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Natsuo was never like his brother.
He never showed up on the news or any media, displaying his heroic feats. He wasn't a hero in training. He didn't have a flashy quirk. He wasn't a person independent of his father, yet.
But he was social. He was easy to be around. He had many friends. He was a med student. His quirk was useless. Everyone said that he would do great things, just like his father.
All his friends at school said they knew him.
And then, one day he showed up on the news.
It was a dark, grainy photo shot from some distance away. It was a little blurry, but that white hair and build was Natsuo. That image was everywhere. Every news site, every article, every social media, online forum. It was everywhere.
Millions of words were typed out, shocked, appalled, horrified, confused. Strings of text tore him down and, by extension, his father as well.
His dorm was empty when they checked, stripped bare. As if no one had ever been there. All signs of life, gone.
When the heroes found the photographer, they were gone. Dead. Ashes scattered across their home. A photo taped to the back of the door, their last moments preserved. Wide eyes and horrified expression, the camera flash contoured the planes of their face harshly. The edges were unfocused, just streaks of light, as if the subject had been moving. Fleeing.
They had the face of their photographer, but no body to accompany it.
Displayed lovingly on the coffee table, encased under a thin layer of frost, were several photos. Natsuo was depicted in each one, his expressions calm, serene, and happy. And in each photo, just like the very first on the news, he was with another person.
Clad in black, silver hair, scarred skin, and red eyes. It didn't take a genius to know this was Shigaraki Tomura.
Natsuo had been in contact with the leader of the LOV.
And not just in contact. No. If the first image was to be believed. The one plastered all over the internet. They were involved.
This viral image of Todoroki Natsuo, taking place in the early evening, captured him with Shigaraki. A hand on the villain's hip as he leaned in, lips just barely touching.
Endeavor and his family faced massive scrutiny from the public. The number two hero made to give more than one speech, publicly apologizing and condemning his son.
Natsuo was never like his brother.
He always leaned more towards the other end of the spectrum. His brother with a powerful quirk, him with a negligible one. His brother is a hero, him a villain.
Though they might've had one thing in common.
Despite what people thought, Natsuo didn't show his emotions so freely. But if he kept a blank face like his brother, people thought him strange, weird, uncomfortable. So he adapted.
He supposed he took more after his late brother instead.
Now by the name of Dabi.
Another week, and the news still broadcasted the same thing. The Todoroki scandal. Todoroki Natsuo, now a wanted criminal, suspected of aiding in the murder of 34 years old photographer, Suzuki…
"Wow, they talk so much more about you than me. It's like you're the one leading a group of villains." Shigaraki is latched to Natsuo's side, arms wrapped around him as Natsuo watches the news in bed from his phone.
Natsuo's bored expression cracks, a smile gracing his handsome features as his eyes drift down to his partner. A hand comes up to rest on silvery hair, "I'm revealed as the true leader of the League, and the heroes spend weeks reevaluating everything." His tone is playful as he lowers the volume on his phone, no longer paying attention.
Shigaraki huffs, a pleased sound. Natsuo nuzzles into his boyfriend's hair. "It is annoying though. I can't show my face anywhere now."
"You can still show it to me."
"Tomura." He says, exasperated, pulling him closer.
The news continues to show the photo that started this whole mess. Still online everywhere, for the world to see. For strangers on the internet to analyze and impose their unwanted thoughts and opinions on. Anonymous users spitting every insult in hopes that it might hit a nerve, any point of insecurity. That they have the right to judge him against their morality all while siding with the very same man who turned him this way. Annoyed, Natsuo shuts off his phone and sets it aside.
It's a new phone with a new number, obviously. Though, he does still have his old one. They've made sure it's untraceable now. He still checks on it once a week, to leave any incoming messages from his father on read to piss him off. This week shows him a series of messages threatening him to come clean.
Natsuo still also reads the messages from his sister. If only to assure her that he's still alive. She seems relieved by it, still telling him about how her days go, even if he never responds back.
As he sets that phone aside as well, Shigaraki rises on his elbows to look down at him. Waiting until he had his full attention, he spoke.
"I don't really mind."
"Mind…?"
"The photo." He leans down, closer to Natsuo, silver hair spilling forward.
"Oh?" Natsuo prompts, the corner of his lips ticking upwards.
"Now, everyone knows you're mine."
A whisper, sealed with a heated kiss. He matches that hunger and possessiveness, pressed tight against him as marks of claim descend upon their skins.
Cracks of frost spiral slowly along the floor, elegant blossoms displaying Natsuo's love and contentment. When Shigaraki reawakens and steps onto the floor, the crystalline blooms shrink away from his skin in reverence, obeying the will of their slumbering owner.
Shigaraki looks down at the tiny cracks of frost and despite the faintest chills in the air, he feels so warm. Natsuo's quirk may not have many conventional uses, but it's always so telling of Natsuo's love for him.
An arm winds around his waist and pulls Shigaraki back under the covers. "'Morning."
Hugging him, he tucked his head under Natsuo's chin.
"Mine."
Soft laughter greets the new morning.