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Class A was in an uproar when the fairies appeared, the common room full of shrieks and laughter and swearing, lit up by the glitter of fluttering wings.
Shoto's, though, was quiet. Confused, almost. While the rest of them buzzed around the heads of their humans (or their human's object of affection), Todofly sat, his eyes quiet and curious as they watched the chaos unfold.
"Hello, me," Shoto said.
"Hello, me," the fairy said back.
"Shouldn't you be with the rest of them?"
"Shouldn't you?"
Shoto shrugged. "I'd rather watch."
"Then so would I," said Todofly. So they did. Until Midoriya called him over to help get the flyswatter away from Bakugou.
***
The next day, Todofly was still with him, dozing on the miniature tatami Momo made. He awoke when Shoto did, stretching in a long, languid arch.
"Shouldn't you be–" Shoto started to ask, but the question faded away, because he didn't know where he should be. Last night, the fairies had mostly dispersed, making a beeline (faeline?) for their heart's desire.
But Todofly was still here, in no hurry.
While Shoto pondered, he flitted over to the window, looking out across the grounds.
"What kind of bird lays those?" Todofly asked.
Shoto joined him at the window to follow his pointing finger. There was a nest in the corner of the balcony, full of small, yellow-green eggs. How had Shoto never noticed it before?
"I don't know," he said.
So he pulled out his phone and looked it up.
They fell down a rabbit hole, hunched over Shoto's phone at his desk and bouncing from bird to bird until there was a knock on his door.
"Hey Todoroki!" It was Kirishima's voice. "You still asleep, man? We got pancakes!"
"I've never had pancakes," Todofly said, and Shoto realized that neither had he.
"Kirishima," said Shoto when he was finally dressed and pushing open the door. "Do you want to hear what a Lidith's Jay sounds like?"
***
After a few days, Todofly started to go off on his own. While Shoto did homework, he'd fly off and explore the dorms. Sometimes he'd still be out when Shoto went to bed, but other times he'd come back to ask questions or tell him things he'd seen.
"Midoriya doodles on his homework."
"What do we know about snails?"
"I saw Shoji's face without his mask."
And Shoto asked to see Midoriya's drawings, and he told Bakugou facts about snails, and he said nothing at all to Shoji, because that wasn't his news to share. And nothing seemed to get him closer to getting little Todofly to disappear.
But it made him happy.
One night Todofly came back with Tokoyami, his pale, glittery form standing bright against his black feathered crown.
"We're starting a movie," said Tokoyami. "I'll understand if you can't handle horror."
"I've never watched a horror movie," Shoto admitted.
They tucked up in the corner of the couch, and Jirou tucked up against him, and when the credits started to roll a couple hours later, he looked down to the fae on his shoulder, his little eyes wide with awe, despite the preceding gore fest.
"I like horror movies," Shoto said, and it hit him like a epiphany. What other kinds of movies did he like?
"You're the only one," came Kaminari's wobbly reply; he hadn't looked at the screen since the second act, both he and Jirou hiding under the same blanket.
"I have the sequel as well," said Tokoyami. "If you'd like to watch it with me now."
Shoto's face lit up.
***
When they got back to his room, Shoto asked, "Is that what I want? To watch movies?"
Todofly nodded, and Shoto frowned.
But what inhibitions were stopping that? He wasn't too shy to be with his classmates; he wasn't ashamed to be with them; and he clearly didn't have a fear to get over.
"If that was all, though, you'd be gone."
Todofly nodded again.
"So what do I want?"
It came out more desperate than he meant it to, maybe because it was late, or maybe because he'd watched his friends and their faeries be so sure. Even Kamifly, a manifestation of unrestrained bi panic, represented a goal.
But what did Shoto have? If a total lack of hesitation couldn't tell him what he wanted, then what could?!
What could...
"What do I want?" he asked again, more quietly this time, and Todofly hovered before him.
They looked back at one another, the breeze from the fairy's buzzing wings tickling his damp cheeks.
It had stopped being strange seeing his own face in miniature days ago, but it was odd now to see it so serious. He looked like his father when he frowned like that.
"To sleep," the fairy said, smiling when Shoto laughed, "and then try and figure it out tomorrow."
***
Neither of them knew where to start, so they agreed to follow Todofly's curiosity, which was endless. He started sitting on Shoto's shoulder during classes, whispering questions into his ear for Shoto to ask. That didn't last, unfortunately; he kept holding up the lessons.
So he thought of his own instead, and figured out how to balance what he asked in class with what he asked after, dutifully writing down the answers.
He learned he liked literature, liked how spongy critical analysis made his brain feel. He wasn't exceptionally good at math, but he could help out Kirishima when Bakugou was busy, and it was at least easier than English. But he liked English, too.
He liked words is what he really realized, maybe partly because they led him to so many other things. Todofly was always quick to note any words they didn't know, and looking one up inevitably led to getting lost in aimless research, following one fact to another.
Learning about food was the hardest, because all he ever wanted was cold soba, but once he started going to Weekly Movie Nights, he didn't have much choice. Bakugou and Sato made the snacks, and No One was allowed to argue.
Which was fine. They knew so many more foods than him, some they said were from their childhoods, and Shoto liked that, too, because he could imagine sharing it with them, all of them smaller and more carefree, and it filled a crack inside him Shoto didn't even know was there.
They still didn't seem to be getting any closer to figuring out what Shoto Wanted, but after a while, he stopped caring.
***
Their internship took them out of the city one day, up into the mountains. They had to stay overnight, and their cabin was remote enough that they could barely even see the city lights. It was quiet in a way that Shoto had never known. That none of them had ever known.
They laid on their backs on the roof, after Endeavor had gone to bed. Bakufly was back at UA, no doubt tormenting Kirishima, while Dekufly and Kirifly were fast asleep inside, curled up in Bakugou's duffle.
"What's that?" he and Todofly said it in unison, pointing up at a long spill of stars across the velvet black.
"Milky Way," Bakugou grunted. "Daddy not teach you astronomy?"
"Not like this," Shoto answered in a whisper. "I've never seen the stars in person."
Even Bakugou doesn't have a retort, and it's only because he's spent these past few weeks figuring out what he doesn't know, what he wants to know, that he feels...sad.
He remembered his classmates, during that doomed summer training camp, talking about camping trips they'd taken with their families. Was he the only one who'd never seen them? Was he the only one who had to be told what was the Milky Way?
His whole world had been Endeavor's big house, those cold rooms and burning hatred. His world had been so small; getting to UA had made that clear.
He wanted his world to get bigger and bigger, and he wanted his friends to live in that world with him. He'll figure out what he wants with all of them. He'll catch up to them soon. He'll know.
"...I like the stars," he said, after a long, thick silence. His throat was tight, and the sky was so big, and Midoriya took his hand, and Bakugou said nothing at all.
"What constellations can we see?" asked Todofly.
***
The days rolled by, and the fairies disappeared. First Kirifly and Bakufly, and then the others in slow succession, each one satisfied in ways only their humans could understand.
Finally, it was only Todofly left. Shoto kind of missed the chaos, but it was worth it to see his friends so happy. Kirishima and Bakugou had started cooking together. Sometimes Midoriya joined them, sitting at the counter to chat while they worked. They even laughed together.
Jirou sang for them all in the courtyard now, her cheeks pink when she looked at Kaminari where he sat in Sero's lap, both of them beaming back at her.
They were out there one evening at sunset, wrapped up in the summer air and an acoustic melody. Shoto leaned against a tree while Todofly weaved blades of grass into a crown; they'd just learned how to do that recently, and he couldn't get enough.
It was a perfect moment, the kind meant for a snow globe, and he was almost surprised that the fairy was still there, because this was the closest to content he'd felt in his life.
"If I never figure out what I want," he murmured, "will you just stay here forever?"
It wasn't the first time he'd asked the question, but it comes to him sometimes, especially moments like this. And it's not the worst thing he can imagine.
Just last week, he'd been home for dinner, not for the first time since the fairies appeared. With Todofly on his shoulder, he helped Fuyumi make dumplings.
"Where'd you learn that?" Fuyumi asked, noting his skill with the wrappers.
"Bakugou taught me," he said. They'd gotten carried away working on a team-up attack and missed dinner; he wouldn't let Shoto and Midoriya "sit on their asses while he did all the work."
It was his favorite thing to cook now that he'd learned how. He liked the rhythm of it, liked seeing improvement in real time. He could compare his first dumpling to his last and even if it was still clumsy, it was better. And it was his.
When they finally sat down to eat, Shoto asked, "How did you know you wanted to be a teacher?"
Fuyumi smiled, fingers curled around her mug. "Taking care of you and Natsu started it."
Shoto's confusion must have shown on his face, because she laughed before continuing. "You were both such curious babies, at least as much as I got to see you. And before Touya died."
"I want to see kids happy, and help them be sad. I want to help them see how big the world is, to see them grow and keep them curious. Having the right teacher is so important, you know?"
The antithesis hung in the air, and they looked at it together, considered it in their own way, let its meaning sink in. Because they knew, Shoto most of all, what having the wrong kind of teacher could do to you, what parts of you could atrophy before you even knew they were there.
Fuyumi reached out to squeeze his hand, then reached out to Todofly, one painted nail rubbing his chin. The fairy purred.
"You'll get there, Shoto," she said. "You've grown so much already.
Back on the lawn, Todofly's finished his crown. He holds it up to his human's head and lets it fall, sitting more like a bracelet than a crown. Shoto loves it either way.
"It's been fun, hasn't it?" says Todofly.
"It has," Shoto says, and as he does, he starts to smile. "It really has."
His heart swells in his chest in a way it never has before, just the latest of the new things. He has so many of those things now you'd think he'd run out, but one leads to another to another.
And maybe he'll take cooking lessons, and maybe he'll learn how to draw. He might try to write a book or learn how to dance or sing.
Maybe he'll do all of them, and maybe they won't get him closer to finding that crystalline Want.
But maybe...Maybe he doesn't need them to. Maybe they can just be for him.
You'll get there, Shoto, Fuyumi had said.
"I'll just keep learning. I know I want to keep learning" He strokes the fairy's head, his mismatched antenna a tickle of conflicting sensations. "It's okay, I think. Not to know more than that right now."
"Oh."
Todofly's eyes widen. His hair lifts as if in an updraft, and the faint sparkle on his wings flares bright as a firework. He opens his mouth, smiling wide, and Shoto opens his, concerned.
They have a second, maybe two, to lock eyes, the air around the fairy shimmering like a heat haze, and Shoto knows what's happening, knows with a certainty he'd thought impossible.
And before they can say anything else, Todofly is gone.