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Shouto was always cold.
It came with predominantly using his right side growing up. Refusing to use his left side, his old man’s power, as a way to prove he didn’t need fire, didn’t need Endeavor , in order to become a good Hero. And so, over the years of harsh training, he’d learn to hone the power of his right side, his mother’s powers, his powers of cold, of snow and ice. Even now, after learning to use his left side properly, and to devastating effect, Shouto would still say that his right side is his preferred choice when using his quirk in battles or in training.
In fact, Shouto would like to say that he is very proficient at their use. He would say that he’s essentially mastered his right side, but when one is friends with Midoriya Izuku, one quickly finds that there are always ways to improve. And Shouto had improved, learning how to fine-tune his quirk to the point where he could go from making soft snowflakes to hard, dense hail in a matter of seconds. Izuku’s notes were very informative, and Shouto most likely would not have learned even half of it if Izuku didn’t randomly plop down next to him, notebook in hand, and ask “Have you ever tried…?”
But, for all of the efforts Shouto put into fine-tuning his powers, Shouto could never quite regulate his inner body temperature. It was a side-effect of using his ice for too long, Shouto supposed, that led his body to running slightly colder all the time instead of being at a natural balance of hot and cold. Shouto wouldn’t say that he regretted this, because to regret using his right side for so many years would be to deny an inner struggle he’s been dealing with for many years. To do so would be foolish, and if there’s one thing Shouto was not, it was foolish.
It wasn’t always a bad thing, running too cold. In the summer, running a little cold was always preferable, as training with his friends and classmates always left Shouto overheated and bone-tired. His cooler side always ensured that his body temperature quickly returned to cooler temperatures, allowing for Shouto to quickly continue on with his life. However, in the winter, running colder was, more often than not, an absolute pain.
The changing of the seasons always made it colder, especially in their part of Japan. The temperatures would drop into the single digits, and the winds could howl with a ferocious intensity. When the snow would pile up, all the frigid air would be trapped inside, and walking past the mounds of snow would always leave Shouto shuddering as the mounds leeched any remaining warmth he had. The part of him that suffered most, in Shouto’s opinion, was his hands. His hands were the first to become cold during the winter, and while Shouto could now use his left side to try and warm them up, it never really did him any good. The cold would surge forward, and it would feel like his hands were freezing from the inside out. It wasn’t a particularly good feeling for Shouto. It was especially worse on the days he would train with his old man. On these days, where he had to use his right side to the fullest in order to even defend against his father, the ice would come pouring out of his limbs, powered by the constant fight-or-flight that thrummed through Shouto’s body. And when those training sessions ended, Shouto’s hands would seize up, cramping painfully, and no matter what he tried, they wouldn’t warm up. For Shouto, it was a completely miserable experience.
Overall, the months from October to April were fairly miserable for Shouto. No matter what he did, he could never quite raise his inner body temperature to be comfortable. He couldn’t, that is, until the sweater collection.
It was his second year at U.A., and Shouto had come to once again face his yearly problem: he was cold. Normally, he compensated for this by wearing a possibly absurd amount of sweaters and jackets around the house, but he wasn’t yet willing to do so in the dormitories. It was still a new experience, having friends, and while Shouto had become closer with his friends, he was still weary of sharing certain things with them. It might be an ingrained coping method from being raised under the cruel hand of Endeavor for so long, but Shouto was always reluctant when it came to sharing his problems and issues with his friends. And so, Shouto limited himself to only a few layers when he was outside his bedroom. That, of course, meant that Shouto was always cold.
This was when things changed.
It was November, and Shouto was sitting in the Commons Area with his group of friends. They weren’t talking about anything in particular, though the conversation had turned to winter activities that Aizawa-sensei might be willing to let them go off-campus to do. In Shouto’s opinion, a lot of these activities seemed a little boring, but then again, Shouto wasn’t exactly allowed to go ice skating or light-viewing when he was a child. His old man forbade it, telling him that the time spent on doing “frivolous, childish activities” could be spent training instead. Usually, Endeavor would then run Shouto through a more hellish training session, probably to tire Shouto out and to prevent him from asking about going out again. Endeavor had succeeded in that.
So here Shouto was, sitting on the couch next to Izuku, on the teen’s left. It was his preferred spot, not because he preferred Izuku over his other friends (although Izuku was his first friend, and that did hold a weighty significance in Shouto’s life), but because Izuku was a living space heater. Whether the green-haired boy realized it or not, his body temperature ran hot. Shouto speculated that it had something to do with how much energy Izuku’s quirk produced, because simply sitting next to the other green-haired teen allowed Shouto to feel the thrum of power going through Izuku. It also allowed Shouto to warm up inconspicuously. And so, Shouto shamelessly sat next to Izuku every opportunity he had. Of course, their group of friends just thought that Shouto was closer to Izuku. This, of course, was true, but wasn’t the reason for sitting next to Izuku all the time.
“Ne, Shouto-kun,” Izuku said, bringing Shouto out of his thoughts. Shouto blinked, turning his head to properly face Izuku.
“You’re looking a little cold, do you want to borrow my hoodie?” Izuku asked, gesturing to the thick green material his hoodie was made of.
“There’s no need,” Shouto said, but Izuku had already stripped himself of his top layer, his long-sleeve shirt underneath saying “party shirt”. Shouto snorted. Izuku’s shirts always carried some ridiculous, amusing captions on them. Shouto swore the teen did it to rile up their more easily-excitable classmates.
“Here!” Izuku said, presenting Shouto his hoodie with a wide, beaming smile. Shouto squinted a little, because a Midoriya Smile was always bright and couldn’t be looked upon unless one had their own blinding smile to counter it. Shouto hesitated for a moment, but in the end, put the hoodie on.
Shouto was sure he looked ridiculous wearing it. Izuku was shorter than Shouto was, but his shoulders were wider and bigger than Shouto’s due to how often Izuku worked out. This led to the fit of the hoodie being a little awkward, the sleeves only just reaching his wrists, and the material of the hoodie only reaching to the top of Shouto’s waist. But Shouto didn’t notice.
No, Shouto was too focused on how warm he felt. Shouto doesn’t ever remember a time where he’s just felt so comfortably warm and secure. He’s always running cold, and can never truly reach a comfortable inner temperature. And yet, just by putting on Izuku’s hoodie, Shouto is warm. Shouto sticks his hands into the front pocket of the green hoodie, relishing in how quickly his hands and fingers warmed up.
“Ahh, sorry Shouto-kun,” Izuku laughs, scratching the back of his head. “It seems that my hoodie is a little small on you.”
“No,” Shouto says, a small smile coming unbidden. “It’s just right.”
Shouto looks down, a little embarrassed but overall pleased. He doesn’t see his other friends smile, simply too busy feeling warm and content.
0o0-0o0-0o0
Over the next week or so, Shouto would wear the hoodie. Of course, he didn’t wear it outside of his room, as that would be rather strange. But inside the sanctity of his dorm room, Shouto would wear Izuku’s hoodie and relish the warmth that came with it.
Shouto purposely never brought up the hoodie, quietly determined to keep it for as long as he possibly could. It was so rare for Shouto to feel warm in the winter, and while it was probably more than a little strange that he was essentially stealing his friend’s hoodie, Shouto didn’t want to give it back. Izuku hadn’t yet said anything about Shouto returning his hoodie, and Shouto wasn’t about to say anything either. So the hoodie stayed, and Shouto was content.
Of course, as Shouto could only wear the hoodies inside his room, whenever he went outside to do something, the cold came back. It was okay though, because Shouto went outside knowing that he could come back to that warmth when he returned.
It was another day, and once again, Shouto was sitting with his friends in the Commons Area. In particular, he was sitting with Tenya and Ochako, Tsuyu and Izuku out training, if he remembered correctly. Shouto was cold, as he always was, but the conversation was interesting enough that he wasn’t paying much mind to it.
“Ochako-san, I’m telling you that selling our used toothbrushes is completely unnecessary!” Tenya argued, his arms cutting through the air. “Not to mention, it’s very unhygienic!”
“But think of how much money we could make on this!” Ochako shot back, grinning widely. “We have some very popular people in this class, we could make a ton of money on them.” She turns to Shouto, her eyes twinkling in that mischievous way that asks Shouto to play along. Shouto does, because this conversation is genuinely amusing, and Tenya really should lighten up a bit. Ochako had been teasing the bespectacled teen from the start.
“I’m sure we could easily make ten thousand off of Shouto-kun’s toothbrush.” Ochako argued. “Shouto-kun, what do you think?”
“Is my toothbrush only worth ten thousand yen?” Shouto replies thoughtfully, cupping his head in his right hand. Tenya wails at his question.
“I’m sure we could charge a little more for it, Shouto-kun,” Ochako says, reaching over to pat his hand, and Ochako blinks in surprise.
“Oh wow, Shouto-kun, are you cold?” She asks. “Your hand’s pretty cold right now.”
“Mm,” Shouto replies non-committedly. It wasn’t like she was wrong, after all.
“Here! You can have my sweater.” Ochako says, sliding her arms out of her white sweater to throw it over Shouto. “After all, it would be bad if you got sick. We couldn’t sell your toothbrush if you got your sick germs on it, could we? Actually…”
“Ochako-san!” Tenya cries, scandalized. “How could you sell someone a product from someone who’s sick ? That would be…”
The two of them continue their argument, but Shouto doesn’t pay it any mind. Instead, he’s focused on how, once again, a sweater from one of his friends is making him feel so very, very warm.
0o0-0o0-0o0
Later on, when Shouto leaves the Commons Area, he takes Ochako’s sweater with him. He brings it back up to his room, and sits on his bed, staring at it. Her sweater isn’t much, made of thin cotton with small holes here and there. But when Shouto held it, his hands would warm up, and Shouto would be alight with this wonderful feeling of warmth and happiness.
So of course, Shouto doesn’t give it back.
He rotates between the two articles of clothing he has, both bringing him warmth regardless of their size. It’s strange, because both pieces of clothing are ill-fitting, and don’t really fit him the way that they should. And yet, they warm him up so much that Shouto can’t do anything but ignore it. And while Shouto does feel a little bad about stealing his friends’ clothes, Shouto argues (to himself) that he has never been so warm, and that Izuku and Ochako surely wouldn’t begrudge Shouto being warm. After all, it’s only just the two pieces of clothing that he has, it’s not as if he’s going to get any more of their clothes.
Right?
0o0-0o0-0o0
The next time Shouto gets a sweater, it’s from Momo.
Well, Shouto’s sure that it’s a shawl, but still. It’s unexpected, because while they did grow up in the same social circles, he didn’t really think that would make them friends. And yet, as Shouto sits at the table to eat his cold soba noodles, he finds himself with Momo’s shawl draped over his shoulders. Shouto looks up, noodles slightly hanging out from where he’d just taken a mouthful. He stares up at her, curious.
“It’s rather cold in here, and I certainly couldn’t bring it with me on my run,” Momo says, and then turns on her heel, leaving the room. Shouto, as much as he wants to object, can’t bring himself to do so. For, once again, he’s very warm, the softness of the fur tickling his cheeks and the nape of his neck. Placing his chopsticks down, Shouto gently strokes the fur, quietly delighting in how soft it is. He’ll wear it for the rest of his meal, and then either leave it at her door, or leave it resting on one of the chairs out here. It was a solid plan, one that suited Shouto just fine, even if Momo’s shawl made him feel warm and comfortable.
When Shouto finished his meal, he placed his dishes in the sink for that week’s designated dishwasher (Mina, he believes), and made a pot of tea to bring back upstairs while he worked on some homework assignments. It didn’t take long, and soon enough, Shouto was making his way upstairs.
On his shoulders sat Momo’s mink shawl.
0o0-0o0-0o0
As the weeks progress, though, and November becomes December, Shouto finds himself with a growing collection of hoodies, sweaters and sweatshirts that do not belong to him . He wasn’t sure as to how, exactly, his two (stolen) pieces of clothes became a whole collection, but they had, and Shouto didn’t know what to do about it. He didn’t want to necessarily give them up, because being warm during the winter was a wondrous feeling, but on the other hand, he felt bad that so many of his classmates were missing clothing that they themselves could be using right now. And it was his classmates’ clothes as well, not just his friends’, because Shouto didn’t own anything made of leather, and he most definitely didn’t own anything with skulls and crossbones on it.
Honestly, what was Shouto going to do?
His classmates were going to start looking for their clothes soon, so Shouto really should give them back before they got angry. A part of him, though, was loath to give up the warmth that he was only now getting. If he were to give the clothes back, when would Shouto ever be this warm again? No one would give him their stuff again, and Shouto would be left once more, to suffer in the gilded chill of winter.
Shouto sighed, burrowing into Izuku’s green hoodie. He would deal with this another time. For now, a nap sounded much better…
0o0-0o0-0o0
It all came to a boil a week later, when Shouto was doing laundry late at night. By then, the Commons Area had emptied out for the night, most of his classmates going to their own rooms to unwind for the night and go to sleep. Shouto thought this was the perfect time to secretly wash his ever-growing collection of hoodies, sweatshirts, and sweaters (and the occasional piece of interesting material). If Shouto was going to keep them, the least he could do was leash them properly; it wouldn’t do for them to stink, or become too gross to return. The only thing Shouto was struggling with, admittedly, was figuring out how to wash some of the items. Yes, Shouto did, in fact, know how to wash his clothes. Fuyumi had taught him, when the two were alone in the moments they had together when Endeavor was away. But it was because Shouto knew enough about doing laundry that he was struggling.
At the moment, he was holding Mina’s sweater, a soft, shimmery pink sweater that said “Love Before Beauty” in the middle. Shouto liked it because the inside of the sweater was very soft to the touch, and he liked to believe that it was what it would feel like if he were to hug a cloud. Unfortunately, however, Shouto didn’t know how to wash this particular piece of clothing. Normally, he would look at the label for guidance, but he could only find the remnants of a tag at the seam of the sweater, hidden on the inside towards the bottom. Shouto could only stare down, a trickle of despair slowly creeping through his veins. How was he supposed to wash the sweater without ruining it?
“Mina-chan said to wash that on delicate, kero.”
Shouto jumped. Spinning around, he saw Tsuyu come in, a basket of clothes on her hip. With her hair up in a messy bun and wearing a t-shirt and sweats, Tsuyu looked the part of a textbook college student (Natsuo often dressed like this at home, besides the bun, so Shouto was fairly confident in the comparison). Placing her basket on the washer next to Shouto’s, she glanced up at him. Shouto must have looked extremely panicked (well, panicked for him, at least), because Tsuyu furrowed her brow.
“What’s wrong, Shouto-chan?” Tsuyu asked. “Have you never washed clothes on the delicate setting before? It’s not too hard. I can show you, kero.”
“Ah, no,” Shouto stuttered, an unusual thing for him. “The sweater…Mina said?”
Tsuyu nodded, turning back to her own load of laundry.
“Ahh, I see, kero,” Tsuyu replied. “Mina-chan asked for someone to let you know how to wash the sweater so it lasts longer if we saw you washing it.”
“Mina…asked someone?” Shouto asked, and Tsuyu nodded.
“She did, kero,” Tsuyu said. “The acid on her body tends to eat at the labels on her sweaters, so she asked one of us to let you know.”
“But that would mean that she—” Shouto began, and Tsuyu nodded again, a knowing gleam in her eyes.
“Yes, kero, she knows you still have her sweater,” Tsuys said, and Shouto’s blood ran cold. Did that mean that his other classmates knew too? If they knew, were they going to start demanding them back? Would Shouto be left to be cold once again, only this time with all of his friends and classmates hating him? His chest tightened at the thought. For all that Shouto struggled to communicate his feelings with others, so used to having to repress them, he knew he would not take well to being shunned by them. To experience such isolation from his classmates, his friends and family —
“Shouto-chan,” Tsuyu interrupted him, a hand on his arm.
“Shouto-chan, no one’s angry with you,” Tsuyu said gently, eyes far too gentle for Shouto’s liking.
“But I stole them,” Shouto said lamely, not quite sure how to articulate his thoughts aloud. Tsuyu seemed to understand, however, because she shook her head, giving Shouto a small smile.
“It isn’t really stealing if we’re giving them to you, kero,” Tsuyu said, and Shouto froze. What did she mean by that?
“We know how cold you get during the winter, kero,” Tsuyu said. “And so we decided to do something about it this year.”
“Why?” Shouto asked, because that was the question consuming his thoughts. Why would they do that for him? What had Shouto done to deserve something so nice?
“It’s because you’re our friend, Shouto-chan,” Tsuyu said. “Why should you have to suffer when we can do something to help you?”
Shouto…didn’t know how to respond to that. Growing up, the only kindness he ever received was from the scattered moments he got with Fuyumi in between training and school. He’d learn to cherish those moments, as few as they were, because they were often the only source of comfort he had on long nights where his body ached and his limbs were numb with cold. How could comfort be so easily given, especially to Shouto of all people?
“You’re our friend, Shouto-chan,” Tsuyu repeated. “We value you as a friend and a comrade. You’re one of us, and that means if we can do something for you so that you’re comfortable in our home, then we will, kero.”
Shouto gripped Mina’s sweatshirt tightly, overwhelmed. Was that it? Was it really okay for Shouto to accept this? That, for some reason, his classmates valued him and wanted him to be comfortable and warm? It was a lot for Shouto to take in.
It was a lot, but more than that… Shouto felt warm.
He wasn’t even wearing any of their clothes, and yet, the warmth that he felt from Tsuyu’s words just now was seeping through his veins, replacing the aching cold with curling, gentle warmth that wrapped his heart in a soft, wonderful glow. Was this…was this why he always felt warm when wearing his classmates’ clothes? Not because their clothes were made differently than his, but because they were trying to make Shouto more comfortable in his own skin?
Tsuyu patted his arm again.
“Do you still want help washing Mina-chan’s sweater on delicate, kero?” Tsuyu asked, and Shouto nodded. He already knew how to wash clothes on the delicate setting, but…spending time with a classmate right now wouldn’t be so bad.
“Okay, this is what you do, kero,” Tsuyu said, pointing at the knob on the washing machine. “You need to make sure…”
0o0-0o0-0o0
The next morning was a Saturday, and a rest day for the Heroics Department students. Shouto, feeling a little uncertain, went downstairs in one of the…given hoodies he’d received, Katsuki’s black hoodie with a large skull and crossbones on it. He was still a little uncertain about wearing the stolen (not stolen?) clothes from his classmates, but Tsuyu wasn’t one to lie about things, so it should be all right. If not, well…at least he could defend himself fairly well.
When he made his way downstairs to the Commons Area, no one said anything to him, though he definitely saw his classmates smiling at him. He went into the kitchen, intent on making a cup of tea for himself to properly wake up. His conversation with Tsuyu had lasted longer than he expected, going well into the early hours of the morning. They had ended up discussing some of the more interesting incidents that Tsuyu had to clean up, Tsuyu being an older sibling to two very rambunctious kids who were always causing some sort of mischief. It was fascinating to hear, because in this case, Shouto was, technically, connecting to two younger children, being a younger sibling himself. Of course, he had not been allowed to do even a fraction of what Tsuyu’s siblings were able to get away with, but it was still fun to hear about.
The kettle whistling brought Shouto out of his thoughts, and he poured the water into his favorite mug (an All Might one, to spite his old man), and made his way back to the Commons Area. His small group of friends was already there, having awakened before Shouto did, including Tsuyu. They were laughing about something, and Shouto had every intention of joining them.
Walking towards the group, he paused as Katsuki walked by him. The blond paused for a moment as well, his eyes flickering down to see…that Shouto was wearing his hoodie. Katsuki said nothing for a moment, his eyes narrowing, and Shouto tensed. Was the blond mad?
Then, interestingly, Katsuku clicked his tongue.
“Wash that shit with white distilled vinegar, it’ll make it softer,” Katsuki said before walking past Shouto. Shouto blinked. Had he imagined that? Did Katsuki actually give him advice about how to wash the hoodie? It certainly wasn’t what Shouto was expecting, to say the least.
“Shouto-san, you’re awake!” Tenya called, and Shouto turned his gaze towards his friends, who were all smiling at him. “Come, join us! We’re having a riveting conversation about new Hero tactics!”
“Ah,” Shouto nodded, walking over. A spot was open, to Izuku’s left, and Shouto sat down, taking a sip of his steaming tea. His friends began talking again, and Shouto just sat there, content to listen to his friends excitedly talk about Fatgum’s latest technique of bouncing people out of his fat at rocketing speeds. Clearly, Amajiki-senpai and Toogata-senpai had been sharing notes again.
“You good, Shouto?” Izuku asked, glancing at him with a sunny smile.
“Yeah,” Shouto replied with a small smile of his own. “I’m nice and warm.”
0o0-0o0-0o0