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Much like Ryouta, the Todoroki mansion hid a lot underneath the surface. The gravel driveway crunched under his sneakers as he made his way to the front door, loosely holding a backpack strap slung over one shoulder. He used the spare key to enter his father’s childhood home, politely taking off his shoes and setting his bag down. Although the training room was deeper inside, he didn’t need to search to know his siblings were there. It wasn’t like Keisho or Akami came over to have tea with their grandfather.
The hallway was dark, but even if the dojo was soundproof, it couldn’t completely hide the thumps and muffled orders barked out by his grandfather. Even now that he had long-since retired and was no longer in his prime, Todoroki Enji was still a formidable man. He likely would be until his death. Maybe he wasn’t as bulky and certainly not as fast, but he would always be strong. Keisho admired the hell out of him for that – wanted to be just like him – so even though their father didn’t approve, he’d managed to convince Enji to train him. As Keisho’s twin sister, Akami was all too quick to follow. She was their family’s darling princess, so neither could say no.
Out of the three siblings, Ryouta should’ve wanted to train with Enji the most. After all, he was the only one of them to have inherited the signature Todoroki fire quirk. However, he slowly made his way to the room instead, hands buried in his pockets, not a hint of interest in his mind. Unlike his younger siblings, his admiration for their larger than life grandfather and former Number One Hero had simmered out years ago.
Upon reaching the dojo, Ryouta silently slipped inside without being noticed. It figured. The kind of training that Enji put them through demanded their attention, especially since they were focusing on the more technical aspects of their quirks. With Enji in the middle, Akami and Keisho attempted to attack him and fend him off on both sides, but they still had to push themselves to keep up. It wasn’t enough that Keisho could now manipulate the mass of air in his grasp – he needed to create objects with that ability – and with her cryokinetic quirk, simply creating blocks of ice was no longer good enough – Akami needed to be able to manipulate it with precision.
At sixteen and nearing the end of their first year at UA, Ryouta knew his siblings were stronger than most kids their age. It was in their blood . Their father was one of the strongest heroes in history, the perfect combination of his parents, and their mother could lift buildings with a single touch. Together, Keisho and Akami could take on villains that would make some third years and recently graduated sidekicks balk.
However, they were still his little brother and sister, so when Keisho struggled to create a shield of air to block a fiery attack from their grandfather and staggered backward, Ryouta reacted out of instinct. The fire that came just a few inches away from Keisho’s face was abruptly sucked away, twisting into a line that ran to Ryouta’s hand. Even the flames on Enji’s face and arms were stolen from him, the flames swirling around Ryouta’s body like a snake. And with that, the training came to an end.
Akami reacted first, happily exclaiming, “Ryouta!” She eyed the flames curiously, watching the way his hand gracefully cut through the air to direct them. Opposite of her, he was pyrokinetic, except he could only control fire instead of producing it as well. It allowed him to be more precise, something she was working on. He’d noticed her taking note of him on the rare occasion he used his quirk around them.
Surprise flashed across their grandfather’s scarred face, but it was quickly replaced by his typical stony, gruff expression, one Keisho tried mirroring with little success. Poor kid was too hot-headed like their dad. He just ended up looking pissed, which was exactly how he looked now.
“Seriously?” Keisho demanded. “I didn’t need your help! I was just fine.”
A sheepish smile made its way onto Ryouta’s face. “Sorry, force of habit. It’s hard not to play with fire.” Clenching his hand into a fist, the spiral of fire around him was put out, overpowered by his quirk. He held out his hands in a shrugging gesture, smoke hanging in the air. “You can keep going.”
Enji eyed him somewhat suspiciously, but Ryouta kept that smile on his face. Whether Enji realized the smile didn’t reach his eyes was of no consequence to him. Akami was too focused on flexing her fingers while Keisho turned his back on him, nursing his wounded pride.
Finally, Enji stood upright and said, “No, I’m done for the day. You all can continue, but I’m…sure your father will want you back home soon.”
Keisho’s lips twisted in disgruntlement, but he knew better than to argue. He was a bit more obedient with their grandfather than he was their father, but that was just that old Todoroki stubbornness, as their mother said. Sucking it up, he politely bowed, and Enji took his leave. Ryouta stepped out of the way so he could walk out, the heat of his flames lingering between them.
As soon as their grandfather shut the door, Ryouta moved to sit down against the wall, content to simply watch his siblings, but Akami was on him in a flash, her blue eyes intense and determined. He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Ah, I’m not really feeling–”
“You just said you like to play with fire,” Akami cut in, placing her hands on her hips. He shrugged and gave her a helpless look. He was fond of his quirk, but his father had taught him early on it was dangerous. He’d taken that to heart, even though the flames called to him all the time. Sensing his hesitation, his sister put on the works, her normally serious expression transforming into one of pleading that turned all the men in their family into putty. “C’mon, Ryouta, please? You’re so good at manipulating fire! I need to learn how to do that with my ice. If I can watch you…”
Ryouta held up his hands. “Okay, okay, you win. We’ve got a little time left.”
Grinning, Akami grabbed his wrist and dragged him into the center of the room. She connected eyes with Keisho, a short mental conversation fluttering between them, and he shook his head. Nonplussed, she turned back to Ryouta. Since he couldn’t produce his own flames, he pulled out an old-school zippo lighter, one of the many he carried on his person. With a simple flick, a small flame burst to life, and he used his empty left hand to pull the fire away from the lighter. Once he held control over it, he flicked the lighter shut and put it away.
“Wow.” Akami leaned in close. “It’s like nothing for you.”
“I wouldn’t say it’s nothing,” Ryouta said, slowly wiggling his fingers so that the ball of fire weaved through them. Once it rounded his thumb, he jerked his hand and the ball wrapped around his back, pausing just an inch away from his upheld right palm. He turned his attention back to Akami, but the fire continued to move around him, bobbing back and forth between his hands before stretching in a long line to wrap around his arm. “It’s more like second nature, kind of like breathing.”
“It can’t be that easy,” Keisho scoffed from his corner of the room.
Ryouta tossed him a grin. “It wasn’t.”
Akami huffed. “Yeah, but it seems like cake when you do it. I don’t get it. I’ve never seen you train.”
“I’m two years ahead of you,” Ryouta pointed out, twisting the flame so it swirled around Akami more like water than fire. “There’s a lot you haven’t seen. You’ll get there with practice.”
A flick of a finger brought the flame back to him, and he carefully spread his hands to stretch it out, making the fire grow into something larger. He might not be able to create his own fire, but once he could control it, he’d learned to build it into something more. Contrary to what Keisho might believe, it had taken a lot of hard work before he could get to that point. Akami could already create ice at a much faster and stronger rate, doing so now to match the size of his fire.
“Now, match the fire as best as you can with your ice,” Ryouta instructed her. “I’ll get more complex as we go, so don’t stress if you can’t match it perfectly.”
A serious expression fell over Akami’s face. It was similar to one their father wore a lot, a Todoroki trademark look that had apparently skipped him alone. At first, Ryouta stuck with twisting the fire into simple shapes – a circle, square, octagon – which she mirrored with her ice. Then, with a smile quirking at his lips, he changed it up – a snake, flower, and even a table hanging in the air. Akami was able to manipulate the ice into similar shapes, but he noticed the ice moved in a blockier manner than his fluid fire and she slowed down for more complex movements.
Her eyebrows knitted in concentration, tongue poking out of the corner of her mouth as she tried to match his final shape, a large dragon that was tall enough to scorch the ceiling if it hadn’t been fireproof. She was forced to create more ice, building her statue up, until finally, with her fingers shaking, she managed to create one similar to his.
Akami’s eyes lit up. “I did it! I–”
The ice statue shattered, like a ball being thrown into a glass window, and Akami shrieked in shock. When the last piece of ice crashed to the ground, Ryouta dimmed the fire and turned to look back at Keisho, who wore a triumphant look on his sweaty face. Just when Akami was able to pull a complex move with her quirk, her twin brother must’ve managed to do the same, creating an arrow in the air that he threw at her statue. It had been strong enough to actually break it, something he hadn’t been able to do yet.
Unfortunately, Akami wasn’t excited, scowling at him deeply. “Really, Keisho? I know you’re in a mood, but you don’t have to be such an ass!”
The pride on Keisho’s face vanished. “I got excited and needed to test the strength and–” Her eyes flashed dangerously, and he looked to the ground. “Sorry, Akami.”
“We need to head home anyway,” Ryouta pointed out, “so it’s a good time to stop.”
As Akami and Keisho gathered their belongings, Ryouta ran the fire along the floor, melting the ice into small puddles. He could sense their hesitation at leaving the mess behind, but it wouldn’t be the first time ice and water were left to linger in this room. They made their way to the front door, the twins ducking into the side parlor room where their grandfather was resting while Ryouta slid on his shoes and picked up his backpack as all three returned. Akami hugged Enji tightly, an almost soft look on his old face, whereas he placed a hand on Keisho’s shoulder and passed on words of encouragement.
Finally, when his siblings stepped outside, it was Ryouta’s turn. He didn’t mind the tension, finding it a bit amusing. He held out his hand, patiently waiting.
Enji took it, his hand larger and similarly scarred. “I wouldn’t have hurt him.”
“I know,” Ryouta replied without missing a beat. “You helped my dad become the great hero he is today, so I’m sure you’ll help Keisho and Akami with their goals.” He tilted his head, his mismatched brown and blue eyes locked with his grandfather’s, and smiled. “I don’t have any reason to believe you’d hurt either of them.”
With that, Ryouta let go of his grandfather’s hand and bowed respectfully, the cool distance between burning hotter than any hatred ever could. He didn’t hate Todoroki Enji, but he’d never admire him like he had as a naive child when his quirk first manifested. He used to adore him, begging his own father to visit, but it was clear from his grandfather’s lack of reaction that he understood that time was over.
He’d never hang the past over his siblings’ heads or try to sway them otherwise, but Ryouta knew enough.
On the train ride home, the three Todoroki children chatted excitedly about their improving techniques. Ryouta listened for the most part, chiming in when Akami peppered him with queries and asking Keisho questions about his heightened abilities that made him perk up with pride. As much as he loved teasing his younger siblings, he loved seeing them grow even more. They didn’t always agree and sometimes the one-sided rivalry Keisho had built up between them was frustrating, but they had each other’s backs.
Upon reaching home, the smell of dinner and warmth lingering in the house washed over them. Their mother was stretched out underneath the kotatsu, half in her hero uniform. Her cheeks were still pink along with those spots that both boys inherited, signaling her recent return from work. Keisho went to her first, forgetting to take off his shoes.
“You look happy,” their mother noted, smiling warmly. “I’m assuming you finally broke through that wall.”
“I did!” Keisho exclaimed, sitting down beside her. “Watch this!”
As Keisho showed off his new trick, Akami kicked away her shoes and rushed into the kitchen where their father was cooking dinner. Whoever worked that night didn’t cook dinner, although it was usually their dad since he was the better cook. Ryouta smiled faintly, watching Keisho perform a complex move with his quirk and listening to Akami chat with their father. When his phone buzzed in his back pocket, he pulled it out, glancing at the text.
Still wanna come out tonight, kid? It’s getting cold.
Ryouta considered it, then called out, “Hey, Mom? Can I go over to Nakamura’s after dinner? We’ve got a huge test coming up.”
“Hm, it’s late and your father won’t like it, but…” His mother chuckled. “It is for school.”
“I’ll be home before eleven,” Ryouta swore.
His mother nodded. “Okay – but text us when you get there and when you leave.”
“Of course,” Ryouta said before shooting a simple yes text back and sliding his phone back in his pocket. He might be lying now, but he hadn’t lied to Akami earlier. There was a lot that they hadn’t seen. But he was a Todoroki, and as kind as he might be, Todorokis were natural-born secret keepers. It was in his blood.