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Sixty-seven days. That's how long it's been. Sixty-seven days since the trial, the courtroom, the lawyers volleying back and forth, voices raised. Sixty-seven days since his family had, one by one, risen to the front of the room and given their testimonies, trying not to shake under Endeavor's burning gaze. Sixty-seven days since the judge had given her verdict and a team of security officers had secured the handcuffs and led his father away, out the door and towards his jail cell. Yes, he was counting. How couldn't he, when every day set a new record for his freedom? Sixty-seven mornings he'd woken up, climbed out of bed in a groggy daze, and begun his morning routine, only to freeze with only one arm in his shirt or his toothbrush halfway to his mouth, when his brain began to operate at full capacity again and he remembered what had changed. He's gone. He can't hurt you again.
The passing of time had never felt so… significant.
Yes, time passed, and the winter turned to spring. Which was why he was now outside with his friends, enjoying a lunch break in the sunshine on one of the last days of school.
He and Midoriya had picked up the food from the cafeteria, while Uraraka had scouted out the perfect spot in a quiet corner of the campus and Iida had run back to the dorms to find a blanket for them to sit on. He came back with a few textbooks as well, stating with his usual gravity that it was their duty as students to study as much as possible, in order to obtain the best results they could on their upcoming exams. Unfortunately for him, Shouto and the others didn't share this conviction. They'd quizzed each other half-heartedly for about five minutes before Uraraka changes the subject.
"So, what're you guys doing this summer?"
Midoriya, sensing an opportunity, immediately slams the book shut, drowning out Iida's protests as he launches into a rant.
"Keeping as busy as I can! I don't have anything planned, per say, but there's plenty to do! I want to make digital versions of my notebooks, just to have backups in case anything happens to them, and our apartment needs painting, so I think I'll do that to surprise my mom! Wait, but it won't really be a surprise if I have to ask her for money to buy the paint. Maybe I should get a job? And I need to keep up my training schedule too..." He pulls a notebook out from god-knows-where and starts furiously scribbling a to-do list, mumbling all the while.
Iida, who knows when he's lost a fight, sighs and closes his book as well.
"I'm glad to hear you'll be so productive, Midoriya. I intend to continue training as well, both physically and by spending time with my brother. Although he may no longer be an active hero, his experience makes him a valuable teacher. My parents want to spend more time as a family as well, so we will be taking a two-week-long trip to Hawai'i in July."
"My family's going on vacation too!" Uraraka chimes in. "Camping costs basically nothing, so we're gonna pack up and head for the mountains as soon as school is over. It's pretty peaceful out there, so hopefully I'll get a little studying done too." She smiles and turns to Shouto.
"How about you Todoroki? Got any plans?" She asks.
And Shouto opens his mouth to respond, the familiar lie rising from his throat without thought.
"No, not really," he'll say. Make up something vague and uninteresting if they push, and they'll never know the truth.
That on the last day of school he'll drag his feet as much as he can going home, dreading what waits for him. The training room. His father's roars, the impact of a fist into his stomach, burns blooming over his skin. And once the assault ends- quiet, but not the peaceful kind. Pulling the first-aid kit from the bathroom shelf as slowly as possible, careful not to make a sound. Fuyumi scurrying over with a plate of food, patting his shoulder gently, and then leaving without a word. A silence that shrinks, trying desperately to squeeze into the narrow gap of safety between his father's anger and the wall it's pressed up against, until it's so small that the pressure inside is unbearable. He'll sit in his room, unmoving, as he gazes out a window he hasn't opened in years and waits for his father's footsteps coming down the hall, signaling the time has come for the cycle to begin again.
He won't tell them how, each night as he falls asleep, he'll calculate how many days are left until school resumes and he can leave the house again, gaining a few hours of reprieve.
He won't tell them, and the secret will remain a secret.
Shouto opens his mouth... and then his brain catches up, and he remembers.
There is no secret, not anymore. His father is gone.
It's funny how, even after he's had months to adjust, he still defaults to his former mindset. He's still resigned himself to the struggles he's used to dealing with, so accustomed to walking the same road that he forgets he doesn't have to anymore.
He ponders this for a moment, and then it really hits him.
His father is gone.
It's not just that the secret is out. There's not even anything to keep secret. This summer is going to be different. There will be no anger waiting for him when he gets home. No fists, no blood. His sister won't have to soften her footsteps, and he won't have to close his door. They can sit down to eat together. They can talk across the table.
And what then? Still struggling to comprehend the changes that have occurred, he hadn't really stopped to consider the possibilities that now exist.
He has an entire summer ahead of him, a real summer. Freedom from the responsibilities of school, without the weight of his father's presence to ruin it.
Now that he thinks about it, the possibilities make his head swirl. Will he travel? Spend time with his family? Find a job? Suddenly images are appearing in his mind, snapshot moments. Natsuo, coming home from college for the break. Himself, on a train, going somewhere he's never been before. His friends, crowded onto a sofa with him in the middle as they sit down to watch a movie together.
Whatever he does, his father won’t be there for any of it.
“Todoroki?” A voice draws him out of his thoughts. He blinks, suddenly noticing three concerned faces scrutinizing his own.
“Are you alright?” Midoriya continues, his brow creasing.
Shouto’s cheeks heat at the sight. How long had he been staring into space? Even more embarrassing, something hot and wet slips from his eye. He wipes the tear with his sleeve, hoping the others didn’t see.
They did, of course. “Is this conversation upsetting?” Uraraka questions gently, leaning forward to rest a comforting hand on his knee. “We can talk about something else if you want.”
And Shouto wants to tell them. He wants to be able to explain it, the limbo he’s found himself in, stepping into a new period of his life, but still peeling away bits of the past from his skin. Like how after the training camp, he could still catch whiffs of smoke hovering around him, even though he’d showered. How he knew he couldn’t scrub it off, so he just waited for the scent to fade.
He wants to be able to explain the tears. To make them understand that after several months and more showers than he can count the stench of the past hasn’t completely left, but he isn’t sad about it, exactly. On the contrary, he’s almost glad for this slow departure, because it means that every once in a while he takes a deep breath in, and is surprised for the hundredth time by the way the air is just slightly cleaner than the day before. How the scent of freedom is fresh enough in his lungs to still bring tears to his eyes.
But he doesn’t have the words to describe all that. Maybe one day he will, but
Instead, he smiles, and answers the original question.
“Not yet, but I will.”