Chapter Text
You sigh, slumping into your desk. Another day of filling out countless applications, another day of no responses.
You suppose you shouldn't be surprised. UA grad or not, you're still quirkless. There’re dozens of better candidates out there.
Maybe not all of their quirks are suited to office work, or retail, or anything like that, but still, the quirkless are a dying group. A lot of quirked folks are uncomfortable with people like you, always feeling the need to pity you, or be extra gentle around you.
Certainly there's some groups out there who would kill to get a 'pure' human like yourself, but you're nowhere near desperate enough to actually take a job with any of them.
Slowly, you drag yourself upright again, and head toward your bed. Tomorrow you'll start the search anew.
Your eyes are still foggy from sleep when you fumble for the phone on your nightstand. You have to blink a few times to convince yourself that the blurry reading of the notification on your screen is accurate.
Job Offer - Todoroki Agency
You hadn't really been paying attention to all of the places you'd applied to recently. After a long enough time working at it, it all starts to blend together.
But this one, while you don't recall sending the application, has a name that anyone your age would remember.
Todoroki. The same name as the disgraced former number one hero, the one who'd taken the position after All Might's retirement, after years and years holding the second-place spot.
Everyone remembers the day the world tried to end, when the villains staged their uprising, and attempted to shake faith in heroes by revealing the awful things the man called Endeavor had done.
You remember something else, though.
You remember the quiet boy in the same year as you, though he was obviously in the hero course rather than general studies. You didn't see too much of him - the school keeps the hero students particularly busy, and that was an especially difficult year at the school.
But you did see him. You saw him move from being a complete loner to making awkward efforts to have friends. You remember how he fought to defend the school when things started to get bad.
You only spoke to him a couple of times, but you remember.
You remember the time since the end of the great upheaval, where his name was constantly being dragged through the mud because of his father's actions. You always felt bad for him.
You take a breath and tap on the email.
It's a typically formal thing, inviting you for an interview and potentially a job as the secretary of the new Todoroki Agency.
You can hardly believe it. The first place willing to take a chance on you.
You wonder if he remembers you, but you doubt it.
After all, you're just a quirkless nobody, only notable because you got accepted into UA.
Still, the thrill of finally getting a chance stirs your heart, and you leap out of bed with more energy than you've felt in a long time.
You arrive at the agency early, dressed as nicely as you could manage. Though that's just standard advice to make a good impression during an interview, you admit some additional anxiety motivating you.
Whatever the rest of the world might think of him because of his family name, to you this is Todoroki, one of UA's 'Big Three' alongside Bakugo and of course Midoriya - the trio who'd inherited the titles from their seniors after they graduated.
Togata, Amajiki, and Hado were impressive in their own right of course. But the group in your year, they were 'your' Big Three.
With a last deep breath that does little to calm your nerves, you step into the building.
It's fairly modern looking construction, a lot of windows, a few plants. The decor is about what you'd find in the lobby of any old corporate office or hotel.
There's a large desk that sits empty to one side, opposite a collection of chairs and small tables. That desk would be yours, if you get the job.
You stand there for an awkward moment, then find your way to one of the chairs. It's as uncomfortable as any in these kinds of waiting areas, only worsened by your nerves.
There's no clock in the room, but you'd swear you can hear one ticking away.
You check your phone, looking to make sure you had the correct time.
A door opens.
You shove the phone back in your pocket and quickly get to your feet.
There he is. Shoto - though knowing that's his first name as well as his hero name makes you feel like you shouldn't use it. It'd be far too informal, even if you have met briefly in the past.
It's not like he'd remember it, though.
But you certainly remember him. He looks just the way he did when you last saw him in the news. You see lots of the hero course kids from your year in the news. Mostly Midoriya, but all of them make reasonably frequent appearances.
It's funny, but perhaps not surprising, how little you've heard of your own class since graduation. You still text or email a couple friends, of course, but you've lost track of most of general studies. You probably know more about the current exploits of the support course than your class.
That's the way it goes, though. None of you were destined for the spotlight like the heroes. Not even for the backstage like support.
You pull yourself out of your musings and offer a deep bow. "Todoroki. It's good to meet you."
Though it's technically a lie, you wouldn't want to make him feel awkward about not remembering you if you had said 'good to see you again' instead.
He seems to hesitate, but returns your bow, calling your name as he does, and then gesturing to the seating area you'd just stood up from.
You sit back down, and he takes a chair off to the side, shuffling some pages in his lap.
"So, ah. What makes you want to work here?" Todoroki asks, fidgeting with the corners of the pages even as he tries to keep eye contact.
Surely he wouldn't be nervous. Maybe there's lingering controversy around him thanks to his father, but his record should speak for itself - he's a great hero already.
"Well, I..." You debate admitting that you actually did know him before. You certainly can't say that this is the only offer you've gotten for an interview so far. You'd hate to look desperate.
You shuffle in your seat and refold your hands.
"As a fellow UA alum, I'd like to support our heroes in whatever way I can." You pause, frowning and casting your eyes at the floor. You can't help a small self-depreciating comment as your confidence falters, even though you know you shouldn't. "...I might not be able to do much without a quirk, but I can definitely take care of this."
When you dare to look again, he nods. It seems he's taken to dog-earing the corners of some of the pages. Folding and unfolding them.
He must be marking something for later reference.
"You went to UA...?" He blinks, then corrects himself. Folds another page corner. "Right, you mentioned UA on your application. You must have been business course?"
"General studies, actually."
"Oh, of course." He flips the pages a couple times. "Right. Next is, um... next..." He sighs and folds the whole stack of papers in half.
You wait politely for him to find his thoughts.
After a moment, he swallows. "Actually, I... I'd like to offer you the job." His voice cracks ever so slightly as he says it.
You blink a few times, staring at him, certain you must have misheard.
He coughs, clears his throat and tries again, more clearly this time. "I'd like to offer you the job. Uh, if you're interested." He cuts himself off, as if realizing how ridiculous that statement was.
You don't comment on it, though. You're far too thrilled by the prospect of actually getting an offer, and you wouldn't dare say anything that might embarrass him.
"I--yes. I'd love to." You answer, trying not to trip over your own words in the process as the pure elation and gratitude floods you. You bow your head.
"There's some paperwork, obviously, but um. When can you start?"
"As soon as you want." All effort not to sound too desperate has left you. Finally. Finally. The search might be over.
You resolve to throw yourself into the position with everything you've got, and be the absolute best secretary you can.
...Plus Ultra, right?
Even so, it takes a couple weeks to truly find your footing.
Todoroki hasn't seemed to mind the few slip ups and errors in the beginning, though. If anything, he's appeared just as relieved to have the day-to-day scheduling and management off his plate as you are to be working for him.
And those few mistakes are quickly becoming rarer. You've been making a tremendous effort to ensure that.
Your desk, the one in the lobby that you'd noted on the day of your interview, is neat and organized. You have a digital version of Shoto's schedule, and a physical planner with the day's agenda always close at hand. A couple sticky notes with important reminders decorate both the planner and the computer monitor.
Every morning you get in early, check over the day's schedule, prepare a report on it along with recent news and crime reports, and remind Shoto of other things he has coming up in the next week.
A few days into your job, you start attempting to make sure that the tea he likes is ready for him by the time he arrives. You mess up preparing it the first couple times, but he doesn't say anything. You can tell from his expression, though.
And just as clearly, you can tell the first time you actually get it perfect.
Surprise shifts into a subtle smile. You don't see him smile often. Even back in school, you can only think of maybe one time you'd seen it.
Honestly, he doesn't say a whole lot either. Though his silence doesn't have any discomfort to it - certainly not like the nervousness you felt during your interview. He listens intently to your reports over his morning tea, nods and asks a couple of brief questions when he needs to.
And he always thanks you - once after your report, and again before you leave the office each night.
It's... nice. In a way it almost makes you feel as if your school days never ended, though that's obviously impossible. A general studies kid like you would have never mingled so closely with hero course like this. Certainly not on a daily basis.
It's been about a month since you started now, and things are undeniably going well. One odd thing (though you actually really appreciate it) is that Shoto has never once even commented on the fact that you're quirkless. You're honestly not sure if he even knows, though you mentioned it once during your interview, and surely it has to be obvious even if you hadn't.
All your life it's been the first thing people ask you about - what's it like, does it feel weird to be part of a dying group, what did your parents think - things like that. You understand why they'd be curious, but it's still tiring, hearing it all the time, as if it's all that your life consists of is not having a quirk. As if you didn't have hobbies or anything else interesting going on.
You look up from your idle daydreaming when you hear the door chime and see your boss stroll in, covering a yawn.
You stand up from your seat and expertly pour his tea, handling him the cup and the print out of your morning report.
"Good morning, Shoto." You say with a smile, returning to your seat. You're slowly becoming more comfortable with the idea of calling him that, after significant insistence from him during your first week.
He takes one of the chairs on the opposite side of the desk, as he usually does, taking a slow breath, inhaling the refreshing scent of his favorite blend. You're not sure where to actually find the brand, but you fully intend to find out before the tin runs empty. As particular as he is about his tea, you'd hate to change up the blend on him.
"So, you have a couple of patrols today, and Deku and Uravity contacted you about..." You pause, noticing that he's staring at you. "Shoto, sir?"
"Ah, sorry." He seems to refocus, but only partially.
You offer him an understanding smile. "Didn't sleep well?" Even in this relatively short timeframe, it's a pattern you've noticed. He's often tired in the mornings, and frequently looks nearly exhausted. You haven't really pressed him on it, but he's made a couple brief allusions to nightmares.
You suppose that would only make sense, with everything he's had to deal with.
"No, I..." Shoto shakes his head and tries again. "No. I've just been thinking, you said we were in the same grade at UA."
Again, you hurry to cover for him. "Well, a lot happened that first year. And I was just in general studies. It's not like you would have seen much of me."
He frowns subtly as you say the part about general studies, but you're not sure why. Just as he starts to say whatever might've been on his mind, the door chimes again.
"Todoroki."
The voice is harsh, loud, and laced with murderous intent. You barely register the man's bulky frame as he reaches into his vest and pulls on some kind of cord.
The world slows to a crawl.
"Son of Endeavor." The stranger spits the last word.
Shoto leaps to his feet and ice ripples out, starting to build a wall.
Everything goes white.
You hear a high-pitched whine that gradually resolves into a lower ringing sound. Everything else is muffled. You can only just make out Shoto yelling something as he pushes you back.
You stumble, tripping over your own feet, while a large chunk of what used to be the ceiling lands where you had just been standing.
Where Shoto now is.
It hits his head, knocking him over, and another chunk of debris lands on his back, pinning him to the floor.
You scurry back and pull your knees up to your chest.
The office... There's almost nothing recognizable left of it. Your desk, your notes, Shoto's favorite tea...
The man who barged in, you remember, chilling your blood to ice.
But you don't see any sign of him either.
"Shoto?" Your own voice sounds so far away, as if you were hearing the echo of a large cavern ringing back to you.
You reach out and shake his shoulder. "Shoto!"
He stirs slightly, but you can't understand what he's saying.
With trembling hands and only just now noticing the blood trailing down your arms, you reach for your phone. The screen is cracked, spiderwebbed by the impact. The edges of the cracks slice your finger, but you have to make this call.
"Deku... Please hurry..."
You can't hear the reply, at least not well enough to resolve any words. You drop the phone, cradling your finger even as other bits of stinging pain start to make themselves known to you from all across your limbs.
You look at Shoto, what you can see of him, the heavy chunk of wall pinning him to the floor.
Your eyes burn with tears, aching from the fine particulate in the air and the emotional toll of what just happened, something only just starting to hit you now as you start to replay the memory.
It hurts. It hurts.
And yet...
Shoto...
You look at him, lying there helpless.
You can't help but think about yourself. About how all your life you've been treated as weak and useless. How low the expectations were, just because you were born quirkless. Even getting accepted to UA was treated as a fluke, just a bit of luck, something that would never amount to anything.
You remember that time at lunch, when Bakugo - the hero course's resident bully - had bumped into you. He hit you hard, sending you sprawling on the floor, your food spilling all over.
He hadn't even apologized. In fact, he snarled, telling you to watch where you were going.
As the tears had welled up in your eyes, a certain boy with red and white hair had helped you up. He was a bit awkward and quiet, but he offered to give you his soba, or to help you get something else so you wouldn't go hungry.
He even apologized for Bakugo.
It didn't matter that you were general studies and he was hero course. It didn't matter that you were quirkless. He cared.
You sob. Now he's lying there, having protected you again, and you can't... You can't...
Taking a deep, shuddering breath, you wish you could do something for him. Something more than just summoning the other heroes.
But you're quirkless.
You could never...
Without really thinking about it, you find your hands on the edge of the debris. Though your arms burn from the shallow cuts dotting them, you grip the hunk of wall that's currently crushing the one person who's always been kind to you.
The person who always gave you a chance. Who held out his hand. Who never once looked down on you or called you less capable.
Your muscles tense, and you start to shift the debris.
Maybe everyone else in your life was right - you can't do much. But you can do this.
You throw the chunk of wall off of Shoto, hearing a faint gasp of relief from him as the pressure is removed.
And then, you stagger and fall over.
Your vision darkens.
You can only pray that the heroes arrive soon.