Archive of Our Own

The updated training schedule had been pinned to the board in Shoto’s room when he returned from his lessons.

He flipped through it, sucking on the mint that his favorite housemaid usually left hidden under his pillow when she changed his sheets. He sighed internally when he noticed the diet plan. It was the third time they had changed it in the last few months, having judged his original one inadequate. He had preferred the last one.

Shoto settled carefully down in his desk chair, trying not to bump the bruises that spread across his back. His last training session had been intense. He had been given a break for a few days to let the bruising and a minor sprain in his wrist heal without magical intervention. 

Shoto set his school bag in its place under the desk and began his homework. He would work until dinner time, following the schedule that planned all of his days. He would eat an unsatisfactory dinner, and struggle to apply bruise cream to his back by himself before bed. In the morning, his routine would start again. Unlike usual, he would have a few hours of free time where he would normally be training. He wasn’t looking forward to it like most people probably would.

He never had free time that wasn’t planned just as carefully as the rest of his life. He would be “strongly recommended” to read a preapproved book or exercise within the limits set by his injuries.

Shoto’s life had never really been his own. He was the sole product of a political match between the Lineage of Endeavor, the volcano god, and the Lineage of Rei, the goddess of ice. As the capital, where Shoto lived, was built very near a volcano, Endeavor was the second most important god in the pantheon. Rei, by contrast, wasn’t worshiped by many outside of the farther regions, where it was freezing almost all year round.

Shoto had been born to be a symbol of unity between extremes, something to be shown off from a far off pedestal. He had half siblings and fellow Lineage Upholders on both sides of his family, but he rarely saw anyone but his trainers and teachers. He was supposed to excel beyond anything anyone on either side of his family had ever done. Ideally, this would end by him being chosen by a god. This god would preferably be Endeavor, but Shoto thought that he would be happy with any god. He didn’t want to let anyone down by not being chosen. His trainers pushed him hard so that when the day did come, he would be ready.

He had been pushed even harder over the last year. All Might, the chief god of the pantheon, had finally chosen a Champion again. This Champion, one Bakugo Katsuki, was the only person who could compete with Shoto for importance in the world of the Lineages. He had never seen his main trainer so mad as on the day they had received the news. “If only,” Shi-sensei had moaned, “If only he could have waited until you were ready before choosing his Champion! You could have proven Endeavor’s superiority by beating All Might’s Champion in a duel for the history books.”

Shoto had wisely refrained from pointing out that any duel in which a fully trained man beat a child who had never used a sword before was one which would probably go down in the history books for all the wrong reasons.

Over the last six months, Champion Bakugo had excelled beyond anyone’s wildest hopes, and Shoto’s trainers had first changed his training regime, then his study schedule, and had finally tried his diet plan in hopes that he could catch up. Shoto wasn’t too concerned personally with how he measured up to the other boy. He had had his whole life to study, while Champion Bakugo was, as all All Might’s Champions were, blessed by the gods. He figured they would eventually come out equal.

At some point, no matter how his trainers tried to avoid it, Shoto would have to meet Champion Bakugo face to face. He was rather looking forward to it. He had never been below someone in rank before.

Shoto pushed back his chair and sighed, allowing himself to slouch. His back hurt. He ignored it. There was a knock at his door. “Young master, your dinner is ready.”

—------------

Shoto trotted along the path that wound its way around the Todoroki property. It was his free time, and for once, there was no one with him babbling about time limits and preparation. He was free to do what he liked. That was why he’d chosen to exercise instead of read. As long as he kept moving while in view of the house, all anyone saw was the Young Master of the household doing his daily exercise while avoiding reinjuring the sprained wrist he had received from landing wrong while sparring. He swore to himself that if he ever had children, he would not teach them like this.

The newest schedule they had him on was somehow both straining and extremely boring. He was tired and sore all the time from training, but uninterested in any of the other things he was expected to do.

Shoto, just out of sight from the house, stopped walking. He was tired, sweaty, and suddenly he felt loneliness like he hadn’t felt since he was five and had learned to stop asking for hugs from the servants.

He breathed in. He breathed out. He started to walk again. There was a bluebird in a tree up ahead. Something exploded behind the stable. A caterpillar-

Something had exploded behind the stable. 

Shoto considered. The proper thing to do, what his trainers would tell him to do, would be to go get someone else and not get into something that could be dangerous. Shoto headed for the stable. 

There were usually stable boys there, he reasoned. Telling them would be a good idea. They might get hurt.

Shoto approached the stable yard. It didn’t look any different than usual. He sniffed the air. A hint of smoke, but nothing concerning. If a fire had started, he probably would have smelled it by now. Usually the stable boys stayed inside the building during the hottest part of the day, so if something had happened outside, they might not have heard through the walls of the stable. Mind made up, Shoto headed for the corner of the stable building. He would walk around it and see if there was anything there.

He didn’t need to walk for long. He had barely rounded the side when two boys stumbled around the far corner of the building. One had purple hair, and one had green, Shoto noticed with interest. Normally, that was a sign of latent magic in the blood, common with Lineages. Shoto’s hair was half red and half white, parted straight down the middle. He wondered why two boys who were probably from Lineages were working as stable boys. Perhaps they were from a particularly small Lineage.

The stable boys were fighting and didn’t notice him approaching until he stopped a few feet away. There is an awkward moment where Shoto stares at them and the purple boy stares back blankly while the green kid’s eyes nearly bulge out of his head. “Toshi, that’s Todoroki Shoto.” Greenie hissed in his friend’s ear. 

Purple’s eyes also widened. “Ah.” Shoto doesn’t pay any attention. People who he doesn’t know usually react like that. His last name is fairly famous. The giant scar stretching across the side of his face is also rather attention-grabbing.

The silence stretches on. Shoto doesn’t break it. He lets his face settle into the bland mask that is his only form of rebellion. It makes people uncomfortable. Shoto enjoys that. The stable boys, like most people, don’t seem to know how to handle the blank stare he levels them with, although that is probably partially because anyone else would have been yelling at them by now.

Finally, after it is clear that Shoto has no intention either of leaving or speaking, Greenie steps forward and bends awkwardly at the waist. He has had very little formal training, Shoto notes. He bends too shallowly and stands up straight too soon. “Mister Todoroki, sir, we’re sorry for disturbing your walk. We’ll get out of your way.” 

He nudges Purple, who grudgingly bows as well. He does it oddly, like he has had training but is purposely being sloppy. The two start to shuffle off behind the building again.

“Wait.” The stable boys pause. Shoto hadn’t really meant to speak, but this was the only interesting thing that had happened since Shi-sensei had somehow lost his pants. 

(He’d switched them for workout shorts, then gone back after training to discover them missing. He would probably have found them sooner if the servants he yelled at to find them had spent their time searching instead of sneaking away to burst into giggles just around the corner. They still hadn’t found them. Shoto suspected they never would. He’d nailed them to the roof of the wellhouse.) 

That had been nearly a month ago. Shoto was bored. 

The stable boys were still looking at him. 

“What exploded?” Greenie immediately started fidgeting nervously. Purple, on the other hand, was squinting at Shoto like he was trying to solve a puzzle. Eventually, he responded. “A lantern from the stable yard blew when we were trying to mess with the amount of fuel it fed into the wick.” 

Shoto looked back at the stable yard. None of the other lanterns looked any different than normal. 

Before he could ask why they were using lanterns in the middle of the day, all three boys stiffened. Heavy thumps, the footsteps of men in armor, were nearing their side of the barn. Before Shoto could open his mouth, Purple had snagged both him and Greenie and was dragging them around the far corner, where Shoto had first seen the stable boys emerge from. Shoto found himself moving with them without thinking about it.

Greenie’s fidgeting had faded to be replaced by a disconcerting amount of concentration. He was muttering under his breath. “If we round this next corner of the barn, we can head into the woods between the main house and the stables. The issue from there is how to get from the edge of the woods to behind the house.” Shoto didn’t spare time to think about why these strange boys needed to be behind his house.

“There’s a wellhouse just inside the tree line. You hide there. If there were guards coming to check out the explosion, every other guard on the property would know that there could be unauthorized visitors. I’ll tell the guards that I saw you and get them to leave their posts.” They were inside the trees now, and Greenie was panting a bit when he asked “Are you sure? Will you get in trouble?”

Purple scoffed. “Are you kidding? If I had to live here, I’d take any opportunity to wreck shit as much as possible.”

The trio slowed down as they reached the edge of the trees. Shoto guided the other two in through the back door of the wellhouse, and the three took a moment to rest in the cool, wet air. Purple picked his head up from where he’d slumped against the wall. “You seem experienced at this. Pulled any pranks before?” Shoto blinked at him, then slowly raised his gaze to the ceiling. The others followed his line of sight.

There was a pair of pants lying inconspicuously on the roof, looking for all the world like they had been carelessly thrown there by a thoughtless owner who happened to be gravity-reversed. 

Once Greenie and Purple had finished dying of laughter as quietly as possible, Shoto strolled out from the woods looking exactly as usual and not at all like he’d just run from his own guards. He walked straight up to the nearest knight at his post and commented “I wasn’t aware that we’d hired new stable boys.” A short conversation later, the guards were scrambling off in the direction that they’d just come from, missing the two boys who sprinted past Shoto and dodged behind the house.

Shoto innocently walked towards the front of the house, intending on being fully in view of several people when whatever the definitely-not-stable-boys were planning went off. He was saved from the trouble of going far when Shi-sensei stormed out of the house and straight for Shoto. He was promptly treated to a lecture on proper personal safety. Apparently, word of their visitors had spread fast. 

He was replying politely that he had come straight back to the house after hearing of the intruders (technically true) when a truly impressive bang shook the foundations of the Todoroki manor house. A gentle rain of confetti floated from every open window that Shoto could see. Suppressing his smile with the ease of long practice, he turned to Shi-sensei. “I believe I have located the intruders.”

That night, Shoto had to shake confetti off his blankets. Whatever Greenie and Purple had used to spread the confetti had been extremely effective. He reminded himself to make sure the servants were actually getting their overtime pay. 

As he tipped the bedding back onto his thin mattress, he noticed a piece of paper sticking out from under his pillow. It was a letter.

“Hi, Mister Todoroki!

Sorry about the confetti, I was going to stop it from going in your room, but Hitoshi pointed out that it would look bad for you if you were the only person who didn’t get pranked. Instead, we waited until we saw you with someone else and set the bomb in here! Thank you for helping us out, we had fun today. 

Until next time, Midoriya Izuku.”

A line underneath that in different handwriting ran:

“Thanks for the tip. Look out your window. -Shinsou Hitoshi.”

Shoto glanced around. This explained why his room was coated worse than any other in the house. He didn’t mind too much. Midoriya had to be Greenie, meaning Purple was Shinsou. He wondered why those names seemed so familiar. If they were from Lineages, he might have heard them in his lessons. Midoriya had said “next time.” Did that mean they wanted to see him again? Was this how you made friends?

He would like to be friends with them, Shoto thought. He’d never had friends before. He had always imagined that it would be awkward. Meeting people usually was for him. These boys hadn’t even glanced twice at his scar, much less asked him where he’d gotten it. They hadn’t had much time for that, admittedly, but it was still a point in their favor.

He walked over to his window, squinted at the dark pane of glass, then blew out his candle. As his eyes adjusted to the dark, the silhouettes beyond the glass took shape. 

As the lights in the stable yard came into focus, Shoto laughed audibly for the first time in years. Every lantern in the yard was shining at a different brightness.

—--------------

Shoto hit the ground hard. This time, instead of demanding he get up again, Shi-sensei turned and walked calmly off the mat. Taking a drink from the jug left for them by the bench nearby, he surveyed Shoto with minor disgust. “You’re falling behind. Take a few laps and then go clean off.”

Shoto knew better than to ask for a drink too. He set off on his first lap around the property. He wasn’t allowed to slack off by sticking to the established path, no, he had to push his way through bushes and vines, following the fence that ran all the way around the Todoroki estate. Once he was out of sight of Shi-sensei, he slowed down to allow himself to breathe. He could take as long as he wanted over his laps, as long as he was back in time to dress for dinner. His back ached.

It had been three weeks since the Confetti Incident, as Shoto had taken to calling it in his head. Shi-sensei had been irritated and stricter than usual, although he couldn’t do more than nit-pick everything Shoto did in training. Shoto had been right in front of him when the confetti bomb had exploded, and had just come from the forest. There was no chance he could have been responsible.

Shoto, for his part, was distracted. He hadn’t seen Midoriya and Shinsou since. By now, he was convinced that Midoriya had just been using one of the many expressions Shoto didn’t understand, and neither of them had actually wanted to be friends with Shoto. 

He wondered what they were doing now. Probably causing more mayhem, he guessed. 

A second later, Shoto got first-hand confirmation of this. He rounded a bend in the fence to see Midoriya tangled up in the wire fence, Shinsou trying unsuccessfully to untangle him, and another boy with blond spiky hair standing there doing absolutely nothing to help. 

Shoto wondered if this was always how meeting other people worked, by turning corners to find them in situations that either needed no explanation or needed too much. He didn’t dwell on it. The eyes of all three boys were on him now, and he lifted a hand in an awkward greeting. Midoriya’s face had lit up.

“Mister Todoroki! We were going to come find you.” “We got a bit sidetracked.” Explained Shinsou, gesturing helplessly at the tangle of Midoriya and wire balled up in the fence frame. The blond boy scowled at Shoto.

Shoto, now close enough to wonder exactly how Midoriya had managed to do this without strangling himself in the wire, wrapped a hand around the thickest part of the tangle of metal and concentrated. His hand glowed red-hot, and the wire slackened, dumping Midoriya unceremoniously on the ground.

“That’s so cool, Mister Todoroki!” Chirped Midoriya, apparently completely unfazed by this. “I had heard something about your magic! You can use both ice and fire, right? I was wondering-” “Oi! Shut up and let’s go already. You dragged me out here for this, didn’t you?” Interrupted Blondie. Shoto mentally changed his name to Porcupine. It suited him. 

“Don’t act like you didn’t want to meet him.” Shinsou sighed. “Half our plan was your idea.” “Of course it was, you and Izuku couldn’t come up with a good plan if your lives depended on it.” “Oh yeah? We sure got you good last week for people who can’t plan.” “Mister Todoroki,” Midoriya interrupted, “this is Katsuki.” “Bakugo.” Porcupine growled. 

Shoto tilted his head. He might not have been able to place it before, but he knew he had heard Midoriya’s name before. Now with the addition of Champion Bakugo’s (it could be no one else), he had it. The new Upholder of Eraserhead’s Lineage had disappeared for almost two months about a year ago. Champion Bakugo, a childhood friend of his, had been “extremely worried.” (Judging by the argument taking place in front of him, Shoto thought “furious” was probably a better term)

It had been in all the newspapers when Champion Bakugo had disappeared for several days, then returned with Midoriya in tow. Turned out, the kid had become the chosen of Eraserhead as well as the Lineage Upholder. Now, according to what Shoto knew, Midoriya split his time between school in the capital and wherever chosen ones went when they met with their gods.

Irritatingly, Shoto still couldn’t place Shinsou’s name. He thought it probably had to do with Eraserhead, given that Shinsou was constantly with the god’s chosen, but it slipped through his fingers when he tried to remember. He would look through old newspapers when he got back. If it was recent, that would probably refresh his memory.

Shoto wanted to ask what being a chosen was like. He had been expected to be one since he had been born, but he didn’t really know what he felt about that. Gods were generally benevolent, with a few exceptions, but though he wasn’t evil, Endeavor was known for his temper. 

It was fitting, as the god of volcanic eruptions, but that didn’t mean Shoto wanted to spend the rest of his life walking on tiptoe around someone who could and would kill him in an instant if he had the whim.

According to his etiquette training, it was rude to bring up heavier topics until you were closer to the person. Thus, instead of asking an invasive question, Shoto took a step closer to having a relationship where it wouldn’t be rude to ask. 

“Call me Shoto.”

The fighting paused. “What did you say?” Shinsou asked, turning from where he had been trying to mediate. Shoto repeated himself. “I said to call me Shoto. Mister Todoroki is too formal to use among friends.”

There was a beat of silence. Had he overstepped? He opened his mouth to apologise for assuming they were friends. “Well, then you can call me Hitoshi.” 

Shoto blinked. Shin-Hitoshi was smiling at him. It was a nice smile. He hadn’t seen Hitoshi really smile before. He liked it.

“Call me Izuku!” Midoriya was grinning too. Shoto had definitely seen him smile before (he wondered if Izuku ever stopped smiling) but it was nice nonetheless. 

Shoto thought that Bakugo would try and punch him if he even thought about trying to call him Katsuki. Instead, he turned to him and bowed, exactly the right length and depth to convey polite respect for Champion Bakugo’s position. “Lineage Upholder Todoroki Shoto greets Champion Bakugo. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

Bakugo seemed to deflate a little, surprised that Shoto had even made the connection, much less greeted him as respectfully as if they were standing before an audience of priests instead of two other boys who also looked a little more shocked than Shoto would have thought. Were people not greeting Champion Bakugo properly? It was a sign of disrespect to neglect the formal greetings, at least the first time you met him.

Bakugo seemed mollified by the presentation, at least, and gruffly told him to ditch the fancy title.

A few minutes later, the four were walking through the woods towards the barn where they had first met. Izuku was happily filling Shoto in on why, exactly, they were here. They were going to pull another prank, this time specifically on Shi-sensei. Apparently they had seen enough of Shoto’s conversation with him last time to hold a bit of a grudge. Shoto was perfectly happy to fill them in on every single one of Shi-sensei’s dislikes. He had been waiting for the odd looks, for the questions about his face. None came. The other boys seemed content to argue about anything that came up, though none of them seemed actually mad.

Despite Hitoshi’s earlier words, they didn’t seem to have much of a plan. However, they had a bagful of random stuff that seemed geared towards being irritating, including what Shoto thought was another confetti bomb. He made a mental note not to get on their bad sides.

He had not planned many pranks in his life, and so was perfectly content to let them hash out the details. He did request that he be positioned as before in someone’s sight the entire time so he wouldn’t be blamed for it, but they appeared to have already taken that into account.

As they discussed, Shoto absently waved his hand through the air. It was still hot from melting the fence, and he swayed it back and forth, letting the cool air slowly dissipate the heat. Hitoshi noticed. “You can use both ice and fire, right? Why don’t you just cool down your hand with your magic?”

Shoto tilted his head. “I cannot use my other element until the effects of the last one I used have faded enough to allow them to switch places.” Hitoshi frowned. “You can’t use them at the same time?”

Shoto shook his head. Hitoshi considered this for a few minutes, then pulled him to a stop. “When I was just starting to use my magic, my parents told me to think of a river. Let the different sides of your magic run together like the currents. It should be possible to use both of your sides at the same time.”

Shoto hesitated. Izuku and Bakugo were watching him too. He closed his eyes and tried to do what Hitoshi had said. A river….

“You did it! Look, look!”

Shoto’s eyes flew open. Izuku was squealing and patting at his arm. Shoto’s hand was now just below his normal temperature. He even thought he saw a bit of frost on his fingertips. He nodded to Hitoshi, who nodded back. The others went on planning while Shoto walked beside them, his mind somewhere else. It had never been so easy to use his magic when Shi-sensei was yelling at him to try harder.

In the end, they went with the simple plan of having Shoto distract Shi-sensei by requesting him to show him a particularly hard martial arts move. While Shoto was distracting him, Izuku would act as lookout while Bakugo and Hitoshi fiddled around in Shi-sensei’s bedroom to their heart’s content. 

Then came the tricky part. They needed to make sure Shi-sensei didn’t think that Shoto had done it while he was supposed to be out on his laps. Bakugo would let himself be seen leaving the window of Shi-sensei’s room. Shoto didn’t really like this part of the plan, but Bakugo’s grin when he suggested it and the other two’s complete acceptance of the idea reassured him that All Might’s Champion had his ways of not being caught.

They separated at the barn. Izuku would perch in a tree near the house, where he could see anyone coming from the training stalls. Hitoshi and Bakugo would wait nearby until Izuku signalled them that Shi-sensei had entered the training stalls with Shoto. Shoto trotted quickly through the forest to approach the training grounds from the other side, giving the impression he had finished the lap he had started. 

He took a minute to breathe before heading in. He was tired and bruised from the training he had only just completed. Shi-sensei did not tolerate sloppiness. He reassured himself with the thought of Shi-sensei covered in confetti.

He was determined to give the others a good thirty minutes. 

He lasted fifteen. 

Shoto hit the ground hard for the second time that day. However, this time, Shi-sensei didn’t let him off so easily. He was on Shoto in a second, slamming his foot into his ribs. Shoto felt something crack.

He lay there, curled up and gasping. His chest wouldn’t expand enough to take in air. Shi-sensei scoffed. “You can’t even get up. How will you ever expect to be ready to really be the Lineage Upholder if this is how you act whenever you get a tiny bruise? I had such hopes when you actually came to me instead of me having to drag you out here, but all you wanted was sympathy, wasn’t it?”

Shi-sensei walked away. Shoto took a few more breaths (shallow, too shallow, can’t breathe). He hoped the others had gotten out alright. The others. 

He needed to get up, Shoto realized. If he lay here with no one to watch him, if he had even the slightest chance of being the one who got into Shi-sensei’s room, he would ruin their plan. Bakugo would get chased through the woods for nothing.

Slowly, slowly, Shoto stood. He would not lose his new, his only friends because he was too weak to handle a few kicks.

It took him a second to make his legs work again. Then, stumbling like a baby deer at first, he headed for the door. If Izuku hadn’t seen Shi-sensei leave, he would see him. Shoto’s hair stood out like a beacon.

When he rounded the corner of the manor into the yard, his still pain-addled mind took a second to catch up with what was happening. There were guards in the yard. That was to be expected. Bakugo, visibly panting from what was undoubtedly a hard chase, crouched behind a bush with Hitoshi, invisible to everyone but Shoto. Hitoshi was focused on something else, but Bakugo glanced over. His eyes narrowed at the way Shoto was holding himself. Waving his hand to attract Shoto’s attention, he pointed at Shoto and made a thumbs up sign, raising his eyebrows. Are you okay? Shoto nodded back. Bakugo didn’t seem satisfied, but ignored him, focusing back on whatever had held his attention before.

Izuku was gone from his tree. That was also according to plan. He would have shimmied down as soon as he had given the “get lost” signal to Hitoshi and Bakugo. Izuku was currently in the yard, surrounded by guards. That was….. bad.

That part was not in the plan. He must have been intercepted as he crossed the yard. Shoto, his mind cleared by panic and a hint of anger (they were threatening his friend), thought fast.

Thankfully, Bakugo and Hitoshi were still hidden, though Hitoshi was holding Bakugo back. Shoto took a breath, and then marched straight for the little group, doing his best to radiate righteous indignation. 

The group of guards were in the process of trying to put cuffs onto Izuku, who was not making it easy. Shoto stopped directly in front of them and put on his best “Lineage Upholder” voice. “What, exactly, do you think you are doing?”

He noted with irritation that instead of stopping to salute him, the ones who weren’t actively wrestling with Izuku just glanced at each other. They were new recruits, judging by the shininess of their armor. “We are apprehending an uninvited visitor, sir.” Shoto pulled his iciest look onto his face. “What makes you think he was uninvited?” That did give them pause.

“Sir, we weren't notified that any visitors to the estate were arriving today, and he has not attempted to explain his presence here.” “Perhaps that is because you have not given him the chance. Are you aware that you are attempting to put handcuffs on the Lineage Upholder of Eraserhead?” 

They were paying attention to him now. He raised his eyebrow at the guard holding Izuku, who, unsure of what to do, gave Izuku an opening to rip himself free and stomp to Shoto’s side, playing along. “Are you alright, Izuku?” “Shoto, I think your guards bruised my wrists.” Izuku pouted, very convincingly.

Out of the corner of his eye, Shoto saw the guards exchange nervous glances. It was well known how cold Shoto was in public. To see someone calling him by his first name without complaint by him was not a good sign for the knights now fidgeting nervously in front of them. Shoto let a tiny flame dance to life in his hair as he tilted his head to let his scar show more openly. He was every inch the Upholder of Endeavor and the heir of a famous family at the moment. “You are new here. Should I inform you personally every time I wish to receive a friend?” There was a general muttering of apologies and avoiding of eyes.

Shoto sighed. “Evidently, you have not finished your training. I have no use for knights that cannot even form intelligible replies when spoken too. You are dismissed for the day.” This time, the knights did salute before slinking off with their metaphorical tails between their legs. Izuku and Shoto walked calmly back into the forest before taking off in a wild, exhilarated sprint as soon as they had reached the safety of the trees. Hitoshi and Bakugo caught up with them and the four raced each other back to their section of fence. Shoto was so high on adrenaline, he could ignore how his ribs pounded with every footfall.

By the time they reached the fence, Shoto had received several hair ruffles, many loud congratulations, and grudging permission to call Bakugo by his first name. He felt wonderful. 

He was more alive now than he had felt in years.

Of course, it couldn’t last long. 

They slammed into the fence, collapsing over each other in a flurry of words and relieved giggling. Hitoshi was telling Shoto how awesome the guards’ faces had been. “They practically pissed themselves, Sho!”

Shoto had never had a nickname before. He felt like his stomach was full of bubbles, lifting him up. He had never smiled so hard for so long, and he could feel his cheeks hurting, but he couldn’t stop. Then, Katsuki smacked him on the back, crowing something that Shoto couldn’t hear through the sudden rush of blood in his ears. 

His friends continued to crowd him, laughing and talking. Shoto felt vaguely that it was rude not to pay attention to what they were saying. A wave of pain was trickling down his spine and running in between his ribs.

He was too busy focusing on breathing to realize when the noise stopped, but he eventually became conscious of someone saying his name. He looked up.

Hitoshi was crouched in front of him. He wondered how many times Hitoshi had called him, because all his friends looked relieved that he had responded. 

“Shoto, are you alright?” He managed to nod and smile. No one bought it.

Katsuki, looking uncharacteristically guilty, spoke up. “It’s because I hit you, isn’t it. I fucking knew you were hurt, let me see.”

Hitoshi held up his hand, looking at Shoto for permission before letting Katsuki lift his shirt. The gesture was strangely comforting. Shoto nodded. 

Katsuki’s hands were softer than he expected. As he lifted the back of Shoto’s shirt, Hitoshi swore and Izuku looked like he wanted to cry.

Shoto couldn’t see most of the damage, so he couldn’t gauge how much his friends were overreacting. His training was harsh, but admittedly he didn’t usually feel this bad.

“Call your dad.” Katsuki ordered. He was looking at Hitoshi. Silently, Hitoshi nodded. He pulled a necklace out from under his shirt. It was a gray cat pendant on a long chain. The cat looked exactly like something Hitoshi would wear, Shoto thought absently. He was the type to like cats. Hitoshi closed his eyes, gripping the pendant. Shoto saw his hand vibrate slightly. One, two, three buzzes. 

It was a miss-you necklace, Shoto realized. Miss-you necklaces were usually marketed for lovers, hence the name. They were enchanted. Each person got a necklace, and when you buzzed one necklace, the other buzzed too. 

Hitoshi’s dad must have the other one. That wasn’t unusual, especially since Hitoshi and Izuku seemed to make a habit of breaking into rich properties. There were probably a few pre-discussed signals like buzz once for checking in, twice for coming home. Apparently, three times meant “help.”

Hitoshi turned to whisper to Izuku. His purple hair caught the light. He was still kneeling in front of Shoto. The position was familiar. 

Shoto’s breath caught as it clicked. Shinsou Hitoshi, the first chosen of Eraserhead. His tutors had shown him several illustrations of the boy in the decrepit shrine. His story was told to young children sometimes, to teach them about the rewards that come from good deeds. He felt stupid for not figuring it out sooner. Of course, it was unusual for there to be multiple chosens at the same time, but the ones who had been taken away eventually became godlings rather than mortal chosens. 

He was staring. Hitoshi looked even more concerned. Abruptly, Shoto realized that he’d never greeted the godling. A chosen was the most respected member of a Lineage, but since Shoto’s Lineage surpassed Izuku’s, he figured they were more or less on the same rank. A godling, however, was almost as revered as an actual god.

Ignoring the pain in his chest, Shoto bowed as low as he physically could without choking on the feeling rising from his ribs into his throat. “Lineage Upholder Todoroki Shoto greets-”

He was abruptly taken by the shoulders and sat upright. Hitoshi looked exasperated. “We’ve known each other for three weeks, and you only assume I care about formalities when you look like you’ve got a broken rib? I know that hurts, sit up, for All Might’s sake, and stay quiet, our dad should be here soon.” Katsuki snorts. “He only just figured it out, dumbass, otherwise he would have done the kowtowing when he did it to me.”

“We have only met twice in those three weeks.” Shoto pointed out, leaning back against a tree. He didn’t seem to be in trouble. It was fine. They seemed very focused on Hitoshi’s dad- wait. 

Hitoshi had said “our dad.” He had been referring, as far as Shoto could tell, to himself and Izuku. The only thing they had in common, the person that was most likely to be “Dad” was Eraserhead. 

A god. They were calling an entire god down like it was no big deal. Shoto politely expressed his concern about this. He then expressed it a little less politely when his friends brushed him off. Izuku and Katsuki seemed perfectly fine with this, but Hitoshi looked at Shoto thoughtfully. He turned to Izuku. “You go over there and activate your necklace so he knows where to go. I’m going to make sure nothing else is broken.”

Izuku trotted away without arguing, and after a pointed look from Hitoshi, Katsuki grudgingly followed suit.  

Hitoshi sat down beside Shoto and, without a word, turned around and pulled up his own shirt. Shoto eyed the faint scars tracing his back with something like awe. He hadn’t thought that scars would transfer over after becoming a godling.

Hitoshi sighed. “My tragic backstory is written in most history books. Side effect of being adopted by a god. I felt exactly like you when I first met him. I swear, he won’t hurt you, he won’t dismiss you, he’ll just help. No questions asked.”

Shoto considered this for several minutes. Hitoshi didn’t break the silence. 

“You trust him?”

“I do.”

Shoto didn’t know why, but he trusted Hitoshi. “Fine.”

There was a tingle in the air that hadn’t been there before. Hitoshi seemed to feel it too, as he stood and carefully helped Shoto up. Izuku came running out towards them. Behind him, with Katsuki trailing behind him, came a dark-haired man wearing baggy pants and a thick scarf. He didn’t look much like a god. 

Shoto felt the electric static buzzing in the air around him, though. His magic was twisting in the base of his spine, agitated. It was an odd feeling, but it didn’t hurt.

The man, having apparently been filled in by Katsuki and Izuku, eyed them and sighed. He looked like Hitoshi. Shoto immediately felt better.

“Problem Children.” The man -Eraserhead- muttered. Shoto, unsure how to take that, moved to bow and was immediately grabbed from several angles. “No.” Hitoshi hissed. Katsuki snarled a threat under his breath. Eraserhead sighed deeper. 

He moved closer, hands hanging limp and non-threatening by his sides. Bending down a bit, he looked Shoto in the eyes. “I’m sure the others have told you this, but my name is Eraserhead. I am the patron god of teachers.” “Lineage Upholder Todoroki Shoto greets the great god Eraserhead.” Shoto recited politely. He couldn’t bow, there were still several people watching him closely. Instead, he dipped his head as low as it would go.

Eraserhead accepted the greeting with an inclination of the head. 

“I hear you have assisted my children.” He said, a hint of exasperation in the word assisted. “In return, I offer you assistance when needed.” “I-” Shoto hesitated. Hitoshi caught his eye and gave him a small nod. “I gratefully accept your generous offer, Lord.”

“We should go home.” Hitoshi chimed in. “Recovery Girl gave you that spell for “the next time you bring home an injured kitten,” remember?”

Shoto blinked. Did he just get invited to a god’s house? More importantly, did he just get invited to his friend’s house?

“If you are comfortable with it,” Eraserhead said, “we will relocate to somewhere we can more easily tend to your wounds.” He was speaking to him, Shoto realized. He gave a hesitant nod. Izuku, who had been bouncing on his toes, cheered. The group converged around Shoto, who wasn’t quite sure what was happening. 

“Hold on to me.” Katsuki grunted at him. Shoto did so.

Eraserhead placed a hand on Hitoshi’s head, and in a second, the entire group was gone.

—---------------

The god’s house was smaller than Shoto had expected. He would have thought it would be at least as big as the Todoroki manor house, but it was a reasonable two stories and fairly cozy. Shoto liked it immediately.

The other kids quickly scattered towards the far corners of the house. Izuku went upstairs, muttering something about someone called Eri. (That was the young goddess of rebirth, if Shoto remembered correctly. Eraserhead seemed to have a lot of children.) Katsuki stomped off towards the back of the hall. The sound of dishes clinking and someone humming carried through the archway through which Shoto could see counters and a stove. Hitoshi, thankfully, stuck with Shoto as Eraserhead led him through another door and into a living room with walls covered in books.

He was plopped down on a couch as Eraserhead rifled through a cabinet. Hitoshi sat next to him. “Izuku is going to play with Eri, our little sister, to keep her away until you’re ready. Katsuki has gone to find our other dad.” Ignoring the fact that he now knew that Eraserhead was married, Shoto noted “You seem to have this well practiced.”

Hitoshi snickered. “We’ve been expecting another kid soon. It’s been almost 9 months since Katsuki.”

Eraserhead swatted at Hitoshi with a pillow as he passed by out of the room. He had found what he had been looking for, a first aid kit that he put down on the arm of the couch as he passed. Shoto wondered if he was expected to apply the bandages by himself. He usually did at home. He didn’t want to presume he was allowed to use the kit, though, so he left it alone for now.

Eraserhead was just outside the door, talking quietly with another man. The new one had long, very familiar blond hair, although it was down in a loose braid instead of up in the iconic swoop. Shoto took the deepest breath he could and let it out slowly.

Hitoshi prodded his knee. “Hey, are you okay with me leaving you with them?” Shoto’s panic must have shown on his face, because Hitoshi held up his hands quickly. “I won’t if you don’t want me to, but they’re really nice. It’s kind of a tradition to have them treat the injuries the first time you’re here, though they would probably prefer no injuries at all.”

Shoto took another breath and considered this. 

Hitoshi seemed to have absolute faith in the two gods. Izuku and Katsuki hadn’t hesitated to run off in their house. He’d never been part of such a non-formal tradition before.

“Okay.” 

Hitoshi grinned at him, ruffled his hair, and left, stopping to say something to the men outside the door before he went into a room across the hall. 

Shoto felt mildly relieved that he would be nearby.

There was a knock on the doorframe, and Present Mic, the god of music and dance, was in front of Shoto.

Taking the previous lenience shown by Eraserhead regarding his lackluster bow into account, Shoto dipped his head again instead of irritating his chest more. “Lineage Upholder Todoroki Shoto greets the great god Present Mic.” 

Present Mic lifted his hand to permit Shoto to raise his head. “I accept your greeting. From now on, though, you can leave the formalities.” Shoto was absolutely not going to do that, but he didn’t disagree with the god out loud.

Eraserhead had started unpacking things from the first aid kit. Present Mic crouched in front of Shoto. “Hitoshi said that your back was giving you trouble, kiddo. Is it alright if we take a look?”

Shoto didn’t feel nearly as comfortable with them taking his shirt off as he had felt with Katsuki, but he dipped his head politely in permission.

The next few minutes blurred together a little. His shirt was carefully lifted over his head, a warm cloth swept over his back, an oil of some sort was applied that made his back feel tingly and pleasantly numb. The pain in his side had eased significantly by the time bandages were taped down and a large sweater was dropped into his lap instead of his shirt.

Shoto didn’t mind that. The sweater smelled nice and was much softer than anything in his closet. 

Just like Hitoshi had promised, the two hadn’t asked any questions so far, merely working in comfortable silence. (That comfortable silence hadn’t been so comfortable for a second when Shoto’s shirt had come off. He had felt the temperature in the room drop, but it was gone quickly)

Now though, as Eraserhead packed up the first aid kit again, Present Mic sat on the couch next to him. Shoto politely lowered his eyes to the floor. It was rude to look a god in the face, and though neither had said anything about his scar, he knew he was ugly. He didn’t want to know what would happen if the divine beings decided that they simply didn’t want to see his face. Present Mic cleared his throat. “Kiddo, we do need to ask where you got those bruises from. You don’t have to tell us anything you don’t want to, but we would like to make sure we aren’t sending you back to a place where you’ll get another cracked rib.”

Shoto figured that made sense. The gods had gone to the trouble of manually patching him up, and from the steadily-fading pain in his side, had used an enchantment to fix his ribs. They wouldn’t want their work to be wasted.

He didn’t have any particular reason not to tell them where the bruises had come from. Many people knew about his training. He outlined his usual schedule to the gods, who listened silently. Shoto wished he could see their faces, but he didn’t dare look up. His neck was starting to cramp. 

When he finished, there was a beat of silence. “You know you are allowed to look at us, right?” Eraserhead’s gruff voice sounded from behind Present Mic. Shoto hesitated, but hearing the command in the words, he raised his head. Present Mic looked rather sad, but smiled at him. “There’s that pretty face! Thank you for telling us, sweetheart. Now, are you hungry? Our kids are probably congregated in the kitchen, I left Katsuki to finish lunch.”

Shoto, in a minor state of shock (no one had ever called his face “pretty” before), allowed himself to be led to the kitchen. The others were there. Eri introduced herself and her stuffed bear with dignity, and Shoto greeted her. She looked rather pleased when he greeted her bear with just as much formality, so Shoto ignored the snicker from Katsuki and the coo from Present Mic.

Lunch was probably the best thing Shoto had ever eaten. It tasted better because of the diet he was on, but he was sure to tell both Present Mic and Katsuki how good it was regardless. He might have said a little too much, because Izuku asked if he normally followed a diet. He saw the tightening of Eraserhead’s jaw when he confirmed and outlined his diet plan, but he didn’t seem angry at Shoto, so he ignored it.

After lunch, Present Mic told him that he was welcome to stay the night if he wanted. It seemed like an offer, not an order, but Shoto’s friends looked excited. If Shoto stayed, he judged that he would probably get dinner and maybe breakfast as well, so he agreed promptly. Shi-sensei couldn’t get mad at him for staying with gods, surely.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of laughter and scampering feet. Hitoshi, Eri, and Izuku were apparently the only official kids in the house, but Katsuki seemed to be there almost constantly, from their stories. Shoto wondered if he would be allowed to come back. Present Mic, who had given him permission to call him Yamada, was possibly the nicest adult Shoto had ever met. Eraserhead, who went out after lunch and didn’t come back until dinner time, seemed kind in a gruff sort of way.

They even had a cat. Her name was Missy, short for Missile. Shoto could guess who had named her. He had never petted a cat before. It was nice.

When it started to get dark, Yamada sent the kids to gather pillows and blankets from all over the house. They were going to make a fort, Eri told him firmly. Her tone brooked no argument, not that Shoto would have raised any. That was another thing he had never done. Katsuki responded to that by aggressively declaring that his fort would be the best that had ever been built and recruiting Shoto to help build. 

While the others stacked pillows and wrestled the couches into position, Shoto was given a stack of sheets and told to put them on the mattresses collected from the guest bedrooms. Here, he was at a loss. He’d never had to put sheets on his own bed before, and the fitted corners kept slipping off.

As he struggled to keep both sides down, another hand pulled the sheet into position. Eraserhead silently showed him how to pull the sheet under the mattress correctly. Shoto felt his cheeks burning. The Lineage Upholder of Endeavor and prospective chosen of a god, struggling to put sheets on a bed.

He felt a hand land on his head. “It isn’t shameful not to know how to do something you were never taught to do.” Shoto looked up to see Eraserhead smiling. It was awkward, like he wasn’t used to soothing people, but it was kind.

Eraserhead was the patron of teachers, Shoto remembered, feeling slightly better. If he had introduced himself with that title, he probably didn’t mind teaching. 

(Shoto ignored the little part of himself that asked why Shi-sensei was so angry when Shoto couldn’t do something, if all it took was just showing him how to do it. He wished Eraserhead would be his teacher. He had learned more about his magic from the one piece of advice Hitoshi had repeated to him than he had in years with Shi-sensei.)

He spent that night tangled in a pile of limbs. He had had more physical contact here than he had had since he was old enough to walk by himself. He had never slept more soundly. He woke up with Hitoshi’s hair in his mouth and a cat purring on his chest.

Unfortunately, he had to go back in the morning. Breakfast was just as good as lunch and dinner had been, but he couldn’t enjoy it as much. Yamada and the kids waved goodbye to him from the table when he and Eraserhead stood to go. He got hugs from everyone. The last thing he saw was Hitoshi’s worried face.

—-----------

They blinked back into the same spot they had left at. As Yamada had promised, no one in the manor seemed to have noticed him missing. That should have been reassuring. Instead, Shoto felt lonely.

He had only left the other three behind this morning, but he already found himself missing their chatter as he went about his day. He brushed his hand over the small lump beneath his shirt. Izuku had pressed the miss-you necklace into his hand that morning. It was a small candy cane charm on a silver chain. (Katsuki looked rather proud of himself)

Shoto never wanted to take it off. Eraserhead had pulled him aside to go over the signals that Izuku had already taught him. “If you ever, and I mean ever, need immediate help, buzz four times. This includes if your trainers try to hurt you again. I will come. No strings attached.”

Shoto didn’t really know how to feel about his trainers being included in the list of “immediate help needed” things.

He quickly discovered how he felt about it when Shi-sensei returned from the main temple the next day. He had been gone when Shoto had returned, and he hadn’t thought much of it other than to be thankful that he wouldn’t have noticed him missing.

He should have paid attention. Shi-sensei returned in a raring temper, raving about someone who had reported him to the High Priest for misuse of authority over a Lineage Upholder. Shoto, remembering Eraserhead’s absence two days before, had a good guess as to who it was and why the High Priest had acted so quickly. Eraserhead was the protector of children, afterall, and he probably still counted as a kid. 

The issue was that Shi-sensei was careful. Even the High Priest wouldn’t be able to remove a high ranking trainer from the Todoroki household without proof.

However it had happened, it had happened, and now Shoto was paying the price. He was sweating and shaking, moving as fast as he could without being sloppy.

This was the worst sparring session he’d had in years, and he could feel his recently-healed ribs aching. Shi-sensei flipped him over his shoulder, and he landed hard, air escaping from his lungs in a whoosh.

Shi-sensei always left sparring till last in his training, so Shoto was already tired and practically incapable of beating him.

He loomed over Shoto, practically snarling. He wasn’t even pretending to be training now as he landed a kick in Shoto’s stomach.

His ribs ached even more now, and Shi-sensei was winding up for another kick. Shoto, acting on instinct, snagged the miss-you necklace and held on tightly, curling up into a ball to protect his head.

Eraserhead had said that he should call him in this specific situation. Surely, surely it was okay to actually do it? He couldn’t get mad at Shoto for following his instructions. Shoto just hoped that the god wasn’t busy.

Shi-sensei kicked him again, muttering something about pathetic weaklings. He stalked away from Shoto, towards the jug of water that still stood on the bench. Shoto closed his eyes and pushed at his magic. The necklace buzzed one, two, three, four times. A second later, it buzzed again without Shoto’s input. Eraserhead’s acknowledgement of the call.

Shoto felt a bit like crying. He was coming.

A shock of cold awoke him to the fact that Shi-sensei was standing over him, empty water jug in hand. “Get up.”

Shoto moved to push himself to his feet. The room went icy. At first, Shoto thought another jug of water had been dumped on him. Then, he registered the familiar prickly sensation running through his magic.

He looked up. Eraserhead was standing behind Shi-sensei, who hadn’t noticed him. His eyes swept over the soaked and shaking figure of Shoto and landed on the empty jug in Shi-sensei’s hand.

“I said, get up!” Shi-sensei blazed. He raised the jug. Shoto flinched back, covering his head.

Nothing happened. A choked noise filtered through the air, but it wasn’t Shoto. He uncovered his face to see Shi-sensei on the floor, wrapped in Eraserhead’s scarf. Eraserhead looked like a real god for the first time, eyes blazing red and hair floating in a non-existent wind. The jug was nowhere to be seen.

A hand landed on Shoto’s back. Yamada helped him to his feet, wrapping a towel around him. Shoto didn’t have the energy to wonder where he had gotten it. Yamada squeezed his shoulder gently, then gestured to Eraserhead to release Shi-sensei. 

Shoto stiffened, but neither of the others seemed at all concerned with the sputtered threats that filled the air as Eraserhead’s scarf unwound from Shi-sensei’s mouth.

Yamada pushed Shoto gently over to Eraserhead and moved to stand between them and the man now taking slow steps back from the little group. He smiled over his shoulder. “I think you avenged our last one, love. That means it’s my turn.” 

With a flick of Yamada’s wrist, every door and window in the little building shut and locked itself. Eraserhead, looking somewhat amused, placed his hand on Shoto’s shoulder, and they were gone.

They appeared in the book-walled living room from before. Hitoshi, Izuku, and Eri were squished onto one couch, and the moment Shoto and Eraserhead appeared, there was a scrambling as they all tried to get up at once and ended up pushing each other back down. Eraserhead sighed. He did that a lot, Shoto noticed.

“I assume you can manage clean clothes without me?” Hitoshi volunteered his clothes for Shoto and Eraserhead nodded and blinked away.

Shoto was bustled upstairs and into a bathroom where he was strictly instructed to wash himself off. He did so. Clothes were stuck around the door for him. They were too long, but he rolled up the pant legs and sleeves.

When he emerged, Katsuki had joined them, having apparently been called over in a hurry. Fresh bruise cream was produced and applied by Izuku while Katsuki cooked and Hitoshi supervised Eri, who was carefully slicing up fruit.

When the adults got home, there was a pile of children on the floor of the living room, tangled in blankets and snoring soundly.