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“Hasn’t anyone ever told you? You rely on your quirk too much. Makes you a careless fighter.”
“No,” Izuku whispers as Stain’s sword passes cleanly through his friend’s shoulder. “Todoroki!”
His voice is drowned out by Shouto’s scream and Stain’s cackling laughter.
The Hero Killer looms over his friend and sighs. “You’re a selfless hero, kid. Sorry about the arm, but you gotta get better, hm? Hope you survive this, you’ll be a fun one,” he says.
Izuku’s fighting against Stain’s control as hard as he can, but even One For All can’t help him break free. He can only watch helplessly as Stain saunters over to Iida and readies his sword.
“I can’t say the same for swine like this,” the villain hisses. “Self-righteous bastards who care only for their own. They all should rot in hell.”
Before anyone else can move, a scream and a column of fire erupt from Todoroki’s prone form.
Stain jumps back, eyes darting from Iida to Izuku before resting on Todoroki. “Still fighting, are we? You’re bleeding out pretty fast, I’d-”
He’s cut off as the column of fire arches and lashes out, hitting him square in the chest. As he rolls to his feet, he jumps back even farther. The fire misses its second swing, but it’s given Todoroki enough time to stagger upright.
“You… bastard! ” the boy snarls.
Izuku’s breath catches in his throat at Todoroki’s expression. He’s used to his friend’s cold, aloof exterior; that fiery wrath has him wanting to take a step back.
Todoroki looks… different. A thick pillar of fire pours out from his torso where his arm should be, tinges of blue spark from the stump of his shoulder, and his flesh bubbles around his amputated limb. The look in his eye reminds Izuku of his personality from before the Sports Festival, except his anger is turned outward, toward the Hero-Killer.
“Well, that’s unexpected,” Stain murmurs. He’s so focused on Todoroki’s fury that he misses Iida sitting up, then he misses Midoriya rubbing his cheek. He narrows in on the flaming hero-wannabe in front of him. His swords glisten in the blistering heat now enveloping them, and a smile cracks his lips. “But not unwanted. Come, boy, let’s-”
Izuku and Iida leap forward in unison. They can see that Stain sees the attempt before it happens, but before Stain can do anything about it, Todoroki arcs a wall of flame above him. The Hero Killer can only brace for impact as Izuku punches high and Iida kicks low.
Stain slumps to the ground with a too-loud thump .
“He’s unconscious, but we should still tie him up,” Iida says, “Todoroki, are you-”
There’s another thump as Shouto falls first to his hands hand and knees, then all the way to the ground.
Izuku’s at his side in a heartbeat. “Todoroki, you’ve gotta take deep breaths,” he says. “You’re not getting enough oxygen. Just slow down. You said the pros would get here soon, so we’ll get you help. Okay?”
There’s no response, not that he really expected one. Todoroki’s gaze is far away and glassy. Frankly, with a missing arm, Izuku can’t believe he’s stayed conscious this long. Then he remembers Enji and then he can believe it.
The sound of running footsteps pounds into the alleyway. “Hey,” an unfamiliar voice calls, “we were told assistance was requested at this location.” The steps stop short and the voice gasps. “Is that the Hero Killer ?”
Izuku whirls around and meets eyes with a Pro Hero he only vaguely recognizes. “P-please, help Todoroki, he’s hurt!”
There’s an annoying beeping noise near his head. It doesn’t sound like his alarm, but it’s consistent. He’s torn between turning it off or just falling asleep again. Or he can turn it off and fall asleep again.
Unless… is he back home? His father will be upset if he stays asleep for too long.
With the self-discipline he’s gained from fifteen years of living with his father, he peels his eyelids open.
He doesn’t recognize the room he’s in. He should probably want to panic right now, but he only feels a muffled sort of concern. Why isn’t he more scared? He doesn’t recognize where he is, his brain is fuzzy-
“Ah, you’re… you’re already awake.”
Shouto blinks and drags his head to the side. “Midoriya,” he responds through a tongue that doesn’t want to cooperate.
“How are you feeling? I-I mean, never mind, that’s a stupid question. Forget I said anything.”
He furrows his brows. The past few hours are distorted, he thinks. He figures he’s in a hospital, and this fuzzy feeling isn’t unlike when he gets a concussion from his father’s training. “Did my father… How did I get hurt?”
Midoriya’s brows raise and whatever he was about to say seems to get caught in his throat. “W-well, what do you remember?”
With a deep breath, Shouto closes his eyes and casts his mind back. He recalls the heat of his father’s flames, but not threatening. People are screaming around him through the burning shell of Hosu City. Midoriya pings his location with no other information.
The Hero Killer.
Blood.
Fire.
Pain .
“The Hero Killer hurt me. Was he captured?”
Midoriya looks down. “Y-yeah. But… um…”
Fear lodges itself in Shouto’s stomach. “And Iida?”
“Oh! He’s fine. He and I have a room in another wing, but you… You haven’t realized?”
Midoriya seems to take his silence as a “no”.
“Um, Stain, well- you were protecting me and Iida, but he was fast- so fast, and he got past your ice and fire… and… and he cut your arm off.”
Oh. That would explain the muffled feeling. He’s likely full of more painkillers than he’s ever seen in his life. “I see,” he says. He can clearly see his right arm, so that must mean...
When he glances over to the left, he sees what remains of his shoulder swaddled in thick bandages. “At least it happened on my left side,” He murmurs. Rather fitting, he thinks.
Midoriya snorts and then covers his mouth. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t- that was really rude of me, but I just- you’re always like… I don’t know where I was going with this. I’m sorry.”
Despite himself, Shouto can’t hold back a faint smile. “You’re cute when you’re flustered,” he says before his brain can catch up with his mouth. And then Midoriya’s blushing and stuttering out thanks.
Midoriya’s still spitting out words as Shouto finds himself falling deeper and deeper into unconsciousness.
“Mr. Todoroki? You have a visitor.”
Shouto glances up in surprise. Midoriya wasn’t supposed to be here for another half hour. “Oh. You can send him in.”
“It’s not-” is as far as the nurse gets before a pink-haired girl bursts past her into the room.
“Hello, Shouto!” She calls, “Can I call you Shouto? Well, it’s your lucky day! I heard about your run-in with the Hero-Killer - glad you’re still alive, by the way- and I just had a thought! I enjoy building things, I’ve come up with a few prototypes for prosthetic limbs, and it seems you’re in the market! Having the coolest student in our school wearing my babies would be a dream come true !”
The girl looks familiar. He knows she’s from the Support Class. She made it to the finals during the Sports Festival. “Mei Hatsume?”
“At your service! Now, I have a few babies here with me,” she drags a rolling suitcase over and starts digging through it, “My favorite has got to be this one,” she says with a grin as she pulls out what looks like an electric tentacle. “It’s probably twice as maneuverable as your old arm, plus it looks so intimidating! I’d have to make a few adjustments to make it fireproof, but it would look so coooool!”
Shouto merely blinks. “I- I don’t want to have a tentacle. Besides, my father has a friend who-” He stops short. True, his father has a close associate who leads his own support company, but if he was going to rise ahead of his father, he would have to make his own connections. “Actually, let me see what else you have.”
Mei’s smile brightened.
“Okay, Shouto, now just continue that nine more times. You’re doing great,” his physical therapist says with a smile and warm brown eyes that remind him almost painfully of his mother.
He finishes the set of exercises and flops to the ground.
“Good job with that,” she says. “You’re flying through these strength exercises faster than I thought you would! Why don’t we take a quick break, then we can move on to balance.”
Shouto nods and gets to his feet. Even after a month and a half of rehabilitation in the hospital, he’s still unsteady, but he’s improved a lot.
Midoriya’s sitting in the corner, flicking through his phone absentmindedly. He glances up when Shouto approaches, and a smile lights up his freckled face. “Doesn’t even look like you need a prosthetic, Todoroki! You’re so amazing!”
Heat flushes his face, and he has to look away for a moment. “Yeah, well, it’s just more convenient. Besides, Mei was really insistent about helping me. I figured it would be best to have someone of her caliber on my side.”
“Oh, you’re having Mei make your prosthetic?”
“You winced. Why? Is that bad?”
“Oh, no, she’s great and I’m sure she’ll blow your socks off with her designs, but… they tend to be… out there. There’s no telling what gimmicks she’ll put in her designs.”
“She tried to give me a tentacle arm,” Shouto says.
Midoriya barks out a disbelieving laugh. “She what ?”
“One of her prosthetics was a tentacle. It looks very good, but I prefer something slightly more realistic.”
Before Midoriya can respond, the physical therapist claps her hands. “Alright, Shouto. Let’s get moving on those balance exercises!”
Shouto glances at his phone. Another text from his quirk therapist, pushing back their session for the second time this week. He sighs and repockets the phone. Iida notices his exasperation and raises an eyebrow.
“Another rescheduled appointment,” he explains. “He tells me to continue the breathing and visualization exercises. He won’t listen when I say that I still have trouble controlling the fire without my arm.”
“That’s unprofessional. There has to be a way to hold him accountable for his actions.”
“He’s been my quirk counselor ever since I was young, which means he lets my dad walk all over him. My father says I need to figure my own way through this.”
Iida looked positively scandalized. “Unacceptable behavior from a counselor and a father! We must find you a new one this instant!”
“No, that’s not-” before the rest of the words were out of Shouto’s mouth, Iida grabs his wrist and tugs him along. “Wait, where are we going?”
“To the nurse’s station! Might as well take advantage of their resources while you’re still here! Your physical therapist works for this hospital, correct? So they must also have a quirk therapist whom you can see.”
Shouto nods and allows himself to be half-dragged to where a gaggle of nurses are talking in hushed voices.
“Excuse me,” Iida calls, “We are in need of assistance. My friend here needs a new quirk therapist.”
“Oh, of course,” one of the nurses detaches himself from the conversation and types a few keys into the computer. “What kind of quirk do you have?”’
“Emitter. Half fire, half ice.” Shouto responds.
The nurse laughs. “I can see that now. Alright. We got an emitter specialist, no, wait, two emitter specialists. There’s also one who specializes in elemental-based quirks. Do you have a preference? Otherwise, I can schedule interviews with all of them.”
“Just the emitter specialists.”
“Alright, let me set you up with some openings!”
“You’re not talking to your quirk therapist, Shouto.”
“No, I’m not talking to your quirk therapist. I have a new one.”
Enji pinches the bridge of his nose. “Honestly, you need to get over whatever has you mewling like a pathetic child . A villain could-”
“I am a child, and a villain chopped my arm off,” Shouto points out. “It’s a pretty big thing to just ‘get over'. And the way I’m doing so is with the help of a quirk therapist who actually helps me. Unless you want me to be unable to control my fire anymore?” His heart pounds in his throat, but he swallows it down and levels a stare at his father.
Enji is silent for a long moment before he turns around and closes the door behind him.
“Todoroki! You’re in class!” Uraraka catches sight of him and jumps to her feet. She’s across the room in an instant, flinging her arms around his neck. “Oh my god, it’s been so long! How have you been?”
“Missing an arm, mostly,” he says.
She looks momentarily taken aback, then embarrassed. “I-I’m sorry, that was stupid of me! I meant, like-”
“That was a joke,” he says. A small smile curls his lips.
“O-oh. Oh! You scared me, don’t do that!” She playfully slaps him on the right shoulder and giggles.
“Are we scaring Uraraka? Sounds like fun!”
“Oooh, Izuku, not you too!” the brunette puffs her cheeks and scowls. “You two are so mean!”
“I can be meaner if you wish,” Shouto says with a raised eyebrow.
“Ugh, you lost all your manners.”
“Funny, I thought I lost my arm.”
A tense silence stretches out between the three of them. Midoriya and Uraraka meet each other’s eyes, then look nervously at Shouto.
“Well,” he sighs, “ I thought it was funny.”
“You’ve gotten pretty casual about it, that’s nice,” Uraraka says, speaking as though she were walking on eggshells.
“I laugh to keep from crying,” Shouto responds in his usual deadpan. When no one laughs, he shrugs. “I guess you don’t find my kind of humor funny.”
“N-no! It- well, it’s just… I feel bad for laughing, cause it’s a big deal. You lost your arm, Todoroki.”
Uraraka nods her assent.
“Oh really? I hadn’t noticed.”
“ Seriously," Izuku insists, I just- you’ve been taking it really well… like, suspiciously well. You can be sad, it’s okay,” Green eyes bore into his, and he finds it difficult to hold his gaze.
He sighs, shoulders slumping. “I… it’s been a difficult adjustment, but I have many people to fall back on for support for a variety of purposes. I assure you, I am handling this so well because of people like you.”
A blush creeps along Midoriya’s face and a weak smile splits his lips.
Before they can get any further into the conversation, Mina, Sero, and Kirishima enter the classroom, stop short at the sight of Todoroki and immediately swarm him.
“Oh my god, Todoroki, you’re back ! Wow, I’m so glad you’re okay!” Mina croons over Kirishima, who’s attempting to give him a fist bump for the “manly-looking scar” despite the fact that said scar is not visible, and Sero motions for a high-five simply for being in class.
“Please, a little space, you’re being overwhelming,” he says after only thirty seconds of their smothering presence.
Kirishima’s first to back off with an embarrassed apology, and then Sero drags Mina away as well. “Sorry, man,” the redhead says, “I guess that was a little rude, huh?”
“Well, yes. But I wouldn’t have said so.”
The door slides open again, and Aizawa sensei strolls through. He catches sight of Todoroki, nods, then sets his clipboard on the podium. “Alright, everyone, to your seats. We’ll have time to play catch-up some other time.”
It’s both stressful and relieving to get back into the swing of school. It’s been so long since he’s been in class, and even though Aizawa, Yaoyorozu, and Iida have come to the hospital to tutor him, he’s still behind, especially in the practical aspect.
He’s acutely aware of every time Aizawa slows his pace around him while walking along the rows, the way Yaoyorozu glances over every time he makes a sound that could be construed as exasperated or confused. The anger is building, the feeling of helplessness near-drowning, but he takes a deep breath and swallows it down. Locks it under a sheet of ice to thaw out in the privacy of his own room.
It’s a shorter operation than he expected to attach the prosthetic. For one of Mei’s inventions, it’s fairly minimalistic, but still unnecessarily high-tech. She had told him she had gotten inspiration for the device from a cartoon she watches, which explains its… creativity.
The hardest part is connecting the shoulder piece to the burnt stump of his left shoulder. He had apparently cauterized his wounds without meaning to, which probably saved his life, but also wrecked the nerve endings in that arm. He’s out for most of the surgery and only awakens when his shoulder had been properly re-carved like a lump of ham. The doctors fit the shoulder piece on his torso, under the careful direction of Power Loader and, to a lesser extent, Mei herself.
Then the prosthetic is activated, and the forearm glides into place.
He feels… wrong . This is so wrong, there’s something there where nothing should be, this painful, heavy weight on his shoulder that didn’t belong. The sensation turns his stomach, and he has to press his hand over his mouth to keep everything where it should be.
“Mr. Todoroki, please breathe. In through the nose out through the mouth.”
The words sound far away and distant and it takes him a moment to realize that he’s barely conscious, sagging against someone’s body. There’s someone else talking, insistent, but his mind is a thousand miles away and he’s floating and weightless and nothing else matters.
He comes to not long after he passes out. The two doctors are looking at him in concern, but the nurse glances up from her tablet. “It looks like it’s worked,” she says with a shrug. “Minor symptoms of shock, but no true signs of rejection. I suggest we keep it and see what happens.”
One of the doctors sighs and turns to Shouto. “Okay. We’ll keep an eye on the situation. If you feel any discomfort, or dizziness, nausea, rapid heart rate or breathing, anything , call the nurse. It’s your life at stake, so don’t wait until it becomes too much to handle.”
Another nod.
The doctor looks skeptical and shoots a glance at Power Loader. When the pro hero simply shrugs, the doctor sighs and leaves.
“Good luck, kid,” A thick hand pats his head, and then Power Loader exits as well, leaving him alone with his thoughts and roiling nausea in his gut.
“How’s my baby working so far?” Mei slams her hands on his desk and leans forward, far into Shouto’s space. “She’s looking really good, I’m so happy!”
He nods slowly, shifting backward. “It’s been adequate.”
Mei looks taken aback. “ Just adequate? Say it isn’t so! How can my baby improve? I’ve been thinking why not add a few more bells and whistles? I just had this idea to give you control over two arms! Or maybe three, if you have the brain power!! And maybe- oh! Oh, I have a great idea, put rocket thrusters on it, and you can rocket-punch criminals with a fire fist!”
“I- no, I don’t need that. If there’s some way you can make it so the arm is not as hot after using my fire, that would be convenient. I might need to grab people to get them out of danger and don’t want to risk burning them. And the joints are fairly sharp so I can cut myself or someone else while helping them.”
“Oh! A challenge! I’ll get to work right away!” She darts out of the room with a maniacal cackle.
He’s just leaving for home when Mei careens down the hallway and grabs his arm. Thankfully, his flesh one.
“Hey, Shouto! I need your help! C’mon!” She sings, dragging him away from Midoriya and the others, “I need to borrow your fire to test this new fake flesh compound I’m developing, but Power Loader-sensei banned me from using the flamethrower for the week.”
Before Shouto can even get a word in edgewise, Mei drags him through the Support Class workshop and to a workstation set up near a landfill of discarded inventions. “Here, blast this with everything you got!” she grins, waving her hand at a block of flesh-toned gelatin.
Mei edges closer, her breath on the back of his neck, and he has to fight the urge to slap her away. “You might want to step back. My control over my fire is not what it used to be.”
She obliges, taking a few exaggerated steps back.
He closes his eyes and takes a few centering breaths. It’s just like he’s been doing in therapy. There’s an extended pause as he tries to force the fire out, just like he’s done hundreds of times with his original arm. But nothing happens.
It shouldn’t be this hard, why won’t the fire just come out? He focuses on the anger and frustration, visualizing the fire burning down his arm. He swears he feels the flames flickering across the flesh of his arm.
In the back of his mind, he knows it’s impossible, but his eyes snap open, staring at his prosthetic. No fire. No flesh.
He takes in a shaky breath. “Sorry, just give me a moment.”
“Ah, if it’s too much trouble, I can just wait for Power Loader-sensei, it’s no big-”
“I can do it,” he snaps, harsher than he means to. “I just need a moment.”
Mei is quiet as he focuses again. He can do it during his therapy sessions, why is he so stuck now ? He follows the same steps he has done dozens of times before, but it’s like trying to open a door with no handle - he’s stuck scrabbling at the place it is supposed to be with no idea what to do next.
Frustration bubbles up within him, and he tries to use that anger, to channel it like he’s done so many times in the past, but no matter what he does, the door isn’t opening.
Without a word, he turns on his heel and stalks out of the workshop, blinking tears out of his eyes.
“You’ve been slacking long enough,” His father hisses, crossing his trunk-like arms over his chest. “It’s time to see how much skill you’ve lost.”
“I still can’t exert myself for another two weeks,” Shouto points out, “and I have an English test tomorrow.”
“You don’t need English as a hero, you need to be able to push yourself when you’re injured.”
Shouto doesn’t respond, though his heart pounds in his chest.
“I’m giving you ten seconds, Shouto, or we’re going to have a problem,” Enji growls, stepping forward. “One… two...three... four...five …”
His chair nearly falls to the ground in his haste to get to his feet. He tries to ignore his father’s approving hum as he’s led to the training room.
Fuyumi’s working in the living room, and she meets his gaze as they pass. Her mouth opens as if she wants to say something, but then Enji fixes her with a look and she turns back to her work.
He doesn’t… he’s not as rusty as he expected, but his father’s fire still flickers along his skin, his fists still bruise, and his ribs still creak under the force of his father’s blows.
Thin fingers tap his desk, and Shouto glances up from his work. Aizawa is looking down at him with a look he can’t quite decipher.
The teacher beckons him and starts to walk out of the room. Uncertainly, Shouto gets to his feet and follows.
When they’re safely on the other side of the door, Aizawa stuffs his hands in his pockets. “Your father called me last night. Did he tell you?”
“No,” he responds, hoping it’s not evident that his heart dropped to his stomach at the thought.
“He wants to take you out of class for private tutoring. To make up for the time you’ve spent recovering.”
“Oh,” his mouth dries and he tries to calm his rapidly beating heart. “I see.”
Aizawa’s eyes seem to bore into his. “I was planning on offering private tutoring as well once you’re recovered, but it’ll have to be after school and over the weekends. Do you have a preference?”
Shouto’s ready to take Aizawa up on his offer, then imagines how his father would react to the news. He’d be trained doubly hard with little chance for rest and relaxation. “I-I should let my father train me.”
“Is that a decision?”
For some reason, the word “yes” doesn’t come out.
A hand rests on his shoulder, right over a burn he wasn’t quite fast enough to dodge. He tries not to wince, but Aizawa’s eyes miss nothing. “Are you hurt?” he asks, then, before Shouto can deny it, narrows his eyes. “And don’t lie.”
“It’s not bad. I don’t really notice it unless someone touches it.”
Aizawa makes a noise like he’s unconvinced. “How did it happen? You’ve been excused from physical activities until the end of the month, haven’t you?”
Shouto shrugs.
“So it happened outside of school?”
Another shrug.
Aizawa pauses. “Did it happen at home?”
“No,” he responds, though he doesn’t quite believe his own words.
His teacher purses his lips. “Well, I suppose the point is moot. The school has policies about class time lost to major injuries, and it does not allow for outside instruction. Especially when it distracts from the student’s continued attendance.”
“I don’t remember reading about that,” he murmurs.
“Yeah, it’s a new ruling. Just came up with it ten seconds ago. I’ll have to run it by Nezu, but it won’t be your fault if you have to take my training. Does that sound good?”
All the tension floods out of him at Aizawa’s words and it takes him a moment to realize he hasn’t responded. “Y-yeah. Thanks. I-” he trails off, not really sure how much he wants to say. “I appreciate the help.”
Aizawa looks almost sad. “Any time, kid. Now go get that injury looked out. And take all the time you need, okay?”
Shouto nods.
“Hey, Frostfire, over here! I just have a few questions!” A news reporter waves him over excitedly.
Shouto looks to the police officer for permission.
“Yeah, we can follow up after you flex for your adoring public,” she says with a grin.
“I don’t seem to have much to flex,” he points out wryly. Then he makes his way over to the news reporter. “Hello,” he says, “how can I help?”
“After defeating such a powerful villain so easily, how fast do you think you’ll reach your father’s spot as the number one hero?”
Shouto hums. “Well, if you’re looking at who will replace Endeavor, then you might want to look at Deku. And even if that’s not the case, I’m comfortable with ignoring the rankings if it means more heroes work to be number one together.”
“I see. So is it upsetting to be outshined by someone of such an ordinary pedigree? Deku, I mean. I don’t doubt you were trained by your father, the Todoroki name is well known. You’ve overcome so many obstacles, surely you feel-”
“You’re referring to the loss of my arm in my first year?” He half-snips.
“Yes, you’ve managed to overcome-”
“I’ve managed to overcome obstacles, yes. And so have other heroes. There is no one who sacrifices nothing to become a hero. And those obstacles make them stronger.” Shouto clenches the fist of his prosthetic hand, extinguishing the flames arching between the forearm and shoulder. “This arm can do amazing things my other arm can’t do. It’s an advantage over most heroes. So while losing my arm was unfortunate, I was made stronger because of it. Deku’s quirk kept destroying his body when he used it. But he learned to control it and has become the new All Might. The tougher the challenge, the stronger you are afterwards.”
The news reporter looks taken aback. “I see. Well, thank you for those wise words.”
Shouto turns away and makes his way back to his circuit. He’s still shaking out post-interview jitters when a familiar flash of green lightning halts to a stop in front of him.
“‘If you’re looking for someone to replace Endeavor, look at Deku’?” The familiar hero grins. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were being modest.”
“Hardly. If anyone can knock my old man off his ass, it’s you.”
“Sounds like fun,” he snorts.
They fall into a familiar silence until Deku takes a breath and Shouto thinks here we go .
“You got a little mad at that reporter, didn’t you? On live television.”
Shouto shrugs. “I already don’t like reporters. He asked questions I don’t like answering. I thought I was fairly subdued.”
“Well, for a normal person, you were. But I know you pretty well.”
“Oh. Good.”
“It’s still a touchy subject though.” Deku says hesitantly.
Shouto grits his teeth. “It’s been years . I’m over it. My arm’s gone and it’s not coming back, and it’s fine . But these people keep bringing it up. ‘You’re an inspiration!’ ‘You’re so strong’ ‘Was it hard?’ ‘How do you live with it?’. And if it’s not that, it’s living with my father. ‘What was he like?’, ‘I’m sure you’re glad he trained you,’ I’m just so sick and tired ,” he sighs.
Deku settles on the curb and pats the ground beside him. Shouto follows suit and stares at the city lights in the distance.
“You could always punch reporters when they ask about sensitive subjects like that.”
Shouto stares at Deku for a moment before breaking into gentle laughter. “Well, I believe that’s considered assault, but the thought is tempting...” He picks some debris off his kneepad. “I’ll be fine. Usually, I can shrug it off, but… he called me two nights ago.” He ducks Deku’s gaze and continues, “I think he was drunk, but he was apologizing. Y’know, the usual. It just… I wish he would just leave me alone, and I can’t help but feel bad for him. I hate it.”
Deku nods slowly. “Yeah, I imagine that’d set anyone off. Do you want a distraction, or nah?”
There’s a long pause before he speaks. “I think I’d like some time alone, thank you.”
“Well, you have my number. You know you just need to call.” He hears the sound of Deku shifting beside him, then a rush of air as the hero bounds away to wherever he goes when he’s not saving the world.
Todoroki takes a few moments to just breathe.
Everything is going to be just fine.