Archive of Our Own ^beta

Todoroki Touya is only eight years old when he looks in the mirror and hates the face staring back at him.

It’s not a sudden realization. It’s gradual, from years of various instances that conditioned him to feel a certain way, to hate his father and to despise himself even more. How could he not? He’s never been taught any sort of self-worth or respect, and he knows he’s not deserving of it, either.

Predictably, that sort of mentality tends to weigh heavily upon a young child, especially one without positive reinforcement to counterbalance such intense negativity.

Most days, though, Touya can easily ignore his father’s scathing swears and the repeated insults that he’s a miserable failure. It’s not difficult to become desensitized to it all, since it’s an everyday occurance. He knows he will never be able to live up to his father’s expectations, but that’s something he’s come to terms with. Truthfully, he doesn’t even want to impress his father anymore – he'd grown out of that foolish desire. Now, he doesn’t care what he thinks. Touya just hopes that his little sister has the hybrid quirk, so that she can live happily without his father’s condemnation, and maybe the pressure will be taken off Touya.

Still, no matter what happens, Touya has already vowed to himself to protect her. When he first saw her, moments after she was born, he knew he could never allow anyone to harm her – especially not their father. He also knew her quirk would decide how she was treated in their household, but she still hasn't shown any signs of fire or ice. For her sake, he hopes she has what their father has been looking for. He doesn't think he could bear to see her hurt.

Touya loves Fuyumi, he really does. But as all siblings typically do, she does get on his nerves often.

They’re fighting at the lunch table over something ridiculous when Touya starts to get truly heated. He raises his voice to a dangerous tone, palms alighted with blistering blue flames, when he notices his mother stiffen up with fear. And when Touya looks over at her in confusion, she flinches and cowers.

His own mother looks downright terrified – terrified of him.

Immediately, Touya’s temper and his flames are extinguished by guilt. He stares at his mother, who’s frozen in her chair, as Fuyumi continues to yell, oblivious to what has occurred between them. Their mother’s eyes are wide with fear, even as she catches herself in the act, straightens her posture, and chastises Touya for his temper. She doesn't hide her mistake well.

“Be kind to your sister,” she warns, while Fuyumi levels him a satisfied glare, smirking triumphantly. Touya just nods, unable to retaliate as he processes what had just happened. His mother seems to glaze over the instance, trying yet failing to hide her reaction for his sake.

But even as she returns to her lunch, Touya notices that her hands are shaking.

In the following months, there are no other instances like that one. Touya is careful not to let his anger overcome him, and even more careful not to let his mother see his flames. He assumes that was what frightened her so much: his quirk. After all, his father did use his same flame quirk to suppress and abuse his wife, so Touya was sure that if he didn’t use his flames, he could win back his mother’s trust.

Until, that is, Touya notices that she couldn’t look him in the eye.

After that realization, Touya’s self-hatred is no longer gradual; it's consuming and powerful. Sure, it isn’t continuous, but it hits him in waves. Sometimes, it’s so intense that all he can do is dig his nails into his skin as a weak attempt to keep from further injuring himself out of frustration.

There are times that he stares in the mirror, hoping – no, praying – that he’d wake up one day without his father’s piercing gaze or his unruly red hair. That he’d wake up one day without persistent anger and volatility. That he’d wake up one day and not hate himself. That he’d wake up one day and not be such a disappointment to everyone he cares for and loves.

There are times he stares in the mirror for hours on end, wishing for his mother’s love instead of her fear.

(His knuckles become scarred by shards of reflective glass, and his mirrors become stained by drops of bloody tears.)

There’s nothing that Fuyumi can do as she watches her father knock her mother to the floor. Instead of helping, she remains frozen in the training room, sobbing without restraint. Her feet seem glued to where they’ve been in the doorway, unable to move and unable to act. Even though she knows there isn’t much she can do, she’s still blaming herself.

Fuyumi hates herself for not moving, for not saving her mother, for not doing anything.

A few minutes pass, filled with her father’s angered shouts, as her mother lies on the floor, unresponsive. Fuyumi continues to cry. Eventually, her father ceases his fruitless efforts, due to his wife’s lack of consciousness, and starts storming toward the door – where Fuyumi is on the verge of screaming.

His steps are loud and menacing as he approaches, glaring at her with blazing fire and casting fearful shadows across his face. Fuyumi can feel herself shaking as the man gets close enough to tower over her. His brows crease and he grumbles to himself, but not before he further ignites his hellflame. It blazes tall on his whole body, and Fuyumi screams as the heat gets dangerously close to her. Her father scowls as he strikes her across the face with a powerful blow.

When Fuyumi regains her bearings, her father is gone. Her mother remains on the floor but is no longer motionless. Her hand twitches once, twice, before Fuyumi sees her chest move with a gasping breath. Relief calms her sobbing, if only slightly, but it’s enough to allow her to move from where she’d been frozen.

“Mom!” she screams, and the word echoes with her footsteps in the empty room. She falls to her knees beside her mother, who stares with unblinking eyes at the ceiling above her as she catches her breath. Fuyumi scrubs at her swollen eyes, then takes her mother’s right hand. “Are you okay?”

And then, her mother looks at her.

Almost immediately, Fuyumi watches her mother’s shoulders slump, hide her bloody face in her hands, and sob. Her whole body is shook by it, and Fuyumi can’t help but cry harder. Her mother’s state is pitiful – swollen eye, bloody nose, split lip, mussed hair – and it causes a tremendous weight to settle in Fuyumi’s chest. The pressure settles within her heart, which was once unscathed and pure instead of beaten and shattered.

Fuyumi carefully makes her way into her mother’s arms, hoping to provide some comfort for the both of them. It doesn’t seem to do much, though, because her mother just continues to cry as she squeezes Fuyumi tight, mumbling into her hair. At first, Fuyumi doesn’t understand what she’s saying.

That is, until she makes out the apology: “I'm sorry, I’m so sorry.”

Fuyumi wants so badly to make sure her mother knows that she isn’t at fault for any of this mess, that it’s her father they all resent, that they appreciate all she’s done to keep them safe. Her mother has done so much to keep them safe, even if her efforts were unsuccessful.

But Fuyumi can’t get the words out. All she can do is hope her embrace conveys what she’s thinking.

They lie there for what might be merely minutes but feels like hours, until Touya comes home from school and finds them. Understanding, he doesn’t attempt to move them or ask what happened. In fact, he just falls to his knees beside them. Gently and carefully, he pulls the two to his chest and holds them close. It's the only thing Touya can do in the situation, but it helps nonetheless.

It helps because Touya understands both Fuyumi and their mother.

(After all, he is living in the same nightmare.)

Years later, when Natsuo first finds out he’s going to have a little brother, he’s so excited. He spends nights awake thinking about how they can all play together, and for once, Natsuo won’t be the one getting pushed around. He can’t wait for his little brother’s arrival.

Once the day comes, though, Natsuo finds himself scared as Shouto is born. He doesn’t know if he can protect the boy, like Touya and Fuyumi protect him.

As the years pass and Shouto grow into a toddler, Natsuo knows he’s got to do his job – especially in the near future, when Shouto eventually develops his quirk. He wants to do everything for Shouto, just to make sure he doesn’t live through the same kind of suffering Natsuo and his older siblings endured. He doesn’t want Shouto to grow up hating the life he’s stuck in. Instead, he wants his new little brother to have a life unlike his, happy and carefree.

He doesn’t want Shouto to feel like a monster, terrifying and undeserving of love, like Touya feels. He doesn’t want Shouto to feel like he’s responsible, carrying the weight of the family, like Fuyumi feels. He doesn’t want Shouto to feel like a disappointment, useless and undesirable, like Natsuo himself feels.

When Shouto turns four, Natsuo watches his father grow more and more impatient. As his restlessness increases, his aggression does as well. He becomes more physical with Natsuo and Touya, and even though he often refrains from hitting Fuyumi, he’s cruel to her in a plethora of other ways. And, for all their sake, Natsuo just hopes Shouto’s quirk is what his father wanted. He doesn't know how much longer he can live like this.

He can't keep living like this.

Natsuo doesn't sleep. Instead, he dreams restlessly, plagued by the betrayal of his own mind. He would call them nightmares, but they're more like memories. Each night, he relives the horrors of the day in his dreams. He's kept up by echoes of his father’s booming voice, haunted by the residual heat of his fire, exposed to angry fists and harsh blows.

And even though he swears he's all grown up, the terrors of the night strip away his maturity and reduce him to screaming.

Usually, it all ends the same. Since he shares a room with his older brother, Touya normally covers his mouth to keep from waking his father, then sneaks into the kitchen to bring Natsuo a glass of water. It usually calms him, keeps him feeling safe, prevents from his father’s wrath.

Tonight, though, Natsuo wakes up and he isn't screaming. Touya is.

Quickly, Natsuo scrambles out of bed and hurries to his brother’s bed as he thrashes violently under his blankets. Touya’s face is contorted with unadulterated fear as his voice breaks the usual silence in their room. Natsuo grabs his arm and shakes him, shakes him hard until his eyes snap wide open.

Immediately, Touya takes multiple deep breaths, gasping and heaving until he can breathe. Natsuo watches, terrified, as his older brother falls apart in front of his eyes. Touya sits up but remains hunched over, and that’s when Natsuo notices he’s shaking.

Carefully, Natsuo climbs onto the bed and situates himself next to Touya. There's silence for a minute, nothing but the consistent tremors of Touya’s body, until Natsuo decides to rest his head onto his brother’s shoulder in attempt to soothe him, in attempt to calm him. In response, Touya opens his arms, and Natsuo gladly accepts the hug, burying his face into Touya’s neck.

They're seven years apart, and they’ve never really been close in this way. Of course, their upbringing practically forced weaknesses straight out from their bones, yet simultaneously created such immense fractures in those same bones.

All at once, Touya falls to pieces against him, and though they’re practically the same size, Natsuo feels a thousand times bigger. His older brother shakes in his arms, sobs into his neck, and clings tightly to him; it’s the strangest experience for Natsuo. Usually, Touya is comforting him from the terrors of the night. Usually, Touya is the one holding everything together – now, though, he was falling apart.

Hours earlier, Natsuo had promised himself that he would protect Shouto, like Fuyumi had protected him, like Touya had protected her.

(And, suddenly, Natsuo realizes something: there was no one to protect Touya.)

In the cold of that same winter, barely weeks later, Todoroki Shouto waits for his father.

It'd been an hour since day care had let out, and the snow had been falling just as long. Shouto doesn't even bother to hide or downplay his shivering. There was no need; no one else was around to see the weakness, since everyone else had left ages ago.

Shouto knows he should go inside. He knows he should go back into the warm building, tell some adult that his dad is late, maybe find a way to contact him. He knows he shouldn't wait outside any longer in the falling snow, especially since his thin jacket is making it really hard for him to keep himself. He knows he's going to get sick if he waits outside any longer, but he just can't bring himself to leave the sidewalk.

He just can't bring himself to accept that his father isn't ever coming for him.

Glancing down the street, Shouto sees a figure approaching, walking down the street. It clearly isn't his father, since the person is significantly smaller in both height and bulk. Shouto hugs himself tightly and hopes the person isn't looking for any trouble, since he doesn't think he could defend himself without having shown his quirk yet.

As the figure gets closer, Shouto begins to notice bright red hair, and that's all it takes before he's running down the street, shouting in repetition, “Nii-san! Nii-san!”

Shouto has never been afraid of Touya – not in the way that other kids are. Shouto’s friends have always told him that he looks scary, but he had never agreed. Instead, he looked up to his brother and, though he never admitted it, wanted to be like Touya. Shouto respected his resilience, his ability to withstand their father’s wrath.

“Shouto,” is all Touya says when his little brother reaches him, still shouting. He does, however, smile just barely as Shouto clings to his leg.

“I thought I might have to sleep here!” The little boy exclaims and tugs on Touya’s pant leg as a signal to be lifted up. Touya acquiesces, lifts him, and Shouto babbles on, shivering with chattering teeth the entire time he speaks. “It was getting really cold out here.”

Shouto watches his brother nod, eyes focused ahead. Something is a little off in his behavior, Shouto notices, but he can't quite bring himself to pinpoint why. He squirms a little, trying to adjust to the way he's being held by Touya, who assumes his restless is a result of the cold. Carefully, he takes off his jacket and drapes it one-handedly over Shouto’s back. He's grateful for the gesture even if it wasn't necessary, and he puts his arms around Touya’s neck and hugs him.

The only response he gets is a gentle pat on the back, and Touya sets off in the direction of their home.

It isn’t until they’re halfway there that Shouto realizes what’s going to be waiting for them when they get home. In the likely circumstance that Touya came here on his own merit and against his father’s orders, there’ll be a raging man of flames in the doorway, anticipating their arrival. Shouto certainly isn’t looking forward to it, and Touya probably isn’t either – which explained his strange mood.

“Did Dad tell you to come get me?” Shouto asks as he looks into the street from over Touya’s shoulder. He knows the answer before the question leaves his mouth, but he asks anyway in one last-ditch attempt at escaping the fury of their father.

“No,” Touya answers, stoic as always, and elaborates no further.

Shouto would almost swear that his brother’s hands grasp his jacket just a little tighter – right before he puts Shouto down so they can walk side by side, hand in hand.

It takes them ten more minutes of walking in the cold to get home, and just as Shouto had suspected, their father is yelling the moment they cross the threshold. Touya is quick to stand in front of Shouto, shielding him with his own body. Their father’s flames dance across his shoulders, tall and daunting, but Touya, as always, seems fearless and unbothered.

(Their father takes out his anger on Touya, and Shouto just watches it happen with fearful eyes.)

It’s a beautiful day when Todoroki Enji finally rids himself of his useless firstborn son.

Granted, the twinge of heat and the stench of burning flesh ruin the atmosphere substantially, but he doesn’t allow it to dampen his spirits. After all, this is the best day he’s had in ages – possibly since he found out about Shouto’s half-and-half quirk.

Enji has been trying to get rid of his eldest son for years now, and he couldn’t possibly imagine a better scenario in which it could happen. He stares down at his feet, down at his son, down at the crumbled ruins of the floor beneath them, and he laughs. He knows that his joy is sick and twisted, that no parent should wish so much pain upon their child, but he can’t help himself. Seeing his good-for-nothing son limp on the floor is all he’s ever wanted for years now.

There’d been lots of flames as he brought Touya down. The boy had put up a fight, but he was hardly strong enough to even pose a threat to Enji. Though Touya’s blue flames were powerful, he’d never practiced with his quirk enough to be skilled with it.

When they fought, Touya was easy to predict and anticipate. His fighting strategy was nonexistent, and his movements were uncontrolled and impulsive – everything Enji tried so hard to prevent him from being. The idea of his failure only fueled his anger further, and he barely thought twice about it as he closed a fist around Touya’s neck. As the flames dance across himself and his son, Touya screams. He screams and screams and screams, and as Enji burns his neck, he hopes it’s the last time he ever has to hear him.

Now, as he gazes upon the unmoving boy at his feet, he thinks he’s succeeded.

There’s a sick satisfaction rooted deep within him that Enji almost wants to regret, but he can’t find the decency to feel remorse. His son cost him wasted time and effort, and he never amounted to anything. He was constantly opposing Enji’s wishes and causing him trouble. There was no reason for him to mourn the loss.

Enji simply wouldn’t be upset if his son was truly dead – a result of his own flaming hand.

Curious, he crouches down beside the boy, rolls him over with a forceful shove so he’s lying face up. What he sees, surprisingly, does make him feel slightly unsettled.

Most of his skin is red and blistered, like a second degree burn. His face is just horrendous, if not more, though the burns stop just above his chin and engulf his ears. Enji also notices his forearms, which are visible from the torn and burn fabric that barely covers them. Enji remembers those, from when he’d pinned Touya to the ground and hit him over and over and over, additionally causing the blood and bruises that smear across his face.

The worst part, though, is his empty stare. Eyes identical to Enji’s own are blankly gazing up at him, clear, blue, and piercing.

Choking down disturbed nausea, Enji raises his hands to Touya’s face and presses his eyelids closed with his thumbs.

(And then, leaving his thumbs on his eyes, Enji ignites his hands and burns Touya once more.)

The first thing Touya does – when he can finally move again, when he can finally speak again, when he can finally walk again, when he can finally live again – is buy hair dye and color contacts.

He steals the money for the purchase from a pedestrian’s bag and doesn't feel an ounce of remorse; aftee all, it isn't as if he could afford it on his own. He’s been homeless ever since what happened between him and his father – a falling-out, as the media had deemed it, but they knew just as little as his siblings most likely did.

Touya supposes it's better that way. If they’d known the truth of their father’s actions, it would probably do them more harm than good. Maybe, though, it wouldn't affect them at all. Maybe they wouldn't care about the loss of their eldest brother. Maybe they wouldn't mourn his absence at all. The Todoroki children weren’t as close as most siblings, but that had been more of a result of circumstances than anything else. He thinks that he did his best to keep them safe, even if he was usually powerless.

He hopes they’ll be okay without him.

There's nothing left for him to do, though. There's no going back for him, not after what his father had done. Truthfully, his father probably thinks he’s dead. After all, he’d left Touya to die, alone and in excruciating pain when he’d regained consciousness.

Touya doesn't think his mother will miss him. When he was younger, the fear in her eyes whenever his temper got the best of him spoke volumes to how she felt about him. In fact, he thinks that his absence might even provide her some relief – one less threat to her safety in the house. She would probably hide her joy when she first got the news, but she would secretly rejoice when she got the chance. All she'd ever wanted was to be free of his cold, blue eyes. Now, she had gotten what she wanted, and Touya had paid the price.

Fuyumi, he knows, will at least be a little upset. They had always been antagonistic toward each other, the typically sibling rivalry, but they always cared for each other when it was important. Touya had always been protective of her – whether it was bullies, boys, or their father – and Fuyumi had always jumped to Touya’s defense whenever he was wrongfully accused of something. They had a strange bond, but it matched their far-from-normal upbringing. Touya cherished it, and he cherished her.

Natsuo will miss him the most, he thinks. The two had always been close. They'd been teasing and playful throughout the majority of their time together, and it always made difficult situations more comfortable for both of them. When things got tough, they were also there for each other. Touya frequently comforted Natsuo when his nightmares got the best of him, and Natsuo had done the same for him on the rare occasion that their roles were reversed. They'd come to depend on each other to survive their difficult childhood, and Touya would definitely miss having him around.

His absence will affect Shouto the least. Since he manifested his quirk of fire and ice, Touya hasn't seen much of Shouto. Their father has kept the boy locked away and training as much as possible, so he never really got to know him. Shouto seemed to like him though, and Touya feels a little guilty about abandoning him, leaving him at the will of their father.

His father will not miss him at all. In fact, he'd be disappointed to hear that Touya was alive.

There's no turning back now, he knows, as he stares at the black hair dye and brown color contacts in his hands. He needs to change, though. He needs to abandon the remnants of the man who only hurt him his whole life. His appearance is the easiest thing he can alter without going through too much effort, time, or money.

He's in the bathroom of a homeless shelter when he works the dye through his hair, watches as the black begins to mask the red. It's a drastic change, and the only reason Touya recognizes himself in the mirror is his eyes and the terrible burn scars.

When he puts in the contacts, they burn his eyes, and he can't keep them in for more than a minute at a time. Swearing to himself, Touya removes them and throws them into the garbage. He guesses he shouldn't have expected good quality from something so cheap. Still, he's frustrated that he still has to look at the eyes of his father everytime he looks into the mirror.

He supposes he can change another part of him to make up for it, but he can't figure out what to do.

For days, he ponders different ways to abandon his old way of life in order to make way for a new one. His first option is to change his hairstyle, but the dye has changed his hair enough; a haircut wouldn't change much. There has to be another way to look different. Maybe he could build more muscle in order to bulk up, but that seems like too much effort. It would take too much time for him do that. This change needs to be immediate and drastic.

Maybe, he thinks, the change doesn't have to be in his physical appearance. He supposes that he could change his voice or his speech patterns. He could try to scowl more, rather than looking indifferent as usual. He might even be able to walk differently, act differently, fight differently. He could abandon his quirk altogether, even.

It takes a while for him finally to decide the right thing to do. It comes to him late once night, as he walks the cold street, looking for a bed to sleep in.

Truthfully, he doesn't know how he hasn't thought of it before. He'd spent so much time trying to change things about the way he looked or lived, but he'd never considered the easiest option, the most validating option. The easiest way to distance himself from the Todoroki family was to change his identity in the most obvious way.

He could pick a new name.

It doesn't take him nearly as long to come up with one. He finds a name that is short, succinct, and fitting. Its meaning, cremation, hints at both his quirk and his past. His new name would mark the change into his new life – from his tragic past to his promising future – like a phoenix rising from the ashes of destruction and calamity.

(Todoroki Touya was powerless. Dabi, though, is not.)