Chapter Text
Shouto was worried.
It had been five days since he’d seen or talked to Touya, five days since their… fight? Were they fighting? Was this something normal siblings would do? He had no idea. He’d done some research online, feeling unsure about the results since most of them seemed to target parents dealing with squabbling children. One English language source had claimed that “observational studies have shown that sibling conflict may happen up to eight times an hour.”
He couldn’t imagine fighting Touya eight times an hour.
He’d considered texting his brother, but he never knew what to type once he’d picked up his phone. “Can we talk” or “How are you” or “Are you still alive” perhaps, but he always ended up deleting everything or leaving the message in the drafts folder. His only conversations in the normal text app were with his mum and Touya, everyone else was using LINE.
Was it normal for siblings to fight if they had barely interacted as kids, if both of them had suffered under their abusive father, if one of them had ended up as a mass murderer who’d almost died trying to kill his brother, but who had also fought for his life afterwards so he could spend time with said brother?
Maybe he shouldn’t look for answers online, maybe he should ask one of his friends instead. Midoriya had no siblings, neither did Bakugou (who wouldn’t be the first one he’d ask anyway) nor Yaoyorozu or Uraraka.
But Iida had an older brother, the former pro hero Ingenium, Iida Tensei. He’d been injured by Stain, driving Iida to recklessly pursue the hero killer many years ago. Shouto would know, he’d been there after all.
He also remembered that there was a pretty big age gap between the two brothers. He and Touya weren’t that far apart, but it was still (probably?) different than having a fight with someone who was only one year older.
He took out his phone, unlocked it and opened the LINE app. He hadn’t talked to Iida directly since their graduation. They weren’t all that close, but he didn’t think that the former class rep would refuse to answer his question because of that.
Me:
Iida, it’s me, Todoroki Shouto. I wanted to ask you something about your brother.
There, sent. He wondered how long it would take for Iida to reply.
He locked the phone and put it on the coffee table in front of him. It was a weekday, but he had three weeks off, which had nothing to do with his “fight” with Touya. He hadn’t taken any time off since starting his work as a pro hero apart from three days around Christmas (on Fuyumi’s insistence).
Shouto let out a long exhale, sinking deeper into the expensive designer couch in front of the expensive wall-mounted TV in his combined kitchen and living room area. It was almost dark, the sun setting early since it was February, but he couldn’t be bothered to turn on any lights. He turned his head towards the ceiling to floor windows, looking at all the glittering lights of Akasaka.
He thought back to Touya’s twenty-seventh birthday around one month ago. It had been a Saturday, otherwise Shouto would’ve skipped his hero work on that day. It had been Fuyumi’s idea to spend the day together, the three of them ending up on Shouto’s expensive designer couch, watching a movie on his expensive wall-mounted TV. Fuyumi had tried to talk Touya into going somewhere during the day, to Kiyosumi Gardens or something similar, but their brother had refused to move from Shouto’s couch once he’d arrived. He’d apparently received a call from their parents earlier, which had left him in a gloomy mood.
Natsuo hadn’t called or texted any of them on that day.
The day had ended with Fuyumi leaving for her home, a sad smile on her face as she waved him good-bye outside his apartment and with Touya passed out on the couch five minutes into the movie. Shouto had covered him with one of his many blankets (he’d bought a few more after noticing how much his brother seemed to like his first one, making sure to choose smooth fabrics that would minimise the risk of staples getting caught in them) and had sat down at the kitchen table, looking down at the city lights, unsure about how to feel. Touya had ended up staying the night, as he usually did, but they hadn’t really talked about anything on the next day.
And here Shouto was, still unsure about to feel about the fact that his brother would turn thirty in a few years, about the fact that he never graduated middle school, about the fact that he had absolutely no friends, about the fact that he just spent his days in Shouto’s apartment, shrugging off his brother’s questions about changing any of those facts.
He’d heard the entire exchange between Midoriya and Touya. His friend had been right to ask those things. It had made Shouto realise that it couldn’t continue like this. That conversation had opened his eyes to the fact that his brother truly didn’t care about those he’d killed, that he had no intentions to make amends, that he didn’t even seem to appreciate the new chance he’d gotten at life.
Shouto cared about his brother, cared about him so much that it hurt at times. Seeing him in that horrible tank and that stupid designer deathbed room every week for two years, listening to his ramblings, watching him cry as he begged Shouto to stay, hearing him say “I’m sorry” over and over, seeing him lucid again after his miraculous recovery, getting to talk to him on his graduation day and finally being able to see him outside of hospital-adjacent settings and seeing him alive had probably clouded his judgement on these things.
What kind of hero would he be if he just ignored Dabi’s horrible past deeds?
He didn’t want his brother to go to prison. He wanted him to apologise in earnest to the victims’ families and he wanted him to live a proper life on his own. Shouto didn’t know how he was supposed to push his brother in that direction. Maybe he couldn’t. Maybe Touya had to make that choice by himself, maybe Ieiri-san could convince him to make some changes.
But he still wanted to help.
His thoughts were interrupted by the buzzing of his phone on the coffee table. He scrambled to pick it up, hoping for a text from Touya.
But it was the LINE app instead.
Iida Tenya:
Good evening, Todoroki-kun! What would you like to know?
Me:
I think I got into a fight with Touya-nii. I don’t know what to do. Did you ever have a fight with your brother?
Iida Tenya:
Are you alright? Did Dabi attack you?
Shouto frowned at that. He knew that he couldn’t blame his former classmates for seeing his brother as anything but Dabi. He hadn’t exactly kept them up to date on his family issues. He also knew that he was biased, but it still stung a little to think that everyone would think that Touya was still out to kill him.
Me:
No, not that kind of fight. We had a disagreement, I asked him to leave, now I haven’t heard from him in five days.
Iida Tenya:
I apologise! It was rude of me to assume. I do not remember ever getting into an argument with Nii-san. However, there were a lot of times when we did not communicate for weeks on end because of his work. Have you tried reaching out to your brother?
Well. He hadn’t, all he’d done was delete countless texts without sending any of them.
Why was he so bad at this?
Me:
I considered it, but I always ended up deleting the texts before sending, I don’t know why.
Shouto watched as the “Iida Tenya is typing…” message kept appearing and disappearing.
He shouldn’t have bothered his former classmate with this.
Iida Tenya:
I do not know what your argument was about and I will not pry. But I believe that reaching out is the first step. If your brother does not contact you I suggest that you contact him instead. Reaching out is not mutually exclusive with approaching the subject of your disagreement. I suggest thinking about how you would like to discuss the conflict, I strongly suggest not ignoring it entirely. I could link you some helpful resources that might help you prepare for that particular conversation!
Shouto let out a huff, feeling the corners of his mouth pull up into a small smile. Iida had always tried his best to help everyone in their class, even those that he wasn’t close with. It seemed that nothing had changed in that regard.
Me:
Sure, send them over. You’re right, I’ll text him now. Thanks, class rep.
Iida Tenya:
Anytime! Give me a few minutes to compile a comprehensive reading list.
Of course there was going to be a “comprehensive reading list”.
Shouto let out a sigh, running a hand through his hair. Maybe he should call Touya instead of texting. He really wanted get started with resolving this now.
He opened his contacts, hesitating slightly before tapping his brother’s name in the list.
His heart beat a little faster as he listened to the dial tone. What if Touya ignored him?
“Shouto?”
He frowned. That wasn’t Touya.
“Dad? Why do you have Touya-nii’s phone?”
“I’m sorry, Shouto. I didn’t have the time to call you yet.”
His heart started racing, his hands suddenly so clammy that he almost lost his hold on the phone.
“Why do you have Touya-nii’s phone? Did something happen to him?”
No, no, no, this couldn’t be. He couldn’t lose his brother now.
Don’t leave me, Touya-nii.
I’m sorry.
“I sent the medical team to his apartment after the police informed me that he didn’t attend his last therapy session. They found him unconscious in his bedroom. He’s back at the facility. He hasn’t woken up yet, but he’s stable for now.”
For now.
Shouto stood up, raced towards the front door, grabbed his keys from the tenbukuro, shoved them into his pockets and grabbed one of his jackets without looking before his father had finished talking.
“I’m on my way.”
He slipped into his shoes, pushed open the front door and slammed it shut behind him, not caring if he disturbed other residents with the noise.
“You can’t see him, Shouto. The police is investigating the situation. He might have broken the terms of the contract.”
“I don’t care. Make something happen. I need to see him.”
“Shouto-“
He ended the call before his father could continue.
Shit.
He’d already made it out the building without realising, sprinting towards Nogizaka Station. It’d take him at least thirty minutes to get to the facility.
His phone was ringing. It was his old man.
Shouto muted the phone and declined the call, running down the steps to the train platforms.
What if Touya never woke up again? What if they never got a chance to talk? What if his brother had already lost his last chance at life?
Shit, this couldn’t be happening.
He had to focus on keeping his right side in check, feeling the cold creep up his arm. Losing control of his ice in public because he was panicking would be less than ideal.
The train arrived. He’d have to change trains after a few minutes.
He didn’t have it in him to sit down after stepping through the doors.
His phone vibrated once. He pulled it out of his pocket.
Iida Tenya:
This should provide you with all the necessary information. Do not hesitate to contact me in case you require further materials! Good luck, Todoroki-kun!
The former class rep had sent a second message with a link to an online document.
Shouto let out a choked laugh, ignoring the glances from other passengers.
He really, really hoped that he’d have a reason to go through Iida’s comprehensive reading list later.
Me:
Thanks, it means a lot.
He put the phone away as the train arrived at Kasumigaseki Station.
It would be fine. Touya would be fine. He’d survived two years of hell, he’d be fine.
Everything would be fine.
He pushed past the other commuters on his way to the other platform. He knew that he’d have to wait for the next train anyway, but he couldn’t stand shuffling along slowly right now.
His phone vibrated again. He pulled it out of his pocket.
The old man again.
Shouto stared at the caller ID for a few seconds, ultimately deciding to take the call.
“I’m almost there. I’m not going to leave until you let me see him.”
“That’s not up to me, Shouto.”
“But you’re allowed to see him?”
“Yes, but I’m his legal guardian. He’s stable, as I said, but he’s not awake yet. There’s nothing you can do.”
His left hand clenched around the phone, feeling warmer than usual. He really needed to get a hold of his quirk.
“I don’t care. Just tell security that I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”
He ended the call.
Shouto stepped onto the second train, forcing himself to take some deep breaths. How did this happen? Touya had been at his apartment just five days ago, flipping through that cat magazine Fuyumi had left there a few months prior while also starting an argument with Midoriya for no good reason. Shouto had told him to leave without even looking at him. He’d returned to an empty apartment later, feeling a sense of relief as he’d finally had the space to himself again.
What had happened to Touya after that? He’d obviously made it home. He had to attend therapy four times a week, but the old man had said that he’d missed one day, not several. Why was he unconscious in his apartment? Had his brother gone back to taking drugs? Getting his hands on those wouldn’t be impossible for him, but would Touya really jeopardise everything now? He’d be taken off the programme and incarcerated immediately if he consumed any drugs, legal or illegal. The only exception would be those prescribed by the team of turbo doctors, but Touya hadn’t told him about any prescriptions.
Don’t leave me, Touya-nii.
I’m sorry.
He’d arrived at Tokyo Station, pushing past commuters, sprinting up the stairs and onto the busy streets of Marunouchi. He knew exactly where to go, his legs moving on autopilot. He’d come here too many times. He’d hoped that he’d never have to make this trip again.
There it was, that nondescript white office building that he’d never wanted to see again. He stepped into the elevator, impatiently mashing the “13” button, willing everything to go faster.
He saw his own reflection in the giant mirror wall. He looked like he’d seen a ghost.
Bing.
The familiar, soft sound of the expensive-looking elevator doors sliding open was followed by the familiar sight of the clean, nondescript white walls of the 13th floor’s main corridor. Shouto exited the elevator, making a turn to his left, his steps muffled by the expensive-looking cream-coloured carpet. He didn’t have it in him to feel guilty about walking on it with his regular shoes.
He sprinted towards the end of the corridor, facing the clean, nondescript white door, no signs, no hints, no option to demand entry other than the retinal scanner to its left.
Shouto lifted his hand to move his red hair out of the way, leaning forward to position his left eye in front of the scanner, taking shuddering breaths.
“Identity confirmed. Welcome, Todoroki Shouto.”
The clean, nondescript white door slid open, the sound just as soft and familiar as the elevator doors.
He ignored the guard to his left.
“Ah, Shouto-kun, Endeavour-san said that you were coming.”
The young receptionist seated behind the counter swivelled to face him in her expensive-looking office chair. She did not offer him a warm smile.
He placed his cold hands on top of the smooth, expensive-feeling counter.
“Kanagawa-san. I’m here to see Touya-nii.”
She nodded sympathetically.
“Endeavour-san is with him right now.”
He really didn’t want to talk to the old man, but putting up with him now would still be better than not being able to see Touya.
“Thank you.”
She swivelled in her expensive-looking office chair to press the button to her right that was hidden from Shouto’s sight.
He turned to the familiar, soft sound of another door sliding open, one to a room that he had never set foot in. A different armed guard stepped out.
“Maki will be with you after you pass security.”
He turned to follow the guard to the nearby security section, approaching the full-body scanner, waiting for the next guard’s hand signal. He barely kept himself from just sprinting past all this pointless security garbage.
His current guard pointed at the small plastic trays stacked in front of the X-ray device. He emptied his pockets, having brought nothing but his phone and apartment keys.
The guard on the other side of the scanner waved him through. Shouto stepped under the scanner, the quiet rattle of the plastic tray making its way through the X-ray device grating on his ears.
The familiar, soft sound of the successful scan that found no suspicious objects on his person (it never did) was his cue to lift his arms, allowing the guard to pat him down.
The guard nodded their assent after this final check. Shouto all but sprinted down the next corridor.
Another expensive-looking cream-coloured carpet was dirtied by his shoes, another clean, nondescript white door awaited him at the end of the corridor, no signs, no hints, no option to demand entry other than the small camera to its left.
“Sasaki-san.”
The familiar, soft sound of the door sliding open was followed by the familiar sight of Sasaki-san, her face partially covered by a white face mask.
Sasaki-san greeted him with a slight bow. He didn’t return it, not having the patience for etiquette right now.
“Shouto-kun. Follow me, please.”
Sasaki-san made a turn to her right, followed by Shouto, followed by the armed guard.
The trio arrived at their destination after having dirtied another expensive-looking cream-coloured carpet with their shoes: Another clean, nondescript white door, no signs, no hints, no option to demand entry other than the final retinal scanner to its left.
Sasaki-san held an arm out, indicating the scanner, reminding Shouto of a pre-flight safety demonstration typically conducted on commercial airplanes.
“Please.”
He lifted his shaking hand to move his red hair out of the way, leaning forward to position his left eye in front of the scanner.
“Identity confirmed. Welcome, Todoroki Shouto.”
The familiar, soft sound of the door sliding open was followed by the familiar sight of Touya’s overpriced designer prison deathbed.
No amount of expensive bed sheets could distract Shouto from the tower of medical equipment set up next to his brother’s side. The one that he still hated the most was the heart rate monitor in the centre of it, its slow, steady beeping a reminder of the precious seconds of his brother’s life ticking down.
Shouto approached the bed, his shoes leaving indents in the expensive-looking light blue carpet. His old man was there in his wheelchair, right next to the expensive-looking designer chair.
Todoroki Enji turned the wheelchair around to face his youngest son.
“Shouto.”
He didn’t have it in him to tear his gaze away from his unconscious brother, staring at the oxygen mask strapped to the elder’s disfigured face, staring as it fogged up with every breath.
“Do you know what happened?”
His father turned his wheelchair back around to face the bed.
“No. The police is investigating.”
Shouto sat down slowly, hoping that the familiar, soft sound of the expensive-looking designer cushion being compressed under his weight would not disturb his brother.
He reached out to take Touya’s right hand, holding it gently in his own.
“There is one possible explanation for this.”
Shouto turned his head at that.
Blue eyes, the same colour as Touya’s.
They weren’t looking at him.
“What do you mean? You said the police is still investigating.”
Endeavour kept his gaze on his oldest son.
“The team had prescribed him a new, untested brand of sleeping pills a while ago. The opened bottle was on his nightstand when they found him.”
Shouto frowned.
“Then why is there still an investigation?”
“The police needs to make sure that he didn’t break the terms of the contract. It’s possible that he overdosed on purpose.”
He lifted his left hand, running his thumb across the inside of his brother’s lower arm, the synthetic skin feeling strangely cold under his own organic one.
“Why’d they prescribe him something that’s not tested? His body isn’t that strong, you know that.”
Beep. Beep.
“They prescribed him regular sleeping pills in the past, but it appears that they’re ineffective. He agreed to this himself.”
He didn’t know that his brother had trouble sleeping. Touya spent a lot of nights on Shouto’s expensive designer couch or in his guest room. He slept a lot during the day and seemed to doze off easily, but he’d never mentioned problems with sleeping at night. Shouto had assumed that he needed that much rest during daytime due to his weak body and immune system.
He felt like all of this was his fault somehow. Had he upset his brother enough to make him overdose on some untested drugs? Or was there another explanation?
Don’t leave me, Touya-nii.
I’m sorry.
“You should go home, Shouto. Touya will be fine. I’ll inform you if anything changes.”
Shouto knew that his father was right. He couldn’t do anything right now.
He lifted his right hand, letting his index finger land between his brother’s brows, dragging a line down the bridge of his nose.
“I’ll be back tomorrow.”
Touya looked like he was asleep, burnt eyelids closed, his chest rising and falling slowly on its own, no ventilator required. The oxygen mask fogged up with every breath.
Shouto pulled back his hands very gently.
He stood up slowly, hoping that the familiar, soft sound of the expensive-looking designer cushion being decompressed would not disturb his brother.
He turned around and walked away from the bed, not looking back at his father, his shoes leaving indents in the expensive-looking light blue carpet, until he was stood before the clean, nondescript white door.
The familiar, soft sound of the door sliding open was followed by the familiar sight of Sasaki-san, shadowed by the towering armed guard.
Beep. Beep.
“Thank you. I’m ready to leave.”