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Later, Todoroki would look back upon the events that transpired and wonder, belatedly, if there was a better way to go about doing the whole “self-care” thing. He would receive disgruntled looks from his classmates for months following, apart from Bakugou, who would find the whole situation so hysterical that he’d put aside his grievances about Todoroki to congratulate him.  

If Todoroki had learned anything over his past year as a UA student, it was that if Bakugou approved, he had probably done something wrong.

He’d sit on this thought for a few minutes, doing his due diligence.

And then decide to fuck that, because he regretted nothing, Aizawa’s efforts to put him in therapy be damned .

Like most things, it started with an intervention.

Midoriya stood in front of him with a wavering grin, hands wringing together. “Hi, Todoroki… do you have a minute?”

Todoroki, who was in the middle of painstakingly burning out his father’s face in all of their family photos, looked up from the cafeteria table, brow drawn. “Is this about the Juul?”

Midoriya reeled back. “The what? You- Todoroki-!”

“I don’t use it,” Todoroki assured him, trying for that bright, placating smile his friend always used against the likes of Bakugou. Going by the flash of fear that went through green eyes, Todoroki assumed that it didn’t work as he wanted it to. “I just put it in my desk drawers so my father finds it when he does room searches. I don’t even have one in the dorms.”

On the verge of a conniption, Midoriya managed to say, “Now I have more questions-”

Todoroki was considering faking a seizure. 

The Juul in question was still at home, sitting innocently by his ruler, ready to be discovered for the eleventh time. During the first occurrence, Endeavor had thought it was Natsuo’s, seeing as he had no idea what his other childrens’ personal lives were like. Natsuo, with the grace of someone who had once laced a cup of coffee with laxatives for Endeavor on Father’s Day, had scream-laughed for seven and a half minutes over the phone, long after their father had hung up.

In response, Todoroki had the Juul monogrammed with, ‘Shouto,’ in loose, elegant script. 

It seemed to do the job.

Endeavor had blown up the first ten in fits of rage, but if Todoroki Shouto was anything, it was spiteful. He had a secret box of dozens of monogrammed Juuls hidden in a spot Endeavor never bothered to check: the shrine dedicated to Touya. 

Todoroki hoped that his eldest brother would have been proud.

“What did you want to talk to me about?” Todoroki asked, cutting off Midoriya’s muttered rambling. The other boy blinked, taken off-guard.

“I…” He turned around, and it was only then that Todoroki noticed Uraraka and Iida waiting in the wings, both inconspicuous as they looked anywhere but over at him- was Iida whistling?  

“We’re worried about you,” Midoriya said, bringing Todoroki’s attention back to the boy in front of him. 

Todoroki’s mind went blank. “I’m fine.”

From behind Midoriya, Uraraka twisted to stare him down with an unrelenting intensity. Apparently, she disagreed. 

“Do… do you have any hobbies?” Midoriya asked as the imposing pink-clothed figure began descending upon them with an aura reeking of instantaneous death.

“Hiding Juuls in my desk,” Todoroki said, matter-of-fact. Midoriya sighed. 

“What about… art? Or cooking?”

“I have never done either of those things,” Todoroki pointed out, trying to be helpful. Just like every attempt he had ever made before, he proved himself to be just as useless as he always was. To wipe away that itchy thought, he summoned a flame to his finger and finished burning out Endeavor’s face in the photo he had been working on. Ah. That was better.

Suddenly, Uraraka and Iida were in his face, the former smiling encouragingly and the latter saluting him, which, Hey, What The Fuck?

“Todoroki,” Uraraka interjected, patting his hands with a sweet, soft smile on her face, “we want you to take some time to do something that you like to do. No training, no studying; something that you enjoy. Does that make sense?”

All at once, Todoroki was filled with a complete and utter sense of understanding. 

“Yes. That makes sense.” 

Logically, Todoroki understood that things that you enjoyed lightened your mood. Enjoyment was derived from activities that were pleasing and benefited the enjoyer. Todoroki liked training (when it wasn’t with Endeavor) and studying (when Endeavor wasn’t home) and eating soba (when Endeavor wasn’t sitting at the table). Following this train of thought, a hobby is something done in one’s leisure time, which would eliminate all of the aforementioned activities. 

So, really, it was only rational to go on to say that he needed to think of something he did when he wasn’t at school.

A hobby, huh? Well, there was one thing he always fell back on for entertainment. Uraraka wanted him to practice self-care? He’d do so happily.

After all, there was nothing Todoroki enjoyed more than deliberately dismantling his father’s life.

It was decided, then.

Todoroki would try to catfish his father.

Phase One of his plan was gathering intel, which found Todoroki approaching his father voluntarily after a Family Dinner.

“Are you and Mom divorced?” Todoroki asked as casually as possible (which meant standing shock-still in the middle of the hall with his arms hanging limply by his sides).

There was the sound of banging metal as Fuyumi dropped the pot she was washing into the sink. Endeavor, fire flaring from his jaw and cupid’s bow, looked up in increments, each phase more terrifying than the last. 

When he finished being an interpretive dancer, his father opened his mouth, seemingly at a loss for words. From behind him, Fuyumi began pantomiming herself slitting Todoroki’s throat and then disemboweling him in retribution for the awkward conversation starter.

The rest of the discussion didn’t go much better. He couldn’t ever get a straight answer out of Endeavor for the simple fact that he kept asking questions Todoroki was too afraid to answer. Ever since their father had stopped openly abusing them, he had been attempting to be civil in conversations (as opposed to yelling at them whenever they stepped a toe out of line and giving them the silent treatment otherwise). This, to his siblings’ horror, led Endeavor to start asking them how their days were. 

(“I’m in college,” Natsuo had whined to Fuyumi, the two of them hiding under the kitchen table from Endeavor. “He’s never ONCE asked me about my day. He didn’t even know I was a medical student!”

“He asks for details about every person I mention,” Fuyumi murmured, brow furrowed in thought. “Do you think he’s going to have them killed?”

From beside them, a chair was dragged backward, and the feet of their father scooted into the empty space. “I can hear you, you know.”

The two looked at each other with wide eyes.)

In the end, Todoroki had to assume that ten years apart was probably good grounds for a formal separation. With that in mind, he was free to go into Phase Two: The Bots.

Learning to code was a necessary but time-consuming skill he needed to learn to pull his plan off. The internet was extremely helpful, and now that Todoroki had unfettered access to it when he was at school, he used it to his full advantage. 

Uraraka seemed pleased that he was putting his effort into something, which meant that Todoroki could stop wondering when the next time he’d be scared shitless by her terrifying staring sessions would be. 

Finally, after three whole months of learning the basics, Todoroki had enough confidence to build his agents of doom and destruction: porn bots.

To play it safe, Todoroki decided to set them upon his classmates first. Bigtittyakari was his first baby, as Hatsume would say, and with great pride, Todoroki was able to unleash her onto the world. 

Most adults would know better than to respond to an obvious porn bot. However, Endeavor was not most adults. His account was private and unverified, which guaranteed that the message would be seen.

In essence, he was a gullible bastard.

Natsuo had once pointed out that his father only followed Hawks, Shouto, and a bunch of profiles about feet, but that would come into play later.

Not even four hours after the first message was sent, Todoroki’s bot received a reply. 

Let the games begin.

Hook… 

numberoneheroendeavor: Who is this.

bigtittyakari: hey handsome 😍 r u single?

Line… 

numberoneheroendeavor: That is complicated… . 

bigtittyakari: awwww but ur so strong and SUCH a good father hehe

And sinker.

numberoneheroendeavor: My children Are my every.thing. Thank you for your Kind Words.

numberoneheroendeavor: Are you single . ?

Todoroki allowed himself one Midoriya-patented minute of staring at his fist dramatically before letting the bot do its magic. From there, the conversation flowed. Akari had a series of thirty different replies she could make in response to a question, all of which were vague innuendos or basic prompts for flirtation. It seemed that Todoroki had judged his father’s intelligence well. He never noticed a thing wrong with his persistent admirer. 

When it came to his classmates, the results told a different story. 

Bakugou, like most of his classmates, blocked him the second the bot slid into his DM’s. 

So, like his father once said, probably (he didn’t know, Todoroki tended to space when his father spoke): If at first you don’t succeed, make another porn bot.

Midoriya, on the other hand, was still on the first account. The bot would accost him, and Midoriya would attempt to send an awkward note of thanks, politely hinting at his age and lack of interest. Todoroki didn’t know if Midoriya was unaware that the account was a fake, or that he was just physically incapable of being anything less than kind to anything, even if it wasn’t sentient.

Todoroki had seen him cry over a snapped hairband. He wouldn’t be surprised. 

( “The elastic wasn’t even worn out!” Midoriya had wailed, his distress causing Uraraka to start wiping away sympathy tears, though by the look on her face, she wasn’t happy about it. 

“You can get another one,” Todoroki had suggested, but that only resulted in his friends’ cries increasing in volume and throatiness- which, no, was not pleasant, it mostly reminded him of that video of mating turtles he’d had to watch during middle school.

“But it WON’T BE THE SAME!” Midoriya blubbered, and that was when Todoroki pretended to pass out to get him to stop crying. 

As he fell into a heap on the ground, Midoriya abruptly stopped with the waterworks. Todoroki grinned into the carpet.

He’d done it seven times already, but it always did the trick.

“TODOROKI-!”)

Riding on the high of his success, Todoroki enacted Phase Three: Created By Dan Schneider.

numberoneheroendeavor: How are You.?

bigtittyakari: hey hotshot uwu owo uwu how are you?

numberoneheroendeavor: I am dong Well, Thank You. .

bigtittyakari: here’s me: 

IMAGE: (a picture of a generic young woman holding up a peace sign, the ‘getty image’ watermark splashed over her face)

bigtittyakari: want to send money for my feet pics?

And thus started the extortion.

Todoroki created an algorithm that would have the bot send Endeavor a picture of a foot from an assortment of sites open to public use (because copyrighting was obviously the most important law he was potentially breaking), and to his resigned disgust, Endeavor would virtually send yen to the bank account Todoroki had made for that express purpose. 

Huh. Guess Natsuo was right. Their dad did have a foot fetish. 

With all of the excitement, Todoroki forgot about the porn bots that he had relentlessly harassing his classmates. 

“Oh, geez,” Sero whined, throwing his phone onto the floor and rubbing at his eyes. “Does anyone else get an absurd amount of bots in their DMs? It seems like no matter how many times I block them, there are always more.”

“ ME TOO!” Hagakure shrieked, her sleeves waving about furiously. “It’s so gross.”

The others in the room chimed in their agreement, eventually agreeing to try and cross-reference the different accounts that had been accosting them. 

“This one, right? I’m pretty sure it was the first,” Jirou murmured, pointing at the profile picture of Endeavor with hearts photoshopped in the background. The account name read bigtittyakari.  

“Yeah, me too!” accompanied another round of hesitant concessions. Huddled in a cluster around their phones, Uraraka looked up from the crowd and spotted Todorki sitting in the corner of the room, blatantly staring at them whilst slurping his noodles.

“What about you, Todoroki?” she asked. 

Todoroki clicked his tongue. “No. It’s just you guys.”

“That’s odd,” Yaomomo mused, hands resting on her hips. “You seem to be the only one left alone.”

“Yeah,” Todoroki agreed, face carefully blank. He lifted his bowl to his mouth and sipped the broth. “It seems so.”

Gradually, people began filtering out of the room, calling out farewell wishes and departing to their respective rooms. Todoroki finished his noodles and set off for the elevator. He pressed the button for his floor and leaned against the back of the cart.

Just as the door was about to close, a popping hand snapped into the gap. 

The doors slid back open, revealing Bakugou, quirk popping and eyes narrowed into slits. Todoroki blinked back at him. “Doors are open.”

Not bothering to respond, Bakugou stepped into the elevator. Todoroki watched the doors close behind him with dismay. 

“I know it’s you, shitstain,” Bakugou hissed, voice surprisingly level. The elevator departed from the main floor. 

“Me, what?”

Red eyes narrowed even further. “I know it’s you setting those fucking bots onto us. It has to be.”

Todoroki tilted to the side to see the flashing red light signaling there was one more floor to go. When he returned upright, his companion was still crowding his space, a signature scowl marring his features. “Is that so?”

“Suck my dick,” snarled Bakugou. He lifted his legs and set himself into a stance reminiscent of an ostrich about to attack. 

Todoroki blew a raspberry. “No, thanks, but I appreciate the offer.”

This, Todoroki thought as Bakugou screamed in inarticulate rage in front of him, jaw clashing like a great white shark, was a successful social interaction. Fuyumi would be proud.

He texted her as much once he got back to his room, heavily implying that he was expecting praise, but she left him on read. It seemed that absenteeism ran in the family. 

As much as talking to Bakugou was always a fucking mood-killer, it did expose a flaw in Todoroki’s plan that he would have to negate: the possible consequences of his actions. Namely, what would become of Todoroki if his homeroom teacher found out. (Hint: it would be a smear on the bottom of Aizawa’s shoe.)

The only viable option available to him (besides assassinating Aizawa, which seemed counter-intuitive) was blackmail. All it would take was the right moment.

The right moment, as it happened, occurred a week into the whole mess during homeroom. Hagakure was giggling about something, and, like always, her giggling wouldn’t stop until someone indulged her and asked what was so funny. 

This time, the martyr happened to be Ojiro, who murmured, “What’s so funny?” as according to precedent.

“Awww, Aizawa-sensei looks like he’s having a nice dream!” 

Todoroki looked towards the front of the classroom and squinted. Their teacher was sprawled over his desk on his back, his head tipped off the table. 

A line of drool dripped out of Aizawa’s mouth, slowly seeping down into his nostrils. In his sleep, the man murmured something softly, and suddenly, there it was.

Aizawa was smiling.

It wasn’t his usual toothy disaster that had once caused that vine girl from 1-B to try and perform an exorcism, but a gentle curve of the mouth, the corners of his lips curling up at the corners to reveal two small dimples in his cheeks. It was charming, fond, and normal.

Todoroki saw his opportunity and took it. In an instant, his phone was snapping a picture, dimples and nose drool and all. There was a small sound of surprise from behind him, and suddenly a horned head was peeking over his shoulder.

“I didn’t know you were a sentimental type, Todoroki!” Ashido cooed, peering down at the phone screen. Todoroki’s face went blank with confusion.

“Sentiment-? Oh,” he said, expression suddenly flooded with comprehension. He looked down at the photo and smiled inwardly. There was a certain element of malevolence to his stature, one that was distinctly separate from the boy who regularly replied to the phrase, ‘ Knock, knock ’ with, ‘Goose?’ “No, this is for blackmail.”

Ashido stopped bouncing on her heels, tilting her head to the side. “Um. You do you, I guess?”

“Thank you,” Todoroki said earnestly. “I will continue to ‘do me.’”

From beside Ashido, Kaminari made a crude hand gesture and laughed to himself.

Endeavor and Akari were getting along swimmingly. The money was piling up, and his father seemed happy with the randomized, easily Google-able pictures being sent as image attachments in his DM’s, watermarks and all. 

But there was a bit of a problem. Okay, maybe two.

Firstly, Todoroki didn’t quite know what to do now. He hadn’t thought of what he was going to do once his father fell for his trap. Break his heart? Keep raking in the cash? Expose him online? They were all valid options. 

Secondly, there was the matter of Class 1-A.

They just wouldn’t let the issue go.  

It all came to a head approximately three months and two weeks into Todoroki’s self-care attempts when Iida and Yaomomo called an obligatory class meeting in the common room. This wasn’t a totally uncommon occurrence- Iida had a tendency to call meetings every time someone left their clothes in the dryer, holding up an article of clothing for someone to shame-facedly claim.

Tokoyami’s Dan and Phil hoodie had been a particularly memorable experience. Todoroki was pretty sure Jirou had tried to shank her beaked friend with a chopstick. 

At least, he thought they were friends. Todoroki didn’t have a good grasp on what good relationships looked like. Hell, he had thought Bakugou and Midoriya were dating, seeing as they reminded him so much of his parents.

On that night, everyone had gathered into the living room to hear the class reps out. The meeting had started out with a bang, literally, as Bakugou decided it would be a good idea to use his quirk on an unlit candle in the name of a challenge.

“Woah, dude!” Kirishima laughed, “I was just joking!”

A smug twist to his mouth, Bakugou beheld the burning candle in front of him and huffed. “Don’t fucking doubt me ever again.”

“Bakugou was the kid that would eat bugs on dares, wasn’t he?” Jirou said, decidedly unimpressed. They all looked to Midoriya, expectant.

The smaller boy cringed. “I’m still traumatized by the Grasshopper Incident™.”

“LIKE YOU COULD DO IT, SHITTY DEKU!” came Bakugou’s shriek. No one bothered turning towards the noise. 

“Kacchan’s always been so determined,” Midoriya said haltingly, his face cycling through a series of dichotomic emotions.

“ Comme c'est horrible!” Aoyama wailed as a lamentation for the deceased insects before twirling around and propping his chin in his hands. “ Dazzle.”

“FUCKING PEPÉ LE PEW-”

“We need to talk about the porn bots,” Yaomomo said primly, crossing one leg over the other. Aoyama gasped and flung himself onto one of the loveseats with another fucking french phrase, who knows, everyone collectively decided to not try to unpack that at the present moment.

“It’s that goddamn Icy-Hot bastard, I’m telling you!” Bakugou hissed, leveling a fierce glare at Todoroki. “He’s behind all of this shit, I just know it.”

Iida bristled. “Now, Bakugou, let’s not throw around accusations-”

“No, he’s right,” Todoroki admitted with a slow blink. 

It was like one of those pre-quirk movies where everything slowly fell apart, the music in the background overwrought with pitchy trumpets until the orchestra collapsed on itself in a teetering halt. 

“ No ,” Kirishima breathed, eyes wide. “You didn’t.”

“He did,” Bakugou snarled, red eyes ablaze. “I KNEW IT, YOU ELEMENTAL PIECE OF SHIT-”

“Todoroki,” Uraraka began, biting her lips together, “I… I didn’t know you even knew how to do something like that.” 

The underlying question was one Todoroki could answer easily enough, so he readily said, “You wanted me to do something I enjoyed. A hobby.” The word came out over-enunciated and stilted. Midoriya paled. “I learned how to code.”

“WHAT DID I SAY?!” came from Bakugou, the blonde looking repugnantly triumphant as he bore down on Todoroki with the Bakugou Treatment™.

“So,” Shinsou drawled, his expression the most serene in the class, “sexually harassing us is your idea of a hobby? Who are you, Mineta ?” 

“Oh, God,” Ashido whispered, looking around the room for a short, purpled head, “I completely forgot he existed! Where is Mineta?” 

The room erupted into low murmurs, everyone glancing around and trying to remember the last time they saw the rabid boba-headed boy. Bakugou’s face was suddenly cast under a convenient shadow, the sharp lines of his face formidable. Beside him, Kirishima became noticeably flustered. “That bastard got what he deserved.”

The class took a minute to process this declaration. Todoroki, after a moment’s hesitation, decided he didn’t much care. A month ago, Aizawa had noticed that there were only 19 students in 1-A. This, of course, was an impairment to their training exercises that frequently had the class splitting up into pairs. After Aizawa had used homeroom one morning to give the students a rundown of the General Education students via a poorly put-together slideshow (they all made fun of the boy Bakugou affectionately nicknamed Dick Chin), they had decided that Shinsou Hitoshi would make a good filler. 

If he were to ask Shinsou, the boy would confess that he had remembered Mineta, but thought it prudent to keep his mouth shut for the time being. This, as made evident by the present conversation, had proved to be the smartest move.

Kaminari’s mouth parted. “Did you murder him-?”

“You were all the trial run,” Todoroki said, unbothered, “for my father.”

Somehow, there was a second trumpet-led crash.

“Are you telling us,” Shinsou started, staring at him with the intensity of a thousand burning suns, “that you flirted with your father for kicks?”

Thoughtful, Todoroki sat on that implication for a moment. Checked it out. Vibed it. Really really dug on it. This, evidently, did not seem to appease his classmates in the slightest.

“WHY ARE YOU HESITATING?” Kirishima shouted, aghast.

“I’m not flirting directly,” Todoroki eventually settled on, though that didn’t seem quite comprehensive. “I programmed a bot to do the work for me.”

“But,” stammered Midoriya, green eyes all round and searching, “ why?”

Todoroki shrugged.

“This,” Iida said, strangled, “is most unbecoming of a future pro-hero. I have half a mind to report you-”

“Wait, wait!” Midoriya cut in, desperate to grasp at whatever silver lining he could. It was a futile effort, in Todoroki’s opinion. The silver lining had definitely caught fire by now. “Catfishing isn’t illegal , so we don’t technically have to stand in his way. No matter how…” He spared a glance at Todoroki, his cheery smile floundering under a pinched look that was taking over his features, “how fucking weird it is. I’m so sorry, Todoroki, but that’s so fucking weird.”

Todoroki acknowledged that with a nod. It was fucking weird.

“Midoriya…” Iida began, though he seemed to be conflicted.

“The catfishing isn’t illegal,” Todoroki said to no one in particular, “but the extortion definitely is.”

Somewhere in the background, Iida clutched at his heart, faintly green.

Bakugou cackled.

“How are you getting money from him, kero?” Tsuyu asked, looking genuinely unnerved. This was a bit of an overreaction for someone who could literally spit out her stomach on command, in Todoroki’s opinion.

Here, Todoroki paused. Iida made a choking sound; Todoroki hoped he wasn’t going into cardiac arrest. Now, Todoroki himself had only pretended to go into cardiac arrest for personal reasons, but even that had been unpleasant. 

“I send him feet pictures from Wikipedia and Getty Images.”

Amidst a chorus of appalled and scandalized shrieks, Jirou crowed in victory, “I knew that man had a weird kink! I knew it!”

“You thought he was into puppy play,” Yaomomo pointed out, trying to maintain some level of composure. Jirou slumped in defeat, whining, “It’s in the same realm.”

“Doesn’t your dad let you use his card?” Shinsou cut in, and if Todoroki didn’t know any better, he’d mark the purple-haired boy as amused. 

“Yeah,” Todoroki agreed, not really getting the point.

A purple brow rose. “So, the extortion?”

Todoroki blinked. “That’s a treat.”

They all stared at him for another long moment. Todoroki found that a large portion of his life was just people looking at him. Was he supposed to say something? He wasn’t sure- he wasn’t allowed to speak at home.

“But if you’re troubled and hurt/ What you’ve got under your shirt/ Will make them pay for the things they did,” said Tokoyami with a sage nod. Midoriya’s smile thinned.

There was an audible sigh of disgust that sounded suspiciously Jirou-sounding, and Todoroki pulled back the collar of his top. There was nothing there- just skin. “What’s under my shirt?”

He was pretty sure Jirou was shaking- in whether rage or fear, he wasn’t sure. Tokoyami gazed upon them, beak held aloft in the air with the spunk only a fan of My Chemical Romance post-split could possess, and departed from the room with a flourish. 

Todoroki didn’t know what was going on. When he said as much to the still catatonic-Jirou, she only sent him a traumatized, far-away look, which didn’t help any.

The next few days could only be described as awkward. Painfully so. No one quite knew how to proceed with the whole situation, which was fine by Todoroki. Now that everyone was hesitant to approach him, he finally had the time to finish vandalizing his siblings’ baby books, erasing Endeavor from their childhoods. God, if only. 

If he really thought about it, Todoroki did think that the teachers would catch wind eventually. Subsequently, when he was called on in All Might’s class at the end of the week, it didn’t come as a shock.

“Oh, Young Todoroki!” All Might bellowed, thumping a hand to his chest. “Aizawa would like to see you after class! Make sure you stop by his classroom before the end of the day!”

Kaminari, Ashido, and Sero let out the precursory, “ ooo” sound and giggled amongst themselves. Todoroki nodded at their smiling teacher and prepared himself for what he might have to do. The class was eerily silent, trading glances behind his back.

“Todoroki… do you think Aizawa-sensei knows?” Midoriya asked. Todoroki shrugged and let ice begin to rise off of his palm. All Might stared at the pair of them, dark eyes wide and… dead-looking. Todoroki had no fucking clue how else to describe it; the man looked like a reanimated lion corpse. “Young Midoriya?”

The boy lit up like a Christmas tree. “OhmygodALLMIGHT!” Midoriya let out in a garbled slew of syllables, bouncing over to their teacher with a delirious grin. He continued to hop once he stationed himself in front of the man, red shoes clacking against the floor and black-green curls swaying with the momentum. 

All Might, to his credit, softened at the display, scratching the back of his neck with stilted movements, as if forcing himself not to reach out. “My boy! Gotten into some trouble again, I see?”

Panic crashed over Midoriya’s composure as he wilted, shaking his head furiously. “ No, no trouble! There’s no reason to worry, really. Right, Todoroki?” He sent a hopeful, beaming smile Todoroki’s way, which, really, was giving him far too much credit.

Without hesitation, Todoroki responded, “I committed acts of varying degrees of moral ambiguity. I am now answering for my crimes.”

It was strange, Todoroki thought, that Midoriya was still capable of believing in others, seeing as he was so constantly disappointed by everyone in his life. In true Midoriya fashion, he took Todoroki’s betrayal as a physical blow, spiraling into a flushed, stuttering mess. 

“Hey,” Todoroki began, his voice an alarming level of even, “what’s black, white, and red all over?”

When no one made a move to reply, too busy staring at him with bewilderment, he finished, “Midoriya.”

He told a joke. (Later, when he’d text his siblings about it, Natsuo would send him an audio clip that exclusively featured the words, “Oh, boy, Shouto,” which would then prompt Todoroki to reply with: ✌👁👃🔴👍. This, going by the 😬 that his brother responded with, was the best course of action.)

Feeling accomplished, Todoroki gave himself a little reward, allowing a sole, “Ha,” to slip from parted lips, hanging in the air with tangible weight. All Might looked horrified (an expression Todoroki did know well and therefore was able to properly identify), but Todoroki was unbothered. He was right, especially when looking at the way Midoriya spluttered, his cherubic face cherry-red over the white collar of his uniform and under the dark mop of his hair. 

“That was… so lame,” Kaminari said, dejected.

From where he was sprawled in Ashido and Kaminari’s arms like a cat, Sero offered, ever so helpfully, “The timing was shit.”

“I wonder if he’ll be expelled,” Kirishima murmured to Bakugou with a worried frown. Bakugou huffed, his eyes darting quickly over to Todoroki before he turned away. 

“What is this sense of foreboding I feel?” Tokoyami asked, looking down at his hands. 

“I hate you,” said Jirou.

After the period ended, Todoroki made his way back to his homeroom class, mentally locating the position of The Picture in his photo gallery. As he entered the room, he spotted his teacher slipping out from his sleeping bag and dragging himself into his seat. Todoroki approached his teacher’s desk.

“Sir?”

Aizawa lifted his head from his desk, eyeing Todoroki with disdain. “Why did Iida ask me to ‘check up’ on you?”

The two stared at each other, blank-faced. Unfortunately, Aizawa had made a career out of winning starting contests, so Todoroki eventually caved. “Damn.”

A twitch of a smile tugged up his teacher’s mouth. “Hm. So?”

“He’s probably going to tell you something soon, and I want you to ignore it.”

Aizawa’s look went glacial. “Why would I want to do that?”

Todoroki pulled out his phone and opened his gallery. Just in case. “It could damage the school’s reputation.” 

More staring. It was startling how similar their temperaments were; both were used to not having to speak unless spoken to. Now, trying to maintain a conversation where they were the only participants, their abilities were glaringly lackluster. 

Breathing out a heavy, exhausted sigh, Aizawa bit the bullet. “Okay. Fine. Tell me.”

“I extorted the Number One Hero through an Instagram account called ‘bigtittyakari’ with fake feet pictures.” 

Now, this was odd. Todoroki leaned forward, gazing at his teacher’s face. He’d never seen life leave someone’s eyes before. 

Oop- no, scratch that. 

There was always his mom.

“Big. Titty. Akari,” Aizawa deadpanned. “This was the choice you made?”

Todoroki nodded. “Yes, sir.”

A pause. And then:

“How much have you made?”

Trying not to smile, Todoroki put his hands behind his back and looked back innocently at his teacher. “750,000 yen.”

For a split second, something like begrudging admiration quirked up the man’s eyebrows. Todoroki, however, was unversed in all expressions associated with pride, so he interpreted the emotion as a death omen. Aizawa gave him an appraising look, the icy sheen to his glare rounding out. “You’re going to have to stop, Todoroki; you know that, right?”

His shoulders slumped. “I know.”

Aizawa’s hair fell in front of his face, dark, unseeing eyes lifting to stare blankly at a spot behind Todoroki’s shoulder. “Two weeks of detention.”

Carefully, Todoroki turned off his phone and slid the device into his pocket. If his teacher saw the movement, he didn’t show it, instead saying, “And I want you in with Hound Dog for at least five sessions.”

Todoroki wrinkled his brow. “Therapy?”

The dark-haired man buried his face in his capture weapon. “ Shit , kid,” came out muffled within the cloth, “I don’t know what to do with you.”

Todoroki found himself once again stuck. Was this a Comforting Moment™ or a Crack a Joke Moment™? His mind was fuzzy, and Aizawa was still contemplating his existence.

Panicking, Todoroki decided to attempt both. 

When the silence became so drawn-out that even Todoroki couldn’t handle it, he flashed a peace sign and said, “Don’t beat yourself up; neither did my mom. She poured boiling water on my face, so you’re doing better than her.” 

A beat of silence. And then:

“She did what?”

Following the peace sign with a set of finger guns, Todoroki channeled his inner-Kaminari (Kaminari was socially aware, wasn’t he?) and let out a low, “Yee.”

Baffled, Aizawa sank further into his capture weapon and amended, “ Ten sessions. Are you… are you okay?”

Deciding that he had hit his quota for dialogue that day, Todoroki kept the finger guns up, softly pewing as he walked backward into the hall.

“Todoroki?” Aizawa called, leaning forward slightly to watch him leave. When Todoroki bumped into the side of the doorframe, the older man winced, but let him readjust his trajectory on his own. Todoroki stepped to the side, his pew cut off when he proceeded to trip over the door stopper. “You’ll get a note sent from Hound Dog soon. Go back to the dorms.”

Todoroki stopped pewing, the finger guns stationary in his hands as he kept walking backward until he was out of sight from Aizawa completely. 

When he entered the common area, trying not to drag his feet behind him like a petulant child physically (because he was certainly doing it mentally), he was greeted by an irate Bakugou screaming at Kirishima, who was trying to lean his head on the other boy’s shoulder while they watched a movie. 

Cowering in the kitchen, a mass of green popped up to wave at Todoroki. “Welcome back! Do you want some popcorn?”

“Do you think I need therapy?”

Midoriya paused and set down the bag of snacks. “Do I…? Do you want to go to therapy? I think it’s a good idea for anyone- you know, studies show-”

“Endeavor always said that therapy was for pathetic wimps who wanted to engage in coitus with their mothers,” Todoroki said conversationally. 

From the living room, Bakugou turned down the volume on the TV, his interest piqued. “ What was that, Half-n’-Half?”

Just like in any conversation he had with Midoriya, the other boy was in the process of trying to mask his horror with an All Might Smile. “He’s probably talking about Freud, but therapy has evolved significantly since then-”

Todoroki wrinkled his nose. “Will Hound Dog ask me if I want to-?”

“No!” Midoriya burst out. “No, I’m sure he won’t- you don’t have to worry about that! Popcorn?” He thrust the popcorn back at Todoroki, his hands beginning to shake. 

“Yeah, okay,” Todoroki conceded, grabbing a handful and making his way into the living room. Interpreting Bakugou’s incredulous glare as an invitation to start a conversation, Todoroki flopped onto the couch and asked, “Have you gone to Hound Dog for your anger issues?”

Kirishima laughed behind his hand as Bakugou blew up, screaming, “I DON’T HAVE ANGER ISSUES, ASSWIPE!” before devolving into a series of growls and gurgling sounds that had Todoroki pitying Bakugou’s dentist. There was some definite grinding going on. 

Midoriya entered the living room, took in the scene, and resigned himself to playing the mediator. Todoroki had no idea why he did it- he fucking sucked. 

“Oh, are you watching the third All Might movie?” he asked, face lighting up. “Wow, Kacchan, I didn’t know you owned this one!”

“I don’t own shit, Deku, it’s Shitty Hair’s,” Bakugou said between gurgles. Interested, Midoriya looked at Kirishima, who rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. 

“Are you an All Might fan, too?!” exclaimed Midoriya, a smile beginning to unwind on his face.

“Yeah, bro! A big fan- he’s just so manly,” he sighed dreamily, much to Bakugou’s distaste. “I only brought some of the movies- I couldn’t bring my All Might posters to the dorms,” Kirishima pouted, leaning against Bakugou’s side. The blonde boy’s eyes narrowed into slits as his elbow found its place in Kirishima’s gut.

“Why not?” Midoriya asked, scandalized, as if he couldn’t fathom what kind of evil would prevent someone from discarding All Might merch. 

“He’s our teacher, you know?” Kirishima said with a shrill lilt as Bakugou made another attempt to dislodge him from his side. “It just feels… wrong.”

Something in Midoriya’s eyes went out, forcibly smashed to bits by the realization that-

“Having All Might stuff… is weird?”  

Bakugou’s face lit up with unholy glee, only faltering when he had to snarl and chomp in the direction of Kirishima’s fingers to stop him from slapping his hand over Bakugou’s mouth. “Of course it’s weird, you fucking nerd. Running your fat mouth to All Might in All Might pajamas is WEIRD!”

Midoriya deflated like a sad little green balloon, accompanied by a disjointed wheezing sound. Todoroki winced. “So… when I showed All Might the All Might shrine I have on my All Might rug by the picture I have of All Might and I at the sports festival that I put in an All Might frame… that was strange?”

For a moment, something like sympathy passed over Bakugou’s face- though it was more akin to the expression one makes when explaining to a child why Santa Claus isn’t real- and he grumbled, “Fucking yes.”

“DOES ALL MIGHT HATE ME?!” Midoriya screamed, his face contorting in fear.

“I bet he doesn’t, dude!” Kirishima rushed to reassure him. “He saw your All Might sheets and still invited you to eat lunch with him yesterday! I’m sure he doesn’t really care.”

Trembling so hard that his black-green curls vibrated like a fucked-up orgy of eels, Midoriya listed to the left, face pallid. “I think… I need to sit down.”

Bakugou, looking simultaneously delighted and embarrassed on Midoriya’s behalf, couldn’t help but pull Midoriya's seat out from under him. A tumble of limbs and anxiety were sent to the floor in a flailing heap. A small, hysterical whine echoed across the living room.

“ Bakubro-!”

“It’s for the best, fuckhead.”

In the end, bigtittyakari ghosted Endeavor, leaving the Number One Hero to text a string of heartbroken messages over the next few months. Because Todoroki was an obliging and selfless sibling, he allowed Natsuo access to said messages. This, to Todoroki’s… surprise… resulted in the screenshots being posted to a hero forum under the pseudonym, endeavorlovesburgerkingfootlettuce, to relative success. Because no one could prove the messages were Endeavor’s, the whole thing ended up becoming a massive meme, which was a win in Todoroki’s book. 

Congratulating himself with a job well done, Todoroki decided to take up knitting.

Maybe his mother would like a scarf.

Yeah. That sounded nice.