izuku felt he should be upfront about this. Not that he was lying to Shouto (or any of his classmates, for that matter) for not sharing—he’d long since came to terms with himself and his identity. People knowing that he spent the first four years of his life with a different name and with people referring to him as a girl is irrelevant compared to knowing things like his favorite food, how he is quick to cry over strong emotions of any kind, and his general lack of self-preservation (though he was working hard to improve that, as it is less than ideal for his health and his mother’s sanity).

But with Shouto things are different, because Izuku doesn’t want to just be friends with him. Out of the corner of his eye, Izuku could see the way Shouto’s hair’s red and white shades mixed together in harmony through the single braid that fell down his shoulder, a few strands at the front having escaped, only to frame his face. Shouto’s eyes even seemed to glimmer as he turned the burner of the stove on, a small smile taking up residence on his face as he held up his fire-covered left hand to the pot (a process Shouto used to speed up boiling water that Izuku had asked him no less than fifty questions about the first time he saw. Shouto kindly answered all of them in stride, a smile like the one he wore now unwavering throughout the entire process as Izuku frantically recorded the answers in his notebook).

It’s unfair how pretty Shouto is, Izuku thinks to himself. It was really just a matter of time before he fell for his friend—soft smiles, blunt words, and a cutting edge sense of humor that came up at the least expected moments. The culmination of these feelings, which are so big they seem to dwarf Izuku himself at moments like this, command a sort of raw honesty and vulnerability from Izuku. He had never imagined telling another person about the sort of relationship he and Kacchan had in the years prior to coming to U.A., nor did he think he would ever be considering telling someone about his early transition. But the relationship Izuku had with Shouto was so precious, the moments they spent with one another never failing to make his heart stutter, like the two had stepped into their own pocket in the universe where the fear, worry, and anxiety that usually made his hands shake all but dissipated.

Quiet moments like these, where the two were existing in the same space doing mundane tasks—be that cooking as it is now, studying, or just scrolling through their phones—made Izuku’s heart swell. With that thought, Izuku wasn’t sure if it was Shouto’s smile, the buzz of the water as it began to boil, or Shouto’s perfect reception, support, and hug in response to Izuku’s confession about Kacchan earlier, but the words began to spill out of his mouth.

“So… there’s something I’ve been meaning to talk with you about,” Izuku began. Shouto looked away from the pot, his eyes wide.

“Okay. Pass me the eggs on the counter over there and I’ll start boiling them while you tell me. I promise I’ll listen and help with what I can,” Shouto responded, reaching out to take the eggs that Izuku shakily held out to him.

“It’s nothing bad, Shouto, sorry if I made it sound like that…” Izuku trailed off, his eyes downcast as he tried to ignore the way his heart felt like it was having palpitations in response to how Shouto’s fingers had brushed against his own on the egg carton.

“I know,” Shouto said, looking a bit shocked at Izuku’s words. “I just wanted you to know that I’ll listen carefully. Because I like talking with you and hearing what you have to say.” This didn’t help the thudding in Izuku’s chest, which only seemed to speed up at Shouto’s words.

“Oh my God, Shouto,” Izuku managed to get out, resisting the urge to clutch his chest and fall dramatically to the floor. “You can’t just say stuff like that without warning.”

At the sound of muffled laughter, Izuku looked up again, feeling a smile come over his face in response to how Shouto was giggling, a hand over his mouth while his eyes shined with undeniable mirth.

“That’s payback for earlier,” Shouto said smugly. “You called me the most wonderful person you’d ever met, unprompted. I could’ve died.”

“I’m glad you didn’t,” Izuku blurted out, before covering his mouth and feeling a blush start to consume his entire body. Is this flirting? If so, he’s pretty sure he just failed spectacularly—though if the responding blush on Shouto’s face was anything to go by, maybe it went over better than expected?

“I’M NOT WATCHING A FUCKING MOVIE WITH YOU EXTRAS!” a voice suddenly yells, accompanied by the front door slamming open and hitting the door jam (the third one, Izuku recalls with a sigh as he thinks that this one may be on its last legs too).

“Aw come on Baku-bro, we never ask you to do anything!” Mina’s voice rings out, a plea evident in her high-pitched tone.

“What if we choose to watch a gay one?” Kaminari asks.

“That’s a fucking lie and you know it, Raccoon Eyes,” Kacchan drawls. “And not all gay people like that sappy gay rom-com shit, dunceface.”

“What if it’s gay and has explosions?” Kirishima asks. There’s a pause.

“Maybe,” Kacchan grunts, and Izuku has to hold back a laugh. From the cheer of everyone else, he knew they also interpreted Kacchan’s words as a yes, definitely, and even some please mixed in. Not that he would ever admit it. With the matter of the movie settled, the group moved away from the door and waved a greeting to Izuku and Shouto.

“Cold soba again?” Kirishima asked, walking into the kitchen and leaning back against the fridge.

From the living room, Kacchan barked out a laugh. “Of course it is, do you think Icy-Hot and Deku know how to work a fucking stove otherwise? I’m scared of the shit they’ll make when they start to branch out to other dishes.”

Next to Izuku, he noticed Shouto tense up. Oh no, he remembered in a rush. This was the first time Shouto was interacting with Kacchan again since learning about their past this afternoon. After ordering the sweatshirt they had spent a couple of hours scouring the internet to find various purchases to make that would make Endeavor lose his mind, meaning they had missed dinner, and consequently missed seeing Kacchan and the rest of his friend group.

“It’s fine, Shouto, we’ve talked and worked things out since,” Izuku whispered quickly to him (which was mostly true, but the two could talk about it more when they were alone and Bakugou’s boyfriend wasn’t in the room, raiding the freezer for ice cream). “Don’t worry Kacchan, we have you to cook any more complicated dishes!” he yelled back out to the living room.

“Damn straight! I better not ever catch you trying to cook vegetables without oil again, Deku,” Bakugou yelled back, to the sound of laughter from Mina and Kaminari. Izuku just shrugged helplessly at the questioning look of Kirishima. “Shitty Hair! Can you see if we have any more Hot Scream?”

“Sure thing babe!” Kirishima yelled back. “That shit is disgusting,” he whispered to Izuku and Shouto. “It’s chocolate ice cream, and for some reason they decided to add spice? I love him so much, you know, but I just can’t help thinking—”

“AND YOU BETTER NOT BE MAKING FUN OF MY FAVORITE FLAVOR, EI—I MEAN, SHITTY HAIR!”

“BAKU-BABE!” They heard Mina squeal from the living room, joined by whoops from both Sero and Kaminari. “You do have a heart after all! We all thought that you always called Kirishima Shitty Hair and lacked any sense of romance.”

Kirishima laughed over the unhinged, rabid sounds Kacchan began to make. Izuku noticed that Shouto had relaxed again, seeming to remember the person Kacchan had evolved into, tempered by his friends who knew how to poke him carefully. As a timer went off, Shouto busied himself with grabbing the now hard boiled eggs and adding the soba to the water and setting another timer.

“That ice cream really does sound awful,” Izuku finally offers in response to Kirishima, comfortable in sharing his thoughts now that Kacchan was distracted by the three pestering him in the living room.

“Trust me, it used to be much worse. He would buy a carton of vanilla ice cream and a twin pack of sriracha sauce and then mix all of it together before I found this replacement,” Kirishima laughed, grabbing a stack of bowls from the cabinet before shuddering. “I couldn’t even kiss him after he ate that because my tongue would start to burn. It was so unmanly of him.”

By this point Izuku was laughing so hard he had to grab onto Shouto’s shoulder to stabilize himself, tears pricking at his eyes.

“Vanilla? Why vanilla?” Shouto asked, guiding Izuku to sit in a chair so he wouldn’t fall over as he continued to stir the soba and peel the shell from the eggs.

“He said he liked to see how red he could turn it,” Kirishima answered, his nose scrunching up. “I can’t even eat vanilla ice cream anymore after seeing that.”

“WHAT THE HELL?? WHY ARE YOU PUTTING ON FUCKING YURI ON ICE RIGHT NOW PIKACHU?” Kaminari’s reply was muffled, but Kirishima looked over toward the living room with a fond look on his face.

“THAT IS NOT—I AM NOT LIKE YURIO!!”

The living room then erupted into peals of laughter, with the members of the kitchen following suit. Even Shouto laughed a bit and shook his head, moving a strand of hair out of his face and getting an eggshell stuck in his hair. It was an unfairly attractive look on him, Izuku decided.

“You two are welcome to join us if you want!” Kirishima suddenly asked, breaking Izuku out of his stupor (which was probably for the best, he reasoned, as he didn’t want Kirishima to notice just how hard it was for him to tear his eyes away from Shouto’s hair).

“Do you want to watch some, Shouto?” Izuku asked shyly, tapping his fingers nervously against the counter. While their earlier conversation had been interrupted, he didn’t mind having to tell Shouto later. And he hadn’t even been the one to suggest it! Clearly, Izuku was not stalling having the conversation with Shouto, no matter what the logical side of his brain insisted.

“I’d like to rewatch it, since I’ve only seen it one time through with you,” Shouto answered as he rinsed the soba in cold water. Izuku very rationally did not tell him that the eggshell in his hair was the cutest thing he’d seen all day, even more so than the dog he saw on a run this morning.

“Awesome!” Kirishima said, his smile sharp and friendly. “It’ll be nice to spend more time with you both, since you’ve been spending so much time together alone recently.”

Izuku turned bright red at Kirishima’s words, while Shouto went still at the sink, water dripping slowly out of the frozen strainer.

Kirishima’s eyes suddenly went wide, and he set the collection of spoons down on the counter with a clatter. “Not—not that that’s a bad thing at all! Sorry if that made either of you feel bad, I just missed seeing you both, and I know Katsuki has too—even though he’ll never admit it.”

Swallowing, Izuku held up a thumbs up, words evading him for once. He wasn’t entirely sure if he opened his mouth that anything comprehensible would come out, so he elected to stick to hand signals. Shouto resumed shaking the strainer at the sink, thawing the ice before walking over to the island to pour it into a bowl mixed with cold broth and teriyaki sauce.

“It’s alright,” Shouto answered for both of them. Izuku sent him a thankful smile, which Shouto returned, causing his insides to start to jellify again.

“Well, I’m gonna carry all of this ice cream to the living room, you two can join us when you’re done!” Kirishima said, gathering all of the ingredients up. “Sorry again if I made either of you feel uncomfortable. That would be super unmanly of me.”

Izuku smiled brightly, waving him off. “You’re fine, Kirishima!”

“Like I said, it’s alright Kirishima-kun, you just caught me off guard,” Shouto explained, slipping behind Kirishima to grab a couple of bowls and spoons.

And all at once at the sound of the honorific, it hit him. Kirishima came out as trans and Shouto doesn’t treat him differently at all, Izuku remembered. In fact, Shouto actually congratulated him, and has since taken to using the -kun honorific almost religiously for Kirishima. Izuku had even heard the two discussing the meaning of “manliness,” where Shouto’s straightforwardness about Kirishima’s own strength and manliness made the other start to tear up.

Izuku didn’t hear the last bit of Kirishima and Shouto’s conversation, and didn’t even wave good-bye to him as he padded out of the room to distribute the ice cream to his friends. He was too busy fixating on Shouto’s reaction and how this was a perfect solution to not having the right words. Explaining to his mother how he knew he was a boy was difficult as a child, but if he could’ve pointed at someone else, and said that he was like that too…

If Yawara Chatora of the Wild Wild Pussycats was out then, he could’ve just told his mother that he was the same way. Not that his mom wasn’t the kindest and most accepting once she understood why Izuku screamed each time she asked him about wearing one of his dresses, but trying to explain something with no reference point was nigh impossible.

But Shouto already knows a transgender person, is friends with him, even. All Izuku would have to do is bring up Kirishima and explain how they’re the same, and then he won’t even have to explain what being trans means and—

“Izuku.” Shouto rests a soft hand on Izuku’s shoulder and startles him from his thoughts. The proximity between them brings a faint blush back to Izuku’s face, and he finds himself incapable of speaking again. “Dinner is ready now.”

Emboldened by the lack of distance between them, Izuku silently reaches a hand up to Shouto’s hair, grabbing the piece of egg shell. Shouto’s eyes went wide and he turned bright red, staggering backwards.

“You had some egg in your hair,” Izuku explained, holding up the shell to show Shouto. At this, he nodded and started to return more to a normal color. It was odd, Izuku thought, that his quirk would randomly act up like that. Maybe he was embarrassed about having gotten it in his hair? Kacchan certainly would not have let him hear the end of it if he saw.

Shouto then grabbed a bowl and shoved it toward Izuku, avoiding eye contact. He grabbed his full bowl and started to walk toward the living room, before pausing in the doorway and turning to look back at Izuku.

“I’ll see you in there?”

“I, uh, yes,” Izuku answered intelligently. “Thank you for making our dinner, even though I was the one who distracted us from making it to the cafeteria in time.”

“We made it together,” Shouto argued, pouting slightly.

“I literally just grabbed the eggs and pot and handed them to you. Plus I mixed some sauce and broth together in a bowl earlier.”

“Well, you were a very helpful sous chef,” Shouto retorted. “You didn’t even set the noodles on fire this time.”

“Oh my God, Shouto, that was one time.”

“One very memorable time.”

“You have an ice quirk, you were able to stop the flames the moment I screamed,” Izuku retorted, crossing his arms and feigning annoyance.

“Mm,” Shouto hummed thoughtfully. “I suppose I forgive you, since you showed me that website with the All Might themed sex toys. Do you think it’ll be the ‘Because I’m Here You’ll Come’ vibrator or the lube called ‘All Might’s Sweat’ that’ll break Endeavor’s spirit?”

“No, I think it’ll be the two-pronged dildo styled to look like All Might’s hair.”

“Touché,” Shouto answered, smiling as he took another step to the door. “I’ll have to ask Natsuo to hack into the security camera system so we can see his reaction.”

“Gotta put that computer science degree to use doing something useful. Besides, you know, creating life-changing apps to help improve reaction times of heroes to crisis situations.”

“Natuso is pretty cool, isn’t he?” Shouto asked, a smile on his lips. “Okay, for real this time—I’ll see you in there.”

Izuku watched Shouto’s retreating form, still clutching the empty bowl in his hands.

Tonight, Izuku resolved, I’ll tell him and use Kirishima as an example. Standing up to go grab some soba, he resolutely ignored the way a simple conversation and teasing with Shouto made him feel as though his insides had rearranged, every conversation and new thing he learned about his best friend seeming to unlock a new feeling in Izuku’s heart.

Knowing a person like Todoroki Shouto, Izuku decided, meant that it was inevitable to stop breathing at certain points. To feel new tremors of happiness, joy, and delight. And if that was all it took to stay by Shouto’s side, Izuku would choose their friendship every time without hesitation.

[✰✰✰]

“I’m telling you, Bakugou, you are absolutely the type of person who would leave with no warning, fly to another country, and demand someone’s time to teach and choreograph you a routine because they mentioned it years prior. Not to mention that you would absolutely antagonize someone and try to convince them to retire,” Sero explained as the credits for the seventh episode were rolling. Their other classmates had slowly trickled in, hearing voices and laughs and Kacchan’s occasional shrieks.

Izuku hadn’t been paying as close of attention to the show as he could be, as his entire body was fixated on the specific spot where Shouto’s elbow had moved to make contact with his side. For the past two episodes ever since the accidental contact began, Izuku had resolutely not moved an inch, trying to remind himself that he needed to breathe (as if he stopped, he would pass out, and then this moment would inevitably end as his classmates struggled to get him to Recovery Girl).

“Exactly, Sero! And Yurio has just one person who he feels positive, caring emotions toward, like you with Kirishima,” Mina explains emphatically. Shouto lets out a snort next to Izuku, clearly enjoying their classmates’ conspiracy theories, though not offering any of his own this time.

“HAH? Are you saying that my relationship with my fucking boyfriend is like that shitty bastard’s relationship with his grandpa? How fucking stupid can idiots you get?” Kacchan scoffs. The teasing atmosphere is nice, Izuku decides. Though him and Kacchan will never achieve the same relationship they had when they were toddlers, being in spaces where Kacchan’s friends kept him in check and made fun of him goodnaturedly were okay, as they prevented Kacchan from falling back into his past self.

“You’re both blonde,” Kaminari added, punctuating each syllable with a jab to the air with his spoon.

“I can picture you in one of Yurio’s leopard print outfits,” Tsuyu piped up.

“FUCK YOU, MY FASHION IS NOT THAT BAD! AND I WOULDN’T HAVE TO TELL SOME SHITTY EXTRA TO RETIRE, THEY WOULD RETIRE OUT OF FEAR OF ME JOINING THEIR FUCKING DIVISION!”

“Katsuki, I think what they’re all trying to say is that you remind them of Yurio because he’s the winner of the Grand Prix Final, just like you’re always a winner!” Kirishima coos, leaning in to kiss Kacchan on the cheek and calm his rage.

Across the room there was a gasp and Uraraka dropped her flip phone to the floor. “What the fuck, Kirishima?” The whole room sat in a tense silence, unable to move due to Uraraka’s intensity.

“W-what?” Kirishima asks, paling. The atmosphere of the room remains tense, with everyone slowly starting to get in position to stand up, bracing themselves to run. Izuku and Shouto make eye contact, Shouto jerking his head toward the door (indicating that their escape would be through it), Izuku affirming this with a nod.

“Did you even stop to consider for a moment that, as we’re watching this show together, some of us haven’t seen the finale yet?” Uraraka glowered at Kirishima. Izuku swallowed nervously, forgetting how scary Uraraka could be when she wanted. It seemed like the rest of the room was also beginning to recall that very fact, even Kacchan looking at a nearby window with a scrutinizing expression on his face. Knowing him, he was likely debating if it was worth enduring a lecture from Aizawa-sensei over breaking the window to stop Uraraka from murdering his boyfriend.

That train of thought was whipped away faster than Izuku could even fathom as suddenly Shouto put his hand in Izuku’s hand and laced their fingers together before pulling slightly. When Izuku turned to look at him, dazed, he saw that Shouto wasn’t looking at him but rather staring intently at the door.

Right. Holding hands so they wouldn’t be separated, or so they would go down together.

“THERE’S NOTHING I HATE MORE THAN SPOILERS, KIRISHIMA!” Uraraka suddenly yelled, standing up and falling into the martial arts stance she uses in training.

All at once, the room exploded with activity. Izuku saw Kacchan grab Kirishima by the waist before using his explosions to break and then fly through the window, disappearing into the night. Sero followed, shooting his tape out and pulling himself through the window, Kaminari stuck to him with a haphazard tape job and screaming.

Shouto then pulled Izuku away from the scene by their connected hands, using his ice to skate quickly across the floor.

“ACTIVATE YOUR QUIRK!” Shouto yelled. It was only now that Izuku remembered his speed quirk—knowledge that had unhelpfully left his brain the moment their hands came in contact with each other.

“GET BACK HERE, KIRISHIMA EIJIROU!” Uraraka screamed behind them, as the two made it through the doorframe and up two flights of stairs to Shouto’s room in a matter of seconds. Izuku breathed heavily, trying to make up for lost oxygen from the sudden exertion and forgetting to breathe once they started holding hands. Which… they still were, Izuku realized with a start, pulling his hand away from Shouto’s out of surprise.

Shouto met his gaze with surprise and a glimmer of something else he couldn’t quite place. And while Izuku missed the feeling of Shouto’s hand in his, he also enjoyed being able to think coherently again. Mostly so he could reimagine the sensation over and over again.

“We’re alive,” Shouto finally acknowledged, a tiny smile cutting through his otherwise stoic expression.

“Just in time for us to make curfew, too,” Izuku realized as he heard Iida begin to shout at the group dispersed downstairs and outside. “It seems we will escape Iida’s lecture tomorrow about—”

“The importance of getting rest on a school night, as is our duty as heroes in training,” the two parroted together in a poor imitation of Iida’s rigid voice. Shouto even did an arm chop in the air at the end, causing Izuku’s heart to flip-flop. How was he so cute?

“Well, good night Mi–um, Izuku,” Shouto said, breaking the stupor that Izuku couldn’t help but fall into every time Shouto did something adorable.

“Oh! Wait! I forgot, I meant to tell you something earlier,” Izuku burst out, his mouth ahead of his thoughts by several sentences. Meaning that while he was about to say goodnight, Izuku couldn’t forget that he had made himself a promise earlier to tell Shouto. Especially now that he had come up with such a foolproof, easy method.

Shouto blinked, leaning against the wall and nodding, indicating that he was listening.

“I—um, don’t really know how to say this… but basically, I’m like Kirishima. If that makes sense? Like, we have a kinship about… certain things, you know? Like, we’re, um, similar? In an, um, important way.” Izuku manages to get out. The look on Shouto’s face was foreign to Izuku. While it wasn’t anger, disgust, or acceptance as he hoped, instead there was just… confusion? And maybe some sadness?

“I… I see,” Shouto said after a few beats of silence. “I didn’t know that… well, I suppose that given how your relationship with Bakugou has been these past couple of years, paired with what you shared today, I would not have thought that to be true.”

Izuku blinked.

“But… if you love Bakugou—” Izuku understood the look on Shouto’s face even less than the words coming out of his mouth. “—then I’ll support you, of course.”

“I—what? If I love Kacchan? Sh-Shouto, what are you even saying? I’m not in love with Kacchan!” Izuku whispered hysterically, worried someone would hear and get the absolute wrong idea, then accidentally spread it to the entire class. Could that have gone any worse, Izuku despaired to himself, debating the merits of going back to his room and screaming.

“Oh. I get it then.”

Izuku exhaled all at once, relieved that his point did get across. Now that Shouto knew it was like a weight had been lifted from his chest, and he could be completely himself and maybe even soon get up the courage to tell Shouto how—

“You’re Kirishima’s secret twin brother.”

…Or not.

[✰✰✰]

“Shouto, it’s been hours. I’ve shown you all of my baby pictures. Can you please believe me now? I promise that we aren’t twins!”

“But Izuku,” Shouto said, shaking Izuku by the shoulders with a light of fervor in his eyes as he pointed to the board behind him, a red string connecting multiple different points. “What if you and Kirishima were separated at the hospital when a nurse made a mistake, and Kirishima's mothers adopted him from a local orphanage? It’s all very possible when you think about it, see, I’ve done some Punnet Squares on this scrap paper here! If you could help me by verifying yours and your mother’s phenological characteristics, that would be super helpful—”

[✰✰✰]

Down in his room, Iida was roused awake by a sudden loud shriek. His fears of a villain break-in were assuaged when Todoroki responded to his frantic message in the group chat, insisting that everything was fine, but that he had a big announcement for the class—specifically Kirishima—the next day.

Iida huffed in frustration, both his and friends’ sleep interrupted by what appeared to be another one of Todoroki’s conspiracy theories.

There was another screech from above, followed by a sea of crying emojis and pleas for Kirishima not to listen to Todoroki in the chat from Midoriya.

With that Iida locked his phone, turned over in bed, and put on the noise cancelling headphones he’d had to invest in after Bakugou and Kirishima started going out.

Iida was starting to think being class representative entailed much more than he signed up for. Perhaps he should reach out to Nedzu about financial compensation—surely after all he deals with, he’s entitled to some free therapy sessions.

While the loud voices from above continued for the next couple of hours, Iida Tenya slept on, dreaming of more peaceful days.

Chapter Text

In one fluid movement, Shouto ducked below the punch aimed at their head, snapping to attention and avoiding a well-timed knee that came not even a second later. However, all of Shouto’s diligent footwork proved for naught when they tripped over their own foot and fell to the ground in a mess of limbs, tangled hair, and built up sweat.

“Todoroki-kun, are you alright!?” Iida yelled. Though Shouto couldn’t see him, they were almost certain the words were accompanied by stiff arm chops only Iida himself could make seem intimidating. Well, intimidatingly parent-like, in the sense that all (okay, most) of Class–1A balked at the thought of disappointing Iida.

“Fine, I’m fine,” Shouto finally answered, letting Iida pull them back up to their feet. “Really,” Shouto insisted, Iida’s gaze boring into them, as if trying to catch Shouto out on a lie.

“It is rather uncharacteristic for you to make mistakes like that during training, especially while engaging in hand-to-hand,” Iida insisted, his eyebrows knitting together. “As your… your friend, I want you to know that you always have someone to listen to and support you with me! My door is always open if you want to talk.”

Shouto bit down a smile at the words, reminded of the book they saw in Iida’s bag a couple of weeks ago (How to Form and Keep Lasting Friendships: Encouraging Dialogue Edition). It was really sweet of him to try so hard, especially since Shouto had first-hand knowledge of how hard it can be to make friends when a person has had a wealthier, more isolated upbringing. Though said upbringing certainly has advantages in other ways, Midoriya’s voice rose up in their mind to inform Shouto, causing them to smile slightly at the memory.

“Thank you Iida-kun,” Shouto acknowledged, bowing slightly to Iida. “I think I’m a little bit out of it because I didn’t get much sleep last night, though. So, I don’t know if I’d have much to say in a talk about it.” Shouto shrugged sheepishly, glancing away from Iida for a moment to take in Midoriya’s one-on-one match against Bakugou on the next mat.

While the two weren’t allowed to use quirks, Bakugou seemed extra enraged today—which, if Shouto had to guess, was because of the red-haired man he kept glancing at everytime he had the upper-hand against Midoriya. Shouto couldn’t keep the growing smile from their face, though, as they took in just how well Midoriya held up against Bakugou. His growth from the first battle of their first year alone was astounding.

“If you don’t mind me saying, Todoroki-kun,” Shouto tried to suppress their flinch at the -kun suffix, “staying up late may be the direct cause, but there’s a reason you did not get much sleep, correct? If you wish to discuss this reason with me, you are welcome to.”

For some reason, Iida glanced at Izuku as he shared this thought, before turning back to meaningfully make eye contact with Shouto. “Anything, conspiracy theories about Kirishima-kun and Midoriya-kun even, you may discuss with me!” Iida insisted, pushing up his glasses as if to punctuate his sentence.

At this mention, Shouto was reminded with a rush of their failure so far to come out to Izuku. The first step in their plan of eventually coming out to everyone in order to stop hearing the -kun suffix in everyday language, alongside feeling more comfortable around the other students started and ended with telling Midoriya Izuku.

“I… suppose there is something that’s been on my mind. Or rather, something I could use your advice on. If your offer includes giving advice…?” Shouto awkwardly trailed off, glancing at Iida and trying not to fidget too much with nerves.

Shouto’s worries were unfounded not even a moment later, though, when Iida immediately brightened, his eyes lighting up with excitement. “I would love to!” he insisted, nodding several times, reassuring Shouto despite their nervousness. “Come to my room later and we can discuss what has been bothering you!”

“Todoroki! Iida! Get back to it!” Aizawa yelled out from the other side of the room.

“Yes, sir!”

[✰✰✰]

Shouto cleared their throat, unable to stop tapping their fingers on the floor. The controlled rhythm helped to slow Shouto’s heart rate, and served as a distraction from the weight Iida’s presence at the other side of the room brought to the space.

While Iida is unquestionably kind and compassionate as a friend, his intensity and strict attitude sometimes brought stress to Shouto. Endeavor and Iida couldn’t be more night and day when it came to goals, motivation, and friendliness, but trying to explain the issue at hand to Iida made Shouto worry about how Endeavor would react to the news.

They’re not the same, Shouto reminded themself. Just because they’re both men who insist on following rules (except for when it comes to eugenics and murder, respectively) does not mean that Iida is Endeavor. Huffing slightly in frustration, Shouto began to tap their fingers harder against the floor, trying to will away the feelings and thoughts that are a result of their ongoing childhood abuse.

Naturally, Shouto was not very successful.

“So…” Iida finally spoke, jarring Shouto out of their thoughts all at once, stopping the spiral from going further. Letting out a deep sigh at coming back to the land of rational thought, Shouto nodded at Iida to speak, while continuing their tapping.

Opening his mouth as though to elaborate, Iida stopped short, instead resulting in him doing an arm chop down in the air. He regarded the limb with an expression that was slightly too pensieve, causing Shouto to hide a laugh with a cough. Iida pushed up his glasses. Shouto began to mess with their hair, twining it around their finger as they continued tapping out the rhythm of one of Midoriya’s favorite J-Pop songs.

“Todoroki-kun, would you be interested in seeing my collection of glasses?” Iida finally managed to say, his eyes looking anywhere but Shouto’s. Shouto, caught off guard, could only blink at him in surprise. “They are organized by color, functionality, screw type, and comfortability, if… that’s of interest to you.”

Another blink. “How can they be organized by all of those things?” Shouto finally was able to ask. “That’s a lot of categories and they can’t necessarily be alphabetical.”

Iida brightened all at once. “What a thoughtful question, Todoroki-kun!”

Out of Shouto’s control was a slight flinch at these words, which Iida seemed to notice almost immediately.

“Todoroki… san,” Iida corrected with hesitation, waiting for Shouto’s baffled nod of approval before continuing. “I appreciate you asking! Ever since I needed glasses in the second grade but wanted to continue training to be a hero I devised the following system. What I do isn’t too complicated, though it does use a lot of labeling adhesive…”

Iida plowed forward with his explanation, seeming at ease for the first time since Shouto had entered his space. Nodding along at the places that seemed appropriate, Shouto realized there was, in fact, much more to both glasses and Iida than they initially presumed. How he managed to figure out Shouto’s discomfort with the -kun honorific after just a couple of uses was shocking. Similarly, they were surprised to learn how complicated organizational systems could become when confronted by someone as determined and unrelenting with a label machine, shelving equipment, and eye insurance as Iida Tenya.

Somewhere in the midst of explanation to one of the many questions Shouto asked Iida about how he chose an eye doctor, this organizational system, or the brand of labelmaker, Iida paused.

“Thank you for listening to me, Todoroki-san. I’m sure there are things you are more interested in than my glasses collection,” at Shouto’s sound of protest, Iida fixed them with a look so poignant their mouth clacked shut. “So I appreciate you being so attentive. And…”

Iida paused, pushing up his glasses (the ones currently on his face) before continuing. “I will call you Todoroki-san instead of -kun every time we’re alone. How do you feel about me using it around others? I wouldn’t want to say anything that you’re not ready for with the rest of the class around.”

“I-I’m not ready for everyone to know yet, if that’s alright,” Shouto answered, their voice flooded with gratitude. “I’m actually trying to come out to Izuku now. Having his support would mean a lot when I go to tell other people.”

“Of course, Todoroki-san! That makes perfect sense,” Iida insisted, his face bright. “Just let me know whenever you’d like me to always start saying ‘-san’ and using they/them pronouns for you! I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or ever say the wrong thing once you’re ready.”

“That’s—” Shouto cut off when their voice cracked with emotion. They couldn’t help the sniff that escaped a moment later. Iida immediately stiffened, sprinting across the room with a woosh and returning only a second later to offer a tissue box. “Thanks,” Shouto said with a watery chuckle, wiping away a rogue tear with a tissue.

“Todoroki-san,” Iida began, bowing slightly toward them. “I know something personal about you now, perhaps by accident—”

“More like expert deduction,” Shouto interjected.

“Ah, yes, I suppose being a hero gives me an observational edge,” Iida remarked thoughtfully. “But I was hoping to say that because I know this about you now, the weight of such a secret implies a certain amount of trust. Thus, I wish to entrust you with a secret of my own.”

Surprised, Shouto gestured for Iida to walk over and join them on the floor. He sat criss-cross, back at a ninety degree angle, his jawline set and his eyes determined, though Shouto noticed the slight tremble to his hands.

“You also asked me here for advice, which makes me even more inclined to share before you share more. I value our friendship, your honesty, and how much you listen to me. But I don’t want you to feel like everything is one sided.”

“Iida, you don’t have to—”

“I know,” Iida answered with a rigid nod. “I don’t have to do anything because you would like me to. Because that isn’t respectful of my boundaries or what I want from my friendships. Which is also important.”

Shouto had to hide a smile as they recalled the same lesson from a passage in How to Form and Keep Lasting Friendships. It was one they tried to internalize themselves after Endeavor’s parenting strategy made it difficult to identify their own wants or maintain needed boundaries.

“But I’ve also been wanting to share this with you for a while. Not only are you accepting, but you always listen to what I have to say, no matter how much others would say it’s boring or uninteresting. While I think Midoriya-kun would understand or maybe even relate, he has,” Iida paused, his lips pursing as he tried to find the right words, “a… lot on his plate. Sometimes I feel like he needs to take a breath and confide in someone else before jumping into making another new best friend and taking on all of their hardships, you know?”

Shouto barked out a laugh, remembering their and Izuku’s fiery encounter at the first sports festival. He certainly took on many of Shouto’s struggles during those fights, and continued to help Shouto carry them now. “I know what you mean.”

“Yeah, I figured you would,” Iida said, an almost knowing look in his eyes. “But, what I mean is that this is my choice and I’ve been working up to it for a while now. It’s a bit of a long story, but I can give you the abridged version.

When I was about five years old, I received a diagnosis for autism from my doctor. There’s lots of misconceptions around the community, especially since representation fails to account for the nuances of what having autism means and how it actually impacts the individuals living with autism. Anything you may have heard about us being “differently abled” is—” Iida’s nose wrinkled, “bullshit, to quote Bakugou-kun. I have different needs that I will have to attend to in certain situations, a limit and need of certain sensory inputs that non-autisitic people may not have, along with some niche interests.” Iida gestured to the wall with hundreds of glasses on it, Shouto watching with a small smile.

“I’m still the same Iida Tenya you met and are friends with. I hope to be my best, and while I recognize that there are multiple paths to success that everyone can take, it’s hard to shake the methods I learned as a kid and to see those other journeys. That is why I may come off as… overbearing, I suppose as class president. There are things I learned from my brother in his time as Ingenium that are just how I’ve internalized heroes should be, and it’s hard to see others become heroes in different ways. Mostly because they feel like the wrong way, even though I know that’s not necessarily the case.”

Iida shifted, folding his hands together in his lap. “My brain just has a specific layout and ordering of how I expect things to be, and when they don’t match… it’s frustrating. When Stain injured my brother, I realized that my entire one thousand four hundred and six step plan to becoming a hero—” Iida pointed to a bookshelf with a collection of well-used journals— “would now have to be completely rewritten. I no longer had the best hero to intern under, to work with as a sidekick, to take over the agency from…

“It’s been tough. But,” Iida cleared his throat and turned to Shouto with a soft look on his face, “I have friends like you to support me. So going forward I know that even though things won’t look the way I anticipated… I’ll be okay. And you will, too,” he insisted.

“Thank you for trusting me with this, Iida,” Shouto finally managed to say after a moment of pause, their brain working overdrive to find the words that fit their onslaught of positive, cared for, and affectionate feelings. “I suppose I don’t know the best thing to say, and I don’t ever want to hurt you. But I do know that you’re right. You’re the same Iida Tenya and class president I’ve known since first year, and going forward I hope we can be even better friends.”

Iida beamed brighter than Shouto had ever seen him before raising his fist. Shouto regarded it with suspicion.

“What’s… what’s that?” they inquired, squinting at the hand. Was this some sort of sign language?

“Oh!” Iida exclaimed. “It is a fist bump! Uraraka-san recently taught it to me and I think it is cool. You bring your knuckles together with your friend’s. As a symbol of strength and power!” At that, Iida paused. “At least, that’s what Uraraka-san said. Maybe she was pulling my leg?”

Shouto smiled, bringing their fist up to gently bump against Iida’s. “There’s no one I’d rather have my leg pulled with.”

“Just try not to crush my hand this time.”

"Iida!" Shouto whined. “That was one time!”

[✰✰✰]

It was several hours and a few homework assignments completed in each other’s company before Iida spoke up again.

“Have you tried talking to Midoriya-kun yet? Do you have a plan in mind?”

Pen poised to write a sentence that had since left Shouto’s head, they lightly put the utensil down, sighing in resignation.

“I want to. I really do. But I guess I’m… scared to? I’ve tried to tell him once already, and he misinterpreted what I said and began to tell me all about class consciousness, poverty, and quirk inequality by prefecture.”

“That sounds like our Midoriya-kun,” Iida stated, sounding not at all surprised.

“Maybe I’m subconsciously holding myself back from telling him. Out of, you know, fear of him not accepting me? Which allows him to read into what I’m saying as something else.” Shouto tucked a stray piece of their hair behind their ear, feeling the familiar sensation of worry and nervousness creep into their bones.

“Well,” Iida began, his stiff arm chops accompanying the most important points, “Midoriya-kun is certainly both strikingly perceptive and unaware at the same time. I think this has less to do with your delivery and more to do with a simple communication fopa.”

“What makes you say Izuku’s unaware?” Shouto asked, confused. Iida simply stared back, blinking, but didn’t say anything. “If anyone is unaware of what’s going on, it’s me.”

“It’s not a competition!” Iida interjected, swiftly performing a horizontal arm chop, as if to say stop. “I myself don’t understand social cues almost all of the time. Give yourself a break, it’s hard to go from rarely interacting with people your age to being overwhelmed with it like you have been.” Iida thoughtfully tapped his chin. “Perhaps to overcome the communication barrier, instead of talking, you could give him a meaningful gift. Attach a note. Something that Midoriya-kun won’t misinterpret and think you’re talking about socioeconomic class dynamics.”

At this Shouto felt the start of a brilliant idea begin to form in their mind.

“Thanks Iida!” they yelled, enthusiastically gathering up all of their things before sprinting out the door.

After all, they had a gift to plan.

[✰✰✰]

Something Shouto had learned in the time that they had been one of Midoriya Izuku’s best friends is that there was nothing more meaningful to him than heroes. Any mention of the individuals whom he looked up to for their work protecting the residents of Japan (excluding Endeavor, or course) never failed to make Izuku smile.

Shouto thought this was really valiant of Izuku. That he knew the pitfalls and shortcomings of hero society—a token example of it himself having grown up quirkless—and yet he still pushed himself to become a hero. How in spite of the pain the system had caused him, Izuku wanted to create a new system by rising to the top and inspiring hope in the masses again. A hope distinct from All Might’s peace, which allowed many to slip between the cracks. This love and drive never failed to inspire Shouto.

But in the case of today, it was this love that was going to provide them an outlet to tell Izuku. Not about their feelings yet (no matter how much they wanted to), but to explain their gender. Thumbing the soft Hawks beanie in their hand—a limited edition, advance version, given to Shouto by the hero himself—Shouto’s nerves resolved. This was it.

A sticky note was attached to the front, Iida’s neat scrawl reading “NON” very clearly. With, of course, not a single way for it to be misinterpreted. It was so clearly a non-beanie, which is a pun for non-binary. Which is what Shouto is.

Across the table, Iida noticed the hat in Shouto’s hand and gave them an enthusiastic thumbs up. Uraraka, Tsuyu, and Izuku were engulfed in conversation next to them, the dull buzz of the cafeteria covering up their hushed tones.

Pushing aside their finished soba, Shouto turned and placed a hesitant hand on Izuku’s shoulder. “Um, Izuku, could I speak with you for a moment? When you have finished your conversation, of course.”

Uraraka’s face took on an expression that they did not understand, yet filled Shouto with slight apprehension. It was akin to the feeling of being at the end of one of Uraraka’s master plans. Scary, slightly concerning, and always with the gut feeling not to trust her yet falling for her sweet smile anyways. Shouto had lost many bets to her because of that smile.

“We’re actually all done talking, Shouto! Go ahead and speak with Deku-kun here,” Uraraka smiled a bit too wide to be passable as normal, before she grabbed Iida’s arm and shepherded both him and Tsuyu out of the booth. “And you two need to come with me to class. There’s a problem on the homework for Mic’s class I couldn’t figure out and I can’t deal with his sad dad face today.”

Before Shouto could even blink, the three of them had been whisked away and the table was completely empty. Feeling a slight pang at the missing presence of Iida, someone who had grown to be a comfort for them since their long conversation together, Shouto felt their nerves return in full force.

“What’s up, Shouto? This isn’t another request for a DNA sample to compare to Kirishima, right?” Izuku asked, breaking Shouto out of thoughts about their impending doom.

“O-oh. No, no, it’s not about Kirishima. Well, not this time. And, uh, well, it’s not really a big deal or anything, but I got you something. A meaningful thing, that I hope you like. From me.” Resisting the urge to facepalm from the awkward jumble their words came out in, Shouto thrusted the hat toward Izuku, the “NON” note facing upwards.

Instantly Shouto watches Izuku’s eyes light up so brightly that he can just about see stars in them.

“Shouto!! Is this a Hawks beanie from his new line? The one that isn’t supposed to be released until next week!?” Izuku’s voice was shrill at this point, starting to draw the attention of the table over, crammed with business students who regarded the beanie with hot jealousy in their eyes.

“Um. Yes, yes it is. I got it from Hawks, actually.”

“Shouto. I–I don’t know. What to say. Other than thank you, of course. So much. This is so kind and thoughtful of you, and to have no prompting… I need to get you something too, Shouto!” Izuku rambled, his eyes starting to shine with tears. Then, looking down to analyze every centimeter of the beanie, he came across the ‘NON’ label, and let out a small ‘hm’ in confusion. Shouto absolutely did not find the noise adorable and did not have to try and control their heart rate.

“That’s a weird tag for merchandise of Hawks’...” he muttered, trailing off.

Shouto deliberately cleared their throat. “It’s a non beanie, Izuku,” Shouto informs him. “From me.”

“But… it can’t be a non beanie, the beanie literally exists right here! How could a beanie be the opposite of a beanie? Unless I should turn it inside out and there’s a secret message in there? No, that didn’t work. Should I otherwise destroy the beanie? Will the ashes reveal something to me? Or what if I…” Izuku trailed off, mumbling and staring at the beanie with a transfixed look on his face. Shouto sighed loudly and walked away. Izuku was left to stare after him, confused, the soft beanie still in hand.

Maybe this was going to be a lot harder than Shouto thought.