Work Text:
Present - 4 months after the final war
Tomiko was closing up the till when she heard the little bell above the entrance ding. Dang it! She must have forgotten to put out the CLOSED sign again. Nearing her 70th birthday, it has become harder and harder to run the shop by herself and keep track of everything, but she never made enough profit to hire someone to help. She could have closed it and retired, she supposed, but then this village would be left without a store and all the old folk, herself included, would have to make the 90-minute roundtrip to the next town for basic necessities. Plus, this way, she got to see people every day.
Her eyesight was not the best, but she could make out the silhouette backlit by the evening sun. The late visitor was a young man… no… more like boy in his mid-teens. He greeted her politely and looked forlorn at the empty vitrine that normally contained steam buns.
“I’m sorry, dear. Since the war, the delivery has been unreliable in these parts of the country,” Tomiko explained.
“I see. Thank you, Ma’am,” the boy nodded thoughtfully, as he moved over to the shelf containing packaged snacks and cans. Now seeing him closer up, Tomiko noticed that he was covered in dust. He must have been part of the student group that came from the fancy hero school to help clean up the rubble the war left behind. His stomach grumbled loudly.
“I thought that the elders offered dinners for you children,” she mused.
“I was just trying to grab something quick,” the boy muttered and looked towards Tomiko with striking, mismatched eyes. Oh. She didn’t notice his signature white-and-red hair until now, but it was a face she recognized now from the TV. Endeavor’s kid. Dabi’s brother. He couldn’t recall his name. She remembered overhearing some customers whispering about how his kind was not welcome. He must have felt the quiet hostility and rejection that country-folk was so good at. Poor thing. Well, Tomiko wasn’t like those folks. She still believed in hospitality and acts of kindness.
“Well, if you’d like something warm, you can take instant ramen and warm it up in the microwave. You can eat it back there,” she pointed at the small table towards the back entrance.
“Thank you,” the boy replied, examining the instant noodle selection. He hesitated between the beef and chicken flavor, finally settling on chicken and taking his chosen packet to the till.
“Oh, no, dear. You’ve worked for the village all day. This is the least I can do,” Tomiko said. Maybe some folks in the village were rude, but no kid who worked hard should go hungry under her watch.
The boy nodded, tore the package and put it in the microwave. Once it was steaming, he took the hot meal to the back table and dug in.
Tomiko went back to the till, rolling up coins and filing receipts. It was quiet in the shop, the only noise was the boy’s slurping. It felt like a memory she’d long forgotten.
She lifted her eyes when she heard the boy gasp. He stopped slurping and was staring across the table, his expression frozen. On the other side of the table, a translucent shape of a white-haired boy sat now in ill-fitting shabby clothes, also slurping. A mirror image of the young hero. Oh, shucks.
Tomiko tapped her forehead quickly and the white-haired boy disappeared. “I’m sorry dear,” she said. “I didn’t mean to scare you. It’s just as I’m getting older, my quirk sometimes leaks out without me noticing.”
“Your quirk?” the boy asked curiously.
“Oh don’t worry, it’s not dangerous at all. I can project my memories into pictures others can see.”
“I see,” the boy nodded. He hesitated for a second, but then looked at Tomiko. “Can I… Could you show me that memory again please?”
“Do you know that boy?”
“I might…” he replied.
“Well, I can try…”
7 years ago…
Not many strangers came to Tomiko’s village. There was a semi-famous shrine on the neighbouring mountain connected to the Shin-Etsu Trail. Sometimes hikers wandered into her shop covered in dust after a long day of walking, looking to re-supply. She always kept energy pouches and protein bars in stock for them.
The boy crouching outside, next to the trash bin was definitely not a hiker though. He wore a shirt that hung loosely on his thin frame and dark pants that didn’t quite reach his ankle. His foot was covered in black shoes like a salaryman. He was clutching a small rucksack tightly, trying to hide something and every inch of visible skin was covered in scars. He was definitely in his teens. But why wasn’t he in school? Was he a delinquent? Tomiko was a bit scared. The village was quiet, but on TV they often reported about robberies and such. And since her husband had passed away last year, she lived alone here in the small apartment above the shop that was 10 minute walk from the closest neighbour. What if? Should she call the police?
Then she noticed a half-torn dirty sandwich wrapper that fell to the ground. Oh, she realised. The boy wasn’t planning a robbery then. He was hiding the things he took out from the garbage can in front of the shop. A homeless scavenger. Didn’t the authorities have places to care for his kind?
“Are you lost?” she asked.
The boy shook his head. “I’m just passing through.”
Nobody was “just passing through” here, Tomiko wanted to say, but the boy glared at her with intense blue eyes. So she decided not to push.
“Are you hungry?” she asked then.
“I’m not a beggar,” he replied, proud. He eyed her suspiciously, something prickly in his demeanor.
“Of course. I have some boxes in the back that I could use some help unpacking. In exchange, you could choose some food to eat and take with you,” Tomiko offered. Some people had a hard time accepting charity.
“I don’t have much time,” the boy said dismissively, but clearly listening.
“It won’t take you long,” she reassured him.
He reluctantly followed her into the storage room where she pointed to the boxes that needed to be unpacked and gave him instructions on how to pack the shelves with the goods. The new items go behind the older ones. Keep them in neat rows. The boy worked quickly and silently, but he followed the instructions with ease. Tomiko thought, maybe it would be nice to have help like this all the time.
After he finished his tasks, Tomiko told him to choose what he wanted to eat. The boy grabbed a steambun. Then looked at the packets of instant noodles, settling on a packet of chicken ramen. He warmed it up and sat down at the table to eat, digging in quickly like someone who hadn’t seen a warm meal in a long time. Maybe he hadn’t.
Present
Tomiko watched the table, the two boys sitting across from each other, in the present and past. They both looked the same age, and the resemblance was striking too. The blue eyes, the shape of their face, their noses, the way they held their chopsticks. The hero student reached out his hand, as if to try to touch the memory, but of course it was just a mirage. A tear rolled down his face.
Tomiko then realized. “He was your brother, right?” She shuddered at the thought that the villain Dabi sat in her store all those years ago.
The boy nodded, “His name is Touya.” His voice was warm and Tomiko could discern that he was thinking about not a villain like the rest of the country, but about his brother.
Tomiko realised she never even tried to ask the boy’s name. “He seemed like a nice boy, even if he was quiet. I never realised he could become that.” That being flames of madness and rage threatening to destroy everything was left unsaid. Such things were delicate. Still it was hard to find a line to connect that lost, hungry boy with that terrifying villain on TV. “Maybe I could have…”
“It’s not your fault,” the hero boy said quickly, his voice certain.
“No, it’s not.” Tomiko agreed. There was no way for her to know. “But I think, maybe I could have done more.”
The hero boy remained silent, not refuting her words, but not making accusations either. He turned to her and asked, “Could you… could you please show me the rest of the memory?”
7 years ago
The boy wolfed down his meal quickly and stood up.
“I have to go now. Thanks.”
“Choose some things for the road,” Tomiko offered. “You’ve been very helpful,” she added to make it seem less like charity.
The boy seemed to hesitate a little, but then moved to the shelf filled with the hiker snacks. He chose some energy pouches, protein bars, nut mixes. The deliberate choices of a person who expected to be moving. The choices of someone with no stable home perhaps. When he stuffed his small rucksack and also his pockets, he nodded to Tomiko.
“I’ll head out now.”
Tomiko had a fleeting thought that maybe she could offer him a shower and some of her late husband’s clothes. She didn’t need them and they would fit better than the mismatched rags the boy was wearing. But then she thought of the news reports of people getting robbed or murdered. This boy was still a stranger. A hero would find him and would know exactly what to do, she thought. She was just an elderly shopkeeper. Certainly no hero.
“Good luck,” is all she said in parting.
Present
The hero boy - his name was Todoroki Shoto, remembered suddenly Tomiko from the news - finished his meal as well. He collected the plastic bowl and disposable chopsticks, and put them in the trashbin.
“Thank you for feeding my brother and me,” he said politely with a little bow of his head.
“Thank you for all your hard work for us. And feel free to come back any time if the village folks give you a hard time.”
“I will,” the boy nodded.
Tomiko grabbed some protein bars and candy off the shelf and stuck it in the boy’s hand. “Take this. For the road.” It was too little, but she had an urge to do something.
The boy looked down at the treats offered. “I can pay for it,” he said.
“Don’t be silly. It’s my treat,” Tomiko replied. “I insist.”
“Well, thank you,” the boy said and stuffed them in the various pockets of his dusty hero suit. “I’ll be off now.”
“Good luck, with everything,” Tomiko said, and added like a final blessing. “I’m rooting for you. Many of us do.”
A small smile appeared on the hero boy’s face for a fleeting moment. He nodded once more and walked down the path.
7 Years ago & Present
Tomiko felt like there was something else she could do. A parting gift of sorts. She focused her mind again. Projecting visions of her memory was difficult to do beyond a certain distance but she wanted to try.
The two boys walked down the dirt path side by side towards the rice paddies. They were the same height, both covered in dust, walking like carrying the weight of the world on their shoulders. They both paused as they reached the main road and turned back just once, to look at Tomiko.
History always repeats itself, she thought.
The vagabond boy from the memory shook his head, turned away, quickened his steps and disappeared as the road turned. But the hero boy stood there a little longer and waved at Tomiko.
But maybe, just maybe a person can also change history. Like the wings of the butterfly, she thought.
Tomiko waved back.