Work Text:
The first time it happens, he's 4.
He got his quirk, after all, he was expecting it for months now, and it was really there after all! He looks at the cup of paint that he tried to grab, but instead turned into ice, no, more like frost, it seemed as if it was encased on a thin barrier of it, the colored water still liquid inside of its prison.
His art teacher looks at him with a smile, before going up to him and patting his head.
"Endeavor really picked up a good wife after all, huh? He gave you such a nice quirk." He says, with a smile that, years later, he realizes never really reached his eyes, too strained, too fake.
But it's my quirk, not his. He wants to say. He doesn't. He keeps his mouth shut as other staff members, teachers, maids, cooks, all of them congratulate him and tell him how he should be proud to be born under such a wonderful family with such wonderful quirks to be passed onto him.
Later, Touya comes and asks him if it's true, if he really got a quirk, Natsuo simply opens his door and lets him watch the entirety of his room, glassy, humid, cold and encased in thin layers of frost.
"I think it's emotion based," he starts, hesitates, and then continues, "do you think dad will like it?"
Touya smiles, and it reminds him of his art teacher, fake, learnt, a snile that doesn't quite reach his eyes, "I'm sure he will," he looks at the door, where Fuyumi is peeking from, "Well, I think someone else came to congratulate you." Fuyumi flushes at being caught, but walks in anyway, and starts telling Natsuo how she was proud and that she knew he would get an amazing quirk and all that stuff.
His father never comes to congratulate him, not that day, or the next, or the week after.
The second time, he just sits there and takes it.
He had been studying his ass off at school, all so he could get perfect grades, graduate, and get into a good college, so he could finally be a doctor and actually help people.
So, he studied, read the material before the teachers asked them to, he read his notes at least once every week, and started studying as soon as a test was announced. He didn't want to take any chances, didn't want to risk it.
"A doctor?" His father looks at the paper that he had taken from Natsuo's hands, where it stated that his dream job was to be a doctor so he could help people feel better, "try not to disappoint me-" this time is left unsaid,"-if you're going to continue with this...dream, of yours."
He studies with time, as organized and productively as YouTube tutorials can teach him, he's the first to raise his hand upon not understanding something that the teacher said, the first to ask for some extra assignment to raise his grades, even as his teacher tell him that he doesn't need it.
He's the one to do it all, he's the one to put in the effort, he's the one that drowns his little brother's shouts and cries by stuffing his head into a book filled with words he doesn't understand. All him.
So, one day his teacher calls him.
She calls for him as the bell rings, when his other classmates rush outside so they can leave, he lazily stuffs his things into his bag, not really excited to go home after a long day of school.
"Todoroki-kun," starts the teacher, "could you afford to stay for a few minutes?"
The few remaining students in the classroom start making 'ooh's and 'ah's as the teacher smiles kindly at him, the same smile his art teacher gave him years ago, the same smile that Touya sent his way every time he mentions their father, he wonders, for a second, if there will ever be someone who would smile at him with anything else aside from empty eyes and lies covering their lips like a thin veil that only he seems to notice.
He chastises himself, people smile at him all the time, what else does he need?
"Of course."
He sits in front of the teacher's desk, letting his bag act as a last-attempt barrier to protect himself from his teacher.
"Your grades are greatly improving, I'm sure you already knew that, however," she pauses, looking at him, "I've noticed that your notes and answers on tests seem to be from a different study style than the ones we usually teach, is there a reason for that?"
Ah, he thinks, it's happening again.
"Yes," he answers, "my father was a little paranoic, at first, to let me go to actual schools, so I spent most of my childhood with private teacher that would come to our house." The teacher's eyes light up at that, and, oh no, he doesn't like that look.
"Well, that's amazing! Most people don't get the tools to study properly until later in their life, so getting them so young is..." she smiles at him, he doesn't, "can you thank Endeavor for me? It's not everyday that a parent cares that much for their child's education, much less hiring private teachers just so they can learn. You should be proud, Todoroki-kun, your family really cares about you."
He wants to tell her, if you knew, maybe you wouldn't be spouting such shit. He doesn't.
He smiles, it stretches his skin in an uncomfortable way, he's not used to it, he realizes, does Touya's skin stretch like this, too, when he smiles this way?
"Of course, sensei, I'll pass your message."
The third time, he laughs.
He had liked this girl for a while now, (he couldn't even remember her name), he thought she was cute, he had talked to her and was pretty sure he knew her well, he blushed when his friends teased him about him. So, with all his extensive knowledge of love, coming directly from the books and movies he watched when he was younger. He decided, that he did, in fact, have a crush on her.
(He didn't, he realized years later with an "oh, oh fuck, I'm gay" upon waking up to his 14th dream with some hero that had a way too tight costume.)
She had asked him out, actually, saying how, if he was willing to give it a try, she would love to be his girlfriend. He said yes.
He ran his hands through the brown(no, black?) strands of her hair, kissed her lips when she asked, held her hand when they walked together, and soon, pretty much everyone knew they were dating.
"Dude, are you seriously dating-!?" Something, her name, what was her name again? He couldn't remember, why?, "she's like, super popular!"
"Ah," he says with that silver tongue of his, another thing he inherited from his father, "um, yeah, she's nice." Nice? Did people describe their partners as just that? Nice? Wasn't he supposed to wax poetry about the way she smiled? To say how her eyes compared to the light of the moon itself? (Or would it be the sun? What colour were her eyes?)
"Dude, she's more than nice, she's such a hottie and, god! And her-" Okay, he really didn't want to hear the rest of that sentence, he grinned awkwardly and walked away, hearing as that guy just kept saying stuff about who he just said was his girlfriend.
So, yeah, probably not talking to that guy again. Like, ever again.
He walked into his classroom, sat with his friends, and smiled softly as they immediately grinned at his arrival. They ran up to him and hung from his arms, shouting different things all at the same time, making it practically impossible to hear a single thing.
One of them, who just sat back and glanced at them sometimes, was scrolling through his phone. He always did that, except now was different, he did a double take, opening and closing his mouth like a gaping fish, before settling his incredulous look on Natsuo. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, smile become a little more strained.
"Dude," he started, turning his phone around to show a picture that, if he saw right, was from Instagram. It showed Natsuo being squished by an arm around his shoulder, that arm belonging to his girlfriend, who was also kissing his cheek, "You're dating and you didn't tell us!?"
Shrieks filled the classroom, his friends all pushing each other to gape at the phone that was still being held up by his other friend.
"You traitor!" exclaimed one, "You were supposed to tell us first before telling the internet, so uncool dude!" One of them clapped his back, hard.
"I-I'm sorry? I guess I never really thought that I should tell you guys unless you asked." Never speak unless spoken to, that was a rule that had been ingrained in his brain after every single family dinner where someone spoke out of turn. (It was usually Touya)
"How did you even get her to date you? She's like, the most popular girl in the school, and she always rejects the dudes that confess to her!" Get her to date him? He thinks, trying not to let a frown form on his face, she's not some animal, damn.
"She asked me out, actually."
They stare at him, and keep on staring.
"Of fucking course she asked you out! Dude, you're Endeavor's son! I bet she took a look at you and just immediately fell in love, eh?" His friend smirked at him, others making exaggerated kissing noises, two even started fake making out right there and then, in the middle of the classroom.
"What does Endeavor have to do with this?" He smiles anyway, trying not to show the bitterness behind it.
"Dude, you're like, a carbon copy of him, you have the hot DNA, pun not intended," he hesitated, "also, you're rich as fuck."
Ah.
He laughs.
3 days later, he breaks up with the girl, that was why he didn't even care to remember her name. Her hair, her eyes, her.
(He goes through Endeavor's old photos, and sees that his friends were right, he looks at himself and now can't help but see Endevour in his face, his bone structure, his hair.)
(He doesn't cry that night, but the frost on his room takes a while to fully melt.)
The fourth time, he's enraged.
He sits on the couch, it's better than the one they had at their old base, this one's clean, and seems relatively new, the other one had holes in it and he was pretty sure rats lived in there at some point.
The room is cold, if he were a few years younger, a few years weaker, the same person who he was a few years ago, who thought that being a doctor would actually help people, who thought that maybe someone will actually care, the cold would have bothered him. Now he's way too used to it for it to bother him.
He tries to calm his breathing, tries anything just so the frost doesn't crack and brings the building to the ground.
He watches the TV, the reporter's voice ringing through his ears and making him want to puke.
He stares.
There's a knock at the door, and it opens before he can even answer. Tomura walks the short distance between the door and Natsuo. He doesn't bother looking up.
"Hey," Tomura stands in front of him, between the TV and his line of sight, he tries moving him but he doesn't budge, he then tries moving himself, "hey, don't be an idiot, alright?"
Natsuo looks at him, and Tomura frowns, probably seeing the state he's in, messy hair, bruised lip and empty eyes. The other man sighs, before sitting down next to him.
"You know you they are wrong, right?" He lets his head fall onto Tomura's shoulder, and he starts brushing strands of his hair out of his forehead, "you did it, not him, you decided what path to follow, not him. The only thing he did was show you the truth of this fucked up world, you decided what to do with that knowledge.
"Even if they all think otherwise, that Endeavor drove his sons into villainy, we all know that's not true." Tomura grabs his chin, making him meet his eyes, "You created Jack Frost, one of the most wanted villains of today, doctor of The Paranormal Liberation Front. You did all of that, Natsuo." he smirks. "You also got yourself a pretty powerful and handsome boyfriend, if I may say."
The TV reporter keeps on talking, "There were 13 deaths, 27 who sustained injuries, and, thankfully, no missing." He stares, slowly letting the frost covering the room melt. "Today, however, a bigger tragedy has ocurred. Todoroki Natsuo, second eldest son of Todoroki Enji, also known as the No.1 Hero, Endeavor, has revealed to be Jack Frost, a wanted villain that has been known to be a part of the League Of Villains. We can say that Endeavor not only created Dabi, but also Jack Fr-" The TV turns to dust.
Natsuo blinks at Tomura, who just returns his extended hand to Natsuo's hair.
"We can buy another one later." He says as only explanation, and Natsuo wants to yank him by his stupidly beautiful white hair and make out until someone walks in. Sadly, that someone could be Dabi, and he doesn't want to die of shame.
Instead, he smiles, "Yeah," he says, "we can."
The first time Endeavor doesn't get the credit for something he's done, was years ago, on a day when he was going back home from staying up late, doing dumb shit like the young adult he was, and he felt...
numb.
So. Completely. Numb.
He thought he would be, well, something, at the very least, happy, angry, sad, perhaps, but, there was just nothing.
It felt so empty he wanted to kill himself right there and then.
Instead of jumping in front of the nearest car and giving the driver permanent trauma, he goes home. Walking slowly as the frost accompanies his step, leaving a trail in his wake that will probably melt in a few minutes. Please melt please melt please melt he can't have the evidence he can't he'll get killed he'll-
He climbs through his window, the way Touya had taught him, putting the right foot on that specific crack, wrapping his left arm on the window's ledge and taking a bit of impulse to crawl into his room.
He grabs his pajamas, underwear, and goes to the bathroom. He then turns the water so hot it might as well be boiling.
It doesn't matter, he won't burn. He knows from experience that not even Endeavor's flames can burn him. Yet he could feel the warmth of it, now he doesn't even feel the water touch his skin.
He watches the water, it falls clear, and then touches the ground with a red tinto to it. It's blood, he thinks, it's the blood of the man I just killed.
He stares. Before blinking the tears away. He's not one to cry, never has cried for important stuff, not even when Touya died. Yet, the tears come to him naturally and his mind clears, leaving only one thought in this unusual clarity.
He can't take the credit for that.
I did this.
I did this.
There's a sound, it's constant, like the ringing in his ears he gets sometimes, yet it's not ringing, it's something else, louder. He closes his eyes at the loud sound, it's a voice, it's loud, it's so loud and so close. He tries to breathe but his stomach hurts and-oh, it's laughter, not a voice. Someone is laughing.
He reaches up to touch his face, feels the stretch of muscles and, oh, he realizes, he's the one laughing.