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Shouto's five when his Quirk manifests.
His father starts training him the day after it does. He tells him that his Quirk is perfect, an ideal balance of fire and ice, and he will be the best hero.
Shouto's not even entirely sure if he wants to be a hero, but if it makes his father proud, then he's willing to do it.
He regrets that decision several minutes later, retching up the guts on the training room floor. His mother rushes in and tries to defend him, but his father insists that he's already five, and makes her leave.
His father apologizes a while later, after sitting him down and having him drink some water. He says he's sorry for hurting Shouto, but villains aren't going to hold back, and he needs to train to get strong. Shouto nods, because his father is a hero, and heroes are always right.
His training officially begins the next day, with his father training him one-on-one. Shouto's terrified of his father when they're training, his tall, broad frame towering over him, but heroes don't get scared, so he doesn't say it. At least he's somewhat resistant to his father's flames, so he never gets severely injured.
He's not allowed to talk to his siblings, Touya, Fuyumi, and Natsuo. Shouto sees them in the yard sometimes, and he begs his father to let him play with them. His father always refuses, saying that he needs to train, and eventually, Shouto stops asking.
His parents are always fighting about Touya. From what Shouto's heard, he keeps sneaking off to train by himself. Shouto doesn't understand why his father is so angry about it when all he makes Shouto do is train.
But he gets mad anyways, and yells at his mother. His father never seems like a hero when he does that, lashing out and screaming like a feral beast. Shouto tries to protect his mother, because that's what heroes do, but he's not nearly as strong enough.
His father seems to switch between two entirely different people. There's his father, Endeavor, the hero Shouto looks up to. It's the man who says that he's proud of him after a particularly rough training session, ruffling his two-toned hair. He's the one who tells him about his old hero missions and battles, describing his moves and saying how Shouto's going to master all of them, even better.
Then there's the other side, the darker, scarier one. This is the man who shoves his mother to the floor as he yells at her, his eyes burning with feral rage. He's the one who gets frustrated when Shouto can't learn a new move fast enough, can't increase his Quirk's output capacity, can't be the hero his father wants him to be.
He wonders if that's why his mother starts avoiding him. He knows how much his left side resembles his father.
His thoughts are confirmed when his mother pours boiling water over the left side of his face, over his hateful blue eye.
The water doesn't hurt, he's resistant to fire, after all.
It's when his mother activates her Quirk, her hand pressed over his face, whispering hasty apologies; it's then that he learns how ice can burn .
Ice isn't supposed to burn.
It's not supposed to hurt, so why does it hurt?
Everything is a blur after that, and he wakes up sometime later with thick bandages wrapped over the left side of his face.
He feels weak and vulnerable with so much of his vision obscured, but he manages to get up and find his father. He's sitting alone at the kitchen table, the dim light casting shadows over his bulky frame.
He steps closer, and his father turns.
There's something dark in his eyes, and it scares him, but he opens his mouth anyway.
"Where's mom?" His voice is small, barely above a whisper.
"I sent her away."
His face throbs under the bandages.
"Why?"
"She hurt you."
"But you hurt me, too."
Shouto doesn't mean for it to sound accusing. How come his father gets to hurt him, apologizes for it, and moves on like nothing happened? She apologized, too, somewhere in between pressing the ice to his face and blacking out. So why isn't it the same?
A shadow passes over his father's face.
"Do not compare me to her," He growls, low and threatening. "She's not well. She's sick, and she needs treatment. That's why I sent her to a hospital." His voice becomes neutral again, softer and less harsh. "I can't have people like that around you."
He's not sure what 'that' means, but from the way his father says it, it can't be anything good.
"I want to see her."
"Why can't you understand? She's sick." His father stands up at his full, towering height. "You gain nothing from trying to help people like that. You'll only hurt yourself in the process."
The unfairness of it all hurts like a physical, tangible pain, even worse than the one under his bandages.
"You hurt me too!" He shouts, feeling the burn of tears behind his eyes. "You hit me and burned me more than she did!"
"That's different , " Endeavor says, scowling. "I never hurt you in order to cause you pain. I only hurt you during training. It was for your own good. I did it because I love you."
He says it like he's speaking to a much younger child, patiently and matter-of-fact.
Shouto hates it. He hates how it makes him feel small, hates how it makes him doubt himself, that he must have misunderstood because he's too young. Adults know better, after all, don't they? There must be something he’s missing, something too complicated for him to understand-
He turns and runs back to his room, small feet pounding on the wooden floor, struggling to slam the sliding door shut.
"You'll be grateful for me when you're older," His father calls after him, and he sinks to the floor and sobs.
.
.
.
It’s not too long after that when his oldest brother burns out in a blaze of rampant fire.
His father turns even harsher after Touya’s death.
He screams at him whenever he messes up, calling him terrible things and threatening to abandon him, to throw him out and leave him to fend for himself, all while Shouto cries and sobs and begs for him to stop.
But he never stops, not until he’s worn himself out. It’s only then he seems to come back to himself, lifting him up and hugging him, stroking his hair as he apologizes, that he didn’t mean it because how could I possibly live without you?
And he’s so relieved to hear those words that he accepts his father’s apology at once, forgiving him yet again.
His father is not a bad person, he’s a hero, after all. He helps Shouto with homework and assigns him private tutors for subjects he struggles with and shows up to all of his school events. He’s a good parent.
So there must be something wrong with him , then. It’s because he continues to make mistakes, it’s because he can’t learn quick enough, that’s why his father has no choice but to yell at him.
He's been yelled at in front of other people before. People who saw him shaking and crying and did nothing. They did nothing because he deserved it, and they agreed.
Everything confirms that it was him. How can he possibly deny it?
.
.
.
Despite everything, he gets into UA. And he hates himself for it.
How can he be alive and well, while his oldest brother is nothing but ashes and broken dreams?
His existence has ruined his family. If he just hadn't been born, nothing would've gone wrong. His father would've kept training Touya, and he wouldn't have burned to death alone. His mother wouldn't be sick, wouldn't be in the hospital. Natsuo and Fuyumi wouldn't have grown up in such a broken home.
He should have never even existed. He remembers that hazy memory of flames and heat and the pieces of whispered conversations that followed, and thinks, Touya should have killed him then.
His life has tainted the world around him. There's something sharp and broken and displaced inside him, and as long as he's still alive he will continue to hurt people.
Touya would hate him if he were still alive. Touya, who'd wanted to be a hero so badly, who'd burned so brightly, too quickly.
Here Shouto is, at UA, the top hero school, receiving training from some of the best heroes in the country, with a strong, desirable Quirk. He has everything his brother would have wanted, his entire future laid out in front of him on a paved road, while having done absolutely nothing to earn it.
He's never worked for anything in his life. He has no motivation, no desire to be a hero. He has a strong Quirk because of his parents, he's good at using it because of his father, and he got into UA through a recommendation.
He's only got this far because of his father, he'd be nothing otherwise. He has decent grades due to private tutors, he's quiet and polite only because he's terrified he'll say the wrong thing. His grades in school have been passable, but never outstanding, because he's never worked that hard, he's not competitive or driven, no real desire to be the best.
He doesn't deserve this, he's not sure if he even wants this. But the mere thought of being anything other than a hero is unthinkable.
He has more reasons to hate himself than not, hurt more people than he's saved. He's painfully jealous of those who deserve to be alive, people who everyone would unanimously agree to their value.
By numbers alone, Endeavor deserves life more than he does.
All he can do is hope that when he becomes a hero and when he's saved enough people, he can be worthy of life as well.
So he lets time drift him across tormented waves.
.
.
.
Using his fire willingly for the first time in years is exhilarating.
At least, it is until his father comes back into the picture.
He says that he’s proud of him.
He’s proud of him, and he smiles and ruffles his hair and pats him on the back, and Shouto hates it, despite still craving Endeavor’s approval. His embrace feels suffocating, yet some part of him wishes that it never ends.
It feels wrong to be so uncomfortable with his own father, especially when he’s being so nice.
It’s times like these that tear him apart the most, that make him wish that Endeavor just stayed outright abusive.
He hates Endeavor, yet he loves him, admires him, always have, flinching away from his hands while still wanting to be touched and loved, wanting to scream in frustration because why doesn’t he feel safe with him?
Ultimately, it’s this that lands him in second place.
He expects Endeavor to turn a whole 180 after the results, but he just sighs and says he did well, with disappointment lingering in his eyes.
Shouto wishes that he would just hit him, beat him until he’s unconscious, maybe even starve him, but Endeavor does none of those things, leaving him to sink in a swamp of ambiguity.
.
.
.
UA hands out forms to determine which students are staying at the dorms over weekends.
He checks the option to stay without a second thought, but hesitates before putting it back inside his folder.
Endeavor won't like this. He was already reluctant to let Shouto live in the dorms during school weeks. Endeavor wants him right under his thumb, where he can monitor him.
But if he changes his option, he'll have to go back. Back to those brutal training sessions and a semblance of love. Shouto almost prefers the training over what happens after, he hates the way Endeavor's entire demeanor shifts in an instant, pretending that he cares. He hates the hopeful, pathetic voice of uncertainty in the back of his mind, whispering, maybe he really does love you.
This is his only chance to escape that entirely.
So he doesn't erase that checkmark, and hands it in the next day during homeroom with everyone else.
The moment he goes back to his room after school ends, he gets a call from Endeavor.
"What," He says flatly, knowing exactly what.
"UA informed me that you decided to stay at the dorms over weekends," Endeavor says bluntly.
"I did," Shouto confirms, keeping his voice carefully nonchalant. "What about it?"
"What were you thinking, Shouto?" His voice is patronizing, like he's scolding a small child. "How are you going to keep up without my help?"
"I'll be fine on my own," He snaps back, even as doubt spreads. What if Endeavor's right, and he falls behind? What if he's not enough?
No, this is just another one of his tactics. He's not a kid anymore, he's not stupid.
"Shouto, stop being so difficult," Endeavor says, and Shouto flinches as the slightest hint of anger starts to show through. "You need me."
"I don't need you," He retorts, digging his nails into his palms. He knows what Endeavor's trying to do, making him doubt himself so he has no choice but to rely on him, so that he can keep Shouto in his grasp. "I have to go, I have homework-"
"Don't ignore me, Shouto," Endeavor growls, making him freeze. "I'm calling the school right now so they can fix this."
"You can't do that," He argues, fear and hopelessness threatening to overtake him. UA's supposed to be safe, so why-
"Then I'll go there and tell them myself," Endeavor says calmly. "I'll burn UA to the ground if that's what it takes."
"That's illegal," He says, fighting to keep his voice level. "You can't-"
"I'm going over there right now so I can set this straight, so stay put."
The call clicks off before he can answer.
Fuck.
He knows Endeavor isn't going to burn down UA, he's far too concerned about his public image for that. But he's perfectly capable of removing him from the dorms, or even transferring him to a different hero school if UA refuses.
He hates the power that Endeavor holds over him, knowing that no matter what he does, he'll always be under his father's thumb, his name, his identity, will forever be bound to him.
His phone is on the floor, face-down on the tatami mats.
Furnishing his room to match that place was a terrible idea. With the feeling of the tatami under his bare feet, all he can think of is crying on his knees, begging, pleading for it to just stop, why can’t it just all go away-
He can’t stand to be in this room anymore, so he runs.
Shouto paces the hallway for a while, until he realizes how loud his footsteps are getting and abruptly turns to go downstairs.
Endeavor’s threats are usually just empty threats. He’s threatened to hurt him, abandon him, kill him, he’s even threatened to kill himself and have Shouto deal with the guilt and consequences, but he’s never done any of that. He’s just being irrational like always. He just needs to clear his head and calm down, and everything will be fine.
The common room is crowded with his classmates, now that it’s near dinnertime. He tries to walk across the room as quickly and inconspicuously as possible, but just as he’s nearing the door, a certain green-haired boy blocks his path.
“Where are you going?” Midoriya asks, his wide green eyes staring into his soul.
“Just for a walk,” Shouto says quickly.
Midoriya’s eyes narrow in suspicion, but he doesn’t comment on it. “Alright, just come back before-”
The door swings open, and Shoto tenses, so certain it’s going to be Endeavor, that he’s going to yell at him and drag him out in front of everyone-
But it’s just Aizawa.
His teacher's eyes narrow at his flinch, and inwardly he berates himself for it. He's such an ungrateful, attention-seeking thing and all he can think about is Endeavor clapping him on the back, chuckling and saying, Loosen up, Shouto, people are going to think I abuse you, and stop pretending you're scared of me, Shouto.
"Todoroki," Aizawa says calmly, his dark eyes unreadable. "Come with me."
"I-" He starts, about to refuse, because he doesn't think he can keep himself together right now, but one look at Aizawa's face tells him that he's not going to let him.
He closes his mouth and nods.
"I'll go with you," Midoriya blurts out.
Aizawa raises an eyebrow.
“You don’t have to,” Shouto says quickly. Normally, he would be more opposed to being alone with an adult, but he trusts Aizawa enough to know that he won’t hurt him.
Midoriya hesitates, then nods reluctantly.
Aizawa beckons him silently, and he follows him outside the dorms.
“I received a call from your father,” He says, always straight to the point. “He said that you had made a mistake on the form, and that you’re going to be returning home during the weekends. Is this true?”
He shakes his head.
“Okay. I believe you.”
He blinks, barely daring to hope. “Really?”
“Yes.”
That answer alone nearly makes him cry.
Aizawa sighs, shifting his capture weapon around his neck. “I don’t want to overstep boundaries, but as a teacher, I have to intervene if there’s anything going on.”
“It’s not what you think it is,” He says, defensive. He knows that people tend to draw false conclusions about his scar. “He doesn’t hurt me. My mother did this.”
If Aizawa's surprised by that, he doesn't show it. He just lets out a soft sigh before speaking again.
"I don't know if other adults may have overlooked it in the past, but it's clear that you're hiding something."
"I don't know what you're talking about," He insists, even as something in him bends and breaks.
If it was that obvious that he needed help, why did no one-
No, that's not it. He's the one who built up walls against prying eyes, who brushed off any concerns with 'I'm fine'. Deep down, what he really wanted was for someone to break past those walls and help him, but how were they supposed to know? He's just being selfish and self-centered, because he's not the only one with problems, and he shouldn't be expecting help over something so irrelevant and small.
“He hurt me sometimes,” He says, deciding that partial truth will be enough to satisfy his teacher. “But he apologized, so it’s fine.”
“If he apologized and repeated the same actions, then that wasn’t a genuine apology.”
“That’s not-”
“An apology only counts as an apology when the person expresses genuine regret and tries to fix their behavior,” Aizawa answers, unrelenting. “This is not the case with your father. I doubt he has ever felt regret for his actions. Even now, he’s still trying to control you.”
Shouto’s mind is reeling. Everything his teacher is saying makes sense, logically, but there’s something inside him that rejects it so strongly.
“It’s my fault,” He says, searching for an excuse. “I messed up, so…I deserved it.”
Aizawa looks at him with something like sorrow in his eyes.
“Did you really?”
Deep down, he knows that he didn’t, he knows that he was just a kid, and that he couldn’t have done any better. That bright, wide-eyed kid didn't deserve to be hit until he threw up, even if his current self might deserve it.
“Yes,” He forces out, teeth gritted, because it's easier to hate that child than acknowledge the real problem.
“You know that’s not true. You were just a child.”
“Well, I’m not a child anymore,” He snaps, hating how sharp and bitter his voice sounds. Just goes to prove that he’s a terrible person, that he ends up lashing out at everyone who tries to help him.
Aizawa's eyes soften. "You're fifteen. You still are a child."
He is fifteen, but he’s not a child. He doubts he ever was. Children don’t deserve to be hurt, so his younger self must have been wrong enough to warrant that.
His thoughts turn into a twisted spiral, angled ever downward. He was born broken and he will die broken, the child born of a Quirk marriage was never going to be anything good, he’s never done a single thing right, he should die and relieve the world of such a poisoned thing like him-
“Todoroki.”
He feels hands on his shoulders, a gentle pressure, easing him out of the spiral. His eyes burn and his throat feels tight, and when he tries to breathe, a strangled sound comes out of him. He coughs to cover the sound, heat rushing to his face.
He doesn’t want to look into Aizawa’s eyes, scared of what he’ll find there. He’s scared of teachers, had one too many encounters where their eyes slid right over his bandages and puffy eyes and those awful counseling sessions where they’d sit him down with his father and say things like this child would be hopeless without his Quirk and this child has no direction, and he couldn’t even say anything because everything was true.
“Nothing that happened to you was your fault.”
He just stares at the ground in disbelief.
“You were a child, and you deserved love and care. You didn’t deserve to be hurt.”
“But he apologized,” He whispers, the excuse falling short on his lips.
“Those were empty words. I’m sorry, kid.”
“You don’t know that,” Shouto says sharply, pulling back. “He apologized and I messed up again. I should’ve done better, if I just didn’t mess up he wouldn’t have had to-”
“Kids are allowed to make mistakes. Adults, on the other hand, should take responsibility for what they did wrong. Nobody should’ve ever done that to you.”
He wants to disagree, because that only applies to good people, not him. But the way Aizawa says it makes him want to believe it so badly.
“Do you really believe that?” He asks quietly, searching his expression.
His teacher gives him a sad smile. “Of course I do, kid.”
“You’re the first person to ever say something like that.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, kid.” He opens his arms slightly. “Do you want a hug?”
He nods, and Aizawa smiles. “Alright, c’mere.”
The hug feels firm but safe, warm. Nothing like he’s ever felt with his own father, who has always been suffocating and hard-edged, even when he was being nice to him.
Thankfully, Aizawa doesn’t say anything about the new dampness on his shirt.
For the first time in his life, he feels safe and loved, despite the ever-constant fear in the back of his mind telling him that this will not last, he feels like this time, it’s going to be okay.