Archive of Our Own

If there’s anything Shouto has learned in the past ten years of being a fully-licensed hero, it’s that there is no such thing as a “day off”.

You can plan for one–take yourself off the patrol schedule and have every intention of using your free time for relaxation or self-care or whatever, in this case it’s a trip to the local mall in search of a gift for Natsu’s upcoming birthday–but there’s always a sense of duty attached. A quiet understanding that he will answer a cry for help, a call to action, no matter where he is or what he’s doing.

That’s something his father always drilled into him, even though he doesn’t exactly have fond memories of those teachings. But his years at U.A. had only strengthened that lesson. Him and the rest of Class A had seen firsthand what happens when a cry for help is not answered and, instead, left to fester. When a child is abandoned and alone and no one reaches out a hand.

So when he hears a child crying while passing by one of the many shops in the shopping complex, he stops. Even if his hero costume is tucked safely inside his locker at the agency. Even if he’d just texted Katsuki saying he’d be leaving there in five minutes to meet up for lunch.

His eyes scan the crowd, years of experience allowing him to pick out the source of the crying easily enough. A small boy with bright red hair and snow white wings with tears rolling down his cheeks, clutching onto another child–a girl with her blonde hair pulled into twin ponytails and the same white wings behind her, though her feathers are speckled with red. The girl’s wings kind of reminded Shouto of his sister’s dual-colored hair. 

The girl doesn’t look as distraught as the boy, however, a determined scowl on her face as her own blue eyes scan the crowd. Looking for someone.

Lost.

Shouto abandons his plan to leave, walking towards the pair shopping bags and all. The little girl looks at him suspiciously as he approaches, moving her body so the little boy is safely tucked behind her.

He crouches in front of them and smiles as gently as he can. “Hi there. Are you looking for someone?”

With what can only be considered the most venomous of glares, the little girl lifts her chin up at him. “Maybe we are, maybe we aren’t. What’s it to ya, mister?”

Shouto blinks twice, taken aback by the girl’s answer for a second before he mentally resets. He’s dealt with his fair share of what he would call tough kids throughout his years as a hero. Starting with those kids in the remedial course of their first year at U.A.–kids who he had a pretty good relationship with to this day–but even on his regular patrols. Not everyone was a fan of heroes or, even if they were, had a positive reaction to seeing the fairly new Number Two in person.

He knows that, at first, he’d come off as awkward. According to Katsuki, at least. Not that his word meant much, considering the blond’s own explosive way of dealing with Japan’s impressionable youth. But, either way, Shouto knew he wasn’t the best when it came to children, between his own isolated childhood and the baggage he still carried from being part of the Todoroki family.

Dealing with children was never one of Endeavor’s lessons, so Shouto had to learn that himself.

After many years of trials and errors, he’d like to think he’s improved quite a bit.

This little girl was making him question that.

“Uh, well, I want to help you find who you’re looking for. I’m a hero and that’s what heroes do. You can call me Shouto.”

At the mention of him being a hero, the girl steps back even further, pushing the little boy back with her. “Papa said not to talk to strangers. Especially heroes.”

Oh.

The sentiment wasn’t anything he hadn’t dealt with before. Not everyone had the best opinion of heroes, especially after the war and, even if it had been almost ten years, that kind of trauma burrowed deep in people’s minds. From what Shouto could tell, the little girl looked to be about ten or eleven years old, so she was probably extremely young, if she was alive at all, when Japan was going through the worst of the League of Villain’s reign of terror. Her parents probably feared for their lives, for her life, during that time.

These situations were always hard to navigate–he had to tread carefully. Making a wrong move could worsen the kid’s already fragile outlook on heroes but, on the other hand, he could be the reason someone’s opinion changes for the better. Endeavor had never cared too much about the opinions of others as the number two hero, but Shouto always strived to be better. To improve on his father’s legacy, rather than live in his shadow.

“But Yuka,” the boy says timidly from behind her shoulder. “Maybe…”

Yuka shushes him. “Papa said, Haruta. No heroes.”

“Papa’s not here!” Fresh tears shine in the boy’s blue eyes, his bottom lip wobbling dangerously. “W-what if he can’t find us and…and…”

“Don’t worry,” Shouto consoles the child. “We’ll find your papa. I promise.” 

The little boy, who looks to be about three or four from what Shouto can tell, is clearly more willing to work with him to help find his way home. Which makes sense, given the era of prosperity Japan has maintained for the past few years now. Villain attacks have been decreasing ever since the “new age” of heroes has come into the limelight and turned the focus towards preventative initiatives and programs to help those at-risk of turning to villainy in the first place.

“Can you tell me where you last saw your papa?”

The boy opens his mouth to speak, but the girl, Yuka, cuts him off. “Not a word, otouto.” 

She turns towards Shouto, blue eyes staring daggers at him. It’s then that he notices the black markings–he vaguely remembers Hawks having something similar around his eyes. He wonders if those kinds of markings are common for bird-type heteromorphs.  Though her brother didn’t seem to share that trait.

“I know our rights, mister! We don’t have to tell you anything! Not without a lawyer!”

“I–wait, what? I’m not arresting you though.”

The little girl doesn’t miss a beat. “Still! How do we know you’re even a hero? You’re probably just a creep who wants to kidnap us and sell us on the black market!”

Haruta’s eyes go wide, his grip on his sister tightening. “You’re going to sell us?” The boy’s lip wobbles again.

“No! Look, I can prove I’m a hero. I have my ID.” 

Shouto grasps at his pockets before finally finding his wallet and opening it up to take out his hero license. The photo was a couple years old–taken back when he’d first made number two–but he hadn’t changed his appearance much. His hair was growing back out a bit, but that was hidden under his baseball cap anyway. It was better that way–his hair made him way too identifiable and, while he didn’t mind signing autographs and having his picture taken with fans, he also didn’t want to cause too much of a disruption on a busy Saturday morning.

The girl takes one curt look at it before lifting her chin. “Probably fake.”

Just as Shouto is stammering through a response, wracking his brain for a way to prove his credentials while keeping an eye on the tears continuing to pool in the little boy’s eyes, a voice cuts through the crowd, alarmed and frantic. Yuka’s eyes light up, standing on her tiptoes to search for the source.

“Papa!”

A figure bursts through the crowd seconds later. The man is a little shorter than Shouto, dressed from head to toe in black. Ripped black jeans with scuffed up converse, a black hoodie covering black hair and a black face mask covering everything but blue eyes that matched the kids’.

The man doesn’t pay attention to Shouto, instead dropping to his knees in front of the kids and pulling them into a tight embrace. 

“Oh, thank god you’re alright. Are you alright?!” He backs up, holding them both out at arms length, eyes scanning them from head to toe. “You made me so worried. Your dad was getting ready to come down and look for you himself!”

The little boy, Haruta, bursts into tears, falling into the man and clutching his hoodie for dear life. A hand comes up and pats the boy's head.

“I turned my back for one second. Where the hell did you go?”

The girl looks a little sheepish now, wringing her hands in front of her. “I saw a girl who had a biiiig ice cream cone and…” she looks down at the ground, her voice dropping to a low mumble, “...I wanted some.”

The man sighs, running a hand down his face. “You know what we do when we want something? We ask. We don’t go running off on our own, especially with your baby brother. You know better than that, Hime.”

Big, blue eyes shimmer with tears, her lip quivering. “I’m sorry, papa.”

Shouto realizes he may be overstaying his welcome, now that the family was reunited. They were clearly too engrossed in each other to even remember the hero, awkwardly standing off to the side holding his shopping bags in one hand and his hero license in the other. 

He’s just about to leave, his phone pinging in his pocket–Katsuki’s probably wondering what’s holding him up–-when the man stands, turning towards him.

“Thank you so much, I can never repay–”

Blue eyes go wide as saucers and the man takes a physical step back, dragging his two children with him. He pales, staring at Shouto as if he’s seen a ghost.

Shouto frowns. Sure, the guy could’ve recognized him as a hero. Even with his hair hidden in his baseball cap, his heterochromatic eyes and the scar taking up the left side of his face wasn’t exactly subtle. And yeah, Yuka had mentioned her parents’ general distrust of heroes.

But this wasn’t just distrust. The man looked terrified, genuinely terrified, of Shouto for that split second, and he couldn’t figure out why that would be the case.

“Is everything okay?” Shouto asks.

The man seems to collect himself, clearing his throat as his face shutters to a more neutral expression and he bows his head. “Yeah. Sorry. Again, thank you. We’ll be on our way home now.”

“Oh, uh. It was no problem, really. Just doing my duty.” Shouto smiles, trying his best to come off as caring and gentle. “I’m glad you found each other.”

“Right.” The man looks away, shifting the little boy on his hip. “C’mon, Yuka. We should get going before your dad gets his feathers all ruffled.”

“But papaaaa,” the girl whines, “I really wanted ice cream.”

“Aww, how sad,” the man quips back. “Maybe next time.”

The argument continues on in the background but everything sounds so muffled, jumbled in Shouto’s head. Frost coats his fingertips as those words repeat over and over again.

How sad.

It’s been almost twelve years since he’d heard those words. He’ll never forget them–the first words that Dabi, Touya, had ever said to him, back when he’d failed to protect Katsuki. Back when he hadn’t realized that he was standing in front of the big brother he’d thought was long dead. Back when the League was more of a concept than a real threat, a handful of strangers with devious intentions rather than broken souls abandoned by the world.

There was no doubt in Shouto’s mind, hearing those words now.

“Aniki?”

The man, Touya?, stops dead in his tracks, his back to Shouto. Yuka looks back at him from where she’s at her father’s side, holding his hand. She cocks her head, curious.

A head turns, and Shouto is taken aback by the resemblance, now that he’s actually looking for it. Touya always had their mother’s eyes and the mask does nothing to hide the way they glare back at him from over his shoulder. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

It’s him. It’s really him.

For over ten years, Shouto has hoped and prayed and wondered. Ever since Touya had disappeared from that medical ward with not a single trace. At first, they had looked for him, desperate to get him back to the only facility that could keep him alive in the state he was in. The search had eventually turned into a recovery mission when his father and the other heroes involved made the decision that Touya couldn’t have survived so long without proper medical care.

Shouto was almost ashamed to say that, at one point, he’d hoped some villain left over from the war had come and found Touya, healed him enough for him to survive. Even if Touya would go on to continue being a villain, hurting innocent people, at least he’d be alive. At least Shouto could find him again, bring him home the right way this time.

But the case went cold. No leads, no witnesses, no realistic theories to what could’ve happened to Touya Todoroki.

But Shouto had hoped and prayed and wondered. Even when everyone else had given up, he’d gone on with this tiny ember of belief in his chest–belief that Touya was out there, somewhere.

He’d never thought he’d get the chance to see for himself–the idea was enough on its own, as long as Touya was happy. Now, however, he wasn’t willing to let go. Not again.

“Please,” he calls out as Touya starts walking away. “I just want to talk. I promise I won’t tell anyone.”

That seems to get his attention. He whirls around. “You’re mistaking me with someone else. Leave me alone.”

“No, I’m not, and no, not until you talk to me.”

“Are all heroes this fucking annoying?” Touya snarls.

Haruta’s eyes go wide. “Papa, that’s a no-no word,” he whispers.

Touya seems to remember that there are children present. His eyes close as he sighs, long and exhausted. “Thanks, kid. Now I’m gonna be in trouble.”

“Does that mean you’ll talk to me?”

Touya stares at him like he’s assessing a threat. Probably trying to figure out how likely it is that Shouto would give up his identity to the authorities or even try to arrest him himself. Not that Shouto has any intention of doing either of those things but Touya doesn’t need to know that. Not when that possibility gives him a higher chance of Touya hearing him out.

“Not here,” Touya mumbles, turning his back and walking towards the exit. Shouto stands frozen for a second before Touya looks back over his shoulder and scowls. “You comin’ or what?”

Shouto types out a quick message to Katsuki, letting him know he won’t be able to make lunch, before jogging over to catch up.

--------------

They don’t speak on the way to their destination. Touya keeps his eyes forward, mouth set in a grim line while he herds the two kids, and Shouto, through the crowd, on and off the train after a couple stops, and down the streets of a modest-looking neighborhood. 

The kids also stay silent, though they’re a bit more curious. Haruta looks over Touya’s shoulder the entire way, keeping his eyes pinned on Shouto with a rapt attention. It’s almost unnerving, the kid hardly blinks. Yuka is a bit more animated, not at all hiding the way she stares as if Shouto is some kind of wild animal, a freak of nature, and she wants to figure him out. Like she’s sizing up a threat. 

They stop at a five-story apartment building, plants and clothes lines hanging from balconies above. It’s when the elevator door closes, leading them up to the top floor, that Touya speaks for the first time. 

“My partner is…protective of his chicks. He won’t hurt you, not in front of them, but just…be on your guard. I’ll try to calm him down before anything happens.”

He?

So Touya’s partner is a man. Interesting. Curious, considering the two children that clearly share Touya’s genes. The questions he had were starting to multiply exponentially.

But now wasn’t the time to get distracted.

Like an instinct, Shouto’s fingers twitch at his side, ready to activate his ice if needed. He’s dealt with protective parents before, and he knew from the conferences he’d attended with Tentacole how much more protective heteromorphic parents could be. That side of their instinct going into overdrive, bringing out those animalistic traits. 

His classmate’s knowledge had helped him many times in the past, but bird heteromorphs were pretty rare, and he’d never been around one who had kids of their own, so this was a new scenario. One he’d have to be careful with. 

When the doors open, Touya leads them down the hall, to the last door on the left. The nameplate on the front reads “Takami”. 

Shouto frowns. The name sounds familiar, but he can’t quite place it. 

Before Touya can even turn the handle, the door swings open. The man on the other side instantly starts fussing over the kids.

“My babies! Are you okay?!”

Shouto freezes. The man’s blond hair and black markings under his eyes match his daughter’s. And those eyes—gold like the sun, their pupils a bit too oblong to be entirely normal. He’s seen those eyes, those markings before. 

It shouldn’t be possible. 

The man turns his way and his demeanor changes in a split second, a full wingspan of crimson feathers flying out from the apartment and sharpening in front of Shouto’s face. 

Hawks. 

The hero had disappeared after defecting—a move that had shaken society to its core. The last straw in a war they’d been losing for a while now, giving Shigaraki and the League the upper hand when it came to swaying the public’s opinion on heroes. Shouto’s father had been distraught. He had built a good rapport with his younger coworker after the hero rankings when he was officially made number one, and Shouto thought he might feel a bit guilty that he hadn’t done more to help. That he hadn’t stopped Hawks from turning on the Commission. 

Shouto had always theorized that there was something else going on. He didn’t know Hawks well—only working with him briefly during the work studies. The hero had disappeared just before the raid at Gunga so he hadn’t had a chance to fight alongside him. But the pieces didn’t add up. Hawks was earnest, dedicated. There had to be a reason he’d suddenly leave. 

The Commission tried to spin it that he’d been lured with false promises and joined the villains, but if that was the case, why hadn’t he showed up during the final battle? His quirk would’ve given All For One’s side a huge advantage and it didn’t make sense that he’d defect only to sit out their last stand. 

Now, he thinks Hawks’ absence might make a little sense, given Yuka’s age. 

“What the hell are you doing here?” The ex-hero snarls, pupils shrinking to pin pricks, feathers ready to rip into his flesh at the first sign of trouble. 

“Easy, pretty bird,” Touya drawls, placing a hand on Hawks’ shoulder. “He’s not here to hurt anyone.”

His posture eases up a bit, but the feathers stay suspended between them. Shouto clears his throat, his voice calm and even. 

“He’s right. I didn’t know you…I mean, Touya didn’t tell me about you. I’m not here to fight or put anyone in danger. I just want to talk to my brother.”

Hawks glances over at Touya, who nods. “He’s the one who found the chicks. He figured it out as we were leaving. As much as I hate to say it, I trust his intentions, and the kid’s damn persistent.”

Hawks frowns. “Language, Touya.” Touya scowls and rolls his eyes. 

The interaction is so…normal, so simple, that Shouto can’t help the upward tick of his mouth, despite the tense situation. What Touya said back at the mall, about being in trouble for swearing in front of the kids, makes sense now. It’s strange, yet almost endearing, to see. So far removed from the hero Hawks and villain Dabi that, if he hadn’t known them before, he never would’ve guessed they were on opposite sides of a war. 

Hawks takes a very willing Haruta from Touya’s arms. The boy melts into his dad, nuzzling his face in the crook of Hawks’ neck and letting out a big yawn. 

“Well, come in.” The feathers surrounding Shouto soften, some of them reattaching to Hawks’ wingspan while the rest flit around the apartment, coming to rest in various places. Exit points, Shouto realizes. “I’ll get the kids settled while you two…talk.”

--------------

Shouto can’t help but scan the apartment as Touya leads him into the kitchen and busies himself with putting a kettle on for tea. 

The space itself is clean, but in that lived-in sort of way that reminds him of Natsuo’s house, whenever he went to visit. Subtle signs of a busy day, of routine. Of a house full of love. 

The Todoroki house never felt so warm, so alive, growing up. 

Dishes set out to dry on the counter, a lone coffee cup in the sink. An overflowing toy bin in the corner of the living room, crayons and coloring books sprawled out on the coffee table. Plants set atop a bookshelf filled with momentos and picture frames, reaching towards the rays of sunlight coming through the westward windows. A stuffed penguin sits atop the couch, a silent guardian over it all. 

“How do you take your tea?”

Shouto turns back towards Touya. “A bit of milk, if you have it.”

Touya scoffs, reaching into the refrigerator and taking out a small carton of milk, setting it in front of them. “Just like Fuyumi.”

“Oh. Really?”

He’d spent much more time with his other two siblings over the last ten years than he had the first part of their lives, but he was ashamed to say he hadn’t ever really paid attention to how Fuyumi took her tea. She was usually rushing around so much, taking care of everyone else, that she barely stopped long enough to sit back and indulge. A habit that hadn’t died into adulthood, now that she was settled down with a husband and two kids. 

“Mmm…maybe.” Touya shrugs. “I guess I wouldn’t know. She’s probably changed a lot since…”

“Do you miss her?” Shouto blurts out. He regrets it instantly when he sees the way Touya flinches. “Sorry…I didn’t mean to upset you. I just meant–”

A hand cards through his hair, pulling at the black strands before he seems to realize what he’s doing and stops himself. “You gotta understand, kid…I haven’t known…them…in a very long time. Not since we were kids. I grieved them once already and none of us are the people we once were. So if I say I miss them, then it’s the same way you miss someone who’s already dead. There’s no point. And if…by some chance, they say they miss me, it’s the same damn thing. They miss a kid that’s been dead for more years than he’d been alive.”

Shouto frowns, watching the lines of steam rise from his cup. “Why does there have to be a point to missing someone? Doesn’t that just mean you care? Even if they’re…dead…doesn’t mean you stop loving them. Right?”

Touya scoffs, taking a sip of his drink. “Jesus, kid. I gotta say I didn’t think it’d get this dark and depressing this quickly.”

“Sorry. Katsuki tells me I’m too blunt sometimes.”

To that, Touya raises a brow. “Katsuki, huh? Who would that be?”

“Oh. Uh, Katsuki Bakugo. Y’know, the one you…”

“Ah, yes. The one I kidnapped.” Touya looks slightly amused at Shouto’s discomfort. “You can say the word, y’know. I own my actions. Every single one of them.”

“Right. Well, yeah. That one.”

“He’s the one who defeated that Mr. Potato-Head looking fuck, right?”

Shouto inhales, choking on his sip of tea, sputtering. Touya chuckles. “He usually refers to him as ‘nutsuck face’ or ‘ball sack man’ but that works too. And yes, that was him.”

“That guy was always a fucking creep. Hated him from the start. But good for him. Took on the big bad.”

“I’d argue that was Shigaraki but…” His eyes fly up as Touya’s head drops, his brother’s grip around the cup tightening. “Sorry. I don’t mean…I know you two were close.”

Touya looks up, rolling his eyes. “We weren’t close. He was a pain in my ass most days. But…” He stops, chewing on his lip like he can’t decide on the words. “They were there, y’know. That was something.”

“If I wouldn’t known…if any of us would’ve known, we would’ve–”

“I know.” Touya nods. “But you didn’t, and you weren’t.”

Hawks takes the opportunity to make his entrance, walking around the kitchen island to plant himself at Touya’s side, a wing curling around the man protectively. Touya nods down at the extra cup, steam still wafting up. “Made you some tea, birdy.”

“Thanks, hot stuff.”

“How are the kids?”

“Watching their show. We probably have a good…15 minutes before Yuka comes out to investigate.” Hawks eyes turn to Shouto. “So, whatcha guys talking about?”

“Nothing,” Touya answers too quickly.

Hawks seems to pick up on the dismissal, but diverts the conversation anyway. He nods. “So, Shouto. Can’t say I ever thought I’d see you again…especially under these conditions.”

“What conditions did you think you’d see me in?”

The ex-hero shrugs, a slightly more predatory smile curling his lips. “I’m not a hero anymore. Technically what I did was considered treason. I thought, if we ever saw each other again, you’d be putting me in cuffs. Or, trying to, anyway.”

This was the Hawks that Shouto remembered. Cocky and a bit arrogant–with good reason, his quirk was incredibly powerful–his words dripping with sarcasm and a playfulness that had irked some of the more serious hero types. Endeavor included.

“You had a good reason to do what you did, though, didn’t you?”

Hawks’ smile softens a bit at the implication, eyes darting over Shouto’s shoulder to the hallway where the soft sounds of a kid’s TV show drifted out of. “Most people wouldn’t see it that way.”

“I’m not most heroes.”

Hawks laughs, loud and boisterous. Touya looks on with an expression that Shouto can’t make out between frustration and confusion. “No. No, you’re not, kiddo. I’m glad the next generation has a bit more sense than the ones that came before you. I’m sure you and your friends will do good work.”

Shouto nods. “We’re trying. Tsukuyomi would be happy to know you’re alive and…doing well.”

“Maybe,” Hawks answers noncommittally. “I’m not so sure, though. He always was a stickler for the rules.”

“I do have a question, though,” Shouto pivots, eyes drifting to his brother. “Or, maybe multiple.” Touya rolls his eyes, bracing himself with his hands on the counter. “We looked everywhere for you. For both of you. Have you been here this whole time? How did you stay off the radar?”

“Easy. We weren’t in Japan until recently.”

That surprises Shouto a bit. Though they hadn’t ruled out the possibility that Hawks and Dabi had both fled the country, it also wasn’t an easy feat. Especially in the aftermath of the war. Even if they did manage to get through security at the border, most countries tightened up their immigration laws after All For One was defeated. Isolationist policies helped each country take stock of their own domestic opportunities and threats without needing to worry about followers of All for One spreading his ideology on their own turf.

“Oh.”

“Once I found Touya again, we knew we couldn’t stick around without one of us being recognized. So we made plans and ended up in the United States.”

“Really? They didn’t recognize you there?”

Touya scoffs. “Yeah right. Americans are just arrogant enough that most of them don’t pay attention to politics outside their own borders. Even if the threat is international. Hawks had been out of the news long enough that people kind of just…forgot he existed by the time we fought the last battle and the media over there never published anything after I was hospitalized. Everyone probably thinks I died shortly after.”

“Besides,” Hawks adds on. “The U.S. is huge. Absolutely massive. In some parts, you can drive for hours and not see a single person. We ended up getting a piece of property out in the boonies and no one bothered us. It was nice…quiet and peaceful.”

“So why’d you come back, if you liked it so much?”

“Unfortunately, there are a lot of backwards people that like to look down on heteromorphs, even with all the work your friend Tentacole has been doing over here. There were a couple incidents with kids at school and finding a doctor that had education on heteromorphic quirks was a nightmare. Eventually it just got to be too much and…we figured enough time had gone by.”

“Well, for what it’s worth, I’m glad. I always knew you were out there somewhere,” he adds, glancing at Touya. “Didn’t think you’d be with Hawks, though.”

“Just call me Keigo, kid. I haven’t been Hawks for a long time.”

“Trust me, I was as surprised as you. But when he showed up with my kid I thought the least I could do was stick around.”

Keigo squawks in offense, batting Touya playfully with a wing. “Yeah, after you ran away and left me like a dick.”

“Language,” Touya mocks.

A snort from the other side of the island has them both looking up. A small smile plays on Shouto’s lips.

“What?” Touya asks, a bit defensive.

“Nothing.” Shouto takes another sip of his tea before setting the near-empty mug on the counter in front of him. “I’m just happy that you found each other.” 

The words were genuine. Even if he hadn’t seen this coming, the two of them being together and raising a family at that, he found himself so immensely grateful that everything had worked so well for Touya. That his brother had found someone to share his life with, to love him, because it was painfully obvious that the spark in Keigo’s eye was all for Touya.

His brother had always deserved more love and attention than Endeavor had given, and he had finally found someone who looked at him like he hung the moon.

The realization made something shift in his chest, a weight falling away that he hadn’t known he’d been holding.

Touya’s cheeks tinge red and Keigo’s wings perk up, the smile on his face crinkling his eyes.

“Stop being so sentimental,” his brother mutters, grabbing their mugs and moving them to the sink.

“Sorry.” He wasn’t sorry. “So…Yuka and Haruta. They’re yours? Both of yours?”

Both nod.

“How…how does that work?” Shouto glances at Keigo before quickly looking away. “I mean, is that part of your quirk? A bird thing or…”

The two men blink back at him for a moment before Touya’s eyes widen and he bursts out into laughter, clutching his stomach and hunching over the counter. He wheezes, tears streaming down his cheeks.

“Wait, what?” Keigo seems somewhat baffled, frowning down at Touya with concern.

“He–” Another peel of laughter. “He thinks you lay eggs.” The laughter grows louder, more unhinged. Shouto is absolutely mortified as Keigo’s head whips around towards him.

“WHAT?!”

“Oh my god.” Shouto buries his head in his hands. 

He’d only assumed that would be the case since they were both men, but maybe that’s what he gets for assuming. From what he’d learned from Shoji, heteromorphic quirks could affect human anatomy in different ways. He knew most hospitals had wings solely reserved for those patients, along with doctors who specialized in heteromorphic medicine, and that extended to neonatal health care as well.

But apparently he was wrong, because Touya looks absolutely delighted and Keigo looks slightly traumatized and absolutely horrified.

“I don’t lay eggs,” Keigo says. He scowls at Touya. “Would you shut up?!”

Touya straightens, wiping at his eyes. He’s completely out of breath, trying to hold his laughter in. “Sorry but that’s hilarious.”

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean that in a derogatory way. I just know that sometimes–”

“It’s okay, kid. I get why you might think that but no…I don’t lay eggs.” Keigo elbows Touya when the man chokes back another laugh. “You probably won’t believe me but I found Yuka at the Commission. My biggest weakness was fire so I guess they thought that, if they combined my quirk with a fire quirk, any offspring might not have that weakness.”

Shouto can’t quite keep the surprise from showing on his face. Not that the surprise comes from a place of disbelief–not really, anyway. He knew there were stories, rumors–leaked documents found on the dark web that outlined all the programs and initiatives they were involved in that were less than heroic. Including rumors about their relationship with the pro hero Hawks. Most took those rumors for what they were–lies made up to hurt the organization’s reputation further.

But, after the war, after President Mera stepped down and handed the reins over to Detective Tsukauchi–a huge promotion that Shouto wasn’t convinced the man really wanted–things had started changing. They were subtle at first–budget reviews, reallocation of funds towards “higher priorities”, an entire overhaul of licensing requirements and reviews. Then came the firings–massive layoffs of HPSC employees. Most of them were high ranked, tenured officials who had worked for the organization for many years.

Tsukauchi had quickly cleaned house and Shouto had to wonder if that had anything to do with the rumors.

“Quirk eugenics?”

Touya nods, his expression more serious than a moment before. They perhaps knew the risks of mixing quirks more than anyone. There were so many factors to consider and they’d seen how easily it could all go wrong.

“In a way it’s a good thing that the Commission put so many resources into the effort,” Keigo adds. “They had the ability to manipulate Yuka’s genetics as they saw fit, so it was less random, and she wasn’t negatively affected. She basically has the same abilities as I do but her feathers can withstand a much higher temperature. Not exactly fireproof, but fire resistant.”

“And Haruta?”

“He came later. Much later. Yuka had just turned seven and we just kinda decided we wanted another. We found a doctor that specialized in genetic coding for same-sex couples back in the states and worked with him and a surrogate. I guess you could technically say he’s a designer baby but we really only wanted to make sure the resulting quirk factor wouldn’t be harmful.”

Keigo nods in agreement. “He has my wings but none of the telekinetic abilities. According to the doctors, he should be able to fly a bit but only for short distances since my feathers actually assist in keeping me up in the air for longer. And the cold doesn’t bother him–he could stand out in a snowstorm and be completely fine.” He smiles fondly. “Yuka was always so annoyed that she had to wear a coat whenever it snowed and her brother didn’t.”

Shouto’s lips twitch. “She seems like a spitfire.”

“She is,” Touya mutters. “I’m convinced she was sent as my punishment for…” he waves his hand in the air, “...everything. Haruta’s an angel in comparison.”

“Papa!”

The patter of feet precedes an unamused Yuka, dragging her brother along behind her. “The stupid message came on.”

“That means TV time is over, baby. You know that.”

The little girl’s eyes turn to Shouto, pivoting instantly, while Haruta continues to make puppy dog eyes at his parents. “Why did you call my papa ‘aniki’?”

“Oh, I, uh…” Shouto turns to Touya for help. He’s not sure what his brother would be comfortable telling them and how much, if anything at all, they know about his relationship with his family. Or if they know he has a family at all.

Touya isn’t much help though, crossing his arms over his chest and lifting a brow, a smirk on his face that tells Shouto he’s on his own. Thankfully, Keigo takes pity on him.

“Well, when papa was little like you, he had his own mama and papa. Remember?” Yuka and Haruta both nod. Keigo gestures over towards him. “Shouto also had the same mama and papa.”

Haruta’s eyes light up with a boyish wonder. “Really?!”

Yuka, however, scowls, blue eyes staring daggers at Shouto. “I thought we didn’t like papa’s family.”

“It’s complicated,” Touya answers quickly, walking over and putting a hand on her head. “They’re not all bad.”

Touya is so nonchalant with the statement and it pulls at something Shouto hadn’t let himself dwell on in a very long time. A guilt he’d been carrying for longer than he can remember–guilt that his existence was the catalyst for his brother’s destruction. The knowledge that Touya, Dabi, blamed everything on his birth. The idea that their family could’ve been different, better, more stable, if he hadn’t come around to take Touya’s place.

He clenches his jaw and fights back against the sting at the back of his eyes. Touya watches the emotions flit across his face, his own expression unreadable.

The moment feels a little bit like forgiveness. A little bit like closure.

A way forward.

--------------

“Ojichan!”

Shouto is barely across the threshold when a bundle of white feathers and tousled red hair is nearly tackling him to the ground. Yuka comes running up behind her brother, a bit more contained. At the volatile age of 13, Yuka was “too cool” to be acting so “childishly”, but she smiled at him all the same and Shouto took that as a victory. He’d spent the past two years gaining his niece’s trust, much to Touya and Keigo’s entertainment.

Haruta couldn’t be more different from his firecracker of a sister. He’s all smiles for Shouto, cheeks flushed and eyes shining, already launching into a daring tale of how he’d conquered the monkey bars at the playground all by himself. Now six, as of yesterday, he was a ball of energy, affectionate and lively and uninhibited. Touya joked that the kid could make friends with a rock and he wasn’t too far off.

Touya also liked to joke about how Haruta was a mini Keigo and, while that was true to a point, Shouto saw a lot of his brother in him too. Not that he had much experience with how Touya was like as a child, only from watching through cracked windows and from the second floor balcony before his father noticed he’d snuck off, but from what he’d seen, Touya had been so full of life. So loud, buzzing with a thirst for knowledge and excitement and passion.

Watching Haruta experience life was like watching what life could’ve been, if Enji had given Touya a chance to thrive.

Not that Touya wasn’t thriving now. His brother smiled more often than not these days and that felt better than any victory Shouto had ever experienced in battle. 

“Hey, kid,” Touya greets, crossing his arm as he leans against the kitchen counter, watching him get bombarded with a small smile on his face.

“Aniki.” Shouto nods at his brother before going back to giving his full attention to Haruta’s story. Yuka rolls her eyes behind him, shaking her head with all the fondness of a big sister who absolutely adores her baby brother.

“He hasn’t shut up since he woke up,” she grumbles.

Shouto pulls her into a hug, dropping a kiss on her forehead that she instantly wriggles away from. “Sorry I’m running late. There was an incident–”

“Always the hero,” Touya teases, gesturing to the cup steaming on the counter next to him. “Made you some coffee.”

“Thanks.” Gathering a willing Haruta up in his arms, he finally crosses the threshold, toeing off his shoes at the entryway. “Where’s Keigo?”

Touya gestures over to the hallway. “Taking a shower…he had a late night last night.”

“Ah.” Shouto doesn’t push, hasn’t pushed since he’d first heard of Keigo’s late nights.

The pattern had started about a year ago, and just happened to coincide with the debut of the area’s newest vigilante–one who apparently was faster than the eye could see and was able to feed information to authorities without anyone ever noticing them there.

Shouto didn’t ask. As the current two in a system that still couldn’t condone vigilante activities, at least not publicly, feigning ignorance was the best policy.

He was happy that Keigo had found his purpose again. Him and Touya had had many discussions about how lost the ex-hero had felt all these years, abandoning heroics and all the trauma that had come with his situation. Vigilantism had given him some of that back–he could do good for the world without the leash that had held him back, the control that festered like an open wound.

“Ojichan!” Haruta wriggles out of his arms. “Come see the legos papa and daddy got me!” He grabs Shouto’s hand and Shouto is just barely able to keep his coffee from spilling over the lip of his cup.

He takes a seat on the floor next to Haruta’s toy bin as the kid starts babbling about the birthday presents he’d received the day before. Yuka plops down on the couch next to them, scrolling through her phone and pretending she’s not listening. 

He can’t help but reflect for a moment–life moved so fast. Especially for a hero.

Fifteen years ago, he’d been a bitter kid with a vendetta against a father that had taken nearly everything from him. Being a part of Class 1-A, and all the crises they’d faced together, had changed that. Had changed him. He’d seen what the world was like outside the walls of the Todoroki estate, how love and acceptance and support could trickle down and create a better world. He’d seen how heroics could fail and vowed to do better, for the sake of those who didn’t have a voice. For the sake of people like his brother, who’d never stood a chance against a life of expectations and the weight of a destiny that was never his own.

But, despite all the pain and heartache and peril he’d faced in that time, he’d like to think he’d do it all again. If only to preserve what he’d found behind these four walls. A life that overflowed with love. A family he’d only ever dreamed of being a part of. A brother he’d all but lost hope in ever getting to know, now the person he could confide in and feel safe with.

A family that felt a lot like home.