Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Dabi seethed, his rage a roiling ocean of blue flame around them as he stared down his youngest brother. It shouldn’t be like this. Shoto should not be stood in front of the downed body of the man who had so wronged them both, protecting him as though he deserved it.

How had they come to be on opposite sides in this battle? They had both grown up under the same tyranny and yet blood seemed to be all they shared here. Had they ever shared more? Had they ever been allowed?

No, and all thanks to the man Shoto was still protecting.

Without warning, the air stilled. The flames paused in their twisting. Even his brother’s breath had frozen in his chest.

Dabi tensed for anything. This had to be someone’s Quirk, but no hero or villain he knew had a power like this.

Dabi’s head whipped around, but he could find no one. He tried to call on his Quirk, but it would not answer.

Then the world before Dabi began to bleed color until Shoto’s hair was little more than black and white.

Without warning, everything dropped away and he was standing in a dark expanse of nothingness. Before the vertigo and panic could fully set in, a hundred images of the Todoroki household, past and present, began whirling around him in picture windows.

There he was, a young Touya, training, sobbing, ripping at his own hair, and burning. He grabbed his arm as though he could feel the flames anew upon his skin.

Then it was Shoto, so young, training and in such pain at their father’s feet. Their mother’s arms were around him in one and, in the next, she was banging on the door while her son struggled to hold back his cries behind it. The unmoving, uncaring silhouette of their father towered like some titan over him.

“You lived it too. Why don’t you see what he is,” Dabi demanded as though Shoto, back in the battle, might hear him.

He spun away from the image and the feeling, coming face to face with Natsuo, much older than when Dabi left. He was glaring their father down, blame flying off his tongue like hurled spears.

Only one word came through clearly, ringing in the formless nothingness around him, “…Touya!”

Fuyumi filled the next frame, trying desperately to hold the shattered pieces of her family together. Her smile was cracked and pained but valiant all the same.

From her too came a loud and echoing, “Touya...”

Then it was their mother, sat in her hospital room, staring at nothing, dejected and miserable. She had been married to a madman, had one son burned away and fell so far into her own mind she harmed another. Dabi’s stomach rolled.

Though her voice was softer than the other two, the name of a boy long dead still rang around Dabi, louder somehow, “Touya.”

Then more and more windows crowded around him, that name echoing, nauseating, over and over a thousandfold.

“Touya,” full of laughter and encouragement as they played in the courtyard.

“Touya,” in soft warning just as their father entered a room.

“Touya,” a world’s worth of worry in only a single word as the bathroom door was pushed open to find him crumpled on the floor.

“Touya,” secretive and excited as the children huddled around their mother and their pile of contraband in a tight circle of safety they had carved out in a dusty backroom for just one hour while Enji was away.

Breathing harsh and head spinning, Dabi ran. His feet did not touch ground, nothing but the abyss on all sides, but the shocks of it still pounded up his legs and aggravated the skin that, like his family, no one had a hope of keeping together. The images in their ghostly frames followed without mercy, whirling around to confront him at every angle, a thousand moments of misery among a few, small, stolen seconds of happiness.

He dropped to his knees, hands clamped tight over his ears and eyes screwed shut. Then it all went quiet. He raised his head slowly to see only one window before him and he froze.

Their mother, sweet, kind Rei, was throwing a boiling kettle of water over the left side of Shoto’s face. Something in Dabi’s chest he’d thought long dead began aching for his little brother, betrayed by the only gentleness and love that had ever been allowed in his life.

Another image faded in to take its place and there Shoto was, the eye not covered in a bandage burning with hatred as he swore to their father he’d never be what Enji wanted of him, not the way he wanted. The feeling from only a second ago was gone and Dabi's grin was pulling the staples around his mouth apart.

He reached out to this version of his brother, the one who would join him without hesitation. As his fingers brushed the image, there was a shattering, like a hundred glass windows bursting at once, and he stumbled in a familiar, dark hallway.

It must have been close to midnight, the silence complete in the still manor. The door before him was cracked, a small shape turning fitfully under blankets. Dabi stepped just a little closer, not daring to believe it. There he was, young Shoto, the white half of his hair nearly glowing against the shadows of his room.

Dabi pushed the door aside slowly. The drag of it must have been just loud enough, however, as a small wave of ice raced toward the door. It was nothing to burn away, barely warranting a flash of brightest blue in the dark.

Shoto was sat up, his arm still ready to send out another attack, but his little face was scrunched in confusion. There was no bandage over his eye anymore, but the scar was still new and blinking or moving the muscles of his face in any way that pulled at the edges was clearly still a task.

“Hey there, little bro. It’s been a while.” He couldn’t help but chuckle at his own joke as he stepped into the room and shut the door behind him.

“Touya,” Shoto said the name like he wasn’t even sure how it was pronounced and Dabi suddenly could not remember ever hearing it from him before. The fury in his breast burned a little hotter.

Shoto’s eyes narrowed at him and he said, blunt as ever, “You died.”

Dabi shrugged. “Close enough.”

“Are you a ghost?”

“No, but I’m pretty scary looking.”

He lit a flame above his palm and held it out so Shoto could see him properly. The little boy blinked his eyes wide and his hand rose to his own face. The irony again forced a chuckle out of Dabi.

“Yeah, we match.”

Shoto dropped a glare down at the blanket pooled around his waist. “It’s all his fault.”

There it was, the venom for their father that burned through his own veins. Dabi smiled. “It is. That’s why I’m here.”

Shoto’s head whipped up. There was a hint of hope among the wariness in his eyes. The little guy had probably dreamed a hundred times of someone, anyone, coming to his aid.

Wasn’t it poetic? His father’s greatest weapon would be turned against him because he couldn't be bothered to treat him like a human being.

“Come with me.” Dabi held out a hand.

Shoto’s mismatched eyes settled at his wrist where the staples gleamed in the paltry light from the window. Then they found Dabi’s face. The blue of his eye almost perfectly matched Dabi’s own, both branded as his.

Shoto drew him out of his reverie with a sharp nod as those little fingers clasped around his with only a hint of the strength they would one day wield.

Chapter Text

Dabi had been thrown through a brick wall into the alley, his head spinning and his vision strange.

Some third-rate hero from this nothing town had figured out who Shoto was on a single glance. They had walked straight past seasoned heroes and Endeavour himself once without being noticed but this nobody figured it out in an instant. Worse, the hero was proving harder to take out than expected, their fight dragging on through three buildings.

Dabi could not have said how long he sat slumped against the grimy wall with his own scorched flesh stinking around him, but, between one bleary blink and the next, there was a small ice wall dwarfing his even smaller brother as he blocked the hero’s path.

He had lost track of Shoto somewhere in the mess of the fight, assuming he’d run for safety like Dabi told him. His stomach twisted to see him standing there, directly in harm’s way.

Despite the oppressive heat of the blue flames still raging in the building beside them, there was frost crawling over Shoto’s skin and he was shaking badly, his breath coming in quick, ghostly puffs around him as he kept building up more and more ice.

“Where’s your fire, Sho?”

Shoto answered his raspy question with a simple, stubborn, “I won’t use it.”

Dabi made to push himself up, but his burns screamed at him and he dropped back down with no resistance, gritting his teeth. Shoto stomped again, the wall fortifying itself in clumsy fits and starts as frost crept further over his skin.

“Stop that, you’re no good to anyone dead of hypothermia,” Dabi snapped.

Shoto glanced over his shoulder and, for a moment, Dabi could do nothing but stare back at that single determined eye, not entirely certain where he was anymore. With Dabi’s fire lighting only one side of his face, turning the white in his hair to a beautiful ice blue, there was nothing of Enji in him. Rei’s kindness and unquestioning, unconditional love were all that stared back at him, near blinding.

Dabi, unable to pinpoint why exactly he felt shaken, said through clenched teeth, “Get out of here. I’ll meet you at the hideout.”

“No. You’re hurt.” He said it as a matter of fact, like Dabi’s wounds weren’t his alone but something the two of them shared and staying with him was the only possible course of action.

“Just go!”

Dabi tried and failed to get his legs under him again as pain swamped him once more. Shoto moved closer. Frustrated with everything, Dabi shoved him, none too gently, with an elbow. The kid went down hard on his backside but despite a grimace, shook it and glared back as he climbed to his little feet again.

Then Shoto put his freezing hands on the agonized skin of his arm and Dabi nearly let slip a pitiful whine of relief.

Time became strange and slippery again but he was pulled from the ease of drifting in it by the Hero’s voice on the other side of the ice. He couldn’t be bothered to decipher what was being said, but the adrenaline spike and his now numb skin drove him to action.

His arms wrapped fast around his brother’s icy back as he scooped him up and pushed off the ground, running for all he was worth.

Chapter Text

They were changing locations again; keeping on the move was essential after that discovery. They had been heading for Hokkaido’s colder climes and quieter, hidden populations, but their sharp turn south along the opposite coast would, hopefully, throw off any pursuit.

Their exit from the manor had been clean and Endeavour’s efforts to find Shoto were, fortunately, still focused on a child trafficking ring. He’d been dismantling it with brute force, one of the few acts Dabi was almost proud to call him father for, but the last of it had gone deep underground. Assuming Dabi didn’t make any huge missteps from here on, once Enji finally figured out this lead was cold, he and Shoto would be well hidden and impossible to trace.

He was too caught up in planning, hardly paying any attention to the little boy behind him as they wove their way through the crowd.

Then, Shoto cried out.

Dabi whipped around, his coat flapping and hitting several people in the shins. He was certain his brother would be caught in the grip of some hero, but he was pulling himself up from the cement, cradling his elbow.

An irrational spike of irritation raced over his nerves. His oppressive aura creating a bubble in the crowd, he backtracked and crouched down, reaching for the kid before anyone else got any ideas about approaching his brother.

“You alright?”

Shoto wouldn’t look at him as he nodded, still holding his arm and not making to move his leg. There wasn’t more than a bruise at his elbow but the knee of his pants was darkening with blood.

His lip was trying to tremble, but even at this age, he’d had it drilled into him that he could not cry, could not show weakness. Dabi tried to reason that, harsh though it might be, it was a lesson he would benefit from one day.

Despite knowing this though, the logic was crumbling before his eyes; Shoto was just so small and hurt, it felt wrong for the kid not to be crying. Like he didn’t want to ask Dabi for help, didn’t believe he could.

Like he didn’t trust his brother.

 his family calling his name inside a dark abyss was suddenly screaming through his head again and he couldn’t breathe. Dabi pulled the kid up and into his chest in a tight hug, as their mother should have done, as their father never could, and just held on, waiting out the storm ravaging him.

Shoto stiffened like he was expecting an attack. Had anyone even touched this kid outside training or necessity since Rei was taken away?

Dabi’s voice came out a softer sound than he’d known his throat could make anymore as he said, “Don’t lie to me, alright? Tell me if you’re hurt so we can get you patched up.”

Shoto nodded, but it didn’t feel like the truth. Still, his tiny fists were balling in Dabi’s jacket like he’d never let go.

Loath to put the kid down now, Dabi adjusted the duffle bag on his back and hefted Shoto into his arms. He ignored the way the motion pulled at his staples and started walking. The little guy blinked up at him in shock, like he expected to wake up any second from a dream.

There was a park nearby with a plethora of benches. He set Shoto on one of them and pulled out the first aid kit he’d swiped from the manor. It was well stocked, mostly for burns.

He rolled Shoto’s pantleg up, trying to keep the fabric from dragging against the sluggishly bleeding scrape. His brother did no more than grimace, little fingers digging into the bench seat.

As he was packing the first aid kit away, he caught the kid’s brow scrunching and his lip beginning to shiver. He settled back before Shoto and looked up at his little brother. He couldn’t see any other injuries.

“You okay?”

Shoto shook his head and tried for a moment to keep his composure, to be the unflappable automaton his father wanted, but, despite his best attempt to blink them away, the tears broke loose on a miserable sniffle.

“Do you hate me?”

Unsure, Touya set a hand on his uninjured knee in what he hoped was a comforting gesture.

“Course not. Where’s this coming from, squirt?”

“I see how you look at me sometimes,” Shoto muttered, covering his blue eye with a little palm.

If that realization didn’t hit like a punch to the gut. Of course, Mom’s little breakdown left more than one scar on him. Dabi’s moments of relapse, where he was back in the battle that had dropped him here, hadn’t been helping.

“I don’t hate you,” not this version at least, “and you’re not him anymore than I am.” He tapped at the corner of his own eye for emphasis.

The little guy looked away, that aggressively neutral pout hard to read. Still, it was clear he didn’t believe a word.

He swallowed thickly and an unpleasant suspicion started prickling along Dabi’s unmarred skin. That refusal to use the fiery side of his Quirk suddenly took on a new, bitter flavor. Dabi had promised he would get Shoto out, but that didn’t do him any good if his brother was still chained to this man in his mind, poisoned through one half of his own body.

“Shoto,” he gave his knee a little squeeze and waited for his brother to look at him before he said, “You're not two halves of our parents, you’re one whole you.” He put a hand on the hair that was red under the dye, “Fire,” he moved his hand over to the white side “Ice,” he rubbed vigorously until the hair was a mess, “Whatever you want.”

Shoto batted him aside, the barest hint of a smile under the tears that had slowed.

Bolstered, he continued, “Just because it came from him doesn't mean it's under his control. You aren't under his control.”

Shoto just stared at him a long moment, like he had said something truly profound. Then, a hard determination in his eyes despite the tears flowing free again, he launched himself into Dabi’s chest with all the strength in his little body and whispered, “Touya isn’t either.”

Touya. The full weight of the boy in his arms hit him then.

True, he wasn’t heavy, but with him came a terror great enough to stop the very breath in Dabi’s chest. His hands were nearly enough to cover Shoto’s entire back; he would be so easy for someone, anyone, to break. It was on his big brother now to protect him, to show him the world and ready him for all that it would throw his way.

And the person he trusted to do that was not Dabi. That name suddenly felt so wrong, oozing through his thoughts like poison. Touya had died all those years ago, nothing but a burning corpse, and yet he was reborn once more in his little brother’s earnest wish.

A persistent pressure and a touch of blood on his cheek told Touya that if he could cry, he would be sobbing.

“Yeah, and I’ll never let him hurt you again.”

That night he scraped together a slab of meat and some vegetables, like a responsible brother, and plonked it all into the nice pan his father had unwittingly donated to their escape.

It wasn’t quite dark yet, but the sunset was casting long shadows through the trees around their little camp and breakfast had been too many hours ago.

“Heat it up,” he said, shoving the pan into Shoto’s hands.

Shoto barely glanced at it before setting the food aside. “No.”

Touya lounged back at his ease. “Then I guess we’re not eating tonight.”

Shoto glared at the food then up at Touya. “Why do you want me to do this?”

“Because I made you a promise.”

“I can still be me and not use hi– it.”

The correction did not slip Touya’s notice. “It’s your Quirk and you can use it or not, but don’t do it because of the old man. He’s not worth it.”

“It’s the same power that hurt you though.” The words were so quiet Touya almost missed them entirely

 “That wasn’t you.” He sat forward and pulled his brother around. “There’s only one fire in this family you’re responsible for and that’s your own. And you know the worst thing it’s ever done?”

Shoto shook his head, sniffling and wiping at his cheek with a sleeve. Touya beckoned him to hold out his left hand. Shoto did, confused and uncertain.

Touya popped the pan down onto his palm. “It didn’t cook us dinner.”

Chapter Text

Shoto didn’t ask to go, but Touya could see the aching want as his eyes lingered on the other children, laughing and running around the equipment. He really should have dragged Shoto past the carefree sight, but the kid had never been to the park, any park, let alone played with anyone his own age.

Touya wasn’t a monster.

He bent down so the two of them were on a level and asked, like they weren’t running for their lives, “Do you want to go play?”

Shoto’s eyes flicked away from him, uncertain, but he nodded, like he wasn’t sure he was even allowed to answer.

Touya nodded back and took his brother’s shoulders to keep him still a moment more. “We don’t have long, an hour at most, and you can’t tell them your real name. Okay?”

Shoto’s head tilted a fraction to one side. “What name should I use?”

“Whatever you want. You’re free to pick.” He ruffled Shoto’s hair, the cheap, black dye an unpleasant texture. “Now, go, have fun.”

Shoto straightened up as though he had just been given an order and nodded once. Still, he was cautious, no running for the equipment or immediately jumping into conversation. Instead, he hovered for a moment by the edge of the sand.

Touya was almost sure he was going to turn and ask that they leave now, but then a little girl fell off the monkey bars and hit the sand with a cry. Little hero he was, even at this age, Shoto ran over without hesitation.

Touya took up a post at the edge of the park where he could see both the playground and the most likely approaches. The little group of mothers set up by the benches eyed him, but continued their conversation without break.

As they left, Shoto gave him a quiet play by play, a tiny smile on his lips, of how he’d iced over the girl’s sprained ankle and been invited to play Heroes with them.

“Shoto Yuki, huh?”

“She said I had a snow Quirk. I couldn’t think of anything else.”

Touya squeezed his hand. “I like it. We should use that from now on.”

There was a little bit of a blush coloring Shoto’s cheeks as he stared at his shoes, the barest hint of pleased smile on his lips.

“Touya Yuki.”

It could be dangerous using their first names, but Touya was dead and Shoto wasn’t that uncommon. Maybe there was also a part of him that hoped the old man figured it out, the vengeful spirit of his eldest son come back to steal his prize.

Chapter Text

Touya had forgotten how warm and comforting family could be until he found it there again in Shoto. Despite sharing half his face with Touya and Enji, Shoto more fully embodied his other side, that of Natsuo, Fuyumi, and Rei. Growing up, wherever Enji went, darkness descended, but Rei held court over the little moments of peace in their house.

After the park incident, his new favorite form of revenge became giving his brother all the things Enji had neglected to share with him. Nothing brought him greater satisfaction in a day than watching those heterochromatic eyes grow wide and begin shining with wonder as he encountered something new.

So, for a week straight, ice cream had been the order of the day. Enji hadn’t wanted anything to mess with Shoto’s strict diet so heavens forbid the poor boy be given a treat.

He had known that Shoto had been isolated, but he hadn’t known exactly how isolated. It was not a surprise that the kid had never been to an onsen, but then he revealed that he always bathed alone. No one washed his back or stuck his hair up in soap spikes or talked to him about his day. Thinking of the kid all on his own in that huge bathroom, morose stare fixed on the tile, gave Touya a new mission.

They hiked out to a nearby mountain after a hard storm and found exactly what the locals had promised. The isolated little pools on the rocks were chilly, but the two of them were more than up to changing that.

“I might need a hand keeping the temperature right,” Touya admitted.

The most control over his Quirk he’d really bothered with was on, hotter, or off. Directing it took finesse, but since they’d gone blue, the fiddly work of temperature control beyond making the blaze more intense was not a skill he’d cared to cultivate.

“Then you heat the rock. I’ll cool it,” Shoto offered.

Touya nodded. That did have the best chance of not turning the whole pool to steam. He hovered his hand over the rock and forced fire through it, trying not to melt it. It didn’t take much. The water began bubbling merrily only a second later, the rock nearest him a bright, angry red.

Shoto sent out a wave of ice that had rock hissing as it cooled into a brittle thing. Then he stuck his hand in the water, no fear at all, and calmed the boil to a gentle bubbling.

Touya skimmed his own hand across the surface and grinned. “We make a pretty good team, little guy.”

He made as though to ruffle the kid’s hair but then lunged, snatching him up and leaping into the water, both still fully clothed. The surprised little squeak in his brother’s throat was a victory all on its own.

They came up shaking wet hair out of their faces and he laughed at the drowned kitten of a kid in his arms. Shoto just gave him a flat, unimpressed stare and smacked his tiny palm over Touya’s face, not even hard enough to sting.

They left their clothes out to dry and settled into the warm water, fire and ice occasionally flaring as they adjusted the temperature.

“This is nice,” Shoto said, a contented little smile on his lips. “I wish it could always be like this.”

“We can make it a regular thing.”

They were far more conspicuous living out in the woods on their own than in the cities, but it was nice to get away from everything for a minute.

A frown began to twist the little boy’s feature. “Will we ever stop running?”

Touya shrugged. “He won’t have control over you forever.”

The kid curled in on himself, the weight of almost a decade and a half crushing his little shoulders. Touya’s heart constricted. This kid deserved to go to school and be normal, not grow up like a criminal.

He turned fully to face his little bother. “I haven’t said anything because I didn’t want to get your hopes up, but I think I know a place we can settle down.” It wasn’t a lie, exactly. “I can’t promise that we won’t have to run again, you know how the old man is, but we can at least rest for a bit. Sound good?”

Hope had Shoto unfolding from his little ball and he nodded, solemn. Then he ducked his head and admitted, “Even if we have to keep running, I'm glad to be away from him.”

“Yeah, this is much better.”

With a wicked grin, Touya swept his arm through the water and drenched the kid in a wave. He shook like a dog and then the challenge gleaming in his eyes, punched both fists down in a clumsy splash. The war was on.

Chapter Text

At first, it had been all over the news. They couldn’t go ten steps without seeing Shoto’s photo plastered on every billboard. The broadcasts were almost constant:

“The heat is on as Number Two Hero Endeavor continues his search for his youngest child, Todoroki Shoto. Stolen from his own bed…”

“…raid was a success and the agency has returned over fifty children to their homes tonight, but there is still no sign of the boy who launched what they’re calling the hunt of the decade.”

Then, without warning, billboards were painted over with advertisements and other Heroes were clogging the air waves again.

Touya was tense, certain this had to be a trick of some kind.

It became clear though when a small piece came out speculating on the sudden media blackout surrounding Shoto’s disappearance, the reporter claiming that the agency had tried to silence her. It was buried, but the reporter had found some damning evidence and rumors began to circulate that all might not be well within the Todoroki household.

As Endeavor dropped to Number Ten on the charts that year, the Yuki boys relaxed just a little and slipped onto a boat.

The island they landed on was far south of their father’s search. The city sprawled along the rocks wasn’t quite large enough to warrant the name but not so small that strangers were at all remarkable. The combination of lazy, corrupt Heroes and a thriving underground made it easy to blend in.

Fortunately, school was out so it was hardly suspicious for Touya to leave Shoto in a quiet section of the library for a few hours while he found an odd job down at the docks. It was the same sort of under the table, barely legal work he’d been doing before joining the League.

He had high hopes for the place.

Shoto, despite his low reading level, had been trawling through the city records, intent on being of use, and found something interesting. It was part of a parcel of land that had been marked out for development, but only one house had actually been fully constructed. It was part of a government project to bring new people to the island, thwarted by the general move to bigger cities on the main land. There was no evidence of a resident.

They spent the afternoon walking to the edge of town and beyond to the cliffside. There, the eerie skeletons of abandoned, unfinished homes whistled in the breeze and, at the very edge, was a single building. It was nearly grown over, climbing vines holding fast to the siding and tall grasses waving around it.

“What do you think, Sho?”

His brother was not looking at the house, however. He had turned his back on the front door and was staring in bright eyed wonder at the sea. It crashed in a hypnotizing rhythm against the rocks far below and the late afternoon sun sparkled golden off the waves.

“Can we stay here,” he asked, such hope in those shining, mismatched eyes.

Touya dropped a hand onto his head and ruffled his hair. Then he pulled the kid up into his arms, letting him rest against his shoulder for a higher vantage point. Shoto clung to his neck, his mouth falling open in awe.

About halfway back from the day’s work, Touya rounded a corner to a familiar enough sight, a protection racket come to collect.

He was going to ignore the thugs harassing the shop owner, he really was, this was a rough area and it was, frankly, none of his business, but it wasn’t his fault they were taking up the whole sidewalk.

He shoulder checked the clear leader aside as he was reaching for the bills in the shopkeeper’s trembling hands, nearly knocking him clean off his feet. Not even half a challenge then.

There was a litany of furious shouts behind him and he half turned with one eyebrow raised, unconcerned.

Only one of them seemed to have half a brain and tensed. The leader’s eyes, however, roved over Touya’s scars and he laughed. “I’ve seen some ugly mugs in my time, but yours takes it, buddy.”

“Can’t say yours is much better,” Touya said, his tone even and his gaze cold and unfeeling.

The one with a brain took a step back, but the others jeered, egging on their leader as his lip curled.

He stepped forward, all arrogant swagger. “You should watch your mouth. You’re talking to Lockjam. Even the Heroes in these parts run scared of me.”

His little entourage cackled.

Touya scoffed. “Not much of an accomplishment. That old-timer runs scared of anything.”

Lockjam ground his teeth in a massive motion that showed off the metal replacing three of them. Then, eyes bugging out, he leapt forward with some cliché war cry. Touya dodged the first and second swings of those boney fists easy, dancing back from the third.

“Yeah, I see now why you’re so scary, you could almost hit a barn like that,” he taunted, having missed the adrenaline high of a fight more than he cared to admit.

Lockjam’s teeth were on their grind again, but this time instead of jumping forward, he raised his arm. A thin chain was twisting around his skin like an agitated snake and the sadism in his smile told Touya all he needed to know.

The villain’s arm whipped out to the accompanying clang of metal and the chain made for Touya’s neck. He’d never had much concern for keeping his attacks contained, but it wouldn’t do to move Shoto now because he’d been recklessly destroying the block.

He stepped aside and swiped a hand up, engulfing the chain in a concentrated blast of heat. The cheap metal fell to slag on the cement where he just been standing, hissing in the humid air.

They were one short, the single braincell of the group having booked it, but the rest were simply staring, bug eyed in shock and horror. The colorful, plastic ties on one of their hoodies had melted, the cutesy, smiling face now a disfigured scream.

Their attention turned slowly to Touya. He did nothing more interesting than shake out his overheated skin, not truly feeling it through the dead nerves.

Then he gave them his best, condescending smile. “I think it’d probably be best if I don’t see any of you around here again.”

They turned tail with only a small puff of blue flame to encourage them, tangling on each other as they shoved their way down the street and rounded the corner. Touya shook his head.

“Thank you, sir, I appreciate your protection!”

He turned to find the shop owner holding out the bills with shaking hands as he bowed low.

Touya’s lip curled. “Don’t lump me in with guys like them.”

“But,” the man looked from him to the money in genuine confusion and a mild hint of fear.

“I was just walking by when those guys attacked me, right?” He shrugged but gave the shopkeeper a hard stare.

Fortunately, the man cottoned on without further prompting, letting out a relieved, hysterical chuckle. “O-of course!”

Touya probably could have taken the money with no trouble, someone else was going to come along and muscle it out of this guy anyway, that was the way of it, but that kind of thing would draw attention.

Still, he walked away from the shop with two generous portions of their best soba shoved with great force and gratitude into his hands. Shoto would be pleased.

A week later, Touya was only a block off from the noodle shop he’d taken to walking past when, “Hey, Yuki!”

He turned to see the thug with the metal Quirk flanked by several cronies. He gave them half a glance and kept walking.

“Hey! I’m talking to you!”

Touya readied for the clank of metal. It never came. Water slammed into Touya and carried him off his feet. His side met uneven asphalt as he slammed back to earth, the breath forced from his lungs.

“Not so tough now we can snuff out those flames, are you?”

Touya wheezed in a breath, taking stock. Nothing broken. Six attackers. He could make this quick.

A wall of blue flame erupted in a tight ring around them, almost a story tall, with Touya at its center. Two of them screamed.

A thug with iridescent spikes for hair was waving his arms, but it was doing no good. Water rushed against the flames from outside, the briny scent turning acrid as it vaporized and leaving the wall no lower.

Eyeing the road drying at their feet under the intensity of the heat, the courage drained from their little group as their trump card failed. Lockjam, shoved in front of them like a shield, was grinding his teeth, eyes bugging out with badly concealed panic.

Touya smiled at him. “Last chance to run home.”

The seedy crowd around the docks had gotten the message, but the innocent civilian population had started looking at him with something like hope. It made his skin itch and he refused to meet any of their eyes.

It wasn’t until he came home to a drawing of him and All Might that Touya realized, in this time, in this place, his flames were not the mark of a notorious villain, but of a vigilante. He repressed a groan and instead laughed at the cartoonish All Might. He nailed the drawing up, pride of place, beside the door.

Chapter Text

Touya woke slowly with the salty sea air in his nose and the early morning sun just brushing his eyelids.

There was a warm bundle in his arms and, ignoring how the waves crashing against the cliff were trying their best to lull him back to sleep, he opened his eyes. Shoto was sleeping curled against his chest, one hand loosely fisted in his shirt.

A sleepy smile pulled up Touya’s lip. The kid had his own bed, but he still somehow ended up in Touya’s most nights. He didn’t mind the company and its constant reminder that this was his reality now.

They had been there nearly a month and, with the way Shoto’s eyes lit up every time he walked out the door, Touya would be lying if he said he wasn’t planning a more long-term stay. Maybe he could look into who owned this place exactly and take it off their hands.

His chest warm with affection, he brushed a hand through Shoto’s silky hair, the texture so like their mother’s. The left side would need to be dyed again soon, those stubborn red roots starting to peak out of the off white that never stuck as well as Touya wanted.

They had both decided to embrace the white and, despite his own expectations, Touya felt more whole this way. There was also something they both found cathartic in wiping all traces of their father out of Shoto’s hair.

Thinking of white hair brought forth an unbidden memory of Natsuo, a big gap in his teeth as he smiled and invited Touya to play. Fuyumi would appear at his shoulder, bottom lip held between her teeth, always hoping to have her family together in even the smallest ways.

The calm of the morning fled from Touya. He had entertained the idea of returning to the manor and grabbing those two as well, but he couldn’t risk it. He would have to leave Shoto here, alone, and if he was caught… It didn’t bear thinking about.

He contented himself with the fact that they were likely not any worse off now than they had been in his original time. Still, sometimes he pictured it, showing up under the cover of darkness to whisk them away. Natsuo would jump at the chance at once, he was sure, but, while he liked to think his sister would come along, Fuyumi would be a much harder sell and at least as likely to turn them over to their father.

And taking them would leave their mother all alone. She might like the ocean…

“Touya,” a sleepy little voice asked.

Touya glanced down at those big, mismatched eyes, dazed and so painfully innocent. The smile returned to Touya’s lips and he ruffled Shoto’s hair with less care.

“Mornin’, squirt.”

Shoto batted his hand away, groaning and grumbling as he buried his head in Touya’s chest.

"Going back to sleep already? I thought you wanted to work on that new move today."

That woke him up.

By the end of the day, when they climbed back up from the cave at the bottom of the cliff, the two of them were sore but pleased. Touya had been reading a lot about training and the importance of pacing, but they were still figuring out what that looked like, both falling back into their father's model far too easily.

Just as the sun had set and a light rain began drumming on the roof, a knock came at the door. Touya was up in a second, hoisting Shoto on the box under the window they had set there for just such an occasion.

“I’m not here to make trouble,” a man called through the wood, loud and careful. “Just wanted to know if you boys wanted some miso.”

The door swung open and a man, late middle age with thinning salt and pepper hair, appeared holding up a pot. Shoto paused with his hands on the windowsill as the smell reached them. Anything but convenience store meals and cheap takeout was a luxury.

Touya cursed under his breath for hesitating, but the man was speaking again, reasonable and earnest, “Listen, there’s a big storm coming in and you’re not going to find anywhere else dry tonight. So, you’re welcome to stay. I haven’t called that lay about, no good Hero or the cops and I don’t plan on it.”

“Who are you?”

“Most folks just call me Doc. This old place is mine.”

Against his better judgement, Touya was, not ten minutes later, sitting across a candle at the kitchen island with Doc. Shoto was digging into a third helping at his side, his own bowl empty twice over.

“Yuki, right?”

Touya gave a begrudging nod.

“I admit, I’ve been real curious about you. It’s not a small town, but you hear about someone new throwing their weight around. You’re not the usual type though. You planning on sticking around?”

Touya clenched his fingers to work off a bit of the heat that wanted to blaze along his arm, not sure yet if it was worth roasting the guy. “Maybe.”

Doc nodded in approval.

Shoto finished then and stretched before tucking himself into Touya’s side. He let an arm drape over his little brother, caught between chastising him for falling asleep so easily with a potential danger in the room and grateful the kid was full and comfortable.

Finally, Doc said, his voice soft so as not to wake the boy, “This is the kind of town where people come to start over, as it were, and I’m inclined to let them. Now, I won’t claim to know what and I won’t ask, but you two look like you’ve been running from something real nasty. So, if you’re not causing any trouble, you’re welcome to use the house a while and, if you are sticking around, I got a proposition for you.”

Touya raised his chin at the man in challenge, waiting.

The barest hint of a smirk lit Doc’s lip at that. “From what I’ve heard around town and the way you were looking at me when I walked in, I’d say you know how to handle yourself in a fight–”

“Not interested.”

The man raised an eyebrow at him. “You didn’t even hear what I had to say.”

“I don’t have to; you want an assassin or an enforcer and I’m not interested in being either.”

To his great surprise, Doc smiled. “That’s good because what I was going to say is all that fighting’s fine and all, but what you really need in this life is a trade. I’d be willing to teach you mine.”

Touya shot him a narrow-eyed glare. “Why?”

“See, I’m a carpenter and finding young hands willing to work all the way out here is getting harder by the year. I could use the help.” He spread his hands palm up on the table like an offering, his calluses painting the truth clear in his skin. “I’ll be paying you, of course, fair working wage minus a reasonable rent. What do you say?”

Without meaning to, Touya glanced down at Shoto.

“There’s a real nice, young lady just down the way who watches a bunch of kids his age. I’m sure she’d be willing to take one more. He doesn’t look like much trouble.”

It was not where Touya had expected any of this to go and it sounded far too good to be true. “I don’t like owing favors.”

“You wouldn’t be. This would be an equal exchange.”

Not bothering to ask permission, Touya flicked out his phone and snapped a photo of the man. Not bothering with apology, he slid it back into his coat with a neutral, “Let me think about it.”

“Of course,” Doc said, too agreeable for Touya’s liking. He slid a business card across the table, gathered up his pot and bowls, and left with a wave.

The next morning Touya barged into the noodle shop just as it opened.

“Yuki," the owner beamed, gesturing him to a stool. "What can I do for you?”

Touya held out the phone. “You know this guy?”

The shopkeeper squinted at the photo. Then his eyes lit with recognition.

“That’s Doc. He finally got around to saying hi to you then?”

Touya just nodded.

The man was happy to settle in and continued without prompting, “Good guy that one, likes to think of himself as everyone’s grandpa.”

“He have a family then? Kids?”

He scratched at his chin. “I guess he used to have all that, but he doesn’t like to talk about his life on the mainland much.” Then he leaned in with a conspiratorial sparkle in his eye. “I hear a rumor he used to be some bigtime villain.”

“Really? What’s his Quirk?”

“No one knows.”

Touya heard a lot of the same from others he asked, though most disagreed on whether or not Doc had a Quirk and why he’d come to the island. A few suggested his son got caught up with villains and one even went so far as to say he used to be a Pro Hero. Still, all who knew him, on both sides of the law, seemed to have a largely positive opinion of the man.

He checked the impromptu daycare next. Yumi, as the woman introduced herself, was soft-spoken and only a few years older than Touya. She had a pair of sparrow wings on her back and explained that her Quirk made her bones brittle and working difficult. She invited him to sit in for a few hours and proved herself excellent with the children. There was a set of twins, one of whom was Quirkless, and the other four had a collection of run of the mill mix of mutation and weak emitter Quirks.

One of the twins took immediately to Shoto. An hour in, the little guy was wrapped around his new, self-styled, best friend’s finger.

“It's too easy,” Touya said that evening to his only confidant, a six-year-old boy.

Shoto shrugged. “Maybe they really are just nice here.”

“That isn’t how the world works, Sho.”

“You’re nice.”

“I’m really not.”

“You helped Miss Yumi’s Dad.”

Touya paused at that. It took him a moment to place it, but he had run some guys off who’d been cornering a short, skinny nothing down an alley the other day. He'd had feathers framing his face and almost exactly her hair’s shade of maroon.

He hadn't meant to get into that fight, but he'd heard someone shouting for Yuki and looked around, his gut warning him too late he was making a mistake. That was when he'd met the eyes of a burly thug looking for a fight and known his vague afternoon plans were on hold.

Despite Touya brushing him off, the guy’d thanked him profusely and made a point to wave to him anytime he spotted him.

“She tell you that?”

Shoto shook his head. “Rem heard her the other day talking to Doc before he came over here.”

“Oh, really?”

Shoto nodded. “She said if he didn’t find a way to keep you around, she was going to cook him into the soup.”

Against his better judgement, Touya showed up at the woodshop the next day. He met Doc’s eye across space and the two stared each other down for a moment, assessing. Finally, the old man wiped his hands on a rag and came over.

“So, what do you say?”

“I’ll try it out for a while.” Agreeing to this would, if nothing else, give them more time to plan.

Doc smiled. “I was hoping you’d say that. Here, so it’s all above board.” He pulled several stapled packets out of a battered bag and handed them off. One was a renter’s agreement and the other an employment contract.

“Read those over and duck into this address tomorrow around noon,” he dropped a bland business card on top. “They’ll get you a proper ID. Then you can get those signed and start work Monday morning.”

Touya scoped out the address for a good half hour, but nothing of note happened. The place seemed to house a normal government branch, nothing even remotely shady about it.

The second he walked in, the eyes of the middle-aged woman behind the counter lit up.

“You must be Yuki. Doc said you’d be coming.” She bustled around behind the counter with the kind of chattering, easy joy Toga would like. “Shame what happened to your last one, but you came to the right place. They give you such a hard time down at the main office if you want a replacement, but us fire types have to stick together, am I right?”

She held up a tiny flame on her finger. “I tell you what, I burn through three of those flimsy things a month, but you won’t have to worry about it with these. My friend works in support, you see, and..."

She kept going, but Touya tuned it out, staring at the ID she'd slid across the counter. It was sturdy even if it would only take him a couple of seconds to burn through it with his gentlest flame, but Touya was glaring down the address under the Quirk line, Emitter: Fire. Doc had taken the liberty to put that his address was the house on the cliffs. It felt like a collar around his neck, loose now but liable to snap shut around him at any second.

It was hard to begrudge it though as Shoto smiled over dinner, regaling him with tales of his day. They’d had hourly check ins and Shoto was under strict orders to run if someone tried to take him somewhere without informing Touya.

Touya leaned his hip on the counter while Yumi scrubbed at a toy that had met the afternoon’s snack cup. His opinion of her rose by degrees as she did not so much as flinch, in total control of her space despite her frailty.

"We haven't talked about payment yet."

"It's all been worked out," she said, brushing it off.

Touya let the silence stretch a moment, waiting for her to fill in the blanks there. She didn't, studious in her task and content to let the moment hang.

Touya broke first. “How’s your dad doing?”

She shot him a glance, but he did not waver in his cool neutrality. “He’s doing better. Thank you for getting him out of there.”

“You know, I’m not looking for a reward.”

Shuffled in place as though called out. “I know, he told me, but you don’t know how much you helped around here. Let me do this for you, please.”

Touya was familiar with not wanting to owe someone. Still, “One week. Then I’ll pay you properly.”

“That sounds fair.” She gave him a tired but genuine smile. "You're a good man, Yuki. Now, mind handing me that bottle?"

He scoffed but handed over the disinfectant.

Chapter Text

The island didn’t get that cold most of the time, but the dead of winter still brought an early end to the days and the sky was just starting to turn colors as they finished offloading a shipment of oak for the town hall renovation.

That was when Touya got the call that Shoto’s Quirk was going out of control.

He didn’t hear anything for a moment after that, terror a sharp bite on his heels as he ran, blind.

The dead nerves of his scars screamed out anew with the memory of flesh scorching under a sudden, blistering blaze he could not control. He wouldn’t let that happen, not to Shoto. Even their father hadn’t fucked the kid up that bad.

The phone was still pressed to his ear and Yumi was talking, something about Shoto having singed his friend and then ‘locked himself away’. He didn’t know what that was supposed to mean, but, as he rounded the last building in his way, he didn’t need to ask.

The top of a massive pillar of ice was shining off in the distance along the cliffs, towering over the trees easily twice over. It was not the great wall of overwhelming strength and power radiating outward that their father had been so fond of teaching them, however. This twisted and curled in on itself, a tornado frozen in time, intricate and dangerous to only one person.

A truck came to a sudden, crunching halt behind him with the blare of a horn and Doc stuck his head out the driver side window. “Get in the back, hotshot, you’re melting the asphalt.”

Touya hopped into the open bed and did not take his eyes off the ice as Doc pushed the old truck up to its maximum speed. It only took them a couple of minutes, but the ice had grown wider and taller in that time.

Heart in his throat, Touya leapt from the truck before it had stopped and rolled to his feet, running up the drive and barely touching gravel as he flew over it.

Yumi turned her head at his approach, the kids all clustered around her, clutching her skirt and staring in wide eyed horror.

“Yuki! I don’t think he can hear us and it won’t stop,” Yumi was saying, panicked, but he didn’t have time to talk.

Driving heat in front of him, he slammed into the ever-thickening wall of ice and melted his way through, barely stopped. For a moment he was lost, squinting through the steam, the bright white of the ice, and the harsh blue of his own fire, certain he had been turned around somehow, but after several yards he broke through into the center.

The walls here were not smooth, as they were on the outside; here were the offensive spikes, all pointed inward at the little boy. Shoto was curled around his knees as he trembled and sobbed, silent but for his chattering bones and uneven breaths. Fire flared through the ice he was trying to layer over the left side of his body while frost crawled across the right like a fungus, threatening to swallow him whole.

“Shoto!”

Quirk flaring off in an unrestrained torrent, Touya fought the last couple of steps to his brother and dropped to his knees. He had burned through the thin cotton of his shirt on the way in and pressed his brother's cold half to his bare skin, the subzero chill warring for dominance with the overwhelming heat.

“It’s okay, kiddo. You can stop now.”

“I burned Hiroshi,” Shoto said, the words almost impossible to understand with his unmoving jaw and thick throat.

“The kid with the pig nose?”

Shoto mumbled his usual correction, but Touya did not care about the taxonomy of the kid’s mutation, he only cared that Shoto was still coherent enough to talk.

“He’s fine.” Touya didn’t actually have any idea if that was true or not, but Yumi would not have been so focused on Shoto if there had been another kid injured as well. “We’re all just worried about you, squirt.”

Shoto shook his head, ice flying off the left side of his body with the violent rejection. “I’m cursed.”

“You’re not cursed and you didn’t do anything wrong.” Touya had no idea what had happened, but with the way Shoto was punishing himself, he hadn’t meant any of it and Touya would turn himself to ash before even entertaining the idea.

“I’m just like him. All I do is–”

Touya’s temper flared hot and bright in a great wave of blue flame that engulfed them both, melting the ice off his brother and leaving his own knees in hot mud before he got it under control.

He grabbed Shoto’s shoulders, one still frozen and the other far too warm, and pulled him around to glare him down.

“Don’t you dare say that again, Sho. You’re so much better than anything he ever wanted you to be and if there’s one thing I know for sure, it’s that you’ll never be like him. No matter what.”

Shoto's lip was shivering and his eyes were shining with a most fragile hope as the ice tower stopped its constant growth and the fire became only weak little bursts on the kid's arm and the side of his head.

Touya forced his voice to soften a little as he asked, “If there wasn’t a camera around, do you think the old man would even care if he hurt his friends? Do you think he’d even have friends?”

Shoto sniffled and shook his head. His complete lack of hesitation drew the barest half smile from Touya.

“That’s right. Face it, little guy, the old man’s worthless garbage, but he did one thing right. You know what it is?”

Shoto shook his head, tears flying.

Touya pulled him in, curled his whole body around that tiny frame, and said, throat tight, “He gave us you.”

Shoto, physically and emotionally exhausted, fell asleep in only a moment, leaving Touya to contemplate their mess, both literal and metaphorical. He made his way back through to where he’d tunneled in and set a hand on the ice wall. The layers that had covered it melted away under his touch and in a moment, he was back outside in the darkening twilight, the barest hint of red dying on the horizon.

Yumi and the kids were clustered back by the truck. Doc had a chisel and hammer in hand, looking ready to start going to town on the ice.

“You boys alright?”

“We’re fine, but you might want to stand back.” He turned back to the ice and didn’t check what Doc was doing. He transferred Shoto to one arm, head pillowed on his shoulder and breath cold against his neck.

Then he raised his free hand and engulfed the ice in a torrent of brightest blue. Maintaining the constant stream of fire after his earlier burst was draining, but he held out until his healthy skin began to itch and turn an angry red.

There were still a few chunks of ice littering the lawn, but it was the best he was going to do for now. Shoto’s temperature had evened out some beside the heat, but one set of fingers was still chilly against his side.

Doc whistled, impressed. “Damn, kid. I ever tell you how glad I am you’re on our side?”

Touya ignored him, intent on getting Shoto under some blankets. The little ones were nowhere to be seen, but Yumi was silhouetted by the front door.

Touya made to walk on past, but she did not let him. Her eyes shining with worry, she stepped in his path and held out a bag.

“It’s a tricky age, they all tend to overdo it with their Quirks, but that’ll help him feel less sick when he wakes up.”

He gave her a nod in thanks and hooked it on a finger.

She made to catch his arm but drew back from the still smoking skin with a gasp. “Are you okay? Let me grab some–”

“I’m fine,” he said, sidestepping her. “I just have to get him home.”

Her useless wings flapped in worry as she called after him, “He’s still welcome, both of you are, and anything you need, let me know.”

He didn’t acknowledge that, not sure if staying on this island even a moment more was the smart move.

Doc caught up to him just as Touya met the hard transition between gravel and pavement.

“I’ll take you home,” Doc said, his tone allowing no argument as he pulled open the driver’s side door of his truck.

Touya debated it, but Shoto was already growing heavy in his arms. Still, he didn’t say anything, just got in through the offered door and slid across the bench seat to the passenger side. As they set off, he started running his hot palm up and down Shoto’s spine in a soothing rhythm, not sure who it was meant to comfort.

Then, Doc finally said, “I see that look in your eye and I know a man getting ready to run, but that’s not the smart move here and you know it.”

His voice emptier than he’d expected, Touya said, “To the right people, that was a huge sign with our names on it. There isn’t another option.”

“You could try trusting us.”

When Touya did no more than shoot him a dark glare, Doc gentled his tone and continued, “I get it, you’re holding onto the only person you can count on other than yourself, but the truth is, you’re not alone here, Yuki. We care about you and that kid a whole hell of a lot and we won’t let whatever you’re running from catch up to you.” He dropped his tone a bit as he added, “If nothing else, you know leaving is only gonna hurt him more.”

Touya scowled at the dashboard.

Nothing else was said between them until Touya had a heavy hand on the door to the house and Doc called out, “I expect the clinic to be billing me for you two in the next couple of days, you hear?”

Touya didn’t acknowledge him as the door shut behind him.

Touya let the kid sleep well into the afternoon and woke him with breakfast in bed.

“I’m sorry, Touya,” Shoto finally said, huddled in on himself in shame, not touching the food.

“Nothing to apologize for, squirt.” Touya ruffled his hair.

“Are we gonna have to leave now?” There was an unsaid because of me in there that tore at Touya.

He wanted to be able to give a better answer, but all he had was, “I don’t know, kiddo.”

“I don’t want to go. I like it here.”

Touya let his weight drop against the bed as he sighed out, “Yeah, me too.”

The long, miserable silence between them was broken by a knock at the door.

Touya, fire ready to burst at any second, barely relaxed as he spotted Doc through the frosted glass pane beside the door. He pulled it open and was almost bawled over as a small child came rushing past him.

“Toto,” the kid screamed, unable to say the name correctly with his pigish mutation.

Touya glared at Doc. The old man just shrugged. “He wanted to check on his friend so I volunteered to bring him over.”

“I know why you’re really here,” Touya said, voice flat as he left the door open behind him.

Doc followed him to the kitchen, the two kids chatting animatedly from down the hall a stark contrast to Touya’s foul mood.

“I never have before and I’m not gonna force you into anything now,” Doc said, on his usual assurances, “but you are safe here. It’s not like people don’t already know your Quirk and they’re more likely to keep their mouths shut knowing the little brother’s as scary as the big brother.”

Touya turned away, grabbing a glass and filling it with water just so he wouldn’t have to look at Doc.

“He’s got friends and so do you. It’s not a crime to relax.”

Touya set the glass on the counter as the water started to bubble. “We’ve been here too long.”

“I’m not going to ask, but if you’re running from something that could be tracked on the Hero Network, I can help with that.”

Touya spun around as something was slid across the counter to find a tablet with the promised Hero Network up. Some alert about Gang Orca’s successful takedown of some villain scrolled by and then a call for backup in Hokkaido. Endeavor answered with an ETA of minutes.

Despite himself, Touya relaxed. Then he returned a glare at Doc, suspicious.

“Why do you have this?”

He shrugged. “Just something from the old days.”

Touya took a step left so a blast of fire wouldn’t head toward Shoto’s room as he asked, “So, you were a Hero?”

A melancholy settled over him. “In a way. My team was one of the last of its kind, noncombat, support and rescue only.”

While Touya chewed that over, Doc pulled the tablet back to himself and clicked around for a moment. “Not surprising, but the Yukis’ incident in our little corner of paradise hasn’t come up at all.” He turned the device to show the local feed detailing Leor’s pointless career and something about Selkie chasing an unmarked vessel. “This thing’s got details on all Heroes and most Villains, even the lesser known. No better source.”

He tapped back to the wider Japan feed and pushed it back to Touya. “I can leave it with you for a while, see if things change. And if they do,” he dropped a thick envelope on the table, the end open to show off a modest stack of cash, “that’ll get you off the island unreported.”

Touya glared him down as he asked, “Why’s this so important to you? Why do you care?”

“Well, I don’t want to lose my best worker.” He chuckled but at the increase in heat dropped the joking tone and said, “Call me nostalgic, but you remind me of someone I couldn’t help.”

He pulled out his phone, flipped it open, and scrolled over to something. Then he set it on the counter with the picture of a young man smirking up out of the screen.

“Real great kid, that one, called himself Domino. He decided to cut ties with a real rough crowd and came begging me for help. I tried, but,” he let out a long, hard breath, his usual calm breaking for bitterness, “the law, even then, didn’t care about villains and the next thing I knew, I was IDing his body.”

Touya shouldn’t care about this man and his little sob story, but he couldn’t help a sympathetic, “Yeah, the Hero system’s shit.”

 “It really is. That’s why I came out here, I couldn’t be part of it anymore.”

“You didn’t answer the question.”

“You are a stubborn one.” He chuckled, rueful, and turned a fond look across at Touya. “Come on, some scrappy kid and his little brother show up at my door just trying to start over and you really think this old Hero didn’t wake up and take notice? I’d be damned if I didn’t do everything in my power to help.”

“I don’t like charity.”

“You know that’s not what it is.”

Touya did not relent in his glare.

“Just think about it. You boys got a place here and people too, that’s all I’m saying.” Doc stood and called, “Come on, Hiroshi, we gotta let the littlest Yuki have his rest.”

He left Touya stewing with a goldmine of information on Endeavor’s whereabout right there in front of him. His fingers itched, but he forced himself to grab the money, sort through it, and stuff half into his bag and half into Shoto’s with the rest of their stuff.

Then he returned to the kitchen, following the siren song of the tablet. Their father had reached the fight and was turning the tide. He wanted to click around, find out more, but he couldn’t risk having his interest in the Flame Hero noted.

“What’s that,” Shoto asked, rubbing sleepily at his eyes and dragging his blanket behind him.

“The Hero’s private network.”

“Is it dangerous,” Shoto asked, unsure.

Touya bent to wrap the blanket more securely around his shoulders. “Maybe, maybe not, but there are some things we can’t talk about and some people’s names we can’t say while it’s in the house, just in case. Okay?”

Shoto’s eyes widened and he pointed to his own ear.

Touya nodded.

“Just like the birds,” the kid whispered, giving it the stink eye.

Touya covered his amusement by straightening up and asking, “Do you want to see what All Might’s up to?”

He considered for two seconds that maybe the violence of Hero society without the softening of the media might not be the best bedtime story for a kid, but Shoto had been raised on this by their father and his eyes lit up with such excitement Touya wasn’t going back on it.

Chapter Text

The weekend began with a visit from another of Shoto’s friends, Rem who had so charmed him that first day. They arrived with their older sister to announce an important ceremony needed to take place. Rem wanted to marry Shoto. Their sister, well into her second year of high school and willing to indulge her siblings almost as readily as Touya, had explained in an undertone to him that the twins had heard on television that marriage tied people together forever through any hardship and Rem wanted their friendship with Shoto to do the same.

She had brought flowers and an assortment of streamers to decorate the doorway. Touya snapped photos of her officiating the ceremony while Shoto and Rem beamed and bobbed around each other.

It had been enough of a novel and enlightening experience for Shoto, that he insisted he needed to marry more of his friends.

Touya, nothing if not driven by spite, knew Enji would never have allowed any of this, even if it would make his son happy. Therefore, it was Touya’s prerogative on a Saturday afternoon to knock on the door of the home of little Hiroshi.

They’d had to get the address from Yumi and the moment the door opened, Touya almost took a step back.

Hiroshi’s mother took up the entire frame and had leaned hard into her boar mutation as he had only ever seen in the muscle of villain circles. She had a huge, iron nose ring and roughly shorn, wiry hair around a perpetual scowl. Scars from some life-or-death struggle painted every inch of exposed skin not covered in ink and the seams of her shirt strained around the strength in her shoulders and arms.

The intimidating figure was undermined, however, when Hiroshi managed to charge through her legs and nearly tackled Shoto in his enthusiasm. To Shoto’s delight, Hiroshi accepted the proposal with a scream of delight and ate the flowers, dirt covered stems and all, that they’d picked along the way as a gift.

Touya, with his most serious expression, held up the string of paper flowers around his neck that he and Shoto had spent most of the morning on and said to the amused woman, “My small child would like to marry your small child in friendship.”

All traces of softness upon looking at her son evaporated as she narrowed her eyes at him. Touya had to hold his spine straight as she stepped forward and loomed.

“Hiroshi, get inside.” Hiroshi, confused, grabbed Shoto’s hand and started leading him in, but she snapped, “Just you.”

The kids stopped, confused and still connected by the hand.

She paid it no mind as she addressed Touya, her hot, minty breath ghosting over him in threat, “If I had known you were the kind of person taking care of Shoto, I would never have let my son–”

“But Mr. Yuki's a hero,” Hiroshi protested, letting go of Shoto to tug at the hem of her shirt with both hands.

“He's a thug,” she said it without looking away from him.

Touya didn't feel any particular way about this lady not liking him. She even had a point. But keeping Shoto from his friend because of him was unacceptable.

“Why don't you kids go play in the backyard while the adults talk?”

He gave Shoto a little push between the shoulder blades. The kid’s mismatched eyes looked up at him, worried, but with a reluctant nod, he took his friend’s hand again and left for the backyard.

The minute the gate slammed, she squared up.

Touya held his hands out in a gesture of surrender. He wasn't intending to get in a fight this woman if he could help it. She was easily twice times his size and most definitely stronger. Roasting the mother of Shoto's friend was also not going to earn him brownie points with anyone.

“I understand why you wouldn’t want me coming around, but Shoto–”

“I don't care what anyone says, I see you and if you're raising that kid, he's going to be just the same. So, you and your boy stay away from my son or you're going to be walking home with elbows for knees.”

Touya had never heard that flavor of threat put quite that way before. The League would have enjoyed it.

Pushing aside his own amusement, he said, “I wouldn't say you're wrong about me, but you are wrong about Shoto. He’s the best of any of us and your son has been good to him. So, please, don’t separate them on my account.”

The please had caught her off guard, but she shook it with a narrow eyed glare.

“I don't like you,” she said like it needed to be noted and ground into his skull.

The smallest, empty grin lifted the corner of his mouth. “Well, at least we have something in common.”

With what was very nearly a snarl, she said, like there was no worse thing a person could ever be, “You’re just like his father.”

There was a story there, a hundred horrible possibilities for what had brought their little family of two here to this house on the edge of a city where people came to disappear. It was not him she was glaring at, he knew, but the shadows of a past she could never shake.

“It sounds like he and my father would have gotten along.”

Perhaps it was low to present her with his own horrible possibilities, especially when it was much more complicated than she was thinking, but from the sudden falling of her expression as her eyes flicked to his scars and then toward the backyard, it worked. She might have lived a hard life and built a tough exterior, but she was a soft heart underneath all that. It wasn’t possible to raise a boy like Hiroshi, who was the embodiment of both destruction and genuine sweetness, otherwise.

He unwound the string of paper flowers and held it out. “I’m happy to leave the ceremony to you, if you’ll send along pictures. I can be back for him in–”

“I know what you’re doing,” she snapped, not reaching for the flowers. “And I want you where I can see you.”

She turned her back and started for the garden.

Touya shrugged and followed. That had worked out better than expected, though he still had the impending sense that he ought not stray too far from her lest she build up enough speed to turn his bones to paste on impact

The ceremony went off without a hitch after they’d assured the little ones that all was well.

While Hiroshi talked an eagerly listening Shoto’s ear off about some bug he’d found in the corner of the yard, his mother asked, as though continuing the conversation, “Your father?”

Touya traced a passing cloud with his eyes. “He has funny ideas about family.”

She nodded like that was all that needed saying on the matter.

“His father,” Touya ventured.

“He had similar ideas.”

He nodded. The past tense was all either of them needed.

Somehow, Touya left with an invitation to some little gathering of single mothers and a mean look that said he would do well not to be late.

Chapter Text

Touya stumbled through the door in the darkest hours between midnight and morning, smoke still rolling off his skin. Nothing about prowling the city for a fight had been smart, but things had been too quiet lately, the lack of anything building to an ugly crescendo in his bones demanding release.

He'd verified Doc’s story. The whole thing was made more depressing by the fact that it was so normal Despite Doc’s attempts to bring attention to it, Domino’s defection and death were too banal to make any major news sites for longer than half a second. He still kept a sharp eye on the man, but nothing came of it.

Nothing changed with the Hero they were eager to avoid either. Endeavour kept his search far north and there was nothing to indicate anyone from his agency was even remotely interested in their little slice of paradise.

So, he'd gone looking for trouble and won a fight that cost him.

He found the freezer door in the dark. The second the chill washed over him, he debated shoving everything out to climb inside the cramped little space.

Instead, he snatched up a handful of ice and dumped it over one arm. It turned to warm water in only a moment. He repeated this with the other arm and snatched up an ice pack. That lasted a little longer and was still nowhere near what he needed. He grimaced as his clothes scrapped against raw skin. He was going to have cut those off before he could drop himself under the freezing shower spray.

The scissors were awkward in his nondominant hand as he hacked at the collar of his shirt. A sharp stab of pain sent them careening to the floor as he gritted his teeth in silent agony, trying not to move a muscle or make more sound than a bitten off sob in the back of his throat.

Then the fire was quenched and Touya almost fell to the floor, his relieved breath one hard release. Shoto, rubbing at sleepy eyes, had set his right hand on the dead skin at Touya’s forearm, coating his body in a thin, sizzling layer of ice.

“I was having a dream about walking mochi,” the kid muttered.

Shoto was smart enough to know that Touya using his Quirk like that was a sure way to catch a Hero’s attention, no matter how negligent Leor was, and get them caught. He should have been furious and screaming; he had every right.

That he didn’t even say anything about it or the freshly charred skin on his brother’s body was somehow worse.

Gut clenching, Touya dropped a hand on the kid’s hair. “Sorry I interrupted, kiddo. You should get back to it.”

Shoto nodded, replacing the melted patches of ice before he turned back to his room. Touya had to stifle a snort as the kid nearly smacked into the doorframe on the way. The Todoroki masterpiece alright.

The next morning, the kid made no indication he even remembered what happened beyond a heavy once over at his big brother’s charred skin.

It weighed on Touya though, things unsaid threatening to fill the house and drown them both.

“Hey, Sho?”

The kid looked up at him with those wide, innocent, trusting eyes. Touya had no idea if the disappointment there was real or imagined, but he couldn’t look at it a second longer or he’d combust in shame.

“Thanks,” he muttered to his clenched fists atop the counter, “for last night.”

A frost coated pat on the hand was all the acknowledgement the kid gave. Then, “Are you doing drugs?”

Touya had to take a second to absorb the question, but still, “What?”

Shoto explained to his plate about the uncle of one of his friends who snuck off into the city to buy drugs and came home wobbly and weird.

“I’m not doing drugs,” Touya ruffled the kid’s hair, “and neither should you.”

The kid gave him a very serious nod, a sacred vow needing no more words.

Touya’s fond amusement dropped as he considered his own crisped skin. “I know I shouldn’t have gone out last night. I was just…” He grimaced, not sure how to explain this to a kid who could still count his age on a few fingers.

“I understand.”

That drew Touya up short.

“When I think about Dad too much, I get really angry and I want to,” Shoto flexed his fingers in show, so much power and potential just beneath his skin. “But then I put it in a little box and stick it back on the shelf.”

Dabi would be overjoyed to hear that vein of violence running through his little brother, ready to be unleashed on the old man, but Touya tasted bile. He bent, picked Shoto up, and set him on the counter so they were nearly on a level.

“Don’t be like me, alright? Putting it in a box is okay for a while, but you gotta take it out of the box too or you’ll just explode.”

His forehead scrunched in confusion. Touya was not equipped to deal with this. He took a breath, praying to anything listening, benevolent or otherwise, for a clue.

He tried to say it another way, “You’re allowed to feel things or not feel things, but don’t leave it in here.” He tapped Shoto’s chest.

“Then what do I do with it?”

This kid was too literal for metaphors and flowery language, so Touya just said, “Talk about it. That’s supposed to help.”

“But what if it doesn’t?”

It was a good point, but Touya only had, “Yeah, sometimes talking about it isn’t enough, but you still have to get it out.”

The second the words were on the air though, Touya had an idea, all his floundering finally bearing fruit.

He grinned at Shoto, set him back on his feet, and held out a hand. “Come on.”

Wary but ever trusting, Shoto took his hand and allowed himself to be led outside onto a flat, barren spot on the cliffs. The sun was turning the sea a hundred dancing colors like living stone, opal and cadmium on cerulean and jade.

“Now, it’s real simple, all we’re gonna to do is scream into the wind.”

Shoto fidgeted, discomforted by the very idea. “But won’t people hear us?”

Touya, even this close, heard barely a word of the question and couldn’t help a chuckle.

“That’s why we’re here; the surf’ll drown us out so we won’t bother anyone.”

Shoto still hadn’t come out of his defensive little ball, unsure. He needed an example to follow.

“Try this,” Touya took a step forward, drew in a large breath, made the sentiment more child friendly than the man deserved, and dragged the words up out of his dark, rotted soul, “ENDEAVOUR IS THE WORST!”

He turned an encouraging smile back on Shoto and motioned him forward with a tilt of the head. Shoto, tentative, stepped up beside him.

“Endeavour is the worst.” The words were lost on the wind the second they were out of his mouth. Shoto glanced at him, searching for validation.

Touya nodded at him. “Nice, but I know you can do better. Try again.”

“Endeavour,” he paused, gathered his courage and said, just a little louder, “is the worst!”

“Good! Again!”

The kid was warming up to the idea now, “Endeavour is the worst!”

“LOUDER!”

“ENDEAVOUR IS THE WORST!”

“HE IS! WHAT ELSE IS HE?”

Shoto really got into it then, cupping his hands around his mouth as he answered, “HE’S SMELLY!”

“HIS FIRE IS PATHETIC!” Touya shot off a little of his own flames for emphasis.

“HE ISN’T COOL!” Shoto stomped a small glacier to life, ice hanging precariously off the cliff.

“HE’S A BAD HERO!”

“HE’S TOO LOUD!”

“THAT COSTUME IS DUMB!”

“HE HAS A CRUSH ON ALL MIGHT!”

“YEAH,” Touya cheered and added, “YOU’RE REPRESSED, OLD MAN!”

They devolved into pure, animalistic screams like they could challenge fate itself . Then they were laughing, Shoto clutching his leg while Touya did his very best to keep his feet. He let out one last triumphant yell and then scooped his brother into a hug, spinning him in a tight circle.

“That was fun, but I need something to drink. How about you, little guy,” Touya asked, already headed back into the house.

Shoto nodded, his eyes bright and a smile making his rosy cheeks squish up under his eyes. He pinched one and was rewarded with a pout and a swat. He set the kid down and got out a mismatched pair of glasses he’d let Shoto pick out of the novelty shop.

Touya chuckled, swirling his cool drink. “‘He has a crush on All Might’. Where’d you get that one anyway?”

“My friends were telling me what a crush was and it sounds exactly like what Dad used to do around All Might. Think about them all the time, get all flustered when they’re around, sometimes your Quirk does funny things,” and Shoto went on for almost half an hour listing all the ways that their father was crushing hard on the Number One Hero.

“You know what, Sho? I kinda thought it was just a joke earlier, but I think you’re on to something with this. It explains so much.”

Shoto nodded, sure.

A nice weekend with Shoto icing over his burns was all well and good, but Touya hadn’t slept much and the aching, itching skin were doing nothing for his already foul mood Monday morning.

Doc’s eyes brushed past him, only accounting for his presence, but then his gaze snapped back, alarmed. “What happened to you?”

“Nothing,” Touya drawled, already counting the agonizingly long hours before he could leave. “I’m fine.”

He made for his tools, but Doc got in front of him.

“You’re not fine. You look like something the surf dragged in.”

“I can work, it’s not important.”

Doc blocked him again and pulled out his keys. “I’m the boss, I get to decide that. Now, come on.”

Touya glared him down, but the man was unphased as he headed for his truck, leisurely as though strolling down the promenade.

Paycheck being held hostage over his head, Touya slouched after him. “Where are we going?”

Touya stared at the building, unimpressed.

“No.”

“Why not? It’s a nice place with competent people who do good work and, if you haven’t looked in a mirror today, let me tell you, you need it.”

“What I need? It’s expensive. I can’t pay for any of this and I’m not gonna owe you for it.”

“That’s the beauty of the thing, Yuki, or did you miss the part of your contract where you get benefits? You and Shoto are both covered.”

Touya narrowed his eyes at him and waited for the other shoe to drop. He owed this man too much already.

Doc just shrugged and held the door open. “Get in there and quit your bellyaching.”

With no better options, Touya stepped into the clinic.

The doctor blanched the second Touya lifted the shirt over his head.

“I should be dead, I know,” Touya laughed, dark and without humor, picking a stray thread off one of the staples low on his abdomen.

The doctor nodded, chilled. “Are you cold at all? We can turn up the heat in here.”

“Getting cold’s never really been my problem.”

“I know you probably don’t want to hear this, but you really shouldn’t be using your Quirk at all.” The pity in the doctor’s eyes was grating on his nerves and the words didn’t help.

“I’m a glass cannon, I get it. You got anything new to tell me?”

“Yes,” the doctor said, stubborn, but didn’t deliver. “You have to consider the long-term effects of even–”

“Save it. I got reasons I can’t do that. Now, get on with it or I’m leaving.”

The doctor bit their lip. “Your insistence on this matter is concerning, but alright. You do have options, but, as I can see you’re aware, most of them aren’t going to be very effective if you just burn through them.”

He left the clinic with an appointment to return and a few synthetic skin grafts. It would only take a week before he learned how acrid those smelled when they burned.

Chapter Text

Most of the time, even in the hottest days of summer, the island stayed cool enough, but today nothing was moving, not a breeze and barely a ripple in the ocean, cloud cover holding in the heat like a massive blanket.

Touya had taken an icy cold shower after work and now was just lying on the tile, not having bothered to do more than pull on some loose pants.

The utilities were marked on his mental ledger as another red in Doc's column, but he'd gladly eat it for the convenience.

There was a small bug slamming itself against the ceiling and Touya was just delirious enough in the heat to feel a kinship with this tiny creature and its pointless self-destruction.

The front door opened and shut as Shoto called out that he was home.

Touya answered, his own voice sounding pathetic in his ears.

His little brother rounded the counter and didn't need more than a glance before he had the kitchen floor and cabinets iced over, leaving Touya in a pleasant cocoon of cool air.

Touya groaned in relief as he held out an arm. “Have I told you you're my favorite sibling?”

With a fond shake of the head, Shoto got down on the floor with him. The second he was in range, Touya snagged the kid and dragged him in, fingers dancing over his sides. Shoto yelped, a tortured laugh coming up his throat.

His legs and those bony elbows were flying, but Shoto was always careful of the staples. He’d been party to more than one removal of them pushed too deep, after all.

“Stop,” Shoto squeaked at last, indignant.

Touya let go in an instant, hands hovering over the boy but not touching. Shoto huffed out a breath and lifted his head to shoot Touya an annoyed little frown.

Touya dropped his arms around Shoto in a tight hug, nuzzling into his hair with as much obnoxious zeal as he could pack into the gesture as he said again, “Favorite. Sibling.”

Shoto grumbled as though he were barely tolerating this, but Touya could feel his little lip smile against his neck. They just lay there for a moment, content in their little ice dome.

Then Shoto started to fidget, nervous.

“Can I show you something?”

Touya raised his head, searching the kid for any obvious injuries. He didn’t find anything, but his imagination conjured up all manner of malady: bites, rashes, bruises from some unsavory teacher. He had been blossoming under a proper education, a sponge for knowledge, but Touya had heard enough horror stories to be wary.

“Of course, always.”

Shoto slid off his chest and sat cross legged beside him. Touya, despite the nerves squeezing at his stomach, was glad he did not have to do more than sit up for this.

“So, I was thinking about what you said, about how I'm not two halves.”

Shoto closed his eyes and just breathed for a moment; his hands cupped in front of his chest. Then something incredible began to happen. Both the ice and fire appeared, but the line between them became blurred until they mixed in a beautiful swirling of colors, the two seemingly contrasting elements become one.

Their father had been teaching the kid wrong the whole time. The ice had never been supplementary to the fire. That self-centered bastard wouldn’t have thought of this though, too focused on how much he wished he had ice to keep him cool rather than how the two elements might intersect. Touya never would have thought of it either. He’d been meaning more metaphorically when he’d said Shoto was one whole.

Unable to help himself, Touya reached out of finger and touched icy flame.

“That's incredible, Sho.”

His proud little smile was precious and wonderful, but Touya could barely see it through a wave of despair as it blacked out the world. Before him sat a prodigy and Touya knew himself for true failure.

For so long, he had raged against it, fighting to prove himself, but his father had been right. Touya, in a body unfit for his Quirk, could never compete with this kind of beauty, this kind of perfection. Shoto was everything their father had wanted and more.

“He was right about me” The numb words were off his tongue before he could help it, coming down on him like the final strike of a gavel. There was not point to him. There never had been. Not even at his best could ever compete with that, the power that could best All Might, that could best anyone.

“He's wrong, about everything!” A pair of tiny arms, wreathed in the cold fire, engulfed him in that wild, alive chill.

“You don’t get it, kid. I can try all I want, but I’m just a failure.” The laugh was harsh in his throat, like gargling glass shards.

Shoto shook his head in stubborn determination and squeezed tighter. “You could never be a failure because you never stop trying and you’re the best big brother in the world.”

He wanted to protest, fury and insults rising up his throat, but the words were carving themselves into his chest where Shoto's heart beat strong and sure against his, pushing that cold fire into him, filling Touya. For the first time in years, he cried, tears of frozen fire running down his cheeks.

Chapter Text

He and Shoto still had bags packed and ready, but most of their stuff migrated back out into the house, each day blurring into a sun drenched next like there was no line between them until years were flying past. He blinked and his brother had gained several inches and Touya was comfortable enough not to look over his shoulder every ten seconds.

He stopped expecting a flaming demon to descend upon them and just reveled in easy evenings on the cliffside. He never really stopped feeling hunted, but it all settled into a mundane sort of paranoia.

He worked, cooked with Shoto, and was pulled along to social functions at least once a week by Hiroshi’s mother. Somehow her little group of friends had taken to him and he became a familiar face around town for more than his penchant to fry anyone dumb enough to pick a fight with him.

It was rare someone stared at his scars anymore either. Instead, they smiled and welcomed him like he was actually an improvement to the scenery. Sometimes he pitied them for it.

He’d check the date every now and again to wonder what he was doing at this very moment on the mainland in his first time. He didn’t think about the boy living it as the present, it made his head spin.

Shoto, now a weedy middle schooler, had been staring at the counter for the better part of ten minutes, frowning as he contemplated something. Touya had ruffled his hair in a fond gesture that always drew words from the little guy. Though, he wasn’t all that little anymore, still growing certainly but nearly to Touya’s shoulder now.

“So, what you got in your head, Sho?”

Shoto’s hands balled together and he bit his lip. Then, he took a breath and said, “We were talking about what we want to do in the future today.”

“Oh?” Touya turned to dinner on the stove, hoping a nonchalant air and the lifting of his attention would get his brother to open up properly. He wasn’t usually reserved in telling Touya anything.

Shoto drew in a shaking breath like he was psyching himself up for this. Then, “I’m thinking about applying for the UA Hero Course.”

Touya froze. His world went into a tailspin, terror clutching at his gut. Then fury as he had not known it in ages rose hot and heavy up his throat and across his skin.

All these years and he thought he’d changed things but, “After all this? You still want to be like him?”

At this last word, he rounded on Shoto, blue flames sparking off and dying in the air around him as he fought to keep from frying them both.

Shoto was no longer nervous, he had locked down those walls their father had taught him to erect, all emotion gone. That was worse.

“No. I want to be a hero, like All Might. Like you.”

“I’m not a hero, kid. If you knew what I–”

“You’re a better Hero to this town than Leor.”

Perhaps he did have a tendency to come down hard on any low lives causing enough trouble to pull him out of his comfortable routine, but he would hardly call his treatment of them heroic. There was a reason this side of the island stayed quiet.

“That’s not hard to do.”

“You saved me.”

“I didn’t do that for noble reasons.”

“I know. You wanted to use me against him.”

Touya grimaced. “You figured that out then?”

Shoto nodded. “But you changed.”

Touya dropped onto the barstool across from Shoto with a heavy sigh. “Of course I did. You’re too easy to love: good kid with a big heart, all selfless and noble and,” he cut himself off on a sharp curse and dropped his head into his hands as he admitted, “and you’re gonna make a great Hero.”

Shoto’s hand bridged the gap between them, gentle and slow, until he was brushing frost cool fingertips over Touya’s skin. As ever, the chill calmed his nerves as it crawled up his arm in a soft sheen of white.

Touya blew out a hard breath. “If you go, there’s no hiding who you are. He’ll know.”

“There was no way I was hiding forever.”

“Not forever, just a few more years,” Touya said, trying to pretend it didn’t sound like begging. “Then you’ll be out from under him and you can take the license exam and–”

“I’ll be behind.”

Shoto met him with that immovable determination. He was right, but Touya had been protecting this kid for over half a decade now and throwing him right back into the jaws of the man who had caused all this was unthinkable. Still, Touya couldn’t deny this kid anything.

“Fine. We need a plan though, something solid and legal. Until we get that together, no rash moves, we’re in this together, right?”

Shoto, nodding eagerly, jumped up and raced around the counter to leap into his brother’s arms, a brilliant smile lighting his face. Touya held him close, curling his body around him like that could crush the terror raging through his heart.

The chance this would blow up in their faces was huge. He had a lot of work to do. Still, Touya couldn’t help the edge of a smile lifting his own lips.

Usually, Touya had no interest in alcohol. Like most infections that tried to worm their way between his burnt and healthy skin, his Quirk burnt it off too fast for it to be effective and he had other things to be doing with his time. Doc had invited him out with the subtle suggestion his refusal would not be taken.

So, they sat side by side with a glass in hand at the mostly empty seaside bar not far from home. The old lady who ran the place was near deaf and, while Touya had mostly scared the seedier patrons straight, the place still had a reputation for being somewhere to speak freely without worry of eavesdroppers.

Finally, Touya cracked. “What’d you ask me here for, Doc?”

I noticed you’ve been troubled; thought maybe you could use a friendly ear.”

“I’m fine,” he said automatically.

Doc hummed into his next sip, clearly believing nothing of this. Then he sat in anticipatory silence, endlessly patient as only age could teach.

Touya still held stubborn for a moment longer before he blew out a breath and asked what had been nagging at him, “If you knew what was coming, would you try to change things?”

“What, like seeing the future?”

“Something like that.”

The old man shrugged. “Probably, if I thought it would help.” He gave Touya a knowing, sidelong glance. “You’re worried about little Shoto, aren’t you?”

Touya’s fingers tightened on the glass. “I’m right to be, I know what he’ll be up against if he joins that Hero school.”

Doc was, as ever, quick on the uptake. “UA or Shinketsu?”

“UA,” Touya grumbled, the name acid on his tongue.

“He’s strong and he’s got a good heart, just like you raised him.” He clapped Touya on the back. “He’ll make a fine Hero; you should be proud.”

“I am. I just,” Touya started, frustrated, but had no avenue to explain that this was more than separation anxieties.

Doc was looking him over a long moment, cautious, like he had not done since that first year. Touya tensed and was proven correct as the old man said, “I’ve always wondered something about you. You just seem a step off from the rest of us. I’d honestly believe it if you told me you were some kind of clairvoyant.”

The drink might have been loosening his tongue or maybe he had just held this in so long because Touya laughed without humor and asked, as though in jest, “What about a time traveler?”

Doc chuckled indulgently, but then his eyes settled heavier on Touya. “I’d be very curious to hear that story. Who would an old man like me tell anyway?”

Touya set his glass down on the bar and traced a square in the wallpaper for a long moment. He shouldn’t even consider it, but now he was here contemplating it, he hardly even knew where to begin. He glanced at Doc who was taking a leisurely sip as though he had all night to wait. Touya knew from nearly a decade in this man’s company that he would.

“You’re not gonna believe most of it.”

“With the things I’ve seen? Try me.”

“Fine, let’s start somewhere easy. I know you’ve always wondered. We’re on the run from our father, Enji Todoroki, the Flame Hero; Endeavor.”

Doc’s eyebrows rose, but he was clearly fighting not to show any more interest in the matter as he said, cool as anything, “That so? Hell of a guy to be running from.”

“Yeah, he’s a real bastard.” Touya held up a hand and let the blue flame of his Quirk dance across his skin, mesmerized by the sway and sting as he told Doc about his father’s ambitions and how it drove their family to ruin, him most of all.

“That’s how you got those burns then, nasty business. Irresponsible of him as a father not to teach you how to cool down. You think that’d be first on the docket.” He shook his head. “You didn’t deserve that.”

“Some people would argue I earned it later.”

“How?”

“I became an A Rank Villain and I tried to kill my youngest brother.”

Doc turned more fully to face Touya then, his face hard and rough as the wood he carved day in and day out. “A villain? Sure, with the way you fight. But hurting Shoto? That I don’t believe.”

A cold laugh that was no longer at home in his throat forced its way past Touya’s lips. “He was Daddy’s little masterpiece, killing him would hurt the old man like nothing else and nothing mattered but making that man suffer.”

The slightest shiver of unease rolled across the old man’s face before he schooled it again and asked, “What changed?”

Touya shot him a small smirk. “I was sent back in time. Don’t know how, don’t know why, but the world went grey and I went from facing down my fifteen-year-old brother on the battlefield to standing outside the room of the five-year-old version still with that burn fresh on his face.

“I didn’t have pure intentions when I took him and he knew it, but Shoto wanted out of there so bad he didn’t question me.” He let out a sardonic chuckle. “I was going to train him up and send him against the old man, but the kid had never had a fucking ice cream before. He’d never played at the park. Hell, he’d barely seen another kid his age let alone ever made a friend. And maybe I’m not exactly a pillar of virtue, but even I’m not made of stone.”

Doc sat back, swirling the little liquid left in his glass. “That’s a pretty unbelievable story you got there.”

“I don’t believe it myself some days.” Touya picked up his own glass again, his head helium light and his breaths full without the secrets holding down his lungs.

“So, what about the you from this time? You ever seen him?”

“No. He’s one of the things I’m worried about. If Shoto joins that school, he’s gonna face off against some nasty shit and I don’t know if what I’ve changed is going to help him or get him killed.”

Doc hummed in thought. “From where I’m sitting, it seems like, if you’ve already changed so much, it can’t hurt to go further.”

Touya stared into the depths of his glass, thoughts swirling with the liquid.

“So, you believe me?”

“If there’s one thing I know about you, Yuki, it’s that you don’t have time for tall tales. So, the way I figure it, whether you’re delusional or telling the truth, it’s real as this bar top for you,” Doc tapped his knuckles off the wood, “and you’re gonna act accordingly. That’s good enough for me.”

Emotions boiled in Touya chest, a bubbling rush of things that turned the corner of his lip up. “You know, you make for a better father than my sperm donor ever did.”

The words were more than he’d ever meant to say but they were true.

The softest smile Touya had ever seen came across the old man's face then. “You weren't so bad yourself, kid. Hell, it'd make me proud to call you son.”

Chapter Text

Touya did not pay any attention to the car that had pulled up beside the construction site until an unpleasantly familiar rasp of the local hero, Leor, called out, “Yuki, you got a minute? I need a quick word back at the agency.”

Touya was covered in sawdust and sweat and not particularly interested in hearing whatever nonsense the hero wanted to regale him with today, but he heaved a defeated sigh, dumped his toolbelt into Doc’s outstretched hand, and trudged over to the car.

He never failed to make his disdain for all things Heroes plain and, for reasons he would never understand, the crew found this endlessly hilarious. Already they were calling out playful jabs about being a whipped sidekick.

Then one of them, smirking, asked, “The Hero Commission finally going to pay you for working overtime, Yuki?”

“Fuck the Hero Commission,” Touya tossed back.

They broke out in laughter and catcalls Touya ignored as he climbed into the backseat.

He flopped down into the nice leather chair in Leor’s office with zero concern for the state of his work clothes, half hoping the utility knife in his back pocket would leave a lasting impression.

“What’s the emergency?”

The hero, as was his custom, blustered around the room a moment before saying, “Now, Yuki, you know how much I appreciate your contributions to the community–”

Touya snorted in derisive amusement.

The first time they’d met, Touya had somehow gained the hero’s stamp of approval for cleaning up the back streets. Making Touya out as the town saint was the old man’s workaround for not admitting he was letting a civilian openly flout Quirk use laws to kick around anyone threatening the idyllic peace in which Shoto deserved to grow up. Thanks to Touya, this man had never had his job so easy.

Leor cleared his throat pointedly. “As I was saying, I appreciate what you do, but I’m going to have to ask you to lie low for a while. There’s some heroes coming in from the mainland and they won’t see what you do as… benevolently as I do.”

At the mention of other Heroes, Touya tensed. “What are they coming for?”

“Drug trafficking out of the port.”

Touya rolled his eyes and relaxed. Of course, the Crystal Dragons had finally bitten off more than they could chew. The punks had set up shop by the docks a couple of years back and were an all-around embarrassment but at least they had the sense not to operate on what the underbelly of the city seemed to have decided was Touya’s side of the island.

“Who’s working the case?”

“Fat Gum and some obnoxious little upstart thinking he’s hot stuff. Like he’s got anything on a real pro.”

Touya bit back a laugh at the implication that Leor was a pro worth the name. He dearly wanted to say that the ‘little upstart’ probably helped more people in one day than this geriatric cosplayer had by half in the entirety of his sad, sluggish career. He held his tongue though, waiting for more.Leor, however, seemed to think this was enough information to be going on with and flopped back into his chair with a mug Touya was sure had never held a liquid under 40-proof in its life.

Touya did not envy anyone who had to work with this man. He held a veritable wealth of information at his fingertips on any of the dozens of people hiding out on the island but was too self-important to give anything up and too dense to know how to leverage it even if he did. Getting anything out of him was, at best, a war of attrition.

So, Touya gathered his patience and asked, “When are they getting here?”

Leor huffed, irritable, and glared into the depths of his mug. “They showed up out of the blue this morning to let me know what they were doing and that they’d appreciate backup but didn’t really need my help. Ungrateful. As though an angel wannabe and a walking marshmallow–”

Touya’s frame went rigid with tension and the temperature in the room took a sharp turn upward. “Angel wannabe?”

Leor waved him off, oblivious. “Yeah, some kid with red wings and an unoriginal name.”

Hawks. It couldn’t be anyone else. A chill ran up Touya’s spine and the sense of being hunted overwhelmed him as it had not in years. His eyes darted carefully across the performatively decorated office, but he found not a hint of the red he sought.

The hero was still talking, “You know, Yuki, that offer still stands. I’d be glad to sponsor you for the licensing exam. Then we wouldn’t have to deal with any of this. Everything would be above board and I could really use–”

Not caring for the man’s best impression of a wind bag, particularly when he’d already refused the offer twice in the last month alone, Touya stood up. The motion was so abrupt Leor’s drink sloshed dangerously over the rim of his mug.

“I’m leaving.”

The mug banged down onto the desk as the hero sat up in some parody of authority. “I wasn’t finished.”

Touya had already turned to go, but found his way blocked by a grid of bright, buzzing yellow, Leor’s Hard Light Quirk. Touya’s fingers jumped, his skin heating without his permission. He knew the man just wanted to show he had power somewhere after being brushed aside by his betters, not that he would ever admit to that.

Touya breathed through the violent urge for a moment then turned, staring down his nose at Leor in his tacky costume with its rusting support gear that hadn’t seen use in a decade.

“It’s a good offer,” the hero continued, lounging back at his ease, “and you can’t tell me that little brother of yours–”

“Don’t.”

Touya just barely held down on the flames that tried their very best to burst to life, a light smoke curling up his arm. He had not had the itch to burn someone like this in so long. It was bad enough the old hero had dragged him here, where Hawks had no doubt left a present or two to keep an eye on Leor, but now he’d mentioned Shoto.

“You’re no hero, you’re just an incompetent leech and I wouldn’t work with you if you got down on your knees and begged.”

The hero’s lip curled, his pride always a fragile thing. “Maybe I should mention to these other Heroes how I've been having trouble with this vigilante lately. They might help me out before they go.”

Touya barked out a laugh. “A proper vigilante would go to them right now and mention how you've been eating out of the Crystal Dragons’ palm since they started operations.”

The hero paled.

“How do you,” he started but then stopped and gathered his wits a moment, returning to his overacted, aloof affect. “Alright, Yuki, I get it; we both benefit from our silence. I’ll make sure to let you know when our new friends have gone and we’ll never mention this again. Deal?”

Touya gave a short nod and gladly took his leave without a backward glance.

It was hard not to hear talk of disgust surrounding Leor, but there were too many people invested in not being found for anyone to report him lest he be replaced by someone competent. As Doc liked to say, it was a quiet town that liked its privacy.

Doc wasn’t going to let him continue working, tense as he was, so Touya let his feet turn him toward home.

The lane back from the city proper to the cliffside was lined in trees, gorgeous in all seasons. It was Touya’s preference of late to forgo the bus in favor of the half hour walk and appreciate the fall colors. He had seen one bicyclist, but otherwise it was easy to pretend this serenity was his alone.

Meals with Shoto, where he was regaled with all the adventures of his brother’s day, and these walks were the best parts of his life .  Things had been so good for so long, but…

Touya breathed out a heavy sigh. There was no point worrying; he would deal with trouble when it came, not before.

He tried to lose himself in the soft crunch of leaves under his work boots, his eyes turned up to the thinning canopy of brilliant yellows, oranges, and reds. Another shower of leaves shook loose in a sudden gust, swirling around him.

He had almost convinced his shoulders to drop the tension holding them captive when he caught sight of it out of the corner of his eye. A familiar, bright red feather was drifting innocently among the leaves.

He stopped dead in his tracks.

He should have let the feather drift by and gone about his day being as boring as possible, but all of his nerve endings lit up at once and sense left him in a giddy relief powerful enough to nearly knock him from his feet. Finally. He had been so keyed up for anything to go wrong, but now it had he couldn’t be any happier.

Every fiber of his being was singing as he snatched the feather out of the air, his fingers a cage around it.

“Hey, Keigo,” he murmured, leaning close.

Blue flames burst to life between his hands, incinerating the feather in milliseconds. It was so simple, but the adrenaline high was unreal, a crazed smile pulling back his lips.

He knew the perfect temperature to burn these, could burn the wings themselves clean off in only a moment. With the blood rushing in his ears egging him on, he wanted to be doing just that, wanted it more than anything.

He glanced around at the empty street and then back up into the trees. There was too much cover here. His grin turning truly feral, Dabi raised a hand to the trees.

Then, a sharp factory ringtone blared.

Breath shallow, silently cursing Tomura’s rotten timing, he pulled his phone from a pocket. It took him a full ten seconds of staring at Shoto’s comically surprised contact picture, frosting smeared across his cheek and flour in his hair from their disastrous bake sale adventure, for anything to make sense.

Dizzy, he dropped into a crouch, elbows on his knees and head between his hands as two conflicting realities went to war.

The ringtone’s final sequence began and numb, he answered, “Hey, kid. What’s up?”

The words came easy off Touya’s tongue, a little breathless, maybe, but normal.

Shoto was saying something about exploring some cave with his friends, but the words rolled over him like the surf, coming and going but never truly sticking. He tried to hold onto the time his brother would be home and who he would be with, but he got lost in the soft cadence of his voice, the carefree tone.

Shoto. That single word that was his whole world repeated with every uneven beat of his heart. With not an ounce of grace, he dropped that last bit to the ground, his back meeting a tree trunk beside the road.

“Well, don’t do anything I wouldn’t,” Touya said, the response automatic as Shoto finished.

His brother chuckled, his quiet amusement crushing Touya’s heart in an iron grip. Shoto had friends, he was happy, and Touya had been trying to antagonize a hero and set fire to half the island. What had he been thinking?

A niggling doubt made itself known then that it might have been a normal feather and he’d just been having a mental break all alone on the side of the road. It was sobering.

Shoto was saying goodbye and Touya couldn’t help himself, the words like a promise as he said, “I love you, little bro.”

Shoto paused, the speaker crackling in Touya’s ear. Then he said, the soft, warm words a gut punch, “Love you too, Touya.”

The line went dead and Touya’s hand dropped to the dirt, fingers loose around the phone.

All at once, he missed Twice. Perhaps it was the scent of burnt feather still lingering in his nose or the moment of duality he’d just had in his own head, but he could not imagine a more welcome sound in that moment than the loyal buffoon’s babbling.

Frustrated, he threw an arm over his eyes, blocking out the suddenly rolling world around him.

The League had been a means to an end, he shouldn’t miss any of them, but somewhere along the way they had become his, messy and annoying but his. There had been a comfort in that he hadn’t known he’d even felt at the time, but sitting here with the cool autumn breeze playing in his hair, it wrapped around his scarred, aching heart, bittersweet.

He was too bone deep exhausted to care when the soft rustle of massive wings heralded the arrival of one particularly obnoxious hero.

“Just leave and we’ll both pretend this didn’t happen,” Touya said in a halfhearted effort not to deal with this today.

“Tempting,” Hawks said, settling down maybe half a yard from him against his own tree. “But I’m a hero, I can’t just ignore it when someone’s in trouble.”

It took a great deal of self-control for Touya not to leap to his feet in a blaze of glory and burn this dog of the Commission to ash. Instead, Doc’s encouragement whispered on the breeze and he took a calming breath. Using leverage over Hawks might be his best bet to act from a distance.

Touya lifted his arm enough to glare at those sharp, golden eyes, but stopped dead. He’d been picturing the same obnoxious Hero he’d been stringing along before, but this was just a kid.

In all honesty, he wasn’t that much younger than the Hawks Dabi had known, but a few differences were all it took. He was clean shaven and there was just something too polished about that capable hero persona, fresh off the Commission’s assembly line.

This was what his father had meant for Shoto to become, an automaton with no will of its own, slave to the Hero system.

Touya’s stomach turned and he could swear the world paused and flickered with grey a moment before he covered his eyes again, hiding that fresh face.

“Something wrong,” Hawks asked and Touya could perfectly picture the concerned head tilt he was doing right that second.

“You’re barely hatched, birdy.”

“Well, Grandpa, they do say I move too fast, but I’m pretty sure you’re not that much older than me.”

Touya couldn’t help a breath of amusement at that. He felt a century old in that moment.

He hadn’t exactly been discouraging Shoto from dreams of Heroics, not with the endless All Might merchandise and, it could be argued, the Quirk practice they did on the cliffs twice a week. Still, surely Shoto would have found a different dream by now. Unless…

He drew his arm away and looked fully at Hawks again with new eyes. He’d already said the bird’s name, after all. “Tell me something, if the Hero Commission hadn’t bought you off your shitty parents, would you still have become a Hero?”

Hawks tilted his head, surveying Touya with that empty calculation in his eyes. There was a faint rustle from behind the tree Touya was leaned against. It was off rhythm with the breeze and, judging by the barely-there gaps in Hawks’s feathers, it wasn’t hard to guess what had caused it.

Touya tensed to duck and fire but otherwise did not react, keeping his eyes trained on the Hero. After a moment though, Hawks’s expression settled into something indulgent.

“I like to think I would have become a Hero no matter what, but, honestly, if that had been the case, I’d probably have been more like you.”

Cautious, Touya narrowed his eyes at him. “How?”

“A vigilante stepping in where the local heroes won’t. I might not agree with the practice, but I can respect someone willing to go to bat like that.” Hawks leaned back at his ease, wings fluttering around him in what only untrained eyes would not see as idle threat.

He didn’t need it, was already trying to cage Touya in with words alone, show they both had something on the other and his held the greater weight.

Still, Touya scoffed. “I’ve never been a vigilante.”  

“Right,” Hawks drew the word out long like they were conspirators sharing the secret, “they attack first so it’s all self-defense, I get it. Still, word on the street is, if you’re having trouble, call on good ol’ Yuki and it’ll,” he made a grand gesture of something disappearing.

“If you wanted to listen to shit, you could have just shoved those feathers up your ass.”

If Touya hadn’t already been watching for it, he might have missed the minute narrowing of Hawk’s eyes at the crass hint to this more duplicitous, little-known aspect of his Quirk. This was dangerous, far too dangerous, but he needed just enough rope to hook Hawks without hanging himself. They had always done this though, edging on destruction, only one step from slicing the other’s throat.

“Why haven’t you accepted Leor’s sponsorship anyway? No one seems to have an answer, but someone with your influence in this town? Wouldn’t be hard for you to get the old man booted and take over. They’d probably thank you for it.” Hawks stretched, completely at ease.

Was that more off the gossip mill or had Hawks actually heard everything he and Leor had been saying earlier? Hard to say.

Touya thumbed one of the staples at his wrist so the sting might distract him from the bitterness trying to rise on his tongue. “Why do you care?”

“Well, if you clean up your act,” Hawks leaned his chin on the heel of his palm, tilting his head with that smile that made all his fans feint, “We could be friends.”

Twice fell before him again and Touya’s Quirk got away from him for just a second, a flicker of flames highlighting the venom in his words as he spat, “I know how you treat your ‘friends’.”

The smile faded and Hawks settled back. “I usually remember if I’ve made an enemy of someone, but I’m pretty sure this is the first time we’ve met. Did I offend you in a previous life?”

It wasn’t that funny, but a crazed laugh shook Touya’s frame all the same until he was gasping with it. Hawks was giving him a strange look when his amusement finally petered out.

“I gotta admit,” the hero said, slow and cautious, “you’re not what I was expecting, Yuki.”

Touya shrugged. “Well, I was expecting one of the top heroes in Japan to be doing something useful with his time, like drowning. Now we’re both disappointed.”

It was Hawks’s turn to laugh, easy and surprised, as though they were becoming friends, the sound like poisoned honey, fatal and still far too tempting to fall into.

Touya took a long, centering breath. “I might not like you, but I know you’re good at what you do. So, let’s make a deal.” He leaned forward like they were sharing a secret. “I’ll keep what I know quiet, you pretend the Yukis don’t exist, and, as a bonus for good behavior, I’ll give you some information.”

Hawks was quiet for a moment, watching him. Then he mirrored Touya’s position, curious. “Okay, I’ll bite. What kind of information?”

“The kind that’ll stop a dangerous organization from hurting a lot of people.”

Jumping straight in with the League and all their operations would be too much up front, more likely to make him sound insane than get Hawks to take him seriously. Touya had spent long enough in the underground his first time around though and he could think of at least one despicable group he wanted smashed to pieces under the boot of the Hero.

Besides, he needed to test Hawks first. The bird wasn’t known for being trustworthy.

“If you have this information, why aren’t you doing something about it?”

“Too big a job, not my town.”

Hawks tried one last time, stalling, “You know, if you were a Hero, we could do this together.”

Touya just fixed him with a long stare. “Do we have a deal or not?”

The indecision was barely evident in the Hero’s flickering eyes, but the promise of information was clearly too tantalizing to pass up. “Alright, so long as this leads to something, you got a deal. What’ve you got?”

So, Touya told him all he had on a Quirk trafficking ring that had nearly gotten him in his teens. It was a worthy cause for a hero, enough for Hawks to, at the very least, take a look, and Touya would sleep better at night knowing it was gone.

“That is a little out of your way. Kind of begs the question, how’d you come to know about them?”

“Just remember your end; no one, not even your precious Commission, gets wind of us.”

“Yeah, I got it, the Yuki brothers don’t exist. You’ll just be an anonymous source. Still, you sure that’s all you want? With what you know,” he trailed off, those sharp eyes tracking every minute expression, just like his namesake, hunting.

Touya wasn’t going to give him any more on that front though. “If you’re as good as your word, I’ll have more for you later and it’ll make this whole arrangement more than worth it, for both of us.”

That fully peaked Hawks’s interest. “How so?”

Touya gave himself a moment to consider his words. Then, “If you act on what I tell you, my brother will be safe and you’ll have stopped the most dangerous people in history from destroying what you care about most.”

"Well, that's pretty ominous."

That was as good as he was going to get for the moment.

Touya stood and Hawks, making no attempt at subtlety, brought back several long feathers he’d stashed around the trees, confirming Touya’s earlier suspicions.

“Gotta say, you’re not making yourself any less interesting,” Hawks said, making a show of flaring his now full wings as he stood and stretched.

“And you’re not making yourself any less annoying.”

“Here’s my card, if you think of anything else.” Hawks tossed it over and half turned to go, but paused, surely for nothing more than dramatic effect.

“It seems only right to warn you now, if you try and run off,” one dangerous eye flashed at him between those lethal feathers and Hawks’s voice dropped low, “there’ll be nowhere you can hide from me.”

Touya just smirked. “Come on, Hero, let’s not start off a nice partnership by threatening each other.”

Hawks’s heroic persona dropped back down over him like it had never left. He tossed a genial smile and a wave back at Touya as he took off.

“I’ll be seeing you soon then.”

Chapter Text

Shoto arrived home with a smile on his lips and a spring in his step. Touya hated to ruin it, but the second his brother caught sight of him his face fell.

"What happened?" 

Touya waved him over to the old couch Yumi had gifted them when she'd moved in with her fiancé. “Leor called me into his office today.”

Shoto settled with one leg folded under him, less nervous but still on edge. “I thought you sounded troubled on the phone. What did he want?”

“Just warning me there’s some top heroes in town to clean up the docks.”

“Oh.” Shoto didn’t need to say more, he knew this meant keeping their heads down for a while.

Still, something in his downcast eyes was too hard to look at. “He asked me again if I wanted to take the licensing exam.”

As he’d known the kid would, Shoto perked up immediately, his eyes shining with hope even as he tried to keep his expression neutral. “What did you tell him?”

Touya just couldn’t bring himself to crush that so he said, “That I’d think about it.”

A buzzing started under Shoto’s skin, his eyes darting to his brother and away. Then he came to some decision and jumped up.

“Hold on a second, okay?”

The kid raced off to his room. Touya didn’t have more than a moment to let the dread settle over him before Shoto was back, fidgeting with a notebook.

He wouldn’t fully meet Touya’s eyes and his voice was soft as he said, “I know how you feel about all this, but I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how our Quirks complement each other and I… I think we’d make a good Hero team.”

At this, he let the notebook fall open. There were scribbles and a few drawings, the most prominent being a stylized snowflake beside a purpled Touya and a red and white Shoto holding frost covered hands and releasing fire in either direction. Beside the drawing was a list of almost painfully unoriginal names, but his eye caught on the simple “The Yuki Brothers”.

“Not a bad likeness, kid.” Touya tapped his own deformed scowl with a chuckle.

“I borrowed Yuka’s pens to make it.” Shoto glanced at him, still waiting for more of a reaction.

Touya didn’t have one. He sighed and rubbed Shoto’s head. “It’s a nice idea, but did you forget I’m a wanted criminal? Something about stealing Endeavour’s favorite child.”

Shoto fiddled with the pen hooked on the side of the notebook. “Then we just have to make him drop the charges, right?”

Touya laughed without humor. “You really think it’d be that easy?”

Shoto shrugged. “It might be worth a try.”

The vague impressions of a plan started swirling in Touya's head at that. It might not be so farfetched. But then a dread he was unfamiliar with began filling Touya like wet cement, heavy and thick. Leaving the island, bringing Shoto closer to their past, would put them far too close to the revelation he hadn't even considered a problem until this moment; how he had come to be standing outside Shoto's room that night.

Shoto was darkening the lines around Yuki to give himself something to do while he waited. The kid was a master of sailing the turbulent waters of Touya's moods and getting what he wanted at the end.

He deserved to know.

He hadn't really considered telling Shoto the truth before, but the omission was a chasm growing between them. He couldn't risk the kid finding out some other way, but telling him now had a high chance of losing them everything they had, years of trust built on a false foundation. Locked in indecision, he hovered, drawing in breath to speak only to come up empty.

Shoto's eyes rose to meet him and his brow furrowed. "What’s wrong?"

Touya took a last breath and settled further into the worn cushions. "Sho, there's something I should have told you a long time ago."

His brother turned to face him fully, waiting.

Touya couldn't look at him. He spoke instead to his clasped hands, "I'm not exactly the Todoroki Touya you knew."

Shoto's nod was slow and unsure even as he said, "You're Yuki Touya."

A sardonic smile edged onto Touya's lips. "Yeah, but not exactly what I meant." Shoto waited as Touya gathered himself, "I know this is going to sound insane, but-"

"You’re an alien clone, aren’t you?"

That finally got Touya to look at him. "What?"

"You died, but then you showed up at the house looking older and there's just things you say sometimes that don't make sense. I asked the clinic once and they say we're blood related, but," Shoto pulled out his phone, fiddled with it a moment, and then held it out as he said, "I've been meaning to ask about this."

It was an article in a small, less than ethical Hero news site, barely more than a blurb with a picture under the title Endeavour's Family Reunion. The picture caught his father trying to take up the whole shot so the photographer didn't catch his children in the background. Natsuo and Fuyumi had their arms around someone with bright white hair who was trying to look back over his shoulder, a single turquoise eye burning back at the photographer.

Touya stared at his own scarred face, young and haunted but with none of the cold lethality he had come to associate in those eyes until recently. He'd returned to his family. Perhaps that wasn't so surprising. Touya in his first timeline had tried to do the same only to find his death had changed nothing. What had this Touya found? Was it enough to turn him from the path of Dabi or was he just a timebomb under their roof?

"When did you find this?"

"After we talked about UA. It's one of the first results for 'Todoroki Touya'."

The article was a couple years old and Touya should have been asking more questions, but he was stuck on the fact that Shoto, even knowing something strange had been going on, had not only stuck by him but still wanted to become a hero duo with him. Throat tight, he pulled Shoto into a hug.

Confused but far too kind for his own good, the kid allowed it a moment before he asked, "So, how many of you are there?"

Touya sat back and ran an agitated hand through his hair. "I think it's just the two of us, but it's not aliens or any of that. I'm the real Touya, but so is he."

So, he told Shoto an abbreviated and cleaner version of the life that lead him to the moment he arrived back at their father's house. When he'd finished, the kid sat back, frowning in thought.

"This is a lot to think about, I'll have to look into it. But we have an opening now."

"What do you mean," Touya asked, wary.

"They know the other Touya is alive, but he didn't stay."

"You're not suggesting..."

Touya couldn't even finish that thought, but Shoto nodded, determined.

"It has the best chance of working."

Chapter Text

In a rare showing, Touya invited Doc out for drinks instead. The old man would have done it anyway after Leor’s appearance, but Touya needed someone to help unravel his thoughts.

“What if I did become a hero?”

Doc gave a low, patronizing whistle. “Yuki Touya wants to go legitimate. I never thought I’d see the day.”

Touya shot him a glower. “It’s just for Shoto. If I’m a hero, I can use my Quirk and intervene whenever I need to get to him.”

“I didn’t say it was a bad plan,” the old man laughed, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “In fact, I agree it might be your best bet. It’s just ironic, after all these years of you bellyaching about Heroes.”

Touya traced a line through the condensation on his glass then he said, conversationally, like it hadn't been one of the most stressful things he'd done in years, "I told him the truth."

All joking fled from Doc. "How'd he take it?"

"You know him, he's already got a board started." He'd left Shoto stringing together ideas, certainty burning in his eyes.

Doc chuckled and Touya gave himself a moment to be amused before the impossibility of their task came crashing back in. "He's got a plan, but it's risky."

"Anything I can do to help?"

"Not unless you know someone with the legal chops to take on Endeavour's agency lawyers." Touya slumped, glum.

The hearty slap on the back almost sent Touya toppling forward into the bar top. "You forget who you're talking to, kid? Course, I know just the chaotic little heteromorph you need."

Touya sucked up his pride, stood straight, and marched into Leor's office. “I’ll take you up on the sponsorship offer.”

Leor, tipsy even at noon, nodded absently, muttering an agreeable, “Sure you will, Yuki.”

Then the words hit him and he nearly fell out of his chair spinning to face his erstwhile street sweeper. He barely righted himself on the edge of the desk, whooping with laughter.

“Finally seeing sense! Of course you will, how could you refuse?”

Touya was at least a decade older than most of the applicants and everywhere his eyes settled there was another uniform from one of the hero schools reminding him he stood out. Fortunately, Hero hopefuls were an eclectic bunch and his scars were hardly the most remarkable feature boasted among the sea of young faces.

His costume too was fairly plain, just dark body armor, lightweight enough to move in, with several personal cooling units attached strategically throughout. He doubted very much those last would actually hold up as well as Leor’s recommended support gear specialist promised, but he wasn’t planning to actually fry himself today if he could help it. The only decoration he had allowed was the stylized snowflake design Shoto had insisted be placed between his shoulder blades and on the cuffs of his sleeves.

He ran a thumb over the ice blue arms stretching over his pulse and couldn’t help the edge of a smile.

Two people in hero costumes who looked much closer to his own age sauntered up.

“It’s nice to see we’re not the only adults stuck in this daycare.”

Touya was not up for socializing but he hummed in acknowledgement all the same.

Less deterred than Touya was hoping the gnat continued buzzing, “They say Hero work is for the young, but the spirit of justice flows through us all, regardless of age.”

Touya had to fight down the urge to be sick on principle as this weirdo struck a pose.

He contented himself with adjusting the cooling unit at his wrist guard as he said, without inflection, “I’m just doing this for my brother.”

The poser deflated, but the companion rallied with mild curiosity, “Your brother, you say?”

“He wants to be a Hero. It’s the stupidest idea I’ve ever heard, but someone’s got to make sure he doesn’t get into too much trouble. .”

The other applicant stared at him a moment as though expecting something else. Then, “You sure are a strange one, mister.”

Touya side eyed their companion who was posing again and then gave them an unsettling smile in return.

They were called to line up for the battle exam before anyone had to come up with any way to continue the conversation.

Paper Skin sounded like a pointless, if disgusting, Quirk in theory. In practice, however, Touya was surrounded by fleshy pages on all sides as they closed in, the bulk of the Quirk user obscured in the fluttering mass. The disorienting effect would be perfect for quick captures if his opponent would stop dawdling.

They, however, seemed to have come to the conclusion that Touya was frozen with fear and began cackling, the sound lost in the rustling so it may have come from any direction.

“Have you read the writing on the wall? Admit defeat and I’ll let you free.”

“These get drier the longer they’re away from you, right,” Touya asked, bored. Surrendering before those flaking pages touched skin would certainly be a far more appealing option, but Touya was hardly bothered, drawing out the seconds to see if his opponent would do anything more.

This one trick pony just tightened the swirling mass of thin flesh, going in for the entirely proverbial kill.

With barely more than a flick of the wrist, every page in sight lit the space in bright blue, flickering flames. The hero hopeful screamed in terror and pain, though Touya could not imagine the pages themselves had many nerve endings, if any at all, to be relaying actual pain. Unless he’d caught the body in the sudden blaze.

He knew a hero was meant to be concerned about that kind of thing, but Touya was truly not doing this for the heroics, he just needed Shoto safe.

“Admit defeat and I’ll put them out for you,” Touya said in a mocking mimic of his opponent’s earlier tone.

"Okay! You win!"

The pages went out and fluttered over to the kid on the ground. Touya matched over and crouched down to check he hadn't done any real damage. The reddened patches of skin didn't look like anything some after sun lotion wouldn't heal though.

He had just stood to leave when the kid leveled a glare at him, fighting to sit up.

“You have a fire Quirk? Then what’s with the snowflakes?”

“Solidarity."

“That’s not fair!”

Touya should have walked away then, but the whiny complaint grated on his nerves. Before he’d thought better of it, the heel of his boot drove straight into the kid’s sternum. The kid was smashed back to the cement with a sharp wheeze. They wiggled and writhed, fighting to draw in air, but Touya just bore his weight down harder.

“Fair? You want fair, you’re in the wrong line of work, kid.”

"Please vacate the ring for the next pair," a bored voice called over the speaker.

Touya let the kid go and held out a hand. He wasn't surprised when it was ignored.

As he made his way back into the waiting room, a woman's voice asked, “They send you in from the Vigilante Rehabilitation Program?”

The other examinee looked as though somebody had inexpertly peeled away parts of her skin in strips and there was a hard edge to her eyes most of these kids lacked.

“What gives you that idea?”

“Something in the way you fight. And you keep muttering about 'these damn Heroes'.”

“I've never been a vigilante.” Partly out of curiosity and partly to be rude, he nodded at the scars and asked, “Those from your Quirk?”

She flickered out of existence for a second, the answer a clear no. “I’ll tell you about mine, you tell me about yours.”

"No thanks," he said as a familiar flash of red and gold caught his eye.

Casual as anything, he walked from the waiting room and took a turn down a disused hallway. A moment later he found Hawks leaned against the wall, smirking at him.

"You're doing pretty good out there for a man who doesn't exist."

"What do you want, Hawks?"

"What? I can't just want to congratulate my buddy on a job well done?"

Touya just fixed him with a warning glare, most of his awareness focused on catching any movement in the hall. They seemed to be alone, but he wasn't about to risk it, not this close.

"I can’t believe you really did take the old guy up on his offer," Hawks continued, unperturbed. "Got to say, this will make our little relationship much-”

“I don't have time for your games, Hawks.”

That genial cheer dropped for something more serious as the temperature rose. "I've kept up my end and the information you gave me panned out. I just wanted to know where this puts us going forward."

"It doesn't change as much as you think."

Hawks sighed as though disappointed. "You still liking the mutually assured destruction then?" He pushed off the wall and closed a bit of the distance between them, far too familiar for Touya's liking. "Look, whatever you've got against me, we're not enemies here."

Not acknowledging that, Touya pulled the small pad of paper and a pen Shoto had insisted their uniforms needed and scribbled down an address.

Hawks took it, bemused. "What's this?"

"You like drugs, right?"

Hawks scowled. "You don't have to say it like that."

Touya ignored him. "That's their main warehouse. Someone of your talents should be able to get in and find out the rest."

He had debating giving this gang over to Hawks the first time they'd met, but, while they had a network that spanned most major cities, the whole operation had been fairly harmless at the time. Now, he was sure they'd at least begun breaking into the market for Trigger and they were about to become the largest and most ruthless dealer in the country.

"Is this your 'most dangerous people in history'?"

"No, just a reminder." He turned his back on Hawks and started back toward the waiting room.

"Since you exist now, I can keep in touch, right," Hawks called after him, in his most obnoxious beguiling tone.

Touya slumped into the air-conditioned room at the end of the exam and leaned against the chrome paneling of the wall. The chilly metal did little to sooth the scalding of his skin, but it was better than nothing.

He stood straight when he spotted his brother searching the crowd, but couldn’t move any further, his charred skin protesting. While he was breathing through it, reminding himself that he had fared far worse as a villain, Shoto appeared at his side. Those chilly fingers traced lines of frost over Touya’s abused skin and he let out a relieved breath.

“Thanks, Sho.” He pulled the kid into a tight hug, struck by how tall he was getting, nearly on a level with Touya.

“You did really good out there,” Shoto muttered into his shoulder.

“That was nothing to how you’ll do, Mr. Natural Hero.”

The pleased little smile his brother aimed at his shoes was enough to melt his heart. He pulled Shoto into a headlock and rubbed his knuckles into the kid’s head without mercy.

Touya slapped his shiny new Hero license down on the paperwork Doc had been pouring over in his office just behind the workshop.

The old carpenter's eyebrows shot up. “Not bad, kid. Can’t believe those papers passed the Hero Commission’s notice. They were good, but…”

“I think I’ve probably got a winged nuisance to blame for that.”

The old man grinned. “It’s nice to hear you’re making friends in your new field.”

Touya snorted.

“It’s a shame losing my best worker,” Doc said with a great, theatrical sigh.

Touya rolled his eyes. “Like I’ll have that much to do.”

“I guess I’d be willing to work out some reduced hours for the big time Hero.”

“I’ll hold you to it.”

They fell into a companionable silence as Doc passed an invoice over for filing, still fond of paper records.

Touya crossed around behind the desk and opened the correct drawer on automatic. He played with the file a moment, stalling, before he stuffed the invoice in and forced himself to say, “I guess I owe you a big thanks for all this.”

“Please,” Doc waved it off. “We both know this was all Shoto.”

It was tempting to take the easy out Doc was offering, he knew what Touya meant, but it didn’t feel like enough.

“No. You were there for us when we had nothing and we wouldn’t be half of what we are without the chance you gave us.”

Doc’s hand, withered and starting to shake in his old age, reached up and squeezed Touya’s shoulder with the strength of a much younger man as he said, earnest, “I know none of it’s been easy, but you’ve been doing everything right. I’m proud of you.”

Touya let the nice moment hang for a second before he smirked and asked, “You gonna cry on me, old man?”

Doc just laughed and gave Touya’s shoulder a hearty slap.

Chapter Text

Touya couldn’t help himself. Checking Shoto’s hood was fully covering his now natural hair every ten seconds was not paranoid, he reasoned, but a proper precaution.

The other version of him had left the house not long after arriving and Natsuo had been running a one-man campaign to find him with little success ever since.

So, Shoto's simple but treacherous plan was to just march into their father’s house, demand custody, and not answer too many questions. That was key to any of their flimsy excuse holding up in court after, if it came to that.

Shoto was so sure it wouldn’t, that nothing at all would go wrong. Touya, however, was bracing for the worst.

He wanted to believe he could get the both of them out of there, if necessary, but he was out of practice. Putting the fear of Touya into a few troublemakers every now and then was all well and good, but they hardly posed enough of a challenge to be considered a real threat. Training with Shoto was much more useful on that front, but he was nowhere near a pro’s level yet.

Sure, if any of their family saw Touya for the imposter he was, they had his identity as Yuki Touya to fall back on or a DNA test to prove his legitimacy if things got desperate. Still, Touya just wanted to blow the whole thing sky high and wreck Endeavour’s career, but that was the last resort of Shoto’s last resorts.

They came to the gate and Touya only kept his feet planted beside his brother by telling himself they still had time to turn back. Shoto pressed the call button and the bell tolled through the empty halls of the Todoroki household, mournful and lonely.

The speaker crackled to life after a moment, but the one who answered was not their father. “Hello,” Fuyumi’s voice came through, uncertain.

Touya ducked further under the hood and almost made to run, but Shoto, sensing it, grabbed his arm.

“Hello. We’ve come to speak to our father,” Shoto said, all cool politeness.

Touya stared down at his little brother. Did he not recognize her voice? Would he know her at all? He was drawn out of this line of questioning by the gate swinging open.

Fuyumi’s confused, grey eyes blinked at them from behind square framed glasses. She resembled their mother so much but for her hair, short and streaked in red, just as he remembered.

She focused on the monochromatic eyes and split colored hair of the boy at Touya’s side. Her voice was trembling as she asked, “Shoto?” Then she glanced at him, “Touya?”

Deciding to just get it over with, Touya tossed back his hood. “Hey.”

She gasped, her hands coming up to cover her open mouth and her eyes filling with tears. Touya had come primed for a fight, but this was so much worse.

“Is the old man around,” he asked, already exhausted.

She heard nothing of his question, throwing herself forward to wrap them both in a tight hug. “You’re okay. Both of… how,” she asked through sobs that tried ripping the words to pieces.

“It’s a long story,” Touya said, rubbing her back in a stiff, awkward gesture.

She pulled back, wiping furiously at her streaming eyes. “Sorry, I’m being such a mess. Come in. I’ll get us some tea.”

“We won’t be staying that long.” Touya didn’t mean to snap, but every shadow loomed with Enji’s form and he could not stay here a moment longer than necessary or he would combust.

Fuyumi’s tears stuttered to a stop at that as she took him in again. Then, anger flashed across her kind face and her spine straightened.

“Nothing. I haven’t heard a word from either of you and now you just show up. We thought you were dead or worse. So, you’re going to sit down and have tea with me. Understand?”

Every word was a command and a threat. Despite knowing she could do nothing of substance to either of them, that authoritative voice still made Touya shrink in on himself and comply, despite his reservations.

Shoto’s hand slipped into his as they had not done in years, a layer of frost racing up Touya’s arm. He squeezed back gratefully and kept Shoto close to his side, eyes darting down every hall and double checking each doorway as Fuyumi lead them in.

She sat them down at the table and gave them one final, warning glare before bustling off into the kitchen.

Touya’s fingers tapped an untidy rhythm against the wood grain as the seconds dragged long. “I don’t like this.”

“You don’t like a lot of things,” Shoto said, examining the décor with a mild interest.

There were a hundred things Touya wanted to say, starting with We have to get the hell out of here, but instead he just said, stubborn, “Yes, I do.”

Being contrary would not do much for the constant tension twisting his guts, but it lifted the edge of Shoto’s lips and that was always worth it.

“Name five.”

He dropped a heavy hand on Shoto’s head and ruffled the red and white so the part mixed. “You.”

Shoto shot him a little glare that was more of a pout and ran a hand back through his hair, evening it out again in one easy stroke.

“I don’t count.”

Touya smirked. “You count the most, little guy.”

“I’m almost as tall as you–”

A sniffle interrupted them and both their gazes locked on a smiling Fuyumi in the doorway, blinking tears out of those lovely, grey eyes, so like their mother’s. Then she dumped the tray roughly on the table and raced around to pull the two of them into another bone crushing hug.

“Fumi, you’re choking us,” Touya said, though he made no move to break from his sister’s embrace.

“I’m sorry,” she drew back, wiping at her face. “It’s just, you two are so close and I missed you so much and I’m just so glad you’re okay.”

“There, there,” Shoto said, patting her head on each word, stiff and intense.

Touya snorted. He liked to think he’d raised the kid properly socialized, but he seemed to find a great deal of amusement in acting as though he had never seen another human before. Fuyumi had stopped crying but didn’t seem sure what to do with that.

She gave him a tremulous, “Thanks, Shoto.”

Then she stumbled back around to the other side of the table and started pouring tea, making a grand ceremony of the whole event. Touya had forgotten she used to do that. Shoto watched in fascination. He had never seen her do this, never had the chance.

Guilt was burrowing under Touya’s skin, writhing in familiar ways, but he forced himself not to scratch at it, refocusing. “Where’s the old man anyway?”

“Work, you know. I called him while I was in the kitchen though. He should be here soon.” She handed Touya a warm cup with a pleasant floral scent.

“I don’t feel like we’ve ever really met before,” Shoto said in quiet apology as he took his cup. Then he bowed, “I’m Yuki Shoto.”

“Yuki?” She glanced at Touya for an answer.

He followed Shoto’s lead and introduced himself, “I’m Yuki Touya.”

“So, you changed your names. I guess that makes sense.” She stared down into her lap a moment, a great sadness sitting heavy on her shoulders. Then she perked up under a tentative hope, growing like climbing vine. “But you’re here now, so–”

“Fumi, don’t,” Touya cut her off. “We’re not here to stay.”

She deflated, betrayed. She clasped her hands as though begging as she said, “But you’re at least going to see Natsu, right? He’s been working so hard to find you. And Mom,” but she stopped speaking as the front door slammed open and heavy footfalls careened down the hall.

“SHOTO!”

Enji appeared in the doorway, eyes bright and desperate as they sought out his youngest son. Touya, that voice waking every scrap of rage that had driven him before he was thrown through time, leapt to his feet, fire bursting to life in a warning shot as Enji tried to lunge forward.

“Don’t you dare touch him,” Touya growled.

“You threaten me in my own,” Enji started, thunderous, but the second their eyes met, the words died on his tongue.

“I told you, Dad. It’s him, it’s Touya,” Fuyumi said from her seat at the table.

Enji’s eyes danced over his scars and then darted between him and Shoto. The words were numb and disbelieving off his tongue, “You found him? How–”

“I saved him,” Touya said, cold as an artic wind, “from y–”

A wall of ice sprang up between them. Touya, thrown from his own head and all the ways he was about to flay this man alive with words alone, finally noticed the painful burning at his wrists and glanced back at his little brother. His right hand was flat to the floor and he was giving Touya an unimpressed stare.

“Both of you, sit down,” he said with no room for argument as he switched hands and melted his little wall of ice.

Touya shook snowflakes off his coat and settled, none too gladly, beside his brother once more. Still, shame writhed in his gut; he had almost said too much.

Enji just watched in unabashed amazement as Shoto worked. Then, when the ice was nothing but steam, he walked in a fugue state to the other side of the table and sat across from Touya to stare at his youngest.

“You’re everything I’d hoped you’d be.”

Touya just barely bit back the sharp, He’s so much better than anything you wanted from him, that tried to leap off his tongue and instead said, voice empty of all emotion, “I’ll make this simple, sign custody of Shoto over to me and no one needs to have their name dragged through the mud.”

Enji’s attention snapped back to Touya as he slapped the papers down in front of him and dropped a pen atop the pile.

He glanced down at the packet then up at his eldest, who fixed him with all the hatred that had burned in his heart both this time and the last. It was impossible to read the old Hero as he closed off his expression.

“Legally speaking, Shoto is dead. You could have continued your lives as whatever aliases you’ve been living under.” Then he sat back, eyes flicking between his sons, before he said, quiet and near to broken, “You’ll 'take everything I love from me'. Is this what you meant, Touya?”

Touya stiffened. What had the old man done to prompt that reaction? Did it even matter? Dabi had declared war and his plan wasn’t going to worry about casualties along the way.

Running through feverish options to deal with his younger self, Touya barely heard the conversation until Shoto said, cool as anything, “My becoming a hero will put us under heavy scrutiny and the gap in my identity could cause problems.”

The smile that came over Enji’s face took a decade off his features, smoothing wrinkles and lifting a great weight from his shoulders. “If you still want to be a Hero, then there’s no need for any of this. I’ll–”

“But I don’t want to be your son.” No words had ever carved out a silence so deep. “Yuki Shoto is my name and it’s the only one I ever want anyone to know.”

A record of the moment the words slammed Enji full force like a speeding bullet train would have been worth more than their ancestors’ cumulative weight in gold. If Touya had known it would feel so good to pull this particular rug out from under his father’s feet, he would have planned it this way all along.

“I would appreciate it if you would please sign and not make trouble for us,” Shoto continued as though he hadn’t just gutted a man with only a handful of words and wasn’t now throwing salt on the open wound.

Their father’s eyes dropped to the papers, but it was clear he was not looking at them, simply glaring into space, lost.

Touya decided to add his bit before that stubborn, bull head could find some way out of this, “We have a case and we’re willing to take this to court. But that will drag everyone into it: Mom, Natsu, Fumi, and every bloodthirsty reporter that’s ever questioned what goes on behind closed doors in–”

“Touya, stop,” Fuyumi cried, tears racing down her cheeks. “We’re family, you can’t just–”

Touya shouted over her, blue flames flaring, “We’ve never been family and it’s his–”

“I’ll sign.”

That stopped Fuyumi and Touya dead in their tracks. He still didn’t fully believe it as their father picked up the pen and turned to the marked sections.

“Thank you,” Shoto said, soft and earnest.

“But, Dad,” Fuyumi started, heartbroken.

“I’ve done enough to hurt all of you.”

Touya sat back, waiting. There was no way his father would have caved so easily.

In silence, the old man put the final flourish on the last page, set the pen on top, and slid it back across the table.

Just as Shoto was reaching for it, however, Touya was proven right. The man’s heavy hand held them down.

“Please, don’t go yet. I want to know you,” he looked up at Touya, “both of you.”

“You had your chance,” Touya started, snarling, but Shoto cut him off with a cool, simple, “We can stay for dinner.”

The grateful smile Enji turned on Shoto then was a fraction of the one he’d had before, but it was still far too bright for Touya’s liking. He was about to open his mouth and start in, acid ready to spit off his tongue, but Shoto’s hand landed on his bicep, staying him.

He glared his brother down for a moment before admitting defeat, slumping with a muttered, “I didn’t raise you with enough spite.”

Shoto patted his arm like he was an obedient dog. He shook his little brother and gathered the papers into a flame-retardant envelope before slipping it into his jacket and securing the pocket.

While he worked, Enji said, “Touya, about what I said last time–”

“Save it.” He was talking to the wrong Touya and he really didn’t want to know what his father might have said to send the other one running.

“But–”

“Do you need help with dinner,” Shoto asked, cutting their father off, his eyes on Fuyumi who had been discreetly making her way to the kitchen.

“Not really,” she said, waving him off. “It’s mostly done. I’ve been prepping some things for when Natsu comes by this weekend, but, honestly, it was too much.”

“We’ll help carry things out then.”

Shoto dragged Touya up with him.

“Dinner? Really? What are you thinking,” Touya asked, barely a murmur as they lagged behind Fuyumi.

“You want to know what’s changed. So do I.”

Touya couldn’t meet that earnest, dual colored gaze. “Fine. But we’re out the second things get hairy.”

Shoto nodded, content.

Enji had stayed at the table, staring at the woodgrain. He opened his mouth as they all sat down to eat, but Touya beat him to it.

With an evil grin at his father, Touya said, “Hey, Sho, why don’t you tell them where Ryuku’s Quirk comes from?”

Shoto saw nothing of the look, his eyes alight as the conspiracy engine revved. It was one of his more baffling theories, but the kid could go on about it for an hour, easy. If Enji wanted to know his former son, it was only fitting he know Shoto’s favorite pastime.

Touya settled comfortably into dinner with a show as the perplexed father and daughter duo tried to keep from sliding too far into Shoto’s buck wild, if enthusiastic, ideas.

Then, as Touya was gathering his and Shoto’s empty plates, Fuyumi asked how long they were staying.

He was caught off guard when Shoto, the one who had insisted they answer as little as possible, said, “Touya has to drop some papers off at the HPSC for the agency transfer tomorrow, so we’ll be–”

“A Hero Agency,” Enji asked, staring at Touya.

He sneered at his father. “That’s none of your–”

“We’re going to be a hero team after I graduate.” Shoto was so proud when he said it.

Touya could not stay even a moment longer or he’d surely ruin that. He snatched the pile he’d been making and the dishes from in front of Fuyumi and headed to the kitchen.

After a minute of furious scrubbing, she appeared behind him, as quietly disappointed but well-meaning as he recalled from childhood.

“You were really just going to leave without saying anything to us?”

He was too drained to deal with this. “That was the plan, yeah. We were going to get that signature and go or we were going to start the media storm that would end Endeavour’s career.”

“You almost sound upset you won’t get to do that,” Fuyumi said with a giggle that was forced and petered off into a question.

“I am, but Shoto’s always been too kind for his own good, wanting to believe the old man would accept without a fuss. Can’t believe he was right.”

“Of course. Shoto never got to know his family, but he knew Dad.” She paused a moment, then her voice was harder as she said, “It wasn’t fair of you to keep him from us.”

“He would have been kept from you anyway. At least now he’s not miserable.”

“You don’t know how it could have been.”

Touya narrowed his eyes at her, his voice hard as steel. “I do, actually.”

“He’s changed.”

From her tone, it was clear she was talking about Enji, but, “I doubt it.”

“You saw it. After Shoto went missing, he never really stopped searching for him, but when he was home, he was actually here with us.”

“Well, I’m glad you were happy, at least,” Touya tried, though the words came out dry.

Fuyumi hovered there at his elbow and the words tasted like accusation as she said, “If you'd told us you were going to find Shoto, we could have helped.”

He ignored her and grabbed a bowl sticky with sauce and dunked it. She deflated, a great sadness hanging around her he hated with all his heart, but he could do nothing for her now.

She gathered cheer around herself like a shield as she changed the subject and asked, “So, you’re a Hero, huh?”

“Someone has to keep Shoto safe out there.”

“Is that really all it is?” She’d known how badly he wanted to be a Hero once.

He set the clean bowl down and stared into the middle distance. That had been such a long time ago. He could hardly reconcile himself with the little Touya that had broken himself in pursuit of his father’s dream, desperate for even a sparkling glimpse of Enji’s approval.

His voice was low and dark when it finally came, “I’ve seen things out there, Fumi. I’ve done things. If he’s going into that, he’s not going without backup.”

They were both quiet a moment, Fuyumi deciding whether to ask further, before Touya said, with a chuckle, “I was hoping he’d choose to become a vet. Every other week, he was bringing home something new to hide in a box under his bed.”

She giggled. “But you knew?”

Touya grinned. “He’s not subtle.”

Speaking of lacking in subtlety, the old man entered the room with an exaggerated cough.

“Touya, about this agency,” Enji started and then paused like he was waiting for Touya’s permission to go on.

Fuyumi glanced between the two of them, but Enji was not paying her any mind and Touya wasn’t about to stop what he was doing because the old man felt he was owed any attention. She shuffled out, though whether to give them privacy or grab Shoto as reinforcement it was impossible to say.

Enji cleared his throat. “Shoto said you’re doing it to protect him.”

“I am.” Touya kept the words short and icy.

Enji again waited for more, but he wasn’t going to get it. Finally, he got to the point, never a patient man, “He was telling me about how your Quirks work together. You shouldn’t do this without–”

“I’ll be fine. Thanks for the concern.”

“Touya, I just–”

“What,” Touya rounded on him, mouth open wide in a manic grin that stretched every staple on his face. “You don’t like the scars? You don’t think Touya can make it on his own in the big bad world? Screw you, old man. Talking to you is a waste of my time.”

“We thought we’d lost you forever once. I don't want–” Enji was reaching for him, like anyone in this family ever mattered to him.

Touya bashed his wrist aside, heat and light flaring with the hit. “You lost me long before I went up in flames.”

“Touya–”

He turned back to the dishes. “It’s a real shame I won’t get to turn you to ash today, but I sleep well knowing it gives someone else the chance.”

“You really hate me that much,” Enji asked, the words edged with something like heart break.

“More than anything in this world or any other.” He dunked his arms into the water, steam rising as he quenched some of the flames flaring along his arms.

Chapter Text

Touya and Shoto stood side by side in the sterile hall just in front of the door. The nurses were chattering by the station and there was a television on somewhere, little more than the crackle of unnatural voices and music. Touya couldn't look away from the name on the door though, the characters unreadable to him despite their familiarity.

He’d missed when Shoto took hold of his shoulder, but he felt the pressure and a welcome fall of frost over his skin.

Like that was actually the problem here, Touya said, “You don’t have to do this, you know.”

Shoto didn’t say anything for a moment, just a solid presence at his side, sure in his decision. "I want to. Alot has changed and she deserves to know I don't blame her." His fingers brushed his scar and his voice was soft as he said, "I don't want her to blame herself."

Touya wrapped an arm around his little brother and pulled him in, more for himself than for Shoto. The kid leaned against him a moment, letting Touya take the comfort he would never admit he needed.

"I'm not even her son," Touya muttered. He'd come from a different time and a very different place, but he'd never felt he didn't belong until now.

"The other Touya didn't come to see her," Shoto said, like that voided their relationship.

"He's the one who should be here."

Shoto's voice was stern and certain as he said, "He should, but he's not and you have just as much right to speak with her."

Then he patted Touya on the back and, long before he was ready for it, pulled open the door.

Rei had been warned they were coming, Fuyumi had assured them, but with her wide eyes and that slight tremor, this might have come out of nowhere.

She did not get up to hug them. Their family wasn't really the hugging type, Touya supposed, even if Fuyumi insisted on it. Still, it felt wrong and the second they entered, there was an oppressive cold space between them that had nothing to do with the ice Quirks in the room. It had Touya putting his back to the wall beside the door, arms crossed to ward it off.

Shoto, kind and far too good for either of them, didn't seem to notice at all. He strode in, said his piece, and then hugged her, all forgiven. She'd cried and smiled and Touya had felt even more out of place, a literal fly on the wall in a reunion he had no business taking part.

Satisfied, that soft little smile on his face, Shoto had asked, “Are you hungry?”

Rei nodded, unsure.

“Then, I’ll grab us something."

To Touya's horror, before he could unscrew his jaw enough to offer to go instead, Shoto breezed out the room and shut the door behind him with a firm click.

Mother and son were both quiet a long, drawn-out moment, staring in opposite directions. Touya had so many things he wanted to say: apologies and excuses for not getting her out, for trying to hurt her and Shoto, for not understanding that she was miserable too. Nothing would come. They all tangled in his unworthy throat in a thorny bunch from which air barely passed.

“I’m sorry, Touya,” she said, her voice heavy with unshed tears.

His head snapped up.

She gave him a wavering, watery smile that dropped with the first tear into shame.

“You needed me and I was too–” she started, but he rushed forward and grabbed her hand.

“No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left you in this mess. You weren’t to blame and I shouldn't have–”

Her free hand cupped his face, careful but unafraid of the scars. She shook her head, but the tears had stolen all her words. He pressed his cheek into her palm and shut his eyes, emotions raging through him without the easy outlet of tears.

After a moment, she pulled her hand from his to brush tender fingers through his hair. “What a fine mess we make.”

He choked up a laugh and finally opened his eyes. There was no blame or hatred in her eyes, just the gentle warmth of a mother’s love, a look he could barely remember from a childhood blinded by burning bitterness.

“I missed you, Mom.” He hadn’t known how acutely that hole that sat in his heart until she had filled it again.

“I'm so glad you're alright.” Her tiny smile trembled again as she hesitated, her thumb skating over the scarring under his eye. “Well…”

“It’s because of you I’m alive. I wouldn’t have survived if I didn’t have your blood.”

“I’m glad I could give you something.”

Her eyes fell to her lap, lost in that well of endless misery. Her hands began to slide away, but he snatched them up and held on.

“You gave me so much more than that. I couldn’t have raised Shoto if it wasn’t for you.”

She searched his face for a second like she would find it a lie. There was nothing to find.

She picked up her threadbare cheer and threw it on again even as she said, “I’m sorry I missed it.”

“I have pictures.” The words were lame on his tongue, but he could think of nothing else.

Genuine amusement lifted something of the heavy guilt holding her down and she patted the bed beside her. Touya took the invitation and drew his phone, presenting it between them like an offering.

By the time Shoto came back with a stack of bentos, having taken a lap or ten of the hospital, she was leaned against his shoulder while he scrolled through, regaling her with adventures of their little life on the island.

“I’d like to see it someday,” she said, wistful, tracing over the sunset off the cliff.

“You can. It’s quiet and calm and far away from here.”

“The ladies would love to meet you,” Shoto added, dutifully laying out utensils.

“The ladies,” Rei asked.

“Touya’s friends.”

Touya shot his little brother a look. “They abduct me twice a week on pain of death. They’re not my friends.”

Shoto shrugged, but in no way conceded the point. Then he pulled out his own phone and scrolled a moment.

Touya groaned and hid his face in his arms. He knew what photo Shoto was going to show off, he’d had the whole group pose for it. Trapped between them with Hiroshi’s mother leaned over him, radiating malicious glee, Touya was giving the camera his best put upon glare, the effect ruined by the edge of amusement in his eyes.

Rei laughed. It was a welcome sound.

Chapter Text

They had just reached the lobby on their way out, both lighter for the visit, when Shoto, the proper younger brother, said, “I told you it wouldn’t be that bad.”

Touya ruffled his hair, fond. “Forget I ever doubted you, kid.”

Touya had believed, foolishly, that meeting his mother again would be the worst of it, but as they stepped out of the hospital into the crisp afternoon sun, there was a furious shout of,  “What the hell, Touya?”

They both turned to see a fuming Natsuo matching toward them from an adjacent path.

“You leave promising all this horrible stuff and now you're a Hero and you found Shoto and,” he trailed off, a cautious wariness entering his eyes as he searched Touya’s face.

Touya glanced at Shoto for direction, lost. With the barest tilt of his head, Shoto turned the decision over to him, although it was clear what he thought should be done. Even knowing how complicated this was going to make things, he couldn't help but agree.

“Let's go somewhere quieter.”

An overwhelmed Natsuo was staring into the tabletop of the little café like the truth would be written there.

"Time travel," he said, flat, like he was just testing the words.

He raised the mug but there was nothing left to drink.

“I'll get us some more,” Shoto volunteered, heading for the counter.

As Natsuo started to come back to himself, Touya realized this was the second time today the kid had used this tactic. He shot a frown at his youngest brother's back, but Shoto was not paying any attention and wasn't likely to feel remorse over this anyway.

Finally, Natsuo looked up to meet his eye. “Why didn't you come back for us too?”

Natsuo tried to keep his question neutral but Touya could hear the hurt dripping from every syllable.

Guilt stealing the volume from his voice, Touya said, “I wanted to. I thought about it a lot. But I couldn't risk it. Shoto-”

“He's the only one either of you ever cared about.” Natsuo's lip curled in disgust and his hand tightened on the empty mug.

“Fumi said he was doing better,” was all Touya could think to say, the only thing that had so far been assuaging him.

“Yeah, well, better than nothing is still not a whole lot.”

The years of loss turned to bitterness in his voice was too much for Touya’s admittedly shallow conscience.

He stood and pulled Natsuo up into a hug. “I'm sorry, Natsu. I should have come back for you.”

His little brother held onto him tight and buried his face against Touya’s shoulder for a long moment.

Like glass about to shatter, he asked, “But you're back now, right?”

“For now." He gave Natsuo one last pat before pulling back to look him in the eye as he said, earnest, "You're welcome to come with us.”

Natsuo gave him a tremulous smile. “Yeah, I think I'd like that.”

Chapter Text

Touya wasn’t sure if he was imagining things or not. Freedom could go to someone’s head, he supposed, but even his paranoia could only stretch so far and the menace of the eyes that followed him were too real.

Natsuo was busy with his break homework, so Shoto had come to join him on patrol and the two of them had dragged Doc from work for lunch at Shoto’s favorite restaurant, a rare treat.

As they passed an alley that looked out onto the rocky shoreline beside the docks, too shallow for boats and too windy to be prime real estate, he finally caught sight of the figure that had been following him for days.

Without considering it, he darted after, leaving a chatting Doc and Shoto behind. He came to a sharp stop as the lithe figure came into proper view, backlit by the shining sea. It was him, the real Touya or real in so much as he actually belonged in this timeline.

He looked even worse than Touya remembered or maybe that was just the outside perspective, but there was no mistaking it. While access to proper medical facilities and minimal use of his Quirk in the past few years meant his scarring was less prominent these days, there was still a clear resemblance between the two.

“I heard someone down here had stolen my Quirk, my family, the whole nine yards.” That dry, cracked laugh grated against Touya’s nerves. “Gotta say, the resemblance is uncanny.”

“Dabi.” He gave a tense nod of greeting to his younger self, hoping the name would mean nothing to this guy.

“You do know me then. Yuki Touya, right? Funny name,” Dabi drawled.

“Shoto picked it.” Touya just barely held down on the flames that wanted to ignite along his skin in tense little bursts.

“How is Daddy’s little masterpiece anyway?”

Touya ignored the question. “What do you want?”

“You’re the one living my life. What do you think?”

He had barely a second to get his hands up and meet Dabi’s flame with his own. Neither relented, Touya turning the heat up to the edge of the cooling unit’s tolerance.

He wasn’t a one trick pony like this kid though. He dove through the flames. Dabi’s eyes widened in shock as he was grabbed without a second to react.

Touya, while still not particularly burly, had been beaten into shape hauling wood around for almost a decade. He hefted Dabi and tossed him into the next wave as it broke. He went under for several seconds and came up spluttering, fury burning away the salty water clinging to him.

“Give up.” Touya ordered, splashing out onto the surf smoothed stone. “I’m the better fighter, I got better equipment, there’s no winning this for you.”

Dabi’s lip curled and he took the breath to speak when ice raced over the surface of the water, locking them into place and freezing over their abused skin.

Shoto was standing on shore several yards from them, maintaining the thick ice sheet even as the ocean battered against it. His eyes were narrowed as he took in the two versions of his brother.

“Wow, Sho,” Dabi drawled, melting the ice to steam around himself, hands up in surrender. “A lot changes in a few years. Can’t believe I missed it.”

Water washed back around Touya’s legs as he too melted the ice, not trusting the other version of himself with any measure of freedom.

A second later, he knew he was right.

Shoto might have been relaxing, Dabi seemingly friendly and harmless, but Touya knew what was going through this guy’s head, what that glint in his eye meant. It was in the subtle shift of a hand, a tightening in the shoulders.

Saving Shoto whiting out all other thought, Touya didn’t think. He dove at Dabi, grabbed his younger self tight, and forced that cheap dye job under the surface with a vengeance. It only worked, he knew, because Dabi didn’t expect him, the Hero version of them, to be anything but merciful.

He was far from.

The water around them was boiling as Dabi’s thrashing grew more desperate, but Touya didn’t let up, a snarl on his lips as he pressed his full weight down.

Far too abrupt to be real, Dabi stopped moving and his fire went out. Touya didn’t relent, bearing down with all his strength to not be caught off guard by a sudden revival.

“TOUYA!” A familiar, callused hand had caught the back of his neck as Doc screamed in his ear, calling his name for what sounded like the hundredth time.

Touya had no idea what happened next, but even the breath went still in his lungs. His heart halted its beating and he was just suspended, brain sluggish and the world gone slow.

Then it was all back as Doc shoved him into Shoto’s hands with a sharp, “I got this one, you get him iced up.”

With meticulous efficiency, Shoto followed directions, dragging Touya up on shore and coating him in a comforting layer of frost, the agonizing burns he hadn’t been feeling yet making themselves known even as they were numbed.

With a feeble coughing, Dabi had been hauled up by the back of his coat and now hung limp in Doc’s grip like a wet kitten.

As Shoto started to draw back, Touya grabbed his wrist and tugged him to his side in a fierce hug. “I had to protect you,” he muttered.

Shoto was quiet a moment, not protesting the contact but not returning it either. Then, finally he said, “Not like that.”

Chapter Text

Dabi was wary enough of Doc and his stasis Quirk not to kick up much of a fuss when the old man loaded him into the truck. Touya would have preferred him in a holding cell, at the very least, not that the island was at all equipped to contain him indefinitely. A prison transport across sea and land would also take weeks to arrange, not that Touya wasn't willing. They were all in for Doc's patented do-it-yourself method then.

Still, Touya caught his arm before Doc could slide in behind the wheel. “What are you gonna do with him?”

Doc surveyed Touya's hard expression a moment and then his eyes flickered back Dabi, watching and listening, waiting for his moment.

Then the old carpenter patted Touya's arm in reassurance. “You might see nothing good in this guy, but I still see the scrappy kid who showed up at my shack with an axe to grind and his little brother in tow. I came to care about him once, imagine it'll be great to do it again.”

"He's dangerous-"

"You don't say." Doc chuckled, nothing but warm affection in his eyes.

"He's not like me," Touya hissed, frustrated.

Doc's voice dropped into more somber tones. "I know, you had a little guiding light to find your way, but he's got no tethers. He'll be you, too clever for your own good with that bitter mean streak and none of the Shoto approved morals, I get it. I'm telling you to let me handle it."

Touya didn't want to relent, instincts still screaming at him that no one he cared about was safe while that monster walked, but he trusted Doc, especially now the man had revealed his elusive Quirk to be useful.

“Fine. Just keep him away from me.”

Doc smiled and clapped him on the back. “That's the spirit. Hey, you think Natsuo would be up for helping with this?” He jabbed a finger back at Dabi.

“Twice as many Touya to annoy? He’ll be thrilled,” Touya said even as his gut clenched.

The last of the salt water showered off, Touya entered the living room to find Shoto waiting on the couch.

“So, was that attempted homicide or suicide?”

He ruffled his brother’s hair in fond amusement as he fell into the cushion beside him. “You always ask the right questions, Sho.”

Shoto let the pleasant moment sit before he said, low, “It wasn’t okay either way, Touya.”

“He was going to hurt you.” Touya wasn’t going to budge on this.

“You didn’t even give him a chance.”

“Some people don’t deserve a chance.” He didn’t mean to snarl the words, but Shoto just met him with stubborn determination.

“He’s still you.”

“And you remember how I was.”

Shoto nodded as though this were proving his point, not Touya’s.

The door banged open then and Natsuo was yelling, "Shoto, explanation, now!"

Touya grimaced. It must not have gone well. He hadn't even been gone that long. That he was asking for Shoto's take and not Touya's meant Natsuo was not after grounded reality but the comforting fantasy of whatever the two of them could cook up in a brainstorming session.

That was fine with Touya. He tuned them out until Shoto was grabbing his arm, dragging the fabric back to expose his shoulder with practiced care not to snag on the staples. He raised an inquisitive eye as both of his brothers leaned in to examine the healthy skin, squinting and tilting their heads.

"Definitely not," Natsuo concluded.

Shoto nodded in some relief as he settled the fabric back.

“Are either of you going to explain,” Touya asked, already exhausted.

“You just scarred your younger self, but nothing happened to you. So, either time is very stable or you're not actually the same person,” Natsuo said, those last words taking on a quiet awe as his scholarly brain started whirring.

Shoto's forehead creased in thought, eyes became far away. "There's still a chance younger Touya's a changeling or shape shifter, we'll need samples."

"He's the real deal, but yeah, let's do that. These two aren't the same at all though. I mean you were," he said, coming out of the Shoto conspiracy bubble long enough to address Touya, "until he decided to stay, of course.”

The guy had been grilling him every free moment since they'd made landfall on the island, he would know better than even Touya at this point.

“So, my Touya is from a different timeline or even a different universe,” Shoto mused, hand on his chin.

Pretending he wasn't getting a warm, glowing feeling in his chest from being claimed as Shoto’s, Touya asked the only question he was actually curious about, happy enough to let the rest of it be, “And how did I get here?”

Shoto, ever a connoisseur of the strange and fantastical, hummed in thought and Touya sat back, ready for a couple hours of speculation. “Maybe you finally burned hot enough to melt the fabric of reality.”

“Or maybe you're dead and none of this is real.” Natsuo mused. His face twisted with distaste as soon as the words were out of his mouth though.

Shoto shook his head. “I'm thinking, so I know I'm alive, so he can't be dead. Unless that dark place is where you go when you die and you were too stubborn to just stay there.”

“No, that wasn't a place to stay.” Touya wasn't sure exactly how to articulate it, but that place had wanted him to go, to choose.

Natsuo came a little closer to reality then, fixing Touya with a stern glare. "You better watch it from here on out though. Just because you're not going to stop existing if you kill him, doesn't mean you get a free pass when he's being garbage. Got it?"

Touya shrugged. "So long as we can all agree he's garbage."

Shoto patted Touya's arm with a dutiful, "You are hot garbage."

Natsuo snorted a laugh.

Chapter Text

The gently perfumed air and calming, neutral colors were starting to grate on Touya's nerves. It didn't help that the room was far too small with the four of them and that was before their shrink came back with drinks.

“Why the hell am I here again,” he asked Shoto beside him.

His youngest brother had sunk far too happily into the love seat and was reading some informational pamphlet from the lobby.

“We're 'healing together',” Shoto said, parroting the slogan for the sessions.

Touya bit his tongue yet again as the argument that he was not part of this family for which they were having a family therapy session tried to escape. He’d said something of the like when this was suggested and Natsuo had snapped at him, already at his wit’s end that day with Dabi. Shoto, on the other hand, had calmly pointed out that he couldn't claim not to be family just to get out of things he didn't want to do. They couldn’t really be surprised he wasn’t thrilled to be in this room though.

He shot a glare across at Dabi and poured a bit more malice in when he was ignored. The younger version of himself was sitting as far back as the second couch would allow with his arms crossed, ignoring them all.

Their professional help walked in then, passing steaming, compostable cups to Natsuo and Shoto. She reminded Touya too much of Hawks for comfort, all golden hair and sharp eyes. She might have been less dangerous, but he was still on edge as she settled into her own armchair.

“I’m glad you’ve all decided to embark on this journey of healing together,” she said, her voice gentle and lilting, like a soft lullaby, easy to drift off under. “Welcome to your first session. Now, we can just meet in the big group like this, but I would also like to meet with all of you individually so I can get a better understanding of the dynamics at play and how best to help. Is that alright with everyone?”

“Sounds like it’s just a good way to establish a constant income stream,” Dabi drawled.

He had a good point, but Natsuo had made sure all this was coming out of Endeavour’s paycheck, so Touya had no qualms about it.

Slow and deliberate so Dabi would feel every second of the silence, she fixed her full attention on him. “I had heard that some of you were not eager to be taking part in these sessions and I'd like you to know it is normal to be scared of opening up. These things can be painful, but you're in a safe space here with people who love you and want a stronger connection with you.”

From the venomous scowl barely hiding the initial, pained twisting of his features, something in that had hit Dabi just as hard as it had Touya.

Where Touya leaned more heavily against Shoto, who put his head on Touya’s shoulder in the silent agreement with her, Dabi grew agitated.

“This is just a waste of time.”

Natsuo's expression grew thunderous and he opened his mouth, but she held up a hand and he paused.

“I'm sensing a lot of resentment and a lot of hurt.” Dabi’s lip curled in obvious disgust, unimpressed, but she continued, “I understand that you didn't come here of your own volition, but it is promising that you were willing to even take the first step in humoring your siblings. I only ask that you be a little patient and open yourself to the possibility of healing.”

He didn't acknowledge the words, but he didn't storm out either.

Piece said, she turned back to the group at large. “I understand there was an incident the other day. I don't think that tackling it today will be helpful, but I did want to acknowledge it. I would also like to remind you quirk use is not allowed within my office. If anyone needs a break to blow off steam, there is a gym next door.

“Now, I'd like to start us off by finding some common ground. It can be as simple as a favorite food, but I just want all of you to find something you have in common.”

“That's easy,” Natsuo chimed in. “We all hate our father.”

Somehow, over the span of a few sessions, she managed to earn a begrudging and then genuine respect from both Touya and Dabi.

She barely blinked when, after pushing too hard at Dabi, she almost lost her face in a blaze of blue fire, stopped short only by Shoto's quick reflexes. Her stern disappointment somehow kept it from happening again and she even began meeting Dabi with none of his siblings as icy buffers.

Touya was meant to be doing that as well, but being a hero had at least one perk, he could cancel appointments without notice for emergencies. His definition of emergencies had suddenly become very loose.

Unfortunately, Shoto caught on.

“It has been mentioned, but we've yet to really talk about the incident that occurred at your first meeting with Dabi.”

“He's still using that name?”

As ever, she was patient with the redirection. “If I'm not mistaken, you also used to that name at one time.”

Touya glared at the geometric rug. “That was a long time ago.”

“I am not going to undermine your individuality, you and Dabi are different people, even if you had an identical start in life, but such willingness to harm a younger version of yourself shows a great deal of self-hatred. I’d like us to focus on that today, if that's okay with you.”

Touya rolled his eyes. “Call it what it was, I was going to drown him.”

“Do you still want him dead,” she asked with no change in her tone.

He was not slow enough to fall into that one. “He was going to cremate Shoto. I was just protecting my little brother.”

“You’ve stated several times in group sessions that you have full confidence in Shoto’s abilities though and that he could easily best you.”

It wasn’t a question, but it was designed to dig for information far more efficiently by setting forth assumptions that begged to be corrected.

He hated that it worked. “Shoto lowered his guard because Dabi looks like me and he trusts me. Even if Dabi didn’t use that against him in that moment, and he was going to, he would.”

“You still think he’s dangerous,” she asked, parroting back as she was prone to doing.

Touya took her in a long moment. He was meant to trust this woman with all his secrets, she already knew far more than anyone had a right without the shared trauma of living under Endeavor, but all he could see was a viper, hidden under the peaceful swaying of leaves but ready to strike. All it would take was a small admission of the desire for violence and she could snatch everything away from him.

Then he leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Let’s be honest with each other, if he wasn’t under house arrest by a Commission certified Hero, you’d have reported him.”

She set aside her notepad with deliberate care and mirrored his position. “If we’re being honest, yes. And I should confide to you in your role as a Hero that he has expressed some concerningly violent sentiments to me. It has not been toward anyone on this island, but if your father ever makes landfall here, for all our sakes, keep Dabi ignorant of this fact and far away from that man.”

“You have my word.”

She gave him a grateful nod and settled back, picking up her notepad again. “It is interesting to compare the two of you and see the progress you’ve made. You should be proud. I know Shoto is.”

“Thank you,” Touya said, slow and wary as he sat back, on the defensive.

Mentioning Shoto was just to soften him, keep him from seeing it coming, but there was an attack imminent. He could feel it coming on like a storm, building pressure on the air.

“Then you understand why we are all inclined to believe Dabi is not a lost cause.”

Too obvious. “You want him to become like me? That's not a lot better than what he is right now.”

"You have become a hero, both in the professional sense and the more mundane one. That second one at least is something we all ought to strive toward."

Touya scoffed. “I carry the badge of the Hero and the saint, but I’ve done all he’s done and worse. I'm not whatever picture of a good person you've got in your head.”

“Do you really think so?” He glared her down, but she put out a hand in appeasement. “I just mean that we’re often bad mirrors for ourselves. We tend to miss who we are for who we were and who we fear we’ll become.”

“Let me guess, I should be looking around at what other people think of me?”

“It's a good start. There is something to be said for how well loved you are, Touya."

He shook his head. “They just see what they want to see.”

“Perhaps. You have become an excellent Hero though and Shoto tells me all the time of how much he looks up to you and how your wanting to spite your father changed into your genuine caring for his happiness. The evidence seems solid enough from where I'm sitting.”

He did not appreciate Shoto's affection being used as a weapon. “I thought you weren’t supposed to tell us about the others' one on ones.”

She smiled, knowing. “He told me I was allowed to tell you and that you can ask him after if it’s true.”

He flexed his fingers to calm the fire trying to flare. She didn't react to the motion, though he was certain she knew what it meant by now.

Instead, she asked, “Are you worried you’ll hurt Shoto?”

“What?” She sat there, patient as though she’d inquired about the weather while his stomach turned, rioting against the very suggestion. “Why would you even ask me that?”

Understanding crossed her face. Again, she set aside her notebook and leaned in. "I assure you that I'm fully aware and would swear in front of any court that you have been an excellent guardian and you would never hurt your little brother."

She let that hang in the air as she sat back before, "However, we all have those intrusive little thoughts. I would also like to make it clear that thoughts are not actions and sometimes we have those that we're ashamed to admit. With how hostile you are toward the younger version of yourself and taking from a few things you've said, it sounds as though you might be worried you could hurt Shoto.”

He shouldn't do it. He knew he should keep his mouth shut or, better yet, deny it all, but he asked, cautious, “How do you know?"

“That you’d never hurt him?” He nodded, reluctant, and she smiled. “Many things. Like, the way he talks about you and the look in your eyes right now. The fact that it scares you that you might is more promising than you'd think.”

The certain dread of treading on uneven ground, waiting for it to swallow him, was pulling him under. His hands clenched in his lap to drive back the feeling, but it only grew. Was this her Quirk? He knew it wasn't, he'd looked. It was something soft, noncombative, but he couldn't think what it was at the moment.

"Touya," she said, her voice gentle but coaxing. "Take a deep breath for me."

He did as instructed, scolding himself for letting her get in his head. The world stopped spinning after a moment and his thoughts were clearer.

To be clear, he said, "I wouldn't hurt him. Getting him away from our father was the best decision I've ever made and if I did anything to Shoto, I would be no better."

She was nodding her agreement. “And you have done an excellent job. Still, raising a child is difficult, even for people who grew up in loving homes that never knew a moment of cruelty. It's normal to-”

He was done listening to this. "I would never hurt him. But Dabi would. He only cares about making his father suffer. Nothing else matters. No one else matters. He'd burn the whole world to the ground a hundred times over and Shoto would be first in line. That's what I'm afraid of."

"Then don't you think that the best way to keep that from happening is to make sure he changes his ways and sees the loving family he already has around him?"

He opened his mouth to argue, to tell her that Dabi would never change, but she had the proof, as she saw it sitting in her chair. He couldn't tell her he'd only changed so it couldn't be the same because of Shoto when Natsuo and Shoto were both on the island and eager to be part of Dabi's 'recovery'. She had him cornered.

"Well played," he sighed.

Amusement leaked into her tone as she said, "You know I'm not playing mind games with you, right? My job is to help you and your family unit heal."

"I read the poster," Touya said, dry and condesending.

She ignored that, resplendent in her victory. "I'm not saying to forgive and forget any potential threat Dabi poses, we both know he does. Pushback on his more troubling tendencies but give him a chance. He's not as lost as you seem to believe and your support might prove critical."

"Fine. Can I go?"

Chapter Text

Touya had called Shoto and Natsuo to warn them of their new arrival, but Doc had not picked up. So, against his better judgement, he marched into the shop, the familiar scent of wood shavings a balm on his overheated nerves.

The old carpenter was nowhere in sight though, a far less welcome figure digging through drawers at the workbench.

Natsuo's influence was having a more profound effect on him than any of them had expected and Shoto had started sneaking out to see him while Touya ground his teeth and pretended not to notice. Nothing horrible had happened yet, though Touya was always on guard and couldn't stand to be near him longer than an hour. Still, even he found less to snap at Dabi about during sessions these days.

The younger version of himself was surly and taciturn, but he had been putting in the effort. There was even a halfway competent candlestick holder stood upright on the workspace.

Touya's world tilted to see it was a near identical replica of the one he'd made when Doc had assigned him the same task, his favorite teaching tools for shaping, detail work, and respecting the grain.

“Hey, Gramps, where'd you put the,” Dabi cut himself off as he caught sight of Touya and scowled.

The look, with just a hint more disgust, was mirrored on Touya's face. The shop was already growing sweltering around them by the time Touya remembered he was supposed to be civil.

“You troublemakers know the rules," Doc called, emerging from his office. "You start to get hot and bothered, you gotta go elsewhere.”

The two of them glanced at each other for a second, coming to a brief armistice. Dabi turned away and started for the farthest end of the shop.

“What are you doing here, kid? You know he's around,” Doc said, brow creased in concern.

“That's why I'm here.” He lowered his voice so the retreating Dabi could not hear him as he said, “Everyone's favorite Hero just arrived at the docks.”

Doc didn't need more than that.

“I'll keep him out of sight,” he promised, giving his shoulder a comforting squeeze.

Touya arrived at the town hall where Leor was meant to be sequestering his father. The island's resident lay about was not on the premises as far as Touya could tell though. He had likely gone to get himself a pick me up after some minor slight, leaving a pacing Flame Hero on his own to work himself up to something stupid.

Indeed, the second he spotted Touya, Enji bore down on him like a train off its tracks, the air around him superheated and his Quirk flaring bright.

Touya just leaned back against the wooden wall. The old Hero wouldn’t risk setting the building alight, but Touya had helped put this wall up and was not averse to making his own exit through it if the need came.

“Something wrong, old man?”

“Who are you,” he demanded, looming.

“Yuki Touya.”

“Get his name out of your mouth. You came into our home parading as my son and–”

Touya couldn't help himself, he smirked, victorious. “What? Upset you signed Shoto over to me?”

The fire around Enji grew just that bit hotter and Touya squinted, annoyed with this man who had become a mobile sun.

“I revoke that! You had me sign under false pretenses.”

“I never claimed to be anyone I’m not. You gave full custody of Shoto over to Yuki Touya. Guess what,” he raised his hands to either side in a helpless shrug.

“You’re not my son.”

“Thanks, Pops. I feel the same." Touya gave his arm a single, condescending pat.

That arm slammed against the wall, the wood groaning. “Where is Shoto?”

"Not a good look for the former Number Two, harassing a minor he barely knows," Touya drawled, the thrill of the knife's edge too much to resist.

"I'm his father," Enji roared.

Touya ducked away from him as the spit started flying and shrugged. "According to the paperwork, he's been my kid since he was five years old."

"What?!"

Touya grinned and spread his arms as he backed into the large space, certain he could redirect out the skylight if his father started throwing fire. "You didn't read the fine print before signing?"

The heat around Enji grew more intense with the realization, "You're the one who took him?"

"You don't remember? The whole thing was just a big-"

Just then the doors burst open in a tide of ice that coated every surface and frosted the hot skin of father and son. As though summoned, Shoto swept in like a king before his court.

"I thought I told you to stay with Natsu," Touya called, not willing to admit he was glad of the backup.

Shoto just raised an eyebrow at him, unconvinced. "I'm not leaving you to deal with this on your own."

The subtle dig at their father was overshadowed by the ironclad loyalty behind the declaration, the acknowledgement of you've never left me gone unsaid but walloping the air from Touya's lungs.

Enji paid their conversation no mind, all his attention stolen by Shoto. "We are leaving," he said, reaching for Shoto's arm as he made to storm out the doors.

Shoto slid around him and stood halfway between his brother and father, voice cold, "I thought we told you not to come here."

Guilt flashed in Enji's eyes for the briefest moment. It was replaced by determination as he took a step back toward Shoto, fingers clenching and unclenching. "I am sorry for that, but I had to come get you. That man," he jabbed an accusatory finger at Touya, "isn't who he claims and he-"

"He's Yuki Touya, my brother," Shoto said, cool and unruffled.

"I don't know who or what he is, but that's not Touya!"

"Not from this time."

That drew Enji up short. He glanced at Touya who smiled back and waved, having far too much fun with this.

"The original one is here on the island as well. We have the DNA tests to prove it and-"

"Stop this nonsense, Shoto," Enji thundered, regaining the ability to speak. "We're going home."

Shoto stepped back from those reaching paws into Touya's side. "I am home."

Touya wrapped a protective arm around his little brother. "Face it, old man. You lost."

Temper running ahead of common sense, Enji fixated on Touya and threw a heavy, gauntleted fist. Before Touya could duck, all but Enji's head was locked in a thick glacier.  Steam began rising out of it and Enji did not stop glaring at Touya for even a second.

"Violence isn't going to solve this or make anyone feel better," Shoto said, parroting their therapist to deaf ears.

"I'm going to bring this villain to justice and get my children back," Enji swore.

Touya stepped up to him, hatred its own heat haze around him. "Like you've ever cared about any of them."

Shoto pulled Touya back as Enji broke an arm free and held up his phone before their father. The steam stopped as Enji paused, staring at the photo Fuyumi had taken of the four of them in front of the hospital, both version of Touya with identical scowls being dragged into frame by Shoto and Natsuo.

Shoto let him stare while he laid his right hand on the ice, the whole thing gone in a moment. Enji did not move but to take the phone and frown down at it. Without permission, in Touya's opinion, he started scrolling through the rest of the pictures from their day visiting their mother for her birthday.

"How is this possible," he asked, numb, when he reached the end.

"Time travel," Shoto said, laying down the foundation with unshakable certainty. "I found out when the Touya from this time-"

"If he's really here, I have to see him," Enji said and, one-track mind turning him, started out the door.

Touya raced around to block his path. "You know that's a bad idea."

"You can't stop me from seeing my son," he said, a threat in every word as he tried again to loom over Touya.

He wasn't intimidated. His father might have earned his reputation, but Touya had Shoto on his side and a lot more firepower.

His voice was even and measured as he said, "As a Hero, I can act to stop you from getting all of us killed."

Enji's expression faltered and for just a second he hesitated. It was all the window Shoto needed.

He laid a hand on his father's shoulder and said, "Please, just listen. He's not ready to hear your apology yet. We're working on it, but you have to give him time."

Enji turned a pleading look on his youngest child as though he were the parent. "I have to try. I didn't know what I was-"

"I believe you," Shoto interrupted, seemingly sincere, "but Touya's right. You're putting all of us in danger by being here."

Enji started to turn back to Touya, suspicion and fury overtaking his remorse, but Shoto grabbed his other shoulder and gave him a firm shake. Touya had to stifle a laugh as a cough at the dumbstruck look on Enji's face at the audacity.

"If you leave right now, I'll call you in an hour and explain everything. Okay?"

To Touya's eternal shock, the promise of a call with Shoto was all it took and he left the two of them to clean up the mess they'd made of town hall.

A week later, Shoto was studying for the entrance exam, earbuds firmly in place, blissfully ignorant of the obnoxious buzzing of his phone scooting itself across the counter. Touya snatched it up just as it reached the edge and stared at the constant stream of messages coming from a contact labeled only as [REDACTED].

Shoto caught his questioning glance and pulled on headphone out long enough to say, "Natsu changed it."

Like that was all the answers that needed to be given, he went back to it, head bobbing as he scribbled down a note. Another three texts came through, vibrating off one of the staples on his wrist. Touya grimaced at the horrible sensation and, not considering what he was doing, hit call.

"Shoto," Enji Todoroki said, relieved and far too full of joy. "I've been trying to-"

"He's studying," Touya interrupted in his most bored tone.

"Touya?" The mixture of badly strangled hope and 

"The better looking one," he agreed. "Look, we've talked about this, it's creepy and since you can't contain yourself, I'm implementing a new rule, no contacting Shoto." Enji started to protest, but Touya just kept talking over him, "He can call you, if he wants, but you don't touch this number unless he does."

He hung up without a goodbye and set the phone back by Shoto's elbow.

"Thank you," the kid said, not looking up from his work, though one of his earbuds was sitting on the page.

Touya wasn't fooled by the innocent act, Shoto knew how to block someone. "If you wanted me to talk to him for you, you could have just asked."

Shoto's little smirk was almost unbearably smug. "Natsu says teenagers are supposed to be passive aggressive."

"And I thought you were the bad influence, little guy." Touya laughed, proud, and ruffled his hair, trying and failing to muddle the neat part.

Chapter Text

It would take Shoto all day to finish the entrance exam, so Touya went scouting.

It didn't take long. As far as time was concerned, he hadn't changed much to do with the League and whispers of recruitment for something big were everywhere.

He couldn't wait for the attack on UA though, wouldn't risk his brother. He'd been laying the groundwork for this, now it was time to see if that overinflated birdbrain was worth the air he floated on.

It wasn't more than a minute after Touya flashed his Hero license at the agency's front desk and was escorted upstairs that Hawks himself, still ruffled from patrol, arrived to collect him.

“Got to say, I didn't expect to see you here," the hero said the second they were more or less alone on the way to his office. "What can I do for you, Touya?”

“Don't be so familiar.”

“Oh, come on, we're colleagues now,” Hawks laughed, throwing an arm around his shoulder. Then he leaned in and whispered in his ear, “Something wrong?”

Putting aside the very tempting desire to turn up the heat, Touya lowered his own voice to near nothing, “Not exactly, but the situation is… delicate.”

Those sharp golden eyes flashed at the emphasis.

“Well,” Hawks drew the word out long, his affable persona sliding on like a second skin. “Why don’t you come by my place later?”

He was grinning like they were planning some salacious flight of fancy as they turned the corner and came face to face with an intern. The colorful, young Hero wannabe fixed a wide-eyed stare on Hawks. He just threw a wink their way, plastered to Touya’s side, like he was sharing a secret. The intern eagerly nodded and raced past them, glowing.

“What was that about,” Touya asked, sour.

Half an eye still on the kid, the Hero said, “Sometimes they need to know they’re not alone.”

Hawks locked the doors to his private office behind them while Touya scowled around at the huge penthouse, large as the house he and Shoto called home with a sweeping balcony and two walls of windows. He knew what kind of money top ranking heroes and their agencies could pull in, but this still seemed excessive.

“The Commission sure does keep their favorite bird in a pretty cage.”

Hawks ignored that but for the slightest tick at his jaw, gesturing Touya to the couch. He slumped into it, stretching his arms and legs out as much as possible so Hawks had nowhere to sit near him unless he wanted to make good on his ruse to the kid.

Hawks didn't roll his eyes, but it was clearly a struggle. Instead, he turned a chair around to sit straddle the back, his wings rustling as he settled.

"So, what you got?"

"Just what I promised. It's time."

When Touya finished his explanation, Hawks was frowning at the opposite wall, chin propped on his fist as he absorbed the information.

“Ancient all-powerful villains? Corpses modified to have multiple quirks? Honestly, all this sounds like the stuff of fairy tales.”

That raptor gaze fixed on him though and Touya knew that, much as he didn't want to believe it, Hawks knew full well he wasn't lying.

Hawks sagged forward against the chair back with a heavy, dramatic sigh. “You're right that we've got to be delicate about this. We can't tip them off too soon, but I don't like the idea of sending those kids against them just so we can catch them unawares, even if that is probably our best bet.”

He scrubbed a hand over his face and then ran his fingers up into his hair. “I’m guessing you haven’t gone to UA about this.”

“And I don’t plan to; information isn’t safe with them.”

That drew Hawks’s attention. “What’s that mean?”

“Just that if UA knows it, you can bet the League does too.”

Hawks nodded, slow and grave, before focusing in on Touya. “Why’d you choose to tell me all this anyway? Seems like a more underground Hero would have been better suited to it.”

Touya shrugged and intentionally missed the point. “You already know my information is good.”

The hero’s whole demeanor shifted, prey spotted. “Yeah, thanks for your help with those first guys, by the way. But, you know, it’s funny, I interviewed some of them and it turned out, they’d run across a blue flame wielder with bad scarring a few months back. Teenager, skinny little dreg of a thing with these bright turquoise eyes, they said. I mean, fire Quirks aren’t that uncommon and the underground is full of scars, but it sure is an interesting coincidence.”

Touya raised an unimpressed eyebrow at him, giving nothing away. “You got a theory on that or are you just digging for something?”

Hawks shrugged, but didn’t answer, drawing out the silence to draw out the truth. Touya was unbothered, perfectly happy to wait him out.

Finally, Hawks cracked, “What’s this I hear about a Todoroki Touya turning up on your little island paradise?”

Of course he’d have heard about that. Still, as far as the Japanese government was concerned, there was a Yuki Touya and a Todoroki Touya and nothing was strange about that fact. He was, more or less, beyond legal recourse and he wasn't worried about the Hero causing trouble on that front. Besides, Touya had more to gain by dragging him down than Hawks had exposing his identity.

So, finding this far too amusing, he leaned in. “You should really ask Sho. I’m sure he’s got a few ideas. I’d put money down one of them involves an escaped clone from the Hero Commission’s Legacy Program.”

Hawks just gave his smirk a flat stare.

Touya chuckled. “Don’t get your feathers ruffled about it. Weirder things have happened. Now back to business.”

"Fine. If this thing is as big as you claim, it'll be easier to tackle if we've got more hands on it. I hear you're pretty chummy with Endeavour."

That was a low blow, even if Hawks didn't know it. Just as Touya was making to get up from the couch, not interested in melting himself to the leather, an idea occurred to him. That he hadn't thought of it before was a testament to how long he'd been off his game.

The smile he turned on Hawks was all teeth. "I'll bet I can do you one better."

Chapter Text

Shoto had gone a long way to smoothing out Touya's relationship with Enji. The man was even trying to reach to him. Touya wasn't sure how much of that was his father actually believing anything about the truth and how much of that was just him wanting to stay in Shoto's good graces, desperate as he was to be close to his youngest, but it didn't matter.

As far as Touya was concerned, nothing had changed. Enji was still worthless, only putting in the barest effort with Natsuo so he could eventually talk to Dabi, still too obsessed with his sons as Heroes to see the excellent symbol of healthy rebellion that was the future Dr. Todoroki.

Still, the old man feeling charitable toward him was useful now he wanted a favor.

“Hey, you here, old man,” Touya called into the house as he pushed his way through into the Todoroki manor.

Enji's voice drifted from the sitting room with a neutral, “In here.”

Touya kicked off his boots in the entryway without rhyme or reason, one smacking the wall. Then he thought better of it. He sister was in charge of keeping things neat around here, after all. He bent and arranged them properly, scrubbing at the smudge he’d left on the wall.

It was the best he could do. Shrugging, he made his way toward the soft, low sound of two men’s voices.

“I dropped in on your agency but,” Touya stopped talking and just blinked at the skeletal man sat across from his father with a cup of tea in hand. “All Might.”

Enji tensed and All Might began coughing, eyes wide in shock.

“Right. People don’t know you look like this yet after the big throw down,” Touya said, pulling a cushion around to sit at the head of the table and ignoring his father as window dressing. “Actually, you’re just the man I wanted to see.”

The Number One and former Number Two Heroes shot each other a quizzical glance, lost.

“What is this about,” Enji asked, careful.

A dangerous grin started taking over Touya’s face at this golden opportunity. “You tell me, old man. You finally making a move on your crush after all these years? I’m proud.”

Enji spluttered a vehement disagreement, his Quirk flaring and his face heating.

Touya slid around to All Might, turned them so their backs were to his father and held up his phone.

“You mind giving us the full All Might? Shoto’s gonna be over the moon about this.”

Thrown but chuckling at Enji’s consternation, All Might burst to life in his full Hero glory, filling out the large t-shirt and then some. Touya caught the selfie of himself and All Might with Enji fuming in the background, face bright red.

He immediately shared the picture with Shoto.

“Who are you sending that to,” Enji demanded.

“It was my boy's first ever theory, he deserves to know he was right.”

Shoto’s enthusiastic reply was everything Touya had expected, full of emojis and rapid-fire texts expounding on that very theory.

Touya interrupted to stream of consciousness to say, 100% Found them on a date.

He set his suddenly silent phone aside to pat All Might's massive bicep. “You could do better, but I get it, the heart wants what the heart wants.”

“We’re not together,” All Might said, for clarity, unbothered by the teasing.

Touya nodded, sage. “Waiting for the divorce to go through, huh? You’re an honorable man and I gladly give you my blessing.”

“Enough of this nonsense,” Enji snapped, lunging for the phone. Touya snatched it up and rounded the other end of the table to keep ahead of him.

All Might just laughed, returning to his smaller form in a puff of smoke. He stifled his coughing in another sip of tea. The old man probably burnt the leaves anyway.

“Don’t run from the truth. I’m finally proud of you.” Touya’s sincere tone was torn to bits in a devilish smirk.

“Will you just get to the point already,” Enji snarled. “Why are you here?”

“Eager to get back to your date?”

“YUKI!”

“You used my name, that’s sweet.” He sobered and looked to All Might. “All For One’s still alive and he's about to make his first move.”

This, of course, meant nothing to his father, but All Might went pale so fast Touya wondered if he hadn’t killed the Hero outright.

“How could you know that,” he choked up.

“Long story, ask him," Touya waved at his father. "Point is, he’s got something big planned and we’ve got the upper hand. Do you want to help me take him down?”

Chapter Text

One of the other Hero candidates was looming over Shoto as Touya approached the front gates of UA. Shoto pointed him out and the kid came barreling down on him.

"Hello! You must be Yuki's brother, he said you were a Hero! My name is Yoarashi Inasa," he said, his voice as huge as his stature.

"Nice to meet you," Touya said without feeling, tired already of his enthusiasm.

He was about to ignore the guy when Yoarashi said, "I don't like your eyes and you look like you shouldn't be moving!"

Touya stared up at him a second, reevaluating, before he leaned around those bulging arms to meet Shoto's amusement. "Where'd you get this charmer?"

"We tied on the physical exam."

"Yeah," Yaorashi cheered, "It was super close!"

"Tied, huh? Not bad." He gave the kid a second once over. He hadn't been among the UA first years before Touya jumped back. It took him a second to place the guy but, "Aren't you that annoying Shinketsu brat with the wind Quirk?"

Yoarashi was stumped for a second but rallied all the same. "I did take their exam as well, but UA's the school I really want!"

Touya met Shoto's calculating look. "I think this one's on you kiddo."

Shoto hummed in consideration. "I wonder what that'll change." He came back from conspiracy space as he focused in on Touya again. "Did you secure the timeline?"

"I got all the troops lined up. Hopefully, you'll have a quiet year."

"You two are very strange and I don't understand what you're saying!"

Touya ignored the other boy. "The old man wants to have dinner together as compensation for earlier. You want to bail and head home?"

To Touya's wary confusion, Shoto's eyes lit up at that. Then, "Yoarashi doesn't like Endeavor."

"Is that so?" A dangerous grin began to spread across Touya's face.

Chapter Text

To no one's surprise, Shoto got into UA with ease and as his second year started, things were going better than expected. Touya had the top three most influential and efficient Hero agencies and all the resources they could bring to bear crushing down on All For One, his successor, and his Nomu.

The Yuki Brothers were a force to be reconned with, a seamless unit, brutal and efficient. Somehow the little guy managed to sneak up on him, now exactly the same height. It didn’t stop his playful nicknames. His new Hero class friends were eclectic troublemakers and righteous demons, but Shoto loved them like family.

Touya was finding, however, that there were parts of being a teenager he had literally slept through and never bothered with after, like relationships.

His whole life, there had just always been something more important to occupy him. In his original time, it had usually been to do with their father, either meeting his impossible expectations or destroying him. Then Shoto had taken center stage of importance in his second time.

Not that he hadn't had an offer or two, the world was full of weirdos, and the ladies were always eager to set him up on a blind date, but as far as he was concerned, it was an overrated hassle at best.

It didn't occur to him things might be different for Shoto until the kid invited Midoriya over one weekend and Touya walked in on them locked together at the mouth.

Touya, more brother than guardian in the moment, leaned in the doorway and whistled.

Midoriya broke away from Shoto with the wet smack of lips and an undignified yelp. His brother tried his best to follow after, but Midoriya was practically tipping over the end of Shoto's bed trying to put distance between them.

Shooting an annoyed glare at Touya, Shoto wrapped his arms around the other boy’s waist, stubbornly plastering himself to the kid’s front. Midoriya didn't try and throw him off, but his face continued to color and he was gibbering.

Touya listened to nothing of it, even knowing it would probably be hilarious, opting instead to smirk at his little brother.

“Don't make this weird,” Shoto warned in his best imitation of threatening. The deepening of his voice and its lack of cracking in recent months definitely helped, but Touya knew what a soft soul lay under that bravado.

So, he raised his eyebrows in the show of confused innocence. Then, he turned his gaze to Midoriya with a wicked smirk and said, “Well, well, well, I didn't expect you to be so bold, Midoriya. Yet here you are, shagging my brother under my roof without even asking me for his hand first.”

The kid squeaked, but Shoto just rolled his eyes and lobbed a chunk of ice at Touya’s head. It was steam before it hit the wall as Touya stepped aside, laughing.

“What were you expecting? The door's open, crazy kids.”

A few months later, Shoto promised to bring his boyfriend home to meet Touya properly, as though he didn't drop in on their class often enough when he wasn't working All For One's case.

When he opened the door, it wasn't Midoriya holding Shoto's hand, however. Instead, Bakugou was there, knuckles white like he was trying to ball all of his anxiety between their hands and crush it.

The kid straightened and then bowed, the greeting and his introduction so formal Touya almost wondered if he thought he was meeting royalty.

Touya was going to have a fun weekend.

“Careful with this one, heartbreaker," he said, smirking at Shoto, "he's fragile.”

That did it. Their hot-headed wild child was back with a shout of, “What'd you call me, you overcooked-”

With the roll of his eyes, Shoto tucked the other boy under his arm and Bakugou's mouth slammed shut. He gave Shoto a half-hearted glare but melted against his side all the same, those ruffled feathers soothed just being beside him.

He'd mellowed out a lot since their first year, done some soul searching and learned to breath. It was good to see, the kid might even make himself into a halfway decent human at this rate.

"Hey, Bakugou, mind stirring the pot for me? I just want a word with my brother," Touya said, gesturing him back toward the kitchen.

Bakugou grumbled something but toed out of his shoes and went off to tend dinner without a fuss, leaving the two of them alone in the entryway.

“So, it not work out with Midoriya or what?”

Shoto shrugged, hanging up his coat. “He's a good friend, but that's all we are.”

Touya nodded. Bakugou and Midoriya had a similar fire, but it was easy to see why Shoto had chosen the constant push and pull of the explosive boy over Midoriya's overwhelming sweetness.

"So, boyfriend, huh?"

Touya had never seen that much softness in Shoto's smile. He had thought nothing would ever rival the kid's last birthday to the new cat cafe downtown, where no less than four felines had chosen him as a perch, but the genuine adoration was plain. His little brother had fallen hard.

Touya pulled him into a side hug. "Get cleaned up, I want to hear all about it over dinner."

Doc had lent them a board game and, as the evening wore on, the three of them set up around it at the table.

Bakugou was glaring at the movement dice like he could intimidate them into changing their spots. “This stupid game is for old people.”

Touya, almost half a board ahead of him, just leaned back at his leisure, lacing his fingers behind his head. “Looks like you picked yourself a sore loser, Sho.”

“I'm not losing yet, asshole,” Bakugou snapped.

Touya smirked and tilted his head at the pieces. “Doesn't look like that from my side of the board.”

“Maybe you should put on your fucking glasses so you can see it better, you old ass leather faced-”

As Bakugou’s voice started to rise, Shoto laid himself over his boyfriend's back and wrapped his arms around the kid's waist.

Bakugou tensed for a second as though expecting brutality. Then his whole demeanor softened at once, expression gone sappy.

There was no appropriate reaction but to coo as obnoxiously as possible.

The glare Bakugou shot a grinning Touya lacked any of its usual venom, all the fight in him sucked away under that kind, loving touch.

“Come on. This isn't the time for cuddling, Sho,” Bakugou grumbled, not putting in more than a token effort to shove him away.

“It's always time for cuddles," the kid said with stubborn determination, nuzzling at the back of his neck. "And you smell nice."

Bakugou's color was rising, nearly a match for right half of Shoto's hair. “Don't say embarrassing shit like that in front of your brother!”

“Then I can say it when he's not here?” Shoto's genuine curiosity was too much for Bakugou for a second as he shut down.

Touya, taking full advantage of the moment, stood and stretched. “Since I'm winning anyway, I can just leave you to it."

“Yes, please,” Shoto said, barely glancing at him, absorbed in trying to become one entity with his boyfriend.

“No!” Bakugou shouted it at both of them his face twisting with embarrassment and indignation.

Taking his cue, Touya turned the corner out of sight.

“You fuckers are just messing with me.” Bakugou growled.

“We wouldn't do that,” Shoto said, though his tone was far too innocent.

Bakugou snorted. “I should have known better; only a demon would have such a pretty fucking face.”

Just before their lips met, Touya dipped back in and called out, “I didn't know you could be so smooth, Bakugou.”

There was a faint explosion and the boy was shouting, “Don't ruining the fucking moment, you-”

Touya walked out laughing, tuning out his litany of insults as he tried and failed to reach Touya.

Bakugo plonked a bento down into Touya's hands with a warning glare. "Eat it and don't mess with us. Got it?"

Touya took it but still let an evil smirk crawl across his face. "How could I ruin your romantic sunset picnic date? I'm the best third wheel."

He had lived with several serial killers in his lifetime, but the look this kid leveled at him would give every one of them a run for their money. Touya couldn't blame him for that though. Bakugou had been slaving away making the perfect picnic for hours.

Touya dropped the joking tone as he said, “I know Sho appreciates the effort and he deserves the best, but you can relax a little. He likes you.”

Bakugou scoffed, turning away. “Of course, he would, he's an idiot.”

“Hey,” Touya started and caught Bakugou's arm without thinking about it, too used to living with the affectionate likes of Shoto and Natsuo.

The second he did, however, Bakugou went rigid and tensed up as though under fire, waiting for a blow. Then he yanked his arm away with a sharp, "What?"

A series of little things Touya had barely noticed himself tracking started falling into place then. When he'd met the kid at UA, he'd just thought Bakugou was reacting to him as a Hero. He wouldn't be the first one to have a chip on his shoulder about those. In this new context, however, his sharp defensiveness and hypervigilance around a parental figure took on a new flavor Touya knew far too well.

Bakugou waited, tensed, and Touya came to a decision. He was sure he was stepping over some line here, but he knew the signs, knew no one was going to even think to help this kid, more the rabid wolfhound than the kicked puppy.

He pulled up a chair on the other side of the table and sat down, putting Bakugou in the higher position with the solid surface between them, his hands settled on top in clear view.

“Look, it might not be my business, but I know a thing or two about a shitty home life and if you need somewhere to go, you can always come here.”

The kid narrowed his eyes at him like he was going to call Touya delusional, but there was suddenly a twitching about him, fear he'd been caught out or, worse, having been seen as too weak to help himself.

Touya met his wariness with conviction and dropped his voice as he said, “I got him out. I can get you out too.”

The kid dropped his eyes, grimacing at the hardwood. Touya was almost sure he was going to storm out, but then he was muttering, “I've only got a couple more years. Then I'll be a Hero and she can't say shit about my life.”

Touya leaned in, earnest. “Doesn't matter, the offer still stands. And that's no matter what happens between you and my brother, got it? You'll always be safe here.”

Fear, want, and the tiniest cracked hope flitted across Bakugou's face in a moment of vulnerability before he schooled it behind an aloof mask.

Guilt twisted Touya's guts as he thought about how much harder kidnapping this kid in his first time must have made his home life.

“I don't care what anyone says, you're a good kid and you'll be a great Hero,” Touya said, earnest.

Bakugou's face twisted as he tried to hold down on his emotions, but Shoto saved him from answering by sliding up beside his boyfriend and taking his hand.

"Everything okay," he asked, glancing between them.

Bakugou swiped a forearm across his eyes. "Fine. Let's just go watch the stupid sunset."

Chapter Text

The house barely felt like Touya's these days, the air heavy with the dusty scent of neglect.

Between answering inane questions in the buzzing hub of the joint operations base, actually working, and visiting his mother and siblings, Touya had been spending more and more time away from the island.

None of his family had been back in a month or more either between exams, work, and their father's injury. He'd been caught off guard by a Nomu during a raid and Fuyumi had insisted on taking care of him, despite the exasperation of her brothers. As far as Touya knew, the man had been well enough to be doing paperwork the next morning, only a few nasty scars under a heavy covering of gauze to show he wasn't ready to be out and about yet.

To all their shock though, Rei had decided to see her injured husband for the first time in a decade and Enji hadn't made things worse, which was a monumental improvement for him. Still, the kindest descriptor his sister used was "awkward" and since Rei hadn't punched him in the face, Touya was, personally, calling it a wash.

He ran a finger over the counter and came up with an impressive dust bunny. Rather than get to cleaning, Touya grabbed his Hero costume and took to the street to put in an appearance.

Knowing Leor would have let the rabble run rampant in his absence, he headed for the rougher side of the docks, raring for a fight. He didn't find one. The night was eerie in its stillness. Even the haunts of the most hardened were empty of all but moonlight and a few local cats on the prowl.

He was growing agitated with the quiet when he caught the far too familiar scent of burnt flesh on the breeze. Dread quickened his steps until he rounded a darkened corner near a disused warehouse to find exactly what he'd expected, Dabi stood in front of two bodies.

Touya couldn't tell if they were breathing, the shadows shifting too much in the still flickering flames eating through the edges of ragged cloth. From the intensity of the heat, loneliness was starting to wear on his younger self.

Doc had told him Dabi had been acting strange, pulling a couple of disappearing acts and hanging around people he had no business with, in the old carpenter's book. Age was catching up to Doc though and Touya doubted he was getting out enough to know how bad things had really gotten.

Their therapist too had her suspicions. Dabi was still doing his weekly one on ones, but he was too upbeat and full of successes to be entirely genuine.

Touya should have taken their concerns more seriously, but he'd thought his counterpart was improving.

Dabi spotted him and gave a condescending wave, not a hint of remorse at being caught out. Touya tensed, waiting for the attack his younger self was wavering toward. Had he really looked that warped once?

“The great Hero graces us with his presence." There was a challenging tilt to Dabi's jaw, inviting a fight, as he asked, "Don't like what you see, Hero?"

Touya met that mocking tone with his own, "Let me guess, they attacked you first?"

Dabi shrugged. "If you don't believe me, you can ask that big guy. What's his name? Ginga? Don't know where he went, but he saw the whole thing."

Touya didn't doubt there had been a witness with the way Dabi had been about to turn around but finding him was only going to give Touya a regurgitation of whatever Dabi told him to say.

Still, "I know your game. I used to do this same little song and dance on the edge of the villain and vigilante line and-"

“I've been wondering something lately," Dabi interrupted, brushing a bit of ash off his sleeve, bored. "You know how every time it comes up that you're a Hero you say it’s all for Shoto, is any of that really true?"

Touya's jaw tightened. He knew where this was going. Still, "Maybe you haven’t noticed, but I’ve got the power to do whatever I need to without the law coming down on my head. Unlike you.”

“I don't know, you were looking pretty comfy in front of that camera the other day.”

It was said with the cool detachment of observation, but every word tasted like accusation on the air and the barest smirk on Dabi's lips said he'd already won with that blow.

Touya shifted just to assure himself he wasn't actually backed up to a wall, caged by the words and their implications.

It hadn't been that way though. Shoto had been interning with the joint operations team and the two of them had pulled off an impressive rescue on the way back from lunch. It hadn’t been his idea to speak with the family while the news cameras were pressing on the barrier, but Shoto had been glowing and how he was he to say no?

One of the bodies gasped in an agonized breath that was all he could manage as a cry for help.

"Go home," Touya dismissed, marching past Dabi as though he weren't there.

Dabi caught his chest with an arm still smoking from his earlier attack. “You're not actually helping anyone, not even Shoto.”

“Let me guess, not while this corrupt system is still holding up people like our father,” Touya asked, tired already by the fury burning in Dabi’s eyes, his old zealotry reflected back at him.

“Yeah, but it's worse than that, you're helping him stay at the top. Where do you think you'll rank on the charts this year? Number Four? Where do you think that puts him by association?”

Touya was so tempted to burn the both of them his suit's cooling system kicked on, reacting to the start of the firestorm building under his skin. He didn't want Dabi to be right, didn't want to look at what side of all this he'd fallen on, but he knew what Stain would do to him if he caught Hero Yuki. The thought left a sour taste in his mouth that would last.

Barely mastering his anger enough to perform his duty as a proper Hero, Touya knocked Dabi's arm aside and knelt by the now wheezing man. While he put a call out on the emergency line for medical assistance and started tending the burns, Dabi left with an ominous, "You'll get what's coming to you, Hero."

Chapter Text

Touya knew he should have stayed on the island and dealt with the problem. He knew that and he'd still return to the mainland with some flimsy excuse that the case needed him, that the rest of his family was here, that Dabi was not his responsibility. His excuses were growing flimsier and flimsier, however, the contempt in those eyes burning a hole in him no matter how much distance he put between them.

Natsuo jumped and almost fell off his chair as Touya burst through his apartment door in a foul mood. It took his brother a minute of staring before it registered that he was really there.

“Hey.” He pulled off his headphones. “I thought you were going home for a bit.”

“I did.” Touya dropped his bag with malice by the door. “You talked to your older brother lately?”

Natsuo grimaced, his eyes falling to the carpet. “He’s that bad?”

He was worse, but Touya was loath to admit it. Telling Natsuo that would be the smart thing to do. His brother was front and center in the Help Dabi be a Better Person campaign, but he couldn’t manage it. Anything he told Natsuo would be ferried back to Shoto.

Sure, the victims weren't exactly innocent, a pair of particularly violent offenders, but their suffering and how little he was doing to stop something like it happening again would still bother his little brother. Disappointing Shoto like that was not an option.

Touya just flopped down on the couch with a noncommittal hum, letting it take all his weight as he splayed out.

“He's got this idea that we've all forgiven our father and forgotten everything he ever put us through, and he won't listen…” Natsuo his fists clenched and it seemed a great effort of will to release them. “I know he’s going through a hard time, and I want to be there for him, but it’s just miserable talking to him lately.”

"Yeah, well, he inherited sense from the old man, what can you expect?"

His tone was a bit too cutting and anger sparked in Natsuo's eyes, his voice was bitter as he said, “Sorry, I know you hate dealing with him. Break starts next week, I'll-”

Watching his brother throw another load that wasn't his to bear on his shoulders, Touya's conscience interrupted for him, “No. I should have been part of this sooner. I'm coming with you.”

Natsuo perked up. He had been trying to get both version of Touya to talk to each other for ages, had some naive hope that it would fix everything. Maybe he couldn't be blamed for that, he didn't know them as well he liked to think.

Before he can say more though, the door swung open and Shoto appeared with take out on his arm.

“They didn't have any,” he paused as he caught sight of their unexpected guest.

Touya lifted his hand in a lazy greeting. “Hey, kiddo.”

Life and great purpose came back into Shoto as he set the bags down and fished something out of his pocket. He presented it under Touya's nose like some holy offering, jaw set with determination and pride blazing in his eyes.

Touya's lip curled in disgust. He had been burning his special invitations to the Hero Rankings, but, his worst nightmares come true, one of them had finally reached Shoto. This had Hawks's meddling written all over it.

Shoto, the little gremlin, had personally escorted Touya as far as security for the backstage area so he couldn’t slip away in protest. He and his boyfriend were in the first row of civilian seating, heads bent together as they pointed out Heroes to each other, smiles wide and laughter easy.

Chest light with affection even as he wished he could be mad at the kid, Touya turned away from the young couple only to catch his father watching them with a frown.

Mood ruined, Touya let his mouth run, “Healthy relationships must make you uncomfortable, never having had one yourself.”

Enji didn’t rise to the bait, disapproving look still fixed on the boys. “Should you really be allowing this?”

Touya's voice went icy, “It makes them happy. Why wouldn't I?”

“I'm glad for that, it just seems like a waste. He and Shoto both–”

Touya laughed but there was nothing like humor in the sound, cutting his mouth to ragged pieces. “You know, every time I think maybe I can stand you now, you just remind me how much garbage you are.”

Enji finally looked back at him, offended. “I'm not saying they shouldn't be happy. I just mean–”

Touya cut him off before he could dig himself even deeper, “If you so much as hint to Sho that he’s playing for the wrong team, you’re never speaking to him again. Do we understand each other?”

“Don't be unreasonable. I'm just trying to think of the future.”

“The future, huh?” Touya sneered. “If you’re really thinking of the future, then it's probably better neither of them ever has a kid of their own, especially not Shoto. The stain of having a grandfather like you would be too much, even if their Quirk didn't kill them.”

“What are you talking about,” Enji asked, wary.

“Shoto came from the same stock that produced me.” He took a long sweep of his arm in demonstration of his scars. “There's even more of a chance his kid would be worse.”

They stewed with that thought a moment before Enji's eyes dropped and he murmured, “I see your point."

Touya was going to let it go and find anywhere else to be, but he found himself saying, as though this man had earned any confidence, “I'm not saying I would do anything to stop him or discourage him if having a kid would make him happy, but I got to say it's kind of a relief, things being as they are.”

Enji, determined, took Touya’s shoulder, trying for earnest as he said, “I'm sorry. Even now, I still don't always see how my ambitions hurt you.”

He yanked out of Enji’s grip with disgust. “You're apologizing to the wrong Touya.”

The old hero nodded, melancholy, before he said, tentative, “I hear he's doing better?”

 “I haven't asked.” Their conversation in a back alley, those eyes flashing back him with cold fury and malice, further soured his mood. “But I’d watch my back if I were you.”

“Does he really want me dead?”

Despite himself, Touya’s voice softened, “He's just a dumb kid, he wants a lot of stupid things.”

“I have to apologize.”

They were being called to the wings before Touya had to acknowledge what those earnest words were doing to his gut, some horrible mix of jealousy and an old longing clawing its way up out of the ashes.

He just shrugged instead. “Your funeral, old man.”

Chapter Text

They had been organized into a neat line in the near darkness of the wings, but that didn't stop a bird-brained Hero stepping out of line to sling an arm around Touya's shoulders.

"Not bad for a vigilante upstart, Number Four," Hawks teased.

Before Touya could shove him off himself, the sparkles of the Number Five Hero, Nebula, had formed a hand and were pulling Hawks back to his spot by the collar of his coat. "This is no time to mess around."

Touya rolled his eyes and ignored Hawks's playful protesting, fools the lot. Then they were trooping out onto the stage, show ponies of the Hero system. The lights were hot and blinding, the crowd a mass of unwelcome enthusiasm, and the whole thing an ugly farse. If he never had to do this again, it would be too soon.

Dabi's words echoing truth in his head, Touya reexamined the other Heroes in line to either side of him. His father had indeed jumped four places to Number Six, and he wasn't the only one. Everyone up on stage but Nebula was part of the joint operations and instrumental in dealing with their Nomu infestation.

Then a thought occurred. Not a single one of them had known the rankings for certain until this morning when they had arrived. But someone had.

Then the murmur of the crowd and the MC's gross eagerness all turned to white noise in his ears as an impending sense of dread bore down on him. Hoping with all he had he was wrong, Touya pulled out his phone and sent off a quick message to Doc.

Nebula shot him an irritated glance and tried elbowing him. He dodged and ignored the Galaxy Hero, tapping impatiently on the side of the phone.

He was just about to turn away and call the old carpenter when two messages came through:

Pay attention to your big moment, kid

and

Dabi wanted the day off, been moping all week.

Touya made to march down the stage toward the MC, busy introducing the Number Ten Hero, when a sparkling stop sign blocked his path.

“I know you’re bored, newbie, but-”

Touya rounded on Nebula, fury a blaze of blue up his arms. “Unless you want everyone here to die for your bullshit ranking system, move!”

“The League,” Hawks was asking, half his feathers already flying off to open the emergency exits and clear a path.

Touya gave him a tight nod. Enji snatched the microphone from the MC's now limp hand and started instructing an evacuation, big, burning arms chopping through the air.

Touya searched the crowd as it began to seethe. Shoto and Katsuki had sprung up the second he'd spoken. They hadn't gotten farther than the central aisle, however, when someone stepped in their path.

Touya's blood went cold. Dabi turned an unsettling smile up to the stage and mouthed Ruined the surprise as blue flame began lighting and the world turned to slow motion.

Shoto had ice ready, but he'd been too focused on talking Dabi down. It wouldn't be enough and, though he blasted himself into the air, Touya wasn't going to make it in time.

Then an explosion was slammed dead center into the Villain's chest and time snapped back to normal as Dabi went flying, thrown onto his back.

Touya hit the ground stumbling and pulled the two boys behind him on instinct. "Nice work. Now, go-"

They all paused as Dabi got to his feet, laughing. The long jacket he'd been wearing was turning to ashes around him, revealing Touya's spare Hero costume underneath.

"I was almost hoping you wouldn't show, but this'll make things easier."

With a demonic smirk, Dabi melted into the screaming masses as the crowd began backing up on itself. Those in front pushing against those behind as hulking shapes blocked the light from the doorway.

Then cracks began appearing along the dome and Nomu poured in with the shafts of sunlight like some horrific parody of avenging angels.

Chapter Text

The fight was desperate and ugly, Heroes and civilians trapped inside an ever-tightening circle of Villains and Nomu, all stacked up on each other while the building crumbled around them.

Katsuki had run off to help the Lurkers clear an exit while Shoto erected pillars of ice to catch the Nomu raining down on them. Touya was busy bathing the trapped abominations in fire when another blast of blue flames flew into the air from the east side of the stadium.

Hawks was falling, coat and feathers caught alight.

"Keigo!" Touya yelled over the cacophony and started running, not sure if what he was going to help Hawks or kill Dabi.

He didn't get more than a few steps before Shoto, skating on a line of ice, appeared in front of him, hand held out. They'd practiced zipping around like this until it was second nature, his fire propelling them as it melted the icy path behind. Pushing them now much faster than was wise, they were just in time for Shoto to erect a gentle slide to catch Hawks feet from crashing down onto a pile of debris.

The kid, training well-honed to deal with burn victims, jumped off and was on the Winged Hero in an instant. Touya took up guard on mostly clear ground below them, not able to look at the damage.

"We might match by the end of this, Yuki," Hawks called down to him on a shaking, agonized laugh. "Nice way to meet your evil twin."

Shoto's correction of "Younger self" got another wheezing, hysterical laugh. Touya did his best to ignore it even as fury was roaring in his ears that this Hawks was not Dabi's bird to burn.

"You really are so predictable, Hero," came a drawling, amused voice from the shadows.

Fire came roaring at them in a great wall. Touya, ready, met it with a sharp, sustained burst of his own, temper driving it hotter.

The scaled layering of ice Shoto had put over him meant no matter the equipment Dabi had stolen, he wasn't a match. Great and devastating as that attack could have been though, this was just a warning shot, testing them.

As the air cleared to a heat haze, Touya called out, “This your plan then? Pretend to be me and break trust in the Heroes?"

"I think it's a pretty elegant solution," Dabi said, smug, as he stepped into the shaft of light coming through the damaged roof and held out his arms in demonstration. "Everyone keeps talking about how I should be more like you, after all."

"There are better ways to get the world you want.”

Touya didn't really care what he was saying, he just needed to keep Dabi talking while Shoto worked.

If there was ever a better time for their father to burst in and make good on his promise to apologize to Dabi, it was now. The old man was nowhere to be seen, however. The battle was still raging near the west entrance, but there was not a hint of the Flame Hero among the chaos.

“Like what you're doing? Spare me. You're just another pillar holding up a rotting world."

Touya met his disaffected tone with disgust as he asked, "Mom, Natsu, Fumi, what are they going to think?"

Dabi shrugged, eyes empty of even the smallest hint of remorse. "They made their choice."

Irritated and on edge, Touya snapped, "What choice? To move the hell on with their lives? It's not a crime to be-"

A huge force slammed into Touya and stole his breath as what he'd assumed to be twisted rebar and cement resolved itself into a Nomu.

He lost track of what happened for a several long, whirling moments. He had the vaguest memory of burning the creature alive just before a chunk of the dome came hurtling down on them, but he had no idea how he'd come to be on his knees before a vengeful Tomura Shigaraki.

Shoto, far off on the other side of the rubble, was shouting for Touya around desperate bursts of fire and ice and Shigaraki was giving him some dumb video game metaphor about getting in the way of his plans, but he couldn’t focus on any of it.

All Touya could hear was the story Shigaraki had told the League about his past.

The mountain of circumstances gone wrong to make this man who he had become were staggering. The manic shifting of his eyes and the jumping fidgeting fingers at his neck spoke of a mind unhinged. He hadn’t always been that way. He hadn’t even really been that way when Touya jumped back, still an insane rage goblin, but clearer and more purposeful. If he hadn’t been taken under All For One’s wing, Shigaraki might have been something truly remarkable.

So, the thought came, unbidden: How much of what he and Dabi were doing here had really been of their own volition? Weren't they just cogs, shoved into place by men who justified their own evils? Hurt boys set loose to chew up the world because they had never learned how to heal.

As those dry, scarred fingers reached for him, Touya met those manic, red eyes, furious on his behalf, and Shigaraki stopped moving.

Touya blinked, certain for a moment that he had gotten through to the guy somehow, but that crazed expression did not so much as twitch. Then the red of those eyes went grey, color bleeding out of the world as it dropped away into a black abyss.

Chapter Text

Resolve hardening, Touya stood as images began rushing around him of the life of one Tomura Shigaraki and began walking back through picture windows of the life of his former boss.

Most of it he knew or at least suspected. All For One was a constant, whispering poison into Shigaraki’s ear. Then Touya stopped to stare in unabashed horror as the boy was presented with a collection of severed hands. He grimaced as the boy retched and then clutched them to himself.

He turned hard on his heel away from that sight and swore, “That’s not going to happen again.”

As he passed out of the villain days, full of death and cruelty, whispers of a name, Tenko, began to ring through the nothingness, not so loud as his own had been but enough for him to understand.

Many of the early memories in a nice, big house were happy: little Tenko playing with his dog, laughing with his sister, hugging his mother and grandparents. There was a dark spot there, however.

“Looks like we both had shit fathers,” Touya scoffed, watching Kotarou rage at his son and drag him outside.

Touya grimaced, his heart aching as he watched Tenko’s eyes light up with excitement at the picture of his grandmother, a Hero. All this kid needed was someone to reach out to him, someone who wouldn’t turn a blind eye.

Then the violence that had been building around the man was finally coming to crash over his son. None of his sweet, loving family was doing anything of use, hurt and resentment cresting behind the boy’s eyes for all of them. This was the moment it all broke.

Touya barely thought about it as he reached out, the world wobbling as the image shattered under his fingers.

He did not end up on a nice, suburban backyard just after dusk, however. He grimaced at the bright noon high sun blinding him from the windows of nearby office buildings.

He just barely noticed the old woman about to barrel him over and stepped aside. She did not seem to notice, too preoccupied with looking like she wasn't running away. He followed her path back down the sidewalk to see several other people also picking up their pace.

The source of their anxiety was a small boy.

“Cowards,” he said loud enough for the man rushing past him to hear. He ignored the look he got in return, intent on catching up to the boy.

The kid was trudging along with his hands clamped around each other, covered in blood. He had been too late.

“Hey, kid,” he said as he knelt down to be at eye level while guilt ripped his chest to pieces.

Tenko stopped walking and turned those wide, traumatized eyes on Touya. He hadn’t liked Tomura much, but it was hard to hate this frail little version, unsettling as that expression might have been to the uninitiated.

“Bad day, huh?” Affection drawing a half smile out of him, he drew a hand through the kid’s hair, knocking loose a shower of dust as his fingers snagged in tufts stuck with dried blood. He grimaced. “Let's get you cleaned up, okay?”

He got an empty nod and hefted the kid into his arms.

The lobby of the first hotel they came upon was small, utilitarian, and devoid of personality, a bland at best stopover for the traveling salary worker. The receptionist who glanced up from her computer to greet them dropped her practiced customer service smile on a horrified gasp.

Touya had neither the time nor patience for this. “Just give me a key. I’ll check in properly once I get him settled.”

He flashed his Hero license at the shell-shocked woman before she could ask questions.

Her mouth gaped like a fish and an indecipherable sound came up her throat as she fought with protocol, that sickening citizen’s duty to aid a Pro Hero, and her own maternal leanings as her eyes danced back to the little boy.

“O-okay,” she finally relented, sliding a card across the counter. “Third door on the right.”

He gave her what he could of a grateful bow with the kid in his arms.

The room was little more than a cream-colored cube with a bed, television, and bathroom, the shades drawn and the lights low, but it was clean and free of supervillains.

Tenko might have been a doll for all the life there was in him, letting Touya clean him up with zero resistance. Considering how dried the blood and caked on the dirt and dust, Touya had been expecting the task to be much more arduous.

He did have to bribe the kid with his own gloves to get him to release the death grip his hands had on each other though, assuring him the gear was built to hold up to a lot more than a little splashing.

He had just finished swaddling the kid, clean as he was going to get, in the thin hotel bathrobe almost twice as long as he was tall and set him on the counter to dry his hair when, “You’re a hero, aren’t you?”

It was the first thing Tenko had said, likely since the incident, his voice cracked and near silent.

Touya hesitated. It wasn’t a lie to say yes, but it still felt too heavy on his tongue. He just nodded instead, reluctant.

The kid mirrored the movement, still blank and numb. “Are you going to arrest me?”

This was going to be a fun conversation. He steeled his nerve and kept his voice even as he asked, “Is there a reason I need to?”

The kid’s safely gloved hands gripped the counter. “I killed them. Grandma and Grandpa and Mom and Hana and Mon-chan, I,” he was cut off by his own retching, his empty stomach producing nothing but a thin line of bile that dribbled onto the floor.

Touya put a hand onto his tiny back and rubbed a comforting line up and down his spine.

“Your Quirk just activated, right? It was an accident.”

The kid was shaking his head. “I wanted to kill my father. I wanted him dead so much.”

“I tried to kill my father too,” Touya admitted after a beat of heavy silence, avoiding his own eyes in the mirror.

Tenko paused at that, his huge, shining eyes turning up to stare at Touya.

He dropped the towel on Tenko’s head so he wouldn’t have to see that look and gave his hair a gentle tousle. “He was probably a lot like your dad: an abusive piece of shit that couldn’t let go of the past and put everything on his kids, like they’ve got anything to do with it.”

He took a breath to calm the fire starting to warm the room and dumped the towel to better glare Tenko down. “I'm not saying murder's the right way to go, it's not, but I get it; you were scared and angry and an adult should have helped you long before it got that bad. So, it’s not your fault. You hear me?"

He held out his arms and slowly curled them around the boy, mindful of any rejection. Despite his shivering lip and wet eyes, the kid was a limp noodle, desperate for any comfort but not willing to ask for it. It was eerily familiar. He pushed aside thoughts of a scarred little boy, heart aching.

“I'm sorry I couldn’t come sooner.”

That finally broke the dam. Touya rocked the little guy as he sobbed, relieved and grateful, clinging to Touya for dear life.

It didn’t take as long as Touya expected for him to cry himself out, sniffling into silence. Then, “What happens now?”

“Before we do anything else, let's get you to bed. Then I’m gonna grab you something to eat. Sound good?”

A lolling head dropping heavily onto Touya’s chest was his only answer. The boy was out, exhausted and emotionally drained.

Touya tossed aside the decorative pillows and tucked him into a bed that was almost three times his size. Tenko wriggled around with a little pout on his face, troubled. It was enough to soften the heart Touya had once insisted was burned and dead, hard as stone.

He ran his fingers through the kid’s hair and murmured, “It’s gonna be alright.”

He kept it up until that little face smoothed out and he settled down properly.

“Good question, kid,” Touya muttered to himself. “What now?”

He hadn't thought a single bit of this through, not that he'd really had the chance between being thrown through time and cleaning up a traumatized child. His hero license was almost two decades out of time, his cards were worthless, and his house wasn’t going to be built for another year.

He didn't trust the police and heroes as far as he could throw them, especially not with this kid. It would be ideal if he could adopt Tenko, but it would take time and resources to build a new identity. At least he had a little cash on him, though he’d have to be careful with that as well.

Tenko interrupted his swirling thoughts with a little mewling snuffle as he burrowed further against the pillow.

It shouldn’t have been endearing.

Ignoring his own soft little smile, Touya got up, compiling a list in his head. First, pay for the room. Then, get the kid some food and clothes. He could worry about what came next after that.

Touya rounded the corner into the lobby only to be greeted by wide eyes snapping onto him. The receptionist had stopped talking mid-word and was now nodding to the Hero leaning on her desk.

Touya scowled. He didn’t know and, frankly, didn’t care who was under the colorful, wave themed visor. Out of energy to make nice but not interested in starting a paper trail with assault charges, he made toward her desk.

The Hero stepped into his path. “Hey there! I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before. I’m the Wave Hero, Splashdown. What’s your name?”

Touya fought very hard not to roll his eyes at the hero's ridiculous introduction pose. “Yuki.”

He tried to shoulder past the Hero, but a cool hand caught his shoulder and it took a great force of will not to burn it off.

“Nice to meet you, Yuki! Hey, so–”

“If you don’t mind,” Touya didn’t try to restrain the icy chill in his words, more than done with this fool, “I’m trying to check in.”

A gloved hand waved through the air. “Don’t worry about the room, my agency uses this place a lot and this lovely lady gave you our usual, we’ll get it taken care of.”

Touya shot him a narrow-eyed glare. He didn’t like anything about this, but it was cooperate or go on the run with a small child, again.

“I appreciate that,” he forced himself to say, not so subtly shrugging off the Hero’s grip.

Splashdown smiled. “Of course. Heroes have to stick together, after all. Speaking of, she said you had a kid with you that was in rough shape. There were no reports at the–”

“Did the kid look like he was up for a police station,” he asked the receptionist, knowing where this was going.

She hesitated, glancing between them, but shook her head all the same.

“Exactly. So, I brought him here first.” Touya said, turning back to the Hero, radiating danger and the desire to be left alone. “Don’t worry, I’ll do the write up and send it your way. I’ll even give you the rescue credit.”

This Hero seemed remarkably lacking in braincells as he continued to just grin at Touya. “That’s always nice to hear, but I actually love paperwork. As a Hero, I’m just concerned–”

“And where were all the Heroes for the last sixteen hours while he’s been walking around town covered in blood looking for help?”

Touya hadn’t meant to snap, but the words were off his tongue before he could stop them. That finally cracked the Hero’s cheerful façade though and it was almost worth it for that alone.

Still, Touya forced himself to take a breath. “I’m handling the situation.”

“Right, well,” Splashdown gathered himself, a shade of his former self, “that may be the case, but I can’t really report back or let you use the room until I’ve seen the kid for myself.”

Touya nodded, stiff and unwilling, but lead the way back to the room all the same. The bathroom light was still on and was just enough to illuminate the lump on the bed.

Splashdown leaned in, turning his head side to side, and Touya got the impression he was squinting behind the opaque visor. Then the Hero asked, with a touch of suspicion, “Where are his clothes?”

Rolling his eyes, Touya snagged the kid’s ruined clothes from the tile. He shoved them, bloody and dirt smeared, into the Hero’s arms and drove him out.

“Are we done here,” Touya asked, irritable, exhaustion weighing his eyelids and prickling along his skin.

The Hero, rather than leaving, just stared at the blood, mouth slack. “What happened to him?”

Touya debated lying, but there was no point. Having Tenko on record somewhere as having lived was better than letting him slide through the cracks.

“Catastrophic Quirk activation. There’s a crater where his house used to be. His family’s dead.”

Splashdown jerked back, his head turning between Touya and the door. “Was it him? Is he even safe to have–”

“Shimura Tenko is untrained, not dangerous.”

“Are you sure? Shouldn’t we–”

“You never drowned anyone by mistake, waterboy?” Touya shook his head in disgust. “You’re the reason I fucking hate Heroes.”

Splashdown tensed. “I thought you were a Hero.”

Touya kept his voice cool and even. “I wasn’t always.”

That did little to lessen the Hero’s suspicions. Splashdown’s feet had scooted just a little further apart, subtly readying to fight. This was far from ideal.

Touya withdrew his Hero ID and flashed it in front of that gaudy visor for a short count of five before he put it away again, hopefully fast enough this genius hadn’t decided to check the date.

Splashdown’s head was still pointed where the card had been a second before, stunned, then, “You have a fire Quirk? Then what's with the snowflakes?”

Touya let out a heavy sigh. “It’s my brother’s thing. Look, you want to hover and pretend you’re useful? Fine by me. Why don’t you go get the kid something to eat, some clean clothes, and a new pair of gloves?”

He was sure the Hero was going to ask more inane questions, but Splashdown hesitated then nodded. “Alright, give me a bit, I’ll grab some stuff. Keep an eye on him?”

That went without saying, so Touya shut the door in his face. He was left, however, with nothing to do but stare blankly into the dark and consider his life choices.

Chapter Text

A knock jolted Touya awake from his uncomfortable spot leaned against the wall. The kid grimaced and rolled over, but did not wake, so Touya crept to the door. Looking through the fisheye glass did nothing to help Touya’s spinning head and the smear of blue on the other side did not improve his mood.

He yanked the door open though when he saw the fuzzy impression of bags hanging from the Hero’s hand. One of those lurid, blue gloves had just been about to rap on the door again as he tugged it open.

Recovering quickly, Splashdown held out the bags with a smile. “I got you some too,” he mock whispered, as though the very concept of speaking quietly was a new one.

“Thanks,” Touya muttered, hating the thought of owing this clown anything. He turned back, the hall too bright and the Hero too loud, only realizing a second too late he hadn’t just shut the door again in Splashdown’s face.

The Wave Hero, proving himself one of the great minds of Heroics, marched into the room behind him and promptly crashed into the dresser with his full mass.

Tenko’s head shot up with a yelp, bleary eyes wide and panicked, hands tensed in dangerous claws. 

Cursing the Hero under his breath, Touya dropped to his knees beside the bed. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m right here.”

Recognition flashed in Tenko’s eyes before they jumped to Splashdown, now stood in the corner like some pastel blue ghoul.

“He’s just another Hero,” Touya said, keeping his voice low and soothing.

He shot a deadly glare at said Hero as Splashdown started to speak, the cooling units in his suit firing up as his Quirk tried to heat his skin, agitated and geared for a fight. The Hero, showing more survival instincts than Touya would ever have credited him for, just gave him an apologetic smile and shut his mouth.

Touya returned his attention to Tenko. “Are you up to eating?”

He was still eyeing Splashdown, wary. Touya did not have the mental fortitude to work out if that was Tenko mirroring his own reaction to the Hero or if the kid’s bullshit meter hadn’t been entirely of All For One’s making. He hoped for the latter.

“We can start with this and put the rest in the fridge for later. Sound good,” Touya asked, pulling one of the warm soup cups from between the other takeout contains and offering it to the kid.

He took it but glanced between it and Touya like he was asking for permission. Touya just settled where he was on the floor and took the top off his own soup. It was smooth and hearty, much better quality than he’d been expecting.

Tenko hesitated a second more before Touya finally saw the problem. His gloves were fitted to his hands for seamless articulation and grip, but those tiny digits barely filled the fingers.

“I’ll trade you,” he said, digging out a pair of yellow kid gloves from the bag of clothes. He popped the tag and held one open in invitation.

Tenko, every movement halting and uncertain, pulled off Touya’s right glove and started to reach his hand over but stopped dead, terrified.

“It’s alright,” Touya murmured.

Tenko glanced up at him, all wide-eyed desperation like he hoped Touya would just chop his hands off instead.

“Your Quirk and mine aren’t that different.” Touya said as he held up a hand and blue flames danced to life for a second, washing them both in a wave of heat. “They’re powerful and dangerous and, if we’re not careful, they can hurt people, but they can also do a lot of good.”

“How,” Tenko asked, frustrated, bereaved tears starting in his eyes.

“Well, you ever heard of a Rescue Hero? When there’s a disaster or a really bad villain fight, there’s a lot of heavy stuff and it’s usually on top of people. With a Quirk like yours, you could get them out safely.”

The kid deflated, looking at his hands. “I wanted to be a hero,” he admitted under his breath, “but–”

“No buts, you're gonna be a great Hero." For his own amusement at what the older version of the boy would say more than anything, Touya added, "Hell, I'll bet you'll be even better than All Might.”

There was life and a spark of hope coming back into Tenko’s eyes with that simple assurance. “Really?”

Touya smiled and ruffled his hair. “Of course, with a Quirk like yours, you can save a lot of people.”

“A Rescue Hero,” the kid repeated under his breath, flexing his fingers.

Glad his impromptu therapy session was going well, Touya held out the yellow glove again. Tenko took a breath, bit his lip, and, still nervous but determined now, reached his hand in. Nothing happened and it gave the kid enough confidence that the second went on without any fuss. They were still a little big on him, but it was an improvement.

While the kid covered up a massive, jaw cracking yawn with his new gloves, Touya reached over and pulled the top off his soup.

Tenko gave him a nod of thanks and, polite little boy from a good family he was, tried to say something before he ate, but the words were lost in his dry cough. He grimaced and took a swallow. The soup was gone in a matter of seconds. The kid swayed, eyes trying to fall closed again.

Touya guided him back down and, giving it just a little extra heat, rubbed his palm up and down the kid’s rigid spine until it went slack under him. He was out barely a second later.

“Hey, Yuki,” Splashdown attempted a whisper again, the sound still bouncing around the room in the rude reminder of his existence. “I need to talk to you.”

Touya had to repeat to himself he was playing nice several times before he stood up and herded the Hero out.

“You’re really good with him,” Splashdown was saying as the door had shut behind them and he led the way to the end of the hall.

“Oldest of four, I pretty much raised my youngest brother.” Touya leaned against the wall beside the emergency exit and eyed the Hero, unease prickling along his unmarred skin. “What do you want?”

Splashdown nodded in approval, though of what exactly Touya could not say. “You know, you’ve got a real bad attitude and that scowl’s nothing to sneeze at, but you’re not a bad guy, Yuki.”

Touya rolled his eyes. “Thanks for the glowing review.”

“I’m serious. I want to help you.”

Touya only just fought back a sneer. “Thanks, but I don’t need–”

“I know you lied about being a Hero.”

Touya set his jaw. “I didn’t lie about shit.”

The Hero shook his head, expression dropping into something more serious. “I have a friend who works with all the major support gear suppliers in the country. I showed them the security footage and they say your stuff is ‘out of our league, it shouldn’t exist’. Then I ran your name through the database and you don’t exist. You’re lying about something.”

“Did you spell it right?” Before the Wave Hero could answer, Touya continued, “Just because I’m not interested in telling you my life’s story doesn’t mean I’m lying.”

The Hero waited as though he were going to out stubborn Touya, but he had much more experience against far harder opponents.

Finally, the Hero asked, “Are we really gonna do it this way?”

Before Touya could properly tense, Splashdown shoved up his visor.

Unsettling mutations were common among villains, but it was unusual to see something like that on a Hero. So, Touya, taken aback by the massive fisheyes taking up most of the Wave Hero’s head, was too late to notice the door beside him crack open.

A slender hand brushed his and Touya made to jerk back, but his limbs were suddenly no longer his own. His hands, independent of his will, started pulling things out of hidden pouches and pockets to hand over to Splashdown.

“Good job, Machina. I told you–”

“We got a problem, Splash,” a woman’s voice said, strained and urgent.

“What's wrong?”

“He's a lot stronger than I thought. We’ve got a minute, at most.”

“Not great, but I can make that work,” the Hero was saying, examining the rescue supplies before handing them back to Touya. “He’s just got a fire Quirk, right?”

“Yes, but it's a lot worse than what you're thinking.”

Splashdown nodded absently, but it was clear he hadn’t heard a word, intent on the bills in his hand even as he shouldered open the exit door and lead Touya through. Several gallons of unnatural, glimmering water were lapping at the brick walls around them and pushing debris down the alley.

Fury was coursing through Touya’s veins in ever hotter spirals with nowhere to go as he was forced to hand over his ID and bank cards.

A panicked little squeak was all the warning Touya got before the shorter Hero in lurid red, Machina, had his wrist in a vice grip. “Hurry!”

“Everything in here, it’s from almost two decades from now, but,” Splashdown trailed off, turning one unsettling, bulbous eye on Touya, the center a dark pit ringed in bright blue and green.

His own eyes, however, were finally moving under his command, stilted and jerky, as he turned a murderous glare on Machina. Blue flame lit the side of his face and her violet eyes went wide.

“You gotta do something, Splash! I can’t keep his Quirk down; it’s hurting him.” She directed the next words to Touya, incredulous and horrified, “How do you deal with this?”

Water surrounded Touya’s body in a shiny haze about a foot deep and her Quirk released him. Instantly, the water was nothing but thick steam and his still flaming arm whipped out toward her. There was a cut off yelp of alarm and more steam obscured the air.

Then something slammed into Touya’s side. He fell hard, his vision whiting out for a second.

“That’s enough, Machi,” Splashdown was yelling, dragging his colleague behind him and his short, pathetic wall of water. “We’re not here to fight.”

“Could have fooled me,” Touya spat through gritted teeth, clutching at his sore ribs. “Jumping a guy for his wallet? Real heroic.”

Nothing was broken, as far as he could tell, but he had already taken a good hit there in the fight with the Nomu and his ribs were reminding him of this fact with a vengeance.

“I’m sorry, but we needed answers!”

“Could have just asked.” Touya punctuated this with a blaze that cut off either end of the alley.

“You’re not exactly forthcoming!”

Splashdown drew his little defensive wall around the two of them, but he was struggling, his strange water becoming less with every moment and his throat bobbing in a desperate pattern.

Touya drew his walls in closer, too tired and battered to come up with anything better than get them to yield.

Once, he’d have just charred the both of them and been done with this, but it had been a long time since he’d burned someone alive and a pair of heterochromatic eyes were glaring in the back of his head for even considering it, never mind that his brother was unlikely to be even a year old at this point.

“Please, if you’re really a Hero, stop,” Machina screamed, clutching at Splashdown to keep him upright as he swayed, skin taking on an ashen tone.

Touya just stared at her, empty as he had not been in years. Killing them would be easy. That, however, would mark him a villain and, worse, a Hero killer, just the kind of person All For One at the height of his power might take an interest in. He couldn’t risk it, wouldn’t risk Tenko.

Cursing under his breath, he let the flames extinguish.

A frantic Machina was too busy, hands full of Hero as Splashdown collapsed, to stop Touya as he took two quick strides toward them and grabbed the limp Hero’s arm.

Slinging it around his shoulders, he nudged her. “Get the door. There’s a tub in the room.”

She just stared at him a few long seconds, clutching ineffectually at the Wave Hero. Then Splashdown wheezed pitifully in agreement and she shot off to follow instructions. The second they were through, she ducked under his other arm and took some of the increasingly dead weight back to the room.

Touya dumped his half of the Hero in the tub and turned on the cold spray without ceremony. Then he stepped back out to check on the kid. Tenko was still sleeping easy, dead to the world.

There was a beeping in his ear. Grimacing, he turned over his wrist to find the diagnostic display showed several cooling units offline. They turned off automatically when overworked to cool down. It was just meant to be supplemental to Shoto’s ice, but the irony that his equipment would call it quits due to a heating malfunction when he actually needed it was not lost on Touya.

Gathering the very last of his patience, he turned back and closed himself in the bathroom with the two Heroes.

“Are there more of you coming?”

Machina was glaring death and agony into him, the ferocity not enough to hide the genuine fear underneath. “A social worker’s coming to collect little Tenko when he wakes up, but they’re expecting us to have you already. So, if we don’t check in within the next few minutes, the whole agency–”

“Let them know the situation’s changed,” Splashdown rasped from where he had made himself comfortable in the plastic tub.

Machina bristled. “But he attacked–”

“You attacked first,” Touya snarled, the still functional cooling unit on his left wrist kicking on as his Quirk reacted, ever eager to burn.

Machina’s lip curled in a snarl, but Splashdown just laughed, the sound burbling under the spray.

“That sounds like vigilante talk right there.” His bulging eyes started shivering then and his tone grew unbearably excited, “That’s it, isn’t it? You were a vigilante.”

“I’ve been a lot of things,” Touya hedged.

“And what am I supposed to tell them exactly,” Machina demanded.

Splashdown, growing livelier by the minute, waved her off as he reached up to his visor and tapped the side of it. Touya recognized most of the codes he spoke into the built-in radio, a simple message about de-escalation and the suspect not being either suspicious or hostile.

He certainly felt hostile enough, but he wasn’t about to correct the Hero who was brushing off their encounter in the alley on an official channel. Despite himself, he relaxed a little. This still wasn’t ideal, but if he played his cards right, he could turn this whole situation to his favor.

The only question now was how much of the truth to give over. Splashdown had already gotten enough evidence to support most of it.

Indeed, as he finished, Splashdown asked, “You're not from this time, are you?”

The Hero had the bright joy and bubbling excitement of Shoto off on one of his ‘theories’. Touya’s heart clenched.

He swallowed back the emotion with a great force of will and rolled his eyes. “Gee, what gave it away?”

Not understanding sarcasm or rhetorical questions, Splashdown nodded at Touya’s belt. “All of your stuff is from the future. So, what are you doing here?”

"Thought that would be obvious," Touya said, tossing his head back in the direction of the sleeping boy.

Splashdown wiggled his way forward, eager, the spray splashing out onto the tile. “What does he have to do with it?”

“If I can keep him away from a very dangerous man, everything.”

Machina, clearly the more pragmatic of the two, shoved her colleague’s wet head back and was giving the both of them a flat look. “If any of that’s true, then who are you in this time?”

Touya snorted. “That you're really not gonna believe.”

“Would you be willing to do a blood test to prove it,” Splashdown asked, nearly vibrating in his enthusiasm.

Touya shot the Heroes his best shark's grin. "Yeah, that'd be fun."

“Quit messing with him, he's trying to help you,” Machina snapped, her voice echoing loud against the tiles.

Touya glared her down with a finger to his lips.

“Come on, Mach,” Splashdown cajoled. “What other explanation is there?”

“I don't know, maybe he's lying.”

"That ID seemed pretty real.”

“The good fakes usually do.”

“Then let’s test it.” Splashdown looked expectantly at Touya and asked, “So, who are you?”

“My name in this time is Todoroki Touya, but you’d know me better as the son of Todoroki Enji, the Number Two–”

“Endeavour,” Splashdown choked, sliding off the side of the tub with a wet, uncoordinated thump.

Machina’s eyes flashed for a second before she shook the notion and glared at him again, warier now. “That’s easy enough to test.”

Chapter Text

The hospital exam room they’d stuffed him into had no windows and a hefty fire suppression system on both the walls and ceiling. Touya didn’t care, lounged back on a chair in the corner.

Splashdown had followed the staff members who had taken a syringe of blood from him, babbling all the way. Machina was still there though, standing guard and glowering at him.

Finally, she said, “Look, I know Splash is a dumb, sunny, naïve idiot, but he sees things in people others don't. My Quirk isn't exactly 'hero material' in most people's book, but this big-hearted idiot took one look at me and said–”

He cut her off with a bored drawl, “I’m not interested in your sappy hook up story.”

“It's not like that.”

He hadn't thought so, but her scathing look was rewarding all the same.

She gathered herself and continued, “I’m just saying, I owe him a lot and if you do anything to hurt him–”

“I know you’ve got a speech, but I’ll save you the breath; I'm not interested in flash frying the only person who believes me.”

“Fine, but it wouldn't kill you to be nice to him,” she snapped. “He sees something in you. I don't get it and I don't have to, but it'd be in your best interest to live up to it, for all our sakes.”

Touya grinned, lopsided and feral. “That almost sounds ominous.”

Before either of them could say another word, Splashdown swung the door open with gusto and gestured in someone wearing a doctor’s coat and holding a bright tablet.

“Give them the good news,” he said sweeping his hand to the two of them.

The doctor, long suffering under Splashdown’s enthusiasm, looked to Touya. “We ran several samples and you do have all the genetic markers that would indicate a parent-child relationship with Endeavor.”

Splashdown looked over at Machina, triumphant.

“That doesn't mean he's telling the truth. An illegitimate child isn't exactly unusual.”

“Well, we’re just going to have to go grab a sample from the little guy then. And while we’re there, we can see if you’re both from the same timeline.”

Touya frowned, wary. “How are you going to test that?”

The Hero didn't seem the type to permanently main a child to prove a point, but who knew what really lurked in those fishy depths.

“I was talking to some of the staff and they’ve got a gal for it.” Splashdown waved aside any concern. “She can change the melons in your skin.”

“Melons?”

“Yeah, so it'll be a different color forever.”

It finally clicked. He was talking about skin pigment, melanin. “You really are an idiot.”

“Remember what we said about being nice,” Machina said, a warning in every syllable.

Touya just raised an eyebrow at her and tilted his head toward Splashdown, who was blissfully humming, lost in his cheer.

She grimaced, but still stuck to her guns. He shrugged and gave up the fight.

“We’ll send someone with you,” the doctor said, not turning away from Touya but clearly speaking to the Heroes, tired and done with the Wave Hero’s tomfoolery. “Meanwhile, we’ve got a spot open, if you’d like us to take a look at your injuries.”

As it turned out, Touya agreed to more than he’d wanted, courtesy of an innocently smiling Machina. Several hours of running through machines and being stared at by what seemed every practitioner in the building, Touya was back in the little exam room with the Heroes.

A nurse with odd patches of different colored skin in intricate patterns checked behind his ear and then the third knuckle of his right hand.

“There is no change,” she said, straightening up. “My Quirk has never touched him.”

“That's great news, Yuki! You're not going to grandfather yourself out of time.”

Considering his altercation with his younger self in the previous jump, Touya hadn’t been worried. He was just irritated, exhausted, and wishing for something to eat besides the chalky cafeteria food.

“Allegedly,” Machina added, holding open the door for the exiting nurse.

“Come on, you saw the kid,” Splashdown said, cajoling.

That shut Machina’s argument down. She shot Touya a suspicious once over. “Your eyes, they’re the right color, right shape, but I hate to think what that kid would have to go through to turn into you.”

Touya gave her his fakest, creepiest smile as he said, earnest, “He turns into something much worse first.”

Her eyes flashed, chilled by something in his tone, but before she could say any more, the door banged open and a weedy, frazzled lab tech burst through, pointed an accusing finger to Touya, and shouted, “You are impossible!”

With a longsuffering sigh, the doctor came in behind him. “Can you please keep calm about this?”

“No way.” He turned back to Touya and shook the report in his general direction, screeching, “I ran these samples so many times. Yeah, you’re Endeavour’s kid, big deal, but this one,” he smacked part of the paper, “came from a child and it's the same as this one,” he smacked the other side with greater gusto, pages flying, “that came from you. That shouldn't even be possible!”

Touya just shrugged, unimpressed. “Welcome to my world.”

That got a hysterical laugh. Machina walked over to the tech and set her hand on his arm. “Let’s just sit down and take a breath. Okay?”

The technician was dazed as she puppeteered him over to a chair, forcing air into and out of his lungs in deep breaths before letting him go.

“What more proof do you need, Machi,” Splashdown asked, nearly vibrating out of his seat. “We have a real-life time traveler on our hands!”

She gave Touya a shrewd glare, still radiating mistrust. “Do you have any other proof,” she asked, like she actually expected him to say no.

He surveyed her a moment. “You got time for a trip to Fukuoka?”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Why?”

“You Hero types like saving kids, right? I know one that could use a rescue.”

Chapter Text

Finding the place was the easy part. After shaking down the Hero’s mother for information, Touya had been curious and gone looking for the shack Hawks grew up in. It was only slightly less rundown now than it would be in fifteen years.

The three of them were hidden among the trees, Machina busy coordinating in low tones with the police after they'd caught a photo of Takami entering the house and Splashdown fiddling with a strange pair of binoculars suited to his odd eyes.

Touya was distracted by something at the corner of his eye though and chuckled low under his breath.

He'd been more concerned with cornering Takami without raising his suspicions, especially with his wife’s Quirk keeping a literal eye on the place, that he'd forgotten who he was dealing with.

They might have been observing from just outside his mother's limit, but one of Hawks’s feathers was floating along on its own breeze just behind them, making an impressive show of being unobtrusive and potentially natural.

Touya snatched the red feather out of the air and, unable to help the nostalgic smile, murmured against it, “Hey, Keigo.”

“What are you doing," Splashown asked, his visor falling back over his bulging eyes.

“I don’t know if he’s developed the ability well enough yet, but he can hear us through these.” Touya twirled the feather by its quill for emphasis. It rustled but did not slip from his light grip.

“We’re Heroes, like Endeavor," he said to the feather, the word sour on his tongue though he kept his tone neutral. "We’re here to help, alright?"

"If that's from the kid, our cover's been blown," Machina said, grim, before returning to her ear piece. "We're moving, now."

Touya was already walking, not waiting for them to catch up.

Only a few steps into her range, there was an eyeball pointed at him, boring into him and a distant crash erupted from inside the shack. Touya lit the eye ablaze with a casual swipe of the hand and there was a shriek followed by bellowing, all muffled in the rotting wood.

By the time he reached the shack, Takami was trying to make a run for it into the trees. It was easy for Touya to surround him in a fiery perimeter while he recited the man's crimes and called for surrender.

As he'd hoped, Takami's wife was coming at his exposed back with a knife, securing her spot in a cell beside her husband.

Touya pretended not to notice, readying to sidestep the clumsy stab, but a blur of red caught her ankle and she hit the ground hard. Machina grabbed her arm before she had regained her breath and the fight was over.

While Splashdown cuffed Takami and soaked down any stay sparks, Touya spotted a tiny blonde head watching them from around the side of the shack.

He couldn't imagine the kid would spook easy, but Touya still was slow in his approach as he bent down to be on a level with the little scrap of feathers. "Thanks for the save there."

The little bird wasn't hostile, but he was still tensed, unsure if Touya was going to become a threat. There was a hint of a faint, yellowing bruise on his cheek and Touya fought his initial instinct to turn back to the kid's parents and leave nothing but ash.

Instead, he gestured to where the bright lights announcing their police backup had just pulled up. "Let's watch the show, huh?"

The kid’s mother went into the back of the first cruiser with a great deal of thrashing, crying out for her husband and giving not a single glance to her son.

Splashdown, ever to be counted on for a sunny distraction, caught sight of the doll the boy was clutching. “You like Endeavour, huh?”

Keigo nodded, still silent.

“I’ll tell you a secret." He bent down and mock whispered, "You know Yuki here? He’s Endeavour’s son.”

Those big eyes dropped some of their wary reservation as they widened and turned to Touya.

He had to look away, grimacing. “It’s really not that impressive.”

An eager little hand was tugging at his pantleg though, Keigo’s golden eyes alight with wonder and demand.

Touya chuckled but before he could even consider bending his knees, a weight hit his chest, nothing more than a red blur.

Keigo buried his face against Touya’s shoulder and murmured, “I always thought he would come save me.”

Mindful of those sensitive feathers as he gave off just a little extra heat, Touya wrapped the kid in a hug. “He would have eventually, I just wanted to beat him to it.”

“Thank you,” he said, the word barely a sound in his tight throat.

“You’re welcome, kid."

He caught Machina's eye as she was trying to school her features, pity and misery drowning her. She pulled herself together enough to give him the barest nod. There was no more question of his motivates or earnestness about her, a believer at last.

Splashdown was at Touya’s shoulder and said to Keigo, proud as any parent, “Yuki's from the future, you know.”

Touya gave him a flat stare. “Are you going to tell everyone we meet that?”

“Why not? It’s true.”

Touya rolled his eyes but decided it wasn’t worth killing his braincells over.

Keigo had leaned back to stare at him. “Do you know me in the future?”

“Yeah, we worked together on a case,” he hedged. “You’re a great Hero.”

Some social worker was trying to get their attention then. Touya found himself reluctant to let the kid go, even though this had been the plan.

A couple years back, a huge quake and the typhoon that followed only days after had left tons of kids homeless in the region. The facility was the same Tenko had been placed in and was supposed to be good. Touya was reserving judgement. 

Keigo clung to him a moment, not ready for an uncertain future just yet.

They couldn't ignore the entreaties much longer though, so Touya tried appeasing both of them with the promise, "I'll come by to visit soon, alright? Say hi to Tenko for me."

The two Heroes and Touya were set up in the park, Splashdown’s ‘victory feast’ laid out in front of them. Machina hadn’t touched any of it though, her eyes dark and far away as her thoughts whirled. Finally, she focused on Touya.

“What happens to him?”

Touya raised an eyebrow at her, not sure where she was going with this. Hawks would be fine, they'd seen to it. Now, he would grow up with at least one friend in Tenko and without the Hero Commission’s dedicated fist around his neck.

She struggled for a second before surprising him with, “You know, you. What happens to little Touya?”

“He becomes a vigilante, right?” Splashdown asked around a mouthful.

Touya grimaced in disgust. “I told you already, fish boy, I was never a vigilante.”

“Then what happens to him,” Machina asked, her voice rising.

Touya flashed her a dangerous grin. “He becomes an A-Rank Villain, right-hand to the most dangerous man in Japan, and destroys Endeavour’s career, taking you precious Hero society down with it.”

Splashdown gurgled around his juice box straw, confused and a touch alarmed. “But you’re a Hero.”

Touya’s eyes found the snowflake design at his wrist. “It’s all the little guy’s fault.”

Putting the pieces together, Splashdown started muttering, “Wait, you said ‘I practically raised my youngest brother’, but if you were that kind of villain, you’d serve a really long sentence, but you’d have had to be there to raise him and you’re not that old…”

Touya snorted. “That’s the nicest thing anyone's said to me all week.”

The Hero was too busy vibrating in his eagerness, nearly bouncing up to lean across the table. “This isn’t the first time you’ve come back, is it?”

Touya shrugged. “Flimsy logic, but you got it. Yeah. The first time I jumped back, I stole little Shoto from our father’s house to turn against the old man. I never could crush that Hero dream of his though and he pulled me along with him. Damn stubborn.” His heart clenched as Shoto, chest up and chin high, trying on his Hero costume beside Touya for the first time played before his eyes.

“Is Endeavor really that bad,” Machina asked, drawing him out of it, her tone deliberate but heavy.

“He’s an abusive asshole held up by this disgusting, Hero worshiping society.”

“How do we stop it,” Machina asked. “How do we save Todoroki Touya?”

“We don’t.”

She bristled, far more furious on his behalf than he’d have expected. “What? You’re fine saving everyone but yourself? What about the rest of the family? You’re just going to let them suffer because you don’t –”

Before Touya could stop it, fire burst to life around him, his cooling units howling and then shutting down as one. Both the Heroes had leapt back and water sprayed over him but was steam before it reached his skin. It took several, horrible, heart pounding seconds before he was able to reign in the flames.

Shining, blue water lapped over the red, abused skin in gentle waves and Touya forced in several deliberate breaths.

He glared at Machina. “Don’t.”

“But we can help them,” Machina said, low and stubborn.

“And how do you plan to do that, red?”

She shrugged. “I’ve got a Hero with an inside track. He might be a bit too close to see it, but I’m sure we can think of something.”

Chapter Text

Touya was loath to give any praise to his father, but like someone had cracked a window in a long-shut room, Enji of the past time jump had done a lot to bring something like a welcoming atmosphere into this hellish house.

The very air now was oppressive. Even the floorboards seemed to muffle their shifting, afraid of drawing attention.

Enji was doing nothing to help this, looming over the table and the three unexpected guests across from him with a scowl that suggested they’d dragged in a rotting corpse and dumped it on his bed. Splashdown had been attempting to lighten his mood, but a smile was not natural on Enji’s face anyway.

Touya remembered his father smiling when he did well in training, smiling when another child was born, smiling as he dragged them off to be tested for an impressive Quirk, but those all dropped quickly, replaced with cold disappointment and indifference.

Touya yanked his eyes away from the hulking man and used a great force of will to keep his breathing even.

This caused more problems than it solves though. Baby Shoto was likely to be down for a nap and he had no doubt his other siblings were nearby, listening in, but there was still one Todoroki child sat across from him and staring down at his eight-year-old self was a strange experience. He was not the dark mirror the other one had been but a building tempest.

Young Touya blinked big, surprised turquoise eyes at him. The red of his hair was becoming streaked in white and Touya could no longer remember, but this whole affair must have come only a few months after Enji kicked him out of training as a failure. This had likely been the first time his father had spoken to his eldest in weeks.

Splashdown was entertaining himself, those big, fish eyes swinging between him, his father, and his younger self behind that visor as his head turned. “This is uncanny.”

Endeavour turned a scowl on him, but this only made the Wave Hero gesture in triumph. “See that?”

Touya’s lip curled in disgust. “If you’re going to compare me to garbage, at least–”

But he was interrupted by the door opening and his mother entering with a tray of tea. Touya’s breath was gone in a tiny, inaudible puff as his chest constricted. She had the same harried, hunted look as all of Endeavour’s family, but he had forgotten how heavily all of this began to weigh on her. It was still a few years before she snapped, but she was fraying at the edges even now.

He forced his eyes down to the table and murmured the smallest thanks when she placed a cup before him.

“Why did you need to meet with my family,” Endeavour finally demanded, arms crossed and impatience rolling off him in hot waves.

“Well, sir,” Machina started and Touya revised his opinion of her as her lip curled in disgust on the last word, “You’ll remember we came to take samples the other day. As we told you then, we needed to verify the identity of someone claiming to be experiencing a severe time anomaly. We now have proof he is, in fact, who he claims and we are asking that you, as next of kin, look after him.”

“Next of kin? What,” Endeavor started to ask, but the words died in his throat as Touya raised his head and glared Enji down, his experiences with his father of the previous time doing nothing to diminish his hatred of this version, right in the middle of ruining his family.

“You good, Yuki,” Splashdown asked, shuffling back a little from the rising heat.

“Fine,” Touya muttered, taking a sip of his tea without tasting it.

“Who is he meant to be exactly,” Enji demanded of Machina, sensing where the brains actually were between these two.

“That’s the best part,” Splashdown sang and Touya dodged his enthusiastic elbow as he tried to jostle him like they were old friends sharing a joke. “This is your very own eldest son, Todoro–”

“Yuki Touya,” he corrected without fanfare, shooting another scathing look at his father.

A frown of wary suspicion overtook the old man’s face. “But that’s not even possible. Have you–”

His mother interrupted with a gasped out a trembling, “Touya?”

Tentative, he glanced at her. “Hi, Mom.”

She reached out, fumbling blindly, to pull her own little Touya into a tight hug, her wide, horrified eyes not leaving him. “What happened to you?”

“It’s kind of a long story.” Fury an ever-present magma under his skin, he turned a glare back to his father. “You can blame the old man for most of it.”

The temperature rose as Enji’s Quirk flared in indignation. “I don’t know what games you three think you’re playing, but–”

The sharp roar of blue flames cut him off as they burst to life along Touya’s arms then died. Enji’s eyes widened the barest fraction and his shoulders stiffened as he tried not to react. He knew the pattern of those flames even if he did not know them at this temperature.

Touya grinned without feeling. “Hey, Dad.”

The Flame Hero just stared at the extinguished flames. Then his eyes began to narrow and his chest puffed up in some pointless attempt at intimidation. Touya would be glad of a fight.

Before anything more happened though, Splashdown leaned into the heavy, pregnant air between them like they couldn’t collectively fry his tiny brain out of his fishy head in seconds by accident and said, “Okay, let’s back this up a bit.”

“Yes, please. This needs to be a civil discussion,” Machina said and something in her tone suggested an or else.

Touya rolled his eyes, a tension ache at his temple not helping his mood, but he backed off with a scoff.

She pulled out a thick folder and slid it across the table. “These are copies of his full medical report and blood tests as well as every incident we’re aware of that he has been party to since arriving two days ago. My colleague,” she nodded her head toward Splashdown, “has also added several working theories about how and why this might have happened in the back.”

Enji’s eyes flashed briefly across the summary stapled to the front and then flipped through the reports, skimming with a crease in his brow. Rei and little Touya tried to look over his massive arm, but he paid them no mind.

Then Enji fixed Touya with a long stare, calculating and full of mistrust. Touya met it with as much disgust as a full, rotting dumpster.

The Wave Hero leaned toward Enji and put a hand at the side of his mouth like he wasn’t still speaking at his usual volume, “I know Yuki can be intense and kind of suspicious, but he’s a real good guy under all that, you should be proud. Your son’s a great Hero.”

Enji flicked his eyes from the blue menace to Touya, wary.

“I’ll bet you’re wondering about the snowflakes,” Splashdown was saying with enough confidence he might actually have been able to read minds. “He says it’s something to do with his brother. They’re a Hero duo in his time.”

Enji frowned. “Natsuo?”

“No. Shoto.” At his father’s worry and confusion, he elaborated, “He’s just as strong as you think he’s going to be, but we work better… without your involvement.”

The possible implications in those words were just starting to occur to Enji, unease rippling down his spine.

Then, “I can become a Hero.”

All of them turned to look at the trembling boy in his mother’s arms, hope and vindication driving tears down his cheeks. The words had been tremulous but there was a dangerous edge under there only Touya truly understood.

Touya’s laugh was unkind and silenced the whole room. Then, some madness overtaking him, he asked, “You wouldn’t mind testing that then, right?”

He stood and crossed behind Splashdown, motioning the kid to meet him at the end of the table. He hesitated but followed Touya’s silent instruction. He was so much taller than this scrap of a child that the kid was staring straight up.

Touya crouched down and held out a hand to his younger self. Unsuspecting, he placed his palm in Touya’s with little reservation.

He turned the little hand one way and then the other. He didn’t need any of the theatrics, it was clear in the way the kid moved and the baggy shirt he’d chosen. It was in mirror, but Touya remembered looking out from those eyes as he forced himself to keep still after a few hard, lonely hours training on Sekoto Peak, wishing he could just go bare so the loosest shirt he owned wouldn’t brush up against the fresh burns.

“You’re not gonna be a Hero, not like you’re going.”

He grabbed the kid’s forearm where he knew the burn would be worst. It took almost no pressure before little Touya yelped in pain , tears springing to his eyes.

“Yuki,” Machina snapped as Splashdown pulled Touya back by the shoulder.

“What the hell, man? That’s you,” the Wave Hero asked, in the quietest undertone he could manage, though it would no doubt ring clear through the house.

Touya shoved him away with a hand planted on his visor. “That just means I know what I’m talking about. That's not a Hero, just a monster in the making.”

The kid had fallen back, clutching at his wrist and staring at Touya with wide, betrayed eyes. Rei was staring down at the boy’s arm, helpless and far too knowing, a new crack forming in her increasingly fragile ability to cope.

“I don’t care who you are, I want you out of my house,” Enji yelled, stomping over to loom above Touya, a furious titan. “You’re upsetting my son.”

Touya gave him an unimpressed stare. He hadn’t cared about the kid until a moment ago when he found out Touya could be a Hero. He was about to ask the younger version of himself if his father had so much as glanced at him before today, but Machina, ever the voice of reason, stepped in.

“I apologize on his behalf, we’re all a little on edge right now. You see, there’s a threat to your family and, like it or not, Yuki is the Hero best equipped to deal with it.”

“I’m not hearing another word of this until you prove what you claim is true,” Enji growled, not looking away from Touya for even a second.

Machina, floored but not surprised that nothing she had said was getting through, gestured at the file. Enji wasn’t paying her the slightest attention though. Touya knew what his father wanted, what the look in those frigid eyes demanded.

He stood. “The training room here won’t cut it, old man. How about that big one at your agency?”

Enji motioned him out.

Splashdown hopped up and fell into step beside him, nearly buzzing with excitement at the development and never worried when the truth was, as he saw it, self-evident.

An exasperated Machina started, “I can stay here with–”

“No. You’re coming as well. I’ll have an extra patrol come around and,” but the rest of Enji’s clipped words were drowned in the deafening effect of the hall as Touya put distance between himself and his father.

The approaching door to the outside was a beacon in a stressful day and they were nearly out. Then Splashdown doubled back to a doorway Touya had been ignoring. It was just barely cracked and he knew the curious ears lurking behind it without needing to check.

Splashdown, however, crouched down with that brainless smile. “Hi there! You two must be Fuyumi and Natsuo. Your brother told me all about you.”

“You two were listening, huh? Figures,” Touya said, leaning against the wall behind Splashdown and surveying his little siblings as they pulled the door open further.

Fuyumi was still mostly hidden behind it, but her curiosity kept both those big, grey eyes darting between the two adults. Natsuo, however, stood tall and, with all the might of his five years, marched past Splashdown and up to Touya with a vengeance in his eyes.

“You don't get to be mean to my brother,” he declared. “I don't care if you're the same person, you're not my Touya and until you apologize, you're not talking to him ever again!”

“That so,” Touya asked, unable to help himself and only just holding down an amused smile.

Natsuo puffed up his chest in his best imitation of his father and nodded.

Touya shrugged as though helpless. “Well, there’s no arguing with that. I’ll have to do that later though. Dad wants me to train.”

Natsuo’s fury faltered into worry and Fuyumi drew in an audible, worried breath.

“Don’t worry,” Splashdown said, shooting them a thumbs up. “I’ll keep him safe.”

“But Dad doesn’t like it when anyone–”

Fuyumi’s mouth snapped shut on her protest as their father bore down on them with a furious shout of, “What are you doing?”

Natsuo, fast as a shot, took a long step sideways to hide his sister in the doorway, never turning his back on his father. “We heard them in the–”

“Your mother is in there. Go, both of you,” Enji snapped, tossing his head back the way he’d come.

There was no hesitation. They locked hands and scurried off, hugging the wall. Machina, trailing behind Enji, watched them go with naked concern and then turned a glare on Enji’s back, the malice in it radiating down the hall in debilitating waves.

He noticed nothing, coming at Touya like a runaway truck, expecting him to give ground. Touya didn’t give him the satisfaction, he just stared back, bored.

“What took you so long, Dad?”

Enji didn’t dignify that with a response. “Let’s go.”

Chapter Text

His father had put him through his paces and only the intervention of the other two Heroes stopped him from ordering Touya on further as smoke started to rise from his skin. Despite his wounded pride, Touya was glad. Spite and an old need to prove himself certainly would not have allowed him to call for a break let alone an end.

Splashdown was running his strange, bright water over Touya’s raw, red skin. It was nowhere near the instant satisfaction of Shoto’s ice, but it was better than nothing.

He was sure he didn’t want to know, but Touya still asked, “Where does this stuff come from anyway?”

Splashdown didn’t even seem to hear him. He was just staring where a thick, ranged target had been engulfed in flames only moments before, now just a pile of blackened dust and warped metal.

Touya jabbed an elbow into his side. “Problem, Hero?”

Barely rocked, Splashdown, far too troubled and introspective for Touya’s liking, asked, “Did you ever do that to people?”

“I got pretty good at it after a while. Why? You worried about becoming fish sticks?”

The Hero didn’t even acknowledge the meanspirited attempt at humor . “I felt it the day we met. You could have done that to us.”

Touya shook his head and regretted it immediately as his skin protested any movement. “I didn’t want to draw that kind of attention.”

Splashdown laughed, shaken. “I should listen to Machi more.”

“You should. She’s got sense.”

The Hero was still too quiet, so Touya did the only logical thing. He threw the last of his water in the Wave Hero’s face.

“Hydrate. You get weird when you’re not wet.”

A little smile lifted the corner of Splashdown’s mouth. “You’re not that bad at all, Yuki.”

“You keep telling yourself that.”

He forced himself to stand, knowing the water had already done all it could, and started toward his father.

Enji’s head was bent to hear the shorter Hero as Machina spoke, but Touya could make out nothing of her calm, controlled words. The old man’s face was blank, but he was, at least, listening.

“Hey, we done yet?” When he got nothing but that flat stare, Touya continued, “You know these moves, you taught them to me.”

“You’re sloppy,” was all Enji would offer, but he pushed off the wall and started for the exit like that was all that needed to be said.

Touya clenched his jaw and would have finished swinging his arm forward in a burst of flame, but deceptively strong, delicate hands caught his wrist. His body was not his own a moment as Machina forced air into his lungs in a long, slow breath.

Then she forced him to hold it and let it out as she said, “That isn’t going to help anyone.”

Touya didn’t want his heartrate to be slowing and his anger cooling, but as she released him, he was no longer seconds from bursting into a fireball and burning the world down.

Still, “It might help me.”

“If you don’t want to sleep on the front step, you better keep up,” Enji called as he reached the doors.

“What a charmer,” Machina muttered. “I don’t think it’s physically possible to hate him anymore than I already do.”

“He’s not exactly personable,” Splashdown agreed as the three of them trooped after the Hero. “But I think he’s got the potential to–”

“Don’t,” Touya hissed. “The only potential that man has is for an expensive funeral.”

“You know, if he wasn’t such a good Hero, I could feel good about hating him,” Machina said with the kind of impotent rage Touya associated with early Shigaraki when something didn’t go his way. “As it is, I just hate him more because I can’t.”

Touya snorted a laugh.

They came out into the lobby, huge and full of glass that would let in the natural light, but at this hour just showed a sky glowing with city lights behind the jagged outline of buildings, lit with their own constellations. Enji was just ahead of them, waiting by the doors, watching this tiny slice of the city as though he were some king surveying his lands.

“We’ll leave him in your capable hands,” Machina said with just enough inflection it was unclear who she was saying this to and what exactly that was meant to imply.

“It was good meeting you, Endeavor,” Splashdown said, like he actually meant it.  “I’ll pick you up to visit the kids in the morning, Yuki.”

With a wave, they left,  abandoning Touya to the mercy of his father.

The car pulled up to the curb, but Enji just stared him down a moment before. “I still don’t like this.”

“The feeling’s mutual.” Touya shouldered past him.

Enji stayed on his heels, breathing down his neck. “You’re staying in the guest wing and if I find you’ve so much as–”

Touya rounded on him as they reached the car and Enji staggered to a stop, just shy of bowling him over.

“Don’t bother. I’d die for the rest of this family. You’re the only one I’d want to see fry, old man.”

He slid smoothly into the seat he knew Enji preferred and settled in. The behemoth of a man relented as he crossed around to the other side and snapped at his driver to get moving.

Satisfied with himself, Touya stretched his legs out, taking up most of the room, and said what he knew would get under Enji’s skin most, “You’re not really who’s going to help me anyway. All Might will know it’s all true the second he hears what I have to say. Then we can just leave you on the bench and deal with it ourselves.”

“We’ll see.”

Chapter Text

Despite a quiet car ride to get used to it, Enji had not warmed to the idea of his son from the future staying with them. He was stood in the back of the living room, arms crossed and scowl deep. Touya was trying his best to ignore both his father and mother.

Rei, holding a sleeping baby Shoto like a life preserver, had sent little Touya to fetch his siblings and kept glancing away like she hadn’t been staring at him, haunted, anytime the older version’s own eyes drifted back to her.

To break the crushing silence, Touya asked, “Is Fumi still wearing that dragonfly clip?”

Natsuo had broken it in a mishap over something petty and done his best to repair it after. It couldn’t be worn any longer, but Fuyumi had given it pride of place on her bedside table. Touya liked to think that she would still have it in a drawer somewhere as an old lady and would pull it out to tell tales to his grandkids.

“What dragonfly clip,” Enji asked, an edge in his voice suggesting Touya had just slipped up.

As though her husband hadn’t spoken though, Rei laughed, “She loves that thing. She even tries to take it into the bath.”

That laugh wasn’t the sweet, musical sound of earnest amusement though, it quavered with mild hysteria, more venting the tension than anything. Still, her smile, cracked and odd though it was, settled some terror Touya had not noticed roiling under his skin. He could do this; he could save his mother.

The three eldest Todoroki siblings trooped in then. Touya caught his father darting a furtive glance at the well-loved clip on the side of Fuyumi’s head, carefully framed between two red streaks. Vindictive pleasure at seeing his father proved wrong wrestled with fury that the man didn’t know something so basic about his daughter.

Rei, who had been beside the door as though about to bolt, drew his attention back as she presented her children properly to their new houseguest. They had been listening in and didn’t need the introduction, but they still bowed and said all the right things, like good little children.

“What are we supposed to call him,” Little Fuyumi asked her mother in a whisper to rival Splashdown’s.

It was an interesting question he had yet to think about, but, “How about we keep this simple for everyone? You can just call me Yuki.”

Looking at the little version of himself, shoulders squared in challenge and that hint of manic desperation in his eyes, he could admit he wasn’t really Touya anymore anyway and he certainly wasn’t Dabi. It felt right to carry the name Shoto had given him.

Natsuo stepped up to Yuki with the most dangerous scowl a five-year-old could muster.

Just for the novelty of it, Yuki crouched down to meet him, amused. “I’m finally taller than you for once, Natsu. Not that it’ll take you long to catch up.”

Natsuo wrestled with that, his young face twisting, uncertain if he should be taking some compliment in that or continuing his original mission of glaring a hole through Yuki.

“You promised to apologize,” he said at last, landing back on the glare.

Yuki dropped a hand on his head and ruffled his pure white hair. “That I did. Alright.”

Turning, he met his own eyes to start his apology when he finally took in the pink skin under little Touya’s eyes and around his mouth.

“Actually, I can’t do that right now, Natsu. Your big brother is being an idiot. Can you help him put cream on those burns?”

“Touya,” Enji’s shout, sharp and deep enough to rattle bones, made all but the two Touyas flinch. “What have I told you–”

“You’re not helping,” Yuki yelled, whirling on his father in a twist of bright, blue flame.

The old Hero had stopped, but Yuki paid him no mind, catching sight of little Touya’s hungry eyes on the dying flicker of blue around his older self.

He breathed out a bit of his aggression and admitted, “And neither am I.”

“I’m going to be a better Hero than either of you,” Touya declare to both his father and his older self.

Yuki sneered. “You’re pathetic. You think a bit more heat will make you a Hero? Think again. It’ll just make you a corpse, if you’re lucky.”

Yuki was almost thrown on his back as Natsuo came charging at him, kicking and swinging, and slammed into his knee with a cry of, “I said no talking to him!”

“Natsu, that's enough,” Rei grabbed her son around the middle and pulled him back. “Go help Touya.”

Glaring daggers into Yuki, Natsuo grabbed his older brother’s hand and began towing him along. Touya’s defiant gaze didn’t leave Yuki even after they had disappeared out the door, the perceived challenge igniting that stubborn flame still further.

“I’m sorry about Natsu,” Rei was saying. “I don’t know what came over him.”

“No, I’m glad he cares that much.”

Grief set heavy in his gut for the eight years he had not seen his brother after he burned and the decade after that he had not gone back for him. Yuki had been so sure even his dear brother had given up on him. He had been willing to get him killed that first time and yet this fierce, protective thing had always lived in the heart he had been trying to snuff out.

A hesitant little hand pulling at his sleeve drew him from his thoughts.

“Are you okay, Mr. Yuki,” Fuyumi asked, uncertain, staring at his cheek.

Yuki wiped at a warm droplet of blood there under his eye. “It’s alright. I'm not hurt. It happens sometimes.”

“But why?”

“Because I can’t cry anymore.” Her eyes went wide with horror and morbid fascination, so he bent down to her level and continued, pointing, “My tear ducts are burnt shut.”

“So, you wanted to cry?”

He glanced away, as good as an admission, and caught his father teetering between the need to go after his sons and not leave Touya alone with anyone.

A thin pair of arms wrapped around his neck as his sister went to her toes to hug him. “I think Touya’s being dumb too.”

She was so small, but the gesture was done with the same genuine, earnest affection as the last time his sister had done this. He hugged her back, fighting to keep control of his breath for a second.

“Thanks, Fumi. It’s been a hard couple of days,” he murmured for her ears alone.

“Alright, that’s enough, it’s time for bed.” Enji said, pulling his daughter away and glaring at Yuki like he’d done something untoward.

With some surprise, she clung to his neck. “Daddy, can you tuck me in?”

He faltered, like he’d forgotten she was in his arms at all. “I have to check on your brothers.”

“But after,” she asked, hopefully.

He caught the challenging raise of Yuki’s eyebrow and, scowling, said, “Fine.”

Yuki fell into step with his mother as they trooped out, Enji waiting to be the last one out.

“I’m sorry you have to deal with all this,” he told her.

She gave him a weak laugh. “It certainly is exciting.”

Shoto wiggled around in her arms, burying himself in his blanket and her shirt so only a few tufts of white hair and a hand stuck out.

“He’s so small,” Yuki said, marveling at that little fist.

A tired but genuine smile came over her face. “He’s certainly less trouble than you were at this age.”

“He’ll always be less trouble than I am.”

As Yuki reached out to touch his youngest brother, Enji’s large frame shoved his bulk between them. The hall was not large enough to accommodate the three of them abreast and Rei melted against the wall, holding the baby a little closer. If it had just been her and not Shoto as well, would Enji even have bothered?

“Yuki, get moving,” he said, in quiet threat.

Yuki, disgusted, said, “Fine. Good night,” and took the corner to the guest wing.

Chapter Text

Splashdown came bright and early, as promised, to pick Yuki up. Yuki was informed of this fact as he lay on his borrowed bed, staring at the ceiling and a knock came at the door.

“Mr. Yuki,” called a voice he hadn’t even thought about in ages, “There’s a guest for you.”

He pulled open the door to find the old woman standing there.

“Goodness, it really is you, Touya,” Mrs. Suzuki said, blinking up at him.

“You can tell?”

“A lot might have changed, but I’d know those eyes anywhere.” She dropped her voice as though the walls were listening, “Although, it’s good to see you grow up softer than your father. I was worried, especially after seeing little Touya this morning.”

He followed her toward the front of the house, asking, “How is he?”

She pursed her lips. “He’s a troubled boy, too much pressure too young. But you’d know that and I’ve said too much already. Fuyumi’s been talking my ear off about you all morning though. Time travel. This certainly is a funny old world.”

When they arrived at the facility, Tenko charged over and threw himself at Yuki. On automatic, he scooped the kid out of the air and welcomed the hug with a chuckle. Tomura hugging anyone was a laughable idea and he took, perhaps, too much joy in smothering Tenko in affections that would have offended his first timeline’s boss.

“I got your message,” Tenko said, low and solemn.

Yuki wasn’t aware he’d sent a message, but wasn’t about to stomp on the kid’s proud certainty, so he asked, “And?”

“I kept watch to help him sleep the other night and I got him to play yesterday.”

Yuki caught on then as he spotted Keigo hovering a few feet off, unsure if he was allowed any closer but drawn after Tenko like a lifeline. “Nice work, kiddo. I knew I could count on you.”  

Tenko puffed up his chest. “You don’t have to worry. We’re both gonna be great Heroes and we’ll help you.”

“As long as you’re safe and happy, that’s all I care about right now.” Yuki ruffled his hair and set the kid back on his feet. Then he turned his attention to the other boy while Splashdown bent to talk to Tenko.

The Endeavour doll still was plastered against Keigo’s chest, but the kid had colored over the orange flames with blue and added purple scars.

Yuki inclined his head at it with a smirk. “Not bad.”

“I still need the snowflakes,” he muttered, scraping his toes on the carpet.

Splashdown cried out in giddy realization and raced back to his bag.

Before Yuki had decided if he wanted to ask, Machina elbowed him. “You’re starting a cult.”

“As I recall, you’re a founding member,” he shot back, deadpan.

“And proud.” She grinned without humor, feral enough to rival Katsuki on his worst day.

Splashdown bumped into Yuki’s shoulder as he raced back. He was near giddy, bouncing with his hands held behind his back. Yuki just raised an eyebrow at him, not sure he even wanted to know.

“That one is nice,” Splashdown said to Keigo, “but I thought you guys might like something more official, so…”

He whipped out two plush dolls, the little stump arms and legs waving wildly, and held them out for the boys.

It was a simple design, all rounded blocks with three colored fabrics for skin, scars, and suit. A silvery thread had been used around the skin and scar seams and Shoto’s snowflake had been embroidered on the back in stark white. Its face didn’t have much in the way of features, scowling, turquoise half circles for eyes and a seam where a mouth might go, but it was undoubtedly him.

The ruined Endeavour plush slid through Keigo’s limp fingers. Tenko, eyes bright, reached for one of the dolls like it might shatter.

“Where’d you get those,” Yuki asked, dubious, sure he didn’t want to know but unable to help himself.

“I had our merchandising department do a couple mockups . Aren’t they great?”

Yuki was about to respond with a scathing comeback, but Keigo had taken his and was hugging the plush tight, tears shining in his eyes.

Yuki bent to his level. “You like it?”

The kid nodded, sniffling, and buried his face in the doll’s stomach. Yuki ruffled his hair.

A gloved hand tugged at his shirt and he glanced over to Tenko, who was blinking big, watery red eyes at him.

“Please, sign it?”

Yuki didn’t even get the chance to be caught off guard before Splashdown swooped in with a permanent marker. Grimacing at the sharp scent of the silver ink, he wrote out Tenko’s name and then deliberated before adding, You’ve got the heart of Hero. He scrawled his name underneath and, unable to help himself, drew a little heart on the doll’s chest.

No sooner had Tenko taken the plush, clutched between two fingers on each hand as a precious artifact, than another was in his face, golden eyes sparkling with hope behind it.

Chuckling, he didn’t have to think about this one at all. Under the kid’s name he put, Always fly free.

While the boys compared the writing on their new toys, Tenko making a clumsy attempt to read them out for Keigo, Machina giggled and nudged him again, “I knew you were cheesy on the inside.”

Yuki rolled his eyes as he stood. “Like you’d have put anything else.”

She scoffed but didn’t disagree, a warm smile growing on her face as she watched Tenko cradle the plush. Splashdown crouched down beside him to ask Tenko’s opinion on the design.

Yuki’s eyes were back on Keigo though. He was staring at the ruined Endeavor doll he’d abandoned. Yuki almost made to grab it and throw it out, but held himself back. It was all the kid had really owned his whole life.

However, he looked to Yuki, shy but certain, as he asked, “Can you burn it?”

“You sure?”

He nodded, determined. “If he’s like my dad, I don’t want him.”

Glad to, Yuki scooped it up, tossed it into the air, and shot a blast of flame after it. The doll went up in a glorious blaze, ash in mere seconds.

“That never gets any less unsettling,” Machina muttered.

Tenko and Splashdown were both watching in open mouthed awe. Before the ash could settle on the tile though Splashdown’s water whirled over it and whisked it away.

As they were leaving the facility, Yuki mor reluctant than expected, Splashdown snapped once in a strange show of delighted realization.

“I just remembered, I’ve been thinking about your tagline, Yuki.”

He didn’t roll his eyes, but it was a near thing, amusement just winning out over exasperation. “This should be good. What’ve you got?”

“The Hot Snow Hero!”

Yuki waited for more, but Splash was just grinning, proud, waiting for him to give his opinion.

“That’s where you stopped, huh? Thanks, but I think I’ll pass.”

“How about the Scowling Hero,” Machina asked with a fake, sweet smile.

He threw her a casual, rude gesture with barely a glance.

“Careful,” she said, her expression turning dangerous, “I could make you eat that finger.”

He drew his hand back and scooted a little further away, not willing to risk it when that look so resembled Toga. “My apologies, it’s a nervous habit.”

Splashdown laughed like he hadn’t just heard Machina threatening to use Yuki’s own body to maim him. Heroes.

“You two have the strangest friendship.”

“We’re not friends,” both Yuki and Machina said together before shooting each other a glare.

Despite that, the two of them bickered around a blissfully smiling Splashdown all the way back and Yuki almost forgot the ordeal ahead of him.

As the car pulled up to the curb, Yuki sagged against his seat. “Are we sure sending me in there is really going to do anything but burn this hell house down?”

“Keep your temper, you’ll be alright,” Machina said, all business as she waved Yuki out.

Yuki would usually have thrown something back at her, scathing and unappreciative, but he couldn’t muster the strength, just trying to work up the courage to step through the door of the Todoroki manor again.

“It’s just dinner with your family. Enjoy it,” Splashdown said, rolling down the window as the car pulled away to add, “Remember, we’re just a call away if you need anything.”

Chapter Text

Despite the tense air, Fuyumi was practically vibrating out of her seat with excitement, going on about how rare it was they all got to eat together.

She watched Enji with avid, terrified eyes as he took his first bite.

“How is it,” she asked on the first breathe she had taken since he’d picked up his chopsticks.

“Good,” he said gruff and without feeling.

It brightened her entire world, eyes shining. She started going on about how they’d had made it and finally asked her father's opinion on some modification she’d made to the recipe.

He just grunted in noncommittal answer. Little Touya and Natsuo were not so easily fooled, glaring down into their bowls, and their mother had disengaged, staring at the wall.

Fuyumi valiantly kept going for a moment more, but trailed off as it became clear her father was not paying attention any longer. Her eyes dropped in shame and disappointment to the wood grain.

Yuki couldn't stand it one more second, breaking his personal vow of silence.

“You know your daughter’s talking to you, right?”

“I heard her.”

“It wouldn't kill you to respond.”

“What do you want me to say?”

“Let’s start with something simple.” He turned to his little sister with genuine warmth. “It’s delicious, Fumi. You guys did a great job. Thanks for all your hard work.”

She shuffled, uncomfortable with the hostile air, but the praise still brought a fractional lifting of her expression.

He turned back to their father. “See? Not so hard.”

Enji ignored him.

“She's real smart, you know? And she's got this big ol’ heart that could keep the whole world together.”

Still nothing from their father.

“Speaking of smart, do you know Natsu's going to be a doctor? He got wise to the fact that you're not going to care if he becomes a Pro Hero because he'll never get anywhere close to beating All Might, but he's actually going to help people and be a proper hero, not just look flashy for the cameras.”

His brother’s head had come up and he was staring at Yuki with a disbelieving, quiet hope. At his approving nod, Natsuo sat just a little straighter, some indefinable tension leaving him as purpose filled in the cracks of the dream his father had broken before it even had a chance.

“That's not all a hero does,” Enji said, dragging Yuki back from the beautiful moment.

He glared, incredulous, at his father. “Is that really all you heard?”

Enji dodged the question by nodding at his eldest. “And what about Touya, you haven't mentioned him.”

Yuki shrugged. “Do I really have to? The results speak for themselves.” He gestured at himself. “No better cautionary tale than reality.”

“And Shoto?”

“He. Rejects. You,” Yuki takes special pleasure in enunciating every one of those words. “And he does it because he’s everything you wanted him to be and someone like that would never want you.”

Enji just rolled his eyes and returned to his meal as though this conversation weren’t even happening, so certain of himself and his purpose.

Yuki laid his palms flat and leaned across the table so his father would miss nothing of it as he said, “And the moment you realize it, you go crawling back to him begging forgiveness for every way your cruelty has marked him and everyone he loves. And the worst part? He gives it to you because, despite your efforts, he’s kind and he understands, at his very core, what it means to be a hero.”

“Because I taught him,” Enji dismissed, as though nothing else had or needed to be said on the matter.

Yuki’s teeth clenched so hard his partially metal jaw popped under the strain. “You want to know why you never beat All Might? Because you know what a hero does, Sho knows what a hero is.”

“You’re just arguing semantics.”

“You can save people all day long and earn your shining badge of goodness, but at the end of the day, if you come home and torment the people who, despite everything, love you, that just makes you the lowest form of monster.”

Enji set his chopsticks aside and narrowed his eyes at Yuki. “Where are you going with all this exactly?”

Yuki’s fists tightened, trying to reign in the overwhelming desire to bathe this man in fire and save them all the misery. “I'm trying to get you to look around, old man. Your family is more than their Quirks and how they can help you. They're people. They're good people despite what you–”

“You think I don’t know that?”

Yuki’s laugh was cold and cruel as fury rose hot in his breast at this blind, arrogant pig parading as a Hero.

“It wouldn’t kill you to act like it sometimes. Really, all you gotta do is acknowledge that they exist for once in their lives and maybe pretend like that means something to you!” Yuki hadn’t noticed the volume of his voice rising or the flames beginning to flicker to life around him until the last words roared out to an accompanying burst of brightest blue.

“STOP!”

Ice burst to life, freezing Yuki where he sat and quenching the flames burning on his skin.

He turned his eyes to his mother, who was breathing out harsh bursts of cloudy air, frost crawling over her skin. It was the first time he had ever seen her use her Quirk.

Enji pulled her over and wrapped her in a hug as his Quirk flared, the frost melting. She sighed in relief and burrowed against him, careful not to look at Yuki.

He could do nothing but stare. He’d barely seen them in the same room growing up let alone sharing anything with even a passing resemblance to affection.

Enji turned a sharp, reproachful glare on Yuki. “Look what you’ve done.”

Yuki channeled the resurgence of his anger into heat that melted the ice. Enji’s cool but guarded neutrality was a stark contrast to his family though, who were shrinking back. The reminder he was scaring them calmed both his anger and his Quirk.

He couldn’t sit here any longer.

“I just hate watching you waste your one chance to be better at something than All Might.” He grabbed up his dishes and gave a nod to his sister. “Thanks again. Sorry for the trouble.”

Chapter Text

The kids were off to school and the old man popped in and out as he could afford, but, unless he was escorted by Machina or Splashdown, Yuki was to remain in the house for the time being and not cause too much trouble.

So, he decided to take a walk through part of the house he had never really been allowed in after Shoto was born. He glanced through a partially open door to the kid’s room on a whim and paused.

It was unusual that anyone wasn't watching over the Golden Child at this age, but there was no one, either in the hall or in the room, with the helpless baby.

Knowing it was a dangerous move, he stepped inside and dropped down beside his youngest brother.

“How are you doing, squirt?”

Those wide, mismatched eyes stared up at him with curiosity, not a hint of fear or trepidation about him. On reflex, Yuki reached over to ruffle the kid’s hair only to pause and gentle the touch so his calloused fingers were barely any pressure on that little skull.

He made to withdraw his hand but the baby nabbed his index finger in those tiny digits and held on with a surprising grip strength. Then he was pulling it toward his mouth.

“Not doing that,” Yuki muttered, shoving the abandoned binky back into his mouth.

He sucked on it, but still managed to morph his little face into something like reproach around it.

“You gonna let me have my hand now?”

He tugged gently on it. For a second, it looked like he would just have to give up on the finger as Shoto’s property from now on, but then the little guy wiggled around with little coordination and threw his arms up in the air, tiny hands clasping in a clear demand.

Yuki, chuckling, obliged, scooping his little brother up into his arms, careful of that lolling head. He oozed the warm scents of milk and fresh powder, so unlike the fluctuating ozone scent of the Shoto he had known.

“I never got to take care of you when you were this small.”

Shoto nuzzled into Yuki’s chest, as though this weren’t the first time they’d met, and shut his eyes, nap ready as ever.

This kid had been his confidant for so long it was just second nature to open his mouth and murmur, “I wish I could fall asleep that easy. I haven't been able to get more than a couple hours since… you know. I just keep wondering what you saw. Did I just disappear? Did I leave you to fight all of them on your own? I didn't really think about it as much the first time.”

He rocked them a moment, lost in his own dark musing.

“Maybe it has something to do with you. Both times I was fighting and both times you were looking at me when it happened. But you already have enough going on, I don't think this is actually your fault.”

Baby Shoto had nothing to add, dead asleep as his binky slid back out of his slack mouth. Yuki set it aside and wrapped himself a little further around his brother, letting little waves of heat roll over him.

“Oh, it's you, Yuki.”

He glanced over his shoulder to find his mother standing in the doorway, surprised but not unfriendly.

A tired smile lifted the corner of his mouth. “Hi, Mom.”

She glanced back down the hall, nervous. “You really shouldn’t be here.”

“I know.” His voice turned bitter as he said, “Dad doesn’t want anyone interfering with his ‘masterpiece’.”

Yuki stood and tried to set the baby down in his crib, but Shoto’s little fingers took hold of his shirt and, spoiled little brat he was, he whined, only just awake enough to make demands.

“It’s alright, squirt, I’m not going far,” he promised, rocking side to side and letting the warmth wash over Shoto again.

His hold went slack after a minute as he fell back asleep and Yuki finally put him down, tucking his little blanket around him and smoothing back his silky hair.

Then he heard the muffled click of a phone camera and glanced over to his mother who had the most adoring look on her face as she covered the speaker with a finger.

“Sorry, that was just too precious.”

She turned the screen to show him his own sickeningly tender expression as he petted his little brother.

He grimaced. “Never show that to the Heroes who came the other day.”

“No promises.” She headed for the door giggling to herself at her good-natured teasing. At least, he hoped that was all it was; he would never hear the end of it if Splashdown got ahold of that kind of evidence of ‘Yuki’s well buried goodness’.

They fell into step on the way to the kitchen and the promise of lunch, his mother humming to herself like nothing was wrong.

His heart cracked.

“So, are you married then,” she asked, digging out leftovers from the night before.

Still caught up in his heavy, guilt-ridden emotions, he couldn’t wrap his head around the question. “What?”

“Your name, you changed it,” she explained, growing less certain  by the second. “I just thought maybe it was a happy reason.”

“It was. Shoto and I chose a new name for ourselves when,” he trailed off, realizing he could not tell her.

“When you what?”

He turned his back and pulled out bowls with much more attention than the task warranted. “I don’t know that I should tell you the rest.”

A chilly hand skated over his cheek, just barely brushing, feather light, against the edges of scar tissue. “Does it have to do with these?”

“In a way.” He evaded both her hand and the question by snatching up the food and heading out to the table with their dishes.

She followed after and said, gentle but insistent, “Then tell me. I can’t help my children if I don’t know what’s going on.”

He was quiet as he set everything out and then just stared at the woodgrain. His mother sat beside him, expectant but not pushing.

Eventually he relented, part plea, part warning, “It’s not a good story, Mom.”

He wished he had a better tale for her, one where he was in love and his family had found happiness and peace.

“Touya.” She cupped his cheeks then, unafraid of the scars and metal as she guided him around to look at her. “Tell me.”

Try as he might, he could not lie to those eyes. He told her in brief of taking Shoto and running, focusing more on the life they had built together than their reasons for leaving, but her face fell under the implication all the same.

Still, she put on a brave face to ask, “You were happy then?”

“We were.” Yuki pulled out his phone, not considering what she would see when he pulled up the two of them beaming in matching Hero costumes.

She stared a moment before her fingers rose to hover just over Shoto’s face. “ What happened? That doesn’t look like,” she trailed off, eyes on Yuki’s scars.

“No,” he said, shutting the phone with harsh finality, the word vile on his tongue. “It wasn’t self-inflicted.”

“Your father,” she whispered, horrified.

He couldn’t even look in her general direction as he hedged, “It might as well have been, but it doesn't matter, I’m not going to let it happen this time.”

Rei hung her head and, to Yuki’s dismay, tears began falling onto the fists clenched in her lap. “This isn’t what I wanted. None of this is what I wanted. When I was pregnant with you and even Fuyumi, I had so much hope. Our home was going to be one filled with love and all of you would…”

She clamped her jaw shut to muffle a sob.

Yuki wasn’t sure what to do, choking on grief and guilt. He reached out a hesitant hand and touched her dainty shoulder. When she did not move away or give any signs of rejection, he pulled her into his side for a hug.

He couldn’t say for sure if the heat blooming around him was born of a wanting to comfort her or rage at his father and all the ways he’d broken and corrupted everyone Touya had ever loved.

“It will be like that, I’ll find a way, I swear. This time, things will be different.” The colors in the room sharpened with his certainty, every mote of dust standing out in stark contrast.

Rei wrapped her arms tight around him and choked up an earnest, “Thank you.”

Chapter Text

Being tricked by a pair of kids who could still count their age on their fingers wasn’t Yuki’s finest moment.

“You sure,” Natsuo was asking, muffled through the door.

“It always works in the manga,” Fuyumi answered.

“But those are romance manga, Fumi. Wouldn’t it–”

Yuki knocked politely on the inside of the utility closet door. “Can you please let us out? We’re hungry.”

Touya glared a hole into the side of his neck, but Yuki mouthed Trust me at him and the kid flopped down in the corner, resigned to their fate. Yuki ignored the younger version of himself. He just had to play on the kindness of his siblings and they’d be out in no time.

There were whispers on the other side and Yuki realized he had forgotten to account for peer pressure.

“We’ll let you out in one hour for dinner,” Fuyumi said, her voice trembling but decided.

“Yeah, but if you’re not nice to Touya, you answer to me. Got it, Yuki?” Knowing Natsuo was half his height took the legs out from under the threat, even before they factored in Quirks, but it was a valiant effort.

“You did lock me in here alone with him. I could do anything,” Yuki drawled for Natsuo’s sake then added for Fuyumi, “And what if he’s mean to me?”

Again, there was hesitation on the other side.

“Nobody be mean,” Fuyumi said like she was laying down a universal law. “Come on, Natsu.”

Her brother protested, their steps off rhythm as she dragged him away.

“So much for that plan,” Touya said from his bitter little ball on the floor.

The sleeve of his shirt had ridden up and there was a new bandage wrapped around it, loose enough to show off the red skin underneath. Yuki slid down the wall to settle across from him and propped his elbow up on a knee.

Splashdown’s encouragements egging him on, Yuki asked, “You want to learn something?”

Touya’s head came off his crossed arms, outwardly wary but breathless with hope.

Yuki held up his arm and fire sprang to life in a neat line. Touya blinked at the blue, his eyes hungry. Yuki, however, was too busy concentrating.

It took far more focus than it reasonably should, but the flames cooled to a yellow then orange and finally red before they died out.

Touya frowned, frustrated. “You didn’t do anything.”

“You would say that.” Yuki chuckled.

“If you’re just gonna toy with me–”

“I’m not. This is the only skill Dad never taught me and it will save your life.”

That shut Touya’s mouth. His brow was still scrunched in confusion though. “Making the fire different colors will save my life?”

“Not exactly, but learning to cool down will.”

“But if I want to be a Hero, I have to get my fire to turn blue,” Touya argued.

Yuki shook his head. “Dad always wanted us to go hotter, but that’s how you get into this mess,” he tossed a lazy hand at his scarring. “If you can’t cool down and you’ve got no resistance the heat you’re putting off, you just keep burning and you die. Dead people can’t be Heroes.”

“You didn’t die.”

Yuki shrugged. “I wouldn’t call what I did after living.”

Touya, as though viewing something inappropriate, glanced at his scars and then away. “Did it hurt?”

“More than you can imagine.”

“How far does it,” he started but couldn’t seem to finish.

Yuki, smirking, tugged his shirt over his head and held his arms out in presentation. “You can look.”

Still unsure, even with permission, Touya darted glances and then, growing bold, scooted closer.

“Can you feel them?”

“Nope. The nerves went up long ago.” Yuki poked his arm in demonstration and then held it out in invitation for his younger self.

Tentative but too curious to pass up the offer, Touya hovered over the scarring, pressing his fingers in bit by bit in a touch Yuki could only see.

“Not frying myself all the time really helped them heal but give it a hard fight and I’m back to square one.”

Touya’s eyes went wide in horror. “You can still burn these?”

“Yup. Used to steal skin off a lot of bodies.”

Touya snatched his hand back, ill.

Yuki laughed. “That bit’s from the old man. Shoto guilted him into donating some skin after the licensing exam hoping it would help, but, Dad’s, Shoto’s, even the expensive, artificial stuff, none of it holds up all that long under our Quirk.”

Touya’s hand went automatically to his bandaged arm, eyes distant. Yuki breathed out a heavy sigh, not wanting to dig into what this version of himself might be considering or catastrophizing.

He leaned in and set a heavy hand on his shoulder, coaxing the boy to look at him as he’d done with Shoto a hundred times.

“If I could convince you not to be a Hero and spare you all this, I would. But, if not, perfecting your control might be what makes the difference.”

Touya’s eyes tracked back and forth, gears grinding. There was fear and self-hatred, but something in Yuki’s chest relaxed to find understanding there as well. Touya was listening. That was a step.

Then the kid turned the stubborn, determined eyes of their father on him and nodded. “Teach me to cool down.”

At that moment, there was a rattling of the lock being flipped and Fuyumi swung the door open.

“I’m really sorry. That was so mean and–” she cut herself off on a scream.

Both versions of her brother tensed and looked around for trouble, but she was staring at them, wide eyes filling with tears. Then she turned and ran off howling, “It is the wrong manga!”

Natsuo peaked his head around the door a second later, wary, to find them staring back, nonplussed.

He narrowed his eyes at Yuki. “What did you do?”

To Yuki’s great surprise, Touya stood up and put himself between him and Natsuo. “He’s helping me become a Hero.”

Yuki rolled his eyes up to the ceiling. His own singlemindedness had never been so annoying and his sympathy for Shoto grew. That boy had the patience of a saint.

Thinking of his Shoto, as ever, dropped a heavy weight of grief on his chest and he noticed nothing of the conversation at the door.

Then his mother’s hard voice drew him out of it. “What’s going on here?”

Her eyes were steely and the boys shrunk under it as though they had actually done anything wrong. Yuki was not phased, too impressed by the fact that she could look that intimidating with baby Shoto on her hip, burbling nonsense and trying to fit his whole fist in his mouth.

“Nothing’s going on,” Yuki said, snatching up his shirt as he stood. “Fumi was trying to help us get along by locking us in here. It worked.”

“He was showing Touya how to be a good Hero,” Natsuo added, still suspicious.

Fuyumi, who had been clinging to the back of her mother’s shirt, poked one eye out. “How does falling in love help him be a Hero?”

Yuki and Touya gave her twin looks of bafflement. While his younger self worked to rid his sister of this strange notion, Yuki threw his shirt back on in the hopes any of this would make sense when he’d passed through to the other side. No such luck.

Rei’s amusement as she listened to her children bicker was priceless though.

Eventually, she said, “I’m glad everything is alright here. Now, would the three of you help Mrs. Suzuki set the table?”

There was a chorus of affirmatives as the siblings rushed off, Natsuo leading easy with Fuyumi on his heels and Touya falling a bit behind.

“They have such wild imaginations,” Rei said, shaking her head.

Yuki fell into step beside his mother, teasing, “A warning from the future, her brain’s going to rot reading all that Shojo.”

"Only law books from now on then?" She laughed, light and airy.

Yuki grinned. "I don't think the world's ready for that kind of power."

Rei's amusement sobered as she held out a hand to stop him turning the corner and asked, “What was that about helping Touya?”

“Actually, we could use your help.” At her confusion, he continued, “Touya and I have your high tolerance to colder temperatures, so your Quirk might be a perfect counter to our fire.”

Her back straightened and she said, barely a murmur but still strong at her core, “I won’t condone allowing him to burn himself for training.” Not anymore, was left unsaid, but rang loud through the halls all the same.

“I agree, but learning to control his Quirk properly is going to be difficult and take time. The last thing we need is him hurting himself every time he grows frustrated with it.”

“Control it properly?” There was hope in her voice and she looked ready to agree on the spot but then her face fell and she bit her lip. “Your father won’t like you training him.”

“Even better,” Yuki said with feeling.

Chapter Text

Yuki was floating, the world a vague, wood grained haze. Then he was back in the courtyard, moving in familiar ways with familiar faces in front of him.

The ladies had forced him to several of their calisthenics classes and the quick pace was perfect for small children with no attention span. So, he had the four kids and their mother before him in the courtyard all doing an easy set to warm up. Even baby Shoto was in on it, sat on a blanket in the dirt wiggling his arms back and forth.

“It’s exhausting just watching all of you,” Mrs. Suzuki was saying with a demure laugh from her place in the shade. “Why don’t I go make us some snacks?”

She received a chorus of enthusiastic agreement from the kids.

The world swam for a moment, walls rippled and gravity had no effect. Then it all snapped back into place again, unaffected.

“Yuki! Yuki,” Fuyumi bounced over with her arm in the air like she was in class. “Can I lead? I know it now. Can I? Can I, please?”

He smirked at his sister’s eagerness. “Alright,” he motioned her forward and took her place on their mother’s side at the end of the line.

While Fuyumi was ordering Natsuo to change the positioning of his arms, Touya was frowning down at Shoto.

Yuki had been keeping half an kept half and eye on his younger self their whole session, but his attention lapsed for just a second as Rei leaned over, amused, and said, “This is the way I imagined it when your father and I were first talking about having kids.”

Those words should have filled him with warmth, but Yuki's attention was swallowed by the boy as Touya moved to stand in front of his infant brother.

“That's not how you do it.” Yuki couldn't move, trapped as Touya’s annoyed tone shifted to something dark as he said, “There's nothing special about you, you're just a dumb baby–”

The choking crush of immobility relented and Yuki did not think. He lunged across their mother, a burst of his own flames canceling out the boy's as he grabbed the back of Touya's shirt in one tight fist and threw him bodily across the yard.

The baby was flat on his back, making spooked little whimpers as he batted at the sparks still on the air. Their mother was on him in a second, checking for injuries and holding him close.

He was fine. The burn scar over is eye the same as ever.

The other two children were just standing there, staring with open mouths.

Touya struggled his way into a sitting position, Dabi's manic, laughing face superimposed over his for a moment. It slid away as the boy's affronted glare faltered and he froze like a frightened animal.

Yuki did not care, a maelstrom of azure blazing around him as he stalked towards his younger counterpart, single-minded in his fury. He was himself in mirror, everything he hated most staring back at him with wide, terrified turquoise eyes.

He stomped down on the boy’s chest with a vengeance as he regained just enough wits to try scrambling up. All the breath left him as he slammed back into the dirt and for a second he was stunned. Then he was writhing, fighting to free himself, but Yuki was far stronger and his flames licking the air put out the boy’s with brutal efficiency.

“Well, well, what do you know? The little villain shows his true colors.”

“I'm not a–”

Yuki drove the breath out of him again. “Haven't you learned anything from Dad? Only a monster hurts his family. You don’t touch them. Any of them. Ever. Do you understand?”

Dabi laughed under his boot, his face melting.

“YUKI!” His mother’s sharp voice was followed by the crack of ice, but he barely heard, none of the ice lasting even a second’s contact with the haze of heat around him.

“Answer me,” Yuki snarled.

Touya had both hands on the bottom of his boot and was fighting for every shallow breath, but still he had the gall to glare at Yuki, defiant.

A dark, hungry thing he knew too well from the moment before he turned his back on alleys full of charring bodies stole over him and the answer was obvious.

Before he could raise a hand and call the flame to his will, the world became nothing but ice, his body locked in place as the temperature plummeted. Snow was falling and the sun barely peeked through the ball of ice encasing the whole courtyard.

The last lingering flickers of fire coming off him melted through his prison, but he allowed the ice to cool his anger as he forced in a sharp breath, lifted his foot from the kid, and took two deliberate steps back.

"I'm sorry," he said to the courtyard at large as he turned back to his family. "I took that too far. I should have-"

Fuyumi and Natsuo were clutching onto baby Shoto between them, awe and fear in their eyes as they stared around, but all Yuki could focus on was his trembling mother, her lips an alarming shade of blue.

"Mom!" He rushed forward as she started to collapse and heated the air around them, the world a flickering start and stop of motion as his thoughts raced. If he'd caused her death here and now... None of this would have happened if he'd just stopped a moment sooner.

His racing thoughts were stopped as she held up a hand between them, frigid fingers holding her up as much as holding him back. Even unfocused, her eyes were fierce.

Before she could work her clenched jaw enough for words, however, a small someone rushed past the adults and there was a loud, wet thud.

"Stop it, Touya," Fuyumi yelled at the boy now sprawled in the mud before his sister towering over him, red flames flickering out.

Touya sat up shaking, indignant, betrayed tears beginning in his eyes. When he glanced at his mother and brother, neither came to his aid, Natsuo’s eyes falling to the ground as he held Shoto all the closer.

Touya’s face screwed up, the perceived rejection tearing into him. Then he was up and running through a crack in the ice, off into unending darkeness.

Yuki did not care, furious enough to hope he left for Sekoto Peak right that minute to burn and, with any luck, finish the job this time.

A trembling fist slammed into his chest as his mother fought her own chilled, labored breaths to say, "You can't do that. You can't be like," he voice layered over itself so Enji and Yuki became the same word.

He flinched, the words striking harder than any punch. If his Quirk wasn't the only reason color was coming back into her face, he would have run too, buried himself so deep no one would ever find him again.

Then his forehead slammed off wood, back in reality and he was on his feet, stumbling away from the desk.

Splashdown whistled, his tray of snacks rattling as he crossed the threshold into the nearly empty office of the agency. "You need a little cool down there, Yuki?"

"I'm fine." He waved off the Hero's well intentioned little spout and rubbed a harsh hand over his smarting forehead.

Machina chuckled at his misfortune, but spared him no more than a glance from behind her own computer where they had been compiling the suspected holdings of All For One. Yuki caught her eye just long to give her a withering glare.

"That's more than sleepiness. What's got you all hot and troubled," Splashdown asked, hitting a little too close to the heart of the matter as he set his tray down beside his unrepentant colleague.

Agitation was making heat rise around him, Yuki almost locked his jaw and refused to speak, but the nightmare, some combination of reality and anxiety, was too fresh and this heroic buffoon too stubborn to fight long.

"I just can't get through to him," Yuki snarled, throwing himself into a chair.

"You talking about little you," Machina asked, not looking up from her typing.

Yuki nodded once and let out a frustrated sigh. "He's getting worse."

Despite his promise, Yuki was getting nowhere with Touya. The kid was young and had inherited all the worst parts of their father's stubborn disposition.

More than once, the kid had stomped off out of training, glaring down both Yuki and his mother like he wished them nothing but ill. Yuki had needed to call off training this afternoon after seeing the burns the kid had gotten after one of these dramatic exits, too furious to do anything but storm back here.

Splashdown settled down on a poofy footrest at the end of the desk and asked, "What do you wish someone had said to you at that age?"

Yuki frowned at the cheerful smile under those fishy eyes.

The Wave Hero ripped open a protein bar with a shrug. "He needs to hear it from someone. Who better?"

"His father, maybe," Touya drawled, bitter.

Enji had been predictably absent from the proceedings, caught up in work and barely remembering to glare at Yuki most of the time let alone put a moment into speaking to his children.

Machina snatched up a bag of chips and Yuki barely dodged the crinkling plastic coming for his nose as she swung it wide. "That's not happening. You want something done right, you have to do it yourself. Isn't that right, Mr. Time Traveler?"