Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It took weeks to get used to his new quirks. It was difficult, and even more so whenever he thought about how he got them.

He could handle ‘Null’ since it was essentially the same as ‘Erasure’ but gave him more options, though it turned his eyes gold rather than red. ‘Acrobat’ was strange and initially his new speed and agility was jarring, as well as the amount of energy he conserved from having a lighter body. The amount of time he spent running drills and exercises in the training room to get used to it was nothing to sneeze at.

‘Stormy’ was the most difficult, though.

Crushing all negative emotions under his heel wasn’t the usual for Shouta despite how he seemed on the outside. He wasn’t the most expressive person, but those feelings were there and if he wanted to avoid drowning the people of Kawasaki and the nearby areas of Musutafu and Yokohama in a typhoon caused by his depressive episodes and self-loathing, he had to find a way to handle it.

That way might have included refusing to think about anything except training, sleep, or food, but it worked. Not always, but enough to prevent any flooding so he’d call it a win. It had actually taken over two weeks to get enough of a handle that it stopped raining and another week after that to clear away the storm clouds.

After that, he was finally getting a handle on his new reality—on having three quirks that sometimes left him feeling like a pot of water on the verge of boiling over, gasping and clutching at his chest on the floor of his apartment. 

Then, after three weeks of struggle, trying everything to calm himself and banish his negative feelings, he was able to stand across the street from the precinct. It was late, about the end of Tama’s shift and slick pavement bounced the lights back into Shouta’s eyes. There were some clouds in the sky, barely wisps not called up by ‘Stormy’.

Shouta had been gone for nearly a year with no contact. He hadn't been allowed to speak with anyone outside the compound, but Shouta hesitated to cross over and go through the doors.

Did going to talk to Tama and Tsukauchi count as betrayal? He didn’t intend on tempting fate by trying to tell them anything, he just wanted to see the two people that didn’t inherently mean he was going to be hurt.

There was movement and the station door pushed open. Tama backed out, saying some final thing to someone before waving and letting it fall closed behind him.

Shouta turned back and the storm clouds crept back in.

It was only a matter of time before Shouta went out on his first patrol after coming back. He’d spent so much time in the compound only to waste everything he had tried to do for Tomura.

In a way, All For One was right, Shouta couldn’t stop trying to be a hero. It was all that he was and ever wanted to be. Screw the pain, screw the new quirks. He couldn’t let it stop him.

So he went on patrol for both the people out there that needed him and to prove that no matter what, he’d still try to be what he’d always dreamed, new weird quirks or not.

Using ‘Acrobat’ only made it easier and he had caught a villain in record time using a combination of his new quirk and old skills. When they were bound and unconscious, Shouta hauled them to the station only a block away, focusing on keeping the clouds at bay.

Then he stood in front of the door, pulled it open, and went in. As he passed the villain off, many of the officers and workers gave him curious looks. Some of them were new, but most he recognized. Of them all, he didn’t see Tanuma, his daughter, Tsukauchi, or Tama.

Shouta took a breath and asked one of the ones he didn’t know where Tama was. They directed him down the hall to Tanuma and Tsukauchi’s office and he shuffled away.

In front of the thick wooden door, he bit the inside of his cheek and knocked with his right hand. Upon hearing a reply, he grabbed the handle. He spared a glance down at his left where the tag was hidden beneath his glove, black and circular and emblazoned with the image of a tree.

Tama and Tsukauchi stared at him for a moment when they saw him, his hand lingering on the door handle as he offered a small wave with the other. Tama, with wide, wide eyes, blinked at him. Tsukauchi’s mouth hung partly open.

Shouta wasn’t sure what to expect, but it certainly wasn’t for Tama to walk toward him, pause, then slap him. His mask didn’t come off, nor did it hurt, but Shouta stayed with his head snapped to the side.

“You’re real?” Tama whispered.

Shouta responded softly, “Tama… You’re supposed to pinch yourself not—”

He didn’t get to finish. Arms wrapped around him tight and Tama’s claws pricked through his gloves to catch on the back of Shouta’s uniform.

“Shut up. Stupid fox.”

Shouta let his mouth close and slowly returned the embrace, looking at Tsukauchi, who offered him a smile over the rim of his coffee mug.

“We thought you died,” Tama said into Shouta’s shoulder.

A common occurance—too common, really—was the silent disappearance of underground heroes. One day they were around, the next they could be gone without a trace. Sometimes it was for cover, others were just getting away or retiring, but those cases were few and far between.

“I’m sorry.” Shouta felt Tama hug him tighter. “I couldn’t tell you but I wish I could have.”

He wished he could tell them everything. There weren’t many things he wanted more. His tag burned a little.

Tsukauchi just nodded and Tama finally let go, ears set back and pupils blown wide. When Tama blinked, they returned to normal and he gave Shouta a nod. Then he looked at the floor. 

“I know,” Tama said.

Chapter Text

Shouta wasn’t a stranger to nightmares, in fact he’d been having a lot recently, but the wind threatening to break his window from a particularly strong thunderstorm was relatively new. He had only registered the wind and cracks of thunder a few moments after waking up, hand clutched to his chest as he tried to slow his breathing.

He had been in the showcase room, turned into some monster, but not on the other side of the glass. A mix of himself and Kurogiri that he saw from outside his body. Purple smoke was mixed with his hair, his sclera were black and his irises turned permanently golden. He wore Kurogiri’s uniform with extra sleeves for a pair of arms that came from below his own. 

The combination of him and Kurogiri had smiled at All For One, genuinely pleased to do the devil’s bidding. Dr. Garaki had looked thrilled by his obedience. 

Tomura was there, too. Hunched and indifferent, looking away like a child who just learned they got a new sibling and didn’t take to the idea of getting less attention.

In truth, it wasn’t a true nightmare. He wasn’t being attacked or watching his loved ones die in front of him. But it was horrible because Shouta felt like the bastards would have actually done something like that to him if they had the thought.

Not that he’d ever tell anyone about such a thing.

But he eventually came back to himself, fingers digging into his biceps. Then lightning flashed, turning his room white for a split-second. Thunder rumbled in his ears and Shouta held his hands over them.

He tried to breathe.

It wasn’t real.

He patted down his sides, ran his hands through his hair, ensuring that he was unchanged. It wasn’t enough.

Shouta stood, throwing on his jumpsuit and mask, trying to calm the storm. He went to the station, trudging through the rain to seek out some modicum of comfort. Normalcy.

Now that the officers and workers knew he wasn’t dead, they didn’t bat an eye to him turning up in the station like a drowned rat. The receptionist tried to give him a smile, telling him that Officer Tanuma and Tama had left on a call but should be back shortly. Shouta nodded and retreated to the break room.

He snagged some coffee, staring into the mug through his mask for a solid twenty minutes and watched it cool. The storm still went on outside—he could still hear the crack of thunder from there, though it was less frequent—and Shouta cursed himself for having so little control.

It was just a nightmare.

Then, as he approached minute thirty of gazing into his coffee, Tama slopped into the break room. Water pressed down his fur and darkened his uniform, raindrops beading on his whiskers like dew on a spiderweb.

With his ears pressed flat against his head, he grabbed a coffee of his own and fell into the seat across from Shouta.

He took a sip, flicking an ear and sent a few droplets off. “You alright, Null?” Tama asked, much more earnest than his grouchy face had initially allowed Shouta to believe he would be.

“I feel like shit,” Shouta said, mask still on as a barrier between him and his now-cold drink.

“Me too. You didn’t have patrol tonight, though. Right?”

He bobbed his head.

Tama readjusted in his chair, sipping before asking over the rim of his mug, “Then what’s eating you?”

Shouta’s tag burned as he imagined telling Tama the truth. It abated after he simplified, “Bad dream. Needed some company.”

It sounded embarrassing once he finally said it out loud. What was he, a toddler that needed to sleep in their parents’ bed after a nightmare?

But Tama nodded in understanding and a small smile crept onto his feline face. “Well, misery loves company and Eishi’s chatting with the receptionist right now, so I’m free. Why don’t I tell you about what’s been going on around here?”

Shouta let out a soft breath he didn’t know he was holding and tipped his mask aside enough to drink. Cold break room coffee was terrible, but it was better in his friend’s presence. It was still awful enough that he drank it as quickly as possible, though.

When Shouta set down his mug, but before he fixed his mask back in place, he gave Tama a grin.

“Sounds great.”

Chapter Text

Over a month and a half after Shouta was exiled, he was watching a forest burn with blue flames. He quickly let his control on his emotions slip away, pulling up every memory of the people he missed as he sprinted toward an echoing scream. Maybe it was because it was already overcast, but within a minute, it was raining. 

Shouta dodged burning trees that hissed with steam as the rain grew heavier, pounding against the earth as he let the waves of sadness crash against his mind. He kept searching, looking around as the scream died off.

Then, on the ground some feet away, he spotted a figure and dashed over.

A teenage boy, burned to all hell and possibly the source of the incident, especially since the last time he checked, forest fires weren’t blue. He pulled a packet off his utility belt, whipping the heavily folded cloth out to straighten it. Then he carefully scooped the limp boy onto the paper-thin but strong blanket.

And he was off, running quick and light while pushing energy into ‘Acrobat’ in hopes it could make him just a bit faster.

“Wh—” the boy coughed. “Where?” he croaked.

“Hospital,” Shouta grunted through his mask.

The boy convulsed with another cough and grit his teeth. “No—Don’t—”

“Kid, I have to. You’ve got some serious burns.”

He groaned when he tried to struggle and immediately stopped.

Shouta kept running down the empty streets in the downpour for a few more minutes until he heard the soft, “Please—”, and another cough.

For a moment, he paused, grimacing down at the boy. Then, against all his better judgement, he turned and started making his way home instead.

“Better not regret this, kid,” he muttered.

When Shouta got back to his place, he practically kicked the door in after he was able to open it, the boy still in his arms. He swung his leg to close it behind them and went to the stairs. His apartment door received the same harsh treatment as the rain abated outside.

Setting the boy down on the couch, he went back downstairs to the training room for his more extensive medical kit. When he returned, he washed his hands and shoved the coffee table aside with a foot before kneeling by the couch.

As he thought, the burns were really bad. The worst of it was his face but it seemed the intense rain had prevented them from reaching third degree. Although he’d still bet on them scarring without treatment in a hospital.

He got to work, adjusting the fabric so the boy was uncovered and he could start clipping the burned clothes off.

“I’m gonna have to get these off of you and then get you into a bath, kid,” he said, starting on the shirt.

The boy grunted but didn’t protest.

Searing red painted his arms, face and a swath of his torso. When Shouta got to his pants, his legs weren’t as afflicted and he sighed in slight relief. He moved onto the next step, starting the bath and tossing the destroyed pieces of clothing into the trash before rooting around his closet for something loose but small enough for the teenager.

Snagging a shirt and pants, he tossed them onto the bathroom counter and returned to retrieve the boy from the couch with his sleeves rolled up.

“Sorry if this hurts, but I can’t put the blanket in with you,” he said, carefully pulling the boy into another bridal carry.

His face twisted, eyes still shut, but didn’t do much else as Shouta padded to the bathroom and lowered him into the cool water. The boy hissed as he made contact but it morphed into a sigh. His head rested against the edge of the bath and Shouta placed a damp washcloth over his eyes, falling partly on ashy gray hair with flecks of crimson. He placed another cloth to cover the boy’s neck and chin.

When the boy coughed again, Shouta bit his lip and gently pressed a hand to his forehead above the towel. It was obviously warm from the fire, but it was possible he had a fever.

Shouta spoke as he stood, “Don’t let the towel cover your mouth or you might waterboard yourself, I’m grabbing you a drink and some medicine.”

Another grunt.

Good to know he was still conscious.

When he returned, a tall cup with a straw in one hand and painkillers in the other, he crouched and set them down. He hadn’t gotten burns on this scale before, but he’d gotten enough to know it probably hurt like hell. Fevers were a pain, too, although he always remembered Inko bringing him tea with honey when he was sick. Shouta figured it would apply here.

“You still with me, kid?”

“Mh.”

Shouta pulled the washcloth away from the boy’s chin and neck for a moment, setting the straw to his lips.

“Cold tea with honey. Smoke probably fucked up your throat a bit.”

He accepted it and drank so much that Shouta had to pull away for a moment.

“Slow down, I have more,” he said before letting the boy sip slower.

When he finished the cup and had taken the painkillers, Shouta got more along with a bottle of water and another straw. After a long while, the kid was able to speak.

“Who’re you?” he asked, voice scratchy.

“A hero. Name’s Null. You?”

“...Dabi.”

Shouta raised an eyebrow behind his mask, which was doubly useless because of the towel over Dabi’s eyes.

“Fine. How old are you?”

“Fourteen. Since last week.”

“Care to explain how you ended up in the forest?”

“Rather not.”

He sighed, “Alright.”

Shouta would have time to grill Dabi later, no pun intended, but the kid had been in the bath for almost a half-hour. He mumbled his instructions as he helped Dabi out of the bath, leaning him carefully up against the side so the soot could be gently rinsed out of his hair.

When they were done, he settled on the floor, sprawled across a towel to dry like a recently washed piece of fish for sashimi. New damp cloths had been placed over his eyes, neck, and chest while a dry one was draped over his hips.

From this position, he couldn’t drink more, so Shouta waited and idly drummed his fingers on his arm.

This was probably going to be a pain in the ass.

Chapter Text

It took a long time for them to leave the bathroom, partly because Shouta had to help Dabi back into the tub so he could sit for another 15 minutes when he said the burns started hurting again.

When he was eventually able to get Dabi out of the bathroom and onto the couch, the morning proper had already started. The sun had risen above the rooftops, only just beginning to dry the city after the night’s downpour.

Shouta felt pretty dead on his feet but gave Dabi more tea and water. He even offered a juice pouch but it was declined with a slow shake of the boy’s head.

He had been set on the couch, sitting up so he could drink. He was wrapped in a few towels after he donned the pair of sweatpants Shouta had grabbed and the baggy shirt was hanging off the arm of the couch since his burns were still tender.

“So, kid, feel like explaining now? I did bring you here instead of the hospital,” Shouta said.

Dabi frowned into his third glass of tea, lightly pinching the bendy straw between his lips. He released it and muttered, “Don’t wanna.”

“I can’t do anything else except bring you down to the station if you don’t start talking, kid,” he sighed.

“My name’s not ‘kid’.”

“Sure as hell isn’t ‘Dabi’ either.” Shouta scanned the other’s face for a moment, watching the boy’s face scrunch with anxiety. “You don’t have to give me your life story, just how you got burned that badly.”

Dabi’s eyes widened a fraction before his gaze settled on the rug beneath the coffee table.

“My quirk got out of control. My father wanted me to be a hero, but when he saw how it hurt me, he tossed me aside. I wanted—needed—to prove that I could do it, that I could control it.” He sipped his tea before mumbling, “But I just fucked everything up and now I’m sure he wouldn’t even want to see me.”

“Is that why you didn’t want to go to the hospital?” Shouta asked, slouched forward in his chair and resting the cheek of his mask on his palm.

Dabi nodded. “They would call him and considering everything, it’s better if I’m gone. No failure of a son or brother walking around the house.”

For a moment, in a way, it reminded Shouta of his own thoughts. Before he could be sucked into thinking about his family, Shigaraki, and the rainy day that felt like forever ago, he sat up.

“Where will you go, then?” Shouta asked.

“I don’t know.”

“What about your wounds? Those are second degree burns, so you can’t just sit on the streets with them. They need to be clean and dry, unless you want to end up in the hospital anyway.”

“I don’t know,” Dabi repeated, softer but more bitter.

Another moment while Shouta thought. He had space and it seemed Dabi didn’t have anywhere else to go.

“Then how about a deal?”

Electric blue eyes flicked up, boring into him. 

“Deal?” Dabi echoed.

“You can stay here while you heal, in exchange, you’ll tell me the rest of your story when it comes time for you to leave,” he offered.

Dabi shifted, sipping more of his tea while looking more contemplative than annoyed. He released the straw with a tiny sigh.

“And if I don’t accept?”

“I’ll make a call to the police and let them know you’re here, you’ll rest up for a few days, then I’ll take you down to the station. You’d be in their hands from that point on.”

A long breadth of silence stretched between them, only the soft chirping of birds and dripping rainwater to cut through. There was the slow stirring of Dabi’s drink as he stared into it with half-closed eyes, red and sore from the burns stained beneath them.

He released a quiet breath, almost a huff, and looked back at Shouta. His eyes darted around to try and scan the face behind the mask, but with a crease to his brow he said, “I’d prefer to stay with you...”

Shouta reached up to loosen the ribbons of his mask shakily. This would be the first time he’d shown his face to someone outside Shigaraki’s compound as he’d always worn his hero mask. But he lowered it.

“Ainobu Shouta, call me whatever you feel like,” he said stiffly.

Dabi returned it with a smirk and a cheeky, “How ‘bout ‘old man’, then?”

Shouta just rolled his eyes.

Over the next day or so, Shouta had mixed feelings. On one hand, Dabi did as he was told and stayed in the apartment, although Shouta considered that was because he was afraid of someone recognizing him. He could relate. But Dabi was also a great distraction from his thoughts, so there was still that.

On the other hand, Dabi slowly showed that he was a bit of a brat.

“Hey, old man, you heading out?” Dabi asked from the couch, peeking out from beneath the damp cloth he placed over his eyes.

Shouta had long since given up on debating his ‘old man’ status despite the fact he only turned twenty-one almost three months before. He rolled his eyes from behind his mask anyway.

“Yes, so don’t destroy the place,” he responded dryly, glancing at the clock. “I’ll be back with dinner at five. In the meantime, you know where the food is.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Shouta tried to shoot him a look through the mask.

Never let him say that Dabi wasn’t perceptive, as he was somehow able to divine the intention behind the turn of Shouta’s head and drawled, “I mean, thank you very much for feeding and housing me, old man-san.”

Shouta sighed.

By the time they reached day five, they had fallen into an easy routine. 

Shouta would take shorter patrols and hours, though he dedicated a portion of the extra time to do paperwork. This meant he freed himself up to help Dabi gently clean and dry his burns every morning, pass out for a bit and eat lunch together before going to work. For Dabi’s meals, he grabbed take away from a restaurant or café.

He varied it quite a bit and tried to balance it, which Dabi pointed out was hypocritical for someone who hated existing enough to subsist off of jelly, protein, and water. Not that he knew the self-loathing part.

Dabi’s schedule seemed to be loosely centered around sleeping, eating, or reading any books he could get his hands on. It was mainly localized to the couch, which was his bed since Shouta only had one and they definitely wouldn’t be sharing.

Despite all his attitude, Shouta surprisingly found Dabi’s banter to be welcome and took some enjoyment from watching him shrink from some of Shouta’s harsher glares. 

But other times, a small smile settled on his face after telling Dabi for the fifth time “No, I won’t be getting just the gyūdon for you from Bizen, you need to eat vegetables” or asking “Dabi, where did you put my copy of ‘The Cats of Tanglewood Forest’? I know you finished it and I was thinking about re-reading it” or even sighing “Stop twisting like that or this burn cream is going to end up in your hair and I won’t help you get it out”.

So, in a weirdly and occasionally annoying way, it was nice. Like having a younger brother.

Shouta appreciated the company. He never had to worry about exposing his face or if Dabi would be able to recognize him. He never had to wonder what Dabi was thinking because it was either practically written on his face or coming out of his mouth already.

Because of all that, he realized that in about two to three weeks, he might miss the kid.

And Shouta wondered, will Dabi miss this?

Chapter Text

It was just another night, sitting in the break room with Tama on a forced break since Shouta had been working harder after cutting his own hours to help Dabi. 

And his friend finally decided to ask while flipping through a tiny book, “Hey, Null, your schedule changed recently, right?”

“Yeah.” Shouta glanced at the door, which was still closed as it often was this late at night. Didn’t hurt to check, you never know who could be around.

Golden eyes flicked up, silently questioning him.

The clock kept ticking. Shouta nudged his coffee mug, playing with the handle while he thought about how he could respond.

“Taking care of a brat for a while,” he muttered.

Tama’s eyes widened a little. “Really? You never struck me as someone who likes kids.”

“I just called him a brat, Tama. And he’s a teenager, not a kid,” Shouta corrected.

His friend hummed then went back to reading his book.

Shouta got the distinct feeling he knew what Tama was thinking.

Whatever you say.

The next day, while Dabi ate lunch at the table and Shouta sipped on his juice while sprawled on an armchair, his new guest shot him several judgemental looks.

Dabi had bandages on his arms, chest, and neck at this point. They were changed regularly, with help from Shouta since Dabi was still learning and too sore to do it himself. He could apply the burn cream for everywhere except his neck, though. He had also continued borrowing some of Shouta’s looser clothes since the only ones he had with him had been tossed out since they were so burnt.

His hair was a fluffy white, which was revealed after it had dried during Dabi’s first night at Shouta’s place. The red flecks were even more noticeable then, popping out from the rest like blood splatter on snow.

After the tenth or so look, Shouta sighed and asked, “What is it?”

“You’re weird.”

“I thought we established that when you saw me come in through the window last week,” he shot back tiredly.

“Yeah, yeah, but you never eat anything but those juice pouches and protein bars,” Dabi said as he rolled his eyes.

Shouta took another sip. “We established that too.”

Dabi frowned, then asked, “Do you have an allergy or something?”

“No. I’ll survive just fine off of these, so eat your lunch,” Shouta said, finishing up the pouch and tossing it across the room into the trash can. “I’m headed back out. Stay out of trouble.”

He received a snort and another eye roll as he left, but Shouta paid the conversation no mind. Well, he tried to until that night when Dabi started prodding him again.

“Don’t you ever cook?” he asked, peering into the stocked fridge. 

Sure, Shouta didn’t eat normal food, but Dabi was a teenager in recovery, he needed options.

“No.”

The fridge closed and Dabi sat across from him at the table. “Why?”

Shouta closed the file he was looking at and looked up. Making eye contact with Dabi was much easier without his mask. “Do you want me to make something for you?”

“Sure. Can you make breakfast tomorrow?”

Shouta dipped his head.

Hopefully nothing too bad would happen.

The next morning, there was no fire. However, there was some smoke and he miraculously avoided setting off the alarm. Breakfast still suffered due to his ineptitude, though.

Dabi sat across from him, looking mildly amused after waking up to Shouta nearly setting their fish on fire. He nudged the plate with his charred fish away.

“No offense, but I don’t like fish, burnt or not.”

“Whatever, I cooked for you,” Shouta said before shoving his own fish into his mouth. He cringed at the slight taste of charcoal.

Dabi’s hand shot up to his mouth while his shoulders trembled. His eyes were shining with genuine happiness for the first time since he arrived.

And because of that, Shouta didn’t mind being laughed at. Even as he made a face at his off-tasting soup.

For the next few days, Dabi asked for some cookbooks and certain ingredients. His first few attempts were still somehow better than Shouta’s although his presentation needed work. But it wasn’t like Shouta cared about how it looked when Dabi was quickly making things that tasted decent.

He always badgered Shouta to join him for meals or take the leftovers because he “made too much”. It might have been his way of thanking him or just how Dabi was, so Shouta begrudgingly accepted but refused to give up his juice pouches.

In his defense, they were actually quite good.

The number of unique dishes was still low, but Dabi would experiment and occasionally succeed at turning one recipe he knew into something different enough to vary their options.

He ended up bringing some of the packed meals with him to the precinct if he had to, meaning he had to explain to Tama that “the brat” was taking an interest in cooking. Shouta was kind of glad he couldn’t see the small smile behind his mask.

And so, with every new day and new dish and new smile when Dabi saw him actually enjoy eating, Shouta’s heart twisted a little more.

He was going to miss this.

Chapter Text

Living with Ainobu was… nice. 

Touya had pushed himself too far that night on Sekoto Peak against every warning he’d been given and had expected to die. But Ainobu saved him, listened to him when he desperately asked not to go to the hospital, and had taken him in for the time being. It probably wasn’t something he was supposed to do since Touya set a forest on fire via illegal quirk use, but he did.

And the man was a certified hero, even if he didn’t look the part.

Touya didn’t know how old Ainobu was but he looked relatively young, even with the stubble shadowing his jaw. He was also taller than Touya by about half a foot and looked like a disheveled hobo half the time.

Anyway, he let Touya stay in his apartment without supervision, let him cook—which was better than Ainbou doing it, and helped take care of his burns without Touya needing to ask.

Touya’s old life was nothing like this.

It was full of endless training and tutoring. The clear desire that Father wanted Touya to follow in his footsteps. The overwhelming pressure of needing to surpass All Might when Touya became a hero. But then he was told to throw it all away. He couldn’t be a hero because of his quirk.

But did he want to be a hero anyway? Yes. Had he actually enjoyed his training with Endeavor? Yes. Did he miss his siblings and mother? Yes.

Did he still want to be Endeavor’s successor?

He didn’t know.

Whenever that thought crossed his mind while reading or cooking or laying around, Touya let it pass. The answer would come to him later. Once he recovered, he could figure out what he’d do without having Ainobu around to help him or Ainobu’s roof over his head.

Presently, that thought made him frown a little into his dinner and caught Ainobu’s attention. Dark gray eyes flicked up, scanning Touya’s face. “You alright?” he asked, voice soft.

Touya pulled his lips into a lazy smile. “Yeah, old man. Just thinking about when you tried to make breakfast and almost burned down the kitchen.”

“I didn’t almost burn down anything. There was a little smoke.”

“Yeah and that poor fish didn’t deserve it.”

Ainobu sighed, dropping his head. “Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Then he stirred his chopsticks around before glancing back up at Touya. He was serious again when he said, “How have you been on your own?”

“Been fine. I mean, you only leave for a couple hours at a time then come back like you think I’ll manage to destroy the place.” Not that it ever felt like hours to Touya, it was like he blinked and Ainobu was back.

Ainobu gave him a flat look but asked, “So you can handle being alone?”

“Of course, I’m fourteen, not four.” Touya sipped his coffee.

He was given another searching look then Ainobu nodded. “Good. I have to go out of town for a week, so you’ll have the place to yourself during that time.”

Touya almost spat out coffee onto his plate.

From zero to one-hundred. The guy won’t leave him alone for more than six hours at a time then drops that on him?

“What?” Touya croaked.

“There’s a raid in Osaka that I’ve been assigned to. I can’t get out of it—nor would I want to because it’s my job—but you’ll be on your own. I’ll leave money for shopping after restocking the fridge tonight and get anything else you need. Alright?” Ainobu took another bite of his dinner—the one Touya made because he refused to give up on getting the man to eat real food.

He sat and stared at the man for a few moments. “What if something happens?” Touya asked, leaning forward in his seat, dinner forgotten.

“Like?”

“I don’t know. Just, what if something happens and I need to contact you?”

“There’s a landline,” he gestured to the phone in its cradle on the bookshelf. Touya had seen it before but never really acknowledged its existence since it never rang. “My number’s on it under my hero name. Call if there’s an emergency.”

He sat back, taking in Ainobu’s nonchalance and… trust? Could this be called trust, to let Touya stay in his home for a week unsupervised? 

Yeah, he’d call it that.

“...When do you leave?”

“Tomorrow morning,” Ainobu said, not looking at him.

Touya opened his mouth then closed it, repeating a few times before he whispered, “And you’re just telling me this now?” Then more deadpan, “Knowing your schedule, that means you leave at the ass crack of dawn.”

Ainobu huffed and Touya knew he was right.

Christ.

“Thanks for telling me at all, I guess. If you didn’t show up by noon I’d have thought you were dead,” he groused.

“I wouldn’t just disappear like that, kid. I was just waiting to see if you were ready to be left alone. You’ll have to do your bandages and go shopping on your own. That means going outside where people will see you,” he said, fixing Touya with a stern look. “You were set on not going to the hospital, so you’ll have to wear a mask or something and stay away from places where people may know you.”

“Oh.” He looked down, realizing everything he wouldn’t have help with during the week Ainobu would be gone. “Yeah.”

Ainobu gave him the smallest smile and said, “I’m sure it’ll be fine. You can do plenty on your own already, so one week by yourself is well within your abilities.”

“Flattery won’t get me to stop forcing bentos on you, old man.”

The smile morphed into a dead look and Touya snorted.

The next morning, as Touya had predicted, Ainobu was already gone. There were folded paper grocery bags on the counter from the shopping he’d done last night, but a new upright bag was beside them.

It was plain and white with an envelope taped to the side. He pulled it off carefully, turning it over but found nothing other than his name on its front before opening it. There was a letter and another envelope inside.

“Dabi,

I grabbed you a couple extra things from the store and I put more than you’ll need for shopping in the other envelope, so be responsible. Have fun. I’ll be back soon.

—Ainobu Shouta”

Touya peered into the other envelope, confirming that there was definitely more than he’d need for one week on his own. After briefly wondering how well Ainobu’s hero work paid, he took the bag and sat at the table.

The first thing he pulled out was a box of black medical masks. He didn’t even know they had other colors, but put them aside with a smile. Next was a notepad for making shopping lists, a pen from the office clipped to it. Lastly was another cookbook that Touya tucked into the shelf beside the others Ainobu had gotten him.

He wrote a few things on the list, knowing he would need them before the week was over, then set about his morning routine.

Things were a little more difficult without Ainobu, like applying the burn cream and wrapping his bandages properly, which took him about four times. He almost made too much for breakfast, already too used to cooking for both Ainobu and himself.

But Touya got himself on track fairly quickly. He didn’t make too much lunch, he napped on the couch then skimmed the book Ainobu had gotten him. It was fine.

Sure, before these idyllic weeks, he was used to servants and siblings making noise around the house, but he was used to the quiet already. Despite that, there was something off even during the times Ainobu wouldn’t have been around anyway.

To keep his mind off the silence, Touya carefully draped himself on Ainobu’s armchair, flipping through the man’s favorite storybook, ‘The Cats of Tanglewood Forest'. He stopped on the watercolor images, admiring the art before skimming to the next one. When he was done, he shelved the book and pulled out another one, an illustrated guide about flowers.

He passed time this way for a while, breaking for a snack before returning to the chair and continuing where he’d left off. 

By the time he’d had dinner and the sun had set, he’d flipped through about half the shelf. But it was time to rest, so he cleaned up, brushed his teeth, and curled up on the couch with a blanket thrown over him.

He stared at the ceiling for a while before he drifted off, wondering if the next six days would go by just as slowly.

Chapter Text

Touya’s second day alone was similar to the first but with fewer mistakes and more napping. By dinnertime, it was a wonder he hadn’t tried to crawl out the window. That being said, on day three, he donned a mask, grabbed his allowance and a spare set of keys Ainobu had left on the doorknob, then shuffled down the stairs. 

He had never actually been on the first floor of the building aside when Ainobu carried him through the door. Except he was focused on how much pain he’d been in at the time, so Touya wasn’t ashamed to admit he took the time to look around a bit.

It was pretty plain, only the necessities in each of the few rooms. There wasn’t even anything on Ainobu’s desk. It felt… impersonal, like Endeavor’s estate. 

Truthfully, the apartment was in a similar state, though it had been improved since Touya started staying there. Only the bookshelf had anything interesting. There were plenty of interesting books, the landline, and a radio tucked into the top that he played before going to sleep sometimes.

Other than that, the apartment was bland and uncluttered.

Uncomfortable because of his comparison, Touya hurried out, making sure he had the key and locked the door behind him.

He had snagged a gray hoodie, which was naturally oversized on him, and a pair of pants Ainobu had gotten that actually fit properly. Keys and allowance tucked safely into the kangaroo pocket of the hoodie, Touya set off down the street.

He had been around this part of town once or twice, just enough to not be overwhelmed and able to remember his way back. He really didn’t want to have to wander around because asking for directions would be useless.

At least, he was pretty sure it would be useless since Ainobu was apparently an independent underground hero. Meaning, Touya doubted anyone knew where he lived or that his agency existed in general. That would make getting back without calling the man a chore if he didn’t take care.

With that in mind and memorizing as he walked, Touya found his way toward a shopping street. It was relatively busy, with just enough people that he didn’t worry about not being able to blend with the crowd. 

He didn’t need groceries yet, but he did peek in a few stores or wander between aisles of the stranger ones for entertainment. Somehow, he ended up in a store called ‘Out of Hand’ that had various knick knacks and strange items. It was also partly a thrift store with a section of items that piqued Touya’s interest.

Low-priced clothes hung on the rack, a shelf of figures was placed beside it. Some were animals, some made of glass, but none were heroes. A few well-kept stuffed animals lined the one below. 

Of all the things he’d seen that day, which was frankly quite a lot since this was the fourth store he’d gone into, Touya gazed at the final animal in the row.

It was a cat, small enough to fit in his hoodie pocket and made of soft black fabric with white paws and large yellow button eyes. He stared at the tag then thought about Ainobu’s note. Then Ainobu’s apartment, impersonal and bland. 

Touya glanced at the other items, plucking a glass figure of a small blue dragon and the stuffed cat from the shelf. Something for Ainobu and something for himself. After he bought them, he made his way back home.

Well, that had been the plan until he ran into a villain attack on his way back. There were heroes there already, he could tell that from the crowd, but the voice he heard yelling at the villain made his blood chill.

Father.

Touya stopped in his tracks, pulling his hood over his head. Then, against his instincts and better judgement, he squeezed through the crowd to see the fight. 

He didn’t even bother looking at the villain initially, too focused on Endeavor’s confident yell and quick takedown. He nearly burned one of the other heroes, but no one seemed to notice. The crowd cheered. Touya melted back, tugging at his hood to make sure his hair was hidden.

Once he’d made it a few blocks, he pulled his hood back down and fiddled with the keys in his pocket. Images of Endeavor’s grin and how he forced the villain back with his flames flickered in his mind each time he blinked.

He swung the small bag that held his wrapped up figure and stuffed cat.

Touya breathed in time with it.

Did he want to be a hero like that? 

He stopped.

Did he actually ever want to be one, or was that just a thought pushed onto him? 

No, he did want to be a hero. He really did.

Touya walked quickly then, mulling it over.

Once upon a time—really only a few weeks ago—he wanted to be like his father. He wanted to be strong and live up to the expectations placed upon him. It was no wonder he did since he was told for the longest time that was what he should be. But then, suddenly, Touya couldn’t be a hero.

Endeavor moved on. Touya was thrown aside in favor of Shouto, not that he really blamed his youngest brother. He didn’t ask to be born with a perfect quirk.

Touya shoved the key into the lock, closing the door behind him with a foot then turned to lock it. He went upstairs, doing the same before plopping down at the table. He placed the bag down and pulled out the cat, rubbing his thumb on the soft fabric of its cheek.

He still wanted to be a hero. His quirk may hurt him and his father may have rejected him, but he still wanted it. Except now, he didn’t want to be like Endeavor. He didn’t want to surpass All Might.

He wanted to be like the man who saved him.

He wanted to be like Ainobu.

Touya pulled the stuffed cat to his chest and smiled.

Chapter Text

After sitting around for a while longer, Touya pulled out the glass dragon figurine. It was small enough to fit in his palm and heavy enough to act as a paperweight. He wasn’t too sure where to put it, so he spent an hour organizing the bookshelf just so he could put it up there beside the radio.

One quick dinner, careful shower, and rewrapping of his bandages later, he was curled up on the couch with his stuffed cat in his arms.

The next morning—day four, he reminded himself—Touya was a bit excited. He had passed the halfway mark of Ainobu’s absence and he was far too ready to have the man around again.

To keep himself busy, he straightened up the couch then made food. Once he had eaten and done the dishes, he decided to go out again. He didn’t visit the same area as the day before, both because he didn’t want to go to those shops and because Endeavor had been there. He had already risked being seen just to glimpse his father in the fight, he didn’t need to take any other chances.

Instead, he went the opposite direction, glancing into the windows of stores he passed on the way. Eventually, one caught his eye. It was a stationery store with a black sign hung outside, ‘Foxy & Winston’, it read in white lettering. He shuffled in, glancing up at the little bell that rang when he opened the door.

Inside, it was small with rows of paper and pens and anything anyone would need to write. Envelopes, stamps, markers, pencils. There was even a table off to the side with a typewriter. 

The counter was by the door, an older man with white-streaked brown hair and a narrow jaw. He sat in a chair, reading a newspaper, and only regarded Touya with a glance. 

Touya gave him a nod and looked around, finding the store empty aside from himself and a young woman who trotted in soon after him. She didn’t stay long, navigating the thin aisles, paid for a stack of stationery, then left as quick as she came.

He sifted through different things, eventually finding himself by the counter again and looking at a shelf of notebooks. They were simple, usually black or white with a burst of color coming from the spine. 

As he picked one up—black emblazoned with whorls of blue tipped with white like his flames—he heard footsteps. When he turned, there was a woman behind the counter alongside the man and a door to an office of some sort swung shut. Red hair with fox ears, the tip of a tail twitching up just enough for Touya to see it before it dipped below the counter again.

She gave him a closed-eyed wave and chirped, “Hey there, can I help you with anything?”

“Oh, uh, I’m not sure. I was just looking around.”

The woman nodded. Touya noticed the flecks of black in the fur on her ears and the ends of her hair.

As he was about to go back to browsing, a thump and a bang came from the other side of the wall shared with the neighboring mechanic shop. Touya flinched, but the pair at the counter didn’t even seem to acknowledge it aside from a flick of the woman’s ear.

He stared at the wall as if he could see what caused the noise, suppressing a jump when another one sounded. Touya looked at the other two again. 

This time, the woman held a hand to her lips and let out a little laugh. “Don’t worry about that, the wall’s been regularly reinforced so we don’t have to worry about one of them crashing through here again.”

“...Again?”

The woman nodded. “Yes, the Hatsumes tend to… explode things rather often. One of them ended up crashing through when I was little.”

“Was it scary?” Touya asked, walking up to the counter, journal in hand.

“A bit,” she admitted. “But it was how I met Manako—she’s the owner now and about my age—and we’ve been friends ever since.” The woman laughed a little to herself then leaned on the counter. “Enough about that though, were you interested in getting that journal?”

He looked at the notebook in his hands, wondering what he could put in it.

“Maybe, but I wouldn’t know what to write.”

The woman’s ears tipped forward. “Well, I guess that means you don’t need it for class. Maybe have it as a dream journal? Or as a diary?”

Touya gave her a quizzical look and asked, “Aren’t diaries for girls?”

The man snorted and said in a low, gravelled voice, “They’re for people who want to write down their thoughts and feelings. If that makes someone a girl, then I’ve been one for the last forty years.”

He felt his cheeks burn. “Sorry.”

A smile turned up the corner of the man’s lips for a second. “No harm done kid, but if you’ve never written down your thoughts before, then it wouldn’t hurt to try.” He flipped the page of his newspaper. “Just a suggestion, though.”

Touya nodded. “You’re right,” he said, setting the notebook on the counter and passing it for the woman to scan.

Another bang sounded out and he jumped again.

Wide-eyed, he asked the unbothered pair, “How do you get used to that?”

“Time,” the woman said, sliding the journal back to him. “1750 yen.”

Touya fished two 1000 yen bills from his pocket and handed it to her. “Keep the change.”

She hummed, tucking the bills into the register then reached beneath the counter before handing him a pencil. “On the house,” she said then whispered, “But we do have quite a few of these.”

Touya accepted the pencil, a Present Mic one with a yellow eraser, and picked up his journal. 

“Why do you have so many?” he asked.

“Well, we were actually given them. It’s sort of a promotion for the radio show.” She turned to the man, “Hey Pa, doesn’t that start tonight?”

He nodded. “At eight. Tokyo FM.”

“Oh, I guess I’ll check it out.” Touya started away from the counter, pausing at the chiming door to say, “Thanks.”

“Anytime! Have a good day!” the woman chirped.

“You too,” he called back with a smile behind his mask, the door falling shut behind him.

After that, Touya returned to the apartment, buzzing with energy from genuinely talking to someone other than Ainobu for the first time in weeks. 

Time practically crawled after he got back, sitting at the table with the radio moved onto it and set to the right frequency even though the program wouldn’t start for a few hours. He wasn’t a particular fan of Present Mic, but the man was relatively popular, so it was hard for him to not be interested.

While he waited, he stared at his journal with his new pencil in hand.

Time inched by but he couldn’t figure out what to write. His life before Sekoto Peak? His life with Ainobu? When Touya shifted, his bandages moved against his almost-healed burns. Maybe his plans for life after he was healed?

For another few moments, Touya thought.

Then he began his first line.

Planning for the Osaka raid had been going well. The heroes hadn’t met as one group yet—that was happening now—but Shouta had spoken to Detective Tanuma several times to affirm information or give a scouting report.

But it was now that the heroes assembled for the raid finally had a conference to put most of the pieces together and strategize.

He walked down the hall of the agency they were being gathered in beside Tanuma, the older man pinching a dwindling cigarette between his lips. They reached the conference room at the same time as another man. 

He was gigantic, well over a foot taller than Shouta and filling out every centimeter of his bright yellow hoodie like a plushie.

“Null!” he greeted, waving a red-gloved hand.

Shouta squinted behind his mask at the man, feeling a tinge of déjà vu at the sight of the hero’s hoodie.

“Anyway, my hero name is Fat Gum!”

“Fat Gum?” Shouta said, ending more as a question than a statement.

The man laughed and nodded. “Yep, that’s me. Been a while, huh?”

“You know each other?” Tanuma asked as he shot Shouta a curious glance.

“Barely. We took the same licensing exam,” Shouta said, passing between the two to enter the conference room. “Enough about that. We’ve got shit to do.”

Chapter Text

Shouta got home several hours after the raid and closing meeting. It went well, all things considered. No casualties on either side, minimal injuries, and Shouta himself only got a little banged up.

But it was late, meaning he didn’t expect to shuffle into the apartment and see Dabi waiting for him on the couch. The boy was writing in a journal with a pencil that had been sharpened to half its original length.

Upon hearing the door click shut, Dabi looked up, a smile edging his lips. It shifted to a smirk and he said, “You look like you got hit by a car.”

“I feel like I got hit by a car,” Shouta retorted, pulling off his scarf and untying his mask as he walked toward the table.

Dabi snorted, closing his notebook before starting to fiddle with his pencil. He stopped, stretched, and got up as Shouta sat down. After he pulled two containers from the fridge and reheated them, he placed one in front of Shouta and took the other for himself.

“Thanks. You didn't have to get it for me, though.”

“I know, I just felt like it,” Dabi said before tucking in.

They ate quietly, Dabi glancing up occasionally. Shouta had found that he had the habit of doing that when he wanted to say something, but Shouta didn’t say anything. When he finished, feeling slightly better after eating, he muttered that he’d take a shower and tossed his container in the sink.

After he did the dishes, Touya folded his arms on the table and rested his head on them when Ainobu went into the bathroom to shower. He had his journal and knew what he wanted to say, but it was difficult to start a conversation with Ainobu.

He was weirdly intimidating in a way. Touya wasn’t afraid to give him shit and engage in their weird version of normal conversation that most people would think they probably hated each other. He was, however, slightly afraid of starting a serious conversation with Ainobu. Or more specifically, this serious conversation.

What would he think? Would he care? 

Touya frowned.

What if he brought him back?

Then all too soon, Ainobu reappeared in his pajamas while toweling off his hair. Touya sat up quickly, notebook in hand, but the words caught in his throat. 

What if he brought him back?

They stared at each other for a few seconds then Ainobu sighed, “I wanted to let you say whatever it was you wanted to say, but it looks like that won’t be happening any time soon.” He plopped into his armchair. “What’s eating you, kid?”

Touya blinked. 

He processed the question then zipped to the couch and flipped open the notebook.

There wasn’t time to doubt. He had to do it while he still had the nerve and faith that Ainobu would listen.

“I wanted to tell you everything,” Touya started. “Like, y’know, the deal we made.”

“You aren’t fully healed yet,” Ainobu said.

Touya snorted. “I think I would know if I was.” He scanned the first page. “I just figured that you should know.” When Ainobu nodded, Touya took in a breath and began, “I guess I should start with my name. I am Todoroki Touya... Endeavor’s eldest son.”

Ainobu’s eyebrows raised up into his bangs but he didn’t interrupt.

“Ever since I got my quirk, he trained me. He wanted me to be a hero like him—to surpass both him and All Might with my quirk, which is stronger than Father’s. I wanted that too. I wanted to be a strong hero like my father and that dream was my life.

“Then, after a few years, my hair began to turn white and my quirk began to hurt me,” he said, brushing a hand up to touch it before flipping the page. “It burned me every time I used it and we learned that I inherited my mother’s resistance to the cold rather than my father’s resistance to heat. It made me weak and Father stopped training me.

“I couldn’t let it go because even though it was Father’s ambition to surpass All Might through myself or my siblings, I made it my own because I wanted it too.” He shook his head. “But anyway as I said, I couldn’t let it go and trained on my own. My sister and brother, Fuyumi and Natsuo, didn’t understand my frustration or pain at being told my dream was impossible after all that time.”

Touya flipped to the next page, hearing rain start to patter against the window.

“Then my youngest brother, Shoto, was born with a perfect combination of Mother and Father’s quirks. Ice and fire. It crushed me. My entire reason for existing had been to take on Father’s ambitions and when I couldn’t fulfill them, I was… replaced, I guess.

“After that, I started secretly training on Sekoto Peak in hopes that I could overcome my weakness, but eventually, I couldn’t control my flames…”

“And that’s when I found you,” Ainobu said softly.

It wasn’t a question.

Touya nodded. “You saved me,” he corrected, closing the journal. “Even now, I still want to be a hero and that might not be possible because I can’t use my quirk, but, uh, yeah. That’s my story.”

He looked up, listening to the rain strengthen while he watched Ainobu process what he’d been told, resting his clasped hands against his mouth. Ainobu’s forearms flexed, his hair draped and covering his face.

Touya didn’t have the spare energy to tease him for taking so long to respond.

“What age did you manifest your quirk?”

“Eh? Four…”

Ainobu let out a slow breath like he was trying to exhale his emotions. Thunder crackled in the distance.

“Are you okay?” Touya asked nervously.

He’d never seen Ainobu truly angry before. It had always been teasing or snark or sarcasm.

“It’s not you.” He let out another slow breath then peered through his curtain of hair at Touya. “Do you dislike your father?”

“I… I don’t know. It’s more complicated than that.”

Ainobu nodded. “But you still don’t want to go back?”

“Mhm.”

“Okay… Okay.” Ainobu ran a hand through his hair.

He looked tired. Touya remembered that the man just came back from a week-long mission. Ainobu never slept well, so he probably hadn’t gotten rest in however long. Dinner earlier might have been the only actual meal he’d had after he left for Osaka.

“Sorry,” Touya said softly.

Ainobu looked at him, eyebrows knitted together. “Why?”

“You’re probably exhausted and I just sprung this on you. It could have waited.”

“It’s fine. I’m glad you told me.” He sat for another few moments then asked, “Did I ever tell you my quirk?”

Touya thought then realized he never had. He shook his head.

“It’s called ‘Null’. I can nullify any non-mutant quirks in my field of view. I don’t get anything in return, so I’ve always considered it a leveler, but there are still quirks I can’t erase. As a hero, I still have to overcome those as well,” Ainobu said. “Saying that, so long as you have the right tools, you can still be a hero, Touya.”

“Really?” he whispered.

The corners of his eyes prickled.

Ainobu nodded then stood, stooping to rest a hand in Touya’s hair and ruffle it gently. “Yeah.”

A few tears slipped down Touya’s cheeks to land on the cover of his journal even as he smiled.

Chapter Text

When Shouta woke up the next morning, he rolled out of his bed as he remembered his conversation with Touya.

He could hardly believe he finally knew the boy’s name.

But that was secondary to thinking about what Touya must have been through. He had said that he wanted to be a hero no matter what Endeavor had initially encouraged. Except he had begun training at four.

Four.

If Touya had said he wanted to go back, Shouta wasn’t sure he could have let him. This wasn’t even getting him started on the implications with the boy’s youngest brother Shoto. 

If he was Touya’s “replacement”, then he would likely begin training soon or had already started. But could Shouta do anything about it? Would he be able to without clear proof or explanation for his knowledge and suspicions? Either way, he would have to investigate, though doing so would take a long time considering Endeavor was the Number Two hero.

All these thoughts floated around in Shouta’s head as he brushed his hair into a low ponytail, brushed his teeth, and shaved. When he was done and shuffled out of the bathroom, Touya was setting the table, twin plates of omurice in his hands.

He offered Shouta a smile. “Hey.”

“Hey,” he returned, sliding into his seat and quietly thanking Touya for the food before picking up his spoon.

They ate in comfortable silence then washed the dishes together. As he passed Touya a plate, he realized the boy had changed his bandages on his own.

Shouta smiled as he swapped sides to start drying things off.

“Old man?”

“Hm?” Shouta hummed.

“Thank you for listening to me last night,” Touya said, rinsing his plate.

“Of course.” He took the plate when it was handed to him. “But that does remind me, since you want to be a hero despite everything and because you’re almost healed, where will you go?”

Touya rested his hands on the edge of the counter and stayed quiet. He sighed, an invisible weight drooping his shoulders.

“I don’t know,” he said softly.

Shouta tucked the clean plates into the cabinet and hooked the dish towel back around the handle of the oven. He considered for a moment then glanced at the boy from the corner of his eye.

His head was still bowed, hair nearly white with only the smallest flecks of crimson now. The bandages wound up his arms and under his t-shirt before coming out to wrap up his neck and chin. Next to Shouta, he still seemed small. He was only fourteen.

“Well, a kid like you shouldn’t be out there on your own,” Shouta started, tucking his hands into his pockets. “And you’ve done all this work to get me to eat ‘actual food’...”

Touya’s head snapped up to him, electric blue eyes blown wide and mouth dropping open a little.

Shouta grinned at him. “So how about you stay here? I have a training room downstairs and everything. You’ll need one if you’re aiming to be a hero.”

Touya blinked at him a few times. His look of surprise morphed into disbelief then realization. He nodded, saying with a smile to match Shouta’s, “If you don’t mind me stealing your couch for a while longer, yeah, sure.”

“Actually, if you’re staying here long-term, I think proper arrangements would be in order.”

“Wait, what?”

Shouta rolled his eyes. “You need a real bed to sleep on, kid. My upstairs office can be rearranged and I don’t use it all that much anyway.”

“Really?”

He snorted, “Of course. Did you think I’d let you stay here permanently and not give you somewhere to sleep?”

Touya blushed, looking away and rubbing the back of his neck even as he mouthed the word ‘permanently’. 

“Sorta.”

Shouta ruffled the boy’s hair before passing him to leave the kitchen. “The bed’ll have to wait ‘til you’re healed ‘cause I wouldn’t be able to move something like that on my own, but we can go shopping and get stuff for your room soon. My next paycheck comes in next week, so we can probably go when I have that.”

Shouta would have to patrol a lot more to afford it all, but it’d be worth it.

After a week of near non-stop patrolling and working with Tama and Tsukauchi on the side for another boost to his pay, Shouta clambered in through his window and flopped into bed with a sigh.

He would get his paycheck the next morning, which was only a few hours away, and then he could take Touya to the mall to get things for his soon-to-be-room.

Wasn’t that a thought? 

The kid would actually be staying with him from then on. Not legally, of course. Technically what Shouta was doing was “contributing to the delinquency of a minor” or “kidnapping” depending on who you asked. But it wasn’t like Touya could go get himself emancipated or anything. The whole “Endeavor being his father and everyone thinking Touya died” kind of prevented that.

So long as no one found out by the time the boy turned eighteen, it would probably be alright, though.

Shouta nodded to himself against the covers as his eyes slid shut.

Just a few more hours.

Chapter Text

When Touya woke up, it was with his stuffed cat Makkuro in his arms. He sat up, glancing at the sunshine beaming through the window and he grinned.

It was finally the day.

He slid to his feet and placed Makkuro on the couch before trotting to the bathroom. He did his morning routine where he only had to re-wrap his bandages once before he was ready then moved to the kitchen to make breakfast.

When he was almost done, he heard the telltale shuffle of Ainobu getting out of bed and mindlessly wandering in.

Touya scooped some rice into a bowl. “How late did you get home past your bedtime, old man?” he teased.

Ainobu shot him a weak glare and went straight for the coffee maker and poured himself a mug. He gulped down the first mug-full like he’d die if he didn’t have caffeine in him.

Before starting his next cup, he muttered, “Got back a couple hours ago.” He pulled out his phone, scrolling through it and tapping a few things. He hummed then said, “Paycheck came in. We can go shopping after breakfast if you’re up for it.”

Touya placed the last few dishes on the table.

“Sounds good,” he said, sliding into his seat. “Maybe we can get some things to make this place a little nicer, too.”

Ainobu sat down and raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?” he asked.

“I mean that right now, it has no personality.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” Ainobu muttered into his coffee.

Touya poked his breakfast with his chopsticks dejectedly. He felt like a little kid for pouting but ever since he had made the comparison between the apartment and the estate, he started thinking about it too much. It was where the similarities began and ended, but he didn’t want them to be similar at all.

“...But I guess we could get a few things. You’ll have to pick them out, though. I’m shit at interior design.”

Touya perked up. “Really?” He paused and looked around. “Wait, if you can’t decorate, then why is this place so nice?”

“It was like this when I moved in.”

Touya nodded and began eating, scarfing down his meal before popping up from the table and washing his dishes. Soon enough, Ainobu followed. Once Touya had changed into a proper outfit and they both put on masks, they headed out.

As they walked down the street, Ainobu made little comments to point out restaurants or shops he had gotten food for Touya from. At one point, they even passed Foxy & Winston and the mechanic shop where Ainobu pointed at the latter and told Touya that he worked with a support engineer there.

“The owner is pretty… eccentric. I lost contact with my old support engineer, but this one has some pretty interesting ideas. After you’ve trained some, I’ll introduce you,” he had said.

“Sounds like a plan.”

They made it to the mall, a place Touya had never been before since he had been confined to the estate all his life and then he was too nervous to travel so far without Ainobu. 

As they walked in, no one batted an eye at them or how Touya tried to use Ainobu as a shield in the crowd. He was led around, given a muttered direction to stop them if something caught his eye.

With one hand grasping the back of Ainobu’s shirt, he looked around as they walked, feeling like a child tailing behind their mother during their first shopping trip. He stopped for a moment once or twice but shook his head at Ainobu when he offered to go in.

Touya wasn’t too sure what he wanted or needed for a room of his own, just things for the bed and maybe something to put on the wall.

The more he thought about it, the more he realized he didn’t know a lot of things. What to put in a room, the layout of the city beyond the few blocks by Ainobu’s agency and the way to the mall, or how he was going to go about training and becoming a hero.

For the final one, he didn’t know if Ainobu wanted to train him or if he would be doing so himself. The man was busy and had taken him in permanently now, would he even have time?

There was a hand on his shoulder and Touya looked up. They had stopped.

“You okay?” Ainobu asked, brow creased with slight worry.

Touya gave a forced snort and a smile that couldn’t be seen because of his mask. “Yeah,” he said, and catching sight of a store he pointed at it. “Let’s go in there.”

Ainobu nodded and led him in.

It was a store with hero merch. Touya flushed beneath his mask. He wasn’t much of a hero fanboy, always focused on what Endeavor told him and becoming the Number One hero. Until Ainobu, that is, but he was underground so he didn’t have any merch anyway.

Even if he did, Touya wouldn’t have the courage to ask Ainobu to get it for him.

Thoroughly embarrassed by his own train of thought, Touya let go of Ainobu’s shirt to look around the store. He steered clear of the top hero merch that he saw. Endeavor only spoke badly of them and though he knew they were all good heroes, their likenesses would stir up those memories.

He settled in a section with posters. He needed a hero that Endeavor didn’t talk about, one that wasn’t in the Top 20. Touya sifted through them, stopping to pull one out.

Catching sight of the design, he smiled to himself.

Shouta was a little concerned for Touya. Of course, the kid had just made the decision to live with him permanently and now they were looking around a crowded mall for something to make the agency a little brighter. Thinking about how Touya practically wilted in front of him made him conflicted, like he couldn’t decide if he should feel guilty for upsetting him or smile because it was a bit dramatic.

But there they were, Touya having disappeared down one of the aisles in the relatively quiet store while Shouta tried to glare a hole into an Endeavor display piece.

Touya clearly didn’t think as poorly of his father as he probably should, far too used to certain things to even realize that they were wrong. Shouta still caught things. Masking whatever he was upset enough about to make him stop walking, agreeing to live with Shouta even though he really didn’t know anything about him, and—

“Ainobu,” Touya called softly, popping around the endcap and cutting off Shouta’s thoughts.

He tilted his head and Touya presented a poster to him, eyes closing partly as evidence of the real smile beneath his mask. It was one of the rescue-focused teams, the Wild, Wild Pussycats in their standard group pose with stars, hearts, fish and pawprints decorating the background.

Shouta chuckled, “You want that one?”

Touya nodded. “Just this and a frame.”

“Alright.”

They went to the counter and paid, Touya taking the poster back from the cashier and turning away to hide the redness creeping above the top of his mask. He took hold of Shouta’s shirt again before they were searching for somewhere to buy the frame, poster tube tucked against his chest.

It took a while to find a shop with a good frame so they stopped to get a pack of navy bedsheets and pillows on their way. Once they found the right one, they paid and started their way back, dropping into other stores along the way to grab some clothes and knick knacks.

By the time they made it home, they’d collected a bag of things to spread around the apartment and soon-to-be-Touya’s room. A handful of cat figures, more shirts and pants and PJs for Touya, a pack of cards, and a few other little things.

Then it was time to start rearranging the office to make space for a bed. Shouta did the heavy lifting while Touya put the things they’d gotten away and started dinner. Once Shouta had finished, they sat down to eat, Touya flashing him a grateful smile before digging in.

Chapter Text

Shouta took in a slow breath as he faced Touya in the training room a few days after their trip to the mall. He’d already had to explain the obvious to Touya, that Shouta would help train him to become a hero. Then he had to quell the memories of Tomura from mere months ago as he considered how to help his new charge.

“Before we can begin, what have you been taught already?” Shouta asked.

Touya had been trained by Endeavor from when he received his quirk until it began injuring him, however, that was likely more quirk training rather than traditional fighting. Endeavor was almost entirely a quirk fighter himself, so Shouta doubted that Touya had been taught any martial arts.

“How to use my quirk,” Touya replied, looking down at his gloved hands before gesturing to himself, “and how to make it stronger—which clearly worked out well for me.” He gave a flat chuckle with a wry smile twisting his face.

Shouta nodded but couldn’t help the way the words made him press his lips into a line, fighting a scowl. Just the thought of what those words meant pissed him off, that Endeavor pushed the kid to his limits until… Until he broke .

…

Focus.

“Just quirk training?” Shouta asked then.

“Yeah,” Touya said, huffing a sigh before inspecting his gloves closer. 

They were an old pair that Shouta wore when he was training to be a hero. Unlike the ones he wore now, they were fingerless and had slight padding to make handling the binding cloth easier. Nowadays, Shouta had the calluses needed to protect his hands and needed to leave even fewer traces of his existence, and so he wore uniform-grade gloves.

The kid looked back up at Shouta. “But we’re not going to do that, right?”

Those words sounded so… fragile. 

It made sense with the context of what he’d told Shouta about the circumstances that led to Touya ending up in his care, but part of Shouta was surprised the kid even had to ask.

He didn’t say that, though, instead shaking his head with a simple, “No, of course not. I’m going to show you how I fight, which is essentially quirkless, but first we need to stretch.” With that, Shouta raised his arms to start stretching, watching how Touya mirrored him and giving directions when the kid didn’t seem to follow what he was doing.

When they were both sitting on the mat doing ‘seat stretches’—sitting with their legs straight and leaning as far forward as they could—Touya said, “So, uh… You never told me what’s up with the gloves.”

“I didn’t,” Shouta replied, glancing at the kid through his bangs from where he was folded in half.

Touya, barely able to lean forward enough to grab his toes, narrowed his eyes at Shouta. “Well are you gonna tell me? You just handed them to me and started asking me questions,” he snipped, though there wasn’t any heat to his tone. Just being a brat for the sake of it if the smile he was trying to hide was anything to go by.

“Not with that attitude.” Sitting back up, Shouta shifted to sit lotus-style. He waited until Touya followed suit before continuing, “Just focus on the stretches. I want you to be able to do this while I’m patrolling.”

Lips twitching into a proper smirk for a moment, Touya returned with, “So you’re planning on making me train all alone?”

Shouta cut him a look, the kid quickly looking away—but not before sticking his tongue out at Shouta for a split-second. Glaring for a few more seconds, the gears turned in his head before he said, “No, but now that we’re done stretching, you’re running five extra laps, brat. Get up and get going—you’ve got fifteen to run.”

The regret on the kid’s face was palpable. 

Shouta tried not to grin, getting up and prepping a water bottle and sports drink that he handed Touya when he was done running his laps. Admirably, he wasn’t entirely out of breath, but still practically inhaled the drinks.

When they moved onto the more practical training, which consisted of teaching Touya how to throw a punch without breaking any of his own bones and how to block, Shouta was surprised to find the kid’s brattiness fade. In its place, he found an attentiveness the kid had only really shown while learning to cook. And maybe a few smart comments—it was just part of who Touya was, which Shouta accepted at this point since the kid reminded Shouta of himself somewhat.

But Touya also tried to ask more questions. Some about the gloves, which he clarified were to help protect the kid’s knuckles during training, and some about Shouta’s hero uniform since he mentioned that the gloves used to be Shouta’s. He reluctantly answered without mentioning All For One or anything that went on during that period of Shouta’s life. Other questions… they were too much.

He wanted to know how Shouta trained ‘his’ quirk, Null. Shouta said it wasn’t important.

His eyes lingered on the scars that littered Shouta’s arms but didn’t comment.

He asked if anyone knew about Shouta training him—any family or friends that he’d eventually meet. Shouta told him to pay attention to his form.

Touya got the hint and eventually let it drop.

By dinnertime, he seemed to have recovered, instead asking Shouta about more techniques and what they’d be covering during his next training session over their bowls of katsudon.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, kid,” Shouta said between bites, “You barely learned how to punch someone today.”

Touya rolled his eyes, leaning back in his chair since he’d scarfed down his food already, likely hungry from all the exercise he’d gotten. “I know that, but I still want to know when you’ll teach me the cool stuff.”

“What, knowing how to punch people isn’t cool enough for you?”

The kid glowered at him. “That’s not what I meant. I mean, like… kicks and martial arts stuff. Or using knives or something. The complex stuff.”

It was Shouta’s turn to roll his eyes, then. “You’ll get to learn the complex stuff after you’ve learned how to do the simple stuff. If you didn’t notice, you need a foundation to build off of to learn those things—you don’t learn how to do algebra before learning addition, do you?”

“...No, you don’t…,” Touya mumbled, a blush starting to spread across his cheeks.

Shouta nodded. “So you’ll learn how to throw a punch and block and all the simple things I have to teach you before I let you handle weapons and complex martial arts, alright? Just be patient.”

The kid was still a bit pouty, but still nodded, replying, “Alright, old man. Slow ‘n steady or whatever…”

Humming his agreement, Shouta held back a smirk as he finished up his dinner. When they stood to clear the table, Shouta said, “Good job with making dinner, kid—it was good,” with a glance at Touya.

He perked up, smiling for a moment, before he realized Shouta saw, quickly trying to look indifferent.

Shaking his head a little, Shouta ruffled the kid’s hair and flashed Touya a smile of his own before moving to the kitchen with Touya right behind him, complaining about Shouta messing up his hair with a spark in his eye. 

Shouta wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Things went pretty smoothly from then on, Shouta finding time in his schedule—going out most nights right after dinner at around 6 PM to patrol and coming home at about 3 or 4 AM only to sleep until noon—to train with Touya. 

Very quickly, the kid began to pick up what he was being taught, showing the initiative to stretch in the mornings while Shouta slept or run a few laps to warm up so he’d be ready to go the moment Shouta was as well. He’d learned how to cool down on his own so they could train for as long as possible on the occasions that Shouta left before dinner.

He was so eager to learn that Shouta felt the need to slow him down. He didn’t want to push Touya too far or let Touya push himself too far, thus enforcing strict rest days by warning the kid that he’d be able to tell if he wasn’t resting properly. Shouta tried to stress the importance of it—as well as the fact that Shouta was no doctor and the fact that Touya was still ‘missing’ to the rest of the country. Going to a hospital was not something the kid could really afford at this point if he wanted to stay with Shouta.

Touya had been snarky about the rest days until he’d brought that up. It wasn’t as if Shouta wanted to threaten or scare him, but it definitely got the point across—even if Touya tried to point out how little Shouta himself seemed to rest.

The saying ‘do as I say and not as I do’ didn’t stop Touya from annoying Shouta to hell and back about it, even if Shouta refused to cave. He needed the money and he needed to support Touya.

But, upon complaining to Tsukauchi and Tama about “the brat”, which is what he exclusively referred to Touya as outside of their apartment, he was given a pair of unimpressed looks.

“Do you remember the name of my quirk?” Tsukauchi asked before sipping his mug of station coffee, one hand still holding his pen from filling out a form.

The three of them were sequestered in Tsukauchi’s shared office, Detective Tanuma out on a case already. Shouta was perched on the empty desk, stacks of papers moved to make space for him, and he looked from Tama to Tsukauchi.

He finally replied, “Lie detector,” with a huff.

Tama, from his place leaning against the wall, smirked.

Before Shouta could ask why the cat looked like he caught a canary, Tsukauchi nodded and said, “Then I hope you understand why I can say that when you say—and I quote—that you ‘hate the brat’, I know you’re lying, Null. And when you said that you’re taking care of yourself just fine, for the record.”

Shouta felt his face heat up behind his mask, scowling though the detective and officer wouldn’t see it. “Shut it, ‘kauchi,” he muttered. “I hate you.”

Tsukauchi smiled. “ Lie. ” 

…Smug bastard.

Shouta wouldn’t trade them for anything, too.

Chapter Text

For several months, Shouta kept his new schedule. He would admit it was satisfying to watch Touya grow and learn under his guidance although he was still haunted by memories of training Tomura. The kid also didn’t try to ask more questions about Shouta’s family—or lack thereof—which was a blessing as well.

While Tama and Tsukauchi, both of whom he’d consider friends at this point, bothered him about how much time he spent working. 

Shouta did his best to ignore it or wave them off. He had to care for Touya now and he couldn’t let the kid feel stifled or like he didn’t have options—whether that meant in regard to Shouta’s interior decorating or ingredients for dinner. So long as it was too pricey, Shouta let the kid choose what he wanted.

So, over time, the apartment gained a little more decoration and Touya’s room started to take shape along with the kid’s cooking skills.

His room featured some sparse hero merch, but only of lesser known heroes, and a darker color scheme that centered around blacks and blues. He was also making good use of the desk in the room as a space to read and study the textbooks Shouta had more recently gotten for him.

The meals he made were never elaborate, but rather homey. Comforting, warm, and filling things that Touya never failed to pack into a bento for Shouta. The kid was hell bent on making him eat right.

And now, months later in June, Shouta was sitting down and eating one of those meals with him as they always did—if a bit later than usual. That day was also an outlier due to Shouta being home all Friday night rather than on patrol after his friends finally wore him down.

He promised them a whole day without doing hero work, which he would consider a mistake if he didn’t have anything else to do.

At least he got to have an extended training session with Touya and was listening to the kid tell him about one of the books he’d read recently to help him work on his English. Some kid’s book about siblings that use a wardrobe to go to another world.

When they stood to clear the table, Touya glanced at the clock and said, “Crap, it’s almost eight!” before rushing to the living room bookshelf to mess with the radio.

“And what’s so special about the time?” Shouta asked, watching the kid though he kept stacking their plates.

“It’s when Put Your Hands Up starts,” Touya replied, adjusting the radio’s volume as Shouta moved to the sink. “I’ve been listening since it started and I haven’t missed a show yet.”

He huffed. “Then help wash the dishes and we’ll listen together so you don’t break your record.” He could feel his lips twitch into a smile before smothering it.

The other groaned but obeyed, quickly dashing over to the kitchen to speed through washing and drying everything then hurried Shouta toward the couch. 

“C’mon, it’ll start any second now,” Touya whined, only making Shouta glance at him and shuffle slower.

A few moments after he flopped down into his chair—Touya took the couch, grabbing his notebook and a sharpened short yellow pencil—Shouta listened to the radio change from commercial to transition music. 

He leaned back, settling into his chair as the tune faded so a cheery voice could say, “Heeeey listeners! Good evening and this is Put Your Hands Up Radio with me, your rockin’ host Present Mic—” Shouta stiffened but tried not to react outwardly otherwise, “—and a special guest! They’ll be joining us a little later on tonight, so I hope y’all stay tuned for when they help us make this night a little flashier, if you catch my drift!”

Not really hearing the rest of the now-familiar voice’s rambling, Shouta relaxed when it finally segued into the first song—some peppy tune he couldn’t be bothered to name—and he raised a hand to comb through his hair. Disguising a shaky exhale as a sigh, Shouta peered open an eye to glance at Touya, the kid absorbed in his notebook.

It’s been a long time since Shouta last heard Yamada’s voice. Since the licensing exam though, his old friend didn’t know he was there and even longer since Shouta disappeared.

Truthfully, it hurt to hear Yamada. The man was a reminder of all he’d left behind and of Shirakumo as the three of them had been practically inseparable.

Pulled from his thoughts by the sound of rain pattering against the window, Shouta closed his eyes and tried to push down the feelings bubbling up as he’d grown used to doing. No thinking about those days.

They were gone now.

When he opened his eyes next, another song or two had played and Yamada’s voice came back in, addressing the titles and artists before he said, “Now, we haven’t quite reached our guest segment—just a couple more songs, I promise, though some of you have already been guessing online about who it could be—but I wanted to take a moment for a little announcement.

“See, I had two good buddies back in my days as a student striving to be a hero and the host of this show! I haven’t gotten to see them in quite a while, but I wanted to dedicate today’s show to them since it’s the anniversary of when we last saw each other,” Yamada said, keeping his happy tone, though Shouta could read between the lines.

With those words and a glance at the calendar, he knew just what Yamada meant.

The rain fell harder.

“Ah, and with that, I think we should move along to the next song, hm? The next one up today is Who Knew by P!nk,” Yamada finished, the strumming of a guitar following his voice as Shouta pushed himself up from his chair.

Before Touya could ask where he was going, Shouta waved his hand and muttered, “Just… need to check something.” He retreated to his room, though he simply ended up with his back against the door.

Bowing his head, Shouta listened to the rain and the music as he scrubbed at his face, muffling a gasp when he felt a pain in his chest.

He recognized it, biting into his own hand to stifle the grunt he made as he slid to sit on the floor. The extra quirks in him had settled long ago, but it didn’t stop the flare-ups, though he was lucky enough to have them out of Touya’s sight so far.

It was like a wave of heat spreading through his body and a stabbing pain in his heart and ribs, making each breath he took that much worse. Shouta shook and shifted from biting his hand to clamping it over his mouth while the other grasped at his shirt.

Damn quirks.

Damn All For One.

Damn Shouta’s stupid teenage self for getting caught up in all of this, he cursed to himself until it had passed.

Breathing shakily, Shouta used a clammy hand to grab at the door handle to help himself up and stagger to the bed, exhausted by the flare-up. Not bothering to change into pajamas, Shouta clambered on then curled up on the comforter.

While it took him some time, Shouta fell asleep to the sound of the radio show and Yamada’s voice, dreaming of his days back at UA.